#gone are the days of having to pretend taylor swift was talking about women in her music

[allthegothihopgirls]

i love all the new-age queer pop girls who do charity work by making Actually gay music that sounds like it was ripped straight from 2012, to compensate for how straight-dominated the music scene was during that time.

[creedslove]

BESTIEEE I know you’re probably not taking any request now but… since I’m a slut for angst… it came up in my mind reader and Joel being together, she wants kids, he doesn’t since he’s way older than her and already had Sarah so he’s not up to have another kid at his age and reader agreed with that for the sake of their relationship and because she just loves Joel so damn much so she’s willing to give up her desire of becoming a mom. But they’re like at a friend party or at the park and he sees her playing with some friend’s kids and her eyes just sparkle so Joel feels sad for taking away that from her and he gives her the talk “I love you but I need to let you go cause I just want your happiness so she can have kids with someone else and the end is up to you 🥹❤️❤️

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi bestie, I know it's been a few days since I got this ask, and even if I was focused on a certain cowboy, you can be sure this lovely idea hasn't left my mind because it's just so perfect and great, thank you for sharing 🤌

• when you'd traced plans in your life, you had always established some goals: study, get a nice job, travel, be happy, get married and have a family. That was pretty much all you wanted from life, since it seemed only fair you could have it all

• what you did not plan nor expect, was falling in love with a handsome, older and charming man; the heart wants what the heart wants and in your case, your heart (and let's be honest, your body and soul too) wanted Joel Miller, but who wouldn't want him?

• he was big, broad, handsome, strong, he had great hair, beautiful puppy brown eyes and we were only talking about his physical features, although he was much more than that: he was also smart, hardworking, responsible, he was a great dad and even if he seemed a little shy or like he kept to himself, he had so much love to give, and much to your luck, he wanted you as much as you wanted him

• so you simply clicked, despite Joel being older than you; it wasn't a deal breaker for you, it never was, because if by any means that became a problem, you wouldn't even start dating to begin with; although there were some generational conflicts that was quite amusing to see: Joel referred to TV shows, some movies or ads you'd never even heard of in your life, while he didn't get why you always thought those stupid silly videos on your phone were so funny. He didn't really get Taylor Swift - or he pretended he didn't - and you would absolutely fall asleep midway pretty much every movie he claimed he'd watched at the movies when he was a teen and it simply kicked ass

• bur nothing that came even close to being a problem. Sarah enjoyed that exchange, she knew her dad was a modern man, she also knew he looked good by the amount of women who would shamelessly swoon around him, but she always worried he would simply lock himself inside once she took off to live her own adventures, so she appreciated how much you loved and cared about him, making her happy to see how much her dad really loved and cared about you too

• you both had a great relationship, it was mature, sexy, full of understanding, passion and partnership, but Joel being an experienced man, knew it was important to put all the cards on the table before you two were in too deep to decide what was a deal breaker or not

• so you both talked openly about your plans and ambitions for the future, your no's and things like this, to decide beforehand if it was worthy

• you were on board with almost everything, with the exception of Joel being honest and clear about the fact he was older, he had already gone through the fatherhood experience - which had been quite traumatic even if Sarah was the thing he loved the most in his life - and that he didn't want to go through it again, which meant kids were definitely off the table

• you felt your heart shattering; you've always wanted to have kids, and not only that, you could see Joel being a perfect dad to your kids, because not only was he already an amazing father, but he had all the great qualities of a partner, and perhaps a future husband, and to make things worse, Joel did want all of those things with you, he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side, to give you his name and a home, but not kids

• and even if he knew you wanted kids and you knew it too, you decided to suppress this side of you, because you loved him so much, you thought it was worth sacrificing your desire to have Joel in your life; maybe life would be easier and better if you just stayed with each other, you'd be happy, no doubt about it, and just hoped you wouldn't feel incomplete at everything else

• Joel wasn't insensitive though, he knew that decision took a toll on you, it was complicated and it pained him to think he was the reason why you still hadn't made your wish come true, but how could he get into something he didn't want to? If roles were reversed, it would be too unfair to ask you to have his child, so he tried telling himself he wasn't holding you back

• however, what was so hard was that in addition to knowing about your wish to be a mom, he could see how good you'd certainly be at it; the way little kids and babies immediately took a liking to you, often wanting to play and cuddle and the way you were always so caring and attentive towards them, it always brought a pang into his chest, it hurt to see you not having it because of him

• as much as he loved you and cherished your presence and relationship, that guilt started eating him up alive; he was getting more and more upset about it, the way you simply didn't complain or insist on it also made him upset and worried, he didn't know what to do, he got to the point where he felt tortured to see you interacting with little kids, because he could tell how much you wanted that reality for yourself but he was stopping you from it

• when you both were invited to one of his cousin's baby's first birthday, you immediately accepted the invitation. Joel thought about declining it, but then, what could he say? he had no excuses of any sorts to simply say no, so there was no way other than going and that was it

• he was sort of enjoying the party, having a beer with his relatives and having some treats when he spotted you around the kids: you were having so much fun, simply the life of the party, as the kids giggled and cheered around you, all happily and excitedly, and you wouldn't leave them at all

• Joel's heart shattered, he couldn't keep on doing that to you, it was too much, he loved you and if you love someone you gotta do your best to make them happy, and in that situation he was aware he wasn't doing everything at his power for that, so he swallowed hard, as he took a decision, it was a hard one, but it had to be done

• so once the party was over, you noticed Joel's sadden expression, even if you asked him what was going on, he didn't say it, he just shook it off and said it was work problems, not wanting to extend the subject, you just shrugged and didn't say anything else, leaving the tension home, sensing things weren't going to be easy

• so a couple of days after the party in which things weren't great, Joel finally took the courage to come forward and talk to you about things

"I love you, darling. I swear I do, with all my heart, but I know I'm not making you totally happy, not as happy as you can fully be. I can't stay here, preventing you from finding someone you will really be happy with, someone you will be able to build a life with. You deserve it, baby. I can't give it to you, but I can't see you suffering any longer"

• it broke your heart, you didn't want to break things up with Joel, you loved him, but you were honored to see how much he cared for you, it wasn't easy to recover and get things back on track, having to remodel your life after breaking up with Joel, getting used to being without him, but time heals all, you learned after a while

• Joel also had to relearn how to live his life without you; it was complicated but he loved you so, so he trusted his gut in letting you go, especially a couple of years later, when Sarah came over to visit him with her new boyfriend and handed him her phone: she'd found your Instagram and it showed you happily married to some guy named Marcus Pike, apparently he was an FBI agent, gentle and good-looking and extremely excited to announce he was going to be a dad for the first time ❤️

____

[bentforkent]

caffeine, small talk

spencer reid x female!reader, enemies to lovers

content warning: smut !!!!!!, oral sex (male receiving), explicit language, tiny suicide reference, general meanness & bickering (including slut-shaming and toxicity), also some fluff in there too :)

word count: 3,668

in which spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass and he & the reader butt heads. 

“would you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?” - taylor swift, betty 

spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass. you don’t need to be a genius to know this as fact. as soon as you had stepped foot into quantico’s behavioral analysis unit on your first day however many years ago, the little shit had gotten under your skin. you had worn a lower cut top that day, you remember, and spencer hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of your chest. when hotch introduced you to the team, you gave a brief speech about your background and education, and each member of the team was hung on your every word, except for fucking spencer. he had been distracted by your looks. you remember feeling conscious of his eyes on your cleavage and tugging your blazer closed. from that moment, standing at the front of the bullpen, feeling exposed to him, you decided you hated spencer reid.

“glad to meet everyone,” you had addressed the team sincerely, in conclusion of your introductory spiel. on your way to your new desk, luckily placed across the room and behind spencer’s, he reached out and grabbed your elbow, standing.

“hi y/n, i’m dr. spencer reid,” he had said. the individual introduction probably would’ve warmed your heart (everyone else’s sure did, anyways) if you hadn’t already decided that spencer would be your official workplace enemy.

“dr. reid,” you nodded curtly. you pulled your arm from his grip firmly and resumed walking.

“hey,” he called after you. “i wanted to tell you—”

you paused and turned to him. “tell me what? how good my tits look in this shirt?” you whisper yelled, trying to maintain some level of professionalism. unsure how to answer you, spencer gaped like a goldfish. “you should know, as a woman, it’s really uncomfortable when you can feel weird pervs like you staring at my boobs. on my first day.” you leaned in closer. “my first fucking day!”

spencer retreated to his desk without a word. he wouldn’t meet your eyes, and that was the end of that. until the case. your very first case. spencer was pissed that you had snapped at him, and subsequently took it out on you. his tone of voice was consistently harsh and condescending as he addressed you on the case.

“no, y/n, that doesn’t fit the profile.”

“well, actually…”

“you’re not experienced enough to understand this.”

“my three phds told me i should work on this map alone.”

the feud has escalated since then. everyone on the team is aware of you and spencer’s solid disdain for each other, and they make a point to keep you two apart nowadays. morgan had once gripped both you and spencer by your shirt collars and forced you to apologize to each other, when your verbal abuse of each other had turned dangerously unprofessional.

“y/n, did you know that the earliest documentation of a ‘miniskirt’ was in a 1962 article?”

“did you know that the earliest documentation of me kicking your ass was today?”

“no, listen, the men interviewed for the article were in favor of miniskirts if they were only worn on women they didn’t know. they liked to lust after other women in the short skirts, but if their wives or daughters wore them, they were seen as poor reflections of the men. as whores.”

“what’s your point?”

“you look like a whore today.”

“fuck you, spencer. you know you beat your dick to your photographic memory of my ass in this skirt.” you mimed an orgasm.

“it’s eidetic, and i’d rather kill myself.”

“would you please?”

“fuck—” spencer started, but morgan intervened here.

——————————————

“close your mouth, boy wonder,” you greet spencer, opening your door to let him in. it’s your turn to host the team for drinks and dinner. much to your chagrin, spencer is a part of the team, and thus receives an invitation. you find solace in knowing penelope will probably distract you from any interaction with the lanky boy. besides, whenever the team hung out at your apartment, he quickly left after a few drinks and a short chat anyway. you could survive him for half of a night.

spencer flits past you and into your living room. the team greets him in an uproar of “reid!” and raised drinks. derek sticks out with his chant of “pretty boy!”

“y/n,” jj calls, “we’re dry over here.” she raises her empty glass of merlot.

“more wine, or something else, my loves?”

there’s an absence of voices shouting between rooms as the team discusses. you lean against your kitchen cabinet with eyes fixated on your liquor collection. waiting. this team sure does take their drinks seriously, you think, taking the time by yourself to make yourself an old fashioned. muddle a sugar cube in bitters. add whiskey. as you’re putting an ice cube into the glass, none other than spencer fucking reid saunters into the kitchen, a notepad in his hand.

“i have a list of drink requests,” he says simply, expression blank.

“resident alcohol connoisseur at your service. hit me,” you reply. your tone is more joking than you’ve ever used with spencer, but if he’s caught off guard he doesn’t show it. he rattles off the drink orders, each one something you probably could’ve guessed. penelope always wants something fruity, emily always wants something strong.

when his list is finished, you look up from the liquor to him. “nothing for the boy genius?”

“i’m leaving soon,” he says, and retreats back to the living room, arms full with drinks held precariously. you follow with the rest of the alcohol, handing each drink to its respective drinker. they each thank you profusely.

because your couch isn’t big enough to hold the whole team, you sit on the floor, legs criss-crossed. the team makes lighthearted conversation about not murder and kidnapping for an hour, with you getting up to refill drinks once more in that time. “i like hanging out at y/n’s place, guys. she makes the best drinks,” derek says with a grin up at you.

“i was a bartender in my past life, i think,” you deadpan. penelope agrees with you loudly, with a slurp of her colorful newest drink accompanying.

“speaking of bartenders,” jj starts, and you see spencer visibly tense. “when are you leaving for your date, spence?” she says the word date with a sing-songy tone, dragging out the ‘a,’  and you suddenly feel sick.

the team, naturally, dissolves into excited chatter. reid? a date? you’re silent, focused on your cocktail as the topic of conversation isn’t exactly your favorite. spencer’s not your favorite, you mean. this isn’t about spencer’s date. screw spencer. you don’t care if he goes on a date.

you listen as he fills the rest of the team in on the story. he and jj had gone for drinks one afternoon and he really hit it off with the bartender. lauren, her name is, and jj assures the team that she’s gorgeous. spencer laughs a little, uncomfortable, and stands to leave.

a wave of anger surges over you. how dare he skip out on his friends to go on a date? “i’ll walk you to your car, spencer!” you say cheerily, the lightheartedness in your voice in direct conflict with your internal emotion. the team isn’t stupid, however, and they’ve never heard you be nice at all to spencer, so everyone is acutely aware that something is about to go down. the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it as spencer meets your gaze.

“okay,” he says hesitantly.

you turn to the team. “be good while i’m gone, my loves. the alcohol is on the counter if you, by some crazy chance, need a refill in the next five minutes.” you blow them a kiss, penelope pretending to catch it. the rest of the team stares up at you with wide eyes. “let’s go, genius.” you open the door and escort him out.

as soon as the door latches behind you, spencer pipes up. “what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”

“walking you to your car, dipshit.” there’s a pregnant silence as you walk down the stairs of your apartment complex. “you know, it’s pretty fucked up for you to skip out on team bonding because of a date, spencer, but i understand. i know how important it is for you to lose your virginity one day.”

“fuck you, y/n. you really followed me down here to berate me?”

“yeah, i was getting a little bored just letting you sit there silently.” you lean your side against his car as he unlocks it and tosses his bag into the backseat.

he copies your stance, leaning across from you and looking at you intently. “why do you hate me?”  his tone of voice is low, and you can tell he’s mad.

“you irritate me,” you reply.

“not good enough.” his hazel eyes search your face and even though it’s dark, you can tell they look like honey from the glow of the street lamps.

“you annoy me.”

“again, not good enough. those are synonyms.”

his calm demeanor is enough to send you over the edge. “i hate that you look at me, spencer!” you exclaim, raising your voice. “you make me feel like i’m inferior, like i’m a piece of goddamn fucking meat.” you push your pointer finger into his chest. “you think i’m less intelligent than you, you think i’m less qualified than you, and frankly, you’re a pompous asshole.” he’s silent in stark contrast to your yelling in his face. “i hate your date for tonight. i hate that the whole team loves you.  i hate your fucking cardigans and your fucking converse. i hate when you wear a tie but it’s a little too long or a little too short. i hate that sometimes, you wear a hair tie on your wrist but,” you enunciated each word with a stomp of your foot, “you. never. put. your. hair. up.”

“you’re saying all this, y/n, and i get it, i really do,” he speaks coolly. “all I’m hearing, though, is that you’re in love with me.”

“you cocky fucking asshole.” riled up, you turn and attempt to walk away. spencer grabs your elbow and you’re reminded of the day you first met.

“you hate my cardigans? my ties? my shoes? y/n, for someone who hates that i look at her, you sure look at me a lot.” his voice has less of an edge now, less arrogance. you hum, face still turned away from him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’ve been a dick to you for years. i own that, and i’m sorry. but i think you came down here because subconsciously, you didn’t want me to get in my car and go on this date tonight.” his hand is still on your elbow, but you pull it away to rub your eyes.

he has absolutely deflated you. the anger you felt in the moments just before is missing, and you take his words to heart. it’s impossible. you weren’t in love with spencer, y/n. just tell him you’re not in love with him, it’s simple. he’s your mortal enemy. you’re not in love with him.

“i think i may be love with you,” you say meekly, finally turning to him. fuck. you meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like years. maybe it had been. he’s softer than you remember.

“y/n, let me kiss you.”

“i’m nervous,” you admit in a whisper. he rubs his hand across your cheek and you lean into the touch. “spencer, literally two minutes ago i wanted you dead, and now…” you trail off. he nods in silent agreement. the two of you stand like that for a few more moments, his hands cupping your face, your eyes raking his features. “…you’re pretty,” you finish quietly. “have you always been pretty?”

he pretends to think for a moment. “yeah, actually.”

you give a watery chuckle and pull away from his embrace gently. “the team is still upstairs. if you really want to kiss me, ditch your date tonight and come back up.”  after you press a hand to his cheek lovingly, you retreat to your apartment quickly, hardly giving him time to follow you.

when you reenter the apartment, the team is silent and staring at you. it’s obvious by their faces that they’d just been talking about you. you close the door behind you and press your back against it. “hi, guys,” you say.

“nothing? no harsh words about reid?” derek peers at you closely.

as you make your way back into the living room, you point a finger at him. “don’t profile me, derek!” everyone chuckles. you don’t plan on bringing up spencer at all, but the silence that settles over the team breaks you. maybe you’re just excited to talk about it, you think, and where once you’d push that thought away, now you welcome it. you gush about what happened in the parking lot, using your hands to emphasize important points. you give the team a short version, expecting spencer to be back up at the apartment any moment. how embarrassing would it be if he walked in the door and you were talking about him? none of the team seemed particularly shocked, but emily casually mentioned how funny it is that none of them had figured out that you and spencer were grappling with feelings for each other.

“if it makes anyone feel any better, i didn’t figure it out either. the only one who did was…”

“reid,” everyone choruses in unison. you dissolve into giggles until the time hits you. it’d taken you about 20 minutes to explain the situation. so much for the short version, but surely spencer would’ve been back by now. unless…you hadn’t considered the possibility that he left. that he actually went on his date instead.

penelope takes note of your sudden shift in expression. “uh, y/n, i hate to say this, but…”

you nod. “he would’ve been back by now, yeah.” you climb up from your seated position and walk to your bedroom, looking out of your window that overlooks the parking lot. “he left,” you call back to the living room, despondent. “fucking asshole,” you whisper. you can hear derek sigh even from your distance. you take a second to compose yourself. fixing your posture, vertebra over vertebra. you allow your emotions to shut off, any sadness you felt towards spencer’s obvious rejection pushed away and replaced with a void. you pad back into the living room.

“well, that’s embarrassing,” you say with a half-laugh. jj gives you a sad look. “anyways, anyone who’s not driving home tonight is welcome to get loaded with me tonight. i just got new shot glasses.” your attempt at acting fine obviously wasn’t flying with the team, and after a moment of silence you finally let it go and sink into the chair next to the couch.

“no more alcohol tonight,” jj says.

“yeah, agreed. i hate to kick you guys out, but i feel like i might just spend the rest of the night in the bathtub. with the lights off.” everyone agrees, standing to leave. you thank them repeatedly for hanging out with you, and apologize for the unfortunate ending to the evening.

you hug penelope, jj, and emily. as you’re opening your arms to embrace derek, there’s a knock at the door. you pause, arms still outstretched. you look around in a panic, and derek pipes up, “well, are you gonna get that?” you feel like you can taste the excitement in the air as everyone pieces together who’s just knocked.

you swing open the door, and there’s spencer, a large bouquet of flowers perched in his arms. “i’m sorry I took so long, i went to get—”

you cut him off by pressing your lips to his firmly. it’s a short kiss, but it says what it needs to say. there are hoots and hollers from behind you, but there’s no one in the room except you and spencer. “you frustrate me.”

————————————————–

you press tiny kisses along spencer’s bare chest. your friends are long gone, leaving pretty swiftly after spencer had shown up. you and spencer had moved to the couch quickly, lips locked, but not before he had explained what the flowers he bought you signified.

“according to the victorian flower code, red tulips signify a declaration of love. victorians used flowers to communicate feelings because courting someone and showing feelings in public was considered taboo.”

“that’s nice, spencer. i like that. is there a flower for “i thought i hated you but it was actually just repressed sexual tension?”

you lay on his chest, limbs entangled. he’s got one hand in your hair stroking gently and the other resting on your stomach, where his thumbs make unconscious circles. “hey, i have this pendant on my necklace, too,” you whisper, tangling your fingers in the chain around his neck. he’s silent for a long time. “spence?” you look up at him. he’s looking down at you, brows furrowed and eyes wistful.

“you wore that necklace on your first day,” he murmurs. “when you were introducing yourself to the team. and i noticed.” the wheels start to turn in your head. “i tried to tell you that we had the same pendant. i was gonna show you,” he sighs. “i was excited to tell you. but you thought i was staring at your boobs.”

you frown, twisting to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “i called you a perv. i remember.” he nods. you pout. “i’m sorry, spence. think of how different things would’ve been if i had just listened.”

“yeah, you should probably work on that,” he jokes.

“how can i make it up to you?” you ask, knowing fully well what your plan is. you move smoothly from the couch onto your knees in front of him. “how can i make up for lost time?” he doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. you make quick work of his belt buckle as he looks down at you through hooded lids.

time moves slowly as you unbutton and unzip his pants, and spencer is in agony waiting. you look so pretty. he lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard you this quiet, spence,” you murmur as you begin palming his bulge through his boxers.

he breathes out a soft moan. “yeah, well your hand is on my dick, so pardon me.” his words are spencer’s typical deadpan, but his voice is an octave higher than usual and full of breath. you tug his boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, and you’re taken aback. he’s big, longer than he is wide. his dick is painfully stiff, wet with precum, and you’ve never wanted to suck someone off more than you have in this moment.

