#i like how he wore eyeliner for no specific reason and never stopped doing so

[kozukiodenprinceofwano]

Kozuki Oden's Eyeliner Appreciation Post

[eiraeths]

more assorted 141 headcanons

idk what really is considered a trigger warning or a content warning but there’s mentions of ocd tendencies and trauma responses. also the impending feeling of doom that comes with being a solider at war.

soap is a dirty charlatan. going back to my previous headcanon of him being a punk teenager he might of shoplifted from big companies and what not anyway since he’s an adult with responsibilities he doesn’t do that anymore. instead, it turned into making elaborate schemes whether it be a game of cards or pilfering random items from people only to give it back to them to see the shock or confusion on their face

ghost can pickpocket. him and soap once had a long game of who could steal the most stuff off of each other’s persons before the other notices. price had to put a stop to it after they got a little too over-zealous with it

ghost can sew and uses this skill for evil. he find out someone he doesn’t like is superstitious and he’s making a miniature effigy of them and terrorizing them with it. not in an explicit way either only implicit. probably makes it look just like them and leaves it where they can find it and its just mini them in a hazardous situation. no one but price knows it’s him.

gaz is super into formula one racing. he gets soap into it and tries to get price into it but price would rather watch football/soccer. price will still watch it with them but doesn’t understand a damn thing going on

soap is good with cars. bro is a full on mechanic. this may be because he wanted to see how many different ways he could turn a vehicle into a bomb and got really into the mechanical aspects instead. he still figured out the bomb stuff though

soap is very number oriented. counts ceiling tiles and passing cars religiously. may of stemmed from running out of bullets before. this could be seen as a trauma response compulsion or ocd compulsions tbh. feel like its not really an active thing he does but rather an action without conscious thought behind it

gaz once wore eyeliner and everyone short circuited because god DAYUM he’s hot. it was definitely lower lid heavy and pointed down or followed the tilt of his eyes

ghost is a bird freak and can mimic a lot of different bird calls. oh side snippet time y’all know that nursery rhyme about counting magpies? the one for sorrow two for joy? anyway thats very ghoap coded now i gotta write something with that. anyway ghost uses his powers of mimicry (its echolalia and we all know it is) to distract enemies in the field. like the assassins creed whistle except its just bird whistles. he definitely loves infodumping to the 141 when different birds cross their path. when soap learned about birds like great tits or blue tits he had a field day. ghost still hasn’t told him about other birds with vulgar sounding names for that very reason.

a nod back to my previous headcanon about soap collecting pretty rubble from explosions, the team adds onto this for him when they can. price finds him rubble with specific shapes (there was in fact a cock shaped one and price had an internal debate if he really wanted to give it to him knowing what it’d spark. never in his life had he heard so many dick jokes in such a short amount of time. he considered separating gaz and soap because of it. ghost ended up doing it for him by manhandling soap into a different seat and staring at him until he closed his mouth) gaz gets him rubble with specific patterns on them like mosaics and tile. ghost tries to find him specific colors whether it be one of each color of the rainbow or a single color with various shades and hues

ghost separates stuff by color. he mostly wears black but also has some clothes that are like dark blue or green. i don’t see him wearing warm colors at all no matter the shade

price once received a present of cigars from around the world and it’s one of his most prized possessions. even if he sticks to one brand (og price smoked villa claras so we’ll go with that)

gaz and soap make plans to build a race car despite knowing they’ll never get the time to do so. an entire journal of soap’s is dedicated to this car. its got blueprints of the body, motor, and electrical system.

ghost makes soap a quilt with the mactavish clan pattern (i forgot what the actual term is. tartan?) being the key focus and soap cries

all of them try to carry gum for soap (bro definitely got an oral fixation)

okay thats all for headcanons for now. any of y’all got headcanons for price or gaz i can steal and add onto cause its harder for me to come up with mundane things for them

[beelsnack]

Hiya! I saw ur post about u being stressed at work so please take ur time with this request! There's no rush! Ur wellbeing is more important 💖 But when you get the time how about some headcanons for an MC who is very cute and naive but got teased for being so at RAD so they try to dress "cool" and pretend to be all badass but their tough persona just makes the demon brothers uwu even more cuz they think it's adorable how hard they're trying

Ah, thank you for being patient, Nonnie! I hope this was worth the wait!

I realized a bit too late that I may have misinterpreted your request a little, but I hope it turned out alright anyway. ^^

-----

Lucifer: “Careful, my dear, your face may get stuck like that.”

When the human turned around to greet him, they had their normal cheerful grin on their face. However, Lucifer watched as their expression turned surprised, then frustrated before they managed to school it back into the hilariously deep frown they had been forcing all day.

“Would you mind telling me why you’re making that ridiculous face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They fell into step beside him. Even though they had pretty much figured out the layout of RAD, Lucifer insisted on walking with them to the Student Council Chambers. At first, it was just to make sure they didn’t accidentally end up in the torture chambers in the lower levels, but now he genuinely enjoyed the few moments they had alone together. Hearing them chatter on about their day lifted his mood exponentially.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Lucifer inclined his head. “Force that scowl for much longer and you might pull a facial muscle.”

They wavered for a second before sighing. “Did it really look that bad?”

“It was quite an unnatural look for you.” he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Would you mind telling me just what you were trying to do?”

“...Some demons in my class told me I smiled too much.” they admitted. “So I was trying to...not?”

Lucifer paused, regarding them with a raised eyebrow. “What in the Three Realms does ‘smiling too much’ mean?”

“I’m...not sure honestly,” they shrugged.

“My dear,” he stopped in front of them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “I don’t particularly care what those other demons think or want, but I will not have you depriving me of your beautiful smile.”

Mammon: That was his jacket.

It was way too big on them, making them look even smaller than they already did. It was also very clearly not part of the RAD uniform - not that any of the brothers wore their uniforms correctly, but the human was usually pretty up to code with theirs.

He caught up to them in a few steps and grabbed onto the collar of their - his - jacket. “Hey, human! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

They squeaked in surprise, and for a moment Mammon was caught off guard by how unbearably adorable it was. When they turned around, they were grinning sheepishly at him.

“H-hi Mammon.”

Oof. Honestly, he did not anticipate how seeing them wearing his clothes was going to affect him. The sleeves came down to their knuckles, and they had curled their fingers around the cuffs almost instinctively, It was too cute, he felt like his heart was trying to smash through his ribcage.

“You - you got a whole lotta nerve, stealing from the Great Mammon.” he released their collar, they both continued walking, although he had completely forgotten that his class was in the complete opposite direction.

“You left it in my room, though.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’re wearin’ it!”

“I’m sorry.” they sighed, beginning to shrug the jacket off of their shoulders. “Some demons were picking on me, so I thought they would leave me alone if I dressed a bit tougher. It didn’t work anyway, so I’ll give it back now.”

They were just about to yank their arms out of the sleeves when Mammon shook his head.

“Keep it, if it makes you feel better.” he definitely wasn’t blushing, nope, not even a little bit. “I’ve got others, so just accept the Great Mammon’s generosity.”

Leviathan: “Please tell me you didn’t pay a stupid amount of cash for those.”

The human frowned up at Levi, putting a hand over their new headphones almost protectively. “I paid a perfectly reasonable amount!”

“I wouldn’t pay anything for those,” he frowned. “The manufacturers would have to pay me, actually.”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” they huffed. “I just bought them so people would stop talking about me when they think I’m listening.”

Levi tilted his head. “Huh?”

The human sighed, playing idly with the cord of the headphones. “Some demons in my Curses class like to freak me out by saying how yummy I look when they catch my eye. I kind of hoped that they would stop if they weren’t getting a rise out of me.”

A white-hot surge of protectiveness crashed over him as the human curled in on themself. He might have been a giant otaku, but he would be damned if he let anything happen to his best friend. Well, more damned than he already was, anyway.

