#had to hold a cold coke in my hand in order to fall asleep actually 🥲 and eat dubious amounts of painkillers🥲

[spokelseskladden]

somehow i managed to speedrun every injury/situation which landed me in the emergency room this year last night👍 emergency room wrapped if you will

[svu-ncis-criminalminds]

Mistakes and First Kisses

For the lovely @infiniteoddball who requested :  Hey! Can I make a request?? Fake Dating AU paired with heated argument leading to kiss/sex? Preferably with Barba or Benson?

I went with Barba, there is no smut in this, I didn’t feel like it fit. However if you wanted to request a part two I’m sure I could work something out :)

Hey! Can I make a request?? Fake Dating AU paired with heated argument leading to kiss/sex? Preferably with Barba or Benson?

“Remember, Barba,” You gave the man a toothy grin as Olivia did her best to hide the wiring you were wearing under your skimpy dress, “You’re rich, an asshole, and out looking for a good time. Also, we’re undercover.” Barba gave you a pointed look, pulling his expensive suit jacket back on once Nick was satisfied his wire was where it needed to be. 

“You’re funny, y/n. Anyone ever told you that before?” You smirked and finally pulled away from Olivia doing a twirl.

“How do I look? Escort-y enough?” You asked, earning an appreciative look from a few of the unis hanging around the area. 

“An expensive one too, not a cheap dollar hooker,” Sonny assured you, you tossed your head back and laughed. 

“You’re sweet,” You smiled, grabbing your purse off your desk, “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go over the plan one more time.” Olivia ordered gently, not wanting to take any risks. “Barba will be at the lounge waiting for you, you’re going to meet him there. Chat him up. Remember he ordered you, so Barba, try and not look like ... well, that.” Everyone looked at the man who was scowling. He didn’t want to be doing this, he didn’t want you to be doing this. High class escorts servicing promident men have been getting attacked. The man was usually beaten into a pulp, while the escorts had been raped and tortured. So far nothing you had done had gotten you any closer, thus this overcover was born. Much to the ADA’s dismay. Barba put on a sarcastic smile and Olivia frowned at him, “Are you sure you can do this.” 

“I’ve voiced my concerns. They’ve been ignored.” 

“We can send Carisi.” 

“A detective with student loans? He could never afford her, they’d know.” You flushed slightly at being spoken about like that. Something about it coming from Barba’s mouth softened the blow. 

“Anyway, chat, have a few drinks, Rollins and Fin will be inside keeping their eyes open. When we tell you to, you’re going to go upstairs. Sit pretty until we tell you otherwise, we need him in the room before we can move, got it?”

“Got it,” You both chimed. 

“Let’s roll.”

Carisi dropped you off at the lounge in a discrete black car, giving you a reassuring smile as you got out. 

“You’ll do fine,” You smiled back and nodded before shutting the door and flipping your hair over your shoulder, straightening your back, and trying your damnedest to not be nervous. You had to be sexy, charming enough to convince whoever was attacking these women that should be his next target. You entered the upclass establishment and looked around before spotting the man, lounging with a drink in his hands. Not his usual amber liquid either, probably a rum and coke, hold the rum. You approached him, trying to look sure of yourself, making sure your hands weren’t shaking.

“Rafael Barba?” You asked, smiling down at the man, eyes large and innocent. He looked up and you saw his adams apple bob as he swallowed before nodding. You smiled back, “May I sit?” 

“It would be my pleasure, Alice right?” The fake name the squad had come up with echoed in your ears as you sat down beside him on the small chaise lounger. 

“Try not to look so damn uncomfortable, Barba.” Fin’s voice sounded off in both of your ears and the man beside you grunted. So you took initiative, scooting closer to the man and resting your hand on his arm. 

“What are you drinking?” He peered into the glass, like if he stared long enough he might turn coke into something a little stronger. 

“A diet coke,” He responded simply. You frowned before smiling again, he wasn’t giving you much to work with. You grabbed a passing waitress and smiled up at her. 

“I’ll have what he’s having, please.” She nodded before disappearing to go get your drink. You turned back to the man, still smiling as he sulked slightly. 

“We’re on a date,” You whispered, “Try and at least look at me.” Barba looked up at you, a worriedness you hadn’t seen before behind his eyes. 

“This is a bad idea.” You pressed a finger to his lips, eyes going cold for a moment. You weren’t about to let him blow this because he was worried. Women were at risk until you put this monster away. 

“Shush,” You murmured, trying to sound playful and not harsh, “Is this your first time going on a date.” You both knew what you meant by date. Barba thought you were trying a little too hard to be obvious. No one in their right might would think you would be here with him without a payout involved. But he tried to loosen up and play along. 

“I’ve been out of the game for a while, work is my life, I don’t have time for anything that isn’t noncommittal.” He explained the half truth. Truth be told, he had recently tried to get back into dating, but it was too hard. Not simply because of the job, but mostly because they weren’t you. You cooed at the man and accepted your drink when the waitress came back before turning to him again. 

“Well, I’m your girl then. For the night.” He smiled softly at that. Only for the night indeed. 

“Keep it up, we got a guy eyeing you at 6 o’clock, don’t look.” You smiled at Barba and continued your flirting routine. Giggling and touching his arm whenever you could, flipping your hair over your shoulder to expose your neck and collarbone to the man, you saw him swallow hard and gave his arm another squeeze of reassurance. 

The man eventually loosened up as he talked to you about work in certain terms. This Barba, however, was a private attorney. The big bucks. You continued to laugh and smile and nod in all the right places, eyes concentrated on his face like he was the only man in the room. As far as dates went, you’d been on worse. Occasionally Rollins or Fin or Olivia would say something into the earpieces you were wearing, instructing you to do one thing or another. 

“Kiss him and take him upstairs.” Kiss? You flushed slightly, at Olivia’s command. Who said anything about kissing. 

“Sell it,” Rollins added and you could practically hear the grin on her face. You sighed and smiled, putting a hand on the man’s face. Barba seemed frozen in his spot so you leaned in and pressed a few simple kisses to his lips. He didn’t react. You frowned. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, trying to save face, “You paid for the evening I thought you-”

“Barba,” Olivia warned. 

“I can’t do this,” He stared blankly, and you began to panic. 

“Move upstairs,” Olivia’s own voice mirrored how you felt. “Now.” She added on harshly. Barba didn’t budge. You tried one more time to lean in and kiss him and he pushed you away, standing up suddenly. 

“I need some air.” 

“Barba,” Multiple voices, including your own cried out but the man was already walking swiftly towards the doors. 

“Rafael,” You called after him, getting up and following him close behind, grabbing the back of his jacket and hissing through gritted teeth, “What are you doing.” He pulled away from you and kept walking, outside in the night. You followed still, struggling to keep up in the heels you’d chosen to wear. “Rafael!” He turned to you shaking his head as Olivia and Carisi rushed up to you. 

“What the hell?” Benson asked, fire in her own eyes. “Barba, what the hell was that.” 

“You’re going to have to find him another way, try doing your jobs!” He snapped back and Benson’s face steeled. 

“Get out of here. Go home.” She glared slightly, “think about the next victim while you try and fall asleep tonight.” With that she turned and walked away. Barba at least had the decency to look guilty briefly, before his face turned sour again. 

“Something to say, Carisi?” the man barked. The detective looked sadly at the lawyer, the main emotion on his face was utter disappointment. He turned and walked away, following his boss back towards the car they had been waiting in. You continued to stand next to Barba, arms crossed. He turned and began to walk away again and you continued to follow. 

“Oh no, we aren’t done here.” 

“Yes we are.” You continued to follow him, a few steps behind him in silence, both of you seething. 

“Are you planning on walking all the way back to your apartment so we can argue there, or would you like to get this over with and actually fucking talk about what just happened?” He ignored you and picked up your pace, so you stopped and took your shoes off before jogging to catch up with him, walking beside him now. “Are you an idiot?” You asked. 

“Go away, Y/N. Go home. It’s done.” He ordered you, voice more gruff then he ever used with you. You frowned. 

“What the hells is this about?” You snapped, “Listen, I get it, you didn’t want to do it for whatever reason. But you agreed, you know the risks these women face and you blew it!” He turned on you, finger pointing into your face. 

“I didn’t sign up for that!” He yelled and you stepped back surprised. He seemed shocked at his own outburst and dropped his hand. “Go home.” 

“No.” You crossed your arms again, “Get us a Lyft. Now. We’re going to yours and we are talking about this. Or I will continue to follow you home barefoot and I will pound on your door until your neighbors call the police. See how the DA likes that!” He stood there for another minute before fishing his phone out of his pocket and tapping it a few times. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“And you’ll be the death of all those men.” You snapped again. Then you felt back, “Look I’m sorry, okay?” He just shook his head, putting the phone away and staring anywhere but you. You were right. He was the reason more people were going to die. All because he couldn’t handle you. Couldn’t handle you flirting, or the kissing, or even bringing you up to a hotel room. No matter how many times he told himself you were just acting, no matter how many lives it saved. It couldn’t. It hurt too much. 

A car pulled up and Barba checked the plates before opening the door and ushering you in. You sat the entire ride in silence, both looking out of your respective windows. You arrived at the man's apartment and got out, the silence following you all the way upstairs and to his apartment door. Once inside you crossed your arms yet again, rubbing some warmth back into them. 

“Are you cold?” Barba asked quietly and you shrugged before shaking your head. 

“Don’t be nice to me. I’m mad at you.” You said, frowning deeply. He frowned back and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Suit yourself. Be difficult.” You watched him go to the kitchen, getting two glasses from the cabinet. 

“Me difficult?” You laughed bitterly, “Says the man who just blew our entire investigation out of the water.” 

“Your investigation? It’s not really a case if it’s a last ditch effort.” He snapped. He poured two glasses of scotch and offered one to you, which you snatched from him. 

“So what? We’re going to sit on our asses and try nothing? If you didn’t like our tactics you were more then welcome to come up with a better idea.” 

“It’s not my job! It’s yours, and obviously you can’t do it.” Ouch. That one stung. You flinched and took a sip of the drink, allowing the burning to wash over you. 

“Guess I’ll just quit then, since my sense of worth is completely dependent on whether or not /you/ think I am doing a good job!” You raised your voice and the man glared, coming towards you.

“Mind shutting up? I have neighbors.” 

“Fuck your neighbors, alright?” You stopped, lowering your voice again, and Barba could see the hurt written across your features. He wished nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to forgive him. “This isn’t you, Rafael.” You spoke finally. It was his turn to wince, both at your words and the tender and unfamiliar use of his first name. “Not the champion of victims that I know.” 

“Well maybe you don’t know me as much as you thought.” You both stared at each other for a moment before you nodded, setting the cup you were holding on the coffee table. 

“Maybe I don’t. Because I thought I knew a good man. A kind man, who cared. This-” You gestured towards him shaking your head, “Isn’t him.” You turned towards the door.  You got about two steps away when you felt hands on you, turning you around. Then there were lips on your lips. The kiss ended as soon as it began. Barba stepped back. 

“I’m sorry. I just- I never got the chance to kiss you back. And I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat, “You’re right, I messed up. I messed the whole thing up. Because I couldn’t handle pretending to kiss you, touch you, flirt with you. I was selfish, I cared about my own emotions more than the lives of innocent people, and I am sorry.” You were frozen where you stood staring back at the man whose lips were just on yours. “I’m sorry,” He said again. You weren’t sure you ever heard Rafael Barba apologize before, and now he has uttered those words four times in about thirty seconds. 

“I forgive you.” Your voice came out in a whisper, arms wrapping around yourself. “I won’t say it’s okay, because it’s not. But you’re forgiven. We will figure it out, somehow, someway.” You promised. “But a word of advice.” 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t try and kiss Liv when you apologize and grovel to her tomorrow.” 

“I don’t grovel,” He smirked slightly, you smirked back.

“Well you better start.” You took a step towards him, reaching up to rest your hands on his chest, toying with his tie. “You could start now,” You gazed up at the man whose hands had found your hips. He leaned down and kissed you again, slowly, lovingly. You kissed him back this time, relishing in your first mutual kiss. When he pulled back he placed a hand on your cheek, thumb gently rubbing it. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, you tilted your head slightly. 

“For what?”

“For reminding me who I am.” You smiled and leaned up, stealing another kiss from the man, who pulled you into a warm embrace, kissing your forehead several times.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

Hooked On A Feeling Ch. 1

When Hiccup and Astrid realize they've never hung out alone before, they decide to change that. And how do you better spend time with your Good Friend than by playing Mario Kart all night?

[Chapter 1: Come A Little Bit Closer] [Chapter 2: Fooled Around And Fell In Love] [Chapter 3: Go All The Way]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Hiccup was at his fourth beer when he noticed.

He was leaning against the railing of Justin’s balcony, the cold night air cooling his skin, warm from the heat of the living room and the alcohol. It was game night, a tradition he and his friends had started over two years ago when none of them had really known anyone yet, trying to find their place on Berk’s huge university campus. Some of them had been in the same campus tour group on day one, the rest had met in class. If Hiccup recalled correctly, it had been Justin, also known as Fishlegs among his friends, who had suggested a night of board games and bonding, which had turned into a bi-weekly event of drinking and trash-talking each other over SingStar, Monopoly, Cards Against Humanity and the like.

Currently, they were taking a quick break from playing. Tuffnut and Snotlout needed a smoke break, Fishlegs one of his many potty breaks, and the rest of them just went along.

Hiccup was fairly sure that Tuff’s twin sister was filling up everyone’s water glasses with vodka, which would at least result in a hilarious moment of spitting out drinks all over Hiccup’s Monopoly board. He had long ago decided to never take his Game of Thrones board to game night if he didn’t want it back sticky and covered in oily crumbs.

He had opened a new beer bottle and followed Tuff, Snot and Astrid outside, engrossed in a conversation about the latest rumor about two of their professors dating.

By the time the two cigarettes were merely tiny smoldering dots in the ashtray on the windowsill, snowflakes started to descend silently from the dark sky. Snotlout looked up and stuck out his tongue to catch one, but it fell into his eye which made him whine and dramatically stagger off to the bathroom to wash it out, with an excited Tuff in tow who began to tell him a story of one of his many cousins who supposedly went blind from a snowflake in his eye.

“Muttonheads,” Astrid mumbled when the boys were gone.

Hiccup grinned and shook his head. “If we’re lucky, Tuff manages to make Snot so paranoid that we can sell him anything that will apparently prevent him from going blind.”

Astrid leaned against the railing next to him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m intrigued, Haddock. Keep talking.”

Animated by her reaction, he fell into his habit of gesticulating while talking, beer bottle still in hand. “Like, we could tell him about this old myth that says making bad choices in board games will increase your body’s healing capabilities.”

“Yes!” Astrid pointed a finger at him. “We’ll let Tuff scare him further with his ridiculous tales about cousins he doesn’t have, and he’ll eat right out of our hands.”

She was beaming at the chance to mess with their friend, and for a while, they kept brainstorming ideas to make Snotlout lose at Monopoly on purpose.

He was taking another sip of his beer when it hit him.

“Hey,” he interrupted her newest plan and she raised her eyebrows in question. “You know what I just realized?”

“That most of our friends share one brain cell?”

He chuckled. “No, I already knew about that. I meant… We’ve never, you know, done this before.” He gesticulated between him and Astrid.

“Messed with our friends?”

“No. No, I mean, I mean we do that a lot, but… But, you know, we never-- we never hung out like this before, just- just the two of us.”

He could see the same realization dawn on her. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

“Haven’t we?”

“We haven’t!” She shook her head disbelievingly. “How long have we been friends now? Almost three years, right?”

Hiccup nodded. “True. And we never really hung out outside this group.”

Astrid shivered and gestured with her head to go back inside. “We have to change that.”

They sat back down next to each other on the large sofa. Astrid reached for her water glass but was smart enough to sniff at it before taking a sip. From the corner of his eye, Hiccup spotted Ruffnut peering over in anticipation. He heard her curse when Astrid took the nearest bottle of coke and filled her glass to the brim. She took a scrutinizing sip, scrunching up her face for a second, shrugged and settled with it.

“So what do we do?” she asked, taking another sip.

Hiccup hummed in thought, crossed his arms and leaned back, tapping the neck of his almost empty bottle against his arm. “And when do we do it?”

“Do what?” Fishlegs asked, sitting down in front of his side of the Monopoly board.

“Hang out,” Hiccup and Astrid said in unison. Astrid held up her hand and without looking Hiccup gave her a high-five.