“you’ve been holding out on me, dr. reid,” you grin, eager. you begin to pump him slowly, tantalizingly.

he lets out a high pitched moan and bucks his hips into your hand. “stop teasing.”

“teasing?” you bring your lips to his cock and kiss down his shaft. “i’ve never teased you, not once in my life.” you punctuate by licking a long strip up the base of his cock and pulling him into your mouth slowly. his left hand finds your hair, tugging it back into a ponytail, and his right strokes your cheek softly. you look up at him as you hollow your cheeks and he lets out a rumbling groan at the eye contact. you bob your head slowly, gradually picking up speed. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, spencer whimpers. as you speed up, tears spill out of your eyes. he screws his own shut.

“fuck, y/n.” his hand tightens around your hair and he thrusts his hips once, prompting you to pull off of him and wipe your mouth. you can tell he’s close, and you want this to be good for him. spencer is distraught, to say the least, at the loss of contact. he begins to plead, “wait, shit, no, plea—”

“fuck my mouth.” you cut him off. without waiting for an answer, you sit back on your heels with a bounce and open your mouth for him.

he groans. “you’re going to kill me, baby.” you whimper at the pet name and make a mental note to bring it up later. he moves closer to you, guiding his cock into your mouth. he’s close, too close to even consider going easy on you. his hips move quickly, thrusting in and out of your mouth, punctuated by your gags. he’s feral, chasing his orgasm desperately until he finally reaches his high, moaning your name loudly. you swallow all of his release, pulling off of him and sticking your tongue out for approval. wordlessly, he gets down on his knees to meet your height. before you can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you moan against his mouth, but the kiss is over before you know it.

“i love you,” he says sincerely, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“i cannot believe i am saying this to you, spencer reid, but i love you too, baby.” you say the word “baby” with a joking tone, clearly mocking his use of it earlier.

he smiles, all teeth, and says, “i knew you would make fun of me for that! as soon as i said it.”

you shake your head with a smile. “no, i’m not making fun of you, love. i liked it. use it more.”

“‘love’?”

“would you prefer ‘hate’?”

“god, no, not again,” he says, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all over your face and hair. “never again.”

[delacyrose224]

Long Story Short

-Pairing: guitarist!Jin x reader (named)

-Premise: You've been hurt in past relationships, but there's a goofy guitarist that seems to be passing every test you throw at him. Now what?

-Genre: rock band!AU, fluff with a sprinkle of angst (as always)

-Warnings: cursing, douchebag Namjoon, shirtless Seokjin (which always deserves a warning for heart health)

-Word Count: 4.8k

-Author's Note: This is conclusion to the evermore trilogy/Gold Rush universe. Based off of 'long story short' by Taylor Swift, but once again, you don't need to know the song to enjoy!

*Bzzt bzzt*

You hear the buzzing of your phone from across the room where you’re curled up in a blanket watching tv. Who the heck is calling you on a Saturday morning at 10am? You fling the blanket off yourself and pad over to your bag, fumbling through its contents until you find your phone, angrily screaming your ringtone even louder as you remove it from its hiding place.

Incoming Call: Jin

Uhh...okay. You’d gone out on a date with him a few days ago, and last night you and your best friend had hung out with him and his band. That didn’t explain him calling and interrupting your me time on Saturday morning.

“...hello?”

“Margot?” Jin sounds far away from the receiver for some reason.

“...live and in person. Well, not in person. You know what I mean. What’s up?” you reply, not knowing where this is all going.

“Can’t I call a pretty girl on a Saturday morning because I miss her?” Jin retorts, still sounding far away from the phone. Good thing he’s not here to see the flush creeping onto your cheeks.

“You can, but you literally just saw me last night. Like 12 hours ago, less even. Why do you sound like you’re calling from outer space?”

“You’re on speaker...I guess I should have started the conversation with that bit of information. I’m making the boys brunch because I’m apparently the only one who can cook around here,” you can almost see how hard Jin is rolling his eyes at this statement.

“Hi Jungkook! Hi Yoongi!” you raise your voice to make sure you’re heard in their apartment.

“...hey.” you hear Yoongi close by, followed by Jungkook yelling across the room. “Hey M!! Jin won’t shut up about you, I think he might be in loooooove,” he singsongs.

“And that’s enough of that,” Jin swiftly turns off speakerphone and you can hear him much more clearly all of a sudden.

“Is it true? Are you in loooooove with me?” you mimic Jungkook’s voice.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your singing voice is?” Jin deflects smoothly. You’re so taken aback by the response, you don’t know what to say next.

“As I see I have made you speechless-I tend to have that effect on women-and men, actually...the world is just stunned by my beauty, honestly. No one is immune,” he derails quickly from wherever he was originally going with his sentence, and you giggle.

“Jinnie-you called me at 10am on a Saturday morning, because why…?” you steer the conversation back to where it needs to go.

“Ah yes...I called because I wanted to see if you wanted to cash in on that second date I promised you earlier this week tonight?” he questions.

“I think I would like that,” you smile, remembering your first date three days ago. He had taken you to dinner at a hole in the wall diner where he seemed to know all the elderly waitresses by name, and after the two of you had gone to a drive-in movie.

“Great. I’ll swing by your apartment to pick you up at 7, if that’s okay?” he sounds a little unsure of himself, unusual for him.

“Sounds perfect. Is there anything specific I should wear?”

“Just something casual, nothing fancy. I’ll see you then, pretty girl.”

“See you...oh, and Jinnie?” He hums in response.

“I missed you too,” you smile.

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

You flop back down on the couch after hanging up with a smile on your face. Jin’s very sweet, and not quite what you expected. He’s the lead guitarist for the band Gold Rush, who you’ve been a fan of for about half a year. You’d happened to catch them as the opening act for another band you’d gone to see, and immediately had fallen in love with their music. It didn’t hurt that all the band members were cute either...you’d only seen them that one time as an opener, until you’d seen a flier for a show of theirs at The Dynasty, a small local bar. You’d immediately decided to drag your best friend to see them, making it a game with yourself to try and get Jin’s attention, and to your surprise, it had worked. He and the drummer, Jungkook, had asked the two of you to hang out after the show. After grabbing food, Jin had asked for your number and taken you out on a date the next day, eagerly promising you a second the following weekend.

If you were being honest with yourself, Jin fell into the trap of being your ‘type’. He was in a band, could sing and play guitar, and had healthy (bordering on sometimes too much) self-esteem. He reminded you of your ex, Namjoon. Also in a band, also a lead guitarist, also could be full of himself. All Jin was missing was an undercut and a few scattered tattoos. You supposed Jungkook had enough for the two of them combined.

You sigh deeply as you wrap yourself back into your blanket. Namjoon had destroyed you when it came to relationships in some ways, even though he had started off as a rebound from another toxic relationship. He had fallen into all the stereotypical ‘guy in a band’ tropes: his needs were more important than yours, he had cheated on you multiple times with groupies, and he gaslit you when you tried to talk through what was going on. You had put up with his shit for far too long, until your best friend had opened your eyes to how different you’d become. Quiet, less likely to speak your mind, and even less willing to be social. Once you’d left him, you’d felt a giant weight lifted off your shoulders, but it had made you extremely wary of relationships.

Jin was cute, and you didn’t see the harm in a couple of dates. He was funny and talented, and he hadn’t pissed you off yet, which was a win in your book. There’s no way he was actually interested in a real relationship...he was clearly a flirt, as you’d witnessed the night you met when he gave you his guitar pick, and he was too busy. He was in a band that was trying to break into the larger music scene in your city. You’d both have your fun, and move on with your lives.

Right?

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

You busy yourself the rest of the day by completing household chores. By the time you’re getting ready for your date, you’ve managed to vacuum, do several loads of laundry, wash the dishes in your sink, and rearrange your bookshelf in your bedroom. You hop in the shower at 5:30, and contemplate your outfit choice while washing your hair. A sundress should work...it’s been warm outside lately, but it’s still cute while being casual. You’ll wear sneakers with it just in case you end up walking somewhere.

You throw on said sundress and sneakers after toweling off, and decide you’ll go for fun accessories-specifically a pair of dinosaur earrings and a crossbody bag in a bright shade of pink, swiping on a lipstick to match. You smile in approval at yourself in the mirror just as you hear a soft knock at the door.

You step into your living room, opening the door to see Jin looking rather nervous. “Hey handsome,” you grin. He’s wearing a pair of dark wash ripped jeans with a lavender hoodie that’s a little too big on him. Cute.

“Hey you...you look nice,” he returns your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You ready to go?”

“Yep! Where are we going?” you ask as you grab your keys and shut the door, making sure it’s locked behind you.

“Well, I figured we could start with a walk through the park. It’s still light out for a little while, but we might be able to catch the sunset...there’s also a great ice cream stand off one of the trails, so if you want to, we can grab some. After, I figured we could come back to your place and watch a movie, your pick, obviously. Does that sound okay?” he glances over at you as you both take the stairs down to the ground floor of your apartment building, opening the door for you as you reach the outside.

“Hmm…” you pretend to think as you turn to walk the two blocks to the park. Jin’s eyebrows raise, as he quickly jumps to conclusions-that the park was the worst idea you’d ever heard.

“I think it’s perfect. I’ll race you to the park, loser buys the other ice cream!!” You laugh and sprint off in the direction of the park, silently thanking yourself for wearing sneakers.

“You little...oh, come on!” Jin starts running as well, his long legs giving him an advantage as his wide strides let him catch up to you quicker than you thought. You’re neck and neck for most of the second block, sweat starting to form on both your brows.

“You’re...not...beating...me!” You huff, nimbly dodging around a pedestrian walking their dog.

“Oh...really?” Jin breathes out harshly, leaping over someone’s spilled smoothie in the middle of the sidewalk. You can both see the entrance to the park, it should only take a minute more to get there...suddenly, Jin puts on a burst of speed, sprinting his way to the entrance before you can even say anything in protest.

You arrive a few seconds later, huffing and puffing as you place your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

“I believe you were saying something about me not beating you? What was that?” Jin is beaming, his eyes glinting mischievously as he looks down at you.

You still can’t manage to catch your breath enough for a response, so you settle instead for glaring daggers up at him.

“C’mon, loser. I promised you a leisurely walk, so let’s go...even though you already took us both for a run no one asked for,” Jin chuckles, grabbing your hand as you stand up and interlocking your fingers.

Your face warms, and not just from the sprinting. You’re surprised that Jin isn’t annoyed with you for pulling the stunt you just did...it wasn’t like you planned it exactly, but it worked well as a sort of test to see exactly how much nonsense Jin would put up with. So far, more than you thought he would. You smile to yourself.

“What’re you grinning about now? If it’s another race, I give up, you win!” Jin exclaims loudly, drawing stares from several passersby on the trail you’ve chosen.

“Shhh…” you shush him, trying to place a finger in front of his lips. He playfully bites at it before kissing it quickly. Your eyes widen. “People are staring,” you half-whisper, slightly embarrassed.

“...and? Let them stare. I’m on a date with a pretty girl, and I don’t care if the world knows! Isn’t Margot wonderful?!” he raises his voice for the last bit, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. The warmth from earlier returns, creeping even further up your face. You must be entirely red by now by the levels of heat you feel like you’re radiating. Jin takes advantage of your flustered state by taking your other hand and pulling you close. He wraps both arms tightly around you and buries his face in your hair, kissing you lightly on the top of the head. You pull away, eyes widened in wonderment at his actions. Who is this guy? You can’t quite figure him out.

“What? You’re pretty, I’m lucky you’re on a date with me, and I’m an affectionate guy. Sometimes. Well, maybe only with you. But only if you’re okay with it…” Jin rambles. His ears look close to emitting steam with how red they’re turning...you’re glad you’re not the only one being thrown off your game with how this date is going. It’s endearing how he switches so easily between being confident and shy depending on your reactions to him.

“C’mon, Jinnie...I think I owe you some ice cream, right?” you smile as you reach for his hand, leading him further along the trail you were walking along.

You walk along quietly for a bit, the silence only broken when Jin coos over dogs as you pass them. It warms your heart to see just how kind and soft he truly is...not what you expected from your previous experiences with a certain lead guitarist.

As you round a bend in the trail, Jin picks up the pace significantly, forcing you to speed walk to catch up. “Hey, where’s the fire?” you question, legs starting to burn as you attempt to keep pace.

“Huh? Oh sorry, the ice cream stand is just up here, I got excited.” He gestures ahead of the two of you with your intertwined hands. Sure enough, there’s a small ice cream stand a few paces away.

As you walk up, you see that the stand is manned by a kindly looking old woman who looks like she could be your grandmother. “Oh, you two are such a cute couple! How long have you been dating?” she asks.

“Oh, um...this is only our second date,” you answer, feeling slightly awkward.

“Could’ve fooled me! He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. What can I get you?” Jin coughs suddenly at the old woman’s observation, his ears reddening for the second time that night.

You look over to the menu propped up on the counter of the stand.

Vanilla

Chocolate

Strawberry

Mint Chocolate Chip

Cookies and Cream

“What do you say, Jinnie? Strawberry? Mint Chocolate Chip?”

“If I wanted to have mint flavored anything, I would have just brought my toothpaste with me...mint chocolate chip? How can you think so lowly of me?” he pouts at you, supremely offended that you even suggested such a thing.

“Okayyyyy...didn’t realize you were so picky about ice cream flavors. What do you want, then?” you roll your eyes at him, but not without grinning.

“I’ll take a vanilla cone, thankyouverymuch,” he replies grinning back at you.

“One vanilla cone, and one cookies and cream cone.” You hand the woman cash and she begins to fill your order. Soon after she is handing you both ice cream encased in freshly made waffle cones. You both thank her and continue your walk along the trail. You bite into the top of your ice cream, relishing the coolness in the warm evening that surrounds you.

“...you bite ice cream?” Jin is staring at you open-mouthed in horror.

“Yes? If I just licked it, it would all melt before I could eat it. Don’t judge me!” you glare over at Jin.

“Oh too late for that, sweetheart. First you asked if I wanted mint chocolate chip ice cream, and now I find out you bite your ice cream? What are you, a serial killer?” he raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” you turn menacingly towards him, brandishing your cone like a weapon. “They call me...The Ice Cold Killer. Beware!”

“Ooo, I’m scared. Someone help me,” Jin chuckles, his empty hand raised in surrender as he takes a lick of his ice cream.

“You should be scared, handsome,” you continue walking towards him, raising your cone ever so slightly with each step.

“...what are you doing? Oh no, you don’t!” Just as you go to smush your cone into his face, he grabs both of your wrists. “I think not,” he grins, lowering your hands to the level of your waist.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” you pout, looking up at Jin. When he’s this close, it seems like he’s towering over you...and as you make eye contact, you notice his attention keeps flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Oh, I can be lots of fun,” he whispers lowly as he leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. Just as his lips start to ghost over your own, someone clears their throat behind you. You both spring apart, whipping around to see who’s interrupted you.

Tall, dressed in all black, tattoos scattered across both arms. A sneer on his face as he takes he two of you in with his gaze.

Namjoon.

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

“Well, well, well...how’s it going, Margot? How’d you end up in the middle of the park with this loser?” Namjoon asks. You have no clue why he’s here, and it feels like you’re suddenly trapped in a nightmare. Jin looks confused, glancing between the two of you, trying to figure out how you’re connected.

“Don’t think too hard, lover boy. I can see the steam coming out from your ears with how hard you’re thinking about this-Margot and I used to date.” Namjoon provides, still with that same smirk on his face. Jin’s eyes widen in understanding, but then narrow again as he processes the way he’s being talked to.

“It’s Seokjin, actually. What are you doing here, Kim? Didn’t Gold Rush beat your stupid band in our last exhibition?” Jin spits out harshly.

Namjoon doesn’t deign to give him a response, instead turning back to you. “Margot, really...this is who you went to after me? You know he has no talent, right? Yoongi writes all their songs, and Jungkook is the visual draw for their band. I expected better of you…” he chuckles. “But maybe not...you never did know what was best for you. You let me walk all over you, didn’t you?” he smirks.

Jin moves to reply, but you’re faster. “Yes, I did let you walk all over me and treat me like shit for entirely too long, Namjoon. Thank goodness I had people in my life that cared enough about me to open my eyes to how much of a giant ASSHOLE you were...and Jin? Jin has more talent in his pinky than you’ll have your whole career-I would know because I spent entirely too long going to your boring shows. Jin has treated me better in two dates than you ever have! And how’s this for knowing what’s best for me?”

You stride forward, ice cream cone in hand, until you’re directly in front of Namjoon. Eyes wild, you lift your cone and smash it into his chest. Cookie bits and ice cream smear into his shirt as your waffle cone shatters into pieces on the ground.

“You bitch!” Namjoon roars, rearing back, looking for all the world like he’s about to slap you. Before he can get very far, a large hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

“Leave. Now.” Jin is glaring darkly at Namjoon from behind you. As Namjoon starts to speak, Jin tightens his grip. “I said...leave.”

Namjoon jerks his hand out of Jin’s grip and rubs his wrist where the other man’s hand was. “Fine. You two deserve each other,” he glares as he marches away.

Once Namjoon is out of sight, Jin immediately turns to you. “Margot, are you okay?” he rests his hands on your shoulders, looking into your eyes.

You’re frozen in place, still shocked at everything that just happened.

“...I just smashed an ice cream cone on Kim Namjoon…” you utter softly.

“Yes, you did. And it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, if I’m being honest.” Jin rubs the back of his neck sheepishly with one hand, chuckling.

His comment brings you back into the moment. “Everything that just happened, and that’s all you can think of?” you ask him in disbelief.

“Not all!” Jin retorts. “I have a lot of thoughts right now: 1. How did the two of you ever date? 2. Why am I not surprised that he’s a giant asshole? He always is the worst any time we play shows at the same venue. 3. Yeah, my third thought is that you standing your ground and giving him what he deserves is hot, so sue me.”

You laugh. “Three thoughts isn’t a lot of thoughts, but yes, we did date a while, biggest mistake of my life. I fell for the tortured, tattooed lead guitarist thing.”

“Should I get tattoos then? I mean, I thought I was handsome enough as is, but if this,” he gestures at himself, “isn’t enough, then I’m happy to oblige. Your name in a heart with an arrow through it? A skull with a snake around it? You say the word, beautiful, I’ll do it.” he smirks playfully at you.

“Be careful what you wish for, or you’ll end up with a tattoo on your ass,” you giggle as you elbow him.

His eyes widen in momentary fear. “I’m kidding, silly. Let’s go back to my place and watch a movie.”

The two of you walk hand in hand through the rest of the park, Jin passing you his ice cream cone to share since yours ended up destroyed.

“I guess you really are The Ice Cold Killer...of ice cream cones, that is,” he remarks as you walk through the exit and head back to your apartment.

“I told you you should be scared.”

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

You both sink down into your couch once you arrive at your apartment, Jin placing a blanket over the two of you.

“So, what’s the feature presentation this evening?” he queries, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Moulin Rouge!” you happily reply to his chagrin.

“...isn’t that a musical?” he asks, to which you nod in the affirmative.

“Is that a problem?” You knew that musicals were another one of your tests for the guys you dated. You did honestly enjoy them, but you needed to know if the men you dated would put up with them.

“Nope. I mean, I don’t think I would pick one, but I said it’s your choice. Plus, you’re the one who destroyed a douchebag tonight, so your pick is definitely earned.” He settles back into the couch as the movie starts to play, and you place your head on his shoulder. It fits perfectly into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his laundry detergent mixed with the park you just walked through is extremely comforting. So comforting in fact, you can feel your eyelids getting heavy about a third of the way through the movie.

The lack of background noise is what slowly wakes you up...the movie must be over. When did you fall asleep? You lift your head off of Jin’s shoulder, only to see he has remnants of tears on his face.

“Jinnie? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, quickly swiping at his face to remove any lingering evidence of his tears. “I...I cried at the end of the movie, that’s all. Satine died! Musicals are supposed to be happy-I’m appalled!”

Your heart feels like it’s blooming with all the warmth that’s spreading through your chest as you look at the man beside you. As you begin to say something in response, your eyes catch the digital clock blinking from your microwave across the room. 12:30AM.

“Oh, it’s late...do you want to stay over so you don’t have to go across town at this time? The busses stop running soon anyway.” Jin’s eyes grow wide at your question.

��N-Not like that! I meant to sleep, just sleep. Only if you want to!” You bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Jin reaches out and removes your hands from your face, tilting your chin up with his finger so you make eye contact with him.

“I’d love to,” he smiles softly at you, his hand remaining on your chin, pulling you slowly closer to him as he moves closer to you as well. Your faces are inches apart again, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Is this okay?” he breathes.

You grab the sides of his face in response, crushing your lips to his. He is impossibly soft, and warm. His hands wrap around your back again, tenderly bringing you as close as he can to himself. He’s holding you as if you are tethering him to Earth, like you are what hung the stars in the sky. You sigh into the kiss, and he takes that as a cue to deepen the kiss further. He’s more insistent, holding you tighter. Before it can get too heated, you break apart for air.

