#anyway I need someone to talk about classical music with thanks

[afilmbykirkk]

The piece can you hear the music from Oppenheimer is so fucking insane. Like what the actual fuck

Like the end is allegro times fucking 500. It’s moving at the speed of gods fuckery.

Props to the orchestra seriously

[rafesbabyg1rl]

You were asking for reqs for rafe x reader, if you are taking them, I have one in mind. In which rafe is extremely possesive of bsf reader, and gets easily jealous. One day she was at a kook party, and a guy approached her and they started to talk and that sh*t went down, rafe got aggressive and almost beat the guy to a pulp. Reader is like a shy cute innocent, bimbo type. And smut after the scene if you write it.

Summary: Innocent!reader X possessive!Rafe, bestfriend!reader X bestfriend!Rafe. Summary is basically the anonymous ask!

Warnings: Rafe is possessive of reader. Established friendship. Rafe almost beats a guy to death. Mentions of drugs (no actual drug use), alcohol consumption. Lots of smut; p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, SLIGHT degradation (some praise too). The classic 'what are we' at the end. The L word.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Hello Beauties! Thank you for the support and kindness you've all shown me. And thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did your idea justice. Sorry that this is a bit long, it just sort of happened. Also, I hope you all enjoyed the holiday yesterday, well those that celebrate. I'm hoping to finish part four of The Watcher soon so I can get it out, life has just been so exhausting. Anyways, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

Your best friend, Rafe, had asked you to go to a party with him. Well, more like he had told you to go. Although it’s not like you’d ever miss the opportunity to party with your best friend. So, here you are; walking around the side of Topper’s house, looking for Rafe. You two didn’t come together, he got here before you. He knows you don’t love being around his ‘friends’ and their various illegal substances, even though he says he’s clean, he likes to have time with them before you get there. 

You round a corner, now entering the Thorton’s backyard. You look for Rafe as you work your way through the loud and busy crowd. You hear a friend call your name, you turn your head to her, and she waves you over. You approach her and a few others with a smile. You greet them.

The other girls chat amongst themselves as your friend speaks up, shouting over the music. “Hey!” She’s over enthusiastic per regular, probably a bit drunk too.

“Hey!” You shout back. 

She begins, “Oh my god! I have to tell you something. Guess who I saw—”. Usually, you’d want to hear all the gossip she’s about to ramble to you, but not right now. “Do you know where Rafe is?” You shout over her, cutting her off.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer to you so she can hear you.

“Do you know—” You’re suddenly interrupted by some guy standing beside you. You turn to face him.

“Hey.” He says, his tone confident. A cocky grin spreads across his face.

“Hi.” You smile politely, “Do I know you?”. You say hurriedly before turning back to your friend. She looks between you and the guy a few times before facing you and giving you a knowing smirk. You know what that look means and before you can say anything, she walks away. Leaving you alone with him. You roll your eyes at her playfully, although you really are annoyed that she didn’t tell you where Rafe is. 

Slowly, you turn your head back to the guy, flashing him another fake smile. He grins again before speaking, “No…no you don’t.” He pauses, stepping a bit closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the music as loud. “I’m Devin.”

Your fake smile is getting awkward, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about talking to him right now. “Nice to meet you, Devin. B-but I need to–”

Devin cuts you off, “Let me get you a drink.” 

You laugh shyly, “Oh...I-I’m okay, I actually have to…”

“Let me just get you a drink, it’ll only take a second.” He moves closer to rest his hand on your lower back for a slight moment, to get you to turn toward the drinks. 

Rafe was on the back patio sitting on one of the couches when someone had mentioned to him that they saw you. He went to go and find you, which is when he spotted you laughing with some guy, who moments later put his hand on you. Rafe’s already had a few drinks tonight, so his judgment clouded even more than usual, especially when it comes to you. 

As you walk towards the drinks, Devin’s hand falls and he follows close behind you. 

After a moment, you hear a mix of gasps and ‘ooohh’s’ from everyone. You turn to look behind you where everyone seems to be gathering. You find that Devin isn’t behind you anymore.

Immediately your eyes land on some commotion in the crowd, you squeeze through the ring of people forming around the area. Shit. You run forwards, pausing just before the fight. 

Devin is flat on his back, Rafe straddling him. Rafe has Devin’s shirt clenched in one fist, holding his head off the ground as he repeatedly drives his other fist into Devin’s face. 

“Rafe!” You shout. Keeping your distance, not wanting to get too close while he’s out of control. You’ve seen how he can get. In the years that you two have been friends, you’ve had to calm him down from countless fights, since nobody else can ever seem to do it. But, when nobody else steps in to try and stop the fight, you step closer, knowing something has to be done. “Rafe, stop! Stop it!” You scream. 

Devin’s completely unconscious, his nose is probably broken, but you can’t really tell; his face is a swollen mess of blood and bruises. You can’t stand here and watch anymore, and nobody seems to be listening to your cries for help. Because nobody is stupid enough to get in Rafe’s way while he’s like this. You step behind Rafe, putting your hands on his shoulders. You try to pull him back all the while trying not to get punched.

“Rafe! Look at me! Look at me, Ray!” Rafe turns his head to the side, momentarily stopping his actions, letting Devin’s head rest on the floor. You put a hand up to cup his cheek. Speaking quietly now as you plead to him. “Rafe…c’mon, that’s good, h-he’s had enough…”. Your tears slow, but your breath is still erratic as you look at the unconscious man. 

Rafe turns back to the guy, your hand falling from his face. Rafe pulls Devin’s head up, like he was going to punch him again. Instead, he lets go, letting the boy's head hit the floor. Rafe stands up without a word and grabs you by your wrist, tugging you away. 

Before you know it, you’re being shoved into your best friend's truck. His random mumbles don’t make much sense to you, talking about ‘he got what he deserved…Should’ve fuckin’ killed him…yeah, should’ve fucking killed him for that. Touchin’ what’s mine…’

When you get to Tannyhill, Rafe wastes no time pulling you into his room. You sit on his bed stiffly, waiting silently as he paces the room.

“Rafe?” You call out softly. “You okay? What happened back there? What was that?”

“He touched you.” Rafe states. His tone is low and rough, sending a chill down your spine. Even after all the years you’ve been his best friend, you still never know how to act when he’s like this. 

“Barely. He barely touched me.”

Rafe completely disregards what you say, shaking his head and blowing out a jagged breath as he continues to pace across his room, a bit slower now. “Why was he even talking to you? You were supposed to be with me. I told you to go to the party, not him.” 

You take your chance to get a word in as he spews out angry nonsense. “I was looking for you and he started talking, ‘wanted to get me a drink. I was just being nice; I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even want to talk to him, I was looking for you, Rafe. I don’t even see why that matters–”.

He pauses, looking over at you. His movements are sharp as he strides over to you. “Don’t see why it matters…?” He repeats your words, more for himself than to you. “It matters because you’re mine.” His words are sharp, definitely directed to you that time.

“Rafe…you almost killed him…because of me? I don’t get it Rafe; I don’t nearly kill all the girls you fuck.” You state.

Rafe lets out a breathy chuckle before speaking. “Still don’t get it, huh?” Rafe laughs. “God you’re so innocent. So naive.” He pauses, stepping closer until he’s standing in front of you, looking down at you as you sit on his bed. “I need you, y/n. I can’t…god, I can’t even fuck anyone else anymore without thinking about you. I can’t let anyone else have you, got that? You understand now?” He asks harshly as he runs a rough hand through your hair. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. You look up and nod weakly, causing Rafe to flash a devilish grin. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, his voice coming out low. 

“Yeah…” You mumble back brainlessly, too shocked by your best friend's confession. You had always thought Rafe saw you purely as a friend. Although thinking back, you don’t know how you ever thought that with how he acts, especially lately. 

No time is wasted as Rafe quickly leans down, capturing your lips with his. The first kiss is hesitant, and you don’t kiss back. But when he pulls away to look at you, trying to gauge your emotion, you lean in. Your best friend takes that as a sign to continue. His lips quickly find yours again. When he feels you start to kiss back, he escalates things. Kissing you more roughly now, acting as though he’s a starved man and your lips are his meal.

His hand moves from the back of your head to your throat, lightly squeezing. At first you don’t even realize, too distracted by the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. But when Rafe squeezes your neck even tighter, you move your hands to reach up and wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull it away. Your mouth still occupied by his, the kiss is too fucking good to break. It feels like everything you didn’t know you needed. He’s giving you what nobody else could, because only he knows exactly what you need and exactly how to give it to you. Your lack of breath reminds you of your situation and you pull away from the kiss momentarily.

Rafe’s grip loosens as he pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Tell me you want this.” He mumbles breathlessly. 

You search his eyes as you catch your breath. Nodding, you finally speak up. “I want this.” You say definitively.

Not even half a second later, Rafe’s body crashes down onto you, pushing you down so that you’re laying on his bed. Rafe has one arm beside your head, holding himself up as his other remains on your neck. He hovers over you, one knee pressed between your thighs. Rafe leans down, his lips attaching to your neck, kissing and sucking frantically at your skin. He’s been waiting so, so long for this. 

His lips find your ear, softly biting at it before whispering. “Let me take care of you, baby. You want that, hm?”. While waiting for your response, his free hand traces down the side of your body until it reaches the hem of your skirt. He moves his face to the other side of your head, giving some attention to your other ear. “Need your best friend to help you feel good…give you what you need, yeah?” His hand slips under your skirt, slowly gliding up your inner thigh, sending shivers through your whole body.

“Yes–” A moan escapes your lips, interrupting you. Your eyes meet his before you continue. “Please Rafey…need you…”

His lips meet yours at the same time his hand meets your clothed cunt. He kisses you sloppily, exploring every part of your mouth with his tongue. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, your touch sending shocks through him. He rubs you through your panties. He can feel as you grow more needy, the wet spot on your panties getting larger. 

He can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s wanted to do this to you for so long; he’s dreamt of this moment happening in almost every way possible, but this…he never could’ve imagined this feeling. “Fuck…you’re so wet f’me already.”

“Ray…please…” You can’t help but rut your panty-clad cunt against his hand, searching for friction. Usually you’re never this bold, but you’re comfortable with him. You always have been, he is your best friend after all. You just pray that he understands what you need. 

Except Rafe doesn’t respond in the way you had hoped for. No, instead he pulls his hand out from under your skirt, eliciting a whine from you. He presses a genuine, wet kiss against your parted lips before moving down your body. Rafe slides down, kneeling onto the floor in front of the bed. He grabs you by the back of your knees and tugs you down towards him until your ass is at the edge of the bed. Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly removes your skirt. He spreads your legs, making them bend so your heels are on the edge of the bed. Eagerly, he presses wet, sloppy kisses up your inner thighs, his eyes trained up on you.

The sight of him like this between your thighs, doing exactly what you need…it drives you crazy. You lean your head back, letting out a moan as Rafe mouths at your entrance through the fabric your panties.

It’s not long before he’s peeling back your panties as well, sliding them off of you completely. Your legs threaten to close from insecurity, but your best friend is sure to hold them open.

“Fuck…this pussy’s even prettier than I imagined, baby. Soaked…just for me.” Rafe leans in, his mouth hovering just above your core. He silently asks for permission.

Being your best friend, Rafe knows that you’ve never done this before. No guy had ever wanted to date you while Rafe’s your best friend, they could see that you’re his, even if you couldn’t. 

His breath is hot on your bare center, he watches as you squirm and clench around nothing. Eagerly you nod, giving him permission. And within seconds his mouth is on you.

At first, he’s slow; gentle as his eyes continue to meet yours. He licks a warm stripe up your center, briefly pulling back to watch your reaction. Your head falls back, your mouth parted, and eyes closed as you experience this new sensation that your best friend is so generously giving you.

Rafe begins to lick and suck at you. His tongue circles your clit as he looks up, knowing you’d like it. A moan slips past your lips as your hand flies to the back of his head, the other gripping onto the sheets beside you. 

“Nnnghh…f-fuck, Ray…” You whine as his tongue fucks you relentlessly. He only mumbles against you in response, sending vibrations through your core. This felt even better than you had ever thought it would. When you heard people talk about sex, you didn’t think it could actually be this good. Though maybe that just has to do with the fact that Rafe’s your best friend, and he knows exactly what you need.

“Yeah?” One of his hands leaves your leg and moves to grope your tits through your clothes. “You like this, huh? You’re just a slut for your best friend, hm? Letting me have you like this…”

“N-need you…” You mutter, grieving the loss of his tongue on you. He stares at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know.” Rafe’s mouth continues to work on you. His tongue gathers some slick from your entrance and brings it up to your clit, circling it with his tongue a few times before repeating the process. 

The feeling in your lower stomach is starting to build. It’s getting hard for you to sit still for him. It’s even harder for you to stay quiet. A plethora of moans escape you as Rafe’s mouth stays busy between your thighs. Your hand holds his head down, your other grips the sheets underneath you. 

“Rafe…please. S’too much, I can’t—” You whine. 

“Ah ah ah…stop running, baby. I got you. I got you.” Rafe’s grip on your thighs tightens, keeping you in place. “God,” He mutters breathlessly. “You taste…you taste so fuckin’ good. Hiding this from me all that time, hm?” He leans back down and continues his ministrations on you.

Your toes start to curl, the band in your stomach threatening to snap. Suddenly he stops and before you get the chance to look down to see why, one of his fingers is prodding at your entrance. “Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod, allowing one of his thick, long digits to slowly slide into you. You almost scream when he starts to move it, his mouth working on you at the same time. Rafe adds another finger, now thrusting two in and out of you. 

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna squeeze my cock so good. Jus’ gotta get you used to this, hm? You gonna let your best friend be the first to fuck you?” Rafe asks. You nod in response, agreeing to his words. Rafe’s fingers spread apart inside you, stretching your hole, preparing you for his cock. His tongue pauses again as he looks up at you and correct his previous statement. “The only one to fuck you.” Rafe puts his head back between your thighs, his fingers fucking you mercilessly as his tongue sucks at your bud. 

You nod again, followed by a whine. “F-fuck…Ray. I-I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Mhmm…yes, fuckk–” You respond, your fingers fighting to grasp onto the little hair he has. Your thighs begin to squeeze around him, causing him to pull his head up against the force of your hand on him. 

“Just a little more, baby. You can take it. I know you can. You gonna let me help you finish? You wanna cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please Rafey…please let me cum.” Your begging makes him chuckle briefly before going back down on you. His tongue moves with precision, working on you with a purpose; to make you cum. 

Without warning, the band in your stomach snaps. You scream out his name as his tongue circles your sensitive bud and his fingers pump in and out of you slowly. Your best friend continues to work you through your first real orgasm. You’ve never felt anything like this. Why the hell did you wait so long to do this with him?

“God…baby. You’re so fuckin’ perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those pretty sounds.” Rafe carefully slides his fingers out of you, making you clench around nothing at the loss of him. He gets up from his knees, standing over you again. Rafe’s face glistens with your slick. His hand moves up to brush your hair back while he brings his free hand up to your mouth. “Open.” He orders. You oblige and he pushes two digits into your mouth. “Taste that? Taste how fuckin’ good you taste?” He pulls his fingers back, immediately moving down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips. Rafe climbs on top of you, his mouth finding the sweet spot behind your ear. He whispers, “You okay?”

