#even though i have a rehearsal tonight that i need to save energy for

[zeawesomebirdie]

What the fuck why do lessons take so much energy this isnt fair

[gryffindorkxdraws]

J A C K U N Z E L // Songs AU

Jack Frost x Rapunzel Corona

listen to the song here so you can listen to it while reading this hehe

Questions I may not get the answers to tonight But that's okay I’ve got these little pleasures I can find

Jack watched Rapunzel from the window as she continued her ballet lessons. The girl was having the time of her life, goofing off and easing the mood every time the strict teacher wasn’t looking away. And while she got scolded whenever she was caught, that still never faded her smile away.

Maybe that was why Jack couldn’t take his eyes off of her. But he shook the thought away, reassuring himself that he only made the effort to climb fire escape and sat on the grate by the studio’s floor after climbing numerous stairs to look out for his best friend. Who knows when she needs another snack again thanks to her teacher restricting their diet?

Rapunzel saw him and smiled with this glint in her eyes, and Jack didn’t know what she was up to until she boldly disregarded her teacher’s instructions and jumped into the air with grace. She then twirled around and bowed before Jack, making the other ballerinas see him. 

There he is again, they thought with envy. They too wanted a cute boy to visit them.

Jack smiled at Rapunzel as she did likewise and they finger gunned at each other. Though she surprised him of mouthing the words for him to drop by the studio at 7pm sharp, before the teacher shooed him away. While Jack was surprised, he accepted it and the two laughed as they waved goodbye.

I can go for the weekend Stay in with no one Wake up whenever I like Maybe dip into glitter Kiss every mirror Looking right into my eyes

Rapunzel snuck in through the restroom of the studio and waited for everyone to leave. Once she saw the lights go off and she heard no other sound besides her own breathing, she slipped out of her hiding spot and snuck back in the studio. There she didn’t need to wait for long because, soon enough, she heard the door open and someone walk in.

“Jack!” She smiled all so brightly that he faltered for a second at the sight of it.

Though he immediately composed himself when she ran to him for a bear hug, twirling her around with a laugh. When he placed her down, she excitedly shared to him about her day, the things he missed after he left. Like how Anna rambled about these ducklings she saved from a car and now the said ducklings are following her around like children. Even her boyfriend, Hiccup, made fun of her for being a mother, but he made each of the ducklings their very own jacket.

Jack kept his eyes on Rapunzel the whole time, mesmerized at her very energy despite going through such intense lessons. He led the way as she went on and on, and helped her sit down on the floor by the mirror wall before he sat beside her. He made comments here and there, but ultimately he listened to her talk. There was something so beautiful about her whenever she rambled about something, and he didn’t want to miss a thing.

Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other And fall in love Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other And fall in love

When Rapunzel noticed how uncharacteristically quiet Jack, she looked over at him only to find him watching her with this soft, soft smile that made her heart melt. It fanned a flame in her until it reached to her cheeks. She only hoped it was dark enough that he couldn’t see her blush like an idiot.

“Do I have something on my face?” She teased to get her out of her own fumbling of her heart.

“Yeah. Beauty.” Jack answered all so smoothly as if he rehearsed it from time to time if ever this were to happen. “But also a bit of snot, but what’s a human without snot anyway?”

Rapunzel didn’t know what to say or do at his first answer, her mind going BRRRRR in overdrive. But when the joke came, she found herself laughing and shoving his shoulder. They continued bickering and cooing at each other, until Jack asked why were they here.

This then made Rapunzel’s eyes sparkle as she stared at him, almost as if she was asking him to guess. He stared back and started giving answers, never once looking away. There were so many stars in her eyes that he wondered if she had her very own galaxy in there. Rapunzel, meanwhile, thought of snowflakes from his blue, blue eyes. How they each had their own shape and design, and she realized how perfect it was to relate it to him with how he had so much character and possibilities in him.

Amor amor Amor amor Es lo que quiero Es lo que quiero Amor amor Amor amor So, ven y dame Ven y dame Amor amor Amor amor Es lo que quiero Es lo que quiero Amor amor Amor amor So, ven y dame Ven y dame

When Jack finally answered “Uh, you have a dance for me?” Rapunzel cheered and mimicked a crowd. He laughed at that and mocked a bow, thanking the ‘crowd’ for such a lively cheer. With that being said, Rapunzel stood up, telling Jack to stay put as she scrolled through her phone for the music.

As soon as it played, she placed the device on the floor and ran off to the center of the studio. There, she danced with grace and the kind of spunk her teacher would definitely scold her for. But they weren’t here, and she was free to do whatever she pleased. The more Jack watched, the more he felt pulled into her world. Sure he was already in it, like she was in his, but this felt... different.

This felt intimate and personal, like she was dancing to him an important message that she prepared for him and him alone. He then wondered if he was reading too much into a simple dance. Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish for it to be true.

Foolish I’ve got a little temper, that's alright Don’t we all put up with And hush to sleep that little voice inside Get away for the weekend Tell it to no one Wake up and wonder just why We'll make sense of it Monday Right now it's Friday Won't you look into my eyes?

Rapunzel wondered if he got her message. She wanted him to get her message. Of how the song, the beautiful love song she happened to stumble upon, sang of feelings, of such intense romantic feelings that made her yearn like a lovestruck fool, that she felt for him and him alone.

Did he feel the same way too? She knew that was a question shot in the dark, but she couldn’t help it. Did he think of the same things too? Did he want to hold her hand much longer than necessary? Or at least for no reason at all than to simply feel each other’s warmth? The longer she danced, the more she poured her heart into it as the memories they’ve shared together played in her head.

Their first meeting where she accidentally headbutted him in a corner of a street because she was running late for her first ballet lesson. And instead of being mad, Jack understood her sense of urgency and took her for a ride on his skateboard to get there faster. Their first time sharing of contact numbers after miraculously bumping into each other again (minus the headbutting, thank god) where she insisted of treating him as a thank you for last time. Their bond that slowly but surely grew soon after almost as if they’ve been missing each other their whole life.

Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other And fall in love Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other Lets stare at each other And fall in love

When she was done and bowed before him, Jack let out a cheer so loud and full of hollering that she had to tackle him down to quiet him else the security might hear them. He laughed at that as he held in her arms, though it died down as soon as he saw how red Rapunzel’s face was. They stared into each other’s eyes once more, studying and memorizing each other that they would carefully keep in a precious part of their mind and heart.

They were so, so close that they could feel each other’s breath on each other. And if one of them made a move, they would surely kiss. Maybe bump their nose first, then that sweet, loving kiss they both yearned and ached for. But that didn’t happen. Not when Rapunzel headbutted him with how her heart was about to burst from its seams due to her overflowing feelings.

“OW!” Jack rubbed his head. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a head as hard as a rock! And I know this because I still have that dent on my head from the day we first met.”

“My head is as sweet and delicate as a snow globe with glitters and a moon and a star in it, thank you very much!” Rapunzel stuck her tongue out at him, hoping he couldn’t hear the wild beating of her heart.

“Oddly specific, but now, see, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Wanna bet?”

Amor amor Amor amor Es lo que quiero Es lo que quiero Amor amor Amor amor So, ven y dame Ven y dame Amor amor Amor amor Es lo que quiero Es lo que quiero Amor amor Amor amor So, ven y dame Ven y dame

As the song came to an end with the words of ‘I love you’ in different languages echoed in the studio, the two and their argument eventually died down. Especially as soon as they realized that they were inching closer and closer together. Almost as if they couldn’t help but be together, stay together, and most importantly, be so close together.

Though before they could explore what exactly was happening between them and in the sweet loving atmosphere they created, they heard security walking around. With just one look, the two giggled and grabbed their things before making a run for it outside through the backdoor.

for @jackunzel-time‘s event, week 2

[cooliogirl101]

If Sayuri was transported to Bleach canon alone (assuming the same premise of the lightning mist au, where Sousuke is dead so she doesn’t seek to find a way back), what would she do?

Well in the lightning mist AU, she basically went into a deep, deep depression and didn’t come out of it until she found Sakumo and Kakashi. I don’t think she would bother seeking out canon!Aizen-- she wouldn’t be able to bear having him look at her without any of the warmth, love, and recognition her Sousuke looked at her with. She’d wander the world lost, grieving, not wanting to live but not having the energy to die either. 

Ichigo first meets the woman in white when he is nine years old. He sees her standing by the river as he’s walking to karate practice, staring blankly into the distance. 

She’s not the first person Ichigo’s found wandering around Karakura Town looking a little lost. The others, they’d mainly looked confused, unsure of who they were or what they were supposed to be doing. This one, though...this one just looked sad. 

“Hey!” He calls out. She doesn’t respond and so he runs up to her. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need help?”

Close up, Ichigo can’t help but notice that the woman looks...really, really thin. He swallows, looking up at her sunken eyes, the dark bruise-like shadows underlining them, her hollowed-out cheeks...

“Are-- are you hungry?” He asks the stranger hesitantly. “Do you want to come home with me? Mom would be okay with it, she loves having guests over! And she’s a really good cook, everyone says so. You should come! I think we’re having curry tonight.”

Her eyes flicker down towards him, gaze sharpening for the briefest moment as she takes in his face. Then she turns away, walking off. Ichigo watches her go, expression thoughtful. When he gets home that night, he makes sure to sneak some extra snacks into his backpack for tomorrow.

Ichigo seeks out the woman in white every day for the next three weeks. It isn’t always easy to find her but something about the water seems to calm her, and so more often than not Ichigo can find her standing by the river. He still hasn’t managed to convince her to take any food but on the bright side, she seems to be tolerating his presence more. She hasn’t walked away from him since that first day and although she still hasn’t spoken, she’s starting to listen more-- her focus on him rather than the water’s depths. 

One day in mid-June, it starts raining really hard and so Ichigo sneaks an extra umbrella into his backpack in addition to the multitude of untouched snacks. He doesn’t get a chance to look for her after school-- the rain had started really coming down and Isshin had showed up to take him straight to karate-- and so once karate practice ends, he hardly even waits for Masaki before sprinting out the door.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” Masaki laughs, chasing after him. “What’s the rush?”

“I’m looking for a friend,” Ichigo replies, scanning the riverside for a hint of white. “She’s got brown hair and she always wears white. Do you see her?”

Masaki pauses, pulling Ichigo under her umbrella. 

“I don’t think so,” she says after a moment, peering into the rain. “With it raining this much, your friend is probably inside, Ichigo.”

“Maybe,” Ichigo says dubiously, cupping his eyes with his hands in an attempt to see better. Masaki looks at him, a fond smile on her lips.

“Tell you what. We’ll come back and look for her together tomorrow, okay?” She says warmly. “For now though, let’s go home. I don’t want you to get a cold.”

“Fine,” Ichigo says begrudgingly. “But tomorrow, I definitely wanna-- wait, I think I see her!” Before Masaki can stop him, he runs towards the faint figure he sees in the distance, where the rising water is especially turbulent. 

As he gets closer, he can tell that the figure isn’t the woman in white-- instead it’s a kid, a little girl probably around Yuzu and Karin’s age. She’s crying, clutching onto a stuffed bear, eyes swollen shut with tears.  

“Hey,” Ichigo says softly, so as not to scare her. Behind him, Ichigo can hear Masaki shouting his name. “Hey, are you alright? Do you need help?”

At the sound of his voice, the girl stops crying for a moment. She blinks, looking up at him with large, teary eyes. 

“The water is especially high today,” she whispers, so quietly Ichigo can barely hear her. She smiles, squeezing her teddy bear with both arms. “I love to swim. Will you swim with me, nii-san?”

The girl turns back towards the river, bending her legs as if preparing to jump. His heart leaping into his throat, Ichigo lunges towards her with one arm outstretched. 

“Don’t--!”

He never makes it. Instead, he feels a pair of arms encircle him from behind, pulling him into a secure embrace.

“Look away, Ichigo-kun,” an unfamiliar voice murmurs, even as a strange tiredness spreads through his entire body, causing his eyelids to droop. “This is not for you to see.” 

The last thing Ichigo hears before his vision goes dark is a sickening squelch, not unlike the sound of a butcher knife slicing through a fresh cut of meat. 

~~

“Forgive me, I don’t think I introduced myself last night.” Sayuri opens her eyes to find the same red-haired woman from last night in front of her, a kind smile on her face. “I’m Kurosaki Masaki, Ichigo’s mother.” 

“...Sayuri,” Sayuri answers, after a sluggish pause. She blinks, gathering her thoughts-- she remembers the weight of Ichigo’s body in her arms, handing him over to his frantic mother, the scent of blood in the rain. “How...how is he doing?” 

She has a general idea of Ichigo’s wellbeing-- his spiritual energy is bright enough to sense clear across town, even at this age-- but it’s always better to confirm. 

“Asking for you,” Masaki replies, her lips quirking up. “It was all I could do to keep him from following me here-- but then, I wanted to speak with you first.”

Her smile fades, expression sobering.

“You know, I spent hours rehearsing what I was going to say to you this morning?” Masaki asks. “I don’t even know where to start. You saved my son’s life.” She exhales shakily. “I mean, how do I even begin to thank you for something like that?”

There’s another pause before Sayuri figures out she’s expecting an answer. She rewinds the last minute of their conversation and comes up blank.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” She asks after a moment. Masaki’s expression softens. 

“I said, I would very much like to thank you,” she says gently. 

“Oh.” Sayuri thinks about that for a moment. There was a time where she would have held on to the favor. It’s what Sousuke would have done, collecting debts and loyalties until-- 

She shakes her head.

“That’s not necessary.”

It isn’t like those debts had done much good in the end, anyway.

“Then at the very least, come over for lunch,” Masaki implores. “Allow me to do that much. Please.”

Sayuri closes her eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the other woman’s spiritual energy. Even that is a struggle, and the fact that she has to think about it at all...there was a time when she would have scanned it automatically, when the act would have come as naturally as breathing to her.

But then, it is so very hard to concentrate these days.

“I can’t eat,” she says finally, a statement that should have seemed obvious to her in retrospect.

“You leave that to me,” Masaki says, eyes warm. “I’ll figure something out. All I need is for you to come with me.” She extends her hand to Sayuri. “Shall we?”

There was a time when Sayuri would have analyzed every possible meaning and connotation behind such a gesture before accepting. Now, though...now it’s difficult to think, hurts to remember, and Sayuri is oh so tired. 

And well, it was just lunch. What could it hurt?

(What could possibly cause her more pain at this point?)

She reaches up and takes Masaki’s hand. 

~~

Sayuri, six months later, wearing a Kurosaki family sweater, sitting on the bleachers squished between Masaki and Yuzu at one of Karin’s soccer matches: ...I feel like I’ve been tricked, somehow

(idk I just like the thought of Sayuri getting aggressively adopted into the Kurosaki family. No, she did not have any say in the matter)

[izumi-fanclub]

A3! Translation: Tasuku SSR Card “Fire Kingdom” [What I see now]

We get to relive the GOD Troupe days of Tasuku with witnesses like MANKAI Company, Zabi (Yes, Zabi), and a certain someone.

Tasuku

―― Huff, huff.

(I’m feeling better than usual today. Let’s try going a little farther....)

―Hm.

(I haven’t been on stage at GOD Theater since the act-off....)

(I haven’t put on a play with the members of the GOD Theater company since I left the troupe. I wonder what kind of plays I can put on with them now....)

Guy

Takato, good morning.

Tasuku

Guy-san, good morning.

Are you on your way home from work?

Guy

Mhm.

Tasuku

Good work today then.

Guy

You were looking at the theater of GOD company with such a serious expression on your face.

Tasuku

Eh?

Guy

Your eyebrows made your wrinkles more known than usual.

Tasuku

Wrinkles...?

Ah.... I was just imagining the type of plays I could do now with the guys from GOD troupe.

Guy

I’m sure there is more to it than that.

Tasuku

….. You’re right actually.

I also got a feeling that GOD troupe is starting to change. But all I have are memories of being forced into plays here....

It’s been such a long time since I’ve done a play with the GOD troupe members, and I’m wondering whether or not I can deliver a good, convincing performance with them this time around.

Guy

You’ll be able to understand each other the more you practice together.

I can tell through our plays that you’re still serious about theater even after you’ve left GOD troupe.

As long as you keep up your usual passion and dedication to the play, I do not doubt that the communication between you all will come naturally.

That’s how we’ve been guided after all.

Tasuku

―― I get what you’re trying to say.

Thanks a lot.

Fuyuki

Morning!

Tasuku

――Big bro?

Fuyuki

Oh, Guy-san too, it’s been a while.

Guy

You seem to be doing well.

Tasuku

What’s my big brother doing here?

Fuyuki

Here it is, the DVDs you’ve been asking for.

Tasuku

Ah... from my GOD Troupe era.

You could’ve just had it sent to me without having to show up in person y’know.

Fuyuki

Nothing wrong with wanting to see my brother’s face after a long while.

Guy

Since you’ve come all this way,

Why not have some tea instead of just standing here?

Fuyuki

I’d like to, but I work a night shift later. I need to sleep to save energy back at home.

Tasuku

Then you shouldn’t have bothered delivering it here.

Fuyuki

Just cause a cold little brother like you doesn’t come home often.

Well, I’m glad to see you doing well. Good luck with your performance.

Tasuku

Thanks for the DVDs, by the way.

Guy

Take care.

Fuyuki

Ah, right, Guy-san――

Guy

?

  (Part 2)

Announcement

“To the beautiful ladies and gentlemen with us, thank you for joining us today.”

Muku

Wow, even the announcements are very GOD Troupe-like!

Sakuya

That’s right. The stage set is also gorgeous~

On-screen Tasuku

“My name is Faust. He who peers into the abyss of darkness..."

Muku

Eh!? Tasuku-san!?

Kumon

His vibe here is totally different!

Azami

The makeup’s so thick.

Tenma

Even the play is completely different.

Tasuku

The style’s special to GOD Troupe.

Misumi

That looks like fun! Everyone’s so shiny and sparkly~

Yuki

Too many sequins. The cost of one costume could make our budget cry.

Tenma

I was surprised to see Tasuku-san at first, but he’s still a good actor through and through...

Sakuya

The story and direction sure are interesting.

Kazunari

The makeup, costume, and set are all consistent with GOD Troupe’s aesthetic~

Citron

I’ll switch to the GOD Troupe vibe as well! My new name will be FanFan.....

Chikage

You’d sound like a panda.

Izumi

What’s next?

Muku

Oh! “Sleeping Beauty”! The cover jacket looks very romantic.

Tasuku

Stop right there.

Banri

Aight, how about “Gigolo”?

Citron

The cover jacket looks kind of erotic~

Tasuku

You two can stop right there too.

Yuki

They’re all no good.

Guy

There’s one more thing I want to watch.

Izumi

?

Announcement

“The 24th GOD Theater Fan Meeting!”

Tasuku

――Ah.

Kumon

Fan Meeting!?

Itaru

Oh, I definitely wanna see this.

Tasuku

Wait a minute――

On-screen Tasuku

“Good evening, I’m in a good mood tonight――”

Tenma

Fuuu.....

Itaru

This is so OOC.

Chikage

This is very not allowed.

Tasuku

….... Can’t be helped since it’s a policy we have. Why is there even a DVD like this in here...?

Guy

It was a recommendation by Takato’s older brother. He said we should definitely watch this one.

Tasuku

My brother.... I’m not gonna ask for his help with this stuff anymore.

Taichi

Well, it’s valuable footage! Anyone would want to see it!

Banri

It’s treasure alright, we’ve struck gold, feels like I’ll go blind if I look too much.

Itaru

I think I’d rather work overtime than see this.

Tasuku

Well, aren’t you all so amused....

GOD Troupe Member A

“Haruto is actually such a crybaby, y’know~ He cries at animal videos a lot.”

Haruto

“You got drunk the other day and cried to me too!”

GOD Troupe Member B

“When this guy gets drunk, he starts crying, saying he doesn’t want to play the egghead again.”

Audience

“Ahahaha!”

Yuki

GOD Troupe gets along surprisingly well.

Tasuku

It’s all an act.

Izumi

Eh!?

Tasuku

We have to act like we’re close so that the fans will like it.

It’s like we’re playing the roles of actors of GOD Troupe.

Kumon

Eeh!? For real?

Tenma

It doesn’t even feel off.

Juza

It felt so natural, I couldn’t even tell it was acting.

Sakyo

Maybe that’s just how good they are at acting.

Yuki

Their stage acting even extends to a fan meeting.

Muku

We’re not like that, are we!?

Kazunari

Mukkun, you worry too much!

Tasuku

123, 124.......

Tsumugi

Good evening, I’m in a good mood tonight――

Tasuku

Oi.

Tsumugi

Sorry, sorry, it amused me.

But I still think it’s an iconic line.

“Though my body may be torn asunder, my vow will never perish. I will live within you forever, and when your body is laid to rest, you will bring me to your grave.”

Tasuku

That’s nostalgic. But that line had more stifled emotions, like ――

Tsumugi

Ah, this is the nervous Tasuku version.

Tasuku

That reenactment is too specific.

You’re too good at that kind of thing.

Tsumugi

By the way, do you still have the script for that performance?

I wanna read it sometime.

Tasuku

It wasn’t with the scripts that were sent to me before. I think it’s still at my parents’ place, so I’ll get it soon.

    (Part 3)

Tasuku

(It’s been a while since I’ve looked through a script from my GOD Troupe days, it’s definitely gonna be a fresh feeling.)

(I want to read a bit....)

Tsumugi’s Grandmother

Oh, Taachan. Are you returning home?

Tasuku

Hello, long time no see.

Zabi

Woof woof!

Tsumugi’s Grandmother

C'mon, Zabi, I told you we can’t go for a walk yet.

You know I have some shopping to do――

Zabi

*whine*….

Tasuku

I was just about to go to the riverbank, do you want me to take Zabi with me?

Tsumugi’s Grandmother

Would that be alright? Thank you.

Zabi

Woof!

Tasuku

Okay, let’s go.

Zabi

Woof woof!

Tasuku

Alright, alright. This is as far as we can go. Time to head back.

Zabi

Woof!

Tasuku

…......

(Should I do a script read-through here....)

Zabi

Arf arf!

???

Well, aren’t you a cutie~

Tasuku

(This voice...)

Tasuku

Haruto?

Haruto

Huh.

Of course Tasuku of all people would carry a script while walking a dog.

Tasuku

No, it just sort of happened...

Haruto

Is that the script of the first GOD Troupe performance you starred in?