“Sorry I got a little carried away,” he chuckles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You laugh as you clearly get a look at his face.

“What?” he pouts at you.

“Come here.” You stand up, pulling him with you to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You flip the light on, positioning him in front of the mirror. As both of your eyes adjust to the extra light, his widen impossibly-he’s got pink lipstick messily smeared around his mouth from kissing you.

“So much for world wide handsome, huh?” you laugh.

He turns towards you. “I’ll have you know, I am handsome no matter what I look like!” he huffs indignantly. Nevertheless, he turns the faucet on and starts to wipe away the makeup.

You leave him to get ready for bed in the bathroom while you trudge to your closet to find something to change into, settling for an oversized tee with shorts. As you close the door behind you, Jin leaves the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes become wide as saucers as you notice his lack of clothing in addition to how in shape he is.

“Oh, um...sorry, I usually just sleep in these. I can put my shirt back on if I need to?” he questions shyly.

“No, you’re fine, I just don’t normally have half naked men walking around my apartment,” you laugh quietly.

Jin climbs into your bed and starts to scroll through his phone as you head into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed yourself. You climb in beside him ten minutes later, turning your lamp off and staring up at the ceiling...you’re not sure exactly how this is supposed to go. You’re not in a relationship, but you’re in the same bed, and he had seen you completely lose your cool on your ex. What was even appropriate in this situation?

After what feels like an indeterminate amount of silence, Jin speaks into the dark.

“So...what exactly happened with you and Namjoon?” he sounds nervous, his voice much quieter than normal.

You sigh. “We met after one of his shows. He was charming at first, but then he started making everything about him and his band. Then he cheated on me. Three times. Gaslit me when I tried to talk to him about it. Long story short, it was a bad time,” you grimace, even though you know Jin can’t see you.

“...come here.”

You’re surprised that this is his response, but you comply by scooting next to him. He wraps an arm around you and squeezes tightly.

“You know I would never do any of those things, right?” He looks down at you with such warmth in his eyes, you can’t help but fold even further into him, your head on his bare chest.

“...I know,” you whisper, body still tense from talking about your ex. Jin traces shapes onto your back, helping you slow your breathing and relax.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, Jin’s voice vibrates through his chest beneath you.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is The Ice Cold Killer…” His own statement amuses him so much, his squeaky windshield wiper laugh makes an appearance.

“Hey! Who said anything about me being your girlfriend?” You prop yourself up enough to look him in the eyes.

“Oh please, if you thought after tonight I wouldn’t try to take you off the market, you are sorely mistaken...you’re perfect, pretty lady.” He smiles at you, faltering once he sees you raise your eyebrows at him.

“...only if you want to be my girlfriend, of course,” he adds softly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m not perfect,” you state simply, lowering yourself back down onto his chest. Namjoon had made sure you knew that much.

“You’re perfect to me.” Jin leans down to place a tender kiss on top of your head.

You look back up at him. “You know you’re going to have to be one of my henchmen now, right? The Ice Cold Killer can’t do everything on her own.”

“Oh, I know. I plan on starting henchman duties in the morning when I make us pancakes, love.” Jin smiles softly down at you as you attempt to snuggle even closer.

It’s only the second date...but Jin feels like home. Maybe you’ll survive this relationship after all.

[princess-of-riviaa]

You Are In Love

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Skye of Skellige (OFC)

Summary: Geralt and Skye have had feelings for each other for ten years. Geralt finally addresses the elephant in the room.

Author's Note: The title for this oneshot comes from one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs of the same name on her 1989 album.

Warning(s): sex toy (vibrator), mentions of periods, dirty talk, emotional Geralt, masturbating (female), voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), sweet smut

Word Count: 3,024

Little got under Geralt of Rivia’s skin. That’s what centuries of fighting for survival had done to him: turned him into a shell of a person that watched the world around him behind a glass wall, always shielding his heart and mind away, lest it see the light of day, or worse—lest it get reeled in by a mortal human, who would only cause him longing and heartache after a few quick decades spent together. No, it was better to hide himself away from that kind of hurt, the kind of hurt that even a poisonous scratch from a kikimora couldn’t compare to.

Little got under Geralt’s skin—until Skye of Skellige walked into his life.

She was everything he wasn’t: young and unscarred by life; kind and forgiving when most people wouldn’t be; and, maybe most importantly, loved by everyone. It was all of those things and more that drew him in. But it was the fact of her mortality that kept him fighting against his instincts to claim her as his own for an entire decade. The war to stay away from her had worked well enough--until one night, when his defenses had finally crumbled.

He’d convinced her to move further inland, and though she’d eventually agreed, noting that he had a point about the safety of the land protecting her from the sea gangs, she insisted that he would help her move what little belongings she had into her new cottage. Skye was moving in with her sister and brother-in-law, whom Geralt had only seen a handful of times in the last ten years. Silver, Skye’s sister, was staying on the coast for the night, preparing to bid farewell to her husband as he left for a sea voyage at dawn. Geralt and Skye had the small cottage to themselves.

Skye moved to the kitchen to find something to cook up for Geralt, while he continued to help her unbox her belongings. There was a small, frail box hidden inside a larger one that Geralt picked up and set on her bed. He opened it, merely intending to find a place for the contents before moving onto the next box. An intricate cloth was inside, wrapped around something long and circular. He picked it up and unwrapped the item, curiosity getting the best of him, and froze when he realized what it was. Painted a soft pink, the toy was capped with a smooth silicone head. It was small enough to be held in the hand comfortably, and the button on the side was placed in a convenient spot, allowing a finger to easily click it onto a higher setting when needed.

Geralt was old enough to be familiar with toys like this. In his youth, he’d witnessed enough women pleasuring themselves with them to understand their sole purpose. But the thought of Skye having one--sweet, innocent, naive Skye…

His cock twitched in his pants. Images of her sprawled on her bed, her naked body convulsing under the pleasure this toy gave her… It instantly aroused him. But there was a bitter feeling in his gut, too. It took him a moment to realize… it was jealousy. He was jealous of this pathetic toy, getting her off when he was more than capable of--

“Geralt…?” Skye’s voice came from the hallway.

His mind was still racing by the time she entered her small room. She scanned his face, noted the strange mix of emotions in his eyes, and then looked at the toy in his hands. Her lips parted, though she said nothing as her cheeks burned the brightest crimson.

Geralt realized this was the moment when he was supposed to apologize. He shouldn’t have opened the box, shouldn’t have gone through her things. He’d just been trying to help, but he’d crossed a line by finding this. And yet... he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. An apology would imply regret, and he didn’t regret the thoughts running through his head right now. He didn’t regret thinking about how Skye would look as she lay naked on the bed sheets, spreading her legs for him as he neared her. Looking at him with desperate anticipation in the moments before he filled her up. Crying out in pleasure as he pushed inside of her, her walls tight and aching around his cock.

No, the only thing he regretted was that he was standing there wordlessly like an idiot and not taking her to bed right this second.

“I meant to unpack that earlier, but I couldn’t remember what box I’d put it in.” Skye mumbled the words as she stepped towards him, her gaze locked on his hands, on the toy, refusing to meet his gaze.

“This is yours,” was all he could think to say. Like an idiot. Way to state the obvious.

Skye stopped in front of him, and he swore her cheeks burned even brighter at his words. She reached out for the toy, but Geralt wasn’t about to let go of it, and her hand stayed locked on his and the toy. “Yes,” she whispered.

He should stop. She was clearly embarrassed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable--

But he’d hidden the animal in him for years, and the sight of Skye’s toy had woken it up. He couldn’t hold back his desire now, no matter how selfish it was.

“You know how to use it.” It wasn’t a question.

Finally, her eyes lifted to meet his. Those grey eyes were as stormy as the clouds above the sea that she called home. It was one of his favorite things about this woman--the way her eye color seemed to change with every emotion she felt, just as the changing tides of the sea did. She stuck out her chin, forcing herself to look assertive. “Yes.”

“Show me.” The words were spoken before he could stop himself.

Her heartbeat quickened at the suggestion and the wicked thoughts that were undoubtedly running through her head now, if the swirling darkness in her eyes was anything to go by.

“Geralt…” Her voice was soft, shaky.

Four years ago, Skye had tried to seduce Geralt. She’d been nearing her monthly cycle, her hormones raging wildly inside of her, and Geralt was the only man around she trusted enough to be intimate with. And, she had claimed, the only man she had any desire to bed in the first place. She’d been a virgin then, and the thought of taking her first, the thought of claiming her in ways no one else ever could… It had taken all the willpower he had to turn her down. But he had, simply because he was terrified that she’d regret lying with him by the time the sun rose.

She’d told him years later that she hadn’t, in fact, regretted asking him to take her virginity. And when she’d given it to another man, a man who’d promised to marry her and fled as soon as he’d gotten what he’d wanted from her, she swore that it was a mistake. That she should have only given that part of her away to Geralt, because he was the only honorable man that deserved it.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that she’d wanted him for years now, in the same ways he craved her, and she now stood before him, looking at him like he was promising something too good to be true.

Geralt murmured, “I want you to show me how you use your toy. I want to see how you touch yourself. And then, I want to show you how I can make you feel a million times better than that toy ever could.”

She whimpered.

Fuck, that sound--his cock jumped again in his pants. Every instinct in him roared to take what he wanted, what she’d offered up to him years ago, but he forced himself to wait. Forced himself to take in a deep breath and ignore the scent of her growing arousal beginning to drip between her legs. Forced himself to say, “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me that you’ve changed your mind about me, and I’ll pretend I never saw the toy. We’ll walk out of here and eat dinner like nothing ever happened.”

She swallowed, her eyes widening, as if the thought of ignoring the heat between them for even one more day was terrifying. And his knees practically gave out in relief as she said, “Lock the door.”

…

Skye’s heart was pounding as she lifted her hands to her dress. She had no doubt Geralt could hear every racing beat of her heart, even from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. Her back was to him as she untied her dress and it fell to her feet, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

The air was electric, heated by the intensity of their unspoken lust. She’d wanted this for years now. Why was he finally giving in now? No, she wouldn’t question it. If this was some sort of dream, too good to be true, then she’d see it out until the end. She’d wanted her Witcher too long to hesitate now.

She undid the wrap around her chest. The small garment joined her dress on the ground. Her panties were next. She could feel Geralt’s eyes on her back, noting every feature on her body as if he was trying to memorize it.

Her hands continued to shake as she crawled onto the small bed and turned onto her back. Geralt took a step towards her, as if the sight of her naked body was too much for his self-control. She could see it in his eyes--the animal he’d leashed up around her, finally clawing free of its restraints. She wanted that wild creature to take her, to make her feel more pleasure than she thought possible. And more than anything, she wanted to make him feel just as good. His golden eyes darkened as he took in the rise of her breasts and the valley between her thighs. A deep, thrilling sound fell from his throat as she spread her legs for him.

She wasn’t just wet. She was soaked. Her fingers slid between her folds, gathering up her slick, teasing herself. Geralt watched every movement she made. From the look on his face, she knew he could smell her arousal. It made her thighs clench to know that he could sense the depths of her lust for him.

A second later the toy was in her hands. She slid it between her folds, lubricating the tip before turning it on. The soft whirring of the toy against her clit was the only sound in the room. She closed her eyes and pretended she was alone as she began to pleasure herself. The toy buzzed and vibrated between her folds, circling her entrance and making her walls clench around nothing. With a flick of her finger, it moved to a higher setting, and she slowly dragged it up her folds until it was pressed tight against her clit.

A moan escaped her as she gripped the bed sheets in her free hand, needing something to cling to as her body began to burn with delicious pleasure. She opened her eyes to look at Geralt--and moaned at the sight of his erection straining tight against his pants.

She wanted him inside of her.

Geralt’s eyes flared as he released a growl, and she realized with a start that she’d said that out loud.

He was at the bed in an instant, taking the toy from her and shutting it off before setting it back in the box he’d found it in. He moved to hover over her, getting as close as he could without touching her. He was teasing her, she realized.

“Geralt,” she whimpered, her mind already clouding with desire.

“What do you want first?” he breathed against her skin, his pupils swallowing up all the color of his eyes. “My fingers?”

She whimpered.

“Or my tongue?”

She moaned, the sound so whorish it made her entire body burn.

But then his head was between her legs and her embarrassment morphed into pleasure. He kissed the inside of her thighs as he moved her legs over his shoulders. And then he got to work on her core. He teased her with quick, short kitten licks at first. But upon watching her buck her hips with wanton desperation, he buried his face against her core and began to suck on her clit, closing his eyes as if he felt every drop of her pleasure.

“G-Geralt!” she moaned brokenly, her hands moving to tug at his hair.

He growled against her. The sound vibrated against her pussy and her back arched as her vision went white--

“I’m c-close, Geralt,” she whined. “Please don’t s-stop.”

He placed a hand at the edge of her lips and she began to suck on his fingers as her hips ground against his face. He opened his eyes and met her gaze and the sight of him looking up at her, his mouth against her core, his fingers in her mouth, made her dizzy. Her mouth fell open in a cry of pleasure and he pulled his hand back--only to shove two fingers inside of her. That was all she needed to fall over the edge. Her body shook against him as she came so hard she squirted around his fingers.

When she was spent, he pulled away from her. She watched through tired eyes as he rose to his feet and began to undress himself. This man was a god of beauty; she’d go to her grave believing it. For years, she’d been convinced there was no hotter sight than Geralt in his black Witcher gear. She finally realized how terribly wrong she was. His body was perfect, sculpted by the gods themselves, and she scanned his body, devouring every curve of muscle and pale white scar on his body.

And his cock--

He was huge. His erection poked out at her and she bit her lip, wondering how the hell she was supposed to fit all of him inside of her. Dark curls swirled around the base of his shaft. The tip was red and throbbing, precum already making it shine.

“You’re perfect,” she breathed, and then he was on top of her, pushing her back until her head was against the pillow.

His arms wrapped around her as his mouth met hers. The way he held her… she’d never felt safer. Or more aroused. Her hands were a wild frenzy on his chest, not knowing where to touch first. They swallowed each other's moans as they moved against each other, losing themselves in burning desire. Skye’s heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest, but she didn’t dare stop long enough to calm down. Not as Geralt’s leg pressed against her core. Her hips moved on their own, desperately bucking against the pressure of his muscled thigh. The sound of his breathless moans, the feeling of him clenching the sheets around her--it was all so much, yet none of it was enough.

“Fuck me, Geralt,” she breathed into his mouth.

He growled as he bit her bottom lip. And then his mouth was moving lower, biting sensually at her neck, her chest, her breasts. This fire was going to burn her alive.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against her skin. “You.”

She released a broken moan as he spread her legs and rose to his knees. “I’m yours, Geralt. I’ve always been yours.”

And it was those words--the promise that came with them--that rang throughout the room as he entered her. Skye’s mouth fell open at the pain of him splitting her open. She bit her bottom lip, and before she could clutch onto the bed sheets, trying not to cry out in pain, he laced his hands through hers. She held onto him as he slowly pushed all the way inside of her.

He buried his head in her neck as he filled her to the brim, and for a moment they just laid there, basking in the sensations of their united bodies, of finally getting what they’d both craved for so long. Geralt murmured something against her skin.

“What?” she asked, just as the words registered.

I love you.

She blamed it on the intensity of the night as her eyes filled with tears.

Geralt pulled back to look at her, fear in his eyes as he waited for her to react to the words.

But she merely pulled him in for a kiss. Words escaped her, but that kiss seemed to say enough for him. He kissed her back deeper, his tongue gliding along hers as his hips began to move. She moaned as his cock slid between her walls.

“I love you,” she breathed back as he quickened his pace, desire making her see stars.

They exchanged those three words over and over as he moved inside of her. And when he finally came, it was her name that he cried out, the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

After, they lied together on her small bed. Skye rested her head on his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. Their legs tangled together as his hands ran through her hair, the touch so soft and relaxing that her eyes grew heavy.

“I love you,” he said into the quiet room, sounding almost hesitant. As if he were afraid that, now that their lovemaking had ended, she wouldn’t want to repeat it.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a smirk.

She could feel his gaze on the top of her head. “What?”

Skye finally looked up at him as she said, “I’ve been in love with you for ten years, you idiot. You’re lucky I’m a patient woman.”

He gave her a playful glare, opening his mouth to rebuttal, but she interrupted him with a kiss, and he seemed more than content to kiss her back.

...

Tag Squad:

@agniavateira​ @littlefreya​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @honeychicana​ @penwieldingdreamer​ @mary-ann84​ @elixasays​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @noz4a2​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @omgkatinka​ @lunedelorient​ @aphrodites-punch​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @sweetybuzz25​ @iloveyouyen​ @deathonyourtongue​ ​ @wondersofdreaming​ @tsukuyomi011​ @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken​ @palaiasaurus64​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @henrythickcavill​ @secretlyactivated​ @madbaddic7ed​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea @ravenclawvsfairytales @eldarwen333 @mzchievous-blog @myloveforhenrycavill @jayismz

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from my taglist

[buckyownsmylife]

How I Want You - Logan Delos x Reader Fluff

The one where Logan confesses that he loves you.

Warnings: angst, Logan’s crappy father, sexual themes, selfdoubt and selfhatred.

A/N: No, I couldn’t help myself. I’m obsessed with Taylor Swift and it shows.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

It was way too fucking late for anyone to be up, and still, much too early for Logan to have gone to bed. Which was why the second my phone rang, I forsake my comfy blankets and grabbed my keys, knowing exactly who it was - the only person who would call me at such a time and the only number whose call would get through during my sleeping hours.

“Where are you?” Was all I asked, although I already knew that the answer wouldn’t be satisfactory to my plan of going back to sleep as soon as possible. “You know what? Just stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. This is why I download that find my friends app in the first place.”

“I’m home,” he interjected, his tone sounding very firm, and very tired, and very not drunk for the time of day. It caught me by surprise. “I’ll be waiting.”And then he was gone. Hung up in a show of just how quickly he needed me to get to him.

It made my skin crawl and heartbeat pick up, that intuition that only ever acted when it came to him telling me something very bad had happened, or at the very least, that he was as far away from okay as he could get. And if he was home, then it truly was the worst case scenario. 

I got there as fast as I could without breaking any laws, and I barely allowed myself the time to kill off the engine before I was running out of the vehicle and into my best friend’s arms. Logan welcomed with a silent desperation that came in the form of reaching for me as a child would for any sort of parental guidance, and the anxiety that had been coursing through my veins while I couldn’t see his state little by little began to be replaced by anger. Pure, unadulterated, blinding anger.

“Get in the car, Lo,” I called him by the childhood nickname he pretended to hate, knowing it would help in my task to calm him down. “I’ll be right back.” He wanted to stop me the second that he realized what my intention was. I knew it because he seized my wrist and held it tightly, stopping me from moving any further away from him. But the second that he saw my eyes, when I turned around to stare at him and silently order him to let go, he did just so, knowing better than anyone else that when I got into this mindset, there was no one who could possibly get me out of it.

“Okay.” He nodded, and I knew he was watching me as I stepped into the huge mansion Logan did not call home. It only made me even more sure of what I intended to do. With quick strides, I crossed the main floor in the direction of his father’s office, and I didn’t even knock before I slammed it open, fire burning inside of me.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” I yelled as soon as James’ eyes met mine after my loud entrance startled him from whatever work he was trying to do at such a late hour - work he had always prioritized over his son.

“What?” He asked, clearly not expecting my sudden outburst, and probably not immediately relating my loss of reason to his only son. It only made me grow angrier, the fact that just because he didn’t worry about Logan, he couldn’t imagine anyone else caring for him either.

“What the fuck did you tell Logan that made him so upset? Only you can make him feel bad about himself, so I know it’s your fault. Tell me.” When realization finally seemed to hit him, no ounce of regret or shame painted James’ features, but that didn’t surprise me. Even if he had never been anything other than sweet to me, being Logan’s best friend meant I knew who he really was, and that implied that I knew every single one of his flaws as a father. He just didn’t know that I did, until then.

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. You really shouldn’t waste your time on a failure like him.” The harsh reality of what he had said hurt me so deeply that it immediately drained me of all anger, leaving only a sickly feeling of disgust behind.

“Logan deserves every single second of my attention, and he deserves yours too. I’m sorry you can’t see it, but the only one who’s missing out is you.” Cold, bitter tears of pity for the sweet man I knew flowed down my cheeks, but I was quick to wipe them away. Logan didn’t need to see them.

“How was it in there?” He asked as soon as I was inside of the car again, his lips curled in a small smile that was half self-conscious, half knowing of what his father was capable of saying when it came to him, but I couldn’t yet stomach what I’d heard, so I just clutched his hand tightly with mine.

“Doesn’t matter. How about a sleepover?”

Logan’s P.O.V.

The drive to her place was silent, but she kept reaching for my hand every time she could, like she needed the physical reminder that I was there with her, instead of back at my house. Like she knew that I needed to be reminded of that too.