“Uhm,” Tuffnut said and made an open gesture. “Aren’t you hanging out right now?” He squinted his eyes. “Or is hanging out what the kids are calling it these days?”

Astrid threw a game piece at him and Hiccup felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “Hanging out as friends, you muttonhead!” she yelled.

“Right,” Tuff said, although Hiccup could tell he didn’t quite get it yet – or believed it.

“Hey, Hiccup,” Fishlegs chimed in, “didn’t you order Mario Kart for your Switch last week?”

“I did!” Hiccup sat up straight and turned towards Astrid. “All 48 races. Next Friday. We stay up all night. Loser buys the other a Christmas gift.” He offered her his hand.

She considered it for a second. “No falling asleep and the gift has a cost limit.”

They shook hands.

“Deal.”

_______________

Hiccup was at her place at nine, his Switch and Mario Kart game in his bag, as well as the ingredients to their self-made pizza. In return, her fridge was filled with energy drinks.

They said cheers with the first can and started on the pizza.

Astrid’s apartment had underfloor-heating that made the kitchen warm and cozy. Outside in the dark night, more snow was falling, covering the world in a white blanket. Music was coming from Astrid’s portable loudspeaker box.

“Someone’s been watching Guardians of the Galaxy,” Hiccup noted while he rolled out the premade dough on the griddle to the Marvel movie’s official mixtape.

“Nah, just dug it out when I went through my playlists.” She started humming and dancing on the spot where she was cutting onions on the kitchen counter.

She could feel the caffeine from the energy drink settle in her system. Using her knife as a microphone, she twirled around to face Hiccup at the kitchen table. “I’m hooked on a feeling!” she sang, taking joy in the way Hiccup started laughing at how off-key she sounded. “I’m high on believing!” She slid across the tiles in her beloved blue fleece socks, holding the knife-mic out to Hiccup.

“That you’re in love with me!” he sang into the fake-mic, equally off-key. She danced back to her cutting board and took another large gulp of energy drink. Not that she thought that hanging out with Hiccup wouldn’t be fun, but she just hadn’t anticipated it to be this nice.

While the pizza was in the oven, she opened her second drink and pulled Hiccup to his feet. Later, she claimed it was the caffeine coursing through both their bodies that made them decide they should have a dance-off right there in her small kitchen. Sliding on soft socks, slipping and catching themselves on the furniture or each other, they alternated between battling each other in ridiculous dance moves and twirling each other around, bumping into the table and counter several times.

When the oven timer went off, Hiccup loaded three big pieces each on two plates while Astrid disappeared into her little study room and came back with a DVD case in her hand.

“I’m up for some Home Alone, how about you?” She really hoped he wasn’t one of those people who hated the movie. Christmas time was Home Alone time for her.

“Am I ever!” Hiccup exclaimed and Astrid whooped and skipped off to her bedroom. He took a deep breath before he followed her, smile ever-present on his face.

They settled on her queen-sized bed, the desk with the large TV she got from her uncle Finn for her birthday in front of it, pizza and energy drinks on a tray between them.

Hiccup was impressed with the accuracy and passion with which she recited basically half the movie. But her amused expressions told him he didn’t fare any different with his impressions of Kevin and the bandits alike.

"I always think," she said when Kevin prepared his master trap, "that I'm glad Kevin seems to know what he's doing. Would have been a fucking chaos if he didn't."

Hiccup nodded vigorously. "Wanna know a fun fact about me?"

She peeled her eyes away from the screen and looked at him, genuine interest in her eyes.

"When I was a kid- actually, it started when I was a kid, and when I was fifteen, I was, like– Anyway, um… Basically, Kevin McCallister was my childhood hero."

"Oh, no." The dread in her voice didn't match the anticipating grin on her face.

"Yep," he said, popping the p. "Made my parents' life hell, especially because my inventions and traps never worked the way I wanted them to."

"Oh my god," she laughed.

"My father still doesn't let me live down the day I decided to rebuild the zipline Kevin uses to get from the house to his tree house."

"But it shouldn't even work in the movie, like, all of these traps are bullshit, realistically speaking." She wiped tears from laughter out of her eye.

Hiccup gave her a deadpan expression. "Well, fifteen-year-old me was confident he had made the right tweaks."

"What happened?"

"Umm…" He averted his face and she leaned over the tray to shake his shoulder.

"Now you have to tell me!"

Hiccup sighed and turned back to her, trying to keep up his serious expression. "I had fastened the end of the line, the one that started at the house, on the windowpane. At that point we were living in this old house with wooden panes. You can probably guess where this is going."

"Nope, totally lost. Don't leave out even one detail." Hiccup shot her an unbelieving expression, but she kept looking at him with that twinkle in her eyes, so he gave in with a defeated sigh.

"Fine, the wood was too old, it snapped when I jumped, I fell and broke my left leg in two places. Had to wear a cast for weeks. From then on, I was done with those experiments."

“But you’re studying engineering.”

He shrugged. “Exactly. Never said I was done with all kinds of experiments forever.”

A sly grin formed on Astrid’s face right when on TV the hot iron trap went off. “Let’s use the energy that kept young Hiccup going on Snotlout and the twins.”

He slowly shook his head. “You. Are. Evil.”

“Nope, not evil.” She opened two new cans of energy drinks and handed him one. “Just working with what I got to make the world a better place in these difficult times of Snotfaces and Nuts.”

He snorted and threw her an amused look. He was definitely in the right company.

_______________ 

“Alright.” Astrid stretched in the middle of her room and cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this. I’m ready to destroy you.”

Hiccup just hummed disbelievingly from where he was setting up his gaming system. “Better open the windows for a few minutes first, the air in here is really bad.” When Astrid did just that, he added, “because it smells of loser!”

“That’s because of you,” she countered without batting an eye.

“I know, my fault, I should have thrown you out earlier.” A pair of socks flew over his head while he was plugging in the HDMI cable. "Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

"Keep that up and I'll have to kiss you for real."

Hiccup looked up at her and saw her eyes dart back up from somewhere below his midriff. He looked at the backside of his pants. Did he have a stain there? He couldn’t find anything. Dismissing it with a shrug, he joined Astrid on the bed again. She handed him his energy can, opening another one for herself. This couldn’t be good for their health.

While the game was loading, Astrid repeated the rules. “We play all 48 races. We can’t fall asleep. If one of us does, the other is strictly obligated to wake them up. Loser buys the other a Christmas present but it has a clear cost limit.”

“Wouldn’t we get each other little gifts anyway?”

“Additional present, then.” She took a large gulp of her drink.

“I don’t think you should drink so much of that stuff; your body’s energy will drop tremendously as soon as the effect wears off, and you’ll fall asleep. Also, you’ll get diarrhea.”

She threw him an unimpressed look while he took a sip as well. “Look who’s talking. Besides, I know my own body. I’ve done this before.”

“Sure,” Hiccup shrugged and dipped his head back to drain the can. “Let’s deal with it when the time comes.” He wasn’t able to keep still anymore, wiggling his toes to countermeasure the pace of his heart. Definitely not good for their health. They really shouldn’t do this. There was a pop and a sizzling sound and he was handed a new drink. Oh, well.

When the Mario Kart home screen came up, Hiccup took his controller and chose the right settings. Astrid grabbed the other one and tested out the buttons. It had been a while since she’d last played it, but Hiccup was dead certain she hadn’t forgotten how to properly kick his butt. Or, as he would make sure in tonight’s case, die trying. He’d love an additional Christmas present from her, and he’d love even more to destroy her. Smirk on his face, he moved the stick to choose his character as she did the same.

“You can’t be serious!” Astrid yelled accusatory. “Link isn’t even a Mario character!”

“So?” he shrugged. “He’s a choosable character and you know I love Legend of Zelda.”

She wasn’t having any of it. “You can’t play a non-Mario character in a Mario game, Hiccup.”

“He’s still a Nintendo character, and what’s the big deal?”

“We said we would play this right, so no characters from other games. Choose another one!”

“If I have to pick a character other than the one I always pick, you have to do the same,” he argued. “No Bowser for you, milady!”

“At least he’s from Mario.”

“Do it properly, Astrid!” He grinned. “If I have to repick, then so do you.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine! But I don’t trust you with this. I’ll choose for you.”

He stuck out his hand. “Only if I get to choose for you.” They shook on the deal and switched controllers.

“Let’s see…” Astrid mumbled while going through the different available characters. “Got it!” She pushed a button to confirm her selection.

“What?!” He threw his hands up in indignation. “Why am I Waluigi?!”

“Because he looks like you.”

“Pah!” He quickly selected her character. “I guess you’re Baby Peach, then.”

She huffed. “Really, Hiccup?! Because she’s blonde?”

“No,” he said, smirk back on his face, “because she's a helpless baby and she, too, needs saving all the time because she keeps getting kidnapped by the same dude over and over again and she’s a bi– uff!“ She shut him up by surprise-tackling him to the mattress.

“Oh, really? Who needs saving now, huh?”

He struggled underneath her, but she had him pinned down with her full weight. His chest was warm underneath her arms and his face very close to hers. She furrowed her brows. Had he always had that many freckles? And did he know that there were so many shades of green in his eyes? She noticed the stubble on his chin, and he actually smelled really nice.

When her face suddenly started to feel hot, she did the first thing that came to her mind; she pushed him off the bed.

“Ow, why would you do that?!” Hiccup pulled himself up on the edge of the bed, and Astrid hoped he hadn’t seen the blush that was only slowly leaving her cheeks. But he had seen it.

For a moment, he frowned in confusion. Why was she acting so flustered?

“That’s for making me Baby Peach and comparing me to her,” she said evenly, trying to sound nonchalant, but she would still not meet his eyes. Huh. Maybe he could work with that, he thought, caffeine pulsing in his blood – whatever weird thing was going on.

They settled back into position next to each other, an arm’s length of space between them, and started the game. While they were racing over Cheep Cheep Beach, throwing shells and bananas at each other, Astrid didn’t say a word. Hiccup made a few comments every now and then and tried to trash-talk her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. Her face was focused but her eyes were far away. He hoped she wasn’t mad at him because of the Baby Peach thing.

His character broke through the finish line first.

“Wait, what?!” she shouted, perplexed, after she came in sixth.

Hiccup grinned mischievously at her. “Maybe you should pay more attention to the game if you want to win.”

“I was paying attention,” she insisted, “it’s because of stupid Baby Peach, she’s useless! Let’s start anew with our characters.”

Hiccup feigned shock, holding his hand to his heart. “What, you – Astrid Hofferson – want to back out after only one race?!”

She glared at him and raised her chin with determination. “I’ll show you a race, Waluigi!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Racing through the Water Park course, Astrid did her best to keep her concentration on the game, but her attention was continuously diverted. Why was it so nice to be so close to Hiccup and why was she suddenly so aware of him? She could feel his body heat next to her where they were sitting on her bed in their pajamas at 1 a.m. She’s had five energy drinks and she kind of wanted to make out with him.

It didn’t help at all that, during the next five races, his leg moved closer to hers inch by inch until their knees were touching, and from time to time, he shifted on his butt and leaned very close to her in the process. He let out this quiet chuckle that pierced straight through her heart and then he was suddenly sitting normally again and she realized she’d been driving against walls for a minute.

He won the fifth race with several positions ahead of her and she wanted to whack her controller on his stupid face.

“Whohoo!” Hiccup shouted, celebrating by jumping up from the bed and doing a little dance in front of the TV.

“You cheated,” she grumbled when he let himself fall back next to her.

“Astrid, you can’t cheat on Mario Kart.”

“You also don’t play a non-Mario character on Mario Kart and yet here we are,” she countered.

“But I’m not even playing Link.”

“Yes, because I saved you from that.”

“I never needed saving. See, that’s the difference between me and Peach–“

She punched him on the arm, shutting him up. “Feeling overconfident, are we?”

“Score.” He pointed at the ranking list on the screen.

“Pff,” she made, “we’re just getting started, Haddock.”

With matching competitive grins, they got ready for the next race.

“Ha!” Astrid exclaimed when she sent a blue shell for Hiccup on the N64 Rainbow Road and lead the brigade of opponents rushing past him, claiming her first victory of the night.

She finally went on a winning streak, the adrenaline that came with it keeping her from getting drowsy, unlike the not-cheating cheater next to her. Nine races later, she stretched her arms with a loud yawn and used the pause to check the messages on her phone while Hiccup leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t long until his head rolled to the side and came to rest on her shoulder, his even breaths tickling her neck. She bit her lip. They’d agreed to stay awake, but she couldn’t find it in herself to wake him while he looked so peaceful and relaxed.

The loop of their characters cheering on the screen behind the updated ranking list went on, the music becoming background noise while she went through every social media feed on her phone, ignoring the increasing pressure in her bladder.

But more than a liter of energy drink had the power of two days’ worth of water, and it started to feel like it was trying to turn her insides out. She regretfully and carefully moved Hiccup’s head out of the way, immediately missing its weight on her shoulder and the warmth of his body leaning against her side.

Peeing felt like the liberation of France and she sighed in relief. Maybe she could be back before Hiccup woke up.

She wasn’t. When she came back from the bathroom, he was stretching on her bed, bleary-eyed and disarmingly cute with his messy hair, rubbing his eyes and face like a child.

“You broke a rule,” he yawned. “You didn’t wake me.”

“I didn’t notice you’d fallen asleep, doofus. I was in the bathroom.” She settled back on the blanket, making sure to leave a little space between them lest she got foolishly distracted by him again.

He reached over her to grab another energy drink and she could swear he was smirking. But when she eyed him properly, his eyes were big and innocent, a little red-rimmed from being tired and staring at a screen for so long. Choosing to forget the whole thing, she resumed the game.

[itisannak]

‘Heartbreak Girl’ by 5sos (Ashton Irwin Fluff)

Summary: Ashton has feelings for his friend, who keeps choosing the wrong guy to be with. Based on Angst Prompt #38: "We are not just friends and you fucking know it."   (Roughly based on Heartbreak Girl by 5sos) (Request) (Words: 1.6k)

'It's not the same anymore', he said. 'I love you, but not like that, anymore.' he said. So I found myself walking alone in the middle of the night, drenched by the falling rain. After I left his apartment, I just began walking aimlessly, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that my boyfriend actually called us quits once more. Every time he and I break up, he ended up apologizing, begging for me back. But this time it seems different, it feels different as well. On and off and on and off ha brought me to feeling numb at the sudden turn of our relationship. I am heartbroken but after a million times of being betrayed by him, heartbreak has become more of a tiring condition for me.

Without realizing it much, I find myself in front of Ashton's door, waiting for him to open it. "(Y/N)... What are you doing here? Are you ok? You are drenched... Come in." Ashton panics, trying to read my face for any clue of my state. "I am fine. I don't even know how I got here, really." I mumble under my breath, too worn to let out anything else. "You really don't look fine. And you are shivering." He comments, shutting the door as I get in. "I am sorry I came over uninvited. I really didn't want to go home, so I just started walking... But I ended up here. I am sorry, I should go..." I break down, pointing to the door. Ashton pulls me in for a hug, kissing the top of my head as I finally let my feelings express freely. "Don't you dare leave. My house is your house too." "I am going to drench your clothes." I sob, trying to move away from him, but his arms wrap around me even tighter. "Fuck the clothes. Tell me you are not hurt. Do you need me to drive you to the hospital?" He asks, only now pulling away from me to inspect me and my physique. "I am not hurt. At least not physically." I rub my eyes. "Then, what is it?" He asks me. "He broke up with me. Said he doesn't feel anything anymore." I mumble, shrugging my shoulders. "Again? I feel like I have had this conversation with you 10 times this past 6 months." "I know. I am sorry I keep on coming back to you after that. But you are the only person I can talk to." "You are always welcome to come here, no matter what. And you are always going to be welcome here. Now, you will slip into a shower and stay there for as long as you need, and I'll bring you dry clothes. And, while you are in there, I will order some pizza and we are going to talk until we fall asleep." He orders, giving me his signature grin. "I don't want to talk about it, nor him. It feels like my tongue is stuck in the same conversation lately. But I am not saying no to pizza." "Of course you aren't. You know where everything is, let me give you some towels and clean clothes." He presses a kiss to my forehead before we make our way to the bathroom. "Once you change, I will throw your clothes in the dryer, ok?" Ashton says as he hands me the fluffy towels. I nod my head and he smiles, getting out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him. I strip off my clothes, placing them on top of the humper before I slip into the shower cabin. I let the warm water run on my body, offering me a calming sensation, much needed after today's hecticness. I feel kind of hollow, not sure if it is because I am over it, or just sure that tomorrow morning he will call me and say he didn't mean it. And blindly, I will go running back to him. Or at least that's normal for us. I don't want to go back to him, but I have invested so much in this relationship that it feels stupid throwing it all away because of a mood swing.