Tasuku

Yeah. I’ve been looking back at old performance DVDs and scripts lately. The next performance will be a collaboration, but it’s been a while since I’ve performed on the GOD Theater stage.

There’ll be elements of MANKAI Company, but we still have to keep the style of GOD Troupe in mind.

Haruto

You’re still as batshit serious as ever with theater.

Well, it’s my turn to be the lead this time, and I need you to do what you can as the co-lead.

Tasuku

Got it.

Haruto

Don’t get nervous and drag your feet like you did with your first leading role, got that?

Tasuku

――You noticed?

(I thought the only people who noticed my nervousness on that stage were the Winter Troupe members who came to see the performance on tape...)

(I thought none of my co-actors noticed it.)

Haruto Haa? ‘Course I did.

I always observe new Top actors during rehearsals, so I knew right away your performance would be a mess.

I was gonna tear you a new one after the opening night, but I let it slide once I saw you were busy rehearsing on your own in the theater.

Tasuku

You knew I was practicing on my own?

Haruto

I was just sitting in the audience seats and you didn’t notice me at all. You were totally sucked into that role.

Tasuku

….... Ah, I didn’t know you were watching me.

Haruto

Anyway, if you mess it up like last time again, as the lead actor, I’m not gonna tolerate it. You’d better study GOD Troupe and blend your old style back in.

Zabi

Arf arf!

Haruto

Alright. I’ll see you.

Tasuku

――.

Fuu...

(No way, didn’t think Haruto would see right through me...)

(Maybe that was something I couldn’t see back then.)

Tasuku

(It’s later than I thought. Can I make it in time for dinner...?)

Tasuku

――.

(I feel like I can face the GOD Theater with a more positive attitude than before.)

Izumi

Ah, Tasuku-san. Are you going somewhere?

Tasuku

I just got back from my parents’ place to get a script.

Izumi

I didn’t know that was the case, welcome back.

.........

Tasuku

What is it?

Izumi

Tasuku-san, are you in a good mood?

The wrinkles between your eyebrows are thinner than usual.

Tasuku

You talk as if they’re always there.

Izumi

Fufu, I was just kidding. But you did have a soft expression earlier, did something good happen to you?

Tasuku

Nothing in particular... I just had a feeling that I could put on a good play here, or something like that.

Izumi

I see, let’s put on a good performance then.

Tasuku

Yeah. That’s the plan.

Story Clear!

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

prompt #17 for reddie? :)

“I want to feel like this forever.”

just a little miniseries reddie for you. ❤️🧡💛💚💙

you can also read it on ao3

***

After Derry, after the hospital, after almost a year of recovery and fighting with his mother every day multiple times a day about seeing Richie, Eddie has had enough.

“Ma, I’m leaving,” Eddie says quietly to the mirror in the cramped bathroom he’d shared with her since he was a late teen. He clears his throat. “Ma, now don’t get— Please don’t get—” Pause. “Ma, I’m forty-one years old. It is well past time I moved out and—” He groans.

This is a disaster. He knows she’s going to see right through him, she’s going to know this is because of Richie.

And she’s not entirely wrong. To be fair though, he knows he’s not doing it for Richie, but Richie is a huge motivating factor to get out from his mother’s thumb. All Eddie really wants right now is to be with his love, and he knows his mother is going to have issues with it, but he can’t live for her any more.

Eddie opens his mouth to rehearse some more when Sonia knocks on the door and Eddie lets out a little shriek.

“Eddie, darling, are you alright?” She calls through the door.

“I’m fine, ma.” He flushes the toilet and washes his hands as she tries to delay the inevitable.

“Well, hurry up, your supper’s getting cold.”

When he opens the door, she is still standing there, waiting.

“Ma, what are you doing? Let’s go eat.” He takes her elbow and guides her down the stairs just the way she likes. Pot roast is waiting for them in the dining room, and as Eddie helps push in Sonia’s chair, he can’t help but wonder if this is going to be the last meal of hers he’s ever going to eat.

He sits down across from her and waits for her to dish him up some food. They talk quietly through dinner, but it’s all haze. Eddie forgets what he’s saying almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Half an hour later, Sonia clucks at him. “Eddie, dear, you’ve barely touched your food. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, just not really hungry.” He takes a deep breath. “Actually, ma, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Just do it. Just say it. You can do this. You killed an alien, you can do this, Eddie tells himself.

“Ma,” he starts and stops. “Ma, first of all, I just want to tell you that I love you very much.”

“I love you, too, Eddie.” She frowns at him and he has to look away.

“Ma, I— I’m moving out.”

“Moving out? Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie, dear. Where do you think you can go? Your home is here with me.”

“Ma, I’m forty-one. I’m a— I’m—” He swallows hard. He can’t  quite make himself say, I’m a forty-one year old gay virgin, so instead he says, “Richie has a spare room. I’m going to move in with him.” He doesn't tell her he’s not going to stay in the guest room.

“With Richie? Richie Tozier?” She shrieks. “That vile little boy grew up to be a vile man. You can’t. I won’t allow it.”

“I’m not asking for your permission, ma, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Sonia looks at him in disbelief. “Edward Kaspbrak, how dare you talk to me like this. I can’t believe what you are saying. You can't leave me like this. You need me, Eddie.”

“No, ma, you need me. And I can’t do it any more. I’m sorry, but I can’t— I can’t be your excuse to not be happy any more.”

Glowering, Sonia asks, “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you never gave yourself a chance to be happy after pop died because you were afraid of getting hurt again. You— You put all your energy and attention into me. I was your whole world so you didn’t have to go find a new husband, a new life. You were afraid and you made me afraid, and I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

Sonia blinks. “I never once stopped you from— from having a life. You were always allowed to have a relationship. You were the one who broke up with Myra.”

“Ma, that’s not— I don’t—” He sighs. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what, Eddie? Explain it to me. Explain to me why you are abandoning your dear old mother. Your mother who took care of you your whole life through. I never asked for anything, never wanted anything in return, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Ma, just— I’m leaving, ok? I’m leaving tonight and—”

“Oh, Eddie, just tell me why. I’d understand if- if it was for a girl, maybe, but that nasty man—”

“Richie’s not nasty, ma, he’s wonderful. You just don’t like him because he treats me better than you.”

“He’s dirty!”

“He’s not!

“He’ll get you into trouble. Trouble like before. You really think—”

“Think he’ll take care of me if I have another accident? Yes, he will. He hardly left my side. He was there when I needed him in the middle of the night. He paid for your room, too, and you never really thanked him.” Sonia makes a small move noise of disapproval. “Look, ma. He moved here. He moved here after I got out of the hospital. He’s— He—” He shakes his head a little. “There’s nothing that I can say that will explain this in a satisfactory way, so please, just- just—” Just try and understand, is what he wants to say, but the words won’t come.

“Eddie, I only want what’s best for you, can’t you see that?” Sonia asks. “That friend of yours can’t take care of you the way that I can.”

“No, ma. No one takes care of me like you do,” Eddie says carefully. He knows they are close to the edge and he doesn’t really want to spill over. Even after everything, he believes that she loves him and only wants what she thinks is best for him, but her whole world view was totally screwed. She had done her best, but it's time to get on with his life. Their life together isn't fair to either of them.

“Then why do you want to leave me?”

“It’s not you, ma. Leaving is just something I gotta do.” Eddie looks at her and wishes he hadn’t. She’s crying and looks so, so small. She’d never really looked small before and it scares him.

“But why?”

He almost says, Because I love him, but he is literally saved by the doorbell.

“Oh, who could that be at this hour?” Sonia sniffs and starts to get up.

“It’s for me, ma. It’s— It’s Joey. He’s going to help me get my stuff over to Richie’s.”

“And where is Richie then?” Sonia asks as Eddie heads towards the door.

“At home. We thought it would be less… upsetting if you didn’t see him right now.” And it clearly worked well, cause you are so, so calm, he thinks to himself. He opens the door and smiles at his favorite coworker. Well, soon to be ex-coworker because Eddie and Richie are moving to LA in a few weeks. Guilt fills Eddie’s stomach when he realizes he hasn’t told his mother this yet.

One thing at a time, Eddie tells him.

“Hey, Joey, thanks for this again.”

“Any time, Eddie. How is she?” Joey looks past Eddie to try and see Sonia for himself.

“She’s… taking it about as well as can be expected at this point.” Eddie glances back over his shoulder to see if she’s come out of the dining room or not, and is relieved to find the hall empty.

“Come on. My room is upstairs.” Eddie moves aside so Joey can come in, and Eddie is struck by the realization that Joey is the first friend he’s had over since he was a kid. He doesn’t count Myra because that had been just a huge disaster.

It had never been a real relationship, they hadn’t even kissed. It had been so easy to just pretend like he wanted to wait for marriage, that he was an old fashioned kind of guy, and Myra had happily gone along with it. Sometimes Eddie almost felt sorry for her, but he knew that she didn’t love him any more than he loved her. 

Honestly, even if Eddie weren’t gay, he knows his mother would never have really let him marry Myra, and he would be here irregardless. There had been no escaping his mother.

They head up the stairs, and Eddie can hear Sonia crying in the kitchen. He hopes she stays there.

Eddie doesn’t have much stuff he actually wants to take, and between Joey and himself, it only takes one trip to get all his stuff. They put his things in the trunk and Eddie sighs.

“I’m going to go say goodbye. This may take a while. If it gets too late, call Richie and—”

“I know the plan, Eddie. It’s ok. It’s going to be fine.”

Eddie giggles. “Yeah, sure. You wanna go in for me?” He points to the door.

“Not a chance in hell.” They both laugh. “Good luck, Eddie.” Joey squeezes Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie sighs a little.

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.” He takes another deep breath and turns to walk up the path. He opens the door and steps back in. He rubs his face as he goes to find Sonia. She’s in the kitchen staring at the leftover pot roast.

“I’m leaving, ma. I just— I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Sonia says nothing.

“Ma, please. Please try to understand. I’m not doing this to hurt you. I just want a chance to be happy.”

Sonia begins to put the leftovers away.

“Ma, say something. Please.” When she doesn’t say anything, Eddie nods. “It’s ok, ma. Maybe one day you’ll understand. Maybe one day we’ll be able to talk again.” He turns and walks down the hall.

“Eddie?” Sonia calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, ma?” He turns and sees her watching from the kitchen doorway.

“If you leave, I never want to see you again,” Sonia says.

Swallowing hard, Eddie nods. “I love you, ma.” He turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. He hates this, hates himself, hates everything. He stews in his guilt all the way to Richie’s. When they get there, Eddie hesitates.

“You want me to go get Richie?” Joey asks.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just sits there thinking about how Joey was the best friend he had without the Losers, and even though they’d been friends for years Joey knew very little about Eddie’s life. Eddie is amazed that Joey would be willing to just drop everything to help him. Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, come on. Let’s go in. I’m tired and ready for tonight to be over.”

“Ok.” Joey squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. They get out and grab the bags. They walk up the steps and Richie opens the door before they can knock on the door.

“Hey! Eddie Spaghetti! Welcome home!” He lifts Eddie up and pulls him into a tight hug and kisses his ear.

“Hi, Richie.”

Richie puts him down. “Uh oh. I take it things didn't go well with Mama Kaspbrak?” He ruffles Eddie’s hair and he can’t help but smile.

“We’ll talk about it in a bit.”

Grabbing Eddie’s face, Richie pulls him close and he gives him a huge smooch. “Ok, babes.” He looks up at Joey and steps aside to let them both in. “Thanks for all your help, Joey. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Joey waves him off. “You’re ok. I was happy to help.” He sets the bags down. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Richie says. Joey waves and walks back out.

“Bye, Joey. See you Monday!” Eddie calls. He waves and Richie closes the door. He takes a deep breath and leans against the door.

“Was she awful?” Richie asks.

“Oh, yes.” Eddie walks over and pulls Richie’s arms around him. Richie pulls him close and kisses the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Eds. What can I do?”

Shaking his head, Eddie looks up at Richie. “Thank you for being so amazing.”

“Me? What did I do?” Richie asks.

“You exist.”

Richie smiles and kisses Eddie gently on the lips. “Love you, Spaghetti Man.”

“Love you, too, Richie.” He rests his head on Richie’s chest and they just stand there for a few minutes.

“So, you wanna unpack tonight or just go to bed?” Richie asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs. “Do you have any ice cream? I didn’t eat much dinner.” It’s weird to think that this time last year, Eddie would have balked at the suggestion of ice cream so close to bedtime, would have pointed out that it would probably give them stomach aches, but in this moment, it’s all he wants.

“I think we might have some. Let’s go look.” He takes Eddie’s hand and laces their fingers together as he leads the way to the kitchen. Eddie leans against the counter as Richie opens the freezer. “We’ve got rocky road and vanilla bean.”

Eddie thinks for a moment and just nods. “Sure.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You got it babes.” Richie puts the ice cream on the counter and gets some spoons. “Want help up?”

“What?”

“If we’re going to eat ice cream out of the carton, we do it sitting on the counter.”

Laughing, Eddie makes a face. “You’re so goofy.” He kisses Richie’s cheek. “Help me up?” He of course doesn’t need help, but he just wants another excuse for Richie to touch him. When they are both up on the counter, Richie opens the ice creams and hands a carton to Eddie. They bang them together and dig in.

After a few minutes of silence, Richie asks, “You wanna talk about it?”

Sighing, Eddie takes another bite of ice cream. “She said she would never talk to me again.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Richie asks.

“Richie!” Eddie shoves his shoulder smiling a little despite himself. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know she was terrible, I know she’s going to be terrible, because Lord knows she’s not going to leave me alone despite what she may say, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She has nothing without me.”

Richie takes a bite of Eddie’s ice cream and considers this for a moment. “Spaghetti, your mom is what, a million?” Eddie smiles and rolls his eyes. “Your dad died when you were a kid. Your mom has had pretty much your entire life to get a life of her own, but she refused. If your mom really wanted to be happy, she would have found a way, you know? It’s not your job to make her happy, remember?”

Nodding, Eddie sighs. “I know. I just feel bad.” And he does. He really does. It's something he's talked about at great length not only with the Losers but with his therapist, Billie, as well. 

Richie tosses his empty ice cream container on the counter and pulls Eddie close.

“Baby, I love you so much. You deserve only the best.” He takes a deep breath. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He squeezes Richie and pulls back. He tries to stifle a yawn, but Richie sees right through him.

“Aww, Sketti. Let’s go to bed.” He puts the ice cream away and presses another kiss into Eddie’s forehead. “Come on.” He hauls Eddie up into his arms and Eddie shrieks with laughter as he wraps his arms around Richie's neck.

“Are you really going to carry me up to bed bridal style?” Eddie asks.

Richie shrugs. “I thought it was fitting, being your first official night home and all.”

Eddie pulls him close for a kiss. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Eds.”

“There’s only one problem,” Eddie says.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re going to throw out your back.”

Rolling his eyes and laughing, Richie says, “Right, like you are so, so heavy. Pfft. It will be ok.”

“Richie!”

“Eddie! You’re just scared I’m gonna drop you.” They laugh.

“No, I’m not. You would never.” They kiss again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He pushes his forehead into Eddie’s. “Are you ready for bed?”

“Sure am,” Eddie says. Richie carries Eddie up to his bedroom— to their bedroom.

Their bedroom.

Because Eddie lives here now. Eddie is home.

After Richie puts Eddie down, they get changed into some pajamas. Eddie just wears one of Richie’s undershirts because he'd left his bags downstairs and neither of them wanted to go back down for them. They crawl under the blankets. Richie pulls Eddie close, curling around him. Eddie holds tightly to Richie’s arm and nuzzles into his chest.

Despite his stress and anxiety, Eddie manages to fall asleep pretty quickly. He wakes up early the next morning to the sound of pigeons and Richie snoring softly in his ear. He has to pee but he’s not ready to get up so he just lays there for a few more minutes.

Then he remembers his mother. He sighs and wonders how she’s doing, if she’d managed to get any sleep. He knows Richie is right, that it’s not Eddie’s job to make her happy, but still. It’s hard to let go.

After another minute he sighs and starts to try and pull free, but Richie holds him tighter. Eddie brushes some hair out of his boyfriend’s face and kisses his forehead.

“Rich,” Eddie murmurs.

“Uh uh, not yet.” Richie shoves his face into Eddie’s neck.

“Richie.” Eddie strokes the back of Richie’s neck.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“I just need to pee, and then I’ll be right back.”

“But don’t you have to—” Richie stops, pulls back, and looks up at Eddie. “You are home.”

“Yeah. I am.” Eddie kisses the tip of Richie’s nose. “But I really have to pee.”

Richie smiles widely. “Ok, ok. But you’re coming back.” Clearly he’s not going to be the only one who’s going to need time getting used to this new arrangement.

“Yes, love, I’m coming back.” They share a kiss and then Eddie gets up. After using the toilet, Eddie splashes some water on his face. It’s weird to think that soon he’s going to move 3,000 miles away.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie goes back to Richie. He curls up and pulls him close. They doze for a little while, and when they wake up again, they still aren’t ready to get up.

Richie lays there gently stroking Eddie’s arm and they listen to the soft sounds of spring; the birds, the wind through the trees, the voices from people on the street as they go about their day, and it’s so, so nice.

Neither of them say anything until Richie’s stomach rumbles. Without opening his eyes, Richie grumbles, “Traitor.”

“We can get up and eat and come back,” Eddie points out. “We don’t have to do anything today.”

Ruffling Eddie’s hair, Richie asks, “Why Eddie Kaspbrak, are you really suggesting we procrastinate, that we shirk our duties for the day?”

Smiling gently, Eddie kisses Richie. “I’m saying, I want to feel like this forever.”

“How’s that, Eddie spaghetti?”

Licking his lips, Eddie blushes and ducks his head. “Safe. And loved. Peaceful.”

Richie swallows hard and gives the back of Eddie’s neck a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?” He asks softly. “No regrets.”

Eddie shakes his head, no. “I love you so much. I feel so lucky, so damn lucky that we got this chance again when— We almost lost each other twice. It would have killed me to lose you a third time.”

They fall silent for a moment and then Richie sniffles a little. Shocked, Eddie pulls back to look at him.

“Richie what—?”

“It’s just— I’m just—” He swallows hard and tries to take a deep breath. “I—” He laughs.

“It’s ok, Richie. Talk to me.”

“I just love you so much, and I mean I know you love me, but I didn’t—” He lets out a small sob. “I never hoped, never dreamed you could love me as much as I love you. That— That you would—”

“Richie, I love you so much. Why would you even doubt that?” Eddie wipes away some of Richie’s tears.

“I didn’t. I mean, not really. It’s just—” He sighs. “My past relationships, for the most part, were good. We cared about each other and took care of each other, but they weren’t like this, weren’t this… this intense. It’s so amazing that we got lucky like we did, and I think— I know— I feel like—” He shakes his head a little.

“Richie, are you really at a loss for words?” Eddie asks and Richie laughs.

“I just love you so much. And I want to keep this feeling too. I want this moment to last forever.”

They kiss again and Eddie curls up under Richie’s chin. They don’t sleep, but they don’t talk and they don’t move, and it’s all just so nice.

Eventually they get up and shower so they can go get food, but it’s really ok because they are together and they love each other, and they know things aren’t always going to be smooth, but for right now, for these moments, everything is good, perfect even. They know that in the end, they will always have each other, and that’s more than enough.

[sassy-pelican]

Caught

Paring: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Premise: Seb catches the garter. You catch the bouquet. 

Warnings: a lesbian wedding, language, um age gap (no specefic’s mentioned but reader and one bride are younger), allusions to sexy times

A/N: This was based on a private request. My first ever! Also, we are going to pretend this is not happening in the midst of a pandemic and Seb and Reader aren’t idiots who are going to a large wedding during this time. 

I have been to exactly one wedding. And I don’t remember any of it. Singing also results in people thinking I’m crying so … I don’t know how to do that. We’re also pretending that this is a lesbian wedding (beacuse representation y’all) with a butch wife and girly wife because I live for that asthetic (not because I want a butch girlfriend or whatever or sometimes want to be the butch girlfriend, definely not that). Basically I have been given permission to write my dream lesbian wedding and I am running with it. I’m naming the couple but if you wish to pretend it’s something different go right ahead.

I also don’t know what kind of music is sung at weddings so I am picking my own kind. The song the reader is singing is More Than Words by Little Mix (with pronoun adaptations). 

So this kinda ran away from me and I certainly didn’t intend for this to have as many sexual jokes and situations that it does but it happened. 

This is unedited. Enjoy.

“Sebastian Stan x (non actress)reader where they met at their common friend's wedding and reader was the wedding singer as well, and for some fate Seb caught the garter and reader caught the bouquet”

Tagging: @cap-n-ce​​ becasue this wonderful human requested this.

Considering that Natalie and Kate told you this wedding was only close friends and family you were surprised to see over a hundred people there. It wasn’t a problem really, just not what you were expecting. Even at the rehearsal there weren’t this many people. 

“You’ll be fine,” your bandmate and fellow singer tonight, Steph says. “You always are.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got the song down and they love you. Natalie wouldn’t have asked you to do this if she didn’t believe in you fully.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about. Natalie and Kate will be fine no matter what, nothing phases them. The crowd is a different story.”

“The actual wedding is over, it’s just the reception now,” she says. “The hard part’s over.”

You roll your eyes. She is right. You’d already done the important stuff during the ceremony, which was more beautiful than you ever imagined. Everything decked out in pinks, purples, and blues, or as they called it - a pastel rainbow. You thought the colorful bottom of the dress and lapels of Kate’s suit were a nice touch. 

“Let’s kill it,” Steph says. 

“Let’s.”

Stepping out from behind the curtain, preparing for their first dance you. Steph’s words ring out as you sing harmony, filling the background as the music plays. Every eye either on you two or the bride and bride. 

“When the sea, when the seasons change and the and the sun shines on-on your face yeah, I-I-I’ll be there with you, you you, you,” the words fall from your lips perfectly. 

Steph looks to you as she sings, “You’re a part, you’re a part of me now ju-ju-just as mu-mu-much as I’m a part of you.”

Facing the dancing couple, both beaming, you continue to sing, this time together. “I find peace in every story you told. I think of you, I’ll never be alone. It’s true, true, true. You know I do, do, do.”

“Oh, I need you more than words can say. Girl, you save me in ways that I can’t explain. Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same. Oh, I need you more than words can say.”