“You should have just said something,” he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have an old pair you can have. They still work fine, but they released a limited-edition Ruri-chan version and obviously I have to rep my waifu so I’ve been using those - “

Satan: “Can I ask you something?”

The two of them were on their way to the RAD’s library. Satan honestly didn’t need to study, but the human definitely did, and using an academic excuse meant that Lucifer was more likely to leave the two of them alone.

“Of course,” Satan held the door open for them. Without even bothering to look, he began walking over to the table that had basically become their territory. Even if there were other demons there, they would probably scamper off.

“How do you get people to be afraid of you?”

Satan paused, raising an eyebrow in an expression that definitely did not make him look strikingly like Lucifer. “Me specifically?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, being the Avatar of Wrath gives me a leg up.”

The human scowled. “Damn it.”

“Why would you want people to be afraid of you?” Satan asked as they sat down. Up until this point, the human’s modus operandi was being so sweet that nobody ever wanted to hurt them, so the threatening angle was a complete 180.

“Some demons in class were making comments about me being dessert.” they mumbled, taking out their textbooks before slinging their bag over the back of the chair. “I honestly couldn’t tell if they were talking about my personality or my flesh, so…”

“Okay, first of all,” Satan leaned forward on his elbows. “We kill them.”

“Satan, no.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, darling, what have you done to yourself?”

They really needed to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign or something. Not that it would stop anything, but still.

Asmo at least had the decency to shut the door behind him, but that was as far as it went. He was openly staring at them, doing his best impression of the Scream painting.

“The makeup tutorial made this look so much easier.” they sighed, leaning back in their chair.

“They always do,” Asmo came over behind them, placing his hands on their shoulders as he leaned down to look at their laptop screen. “Never trust the ones on Sinterest.”

Their final product looked nothing like the model on the screen. The wings of their eyeliner were crooked, and one eye was longer than the other. The contouring made them look like a clown, and somehow they had gotten black eyeshadow on their nose.

“That’s quite the change of pace for you, darling.” Asmo commented, “It’s a look, but why the sudden switch?”

The human remained silent, their bottom lip quivering in a way that made Asmo want to gathering them up in a blanket. Eventually, they sighed again.

“All the succubi look so cool, and I always look...” they paused. “Human.”

“Darling, I don’t know how to break this to you - “

“I know, I know.” they grumbled. “I just wanted to look badass for once!”

The puppy-dog pout they had going on wasn’t doing anything for that particular look, but Asmo decided to keep that comment to himself. Instead, he spun them around, hands still on their shoulders. “Now, now, don’t make that face. Let’s see if we can’t fix this up a little, hm?”

Beelzebub: “What are you doing?”

He hadn’t meant to scare them, but they jumped like he had jumped from the ceiling. The yelp they let out made him feel guilty. Maybe Mammon was right when he said that Beel was disturbingly sneaky for someone his size.

Usually the gym was empty when he came for his morning workout, so seeing the human seated on the workout bench was a definite surprise. Not a bad one though.

“Beel!” the set the weight down. “Um…g-good morning…?”

“Morning,” he replied, making his way over to where they were situated. “You’re not usually one to workout, much less this early in the morning.”

“I, uh…” they stammered. “I wanted to get a little stronger, is all.”

“Not that I’m going to stop you,” he set his gym bag down next to the weight rack. “But why?”

They grumbled under their breath, but eventually sighed. “Some demons at RAD told me I looked chewy.”

“I mean, you kind of do.”

“Hey!”

“All humans look chewy, though.” he shrugged. “It’s not a bad thing. But you want to build up some muscle, right?”

They pouted, and Beel really wanted to reach out and pat them on the head. Instead, he sat next to them on the bench and handed them the weight they had been using.

“Okay, so you want to hold it like this…”

Belphegor: “You had a funny dream last night.”

They had learned from experience that telling Belphie to stop invading their privacy by watching their dreams did exactly fuck all, so they just huffed in annoyance as he flopped against their shoulder. “It wasn’t funny.”

“Amusing, then.”

“For you, maybe.”

They felt him smirk against their shoulder. “You really think a leather jacket and sunglasses will make demons think you’re tough?”

“More than skipping around with flowers in my hair would.”

“I think you would look cute with flowers in your hair. Let’s take some black roses from Diavolo’s garden.”

“Aren’t those poisonous?”

Belphie shifted, nuzzling into their neck as the professor walked in. “It’ll help with the tough image.”

“For about 4 hours until I start foaming at the mouth.” they folded their arms, jostling Belphie from their shoulder.

The demon laughed, pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned forward onto the desk. “I like how you are now. If someone starts giving you trouble, I’ll kill them for you.”

“No cannibalism, please.”

“That’s more Beel’s territory.”

[luvidzy]

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: han jisung x reader

☆ summary: you are han jisung’s stylist. you decide to tell him some stories.

☆ word count: 1.7k

☆ listen to: sweet talk by saint motel

You smiled as you tied your hair up and pulled on your apron. You loved your job, despite the demanding schedule and the sometimes impossible standards. Make-up was your passion and you loved the boys who you worked with. It also helped that you were being paid a good amount of money doing what you loved after leaving school to become a make-up artist.

You had been styling for Stray Kids since their debut, and after two years you had gotten quite close with all of them. Your job required you to be there for all promotions, music video shoots, and tours so after a while you formed bonds with the boys since you saw each other so much. 

Specifically you formed a special bond with Han Jisung, the boy that you styled the most frequently. You couldn’t quite place when you fell for him, but something about his chill sense of being, his humor, and his overall cuteness made you fall for him. Of course your dreams would never come to fruition, due to the 3 year JYP dating ban. But you were more than okay with hiding your feelings and enjoying your friendship with Jisung as just that; a friendship and nothing more.

Today was the first day of shooting photos for GO LIVE, and you and the others were up early, coffee in hands, ready to make sure that the boys were looking their best for their photos. You were busy organizing your station when the door opened and 8 boys walked in, greeting the team. You smiled as Jisung spotted you and rushed over.

“Y/N! Morning!” You smiled at the smiley and cheerful boy, gesturing for him to sit down in the seat.

“Morning Ji! Excited for your photos today?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee before grabbing the clips that would hold Han’s hair back while you did your work. Jisung nodded.

“Yep! And I know you’re gonna make me look super handsome!” He said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You could help but laugh, cheeks flushing slightly, as you went to grab the primer to begin putting on his face.

“Well thank you for the compliments, Sungie. I will do the best I can,” you said, rubbing the primer into his skin as softly as you could. Jisung’s natural skin was already smooth and soft, so you luckily didn’t need to put too much foundation on, just enough that the flash from the cameras wouldn’t wash him out. You smiled to yourself as you rubbed the primer into his cheeks, them moving with your motions.

“Hey, Y/N! You should tell Han that story you told us the other day!” Your friend, Aly, yelled from the other side of the room where she was currently working on Hyunjin’s makeup and hair. Jisung looked up at you, a questioning glance in his eyes as you laughed at the thought.

“Oh! You wanna hear a story, Ji?” You asked. Jisung nodded happily as you went to grab the foundations you needed to make his foundation color. 

“Okay. I was telling the girls the other day about how one time I was at a birthday party for one of my friends and they wanted to play hide and seek,” you began, dabbing a light coat of foundation onto the idol's face. 

“Anyway, they somehow managed to convince everyone that we should play it in the dark. So my friend went through the house, turned off all the lights and began counting.” Jisung hummed as you began dusting a light coat of setting powder onto his face to keep the foundation in place and matte. 

“So, naturally, I begin walking around trying to find a good place to hide. But I didn’t realize that there were stairs near where we were standing. So as I’m walking, I accidentally reach the stairs and before I know it I’m fully tumbling down the stairs,” you said, beginning the light bit of eyeshadow that Han usually wore.