“Mhm…better than okay.” You reassure him. Your legs are still shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your skin. “‘Cause I’m not even close to done with you, baby. We’re just getting started.” He doesn’t wait before he’s pulling off your shirt, kissing down your chest. Soon after, he unclasps your bra with one hand, pulling it off of you and tossing it onto the floor somewhere. 

His lips are vicious, attaching to any and every bit of your skin. His hands gently cup your breasts, his mouth finding and attaching to one of your nipples. His eyes stay trained up on your face, he likes seeing how you react to his touch. He pulls back, straddling your lap. Your hand shoots out to grab the hem of his shirt, trying to tug it upwards. He smirks and quickly does it himself, tossing it aside. He watches you like prey as your eyes skim over his bare chest. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, you have, many times. But no matter how many times you see him like this, you’ll never get used to it. You’ve never seen him in this way though. It’s different, more intimate. You’ve never shared this kind of intimacy with anybody before. And you’re glad you’re doing it with your best friend, whom you’re comfortable with. 

The low light of his bedside lamps reflecting off of his toned skin, damp with sweat. You let out a slow breath as you take in the sight. “Fuck.” You mutter. 

Rafe leans down, kissing and nipping at your earlobe. He whispers, “Like what you see?” He laughs. 

You nod your head eagerly. “Mhmm…”

“Use your words baby, you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” 

“I…y-yes.” You whine as you wriggle underneath him, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in search of some much-needed friction.

Rafe knows what you need. He knows that you’re ready now; ready to give him everything, let him take your innocence, your virtue. He uses one hand to prop himself up as the other works at his belt. Once you realize what he’s doing, you try to help him out, eagerly unbuckling his belt as he kisses you passionately, like he’s never kissed anyone else before you; like you’re the only girl on this fucking planet. 

Once his belt is off, you work at his pants. He leans up so he can tug them off, throwing them aside with the rest of the discarded clothes. All that’s left between the two of you now is the thin fabric of his boxers. You can feel his hardened form pressing into your leg as he kisses you, practically devouring you. Without thinking about it, you find your hand tugging at the waistband of his boxers. You beg. “Please”, your lips whisper into his ear as he bites at your neck. “Rafey…”

He leans back again, this time getting off of you and standing at the side of the bed and in front of you. You can’t help but touch yourself as Rafe frees himself from the constraint of his boxers. You watch as his hard cock springs up, hitting his stomach when it’s finally freed. He smirks, leaning down to remove your hand from yourself. 

“I got you, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, moving his hand over your core again. His strong fingers circle your clit. Your breath hitches as you watch him touch you, his other hand holding the base of his cock.

“Rafe?” You manage to ask through your cries. 

“Hm? What is it?” Rafe says your name softly, encouraging you to continue. 

“Will it hurt?” You’ve heard that the first time can be uncomfortable. And judging by Rafe’s size, this was going to be more than just uncomfortable. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to back out of the situation, you need this. You need him.

Your best friend’s expression becomes more serious as he looks at you. His hand comes up from your core to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “It might, baby. It might be a little uncomfortable for a moment, but I’ll do my best to make it feel good, yeah? I’ll go slow. And if you don’t like it I want you to tell me. You’re okay, baby. It’s just me, your best friend. I’m gonna take care of you. M’kay?” You nod in response, his eyes darting between your eyes to get a sense of what you’re thinking. Rafe clicks his tongue. “Ah, ah. Use your words, pretty girl.” His hand reaches out for your chin, tilting your face up towards him. 

“Please Ray…”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me…” The words sound so vulgar coming from your sweet, innocent mouth. He’s never known you to speak this way, but he’s not against it. He pumps his fist over his cock a few times, his head leaning back as he lets out a groan. “Please Rafe…I-I need you in me…”

Your words snap him out of his amazement. “Atta girl.” He replies. You can feel his tip gently rub against your slippery entrance. Your warm juices on his cock feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. You’re like a drug to him. A drug that he can’t get enough of. 

He pulls back before you can get used to the feeling of him. He leans over you, reaching into his dresser drawer. When he moves back over you, you see the shiny square wrapper in his hand.

You place your hands over his as he tries to open the condom. “No…”

His head snaps up at you. “No…? No what?” He asks, confused. “You don’t want to do this?”

“No…Rafe, I-I want this. I just…I want to feel you. No…no condom.” You explain.

“Fuck, y/n. Are you sure?” Rafe’s disbelief and shock is very apparent in his tone. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m on the pill.” You confirm.

“God, how much more perfect can you fuckin’ get?” He chuckles, making you huff out a quick laugh. 

Soon his lips are back on yours as he uses his hand to guide his glistening, pink tip back to your puffy cunt. Slowly, he pushes into you, just so that the very tip of his cock is inside of you. He looks up to your face, pending your reaction. 

“F-fuck…Rafe.” Your hands move to his hips, pushing him further inside. Rafe gives in, pushing another inch into you. “Mnghh, fuck…Rafe.” Rafe settles there for a moment before giving you another inch or two. Each time he moves, he looks to make sure you’re still enjoying it, giving you a minute to adjust each time. When he finally bottoms out, you feel so…full. The pain is there, but it doesn’t last long, fading into a light discomfort as your soft walls mold to his shape. You involuntarily squeeze around him.

“Shiiiitt, baby…Squeezin’ me so tight.” He pauses to kiss you, his lips soon finding that soft spot behind your ear that makes you shiver. “M’gonna move now, alright?”

“Mhm…please…” You whine. You hook your arms under his, bringing your palms up to grip onto his back. Rafe continues to kiss all over your neck and chest as he slowly pulls out of you, until only the tip is left inside. Without warning, he pushes into you a bit quicker this time, with a bit more force than before. But you’re not complaining. You cry his name out, your nails digging into his shoulders. He begins to move at a slow, steady pace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “F-fuck…” You yelp, gripping onto him even harder.

“Fuck, baby…your nails, they hurt.” He mumbles amusedly into your ear as he nips at it. Immediately your grip loosens. You feel terrible but can’t manage to muster up an apology since you can’t think clearly with how his cock is repeatedly kissing your cervix with each thrust. 

“Faster.” You beg, pressing your forehead into his arm. He listens cautiously, carefully picking up the face. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. The new position allows him to hit an even deeper spot inside of you. When his digits start to circle your clit you almost let out a scream, making him chuckle. 

“Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?” He laughs as he fucks you senseless.

“Fuck…Rafey, no, I…I can’t. Can’t take it.” You moan, throwing your head back as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“You can and you will.” He speaks emotionlessly, overtaken by pleasure. Rafe’s hand moves from you clit up to your throat again, he applies a bit of pressure. Your hands leave his back and wrap around his wrist. Your eyes stay shut as your face contorts into that of pure bliss. His thumb slides into your mouth and you suck and bite at it, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feeling of him fucking you. You don’t see how you can ever stop; this feeling is…unlike anything else you’ve felt before. “You got this baby. M’almost there. You can let go, baby. Just let go f’me.”

Sooner than later you feel the newly familiar feeling of pressure building in your lower stomach. When it snaps, your body tenses up, a wave of moans escape your mouth as the band snaps and pleasure washes over you. Rafe continues to fuck you slowly, his movements becoming more sporadic than strategic.

“Fuck, where do you want it?”

“My pussy, please Rafey…fill me up?” You ask, eyes wide with tears as you look up at him. “Please?”

“Shit, you sure?” Rafe groans, barely able to hold on any longer.

“Y-yes...I’m sure.” Only seconds later you can feel his warm seed spurting out inside of you. Your gummy walls soaking him in as they squeeze around him, milking him for all that he’s got.

“Fuckk y/n. Do that again.” As he thrusts into you without any specific rhythm, you obey his words, squeezing tightly around his length again. Rafe lets out a guttural moan, tossing his head back for a moment before looking at you again, watching how well you take him, as if you were made for him. The way he fills you up you is like pieces of a puzzle, just meant for one another. “Shiiitt…you’re so fucking tight. Squeezin’ ‘round your best friends cock so good.”

After you’re both worked through your orgasms, he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of him, feeling a big opening left where he had been. Rafe leans down to press a deep, meaningful kiss to your lips. He pulls back, wiping your hair and sweat from your face with a proud smile.

“God, baby. You did so good, so fucking good. That’s a good girl. My girl, yeah?” He leans down again, pressing a kiss to your neck. Rafe whispers in your ear. “m’so proud.” Before pulling away completely, he presses a kiss to each of your cheeks, your nose, and one final kiss to your forehead. 

You turn on your side to face him as he lay on the bed beside you. “Rafe…” Your voice shows your exhaustion, but also your hesitancy.

He turns on his side to face you as well, propping his head up against his hand. “Hm?” He says with a smile. He can’t help it, it’s impossible for him to see you and not smile after what you just did. 

You flop back down onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s too hard to say this while looking at his beautiful smile. “That was…” 

“Incredible?” He interrupts, his fingers lightly tracing up and down your arm. 

“What was that?” You blurt out, scared that if you don’t say it now then you never will.

Rafe’s smile fades quickly, he props himself up on his elbows, staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Woah woah, woah. Hey. What? What d’you mean?”

You give a light shrug, his fingers no longer moving over your skin. You avoid looking at his pretty eyes. “I mean like…what happens now?”

He sighs, laying back down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re my girl now, yeah? I thought that was obvious.” 

“Your girl? The Rafe Cameron I know doesn’t do girlfriends.” You say lightly.

“That’s because I never wanted one. I never…needed one, I’ve got you.”

“So…we’re friends?” You ask, attempting and failing at trying to hide your emotions.

“We are, aren’t we?” Rafe responds, not knowing what his words imply or how they’ll make you feel.

“Yeah…yea we’re friends.” You say dryly. 

He turns his head to face you. “Hey. Y/N. What’s wrong? Hey…hey, talk to me.”

“Nothing, Rafe. I’m fine.”

“Jesus, no you’re not. C‘mon baby, what is it?”

“Nothing!” You snap. You’re angry about your own reaction, feeling stupid once the words leave your mouth. Grabbing the sheets, you cover yourself up.

“Did I do something? What’d I do?” Asks Rafe, making you feel worse about yourself. It’s not his fault you feel like this. “Is it what we did? Look, I’m sorry if—“

You cut him off, not being able to listen to him blame himself. “I just…I don’t think friends do what we just did.”

“Jesus, y/n. Look…” He trails off, cursing himself. “Do you not wanna be my girl or something? ‘Cause I can—“

“No, Rafe. I just…I don’t get what you mean. Your girl?”

“Yeah.” He says, confused.

“Like…your girlfriend? Dating? Us?”

“Fuck. Yes, baby. My girlfriend.” Rafe says the word as though it’s a pain to say it. “Will you be my girlfriend? Please?” You could tease him about the way he’s practically begging you.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” You joke, not being able to resist. Rafe laughs, glad to hear your usual self. 

“Well, I’m kinda hoping that I’m your…boyfriend, now.”

“Hmm…let me think…” You say, tapping your chin as if this is something you need to contemplate. You can see his demeanor sadden from the corner of your eye, causing you to look over at him. “What’s in it for me?” You add, a smirk threatening to appear on your face. You can barely hold back your laughter at this point, but he still looks so sad, like a puppy who can’t have a treat. “Jesus Rafe, I thought you’d never ask.” You don’t even give him enough time to respond before you’re on top of him, his lips immediately seeking yours.

“Yeah? You mean it?” He asks between kisses, almost nervously. 

“Of course I do, Rafe. ‘Promise.” 

You always know just what to say to him to calm down his mind, he loves that about you. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. God, I fuckin’ love you.” Your eyes widen at his confession, you look down at him. He’s almost just as shocked as you are. He didn’t even know he felt that way. The words just slipped out, but they felt so right. “Fuck, no, I meant—“ Rafe starts, but you cut him off. You kiss him again,  passionately. This kiss shows him exactly how you feel, somehow being more intimate than having sex with him was. 

“I love you, Rafe. I promise.” You know how he can feel like everybody is against him, so you try to reassure him as much as you can. You’re the only one who’s ever made him feel cared for; he just never wanted to fuck things up with you. “Please just…can you promise me that you’ll stop beating up random strangers who talk to me? ‘Cause I don’t care about them, Rafe. I care about you.”

This is all so new, talking to each other in this way. But it’s how you’ve both always felt. “But y/n, he-“ Rafe pauses, reconsidering his words for you. He sighs and then mumbles, “Yeah…I’ll try.” He looks back at you, you with a stern look in your eyes. “I will. I promise.”

You smile, leaning down for a kiss. Quickly, things start to escalate again. Rafe flips you both over so he’s on top. He leans down to kiss your neck, sucking and nipping at it as he works his way down, kissing every inch of you. 

“Mnmh…fuck…” You moan.

Rafe smiles against your skin. “Yeah, baby? That feels good huh?” You only nod eagerly as a response. Rafe takes hold of his already hard cock, using his fist to pump over himself a few times, letting out a low growl. He rubs his dewy, pink tip over your sticky hole. 

You let out a moan, still being sensitive from your previous orgasms. “F-fuck…Rafe, m’too sensitive, s’too much.” You whine.

“Shh…shhhh baby, it’s okay. I’m not gonna do nothin’, jus’ wanna show you how proud of my girl I am.” His mouth works it’s way down, landing back between your thighs. Your boyfriend softly bites at your inner thighs, his eyes staying trained on you as your face contorts in pleasure. Eventually he finds your soaking core, lapping up the mix of your juices. You feel his fingers gather some of your arousal, mixed with his cum. Before you know it, those fingers are deep inside your throat. “Taste that, baby? Hm? Taste how fucking good we are?” 

You nod, whining when his mouth finds your core again. His tongue flicks at your most sensitive bud, making you jump. Although Rafe only holds onto harder the more you try to run. “Baby, it’s okay. Let me take care of you; clean you up.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re yet again, a shaking, crying mess underneath him. When his mouth works it’s way back to yours, you can taste both of you on his tongue. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. I fucking love you.”

You smile a weak, tired smile at him. He rolls off of you, flipping you both on your side so he can spoon you. He kisses your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing mindless shapes into your skin. “I love you too.” You respond as you drift off to sleep in your boyfriend's arms.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to leave more asks, I will most likely get to them at some point. Thank you!

[teenytinyjimin]

baroque (j. jungkook)

summary: masquerade balls are all fun and games until you meet that one person that you feel like you’ve known for a lifetime, but regardless as to who he is, you can’t just let him go.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.4k

tags: masquerade, mystery, academia/renaissance/baroque (i know these are all different but its a little combination), ballroom dancing, reader is absolutely in love with this mystery man she’s dancing with, and he’s kinda in love with her too, spoiler: they know each other, kissing of course!

warnings: none

author’s note: IM BACK! IM SO SORRY BUT IM BACK! anyways i hope u guys enjoy! my last kook fic got a lot of traction so thank u so much <3 so i hope this is up to par with that one :)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

As you stood at the steps to the entrance of one of the largest ballrooms in town, you took a deep sigh. This wasn't a sigh of distress, however, it was more of a sigh of anticipation.