“Won’t forget, won’t forget, won’t forget when she bro-o-oke my heart. Ho-o-ow you helped me through,” Steph sings, the dance slowly becoming more free. 

“You turned, you turned, you turned a disaster into a dream. Gave me the power, made my life band ne-e-ew,” you sing. 

“When the world try to break us, we found magic. And we grew stronger, through every line, line, l-line, line, line,”

“Every night, every night, every night I’ll stand and sing with you. Now-now they know they gon’ be alright, alright,” by now the lyrics are flowing from your lips with ease. Both you and Steph are dancing as you belt out the song. 

“I find peace in every story you told. I think of you, I’ll never be alone. It’s true, true, true. You know I do, do, do.

“Oh, I need you more than words can say. Girl, you save me in ways that I can’t explain. Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same. Oh, I need you more than words can say.”

“I found peace in every story you told,” Steph sings. 

“I think of you, I’ll never be alone.”

“Oh, it’s true.”

“You know I do,” you sing. 

“Oh, I need you more than words can say. Girl, you save me in ways that I can’t explain. Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same. Oh, I need you more than words can say.”

“Oh, I need you more than words can say,” you finish.

~~~

As Kate bends down to peel the garter off her now wife, you catch someone looking at you. Sure, you knew they invited him, but just coming off a high from the song you didn’t notice him before now. Sebastian Stan was eye candy in every sense of the word. Natalie even admitted to both you and Kate that if she liked men, he’d be her type. 

Still, even hearing the embarrassing stories Kate had from when they grew up, long before you and Natalie even entered the picture, didn’t deter you from your crush. Of course it didn’t help that you were half in love with James Barnes. 

“He’s watching you,” Steph whispers in your ear, to which you twitch. 

“Fuck you,” you hiss “You know I hate it when you do that.” She knew you hated when people whispered in your ear, it tickled and you hated being tickled.

“I bet you’d like it if he did it,” she teases. “Maybe while fucking you.”

You glare at her. “I’m trying to enjoy my two sexy friends having a sexy moment in front of a crowd.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so preoccupied with that,” Steph quips. “You’d be having hot wedding sex in the bathroom.”

“Hey!” you whisper-yell, “I’m only a slut sometimes.”

Kate tossed the piece of fabric and elastic in the blink of an eye, all while Natalie looked on with a slightly dazed look in her eyes, and you know that whatever took so long wasn’t innocent. It doesn’t escape your notice that Sebastian casually catches the garment and winks at you. If you weren’t a strong independent woman, you might have melted. As it was, your knees felt weak. 

“Time for the bouquet!” Natalie yells, and you sigh. Personally you never got much out of the garter and bouquet tradition. It didn’t mean anything, not really. It was just a stupid thing to put pressure on people to get married. 

Standing in the back of the crowd of guests waiting impatiently for the flowers to become airborne, you hope it never reaches you. You can feel Sebastian’s eyes on you as you take your place though, and you can almost feel the disappointment in his gaze. 

They’d told everyone upfront that the lucky ‘winners’ of the tosses were to dance together at the party. And you wanted to dance with Sebastian, just not because of a stupid game. You wanted to do a lot more than dance with him if you were being honest. 

You see it enter your peripheral vision and before you can think, you put your hand up. Fingers clasp around the group of stems making up the bouquet. Shit. Smirk adorning his face, Sebastian walks up to you. 

“Think that’s our cue,” he says, leading you out to the dance floor, where Kate and Natalie are already starting to dance again. Everyone starts to disperse, as the brides stare you down, waiting expectantly.

“Think you can keep up Stan?”

“Think you can?”

~~~

He was right. You could hardly keep up with him. You’d lost count of the dances you had with him. It seemed like he refused to dance with anyone else and didn’t seem keen on giving either of you a break. 

“Sebastian,” you gasp. “I need to sit down.”

“Can’t keep up?” he teases, pulling you close, hand brushing the top of your ass. 

“Hell no,” you admit. “I don’t know what Marvel puts in your workouts but it’s more than what’s in mine.”

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound as melodic as any music you sing. And suddenly all you want to do is lick up the column of his throat. 

“Alright,” he concedes. 

You pull off your heels as you sit on one the unoccupied chairs lining the walls. “You know, for an old man you’re very spry.”

“Pulling that card are you?”

“Yep,” you reply, rubbing your feet. 

“Let me,” he says, offering his own hands, much larger than yours to massage the knots out. You would never ask, but given that he’s offering, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

A few kneads in and a very sexual moan slips out of your mouth. 

“Have a fetish you don’t know about?” he teases, still massaging. 

“No,” you say, trying not to moan again. “My feet just really hurt. If you ever try to rub my feet while we fuck I will kick you out.” Your eyes shoot open, realizing what you said. 

“Planning on fucking me are you?”

You can’t gage the look on his face. “Um … I’m sor-”

“Good,” he says, setting your foot down and pulling your chair closer to his. “I was planning on fucking you too.”

The air around you is charged with sexual energy. “Think it’d be rude if we left?” you ask him. 

“If you don’t I’m going to gag,” Steph says from the chair behind you and you can’t stop the laugh from coming out. 

Sebastian just sits there, pure shock on his face. “Well don’t stop the sexy talk on accound of me,” she says, “I’m not shy about being a voyeur.”

“Steph!” you scold. 

“Oh fine,” she says. “But I come back and you’re both here,” she wiggles her eyebrows before leaving you alone with a shell shocked Sebastian. 

“So,” you say, biting your lip. “Want to take her advice, minus the voyeur part?”

“Only if you can keep up this time,” he says, slipping out of his awkward stupor faster than you could imagine. 

“Guess we’ll find out.”

2 Years Later

“You know,” you say as Sebastian looks at you from between your legs. “I never would have agreed to go home with you if I knew it’d lead me here.”

“Where, our wedding?”

“Damn right,” you say. “If I had it my way, we’d be going to the courthouse.”

“Yes, babe I know,” he says. “But let me take this off with my teeth will you, everyone is staring.”

“Oh fine,” you say. “But I am going to throw that bouquet with hate not love.”

“Yes dear,” he mocks you. Both of you know every word is a lie, but it helps your nerves. Having him this close to where you’re aching for him in front of a crowd, Steph smirking the entire time at you while Natalie and Kate beam, is a lot. 

You bite back a gasp as he presses his face against you, kissing you lightly where you want him for hours, before moving down to take the elastic band off. “Fuck you Stan,” you whisper through your teeth. 

“You will be,” he whispers. “Mrs. Stan.”

[taleofharrison]

Guitar | Michael Clifford (80′s!AU)

Summary: Your older brother helps you get a date with the cute boy at the music shop

Warnings: this was supposed to be a strangers things!au so Steve is mentioned and a really brief mention of season 2 and it is set during season 3 or somewhere in between however it’s not necessary to watch the show before reading this

Requested: No​

Word Count: 964

A/N: That was a long warning but yeah another cliche blurb I love writing cliche guess that’s my thing and yeah this took different turns and this is the final product hope your first day of 2021has been a good one and if it hasn’t then don’t get sad you still have 364 to make the most of this year.

MASTERLIST HERE

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked you.

“Can’t I visit my favorite brother while he’s working?” you responded faking offense at your brother’s harsh words.

“First of all, I’m your only brother” he replied as matter of fact “and second you have complained about this mall countless of times”

“Well have you seen downtown Hawkins is empty and many people can lose their jobs” you told him “and I get free ice cream so…”

“Y/N I know you better than anyone I know you’re not here for the free ice cream now answer my question”

“Fine” you huffed “the guys from the music store you used to share classes with”

“What about them?”

“Can you maybe introduce me to Michael?”

“You want me to help you get a boyfriend?” Steve questioned “why can’t you just talk to him like a normal teenager?

“Because I’m a year younger than you both!” you exclaimed “besides what do you want me to say, ‘hey I’m Y/N you used to share classes with my brother would you like to watch a movie tonight?’ that’s just lame”

“I don’t know”

“Please” you begged with puppy eyes “remember I helped you and Dustin with all that shit last year”

“Fine I’ll help you my break begins in five” he gave in.

Like Steve said he took you to the store who was at the other side of the mall the sound of The Power of Love by Huey Lewis just became louder as you approached.

“Hey, Steve! what can I do for you?” Ashton, the guy from the counter, said lowering the volume of the music “what can I do for you?”

“My sister here, Y/N, don’t know if you remember her” Steve spoke “wants to buy and learn how to play guitar so if you can help her get around and buy something good”

“Course I remember!” he giggled “she went to every single one of our gigs at school”

Feeling the room suddenly getting hot you gave him a shy smile and tried to hide your face behind your brother’s shoulder.

“Well as you know I’m a drummer but I’m sure Mike would love to help you out”

“Yes, thank you”

Please don’t remember as the girl on your gigs please don’t - you though to yourself as you waited for Michael to appear and

“Our little fan” Michael cheered once he saw you next to your brother.

“Did you really go to each concert they did?” Steve teased making you look away feeling embarrassed.

“Yeah, she did” Michael said before you could even open your mouth “even though most of the time we did covers knowing that we were good enough for someone to come back to hear us sing was the biggest motivation we had to keep rehearsing”

You were surprise by that maybe being remembered as the fan of a high school band wasn’t that bad.

“How can I help you?”

“Well Y/N/N here wants to learn guitar” Steve kept talking for you “a cool electric guitar would be awesome for her”

“I don’t think that’s a good start” Michael chuckled “but here this acoustic guitar would be perfect to begin with I’d love to give you lessons”

“You’re serious?” you finally spoke after all the time spent in the shop.

“Yeah, anything for you”

For a moment you got lost in his eyes but he was too lost in your eyes maybe you were imagining things this just couldn’t be reality.

“Right” Steve brought you back to reality “let’s go pay this I have to go back to work”

…

“You’re a fast learner” Michael cheered after you played the simple chords, he had taught you “before you know it, you’re going to be playing rock shows”

“Thank you” you said bashfully

“Can I ask you something?” he said as you put the guitar down.

“Sure, go ahead”

“Did you actually enjoy our shows?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? you answered “you have talent, energy and chemistry. I honestly though you’d be leaving for California after your graduation”

“So, you want us gone” he teased.

“No, I just think Hawkins is too small for you guys you need to go to LA”

“And we will” he said “we just want to save some money before going to a whole different bigger city all by ourselves”

“Well, when you get there and become famous just don’t forget about me”

“I could never forget you”

His answer made you feel warm inside and your heart skipped a beat it wasn’t like he was mocking you for being their biggest fan like Ashton did at the store, it felt like he was saying it as if he felt something more beyond the appreciation his other bandmates had over you being there to support them.

“Do- do you actually want to learn how to play?” he smiled

“If I tell you the truth you might think it’s the lamest thing ever” you laughed

“You aren’t lame don’t worry tell me”

“I told my brother to help get to talk to you and he made that up” you admitted not daring to look at him in the eye.

“See I told you you’d find it lame” you playfully hit him in the arm when he started to laugh.

“Well why didn’t you just go talk to me like a normal person?”

“I didn’t know how“ you bashfully admitted.

“Do I make you nervous?” he moved closer to you “If I told you right now that I have a crush on you what would you do?”

The next thing you know his lips were on yours and it felt magical, like fireworks. It was a simple yet perfect moment.

“Now tomorrow I’ll take you out on an actual date”

[samwrights]

Still Into You - Punk!AU [Makki]

I can’t believe this is the beginning of the “end” of this series. Sorry for the long delay, I tend to go in and out with inspiration. Lyrics that are italicized are sung by you.

WARNINGS: Language, nicotine use

Word count: ~4k

Song Used: Still Into You by Paramore

A complimentary playlist can be found » here

Photo credit @scandeniall​ (I’m still so utterly in love with it, bb).

Everything about Makki’s public announcement of his breakup with Momoka was shocking, to say the least. For the most part, though, it seemed not many paid any mind save for the screams that erupted when he kissed you in front of everyone. New life surged within you well after that, giving you the fire and gumption to flow and sway through the energy of the last song—I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious. The song was a swanky creation of Kuroo’s that involved a lot of to and fro motions and lyrics, lines teetering back and forth between the two of you.

As fun and lively as it was, you were far from able to get your mind off of the song that came before it, the song that Makki had sang and wrote for you. Though it was unintentional, rather it was just a way that created fluidity within the set, it was time you returned the favor for the strawberry-brunette.

There was no little speech or segue-way into the song you’d written for Takahiro Hanamaki years ago, only the slow rolling crescendo of a symbol roll from Terushima before the poignant chime that queued your voice. With practiced performance and ease, the words flowed through your mind without concentration. It allowed your mind to wander, arriving at the question of: is this how Makki felt when he sang on stage to you?

And after all this time, I’m still into you.

Did he feel his heart thrumming in his chest out of anxiety and the rumbling of the drums? Did he constantly feel that he was on the verge of accidentally confessing? Did he feel the pride that washed over himself from hearing the audience cheer over a song that was so personal? You searched for the answer in his steel toned eyes.

I should be over all the butterflies

Did he ever think that the two of you would get to confess to each other in the form of art?

I’m into you

The look in his eyes said yes, said come closer. And without a moments hesitation, you sauntered over with microphone in hand, locking your eyes with his. The glassy, glazed over look that was typical of them was replaced with warmth, with longing. It’s raw and ready, and god damnit, you were going to take it.

Let them wonder how we got this far ‘Cause I don’t really need to wonder at all

A smile tightens over Takahiro’s face, causing a single cheekbone to protrude ever so slightly underneath his slightly sagging skin. His lanky form is relaxed, gaunt fingers slapping over the strings of his bass as he vibes to the rhythm. Minimally, he chimes in with his backing vocals but the serene look on his face unearths the peace he feels. It seems that he was just as lost in your own little world as he was.

And on the drive back to my house, I told you that I loved you

As much as you want to spend the entirety of this song gazing into Makki’s endearing eyes—something you’d already done enough of for the evening—you had a job to do. So rather than indulging yourself, you tiptoe and stretch over during the minuscule intermission between lines to place a kiss on your bassist’s cheek before sauntering off to interact with your other bandmates. There’s a slight swagger to your step, confidence fully fueling your strut as you belt every note.

We sang along to the start of forever

Even pre-confession, this song you’d written many years ago brought you to life. It’s vivacious and uplifting, even if you’d wrote it during the prime of your pining. If there could even be a definitive prime, considering you’d fallen fast and hard for Makki with only months in to knowing him.

And after all this time, I’m still into you

Now that you thought about the last twenty-four hours in a strange sense of peace, a part of you wondered how and when you’d even began falling for the bassist. Hanamaki had seen you at your most vulnerable moments—customer service tended to bring out the worst in you on occasion—when you’d been overwhelmed with menial problems. The strawberry-brunette had always been there to console you, encourage you were on the right path in whichever direction you were going. That even, maybe one day while you felt like you weren’t accomplishing enough, you were going to change the world.

Makki had actually told you that once on a blunt cruise. The proclamation had made you chuckle because, while he was applauding your tenacity and drive, he was also simultaneously rebuking your sometimes childlike wonder and tendencies. It was a game of cat and mouse in which you both loved to play since the very beginning, to the point where you wonder if you had loved Takahiro in a past life. That was the only explanation you had for the natural affection that bloomed between the two of you, even back then.

Some things just don’t make sense And one of those is you and I

No matter how much time you spent pondering a pinpoint in the timeline of when and how it all began, you realize it doesn’t matter in the slightest. What matters is the way his teeth are glistening in the spotlight as he bobs and moves along with his instrument. It’s lax yet prominent, a juxtaposition that is very much Takahiro Hanamaki. Very much your Hiro.

Not a day goes by that I’m not into you

And suddenly, as the song comes to closer and closer to the end, you’re swept and overwhelmed with a fondness for the three men that surrounded you on the stage. Not only for the man that grew up to be your person, but Tetsu and Yūji as well. These men, no matter what happened to the band in the future, were your best friends in the entire fucking planet. Considering you were only in your mid to late twenties, depending on your view, your life with them made up the better half of your cognitive years.

Regardless of the relationship between you and Hanamaki and the potential, unforeseeable future after this show, you needed to acknowledge that before moving forward. This could be the end of it all, this could be a make or break moment. But it seemed Makki acknowledges your sudden silent pessimism, that once severed mental connection stronger than ever tonight, by furrowing his brows. His two eyebrow rings move with the hairs as a pout comes to play.

Even on our worst nights

Takahiro was going to have words with you later, after the show. That much was obvious by the way he seems disgruntled at your onslaught of muted lack of perk. You should be happy, over the moon even, and you were. But recounting everything that you had in the last three minutes, you were slightly hesitant to finish this set. As if, once it were all over, Elixir was going to shatter as opposed to continuing being the remedy of your monotonous reality of life.

But there’s a look on Makki’s face, flooding his steely grey eyes that offers reassurance. It’s full of love and it makes you want to run over and kiss him, but your hand and mouth are a little occupied at the moment with a microphone. Instead, you saunter back over in his direction as you close out with your vocal range going higher and higher. The last word drops in intonation as the band ends their own respective parts, your fingers suddenly clutching at the thin fabric of the bassist’s shirt as you pulled him down for a kiss this time.

I’m still into you

“Thanks so much for hanging out with us tonight—we are Elixir if you’re just joining the party. Come visit us at our merch booth and support your local artists!” With the sound of the audience applauding, your bandmates began breaking down all the equipment to load it back up in the van while you were on merch duty. Running quickly over to your table, you began interacting and engaging with recognizable faces that were looking to grab stickers and shirts. Those recognizable faces melded into three very familiar ones—Momoka and the other two girlfriends—and each of them looking incredibly displeased to say the least.

“That was a cute little publicity stunt,” Momoka remarks. Her arms are folded over her chest as she stares you down. “Did you and Makki rehearse that?”

“Oh yeah. The last ten years were a rehearsal and last night we decided to cry over it and just use the stage to put on a show.” You rolled your eyes, fixing up a couple shirts that no longer laid neatly on the table because despite your sassy comeback, her presence was causing you to fidget. Not out of nerves, no. More so out of restraint because you were certain adrenaline was beginning to pump through your veins as a response to fight-or-flight. Momoka only sneers, hardening her glare as if to tell you she was standing her ground. “I don’t know what you want me to say to you—“

“I’d rather you say nothing,” she snapped, “just stay away from Takahiro.” The way his name rolls off her tongue sounds like nails on a chalkboard; like the sound of a worn down pencil eraser where the metal scratches along the paper.

“Bruh, how embarrassing. He broke up with you publicly in front of dozens of people and you’re still defending your non-existent relationship.” You probably shouldn’t have said that. No matter how good it felt to say it, you probably shouldn’t have done it, probably should have been the bigger person.

But with the way Momoka’s poise melts and her arms unfold are her hands are reaching for any part of you she can reach as she lunges towards you, you don’t really have time to ponder your invisible regret. Instead, all you can do is stagger backwards with hands splaying out behind you to brace yourself against the wall behind you. Though you expected to feel the plastic, painted bricks, you are instead met with a damp warmth that greets your skin. “She has a point, Momoka.”

The rich timbre of Makki’s voice sends your heart into erratic throbbing, completely disregarding the fact that the woman before you had quite literally attempted to lay a hand on you. Even in times of peril, nothing compared to the feelings that the man, your man, behind you brought to you. When you came to your senses, you relaxed ever so slightly at Makki’s gentle grip on your shoulders and the way the strawberry-brunette’s chin came to rest atop the crown of your head.

“Quit fucking around, Takahiro.” Momoka all but spits out, fingers clenching and grasping at nothing but air as if she were just itching to have something between her claws; preferably, probably, your throat.

“I meant what I said up there,” Hanamaki’s gaunt thumb gesture languidly towards the stage, all the while his chin remains rooted atop your head, grinding lovingly into your scalp. “We’re through.”

“And, what, you’re with [name] now?” The way Momoka tosses your name out like scrap paper into a waste basket forces the man behind you into the defensive. He’s no longer slouching or hunched over as he holds you protectively. Instead, Makki is standing at his full, six-foot height with his chin jutting out in pride as he nudges you behind him. The strawberry-brunette doesn’t say anything in response, merely prompts his now ex-girlfriend with his challenging pose. “You were literally making fun of her last night at practice and now—“

“She’s also been my best friend for the last ten years, we pick on each other and we picked each other. Now fuck off, Momoka.” Not wanting to entertain her further, Makki wraps an arm around snugly around your shoulder before all but dragging you outside and away from the merchandise table. Apparently it didn’t matter to him if anyone were there or not—he knew you well enough to know that you more than likely needed a nicotine break after the set and after the altercation. “Hey, I’m sorry about her. I probably should have thought out the breakup better than just deciding to do it on stage—“

“Takahiro,” you interrupt after sparking your cigarette and taking the first drag. Slouching as you stood, your free hand rested on your bicep, closing off the relaxed body language despite responding with, “it was perfect.” His shale stone eyes light up ever so slightly, almost refracting into an olive tone as he stands up straight while looking down at you.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” The two of you fall quiet once again, even as Hanamaki’s lanky arms come to encircle your closed off form. It’s a reassuring gesture, or at least you assume it’s meant to be, as his chin rests atop yours once again, smoking be damned.

“So we’re good?”

“As long as there is a ‘we’, I think so.” Your voice starts out muffled and subdued from being buried in his chest, crescendoing as Makki pulls back and tilts your chin up to look directly at you. That same thin hand guides you further until your bassist melts his lips against yours, pouring every ounce of love that he could into his kiss. Sandalwood and ink fill your nostrils as you pull him closer, tossing your forgotten cigarette onto the pavement to wind your fingers into his locks tickling the nape of his neck.

From an outsider perspective, the two of you probably looked a little trashy, for lack of better term, with the way you were clutching hungrily at each other; with the way the either refused to yield or break apart from the tongue-to-tongue contact. Like desperate lovers that hadn’t seen each other for long due to infidelity—spectators loved to write stories for situations like this.

And maybe one story teller got it right but that idea had gone completely over both of your heads because anyone else’s judgment at the moment just didn’t matter right now. The only thing that did matter was the way Makki held, trying to fuse every atom in both of your bodies as if to make up for lost time. “I love you so, so much, [name],” the strawberry-brunette pants out after needing to catch his breath, “more than anything.”

Those words became the catalyst to the start of forever.