I dry myself off and get dressed before I walk into the living room, finding Ashton waiting for me with 2 blankets on the couch. "I figured that you would be cold after walking in the rain." He smiles sweetly before he pulls me to sit on the couch. I bring the blanket to cover my lap, curling into a ball on the couch. "The pizza will be here in a few minutes. And I have coke and icecream in the freezer, so pick a movie and let's have a brain freeze together." He cheers, plopping on the couch. "Not a movie. Let's watch Bob's Burgers." I push my eyebrows up, smiling at him as he groans frustrated. "You always want to watch Bob's Burgers." He huffs. "At least I am easy to make up my mind." I point out and grab the remote control from him. "That you are. I'll bring glasses."

We must have watched at least 10 episodes before falling asleep. I wake up in the morning, my head on Ashton's shoulder, and a light buzz on it. The T.V. is still on, but it is on the homepage of Hulu, so it is quiet in the house. Ashton is sleeping soundly, his colored red locks falling on his face messily. I pity walking him up, after everything he did for me last night... And every other time he became my shoulder to cry on. I nuzzle up against the couch, shutting my eyes and trying to go back to sleep for a few more moments. But my stomach grumbles, so I fail. I stretch my body to reach for the pizza box at the end of the couch; if I remember correctly and my mind isn't fooling me from permanent brain freeze damage, there is some leftover pizza. And nothing tastes better than cold pizza for breakfast. But on my way to picking up the box, I accidentally wake up Ashton, who groans instead of saying 'Good morning'. "Hey. Wanna split the leftovers?" I ask, smiling at him. "Give me a goddamn slice." He mumbles as I open the box. I hand him one, watching him as he sinks his teeth into it and moans at the taste. "How are you feeling?" He asks me as I take my first bite. "Great. I don't even expect the call from him anymore." "The call?" He asks, knitting his eyebrows together. "The one he is going to tell me about regretting last night and how badly he wants us to be back together." I explain, earning a hum from him. "If he calls, are you going back to him?" He asks. "No, I don't think so. I need to end this circle." "Good, cause I don't want you going back to him." He says, cocking an eyebrow. "Of course you don't. You are my friend, you want what's best for me." I state and Ashton sighs, dropping his slice back in the box before he rubs his hand over his face. "What?" I ask, looking at him in confusion. "We are not just friends and you fucking know it." He groans. I still look at him confused, unable to understand his little tantrum. "Huh?" "We are not just friends (Y/N). At least you are not just a friend to me. Not since the day I felt you around me and heard you moan my name." "Ashton, that night..." I stutter but he stops me. "I know. I know we said that that one night was a one-time thing. But I can't remember to forget those moments. I can't forget what it was like holding you and hearing you moan and kissing you. To me, you are not just a friend. Not anymore." "Are you saying you..." "I see you romantically if you want to put it in that way. I don't know if I am in love with you, since I always have to hold myself back from seeing you through that spectrum, but at the reminiscence of what was like holding you, feeling you, making love to you, I know I want to fall in love with you." He confesses, without looking at me; it is hard watching him get awkward around me, he is always breezy and charming. "Ash, I really don't know what to say." "I know. I just wanted to let it out." "Listen, that night was amazing. Truly." "But..." "There is no but, Ash. It was amazing. Just... I've never imagined it turning into something more. I guess because I was already in a relationship." "Yeah, I figured..." He sighs. "Now what?" He asks, putting me on the spot. I rub my hand over my face, trying to figure out a way to word my unsettled thoughts. "Listen, I have just gotten out of a relationship. A bad one. And yes, I am not going back to him, but I still need some time to figure out a way to come out of this in one piece. And of course, we have to find a balance for this new relationship, or what we are going to call this. And last but not least, let's take this one step at a time. But really, one step at a time. Let's just go on a date... Then another, and not rush ourselves into this." "Sounds like a good plan to me. Way better than not giving this a chance at all." He smiles sweetly, picking up his slice again. "So, wanna watch some more Bob's Burgers?" I ask, smirking as I pick up the remote control.

My Masterlist

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “On Your Mind” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is sitting at a bar, ill-advisedly looking for Mr. Right ... and failing. But as he plans to leave, he sees an incredibly gorgeous man who captivates him. He sits back down and watches him, fantasizing about who he is, what he's doing, and why he's there. But before too long, Blaine discovers that this man is far from ordinary. (3448 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. 

Read on AO3.

Being a New Yorker isn’t for the weak-hearted. Living here is rough.

And as the days go by, it doesn’t get any easier.

The city can be cruel. But it’s exciting, too. Blaine loves living here. He may be a small town boy, but he can’t imagine living anywhere else. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t overwhelming.

Back home in Ohio, people wore their hearts on their sleeves. That made it easier for him to survive as the token gay kid at his high school. From bigots to allies, he pretty much knew where everyone stood from the start. But in New York, everyone has their own unique brand of armor, forged through the give and take necessary to thrive in a diverse metropolis. It’s harder to tell from the outset who’s truly on his side and who’s faking it.

When Blaine first moved to New York, he stumbled into a few hornet’s nests. He learned a valuable lesson, but now he has a habit of being super-cautious about everyone, over-analyzing behavior, picking actions and conversations apart in search of clues.

It keeps him safe, but it also leaves him lonely.

He feels the weight of that as his butt falls asleep on the hard-as-a-rock barstool he’s monopolizing, stirring the watered-down rum and coke he’s been nursing for over an hour. He doesn’t actually like rum and coke too much. He’ll drink it, but it’s not his preferred choice overall. If he wasn’t so concerned about looks, he’d order a strawberry daiquiri. But a tall curvy glass filled with pastel pink drink and topped with a colorful umbrella isn’t the impression he’s trying to give off. He’s afraid it might scream flaming gay. A rum and coke always struck him as a man’s drink, probably because that’s what his dad used to order. And if there was a man’s man anywhere out there in the world, it was definitely his dad.

But Blaine, sighing in the solitude that is his corner of the bar, really wants a daiquiri.

He runs a hand over his tired face and up into his hair, mussing what was once a helmet of meticulously plastered curls, though he figures that the way he looks far from matters now. If not a single man looked him up and down when he was fresh faced and crisp as a brand new hundred dollar bill, then no one’s going to look at him now.

Not anyone who’d want to spend more than one night with him anyway. And even then, he’s giving them too much credit. More like fifteen minutes in the bathroom. And as much as Blaine has had fun in his fair share of bathrooms, he’s really looking for something deeper. Something more.

Of course, this bar that he’s scored most of the ass he’s tapped since he’s lived in New York probably isn’t the smartest place to go looking for it.

But his choices are limited. He’s a creature of habit, and this bar happens to be a block away from his apartment. Aside from that, he’s a certifiable workaholic, and he doesn’t like to shop at work. He’s a producer and a songwriter, currently slumming the orchestra pit down at the Lyceum Theater as a favor for a friend, and even though Broadway is rife with gay men, the ones he’s hooked up with have mostly been social climbers, warming his bed, hoping for the opportunity to snag something better than chorus line.

Blaine Anderson is no one’s stepping stone.

He takes a sip of his drink, checking to see if it’s any more salvageable than it was five minutes ago, and since the answer is no, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, preparing to settle his tab and head out. Who knows? Maybe if he hits Whole Foods on the way home, he might stumble across a nice, eligible bachelor in the organic produce department.

And this is where his imagination runs wild.

They’ll both reach for the same Asian pear. They’ll brush fingers, giggle bashfully. Blaine will offer it to him, but the man will insist Blaine take it instead. Small talk will ensue. They’ll find out they have tons of stuff in common. They’ll go for coffee and end up talking till five in the morning because time will fly by. And as the sun peeks over the horizon, they’ll share Blaine’s pear, along with a few sweet kisses …

It’s the rom-com variety meet-cute New York City is known for.

The romantic in him says it’s worth a shot.

The realist in him says don’t hold your breath.

He puts a tenner on the bar and tells the bartender to keep the change.

High-pitched laughter cuts through the murmur of drunken conversation, stopping Blaine cold, half-standing with his hand thrust awkwardly down the back pocket of his pants. He doesn’t understand why he has such an extreme reaction to it, but it calls to him, goes through him – in his ears and around his brain like a silk sheet, sliding down his throat like a rich mouthful of hot chocolate and settling in his belly. He’s never had that reaction to a laugh before. It’s almost ludicrous. He waits for it to continue, but it doesn’t, and the heat in his belly begins to cool.

But I didn’t just imagine it! he thinks as the sensation drifts away. It was clear as day!

He turns his head, eyes sweeping the dingy bar for whoever made that sound, pausing at the front door as traffic flows in and out. A thin stream of average, uninteresting faces make an appearance but nothing that fits that voice. A few faces later, Blaine decides to go with his first instinct and leave, but he stops for a second time when a gorgeous, almost otherworldly man with pale skin and impossibly blue eyes walks into view. He turns to the bartender as he passes Blaine, not even sparing a glance for the man staring numbly like a dumbstruck teenager. When the stranger speaks, his voice sounds even more magical than before.

“Shirley Temple, extra cherries if you please, Ronnie.”

Ronnie, a surly manticore of a man with a handle-bar moustache and bright red suspenders, raises a hand to acknowledge his order.

“Sure thing,” he says, his gruff, smoker’s voice sounding happier now that he – whoever he is – has arrived. Other patrons at the bar turn to welcome him with a wave or a smile. Blaine notices that the overall atmosphere of the bar has become lighter, less depressing, as if whoever this man is swept in and cleansed the aura of the room.

Or maybe the rum, weak though it is, is finally hitting him.

Either way, this man, taking a seat at a table not too far from him – this ethereally handsome, fashion-forward man with the sea blue eyes, and (Blaine can’t help noticing) incredible ass stuffed into ridiculously tight jeans - convinces Blaine to sit back down and hang out a little while longer.

Whoa, those jeans are tight! he thinks. I mean, I guess I can’t talk. My pants are pretty tight, too. But those look dangerously tight. Like … health endangering tight.

The man sits up straight and runs his hands down his thighs, stopping briefly at his knees, then continuing back up to his hips again. Blaine leans forward at the sight of this man touching himself, stroking the dark denim pulled tight over trim legs, and nearly falls straight off his stool.

Blaine pinches his lips together tight before he can accidentally moan out loud and make a fool out of himself.

N-not that I’m complaining. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. And you definitely got it. I mean, have it. And that voice … are you a singer? I think I would have heard of you if you were a singer. You’d have Broadway wrapped around your finger if you were …

The man bites his bottom lip, holding back a smile, eyes searching the bar, looking for someone. His hand trails up the buttons of his shirt, fidgeting with his open collar, touching his neck lightly with his fingertips.

He must be waiting for someone special. Probably a lover with a reaction like that.

Looks like I don’t stand a chance, huh?

Blaine watches his fingertips move, envisioning opening the man’s shirt, button by button, following with a kiss to every newly revealed patch of skin, ending at his long neck, tracing a path up to his ear with the tip of his tongue. Blaine blinks his eyes, snapping back to reality.

Okay … I don’t know where that came from …

The man looks distracted as he peers off into the crowd and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing when he does. A waitress comes up to his table with a tray carrying a single drink – a bubbly beverage overflowing with crayon red maraschino cherries. The man’s eyes flick up to the waitress and he smiles, the distracted look dissolving with his enigmatic grin. The waitress sets a napkin down in front of him, and then the drink on top of that. The man nods and watches the waitress walk away before he regards his drink.

Blaine has become positively fascinated with this man, every minute detail of him, even though apart from being inconceivably sexy he has yet to do anything more extraordinary than smile and sip his drink.

But that smile.

It has more character, more personality than the half dozen men he’s tried talking up this week.

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He opens it up on the table in front of him and looks at it intently, reaching for his drink again and forgoing the straw this time to take a healthy sip.

That’s an awful lot of cherries for one poor drink, Blaine muses. And here I was, stressing over a daiquiri …

The man looks up from his paper (list? letter? Blaine can’t tell from where he’s sitting …) and chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he’s expecting something to happen, gaze shifting left and right, and then returns to the words on the page. The smile on the man’s face drops an inch, than an inch more, until none of it remains.

Sucky news, huh? Blaine commiserates. I understand how that is. I hope that’s not a Dear John letter. Blaine’s mind drifts to thoughts of an envelope resting against his lamp on his bedside table, the letter inside months old but read so many times that creases from the folds in the paper are tearing.

But the edges are still sharp enough to sting.

Someone with gorgeous eyes like yours shouldn’t have to read something like that, he thinks with a sigh.

The man sighs as well, eyes skimming the last few lines. His smile returns. He folds the letter back up and puts it in his pocket.

Guess not, huh? Well, good for you. A man like you deserves love letters … and poetry …

The man shakes his head, but this time he’s staring straight ahead at someone approaching his table. Another unspectacular man from the bar - this one wearing a long, tan coat - walks right up to the only vacant chair at the table and sits down without being invited.

Rude, Blaine thinks. The man he’s been watching for the last half-hour raises both eyebrows and nods his head once, as if he agrees. Blaine watches the second man closely, observing the way he sits, how his eyes bounce from face to face around him, how he keeps his hands folded in his lap, suspiciously close to his hip. The waitress comes up to take his order but the man waves her away, and Blaine gets it.

This second man is a cop.

Suddenly, this show he’s been watching has just become way more interesting. His thin rum and coke forgotten along with all pretense of ever leaving this bar, Blaine focuses on the couple, no longer concerned whether they know he’s watching them or not. He debates finding a chair closer to their table so he can hear what they’re saying, anything to give him a clue as to what his mystery man is up to.

The cop monopolizes most of the conversation from what Blaine can see. He starts talking, low and calm at first, but then more and more animatedly, gesturing with one hand since he keeps the other pinned to his side, probably where his holster is. Blaine prides himself on the fact that he has watched enough episodes of Law and Order that he’s well-versed in many aspects of police behavior by now. In fact, he’s considered becoming a police officer. He thinks he’d be really good at it. He’s athletic and smart (if he does say so himself). And he can be assertive. Only problem is he’s not too keen on guns … or chasing after people … or getting shot at …

In the middle of the officer’s speech, the man with the iridescent blue eyes starts to laugh, apparently at an inappropriate moment because the officer stares at the man with mouth agape and eyes wide, offense written in every line of his strained face. The blue-eyed man peeks up at his companion and waves a dismissive hand. It looks to Blaine like he’s assuring the angered officer that he wasn’t laughing at him or anything he said. He quiets down, gesturing for the officer to continue.

Blaine watches in silence as the two talk back and forth, concentrating on their lips to see if he can catch any snippets of conversation. He narrows his eyes until he gets a migraine, but the only words he thinks he can catch are ‘lost’ and ‘help’, and maybe ‘dead’, though it could have been ‘den’ or ‘desk’. Blaine’s eyes begin to cross, and more and more he’s starting to wish that the police officer guy would just leave so he can go back to unraveling the mystery of this man with the prismatic blue eyes.

The man (Blaine has decided to call him ‘Noel’ since he bears a striking resemblance to a young Noel Coward) closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his temples, pressing and massaging tiny circles into his skin.

Is Captain Overbearing bothering you? Blaine thinks. Is he giving you a headache? I know people like that. They walk into the room and pow! My head throbs. I used to let them walk all over me, mostly because we’d been friends forever. It happens with my brother, too. I could tell them to eff off, but I guess I have a phobia of not having any friends. But now, being a New Yorker for the past decade, I opt for revenge. Not the big kind of revenge. I mean, I don’t think I could hurt anyone, or ruin their lives, or anything. I have been known to slip a few drops of Visine into their soda. Gives them the poops for hours. That’s fairly satisfying …

In the midst of massaging his temples, the man smiles. He opens his eyes, throws his head back and laughs, and again the officer looks entirely put off. The man shakes his head, leaning toward the man across the table, putting a hand up to either amplify his voice or shield his lips from view. Blaine pouts, feeling intentionally left out of the conversation. Even though his lip reading skills have so far gotten him nowhere, now he has no hope of finding out what’s going on between Noel and his police officer friend.