Balls weren't necessarily a thing of the 21st century. Had it been, say, four-hundred or five-hundred years prior, a ball would be the talk of the town and absolutely everyone would be flooding into the ballroom to have the time of their lives dancing with one another. Alas, it was 2024, and the only people you'd see attending a ball nowadays would be people who are actively interested in Renaissance and Baroque culture and seek rare events pertaining to such.

There was something about these classical time periods that felt ageless and beautiful to you. The big gowns, glimmering jewels, and elaborate ballroom designs were absolutely gorgeous. So of course you were going to indulge in as much classical beauty as possible in modern times. And that meant going to balls whenever you could (or, in other words, whenever you were able to hear about them through the grapevine).

So here you were, in your elaborate Renaissance dress, staring at the entrance ahead of you. This particular ball was a masquerade ball, so it was even more exciting considering the fact that most everyone would be anonymously dancing behind beautifully decorated masks. You looked down at your own mask in hand, a beautiful and ornate piece strewn with jewels, glitter, and feathers. You had spent the last week perfecting the mask and had gone through nearly a dozen prototypes before you created what you thought was the best piece of work you had ever done in your twenty-something years of living. It was beautiful, and it would do a perfect job of hiding exactly what needed to be hidden to make this masquerade a true mystery for you.

Fastening the mask over your head and onto your face, you began to ascend the steps and enter the ballroom. As anticipated, the venue was covered in beautiful Renaissance artwork and ornate chandeliers. The marble pillars holding the place together really brought everything to life as they echoed the Roman influence that they possessed into the large room. Ahead of you was a sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos, all spinning around in harmony as they danced with one another to the beautiful orchestral music that played.

"A glass of champagne, miss?" A voice called out from next to you. You looked over to see a masked waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand. You gave him a polite nod and curtsy as you took a glass from him. Champagne wasn't necessarily your drink of choice, however you needed something to keep you company while you waited for a good opportunity to join the dancing or, alternatively, until you were asked to dance.

As you approached the floor of the ball, navigating through the sea of dancing people, you attempted to find someone you may have recognized. Sure, masquerades made it rather difficult to identify a person and thus it was quite hard to know if you knew anyone anyway, but it was worth a shot for the sake of socializing. For the most part, everyone seemed pretty invested in their partners, committing to the elaborate ballroom dance that was taking place to the sound of a piano and violin.

Within a matter of moments, you suddenly found yourself on the ground as you had accidentally run directly into another individual. You looked up to see a gloved hand reach down to you, begging for your touch so that it could help you to your feet once again. As you obliged, you realized the body to which the hand was connected was much stronger than you had anticipated as you practically flew back to your feet. A little lightheaded from the rush of movement, you swayed for a moment and tried to find your footing, but the hand that previously helped you was now firmly on your waist as a form of support.

You brushed off your dress once you found yourself more stable, a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry-" You began before looking up to the person in front of you. Something about his presence left you fascinated – He was tall with wide shoulders and toned arms, something you could immediately notice through his tight-fitting shirt. Despite being fit to his body, his shirt was beautiful and contained all sorts of frills and jewels. Only one of his hands were gloved, as the other one was covered in bracelets and rings of a particularly ornate design. He had the most beautiful chain necklaces wrapped around his neck which perfectly suited his beautiful jawline, which was both sharp and soft at the same time. His lips, a perfect amount of plump, were curled into a soft smile which made him a lot less intimidating than he seemed. When you finally saw his eyes, you were met with the most beautiful black orbs that were wide with wonder and amazement. You could've sworn that you've seen those eyes somewhere, as they reminded you of all the comfort you had ever felt in your life, but you couldn't quite put them to a face you recognized. Though this man's face was hidden behind a beautiful mask, you could tell that he was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

"Are you okay?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you. There was no way you were going to escape his gaze, not because he wouldn't let you but also because you didn't want to. You nodded softly as you continued awkwardly brushing off your dress, unsure of how to speak to the man in front of you. The soft smile that was once on his face now grew to a more toothy grin as he took your hand in his and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips. "If you'd like to make it up to me, I'd love to dance with you."

How were you meant to say no to him? Besides the fact that he had quite literally left you speechless, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous and you'd never turn down an offer to dance with someone like him. As you once again responded with a nod, you felt as he used the hand he had wrapped around your waist to guide you further into the crowd of people and to a more open area where you could properly dance. Once there, he pulled you slightly closer to him as he took your hand in his free one. You naturally placed your other hand upon his bicep, which was tense under your touch, and he began to guide you into a waltz-style dance. It felt as if this came naturally to him as you effortlessly swayed around. You continued to stare into his beautiful doe eyes which shimmered with fantasy as they quite literally pierced into your soul. Whoever this man was, he was perfect in every sense of the word. He was just so perfect.

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I'm not sure if I mentioned that," He said after a moment, causing you to blush and look away. "I could say the same about you," You responded quietly, letting yourself feel the air around you blow through your hair. "Thank you for helping me up, by the way. This dress is difficult to maneuver in when you're on the ground."

"It's my pleasure. After all, we bumped into each other. I had an obligation. I wasn't going to let a beautiful girl fend for herself on the ground as a bunch of people danced all over her." You looked back over to him and let out a soft giggle, watching as a grin rose to his face. Something about him was just so warm and inviting, yet you couldn't put your finger on what it was. Perhaps you two knew each other in a past life, one in which you were actually attending balls together in the Renaissance.

"I bet you call a lot of girls at these sorts of things beautiful. I mean, look at you." You say in a teasing tone, watching as his grin dropped to a smirk. "Bold of you to assume that I go to these dances very often, miss." He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to effortlessly sway you around, refusing to stop staring at you. "But even if I did, you're the most breathtaking of them all. Honest."

You remove your hand from his as you bring both hands to rest on the back of his neck, attempting to push yourself closer to him so you can talk a little quieter. "You seem like a pro, do you really not go to balls very often?" He shrugs under your touch as he wraps both arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "Not really. This is my first time coming to this place at least. I'm more of a contemporary dancer."

"Ah, I see," You say softly, letting one of your hands feel at the hair on the back of his neck. He lets out a hitched breath at your touch but continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "It's a beautiful venue, though. It feels like we're in the 1700s and not the 2000s." He comments, looking up briefly at the chandelier above the two of you. You couldn't help but agree. Sometimes when you go to events like these you forget about the chaos of life and pretend that you're still in the Renaissance, which is beautiful in and of itself.

"Have you been on the balcony yet? It has a beautiful view of the city if you want to go take a look," You propose, looking back down at the man in your arms. You watch as his eyes soften and a small smile grows on his lips, pulling away so he can offer you his hand. "You lead the way," He says as you take your hand in his and gently pull him away from the crowd.

As soon as you reached the fresh air of the empty balcony, the two of you stood in silence as you admired the shimmering lights of the city in front of you. "Wow..." He muttered, clearly surprised at the sight in front of him. "You can see pretty much everything from here. How is that possible?" You approach the railing of the balcony and lean against it, taking a moment to look around. "The ballroom is on a hill, even though it doesn't really feel like it. It's actually above the rest of the town so the balcony is able to look down on everything around us."

"I hate to say it, but it seems like I might have found something more beautiful than you." Letting out a small gasp, you turn around to face the man behind you, noticing a huge grin on his face. You smile in return. "I guess I don't blame you. A good view beats a pretty face any day."

"Mmm." He hums, approaching you slowly. He secures his hands on your waist as he picks you up with ease and places you on the railing, keeping contact with you at all times to ensure that you don't fall. Once you are steady on the railing he wraps both arms around you and presses himself tightly to you for extra support, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to stay safe. "I'm only joking anyway. I don't think it's possible to be more beautiful than you."

"Well, I think you're living proof of that, because you're definitely more beautiful than me," You mumble as the distance between your faces becomes much shorter than it once was. He lets out a breathy laugh as he removes one of his arms from your waist and attaches his hand to your face, stroking it gently before closing the gap completely and bringing you in for a kiss.

Kissing someone under the stars is one thing, but kissing someone mysteriously under the stars is another thing. You have no idea who this man is, you don't even know his name, yet here you are, lips connected to his. This is perhaps the best kiss you have ever experienced, as he is so soft yet so passionate with his movements. He never once lets go of you with his other hand, keeping you secure on the railing so that you don't accidentally slip. The one on your face is so soft and gentle, holding onto your face in the most perfect way. It is only now that you are able to really breathe in his scent, an obviously expensive cologne that you would kill to drown in at this point. He was consuming every part of you and you wanted him and only him.

The two of you pulled away briefly so that he could stare into your eyes for a moment. "You really are breathtaking," He mumbled, fiddling with the bottom edge of your mask. As he began to slowly pull it off of your face, you watched as his expression went from lovestruck to shocked. It looked as if seeing your face without the mask scared him. He didn't like how you looked.

"I'm sorry-" You begin to say, tears welling up in your eyes. However he stops you as he takes his own mask off, revealing a face that you could never forget. Jeon Jungkook. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had a crush on for years several years ago. He wasn't disgusted by how you looked. He was shocked that it was you.

"Jungkook?" You said breathlessly, unable to say anything beyond his name. He only stared at you in response, unsure of what his own next move would be. This wasn't something you had ever expected. Not the whole 'kissing your childhood best friend' part, but the fact that somehow in an event of anonymity, you would find your way to each other. And now that you have shared this night together, it's almost as if all the feelings you ever felt for him over the years have flooded back to you as you once again felt head-over-heels for him.

Finally, you watched as a toothy smile returned to his face. He placed his hand once again on your cheek and brushed it as you watched him admire your features. "Thank god it's you. I've been waiting for this moment for years," He mumbled before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[phant0msworld]

Hopefully soon

Jason x gn!reader

pov: Jason sees Someone often sitting at the same spot they seem sad like him

warnings: kinda talk of death and depression, smoking mentioned

note:so this is the first piece I’ve written in a long time, I hope you like it, its not long but I hope it’s okay.

For Jason it wasn’t easy to go back being someone after his death, its something he still is constantly working on. Sometimes he feels like there isn’t anyone who can understand the pain he is, there will probably never be someone who will understand the pain of dying and coming back.but its not that feeling he wants people to understand, its the feeling of having deep sadness inside you, the feeling of always being alone even when you have friends, even when you have family who support you.He accepted the sadness inside him a long time ago, but wanting someone to understand and relate is something normal he tells himself.

Lately he noticed someone while being on patrol, there is always someone sitting on the fire escape of one of the buildings he crosses a lot they are always smoking, writing or reading and listening to music. He can’t understand why but there is also the feeling of deep sadness when he looks at them like they would understand what he is feeling. But maybe he is just to delusional and the Lazarus pit got to him even more than he taught.

But then last week he ran into them at the local bookstore, he was surprised to see them, especially with the phantom of the opera in their hand.

They were trying to reach another book but couldn’t get it so he decided to step in and help this mystery person who caught his attention.

“Is this the book you were getting?” He asked nervously holding les miserable up while looking at you.

“Yeah thanks, i was trying to get it, I don’t understand why bookshelf’s need to be so high.” You say laughing and taking the book from him, he noticed how gentle your voice was and how you didn’t want to attract attention.

“So you like classics I’m guessing?” He asks wanting to finde out more about you, he feels drawn to you , not because of your looks(maybe a bit) but rather because he can see sadness inside you like he has inside of him. He sees you.

“Oh yeah kinda but I’ve already read these, but I accidentally spilled water over them so I needed new ones.” You say looking at the books smiling warmly.

“Well anyway thank you for helping me but I have to go ,nice meeting you tho.”

As you walked away Jason could only Watch you, only later on did he realize that he never asked your name.But if he wanted to get to know you he wanted t do it as Jason, not a RedHood, or anyone else, he wanted you to see him.That night when he swung buy your usual spot he saw you reading and smiled, he couldn’t wait to you next meeting which hopefully will be soon.

note: so I hope you liked reading it, I would appreciate a small feedback.

[icarusredwings]

Spoilers?

Thinking about the fact that the Master "adopted" all those kids with Lucy and seemed genuinely (at least a little bit) upset when they got taken out of time. It makes me wonder...

Did the Doctor know how much this would hurt him? The amount of grief and "what once was but never could be" feeling he wanted to share with someone?

Putting aside the fact that he used both the Toclafane and Lucy, do we think he was ever actually fond of them? Maybe im just delusional, but I think so. I know his entire thing is manipulation and that Lucy was a prop to get votes, but the way he pulls out the chairs,

leans against her,

calls her his faithful companion/ darling/sweetheart,

how she dances when the music comes on,

how proud he is to show her their millions of children, how even the doctor says she was loyal to him.

M: How many do you think?

L: I.. i don't know

M: Six-Billion *turns off music* Down, you go, kids!

He also calls them "His children" in the Last of the Time Lords.

It seems almost... domestic? In about as much domestic as this Master can get sort of way.

Im not at all surprised, but it makes me almost sad to know that he hits her. The first time I watched it, I was like, "...oh.." Because yes, it makes sense, heavily, and I know the point is to make the viewer feel yucky about the Master but like...

It kinda just makes you pitty them. You know? Because you see what they could have had, and you're like, "What happened?" Especially because they were together for 2 years. That's nothing to the Master but that's still longer than I would think, especially since he doesn't need her anymore but keeps her anyway as another trophy. The whole power trip thing is so odd to me. And telling another girl hes going to take her to the stars infront of her?

Lucy gave him what he deserved.

Imagine your husband abusing you for an entire year infront of his weird old ex friend and said friend gets treated like a dog/ trophy, so you shoot your husband and watch said trophy run over to him and cradle him in his arms....

like im so sorry, girl. You deserved so much more. Jack is literally looking up because he just can't with this bullshit..

TLDR:

"The Master, the villan, treated Lucy like shit. Shocker.. It's almost as if bad people do bad things Forest-"

Yeah, yeah, I know! I know! It just feels gross, okay? Because I know its suppose to feel uncomfortable but i just can't explain it. It feels how Girl in the Fireplace felt. Weird and kind of out of character. Especially since what I've seen of classic master, he's kind of a classy gentleman... But this IS simm were talking about... that little rabid trash goblin... aka a whole different species of Master.

Thanks for coming to my delusional tedtalk.

[epwritten]

could've been ~ l.m

"People change, it's up to them"

Description: In which you and Minho have an awkward conversation after the two of you broke up.

Word Count: 2K

Author's note: I was going to originally write this for Felix, but Lee Know kept coming in my head. So I said screw it, we're making this a Minho one shot. I hope you like it!

Additional note: college au, ex's, memories, 2nd pov ('you' format). Minho's a bit mean if that counts as a warning? Not necessarily a happy ending, but still content enough.

Hope you enjoy reading! <3

People changed all the time. It was a part of life.

This was the reminder you played over and over in your head as you made your bed that morning. Everyday was feeling numb and the same. You woke up at around 7 to the sound of your alarm. You took a shower and brushed your teeth. You got dressed. If you had an appetite you would usually make toast and have orange slices on the side. If it was like a day like today where you felt more numb that usual, you grabbed a protein shake and left the kitchen. You'd be out the house before your parents were awake, on your way to work, which you had to be in by 8:30.