Forever, included you not renewing the lease to your tiny duplex and Makki reciprocating the same action with his small studio in the city. Instead, the two of you took what savings you had and put money down on a cozy, three bedroom home together. It was slightly terrifying, making such a big decision together and not even just on the basis of the fresh relationship. If anything, the relationship was the least of your concerns.

Income was, of course, the biggest worry but, Makki being Makki, constantly reassured you that the two of you would without a doubt prosper. And his unfailing faith always seemed to pay off.

Takahiro, after slaving away as a journalist for the last few years, had finally risen through the ranks at the local alternative magazine he had been writing for and was promoted to editor-in-chief. The lazy guise that he wore daily never fooled you—you always knew he worked smart and hard and it was finally loud and proud for the world to see.

The same could be said for you, excelling in your field while simultaneously being approached to write songs for other artists you had the fortune to meet through Makki’s job. You could say there certainly were benefits to being his plus one to the many gala-type events he had to attend for work, and they most certainly benefitted you as an individual, as a couple, and as a band.

Elixir was still going strong, even with more years passing. The publicity stunt, as Momoka had deemed it, had been blasted through every social media platform known to man. Many found Makki’s public break up humiliating for his ex-girlfriend, but many comments defended the obvious love shared between the two of you on stage. Another vast majority of the comments laughed because whoever the ex-girlfriend was, she had to be shitty enough for that stunt to even be a plausible option for a break up — a treatment you didn’t necessarily agree with but that was your own personal opinion. Commenters also pointed out the dumbfounded look on your face and that you had absolutely no idea that any of that was going to happen.

The videos floating around online had helped the band’s fan base grow exponentially to the point where the four of you were performing at least once a month, as shitty as that may sound. The band that was originally started to just act as a friendly pasttime was growing beyond any of your wildest dreams.

Elixir was still going strong and rather than practicing and disturbing Terushima’s parents, the boys now all gathered in the Hanamaki household. Extra rooms were available for the boys if they needed to crash—namely Terushima who was still struggling to overcome his drug addiction. That was a fight for another day.

The band had bloomed exponentially to the point where Terushima, despite his personal demons, had reprised his role as makeshift manager, much like he had back in college when he was in charge of the underground distribution business the four of you had. In the group chat, he mentioned he had a big announcement for the band, which lead to the very moment of the four of you gathered in your backyard with drinks and respective smokes in hand.

“So? What’s this big news you got for us Teru?” Kuroo asks, languidly lounging in a wicker chair with one arm draped over the back. You and Makki were snuggled into a matching loveseat, a cigarette in your hand and a beer in his. Terushima had one hand around his cellphone, flicking through the screen while waving off Kuroo with his free one.

“Hold on, hold on—found it!” The blonde yells, almost startling you had none of you been used to the way his volume sporadically jumped at random intervals. He clears his throat before reading whatever news he gathered us to announce.

“Mr. Terushima, thank you for getting back to me promptly with your attached demo. We would like to arrange a meeting with all members of Elixir to discuss a recording deal. Please respond with a date and time the four of you are able to meet.

Sincerely,

Semi Eita, Eternal Records”

Only the crackling of the fire between all of you and the crickets chirping off in the suburban distance can be heard—everyone is silent.

“Is this—“ you start, but are immediately lost for words.

“Did we just get offered a record deal?” Kuroo finishes for you.

“We’re doing it, right?” Terushima’s eyes are hopeful and full of light and excitement, like this is the type of news he’d been waiting for. You looked between the guitarist and drummer sitting before you, both of whom looked more than eager, before you glanced upward to your left to gaze at Makki. Stone faced as ever, he was, but there was still that twinge of pride accompanied by the smallest tick of a grin.

“Any objections?” Your boyfriend looks back at the rest of the band. It was a silly question, all things considered, and Kuroo and Terushima made that obvious with the gnashing of their lips as they held back excited screams. “Babe?” The strawberry-brunette locks eyes with you once again, tightening his lax grip around your shoulder.

“As long as it’s all of us, I’ll always say yes.”

“Is that so?” Takahiro muses. The arm around you is removed as the man to your left rummages around the pocket of his old basketball shorts that he typically wore around the house to lounge in. His fingers are fumbling almost clumsily as he pulls back the lid of a small, black velvet box. “It may not be all of us, per se, but if you’ll always say yes, then will you marry me, right?” As he speaks, he sets down his beer bottle off to the side of the loveseat, clambering down to rest on one knee to better present the rose gold, diamond ring to you.

“I—w-what?” You splutter, darting back and forth between the ring and Takahiro’s face. When his face remained as stoic as ever, your eyes shifted between him and your two other friends who seemed just as dumbfounded as you did. Considering the information you gathered from your surroundings and just because that’s how Takahiro is, you figured he was being genuine. “For real?” The strawberry-brunette only nods, offering no further vocal context, and instead grabs your left hand and slips the jewelry onto your ring finger.

“Marry me.” His voice is firm and concrete with the slightest hint of trepidation, though it’s possible that it came from him pushing himself to stand at his full height. Hanamaki holds your hands in his, shale-stone eyes looking down at yours as he awaits his answer.

“I-I, yes? Yes!” In a flash, your arms wind around Makki’s neck, pulling him towards you tightly as his arms anchor around your waist and pull you as close to him as physically possible.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Kuroo deadpans from beside the two of you, shaking his head in amusement before coming over to clap both of your shoulders in congratulations. The statement alone clued you in on the fact that the boys did indeed know about the proposal.

“Makki’s always just full of surprises, ain't he?” Terushima adds, also stepping closer to offer his congrats. The blonde is grinning with his eyes shut as he fist bumps Makki when you broke apart from your embrace.

“Wait, but the record deal is real, right? Like that wasn’t planned out for Hiro’s proposal, was it?” You balk, hoping that the opportunity with Eternal Records was a genuine offer. Terushima gives a nod, opening his mouth to speak only to be cut off by Hanamaki.

“Come on, you know I actually didn’t plan anything.” The strawberry-brunette chimes, as if to try to reassure you that the record deal was in fact real while simultaneously drowning out Yūji’s spiel of how he would never make a fake announcement with such sensitive material.

“Then why’d you have a ring in your pocket?” Takahiro gives a nonchalant shrug, grabbing his once forgotten beer bottle off of the cobblestone floor of your patio and raising it to call a toast.

“Just had a feeling that tonight was gonna be the night. Besides, I’ve had it since before we bought the house.” The four of you clink bottles together in celebration—celebration of your band’s success and your apparent, sudden engagement. But while you’re cheering and drinking merrily, Hanamaki’s words are brewing and stewing in your brain as you mull them over.

“Babe, we’ve lived here for almost three years.” Takahiro tosses a languid, knowing grin at you. It was as if he were applauding you for finally putting the pieces together. “You’ve had a ring for that long? No joke?”

“No joke. I wanted to wait for the perfect moment.”

A perfect moment indeed.

A beautiful, mid-summer evening around a fire with your best friends and getting the announcement of a lifetime? There was no better time, was no better way than to start forever in the Hanamaki household. Yet, you acknowledge that his proposal could have started any time, any where. As long as it was Takahiro, as long as your best friends were there to enjoy the momentous occasion, you would have said yes because it was him.

[ A Part of Me  « Still Into You » In Bloom ]

And that is it for Makki’s route! I was asked to a couple spin-offs so those will (eventually) come about. Thank you all for sticking through this with me, I love and appreciate you all.

Taglist: @takingyouruwus​ @tamcitrus​ @norkinlove​

[tvwriteups]

ESC 2021 GF

Opening was okay. Think that's the largest the stage has looked.

Watching on PeacockTV. No commentary. This time I'm watching through my speakers and not through headphones. Not gonna do a rundown since a lot of the songs are familiar.

I did not watch any of the big 5 or the Dutch rehearsal/jury videos so I'll be watching those whole for the first time. (I probably should have watched them. Oops. Too late now!)

I really have no idea who will win. Kind of makes it exciting!

What's a little weird with my setup is how much "sharper" the music sounds on my speakers.

Let the Grand Final of the ESC begin!

1. Cyprus

2. Albania

3. Israel

4. Belgium

What's funny for me here is that the Belgian song is growing on me on this third listen. I like it more each time. (This might actually make my Eurovision AND Hooverphonic playlist!) With the other songs I was... like I didn't feel the level of "excitement" I felt when I watched them earlier this week.

5. Russia

Oh yeah! This is another one I'm liking more on a second viewing. I like her expressiveness. This is never not interesting. And an enthusiastic response there.

6. Malta

Maltese Lizzo. I know this is very popular with the ESC crowd and I get it but it doesn't personally register with me. I think it's the speed. It's like the same fast speed and mostly same level of "noise." Crowd really loooooves it though. Might just be my own autistic sound processing issues.

7. Portugal

I still am impressed with how well-structured this is. I'll probably forget the song next week but when it was being performed I never lost interest.

8. Serbia

They seem so wholesome in their postcard. Hmm, singing doesn't sound as good on my speakers. This is like the first 3 songs for me.

And now a break.

Kind of sucks performing early because it hurts you with the vote but at least you get to sit back easy and watch the rest of the show.

I still feel very conflicted about how to feel about Junior ESC. Lots of pressure to put on children.

Jamala, Emmelie de Forest, Duncan Laurence on where they keep their awards... nope, Nikkie, I'm not gonna check out the live blog. I like the ESC but even I have to draw a line somewhere.

9. United Kingdom

First time watching. I don't understand these British songwriters who perform their own songs and yet... like, it doesn't sound ideally suited to their own voices. It was okay but it's another one I'll forget in a week.

10. Greece

Well, I didn't get to watch this properly the first time so here goes: I don't like the huge reliance on effects but it's BEHIND her so it's completely acceptable to me. I think this would've worked better for me if the dancing was "more [active?]" since it's a fast song about dancing.

The hosts briefly have to tell us something for some reason.

Hmm, apparently a lot of my sound issue is that the rear speakers are coming through louder.

11. Switzerland

This is playing much better for me today than it did the other day. The overall performance is better. I don't like the epilepsy-inducing light though. That's my only complaint. Well done!

12. Iceland

Well, literally the same exact performance we watched the other day but it was fun so... and my viewing experience is slightly different so... Hmm.. what I'm really feeling right now is a song placement thing. We went from intense to chill and that energy change is a bit much for me.

13. Spain

This song does not have a strong hook. I ... can't remember the song and it only just finished.

14. Moldova

I honestly don't think this song would've made it through the first SF. I just don't care for it. I think I spent most of the performance looking at the dancers when that was an option.

15. Germany

This feels like a cross between a Moldovan and a San Marino entry. I dunno, I enjoyed it. I wouldn't watch it again though.

I do also understand that part of watching this as an American is that I don't ever have to feel embarrassment that I'm being represented through any of these performances.

16. Finland

Now that I know that this is like this I'm totally not interested. I'd probably feel very differently if I was in the same space as these guys because it's a SHOW!

And another break. Oh, the broadcaster boxes. I always assume that they're going to harass Graham Norton but they're actually visiting the Danes right now. And the Russians.

Hosts talking about orchestras now.

17. Bulgaria

I remember this postcard from the other day because of the menagerie this girl has. This song is also growing on me. I was confused about the lyrics the other day but now am experiencing them as playful. Feeling the "production" of this one.

18. Lithuania

It's hard for me because I really liked "On Fire." I'm really enjoying this the second time and a really great, entertaining performance. And maybe it's in a better place during the night.

Hosts talking about the app. They're really hammering this whole "clap along" thing (which I haven't found on the app because I'm probably too old to care).

19. Ukraine

This song is a trip. Bangy-est banger of the night. You just never know.

20. France

You know, this comes off as something the juries would love to award. Damn, girl! You know, I wasn't impressed when they showed the short clip at the end of the SF. You really have to watch the whole thing.

21. Azerbaijan

Seems more appropriate to sing about Mata Hari than Cleopatra in the Netherlands when you think about it. It could be because I've already seen this before but I'm still processing France. There's also something about this staging that makes them look small on the stage to me.

22. Norway

I don't know why I find him adorable but I do. This song feels like a hug. (Or it's the "feathers." LOL)

Mini-break about what's upcoming.

23. The Netherlands

I was into it until the last 30 when it got really repetitive but that's still an overall like.

24. Italy

I really can't predict anything. I dig this but we've sort of filled a quota for intensity for the night.

25. Sweden

I'm just kind of like....of course Sweden has the Rijksmuseum postcard. It's like the most recognizable place in all of these postcards. And be near the end of the show. I'll be honest: I'm just predisposed to be against Sweden. Ugh, epilepsy light. I can't even look at the screen. Also, I liked Russia's "A Million Voices" in 2015. I'm guessing this song did not look like this at Melodifestivalen because it's really looking terrible on my tv. This is the worst visual presentation of the night.

26. San Marino

Honestly wondering how well San Marino is gonna finish this year. This felt more awesome the first time. Well, also Flo Rida delightfully surprised me the first time.

And how our hosts telling us about the importance of voting. I have no idea how these are going to pan out. I just know that if I was voting I think I'd throw my votes at Ukraine and France...while feeling bad that I'm not throwing some at Bulgaria, Iceland, Lithuania or Switzerland. (I also liked Russia but I wouldn't vote for them.) I mean, I liked Italy but... I don't know. I think I ran out of energy by then.

Really think it's that Ukraine and France just zapped my energy for energetic songs. The only one I felt after those was the hug of Norway. Or maybe Norway lulled me. LOL.

Would be interested in the televotes for some of these countries.

Recap. Ooof. France doesn't work in short recap clip.

"Music Binds Us"....because we've heard of Afrojack here. I swear every other major city has one of those bridges. I'd otherwise dig this but we've had so much intense music tonight.

I'm guessing we're listening to "Titanium" because Afrojack wrote and produced it.

I'm sitting here wondering if ANYONE is going to vote for the UK at all. Or, really, how many of the Big 5 are going to be in the Bottom 5.

Another recap.

Another Nikkie ESC Tutorial segment. This is actually kind of annoying.

And now a behind-the-scenes montage while the voting numbers are displayed at the bottom.

Catching up with past winners now.

ESC honoring itself again. Enjoying how much they're not overemphasizing the whole "in front of a live audience" stuff like they were doing the other nights.

Another recap.

Oddly, I think Moldova annoys me the most. It feels like the emptiest song in the final.

How quickly are they going to burn through the votes. It's already feeling like this show is long.

65th anniversary stuff. Rock the Roof. Måns again. I don't like this song. I think 2015 was a great overall year (even if I was able to predict the top 10 (except for Latvia) but I still listen to a lot of songs from that year... just not "Heroes." I resent that I have to hear it every year now.

Teach-In....because Dutch and because we need a song with 'Ding" and "Dong" in it.

SANDRA KIM!!!!!!!! Forever the youngest winner of this contest.

Lenny Kuhr.

Helena Paparizou. LOL, totally sticking to the choreo.

Lordi. Probably had to choose their roof first to get the permission to shoot the pyro off it.

So are they saving Duncan Laurence for when they calculate the votes? It feels like the voting window has been open forever now. I keep looking for a countdown clock.

This sounds like a way of saying Duncan Laurence has tested positive for COVID without saying that he tested positive for COVID.

Are they emphasizing that the Netherlands is below sea level?

New song... I'll take anything as long as it's not "Nana Banana."

The voting still isn't closed!

Oh, they have a special countdown dance is why. How very Paparizou of them.

Oh, that weird part where they banter with the delegations.

Malta. Just Malta?

Martin Österdahl. Because Swedes. Jury time. I forgot that revealing votes this way eliminates the performances during the vote calculation. They calculate the televote during the jury stuff.

Jury Votes

Israel, the least popular child in the room right now gives their 12 points to Switzerland.

Poland goes to San Marino.

San Marino goes to France.

Albania to Switzerland.

Malta to Albania.

These are going all over the place. But then it's juries.

Estonia's 12 to Switzerland.

Switzerland and France popular with juries so far.

North Macedonia to Serbia.

Recap. Switzerland, France and Italy in the Top 3.

Els and Nikki or however you spell their names. Azerbaijan throws their points at Russia of course.

Norway to....Malta.

Spain to France.

Austria to Iceland.

Ooof, UK, Spain and Norway totally blanked right now.

The UK....with Amanda Holden...and 12 points for France.

Italy gives its 12 points to Lithuania. No points for Switzerland from them!

Now it's just the UK blank.

Slovenia to Italy.

Juries don't like Ukraine. :-(

Greece...making us try not to boo by having a child tell us that the points are going to Cyprus.

Latvia with Aminata of course. 12 points go to Switzerland.

Ireland to France.

Moldova epic saxing us. Epic saxing Bulgaria too.

Serbia to France.

Bulgaria to Moldova. Ugh.

Cyprus ...should've used a child. Even the crowd is all "Greece, duh."

Belgium to Switzerland. It's almost like they have something against France, LOL.

Banter with Switzerland. Banter with France. No cringe. Practically no cringe in these interviews. They're adorable.

On a side note, my HVAC is dying on a 90 degree day.

Germany to France.

UK still sitting on a jury egg.

Australia to Malta.

Finland to Switzerland.

Portugal to Bulgaria.

Ukraine to Italy. Love the 0 points to Russia there.

Iceland. LOL. LOL. LOL. Of course a "Jaja Ding Dong" reference. Switzerland for them.

Romania to Malta.

Without televotes this stuff is almost meaningless. I can't imagine France getting the televotes.

Croatia to Italy.

Czech Republic to...like who would they.. oh Portugal. Of course. LOL.

Georgia to Italy.

Lithuania to Ukraine.

Denmark to Switzerland.

Top 5: Switzerland, France, Malta, Italy and Iceland.

"A Million Voices" Polina telling us Russia is giving their points to Moldova. Lots of side-eye from me.

France can't give points to themself so.... Greece. I... I... don't know.

Sweden with Carola. OMG Carola....why so much talking? Did she take something? Or drink something? She's on something. Gives their points to Malta.

Switzerland gives point to France. Most anticlimatic points reveal.

The Netherlands gives its points to France.

UK with ZERO points from juries.

Switzerland, France, Malta, Italy, Iceland.

We don't see the jury performances so...like... I dunno.

Gonna waste time in the Green Room again before the televote reveal. Talking with Switzerland... meaning that Gjon gets to replace John Lundvik as the face of losing if they don't get enough votes.

TELEVOTE TIME!

I hope this goes fast. And they're revealing these in the order of jury votes, least to most. So maybe a different face of losing.

UK with 0 points. OUCH! And they didn't genocide anyone this year! James Newman being a sport.

Germany with 0 points.

Spain with 0 points.

Netherlands with 0 points.

LMAO. I don't think I've ever seen this.

Norway with 60 points.

Serbia with 82 points.

Albania with 35 points.

Azerbaijan with 33 points.

San Marino with 13 points...even with Flo Rida!!!

Sweden with 63 points?

Cyprus with 44 points.

Moldova with 62 points.

Lithuania with 165 points!!!

Belgium with 3 points. Hooverphonic with only 3 points. Better than zero. But totally a jury thing their SF result was.

20 points to Israel.

Finland with 218. Shocker that. For me. Not the public, of course. Now in first.

Greece with 79 points.

Ukraine with 267. Into the lead.

Russia with 100 points.

Portugal with 27.

Bulgaria with 30 points.

Iceland with 180 points...and in 1st.

Italy with 318 points.

Malta with 47 points.

France with 251 points. Into 2nd.

Switzerland with 160 points.

Winner is Italy. So Switzerland is the new face of losing.

Televote alone it's Italy, Ukraine, France, Finland, Iceland, Lithuania, Switzerland, and Russia with 100 or more points. Serbia and Greece rounding out the top 10 in televote.

Surprised and delighted that the public gave all those votes to France. I was not expecting that at all.

In the breakdowns I really would like to see if their are any public correlations between folks who votes Italy/Finland or France/Switzerland.

[glorious-blackout]

Soooo @rock-n-roll-fantasy wanted me to write an essay on my self-indulgent theory that Muse’s ‘Simulation Theory’ and Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino’ are set in the same universe, and my brain rather predictably used this as an opportunity to develop a novel-length crossover fic instead. I’m starting to doubt that the full idea will ever get written purely because life has a habit of getting in the way, but here’s a bit of an overlong teaser in place of your essay! 😉🥰

*************************************

The trek from Room 521 to the ballroom is a long, monotonous one. Not that that particularly matters; even if Mark didn’t know every corridor like the back of his hand, he no doubt would have been guided to his destination regardless, simply by following the growing ruckus of banal chatter overlying soft musical notes. His own band won’t be the ones playing tonight – thank Christ seeing as he barely has the energy to hold a mic for two hours let alone sing into it – but the prospect of spending the evening alone in his room had hardly been tempting. He could have arranged to meet one of the lads for a drink, he supposes, but he hadn’t wanted to impose. They all have lives beyond the hotel after all, whereas he remains tied to its walls like an obedient dog on a leash.

High-ceilinged corridors eventually lure him towards a set of heavy oak doors, the only veil remaining between him and a horde of guests who by now are likely enjoying their third glass of champagne. Muffled conversations become crystal clear for a moment as one guest stumbles onto the corridor looking considerably worse for wear, but the noise is quickly silenced by an exaggerated slam. The guest sways on his feet for a moment, narrowed eyes struggling to maintain focus on Mark’s face, before he huffs and takes the first step of what promises to be an arduous journey back to his room. No doubt he’ll have collapsed in a pool of his own vomit before he’s even halfway there, adding one more job to the cleaners’ already overflowing pile in the process. Mark sighs, already regretting his decision to be sociable, and forces himself over the threshold before he can change his mind.

The ballroom does ignite a certain pride within his chest, he must admit. The spacious hall - resting beneath a curved ceiling kept afloat by granite columns - is a stark contrast to the narrow claustrophobic corridors leading up to it, and the size is adequate enough that the space never feels too crowded. Waiters flit back and forth between packed circular tables on the fringes, offering blessed champagne or scotch from a well-stocked bar, and an elevated platform at the far-end of the hall proudly showcases the evening’s entertainment.  

It would appear the choice of dance tonight is a simple waltz. Guests dressed to the nines in elegant frocks and sharp tuxedos glide effortlessly along the polished dancefloor; guided by lilting piano notes as they sway beneath the soft light of a glittering chandelier. As usual, Mark feels no particular inclination to join them. On occasion, he himself will be the one sat by the piano, enticing his guests to dance for him whenever the evening feels a little too stagnant, but it would appear that his influence is not needed tonight. Besides, the only thing enticing him for the moment is the bar.