“My friends hear me, obviously, and are like ‘what happened?’. So they turn on their flashlights and go looking for the noise. They see me laying at the bottom of the stairs, just staring at the ceiling in a sort of existential crisis way. And my one friend, who was the seeker, as the audacity to look at me and say,” You moved away from Han’s eyes as you looked him dead in the eyes and imitating your friend said, “‘Found you.’ I was pissed!” You exclaimed as Jisung began to laugh at your story. You smiled as the idol laughed at your stupid story, the sound of it making your heart race ever so slightly. 

“They didn’t even check to see if I had a concussion! So moral of the story is I may have had a concussion and not even known,” you said as Han began to settle down again.

“Damn, that sounds like something Felix and Hyunjin would do to me,” he said, calming his breathing. You heard Felix and Hyunjin let out some grunts or groans of disapproval, which made you chuckle as you began to pull out the eyeliner and brush to continue on his eyes.

“That’s not even the worst thing my friends have done or let me do! Okay, this story is a dosey so let me prepare you for the chaos,” you said, letting Jisung pretend to take a deep breath before he nodded. You chuckled softly before moving in to continue your job.

“So, I never went to college but a lot of my friends did. So they used to invite me to go to parties with them. So my one friend invited me to go to a party with her out of nowhere. And I agreed cause I had nothing better to do. We get there and I may or may not have had a bit too much to drink,” you said, causing Jisung to snort. You grinned as you continued.

“Anyway I was drunk, and my friend comes out of one of the rooms with a bottle of something and brings it to me. She hands it to me and asks ‘Is this whiskey or perfume?’ Now I was drunk and my brain wasn’t working so I was like, the only way to figure this out is to drink it! So I take the bottle from her and I take the top off and proceed to take a hefty swing, swallow, before saying ‘it is definitely perfume.’ I had to get my stomach pumped and I didn’t go to another party for about 3 months,” you finished. Jisung was full on cackling by now, bent over and holding his stomach as he laughed. You smiled at how his laugh sounded, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You were glad that Han found your stories amusing, even if they were slightly embarrassing to tell. You’d embarrass yourself for hours if it meant getting to hear Han’s laugh.

It wasn’t until Han finally raised his head up that you realized the error of your ways. You gasped, covering your hand with your mouth as you observed Han’s face. The laughter had caused tears to form and now there were tears running down Jisung’s face that were black with a mix of his foundation color. Jisung stopped laughing once he saw your expression and then looked to the mirror quickly. He groaned when he noticed the colored streaks on his face. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But technically this is your fault. You made me laugh too hard!” He said, causing you to hit his arm lightly. You sighed as you grabbed the makeup wipes, hoping to salvage your work.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you almost done?” Grace asked from where she stood beside Seungmin. You looked up to see the other stylists and their members were done. You waved her off.

“Almost. Go ahead, Jisung and I will be there soon!” You said, watching them nod and walk out the door. You were left alone with Jisung as you fixed his foundation and added more eyeliner to his eyes.

“Sorry about this, I didn’t know I was going to make you laugh so hard,” you said, dabbing his eye lightly. Jisung shook his head lightly, trying not to make any sudden movements.

“You’re fine. It really is my fault. Besides, I like your stories,” He grabbed your wrist to stop you and looked up at you with his big chocolate eyes, a smile playing on his face.

“Maybe you’d like to tell me more of them over a cup of coffee and a slice of cheesecake?” He asked. It took a moment for your brain to register that he was flirting with you and that he was asking you on a date. Your face turned bright red at the revelation and your heart began racing.

“But… you’re not supposed to date!” You exclaimed, trying to reason yourself out of the situation. Jisung shrugged.

“You’re right. But who said we needed to call it a date? I prefer to see it as two people who like each other getting to know one another better. Besides, my dating ban is only 3 years,” Jisung said, his voice dripping honey as he tried to convince you to go with him. You stared at him, his eyes peering into yours as you tried to figure out what to do. Finally you sighed, moving to finish his eyeliner.

“Fine. I suppose we can do that. But get ready, I’m gonna make you laugh so hard you bust a rib,” you said, a small smile on your face. Jisung cheered as you put your brushes down and took the clips out. Styling his hair ever so slightly, you stepped back.

“Okay dummy, you are ready. Now go before you’re even more late.” Jisung stood up and began to walk away before stopping. He turned around and planted a soft kiss on your cheek, before rushing out the door.

“See you later, Y/N!” He called. You stared at the door, a hand pressed to your cheek and a dazed expression on your face.

That boy would be the death of you. But you didn’t mind.

[gamerwoo]

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits (Part One)

(photo edit courtesy of @songmingki​)

Characters: Mingi x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fwb au, friends to lovers au, fluff, a lil bit of angst but it’s so tiny it’s fine

Word count: 1,774

Summary: Growing up, you and Mingi were inseparable. You’d been friends your entire life and, as far as you knew, things were never any different. But what you don’t know is that Mingi imprinted on you when he was 15 and first turned into a werewolf, and he had been trying to keep it a secret ever since. And with the awful timing of mating season, he’s hoping he can somehow keep the facade up.

a/n: so reader is written to be taller and to be not straight soooooo yeah just a heads up lmao

Tags: @sakura-uji​ @xummie​ 

Next | Friends with Benefits Masterlist

By far, Mingi was the first in his pack to imprint. Hell, he imprinted before he even found his pack. And he couldn’t tell if it was insanely good luck or absolutely shitty luck that his mate was right by his side the whole time.

You had known Mingi since you could remember. He lived across the street from you when you were both growing up, and you would often go outside to play with him. Your parents and his parents basically raised you together as friends, and you were inseparable ever since. You couldn’t even remember a time you didn’t know Mingi.

It was no surprise you grew up to be more of a ‘one of the boys’ type person. You tagged along with Mingi all throughout elementary school and most of middle school. His friends were your friends, and vice versa. Really, the only time you weren’t with him was when you both decided to go out for the soccer team, and you found out that there were separate teams for boys and girls -- you stuck with the sport while Mingi quit after one season because he was only put on the team because they needed the numbers.

It was middle school that your parents were betting you and Mingi would become sweethearts because it was around that time that kids started realizing that the other gender wasn’t so awful. People your age were bragging about holding hands and having their first kisses, and you were too busy kicking Mingi’s ass at soccer to really pay much attention to any of that. But Mingi was starting to get pressured by some of the guys he was friends with at the time because he was the only one of them who hadn’t kissed a girl yet.

“What?” you snorted when he told you. “That’s a dumb thing to be worried about.”

“Aren’t you?” he wondered, sitting in the grass beside you at the edge of the soccer field.

“No,” you shrugged. “Well...I mean, some of the girls have been being kinda mean lately and saying it’ll never happen.”

“Why?”

“I’m not girly.”

Mingi nodded. He already knew there were some girls who picked on you for being more masculine sometimes -- you didn’t get into makeup when everyone did, you didn’t dress in the same clothing that was considered ‘trendy’ or whatever, and you had more male friends than female friends. It was something he thought was stupid to get teased for, but both of you knew you couldn’t do much about it. You’d come to terms with the fact that means girls were just mean girls for no reason. Besides, what did you care what they thought?

Mingi stared at his knees as he thought. He was a little unsure of the idea that popped into his head, but he knew he could say anything to you and you wouldn’t think any differently of him.

“Well...” he began slowly, unable to look at you because of the blush that was suddenly rushing to his cheeks, “we could always...kiss each other...?”

You whipped your head around to look at him, “What?”

“What?” he asked defensively, squinting against the sun to finally look at you. “It was just a suggestion!”

You shoved at his leg before pushing yourself to get up from the grass, “You’re my best friend, though. That would be weird.”

“Yeah, but people would leave us alone.”

“But you also told Jaehyun before that you’d rather lick the bathroom floor than kiss me.”

“Yeah, but people would leave us alone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Look, if your friends are bothering you that much, why don’t you ask Kim Naeun to kiss you? She has a crush on you.”