You put music in your ears. Nothing like classic R&B or sad songs you loved, but something upbeat like pop or rap that would try to distract you from how you were truly feeling. Because if you were to listen to what you were really feeling there'd be problems and you couldn't afford that. Not when you were at least trying to get better and move on.

But the music choice would be good, you concluded as you turned up the volume. You also worked at the front counter at the campus gym. The place was upbeat anyway.

It wasn't until you arrived at the gym did you feel a harsh cold wind. Your hands flew to your arms as you hugged yourself, looking around in confusion. It was the start of spring, a chill day in April and yet you felt like you were trapped in a freezer.

You spotted Rob, one of your co-workers. He was nice, about a decade older than you, and the one that first helped you during your first few days at work.

"The air condition can't turn off. It's been on overnight at high." Rob told you. You noticed fog escaped his breath.

"Did you call someone?" You asked.

"Yeah, the HVAC technician should be here in an hour. The gym itself is not as cold, but I'm heading to a meeting upstairs and someone needs to stay at front desk while I'm out." Rob said. He shot an apologetic look, but you shook your head.

"It's fine, I can stay here I'll just-"

You stopped talking as a lightbulb went over your head. Your dad was a professor at the same college you attended and worked at, and he would be teaching a morning class. His class didn't start until 9, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go by now. So you had an idea.

You looked at Rob as you got out your phone. "I'll be fine. I'm going to ask my dad if he can drop off a hoodie for me." You said.

Rob nodded. "Okay, thanks a bunch." He gave a final smile before he left and headed up the stairs.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers cold as you typed. It was ridiculously cold and you absolutely needed to feel warmth immediately. The worse part of the whole thing was that you had a weak immune system. Anytime there were weather changes you had to be extra careful and take precaution so that you wouldn't be sick. And it would happen. You would always get the flu or something, but you didn't want to get it this time.

You varied between pacing behind the desk, putting your hands in your jean pockets, and hugging yourself. You felt goosebumps on your forearms and your teeth were slightly chartering.

Who in their right mind turned the air conditioner to the highest level anyway? It wasn't even a scorching day in August yet?

The usual Monday crowd strolled in. They signed in, made little small talk, and then headed straight to the weights. You tried to be as professional as you could, remaining focused on your work as you signed each person in. Maybe the cold helped with that for a bit, but it wasn't until a guy who came in with iced coffee or headphones around his ears did it make you think of someone.

When you were by yourself, you looked ahead, trying not to think about what would cloud your mind but you knew it would come eventually. Everything reminded you of him, but this place was a literal gym, if not THE gym he used to go to.

Now you weren't even sure where he'd go.

You took a deep breath, drumming the table as you closed your eyes and tilted your head just enough for your neck to crack. Satisfied, you did it on the other side too. There was no better feeling than to release unwanted stress and tension.

The door suddenly opened, and the warm air made you open your eyes. You smiled when you saw your dad in his classic suit and suitcase come in. You checked the time on your computer screen.

"You're here early." You commented. He would usually come about an hour later.

"I know, but when you say there's a broken air conditioning and they left you here to freeze in a t-shirt? That's not happening on my watch." He said, walking over to give you a side hug.

He felt your arm. "You're a block of ice!" He said shocked. You had to giggle at his concern.

"I grabbed the biggest hoodie I could find. It was in your closet." He said, handing you a grey hoodie that was slung over his shoulder.

You blinked, staring at it for a second as you slowly took it from his hands.

"Alright, I'm going to go over my lecture. You're all good now, right?" Your dad asked.

You nodded. "Yes. Thanks, dad."

He left the gym, shuddering as he opened the door. He turned and pointed to you on his way out. "Wear the hoodie immediately!" He yelled.

"Okay!" You said, shooting a thumbs up.

When the door closed, you sighed. You could feel the fabric, or check the design, or even smell the piece of clothing. But you didn't have to.

Because you still, even after all this time of distance, knew it wasn't your hoodie. It was Minho's.

You ran fingers through your hair as you sighed, looking at the grey oversized hoodie that was placed on the counter. How could have still had this? You thought you gave everything back.

But it had been months. Two months and seven days exactly (though who's counting?). Couldn't Minho have noticed on of his hoodies missing and asked for it back?

You sat in the stool now, still staring at what was once your blanket of memories. It wasn't your dad's fault, he didn't realized what he grabbed. The poor man probably read your text and ran without a second thought. He knew the breakup was hard, he would have never took Minho's hoodie for you to wear intentionally.

But here you were, now faced with this reality. You still had this one hoodie in your closet. And now you were freezing. You considered the options. You could wait until the technician guy came in, and just freeze for one more hour. By that point your fingers would go completely numb. But would it be worth it? What would be the point of that? If you were freezing, and there was a hoodie that was right in front of you, no one in their good mind would reject that.

But would they reject it if it was from their ex?

You let out a sigh but knew what you had to do. It was either your health, or nothing. It wasn't worth it to get sick just because you didn't use what would help you right there in the moment, even it was Minho's.

You took the hoodie that was starting to be chilly itself and then brought it over you to wear. An action you've done so many times, but you never thought there'd be a day when it caused you pain.

Once it was worn you suddenly remembered that it was a custom made hoodie that one of his friends got for his birthday. In small but still visible cursive print on the left side read the letters L. M.

You were now after breaking up with him, wearing his initials again.

This. Was. Torturous.

You put the hood of the hoodie over your head and pulled down the sleeves just slightly so you could continue working with sweater paws. You were grateful now that you were shivering anymore, and whatever feeling of soreness that wanted to start in your throat was now coming down. You knew it was way better to save your health. The technician would be here soon and you could take the hoodie off.

The busyness of the job came in shifts. One moment it would be slow, then out of nowhere, a while wave of people would come in. Each of the conversations were similar. They asked about the cold, you told them about the problem, they asked if the gym was closed, you told them they could still work out and the gym itself was fine. After the current wave you just passed (which dealt with way too much energy for a 9am) you finally had a chance to sit down. You mindlessly rested your head against the desk, wanting to be still for a moment. But after a few seconds your head jolted up.

The hoodie still smelled like him.

It was ridiculous. Maybe you were paranoid. You had washed this hoodie several times, how could you have smelled his scent?

You missed it. The natural one. You liked his cologne as well of course, but it was the snug moments where if you cuddled on the couch, and if you were wearing his clothes and he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, you would be surrounded by a fresh dove springtime smell. It immediately gave you the memories and you tried to now look at the computer, then down to the view of the gym, anything to get your kind off of it.

You weren't struggling as much as you once were, when the breakup was still a few days old. You weren't necessarily going to lie and say you were happy and all better, but you were just numb now. Numb to the feelings, and also numb to the memories. But now, as you sat in your ex boyfriend's hoodie, it was playing a bunch of tricks on your brain. Suddenly you were back there in the cold days. Suddenly you were back to falling asleep in his arms. Suddenly you were back to library dates with coffee. Suddenly you were back to watching his morning runs.

You shook your head and glanced at the clock. Just one more hour. Then you could take the stupid thing off.

Long minutes passed by but you were getting through your morning until the door chimed and opened once again. You looked up and instantly felt your heart drop.

Minho's friends from his dance club came through the door, and it wasn't long until you saw him in a black hoodie on top of cargo pants. His brown hair long and styled in a way that made you hate how good you thought he looked. He always looked good, but he wasn't yours to tell that anymore.

He was laughing, an iced coffee in his hand. Though you were confused. He had a class at this time. Why was he at the gym?

You kept your eyes down, trying to avert your gaze. They were headed in your direction. You weren't sure what Minho would do. Since the breakup you didn't see him much, but if you paths were to cross for whatever reason, you would pass by each other like strangers. Minho wouldn't glance in your direction and so you learned how to do the same thing.

But now for the first time in a while you were spotted, and making matters worse, in his hoodie. What would his friends think? What would he think? You hoped Minho wouldn't notice.

As the guys walked over to the counter, Minho was last in line. He had his phone with him scrolling away in disinterest as his straw was in mouth. You tried not to pay attention as you plastered a while.

It was semi awkward since most of the guys knew who you were. But you were all adults so you weren't about to make a scene. You signed them in and they smiled and said their thanks.

"Have a good workout." You wished, just as you did with everyone who's stepped in since the gym opened.

Now that Minho's friends left, you turned to the computer screen, typing his name. You could do this whole thing in silence, and as you see in the corner of your eye that Minho looked around the place and not at you, you expected that he would do the same.

That was until he placed his hand on the desk, leaning in.

"What are you doing?" He asked. His voice sounded slightly irritated.

Your hands typed fast and you willed yourself to be strong and not timid. You were bound to talk to him eventually.

"I'm working Minho, what does it look like I'm doing?" You finally looked up at his handsome face. "I need your card."

Minho's gaze fell at the hoodie. "Why are you wearing my hoodie? What do you think you're doing?"

You breathed deeply and slowly. "I don't know if you noticed this, but this air conditioning is on the highest level and I needed something to warm me up-"

"So you walk around wearing my freaking initials on your chest."

Minho took a step back and glanced at you. Was it disgust? Anger? Resentment? You couldn't even tell.

You blinked. "It's not like that. I didn't know about the air conditioner until I got here. I asked my dad to grab a hoodie on his way here and he found this one. That's all."

Minho rolled his eyes as he got out his wallet. "Sure."

"It's the truth." You said.

Minho didn't look like he believed. His eyes were elsewhere as he handed you his card and you swiped it on the machine. When you handed back his card, he looked at you once more.

"We broke up. And you're out here wearing my hoodie, that's not fair." He said, his voice low.

You scoffed, holding the hem of his hoodie. "Do you think I want to wear this? You think it's fun for me to go around wearing something from someone I'd rather have no business with? I don't like this. It's awkward, okay? But it was either this or freeze." You told him.

Minho shook his head. There was a look in his eye, though you couldn't tell what exactly he felt. You knew this was awkward for him. You placed yourself in his shoes. He, just like you, had a right to move on. But when you were wearing something of his, it was awkward. You knew that.

You just didn't like how he made it seem like it was your choice in the matter.

"Well, is someone coming to fix the air conditioner?" Minho asked.

You nodded. "In about an hour."

Minho gave a weird look. "You couldn't have waited until then?"

That was what made you ticked off. You shook your head, letting out a huff.

"Look, do you want me to take this off and give it to you? Because-"

"Calm down. You're already wearing it, I'm not gonna ask you to take it off, I'm not that vile. It's whatever. You can keep it. Or burn it later. Do whatever you want with it. I don't care." Minho said, taking his wallet and his coffee.

He walked away from the desk, leaving you staring at his retreating figure as he went on his phone. You sighed, covering your face in your hands.

You weren't the type that hated anybody, but you didn't understand him. And that caused an anger to build up. How could he stand there so disgusted, so bratty, so nonchalant, like he never once told you he loved you? As if you weren't the one he once shared everything with? Why was he so cold, when once all you felt was the warmth of being cradled in his arms? How could he interact with you like he never knew you when he once kissed every part of you? Was it not hurting him to stand there and pretend he didn't think of all the moments shared? Did he not miss it? Did he not miss you...like you missed him?

Minho once told you, during that times where you both were fighting a lot, that it wasn't over between you. There was still something, whether fate, force, or faith, that was keeping you both together by a thread. That even through the differences you both had, you would stay together because you were meant to be.

It wasn't until after everything that happened in the breakup did you realize in the learning curve was that the only thing meant for the two of you was to break up. You weren't the same. Not even close. He was different, you were different.

People changed all the time. It was a part of life. And soon you would get to the point of gratitude that he was no longer in your life anymore.

[medusas-musings]

YOUR BRIAN QUINN X READER ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD, HELLO?? Anyways, I was wondering if it was possibly to do a Q x Gender Neutral reader? Nothing fancy but maybe and established relationship and some fluff y'know?

THANK YOU????? OMG?????????? Anyway I think I'm gonna try to write in a more Gender Neutral friendly way anyway for one shots, everyone deserves to fantasize about their celebrity crushes <3 Hope y'all enjoy!!

Movie Night (Brian “Q” Quinn x GN!Reader)

Summary: Q is late from filming. Again. But you could never stay mad at him, it's almost impossible. Slight angst-ish??? But overall fluff!

As I finish washing the dishes, I can't help but shut the door to the dishwasher with a swift thud, causing some of the dishes inside to rattle. My lungs fill slowly then release the air in huff as I look at the clock to the microwave: 11:23 pm. I can feel my heart drop with every minute that passes across the face of every clock in our house. Q was late, again. But this time, it hurt just a little bit more.For the past month, Brian’s been staying later on set, whether it was to catch up on busy work or to simply squeeze in some quality time with his friends. At first, I really didn’t mind; I knew what I signed up for when it came to dating someone who has their own tv show. However, one hour late becomes three hours late and I end up waiting by the phone in bed for a “coming home” text from him. He still cares, I know that at least. There’s been a lot of morning coffee talks about my feelings and I know he had his full attention on me and my new worries. He suggested that the next night he’ll get home as soon as he can and we can have a cozy movie night in. It was such a simple idea but I couldn’t help but feel a comfort wash over me. I had set up our living room with warm blankets, lavender scented candles and popcorn that’s lost its heat. The screen of our TV was on a selection of movies I picked out for the night, but it’s been replaced with the scrolling Roku cityscape. Now as I find myself trying to distract myself with any busy work in the house, the soft fuzzies I had for this plan have been replaced with anger. Before I was about to pull out a broom from our pantry to start sweeping, I heard the locks of the door move around. Most days this was music to my ears but right now it was nails on a chalkboard. I wait for the door to open then close behind him; I don’t need the neighbors to hear me chew this man out. “You are…” I glance at the clock on the microwave again and do some mental math before continuing my sentence. “Three hours and 30 minutes late, give or take.” I inform him, my voice calm but laced with ice. I close the door to the pantry and start to walk toward the entryway, my tone shifting to release the pent up frustration from the hours. “Really, Brian, I get you work hard and can’t always text me but you can’t-”

As I turn the corner to look at him, the first thing that catches my eyes are the flowers. They’re classic roses, a flower I enjoy because it’s safe for our cats. The next thing I see is the plastic bag in his other hand, stacks of styrofoam boxes inside. I recognized the smell instantly as one of my favorites from a local restaurant nearby Q and I had our first date at. There was a second bag, this one from the grocery store down the street; I could see from the top of it a bag of one of my favorite sweets and a pint of ice cream clinging to the bottom of the bag. Brian’s face is what I noticed last, and it nearly broke my heart. His eyebrows were together and his eyes filled with anxiety. The confidence he usually carries about him is dissipated, as if it was gone for the season. I didn’t want to immediately forgive him, but seeing him so worried about receiving my disapproval almost made all of my anger vanish.