The officer nods, his eyes performing a cursory glance of the bar one last time before he gets up and heads for the exit. The man at the table stands as well, reaching into his back pocket, squeezing his hand into the tight fit and pulling out his wallet. Blaine deflates when he sees the man pull out a bill along with some other thin piece of paper, something that looks suspiciously like a business card, from his wallet. He places the bill beside his half-drunk Shirley Temple on the table, and then turns on his heel. Blaine expects the man to head out the door after the police officer, but instead he looks straight at Blaine.

Blaine pivots his head left and right, then turns his head completely around and glances behind himself to be sure, and yes, he’s the only one in Noel’s sight line at present. He heads right for Blaine, eyes locked unnervingly on Blaine’s face, and for a moment Blaine becomes confused and frightened all at once. The man is striking, but he also has an undeniable air of confidence and power that makes Blaine want to drop to beg for forgiveness and do whatever this man tells him to do. But why does Blaine feel so guilty? He hasn’t said word one to the man! He’ll admit, he has been staring, but that’s all.

Maybe he should have just gone home when he’d planned. Now he’s about to get into a fist fight in a bar.

Not really. Blaine has no intention of throwing a single punch.

The man stops before Blaine, hands resting on his hips, doing nothing but look at him, eyes going over his body from head to toe. A range of emotions pass over his face from amusement to sympathy to curious. He lands back on amusement and stays there. He holds the thin card out to him. When Blaine just stares at him, speechless, he leans forward and slips it neatly into the outer pocket of Blaine’s button-down shirt.

“The name’s Kurt,” the man says, “not Noel, but I appreciate the compliment. Also, I appreciate your concern about the effects of my pants on my health, but I promise you, they’re no tighter than I can handle.”

Blaine leans against the bar, knocked out of his stupor by the man’s opening line.

“Believe it or don’t, I understand what it’s like to feel alone in a city of 8 million people. We have that in common. And by the way,” the man Blaine now knows is Kurt, not Noel, says, “I’m not a big fan of rum and coke, either. So when you take me out on Friday night, just order the damn daiquiri? Life’s too short for shitty friends and crappy drinks.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s pocket where the card is safely tucked and winks, turning and heading toward the entrance where the police officer has ducked back in to wait for his companion to follow.

Blaine still hasn’t said a word, stunned into silence as he watches Kurt leave. Kurt says something to the officer at the door, motioning vaguely in Blaine’s direction. The officer’s eyes find Blaine and the weary man smirks. He holds the door open for Kurt, who turns one last time to see Blaine stuck in the same position that he left him. He raises an arm and waves, blowing Blaine a kiss. He steps out the door with a satisfied grin, and like that, he’s gone.

Blaine waits a moment longer after Kurt has gone, trying to wrap his mind around everything that happened. But try as he might, it’s too surreal for him to comprehend. Noel – not Noel, as it turns out, but Kurt – had called him out on everything he’d thought while watching him. But how? How in the hell is that possible? Well, he works with a police officer. Is there a chance that maybe he … what?

What, Blaine? he asks himself. What on God’s green earth could possibly explain all of that?

Remembering the card waiting for him in his pocket, he pulls it out carefully, not willing to lose it and the opportunity to contact that fascinating man. Blaine reads the words embossed on it, then he reads them again. He reads them over and over, close to a hundred times, and after their meaning sinks in fully, he’s not sure if he should laugh or find the nearest rock and hide under it.

Blaine mentally goes over everything he saw tonight – every inflection Kurt made, every movement, every shift of his inquisitive eyes. Blaine has spent the past ten years of his life being a skeptic, constantly questioning everyone’s intentions and emotions, feeling like no one he’s met has truly understood him, nor has ever really wanted to. But after tonight, none of that matters.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Kurt E. Hummel

Medium

Psychic Investigator

[believerindaydreams]

in which some metafictional stuff happens

Inspired by some chat I was having with @sybilius and also an amazing ‘80s AU fic by @morgan-arthur although this can’t actually be blamed on either of them. Not least because it seems to be set in the ‘70s sometime instead.

so anyway, here’s a thing where Blondie and Tuco are draft-dodging, card-playing hustlers, and wow did I get involved in building up the situation for this. Also some racial stuff, hence the tagging. 

(edit: Tumblr in its infinite wisdom blocks the fic when I had the tagging in. I’m of the opinion that any fic where the POC protagonist is contemplating their own participation in screwed-up racial dynamics for the sake of pulling a fast one ought to be tagged racism, but I also want people to actually be able to read the thing, so no tagging.)

Ugh. 

Anyway, I feel that you can’t have Leone if the GBU characters are wandering around, so...

“Badlands,” Blondie says, holding the grey film can easily, as if it weighs no more than a dream; and Tuco privately seethes. 

They’ve been so careful about this little hustle, never entering a town together or winning too much from the same people. Blondie will show up at a bar’s back room first, play a few hands, let everyone there get a sense of him as a discreet, careful player, with a damn-near perfect poker face. 

Enter the sucker: one loud-mouthed, louder-dressed Mexican, twirling a mustache and flashing a roll (hundreds, wrapped around ones). Sometimes the other players will play it straight, and those nights they more or less break even. Other times, well...maybe he takes his time ordering the tequila, and gets to the table to find too many smiles, quiet sniggers behind the cards. And a couple too-good-to-be-true rounds to be sure of roping him in, with Blondie betting the most. 

So he wins those, and takes all the money, and tells them he’s quitting while he’s ahead. With a free round of tequila for everybody, to show there’s no hard feelings. If that’s not good enough, he has his gun; and there’s always Blondie’s if the situation got serious. So far they haven’t needed either, because the hustle they sell is never about the money. It’s something better, even more important, for the kind of men who hate the border and everything from south of it. Giving them the chance to look down on this cringing, incredibly superstitious foreigner who’d obviously love to play on, but santa maria, the Virgin Mary, she whispers in my ear and tells me no, go home now...  

(a joke in many layers; he’s from Brooklyn, not romantic Sonora, but even Blondie doesn’t know that part. There might be less dangerous ways of making a living; but none that won’t be just as insulting, Tuco figures. And the hours suit him fine.) 

Only apparently their reputation’s preceded them this time, because there’s no reason on earth that Bill Carson would just so happen to have a hot film print sitting in the trunk of his car. Blondie’s got next to no vices that Tuco’s ever noticed, but every man needs a couple, and his are Westerns. 

“Adequate stakes?“ Carson asks, with a hopeful, driving need in his voice- the jitteriness of a barely controlled addict, on something stronger than the whiskey he’s gulping like coke. Maybe there’s something to work with, then. If the stakes were worth it. 

“An old film,” Tuco says dismissively. “You tell me what I want with an old film, eh?”

“Badlands is New Hollywood,” Blondie says, not letting go to Carson’s pleading tug. “They’d never made anything like this before.”

Now that’s simply not true, Tuco’s well aware; he can date and place their progress across the country simply by what movie was playing when. 1967, Texas, Bonnie and Clyde. 1968, Colorado, and such a handsome bastard in Ace High. By 1969 they’d reached Las Vegas in time for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and spent more time sneaking into theatres than counting cards, the way he remembers it. There have been plenty such films before. 

Then again, he doesn’t know what it is that Blondie’s looking for, every time they sit before that silver screen and watch the pictures flickering by. To him they’re just a tolerable way to pass the time, a chance to rest his feet and fill his belly with hot buttered popcorn; but for Blondie, movies are meat and drink and eucharist all rolled into one, a gaping hole in the world’s tightly woven net, a wound that leads out somewhere that everything is upside-down, and their petty struggles for one more win, the indifferent hamburgers at forgettable lunch counters, sweaty nights at plastic-wrapped motels, all become the stuff of legend. 

But Blondie does have such a fine poker face; and that makes it worthwhile putting up with his foibles. “All right, all right,” Tuco says, a little more impatiently than usual; and lays down the covering stake. 

They win. Of course they win; and Bill Carson watches them take his prize with a strange kind of satisfaction, a relish that makes Tuco’s flesh prickle. All gamblers say they’re in it to win; not all of them are, though, and it fills him with unease when they play a man who begs the world to take everything he has. 

“Fucker had it coming,” he says afterwards, in the night-cold air of the alley (desert air is cruel like that, he’d discovered early on, while pretending that he’d known it all along). “But no match for us, eh Blondie?”

That’s breaking ranks. Even now, standing in front of the battered station wagon that will lead them to the next town, and another and another, they are not supposed to talk of their connection- but Blondie merely shoves an elbow into his ribs, a lackluster motion with no energy behind it. Talking’s no use, the man’s transfixed. 

Tuco curses under his breath, lights a cigarette to warm his hands and curb frustrated appetites. They’d plotted this one for weeks, planning and quarreling by turns, how to dupe the famous spendthrift Carson. He’d been dreaming of a month of steak dinners, real hotels with pile carpeting, enough money to let them rest a while and not have to do any thinking at all. 

Instead they were taken in themselves, just as broke today as they were yesterday, with a head muzzy from too much tequila and his stomach crying out with hunger. He has to be drunk, Tuco concludes, or he’d never have let Blondie dictate terms; not when they could have held out for money or a car or something practical, not a damned film that they can’t even watch.

(Briefly, he envisions reaching out and pulling the narrow length of Blondie’s black necktie into a choking knot; and the image fills him with too much bleak satisfaction.)

“You there,” somebody calls. Standing at the edge of the alley, where the street lights can outline his silhouette to maximum effect; it’s a nice theatrical gesture, Tuco notes, and tucks that one away in his memory for later.  

“You want us to put out, you’d better be prepared to pay up!” If that won’t get Blondie’s attention, nothing will. It doesn’t. 

The interloper comes closer, and Tuco recognises him now; the fourth member of their poker quartet, the one who’s spoken even less than Blondie. His mouth moves more than Blondie’s, but his eyes are just as verboten. “I have something you two might be interested in.”

“We’re not,” Blondie says, dropping the precious film into his game bag; and Tuco watches him move it from hand to hand, ready to toss onto a soft bulging trash pile if the situation degenerates into a fight. 

Angel Eyes smiles, at the both of them, and Tuco wishes he wouldn’t. “I have a projector. Someplace quiet to watch it, too. Sounds to me like we need each other.”

Blondie considers, pronounces. “Done.”

“Hang on here,” Tuco says, more for the sake of the protest than anything else. “Blondie, it’s late, this is new territory for us. We need to find somewhere to sleep tonight, get out bearings and pick up some dinner.”

“I’ll take care of that,”  Angel Eyes says, an offer that’s halfway to a command. “Only fair recompense.”

“Do us both good,” Blondie says, now staring at Angel Eyes with that same lust he’d just been lavishing on a second-hand film can; and Tuco does not ask himself the source of that sudden raging heat that grips his body tight. Doesn’t ask what it means for their unspoken trust, if someone else can wedge a way between him and Blondie; doesn’t ask himself how long this deal with a devil can be expected to last, or how it’ll end. 

All he allows himself to know is that he’s warm now, and somebody’s offered them dinner, and just now, there’s nothing more he wants out of life. 

“Tuco will probably fall asleep, but never mind that, I’ll wake him up if he starts snoring,” Blondie says. 

There’s a flicker in Angel’s expression, then. “For a poker player, you sure don’t pick up on tells.” 

wouldn’t it be just my luck, to be the bystander in a tale of love at first sight? 

“It’s your call, Blondie,” Tuco says, letting the tension drip into his shaking voice (it’s cheap, and he’d make himself a damn sight cheaper, to hold what he has). “Who are you spending the night with, huh?”

“Who’s to say I can’t spend it with both you idiots?“

“And where do you get off,” Angel Eyes asks. “Calling me an idiot?”

“If you weren’t, you’d have won the film yourself and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Blondie says. He takes one of his little cigars from a shirt pocket, lights and inhales. 

Not with the slightest trace of desire. There’s a devastating, effortless charm to it, the glorious self-sufficiency of a man who wants absolutely nothing from life, and will never need to ask. Illusion, the ideal poker face, perfect and complete. 

Tuco sucks in a breath at the sight, same as he always does; besides him, simultaneously, Angel Eyes does precisely the same. 

They don’t even need to look at each other, to share the next inexorable thought. 

That one’s going to be trouble.

[jkstories]

cold blooded I 3

pairing: jungkook x reader

powers!au, fluff

summary: you live in a different world. Fear is as normal as the sun in the sky due to Daleus, this cold blooded creatures who can be right next to you as your classmate or can as well be your mother and there’s no way you know it.

Or

One last package was what stooped you from getting home. One last package to deliver and then you were free to go home but it wasn’t your plan to find Jungkook, your childhood friend, at the place of the delivery.

- Hi Jungkook.

- Long time no see babe.

The pet names. Fuck. How you loved them. Jungkook turned out to be a flirty type of guy, who can’t stop talking about how pretty you were, and sending you stupid messages for your mom.

But you still missed him. You missed him so fucking much. He’s been away half of the summer so he could visit his parents and not seeing that beautiful face for 1 month was hard.

That flirty guy went away for 5 seconds and the real Jungkook gave you a hug. The hug you needed for a couple of weeks now.

You were a mess.

You finally got a part-time job so you were busy all the time and the time you could spent with your family was bad. But like hell. And Jungkook knew that, that’s why he came as soon as possible.

You quickly felt warm and loved, and you knew Jungkook felt the same because he only let you go of his arms after a couple of time.

“Then, let’s lunch?”

“I just ate breakfast but we can still go” you stood back so you could grab your leather jacket from the hanger.

Jungkook seemed prettier. He looked tanner and his hair was darker than before, and you seem to like it. A lot.

“Yeah, you are lying” Jungkook helped you dressing the jacket and closed the door behind you.

“Why you say that?” you both walked through the hallway passing by your parents bedroom.

“You would never pass through your mirror and not notice your hair. Not that you need to see your hair to eat but…”

“I’m off for now mom, love you” You yelled already at the front door “I’m sorry if I like to sleep until-..”

A sudden voice comes throw you and Jungkook.

“Jungkook! You are already back? You should have dinner with us today.” It was your mom, always kind but this conversations between them always made you uncomfortable and you still don’t know way.

“Hello Ms. Y/S/N, I would love to co..”

“Not happening, bye mom”

You quickly close the front door and grab Jungkook to your car. You had your hair undone, your shoes undone, phone and wallet in your hand and the keys of the car were inside the car. Now you get why is so obvious your not so good morning routine.

“Thank god I leave the windows open.”

The streets were always quite in the morning. It was sunny and now you wished you had dressed your yellow sweat so you could match the weather. The only sound you could find was your neighbor’s dog barking at your presence and your mom was at the door talking with Jungkook about the weather or something instead of helping.

“See you soon, Y/M/N.” Jungkook waved one last time to your mom before getting closer to the car.

You hardly placed your arm inside the car so you could unlock it from the inside, opening your door and Jungkook’s. You entered and when you were about to close your door, a hand blocks you.

You breathe out not taking Jungkook’s joke.

“We are going to be late Jungkook, and you know I hate to eat my food.”

“I’m taking the car.” Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you with one of his eyebrows up.

It’s been the six time in a row Jungkook would take the car and you swore to god it was your time. You didn’t care how sexy Jungkook would be when driving, it’s rare for you use the car and when you do, Jungkook is always there, so the feeling of a steering wheel was almost unknow to you and that was what Jungkook feared.

“Hell no Jungkook” Jungkook grabbed your wrist which was resting in your car’s door after you protest. “No” He started pulling you out of the car and you swear you would kick him. “I’m calling my mom”

He narrowed you one last time. You weren’t giving him the keys and he hasn’t letting you drive, so who wins?

Yes, it’s true, Jungkook is way stronger than you but to use that in advance? Fuckin asshole.

“Mom? MOM” It was actually fascinating how this man could hold you with one arm on his shoulder.

“I asked nicely, you just needed to give me the keys Y/N, didn’t you mother teach you manners? Do I need to give you a lesson?” Irony looks good on Jungkook but not in that moment.

“Last time you grabbed with one arm I was out of the window so put me fucking down before I kick your balls Jeon Jungkook.”

“Watch your tongue Y/F/N”

Oh how great, your mom is watching everything.

Jungkook let you down in the other side of the car, waving to your mom. He got in the driver seat and waited for you to do too. He tilted his head from the window with a questioning face.

You crossed your arms with a smirk in your face.

“What about the keys Jungkook?”

Both of his hands went through his pockets and his mouth talked without sound.

Where are them?

Your hands show the answer and two seconds later you were speeding down your road with a whisper of your mom’s “don´t fall please” followed with a little laugh.