That definitely got him to brighten up, “She does?!”

But of course, it didn’t last. And neither did the teasing. By the time you were in high school, you had changed a little, those around you had grown up a lot, and feelings had changed -- specifically when Mingi turned 15.

You were still into soccer and you were still a tomboy, but you had also decided you liked wearing eyeliner. You typically dressed in ripped jeans and beanies, but you now wore those clothes to fit your body better rather than choosing the baggiest clothing you could find. And at first, Mingi thought maybe that was the reason he was slowly starting to see you in a different light. And maybe that was it at first. But while things were a little different for you, they were really different for him.

It was some random day freshman year that Mingi shifted. The problem was that his pack was nowhere near close to finding him, and Mingi was also somewhat of an ‘early bloomer’ since most werewolves didn’t first shift until they were 16. So Mingi was left to his own devices to figure out how to calm himself down enough to shift back, and then get some answers.

He was missing for four days. Search parties were out looking for him, you were spamming his phone and every form of social media he had, and his parents across the street had never been so distressed. It was the first time ever that you didn’t have Mingi by your side, and truthfully, you were lost.

But then you got a call that he was back, and you told his parents you’d be right there. You ditched school and ran all the way to his house, knocking on the door and practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited for someone to open the door.

And there was Mingi.

As soon as his eyes landed on you, he felt the imprinting pull hit him like a truck. He’d never felt anything more than platonically for you -- well, other than the fact he might’ve been physically attracted to you before everything happened -- so the fact he suddenly felt this overwhelming romantic love for you was almost scary to him. It was like the world stopped and he gained tunnel vision where he only saw you. He wasn’t sure what it was, either, but he assumed it had something to do with whatever the hell was happening to him.

What he didn’t know was that you felt it, too. You just felt it at a smaller scale than he did. And maybe that was why tears welled in your eyes when you looked at him, because you were hit with how much you loved and cared for him, and you threw your arms around him and yelled at him to never scare you like that again.

And as he hesitantly and shakily put his arms around you, he mumbled, “I promise.”

Of course, Mingi did manage to find out he was a werewolf thanks to the internet. The websites he found seemed to be run by crazy people, only for him to realize that everything they said was true for him, at least. So when he read what imprinting was and what it meant, he realized that meant you were his soulmate; you were the person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, there was just one teeny tiny issue...

You had a girlfriend now.

The summer between eighth grade and freshman year, you were a little confused about your sexuality and decided to explore some things. Ultimately, at the beginning of freshman year, you began dating a girl named Song Daehee who even Mingi got along really well with. So he couldn’t even be mad at your girlfriend for the situation because he liked her. The only thing he could be mad at was fate. But he knew you were meant to be with him, so he knew if he waited, you would come to him. So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By the time you and Daehee broke up, you were already in college and he had found his pack -- who he introduced to you as his new friends from college, and you thought they were hilarious. And during that time that he was waiting, he had’t even told you what he really was. He never explained what happened when he ran away when he was fifteen, and he told his pack they couldn’t tell you anything, either.

“But she’s your best friend,” San had stated when Mingi first told them -- despite not being the youngest, he was the last to be added to the pack. “Why wouldn’t you want to tell her?”

“Do you tell all of your friends?” he quipped.

“But she’s your mate,” Seonghwa pointed out.

Honestly, at this point, it seemed too late to tell you. It had been so long since he ran away before that he wasn’t sure when or how to tell you now. He’d known for so long, so wouldn’t you be mad that he never told you? Not only that, but would you think any less of him? He was never afraid to say anything to you, but now he was so unsure of everything. He was some mythical monster now.

That fear hung onto him all the way up until now. The two of you were still friends, he was still tall, and while you didn’t play soccer for school anymore, it was something the two of you still often did in his backyard despite the fact he never got any better than he did in sixth grade. You were taller, you still never wore skirts or dresses, and you had perfected your eyeliner technique but didn’t really wear any more makeup than you used to.

And still, from that day he came home when he was 15, Mingi seemed to fall more and more in love with you. He loved how you always wore backwards baseball caps, and how you still made strange decisions without completely thinking them through -- like when you shaved half your head before high school graduation, or when you got your tongue pierced just to take the piercing out a week later because it gave you a lisp. He loved how you had slowly found yourself and he had gotten to see all of it ever since you two were kids. He loved how you were unapologetically yourself, and he loved that he had you as his best friend even if sometimes that hurt him.

What he didn’t really love, though, was that after all these years of loving you, you were still oblivious to everything.

So some things had changed, but most things hadn’t.

[hyunsracha]

now or never — bang chan

word count: 4.5k

summary: liquid courage lets you jump at your last chance to tell him how you feel.

one.

Han Jisung might just be your least favorite person on the planet. You think this when he leans over your shoulder, your thumbs paused above your phone’s keyboard. Your phone was open to Instagram as you struggled to think of a caption for this particular post. It wasn’t anything special, just a picture of you and Chan at the annual fair over the weekend. The two of you had gone together every year since you were little kids. It was one of your favorite traditions.

“I have an idea.” Jisung took the phone from your hands, his fingers quickly getting to work as you yelled protests at him, “Relax! It’s nothing bad.”

Oh, but it was.

“We look like a couple here?! Jisung, are you serious?” You cried out, yanking the phone back from him and editing the post before anyone (hopefully) saw. The boy next to you cackled. 

“It’s not like anyone would be surprised. Everyone already thinks you’re together.” He nonchalantly shoved fries into his mouth as he spoke. Jisung ate like a pig, but you didn’t complain about it anymore. Last time you did that, he got all up in your ear and started chewing with his mouth open. Disgusting.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Yeah, shut up, Han.” You don’t even flinch when Chan and Changbin take their seats across from you. You could practically sense when one of the three boys was going to appear. Changbin said it was because your friendship was so strong, but in reality, they all wore such strong cologne, you’d be an idiot not to sense them. 

“I literally did nothing and you’re attacking me.” Jisung whined, kicking Chan’s shin under the table. Chan gasped, kicking him back with more force. They would do this for hours if you didn’t stop them.

“Guys-” You started, but you stopped yourself. Jisung deserved to be kicked. 

The four of you were hardly quiet when you were together, so you ate your lunches and talked about your day. Jisung got the chance to tell Chan and Changbin about him spilling folic acid all over his crush in chemistry, which he told you about on the way to your shared history class.

“It was mortifying! He’s never going to want to talk to me again!” He cried, hiding his face behind his hands, “I was even planning on asking him to prom! Now what am I gonna do?” 

Suddenly, everyone’s attention was on Jisung. 

“Prom?” Changbin yelled, his eyes wide.

“Yes?”

“We were supposed to go to that together, you dick!”

“It’s my senior year! I wanted to shoot my shot!”

“Yeah! Senior year! That’s why we were going together!” Changbin shook his head, false disappointment evident on his face.

“Well, since we’re asking people to prom now,” Chan started, folding his hands on the table. He bit his lip, darting his eyes around the room, “Y/N...do you maybe...wanna go to prom with me?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your fingers twisted themselves around each other as you pulled your lip between your teeth, willing yourself not to smile like a lovestruck idiot. This was your best friend, asking you to prom as his best friend. You pulled yourself together, heaving a sigh before you replied,

“Yeah, totally. It’s a date.”

“IT’S A DATE? Have I lost my fucking mind?” You fell back onto your bed, staring at your ceiling in disbelief. Jisung cackled from his seat at your desk, obviously very pleased by your choice of words at lunch. He invited himself over to your house, wanting to discuss prom plans with you, but you two were getting nowhere. As soon as you got home, you ran to your room to wallow in your own peril. You remembered how Chan had smiled at you when you accepted his proposal, his eyes managing to sparkle even under the shitty fluorescent lights the cafeteria provided.