“Baby, I know.” Q finally manages to find his words. “I’m late, but I promise I didn’t mean it. I really wanted to get home on time but the producers were up my ass about some final details for the season.” He walks towards me, as if he’s holding out his hand to pet a snarling dog. I didn’t let my expression soften yet; I wanted to see just how much he was willing to put into this little apology.“You couldn’t call?” I ask, finding an excuse to let my anger be for more than nothing for a second longer. My eyes try to stay off the gifts, not wanting to put my guard down just yet. “I wanted to, I promise. But once I realized I was still there at 9 I couldn’t think of anything but rushing around to get ya all this.” His broad shoulders raise, motioning to everything in his arms. I can’t help but imagine myself there instead. “I guess trying to make it up to you worsened the damage, I’m sorry. He notices me looking at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. His confidence was returning; he knew I didn’t want to be mad at him, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He gently lays the bags onto the ground and walks over to me, placing the bouquet onto the end table next to us. His arms now vacant, Q’s places his hands onto my cheeks, gently tilting my head up to meet his. His eyes had that special glimmer of softness to them, one I’ve only noticed when he looks at me. I pursed my lips slightly, trying to keep a serious nature to my face, but the mask was slipping. And he knows it. A small smirk creeps up onto his face, his facial hair framing his smile perfectly. At times like this, I hated how gorgeous his eyes were. “I’ll let you pick the movie.” he teases, his lips forming a real smile. I can’t fight the gentle smile that appears on my face as he leans down to give me a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My hands snake their way around Q’s waist and I tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss onto Q’s cheek, a white flag in this battle that’s only transpired in my head. “You’re too good at diffusing my anger, you know that?” I ask, moving one of my hands to his face, the fuzz of his beard scraping against my palm. He smiles back at me. “I hate seeing you angry with me, Sweetheart, I gotta do what I can to fix it.” He breaks away from our embrace and grabs the bags he carried into our home. “Look, you go relax in our living room that you worked so hard to make all cozy and I’ll get these roses in a vase for you and get our dinner situated, don’t you do another chore, baby!” I smile at him walking to our couch and sit down, getting myself comfortable with the blankets and pillows. I watch as Q puts the ice cream away and fills a vase with water, looking at his phone from time to time about how to properly prepare flowers for a vase. Watching him try so hard to salvage this night made every angry thought I had 30 minutes ago seem so irrational. I wondered how I could ever be angry at the man who fills my heart with so much adoration and makes my world more colorful. In about 5 minutes, he shuffles into our living room area placing down the containers of our dinner onto the glass coffee table and lays a couple bags of snacks on the floor by our feet. From muscle memory, I cuddle into him putting my head onto his chest and then feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head as I take in his scent and I couldn’t describe it as any more than just “home”.

At this moment, I understand now that I wasn’t mad at Q, I was really having withdrawal symptoms of him. Getting my fix of my beloved set everything right in my world, and it felt as if anger wasn’t a feeling, but a distant memory.

[raccoonfallsharder]

hii! i just wanted to say i love your blog sm. your fics are amazing and your fanart as well😩 your work has such a good emotional depth that’s so nice to read/see. you have a way like the movies did of showing the attention to detail with their worlds and other worldly cultures and shit it’s so interesting to read <3. i didn’t know if your taking requests but this was just a random thought that would be so cool to see you write. no pressure ofc but i thought it’d be so cool to see rocket more introduced to like more music/Terran pop culture references😭. i feel like rocket would like goth music like the cure and shit and tbh lady gaga i feel like also😭😭. it’s so cute to think of him getting shown like classic horror and stuff, he’d probably think a lot of them as comedies or shit😭. i jsut had these thoughts to share lol. your writing has me daydreaming i swear <3. i hope you are having a good day <33 : D

you are absolutely the sweetest little bundle of love nonnie. cups of tea, midnight bonfires, and golden autumn leaves. that's you. thank you so much for the kind words. they truly made my last two weeks. and i'm so sorry for the delay - the start of the schoolyear has been kicking my ass to knowhere and back, and then this… got away from me. it’s really unforgivably fucken long for mostly just being a list ~

but i hope you enjoy it anyway ♡♡

oh btw i linked some related headcanons that might interest you at the end!

to be honest i don't think i go through a single commute to or from work without thinking about how rocket would respond to the latest bit of terran culture you're showing him. when he was spending time on terra during the snap, he noticed steve’s little pocket-journal checklist of movies and books and shows to get caught up on. well, he didn’t just notice it — he might’ve maybe possibly swiped it — and once he trusted you enough to know you weren’t gonna fuckin narc on him, he decided to show it to you. he asks questions about the various titles, and steve’s notes scrawled in the margins. the two of you started there.

rocket isn’t quite as prejudiced against actors as many of his fellow guardians, but he does approach the idea of movies and tv with a healthy dose of skepticism. you probably start out with some documentaries, and he loves those. he’s enthralled by the ones about outer space — appreciating what they’ve gotten right and snickering about what they got wrong, getting a little weepy when the narrator makes some poignant philosophical observation. he stares at the screen with something that wrenches at your heart when you turn on the nature docs, those cut-ruby eyes turning into something soft and molten, silvered over with a yearning you’re sure he doesn’t even recognize inside himself.

you might think he’d be a fan of true crime, but no — not unless it’s someone scamming a big corporation or stealing from some hubristic rich bastard, or maybe the occasional murderer who accidentally confesses his crimes on a hot mic. the truth is that rocket’s already personally familiar with some of the worst true crime in the galaxy and he just sort of assumes that’s how things operate at large. why’s he need to watch people talk about?

it’s this kind of thinking that impacts the kind of fictional shows and movies he ends up liking, too — once you finally convince him that acting is more about storytelling, and less about lying or trying to wear someone else’s skin. you’d think he’d be super-into horror but he’s very — selective about it. murderers, slashers, and body horror (especially of the medical variety) are not in his wheelhouse. he gets anxious in the worst sort of way: impatiently twitching on the couch next to you, chewing on his claws. he rolls his eyes but his shoulders stay tense and his tail is puffs up three times it’s normal size. he might occasionally snort and scoff at how fake things look but again, that’s only because he knows.

and he wishes he didn’t.

supernatural horror is much more palatable to him, and alien-based horror is usually hilarious as far as he’s concerned. space dramas and adventures have an unpredictable impact. he says star wars is too dramatic (wild coming from someone who has since decided he loves reality dating shows) and gets weirdly emotional about star trek. and you have to repeatedly remind him that neither the aliens franchise nor killer clowns from outer space are documentary series (he has some weird hang-ups about terran clowns and will dryly tell you that he’s pretty sure they’ve tried to kill him in another life). he’s extremely and overly fascinated by some of the weirder terran horror and horror-adjacent media: cult classics from the 80s and 90s, Tales from the Crypt, Twilight Zone — some of those weird old fantasy movies too, like the labyrinth and company of wolves. you always indulge him, trying to remind him of what’s fiction and what’s not, and what loosely straddles the line of being based on a true story (even though sometimes you have to fight with the urge to roll your eyes when he points at the screen and says, no, that’s real, i been to a planet like that!).

you learn he has an uncanny eye for CGI. looks weird, he grunts every time something rendered crosses the screen. very into practical effects, though. he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make a claymation sequence of the collapse of ego — the living planet, that is; not some great philosophical metaphor — and took over your kitchen for two months to do it. you’d expected him to get bored of it quickly, but you’d misunderstood just how fixated he’d been. he’d stopped taking pete’s comms for the entire last three weeks and had barely slept at all till it had been done.

he’s equally selective about games. classic shooters bore him — why bother when you can go do the real thing with any despot-of-the-week? — but he kind of loves cozy games. he enjoys horror games as long as they follow his horror movie rules, too — minimal lifeform-on-lifeform torture, heavy on the supernatural or other weirdness. poppy’s playtime is a current fave. he loves dnd, of course. once he figures out the mechanics he always wants to dm because he’s got more control issues than a freighter full of ravagers, but you haven’t missed the fact that that he’s got a recurring favorite character that he pulls out regardless of which side of the dm screen he’s on — a shockingly wise and kind aquatic sorceress named lylla, with the gentlest healing vibes. it rattles you the first time he plays her — so at odds with his normal snark — but you decide it’s just his way of letting his soft side shine through when he normally tries to hide it under prickly defensiveness.

it might surprise you (or maybe not), but he’s far less picky about music, to be honest. sure, he’s got preferences — certain songs he’ll play on repeat, or jam out to, or weep over. but he’s just as excited to clone a taylor swift record as he is to get his hands on some iron maiden. he’s got something surprisingly positive to say about every single song you ask after.

that one’s real catchy, he’ll say, bopping along to dolly’s 9 to 5 — only to then croon his way through the lingering notes of jolene. then the next time you see him he’s asking how he can secure more tupac albums.

he gets all teary-eyed over the sweeping strings of sometime around midnight, then later tilts his head, ears flickering, to drink in the light starlit notes of single acoustic guitars and lonely pianos. he’s as greedy for 90s grunge as he is for screamo and post-rock. sometimes he steals your phone and it’s usually just to download a nirvana album you once had him listen to, but just last week you realize he’d blown a sizable portion of your grocery budget by buying the entire babymetal discography.

he explains it to you one late autumn evening when you’re in your room with him, introducing him to seventeen seconds. the two of you are just chilling. he’s traded in his jumpsuit for the kids’ sweatpants and the hoodie you bought him — the one with the ears — and of course you very wisely don’t tell him how stupidly cute it is. the sun’s going down and the room is slanting and pooling with blue-and-gold shadows slowly deepening into purple, and you’ve lit a couple caramel-apple candles for the vibe. maybe you’ve got mugs of warm spiced apple cider or cocoa or something. he’s sprawled on the rug on your floor and you’re leaning over the edge of the bed, with the entire musical archive of the cure, woven liberally with a random joy division album, some merciful nuns, and other collections from your personal library of favorites.

he’s super-into it, of course.

this sound is somethin’ else, he tells you as he stares up at the shadows. The candlelight is reflecting off some unknown surface in your room, casting flecks of fractured light across the deepening dark of the ceiling. his blunted claws tap a steady rhythm on the floor beside him.

you say that about every song, you tell him drily, and he shrugs.

but i mean it, he tells you in the gold-flickering darkness. there’s a long silence, and you think he’s just listening to the music — but halfway through dope, he suddenly breaks his silence.

i ain’t exactly the most emotionalistically-intelligent, he says quietly into the room. don’t trust myself to know when someone’s good or bad. there was a guy, when i was a kid — well. anyway. it’s frickin hard to trust anybody, myself most of all.

you wait to see if he’ll go on — but he doesn’t. at least not till you say, i get that. there’s good people out there, but the worst are usually so good at tricking us. and then it’s easy to second-guess ourselves — forever.

from the corner of your eye, you see him nod emphatically.

not in music, though, he says quietly. you hear him swallow — painfully hard. i think — music’s when people tell you most about what they are. even when it’s hard to understand at first. when there ain’t any words.

you tilt your head, allowing him the privacy of not looking directly at him. instead, you study the flickering candlelight and shadow, painting amber and dark-velvet patterns on the ceiling. that’s why you like every song? you ask at last.

that swallow again, hard as a rock in his throat. i dunno. maybe it means something, when someone gives a part of ‘emselves like that. to you — a stranger. just — serve themselves up like a gift for your judgement.

ah, you think. the vulnerability.

as if he’d heard you, he snorts. me personally? i’d never risk it.

even now, you can feel him watching you uneasily from the corner of his eye — waiting for you to mock him, maybe. but you only hum an agreeable note.

i never thought of it that way, you admit, but it’s true. you smile at the ceiling. and you said you weren’t emotionally intelligent.

he huffs, but the sound is more relieved than annoyed. i ain’t, he snipes. and then — more tentatively — maybe that’s part of it too.

you feel your eyebrows raise, but you still don’t look his way — cradling the back of your head with your hands while the music continues in around you, and smell of warm caramel apples fills the soft shadows between you. what do you mean?

softer now — almost nervous — he confesses to the darkness and the gold light and the sound of lady gaga’s voice. every time i listen to a new song, s’like I find something in myself i didn’t have before. or didn’t know i had before. or that i thought had died.

your heart stills in your chest and your breath catches, and everything in you suddenly aches. before you can say a word — before you can think — he spits a scoff into the air.

never mind. i was kidding. that’s fuckin’ stupid—

no, you interrupt quickly, and it takes everything in you not to turn over and catch his eyes and hold them. not to reach out and hold his hands, because you know he’s not willing to accept that level of comfort.

not yet. but soon.

so instead, you make your voice into the softest thing you’ve ever imagined. no sharp edges, no corners to cut himself on. just downy well-worn blankets and soft crumpled love-notes, happy welcome homes and the warm caramel of autumn apples. you will it go wrap around him and give him all the comfort he won’t let himself accept any other way.

no, you repeat. i get that.

i get that.

headcanons & imagines masterlist | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

related headcanons: rocket's movie & television tastes ✶ what if rocket finds the mcu movies? ✶ music and rocket & adam, pete & jason ✶ rocket & coloring ✶ rocket & origami ✶ rocket & lava lamps ✶ rocket & sudoku, crosswords & word-searches ✶ rocket & hanayama puzzles ✶ rocket sings

raccoon & star dividers by @/thecutestgrotto support banners by @/saradika-graphics

[fangirling-heart]

It's a first for me and quite honestly I am pretty nervous but...

I'm making a post about my OCs!!!

Yay!!! 🎉

And since I can't draw to save my life, I used this picrew to present them, one of them you might recognize since I have introduced him in a tag game. Anyway here they are:

Starting with the familiar one, the 17 year old Achilles. He's the protagonist of an original story I'm working on and simply put, he's not okay. He lives with an emotionally and physically abusive father and a neglectful mother who cares more about her husband and their image than her son, and they both put a lot of pressure on him to be perfect in every way and also make sure he doesn't ruin the family's image in any way (a big part of which is hiding the signs of his father's abuse). In terms of a support system, he doesn't really have one since breaking up with his girlfriend, Ange, who also happens to be/have been his best friend, and his one other friend is...not that great. His only solace comes from reading and photography (and poetry but he would never admit it), but when even that isn't enough, his mind ends up in a really dark place and he tries something drastic. But thanks to a certain someone's intervention, he doesn't go through with it and as much as he (claims he) doesn't want to, he has to learn how to live again... in more ways than one.

Birthday: March 5

Sign: Pisces

Sexuality: Biromantic asexual

Likes: Photography, poetry, reading, watching and commenting movies, playing video games, rain, junk food, heights, dancing, history, mystery novels, Linkin Park (Ange constantly teases him for it), comics, rom-coms (when they aren't too cliché), motorcycles

Dislikes: His parents (his father especially), school, most sports, heat, having his privacy violated, being made fun of for his interests, big crowds, expectations, loneliness

The special someone I mentioned before. This is Ephraim, the reason Achilles stays alive and the one person he cannot shut out (both much to his dismay). The reason for that and the reason he appears wearing the same clothes as Achilles is because, after the event that saved the latter's life, the two of them end up sharing a body. Simply put, Ephraim is a ghost that possesses him. He can get control of his body and speak in his thoughts, but his actual appearance is visible only in reflective surfaces and luckily for them both not all the time, just when Ephraim chooses to surface. He possesses Achilles, thinking the two would be able to trade places, but instead he basically just hitches a ride in his body and his life. As for the reason he wished to possess him in the first place, he did it because he wants a chance to live again but most of all to find out what happened to his boyfriend, Mario, from whom he got violently separated before he died. And while he sees Achilles as a means to his ends at first, the two form a genuine bond over time.