You both are such kids around each other but you missed that. You missed his playful side, his bad pick up lines, his way of checking the menu 37 times before choosing the simplest thing. You missed his everything and the way he completed you in his own way. The only problem was that Jungkook felt the same away but you, like the usual bling girl you are, didn’t notice.

You lost yourself in these thoughts until you felt Jungkook’s arms around your waist.

“Gotcha”

Even with so much running, Jungkook end up taking the car but with the condition you could choose the song on the radio, so he already knew he was about to hear Ariana Grande’s new album, but he didn’t mind. He loved to see you happy and if that was the way, he would take it.

You both sang the entire road and you even forced Jungkook to stay in the car until God is a woman ended. You entered the restaurant and choose the table as far as you could from the loud families and the whole running from the kitchen to dinner tables.

“I may get double cheese this time”

“You always get double cheese” Jungkook let down the menu facing you.

Thankfully the dinner was calm. The people were nice and food has really good so every time you could com, you would.

“Then, I’ll get double double cheese.”

You already choose your order and so, you waited for Jungkook to debate between double cheese and double bacon or just double cheese and bacon, and, without noticing, you fell asleep on the table.

You got no sleep that night. You walked through the streets at 3 am but still couldn’t sleep and having to wake up so soon to get lunch with Jungkook was truly a nightmare.

“Y/N?” you felt a gentle hand on you hand “She will have one but without cheese, please. Yeah, two cokes please.”

It took you a couple of time to wake up but Jungkook was happy just to have you close.

You raised your head slowly trying to escape the shafts of sunlight.

“What?” Your hair was a mess again and one of your cheeks was red from pressing it on the table. Jungkook’s head tilted to the side smiling like he’s scanning your face. “What? What is it? I have something on my face?” You looked for something wrong in you.

“Beauty.” He paused, brushing one of your loose hairs away from your face. “Not only on your face, everywhere.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and thankfully, the waitress arrives with your orders moving away all the shyness upon your face. What couldn’t Jungkook do to you?

The lunch went well, even the part when Jungkook painted your t-shirt with ketchup and you poured pepper on Jungkook chips instead of salt. You felt you got no worries. No time wasted. No job. No job. No job?

Right now I’m in a state of mind I wanna be in like all the times

“Y/N, your phone.”

At first you didn’t notice the ringtone because of how deep you felt in Jungkook’s eyes and how interested you were in his trip to Malta but it wouldn’t stop ringing.

Everything was so good. You wished you could fire yourself in that exact moment.

You swiped right to answer the call.

“Hello. Yes. 30 minutes??? But I’m having lunch.” You rolled your eyes and Jungkook already knew the deal. You were leaving with half of your hamburger in your plate.

You landed your phone next to your glass, with no courage to go away.

“You need to go to work right?”

You nod pressing your face against your hands. Jungkook asked for the check and you could only feel guilty about it. He seemed no upset but sad. Sad about you leaving and having the day all for him.

Before you exit the dinner, you could feel the awkwardness in the air.

You grabbed Jungkook’s wrist stopping him from leaving.

“Come have dinner with me.”

“What? You said you didn’t want me there”

That was half true and half lie. You want Jungkook there, you did want him all the time but having to introduce him to all your family has a no for you. Yes, they already knew him but bringing a guy to dinner has a step my dad will take very seriously and, in that moment, you weren’t ready to take his seriousness so seriously.

That being said, you decide Jungkook wouldn’t come over to dinner or lunch, just times where you could be a little more of yourself, but in that exact moment you needed to make it up to Jungkook so why not something he’s always asking?

“I want now.” You were fully aware of what you asked and what you wanted and so, you want Jungkook to know that this time it wasn’t a game of “just because you asked”. You want to show him how special he’s to you and taking that one step may be the right one.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay princess, I accept your invitation to dinner tonight at your place.”

Opening the exit door for you, you can’t help but smile at him and at that moment.

Jungkook drove your car to your work place and insisted he would walk to his house that was only a couple of blocks away.

You were already late, but you couldn’t let go of Jungkook or his warm hugs.

“You will be safe right? I don’t want those _Daleus_ to catch you and eat your face or something.”

“I don´t think they eat people but, don’t worry, I know how to defend myself princess.”

Your face has buried on his chest while his chin above your head. You felt safe. You felt the warmness of a home and you couldn’t let that go.

“So then, I’ll see you tonight, right?” You lift your head so you could face him.

“You will” Your noses touched and you couldn’t feel more grateful about having him without actually having him but in some way, deep inside him, you were his and he was yours.

He left a kiss on the top of your head and then faced the road. Why did you feel like you lost someone? Why does it feel so suffocating not having Jungkook around? It’s like you don’t know how to breathe without him.

You never thought you would think work is worse than being at school. You got a part-time thing in this delivery shop. It was simple. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It sounded so easy, but if you knew what you know today you haven’t even applied.

You worked your ass off to get every box at its place at the correct time. You arrived to the shop so you could finally leave and your boss appears at your front with one more box.

“You got one more box to deliver. But there’s a little problem YOU need to fix.”

It was fascinating how the YOU was said. You already know the second you blink he’s out of there resting his ass at home.

“Read the description. See you Monday, Y/N.”

You murmured a “See ya” while looking at the package.

*DELIEVER AT 9:48 PM AT *********.*

Fuck. 9:48?

You had message Jungkook to have dinner with him around 9 pm so what would you do? You couldn’t cancel your plans with him and you couldn’t not deliver the box. You needed to just find a way. You will tell him and he will understand. Maybe he will even drive you there.

You took the box home and talked to your mom about Jungkook coming over.

Your mom got excited, but way too excited, even thought he would come over with his parents one time each year. She started asking about his tastes, where you went for lunch, and more and more.

You were truly happy your mom was so kind about it and not asking question about the type of relationship you both held.

You dressed yourself with some skinny jeans and a big and poufy sweat. It was Jungkook’s actually. You stole it from him the night you went to his house. You were cold so he lent you the sweat and until today you haven’t returned it and you don’t plan to do it either.

It was half past 8 and the sense of your mom’s lasagna was already in the air. And yes, your mom always makes lasagna because of how good it is.

you: my mom’s already asking where you at ahaha

Your dad got home and you avoid every question. You left your mom to tell him about the dinner while you finished up cleaning your room. You weren’t planning bringing Jungkook upstairs but you needed to do something or you would turn insane. You were so nervous about meeting his gaze again. You think about if he’s nervous as well.

Something tells you that he is.

You came down and waited in the kitchen for him to come.

9:00 and you were already ready to call him but it was away too soon.

9:10 his place is far so he will take some time

9:20 maybe he got stuck in traffic

You decided to call him but there was no answer from the other line.

9:30 maybe his watch is broken????

You were still in the kitchen watching the streets closely.

“Y/N, maybe he-“

“He will come mom, he will, he’s just late.”

Your mom placed her hand on your back while you rested you face on her shoulder. You knew he wouldn’t come. You should never went to work this morning. You should have stayed with him. You should just said no.

9:40 you got a job to do but felt nothing but sadness. Sadness you didn’t deserve to feel. It was your fault.

You got no choice but to leave. You ate no lasagna and met no Jungkook.

You got off your house and drove to the place indicated in the description box.

It was exact 9:48 when you knocked at this big warehouse.

It was cold that night but still you needed to deliver the box. You knocked and got no answer. You tried to open and thank god it opened but one little thing popped up right way from the entrance of the house.

Jungkook. Him.

Great, you have officially gone insane. You shake his face from your head and got closer to the person in front of you.

“I’m sorry for opening the door, it’s just that I have a box to del-“

“Y/N?”

Fuck. It’s really him.

“You really need to go Y/N like right now.” He got closer to you and now you could finally see his face clearly with the light from outside.

“Excuse me? First, I go when I want, second, I don’t even know why you are here but I’m just doing my job, sorry if it bothers you.” You only looked once at him and that only time made it clear he was really worried. “Jungkook? What is it?”

Jungkook was now looking straight to the door. You look back and in the exact moment Jungkook covers your mouth in a too aggressive way.

You are guide to this big room ready to argue with him but when you enter the room you are faced with 6 guys holding each a gun pointed right at you.

“What the fuck Jungkook? We don’t want witnesses here, who that fuck is going to clean that?”

You freeze. Your mouth slowly gets uncover and the only thing to do is breathe, something you swear to god you learn from the guy behind you, who supposedly will kill you.

“We are not killing her. It’s Y/N.”

You look at him. He talked about you like they already knew you and you were right, they knew you and how well they did.

“Omg, for real? I didn´t have time to get myself presentable.” This tall guy steps in your line and asking for your hand.

“It’s a really pleasure to finally meet the lucky girl. I’m Taehyung. You already know about how I can easily mov-“

“I lied.” You felt so but so confused about everything. You were in a room with 6 guys with guns and there was Jungkook. The Jungkook you are in love. The man of you dreams. “I didn’t tell her.”

“I knew it.” Someone screams from far inside the room.

A awkward silent was left in the air but something felt strange about Jungkook’s eyes, it was like he was saying something, something to your head.

“I don’t care about this bullshit Jungkook. We can’t deal with her now.” This was a new voice. You felt your stomach aches.

Jungkook leaded you to the back of the room. With his hand on yours you still felt that warmness of his.

“Baby, it’s fine okay? I’m sorry I missed your dinner, it was a last minute thing. I even dressed up, see?”

There he was lying again. He didn’t know how to talk to you. You could clearly see the lie on him. He didn’t know how to act around you.

Still he was well dressed. It didn’t fit him. It wasn’t him.

“What’s happening Jungkook?”

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

228 of 223

What do you look like right now?

I have a red hoodie with A Really Cool Print™ and Grey cargo trousers that are cool as well. Just my hair is messy as usual.

When was the last time you talked to one of your best friends?

Just before he left to work.

Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

Warm. I hate cold weather.

Where did you get the underwear you are wearing right now?

H&M.

Where did you sleep last night?

In my bed lol.

Do you secretly like anyone?

Yeah, I kinda have a tiny bit of feelings for a guy named Maxim, here I said it. But other than that, I’m open about who I like.

Who was the last person to make you laugh?

My husband.

Anything annoying you right now?

Not really.

Is there any emotion you’re trying to avoid right now?

No, not really.

Have you done anything embarrassing lately?

My whole life is embarrassing incidents XD

Are you excited for winter?

Not at all. I hate winter with passion.

Do you like/love someone?

I feel like I answered this already.

Do you hate the last boy you were talking to?

No, I love him. By the way, it’s weird to think “boy” about a dude aho is almost 51 years old XD

Do you miss anyone?

Yes, my parents and my sister.

Have you held hands with anyone in the past 48 hours?

No. Even me and my husband don’t hold hands, we don’t like it.

What are your plans for this weekend?

We’ll see what life brings. Probably groceries.

Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yeah, when I was younger.

Have you ever been on a horse?

No, I haven’t.

If you could teleport, where would you go?

To my parents.

What is your favorite dish at a Chinese restaurant?

All these little thingies that are starters.

What is your favorite fruit?

Strawberry.

Were you a 80’s or a 90’s child?

I was born in 1990, so 90s, definitely.

Do you enjoy listening to techno music?

Yeah, but I like EBM much more.

What time do you usually fall asleep?

Around 23:00.

When was the last time you went to the mall?

I think I was in Kortrijk last time, about two weeks ago?

Does a mango smoothie sound good to you now?

Ew no. The taste of mango is awful to me.

How many of the harry potter books have you read?

None.

Don’t you just hate commercials?

Doesn’t everyone? I love the Whiskas commercials, though.

How many of your friends play world of warcraft?

None I know of.

Who else in your house is awake right now?

I’m alone if we don’t count cats, but they’re both sleeping.

Are caterpillars more cute or disgusting?

Disgusting.

Would you rather receive roses or sunflowers?

No.

Are you going to take more surveys?

Not right now as I’m going out, but maybe at the evening.

Is your dad bald?

No, he’s not. He’s not even fully grey. You wouldn’t believe he’s 70.

Does your job involve working with people or operating a cash register?

Working with people, yes. Operating the cash register, no.

Who is the most boring, or dullest person that you know of?

That fkn moron who was harassing me over messages on Instagram. What a boring idiot. I can’t believe anyone actually likes him. From what I saw, nobody actually does.

Is your local weather a bit on the bi-polar side, or is it fairly predictable?

It’s both at the same time. Man, this is Belgium.

How long was your last phone conversation you had?

57 seconds. With my husband, we always get to the point.

What smiley face do you use most?

XD

Does crying actually make you feel better?

I don’t cry, so no idea.

Are you happy?

Yes, I am. Not 100%, though.

What’s the last thing you drank?

I think Vanilla Coke.

Do you think someone has feelings for you?

My husband loves me, that’s for sure.

How long do you have until your birthday?

Two months and something.

Do you know anyone who has been arrested?

Yeah, my Dutch asshole neighbour.

Who is the closest person in your life, emotionally speaking?

My husband, my dad, my sister. No particular order.

Do you remember the name of the first bar you ever went to?

Nah. Probably one of these beach bars.

Were you of age?

You’re always of age in my country. Not gonna go into details.

[nightninja456]

Untitled (Darkipler X Reader) Ch. 1

*Your POV*

It was just another day really. The sun was out scorching the lands of L.A., the neighbors were out for work and you and Mark were having a bit of a lazy day.

He had gotten through his videos early and was going to disconnect for a while to just hang out and you didn't mind-you loved spending time with him whenever you could. He was a busy man after all.

You wiggled a bit closer to the man and he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as people screamed on the TV. "Love you…" he muttered softly.

You smiled. "Love you too~"

"Love you more."

"Love you most."

He huffed and pouted. "Damn, you got there first."

You giggled and stuck out your tongue playfully before snuggling close to him.

You and Mark had been together for some time. About...6 months now that you think about it. You two had met at a bar where your friends were drinking and, since you didn't really feel like drinking, you sat out on the ordeal. When your friends left to go dance on the dance floor, Mark came by next to you and ordered a coke.

You two had some casual conversation at first and you found out he was in a similar predicament buuuuut, he couldn't drink. Otherwise he'd die-literally. Something about it not digesting in his system correctly.

Eventually you two began talking more and were even laughing the night away. You enjoyed his presence and he enjoyed yours so you exchanged numbers. A couple of dates later and you two had hit it off! And you never looked back!

….

Well, that is, until today.

Neither of you two could tell what-or rather who-was coming. You two thought you were perfectly safe and happy in his home...but…

The nightmare was only just about to begin.

You yawned sleepily and closed your eyes. He chuckled softly and gazed down to you. "Tired?"

You nodded softly.

He smiled and then picked you up-bridal style. "Come on-you're not driving home like that."

He yawned some and you looked up to him. "You're not driving either love."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not that-" he yawned a little more "-tired."

You shook your head and just held onto him. "Could I just sleep over?"

He smiled and nodded, carrying you upstairs with him. He opened the guest bedroom and laid you on the bed. He was about to leave but you said, "Wait."

He paused and looked over to you. You made grabby hands at him and pouted a little. He rolled his eyes and laid down next to you, placing his glasses to the side and holding you close. "Spoiled…" he muttered.

"I think it's called 'lovingly inclined,'" you countered, snuggling closer to him.

"Suuuuure." You both giggled a little and fell asleep.

*Time Skip!*

*A couple of hours later*

"BAM!"

You both jolted awake, startled by the sudden noise. "What was that?" you asked tiredly, rubbing your eyes.

"Not sure…" He grabbed his glasses and then a bat from the closet. "Stay here." He left the room.

There was silence for a long time. Then, you began to hear struggling. In a fit of bravery you ran out of the room and down the stairs. OF COURSE WITHOUT A WEAPON! YOU CAN BEAT 'EM WITH YOUR FISTS!

WHAT? THE LOGIC IS PERFECTLY JUSTIFIABLE-FIGHT ME-

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you saw Mark and another man going at each other in the dark. The man punched at Mark harshly and as Mark raised the bat to hit him, the man took the bat and threw it against the opposite wall. Then, the man grabbed Mark by his neck and threw him against the other wall like a twig. A 28 year old man thrown. Like a twig. Oh, and what were you doing?

You were frozen in fear by the stairs, watching everything go down but not reacting. You thought you could team up with your boyfriend and knock that guy out but nope-your boyfriend was now lumped against a wall having been thrown-like a twig. A FRICKIN TWIG-

As the man straightened up, you finally gained back your limbs and made a dash for the door. But that's when your feet decided to fumble on themselves and you bumped into the wall, alerting the man of your presence.