“I’ve only been waiting four years for one of you to slip up. I’m glad it was you so we can talk about it. That asshole Chan still hasn’t confessed his undying love for you to me. But I bet he told Changbin. Fucking traitor.” He started to ramble, his eyes drifting across the paintings on the wall, “Hey,” he pointed to one in the corner, “this one is new.”

You nodded, gazing at the painting yourself. You had only hung it up a few days prior. You smiled, remembering the night you painted it. Chris was at your house, taking up all the space on your desk with his laptop, portable keyboard, and hard drive. He was working on a 3RACHA song, like he usually was. You always found those days with Chan so relaxing. The two of you didn’t need words to communicate with each other, you had your art. He would make music and you would paint, and your art would always end up reflecting the other’s. The song he was working on that night, Alchemistry, showed itself in your painting, swirling clouds of grey in a fading sky of purple and black. 

“Since we’re not going as a group anymore, I need to find a way to ask Hyunjin to prom.” Jisung sulked, opening up one of his one thousand notebooks. Jisung was a notebook kinda guy. He wrote every little thought down, just in case something could be used in a future song of his. And if he wanted to find something specific? Get ready for notebooks being tossed at your head as he sifts through every single one because he doesn’t label or organize anything. 

“Write him a song.” You suggested, gaze still trapped in that painting. Now that you were thinking about it, most of the paintings on that wall had something to do with Chan. It was like he had seeped into every corner of your life, including the darkest and most personal ones. 

“That’s your answer for everything I do.”

“Because your songs are good?” Not that you were lying. Your three best friends made up the rap trio 3RACHA. Were you a little bit jealous that they didn’t even ask if you wanted to be part of it? Yes, but you designed their album covers, so you forgive them.

Jisung was silent for a second, pondering your idea. Then he nodded, flipping to an empty page in the neon green notebook. He started scribbling, and you can’t really tell if it’s lyrics or drawings. But you looked away, letting Jisung do his thing. Pulling yourself up from the bed, you made your way to your closet, flinging the doors open with a huff. You scanned the rows of clothing before deciding that you definitely needed to go prom shopping. 

“I need something new, something that screams-”

“Please date me?”

You scoffed, “Han Jisung, you’re going to be the death of me.”

two.

Your room was an absolute disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, makeup and hair products settling on every surface. You hardly noticed the mess, you were so...excited? Anxious? You didn’t really know.

It was the big day.

Changbin was laying on your bed, no doubt texting Chan about how dramatic you and Jisung were being. Jisung was three inches away from your mirror, sucking in a breath as he applied a line of dark brown eyeliner. You were on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair as you decided what to do with it.

“Just leave it how it is, Y/N, who cares that much?”

“I care that much, Changbin!” You huffed, deciding to leave it how it was anyway. 

The only reason Chan wasn’t with you guys is because he was now your date. Jisung had banished him and Hyunjin from the room as soon as you started getting ready, claiming that he wanted your looks to be a surprise.

“I’m giving you guys ten minutes before we leave, alright? I’m getting a fucking drink.”

“Your favorite juice is on the bottom shelf.” You called out as Changbin was leaving the room.

“I know where the juice is!” He shut the door firmly, leaving you and Jisung alone.

“Y/N,” he sighed heavily, having just finished his wing, “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

“That’s a rented tux-”

“I didn’t mean it literally! I’m just...really nervous.”

You nodded, moving from your spot to go comfort the boy, “If it’s any consolation, you look super hot. And I’ll make out with you if Hyunjin doesn’t.”

He laughed, and you could feel the nervous energy around him dissipate a little bit.

Once the two of you were ready, Jisung opened your bedroom door, calling out to the boys below. He linked arms with you before walking out the door and down the stairs slowly.

Chan turned around when he heard movement on the stairs, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. His face turned bright pink as he adjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, extending a hand for you to take, “You look...um...really...n-nice, bunny.”

You breathed out a nervous laugh, feeling your stomach churn at Chan’s nickname for you since you were children, “Thank you. You look...nice, too.”

Jisung unhooked your arms and wandered over to Hyunjin, and you could hear them mumbling soft compliments to each other, both of their faces tinged pink.

The car ride to the school seemed to be the most normal feeling part of the night. You all talked to each other, awkwardness temporarily thrown out the window. You laughed at Jisung’s impressions, trying to avoid the weight of Chan’s hand in yours. It felt nice; right, even. His grip was tight, but in a comforting way. Every once in a while, his thumb would gently graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

Once you got inside the gym, it all changed again. Now, Chan wasn’t just your best friend. He was your date, and you got all dressed up for each other, and everybody was looking at you two. He sent a charming smile your way, half bowing and extending yet another hand for you, “May I have this dance?”

And it was okay again, for a little while. The two of you danced, all worries about keeping face and feelings out of your mind. Your friends joined you for some of the songs, and you finally got to see Hyunjin dance. For months, Jisung would rave about how amazing he was. And you agreed; he certainly deserved his spot as co-president of the dance team. 

An hour or so into the dance, a slightly sweaty Chan pulled you away from the dance floor and over to the refreshments. Confused, you asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just want some punch.”

“And you had to take me away with you. Felix was just about to throw it back!” You whined, feigning disappointment. In reality, you were kinda glad to be out of the dance circle. High school kids really didn’t understand the concept of personal space when it came to these things. And besides, you wouldn’t mind some alone time with Chan.

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested to him, “we’re both sweaty. We could use some air.”

He nodded, taking your hand again. Pushing open the gymnasium doors, the two of you were met with a cool spring breeze. You sighed, letting your eyes shut for just a moment. In that one moment, Chan’s eyes were trained on you, fondness practically seeping from his pores. He took you to his favorite spot on campus, the music hallway. It was his favorite place to study, and the acoustics were dope, just in case he felt like bursting into song. Jisung did that sometimes.

The two of you sat on the cold cement floor, giggling at each other like little kids. You weren’t worried about what your friends inside the gym would think. You were just thinking about Chan. Chan and his dimpled smile and his sparkly eyes and his calloused but still gentle hands and how he was getting closer and why he was getting closer and - oh, his lips tasted like peach. You always liked peaches. So you kissed him back, because he tasted like peach. Not because you’ve been head over heels for him since the 7th grade. Absolutely not. Although, to be fair, 7th grade you would be absolutely geeked at how good of a kisser Chan was. How those calloused hands still managed to hold your face like it was made of porcelain while he sucked on your bottom lip like he would die without it.

He pulled away first, the popping sound of your lips disconnecting making you blush.

“That was - I - I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?”

“I just kissed you!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh,” He gaped, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s just that, yanno, I dunno. The prom...energy...got to me...haha.”

You stared at him, running your tongue over your bottom lip, trying to push the feeling of his lips out of your mind. You forced a smile, “Totally! And we...don’t have to mention this to anybody if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah...that would be best...let’s go back to the gym.” He stood and pulled you up with him. How he can stand to still hold your hand after crushing your heart like that, you couldn’t understand. But you let him.

You would always let him.

three.

It only takes two weeks for you to tell someone about the kiss. Granted, you’re drunk. And it’s Jisung. And he’s offended it took so long.

“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“I’m not just anyone, Y/N! Let’s not forget, I told you about my first kiss with Hyunjin when it happened!” He was practically yelling.

“You guys are dating! Chan and I are not dating!” You cried out, your grip on the plastic cup in your hand tightening. You weren’t really sure what was in the cup. Changbin had brought you one of his concoctions, promising to get you fucked up. And you just graduated high school, you deserved it! Thank whatever higher power that Choi Lia’s parents were on route to Canada right now. 

“You guys still aren’t together? That’s so embarrassing.” Jisung hiccuped. He had the lowest alcohol tolerance you had ever seen, and you knew Lee Felix. You smacked his arm, apparently harder than you thought, because he yelped in pain. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. You pouted, staring at the neon green liquid in your cup. Sighing, you downed the rest of it, your face contorting at the awful taste. You figured you needed to be wasted to deal with Jisung’s bitching for the rest of the night. You loved the boy to pieces, but he sure had a mouth on him. 