What would I do without her? Ever since I could remember, it was us against the world. Or more precisely, us against my father, and as a child, he was pretty much the only boundaries to the world that I knew. But even after I grew and started to see past my father’s empire, when I started to make real, lousy mistakes, instead of the childhood errors that would get me grounded, she still stuck up for me. She was always there, whenever I needed her.

My eyes trailed up her body, taking notice of the way her sleepwear still managed to make her curves enticing. She always looked beautiful in my eyes. No matter how many women I slept with, they could never come close to the beauty that I saw in my best friend and only in her.

“What do you see in me?” I blurted out, suddenly overtaken by the realization of just how inferior to her I was. It made my chest feel tighter, and breathing became a bit harder. The tears that would never come for my father suddenly stung my eyes, and I had to rub the palms of my hands against them to stop myself from crying.

“I’m sorry?” It seemed like she wasn’t expecting the sudden interruption to the silence that had fallen between us, but the desperation that had forced me to ask the question that plagued me had been dulled by my fear of her answer. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing she thought less of me. I couldn’t bear the thought of being less in her eyes than she was in mine.

“Logan, what do you see in yourself?” She asked, once more glancing at me to make sure I was fine, which I was certain I would be able to pretend like I was. But of course, I could never fool her. So when she squeezed my hand to get me to talk, I found myself answering honestly, “Nothing. I-I’m nothing, Y/N. I’m just a waste of space and air and energy, your energy, and I have absolutely no idea why you put up with me.”

We had arrived at her apartment complex, I realized, but only because suddenly there were arms thrown over me, and a familiar neck for me to nuzzle with a familiar perfume that seemed to be the only thing able to relax my very soul.

“Well, that’s the exact opposite of what I see in you, Logan Delos. I see so much, I see everything. I see the whole wide world in you. You’ve always meant that for me. And to see you doubt that… There’s not a day in my life where I don’t hate your father for making you think so little of yourself.” That had me laughing against her skin, but it was a wet sound, unfortunately. Still, she didn’t seem to mind, allowing me to cling tightly to her as she drew soft patterns on my back. “You can’t say bad things about yourself, ever. That’s an order.”

After that last comment made me pull away from her to freely laugh, she looked patiently at me with the most loving smile on her face. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?” I asked, caressing the side of her face and grinning with pride when she leaned against my touch.

“Almost as much as you mean to me, I hope.” I swear, only she could have me laughing after feeling so down a few minutes before. 

“Way more than that.”

“I doubt it.”

For a while, it was a staring contest between the two of us in her tiny car. I wanted to lean in and kiss her. God, I wanted to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked like But the second my hand grazed her cheek, she seemed to snap out of whatever reverie we had fallen on, quickly putting some space between us to unbuckle her belt.

“Let’s go,” she called out, reaching out for my hand as we walked towards her apartment. The second we were in the familiar setting of her living room, I felt the last bit of weight that had settled over my chest suddenly vaporize and disappear.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I acknowledged as I took off my coat. “I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” she tried to wave it off, but I couldn’t let her do that. No, I needed her to understand that this was important to me, and I started by pulling her close so I could cradle her face between my hands and force her to see the seriousness in my so often joking eyes.

“I owe you a lot.” That was all I managed to say, as my throat closed at the quickening of my heartbeat. The moment felt heavy with something we couldn’t find it in ourselves to explore, and so we just stood there in silence, eyes cautiously exploring each other’s features until one of us decided to break the tension with a joke.

This time, it was her.

“I’m glad I downloaded that app on my phone and activated your location on yours. I seriously considered buying you a nice collar, with a tracker or something, so I could always know where you were when you called me. Especially when drunk.” I didn’t expect her words to have such an effect on me, but it was instantaneous. I felt my cock harden on my pants, and I knew that she could feel it too as I hid my blushing face in the crook of her neck.

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?” I tried to pass it off as a joke, hoping to calm down despite keeping her touch close to me, but when her fingers buried themselves in my hair, I knew she’d only keep me balancing on this tightrope we’d been dancing on for way too long.

“I had no idea you were into that kind of stuff. Does the idea of wearing a collar entice you that much, Lo?” She asked, and although I knew she also wanted to pass it off as a joke, her voice sounded different, raspier. Filled with desire, I realized with a jolt, finally detaching myself from her to look her in the eye again. 

This was it. This was my chance to say something that would irrevocably change the nature of our relationship forever, but hopefully, it’d become all I’d ever wanted.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“If it’s a collar that shows I belong to you, definitely.” I inhaled sharply at the words that fell oh-so-easily from my best friend’s lips. I knew him enough - I knew him way too much - to doubt the veracity of them, but that didn’t stop me from being overwhelmed at the realization that Logan wanted to be mine just as much as I wanted to be his.

“C’mon, stop teasing me,” I pleaded, trying to put some space between us, but failing to do so. Logan kept me close to him, gaze heavy on my body and when I still refused to meet his eyes, he held my jaw and forced me to do so.

“No, you c’mon. You know this isn’t me teasing you like when we were kids. I really, really want you. And not only like a best friend.” I didn’t even notice I was biting my lip until he pried it away with his thumb, staring longingly at it. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Before becoming a kiss, it was just him sucking that same bottom lip into his mouth, making me gasp and hold onto his shoulders for support. But then, he fused our mouths together, licking his way inside my mouth until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

When my eyes fluttered open to find his, I could barely see his pupils anymore. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after that,” I joked, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but failing miserably. There was too much desire between us to disappear just like that. We’d need to find a way to release it if we were to ever move past this.

“I’d be offended if you were.” It felt nice to laugh with him after this kiss, this revelation of sentiments. It felt like, regardless of what we would become after tonight, I wouldn’t lose the most important person in my life, my best friend. The only one who could make me laugh like this, even after a breathtaking kiss, apparently.

“Wanna do something else, instead?”

[tirednotflirting]

but we were something, don't you think so?

vaguely based on ‘the one’ by taylor swift and also my walk home on an afternoon in july last year

also i asked helen if my writing lashton card gets revoked if i write something sad. will report back on what she decides.

(i apologize now for the tense issues in this i am still Learning how to not do that but i think it’s pretty obvious what takes place in the present and what does not)

oh and here is the ao3 link !

It’s a blazing hot early afternoon in July when Luke sees Ashton for the first time in over a year. 

(It’s been 13 months and 12 days since he last saw Ashton. It was on a cooler day in early May and he had been wearing the blue sweater. The one that made the green in his eyes stand out more than normal. But Luke likes to pretend he doesn’t keep track of that so consistently.)

It had been a good morning. Luke opened at the office that day so he had the privilege of making the first pot of coffee, getting to experience the rich smell filling the space while he responded to emails and voicemails. He had a brief chat with his favorite mail delivery person about their plans for the weekend and the renovations happening in the bathroom down the hall. His boss assigned him a list of names to call to discuss their fall registration complications. The time passed quickly with the phone chatter and two cups of coffee out of his favorite mug.

His replacement for the afternoon shift showed up on time for once and he shouted his goodbyes out as he left the office. He was eager to get back to the apartment he shared with Calum so they could head to the store and grab drinks and snacks for the concert in the park they had decided to attend that night. Last time they had gone to the event just the three of them, he had let Michael and Calum do the drink run and they ended up deciding that Jello shots were to be the drink of choice and all of the families attending gave them disappointed looks the whole night.

Luke walks through campus, his t shirt sticking to him a bit in the heat, and catches up on the texts he had missed from his mom and brothers. He takes a moment to appreciate the serenity of his university campus when it’s all empty in the summer, the only other people around being the occasional professor or a local family taking a walk with sunhats and a stroller. 

He’s just gotten a text from Calum asking when he’ll be back at their apartment and Luke is responding with an estimated time of arrival, factoring in the time it should take for him to grab an iced coffee on the way, when he looks up once he reaches the street corner. He’s only meaning to check for cars and to see how many seconds are left before he can cross when he sees him. 

Luke didn’t expect the way his heart would drop straight into his stomach when he saw Ashton again. Didn’t expect the way the message on his phone (one important to respond to unless he wants to get plastered off of vodka and Jello in public again) would be completely dismissed when he saw the black curls of the man who had made him feel like everything. The way his fingers felt like they were on fire. 

He also never expected Ashton to lock eyes with him the first time they saw each other again. 

But oddly enough, he is.

Two things flood into Luke’s mind then. The first is that Ashton doesn’t look bad. He’s got his hands shoved into black jeans that aren’t at all appropriate for the current weather. His hair is longer than he had kept it in quite some time, tied back into a tiny bun that rests just above the tattoo at his neck that he had gotten junior year (Luke still remembers his hand being sore for a couple of days because of how tightly Ashton had gripped it while the gun buzzed along his tanned skin). And his calm gaze holds Luke’s in a way that he had only just recently stopped craving four times a day at least.

The second thing that comes to mind is a day from two years earlier, probably almost exactly two years (if it wouldn’t nearly physically pain him to see their happy, drunken smiles from that day, Luke would have thought later to look through his camera roll to check if he was right). 

*

Ashton had only officially asked Luke to be his boyfriend about a month prior, just after finals ended. It was the summer after Luke’s freshman year, the summer he started working his campus office job that allowed him a reason to stay in the city with his friends and his boyfriend. One of Calum’s older sister’s friends needed to rent out her room for the summer and Luke’s advisor had offered him the job. It was a perfect storm. 

After work one day in June, Luke headed back toward the student apartments to Ashton’s building, his smile lazy but bright as he headed into a weekend and his boyfriend’s home. It was still very new, his relationship with Ashton, but it felt very big, very important. If he wasn’t so high on his love for the curly haired philosophy major and the feeling of being in the city in the summer, he might have taken the time to think a bit more critically about what it meant to dive in so deep with someone so fast. But then he felt a breeze in the air and the sun shining on his face, and he figured that was something to worry about on another day. Things were really good.

He punches the door code at the front of the building and climbs the stairs two at a time up two floors. When he turns out of the stairwell, he grasps the handle to the first door on the right, left unlocked since he was expected that afternoon. 

“Honey, I’m home?” he calls out as he pulls at the laces on his Converse so he can leave them at the shoe rack before continuing into the cozy space. The coziness of the place felt a little odd for June, a candle that smelled like Christmas burning somewhere based on the mix of the smell of sugar cookies and pine that meets Luke’s nose as he hangs his backpack on his designated hook. But that was Ashton, always curating his spaces to feel what he wanted. During one of the first few times they had hung out the previous January, Ashton had insisted on popsicles. It was one of the things Luke felt himself already loving about him.

Luke frowns at the lack of response to his greeting and makes his way down the hall to the kitchen, his sock-covered feet sliding a bit on the wood floor. He turns into the kitchen and finds that the cookie smell had been due not to a candle but real life cookies that were cooling on a rack on the counter behind a headphone-clad Ashton. Luke laughs quietly to himself, wondering what the occasion was as he continues through the space and checks to make sure there’s nothing hot or sharp in his boyfriend’s hands before wrapping his arms around his waist. He lets his hands clasp together at his stomach and huffs out a giggle when he feels him jump with surprise.

Ashton uses his free hand not holding a spatula to pull his headphones off his head, hanging them from one of the cabinet handles. He leaves the utensil in the bowl and turns in Luke’s arms to face him, his arms wrapping around the blonde’s neck. “Hey you,” he beams, his arms tightening some to pull Luke closer to brush their lips together in greeting. Luke notes to himself that he must have been sampling his cookie dough from the sugar against his own lips now. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Seems like you were busy,” Luke smiles, moving one of his hands from Ashton’s back to gesture to the kitchen. 

Ashton lights up, his dimples deepening as he smiles. “Oh, yeah! Wanted snacks for the show tonight.”

A confused look drops to Luke’s face. “Didn’t remember that we bought tickets for something tonight? Where is it at?”

“We don’t have tickets for anything. There’s this free concert series at the park that I thought would make a wonderful Friday night date night and I am determined to continue wooing you. So I bought pink wine and I’m making cookies.”

Luke releases his arms from his waist then, moving to the side to dip his finger into the cookie dough to taste it. “Consider me wooed. That sounds lovely.”

He’s ushered out of the space to sit at the counter then so Ashton can continue working. He’s given a glass of lemonade and tells Ashton all about his day, about the students who came into the office for help with registration things and the dogs that he saw on his walk to campus. Luke gets Ashton to talk some about what they’re going to and it’s apparently Ashton’s favorite part of the summer. He goes into a story about a sweet dog and baby he got to meet when sharing a beer with some dad at one of the shows the previous summer.

“It’s funny because last summer it was my favorite thing to do with just me,” Ashton starts as he packs the cookies into plastic bags to put in a tote with the wine that he’s already poured into plastic bottles (glass wasn’t allowed at the park). “But I got the email about the set for tonight and I don’t know, I think it could be nice if this becomes our thing in the summer, you know?”

He turns up to look for a response from Luke and is met with the likely hilariously bright blush that Luke feels creeping up to paint across his cheeks and nose. He giggles to himself and raises his brows at the blonde as he packs some strawberries and cherries away to take with them as well. “I’ll take that as a good response to the idea then?”

Luke bites at his lip as he smiles. “That sounds incredible.”

They take the bus to the park. The sky is just dipping into golden hour as they dance their way to where the other attendees have their blankets set up for the evening. Luke makes Ashton stop his skipping for just a moment, claiming he needs him to stand still and smile for a lock screen picture, please. They find a good spot next to a group of women who brought their dogs and boxed wine and immediately start telling them how cute of a couple they are. Luke blushes fiercely as Ashton kisses his cheek, resulting in a chorus of squeals from their neighbors. They introduce themselves and the dogs and it’s really all something out of a film, Luke thinks.

They chat about work and summer courses some more and exchange stories from their younger years they have yet to share while sipping wine from plastic cups. Ashton lets Luke feed him cookies and they listen to the women tell stories from their many years of coming to the shows there. Luke sits between Ashton’s legs as they listen, gentle and thankful smiles on their faces, and Ashton reaches for one Luke’s hands, weaving their fingers together and resting them against Luke’s lap. 

The sun sets further and the music starts. They thank their new friends for the stories and smile respectfully, blushes on both of their faces hidden in the twilight when the women request invitations to their wedding. Ashton is stunned silent (a rare occurrence, really) so Luke makes sure to tell them he’ll add them to the guest list. 

It’s during the main set that Luke realizes he wants to live in this night for the rest of his life maybe. His back is against the chest of the first boy he’s ever loved, his body rising and falling just slightly with Ashton’s breathing and singing and laughter. The hazel eyed boy has one arm wrapped securely around Luke’s waist while the other lifts the water bottle of rose to his lips every so often. Luke finds that he feels so safe in that moment, like because of this night, nothing in the world could ever hurt him because he feels so high up in the air. He feels Ashton tilt his head some to place his lips against Luke’s neck, and he just never wants this to end.

Eventually it does though, of course. They fold up their blanket, smiles on their faces after the band closed with a cover of one of their favorite songs. Goodbyes and promises to meet up at the next show are made as their new friends wander off. Luke jokes that he’ll have to tell his mom about how easily the pair of them are able to make company with women like her friends. On the bus back to the apartment complex, Ashton sleepily leans against Luke and the blonde cards his fingers through his hair, smiling at the bright, fruity scent of Ashton’s cologne he keeps catching a whiff of. 

They stumble into the apartment, slightly tipsy off the wine and each other, only pausing to brush their teeth and change into something more comfortable to sleep in before falling into Ashton’s bed. They face each other and Luke kisses at Ashton’s laughter lines as their legs tangle together. 

“God,” Ashton bites his lip against a smile as he lifts a hand to cup Luke’s cheek, his thumb stroking across his cheekbone. “I have no idea what good I did to deserve you.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Luke sighs as he leans into the warm hand on his cheek. “I think I might love you. Is that okay?”

Before responding, Ashton lifts his chin slightly to press his lips to Luke’s forehead. They breathe in unison for a moment before he moves to look Luke in the eye. “Only if it’s okay that I might love you.”

Sleep finds them quickly after their (almost, maybe) confessions.

*

The memory fades out like a fog when Ashton’s eyes pull away from Luke’s when the signal changes for Ashton to cross the street taking him in the opposite direction. Luke finds himself unable to tell if he wants the black-haired boy to turn back to face him or not. He’s not sure which action would break his heart apart more. As he watches him walk into the crosswalk, he feels another memory, this one quite the opposite feeling to the first, start to creep into the edges of his brain but he finds himself able to push that one down (thankfully).

He takes a deep breath as he watches Ashton continue down the street, not once looking back to see if Luke is still looking at him. And when his own walk sign lights up, it takes Luke just a moment to get his feet to start moving again as one single thought fills his mind so many times it feels like it’s blocking his vision.

If one thing happened different, would everything be different today?

He crosses the street then and continues down in that direction, deciding to take just a slightly longer route so his feet don’t have to take any of the same path as his ex-lover. He sighs then but as he feels a somewhat nostalgic summer breeze cool his face, Luke pulls his phone out to text the group message to ask if they want to help him make sugar cookies to take along with them to the park.

(That night, for just a moment, he swears he sees Ashton again a few picnic blankets away, his head tucked into the neck of another boy with curly hair. But then the boy sits up to laugh at something the other has said and Luke realizes it isn’t his past love. But the odd sense of hopefulness he had felt for the couple when he thought it was Ashton tells him that maybe one day he’ll really feel okay.)

*

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Parts 7 & 8)

SUMMARY: You and Roger decide to make a go of it and behave ‘like a normal couple’ in the wake of The Sun running a damning exposé on Roger’s love life and his divorce – and your disastrous attempts at dating other people. He also drunkenly makes you an offer you find hard to refuse.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr​​​; @sarahgurl09​​​; @sunshine112​; @biscuit-barrel​; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove​; @jhoemazzellhoe​; @justgivemethekeys​; @qweenly​; @picturepowderinabottle​

NOTES: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on this; I honestly didn’t think anyone still gave a shit about my fics anymore, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[Part 7]

The morning after that awful date, you and Roger decided to – in his words – “Make a go of it.”

This meant him sleeping over at your place every other night. According to Roger, this was to avoid rousing suspicions. But actually, Roger just loved being around you.

Your habit of neglecting your dishwashing duties didn’t bother him. And you couldn’t care less that he was more of a morning person than you; you enjoyed lying in bed, listening to him singing Taylor Swift in the shower. His day didn’t start until his bandmates kicked into action, so with time to spare, he always made you breakfast in bed, and packed you lunches to take to work. He insisted. When he learned that you always skipped breakfast, he was dismayed. This became a habit for him, looking after you. Mornings, evenings, everything, ran like clockwork.

Even sex.

That promise Roger made in Ibiza about teaching you a thing or two? That was long gone. Tamed and domesticated,  he loved missionary and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he pumped you full of baby batter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays – with double helpings on Saturdays. And neither of you minded. 

What your sex life lacked in kink and depravity, it made up for in a kind of intimacy that you doubted you’d find elsewhere.

So that was love. Finally.

A fortnight on from the Night of Terrible Dates, a sunny Sunday morning, Roger slid out of bed. He fumbled in the dull orange glow, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tattered t-shirt; he didn’t bother to comb his hair. It didn’t matter. He was only going to the end of the street to bring you your Sunday coffee. A proper one. 

Roger gently kissed your forehead and left you in a sweaty heap in bed. 

You shot him a dumb, delirious smile, watching him leave and trying to psyche yourself up for the notion of getting out of bed. You only knew one move in the bedroom, but you sure knew how to tucker yourself out, you huffed to yourself.

You got up, slipping on one of Roger’s t-shirts. Then you padded through to the bathroom. Your makeup from the night before had burrowed into caked lines around your eyes, and your foundation flaked around your nose. Drawing your cheeks up into a measly grin, you assessed the damage. And wondered how Roger put up with seeing your ugly mug in the morning.

You had no idea how he did it.

You got a bit carried away, though, feeling the last of Roger’s seed dribble down your thigh. Staring down at the offending swimmers in disgust, you fumbled for some loo roll to dispose of them once and for all.

Above the flush of the toilet, you heard the door slam. Roger was home. And it made your heart race. Kind of like the way dogs get excited to see their owners when they come home from work. You laughed at the thought. 

“Hey, Roger… Am I a pug or a lab?” you asked, watching as he slipped off his shoes.

“Huh?” he asked, turning around. He looked gormless, peering at you through his glasses with his mouth hanging open.

“I was thinking,” you began, throwing your arms around him, almost sending your coffees flying, “About how excited I get when you come home. I’m like a dog that gets all hyper over seeing its owner.”

“Right?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“So I was wondering whether I’m a pug or a labrador. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes, a goofy smirk spreading over his lips. “I think you’re more of a terrier. Small and yappy.”

“Well, in that case,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re a chihuahua.”

“Very funny. We all know I’m more cat than dog,” he quipped. When he safely managed to remove you from him, avoiding any spills, he made his way into the living room and slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table.

The bold, red stripe at the top made your heartbeat accelerate. “What are you buying that muck for?”