As he turned, you ran towards the door. But, when you got there, you found he had somehow formed in front of you-no, ran in front of you-how could he just appear-

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest. You struggled and were about to yell but then he moved one of his hands and hit a nerve-...

*Time Skip*

…

….

…..

You shot up and took in a sharp intake of air. You looked around, freaking out. You were in a bed you didn't recognize that was doused in an intimate red. The covers even felt like silk but this wasn't the time to think about that!

'Wh-Where-where am I?!' you thought to yourself, shaking. You quickly jumped out of the bed and looked around, making your way to the door.

You exited the room and made your way down the stairs quietly, not sure if that man from earlier was still around or not. How could you have been so stupid? You should've just called the police after Mark had gone downstairs! What were you thinking?!

You looked around and tried the front door but it wouldn't budge. 'Don't doors usually lock from the inside?' You shook your head and tried to look for a way out the back. You eventually found yourself in the kitchen but as you were going to go further, you heard the front door being opened. You quickly dove into a cabinet and closed the door behind you, trying to slow your breathing that threatened to spike.

You heard him close the door and begin walking toward the kitchen. You could hear the crackling of plastic bags as he walked in and placed them on the counters. You saw him pause in front of your cabinet and you held your breath. 'Please go...please go...Don't check…' He lingered for a little longer before you saw him move away and you breathed again. Then, it went silent for some time and you thought you were safe to go.

You slowly opened up the cabinet and when you stepped out, you could see that the window was open. Frantically, you ran for the window but just as you climbed onto the counter, it snapped closed and locked itself. "What the-"

"Now darling, you weren't thinking about leaving so soon were you?"

You froze to the spot. But then, slowly but surely, you turned around and saw…

You blinked. "M-Mark?"

His slight smile turned into a frown. He got off the counter and pushed you against the counter, grabbing you by the chin with cold fingers and yelling, "NEVER SPEAK HIS NAME AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

You squeaked and nodded, feeling pain erupt from where he held you.

He stared at you for some time before softening his grip and beginning to caress you lightly with his thumb. His cold thumb. 'Why...why is he so cold?!'

He smirked. "Well (Y/n), it's because I'm not human."

You blinked. "Y-You can hear my thoughts?"

He nodded, chuckling as he casually rested his other hand on your waist. "Oh darling, there is much more that I can do besides that…" he growled softly, his eyes now focused solely on yours, almost seeming like he was looking into your soul.

You gulped and tried to look away but his hand didn't let you move an inch. "L-Let me go," you stuttered.

He shook his head. "No...I don't want to." He began to run his fingers through your hair, going from the top of your head to the ends of your hair. He smiled softly at this, blue seeming to emit from his figure. No joke the guy was flickering- "Soft as silk…"

He felt much like Mark but...h-he wasn't Mark!

You tried to pull yourself away again but he wouldn't let you go. "S-Stop. You're not-" He stopped and glared at you for a moment, almost daring you to utter your boyfriend's name. You gulped and stuttered, "Y-You're not him."

He nodded, beginning to roll strands of your hair through his fingers. "You're right. I'm better than that...man." As he commented on Mark, he sort of grimaced and seemed to actually…glitch.

'Did-Did he just glitch?!'

"Darling, please don't ask these things. I just want to be with you now...and forever."

You gulped. "F-Forever?"

He nodded. "Of course Darling-"

"Don't call me that!" You pushed him away and froze.

He paused for a moment before looking up at you, glaring at you. The blue died down and in its place...was red. 'Shit.'

Before he could come after you, you looked behind you and grabbed the toaster, throwing it at him before bolting towards the window and trying to pry it open with no success. You banged on the glass and cried out, "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

But...that's when you noticed it. There was nothing outside. Nada, zip-zero. It was just like a white canvas. A white fucking canvas that laughed at you mockingly as you stared into its abyss.

Your eyes began to adjust to stare at the glass and what did you see in the reflection? A pretty pissed off demon named Dark.

He grabbed your hair and yanked you backwards, causing you to fall off the counter and cry out in pain. Your lower body rang out in agony as he pulled you to another location. You scratched and clawed at his hand, trying to get this maniac to let go of your hair but only finding his grip getting tighter by the second.

You eventually heard him kick a door open and drag you inside. He pulled you up enough to grab you and threw you onto a bed. The same bed you were on when you woke up.

Before you could even question how the hell you didn't even feel the stairs coming up here, you heard him go and lock the door. When he turned to glare at you, you yelped and attempted to remove yourself from the bed-but he didn't let you.

He grabbed your leg and dragged you back onto the bed, beginning to attempt to bound you to the bed posts. You kicked and fought, now using your fists to try and get the brute to let you go.

He suddenly growled loudly and pushed you down, now laying the blade of a knife up to your neck. "BE STILL!"

You froze and gulped, staring into his darkened eyes. As he had you like this, you could feel something like cold tendrils begin to take your legs and bound them to the bottom of the bed. Then, as he began to do the same for your hands, he got up and sighed. "...I didn't want to have to hurt you but you tried to escape. You even hurt me. I have to make sure you don't do that again."

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. "N-No, please. I-I'll be good," you tried but he simply shook his head.

"I see your thoughts...I know you won't be good unless I punish you for your actions."

He got off of you and laid the blade against your arm. You watched him pleadingly. He wouldn't-he couldn't-what kind of sick freak would-

Without warning he sliced against it and you screamed. Then he went for your leg and lightly embedded into it, making you cry out again.

He continued this multiple times before stopping and letting the knife rest on the bedside table. Then, he undid the ropes holding you and you went into a fetal position. He laid down next to you and held you close. "I'm sorry my dear. I didn't want to have to do that to you but you had to learn...You have to be obedient if you want to be treated nicely. Next time-" his dark gaps bored into your eyes menacingly "-WiLl Be WoRsE. Got it?" You nodded quickly and retreated back down into his chest.

He smirked softly and pet you. "See? There's no need for pain. I can take care of you (Y/n). All you need to do is give me a chance. Understand?" You nodded, not wanting to anger him further.

He smiled softly and lifted your head, exposing your tear stained face which he wiped gently. Then, he lowered his head down to yours and connected your lips with his cold ones. You shivered slightly in his grasp and stopped as he pulled away, still smiling. "Even better than what I imagined…" He ran his fingers through your hair once more. "Don't worry (Y/n); I will take care of you. And maybe even one day, you will learn to want me." His eyes seemed to darken as a smirk ran on his face. "Fully."

A.N. SO SINCE THIS SERIES HAS STARTED UP ALREADY ON OTHER ACCOUNTS, Y’ALL ARE GONNA GET 6 CHAPTERS-WOO! ^^

[luci-is-a-devil-]

Mafia!Jihoon

Notes: thank you for requesting nonnie! I hope this is what you wanted~ this legit played out in my head like a drama. Requests are open!!

•you were an interesting character, you worked for the mafia •you were an assassin meaning you killed people, for a job •of course it wasn’t your career goal when you were a kid, but it just sort of happened •bad decisions lead you here, but you didn’t feel endangered here •the gang you were a part of felt more like a family than your actual one did •they cared for you more than your parents did in these last three years that you were a part of the gang • •"rough night y/n?“ •junhui, a fellow assassin asked, seeing you scrub blood off of your skin •"you could say so. Have fun at the gala, junhui.” •you smirked at the Chinese male who was dressed in a classic tux •"you bet your cute ass I will. Get home safe.“ •he winked at you jokingly, but his sentence was an order, not a plea •"okay, mom. Anything else?” •you asked, getting redressed in different clothes since your old ones were caked in blood and mud •"would it kill you to clean your damn room?“ •now he was messing with you, flipping him off, you left the room, hearing his laughter you giggled to yourself •walking out of the building that passed as offices, you passed stores and strange signs •it was nearly nine in the morning, and after pulling an all nighter to kill, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in your bed •after a cup of coffee •so making a sharp left, you walked to the closest cafe •the one where assassin and hackers came most often •Shots •the owner had been in a gang and knew who his customers would be, so he chose a fitting name •but the shop didn’t allow any kind of weapons, making you leave them there •just in case… •the store was pretty empty, only the green haired boy who sat in the corner surrounded by laptops •getting a medium sized vanilla latte, you plopped across from the green haired male •"hey jihoon.” •you spoke after taking a small sip of your drink •"y/n.“ •he wasn’t one for much talking, unless they were threats •he was a hacker, who unlike your job, needed to work quickly and multitask •every day you worked you tried to sit with him for a while, since he would work himself half to death •besides him being a hacker, he also went on call when needed •he was referee to as the jack of trades after all •"do you think you could hack into my mario kart game, so that everyone I versed someone I won?” •you asked him, halfway done with your drink •"could I? Yes. Will I? No.“ •he answered, his fingers never stopped typing, but his eyes drifted off the screen for a second to see your reaction •choosing to go a classic, simple route, you lifted you middle finger at him and took another sip from the now warm drink •he laughed, his eyes crinkling as he did so •smiling to yourself, your basked in the laughter that reminded you of bells ringing •the laughter died out, leaving the two of you in a silence •not the awkward kind, but a comfortable one •finishing off your drink, you said your goodbye to the green haired male •before he could make a witty retort, you left •walking back to your small apartment, you drowned out the noise that your neighbors made •unlocking the door to your crappy apartment, you entered the room •locking it behind you, you flopped on the couch •it was a shitty old couch, that smelled like lasagna even though in the three years you’ve lived here, you’ve never once made it •deciding against sleeping on the old couch, you rolled off the couch •standing up, you walked to the equally crappy bathroom •the sink would drain slowly, even if you added chemicals that would supposedly help •hopping in the shower, you washed the dirt and grim off of your body, and the remainder of blood •the water turned freezing as you continued to shower, powering through the ice cold water, you finished your shower •wrapping yourself in a ratty old towel, you walked out of the bathroom •walking into your room which could be compared to the size of a shoebox, you flopped down on the bed •not bothering to put on clothes when you knew you’d have to get up in a few hours • •being an assassin was slightly repetitive •stalking people, finding out their lives, then going in for the kill •going back to headquarters, changing your clothes, some banter from other assassins •the only thing that was never the same was jihoon, the green haired boy in the cafe •before returning home you’d visit the hacker, talk to him while he performed tasks on the laptop in front of him •you talked about your old lives before joining the gang, what you wanted to be, who you wanted to be •jihoon had wanted to be in the music business, and he had almost succeeded, until someone scammed him and spread rumors to agencies, so they no longer wanted him •that’s when he met Seungcheol, a hitman •Seungcheol had shown him the ropes, how it works, he introduced jihoon to the rest of the gang •how he was still in college because he wasn’t going to do this forever, he wanted a backup plan •"I admire you for that, jihoon. I’d probably sulk or cry if I was in your shoes.” •you said, angry that he was so close to achieving his dream, yet someone took it away from him •"crying wouldn’t change anything. It’s a waste of time.“ •he spoke his fingers fidgeting before continuing to tap against the keyboard •"that’s a pessimistic way of thinking, jihoon.” •you smirked at him, knowing that he wouldn’t have a response to that •hearing him grumble as a reply, you threw your head back, laughing at him • •"y/n? We need you to come in.“ •here you were, at headquarters on your only day off •when you walked through the door, you could tell it was much more somber than usual •walking into the office where the boss of the whole gang was •inside the office, jun and minghao were covered in blood •"please tell me that isn’t yours.” •you said once you closed the door behind you •"…most of it isn’t?“ •minghao said, trying to lift the mood, but only giving you a better look of his black eye and split lip •"y/n. They were sent on a mission to infiltrate a nearby gangs territory.” •The boss, Jiyong said, his face made out of stone as his face did not move as he explained what had happened •"okay, but why did I need to coke in?“ •you asked, still confused as to why you were here •"y/n… they took jihoon as a hostage.” •his voice tried to be calm, but there was underlying tones of worry, concern •he was the one who had sent jihoon on the mission after all •"where did they take him?“ •you knew why they called you, and they knew it too •"we think he’s being held hostage near the church, that’s where he managed to send his coordinates.” •Jiyong’s wyes moved side to side, trying to gauge your reaction, along with the Chinese males •"I’m going to get him back.“ •it wasn’t a question, or trying to convince yourself •it was a statement •"y/n, you don’t understand how dangerous this is. You’re young. I don’t want you here, where they’re trying to take members.” •Jiyong was trying to convince you to leave, to leave jihoon alone •"you can kick me out, but I’ll just be by myself.“ •glaring at him, you know that he honestly was between a rock and a hard place •"I forbid it.” •Hearing jiyong say that, minghao scoffed only to be elbowed by jun •"you might be part of my family, but so is jihoon. We don’t leave family to die.“ •storming out of the office, you let you feet carry you to the cafe •hoping that this was some sick joke, that jiyong had lost a bet or something •but jihoon wasn’t behind his laptop at the table he sat at every day, he wasn’t sipping at a coffee while typing away •he wasn’t here, with you •running to your apartment, sneakers hitting against the concrete •slamming the door open, you rushed to a closet •pulling out a duffle bag, you unzipped it and started shoving weapons in there •riffles, pistols, smoke bomb, it was a store in a bag •leaving the apartment, you walked past the gangs lines •entering another gangs lines was extremely dangerous, something that death was used as a punishment for •"lookie here! A new toy to play with!” •a man who smelled of booze and cigarettes came closer, not noticing the huge black duffle bag •grabbing his left shoulder, you used your upper body to make him unbalanced, using your right leg, you kicked his calf •causing him to fall on the floor, hitting his head on the cement, making him go unconscious •walking past the body, you continued the march to where they held jihoon captive •once you were close enough, you opened the duffle bag •placing a knife in your boot, strapping a gun to your side •you sneaked inside, quiet footsteps were key •walking behind boxes, using them as a cover so they wouldn’t see you •"yeah, the fucker won’t say shit. Boss is with him now.“ •as much as you wanted to take this guy as a hostage, that wasn’t the plan •continuing the sneaking to the end of the building, where there were holding jihoon probably •getting over there was easier that you expected, but it wasn’t the danger that was making your heart beat quickly •it was the thought of seeing jihoon beaten and bruised, since you didn’t know the state of him •taking the gun off of your side, you held it, sure that you were going to have to use it •the door was opened, squeezing yourself inside, you saw jihoon tied up on a chair •his arms and legs bonded with tape •there was a man leaning over him, his gloved hands on the back of the chair •sneaking to the corner of the room where you had a good shot, so you could shoot the bastard •"do you hear me jihoon? They aren’t coming back for you, not even the one who drinks coffee with you. Why not just tell us where we there are.” •BANG •that wasn’t your gun… •looking at the door, you saw a familiar set of eyes •"minghao, Seungcheol?“ •you asked, looking at the two masked males •"no time for greetings, y/n. Mind untying him?” •Seungcheol smirked, urgency in his voice •coming out from your hiding place, you took out your knife and cut jihoon’s bindings •a soft smile was exchanged between the two of you •"this is beautiful and all, but we have to go before all of us are taken hostage.“ •the four of you sneaked out the same way you entered, except jihoon’s hand in yours •"freeze!” •a guy yelled, holding a gun to your face •"fuck that.“ •letting go of jihoon’s hand, you kicked the guy in the stomach then kneed him in the face •"lets go.” •you said, grabbing jihoon’s hand again •grabbing the duffle bag that you had hidden between a couple of crates •continuing the run back to your territory, or what used to be your territory •when you passed the mark, you were on your side •waving to minghao and Seungcheol, you dragged jihoon to your dingy apartment •when bother of you were safe inside, you heaved a sigh of relief, falling on the couch •"ah, let me help you clean up.“ •standing up from the couch, you sat him down •getting out the first aid kit, you started to disinfect his wounds •"jihoon? Are you alright?” •you asked, pausing the cleaning of his face •he sighed, his eyes staring into yours •"I could have died. But all I could think about was you. The way you smile, drink coffee, ask me to hack games.“ •he said, still staring at you, his face having a pink tinge to his cheeks •his voice was shaky, but still kind of stable in a way, it was so filled with emotions •"are you saying you like me?” •you asked, a smirk drawn on your face, an eyebrow raised •"me? Like you? No.“ •he sputtered, his face growing even more pink as he spoke •"I like you too, even if I have to save you from the mafia.” •kissing his nose, you then continued to clean his wounds •it was a nice silence, both of you content being in each other’s presence •"I…like you.“ •it was said slowly, but you could feel the love in his words as he bashfully said it •closing the kit, pushing it in the floor, you cuddled up to him •resting your head on his chest, you listened to his heartbeat, the two of you thankful to be together • •"how does it feel to graduate college, Mr. lee?” •"how does it feel to be the owner of a coffee shop, y/n?“ •whether it was being in a gang together or a café, the two of you were sure that you would be alright •after all, two ex assassins who could protect themselves and each other •mostly each other though

[hypnobyl]

might be a tad OOC but SQ going to the movies to watch a movie but not actually watching the movie if you get my drift ;)

From the passenger seat, the trip out of Storybrooke is appealing. The richly wooded area provides beautiful scenery--so she has something to entertain her while Emma drives her to an unknown destination. All she knows is Emma wants to share something special, which means she will not complain in the slightest. They’d been dancing around intimacy for months now, both physically and emotionally, and she’s ready for a good bout of progress on both fronts. Wherever they’re going now, she hopes there’s privacy and quiet.