Despite having to make his way through the masses in order to reach his destination, luck must be on his side for no-one takes the opportunity to disturb him. He must have timed his trip well enough that the drinks are already taking hold, to the point where the hotel owner himself has become an unnoteworthy presence. His short walk to the bar goes entirely without a hitch, so much so that it probably shouldn’t surprise him when he arrives to find that his luck has run dry.

There’s someone sitting in his usual spot. Logically he knows this isn’t an issue; there are plenty of free stools lined up against the horseshoe-shaped counter, but the sight gives him pause nonetheless. For as long as he can remember, that centerfold seat has been his and his alone, and the sight of someone new sitting there has unease coiling in his gut for reasons he cannot explain. If that were the strangest thing about this situation then he could have moved on and settled himself elsewhere without another thought, but what truly makes him gape is the appearance of the man who has seen fit to take his place.

In stark contrast to the stylish formalwear adorning the vast majority of guests, this man seems to have made it his mission to break every rule of fashion there is. The loud red jeans and shiny trainers would no doubt have been bad enough on their own, but in comparison to the gaudy nylon jacket and the lit neon sunglasses which remain fused to his face despite being indoors, the lower half of his body looks positively tame. Intricate circuitry is affixed to the front of the jacket, with wires snaking their way into a large pocket which no doubt houses a switch designed to make the jacket as loud as the sunglasses. Mark can’t help but wonder how this man hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention and has instead been left to cradle his glass of bourbon in relative peace. Perhaps this is the current fashion trend on Earth and someone has simply forgotten to give Mark that particular memo.

Shaking his head once and remembering his mother sternly telling him that staring is rude, Mark clears his throat and gestures to the free stool by his side when a pair of concealed eyes turn in his direction.  

“Mind if I take this seat?” he asks, well aware that he of all people shouldn’t need to ask permission.

A knowing smile graces the man’s thin face and he nods graciously, removing his glasses to reveal surprisingly gentle blue eyes. He appears more normal up close than Mark anticipated, barring a pair of impressively sharp cheekbones and a hairstyle so haphazard he doubts an intense combing session would tame it.

“Be my guest,” the man offers in an accent which turns out to be English, to Mark’s not unpleasant surprise. Besides the lads, he can’t remember the last time he encountered someone from home. “Though I imagine that’s usually your line.”

A surprised laugh escapes Mark at the lame joke, causing the stranger to grin proudly before taking another generous sip of bourbon. Mark considers calling the waiter over – the impressive display of booze resting before him is enough to make his mouth water – but the man in question appears to be preoccupied with an uptight elderly couple nearby, and besides, his curiosity is already threatening to consume him. The booze can wait.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” the man interjects before Mark can ask the question weighing on his mind. The words escape like a bullet, so rapidly that the compliment could easily be dismissed as flippant, but the stranger’s smile seems sincere enough. “You’ve got one hell of a mind, Turner.”

There’s a gravity to his tone that Mark can’t quite comprehend, but he doesn’t dwell on it.  

“How did you get here?” Mark asks, aiming for a conversational tone only to flinch when the words emerge as confrontational instead. In an attempt to save face, he adds, “I don’t remember greeting you at the station, is all.”

‘I would have remembered if I had’ goes unsaid, though the implication doesn’t appear to be lost on his new companion.

“Interdimensional portal,” he replies without missing a beat, bringing his glass to his lips once more as he gazes at Mark with mischief in his eyes and a challenge in his smirk.

The ensuing silence is broken almost immediately as Mark bursts out laughing again; an action which appears to serve as an invitation for the other man to join him. The high-pitched giggle is unexpected, but the sound of it is enough to melt some of Mark’s lingering unease.

“I doubt technology’s reached that stage yet,” Mark teases once he’s recovered his composure. “Not unless they’re keeping secrets from me back home.”  

“I wouldn’t sound so sure if I were you,” the man retaliates, that same challenge resting on his lips and a single brow quirked upwards with mocking intent. “How long has it been since you visited Earth?”

The lightness in Mark’s chest vanishes for a moment and his brows knit together as he ponders the question. Strange. Now that he thinks about it, he honestly can’t recall how long it’s been.

When it becomes clear that no answer is forthcoming, his companion simply shrugs before facing ahead once more, demolishing the rest of his drink with a single gulp. It’s impossible to tell how much he’s had already. His current glass barely seems to have touched him, unless his strange approach to conversation is merely the product of drunken ramblings. He makes no move to relinquish his seat however, nor does he signal to the now-free waiter for a refill, and Mark finds himself facing straight ahead as he contemplates the choice lying before him.

On the one hand, this man is clearly strange. The unease which continues to coil in his gut is proof enough of that, and Mark imagines that walking away now would spare him a world a confusion. His eyelids feel heavy enough as it is without his mind being weighed down as well.  

On the other hand, he honestly can’t remember the last time he had a conversation that was so... spontaneous. He’s grown accustomed to forced chats about hotel business and band rehearsals, to the point where he can’t remember the last time anyone made him laugh in pleasant surprise. Until tonight that is.  

And honestly, what is his alternative? Mingling with the guests and sweeping up compliments about the taqueria, or the pool, or the perfect view of Earth offered by the casino’s transparent ceiling? Having to listen to rich businessmen divulge their recent purchases of eye-wateringly expensive yachts or starships, while wives half their age hang onto their arm and pretend to look interested?

It isn’t really a contest in the end.

Decision made, Mark gestures to the waiter, who approaches with what he suspects is a put-on smile. To the man’s credit, said smile doesn’t falter even when he casts a sideways glance towards his boss’s unconventional choice of companion.

“Sixteen-year-old Lagavulin please, Andrew,” Mark orders with an easy smile of his own. “And one for my friend here as well.”

Andrew hesitates for only a moment before preparing the drinks with practiced ease, applying a crystallised ball of ice to Mark’s glass once both whiskies are poured. At his side, the mysterious stranger eyes Mark with what appears to be surprise at this unprompted display of generosity, but the smile returns soon enough as he takes his drink in hand and thanks Andrew with all the grace of a perfect gent.

“You trying to get me drunk, Turner?” he teases, though if he’s opposed to the idea he doesn’t show it.

“Just hoping for some interesting conversation,” Mark responds with a wry smirk of his own. “Scotch usually helps with that, I’ve found.”

Without further ado, he takes a sip and closes his eyes in satisfaction as the golden liquid instantly works its magic. A pleasant burn trails down his throat until warmth settles in his belly, and any lingering stress drifts away like smoke on a breeze.

“You can call me Mark by the way,” he says, raising his glass as an invitation. “It’s about time we introduced ourselves, don’t you think?”

A flicker of unidentifiable emotion crosses over his companion’s face, just for a second, before he returns Mark’s easy smile and brings their glasses together with a soft clink.

“Matthew,” he says, which strikes Mark as such an ordinary name for one committed to looking so extraordinary. “But you can call me Matt. Everyone else does.”

Mark nods in acknowledgement before returning to his drink, and they wile away the following minutes in companiable silence. The band appear to have moved on from classical waltzes and are now playing a smooth jazz number, the seductive groove of the double-bass soothing Mark into closing his eyes and forgetting the hundreds of guests gathered nearby. The chatter has died down slightly since his arrival, but the odd clink of a glass or drunken laugh is enough to assure him that he’s not entirely alone. Not as alone as he would have been had he remained in his room with only the hotel blueprints and a virtual reality mask for company.

In a few more moments he may even have found himself forgetting Matt’s presence, but it isn’t long before his reverie is broken by a now-familiar voice.

“What do you know of ‘Simulation Theory’?” Matt asks flippantly, as though it’s the most ordinary question in the world. The fact that Mark can only stare dumbly for several seconds is likely a sign that his scotch is already beginning to take hold, but he eventually forces himself to give a resigned shrug.

“Not much,” he admits. The name doesn’t sound familiar in the slightest, though he’ll admit that he isn’t known for scouring scientific journals. “I suspect that’s about to change though.”  

That statement seems to be invitation enough for Matt, who downs the rest of his drink without so much as a flinch before launching into what appears to be a well-practiced spiel.

Mark can only try to keep up between finishing one drink and ordering another, as Matt starts explaining the concept of computers advancing to the point where they can simulate the laws of physics, so much so that the future of interplanetary travel may end up being achieved via the means of simulated reality - unlimited by the demands of the fragile human body - rather than old-fashioned means such as starships or satellites as ancient sci-fi shows had predicted. The whole lecture is delivered in what must be Matt’s typical rapid-fire delivery; Mark would likely have been left with little breathing room even if he had been entirely sober, which he is becoming less and less so as the evening wears on. With his keen enthusiasm and eccentric hand movements, Mark reckons Matt would have made an excellent physics professor in another life if the concepts escaping his mind weren’t so utterly ridiculous.

“Which of course poses the question,” Matt concludes eventually, pausing to stop for breath. A pleasant buzz is coursing through Mark’s veins by this point, and he rests his head on one hand as he studies Matt with an amused smile. “If we conclude that it is feasibly possible for technology to exist which is capable of simulating reality so convincingly, who is to say that it hasn’t already happened? What if we’re all just cogs in a machine, believing our decisions are our own and that everything around us is real, when in actuality we’re being watched and studied and controlled? Like ants under a microscope?”

“Hmm,” Mark ponders the question as best he can, taking another sip despite knowing it won’t help. It strikes him that the whisky has already rendered him soft and sleepy, whereas Matt doesn’t appear to have been affected at all despite the fact that he’s clearly had more. As quick as his delivery is, Mark can’t even recall hearing a slur. “Like characters in a videogame or summat?”

“Something like that I suppose,” Matt concurs, though there’s a tension in his skinny frame that implies Mark has barely scratched the surface. “What do you reckon would happen if a videogame character realised they were trapped in a videogame? That their entire lives were a fiction and that someone else was in control?”

“I imagine they’d spiral into existential dread,” Mark concludes with a dismissive shrug, polishing off what must be his third glass and placing it face-down on the countertop. It would probably be best if he stops now, seeing as Matt appears to be in a philosophical mood. “Good thing they can’t think or feel anything then, isn’t it? They just do as they’re told.”

An amused smirk graces Matt’s face and there’s a glint in those blue eyes that implies he wants to add something, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut. For now at least. Mark uses this window of silence to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes before casting a glance around the ballroom. It’s still relatively busy. The band have given no indication that they’re approaching the end of their set, and so long as the drinks keep flowing, there will always be ample opportunity for dancing and conversation. He loses himself for a moment as he observes the movements of the guests gracing the dancefloor; everyone from beautiful newlyweds to elderly couples celebrating their golden anniversaries locked in intimate embraces, with eyes only for each other. Matt’s musings weave their way through his mind and he finds himself searching for flaws in the system; a hint that what he’s seeing isn’t all it appears to be. He scans the faces of the guests to see if he can find any duplication; eavesdrops on nearby conversations in search of generic, repetitive sentences. He feels the warm cotton of his suit and the cool condensation on his glass and the sticky sweat on the palm of his hand, only to conclude that it all must surely be real. He knows all-too-well what it’s like to wander lucidly through a dream, and this isn’t one.

Still, the possibility is fascinating. Ludicrous, but fascinating.  

“Let’s say you’re right,” he starts, taking a moment to select his next words carefully. He doesn’t usually feel the need to be so cautious in conversation, but Matt’s ability to spout ridiculous theories with the utmost confidence has left him feeling like he’s playing catch-up. “And let’s say that we’re the ones trapped in this game, or simulation, or whatever you want to call it.”

Matt turns to him as though shocked that Mark’s actually giving his ramblings any consideration, and he can’t help but wonder how many times he’s been shot down in the past. He pauses, half-expecting an interruption, but Matt’s only response is a smile followed by an encouraging nod.

“What if there’s a reason behind the fiction?” he proposes, more confidently now. “What if we’ve been trapped in a game because reality is terrible.”

“And therein lies our conundrum!” Matt says, eyes lighting up with childlike glee as he leans back and slams his hand on the counter. Tending to a guest a few seats away, Andrew side-eyes him warily, perhaps wondering if he’ll be forced to escort another drunk from the premises soon, but Mark’s total lack of concern seems to reassure him. “Is it better to exist within a terrible reality or a beautiful lie?”

The hypothetical weight of the question stumps Mark for a moment. Any thoughts which had previously been running through his mind fragment like shattered glass, leaving only a warm fuzz in their place. He lets himself imagine what it would be like to have an all-powerful, all-seeing creature manipulate his thoughts - moulding them like clay - and despite the room’s pleasant warmth, he finds himself shivering. It’s not that he believes Matt’s theories – far from it – but pondering the question elicits the same uncertainty planted by movies like his beloved Blade Runner; makes him contemplate deep, existential ‘What-ifs’ until sleep eludes him and a shiver creeps up his spine.

When the power of speech finally returns to him, he finds the words spilling forth without having crossed his mind beforehand.

“I think we’re both a little too drunk for philosophical discussions, don’t you agree?” he says blankly, though upon hearing the words even he is left utterly unconvinced. He may already be able to anticipate the crushing headache that morning will bring, but he’s managed to remain somewhat lucid so far. Matt, damn him, doesn’t appear to have been affected by the alcohol at all. Nor does he seem willing to let Mark back down; instead he pointedly says nothing as his lips curl upwards in an unspoken challenge.  

Mark sighs, before forcing himself to answer the question with one of his own.

“If the fiction is so convincing that you could go from birth to death without realising it is a fiction, does it really make a difference?”

“A fair point,” Matt concedes with a shrug, though Mark doesn’t miss the way his expression darkens. A twitch in his jaw implies that his words have struck a nerve, only he can’t possibly see why that would be the case. He expects Matt to elaborate further – to quash his argument with a clever retaliation – but he simply turns back towards the wall of booze and signals to Andrew to bring him another glass of scotch. The temptation to tell him that he’ll need to be carried back to his room on a stretcher if he carries on like this is momentarily overwhelming, but the words remain glued to Mark’s tongue like resin. His mouth feels as dry as sandpaper and the flurry of unease which had been temporarily dispelled returns with a burning vengeance. All he can do is watch as Matt gratefully accepts what must be his fifth glass and gulps half of it down his throat without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Something stirs in the back of Mark’s mind. A distant memory perhaps; a vague flicker of recognition which had lain buried until this moment. He can honestly swear he has never laid eyes on Matt before today, but it strikes him that their camaraderie has been a little too easy tonight. Almost as though he should know Matt from his previous life on Earth.

But he doesn’t. He knows that for a fact, and any treacherous doubts suggesting otherwise are swiftly cast aside with an urgency he can’t explain.

It doesn’t take long for Matt to polish off his glass, setting it down on the counter with a finality which suggests it’ll be his last of the night. Just as well, Mark thinks. He can feel the evening beginning to wind down already, and he can feel fatigue settling into his bones.

Before he can offer to foot the bill, his companion finally decides to pipe up again. Any trace of his earlier bravado appears to have abandoned him, leaving him crouched and visibly exhausted, his voice impossibly small.

“If nothing is real – if everything around us truly is a fiction - then it stands to reason that there’s no underlying purpose to our existence. Our lives are there to serve as meaningless entertainment for something lurking in the shadows and nothing more. So everything we do or say, everyone we love...none of it matters in the end. Not really.”

He looks directly at Mark then, his once gentle blue eyes burning with an intensity that makes him want to shrink back like a frightened child. A silly notion really. Of all the words to describe Matt, ‘threatening’ doesn’t immediately come to mind, but the discomfort lingers regardless. Matt must notice, for he averts his eyes to the floor almost immediately and offers a small, apologetic smile as recompense.

“I just don’t think I could live with that,” he concludes with a certainty that has Mark’s chest tightening. “No matter how beautiful the lie is.”

A beat passes. Then another. Mark becomes all-too aware of his heart pounding in his chest, trying to assure him that he’s okay; that he’s solid and real. It occurs to him that he has forgotten how to breathe, and the discomfort in his chest outweighs the soothing burn the scotch had planted there earlier.  

Matt doesn’t say anything else. Instead he runs a hand through his wayward hair, before ultimately deciding that fidgeting with his discarded sunglasses would be a better use of his time. Against his better judgement, Mark allows the weight of his words to sink in and momentarily imagines an existence in which all of his actions are pre-determined, his thoughts carefully filtered. Where everyone he loves are simply figments of expertly-written code. Where any responsibilities he may have are ultimately unimportant.

A simpler existence perhaps, but a wholly purposeless one.  

“I don’t think I’d want to live like that either,” he admits quietly, so much so that he’s amazed Matt hears him. He must do however, for the words force him to look at Mark again, his expression unreadable besides a hint of sadness in deep blue eyes.  

There doesn’t appear to be anything more to say. Words escape him - even the simple courtesies which usually come so naturally - and yet he cannot bring himself to look away. Matt seems to be in the same predicament. For a moment it’s as though they’re both gazing into a supernova, unwilling to look away despite knowing full well that the sight will blind them.

For the first time all evening he finds himself missing his friends. His Matt would have told him to snap out of it by now and Jamie or Nick would have called him a twat for getting so worked up about meaningless theories, and while Mark may have retaliated with a pointed ‘fuck off’, he no doubt would have felt lighter in their presence.

In the end it’s Matt who breaks the spell first. His eyes are drawn from Mark’s face to something lurking in the background, and a palpable shift overcomes him as thin lips are pulled into a grim line. Beneath soft overhead lights, Matt visibly pales and his pupils dilate with what Mark can only presume is fear, and white fists clench so tightly around his glasses that it’s amazing they don’t shatter. Dread claws into Mark’s chest with no explanation, and before curiosity can swallow him whole, he turns his head to follow Matt’s eyeline.

It only takes a moment to locate what has grabbed his friend’s attention. The new arrivals have barely made an effort to blend in after all. Standing out among the throng of increasingly drunk guests, two men linger at the far end of the hall, eyes obscured by dark sunglasses and twin postures stiff and unyielding. Both are clad in leather jackets which are only slightly less conspicuous than Matt’s own, and once again a treacherous flicker of recognition ignites in Mark’s brain before sputtering into a puff of smoke. The taller man must be pushing six feet, his brown hair cropped short and a 5 o’clock shadow darkening his features as effectively as the scowl on his lips. The smaller man must be around Mark’s height and appears slightly less threatening for it, though from a distance he almost resembles Matt himself with the exception of his dirty-blond hair.  

For a moment Mark wonders if the two men are members of his own security team, seeking out Matt on grounds of a misdemeanor which Mark has been blissfully unaware of all night. Matt doesn’t necessarily look surprised to see them after all, though their presence certainly disturbs him. That thought is cast aside quickly, however. Mark has made an effort to familiarise himself with every member of his workforce, and even if these two are last-minute recruits, their outfits don’t resemble any worn by the rest of his staff.

The not-so-concealed carry lurking on their belts is hardly a feature of his security team either.

Blood freezing as two hidden pairs of eyes settle on the bar and its occupants, Mark turns to Matt in a panic; mouth open with the intention of voicing a warning, or demanding an explanation, or both, but Matt is already one step ahead of him. Those awful neon sunglasses are back on his face, albeit he has the good sense not to activate them this time, and he throws some crumpled notes onto the counter before turning to Mark with what is no doubt supposed to be a reassuring smile. It doesn’t work of course, though he imagines Matt is well-aware of that.  

As a gesture of goodwill, Matt places a firm hand on Mark’s shoulder and offers what sounds like a very final farewell.

“It was good to see you again, Alex.”

And then he’s off, wandering past the quickly emptying dining tables and mixing with the assorted bodies on the dancefloor. Fat lot of good it does; he has about as much chance of blending in here as a giraffe does hiding among a gang of meerkats. Casting a glance towards the mysterious arrivals, Mark spots them making their way towards the dancefloor, the only indication of urgency being the grim determination on their faces. They don’t seem to have any interest in him for the moment, but that prospect brings him little in the way of relief. Instead he simply feels nausea crawling up his throat, and as Matt threatens to escape his eyeline, a new madness takes hold and compels him to follow.  

Keeping Matt in his sights is more difficult than he’d hoped it would be. As much as he stands out among the crowd of dancers, once Mark finds himself trapped within that very crowd, his ability to focus on what’s directly ahead of him falters. The band has gone and a DJ has taken their place, enticing drunk youths to stumble to and fro under the guise of dancing, and Mark finds himself being roughly grabbed more than once by revelers inviting him to join in. One man pointedly tells him to “fuck off” when he manages to free his arm from his tight grip, before swanning off to harass some other poor sod, but Mark forces himself to recover quickly and carries on with his misguided pursuit. Later it will occur to him that he is not usually in the habit of hiring DJs, nor is the ballroom usually so crowded at this late hour as the casino tends to attract the night-owls, but for now all he can focus on is Matt’s retreating back sneaking onto one of the many corridors adjoining the hall.  

Mark follows him seconds later, having escaped the horde with his limbs intact; not daring to look back to check if their assailants have located them. It occurs to him that as hotel owner, he could abuse his status and stand in their way in order to buy time, but he’s not sure he trusts them to resist putting a bullet in his head for insubordination. He may not have the faintest idea of what’s going on, but it feels so much bigger than him somehow. Like he’s been handed solid proof that everything he’s achieved – the hotel, his band, his reputation – is meaningless in the grand scale of the universe.

He stumbles onto the corridor just in time to spot Matt turning right at the far end, and he follows as quickly as he dares. The next turn is a left, then another left, then a right... an endless maze of blinding white walls and hotel room doors, flanked by sprouting monstrosities emerging from intricately painted plant-pots. After a while it seems like Matt has deliberately chosen this route to tease him, and he begins to wonder if this entire evening has been a devilish ploy, but the thought has barely had a chance to take hold when he finally reaches the end of the line.  

There is no turning point at the end of this corridor. Only an unassuming wooden door leading into what appears to be a store cupboard. There aren’t even any hotel rooms remaining in this section; instead the route ahead is lined with marble columns sporting busts with expressionless faces.

Mark only manages one step forward before freezing, as icy fingers of dread crawl up his spine and clutch his heart in a fierce grip.  

No being in the universe knows this hotel better than he does. He knows every room, every corridor, every little nook and cranny as surely as he knows his own name. As well he should; he designed every inch of the place.

And yet, he can say with absolute certainty that he has never laid eyes on this corridor before. Not even in a passing dream.  