“Brian texted me this morning. Dom’s told them everything. That Charlotte girl’s sold her story. And they have eyewitness accounts of how I forced a crying girl out of the toilets in a French restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, folding your arms and trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“All of it,” you said. “This is just our luck, isn’t it? The girls at work are constantly pestering me for information about you and I don’t even know what to tell them anymore. They know more about us than we know about each other.”

“How are we supposed to be a normal couple if this is going to keep happening?”

And then a lightbulb dinged above your head. Your eyes lit up as you threw yourself on to Roger’s lap. “Why don’t we do that?”

“Do what?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Be a normal couple. Keep our noses clean. Do everything normal couples do.”

Roger tucked strands of your hair behind your ear as a smile broke across his face again. “How do you propose we do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. See our friends. And if they talk, they talk. We need to be careful about what we say, though. But it might go well for us.”

Roger nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “This could definitely work. But if we fuck up, they’ll never stop hounding us.”

“It’ll die down soon, though, won’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Remember, I’m going to Montreux at the end of the month. So, you’re on your own if anything goes wrong.”

Feeling defeated, you sighed. That had slipped your mind. He’d be gone for two months. Maybe even more if arguments got the better of his bandmates.

Roger stroked the base of your back. “I’m only thinking about you,” he said, his baby blue eyes turning more and more watery. “I want you to be safe and for no one to bother you. And if anything else got out, how are you going to take it?”

You cupped Roger’s face in your hands. Your noses touched and your bodies pressed together.

“We’re going to need to get your friends on board,” he sighed, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers. 

“Do you want to meet them?” you asked.

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

A week later, you and Roger sat in his Panamera outside your building. It looked so out of place parked on a rammed residential street; it belonged outside a mansion or an opulent Notting Hill townhouse. You were dressed to the nines, poised for Roger to meet all of your coupled off and drowse-inducingly dull friends. He vibrated with nervous energy, but that much you could deduce from how he talked.

“Now tell me again what I’m not supposed to say to Cassie?”

“Don’t crack dead baby jokes in front of her. I, personally love them. But her and whatshisface have been trying for over a year and they’re looking at IVF now, which is going to wipe them out. She’s had like three miscarriages.”

“Got it,” Roger nodded, chewing his lip. “So is there anyone going tonight that’s actually… you know… fun? Do they have a sense of humour?”

You shook your head, loathe to admit that these people were your friends. You collected them back when they were much more adventurous; in high school when the only things that bothered you were which Charlie body spray your mum was going to buy you that week, or how you were going to score a packet of cigs on your lunch break. Now they were all paired off with kids. Some of them dropped out of uni when they met ‘the one.’ Some of them didn’t even make it to uni. “None of them are particularly funny. Their humour got dumped out of their uteruses.”

“Right,” Roger said, starting the car. “This is going to be a long night.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fizz in the fridge for when we get back. Thought we’d need it.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What? The mild drink problem or the disdain for boring people?”

“Mild? I’ve seen how much you swallow on a school night.”

“Impress my pals and I’ll swallow more than a bottle of prosecco.”

“You mean, you’re actually going to shove the whole bottle down your neck? Now that, I need to see.”

You and Roger sat side by side as your friends grilled you. It felt like you were on trial. They asked him everything. Why he got divorced. Why he was on Tinder. Why you. And then. The question of your thirteen year age gap came up.

It was Grace. The gossip. She leaned over the table, as far as she could, with eyes bulging out of her head. Her stubby fingers gripped her glass of gin and tonic. 

“So, he’s so much older than you,” she guffawed, darting her eyes between you and Roger. “Bet it turns him on.”

Roger’s fingers found their way to your lap, and tangled with your own, locking your hands together. “Actually,” Roger began, glancing at you, “I think she’s lovely. She could be twenty-four or eighty-four and I’d still adore her.” When he finished that sentence, he looked so proud of himself – flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He gave your hand another squeeze.

But that wasn’t the answer Grace the Gossip was looking for. “Oh, come on! I’ve heard you like shagging younger women.” Then she turned her attention to you, jabbing her finger at you. “And don’t pretend you don’t like him because he’s famous and rich.”

“What are you?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of those rats working for the red-tops. Are you?”

“Come on, that’s enough. Both of you,” Jade said, trying to mediate.

“No, I want to hear Grace’s answer, actually,” you piped up. You and Roger exchanged smug looks, while Grace rolled her eyes.

She sighed. “I’m curious. There are plenty of men out there your age. And there are plenty of girls out there Roger’s age. Thirteen years is a lot.”

You sensed Roger slumping in his chair beside you; you felt his disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know, Geraldine–”

“It’s Grace, actually.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re both bloody adults and as far as I’m concerned, your mate’s more mature than most people my age.” He looked at you, visibly annoyed. “Are we done here, can we go home?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you huffed, looking around at your friends. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, by the way. All of you. You’re all coupled up and you constantly tell me that I should be too. And now I am–”

“It’s not that,” Lily – the mouthpiece – interrupted. “It’s him.”

“And that you met him on Tinder,” Jade added.

You regained your composure, painfully aware that your friends were beyond seeing sense. “And now that I am,” you seethed, “You don’t have it in you to be happy for me.”

“We are,” Cassie, the doormat, cooed.

“Is it because I’m not stupid enough to get myself pregnant within two weeks of meeting someone new?” you asked, glaring at Grace. “Or that I haven’t had to give up my career for a man?” you continued, shooting daggers at Cassie. “Or perhaps it’s because my boyfriend isn’t a fucking deadbeat?” you concluded, directing that remark at Lily and Jade.

Your friends looked at each other in stunned silence.

Lily slapped her hand on her husband’s. “He’s not a deadbeat. I mean he’s quiet, but at least I know when he gets bored, he’s sensible enough not to trade me in for a younger model.”

Cassie was next to refute your claim: “I quit my job by choice. He got a better job and he supports us both. I’m happy.”

James, her husband, nodded.

“Well, if you’d like to keep lying to yourselves, then I’m sorry but I’m out of here. I don’t have the patience for this,” you announced, throwing down you and Roger’s share of the bill, plus a tip. You got to your feet, stretching out your hand which Roger gladly took. “We’re going home.” You cast an eye over the stunned table. “And if any of you want to apologise, remember what you did wrong before you go bashing us. We’re happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you were any kind of friends, you’d support that.”

Your friends said nothing as you and Roger stormed out of the restaurant at breakneck speed. But when the pair of you got to the front door, Roger mumbled something, staring straight on ahead.

You didn’t quite catch it, so you leaned in closer to him. “What was that, Roggie?”

“You were amazing,” he repeated with a faint simper on his lips.

You gave his hand another fleeting squeeze, feeling a swell of pride in your chest. “So were you.”

When you were safely inside Roger’s car, you both sank with relief. “That was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Roger said.

“Yup.”

“Suppose that’ll end up in The Sun?”

You turned in your seat to face him, wearing a serious expression. “Hope not.”

“You never know who to trust,” he warned, speeding off in the direction of home.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the journey back. Choosing to drown out the thought of your horrible evening, he turned his playlist up. The one he made for you. And belted no less than five love songs at you on the journey.

It earned a few cautious laughs from you, too. But the seed of doubt grew in your mind. What if you couldn’t trust your friends anymore?

The pensive silence stuck around like a bad smell well until you arrived home. You stood in the hall with your back to Roger as he shuffled your coat off your body and hung it up.

Then his arms snaked around your waist, his chin propped on your shoulder. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kitten. Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You exhaled, turning towards him. Your eyes had gone glassy and your lips curved into a frown. “It’s been a bad night, hasn’t it?” you lamented. 

“It’s not gone that badly,” Roger reasoned.

“Yeah, but what if they hate me now?”

“They can’t possibly hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s…” Roger paused, shrugging, “Illegal?”

You rolled your eyes and stormed into the kitchen in search of something to take the edge off. “That’s the best you can do?” you asked opening the fridge and plucking out the bottle.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said, trailing behind you. “You’re lovely. And an amazing friend. They should be lucky to have you. And if they can’t see that, then I’m sorry, but they were never your friends to begin with.”

You grimaced, slapping the bottle down on the countertop. A deluge of sadness dropped on to your body like a lead balloon. “I’m twenty-four and I’m back at square one when it comes to friends,” you squeaked, leaning against the counter. The tears weren’t far off; you could feel the warmth burning your eyes. Not wanting Roger to see you in this state again, you bowed your head. Of course, it made the tears fall faster. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey,” he said in a low, warm voice. “You’ve still got years to meet new people. And makeup with everyone else. You’ve got me. And Freddie was saying the other day, he’d love to meet you. He knows a few characters. You’re only twenty-four. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure they’ll come round.”

Your whole body shook with grief as Roger held you close. “It feels like it is.”

The following day, you woke up to the sound of the intercom ripping through your empty flat. Your eyes shot open as you turned over, clawing at the empty space in your bed in search of Roger.

You heaved yourself on to your feet and padded through to the door, picking up the receiver. “Hello?” you spat.

“Hello, my love,” a sort of familiar voice beamed. “Is that Roger’s lovely girlfriend there?”

Your stomach sank. Surely Roger wasn’t behind all of this?

“Well, is it?” he pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Come on up.” You smacked the receiver down and sped through to your bedroom, slipping into more modest attire. With any luck, you thought, you might be able to brush your teeth before your guest arrived. But you were wrong.

Three loud knocks boomed into your home as you pulled on one of Roger’s shirts, earning a pained sigh from you.

And then another three while you hurried back to answer the door.

“Alright, alright! Hold your bloody horses,” you hissed. When you flung open the door, you found Freddie standing in the hall. He looked inconspicuous in his leather jacket and ripped up jeans, aside from the bottle of Moët he clutched. “Christ, it’s ten in the morning,” you remarked.

“I know,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to let me in, dear? This bottle’s getting warm and we can’t have that!”

You shuffled aside, allowing Freddie to barge in. “Make yourself at home,” you hummed, throwing your arm out in the general direction of your humble abode.

Freddie sashayed through to the kitchen like a wrecking ball through your lazy Sunday morning. “Roger says you were very down last night.”

“Oh, did he now,” you shrugged, following him. “Suppose he sent you here to make me feel better, then?”

He threw himself into a chair at your kitchen table. “No,” he began, popping open the champagne. “I’m here to talk to you about planning a party, my dear.” He held up the bottle, silently asking for glasses.

“A party?” You threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice; you couldn’t stomach straight champagne this early in the morning. “What kind of party?”

“Oh, I love mimosas,” he smirked. “Get some glasses and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Already ahead of you.” You opened the cupboard where all the glasses went to die and pulled out two mismatched flutes. You slid them across the table towards Freddie – along with the orange juice – and he got pouring the drinks.

“Well,” he began, placing your glass in front of you. “I’m sure you know, it’s Roger’s birthday next week?” It was more of a question than an explanation.

You nodded in response.

“Well, I thought it might be a nice idea, as one of Roger’s best friends, and you, as Roger’s very beautiful lady friend, to organise a party for him. It’d be nice to celebrate, and it’d be lovely for you to meet everyone. How does that sound?” Freddie asked with a manic look in his eyes.

You knocked back your mimosa in one swift gulp and sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Freddie excitedly clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I was hoping we could have it at my house. I have a few ideas for the cake, too! And invites! Yes, I’ve drawn these up,” Freddie rambled, scooting over towards you and whipping out his phone to show you some crisp, white invites with gold borders and greenery around the edges. “What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful!” you smiled. “I’m not sure they’re very Roger, though.”

A mischievous smirk emerged from beneath his moustache. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s make it filthy.”

[Part 8]

“I don’t see why we can’t stay at home and celebrate with a take away,” Roger grumbled, staring out of the window of the car.

“I  thought it’d be nice to get a bite to eat somewhere nice,” you explained, brushing your fingers against his thigh.

The sweltering July evening seemed never-ending and the sun still hung high, even though the clock approached nine.

It was weather for light linen shirts and cropped jeans and sunglasses, hair that smelled like the beach and tanned skin on display. It suited Roger down to a tee, you thought, as your eyes wandered. He scratched at the undersides of his arms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Then, slipping his hand beneath his shirt collar, he sighed as he rubbed his aching shoulders. “But I love your cooking.”

“Would it stun you to know that I’m sick of cooking?”

Roger’s lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “But it’s my birthday. It’s as good as steak and blowjob day.”

“Well, you can eat some nice steak tonight and I’ll give you a blowie later. How does that sound?”

“Oh, alright!”

The pair of you went back to absentmindedly staring out the windows, every now and again, reaching across the seat to touch hands. The nerves in your stomach brewed, wondering what he would make of the party you and Freddie planned. 

“Hang on?” Roger said, edging forward in his seat as he peered out the window. “Where are we going again?”

“For dinner, Roggie,” you stated. “Why?”

“Why are we going to Freddie’s?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Fred recently.”

“And what of it?”

“You’ve been planning something, haven’t you?” Roger asked, his voice streaked with giddiness.

“No!”

“Why are we pulling up in front of Fred’s house then?”

“We’re going to pop in and see him so he can wish you a happy birthday.”

“Oh great!” Roger tutted mockingly. “That’s half the night wasted then. No blowjobs for me.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded. You reached into your bag and handed the fare to the driver, then you both stepped out on to the street outside Garden Lodge.

“This better be quick! I’m fucking starving,” Roger warned, rubbing his tummy.

You knew how grumpy he could be when he was in the throes of hunger and you hoped the catering and free booze would be enough to sustain him through the night. But there was one thing you were certain of: Roger loved a good party. “Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the large wooden door that insulated the mansion within. You jabbed your finger against the intercom. “Fred? We’re here!”

Fred’s laughter came over the intercom, and then he finally spoke. “Come in, darlings!”

You and Roger exchanged puzzled looks at how jovial he sounded, but then you shrugged and pushed open the gate.

“SURPRISE!”

The garden was packed with anyone who was anyone in the music business. Producers, musicians, even actors and actresses, and models, too. They had all assembled to celebrate Roger’s birthday. You were certain Roger hadn’t even met half of the guests – most of them looked like Freddie’s circle.

Roger laughed nervously as he took in the sight of the garden, decked out with strings of twinkling gold lights and picnic benches. And then, his face settled into a look of wonder, eyeing the waitresses in knee high boots and leather bikinis, doling out canapés. One tall and stony looking blonde thrust flutes of champagne into your hands, and a friendlier flame-haired floozy moseyed up to you and Roger, popping tiny cherry pies into your mouths. “Good?” she purred, relishing how flustered Roger became.

Roger mumbled enthusiastically, catching crumbs that tumbled from his mouth. He had turned a delightful shade of pink as he took in his surroundings. He shuffled up the garden path towards a pair of oversized inflatable legs, spread eagled. Between them, in lieu of the female anatomy, was the door to Freddie’s house. Roger marvelled at them, open mouthed.

From the crowd, ever the perfect hostess, Freddie emerged with a cake. You and him had spent days in bakeries all over London, sampling their wares. But you had finally decided on one. Two glorious mounds of chocolate cake, moulded into an ample bosom, complete with a set of erect, rosebud nipples. The number 38 blazed away beside it. The throng surrounding Roger erupted into a bout of ‘happy birthday.’

Roger looked at you, bewildered and wondering what part you played in this, but you nodded towards his cake.

Roger was always the life and soul of the party, and it didn’t take him long to bust a few moves that you feared might seriously injure him. After all, 38 was two years shy of forty. And that would be really old.

You admired him from one of the picnic benches, as you drained another glass of champagne. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and you felt completely at home and relaxed on the sidelines. Until Freddie burst into view, dragging none other than Elton John with him.

“My dear, there’s someone I need you to meet!” he beamed, throwing a rather drunk Elton down opposite you. “This is Elton!”

Elton waved and nodded, giving you a quiet, “Hi.”

“Elton, this is Roger’s girlfriend, isn’t she a peach?”

“She’s lovely, yeah!”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted,” Freddie cooed, wandering off to pester someone else.

Unsure of what to say to Elton, you searched your brain for something, anything, to make inroads into a conversation with him. “So,” you began, dragging out that vowel. “How do you know Fred?”

“Me and Fred go way back! All the way to the nineties, would you believe? Back when I was practically bald. You probably don’t remember that, though,” he slurred. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” you mumbled.

Elton’s eyes bulged. “I knew Roger liked them young, but you’re half his bloody age! I heard you met on Tinder, too? Bold move on Roger’s part!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about some of the experiences he’d had before he met me,” you laughed. “Must’ve been desperate. Hence why he set the bar this low.”

“Oh not at all,” Elton said, flapping his hands. “It’s  nice to see him with a girl who doesn’t look like she’s in it for the money. God knows, that’s all Roger’s got going for him.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that.” You glanced over at Freddie and Roger, who were huddled in a corner of the garden, blathering away at each other like a pair of gossiping old biddies. You loved the way Roger laughed with his entire body when Freddie presumably told him a dirty joke and the way Freddie’s eyes bulged when he embellished his stories with theatrical action. “He’s kind and does everything he can to drag me out of my shell. And he doesn’t seem to mind that my friends hate him or that the world feels like we shouldn’t be together. He’s always so positive. I love that.”

“So you’re smitten, then?” Elton said, leaning in. “And you’re serious?”

Your cheeks burned as an awkward smile cracked over your features. “I think so,” you said, nodding with youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elton said, grabbing your hands and speaking to you with the wisdom of an old babushka. “I hope this works. Because you clearly make each other happy. And don’t let anyone or anything, take that away from you. Fred and I know what it’s like, having everyone out to get you.”

On the other side of the garden, Roger was busy gushing to Freddie about his party. He had already sunk a bottle of champagne all to himself, and, having loosened up, he was prepared to tell anyone who would listen how glad he was to be spending his thirty-eighth birthday, surrounded ‘by people he cared about.’

“This is so different from last year,” he smiled, looking out at the partygoers. “And it’s the first birthday in a while that I’ve actually been happy. Remember how Dom and I used argue at these things?” He turned to Freddie, looking bleary eyed. “I  love her, Fred. I fucking love her.”

“I know you do,” Freddie said, linking his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This was all her idea, you know? The legs and everything. I think she knows you better than I do!”

He shook his head, wearing a cute, dumb expression. “I think she gets me. And to think she thought she wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of way. “Why ever would that beautiful thing think that?!”

“She was nervous because she’d never really seriously dated anyone before. And then I went and told her how many women I’d slept with. And she got cold feet.”

“Did you tell her how many men you’ve shagged too?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said bashfully. “I mean it, though. I could definitely see myself really making a go of it with her.”

“She loves you very much,” Freddie explained, bolstering his friend. “She told me you make her a nice breakfast every day before she goes to work and that you have her lunch packed for her. Sounds like you bloody well do everything for her. Spoilt little thing.”

“I just worry about her,” Roger admitted, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, when you look at someone, do you ever  see that tiny flicker of sadness there in their eyes? And then you promise yourself, you’ll never allow it to really get a grip on them? Because I see that all the time. I want to look after her. I never ever felt that way about Dominique.”

Freddie glanced at his best friend. “You did all those years ago. I remember you used to make any excuse to see her. Hell, you even sprawled yourself across her desk in Richard’s office one Monday morning, a big fucking rose between your teeth.”

“But this is different.”

“How?”

“I thought I wanted sex and filth and something to take my mind off the whole bloody thing. All that excitement you get when you first meet someone and you fall for them. But I don’t. I don’t have that with her,” he slurred, gluing his eyes to you and only you.

“What do you have? A sore arse? I bet she’s good with a strap.”

“No.” Roger glared at Freddie. “I have this overwhelming need to protect her, like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you should tell her before you go to Montreux.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s soon, isn’t it? Why – has she told you anything?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“But she did tell you something…”

“Yes and no.”

“What is it then?”

“I think she’s worried it might be a bit too soon for you to be apart.”

“And she told you that, did she?” he asked with a pout. 

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

“Do you think I should invite her out?” he asked, turning his head to look at Freddie again. “To Montreux?”

Freddie’s eyes widened as soon as he heard Roger’s plan. “That’s a bloody wonderful idea! I’m planning on bringing my new man, Jim out with me. He could probably do with the company when I’m holed up in the studio with you.”

“You think so?” Roger asked, patting his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I think you should go and ask her now!”

Roger stood up straight and puffed out his chest like a great, brave emperor penguin, ready to journey across a continent. “I think I will!”

“Go get her, tiger!” Freddie called, sending all eyes at the party on to Roger as he staggered up the garden.

You were still deep in conversation with Elton, but silence fell as Roger approached.

“Does he look drunk to you?” Elton asked.

“He looks fucking wasted.”

Roger wore that dreamy look in his eye that could make you do anything, even if he was three sheets to the wind. When he arrived at the table, he almost fell over as he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, birthday boy!” you cooed. “I see you’re having a good night!”

“Elton, my man!” Roger exclaimed making finger guns at him. “I’m gonna need some alone time with my woman. Can I steal her away?” he slurred.

“Excuse me?” you blinked. “Your woman?”

Roger flung himself down beside you and put his arm around you. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, I’d like some alone time with this absolutely delectable creature, where I shall seek to woo her with my potent, sexual allure,” he elaborated, dragging his palm down his exposed torso.