Birthday: August 1

Sign: Leo

Sexuality: Gay

Likes: Nature, sunny days, ice cream, driving, fire, rain, shadow puppetry, learning new things, music, dogs, hugs, Achilles' poetry and photos, messing with asshole authority figures, spicy food

Dislikes: Being confined, being bossed around, talking about his death, homophobes and assholes in general, people making fun of Achilles, having to wait, ghost stories (he finds the way ghosts are portrayed offensive and unimaginative), feeling helpless, cold

And last one (for now). Ange (short for Angelica) is Achilles' ex girlfriend and best friend since childhood. Growing up the two were always together (the fact that they lived in the same building and shared a love for cinema and cameras helped with that) and long before they got together it was clear to everyone there were sparks flying between them. They were a classic childhood friends to lovers story, but after 2 years of dating, when Ange realized they both wanted and needed very different things from a relationship, as much as it hurt them both, she broke up with Achilles and the two haven't really spoken since, due to it being too awkward and painful. Though her homelife isn't as bad as Achilles' and she has other friends besides him, since the two broke up she has also been feeling very lonely and missing him, but doesn't dare to approach him, because she hates herself for hurting him and thinks he hates her too. It isn't until Ephraim comes along that they start kinda talking again (due to him pretty much forcing Achilles to talk to her).

Birthday: March 22

Sign: Aries

Sexuality: Straight or bisexual, I'm still figuring this out

Likes: Watching and commenting on movies, photography, making videos, directing, cinematography, animation, cake, dark humor, amusement parks, sunsets, puzzles, baggy clothes, late night walks, strawberries

Dislikes: Fake people, being underestimated, being judged, loneliness, people making fun of her work, makeup, gossip, visiting her grandparents, puppets

[cosmicstarlatte]

Customer Service (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

They try contacting customer service. 🤷‍��️

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: Certified Shitpost™️, Pathetic Lucifer is my favorite Lucifer

»Notes: It's been a while since I've done a shitpost bulleted fic so ♡reblogs♡ are appreciated. I've had this wip since March apparently? 💀

Lucifer:

A hand on his hip and the phone in the other

This man means business

"Don't talk to me, I'm trying to keep my level of anger"

Held onto his anger for two hours waiting for the next agent

The annoying hold music only fueled him

Tried to be reasonable with the agent when he got patched through

But they were new

"Look, just get me your manager."

Waited another half hour for them

The problem got fixed rather quickly actually

smirked in satisfaction...Lucifer always wins.

If only he noticed the two stuck pages in the manual, he would've not wasted his morning

Mammon:

If he wasn't broke he would've paid someone else to make the call

Waited for an hour but it felt like eternity

"Yeah ain't there a satisfaction guarantee on this anyway!? The customers always right!"

Tried to get a replacement for his earbuds

And a refund while he was at it

Scammy? What?? Nooo....

"They fell in the wash! It's not my fault! Did I get insurance? Who has the money for that?"

Him and the agent went back and forth for a while

The agent finally caved and promised to replace the earbuds

"Finally! Ya better send 'em quick! -click-"

...

He realized he never gave the agent his address & had to start the process all over again

Levi:

Lol

Tried online chat but his specific issue needed a real agent because...of course it would

Tried to pay one of his brothers to make the call for him

They rather stab themselves or wage war against Diavolo than call customer service

Took anxiety medication before trying to call

Waited three hours on hold but played something soothing in the meantime

helloooo ruri and friends crossing

He stopped when he heard the hold music stop

"Hello thank you for calling Akuz-"

click

"It's not that important."

Satan:

This is how a pro does it.jpg

Drank his little coffee and ate his fresh little pastry

See, he set an alarm to call customer service right when they open their lines

Had the number typed and ready to go with a press

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Finally!

-dialing tone-

"Hello. Your wait time is 2 hours and-"

...

...

...

Slammed his phone on the floor and it broke

Went to go fight the company in person

His issue got fixed

The company had to tighten their security after this incident

Asmo:

Is that one lucky demon that happens to get patched through quickly

He was having problems with his devilgram account verification

Just as he started speaking about his issue the agent freaked out

Turns out they were a huge fan and could automatically tell it was the REAL™️ Asmo speaking

The issue got fixed and Asmo stayed talking with the agent because they sounded really cute

One thing led to another and...it went from a customer service hotline to a phone sex one real quick

This always happens when he calls customer service akskjfksls

Beel:

Collected all the snacks he had

Even cooked an entire feast

He needed everything he could get before making the dreaded call

After an hour of waiting (and barely any snacks left) he finally got to an agent!

It was a pleasant experience for both sides

Beel is getting sent replacements for his shoes plus a discount voucher for his next purchase

güd boi™️ as usual

Belphie:

Almost fell asleep while waiting

The music soothed him, they had classical music playing

He's not really sure how long he waited if he's being honest

When he finally got to the agent he sounded so weak the agent was concerned

"Mm? No I'm always like ...losing... consciousness ...it's normal...zzz..."

The agent was still so concerned they sent someone to the HOL to check on him

Beel ended up making the call for him

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Devil-Mart⭐︱Waffle House

[desceros]

[Earth shattering stomps heard in the distance comes closer and closer]

[Halts and in a quiet voice]:

Symphony donnie and viola chans' wedding.😊😊

[Stomps away into the distance]

i don’t think they’d be married, actually!

i think what would happen in the bad time is a very different progression of their relationship. i think violist-chan would have been a refugee-type in the beginning, who tried to use music to keep everyone’s spirits up.

(i imagine this would annoy donnie quite a bit. that noise could attract unwanted attention, after all.) (noise?? excuse you. it’s music, and it makes people happy. aren’t you one of those guys saying hope is our most important weapon??) (that would be my brother. and his taste in “music” is almost as terrible as yours.)

but eventually you start going out on supply runs. you don’t do well sitting on your hands, and people need things. and donnie starts noticing that people really do seem to be in a better mood when you’re around. fuck, he’s in a better mood when you’re around. the hell is that all about.

and eventually the two of you have this just. insane sexual tension. that probably snaps one day to ravel’s habanero or something. you’re telling him it’s sexy. he’s telling you you don’t know what sexy is. oh yeah. yeah. then. well.

and after that he still hates classical music but you, oh. how he admires you. you with no special powers. unmutated. weak. how strong you are. how you bear everyone’s weight for them. how you insist on talking to everyone until they feel better despite how many pieces of you you have to trade away for their happiness. how you’re the last one to spill your troubles, and only after he or leo needles them out of you. how you get along so so well with everyone and just brighten the entire world with your smile. how you love so fiercely, even him, especially him, when he’d been so cruel to you in the beginning.

(leo never stops teasing him for his 180 on his opinion of you. not until after youre gone and it’s no longer funny to anyone.)

but you both were always busy. always moving. you’re both workaholics. both needing to be busy to feel like you’re being useful. making time for the other but never having enough of it. he’d have time for less important things when they got a foothold against krang, he’d think. until people really started dying. then it was more of a panic. he’d have to make it a little safer before he could take the time for something so frivolous and unnecessary. what was marriage after all but just a different word for what you already were? and when you got pregnant it was even worse. the world wasn’t safe enough for your child. any moment he wasn’t with you, he was fighting. working. clawing desperately at an imagined haven for his daughter. for you.

i think it would hit him the moment someone came up to him and mistakenly said “i’m sorry about your wife” that it was something he really did want. and just. never let himself imagine. never gave himself the time to have. but by that point, it was too late. all he had left were old recordings of music that ached and a mask never worn except by him.

anyway can you step on me now so i can get crushed and die? thanks

[chaotic-on-main]

on to the nextttt

Matcha green tea! (also that was a fantastic flavor for Levi). With Fresh Fruit. Let’s do another pre-established relationship because I literally only like those for myself apparently 😂.

For scenario: Close to his canon personality if you can but the setting is AU. How about Levi and I are at a party and I’ve gotten a little buzzed and am being super teasy to him(like slight brushes against him and shit) and he drags me home and the rest is suggestive obv not any real smut :) lemme know if you don’t like that and I’ll change it lmao.

Order up!! One matcha green tea with fresh fruit for Bee!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairing ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ modernAU, collegeAU, drinking, alcohol, suggestive themes, suggestive terminology, proofread once pls forgive any mistakes, MDNI

☾ A/N ➼ Hi Bee!! Thank you so much for sending in a request. I will admit, I am taking way too long so now some of these requests are going to take place in early-mid fall lmao. I'm so sorry. But I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you like it!! Suggestive is still so hard for me so this was a fun challenge, as always. Who knows, maybe I can continue on with this if I feel inspired. Anyways, happy first of October y'all!!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

Levi doesn't know how he always finds himself in these predicaments. One moment he's hunched over his desk, looking over his notecards for his upcoming exam – the next he's being physically dragged away by his tiresome roommate to a Halloween party down the road that he had already said no to.

Now, he’s leaning against a wall, red cup in hand, with his hood up and a black face mask covering his nose and mouth – white face paint smeared across his pallid face in the pattern of a skull thanks to Hange's last minute demands.

“It's a Halloween party for heaven's sake, you need to look the part!” They had exclaimed after pulling him out of his room with makeup brushes in hand.

The mask was there because he wouldn't dare risk getting sick before his test, but it also gave him a reason to cover up so no one would bother him. Of course he wouldn't be so lucky as he feels someone slide up next to him. Eyes narrowed, he glares over to the unwelcome visitor and as his gaze falls upon you, his eyes soften considerably.

He'd see you around campus, catching his eyes from time to time. It wasn't until recently that you both started interacting with each other due the classic literature class you both share this semester.

You have only spoken to each other a handful of times, outside of the glances shared and the kind smiles you would offer him in passing. Most conversations were about school work or small talk that he would mainly grunt back at. Despite the short quips he gave you, you never pushed or pulled away. Now here you were, smiling up at him as the multicolor strobe lights hit your face.

“Levi? I never thought I'd see you at one of these!” You half-shout over the pulsing pop music blaring from the speakers around the two of you.

Eyes bright and soft cheeks painted pink, they were pulled back into a genuine smile pointed straight at Levi. You were dressed in much less clothing than he's used to seeing you in. Gone were the jeans and loose-knit sweaters – now replaced by a black frilly strapless dress adorned with a small white apron wrapped around your waist. The collar curves low enough to show your cleavage, tightly pushed together by the thin black cloth.

His eyes travel down if only for a second to see how short the dress really was – ending right underneath your butt. The bottom hugged your curves, squeezing your waist and hips perfectly. Underneath was a pair of black fishnet stockings and heels, making you barely at eye level with Levi. Frilled cuffs wrap around your wrists in the same style of the choker that sits flush against your neck.

You're dressed as a maid.

His eyes snap back up to see that your hair falls around your shoulders topped with a little headband. There are hints of lipgloss leftover from the many times your lips caressed the ridges of a plastic cup. But that flush on your cheeks was not from your makeup.

“Hellllooo??” You wave a hand in front of Levi's face to get his attention.

“I am.” He responds back cooly, tone contradictory to the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I knew it! Your brooding gray eyes are striking even from across the room.” A light giggle leaves your soft lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you'd be studying for Tuesday's exam.”

“I was. My roommate dragged me here.”

“The Levi Ackerman bent to someone's will? Well, I'll be.” You tease, smile tugging at your lips, before taking another sip of the mysterious liquid in your cup. Levi does the same, feeling the burn of the liquor he had poured when he first got here.

“Tch. Shouldn't you be studying? You struggled with your analysis on Odyssey and that's definitely showing up on the test.”

“Aw, you care! If you must know, I took your suggestions to heart and did that 'note taking after every paragraph' thing you do. Some things are still a little fuzzy but I have a much better grasp on it! So, thank you.” Another wide smile from you causes butterflies to dance in his stomach.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Levi never afforded himself time to think of a relationship. Sure, he's had his share of hookups before; he wasn't always glued to his books and knew how to release stress from time to time. But he never thought anything past that one night and moved on with his life without issue. It wasn't because he was being intentionally callous though, most women that sought his company only wanted him by his looks alone – who was he if not willing to return the favor.

But you gave him something others could not – comfort in knowing that you talked to him as a person and not a pretty face. And while he never made a move to further anything with you, he did find himself wanting to be near you as much as he could bear.

“What are you even supposed to be?” Your lips purse as your eyes scan Levi’s slim frame. Your fingers reach up and pinche the fabric of his jacket as you pull yourself closer to get a better look of his face still darkened by the shadows of his hood. You're not close enough to press up against him, but you might as well have as you only left an inch or so between you both. Your eyes bounce around his face as she makes sense of the quickly applied makeup. If he leaned down just a bit, he could…

“No idea. Hange, the roommate I mentioned, did it.” He clears his throat quietly, eyes glancing away from yours. You pull away finally, but your fingers still remain on his sleeve. You're not directly touching him, but it's enough to send tingles through his body. Levi chalks it up to it being a while since he's been touched by someone.

“It looks good on you, like you're a bandit ready to steal or something.” Your tinkling laughter makes Levi's ears twitch in a good way. “I'm happy to see you out of the classroom, Levi.”

“I-"

“Oh! My friend is waving me over. Hold this for a second.” You say, handing your drink over to him. He watches as you tug your dress up that must have slid down a bit. When you do, his eyes can't help but glance down to the slight bounce of your plush chest. The way your perfume permeates his senses as you move around the little space you both share and it intoxicates him – or was it the alcohol? He hadn't had that much.

“Okay, I'm good to go.” When you reach over to take the half-empty cup from Levi's fingers, yours brush against his ever so slightly. His heart leaps at your warm touch. “I'll see you around?”

You give Levi a long look before smiling brightly and turning tail towards a redhead who was currently staring hard at him. His gaze was far from your friend though because with your back to him now, he sees that the costume is much shorter than he initially assumed.

His eyes don't leave you for a bit, watching you double over in laughter at something your friend said. There's a moment where your eyes meet again, holding each other's gaze until your friend says something else and you're back to laughing. Outside of the classroom, you were very different. There were a lot of things he didn't know about you. Perhaps that's something he wouldn't mind delving into if given the chance.

“Dude she's so into you.” A voice rings out from next to Levi, their words slightly slurred from the many drinks they had consumed throughout the night.

“Shut up, four eyes.”

“I mean it. She's so smitten with you. Didn't you see the way she was looking at you? There are hearts in her eyes! Those glances, the unassuming touches. Levi Ackerman, c'mon! I wasn't born yesterday.” Levi turns to the source of the noise. Hange Zoe, a bioengineering major who he shared the same apartment with for years, is giving Levi the biggest shit-eating grin they can muster.

“And you like her too, don't you.”

Their usual frazzled brunette hair is even frizzier to match the mad-scientist costume they were going for, held down by a pair of safety goggles that wrap around their head. Hange had made Levi swear on his life not to tell Professor Vitch that they had ‘borrowed' one of the lab coats for it – not like Levi cared enough to say anything anyways. He doesn't understand how Hange could even give it back now that it's tattered and ruined with self-made burn marks.

“Whatever.”

“You've never mentioned her before, why not? I thought I was your bestest friend in the whole world.”

“Acquaintances. And it doesn't pertain to you.”

“That hurts, we’ve known each other for 5 years.” Hange gives a fake pout. As their gaze flits back over to you, they mutter, “If I were you, I wouldn't let this chance slip away. You'll just regret it.” And with that, Hange yells something to a mutual friend and runs over to him – leaving Levi to his devices once again.