Before he can blame the obvious hallucination on the scotch, or even glance back in search of Matt’s pursuers, the silence is shattered by a blinding red light emanating from the cupboard door, illuminating the corridor in time with a sharp, mechanical whine. Mark raises a hand to his eyes as the light pulses in time with his heartbeat - giving untouched walls the appearance of being drenched in blood - and the accompanying noise slams against his eardrums with unrelenting ferocity. Against his better judgement, he presses onward, cowering as the assault on his senses intensifies with every step. No doubt he will be left with nothing but regret as a result of this choice, but he fears the lack of answers will drive him mad if he doesn’t see what lies beyond that door.  

Besides, Matt must be in there. There’s nowhere else he could have gone, and Mark has little desire to leave him for dead.  

The pulsating doesn’t stop until he reaches the door. Body trembling in the quiet aftermath, he takes a moment to recover as the light’s echo persists with every blink of his eyes and a sharp ringing assaults his ears. His breathing sounds painfully uneven in spite of his efforts to remain calm, and he can feel his heart hammering away in an attempt to break free from his chest. He finds himself wishing he could explain away these last ten minutes, but his mind feels numb with uncertainty and the alcohol certainly isn’t helping. Has it even been ten minutes since he’d been sitting at the bar? It simultaneously feels like it’s been mere seconds and several hours since he was enjoying his evening without a care in the world.

The cupboard door remains unopened, the handle a seductive enchantress promising answers he isn’t sure he wants. This new silence doesn’t bode well, and his lack of familiarity with this section of the hotel only increases his chances of running into danger on the way back. There is no doubt in his mind that he’s damned regardless of what he does however; he may as well sate his curiosity in the meantime.  

A cool trickle of sweat slides down his cheek as a trembling hand curls around the door handle, and he pulls sharply before sanity can take hold, expecting resistance but receiving none.  

It seems he will have to settle for not receiving answers either.

The cupboard is empty.

******************************

The details of how he stumbled back to Room 521 and wound up sprawled on his bed are a murky blur. Even as his drunken haze makes way for a pounding headache, he can only recall glimpses of dragging his feet back the way he came; wandering through an almost deserted ballroom followed by similarly empty corridors, before eventually collapsing into bed with a crushing exhaustion. Despite his fears, he never did end up encountering those two assailants on his way back, nor did he glean any further clues as to Matt’s whereabouts. All three men had vanished into the night as mysteriously as they’d appeared, and a numb regret settling over his mind is enough to assure him that he will never see Matt again.

That is, if he even existed in the first place. As the night wears on, he begins to feel more inclined to put the evening’s events down to the drunken hallucinations of a lonely mind. Perhaps if he calls Jamie in the morning, he can put his mind at ease and call him a silly twat, erasing the whole sorry ordeal in the space of one conversation. The urge to pick up the phone now is almost too tempting to resist, but he stays put for now. There’s no need to bother his friend with the drunken ramblings of a madman. Not at this hour anyway.  

Reassurance can wait. For now, he desperately needs sleep which is stubbornly unforthcoming.  

He misses the presence of moonlight. That notion is so strange that a weak rebellious smile tugs at his lips, before the bitter sting of tears replaces it. Homesickness is unlike him – he has never been inclined to hop on a rocket and return home no matter how easy it would be – but right now his yearning for Earth feels suffocating. He misses the moon’s comforting presence in the sky and the wonder it had elicited from him as a child. He misses it hanging overhead as he wandered along silent streets with friends and lovers, singing and kissing and stumbling drunkenly as joyous laughter broke through the relative peace. He misses waking up with his heart in his throat and a new lyric in his head, only to be soothed instantly by luminous streaks of light.  

All he has here is thick, empty darkness which seems intent on crushing him down to dust.

Those memories of home seem so distant now. Unreachable; locked away in a chest sporting a rusted padlock and buried deep beneath the realm of consciousness. Perhaps it would be best if they remained buried. Even if Mark were capable of digging them up and freeing them from their prison, the sheer weight of the memories within would surely drown him in an instant.    

Mark shakes his head and closes his eyes before bitter tears can trail down his cheeks. It would be best not to dwell on such things. His nights are sleepless enough as it is.  

It only occurs to him later, as unblinking eyes linger on the ceiling above, that Matt had casually referred to him as ‘Alex’ and that the thought of questioning it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

[m0etenchandon]

All mine (Reader x Gwilym Lee smut)

Pairing: Female reader x Gwilym Lee Summary: You watch Top End Wedding with Gwil and can´t help but feel jealous and possessive, so you straddle his lap and take him. Gwil takes the opportunity to ask you something you have been waiting for Warnings: SMUT (18+ only), fluff, possessive!reader, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, proposal A/N: I´m a sucker for Gwil at the moment and even though I posted a fic about him proposing a few days ago, I couldn´t help myself after dreaming about this last night. Wordcount: 2.1K

This is pure filth and you are not allowed to read it if you´re under 18. I will block you if I catch minors interacting with this story.

“Please”, you begged, dragging out the word as you gave Gwilym your best puppy-dog eyes. You wanted to watch Top End Wedding, but he wouldn´t let you. Claiming he would be too embarrassed.

“We´re not watching it. I´ll literally watch anything else”, Gwilym said, slumping down on the couch, almost spilling the cold beer in his hand. He brought it up to his lips and took a big gulp, swallowing as he looked at you.

“I´m going to find a way to watch it anyways. Might as well be here for it”, you said. You pulled your legs up and leant into his side. Smiling when Gwilym slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Will you ever let this go?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow. Hah. You had him right where you wanted. You shook your head with a sly smirk. “Fine. We can watch it. But you´re not allowed to make fun of me. My character is a dork”

“I´m sure you did a great job, and you´re a dork yourself so it´s nothing new. Now put it on”

Gwilym groaned but reached for the remote anyways. With a few quick presses of the buttons, the opening credit showed up on the TV.

You watched Miranda´s character completely ruin her day and then save it, you watched Gwilym being the dork you knew him to be. He was good, but you knew that already. A fond smile playing at your lips the entire time.

You watched as he did his little magic trick in front of the ridiculously cute dog, your fondness growing with every scene. You knew Gwilym was talented, but it was so much fun watching him take on different roles.

“So you know magic tricks?”, you teased, throwing your hand over his stomach. You poked him as you heard him chuckle.

“I know a few, princess. Maybe if you´re good I´ll show you tonight”, Gwilym said.

It was weird watching him rehearsing how he was going to propose. Especially considering it wasn´t to you. You had talked about getting married before, but Gwilym never asked. Not on your birthday, not on your anniversary. Never. Not that it was that much of a big deal, you enjoyed his company either way. It was just a signature on a paper. But, you wouldn´t mind having a ring on your finger, and one on his so everyone knew he was yours.

And when the actual proposal happened, and you watched how amazing he was at pretending he was in love; you hated the fact that you tensed up. You were jealous. Of course, you were. Gwilym was yours. It hurt watching him kiss another woman. He was literally holding her up as they were kissing, clothes coming off.

You shifted in your seat, subconsciously moving away from his grasp.

“What´s the matter?”, Gwilym asked.

“I just don´t like watching you kiss another woman”, you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. It was silly and you knew it, but you couldn´t help it.

“You´re the one who wanted to watch it”, he said, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. Ok. That made you feel a little bit better. “And you knew I had to kiss for this role. It´s Miranda. You know her”

“Yeah I´m just jealous”, you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. Gwilym chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“It´s just a movie, princess. You´re the only woman for me, you know that”, he said.

The rest of the movie was easier to watch. Miranda was amazing, and she was so sweet to you when you met her. It was such a feel-good movie.

“You´re such a good singer, babe”, you giggled when his character sang, earning a scowl.

You laughed out loud as the lady basically groped Gwilym and pushed him to the ground to get his phone out of his pocket. Pretty sure your beer snorted out of your nose at the “That´s my testicle!” part.

“That´s my testicle”, you teased, imitating his accent and sliding your hand down his chest. You ran your fingers over his crotch teasingly. But he wasn´t having it, Gwilym quickly grabbed your hand and pulled it away, narrowing his eyes.

“I told you to not make fun of me”, he said, causing a giggle to fall from your lips.

“So that´s what you were referring to?”, you questioned, smirking when he rolled his eyes. “I´ll let it go.. maybe”

You placed a kiss to his jaw, smiling at how his beard tickled your lips. Gwilym couldn´t hide the smile that pulled at his lips, slightly leaning into your touch.

The wedding scene rolled over the screen, and you were once again filled with jealousy. There were tears almost spilling over in his eyes. You couldn´t help but wish he looked like that when you walked down the aisle. If you ever did. 

“You sure are a good actor”, you mumbled, “It looks so real”

“Believe me, Y/N, if you ever give me the absolute honor of marrying you, there will be tears. So many tears. You´ll look so beautiful that I will full on sob up there at the alter”, Gwilym said, pulling you into his lap. He turned the TV off and grabbed your face.

“All you have to do is ask”, you said. Your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “But for now, you´re mine regardless”

You crashed your lips against his, relishing in the feeling of having him close. He was yours. Gwilym poured all his love into the kiss, his hands sliding down to your ass. His tongue slipping past your lips.

“You´re all mine”, you mumbled against his lips before moving them over to his jaw. You nibbled at his earlobe, your hands sliding down his chest as you sank to your knees between his legs.

Gwilym groaned as you pressed your hand against his bulge, your fingers running along the slight outline of his semi-hard cock.

“This cock is all mine”, you whispered, pressing a kiss against his hips as you pulled the material over them and down his long legs.

Gwilym was staring at you with lust in his eyes, his cock heavy against his lower stomach. You leant down to lick a long stripe from the base all the way to the tip, feeling it grow underneath your tongue. The blood pumping through it, filling it. Gwilym´s hands reached out to run his fingers over your head, burying them in your hair.

“All yours, princess. Only you can get me this fucking hard”, he mumbled, pushing your heard down. You smirked before wrapping your lips around the head, pressing your tongue against the underside as you sucked it into your mouth. You wrapped you hand around the base, working his shaft while sucking the head.

Gwilym was moaning above you, his eyes locked on your lips. He watched you swallow his cock, watched your lips stretch over the head with every bob of your head.

“God, you´re taking my cock like such a good girl, princess. I´ll never want anyone else. I don´t need anyone else. Only you”, Gwilym groaned, pushing your head further down. You relaxed your jaw and slid his cock into your mouth, holding back the gag as you swallowed around him. “Bloody hell it feels fucking amazing”

You hummed around his cock before pulling back. A string of saliva connected his tip with your lips, a clear bead of pre-cum oozing from the slit. You swiped your thumb over it before bringing it to your mouth, moaning at the salty taste.

“Come here, princess”, Gwilym said, his voice barely above a whisper. He grabbed your hand and hoisted you up into his lap again. “Ride my cock. Take it. It´s all yours”

“That´s what I like to hear, Gwil”, you said. You slid your panties to the side, thanking yourself for wearing only one of his shirts and no bottoms.

You grabbed his cock in your hand, squeezing it before lining the head up with your entrance. A shudder spread over your body as you slowly slid down, enjoying every inch of his hard cock filling your pussy. He stretched you just right. Fit you perfectly, like he always did.

You closed your eyes in pleasure as he bottomed you out, feeling his cock throb as your walls clenched around him.

“I love you so much, princess”, Gwilym muttered, fingers digging into the skin on your waist.

You pressed your forehead against his, opening your eyes to catch his blue ones as you started moving. You lifted off his lap before sliding down again, slowly. Feeling him fill you up again and again. His tip pushing against your g-spot with every move.

Gwilym grabbed your head and pressed his lips to yours in a frantic kiss, both of you out of breath as you pulled away. And then, he muttered the words you had been wanting to hear.

“Marry me”

Your eyes went wide, your body stopping on reflex.

“Do-do you mean that?”, you asked, searching his eyes for any sign of a doubt. You didn´t find any, just a ridiculously stupid grin on his lips instead. The skin around his eyes crinkling. 

“I bought the ring last week, it´s getting fitted right now. I just didn´t know when to ask you, but I know you don´t want a big public proposal and I was hit with this wave of overwhelmingly love for you and I just had to ask you”, he rambled, grabbing your hands and bringing them up to his lips. His beard tickled your fingers. This was real. Holy shit.

“Yes”, you said, grinning like an idiot. “Yes of course I want to marry you, Gwil. I love you so much”

“I love you too, princess”, Gwilym said. He leant in to press a sweet kiss to your lips, letting his hands slide down your body again. Two of his fingers found your neglected clit, making you moan into his mouth.

You started moving your hips again, a new surge of energy fueling you. His fingers rubbed tight circles over your clit, pushing you towards the edge. The knot in your stomach started tightening as your walls did the same around his cock.

“I´m close”, Gwilym warned, speeding up his fingers, forcing a moan out of your mouth. Every nudge of your g-spot, every rub of your clit brought you closer and closer. “I need you to cum for me, princess. I want you to take my cum. It´s all for you”

You yelled his name as you came all over his cock and fingers. Bolt after bolt of pleasure shot up your spine, your lips pressing against his. It spread all over your body, your legs starting to shake violently. You couldn´t control the orgasm, it was too good.

You barely registered that Gwilym came too until you felt that familiar warming sensation against your walls.

His fingers guided you through your high, his hips moving up to meet yours.

“Holy fuck”, you mumbled, slumping into his chest. Gwilym wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and running his fingers up and down your spine. You could feel him take deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His chest sweaty against your face.

“So we´re getting married then, princess”, he said, giggling against your head. You could feel his chest vibrate as he laughed, forcing a gigantic grin to spread over your lips.

“I guess we are”, you smiled. You pulled back so you could look him in the eyes before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. To your fiancé’s lips. “Next time you have to kiss anyone for your job, at least they will know that you´re mine and only mine”

Gwilym laughed, his adam´s apple bobbing as he did so, making you fall more and more in love with him. He was so beautiful it almost hurt.

“I love it when you´re all possessive over me”, he said with a wink.

“Why? Because you get to have sex?”, you giggled, arching an eyebrow.

“That and because you´re really cute like that”, Gwilym began, sliding his hands down to your ass. He slapped your cheek playfully. “And so fucking hot”

“Oi”, you yelled, “Don´t do that if you´re not planning on taking me up to the bedroom for another round”

Gwilym smirked and pulled you in for another kiss. He caught you off guard by standing and starting to walk towards the bedroom, your legs wrapped around his waist as you were screaming. His cock still inside. Slowly getting hard again. 

“Wait! I have a proposal disclaimer”, you said, giggling as Gwilym rolled his eyes at the reference. “I want a dog. A little one. Oh, and I want to get married in the summer, and I want to have-“

Gwilym cut you off my pressing his lips to yours. He savored the kiss for a few seconds before pulling back and staring into your eyes.

“Anything you want, princess. It´s all yours. I´m all yours”, he whispered, walking you both into the bedroom.

Masterlist

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[primedirection]

Needy

Harry thinks Y/N is needy

Weeks go by and almost all has been swept under the rug. As far as you knew Harry had been completely oblivious to the event he missed. Only ever asking questions about it when seeing the trophy and although it made you furious. Very furious. You made the conscious decision to pretty much pretend it never happened in order to save yourself the grief.

Why get so worked up over something that wasn't even a blip on his radar? He probably wouldn't react the way he's supposed to, therefore causing more drama so there was really no point.

Especially since he gets swept into a mania of his own and things are a little tense. Four different performances this week, a televised album release party slash live show, not including other TV appearances, and the perfectionist in him is running wild.

Okay so actually.. things are super tense these days.

The late rehearsals and early sound checks were meshing together. Cutting into the limited time that you two barely had to spend together. Since he was bound to start his international promotional tour in the following weeks.

Today it was Harry's idea to come out and spend the day with him and yet you wished to be anywhere he wasn't.

While in the backseat of a town car on the way to the venue, Harry was completely and utterly glued to his phone. Scowl on his face and stress apparent in the tension of his shoulders. You thought that it would help if you loved on him little bit, maybe with a warm squeeze around his tummy and chaste kiss to the cheek. So you did just that. Smiling an encouraging, "Love you," up at him and waiting for the returned gesture.

But you couldn't have been more wrong.

Harry flinches instinctively, startled more or less and when you smile at him he frowns thoroughly irritated, "Can yeh give me two bloody minutes to breathe? I literally feel like I'm suffocating!" he snaps.

Hurt, you deflate immediately muttering a quick, "Sorry," before sliding back on your side as close as possible to the window. Trying to give him the space he needed.

Harry kills all hope of the ride becoming pleasant again when he huffs a grim but satisfied, "Thank you." Then occupies himself with his phone again.

He doesn't say another word until you arrive at the venue, and it's to a production manager. You get a tour of the backstage area and then of the enormous arena itself. In that process your previous inner turmoil was put out by empathy and pride. All at once you understood why he was so on edge but you were also extremely proud of him. Jeff had just informed him that it was a sold out show too. That all these empty seats would be filled up just to see him.

Filled with enamor, you couldn't help yourself when you catch him coming off the stage. Quietly discussing a delay in the equipment set up with Jeff. A playful pat on his butt instantly grabs his attention and you smile excitedly, "You would be the one to sell out this massive place, I'm so happy for you babe!"

Jeff quickly makes himself scarce and for the lack of an audience your grateful. But perhaps you should've taken note because once again Harry startles in an irritable way. The muscles in his jaw taught as he suddenly and briskly ushers you by the upper arm to an unoccupied area backstage, "Jesus Christ, why are you everywhere I turn? You do realize that I'm working right now, right? I don't have time to deal with this needy shit all day."

Though this time around you struggle to just take it on the chin. Harry was literally treating you like some burden that begged to come and not like you had to clear your whole schedule of things that were actually top priority just to be here. "Needy? I'm just trying to be supportive!"

"Okay and you can't do that from the stands? You're not some sort of puppy that needs to be wrapped round my leg Y/N! Look, I know I invited you but the point is to enjoy the ride and go with the flow not stand in my way." The fact that he lowers his voice and yet his tone is blaring really hits you in the feelings.

It wasn't just because he was stressed but he genuinely felt that way.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be here nonetheless anywhere near him. You hoped that he detected your new jilted attitude, "Sorry, you're right. From now on you wont even know I'm here." You smile so overtly sweet it bleeds of sarcasm.

Harry doesn't even realize the lack of sincerity in it anyway. Stalking off after a surly, "Perfect." Leaves his lips.

With that you go to sit in the stands as he wanted, but on your way theres commotion coming from the same direction Harry just went. In the distance you spot him greet one of his opening acts with the most enthusiasm in the world. Hugging her and laughing with her like there wasn't a care in the world. When literally less than a minute ago he was yelling at you. Suddenly you couldn't get away from him fast enough. Only finding solace in the nosebleeds rather than the enticing idea of going home altogether.

This is disturbingly new. You'd been to plenty of Harry's shows where his moods often ranged from amped to sometimes getting nervous enough to maybe make him a little frustrated. But even then it wasn't unleashed on you, and like that. How could he treat you one way and in the next breath switch it up? You didn't like that one bit.

Watching his set was too difficult to enjoy anymore due to bias, unable to stop playing his words in your head. Needy? Was it really needy to show him some love in times he was obviously anxious? Definitely not, and even if it was it didn't give him an excuse to be an asshole about it. Especially since he wanted you to come in the first place.

Rehearsals drag on for what feels like eternity. Costume changes and numerous sound checks later, lunch is offered in the catering area but you politely decline. Hanger seemed like such a small price to pay in exchange for being subjected to his unnecessary attitude. In this case distance was best for the both of you.

Proven when he doesn't even bother to come look for you, or say anything really, at least not until he's ready to go home. Even then it's only a text.

On the ride home his mood has done a total 180. In the greatest mood to talk about his band mates and opening act's hijinks. You honestly tried not to take the way he acted personally but the complete personality flip made it impossible. How could he be that unfair?

Making it a point to avoid any and all contact with him by sitting in the same position as you had when you arrived. He uneasily takes notice, "Alright?"

"Yeah, just tired..." Of your bullshit! You mentally add on glaring out the window. Conveniently he received a phone call anyway.

Once you get home you decide to cure your possible hanger and make something quick to eat. Missing Harry reappear in the room in the process, "I guess catering doesn't count as dinner huh?" He attempts to be playful with you to check your temperature. Your unusual silence naturally made him uneasy.

"I didn't eat. Didn't want to risk overcrowding so I stayed in the stands," Like you wanted! You ached to add but held your tongue.

He doesn't dwell on it anyway. Chirping and fluttering about behind you as you make your way around the kitchen and to the table. "Love, guess what... I get to do a funny skit with James in a couple days!"

"That's great," you reply sitting down and albeit with forced enthusiasm.

He wordlessly follows suit practically singing, "Do yeh wanna come watch? It'll be fun."

Your sarcasm comes instinctively with a sharp roll of your eyes, "Like today? Hard pass, enjoy yourself though."

Harry's eagerness melts away like an ice cube on a hot summer sidewalk. No longer in the mood for elusiveness, "Alright I'll bite, what's going on with yeh?"

"With me? Nothing." You shrug shoveling around the food on your plate, loosing your appetite more and more by the second. Impending doom so palpable you could damn near taste that instead.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," he retorts with a brow cocked expectantly.

He could go to hell with the explanation he thought he deserved, "Doesn't matter," you sigh pleading to the high heavens that he'd leave it alone so that once again you could save yourself the agonizing grief.

Just as stubborn as you are he continues to push, "Based on how you're acting, it apparently does. So what is it?"

"Just drop it Harry," you groan agitated. At this rate you'll definitely be staying in the guest room tonight.

"No," This time he takes it a step further and moves your plate out of reach so that there was nothing to distract you. "Tell me." He demands.

Though the manner in which he does it is not to simply just to get to the root of the problem and solve it, but seems to be just for the confrontation. To point fingers at you being the problem, and so you snap, "Okay fine! You treat me like shit and it's not okay."

Unsurprisingly his face contorts into total confusion, "Where's this coming from?!"

But you're all too thrilled to remind him, "In the car and in rehearsals. One minute you're snapping at me for being needy when I was just trying to offer support, and in the next you're giving all the love and admiration to your opener and everyone else you work with!"

The frown etching on his face told you that he was going to deny everything and he did not disappoint, "No I wasn't, yeh were all over me,"

"Yeah okay, because reminding you that I love you and how proud I am is smothering?" An incredulous dry laugh summons itself, "Really?"

"When I'm in the middle of a conversation with Jeff! Obviously at that moment I was frustrated." Harry argues.