You gave Roger a glare that told him he was done for, and, not wanting to attract further attention, took his hand. You led him up between the pair of giant inflatable legs, through the vagina, and into Freddie’s kitchen. Much to your annoyance, there was a crowd of kitchen dwellers dotted around the room, so you continued your journey, further into Freddie’s not-so-humble abode. “Come on,” you said, pulling Roger up the spiral staircase in the hall. “There’s bound to be a room up here for us.”

“Oh, we’re going upstairs,” he purred, giving his eyebrows a knowing wiggle. “I know what that means.”

You continued to lead him by the hand through the tastefully decorated hallway, until you reached what Freddie liked to call the ‘Pink Room.’ You and Roger entered and stood in silence in the middle of the room, gawking at each other.

Roger obviously found the situation hilarious as he searched for something to focus on to take his mind off the fit of giggles that simmered away under his dishevelled exterior. His shoulders bobbed every now and again when a small laugh escaped.

“What’s so funny, Roggie?”

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, gauging how drunk your boyfriend was. “It’s something.”

“No, I’m thinking about how we’re gonna shag in Fred’s house.”

“We’re not going to shag in Freddie’s house, Roggie. At least not until you’ve sobered up and told me what you wanted to tell me in the garden.”

Roger’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as soon as he remembered why he wanted to get you alone. Then he nodded. He shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor to pluck the words out of his champagne-addled brain. “Fred and I were talking,” he began.

“Uh huh?” you urged him on, crossing your arms. 

“And we were talking…” He continued, his eyes rolling up in his head as he still wore that boyish, naughty expression.

“You were talking and…”

“Well, all the other guys are bringing their girlfriends, and Freddie’s got his new boyfriend and I was wondering, if…”

Unable to contain your annoyance for Roger’s penchant for trailing off mid sentence, you erupted: “For goodness sake, Roger, spit it out!”

Roger puffed out his cheeks at your sudden outburst and exhaled. “Do you want to come to Montreux with us?”

Roger’s proposal came as such a shock to you that you had to stumble around to find a place to sit. Eventually, you found a dusty pink chaise longue that overlooked the garden and flopped on top of it. “Jesus,” you muttered.

Roger dropped to his knees and shuffled over to you, pouting and silently attempting to convince you that this was a good idea for both of you.

“How long do you want me out there for?”

“However long you’d like. Montreux’s really beautiful. We could maybe even stay there?” Roger begged, clasping your hand in his. Shimmering gold flecks from the lights in the garden danced in his tired eyes. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“It’s a big ask,” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got work to think about. I can’t just quit. I don’t want to be like my friends.”

“I’ll look after you, though. And you’ve got all of us. We’re a family.”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you admitted. “I think I’m gonna need some time to think about this. I can’t get up and leave. It’s not that easy.”

Roger’s entire body deflated right in front of you, his disappointment palpable as he slouched. “Take as long as you need, Kitten,” he said. His tone became measured and calm now; the sparkle and optimism had disappeared. “Even if you’re able to come out  for a day or two, it’d be better than nothing. I’m gonna miss looking after you when I’m out there.”

“I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit drunk,” Roger spluttered. “But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You’ve had a good birthday?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Best birthday in years. And I’ve got you to thank for that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You make me so fucking happy.”

The pair of you scrambled to your feet, your arms enveloping his body. Your head rested against his chest, so close you could hear his heart racing and his lungs slowly sucking in air as you danced together in the window of the Pink Room, and gazed down at the party below. “I love you, Roggie,” you whispered, burying your nose against his shirt to inhale his scent. 

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“How about we head home? Hm?” you asked looking up at him.

He swept the hair out of your face with a contented, heavy lidded smile. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll even bring you a nice breakfast in bed to thank you for this in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The following morning, you felt the bed dip beside you and the soft, warm sound of Roger’s voice. Bliss. Turning on to your back, you stretched letting all the tensed muscles in your body unfurl and your bones crack back into place with a groan. “Morning, Roggie,” you purred with your eyes still closed.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said. 

You could see the smile behind his words inside your mind. And you could also smell bacon. Your eyes flicked open to find him wafting a bacon roll right under your nose.

“Knew that would wake you up in no time,” he grinned, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. “I’ve made you some tea, too.”

You grabbed the cup from Roger’s hands and took a swig like it was the holy grail. Your mouth was so dry from all the alcohol the night before that you almost finished the cup in one big gulp. “Thank you,” you sighed, sitting the cup down on your nightstand. Then you went back to the most important meal of the day.

Roger took small bites of his own, in between stroking your hair and admiring you in the golden rays cracking through the blinds. “Did you sleep well, Kitten?” he asked.

You gave a contented groan. “Like a log – how about you?” you asked, curling yourself against his body. “Hungover?”

“No,” he mused, “I feel good.”

“You look tired.”

“I am a bit, but that’s nothing a little siesta can’t fix,” he sighed.

But there was something off. You could tell Roger was holding something back; his body was tense and he had a habit of moving his lips to start a sentence with no sound coming from them when he was too apprehensive about asking you something. Then you remembered his proposition from the night before.

“About last night–” you both began in unison.

“You first,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically coy.

“No, no… you asked the question.”

Roger sucked his lips together, and stayed silent for a moment. Then the lightbulb pinged above his head. “I know I asked you to come over to Montreux, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to go. You’ve got a life here. You can’t abandon that. I was a bit drunk and over excited.”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I  need to see how many holidays I can realistically take off work this summer.”

Roger nodded. “Ok. I’m not going to pester you about it,  have a think. It might do you the world of good to go out there.”

You gave a haughty laugh, still feeling raw from the invasion of your privacy back in Ibiza. “What like it did when we spent that weekend at the villa?” you asked.

Roger’s features fell. “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Montreux’s not like Ibiza at all. Fuck, no one even knows where Montreux is. No one pesters us there. Not even Freddie.” He sounded hurt. “Please think about it.”

And then your phone rang. Convenient timing, if only to prevent an argument. You fumbled around on your nightstand for your phone and looked at the screen. It was Jade. “What the fuck does she want?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who?” Roger asked, peering over your shoulder. Then he scowled in disgust. “Her?”

“Should I answer it?” you asked, glancing up at Roger.

“It’s up to you.”

You answered the call, putting Jade on speaker for Roger to hear. “What do you want?”

“Please don’t read The Sun today,” Jade said, sounding panicked.

Roger sat upright, looking puzzled.

“Why?” you asked, feeling a pit of dread growing larger and larger with every passing second. “What have they done now?”

“Just don’t read it, please.” She repeated her plea with more desperation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”

Roger tapped away on his own phone and then showed you the screen. On the homepage of The Sun’s website, there were a series of articles about you and Roger. One about Charlotte and Lewis. Blurry phone photos of Roger leading you out of La Rouvenaz after your date from hell. A photo of Roger’s ex wife, with the headline: “Dominique Taylor: My Side of the Story.” And another headline. “Pals Spill the Beans on Queen Drummer’s New Squeeze.”

By the time you had finished reading everything on the page, you could hear Jade whimpering on the other end of the line.

“You fucking bitch,” Roger hissed. “You snake. How much did they pay you?”

“Please,” Jade cried. “I’m so sorry. They got it out of me without me knowing I–”

“I want to know how much they paid you!”

“Ten grand.”

Too stunned to speak, Roger verbalised exactly what was on the tip of your tongue. “Ten grand? Is that how much your best mate’s worth?”

“If I could  come over and explain, I could make things–”

Without saying a word, you hung up. Still in a state of shock, you took Roger’s phone and began at the very top of the page, scanning every single article for opinions on everything from how much you weighed to what you wore. All of your friends had something to say. Some of them even surrendered photos of you from your school days, back when the gang was much more close knit – before life got in the way of your friendships. You were too exhausted to shed tears. Too humiliated to want to set foot in the office again. You turned to Roger, whose eyes had clouded over as he seethed. “Montreux doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all,” you said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I think you’re probably the only person that actually cares about me at this point.”

“I hope I’m worth it.”

Realising what was at stake, you spent the rest of your Sunday preparing yourself for Monday. You drafted your letter of resignation, organised boxes to empty the contents of your desk into, and you had packed a suitcase with  enough to get by in Montreux until you found your feet. 

The next morning, you and Roger sat in his car outside your office building in silence.

“Just remember, I’m out here,” Roger said quietly, stroking circles above your knee.

You took a series of deep breaths, doubting your ability to march into the office and drop the letter on your boss’ desk. “All I need to do, is give Stephen the letter, clear my desk and then we can go.” You nodded, walking yourself through the perfectly plotted road map in your brain. “What if someone stops me?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest. “I don’t know if I could face the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Just tell them it’s a family emergency and that you don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“But you’re better at these things than I am. You only have to breathe their air and people like you.”

“What do you care if those idiots like you?” he snorted. Then he grabbed your shoulders, ready for another one of his world class pep talks. “You’re never going to see them again. And if they talk to the papers, you’re not going to be in the bloody country to read it. You’re gonna be chilling on a lakeside promenade, with a cocktail in your hand, enjoying night after night of boring missionary sex with me, your adoring and very rich boyfriend. You’re better than that fucking dump behind you and you know it!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reluctantly agreed. Staring down that the carefully typed and labelled letter in your hands, you huffed. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this now, before everyone else arrives.”

“You’ve got…” Roger paused, looking at his watch. “Five minutes, to complete your mission, Agent Kitten. Good luck.”

You chuckled and grabbed the boxes in the footwell. 

The walk into your poky marketing agency went well. Your legs managed to function and your head stayed high as you sauntered through the doors one final time. The nerves dissipated as you entered the office, weaving your way through the gigantic fishbowl, looking at all the soulless drones, sitting at their desks, tapping away at their keyboards on the company’s next big brand project. And you knew, in that moment, how much you hated it. 

That swell of hatred spurred you on as you stopped by your desk to dump the boxes. Of course, Steph and Cheryl looked up from their computer screens with raised eyebrows.

“What are those for?” Steph asked.

“Nothing,” you spat, turning on your heel towards your boss’ office.

He sat in a glass room at the far end of the main office. He loved to look out on his sea of minions and watch them waste their lives while he collected a vastly overinflated salary that said more about his greed than his talent or work ethic.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised his office was empty. You were able to slip inside his glass tank and pop the envelope on his desk, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders once and for all.

Mission accomplished.

Time to clear your desk.

Like a panther on a hunt, you slunk back to your desk undetected, and cleared your personal belongings away, erasing the two years of your life you had spent at this very spot. You removed the photos of your friends from the grey partition boards, and ripped them up. You safely stowed your collection of cacti and succulents in one box. Then you moved on to your drawers; rifling through them for the essentials.

It astounded you how much crap you accumulated in two years. But then, you couldn’t remember the last time you tossed anything out. There were spare packets of star shaped confetti from your first Christmas party, birthday cards, five half empty jars of instant coffee, not to mention a stack of unfinished notebooks and pens in abundance. Knowing where your real priorities lay, you scooped up the bundle of notebooks and pens and dumped them alongside your plants.

You eyed your prized possessions with overwhelming satisfaction. Standing there with your hands on your hips, you realised that you managed this with no resistance from your co-workers. Until Steph lingered beside you.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, jabbing her finger painfully into your arm. “You’re leaving and you didn’t tell us! Did you get the sack?” she prodded.

“No, it’s an urgent family thing abroad that I need to get to. I don’t now when I’ll be back,” you bumbled, trying to remember the spiel Roger taught you, for use in emergencies. 

“Won’t you have time for drinks?” Cheryl piped up, peering over the partition.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, shaking your head in an attempt to sound disappointed. Inside you were elated. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Flight takes off soon.” And with that, you grabbed your belongings and headed for the door as fast as your legs could carry you.

But then, your boss slipped through, his face falling when he saw the box in your arms. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your desk, I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

You barged past him. His mistake for holding to door open for you, you thought. You could still hear him bellowing down the corridor as you headed for the exit. “Fuck you, Stephen!” you roared, throwing up the middle finger behind you.

Roger was waiting for you as you practically ran to his car. He stood, leaning against it. Sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, pushing his thick, messy mane out of his face. “How’d it go, Kitten?” he asked, taking the box from you and looking inside at your loot.

“It was amazing,” you wheezed, realising how cathartic the experience was for you. “Threw my boss the middle finger as I left. It felt so fucking good. Better than sex. Better than driving one of your cars. I can’t even describe it,” you wittered as Roger put your box in the boot.

He closed it and turned to you, a smile trying to burst from his lips. “I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“So, now we go to the airport?” you asked, pressing your toe into the pavement.

“To the airport,” Roger grinned, getting back into the car.

“I’ve always wondered,” you pondered as the car hurtled down the motorway, “what happens when you leave the car at the airport?”

“I’m not leaving the car at the airport. Some poor intern at the label is going to come and collect it, and they’re going to put it into storage for me for when I make my return. Whenever that’ll be.”

“Right,” you sighed, remembering that you had a flat to empty. “And what about my place?”

“That’s easy. We can get some removal men in when we get to Montreux and they’ll put all your stuff into storage with my car. For when you make your return!” he explained excitedly. “Whenever that’ll be!”

“Fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” you sighed.

“Yeah!” Roger grinned, his eyebrows peeking out from the rims of his shades. “We really are!”

Just like the first time you and Roger boarded a plane together, your stomach stretched itself tight with apprehension. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t feel like you were making the right choice. Roger made you happy, you thought as he led you across the tarmac towards the small private plane. When you got inside, you realised it was exactly the same one as before and again, you took care not to touch anything, for fear that some other couple had done exactly what you and Roger had done between your trip to Ibiza and now. 

You and Roger plonked yourselves down next to each other on the leather sofa as stewardesses flocked to you, offering canapés and flutes of champagne. Something to make the flight to Geneva go in  a  bit faster.

The plane took off, and the pair of you watched like excited children as clouds shrouded the plane, and then dissipated just as fast, leaving you soaring through the air, high above home and not knowing when you’ll ever return.

“Should we put on some music?” Roger murmured, twirling stands of your hair around his fingers. “Spice things up a bit?”

“What like last time?”

He grinned, looking utterly irresistible with his half-buttoned shirt and his dark sunglasses. “Exactly like last time. But better.”

You watched from the sofa as Roger got to his feet and wandered over to the stereo.

“Taylor Swift?”

“Nah.”

“Springsteen?”

“We always listen to Springsteen.”

“I know,” Roger giggled, waggling his finger in the air. “I’ve got just the song for this occasion.” 

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to hit play on his phone.

The first few bars of ‘Danger Zone,’ boomed through the speakers, sending you into a fit of giggles. But nothing could prepare you for what came next as Roger moved towards you, swaying every part of his body to the beat.

“What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Just sit back, relax,” Roger said, turning away from you. He batted his hips from side to side, bending over to give you an unrestricted view of his bottom as he wiggled and writhed. “And enjoy the view.”

>>NEXT>>

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - Prologue

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 2.1k

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

“Don’t you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Kiss me.”

He laughs, cheeks pink. “Well, yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Just checking.” Her grin is cheshire.

“Been thinking about kissing you for a while, actually.”

“Maybe you should get on with it then.”

He always wakes up before the kiss. It’s bittersweet. He wants the fantasy, but he also knows no dream can compare to the reality of it.

He won’t tell his therapist about the dream, even though it’s the fifth time he’s had it this month. His therapist doesn’t know about her though, and Shawn doesn’t really feel like talking about her. He doesn’t want to wade through the sharp static of his memories to pick out the relevant information. It’s better left as is; he’s gotten good at compartmentalizing.

He blinks at the ceiling and waits for his alarm to go off. He always wakes up first, but never drags himself away from the warmth of his duvet until Taylor Swift tells him to.

‘If you can see I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so why can't you see, you belong with--’

One by one, the joints in his spine crackle as he sits up and smashes “Stop” on his phone with the pad of his thumb. Taylor quiets, and now all he can hear is the annoyingly chipper twitter of birds outside his window.

His shower is hot, too hot, scalding, but he likes it. He likes the shock to his system first thing in the morning. He likes the burn of reality, the zing of clarity that cuts through any dream-like remnants still hazy in his mind.

Geoff bangs on his door as he’s pulling boxers on, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Wha’?” he calls, grabbing the brush and working on his molars as he opens the door.

“Starbucks trip, dude,” Geoff says, swinging his car keys around his index finger.

Shawn hums, jerks his head towards the bathroom then goes to spit, gargling a mouthful of cool water before emerging once more.

“You think they’d make my latte Irish?” he deadpans as he pulls on some clothes, tight black skinny jeans and a white shirt that says ‘HEAVEN’ across the chest. He thinks it’s funny. He’s definitely not going to heaven, if it’s real.

“Dream again?” Geoff asks as he rests against the doorframe.

“Starting to feel more like a nightmare. Or like. A warning.”

He hears himself. He knows it sounds stupid. But you don’t have a dream like that over and over without developing a sense of impending doom.

Geoff snorts, keeps him grounded with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah like, if you don’t get laid soon your dick might fall off, kind of warning.”

It’s not a sexy dream, but to anyone else Shawn guesses it might sound that way.

He doesn’t want to get into it.

“Stop worrying about my dick and take me to my coffee, driver,” he crows after shoving his wallet into his pocket, pushing Geoff towards the front door.

+++

His blistered fingers tap his phone as he contemplates getting another latte delivered. He doesn’t think coffee is really worth the Postmates delivery fee, but it’s also only 11am and he’s ready to crawl back in bed.

The Cordoba C12 in his lap begs him for a break; he’s been fiddling with it all morning and each time he thinks he’s finished the refurb, he sees another detail that’s just left of perfect.

His work takes time, but the time and care is what makes him the best. And that’s what his clients pay for. The absolute best.

If he’s gonna keep giving this Cordoba the star treatment, he needs more caffeine, but he also needs to get away from the fumes of his shop. He swipes out of the Postmates app and decides to get off his ass.

Sand crunches beneath his Chelsea boots on the sidewalk as he makes his way down the beach to the Starbucks. It’s quiet when he gets there, only a few people tapping away on their laptops as a Top 40s playlist tinkles through the speakers.

Cheri behind the counter knows him, knows a midday visit means he needs a triple shot caffe latte and starts making it before he can even reach the counter.

“I love you,” he rasps when she sets down the coffee in front of him. He hands her a ten and puts his wallet away, because he refuses to ever take change.

She laughs and plucks her tip from the register, slipping it into her back pocket. “No, baby, I love you. No one else tips $4 on a $6 cup of coffee.”

“Guess I’m just a sucker,” he says with a quick wink and a smile.

There’s a girl typing furiously on her laptop at the little table in the window he usually picks, so instead he goes for a walk.

Most people in town don’t wear Chelseas to the beach, but Shawn’s not one of those people who carries around flip flops to change into. Instead, he lets the heels of his boots sink into the gripping sand with each step he takes.

The waves are good today, and Shawn thinks about the board he rarely uses tucked under his bed. He’s not a bad surfer, he can catch a wave or two in the right conditions, but he’s a bit out of practice now because he doesn’t have anyone to surf with anymore. It’s not very fun alone.

He doesn’t think about it.

He sees a surfer in the distance, watches her skim a smaller lick before dropping into the water. After a moment, she resurfaces on her board and paddles her way to the shore.

He’s not quite close enough, but Shawn doesn’t think he recognizes the surfer. He doesn’t recognize her board, anyway, and he’s pretty familiar with the local surfers in the area.

She’s a wave chaser, he figures, someone who travels the coast in search of the best beaches and surfing communities. Avila Beach gets their fair share of them.

Shawn takes a sip of his disappearing coffee and squints at the surfer over the lid of his cup. She emerges from the water, board under arm, and heads for a towel and a beach bag further up the shore. He’ll have to walk around her, eventually.

He watches her dry her hair with a towel she pulls from her bag, and he wonders if she’s done with this part of the beach for the day. Where will she try next? He figures she’ll hate LA if she hasn’t already been. Too crowded, too touristy.

He’s only half paying attention to her as he gets closer, can see her knelt down and fumbling through her bag but not really processing it, too busy thinking of how dirty tourists leave beaches. Avila Beach gets plenty tourists, but it’s nothing compared to the shit you see in LA or San Diego.

Eventually the surfer stands, emphasizing the movement with a flick of her hair that catches his attention, like she’s trying to fling away excess sand. It’s when her hair settles around her shoulders that he really sees her, and his heart stops.

So much for a quiet walk on the beach.

He has no thoughts, no feelings, only panic. Panic that stings the back of his eyes and burns his throat and carries him from the beach to the sidewalk as quickly as possible.

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me, is all he can think as he makes a beeline for his shop, his anxious heart rattling against his ribcage. He makes it to the storefront incident free, but even then his body won’t let him relax.

He almost calls his therapist, but he’d have way too much explaining to do.

He paces in his office and calls his mum instead, lies and says he almost got into an accident, so he’s kind of shaken up. She coos the way mothers do, says she’s glad that he’s okay and reminds him to be careful, and that’s that, really.

He feels better. His mum’s voice always helps.

He has no way to investigate if Maya Lu is really in Avila. There was no such thing as Instagram or Snapchat when they knew each other, and her Facebook hasn’t been active for years. (He hates that he knows that.)