As they pull into the parking lot, she realizes she got half of her wish: An indie movie theater is likely pretty private, especially this late in the evening. Quiet, however, is unlikely. She pushes her disappointment aside, still interested in learning more about Emma. She’ll stomach an indie movie as long as Emma is smiling at the end. The thought is mildly disgusting--but she supposes that comes with the territory of new love. She almost wants to retch.

Instead, she follows Emma inside and stands idly by while Emma orders two tickets for Night’s Edge, which is supposedly about a young woman growing up in some city or another. There’s no real plot, as far as she can ascertain from Emma’s rambling, but the character development in this slice of life piece has been getting really high ratings.

“So, you like this sort of… thing?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve loved indie movies since I was a kid. Tickets were cheaper for them than the big shit in the major theaters.” Emma shrugs and folds inward, a sign that she’s uncomfortable.

Regina sets a hand on her wrist. “Do you remember which film you saw first?”

“Oh, definitely. It was back in ‘89. I’d found a ten dollar bill in the gutter, so I got to treat myself to a movie. You ever heard of Young Blood, Old Bones?”

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, that one’s about a kid with that really rare disease--the one where they age really fast. Like, not Benjamin Button style, where they’re born old, but a real thing, where their bodies wear out faster or something.”

Regina doesn’t follow the rest of the plot. Her eyes are trained on Emma’s lips as they move--and Emma’s tongue when it darts out every once in awhile. Thankfully, Emma is lost in explaining the little details and doesn’t notice her lack of attention. It’s only when her gaze slips lower that Emma trails off and laughs.

“I lost you, didn’t I?”

“I just don’t have much experience with independent films.”

Emma pulls on her hand, like a puppy straining at the end of its leash. “Well, c’mon, then. We need to get good seats.”

The theater is hardly busy. Regina rolls her eyes and lets Emma pull her into screen three. She sits and then realizes that they didn’t stop at concession; rather than let her go, Emma jumps up and offers to make the run. As Emma heads for popcorn and soda, Regina examines her surroundings. The place isn’t nearly as clean as the theater in Storybrooke, where the floors are shiny and the seats eternally plush. But there is something genuine about this theater, from the vaguely sticky floors to the small stage just below the screen.

The chairs are at least comfortable, so she settles in and pulls her phone out. Ruby hasn’t called yet, so Henry is likely okay. He’s probably not doing his homework like he’s supposed to--she’s come to accept Ruby’s style of babysitting--but he’s safe. If he wasn’t, there’d be a torrential influx of messages about what happened, where they went, and his status.

“All quiet on the western front?” Emma hands over a box of very buttery popcorn and a large Coke with two straws jammed in the top.

“It appears so.”

“Hope you don’t mind sharing a drink.”

“Like we’ve never encountered each other’s saliva,” Regina comments dryly. She delights when Emma laughs, and sits a little straighter.

“Fair enough. Well, we have like five minutes until the screening starts.”

“No previews?”

“A few, but it’s not like half an hour of every big name, billion dollar blockbuster.”

“So, why do you like these films so much?”

Emma shrugs, digging her fingers into the popcorn and throwing a handful in her mouth. Between chomps, she says, “I guess I like that they’re about people that are different. Y’know? Like not every lead has to be a dashing white boy with perfectly straight teeth and a tight shirt.”

“Those can be appealing, sometimes,” she offers.

“Yeah, sometimes. But I found myself in a lot of the indie stuff when I was growing up, and it just sorta stuck.”

“That’s why I read a great deal during my childhood. I could escape through the pages and live another life.”

Emma grins crookedly. “That’s exactly it. I--”

She cuts off abruptly as the lights lower, and Regina lets the conversation fade. They can perhaps pick it up again on the drive home; for now, she’s going to try her hardest to like this film for Emma. The previews aren’t exactly her cup of tea, so she concentrates on slipping her hand onto Emma’s knee. If the blonde notices, she must not mind, so Regina leaves her hand there.

Thirty minutes in the movie, her hand creeps a little high onto Emma’s thigh. She can’t help it; the movie is dull and mind-numbingly slow-paced. Rather than watch and fall asleep, she can spend her time and attention on her date. Emma watches the screen with rapt attention until Regina moves her hand inward. There’s a rip in Emma’s jeans, along the soft, sensitive skin above her knee, and Regina rubs her fingers on whatever flesh she can reach.

“Um,” Emma whispers. “What are you doing?”

Regina glances around the empty theater. “Am I bothering you?”

For a moment, it looks like Emma is going to say yes. Then, with a deep sigh, she shakes her head and tightens her grip on the armrest. “Do whatever you want.”

Permission granted, Regina sidles onto Emma’s lap and ducks her head by Emma’s neck. “Keep watching the movie.”

There’s a distinct tremble as Emma replies, “I’ll try.”

Regina starts with gentle, wet kisses along Emma’s neck and collarbone. She has no idea if this is having an effect on Emma, who is starkly silent, but she can feel the moisture gathering in her panties. She doesn’t want to have sex, but she’s surprised by how turned on she can get just by giving rather than receiving. Her heart buzzes with the intensity of a sewing machine’s needle at top speed. Her excitement leads to using a bit more tooth in her kisses, gripping and tugging on Emma’s earlobe. That finally breaks Emma’s self-enforced cool.

Rather than watch the movie, Emma slides her hands around Regina’s waist and holds her snug. By the time the credits roll, Regina is on the cusp of doing something she doesn’t feel ready for. Her lips are swollen and in bad need of chapstick, and she’s a little proud to note a very visible hickey on Emma’s neck. As they walk out of the theater, the sole ticket taker looks at them, and she knows he knows what they’ve been up. She scoffs as they walk past, as this is hardly the first time two lovers have necked in this theater.

“What’s next?” she asks as Emma holds the car door for her.

“I’m going to take you home, give you a good night kiss, and then, go back to Snow’s place for a cold shower,” Emma says. She shuts the door and crosses to the driver’s side. “I really hope you don’t take this personally, but I just… I’m just getting comfortable in this relationship, if that makes sense. Like, it’s so different than I had before. Like I matter?”

“And?”

“And I hope that you’ll respect that I’m not comfortable having sex yet.”

“Did any of your previous partners disrespect you in that manner?” Every protective urge she has struggles for control.

“I never really told them. I was afraid they’d leave. So, I just went along with it when they wanted.” Emma takes her hand and offers a tentative smile. “But I thought maybe that I could trust you to stay.”

Regina nods, trying to maintain her serious expression. She fails. “You can trust me, Emma, and I trust you. To tell the truth, I’m not ready, either, so thank you. I might have let hormones make my decision tonight, and you deserve more than that.”

Emma kisses her knuckles and revs the engine. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say that independent films aren’t your thing.”

“How very perceptive. When did you know?”

“When I asked you on this date, you did this thing with your face.” Emma tries to mimic the expression with minor success. “But you said yes. You were still willing to do this for me. I can’t--I don’t have the words to tell you what that means to me.”

“You matter, and I’d like to spend as much time as you’ll give me convincing you of that.”

“Deal.”

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Mask

It began on a Saturday. The pitter pat of rain thumped innocuously at Damien’s window. It was a silent kind of day. Then his alarm sounded. A fist shot out immediately, striking it, sending it crashing to the floor. Damien groaned. “Fuck me,” he exclaimed. “I need a drink.” He fished around and came up with a bottle of clear liquor. His head pounded. “Rum. The other white meat.” He took a deep drink. Damien was fat. There was no delicate way to say it. At 5’8” and 278 pounds, he was one fucking big guy. It was a point of contention. It drove a wedge between him and his parents. The rings in his face, his purple mohawk, that drove another. He kept odd hours. He could afford to. His writing career made just enough money that he was his own boss. It was liberating. Those cocksuckers working at banks and restaurants had it all wrong. It had been a rough week. Robert’s dad had a stroke. A bad one, by the sound of it. He paused mid sip. He had a late lunch with Robert in an hour or so. What was he gonna say? What could he say? Sorry your dad is gonna fucking die? “Thoughts, and prayers, and my thumb up my ass,” he grumbled. Damien was an Atheist. Had been since approximately age fifteen. His mother was a Roman Catholic who meant well, but had her head up her cooch. His father was a lapsed Jew or something. His phone vibrated. It was Paul. Damien ignored it. He’d deal with the overzealous editor when his head wasn’t throbbing and his balls didn’t ache. But of course, his balls always ached. That was his cross to bear. He fucked around for a minute longer, then against his better judgement, stepped into the shower. God yes, but that steaming water always felt good. Damien always did his best dissociating in the shower. He sat down, back against the wall, and tried to forget. Thump. Thump, thump. “Five more minutes, Martha.” He stuporic eyes shot open. “Who the FUCK is Martha?!” “Damien, you in there?!,” Robert shouted mildly. “It’s time to go, man.” “OH, FUCK.” “Just give me a sec.” he gave everything a rub down, washed his asshole and his balls, and quickly shampooed his hair. It was 45 minutes past their lunch date before he even got dressed. “Hey man, you okay?,” Robert inquired, voice laced with concern. “Am I okay? Bro, I’m worried about you. Robert managed a weak smile, and shrugged. “I mean, what can I do, man? It’s a bad scene either way. I just hope he doesn’t suffer on the way out.” Damien met his glance, could see the pain in his eyes. They were best friends of over 25 years. More like brothers. “It’s gonna be okay, Robbie.” He embraced his friend tightly. “Don’t call me Robbie,” he said. They sat in saddened silence. Normally, eating at Red Robin marked a happy occasion. “What’re you ordering, man?,” Robert said. He tried to smile, but couldn’t. “The fucking shrimp basket.” “Shrimp basket? Is it fried?” Damien laughed wryly. “Ninja, it’s a fucking Red Robin. Everything is fried. The goddamn soda is fried.” Robert smiled, for real this time. “Thank you, Damien.” “For what?” “You know what. For having my back, like you have since forever. You know the doctors say he has less than a month now.” The news stopped him cold. “A...a month?,” he stammered. “Yeah. Shit sucks.” “How’s your mom taking it?” Robert shrugged. “About as well as you’d expect. She’s 68. And stoic. She doesn’t let me know it’s bothering her, but I can tell. I can tell.” “The thought of your mom in an empty bed eats me up inside,” Damien said with a quiet fury. “Me too, man. But hey, he’s not dead yet. Let’s make this last month count.” The two men are their meal, reminiscing about the past, discussing their hopes for the future. The meal was delicious. A funny thing, Damien thought. Death always made him hungry. Hungry, and horny. He would have to scratch that particular itch later. The thrusting was vigorous. They moaned together, at the end. When it was over, the man, naked, lit a cheap cigar. Soon the motel room stank of tobacco. “You should at least learn to smoke a real cigar,” the woman said. “Fuck it,” Damien said, bringing it to his knee, holding it down in a desperate act of self mutilation. “Jesus, fuck, Damien,” she exclaimed. “Why do you have to be so goddamn self destructive?” He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “You’re just jealous.” “Fuck you,” she laughed,” taking the cigar from him. She pressed it down against her inner thigh. “Fuck, that feels good.” Lazily flicking her nipples with her free hand. Damien squeezed her breast. “Admit it,” he lulled. “You like me.” Mischief burned in Karen Harper’s eyes. Mischief, and something else. “Miss me with that gay shit,” she said. Then he kissed her. She pulled back after a couple minutes, voice heavy. “Are you okay?” Damien smiled with an impish charm, and sighed. “Yeah. Fuck. No, actually. I don’t know why I just lied to you.” What’s wrong?,” she inquired, laying a hand against his shoulder. “It’s my best friend Robert. His dad just had a major stroke. This wasn’t the first time, either. He...,” his voice cracked. “He’s dying.” She stroked his shoulder comfortingly. “Damien...I’m so sorry. I lost my father 6 years ago. He had a massive heart attack. It was a total shock, we never saw it coming.” “I’ve known him my entire life. His wife is crazy about him. It’s killing me.” She took his head in her lap, stroking his hair. They stayed like that for a long time. At some point, he fell asleep. Sometimes, in our most vulnerable moments, the void is filled. But never for long. “How’s Dusty doing?,” Paul asked. Damien just hadn’t been able to put him off any longer. The editor was a big man. A huge man, actually. All of 6’7” and pushing 350 pounds of muscle. Of course, Damien had shown up reeking of brandy and pot, but that suited Paul just fine. The Goliath worked hard, and partied harder. “Not good,” Damien sighed wanly. “He hasn’t got very long.” “Shit. It’ll be okay.” “No,” Damien said morosely. “You’ll be okay,” Paul urged gently. “No, I fucking won’t.” “Christ, Damien, I know that. But it’s what people say. I’m limited by society’s options.” “It’s a mask,” Damien said. “Just say what you cunting mean, Paul.” “In that case.” He grinned. “In that case, I’d like to inform you that I’d 100% let Lady Gaga shit in my mouth.” Damien cocked back his head and laughed shrewdly. “Hey, me too.” “Damien, do you want the world to remember you when you die? Is that why you write?” “Huh. Well, art is a very selfish and egotistical pursuit.” “You didn’t answer my question.” “I want them to celebrate,” Damien said. “Celebrate what?” “Life. I want them to get drunk, high. To fuck in the middle of the street.” “What about your body?” Damien shrugged. “Skin my tattoos, cremate my fat ass, and for the sake of baboon pussy, don’t pray for me.” “I don’t give a fuck what happens,” Paul said mildly. “I just wanna get high.” “Why did you call me here, Paul?,” Damien arched his eyebrows. “For another one of your horseshit deadlines?” “Dude, I already said.” He held up a big old white bag. “To get high.” Damien grinned boyishly. “You know me too well, Paul. Way too fucking well. It’s eerie.” 30 minutes later, they were in Paul’s immaculate black Mercedes. Paul was driving (Damien didn’t have a license). Actually he was gunning it. He was jamming it to Lynyrd Skynyrd in erratic fashion. “Sweet home Alabama! Dun nun nun nun nun nun nun! Where the skies are so blue!” “Man, FUCK Alabama!,” Damien cried, smashing a mailbox with a wooden bat. “He leaned out of the car, a savage grin on his face . “Nothing in Alabama but buttfuckin hicks and weasels!” “Man, I’m FROM Alabama.” “So? Fuck you too,” he laughed. Paul twitched, did a line off his steering wheel. Started laughing. “Man, you’re right. I hate my hometown. Fuck Alabama. Big old shithole, man.” “Fuck Alabama,” Damien agreed. “Hey, Paul?” “Yeah?” “Can you take me home? I wanna be alone. Some of my best writing is done fucked up.” Paul nodded. “Sure, buddy.”

Damien fell, facefirst onto his bed. He had a nosebleed, but didn’t care. Didn’t give a single fuck. He fished around and found his half empty rum bottle. Took a deep swig. “Where did I put my mothershitting blunt?” “He groped for it, staggered, finally found it. The sweet, aromatic smell of pot permeated the room. He inhaled deeply. “Fucking aah, he declared.” He was just about drifting off when his phone began to ring. He looked down at his phone. 5:23AM. It was Robert. “Hello?” “Damien? Sorry to wake you.” “No. No, I was up. Everything okay, man?’ Even though he knew it wasn’t. Even though a late night call like this could only mean one thing. “No. He’s gone, Damien. He died about an hour ago. I’m sorry.” Even though he knew, fucking knew that Dusty Chavers was dying, the news hit him like a train. It was oddly physical. He felt sick, cancerous. “I’m sorry, Robert. I loved your dad very much.” “I know you did. I know it’s late. I just wanted to tell you.” “Robert, I won’t let you or your mom face this alone.” “Thank you. I gotta go. I have other calls to make.I love you, Damien. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Robbie.” He made it to the very end of their phone call, then he projectile vomited. Right onto his bed. Fuck it. He would clean it up later. He couldn’t think. He could barely see straight. He was so high and drunk and fucked up on coke and weed and grief. There was only one place to go. Only one place he COULD go.