His eyes go back to where you were just moments ago and he catches you shooting him another smile before getting lost in the crowd with your friend. This smile held something that wasn't there before, the same matching emotion that fill your eyes.

Regret was not something he sat well with. Before he knows it, he's pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the direction you had disappeared in.

It takes a bit of searching and asking around much to his disdain. Eventually, he finds you outside on the front porch alone, sitting on the stairs with your back to him. Your hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail and from the way you’re lifting your arm up, he can tell you still have a drink in hand. When he shuts the door behind him, he notices you don't even look back.

“Tired of the people, too?” Levi asks as he sits down on the step next to you, practically shoulder to shoulder. He doesn't miss the way you flinched at his sudden voice, you turning quickly to face him.

“Oh jeez, Levi. I almost punched you.” You place your hand flat against your chest in hopes to slow your racing heart.

“Wouldn't be the first time someone threatened that.”

“I can't imagine why.” You sigh, but then a smirk pulls on your lips as you start to relax. “Yeah, it's just getting to be too much. I think I may head out here soon.” You take another sip of your drink before realizing it's mostly gone and instead, you tip it all the way back and down it all in one gulp.

You stand up soon after, your ass on full display for him to see from his position. The way you bend forward a bit to brush off your dress is almost a little too much for Levi. Your cheeky panties peek out at him, causing that knee-jerk reaction of such a visual to twitch in his jeans. Realization of what Hange was trying to tell him earlier dawns on him.

Regret was not something he liked to feel.

Levi stands up quickly and grabs your wrist in tight fingers before pulling you to face him. There's visible shock on your face at the brazen action, but you don't pull away. He gives you a moment, a chance to turn him down and leave without looking back. You don't. Instead, you coyly smile up at him, eyebrow raised.

With that, he tugs you closer and his lips meet yours in a hard kiss. Behind the bubblegum lipgloss, he tastes the artificial fruit from the drinks you've had tonight. You mirror the same hunger as Levi does, as if you had waited for this for months. You throw your arms around his neck as you press yourself against him, your fingers sliding up into his hair as his hands make their way to your waist – holding you there.

What feels like mere seconds pass before Levi has to break away for air. There's a moment where you’re both just staring at each other. Partly from shock but also uncertainty of where to go next. You're the first to speak.

“There's um, something I need help with on the study guide. But it's back at my place.”

“I can help with that.” Levi answers back cooly, almost too quick but he didn't care.

You don't hesitate to close your fingers over his and tug him into the direction of your place, almost running like the little kids that swarm the street as they trick or treat.

tagging for my levi girlies (from my taglist!): @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @youre-ackermine @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @e-riellaaa @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @kingkonoha @sckerman @notgoodforlife @nube55 @svftackerman @velouria17 @melodyuzumaki

if you are not part of my taglist and would like to be, please fill out my form!

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Nice ask! Do you have any frivolous lone star headcanons? (ie, something that doesn’t matter to the plot and maybe there’s no real evidence for but you believe it anyway)

Hello! Thank you for this very nice ass(k) 🍑

I do!!

Paul lived with Owen and TK for the first couple months when he moved down to Austin. That’s why he’s got such a close easy-going relationship with TK and why he’s not phased by any of Owen’s idiosyncrasies.

Paul is a diehard Michigan football fan. This is because his father went to University of Michigan, and would drive 3.5 hours from Chicago to Ann Arbor for every home game. When Paul was a kid, his dad would bring him to games sometimes. He has very fond memories of those long drives with his dad, listening to music and chatting. If they won his dad would stop at a roadside diner and get him a blackberry milkshake. (He would if they lost too, but then they’d also split a piece of pie). He and TK drove over to Houston on Monday to watch them win the National Championship. On the way home they stopped for pie and blackberry milkshakes, and Paul told TK stories about games his dad took him to.

TK loves spicy food. Carlos was teasing in that pho scene in S3. He grew up eating all kinds of international cuisines in NYC, he loves chicken feet with his dim sum, and habanero hot sauce on his tacos and jerk chicken and egusi with scotch bonnet.

Paul & Carlos have eaten at all the West African restaurants in Austin, and they are on first-name basis with all the staff at this point.

Paul has been trying to recreate/perfect his grandma’s goat curry for years, and Carlos is his most eager taste tester.

In episode 3, after the police station scene & Carlos’s chat with Michelle, he’s still hesitant to reach out to TK. But then they have that scene where the woman falls on the car. And TK is so sweet, talking to her and rubbing her arm. I always kinda headcanon that Carlos saw him being all sweet with her and he was like “damn, okay worth it to put myself on the line for another shot with him.”

TK learned to drive when he moved to Austin, and he’s a very good driver, but he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. He’d much rather catch a ride or even take public transportation or walk if it’s not too hot. Carlos, on the other hand, spent a lot of money on his car and he does like to drive. So he’s usually the driver. But! He knows TK’s a good driver, and absolutely lets him drive the Camaro.

TK & Marjan have a ritual where they meet for pie & coffee at a diner in East Austin whenever one of them has had a tough day and they need someone to talk to, or even just to sit and be sad with. They have an unspoken pact that, no matter what they’re doing, if one of them calls or texts with a pie emergency they drop everything and show up for pie.

TK is a music nerd. He grew up immersed in the NYC indie music scene, he’s seen LCD Soundsystem play like 20 times, Gwyn took him to see Prince when he was 12, he’s got an extensive vinyl collection and also a box of old band T-shirts in Owen’s garage. Also he could wire any speaker system.

Paul’s sister has visited several times since we first met her. The Catan crew has adopted her, she thinks TK and Carlos are really weird but she loves them. She’s obsessed with Marjan and Nancy.

Paul has an extensive record collection ranging from 70s afrobeats to disco to classic rock n roll.

Marjan’s father was diagnosed with a rare, treatable but incurable cancer a couple years ago. When she found out she was devastated, and TK insisted on flying to Miami with her and staying with her family for a while to help out. One night he tried to make Andea’s chili relleno, because it always make him feel better when he’s sad, but he destroyed Marjan’s mom’s kitchen. He called Carlos out of desperation, and Carlos laughed and told him to toss everything and then ordered them all his favorite comfort foods to be delivered to the house. Carlos and Marjan now regularly make “fold in the cheese” jokes when TK cooks. Which is often!

Sorry this was very long!

🍋<3

[artificialchaoscola]

God, I haven't used tumblr in years but I had to come here. I started reading your fanfic last week, and already got 2 more people to read it with me, and you have, no idea, how much we are screaming about it, the way you write- it makes me feel emotions I NEVER felt before reading (and I have been reading fanfics for over a decade!) (Lowkey hoping someone makes a discord server dedicated to this fanfic so I can scream to more adult people about it) ANYWAY, thought I would send some music I think fits a bit the work: Autoheart - Lent | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31_zdR7k-G8 I think this one in specific fit Shadow conflicts about "Sonic" Autoheart - Stalker's Tango | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZsfRuhVA8QU And this... ofc Sonic XD Curious to hear your opinion on those!

Aaaahhh (っ °Д °;)っI am so flattered?? Thank you and your friends for reading it, that makes me so happy!!

A Discord server WOULD be pretty epic!! It would be nice to have more Sonadow fans to talk with~! Never ran a server before, seems daunting! If anyone ever makes a bunch of adult-only Sonadow discord I'll join them all. ^.^

I LOVE AUTOHEART!!! Lent definitely applies to what Shadow has been going through, and it also reminds me of many things to come... "When we have a visitor, they are visibly disturbed - They don’t want to hang around in the company of you and I" makes me chuckle. The song in general makes me think that the singer and their partner are having a falling out despite, being unable to leave one another due to the addiction their 'love' has. In the context of what's already written for the fic, I feel it's applicable to Shadow's frustrations with Sonic and the lack of communication on both ends. Like he's unable to properly leave his feelings despite his self-loathing because Sonic makes him feel things no one else ever has, and despite how rocky it's starting to become internally he wants more.

As for Stalker's Tango... Just a classic corrupted hero/villain/yandere song! The lyric "You'll never meet another me" has layers to it for the context of the fic. There is indeed no one quite like Sonic! Heroic, Charismatic, Friendly... But also, the only one Shadow can't realistically run from if he needed to... Hmhmhm~! (❁´◡`❁)

[desire-turns-to-ashes]

Hi, it’s me again! Oh my goodness, this chapter gave me diabetes from so much sweetness! I want more, please!!!!! Girl, what was that? Lying on Edwin’s lap out of nowhere?! What kind of guy is this? Bold, isn’t he? But he’s so in love, telling him to calm down because he’d never touch Edwin without his permission, and then Edwin stroking Thomas’s cheek, wondering if his hair is soft! So sweet, my heart was melting reading every word.

They’re going on a date!!!!!! YESSSSS!!!!!! The hand kisses!!!! Thomas’s lovestruck gaze, waiting for the right moment to ask our boy out, and Edwin just smiling so fondly. What kind of look is Niko going to help Edwin choose? A classic one? Modern? Cute? He suits classic, but a cute look works too. And Thomas? He’ll definitely look amazing, as always.

Thank you for answering my questions—I was so excited to read your response! I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind:

First, you made it a bit clear in the earlier chapters that Edwin only wanted to marry someone he truly loved, and that way, he could have a family, since he mentioned a few times that he didn’t want children with Simon. So, if Edwin married Thomas, would they have kids? Second, does Edwin play the piano or any instrument? Third, how would Thomas react to seeing Edwin in a wedding suit? Fourth, would Thomas give Edwin expensive gifts, like jewelry or designer clothes?

That’s it for now. Thank you so much again. Does Thomas have cats?! He NEEDS to show them to Edwin!!! Hugs and thanks again for reading my messages.❤️❤️

Omg I feel so awful that I never spotted your message!!!! I’m so sorry!! I wasn’t ignoring you, I promise, I just didn’t see it 😭😭 (knew this would happen to me at some point)

But I’m here now, not sure if you’re still keeping up with the story because I can tell this was a few chapters ago 🥰 no worries if you’re not but I’ll still answer your questions anyway in case others were curious 💛💛

I loved writing that chapter so much!!! It felt so tender and heartfelt… it was basically Thomas’ way of proving to Edwin he was in safe hands, and he believes him! (Also… Thomas just lounging on his lap like a cat!!!! Just saying 😂😂😺)

Thomas is honestly down so bad for Edwin!! What started as pure attraction is definitely becoming something much stronger and deeper between them! 💛💛

Here’s an outfit I found on Pinterest for what Edwin’s outfit would look like 🥰🥰 it’s the one on the right, he doesn’t have that fabulous coat on the left unfortunately but you get the vibes 😂😂

1. So I do have an epilogue planned but can confidently say no kids are involved ☺️☺️ they probably would talk about starting a family together but wayyyyyy down the line and probably not in the fic!! Edwin wants to experience life first since he kind of missed out on that in his childhood so starting a family is the furthest thing from his mind right now, especially considering that’s what was expected of him when he got married

2. In this fic Edwin can play the piano and he’s VERY good at it!! I was originally going to have a moment in the beginning where he plays Ludovico Einaudi’s song Nuvole Bianche at some music concert that Charles ended up going to see while they were still at school together and they were going to have a chat about it where Charles absolutely butchered the song name by calling it New Blanche or something 😂 but it was going to be a moment where Edwin realised that people actually did listen to him and showed an interest in him. He wasn’t just ignored by other anymore… was going to be very sweet but it just didn’t fit

3. Oh god, think Thomas would expire if he saw Edwin in a wedding suit! But that’s probably a story for another day 😂😂

4. He would probably think about buying some fancy stuff for Edwin but he learns pretty quickly he doesn’t care that much for shiny objects. But 1st edition of a classic book on the other hand?? That would absolutely be the best kind of expensive gift for Edwin!! I also keep meaning to add a little moment where Thomas gifts Edwin a piece of his clothing but it never happens 😂😂 I’ll put it in at some point!! I promise!!

Also… yes!! Thomas has cats!! And I’m hoping they’ll make an appearance in the future!! 🥰🥰

Sorry again for my VERY late response!!! 💛💛

[fleckcmscott]

Every Day

Summary: After their first New Year's celebration, Arthur and Y/N ponder how to proceed.

Words: 3,731

Warnings: None

A/N: Familiar ground is covered in this story, but with my last few pieces being set later in Arthur and Y/N's relationship, I wanted to revisit the blooms at the beginning. I hope you all like it! Many thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for beta-ing! 😃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

December 31st, 1981.

One week ago. Seven days. One hundred and forty-seven hours - not that she kept count. The night Y/N had screwed up her courage and told Arthur she wanted them to live together. Spilling that in Gotham Square, amidst sparkling fireworks and noisemakers, glittering confetti and flowing champagne, had been what she truly desired. Not a mere reflection of the city's dreams and hopes for new beginnings.

So why had neither of them brought it up again? A hush hushness that felt like a tacit endorsement of the status quo.

Not that their status quo was bad. It was pretty great, actually. Delightful, even. Her very own New Year's wish come true. He made her see and experience things in a different light. Stirred parts of her she'd forgotten, neglected. A maroon toothbrush camped in a plastic cup on her bathroom shelf, a box of Kotex had made its way to his. It was good and joyful, what they had.

The question prodded anew. Why the hell were they carrying on as if nothing had happened?

Typewriters clacking, she and Patricia chatted over the hammering of keys. "Does he want to move in with you?" Patricia asked, focus fixed on fluttering paper. "Is he that kind of guy?"

"Well." A bell announced the end of Y/N's typing line. She grabbed the wite-out to correct a p to an o. "He didn't say yes or no. He didn't say anything, really. But judging from how he kissed me, I can safely say he wouldn't mind."

"That good, huh?"

"I can still feel it in my toes."

Matt called from the office behind her. "Hearing that you have a personal life is going to be an adjustment."

Y/N rolled, swiveled to peek past the doorframe. "You're welcome to shut your door," she teased.

Her boss had a point, though. While she'd related her professional background, chatted about television shows and local news, the personal was a hand she kept close to her chest. Only recently had she disclosed to Patricia - a woman she considered her best friend - the surface of what she'd gone through with her father back in Missouri.

There wasn't much to discuss, anyway. Life was simple. She worked and got a bite to eat. Read the paper and stopped at magazine stands. Walked city parks and browsed the shops once or twice a week. A lovely, mundane life made whole by finally being where and who she was meant to be.

And now she had someone in that life whom she ached to be with every day. Who made her want to stretch into new interests, who asked her to share her own, unexpected treasures at her age. How on earth could she keep all that inside?

Crossing the room to sit on Patricia's desk, Y/N described the rarities. "Take comedy," she began. "I like the late shows as much as anyone else, or a funny movie once in a while. Beyond that?" A dismissive wave. "But I love Arthur's passion for it, learning from him, hearing his jokes. It's like when he puts on music I haven't listened to before."

"What's he like?" Patricia sipped her coffee, reclined in her leather chair.

"The classics."

"The Supremes? Elvis?"

"More like Frank Sinatra and Fred Astaire."

Patricia squinted. "How old did you say he was?"

"He's younger than all of us but his heart's antique."

"You really are in love."