"You weren't frustrated when you hugged Kacy and joked around with Mitch right after! It's like everyone else gets a pass except me, but you know what it doesn't matter. Just keep that same energy so that I can properly navigate you. Because if I was suffocating then then I must be suffocating all the time." You glumly add, standing up and grabbing the plate you no longer had any interest in eating anymore.

In response Harry sighs loudly, and for a moment you start to believe that he's beginning to come to his senses but a quick glance reveals the most condescending and patronizing eye roll with it. Eventually he stands too, restoring his chair the way he found it. A passive yet aggressive, "Just forget I fucking asked," muttered under his breath.

Irking you enough to toss the plate absentmindedly into the sink, "Or just be a man about it and fucking own it!" You shout at him angrily.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can't own something yeh literally made from nothing!" He shouts back.

"From nothing are you kidding me?! Why the hell is it so hard for you to admit when you're wrong! I am so tired of sweeping everything you do under the rug! I let that stupid fashion show slide but today-" Before you can get the words out properly its like something literally clicks in Harry's head. Making him angry as well.

His fingers rake frustratedly through his silky mane, "So that's what this is really about hmm? Why you've been acting so-" He exhales heavily through flared nostrils. You stare annoyed but patiently wait for him to make his point, "For fucksake how many times do we have to go through this? She is just a friend! Ken needed me-"

It's a combination of things. The way he says it and the gall of what he actually says that makes you feel three words short of a brain aneurysm. You explode, "She needed you? Harry, I needed you!" Your chest heaves from the exertion of shouting, "I made an absolute fool of myself that night! That had almost nothing to do with her and everything to do about us! The one fucking time I ask you to put me first, I'm last on your list. I know it's not the Grammy's or the Met Gala but it was important to me."

His head shakes in denial as he forces himself not to roll his eyes again, "Yeh miss things that are important to me all the time Y/N and I never whine about it!"

"If I'm whining about it its because there's a huge difference in not being able to catch a flight across the world at the last minute and not showing up to something on a whim— something I've been talking about for the past three years now!" You yell, so angry that it's actively getting harder to see straight. Apparently the wound had been fresher than you both thought.

"That's not fair," he argues. In his mind the situations were like comparing oranges to apples.

"Exactly." You concede folding your arms across your chest. Getting him to see the error in his ways was something like playing chess. Though the point wasn't to defeat but to enlighten. "How am I supposed to feel when you still don't even seem all that sorry or remorseful about it?"

Defense takes reign over Harry's better judgment as he starts to feel like this unethical argument is not meant for him to win, "Really? Over a bloody office party?!" He scoffs incredulous and somewhat amused at the same time. "I could understand if I did something actually wrong and horrible but this doesn't equate-"

At that another agonizing explosion erupts within and hits hard mentally and emotionally. Starting out as a fit of rage when you slam your hand down on the counter in reflex but rapidly that dwindles down into crushing defeat. It wasn't just the attempt in basically talking to a brick wall but the fact that he didn't want to accept what he did wrong. Maybe ego or even his foolish pride is to blame, either way he just wasn't going to.

Obviously you were wasting your breath but there was just one important fact that your very own pride wouldn't allow you to leave without getting it off your chest first, "Stop calling it that! Stop trying to diminish what it was! Because even if it was a lemonade stand it wouldn't have made the slightest difference — it was important to me Harry."

His gaze passively transfers to kitchen floor and for a few moments you wait for him to say something—anything. But when nothing comes you give up, heading straight to the guest room a total mess. So overwhelmed with frustration and emotions.

(AN: Come share your thoughts with me!xx)

Next Part

[scullysexual]

Gone

Chapter One: Goodbye.

Chapter Two: Twenty-Four Hours Missing.

Chapter Three: Death.

With his sister’s fate now confirmed, Mulder is determined to get answers so the other two missing kids don’t succumb to the same fate as Samantha. 

It’s his least favourite part of the job. He’s fortunate he doesn’t have to do it regularly but it’s still difficult all the same.

Skinner raps against the door. Stepping back, he begins rehearsing the words in his head. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we found your daughter’s body in the forest tonight.

He removes his glasses, rubbing a hand across his face. No amount of academy training ever prepares a man to deliver this type of news.

He schools his expressions, retaining his straight-faced cop look, as a figure approaches the door.

“Detective Skinner, what can I do for you?” Mr Mulder asks upon opening the door and seeing him.

Skinner swallows. “May I come in please, sir?” he says, controlling his voice. “I have some…unpleasant news I must share with you and your wife.”

 .:.:.:.:.:.

 It felt good to be able to speak to someone who was going through the same thing as you. Mulder would change everything about that night just for Scully to have her brother back if he could but he felt grounded knowing there was at least one other person who truly understood.

They had spent the majority of the evening sat on the deck, just the two of them with no interruptions. They mainly spoke about the year- his time spent in England, hers spent here. He wanted to ask her about Ethan, at what point did they become a thing, but he decided against it, instead choosing to put Ethan in a box and out the way, opting for this moment to just be about him and Scully.

It wasn’t unlike the summer before he went away.

“What time does your dad get here?” he asks now walking towards the direction of her house.

“Tomorrow morning,” Scully answers. “Bill and Missy are coming back in two or three days.”

Mulder nods. He tries not to feel envious that Scully has so many siblings to share her pain with. He has his parents and that’s no better than just having himself.

“Are you happy he’s coming back early?” he continues.

She throws him a look and he looks away, guilty, realising his mistake.

“I mean, just to see him. Despite the circumstances,” he recovers.

Scully sighs. “Despite the circumstances, yeah.”

Mulder nods again. His own father was away when Sam disappeared. Mulder hadn’t been looking forward to him returning.

“Mulder,” Scully says, tapping him on the arm and pointing towards his house.

Mulder follows her finger and sees a dark police car sat outside his house.

“That’s Skinner’s car, isn’t it?”

A deep, unsettling feeling pools in his stomach. Feeling something off, he says goodnight to Scully and runs towards his house.

His mother, father, and Detective Skinner all sit in the living room, all looking sombrely at the ground. They turn to look at him when he appears in the doorway, his eyes searching everyone.

“Fox…” his mother begins but is unable to finish as she starts crying again.

Mulder looks towards Skinner who gives him his own look of I’m sorry and Mulder knows, Mulder knows what it is.

 .:.:.:.:.:.

 He sits on his bed, hunched forward, eyes staring at the floor, his brain repeating the same sentence over and over again.

Samantha is dead. Samantha is dead. Samantha is dead.

Skinner had confirmed it, privately in the hallway just before he had left. Spoken truth to the words. Mulder had wanted to see her, go to the morgue and see her one last time.

He could see in Skinner’s eyes how much he wanted to tell him no but with his own eyes, Mulder had begged and he’d been granted his wish.

Monday, after school, he would go to the morgue.

Unable to sit any longer, he stands. His foot collides with the trashcan beside his desk, knocking it over and spilling out the contents on the carpet. It ignites something within Mulder, a wave of rage overcomes him and before he knows it, he’s opposite his wall, punching the shit out of it. Too concentrated, he doesn’t feel the pain, just continues punching like he’d been taught in those brief boxing lessons his father had made him attend when he was younger to “get his head away from fantasy books of his”.

He punches and punches, tears streaming down his face, letting out his rage at Skinner, at his parents, and most importantly, himself for not being able to protect her in the first place.

He punches and punches until a familiar voice his telling him to stop. And he stops. His knuckles now pulsing, he looks down, seeing them bloodied and bruised, an impressive dent in the wall.

 .:.:.:.:.:.

 SUNDAY

He wakes in pain the next morning.

Slumped on top of his covers, his head barely on the pillow, and harsh sunlight streaming into the room. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

His nerves are banging against his skull, his knuckles are throbbing. Another stupid mistake made.

Mulder stretches, his muscles aching (another pain to add to the list) and heads for the medicine cabinet.

Samantha is dead.

Has been for almost half a day now.

All that worrying, all that hoping, all that time spent wondering where she was…

He chucks the pills down his throat, not even bothering with water.

All that is over now. He has his answers. He doesn’t need to look anymore.

But there are still two kids lost out there and if he couldn’t save Samantha, maybe he can save them.

His mind set, Mulder goes back into his bedroom, grabbing any old clothes and throwing them onto his bed.

He has a mission now.

 .:.:.:.:.:.:.

 The night- or as much as he can remember of it- plays in his mind as he peddles. There was the growl, the rustling, and Charlie said something.

There’s something in the well.

He didn’t see anything. Scully didn’t say she saw anything when they spoke about it last night. He’d yet to ask Ethan or Phoebe.

Reaching the well, Mulder hops off his bike, letting it crash onto the ground. He stalks up to the well, touching the roof with his hand. The wood cuts into his skin but he ignores it and peers down.

“What did you see, Charlie?” he mutters to himself.

Mulder continues to stare down into the dark hole, willing whatever Charlie saw to show itself to him.

But nothing. It’s just a well. An old abandoned well.

Defeated, Mulder walks away. He picks up his bike, throwing one last look at the well and the wall not far behind it and rides off.

 .:.:.:.:.:.

 “How are you?”

Mulder could tell him it’s a stupid question, maybe even throw him a look, but he doesn’t have the energy. The well had given him nothing, no indication of how Charlie and Duane Barry could’ve disappeared. What was he expecting?

“Fine,” Mulder answers, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, your knuckles seem to say that,” Ethan laughs, taking a swig of his beer.

Mulder looks down at his knuckles. They’re still red and raw but they look better than they did covered in blood.

“Just…shock, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Ethan answers. “Want one?” he holds a joint out towards Mulder.

“Duane’s stuff,” Mulder comments.

“Wasn’t about to pass it up,” Ethan says, rolling himself his own joint. “All the hassle it caused.” Ethan pauses for a moment, his fingers stopping their task but he shakes his head and resumes again. “Have you spoken to Dana?”

“Yeah,” says Mulder, nodding, finding no reason to lie. “Last night.”

“How is she?” He pulls a face. “She still won’t answer my calls.”

Mulder shrugs. “She’s holding up I guess,” he answers, not thinking about the way she cried into him last night. “It’s hard for her.”

“Yeah,” Ethan half-scoffs. “I mean, really, I should be smoking this with her, right?”

Mulder looks to the bag of weed as Ethan lights up.

“I don’t know if weed is what she needs right now.”

Ethan takes a drag then falls back against the head of his couch.

“I don’t know what she needs because she won’t answer my calls to tell me what she needs.”

Mulder’s at a loss of what to say. Slightly repulsed that Ethan seems to be making this all about him so he just reiterates what Scully told him.

“She’s not good at relationships,” he says shrugging.

“She’s not good at talking, is what it is.”

“She’ll talk, just give her time,” Mulder says, intending on ending this conversation.

They fall silent, just smoking, until Ethan speaks again.

“She talks to you, though.”

He tries to ignore what he thinks Ethan is implying. He is aware of that summer after all.

So he shrugs, “We have stuff in common, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Ethan simply says.

Mulder ignores the signs, the implications. He wonders for a moment if the weed has made Ethan paranoid. Maybe he should tell him to stop but thinks better of it.

Intent on changing the conversation now, Mulder asks.

“What do you think is behind the stone wall by the well?”

Ethan shrugs. “My dad says it’s an abandoned mine or a storage room.” Ethan sits up then, reaching into the bag beside. “I think I found Barry’s drug dealer.”

Mulder whips his head up. “Seriously?”

Ethan nods and holds out a piece of paper with a number on it.

“I called it earlier, some man answered. I’m meeting him tonight.”

Sometimes the dude could be a massive idiot.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Ethan shrugs him off with his hand. “Be fine,” he says. “It’s nowhere near the well.” He turns to Mulder then, unsure. “But, just in case, will you come with me?”

Mulder thinks for a moment. He had all intentions of going back to the well, seeing if he could climb the wall, and really see what was behind it. But he couldn’t let Ethan go visit this person on his own.

“Sure, what time?”

“Ten.”

Mulder nods, he’ll be there.

 .:.:.:.:.:.:.

 He isn’t there.

He chucks his bike on the ground and walks past the well towards the wall. It’s made of big pieces of rocks rather than an average brick wall. He did rock-climbing as a kid and now his feet and hands grip onto the crevices in the wall.

Mulder hoists himself up it. Once at the top, he stays low, careful of the barbed wire that lines the top of the wall.

Beyond he sees an abandoned building. Next it to is an entrance to a cave or something of the sort. The lettering has fallen off, only a few remain.

St u h ld Mini g  omp y.

Mulder looks back to the well, a thought in mind.

He climbs back down the rocks, jumping down onto the ground when he nears the bottom. His mind swirling, he situates himself in the middle of the wall, beginning to walk towards the well in as straight a line as possible.

He walks the few steps until the well stands in front of him.

Guys, there’s something in the well.

He peers back down, seeing nothing but a dark bottomless pit. He turns back to the wall he’s just walked from, thinking of what it’s concealing.

Mulder bolts back to his bike, his mind racing with what everything could mean; what Charlie saw, the well being right by that wall, the abandoned mine.

Maybe it’s all piecing together.

 .:.:.:.:.:.:.

 He hammers on the knocker of the Scully’s house. Impatient, needing someone to answer and someone to answer now.

A light is switched on and Mulder sees a person nearing the door. As they get closer, the shadow becomes that of a small female.

Mulder smiles as Scully answers the door.

“Mulder, what are you doing here?” she’s asking immediately.

Out of breath from how fast he’d peddled back, desperate to tell her of his theory.

“I need to tell you something. Can I come in?”

He sees her glance an unsure look towards the living room door before she’s turning back and nodding, opening the door wider and allowing him in.

“Upstairs,” she tells him. “But be quiet, okay.”

He nods, making his way upstairs. When he reaches the top, he waits for Scully to lead the rest of the way. She guides them to a door furthest away from the stairs, a door Mulder can only assume is her bedroom.

Fairy lights run around the edge of her ceiling, casting the room in a cosy off white glow. Records and posters of bands cover her walls. Mulder smiles as he looks around.

Scully sits on an unmade bed littered with duvets and blankets. His smile drops when he realises this is probably where she’s been spending a majority of her time, holed up in her safety blankets like he was in the early days Sam was taken.

She looks at him with concern. “We heard the news,” she says. “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, he’s fine. After his outburst last night he’s come to terms, accepted that this is it now, the mystery is over, his sole focus in finding Duane and Charlie.

“I’m fine,” he says, nodding but her eyes are falling to his knuckles and she gasps at the sight of them.

“Mulder, what did you do to your hands?” she asks, coming towards him and taking his hand, cradling them in both of hers.

Mulder shrugs, “Practiced some boxing on my wall.” She looks at him like he’s an idiot before turning her attention back to his hand, gently running her fingers around the cuts.

“Do they hurt?” she asks.

He shrugs again. “Not as much as they did.” He takes his hand out of her grasp, missing it immediately. “They’re fine, not much you can do for them now anyway.”

Scully nods. “So what did you want to tell me?”

He begins. He tells her about the mine and how it lines up perfectly with the well.

They’re both sitting on her bed when he’s finished.

“So, what? You think Duane and Charlie are in the mine?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Not exactly. But I think the mine might be linked to it. Charlie said he saw something, I didn’t see what it was, I was hoping you did.”

Scully shakes her head, defeated. She looks away. “I don’t remember much about that night.” She looking at him then and he sees the fear on her face. “Mulder, why don’t I remember?”

Mulder shakes his head again, wishing he had an answer for her.

“Sometimes our bodies react strangely to stress. Sometimes something traumatic happens and our minds want to forget it so we can heal and move on.”

She bites the skin on her thumb. “Is that what happened to you when Samantha when missing?”

He nods. “It came back in the form of nightmares but it took me being under hypnosis to fully recount what happened.” He looks at her. It’s been almost two days since Charlie went missing. “You’re not having nightmares, are you?”

“No,” she answers, shaking her head so fast that her curls bounce around her shoulders. “I want to go to the well with you, Mulder,” she says, looking directly at him. “I want you to show me what you found.”

Mulder nods. He’ll do that.

 .:.:.:.:.:.:.

 Ethan waits on the edge of the forest. He looks around, checks his watch, taps his foot.

Maybe he should have realised Mulder would ditch him.

Things had started falling apart since his friend got back. The year he was gone, it was great- in the nicest way Ethan can put it. It gave him a chance to talk to Dana, to take her on dates, and finally ask her out without Mulder being there, without her gaze always moving over to Mulder.

Ethan was well aware of the summer. He was there for the most of it, after all. Sat on the sidelines watching Mulder and Dana grow closer, listen to the way they’d playfully argue with each other about some scientific fact. They talked about things that excluded him, things he had no interest in. He liked stories, gossip, his interests was journalism, and knowing what was happening when it was happening. He didn’t have the patience or the love for Science like Dana did.

But then Mulder went away and it was just him and Dana. It was finally his time.

Now he’s back. Now his girlfriend would rather talk to his best friend than him.

We have stuff in common, I guess.

Bullshit! He angrily kicks a rock aside before grabbing his bike and riding off. I’ll go visit this man with or without Mulder.

 It begins to rain as Ethan reaches the sideroad. Slamming on his brakes he sees a car sat in the middle of the road.

Apprehension sieges him. For the first time since calling the number he feels uneasy about the situation. Kids have gone missing, stranger danger, and all that. He debates turning back but instead grips his handlebars tighter, dead-set on proving to himself (and Mulder) that he can do things on his own.

With an exhale, he rides his bike down the hill and towards the car.

Once at the bottom, he places his bike down, walks to the car, and taps on the tinted window. Immediately the car window rolls down.

An old, well-dressed man sits in the back seat. He smiles. Ethan gulps as the rain picks up weight and speed.

“You must be Ethan,” the man says, his smile not leaving his face.

Ethan nods, trying not to let his nerves show through.

“My name’s Michael.” He taps the seat beside him. “Take a ride with me, would you, Ethan?”

Ethan gulps, wanting nothing more than to bolt but his feet keep him glued to the spot.

“Thought I was just here to pick up the dope,” he says, hoping the quiver he hears in his voice isn’t evident to the man.

“Do you believe in alien abductions, Ethan?”

Ethan shrugs.

“Well, let me help you decide.” Michael removes his hand and the doors unlock.

[missnxthingg]

can you do an imagine where the reader has really cool and strong powers and is found by the avengers and is recruted and peter meats her and fall in love with her but she is to badass to be in love.? thank you

A/N: First of all, I’m so so so sorry that it took months to get to your request. It’s just, I didn’t get any ideas for this one and I still think the last one I got is pure trash. It’s the best I can do for now, and I’m really sorry. 

Words: 2.3K

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex and swearing.

masterlist | main blog | gif source

As if nothing else mattered, Peter kept staring at (Y/N) flawlessly doing her thing in the middle of the battle field. Every move seemed like it was rehearsed and he got completely mesmerized by it. He blinked slowly so he couldn’t miss one move, and somehow everything seemed like it was in slow motion. She turned her head to him after taking down one enemy, making him smile softly, but her eyes widened and she screamed:

“Peter, watch out!”

Suddenly he came to his senses, and using his spider senses, he noticed a bullet coming from behind him. He successfully dodged it and (Y/N) ran for the enemy that shot him and took him down. Peter webbed him to the floor and helped her take some more enemies down. He was tired, both of them were, and they wait for it to be over. So she took down the last man and Peter ran for the pen drive they were supposed to get back. It had some super confidential files from Stark Industries and it had been stolen from the Los Angeles tower and both Peter and (Y/N) were recruited to get it back, but the Spider Man doesn’t function very well when he was around the new great Avenger, the only younger one like him.

“Happy is already here, he’s waiting in the roof.”

Peter nodded and she jumped on his back and both of them swing outside to meet Happy Hogan waiting for them in the Avengers Private Plane. The man was waiting for them at the door and sighed in relief when he saw both of the kids coming out alive. 

“Why did you take so long?” He asked with a frown on his face.

“I had to save Mrs. Spider’s head, because he was distracted.” She replied running inside, followed by Peter.

“I almost got shot.” Happy arched his brows and (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna test Stark’s new airplane shower, because I’m disgusting.” She said, getting into the bathroom with her bag on her hands.

“Fuck, look what she does to me.” Peter cursed, throwing his tired body on a chair.

“You’ve been so pathetically in love with her for so long it’s getting ugly to look at you staring at her.”

“Wow, thank you Happy, how nice of you.” Peter vomited in a bad mood and buried his face between his hands.

“You should tell her.” Happy suggested, nodding his head

“She knows it, but she’s too good…” Peter started, and Happy finished it with him.

“Too good for relationships.” Both nodded and Peter moaned in pain. “So, I’m gonna drive the plane, take a shower afterwards, you know we’re gonna take a long time to get back to the U.S.”

Peter nodded and was left alone with his own thoughts. (Y/N) didn’t take long in the shower and he entered it right after her, and washed himself in seek of getting all the bad things away. He wore the first comfortable pants and shirt he saw and lied down on a bed, feeling hungry but too tired to get up and look for something to eat. (Y/N) spent a lot of time preparing something to eat, ending up with chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and everything, tea and some fruits for them to eat. She approached Peter and gave him a plate with two chocolate chip pancakes and a cup of tea.

“Thank you.” He smiled softly and she asked for space to sit next to him.

“You look horrible”

“I know, I’m just tired, and feeling a lot of pain too.” 

She nodded and left her plate next to them and sat down next to him, resting one hand on his forehead and another one on his chest, closing her eyes and pronouncing some words he couldn’t understanding, but suddenly he was feeling better, still a bit tired, but much better.

“What did you do?”

“Something…” She bit her bottom lip and glanced down to her pancakes. “Eat up, it will make you feel better.”

He smiled and they ate in silence, nothing to distract them. No TV, no music, no conversation. But it was a nice silence, a good resting one. They finished their food and she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes afterwards. He searched for her hand and brushed his little finger on her hand, and she showed him the palm of her hand, inviting his to crash against hers, which he did, feeling the electricity all over his body.

“What do you wanna do when you get home?” He asked.

“Sleep, cry. I don’t know.” She laughed at her own answer and got cozy under his arms.

“Maybe you should just sleep, crying isn’t good.”

“So why do I get the vibe that you wanna cry so badly right now?”

One of (Y/N)’s cool superpowers was that she was able to know what a person was feeling. It was like a peak of energy and somehow she knew when the person was happy, angry, anxious, or sad.

“Stop reading my feelings.”

“Why do you wanna cry?”

“Because I’m tired and I miss May as well.” She pressed his hand and gave him a forehead kiss.