The only thing he can do is tell himself it’s not her. It’s not her. It can’t be her. She’s in New York. Or Vancouver. Or Paris. Or whatever. Wherever she is, it’s not where he is.

Plenty of beautiful, tan, raven haired women like to surf. The woman he saw on the beach is just another one of them. And obviously, his mind filled in her face with Maya’s because of his dream.

That stupid fucking dream. Her face is already haunting him while he sleeps. It only makes sense his mind would start playing tricks on him when he’s awake as well.

So it wasn’t Maya and he doesn’t want it to have been Maya, really, he doesn’t, but he spends the rest of his day looking at the remains of her Myspace anyway.

There’s nothing new, and much of the old is missing, too. Pictures from college, from parties, from the one time they went to Mardi Gras is all gone. Purged when she applied to business internships, probably.

(Pictures of him purged when she left, like remembering him wasn’t even worth it.)

The Córdoba taunts him from his workbench with each click of his trackpad, but he’ll get to it in the morning. John Mayer has plenty other guitars to keep him occupied. Well. It’s not really John Mayer’s guitar, but Shawn likes to pretend.

He pretends a lot these days.

+++

Maya’s eyes close, stinging with sunblock runoff and saltwater that she barely notices. She sits up and breathes, just like her very expensive yoga instructor taught her. She curls her fingers through the water on either side of her surfboard like she’s stroking it — she’s showing it she missed it. It’s an apology, an act of contrition, a show of affection. She’s been missing a lot of things lately. That’s why she’s here. Moving to Avila was a sexy secret daydream of hers since right around her 26th birthday, which coincided with her promotion from assistant portfolio manager to portfolio manager. 80 hour weeks were paying off and bringing her... more 80 hour weeks. So when the nights were long and all she had to show for herself was an enormous park-facing apartment that was totally devoid of personality, she would dream of Avila. She dreamt of a cottage on the beach where the view was the real draw. It would have space for a little makeshift art studio — some easels, maybe a pottery wheel. She’d drive an orange Wrangler with a rack for her surfboard that she’d wax herself and ride every morning. Maybe along with all of that would come someone to share it with. That part of the dream was always fuzzier — the man her imagination gave her was an amalgamation of the few men she’s dated over the years (some more clearly represented than others, to Maya’s annoyance). It’s not that she didn’t want to think about Shawn. She wanted to consider Shawn every once in a while when he popped into her mind and think, oh yes, that was a nice time in my life. She wants to maturely gloss over him like the plastic coverings on the photo albums her mom keeps of her past. What Maya doesn’t want is for it to still fucking hurt. She doesn’t want to think of him as the one that got away. She doesn’t want to believe her best chance at partnership and love and passion has passed her by with a margin of 10 years. That’s an ugly thought and there are no ugly thoughts allowed in the sea. It’s one of Maya’s rules. Baggage is for land, not sea. Maya has not been on this surfboard since she spontaneously ran out of the office during a long lunch break and got on a flight during the worst week of her professional life. It was the first time she came back to Avila after that summer with Shawn. It was when the dream started. Maya’s well-trained fingers sense the change in current tempo. She flattens herself on her board and paddles out, feeling her arms burn in protest from disuse. It feels so fucking good. She hunts the wave down, chasing it like she chased the Avila dream. She made it, she’s here. So it’s time to ride the wave.

---------

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @desire-to-live

[enchantedisabella]

Modern Greek Gods

my ig is vivacityandvellichor

Apollo: patron god of memes/vines. absolutely has a meme acc with over a million followers. you think peter parker, a fucking gen z meme legend, isn’t his illegitimate child? that he made just to spite athena with spiders? you are w r o n g

Zeus: the one those Straight White Guys (ew) pray to. often they place maga hats at his altar but even Zeus isn’t that much of a douchebag to support tr*mp and he burns them and strikes those guys with lightning at once. he’s that kind of dad that refuses to vaccinate his kids tho (sigh)

Athena: literally the inventor of just fucking shitposts that mess with your head and are filmed by Apollo saying shit like ‘i have faced God and stepped over Her heaven to get to my throne’. probably runs a shitpost acc and a feminism acc at the same time with wildly different posts, but everyone knows it’s her. there’s even accounts comparing her captions on her different accs bc one will be like ‘big mood gonna go die now bc for some reason i didn’t want the tide pod challenge to die and I DID IT wtf is wrong w me im begging for the sweet release of death’ and the other will be like ‘systematic oppression is only beneficial to straight white males who will continue to oppress poc, women and lgbt+ if they don’t recognise their privilege’

Persephone: kindest person ever. except when you try her, karma’s gonna be a bitch to you. usually she just stays home and plays with her cats, probably spends half her life as a stalker on tumblr or running an aesthetic ig, and the other half baking muffins to throw in the face of her enemies but also to give the best ones to her mom. is definitely taylor swift reincarnated, there’s no doubt.

Demeter: andrea swift reincarnated. that soft friend who will go batshit crazy if something happens to her precious daughter. 100/10 has a very good mother-daughter relationship. hates gossip column blogs but loves it when the tea is served for someone that deserves it. (kanye anyone?)

Aphrodite: works at buzzfeed, no doubt. one of those fashion bloggers with a ridiculously huge influence over celebrities even though all they do is post outfit combinations and promote products, and always has steaming hot tea to serve on every website available. loves dishing out to demeter and gets along surprisingly well with apollo who is also invited to those premieres with her (though for different reasons ofc). runs the most colourful ig acc ever, has an insane amount of followers. wakes up with perfect hair and no one knows how.

Poseidon: youtuber. one of those annoying ones who always say to subscribe to their channel before really doing anything much or saying anything worthwhile? like, why not say it at the end when people actually know what your content is about??? always gets invited to those youtuber conventions but hellaaa problematic. not a total dirtbag, supports feminism and everything, but he just has an overall toxic personality. athena stays tf away. somehow is actually lowkey hot tho and has had flings with every other well known celeb who lives near him.

Hades: HIGHKEY anime stan. pretends to like shit like my chemical romance but actually jams to one direction when alone. video games and pokemon go is their life 24/7, but they still try to hide the fact that they waste their (probably few) remaining days on it even tho everyone already knows. has tried tiktok once and went viral for being hilariously fucking bad. definitely has a meme face. apollo once made a meme out of hades’ face to spite him but it actually also went viral and now hades is known as the ‘pikachu corndog guy ’ around the internet. sometimes ppl ask for selfies on the street and he h a t e s it. will flip them off but can’t swear without sounding like a twelve year old who hasn’t gone through puberty.

Dionysus: is incredibly good at tiktok. once did such a smooth pop and lock with six of his nymphs that it went viral. can shuffle up the stairs like hell was freezing over but he didn’t give a shit. runs those eating asmr accs that’s mainly just him stirring drinking wine super loudly until he passes out (somehow still gets a staggering ton of views), but before that, poseidon makes sure to film all the stupid shit he says to put it on his youtube channel. athena’s sometimes there too and uses his overconfident phrases for her shitposts. needless to say, dionysus is a legend on stan twitter.

Ares: will Fite you. is literally the equivalent of a human trash can. people do put maga hats at his altar and he fucking wears them like the fucking trashbag scum that he is. athena plots different strategies to kill him and has polls for the best ones on her story. Straight White Guy trashhhhhhhhh. nobody likes him. he runs an ig acc with maybe four followers at best, and they’re all just all his other own accs that he uses to anonymously harass athena so she can’t shove his own failures into his face. she always knows it’s him, though. people beat him into pulp on online arguments but he refuses to admit that he’s wrong. gets a kick out of harassing people on the subway. athena refers to him as ‘it’ every time she talks about him because she says that subhuman feces should be referred to by the correct pronouns.

Hephaestus: that one sleazy guy at school who’s best friends with hades but isn’t as bad as asshole ares. knows that ares is morally wrong, but still is kind of ok with him unlike everyone else. wouldn’t go so far as to like him tho. that geeky guy who always gets invited to parties. nobody knows how, but he’s in the ‘popular’ crowd, but often overlooked. some people think that it’s because he does all his hw for them, but actually, hephaestus is that guy who’s sleazy and cheap but really slick and conniving. can get himself into any club. that guy who only uses social media to stalk others, and he follows like 1000+ people but nobody will follow him. kind of a douche but not so much to become revolting. haaaaaates poseidon bc they’re both toxic af and recognise it in each other but not in themselves. that guy who apologises for a racist thing from eight years ago that’s been brought up. actually means the apology but doesn’t have much empathy.

Hera: rules wattpad and i mean rules it. her stories basically win every bad boy x good girl cliché award ever. terrible grammar but somehow has a shit ton of votes and comments. has had a string of shitty boyfriends but only has eyes for zeus, the most problematic guy ever whom she keeps on returning to. she blogs about all her relationship failures mostly because she’s too hooked up on zeus, and all her ten million followers tell her to get some therapy or help but she never does. queen of falling into toxic relationships and honestly athena hates her personally but feels really sorry for her. probably doesn’t understand feminism all that much but still wants equal rights for everyone. doesn’t care if you’re lgbt or a diff race, and i don’t mean accepting i mean she literally does not give a flying fuck. one of those ppl who is ‘fake woke’ bc they actually do have good morals at heart but say things like ‘i don’t see colour’ only for athena to reply scathingly w things like ‘you actually do, you just don’t want to acknowledge your own white privilege by admitting it bc to admit it is to admit that you actually have been born w an upper hand’. def is one of those straight white girls who actually are decent and try their hardest to understand racism but just can’t get it. vents on wattpad yet somehow only gains followers.

Artemis: ah, saved the best for last. arty is a fucking queen, she’s the one who consistently burns tr*mp on twitter and challenges views. probably an actual activist irl who is v well known and promotes herself through ig. is probably best friends with taylor swift and emma watson. probably lowkey has the best singing voice and is actually an artist using music to protest. is mutuals with her feminist acc with athena on instagram. probably best friends w her and they do everything together, run a joint private finsta with a fairly small following of 500 people but post the most aesthetic bff photos.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Trouble

Requested by @spot-of-bother

Pairing:  Sho Tanaka/FC

Category:  Angst

Warnings:    

9.            “You look like my next mistake.”   Blank Space- Taylor Swift

It was probably going to end horrifically.   A fiery crash of accusations and jealousy.  But it also could be magical.  A perfect melding of two souls meant for one another.   He was the classic newly rich boy burning through money and women.  You were the pretty girl who would be whatever her man wanted, until you wouldn’t any more.   So many times things had gone down in flames, but you never gave up hope that maybe this one would be different.  

Saw you there and I thought

Oh my god, look at that face

You look like, my next mistake

Love’s a game, wanna play?

“No no no Sho.”  Rocky Romero saw exactly who his protégé was looking at and it wasn’t good.  “Stay far away from her.  Please. She will ruin you.”   Sho Tanaka looked at his mentor briefly before returning his attention to the gorgeous girl organizing the press corps.  

“She doesn’t look like trouble.”  Sho said as he watched your easy smile as you maneuvered people into the right places.

“That’s the problem. She doesn’t look like trouble. But she is.  Just trust me Sho.  I’m trying to save you from heartache.”   Rocky plead, but he was already shaking his head.  He could tell his friend was already bound and determined to meet you and all he could do was sit back and watch.  

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Sho said with a smile, clapping Rocky on the shoulder before striding towards you with a determined smile on his face.

So It’s gonna be forever

Or its gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it’s over

If the high was worth the pain

From that day you were inseparable both you and Sho diving head first into a relationship, confessing your love of each other within a week.  Sho ignored everyone who told him he was getting in too deep, moving too fast. He was well liked and respected backstage.  No one wanted to see him hurt by you.  They warned him to no avail.   He just didn’t see what everyone was warning him about.  

He could talk with you for hours on end and it seemed you had so much in common.   Sho was already imagining you meeting his family, of proposing to you, of starting a family with you.  It had only been a month and he was head over heels.  

You were telling your friends he was the one.   Brushing off their doubts and reminders of all the previous times you had professed undying love for someone.   They tried to point out that you weren’t even letting Sho get to know the real you. That you were just playing the part of what he wanted.   They told you that you were going to tire of pretending and the result wasn’t going to be pretty.  They were right.  

Find out what you want

Be that girl for a month

Wait the worst is yet to come

Screaming, crying perfect storm

I can make all the tables turn

“Who the fuck is she?” You shouted, pushing in between Sho and the woman he was talking to with a snarl.   You had seen them talking from across the room, immediately feeling the insane burn of jealousy and all that was in your thoughts was to get her away from your man.

“What is wrong with you?” Sho asked, shocked at this sudden outburst by you.  

“Wrong with me?” You shrieked watching the other woman scurrying away.  “You’re the one all over some slut right in front of me.”

“What are you talking about? I was barely speaking to her.  She works for the general manager and was telling me he wished to see me.”  Sho said angrily. “Now you have embarrassed me in front of her.  She’s probably going to tell him about my crazy girlfriend.”  

“I’m not crazy!” you yelled. “I don’t care who she is.  She was all over you and you were letting her be.”

Sho looked at you like he had never seen you before, his head shaking in disbelief at the conclusions you were jumping to.   He had literally only been speaking to her for maybe ten seconds before you had rushed over.  There hadn’t been a single inappropriate interaction for you to be losing it over.

Keep you second guessing like

Oh my god, who is she

I get drunk on jealousy

But you’ll come back each time you leave

Cause darling I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Sho had walked away from you.  Telling you he needed time.  A small break.  It hadn’t lasted long.  He was drawn right back into your web within a few days.   The pattern continued longer than anyone had thought.  You would fly off the handle, he would break it off, and a few days later you were back together again.

It was a viscous circle and everyone was watching with anxious anticipation, wondering when the final blow would be struck.  When the two of you would see you were toxic together.  When you would add Sho’s name to your long list of ex-lovers.  And whether he would recover from the fall out.

[mindandthediaries]

What is your favorite type of cat? Don’t have a fave but I love all black and all grey cats a lot If you could delete any word from existence, which word would it be and why? I haven’t thought of that What is your favorite swearword? Don’t know... Maybe “fucking” like... Fucking stupid. Something like that.

What celebrity do you wish you looked more like? I like how I look, but it wouldn’t hurt to have my body look a little bit like Jennifer Lawrence’s haha If you had your way, what color(s) would you dye your hair?

Some shade of blonde

Do you support the LGBTQ community? I’m not an activist, if that answers your question If not, state your reasons. You are entitled to your opinions I don’t get involved. But I respect Do you like seafood? It’s pretty good If so, what is your favorite? If not, what is your favorite type of food? I love shrimp, and there’s this Peruvian thing called Ceviche, very very good. It’s with shrimp too Have you ever gone vegan/vegetarian? I’ve been vegetarian in the past. Because of an allergy I had, they restricted a bunch of foods so I basically was veg for the time being Have you ever eaten a veggie burger? YES. Delicious. If you could master any sport, which one would you choose? If it was like a super power or something, and I didn’t have to constantly train, I’d like to practice tennis If you could meet any major political figure, who would it be? I’m just not interested in politics What would you say to him/her? Do you play any unique instruments? Nope, not unique. I play a bit of guitar, piano and I sing. In school, did you take any classes to learn how to play any instruments? I went to a music conservatory in my childhood and teens. My first instrument was the violin, which I dropped shortly, then the piano and then the guitar Do you like applesauce? Never tried, or I don’t remember Do you know any German words? Ja How about any Portuguese words? Sim Did you actually pay attention in Spanish class? Oh yes If you drink Monster, what is your favorite flavor? Nope If you don’t drink Monster, why not? Energy drinks are not good for you Do you have a reason to hate anyone at the moment? Don’t think so Is it easier for you to forgive or to pretend it never happened? It depends Are you one of those people who remembers EVERYTHING? Nope Do you sometimes pretend you don’t remember something about someone? Nah. Do you own any Webkinz stuffed animals? No If so, do you have a Webkinz online account? * No Do you still go on it? * N/a If you had/have a Club Penguin account, how old were you when you got it? N/A Do you own any Nintendo video game consoles/handhelds? I did! I think Gameboy advance. Yes yes. Do/did you ever own a Blackberry? OH I DID! Hahahha. I had 2. Curve and Bold Do you know the band Noah & the Whale? Nope! Never heard of them before Do you listen to Ingrid Michaelson? I’ve heard like one song! And I don’t even remember it right now If you have a song stuck in your head, what’s the name of it & the artist? Cornelia Street - Taylor Swift. Currently listening to it. Do you know who Sue Lyons is? No How about Dominique Swain? * No Unpopular opinion time. Be honest. The Beatles - overrated or not? LOVE THEM What religion were you raised in? Catholic :) Are you still that religion, if you had one? Yeah What religion/spiritual path intrigues you the most, if any? Buddhism What was/is your favorite subject in school? English and music

What was the last name of your second grade teacher? D’Souza Who was your favorite teacher of all time? Wow. I don’t know. Ok. I know. Her name is Nohemi Suarez Were/are you a teacher’s pet? Don’t know Do you like pink lemonade? Yes but it’s been forever

Do you have a Spotify account? Yes. But I’m using Youtube more now Firefox or Chrome? Chrome Safari or Internet Explorer? Safari

Windows or Mac? I have Windows but I wish to have Mac one day Desktop or laptop? Laptop What’s your favorite U2 song, if you have one? Can’t think of another song besides With Or Without you. I’m not really a fan What’s your favorite song that’s playing on the radio, if you have one? Don’t have one What’s a song that you remember from your childhood? Britney Spears, Oops I did it again Are/were your parents hippies? No Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? NOOO If you had a baby boy right now, what would his middle name(s) be? Elizabeth What heritage does your last name imply? Don’t know for sure

How about your middle name? Hebrew

And first? Persian What is your heritage, anyway? Well I don’t know? What do you mean?

Do you have any paint in your house? Yeah Is it wall paint, art paint, or something else? Art paint Do you ever swing at the playground & listen to music? Nope What was your favorite age so far? My current age What was your least favorite age so far? Don’t have one Were you/are you in a rush to grow up? No

What’s your opinion on tattoos in the workforce? Don’t like them for myself. How about piercings? Don’t like them for myself except for ears Do women breastfeeding in public make you feel uncomfortable? * No Do you know the band The Last Place You Look? Nope If not, you should check them out. Do you like A Day To Remember? I haven’t watched it. Are we talking about the movie? Or a band? Because if it’s a band I ‘ve never heard it If not, they’re a lot like The Last Place You Look. No idea. What is the most annoying commercial you’ve seen/heard this past week? No idea. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas :) and NYE and Halloween

“Happy Holidays,” “Merry Christmas,” or “Merry X-Mas?’ Merry Christmas!

Does it even matter to you which one people say? Nope Why is that every major Christian holiday adopts Pagan traditions in its celebrations? IDK

[gwcndolyne]

She keeps a diary. She calls it a journal but it is definitely a diary. She writes down exiting events form her day, talks about her crushes, and jots down notes of chemical formulas she’s developing. there’s little doodles (hearts, calligraphy, structural diagrams).

She likes documentaries. She especially like nature documentaries, how it’s made, and ken burns films. If she’s going to sit down and watch a movie,s he’s going to learn from it.

She isn’t out as bisexual to her dad. The two of them never talk about how she feels about other people, so he has no idea that she likes women too. She’s fine with him not knowing since they just don’t have those sort of conversations. but when the time comes for her to bring a girl home she is sure he’ll be fine with it.

She watches martial arts movies with her dad when they have ‘family nights’ (as designated by their therapist). She doesn’t really like fighting movies but there are some that she likes. She especially like Jackie Chan’s non-American films, The Ip Man trilogy, and Hero.

Her favorite thing to cook is spaghetti. But since it’s fairly simple to make she does a full five course meal with it. She makes spaghetti, sauce, gauge, garlic bread, and caesar salad ( with homemade dressing ). She tries to time it so that everything is ready and w arm at the same time, and she googles how to set  a table. She likes to make a presentation of it.

She has emojis paired with all of her contact names in her phone. The closer she is to a person more emojis that person has. MJ, Peter, Michelle, and Ned all have five emojis.

Her freshman year of high school back before she attended Midtown, she was suspended for 3 weeks. She overheard a bully teasing a classmate. So after class she called out the bully in the hallway, stomped on his foot and punched him in the face. She went the principal’s office, who scolded her for attacking a student but praised her for standing up for what’s right. They called her father and the one thing he said was ‘Atta girl.’ While she was expelled for three weeks, the bully was expelled.

Her weighted gpa is 4.47 and her unweighted GPA is 4.0. She has taken every AP class the school offers.

She likes Taylor Swift; not as a person but she’s been a fan of Taylor’s songs since Tear Drops on my Guitar. She loves all the hits, especially the Love Story era music. She likes to play it in her room and dance as she gets ready for school.

But her favorite artist is Carly Rae Jepsen. Gwen loves bubblegum pop are Carly is the epitome of her music taste. She loves the entire album of E-Mo-Tion but most frequently she can be found singing and danging along to Store.