Seemingly out of thin air, Hyunjin appeared next to Jisung, immediately slinking an arm around the shorter’s waist. Jisung giggled, “Hey, handsome.”

“Don’t do this in front of me.” 

They couldn’t hear you, “I’ve been looking for you all night, babylove. Should’ve guessed I’d find you with Y/N.”

“Was the glittery silver blazer not enough for you to spot him? He looks like New Year’s Eve in May.”

Still ignoring you, Jisung poked Hyunjin’s chest teasingly, “Sounds like you missed me.” He bit down on his lip, and that was the last straw for you. You huffed, making your way to where Changbin was in the kitchen.

“Hey, Y/N! How was the drink?”

“Absolutely horrible. Make me another one.” 

Changbin took the cup from your hands, pouring random amounts of various liquids into it. He handed it to you with a sly smirk, warning you to drink slowly. Not that you ever listened to Changbin. You pulled yourself onto the kitchen counter, sipping on the horrible substance while making conversation. You ignored the dark cloud seeping into your mind while he spoke about college. Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had all made it into the same university, as they had submitted 3RACHA songs with their applications. You weren’t a musician, so you were going to a different university that focused more on your kind of art. It was only two hours away, but that was two hours farther than you had been from them in years. 

“Hey,” You interrupted his tangent, your voice barely above a whisper, “You guys aren’t gonna...forget about me, right?”

His smile dropped, “Of course not. We’re still gonna be best friends, aren’t we? And we’re gonna see each other every weekend, and when we come home for holidays, we’ll be together all the time.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. It was awkward positioning, but Changbin’s hugs always made you feel secure. You swallowed your tears, mumbling a shaky, “thank you,” into his ear. 

When he let you go, you quickly finished the rest of the drink and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. Your last drink was starting to hit you, big time. A sudden determination filled your veins, “Hey, Binnie?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you seen Chan lately?”

“He’s probably with Seungmin somewhere.”

You nodded, jumping off the counter and starting your pursuit. It shouldn’t be that hard. How many guys did you know with fried blond hair?

After a few minutes of searching, you found him sitting on the couch with Seungmin like Changbin had said. Seungmin made a joke, and Chan threw his head back as he laughed. God, he was so...stunning. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him. You felt your determination wither for a second, but you pushed through. This is your last chance, Y/N, you thought to yourself. It’s now or never.

“Can I talk to you?”

A look of alarm crossed Chan’s features as he nodded. He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Yeah, totally. What’s up?”

“I mean,” You glanced at the boy sitting next to him, “alone.”

A soft oh left Chan’s lips as he stood. He nodded to Seungmin before gripping your hand like he’s done so many times before. You could just barely hear Seungmin’s laughing as Chan pulled you away. Wait, you were the one who asked him to talk, why was he dragging you around?

To be honest, Chan didn’t know either. For him, taking your hand and leading you to secret places just seemed...natural to him. He led you up the stairs and into the first room he found. Lia’s room. Lia wouldn’t mind; she was a good friend. He closed the door behind you two, locking it just to be sure. 

“What’s up, bunny?” 

Your heart began to pound in your chest as you sat down on the bed. You sucked in a breath, making eye contact with Chan as you folded your hands, “I’m in love with you.”

He just stared at you, not even blinking. You watched his chest rise and fall with his breaths. An excruciating minute passed, which felt like hours to you, before he made his way across the room and next to you on the bed.

“Y/N…” He had hardly finished saying your name before your heart shattered, “we’re going to different schools next year. You’ll be focusing on your painting and I’ll be producing probably non-stop. I...wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to you.” 

You tried to hold in the tears, you really did, but you were drunk and the boy you’ve been in love with for like 5 years just rejected you and you’re cold. So you couldn’t really help the choked sob that comes from your throat, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing yourself at him for comfort. He started to stutter, “N-No that’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but don’t cry!” He clasped your shoulders and pulled you to him, allowing your tears to flow freely on his nice black shirt, “Y/N, you know I have feelings for you. I just...won’t be able to be there for you like you need me to. I want to be with you, I really do. It would just end in heartbreak. I would rather still be your best friend and only that than have you hate me as a boyfriend, okay?” 

“I’ll wait for you.” You barely managed to get those words out through your cries.

“No, you won’t. Please don’t. Please move on, bunny.” You removed yourself from his hold, scrunching your nose up to sniffle the tears away.

“Can we just...go to bed?” 

The smile that he gave you in that moment broke your heart again; so sad and sincere.

“Of course.” He laid you down, holding you close enough to hear his heartbeat. He was so warm. 

God, how you wished you could stay like that forever.

four.

Chan couldn’t tell if he was more excited or nervous to see you. Your group hadn’t seen each other as much as you had hoped. At the beginning of the semester, you met up every weekend, excitedly chatting about your new classes and the new people in your lives. But as life continued, it got in the way. You hadn’t seen each other face to face since October, opting for texts and FaceTime sessions instead. And he missed you terribly. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

He found himself thinking of you often. Even during songwriting sessions with Jisung and Changbin. They laughed at him when his lyrics became sappy, threatening to pull their phones out and text you Chan’s adoration. He regretted what he told you back in May; that he wouldn’t be good to you. 

He sat in the living room of his childhood home, fidgeting in his seat. Changbin was scrolling through channels on the TV, a bored expression on his features. Jisung and Hyunjin were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for the third time that night.

He couldn’t focus. You were going to knock on that door any moment, your parents in tow, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Cry? Run into your arms? Fuck, try and kiss you? He stood abruptly, scaring the boy next to him. 

“I-I’ll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying to lock himself in his bedroom to breathe.

Changbin opened the front door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of one of his best friends, “Y/N!” 

“Is Y/N here?” Jisung yelled from the kitchen, the pitter patter of his feet telling you that he was running your way. Two pairs of arms wrapped around you. They walked you through the door, with Changbin yelling something to your parents about where the other parents were. You felt your mother’s hand on your back, a way for her to tell you that they were going. When the boys finally released you, they noticed one other figure in the room.

“Oh…” Jisung gasped. Changbin just stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Um-” You coughed, trying to relive some of the tension, “where’s Chan?”

“In his room.”

You nodded before heading that way, lightly tapping on the door three times, “Channie? It’s Y/N.”

The door swung open, a breath-taking smile on the boy’s face. He wrapped you up in his embrace, swinging you around as he yelled your name.

“How have you been? How are you? Wow, you look so pretty!” His hands cupped your face, lightly dragging his thumbs over your cheekbones. You placed your hands over his, a dull heartbeat in your chest as you watched him speak. 

Chan’s heart was pounding in his chest. He thought you could hear it, and that’s why you were looking at him so...analytically. They’re right here, he thought. You lost your chance last time, but maybe it’s not too late. Now or never, Chan.

“Listen, Y/N…” He sighed, “about what I said after graduation, at that party-”

“No, don’t-”

“Please just let me say this.”

You nodded, allowing him to continue, “I was wrong, okay? I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should’ve just...given us a shot. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. You can ask the guys, all my lyrics have been about you, and they’re ridiculously cheesy. I know I told you to move on but...maybe I still have a place in your heart? And...maybe we can...try this?”

You couldn’t breathe. You shook your head, pulling away from him, “Chan, I-” 

Seven months ago, you would’ve jumped for joy at his confession. Taken him into your arms and kissed him until you were dizzy. But now…

“Baby! How long were you gonna wait until you introduced me?”

Chan froze. Baby? Who the hell was calling you baby?

You took a few steps back, glancing over at the boy next to you, “Channie...this is my boyfriend, Minho.”

Boyfriend. You had a...boyfriend. You went and did exactly what he told you to do, but his heart still shattered. But he plastered a smile on his face anyway, shaking Minho’s hand, “I’m Bang Chan. One of Y/N’s best friends. Welcome to her second home.”