“It’s okay, you’ll see her soon.”

Peter couldn’t help but fall in love with her. She was nice, pretty, funny, smart and a badass. She could easily be one of the strongest Avengers even though she was one of the youngests. And she did everything to make him feel good, that including late night talks, long hugs and trying to make him laugh all the time. Him being hypnotized by her wasn’t something new, it happened in trainments and it happened today in battle.

It was getting harder and harder to hide his feelings, specially right now, that she involved him in a hug and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes right after. She did everything right and she was lovely, his sweetheart. He let tiredness consume him and fell asleep with her in his arms.

The following week was harder for him to not want to be around her, because after the episode in the airplane, all he wanted to do was spend every minute of his day next to her. Thankfully, training would be harder this week and they needed to work together almost everyday for hours.

“Come on Pete, you need to go harder. It’s a punch on the nose. One good one and the person goes to the ground in seconds.”

“I web things, I don’t throw punches around.” She rolled her eyes and showed him how it should be done, punching the doll in the face. “Wow, perfect.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and ran to get water for both of them. “So, tomorrow I’m throwing a party with a couple of friends, and I was wondering if you would like to join us.” Peter was frozen for a couple of seconds, but he nodded.

“Y-yeah, of course.” She smiled and nodded.

“So I’ll text you the address. See you tomorrow!”

“See you!”

Peter watched her go away already thinking what to wear tomorrow, and soon he was already thinking of a plan to get to her and tell her that he likes her. So the next day came, and he dressed up all nicely and Happy drove him to the party, which was already full. He felt lonely, because he didn’t know anyone there. But (Y/N)’s big and warm smile made him feel better, and she approached him bouncing her flowery dress around.

“Hey Peter! I’m so glad you came.” She hugged him and he smiled.

“Hi (Y/N), you look lovely tonight.” He smiled and she pinched his cheek. 

“Thank you sweetie.” She pulled him by the hand close to a table full of drinks. “So, do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, it would be nice.” 

She served both of them and they talked over that one beer while they walked around and she introduced him to some of her friends. She was being all nice, and even though he was meeting a lot of new cool people, he only had eyes for her and how sweet she was being.

“So, I’ve never seen you outside the compound, and you are a really cool kid Parker.”

“You are cool too.” He smiled shyly and she smiled.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

She pulled him to the dancefloor at some point and they danced together for a very long time. All kinds of songs, slow, funny and sexy ones. It was driving Peter insane, because for the first time, not only he liked her, but he wanted to have her, feeling desire consume his body. At some point, he was holding her by the waist and they were close, foreheads glued and breaths mixing together. He pressed her waist and pulled her closer.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He asked and she nodded, holding his hand and quickly pulling him into a bathroom. 

“Is this private enough?” She asked and he nodded. 

She leaned him to the sink and gently kissed him in the lips. When she tried to push back, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, with one hand buried on her hair and another one pulling her close by the waist. And as if it wasn’t hot enough, her hands traced down to his pants when he started kissing her neck. But she didn’t do anything, just provoked him. He sucked her jaw and gave his attention back to her lips, until he was too tired to keep kissing.

“I need to tell you something.” He said breathlessly.

“Yes…” She moaned under his touch on the undressed part under her skirt.

“I think I’m falling for you” He said and she nodded.

“I know.” She kissed him again and pulled him to sit on the toilet, so she straddled his lap and rocked her hips back and forth, feeling him hard against her core. “But I don’t do dating.” She started to kiss his neck, still doing movements with her hips.

“Why?”

“I’m too cool for relationships.” She kissed him one more time in the lips before kneeling in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a head. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No.” He stated and she stopped, frowning at him.

“No?” She was confused. “You just said you were falling for me.”

“Yeah, but in a romantic way, not in the sexual way.” She puffed and got herself together before getting up. “I want to take you on a date and make you mine, but not this way, at least not yet.”

“I knew there was something between us, but I only thought you wanted to fuck me. Because that’s what I’ve been wanting for a long time now.”

“What?”

“For you to fuck me! Because you know, I don’t like dating. People only let me down. But sex… It’s great.”

“That’s all you wanted out of me?” She nodded and Peter laughed. “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” He ran for the door and escape that place as quick as possible.

“Peter, wait…” But before she could even reach him, he was gone.

The next week was tense, as he was avoiding her even though she slept right next to him. And even though he didn’t want to, his heart was broken and he was feeling sad, something she could feel hardly in her guts. And one night it was harder, and she was trying to finish her skin care routine when she started feeling it. Peter was crying, hard. Of course she went to check on him, and once she knocked on the door, she found him with red eyes looking at her.

“You’re the last person I wanna talk right now.”

“Please, let me help you.” He hesitated, but nodded, giving her space to come in. “Look, I’m sorry I broke your feelings.”

“It’s just too hard to believe you really thought I only wanted to fuck you.” She glanced down and he laughed. “I really was in love with you, God I still am.”

“Peter, I was in love with you too. But I already told you, I don’t do dating. I’m sorry.”

“Why? I could never hurt you.” She started crying, knowing what she was about to do was going to be hard.

“I don’t wanna be attached to one person only. I’m a girl, and I guess it’s still a taboo to say what I’m about to say. But I like to be free and do whatever the fuck I want to. I like to screw around and have fun, and with a boyfriend, I can’t do that.” They fell in silence, staring at each other, until Peter broke eye contact looking down to his feet.

“It’s just, you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever met.” He started softly. “And I really wanted you to be mine, in every intensity there is. I want to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make your heart pump faster and always be by your side in the battle field.”

“Pete…”

“But sometimes, yeah, I would like to fuck you. But it’s not only that. I just wish you could see me differently.”

She pulled him for a hug and gave him some small kisses on the temple. When they separate, she entwined their fingers and looked into his eyes, and she could see how much pain he was feeling. And suddenly she was confused, because she didn’t want to be tied up, but he was everything that mattered in that moment. So she left a small kiss on his lips and left. And from that moment on, Peter knew there was no hope left for them to be together.

…………………

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[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Outside the Rain - Harry Styles Series (Part 11)

Part 10

“Woah, woah, woah,” you said looking at your manager in a group meeting. “You want us... to perform at the VMA’s? Before the single drops? Isn’t the whole point to have a surprise drop?” 

“Yes, but what about a surprise performance? You could do a simple medley of some of your biggest hits and end with the new single,” she said. “No one besides a few people at MTV will know.” 

“We know that never works,” Daisy said. “But I don’t hate the idea. I really wanna get back out on stage and I just think it'll be super bad ass to do it.” 

“But aren’t the VMA’s like in two days?” You asked. “How the hell are we going to put together a show in two fucking days?” 

“We’ve done it before,” Rachel said. 

“True, but we haven’t performed in YEARS together,” you said. 

“Are you saying you don’t want to do it?” Daisy asked. 

“I never said that,” you sighed. “I just wanted don’t want to have ass something just to make it possible. If we do this, it’s gotta be as close to perfect as possible.” 

“We got this, Y/N,” Rachel said. “It’s like riding a bike.” 

“I can’t ride a bike for shit,” you joked. 

“Yeah, well, not our fault,” she smirked. 

**

Once it was decided your group would be performing at the VMA’s, you were in stress and work mode. You all decided to take a quick lunch break and then get to brainstorming and getting with your choreographers. You knew this would be a huge thing for your “comeback”, but putting on a performance in two days... when you were starting from scratch was unheard of. 

You texted Harry to meet you for lunch near the studio. You knew the next few days were going to be a whirlwind, so you needed at least an hour of calm. You had arrived at the cafe before Harry and waved to him when he walked into inside. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked. 

“We’re performing at the VMA’s,” you whispered. 

“WHAT! Holy shit!” He said. “That’s amazing, baby.” 

“Did I mention it’s in two fucking days and we’ve got zero plans right now?” You groaned. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fucked,” he said. 

You glared at him, “That’s not helping.” 

“Sorry,” he winced. “Look, I know there’s pressure, but I’m sure you’re going to do great. You girls always put on a show. Is it going to be announced?” 

“Nope,” you shook your head. “No one is going to know until we’re on stage.” 

“That’s so fucking bad ass,” he said. 

“What is with you and Daisy!” You groaned. 

“Am I missing something?” He laughed. 

“Not really,” you laughed. “Anyway, so I really hate this because you came all the way here, but I don’t know how free I’m going to be the next few days.” 

“Baby,” he said taking your hand into his, “It’s okay. I understand. I’m here for a while. Now, the real question is... do I get to join rehearsals?” 

“It’d be boring as hell,” you said. 

“Not for me,” he smiled. “I want to see how you work.” 

“Don’t you want to be surprised for the final performance?” You asked. 

“I’ll love it either way,” he smiled. 

“Speaking of the performance,” you said. “Would you want to be my date for the VMA’s or is that like.. too soon for us?” 

Harry took a sip of his water and hesitated for a bit. “I mean, I would love to go. I want to go, but I don’t know if we should arrive together, if that makes sense.” 

You were a little disappointed at his answer, but you completely understood. 

“It does,” you said. “And it’s in New Jersey... We’re going to do a day here and then fly out tomorrow night.” 

“Wow, that’s really cutting it close,” he sighed. 

“Right? Like why wasn’t this decided like a week ago?” You sighed. 

“Well, look at this way,” he said. “When you pull off an epic performance, you’ll get to say you put it together in less than two days.” 

“Always looking on the bright side aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” he smiled. 

**

It was the next day and you were in rehearsals. You spent the rest of yesterday, after your lunch with Harry, planning out the performance and now it was time to put it all together. You all had twelve hours before you boarded the plane to New Jersey and time started now. 

Four hours had passed and you had run through the entire performance of four songs about ten times. Within the four songs, there were a couple of dance breaks and you felt like you were dying. You laid passed out on the floor, not literally, but you wished you were. You stared up at the ceiling. 

“Why did we agree to do this again?” You groaned. “We’re halfway through this rehearsal and I’m already dying.” 

“Why did we add so many dance breaks?” Daisy groaned. “My legs are jello.” 

“Because that’s our thing,” Rachel sighed. “Why is that our thing?” 

“Because we’re stupid,” you joked. “I’m starving, but I also feel like I’m gonna throw up if I eat.” 

“Take it to the bathroom with that!” Rachel said. 

You rolled your eyes. You heard the door of the studio open and you turned your head over in the direction. There was Harry holding a bag of something and about five smoothies in his hand. 

“Give me!” You said reaching out your hand, not moving an inch. 

He laughed looking at the four of you laying on the floor, “Um, did I miss something?” 

“We’re dying,” Jess said. 

“And we’re not joking. Every part of my body hurts like a bitch,” you groaned. 

“So, I take it rehearsals are going well?” He asked sitting everything down on th ground. 

“Fucking peachy,” Daisy said. “Anyway, I’m Daisy. Nice to finally meet you Harold.” 

“It’s uh... Harry, actually,” he blushed. “And nice to meet you, as well.” 

“Uh, I’m gonna call you Harold for now,” she said. 

“It’s her thing,” you groaned. “She always calls my boyfriends by different names or nicknames until she’s sure about them.” 

“Let’s just say I’ve never called anyone by their real name because they never made it that far,” she added. 

“Noted,” Harry nodded. “And that’s going to change this time.” 

“We’ll see,” she smirked. 

“Don’t be fucking Rude, Daisy,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Welcome, Harry. Sorry, we’re meeting looking like a bunch of hot ass messes.” 

“No, you all look beautiful, lovely,” he said quickly. 

“No, we don’t. We fucking stink,” Daisy said. 

“It’s true,” you added. “Our sweat is sweating.” 

“Well, I brought some food and smoothies. I figured you all would need some fuel,” he said changing the subject. 

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled slowing sitting up. “Gah, my abs.” 

“After our performance, we’re all going straight to the fucking spa,” Jess said. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Rachel said. 

You all moved closer to the food and Harry sat next to you. You smiled kissing his cheek, “Thank you for bringing this.” 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “So, besides being in miserable pain and sweat, how are you  girls feeling about the performance.” 

“I’ll admit I was little worried about it, but our last few run throughs went great. I’ve got faith we’re going to kill it on stage tomorrow night,” Rachel said. 

“I have no doubt,” Harry said. 

“So, Harry, have you always been a fan?” Daisy asked. 

“How do you have the energy for twenty questions?” You groaned. 

“It takes my mind off the pain,” she smirked. 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry smiled. “And I have. My sister and I went to a few shows whenever you came to the UK.” 

“That’s really adorable, actually,” Rachel smiled. 

“Oh my god,” you shook your head. “I’m so sorry about this,” you said looking at Harry. 

“Hey, this will save time during our flight tonight,” Daisy said. “He is going with us, right?” 

You looked over at Harry, “Yeah, of course,” he said. 

“Perfect,” she smirked. “So, basically it’s either we interrogate him now or on the plane.” 

“How about neither?” You suggested. “Especially, since you three were so gun-ho on us getting together.” 

“Doesn’t matter. We still have jobs to do,” Jess said. 

“It’s fine,” Harry laughed. “I don’t mind it.” 

“Just wait until she starts getting into the real personal details,” Rachel said. “You might be running for the hills after that.” 

“Hey! That only happened one time and it was for the best was it not?” She smirked. 

“What would I ever do without the three of you?” You joked. 

“Die alone?” Daisy suggested. 

You all laughed, winced, and finished eating before getting back to work. 

**

Once you were finished with rehearsals, you went straight home to finish packing and freshen up before meeting everyone at the airport. 

“I’m more than ready for a hot shower,” you groaned walking into your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe you danced for over eight hours,” he said. “I would have passed out after like two.” 

“Yeah, we’ll we can’t all be amazing dancers,” you joked. “Ow.” 

“How long as it been since you’ve had rehearsals like today?” He asked. 

“Since before the last tour we did together,” you said. “My solo stuff was never centered around dancing, so I never had a lot to practice.” 

“Wow,” he said. “No wonder you all were about to die,” he laughed. 

“Exactly,” you laughed turning on the shower and pulling off your sweaty clothes. 

“Do you need me to do anything while you shower?” He asked standing in the doorway. “I can take the bags downstairs.” 

“Or you can join me in the shower and rub my shoulders,” you said. 

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” he smirked taking off his shirt. 

You both get into the shower. Your tense muscles start to loosen up a bit as the hot water hits you. You close your eyes as Harry rubs your shoulders and leaves kisses on your neck. 

“Getting on a plane is the last thing I want right now,” you groaned. “I just want to go to bed and sleep for four days.” 

“We can sleep on the plane,” he said. “I’ll cuddle with you.” 

“Yeah... that’s not gonna happen,” you said. “You’ve never flown with us... and well, sleep never happens.” 

“Is this your way of telling me I should prepare myself?” he joked. 

“Hell yeah,” you laughed. 

“Bloody hell, what did I get myself into,” he laughed. 

Once you were out of the shower, you got dressed, finished packing, and headed to the airport. It was still surreal that this was happening and even though you were beyond sore and a little nervous about what could happen, you couldn’t be more excited and pumped for what was to come. 

[illfoandillfie]

Ooh yess montreal roger fic plleaaaseee 😍

okay this has been on my ‘to write’ list for fucking ever lmao, so thanks for giving me an excuse to actually do it. Got a few of these sort of smaller concepts that idk if I could stretch into full fics so I might try and use a few of them next time I do one of those prompt list things.

~~~

You missed Roger. Tours were always hard, no matter how prepared for them you were. The idea that people existed in long distance relationships was insane. How could they stand it? Of course, they probably didn’t have to worry about their partner changing country every night or two. It was hard to write or call when you weren’t entirely sure where he was or what time zone he was in. You often waited for him to call you because even if you did manage to call at a reasonable hour and at the right hotel, it wasn’t always a guarantee he’d be around. Chances are he’d be half way through the extensive sound check the band liked to do. Or else he was walking around with camera in hand. They liked to explore the cities they visited, take photos and go shopping. He told you it was so he could share with you everything he saw when he got home. You had shoeboxes full of photos of the people they met and the places they travelled. Little knickknacks and souvenirs decorated your bookshelves. And of course. Roger wasn’t shy about splashing out for a fancy necklace or technological contraption that hadn’t reached England yet. Every time he brought you back something new you’d say the only think you really wanted him to buy you was a plane ticket so you could see him play to a foreign crowd. So when you opened a letter from him and discovered a plane ticket to Montreal you were beyond excited. You managed to pull some strings at work and get a whole week off which meant you’d be able to see both shows in Canada and still have a day or two to recuperate and deal with the jet lag.  

When you got off the plane Roger was waiting for you, pulling you into a tight hug as soon as you were within reach. “Missed you too Rog,” your voice was muffled by his shoulder. Once you were free from the bustling crowds of tired looking tourists and emotional parents and excited children, you found the car and made your way to the hotel. Roger gave you just enough time to drop your bags and quickly change into something that you hadn’t spent a stupidly long flight wearing, before he was dragging you back out the door. His hand was warm as he laced his fingers through yours, leading you into the city. He talked constantly, telling you about places people had recommended he take you, and the charming little bakery he and Freddie had discovered at about five in the morning when their body clocks were too out of sync to sleep any longer. The owners were fans and had let them take a few freshly baked treats back to the hotel and Christ he was sure it was around here, why couldn’t he find it again? The only times he stopped talking was when he made you pose for a photo or take one of him. You didn’t mind so much since he kissed you after every one. He was halfway through telling you about some historical fact he’d learnt from a brochure at the hotel when you cut him off by placing your hand over his mouth. “Rog, shut up for a minute.” “Rude,” he said into your hand before licking your palm until you pulled away again. “You’re such a chatterbox,” “I’m just excited that you’re here.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, “It’s nice sharing this with you for real, not just photos.” “It is, but it’d be even nicer if I could get a coffee.”

You got too caught up with your coffees, playing footsie under the table as you told him what’d been happening at home in his absence. Before you knew it the time had come to meet up with Freddie, Brian and Deaky. They ushered Roger away to rehearse, leaving you at the hotel on your own. It wasn’t too hard to amuse yourself. You had a long hot bath and a glass of champagne just because you could, followed by lunch ordered from the room service menu and TV. While you waited for the food you slipped into the lingerie you’d packed – a set Roger had picked out for you the last time he was in Paris – and grabbed the polaroid camera from his suitcase. You left the photos tucked inside one of his folded shirts as a surprise.  

When the time came to get ready for the show you slipped into one of the dresses you’d bought that morning on your trek with Roger, and spent a little extra time on your hair and makeup. The car arrived right on time taking you to the Montreal Forum where you got to watch the performance from side stage. It was incredible and exhilarating and fuck Roger looked good. You’d watched him drum hundreds of times before but something about his performance tonight was making it impossible to think of anything other than the filthy things you wanted him to do when you got back to your room. You couldn’t drag your eyes from his fingers as he twirled his drumsticks. Couldn’t stop watching as he pouted his lips and stuck his tongue out and threw his head back, so caught up in the music. And then the bastard had to go and do his solo, filling your head with visions of being bent over his tympani.  

By the time he came off stage you just about had to wipe drool from your mouth. All you wanted was to get him back to the hotel room as soon as possible.  “So what’d you think?” he asked, eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “That was insane. Fucking amazing,” you managed to get out, trying not to stare at his sweaty chest, completely exposed through his unbuttoned shirt. He caught you looking, raising his eyebrow as you sheepishly looked away. His eyes darted towards the others, standing a little further away talking to a few other people, and he leaned in as if he was going to hug you. “Think someone enjoyed the show a little more than she’s letting on,” he said into your ear. You shivered as his hand slid further down your back, his energy completely different from when you’d said goodbye to him earlier. You pressed yourself into his body but he pulled away with a quiet, “settle down love.” All the same he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the nearest door.  

You found yourself in a quiet hallway, the footsteps of the few people hurrying through it echoing off the walls. Roger peered through doors as he passed them until finally, he found one that he approved of. An empty office. You heard the lock click behind you and then you were being bent over the desk. “I promise that when we get back to the room,” he said as he pushed your dress up around your waist, “I’ll take my time. Fuck you slow, go down on you for hours, whatever you want. But right now,” he just about tore your underwear as he pulled them down your legs. “Again with the talking Rog. Just shut up and fuck me.” “You’re so...impatient,” he grunted as he pressed into you, pausing to allow you to adjust. As soon as you started rocking your hips back against him he grabbed your waist and began to move, thrusting into you at a ridiculously fast pace. You cried out, his hand coming up to cover your mouth instantly. “Jesus, Y/N, don’t wanna get caught,” But his hand wasn’t enough to properly muffle the moans slipping passed your lips. He stopped, his cock still buried in you, which only made you whine. “Rog, what the fuck are you doing?” you hissed as he removed his hand from your mouth. You were pinned to the table by his hips, clenching around him in a desperate attempt to get him to move again. There was a shuffle of fabric and then he was growling at you to open your mouth which you obeyed without thinking. He placed the bandana that had previously been hanging from his neck between your teeth, tying it off at the back of your head. It tasted like his sweat but that kind of just made it hotter. Roger gave an experimental thrust to test the gag. It did the trick, keeping your whines at a volume appropriate for a clandestine fuck in some manager’s office. Satisfied with his solution he began to ram into you again, pulling you up so he could squeeze your breasts. As he drew closer to his climax he dropped one hand down to your clit, rubbing insistently as he muttered into your ear about needing you to cum. It didn’t take much longer for him to have you moaning through your release as he bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own.  

He carefully slipped out of you, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the desk to at least partially clean up the cum dribbling down your thighs. You panted, resting your hands on the desk as you got yourself under control. He threw the tissues into the half full rubbish bin before pulling your underwear back up and smoothing your dress down.  “Those the knickers I got you from Paris? Kinda wish I hadn’t been quite so rough with them.” You tried to reply, tell him he’d owe you a new set if the damage was too bad, but it came out garbled because of the gag still in your mouth. “Sorry love, forgot about that,” he chuckled as he untied it, freeing you to talk again. “Where was that gag when you wouldn’t stop talking about that bloody bakery?” you teased, turning around and pecking him on the lips. “Hmm maybe taking it off you was a mistake. You did look very pretty like that,” “Save it for the hotel Romeo.” “Oh no, think I prefer hearing you scream. Whoever’s next door to our room is going to fucking hate us by the end of the night,” “I think that’s Bri and I think he already kinda does.” Roger laughed as he took your hand, “speaking of the hotel though, we should probably get out of here.” He eased open the door a crack so he could check the coast was clear before hurrying you out and back down the corridor.