“Robert’s dad is dead,” Damien said quietly. She put her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re not okay. It’s NOT okay. It fucking sucks.” “Do you have a hole inside your soul, Karen?,” he asked. “I have an emptiness inside of me that I just can’t seem to fill. With food or booze or weed or anything good or bad. What is this emptiness inside of me?” He slammed his fist against the end table. “This desperate need to connect to others.” Tears began to fall. “Is this what being human means?” She touched his arm. “Would you read me one of your poems?” “What does that matter,” he said bitterly. “Please? Just do it.” “Okay,” he said tonelessly. “Whatever. I call this one Statuary.” He cleared his throat, struggled not to cry again. He began:

“The girl raises her glass, Alas, alas, So fast, She withers.

The forest chants, Enchants, Recants, Laments her whispers.

Her corpse is frost Touches the moss, So green, Obscene.

Among the lumber, She still slumbers, Slumbers, Slumbers.” She put his hand on her breast. “That was beautiful. “YOU are beautiful,” she whispered. “I...I don’t know what to say.” She shrugged. “Yeah, well. You were right. I DO like you.” His brown eyes shone.. He did not speak for a long while. “Miss me with that gay shit!,” he replied finally. The void is real. And it is cruel. And it wins more often than not. Death is a foregone conclusion. But one thing our species has is heart. We are stubborn, motherfucking pricks. The void is real, no doubt about it. Let’s make that bastard work for it.

submitted by /u/Avarice87 [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2KdI4S6

[stardust2003]

Madferit: The Novel - Chapter 23

           "Where ya goin'?" Noel asked as he looked up from his guitar at me.

"Lunch with Kelly." I replied as I headed towards the door.

"Who?"

"My friend, Kelly. Roommate from back home. She lives in Levenshulme now."

"What the fuck's she doin' there?" He asked. The confusion on his face looked so real it was hard to tell if he was taking the piss or not.

"She lives there." I said flatly. I wasn't arsed for a game. "I told you that."

He shook his head. "No ya didn't."

"Yes I did."

"No ya-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" I screamed. "You're not funny Noel so just stop-"

"Oi!" He barked as he got off the couch and came towards me. "Who the fuck d'ya think y'are? You're not to be talkin' to me like that. You're in my fuckin' house!"

"I'm not in your house, you prick! You're too fuckin' good for this place remember?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked like he was about to spit fire.

I shook my head. "I'm outta here!" I said before turning around and heading to the door.

"Hang on a minute!" He called after me. "Addie! Addie!"

"Our apartment in Lakewood." I began as I picked at my pasta. "We've still got a lease on it, don't we?"

"Yeah." Kelly replied. "Another six months, isn't it? You're still sending your rent, right?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm having my mom wire the money to make it easier with all the international stuff but. Did you ever take your stuff out?"

"Not yet. I've still gotta get that figured out. How about you?"

I never thought I'd step foot in Cleveland again unless it was for a stop on some tour. The band had already been talking about where the international legs would be and of course the States were one of them. But after everything that happened, I wondered if it was worth the wait.

"I don't know." I replied quietly.

Concern took over her. "Addie?" She said. "Is everything alright?"

I felt the tears pooling as I thought about it, shaking my head trying to make the thinking stop.

But it was no use.

"Liam cheated on me."

"What?!"

I nodded. "He claims he didn't but I don't believe him." I sobbed. "He took off for hours when we were staying in London with Noel. He did it on tour too. He'd just disappear and I wouldn't see him for however long 'til he came back. There's this girl, Patsy. She's some actress. She came to a few of their shows and then one time I caught her and Liam...they were just sitting there pretending to be John and Yoko or something. I don't know if they were actually fucking or not but Liam claims he only invites her around 'cuz she brings him drugs. And then Noel said-"

"Wait." She stopped me by putting her hand up. "Why the fuck would you listen to Noel? He's a total ass-"

"He said Liam cheated on me in Japan. Another one of his shitty attempts at being John Lennon reincarnated."

She snorted in a sarcastic laugh. "Oh my God! What a fucking asshole! Him and Noel both. They try so hard to be the Beatles it's pathetic. You know Tony said the Beatles weren't even their biggest influence. Noel just told the press that 'cuz it sounded good."

I rolled my eyes. It was just another reason why I didn't belong in their world. I liked the Beatles. I liked the Roses but I could not do the Smiths or the Jam.

"Do you wanna come stay with me and Tony for a bit?" She offered. "Get you away from all the bull shit."

It's not like I could tell her no. I needed an escape even if it was only for an hour or two.

Contrary to Noel's likely hope, Tony didn't go back to that butcher shop. Instead, he got hired on giving drum lessons at some music shop. It didn't pay as much as the promotion for Definitely Maybe did but he was happy. He made enough to support himself, Kelly, and his little girl.

He was still out when Kelly and I got back to their flat. Ginger was dying for a walk so we took her out for a bit then came back and fixed tea.

"Thanks for this." I said holding my cup up to my mouth.

"You're welcome." She replied with a smile.

The tea was nice and warm which felt good on such a cold afternoon. The forecast didn't call for rain but the gloomy haze that hung in the sky made me wonder if it was wrong.

And of course, my mind reverted back to the other gloomy haze that hung inside it as well.

Did I dare tell Kelly about me and Noel? I could always tell her anything but this...this was different. This was treachery. This was sleeping with the enemy. I wasn't supposed to get on with Noel. I was supposed to despise him. For the sake of the band. The original band. The band he didn't even start.

But it was the band he saved. At least, that was what everyone said.

"I come with fifty songs already written." He boasted. "And all ready to take us to number one."

Tony called his bluff though. Said that was a lie just to get Alan McGee to sign them.

"He's full a shit, him." He informed me. "He'll say whatever it takes. Fuckin' snake in the grass."

And maybe he was snaking me. He was off his tits about ninety-five percent of the time. The song dedications and the declaration of his love – it was just the coke talking. It fucked up his words just like it fucked up his nose and upper lip. Shaved them down until they were practically nothing.

'That's what he's doing to you.' I warned myself. 'He just wants to break you so he can have you under his control. Don't fall for his shit. Don't you fucking dare!'

"Alright, Adds!" Tony said cheerfully as he came through the door. "Are ya joinin' us for tea?"

Of course I was. Kelly made sure we stopped at the grocery store and loaded up on comfort food. Homemade mac and cheese sounded fucking top with cheesecake for afterwards. There'd be movies later too.

And no drugs or celebrities willing to get their tits out just so you'd give them the time of day. It was the life I'd grown up with.

And the one I didn't realize how much I actually missed.

The meal was lovely and the quiet evening was even lovelier. I felt the slightest bit of a smile forming on my face as I lay there on the couch after Kelly and Tony had gone to bed.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep but unfortunately it didn't last.

"What the fuck?!" I gasped at the loud pounding on the front door.

It continued and didn't even wake Ginger. Normally she'd have been flipping out being the guard dog she figured she was but now she was nowhere to be found.

If the dog didn't wake up that meant Kelly and Tony wouldn't either. What if it was a burglar or something?

But then again, did burglars ever have the decency to knock?

I got out of bed and crept to the door.

"What the fuck?" I whispered as I saw who it was.

"What the fuck are ya doin' here?!" He exclaimed.

"Shh!" I ordered. "Tony and Kelly are asleep!"

"I don't fuckin' care! You run off, I had to come find ya."

I rolled my eyes. "You're the one who run off!"

"Only for a bit." He reasoned. "Then I come back, right? And find out you've taken off. Left me gaff and then me mam's-"

"Wait." I said puzzled. "How did you-"

"Well my flat was a given. Didn't reckon you'd been there 'cuz Mam took ya in. Then I pop 'round hers and our Noel said-"

"Oh for God's sake!"

He scrunched his eyebrows curiously. "Are ya pissed at him or summat?" He asked. "'Cuz if y'are, just say the word and I'll give him a proper leatherin'. He'll not treat ya bad-"

"And neither will you." I said firmly.

He smiled clearly oblivious to how serious I was being. "That's right. You're my bird, right? My Tix. Our Noel can't-"

"Good night, Liam." I shut the door.

"Hang on!" He grabbed the door and held it open. "You're not gonna turn me out on the street, are ya?"

I awoke the next morning to the sight of Liam fast asleep next to me with his mouth hanging open.

"Your mouth'll dry out." I reminded him softly as I pushed up on his lower jaw to close it. "Imagine how that'll put ya off your singing."

His response to that was a sound asleep grunt.

I giggled as I watched him. I admired the way he looked so peaceful.

And then I admired something else.

"Use your nails, yeah?" He said softly. "It fuckin' itches!"

I did as he wanted making him sigh and tip his head back a little.

It felt a little coarse as my fingertips ran back and forth across it. It covered his cheeks and chin and surrounded his lips in a neat brown carpet that matched the hair on his head.

I noticed it the night before but was too caught up in the shock of his presence to really give it much thought. But now I had time to think. Time to analyze. Time to figure out why the fuck-

"Patsy says it looks good." He told me.

"Right." I replied with a sarcastic nod. "She the reason you went to London?"

"Nah. I was goin' to see the Cockney Cunt but she were there. She's always fuckin' there. Brought us some bugle and-"

"Told you to grow a beard?"

"Fuck no!" He said. "I won't have a bird tellin' me how to fuckin' dress and that. Not even you. But nah. She just got to talkin' about how John Lennon had a beard and them sideburns and I reckoned I should give it a try."

"Oh." I replied quietly.

"Yeah. So what ya think?"

"I think it makes you look like a dosser."

"You what?!" He exclaimed as he opened his eyes and sat up to look at me properly.

I took a breath trying to keep him calm. "It's not the right time of year for a beard. Wait 'til Christmas or something."

"Alright." He nodded a little.

I looked at him curiously. "You mean you're actually gonna get rid of it?" I asked.

"Yeah." He replied with another nod.

"What happened to not letting me or any other birds tell you how to dress?"

"Well I don't wanna look like a bloody dosser, do I? Plus it's too fuckin' itchy!" He began scratching his jaw vigorously. "It's doin' me fuckin' head-"

He shut up when I took over the scratching. "You're fuckin' amazin', you are, Tixie." He finally spoke again a couple minutes later.

"Yeah I know." I replied.

I kept it up for a few minutes before I finally stopped. My thoughts had taken over...much to Liam's oblivious chagrin.

"Are ya alright?" He asked looking at me those clear blue eyes fully awake. "Look like you're thinkin' about summat."

I sighed knowing he was right. There was only one way to deal with this...and it wasn't going to be easy.

"I think we should take a break." I said.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"I don't wanna hold you back. You guys are on your way to being one of the biggest bands in the world and I can't keep up."

"Yes ya can! Ya already do. We're good together, you and me-"

"Then why do you keep running off?" I asked.

He opened his mouth to say something but I spoke again before he could.

"I'm too boring. You deserve someone that's fun. Someone like Patsy-"

"I don't want Patsy!" He argued. "I want you! All them other girls, they don't mean nothin'. They think if I sleep with 'em it'll lead to somethin' more but it won't. You-"

I shrugged my eyebrows. "Liam-"

"Is this your way of tryin' to free yourself up so ya can go fuck Our Kid?"

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at him stone faced.

His eyes remained perfectly clear. That dead stare just gazed right back at me. "He's fuckin' jealous of us." He said. "All he's got is Meg and fuck knows she ain't nothin' but a cheap slag. She's just along for the ride and does him better than his own fuckin' hand."

"She's not-"

"Yes she fuckin' is! Worse than a fuckin' groupie. He knows it but it's not like he can do any better."

"Stop!" I ordered.

"It's the fuckin' truth!" He said. "He wants you but he can't have ya so he starts stirrin' shit."

"Like telling me about all the groupies in Japan?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't-"

"Just stop, Liam!" I snapped. "I'm giving you a way out. A free pass to have all the groupies you can eat. Just take it and run."

"Alright." He said with a shrug.

He didn't argue any further. Didn't plead for me to reconsider. Not that I really expected anything different.

I left him at Kelly and Tony's. They still hadn't woken up before I left but I knew Tony wouldn't let him leave without a cup of tea when they finally did.

The tears poured as I made my way back to Burnage but dried just in time when I arrived at Peggy's front door.

She and Paul were out and I figured Noel was too as the first level of the house was empty, with his acoustic guitar sitting alone in the living room.

I went upstairs and heard the shower running. The bathroom door was shut but it didn't muffle the sound of the water...or Noel's singing.

I opened the door just enough to sneak in as he began another song.

I hate the way you've taken back

Everything you've given to me

And the way that you'd always say

It's nothing to do with me

I rolled my eyes as I sat down on the closed toilet lid. I waited for him to finish the first verse and then reached behind me and flushed.

"JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!" He yelled.

"Another song for Louise." I mused as I crossed my arms and leaned back a little. "Surprise, surprise."

The shower curtain flew open just enough for him to stick his head out.

"Addie?" He said as he looked at me confused. "What the-"

"Did she get a whole album?"

He went to reply but I left the bathroom before he could.

"Addie!" He called. "God dammit! Addie!"

My crying began again as I sat down on his bed and brought my knees up under my chin. My head was spinning and it wouldn't fucking stop.

The bedroom door swung open and revealing Noel standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"What the fuck are you-"

"Do you love me?" I asked quickly.

He scrunched his eyebrows puzzled. "Course I fuckin'-"

"I dumped Liam because of you. Because you said you love me. Because you said he cheated on me. Because-"

"I do love you." He said as he came over and sat down beside me. "And we're meant to be together, regardless of what Our Kid thinks."

"Yeah." I said softly.

"Don't sound so excited." He chuckled.

I looked away and my eyes ended up on Liam's empty bed.

"We'll go down London, right?" Noel spoke again, changing the focus of my attention. "And we'll be the coolest fuckin' couple in Primrose Hill. Everyone'll be jealous of us."

"Is that the goal?" I asked curiously. "Make everyone jealous? So rock n' roll!"

"Fuck off! I can't help it everyone wants us. We're too big for Manchester, Adds. That's just the way it is."

I shook my head as I sighed. "I'm not going down London."

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!" I said firmly. "I can't be arsed for people who are too big for their boots."

"Is that how ya think of me?" He asked. "Ya think I'm talkin' a bunch a shit?"

"No but I'm not going to be associated with assholes. And you won't fucking make me."

He smirked at me.

I looked at him curiously. "What?" I asked.

"So you're a single woman now?" He said. "You and our Liam are finally done?"

"Guess so."

"Does that mean you're up for the takin'?"

"No actually it doesn't!" I felt my heart rising up. "Nobody's taking me anywhere."

He snorted. "Ya sure about that?"

"Yeah." I said firmly. "If you want me, you're gonna have to do it proper."

"Well I've already done that." He replied. "I gave ya me bed and I didn't fuckin' say anythin'. I-" He stopped when he saw me pursing my lips at him. "What ya want me to say?"

I widened my eyes a little trying not to roll them. "You mean I have to tell you?"

His breath hitched as he held off his response.

"I'm not gonna wait for another album!" I warned him. "Or even a fucking B-side. Say it proper or I'm staying up North!"

"Alright!" He exclaimed. "Will ya help me make this proper, right? And say you're my girlfriend?"

"Why?"

He twisted his face in confusion. "What d'ya mean why?"

"Why do you want me to be your girlfriend?" I clarified.

"'Cuz I love you and it fuckin' kills me to see ya with someone else. Save my heart, yeah? Keep it safe."

"What about my heart?"

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Addie!" He said. "Why d'ya always ask so many fuckin'-"

"Because it's the only way you'll-"

His lips were firm but gentle as he pushed me to lay back on the bed.

"You needn't worry about your heart, Adds." He said softly. His sky blues eyes putting me into a trance. "I'll look after it. Just like that night at Glasto'."

I smiled up at him.

He smiled back and then leaned down to my ear.

So what do you say?

I giggled.

He grinned again showing that awful gap in his teeth just a bit. "I need an answer, Adds." He said.

"Alright." I replied.

"Alright what?"

"What do you think?"

He chuckled allowing that gap to reappear.