Tucking her bottom lip, Y/N grinned until her cheeks smarted. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Y/N, take my advice," Matt said, now in the doorway. "Men aren't like women."

Hand on hip, she caught Patricia's Here We Go gaze, then angled her own on Matt. "Is that so?"

"Women tend to talk too much. Men don't need all those discussions. We want to just...do." The man lumbered closer - the same man who groveled to his ex-wife every other week. He brought his palms together as if delivering a final argument, trying to convince a jury to render a guilty plea. "Let him do. What comes comes. You're a bright woman. It'll work out."

As poorly expressed as Matt's thesis was (and the behind the scenes it explained), her gut told her he'd gotten that last sentence right. After a moment, Y/N bobbed her chin in appreciation. He gave a dumb, pleased little wave and retreated to his office.

Patricia's unforgiving elbow jabbed her thigh. "Get back to your desk before he opens his mouth again."

~~~~~

Arthur itched to talk about it. Truly. Cross his heart, hope to die, needle in the eye and all that.

At the grocery store the other night, he'd felt brave enough. Strolling the aisles, filling their respective baskets, holding hands between picking products. Seltzer and marked down Christmas TV dinners for him, a popular brand of tea and World Tour Swanson's for her.

He'd repeated the opening in his head a hundred times, scrawled it in his journal a thousand more. In the shadow of a grand, football shaped display of potato chips, he'd watched her. (Was the amount of time he watched her when they were together creepy? He didn't want to be creepy. He wanted to be a man in love.) She'd studied a bag. He'd gripped his basket tighter.

"I wanted to ask you..." Arthur's breath ran out.

Y/N put the bag in her basket, next to a carton of eggs. "Yes?"

"Um." The bravery he'd been so confident of threatened to run out, too. He'd shrugged, forced himself to smile, his tongue in armed revolt against his brain. "How your pretzels were?"

She'd stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Which of course he had. "How my pretzels were?"

"Yeah." He'd slid closer to hide his screw up, body language smoother than spoken. Act casual. "The ones you bought for New Year’s." He'd managed to name the day, a split hair's breadth from success! "The mustard kind?"

One slow blink. "Honey mustard. They were good. Did you want some?" She'd reached towards the display.

"No," he'd said, a bit too fast.

"All right."

Five weird seconds that stretched like five hours. Arthur prayed he'd turn invisible so he could flee. A hiccup, a conscious effort to constrict his throat, hold his breath against a laugh.

An easy arm had curled around the crook of his elbow, led them to the checkout. "I have some left. You're welcome to them," she'd said. His diaphragm had calmed to a quiet cough.

Perhaps he could broach the subject tonight. That was the plan, anyway, as he jaunted down the concrete stairs. In his hurry to get to Y/N, he'd forgotten his hat and mittens, an oversight sure to perturb her. The wintry mix of snow and rain turned the light waves of his hair to curls, his lips frigid as a Frigidaire. Shivering, he pulled his tan hood over his head, yanked the strings tight.

He could do this. He just had to put his mind to it. After all, if they hadn't exchanged keys it was still a hypothetical, which meant it was still safe.

Not that she wasn't a safe haven. She was the one who'd taught him what safe haven meant. But there was a lot to consider beyond eternal bliss.

She'd bought movie tickets last Tuesday, insisted on paying for dinner Thursday, offered an evening casserole and wine after she'd seen the receipt for his new insomnia medication. He'd cursed himself for leaving it on the counter and declined. Poverty was the usual and he was used to it. Now it pricked like a bushel of thorns.

A couple days ago, he'd met Dr. Ludlow, an appointment made after Christmas, after a long talk with Y/N. (Though she'd made no such hints, he suspected that committing to treatment was necessary for her to fully commit to him.) The introductory session had consisted of rehashing every diagnosis, histories he'd rather forget. Dr. Ludlow was nice and all, made him comfortable, appeared willing to listen. No hard candies but he could smoke to his heart's content. When he'd wanted to schedule another appointment, he'd pushed out a bashful request for some type of payment plan.

"The first few sessions are taken care of." She'd smiled at him like she was delivering good news. "That should take you through March, then we can go from there."

Hovering at the doctor's desk, he'd found himself unable to move. That act of generosity was an island's leap from free chicken parmesan. He was at once deeply moved - and deeply unsettled.

Was it possible to be both the Man of the House and a financial burden at once?

Maybe. Maybe not. Probably maybe not.

Probably maybe he should slam the brakes on this train of thought. Shaking those notions off, he knocked on Y/N's door.

"Where is your hat?" Wifely exasperation right on cue. Chilled cheeks burned crimson at the association. He kissed her full lips but she retreated, wincing. "You're freezing. We need to warm you up. You should take a-"

"Bath. I will." He'd showered that morning, but he wouldn't argue. It'd be hard to enjoy himself as a popsicle. Unzipping, unbuttoning, he started towards the bathroom, dripping across the carpet.

~~~~~

Laundry folded and put away, Arthur's clothes draped over the radiator (his socks and briefs had somehow stayed dry), Y/N busied herself with the Gotham Journal. Thomas Wayne's mayoral bid continued to stomp across the front page, another article reported Brezhnev's latest threats. An ad for canned diced tomatoes featured a recipe for Mediterranean stuffed peppers. She dog-eared that page for later.

At a quarter to eight, she folded the paper on her lap and looked towards the bathroom door. Light spilled beneath it, the sound of a couple soft splashes. There was no sign it would open soon, and she was growing eager. Ready to reclaim last week's courage, she set off to retrieve her bathrobe.

Just as she was about to knock, a muffled hum halted her hand. Low, baritone, a caress to the ear. She pressed her frame closer to the wood. Rasped syllables between bars, a pitch that stuck to the back of the throat at higher notes. Though the song was unknown to her, she guessed it was the kind of old romantic tune that'd made her gush to Patricia.

It was adorable, her boyfriend serenading himself in the tub, and she adored him for it. Her younger self had assumed passion would lose its wonder as she grayed and wrinkled. Yet, she found she wasn't much different from that girl back in Boonville. The love she had for Arthur felt as fresh as new beginnings.

When he spent the night, he usually let her sleep until her alarm. But there were times she'd wake to his face buried in the nape of her neck, his stubble rough between her shoulders. Arm tight at her waist, fingers splayed on her abdomen. On those mornings she couldn't bear to move. Perfect moments she wanted to live in forever.

A glow sparked within her, propelled her forward. She knocked but didn't wait for a reply. "You can use this, if you'd like," she said, indicating the robe, cutting through the muggy air. "It shouldn't be too snug. I bought a couple sizes too big." She laid it on the closed toilet and turned to face him.

A navy blue washcloth drifted through the water, a bar of Ivory soap floated on the surface. Arthur sat straight as a fence, penis and hands tucked firmly between his thighs, which flexed in an uneven rhythm.

She floundered for a moment. Had his mother walked in on him like this? In the middle of getting dressed or washing up, a grown man without privacy? Had she just been as inconsiderate as Penny?

Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll go put the kettle on."

A shake of the head told her not to worry. "No, it's all right." His pale green glance was earnest, flashed with a shimmer that might have been hope. A muscle twitched along his jaw, the corners of his lips folded inward. Brown waves tumbled forward, knotted from the wet cold.

She ventured a pace towards him. "Would you like me to wash your hair?" Not long ago, he'd mentioned he always cut it himself, hadn't ever had the salon experience.

Dark brows lifted as he processed the request. "You don't have to."

"I'd love to," she said, perching on the tub's rim. "It's my favorite part of getting my hair done. Nothing washes away a trying day quite like it."

Whenever she suggested touching him in a new way, it didn't take much convincing. Tonight was no different. He dunked under the water immediately. Rivulets sculpted cutting cheekbones, drops fell from the rounded tip of his nose.

Sleeves rolled to her elbows and a dollop of shampoo in her palm, she laced her fingers through not yet silky locks. A stubborn tangle caught her left thumbnail. She stood for better leverage, working through his chestnut mop, now dark as velvet winter skies. The lather thickened with each stroke.

"Does that feel good?" she asked.

Not unlike his earlier singing, he hummed. "Mmm."

Sleet pinged the nearby window. She raked her nails along his scalp. "When we took a bath at your place, you said you were thinking about the future." A safe a way to breach the conversation, a lovely memory for them both. The night he'd confessed he loved her.

"Yeah. One with you." He rested in the curved end of the tub. "I've been thinking about what you said. About living together."

Her pulse skipped into next week. "Does that mean you want to?"

"No. I mean- I dunno. I like the idea, but I- I don't have a lot of money. My apartment's expensive, Penny's stuff is everywhere, and...I haven't lived anywhere else. Your apartment's newer. And I know you hate the cigarette smell at mine."

That was a fact she couldn't deny. She hadn't complained, having no desire to hurt him. But given that she didn't allow smoking anywhere besides the fire escape, it wasn't hard to deduce. Kneading slowed to a languid massage. She cleared relief from her throat, relief their relationship wasn't the cause of his hesitation. "This one's about the same age, just remodeled. And your place is spacious compared to some of the apartments I've seen." Her mind flashed to Mrs. McPhee's, the kitchen, living, and dining rooms combined into one ten by ten coop.

The pad of her thumb followed his strong brow. "I've been meaning to ask you something." Her hand snuck past his shoulder, traced droplets on his pectoral, dipped beneath the water's surface. "Were you always this thin?"

He frowned, tensed beneath her touch. "I thought you liked it."

"I do, I do. It's just that you have a bit of a love handle. Righhht...here." A pinch to his squishy flank, tickles to his ribs.

Sudden giggles, laughter that sounded ten years younger. He splashed her with a flick of the wrist, streaks of lilac sweater darkening to violet. "I lost weight when I started my medication. My mother used to say-" he raised his voice an octave here "'-You need to eat. Look at how skinny you are.'" A roll of the eyes, his whole head. "I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

"It doesn't have to," Y/N said. Then she scoffed at herself, at the hypocrisy of confirming he could let go of the past when hers continued to bleed at the edges. Before he could assume the scoff was at him, she added, "Maybe living here would help with that." He made no response.

Bending closer, she gathered his hair at the nape of his neck, wrung out lather. Suds slipped down her forearms. Automatically, he relaxed into her, curls clinging to her fingertips. Conversation ceased. She was unaware of the nearness of her breasts to his face.

A whispered trail on the seam of her sweater. Along her abdomen, across her stomach, up, up, up. He cupped her breast, cradled her as if she was a mirage. Wetness seeped through the acrylic. Her motions halted. The humidity of the room thickened to a pleasant fog.

Arthur's Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze darted to hers. "I don't want sex."

Careful to keep shampoo out of his eyes, she smoothed stray strands from his forehead. "You can touch me whenever you want, wherever you want. With or without sex." She nudged the tip of his nose with hers. "I want you to touch me every day. That's how you'll get used to it."

Reservation melted into an easy smile, tinged with a bashful pride. Akin to a suitor recalling how well he'd done on a date. Moving to catch her chin, he admired the handprint on her shirt and stole a kiss.

Her toes curled anew. And in the corner of her eye, so did his.

~~~~~

After handing him a fresh towel, Y/N left to change. An oversized sweatshirt would do, a faded sage green. With its hem at her hips, she decided to forego pants in favor of pale pink middle-aged panties. A choice for candid familiarity.

As she poured honey mustard pretzels in a wooden bowl, filled the tea kettle with water, Arthur shuffled through the living room. He flipped through her meager record collection, about ten LPs in total. The console stereo remained shut.

"There's nothing romantic in here," he said.

"I have a feeling Al Green would disagree." She'd played Let's Stay Together often as of late, a soundtrack to dusting and dishes, lines and lyrics bringing Arthur to mind.

The radio sprang to life, the GCR nightly news hour. Buzzing, static, the squeal of an out of key jingle. Finally, he reached his goal. Warm strings, a plaintive timbre.

"What station is this?" she asked. Bumping into Sinatra the evening he'd come for dinner had been pure luck.

"GPR. They play oldies Tuesday and Thursday nights and Sunday mornings." He sidled up beside her, robe cinched tight at the waist, chest peeking out from the white terrycloth. Soft notes continued while they waited for the water to boil. Quiet, lovely companionship in this basic task.

When she filled the mugs, the collar of her sweatshirt fell down her shoulder. A moment, two, and he put his arm about her. His thumb ventured to her collarbone. Tapping, settling into a comfortable caress. She jutted her hip against him.

He gave her a squeeze. "When you were a little girl, what did you dream about? What future did you want?"

Both hands cupping her mug, she put her elbows on the counter. In truth, that was hard to conjure. Married at seventeen, college four months later, degree at twenty-two. Childhood dreams had remained distant since - well, since she was a little girl. Not that she regretted that history. It'd simply resulted in practicality instead of preoccupation.

And the prior decade of distress had done a pretty thorough job of grinding down whatever parts of her could still imagine in that way. Even with the medication she'd taken towards the end. She'd lived moment to moment, survived hour to hour for so long. Thinking of it reminded her of all she'd lost, when it should've reminded her of all she'd gained. It irked her, how small it made her feel, small enough to rival a camel going through the eye of a needle.

But Arthur wasn't aware of the rusty gears and cranks of her past. He deserved an answer.

"I wanted to grow up, but I wanted life to stay the same. Does that make sense?" She blew ripples across chamomile. "I had a good childhood. I was lucky. My parents were supportive and proud. My sister was my best friend, even when she annoyed the hell out of me. I wanted to keep those things, like a photograph that wouldn't fade. But I also wished for a career, to make a home with the man I loved. I didn't understand what that kind of love was, not yet. But I saw what my parents had and wanted my own happily ever after." A soreness threatened her vocal cords, for theirs had been cut short. She sipped it away. "What about you?"

The answer came quickly, as if he'd been waiting to be asked his whole life. "Meeting my dad." He dunked his cinnamon teabag, his strong brow weakening. "I always wondered what I did to make him leave."

Heat enveloped her neck. "You didn't do anything, Arthur. You didn't do anything. He's the one who missed out, not you." A rash response, one that wouldn't heal his wounds. But a salve she hoped would soothe - and what she believed.

He wound the teabag's string through the mug's handle. The corner of his mouth curved, a subtle nod of the head. The hand on her shoulder drew a line down her arm to entwine their fingers. Turning her towards him, he grasped her hip.

From the tender light in his eyes, it was plain where this was headed. And she hadn't had any wine to help her get over herself. Her palm pressed his sternum in a halfhearted attempt to save her dignity. "We've done this once."

Their clasped hands were now at shoulder height. "Not enough," he said.

"You haven't had a chance to see how bad I am at this."

"We just have to practice."

"But I can't hear when to step," she said, and shifted foot to foot.

"Didn't you enjoy it the first time?"

She weakened in his arms, her protestations dissolving in her throat. "I loved it."

"Then let me lead. You don't have to all the time." The warmth of his blinding smile echoed in his gentle instruction. Touch firm but tender, his fingers splayed on the small of her back. "If we live together, I'll want you to dance with me every day. That’s how you'll get used to it."

She chuckled, laid her head on his shoulder. The fresh scent of soap rolled off him. She nestled deeper for another whiff. On a sigh, she pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. "Make sure to hold me to that.”

~~~~~

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