Gwen doesn’t give petnames to other people, it’s just not a part of how her relationships function. She tends to use full first name,s no matter how close she is to a person. And if she gets mad she’ll step it up to first and middle name. And she knows most of her peer’s name because she works as an office aid for the principal. But she loves receiving nicknames. MJ calls her Gwendy and her dad calls her Gwenie Pig.

Gwen is not superstitious in the slightest. She doesn’t believe in luck, fate, or any of the specific ‘if you spill salt’ sort of myths. She is a woman of science, and she believes there’s is a logical explanation for everything. Which means if there is no scientific basis for a claim, she disregards it. This made meeting gods and wizards difficult for her.

She speaks two languages fluently: English and Spanish. She’s been teaching herself Spanish since sixth grade, and she was raised in an english-speaking household. She also knows a bit of German and French, which she learned through language apps. It’s enough to get by, but far from fluent. She also knows a lot of latin roots, but she has no interest in speaking the language fluently, since it’s a dead language.She just learns what she can to understand other languages that draw from it.

Other than MJ and her dad, only one other person knows that Gwen is spiderwoman: her therapist Beth. Gwen doesn’t like to burden her loved ones with her worries, and she tries to keep her identity secret from everyone. But she understands that if there’s anyone she can open up to, it’s Beth, and so far it seems Beth has kept the information revealed confidential. Gwen would understand if Beth told the police for the sake of Gwen’s safety, but it’s been over a year and it seems like Beth knows that Gwen is capable of taking care of herself as she saves the city. 

Gwen Stacy does not deal with her grief, she represses it until she feels like it’s gone. Because her mother died when she was so young and she and her father never really talked about the death itself she was lulled into a feeling that grief was supposed to be dealt with quietly. And then when she was seventeen and her cat, father, and boyfriend all passed away in a span of eight months she just shut down. She knows that the aching in her chest, the extreme depression, and the physical illness are all side effects but she thinks that if she addresses these feeling she makes it real.

Additionally, she feels like she can’t handle the grief right now. She has so much on her plate, even though she quit the stark internship when her father died. She a ‘power-trough’ kind of person even if that means compartmentalizing the extreme pain she’s experience from losing pretty much everyone she loves. She tries to distract herself with studying but regardless her grades have dropped. She feels like she has to keep her life together and pretend that she’s stronger than she is. She likes to maintain appearances, never show any flaws, but she’s falling apart.

At therapy Gwen avoids talking about the deaths in life. She will dodge the conversation skillfully, directing to any other subject. Her therapist ( Beth ) has called her out on it a few times but she still can’t bring herself to vocalize her pain. 

[margridarnauds]

whatever numbers from that lgbt+ ask meme u haven't already been asked?

1. What do you identify as and what are your pronouns?

~Tentatively~ bi (Not into dating dudes, but can appreciate them aesthetically); she/her. 

3. Have you experienced being misgendered? What happened and how did you overcome it?

I’ve not, thankfully. Having longish to medium length hair tends to mean that people ping me as a woman because for some reason we as a society decided to equate reproductive organs to dead skin cells. 

5. Describe what it was like coming out, what did you feel?I’ve talked before about how very laid back my mom was about it (Sometimes to extremes. Like...MOM. I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE ME, I APPRECIATE IT, BUT I DON’T NEED YOU REITERATING IT EVERY FIVE SECONDS. I KNO-) Still, it was genuinely good to have that weight off your shoulders. There’s always that moment of fear anyway, or where you’re worried that you’ll be told that you’ll change your mind. Coming out as an atheist was actually more stressful, tbh. 

6. If you’re out, how did your parents/guardians/friends react?

I don’t think I’ve ever REALLY gotten any blowback, it’s kind of like an “Oh.” I KNOW my aunt thinks it’s a phase, I have no idea how she’d deal with me actually DATING someone, especially since she’s hanging with a very conservative crowd at church and she’s a chameleon. 

10. What does makeup mean to you? Do you wear any?

For me, makeup is a personal choice, albeit one that IS often forced on women by either society or by their own businesses as a way of being “professional.” I hate how radfem culture has infected the discussion on it, to the point where normally STAUNCHLY anti-radfem bloggers unknowingly parrot the same talking points, I don’t consider it to be INHERENTLY evil and I DO think that some women can personally find empowerment with it. I’ve been BLOWN AWAY by the cosplay work people can do. But it IS fucked up that society EXPECTS women to spend hours each day on it. 

And, while I’m at it, while I don’t blame COMPANIES for naming their makeup things like “sex on the beach,” (astonishing, I know) because those are things VERY OBVIOUSLY AIMED AT ADULTS, I DO think that influencers are pure evil for convincing kids that they need them. (And also it’s not like the companies REALLY care about where they’re getting the money from, and the INFLUENCERS are getting money from somewhere, lest anyone think I’m giving capitalism a break here) And I blame parents for not being willing to discuss it with their kids, given that my mom was always very encouraging when it came to telling me that I didn’t need it when I was, like, 8. If you’re going to have kids, you need to be prepared to PARENT. And that includes discussing things with them, sometimes things that are uncomfortable, rather than simply giving them the $50 eyeshadow they’re asking for. And, to this day, I STILL don’t wear any, simply because I don’t feel like spending the time on it. I could probably magic myself some cheekbones if I really wanted to, but I don’t want to learn, not really, and I’m happy existing as I am. 

11. Do you experience dysphoria? If so, how does that affect you?

I’m not sure if I would describe it as DYSPHORIA, per see, but there can be this very odd, disjarring feeling when someone calls me a woman or uses she/her. It doesn’t really LAST per se, it’s very much a momentary thing, and, as I’ve said before, I favor it compared to the other pronoun/gender options, but it’s definitely not something I’m 100% happy with. 

15. Have you ever been to your cities pride event? Why or why not?

I haven’t been! Simply because even though my mom’s been open about being willing to take me, it’s still....awkward when you need to rely on someone else. Hopefully, next year, things will be better. 

16. Who is your favourite lgbt+ Icon/Advocate/Celebrity?

As far as people who are ACTUALLY LGBT+, I have a lot of personal respect for Janelle Monáe and Kristen Stewart. As far as icons and people who have been willing to speak out on behalf of LGBT+ rights while at least APPEARING to be straight (since I’m not going to pry one way or another), Taylor Swift, who has REPEATEDLY gone out there and embraced her LGBT+ fanbase. 

17. Have you been in a relationship and how did you meet?

I haven’t been, a fact which I bitterly lament to anyone who’s willing to hear, which I’m sure is a VERY attractive trait. [/s]  

19. Have you ever faced discrimination? What happened?

I haven’t, one of the advantages of not “pinging”/ not being in a relationship with anyone. Can’t face discrimination if you’re holding your own hand. 

21. Who are some of your favourite lgbt+ bloggers?

Hm, outside of here, I don’t really FOLLOW that many LGBT+ bloggers. And here, just about all my mutuals are some brand of LGBT+. Obviously, there’s you. As far as people who tend to work a lot with gay content, particularly in a historical context, I highly recommend @marzipanandminutiae. For more general fandom-y stuff, my old friend @taylorswiftnuswnt, who has been really instrumental as far as helping me realize that I was something other than a Straight Girl™ (and who helps me keep up with the Gay Migration at any given point in time.)

22. Which lgbt+ slur do you want to reclaim?“Queer”‘s already mine and they’ll have to pry it out of my grubby hands. 

27. What do you think of gender roles in relationships?

Some people REALLY need/want them, some people don’t. Personally, I resent the EXPECTATION that we HAVE to have them. 

 Personally, I’m not interested in replicating a 50s marriage with a gay bent. I spent my entire childhood dreading being forced into that kind of gender role in a relationship and really dreading the idea of a relationship in GENERAL because of that; I’m not going to get into a carbon copy of that. 

If someone ELSE wants to do that, I’m not going to shit on them, because it’s THEIR decision. Go forth and be happy, though I do want BOTH partners to be aware that there are other options. (I saw so many people in my old hometown become essentially cookie cutter brides after they graduated from high school, all of them with kids, all smiling faces, all “stand by your man,” and yes, it does give me Stepford Wife vibes.)

I know that back in the day, Butch/Femme couples were shit on for “replicating heterosexuality,” and that was obviously wrong, so I’m not going to try to pretend like one way is the most progressive, but also for me? Nada. And I do kind of resent how Tumblr’s turned top/bottom discussions into “Let’s replicate the gender binary with gay ships.” Basically, people SHOULD have the ability to choose what makes them happy, but also? It is NOT some kind of default. 

28. Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

[cess-is-here]

Undisclosed Narratives: An Explication de Texte into the Miscellany, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories” An Essay by Princess Allyssa R. Mago

First, I'd like to share a popular online saying: "Those who tell stories run the world." Since many years, storytelling has been an integral part of our society. The fact that it draws heavily from the author's own experiences is what sets it apart. This way our eyes are being opened to countless stories that share one’s personal struggles, delight, thoughts, and etc. Stories derived from an author's mind and experience reveal a great deal about their persona. Stories have the power to mold a person's experiences.

Having taken the time to read the first poem, "Dear Diary," I have noticed that the persona is talking to themself about the adversities they have gone through, which caused them to change. The word "change" is subjective to many people because it is neither bad nor good, nor can it be both. Like with this line, "I know I won't be the same again, But here's for the countless untold stories, I'll ever write on." The persona had been through challenges, but they would still strive and continue. This prompted me to the song, “You're Somebody Else”, by Flora Cash, wherein the song is about feeling displaced internally. It is evident in the lyrics, "Well you look like yourself, But you're somebody else,"

Now, for the second poem, "The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus," Compared to the Sisyphus in Greek mythology, the modern Sisyphus referred to in this is about a woman who is going through the same struggle— pushing a boulder up a hill. As indicated in the lines, "Gracious to push the boulder up the mountain, And start once again like nothing happened.". The song that I can associate with this poem is Taylor Swift's "Change" In my understanding of this song, it represents the women in our society who have been fighting for their rights since day one and waiting for their time to come. Manifested in the lines "Because these things will change, Can you feel it now? These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down, It's a revolution, the time will come."

This time, the third part of this miscellany is "O' Yayi (A Prose Poem)." The idea I got from reading this is that it's about loving someone who is not yet over their one great love. It hurts reading it because you can also feel the longing and pain the persona is feeling. As manifested in the line, "If ever I run out of time here and reach the other side, whose arms would you run back again, mine or Dante's?" It is clearly evident that the author is uncertain if she would choose him or would still pick her past lover. Now, the song “All I Ask” by Adele is what I can relate to in this poem. This song is about a relationship that is on the brink of extinction. And with the lyrics, "If this is my last night with you, Hold me like I'm more than just a friend, Give me a memory I can use.", it shows the uncertainty and fear of the persona and just wanting to feel the love of Yayi, even just for pretend.

For the fourth poem, entitled “Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall” For this one, I’m not confident in my understanding of the message. I have come up with the concept that it is about giving your all to someone you love, even though it would not be reciprocated. The lines where we can see that meaning were “I did what you said and leaned forward, I opened my whole to bare my soul.” Taylor Swift’s “August” is the song that reminded me most of this poem since this song is written about longing for someone who was never really yours. Embodied in the lyrics, “Wanting was enough, For me, it was enough, To live for the hope of it all.”

Now onto the fifth poem, “Umbilical,” I cannot fathom the pain the characters in the poem are feeling. I have come to the conclusion that this piece is about a child’s perspective in the womb of her mother and how he or she comes across the pain and torment that the mother is suffering from. This excerpt, “You have made your purpose, I guarantee. Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright.” is both reassuring and devastating. They’re trying to give comfort, but realizing the reason behind makes my heart break into pieces. The child was trying to relieve the mother of her pain by assuring her that she did great in giving her child the chance to see the world but in the end, the mother had to succumb to the dark. So, a song that I would recall after reading this piece is John Legend’s “All of Me.” The lyrics “Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts, Risking it all, though it's hard” manifests how the process had been risky for them both and how one of them had to go. 

We now have the sixth poem, "RE: Paper (I'm Red, IMRaD)*" This piece is very educational as it talks about the education system here in our country. I believe most of us are aware of how poor our quality of education is compared to other emerging countries. Some of the reasons for this are stated in the lines, "If we keep on insisting quality education for students, Why not allow teachers access quality to their extent?" In addition, these lines also struck me, "Help teachers help students. After all, we cannot give what we don't have." This dilemma is still being faced by our society today, and I think that the leaders of our country should be responsible for this. This being said, there is a song that comes to mind that I think captures the feelings of most individuals going through this kind of hardship. That song is Taylor Swift's "The Man," and it is shown in the lyrics, "I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, Wondering if I'd get there quicker,"

Moving along to the seventh part, titled “3 A.M. Awakening,” This poem felt really familiar to me as it describes the feeling of hurt and shame. As we can see in the line, “Heaven spoke lies to me telling I’m sick, With people’s eyes daggering every inch.” I guess we can say that the persona is being judged by the people around them just because they portray them as someone different when the truth is they’re just themselves. The song that I can associate with this piece is “I Can’t Handle Change” by R.O.A.R. The tune of this music kind of represents the mood of the poem for me. In addition to that, this line, “I know it’s not your fault, Still lately, I begin to shake,” from the song, delineates what the persona is feeling.

As I read the eighth poem, “My Frail Lady,” I couldn’t help but notice the subtext and background image in the poetry. Those two details allowed me to deduce the piece’s intended meaning. The subject matter of this poetry is suicide. But other than that, the justification for this particular action is clear. It seems possible that the woman is facing dilemmas that only she is aware of, as suggested by the lines “Such frail, frail lady, Bookkeeps her internal screams.” This reminded me of the song “This Is Home” by Cavetown. From what I can tell, this song is about a person who is dealing with some inner turmoil yet hopes to be healed eventually. The lines where we can see that message were, “Are you tired of me yet? I’m a little sick right now, but I swear, When I’m ready, I will fly us out of here.”

Here we are now at the ninth and last piece of this anthology, “Major Arcana.” Astoundingly, I have discovered a deeper significance in this poem than I had originally intended. The idea that I got upon reading this poem is that it is about tarot reading, and with every card lies messages specifically for the persona’s experiences and future. Some lines that have brought me to this conclusion are “Your fear of transition, keeps you paralyzed in non-action. Being unfazed can be a nail on the head in this period. Take a risk.” Evidently, the persona has a dreadful past which causes them to not look forward to their future. But the tarot cards push them to have hope and start once again. I can relate this piece to the song “Fix You” by Coldplay. This song is about giving hope to someone and letting them know that despite all the adversities, there is still hope. Manifested in the lines “Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones, And I will try to fix you.”

In conclusion, this collection of stories has made me more aware of the various challenges that members of our society, particularly women, face. I've discovered that these tales allow us to view the world from their point of view, which has led me to wonder how many more of these tales remain untold. If many stories like this are shared throughout the world, then I think it will also give them hope, just like it did to me. This anthology showed me that even through the worst times of our lives, there would still be a silver lining we can hold onto. 

[heliosphoenix]

2017 in review!

That’s right folks, as we count down the hours left until the new year, it’s time once again for Helios’ fucking awesome review of the year we just had.

I think it’s safe to say that 2017 was a very...weird year. That’s probably the best was I can describe it. And I’m not just saying that because somehow a reality TV star became the (supposed) leader of the free world, it just seemed like there were a lot of things that happened this year that just made us wonder, as a species, “Just what the heck are we doing?!”

But, like Taylor Swift, I’m not going to act like the year was all gloom and doom (and fuck you Buzzfeed for trying to pretend that’s all it was). Cause even though 2017 was full of things that seemed bad, or even just weird, there were still a lot of good things that happened as well, and we need to remember them. Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let clickbait distract us from the fact that there were moments where we lit up the darkness.

Here’s some of them:

The Women’s March on January 21st was one of the largest protests ever with 2 million people taking part.

Scientists in China discovered our oldest ancestor yet, a 540 million year old Saccorhytus

The New England Patriots won Super Bowl LI capped by an incredible comeback in the second half, Tom Brady wins his 5th ring and arguably cements his status as the greatest NFL QB of all time.

Adele won best song and best album at the Grammy’s.

A mostly underwater continent called Zealandia was discovered in the South Pacific.

7 planets roughly the size of Earth were discovered around the star Trappist-1, 3 of which could possibly support life.

“Moonlight” upset “La La Land” for Best Picture at the Oscars (literally at the last moment!)

The world’s oldest golf club in Scotland voted to admit women as members for the first time. 

Carrie Lam became the first woman to be elected chief executive of Hong Kong.

The largest Dinosaur footprint ever measured (at 1.7 meters) was found in Western Australia.

Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Edward Enninful became the first black man to become editor of Vogue.

France declared mandatory labeling of digitally modified photos of fashion models.

Emmanuel Macron defeated Marie Le Pen in France’s Presidential election.

MTV became the first major awards show to adopt gender-neutral categories.

Apple became the first company to be worth more than $800 billion.

Brazil declared the national emergency as a result of the Zika virus was over. Puerto Rico also declared its own Zika epidemic had ended.

A global ransomware attack was halted after a 22 year old UK blogger stumbled on the kill switch.

Japanese researches reported the birth of mice that were fertilized by freeze-dried sperm stored on the International Space Station.

The Golden State Warriors won the 2017 NBA championship after posting an unprecedented 16-1 record in the postseason.

Facebook reached 2 billion users.

Columbia rebel group FARC disbanded after 52 years.

France announced it will ban petrol and diesel powered cars by 2040. Great Britain soon announced a similar ban.

Tesla produced it’s first mass-market car, the Model 3. Elon Musk is of course the first owner.

Jodie Whittaker became the first female Doctor on Doctor Who.

Despacito became the most streamed song ever.

John McCain cast a decisive vote to strike down an attempted repeal of the Affordable Care Act.

Gene editing in human embryos to eliminate disease causing mutations was successful performed for the first time.

Scientists identified a deficiency in nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide (NAD) as being a major cause of birth defects and miscarriages.

A 100 year old fruitcake was discovered in Antarctica in a hut used by the expedition of Robert Falcon Scott, and it was almost edible! 

Paris and Los Angeles were announced as the hosts for the 2024 and 2028 Olympic Games.

The Cassiopeia Jellyfish was discovered to be the first brainless animal that can sleep.

The first woman graduated from the US Marine’s Infantry Officer Corps.

The first Ichthyosaur fossil was found in India.

The painting “Salvador Mundi” by Leonardo Da Vinci sold for $450.3 million.

A rainbow in Tapei was recorded lasting nearly 9 hours, the longest ever.

Gay marriage was legalized in Australia.

Doug Jones became the first Democratic Senator from Alabama in 25 years.

The Vatican rediscovered long lost painting by Raphael.

The Asteroid Oumuamua was discovered to be an interstellar object.

Two neutron stars collided and confirmed the existence of Gravity Waves.

SpaceX launched and recovered a reused Falcon 9 rocket for the first time.

How about the movies that came out this year? Spider Man, Guardians of the Galaxy 2, Wonder Woman, Thor: Ragnorok, Star Wars.

The Michigan Basketball Team won the Big Ten Tournament after surviving a plane crash.

THE GREAT AMERICAN ECLIPSE. How can anyone forget that day?

As you can see, there’s a lot that happened this year! A lot of stuff that ranged from interesting to amazing. And even though there people in this world that are still hell bent on convincing us that everything has gone to rack and ruin, we must never forget that there are still a lot of good things that happened this year, and will continue to happen in the year ahead.

Even so, there’s been a lot of talk this year about where we’re going as a culture, a society and a species. There’s people who feel, for a variety of reasons, that we’re heading on the path to destruction, or at the very least have strayed from the path we should be on. And everyone seems to have the same question; “How do we get back on the right track?”

Well, here’s a suggestion for creating the world you want to live in:

Try spending the next year doing the things you want to do and being the person you want to be.

You don’t need to post a hashtag or join a protest to make a difference. Donate to a charity or help a friend in need. Maybe offer to drive someone who’s not feeling well to the doctor, or go clean the yard of one of your elder neighbors. Or just do what you can to promote the values you believe in. Why wait for a day of action or some galvanizing event? You can do this stuff right now.

You don’t need an incendiary tweet to take action, just try to do the right thing every other day.

Instead of trying to focus on how you can get the entire world onto the right path, why not start with just yourself and your immediate friends and family. Become an inspiration for your fellow citizens, lead by example. 

And most of all, never forget to look for the light. It’s hard to light a candle, and much easier to curse the dark instead. But as President Kennedy once said, we do these things “Not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

Now as always, there’s one more good thing that happened this year, and you are gonna tell me what it is. Because I guarantee you that even if you’ve just had the worst year ever, there was something good that happened. Maybe someone got you a gift you really wanted, or you reconnected with a friend you didn’t even know you were missing, or maybe you finally did something you’ve wanted to do your whole life.

I can tell you that all three of those things happened to me, and that’s why I can look back and say I had a decent year. And I bet that if you give it some thought, you can say the same thing.

Share it below, tell us what awesome thing happened to you this year. And use that positivity to attack the new year with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind!

I hope you all have a wonderful New Year’s Eve, and a fucking awesome 2018.