And the night continued like that. Your best friends focused their attention entirely on you and Minho. They asked him an endless amount of questions, from where he grew up to his favorite kind of bean. Sometimes, you would notice Jisung or Changbin giving Chan a sympathetic glance, but you ignored it. Minho was a good boyfriend, and you were genuinely happy with him. You didn’t expect your feelings for Chan to leave you so quickly, but distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder.

The five of you spent most of your winter break together. The only day you didn’t see each other was Christmas, which was spent with your families. The next day, you had your own Christmas, like you did every year. 

The hardest day for Chan was New Year’s Eve. You had a party at Changbin’s house, with as many kids from your graduating class as possible. It reminded him of that night after graduation. Jisung still wore that ugly silver blazer, drunk and attached to his boyfriend all night. Changbin still made horrible, hangover inducing nightmare drinks that he persuaded poor college students into drinking. You were drunk again, too. But instead of crying into Chan’s chest like before, you were giggling up a storm with your new boyfriend. Chan watched from afar, jealousy pumping through his veins at the way you draped yourself across his lap, and how he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That should’ve been him.

10 seconds before midnight, he felt sick. Everyone around him was so giddy, so excited for a new start. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you two. Your hands were locked together, staring into each other’s eyes as you counted down the seconds. The TV at the front of the room screamed, “Happy New Year,” as he watched Minho’s lips crash against yours, a smile evident on both of your faces. He stalked out of the living room, making a beeline for the bar. 

He had to get over you, the way you had so easily gotten over him. And he had to get over you now or never.

[searchingwardrobes]

Start of Time: 8/9

Can you believe this fic is almost over? The slow burn heats up a lot again in this chapter, but by the end, well . . . don’t hate me! *ducks and hides* And have you ever imagined Killian Jones doing the “cha cha slide”? No? Well, now you may not be able to forget it. You’re welcome. And this is the last time I have to say this (yay!), but Emma has amnesia and is going by the name Wendy.

Summary: Killian and his son are driving through a bad snow storm when they find a disoriented woman walking down the road. The question is, how can they help her get home when she has no idea who she is? Written for @teamhook​​ on her birthday.

Rating: T

Trigger warning: Alice Jones appears in this fic and Alice and Henry are both Killian’s adopted children with Milah. Henry isn’t Emma’s. Positive past Millian. No Neal.

Words: about 3,500 in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​​ @kmomof4​​@jennjenn615​​ @kday426​​ @let-it-raines​​ @bethacaciakay​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @thislassishooked​​ @tiganasummertree​​​@whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snidgetsafan​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @distant-rose​@shireness-says​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​ @spartanguard​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​ @stahlop​​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​ @scientificapricot​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @superchocovian​​ @nikkiemms​​ @lfh1226-linda​​  @ultraluckycatnd​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​

Louder than the screams you hear; it’s like the sun came out.

“How do I look?”

Wendy spun around from where she was tying the blue ribbon into Alice’s blonde hair. Her throat went dry when she saw Killian standing before her in leather pants of all things. It was topped with a billowy black shirt and a red leather vest. He had his arms out at his sides, his brows arched.

“Well?”

Alice burst out laughing, and Killian’s face fell. Wendy bit her lip as she struggled not to laugh as well. His expression was just so crestfallen.

“Um. I thought you were supposed to be a pirate, not a rock star,” she finally told him.

His expression turned playful at her words, and a smirk played upon his lips as he sauntered towards her. “Well, love, I warned you I wasn’t going to be caught dead in a feathered cap and a permed wig.”

“I see,” Wendy replied, struggling to breathe at his close proximity. He’d left an awful lot of his buttons undone.

“And I’m wearing the hook you ladies bought for me,” he added, waving the plastic appendage before her face.

Wendy took a slightly wobbly step back. “Well, now that I see the full affect . . . it’s definitely more Johnny Depp than Captain Hook, but it’ll work.”

He made a dramatic bow and offered her his hand. “M’lady.”

“Daddy,” Alice giggled, “she’s s’posed to be afraid of you.”

“Oh no,” Killian argued, “the novel specifically says that Hook charmed Wendy.”

When he lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss there, Wendy wasn’t thinking of the book at all. She was thinking that this Wendy was certainly charmed by this Hook.

“Well?” he prompted again with an arch of one brow.

She shrugged her shoulders and said coyly, “I suppose it will do.”

“You, on the other hand,” he told her, spreading her arms wide to take in the long, satin nightgown that hugged her curves, “are lovely.”

“I think the costume has gone to your dad’s head,” Wendy told Alice.

“I’m not flattering, love, it’s absolutely true.”

Wendy tilted her head, her cheeks blushing. Her curled ponytail bounced against her shoulder, and Killian reached out to twirl it around his fingers. Henry’s voice caused them to jump apart.

“Are the girls ready yet?” the boy whined.

“Yes,” Alice retorted saucily.

“Then let’s go.”

“Not yet,” said Wendy, snatching up the pile of makeup she and Alice had bought at the drugstore. She turned to Killian. “I have to do one more thing for your dad.”

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

“Is this really necessary,” Killian grumbled.

“Yes. It completes the look.” Wendy grasped his chin in her hand and forced him to be still. She leaned closer with the eyeliner held steady in her other hand. Killian leaned away.

“You’re going to poke my eye out!”

“Don’t be such a baby! If you’d be still, I could do it. Now widen your eyes and look up.”

Killian tilted his head up, and Wendy yanked on his chin again.

“Just move your eyes, not your whole head.”

“Well, I’ve never worn makeup before, believe it or not.” He obeyed anyway.

Wendy narrowed her eyes as she carefully swiped the eyeliner across his upper lids. To do the lower ones, she had to cup his head and stretch the skin around his eyes with her thumb.

“There,” she breathed when she was done. She was so intent on examining her handiwork, that she kept her thumb resting against the top of his cheek, the rest of her fingers threaded into his hair.

“How does it look?”

She realized how close they were when his words came out hot against her skin. Her

gaze focused on the blue of his eyes instead of the eyeliner, and every thought fled her brain. Her hand stroked his cheek, and her thumb traced the scar below his right eye. They both moved closer, their noses brushing, and Killian sighed deeply as his eyes fluttered closed.

“We shouldn’t -”

“I know.”

“You could be married.”

“I’m not wearing a ring.”

“A boyfriend then.”

“I don’t care.”

A groan reverberated in the back of his throat as her lips brushed against his, and his fingers dug into her hip. She couldn’t tell who was trembling from the exquisite torture: her or Killian.

“Dad!” Henry’s irritated shout from downstairs made them leap apart. “What’s taking so long?”

Killian loosened his grip on Wendy and let his forehead collapse against hers. “Coming,” he called back, irritation lacing his voice.

Wendy couldn’t help it - she started to laugh. It came out as an inelegant snort and she dropped her head to Killian’s shoulder, partly from embarrassment, and partly because the laughter seemed to have taken over and she just couldn’t stop. Killian started to laugh too, and his fingers found their way back to her waist. He tried to grasp her with both hands, but the plastic hook impeded him.

“Stupid hook,” he muttered, and for some reason that made Wendy laugh even harder.

“Seriously, Dad!” Henry shouted again. “What are you two doing up there?”

The boy only succeeded in making the two adults in the guest bath fall into complete hysterics. Wendy rolled her eyes, and yanked Killian away from the sink by the lapel of his leather jacket. They came down the stairs, still laughing, and the kids looked at them in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” they said at the exact same time, and started laughing all over again.

“Grown ups,” Alice groaned with a shake of her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Storybrooke Town Hall was decorated in an explosion of pink and red crepe paper, glitter, hearts, and cupids. Henry rolled his eyes while Alice bounced in excitement.

“Oh my goodness, you all look adorable!”

Killian and Wendy turned around to find themselves face to face with Snow White and Prince Charming. Wendy blinked and shook her head at how perfectly suited Mary Margaret was to the roll with her flawless skin. She had a red ribbon tied in her dark hair and wore an exquisite dress exactly like the one in the movie.

“And you look amazing!” Wendy exclaimed, giving her friend a hug. “I’m sorry, Alice, but your dad and I might not be able to compete with these two.”

“Is that a real sword, David?” Henry asked.

David grinned as he pulled it from its scabbard. “Afraid not, it’s just plastic.”

“Why didn’t I get a sword?” Killian asked, giving first his daughter and then Emma an exaggerated pout.

“Pirates carry a cutlass,” Alice informed him primly, “and we didn’t have enough in the budget for a hook and a cutlass.”

“How old are you again?” Killian teased, tipping his daughter’s chin. “Thirty-five?”

Alice giggled, and Killian bopped her on the nose.

“Well, I’m manning the photo booth, and the four of you have to get yours made,” Mary Margaret told them motioning for them to follow her to the opposite wall where someone had hung a large white sheet for a backdrop. “Everyone who wants to enter the costume contest has to be photographed anyway for the judges.”

Killian shrugged at Wendy. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You have to,” Alice insisted, “or you can’t win the prize.”

Wendy felt a little awkward standing with Killian and his kids like they were having a family portrait made, but she followed Mary Margaret dutifully to the x marked with tape on the floor. Several of the small town’s citizens eyed them as they walked past, some of them whispering, and Wendy felt her face grow hot under their scrutiny. Then Alice threw her skinny arms around her waist, Killian slung his arm around her shoulder, Henry leaned in, and Wendy let herself get lost in the fantasy that this really was her life.

“Say cupid!” Mary Margaret told them, and they repeated the word with wide smiles. The flash went off, and a sharp pain sliced across Wendy’s eyes. She stumbled backwards, and held her forehead as what felt like a thousand flashbulbs went off behind her closed eyes. She was remembering something, she was sure of it, but all she could grasp were voices.

“Over here! Look this way! Smile, look sexy, that’s it!”

Wendy shook her head, trying to rid herself of the voices. She remembered them making her feel exposed, insecure, and pressured . . . pressured for what? Pressured to be . . . to be . . . . they wanted her to be something, but she couldn’t remember what.

“Wendy,” Killian said gently, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her arms. “Are you okay? Is it another headache?”

“Yeah,” she blinked, and the bright flashes faded away. The voices were muffled, and anything she was trying to remember dissipated like fog. “I . . . almost remembered something.”

“Okay. Was it good? Did it help?”

Wendy shook her head in frustration. “No, it didn’t make any sense.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed her, “don’t try and push it. It’ll come when you’re ready. Don’t try to force it.”

“Come sit down,” Mary Margaret told her, ushering her behind the photo booth table. David pulled out a chair for her and handed her a bottle of water. Wendy pressed it to her pounding temple.

“Thank you,” she told them all.

“Are you okay?” Henry asked worriedly. Alice picked up her hand and patted it the way she did her favorite white rabbit.

Wendy smiled up at the kids and squeezed Alice’s hand. “I’m fine, really. Why don’t you two go get some food?”

The kids looked up at their dad, and Killian nodded his approval. After they had scurried off, he kneeled next to Wendy and took the hand Alice had relinquished.

“How about you? Are you hungry?”

Killian looked so worried, that even though she wasn’t, she nodded. “I wouldn’t say no to one of those cupcakes I saw over there.”

She gave him a wobbly smile, and he gave her a hesitant one in return. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it before dashing off. He seemed to do it without thinking, but Wendy felt a tingle go down her arm at the simple gesture.

“You know, David, I could use a cupcake myself.” Mary Margaret told her husband.

David’s brow furrowed. “Really? Because I thought -”

“Don’t think, David, just get me a cupcake,” Mary Margaret cut him off with an arch of her brows.

“Ohh, right. I’ll, uh - be right back.”

Wendy laughed as he headed for the refreshment table and glanced up at Mary Margaret. “Real smooth.”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “Men are so dense sometimes.” She pulled a chair close to Wendy and sat down, taking both of Wendy’s hands in hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Wendy chewed on her lower lip. “There isn’t really anything to tell. Just like everything else, it’s so little, just bits and pieces. None of it makes sense.”

“How is your head now?”

“Better.”

“Okay, well, drink the water anyway. It can’t hurt to hydrate.”

“Yes mom,” Wendy teased with a smile before taking a drink.

When Killian got back, he insisted that Wendy not only eat her cupcake but also a small plate of cheese and crackers before he was satisfied that she was fine. He stayed right by her side, even though Wendy noticed several single women eying him with jealousy. He could be dancing with any number of them, but instead he was waiting to make sure her headache was gone.

Alice was on the dance floor with a group of girls from her school, and Wendy and Killian laughed at their silly antics. They also watched with fondness when Henry shyly shuffled up to a dark haired girl from his class.

“That’s Violet,” Killian informed her, “you met her at one of the farms I took you to.”

“Oh, I remember. She seems like a sweet girl.”

“She is, and Henry’s had a bit of a crush since school started,” Killian leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “but I don’t think I’m supposed to know about it.”

Henry didn’t ask the girl to dance, but he did pull his cell phone and some ear buds out of his pocket and say something to her. Violet nodded shyly, taking one of the ear buds and sticking it in her ear.

“Aw, they’re listening to a song together,” Wendy said, poking Killian in the side.

“Why? The DJs already playing music. Why the bloody hell didn’t he ask her to dance?”

“Oh come on, don’t sound like an old man. It’s sweet.”

Alice popped up seemingly out of nowhere with a huge grin on her face. “Did you hear the DJ? They’re about to do the cha-cha slide. You’ve got to come out here and do it!”

Alice grabbed both of their hands and pulled. Killian’s face immediately turned red.

“I don’t think that dance is really my style . . . “

“Oh come on,” Wendy teased, “the song tells you exactly what to do, Jones.”

“Please Daddy, please?”

“Well, I can never say no to that.”

Wendy and Killian followed the little girl onto the dance floor and lined up with other members of the town. The song started up, and the crowd cheered. “Everybody clap your hands!”

“Well, I can handle this, I guess,” Killian quipped, and Wendy laughed.

“To the left, take it back now, ya’ll.”

The crowd on the dance floor followed the song’s instructions, and Killian kept laughing as he looked over at Wendy. Alice cheered her father on, which was adorable.

“Hands on your knees, hands on your knees. Get funky with it!”

“Um, why is this so awkward?” Killian muttered.

“Probably because of those tight pants,” Wendy laughed.

“Come on, cha cha now ya’ll.”

“You girls have much better moves than I do.”

“Of course we do, Daddy!” Alice giggled.

“Wow, what a vote of confidence,” Killian said dryly.

Wendy’s cheeks ached from laughing so hard by the time the dance was over. The crowd cheered. Killian wiped his forehead in an exaggerated fashion.

“Come on, old man,” Wendy teased, “you not jiggy with it?”

Killian’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Now who sounds old?”

“I have amnesia.”

“Oh, that’s your excuse.”

“Okay, all you lovers out there,” the DJ announced, “this one’s for you.”

The musical intro of a slow song began to play, and Killian turned to Wendy with a tender smile and an outstretched hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Ew gross,” Alice announced with a wrinkled nose, “I’m gonna go get another cupcake.”

Wendy laughed as she took Killian’s hand. He pulled her close and placed his plastic hook at her waist. They started to sway to the music.

“This hook makes slow dancing a little awkward. I’d much rather feel something with my left hand -” he stuttered to a stop, his face turning bright red. “I mean, I didn’t - that . . . I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Wendy laughed and shook her head. “I know what you meant.”

“Good.”

Wendy tilted her head as she took in his pink tinged cheeks. She relinquished his hand and rested hers on his shoulder, then she slid both arms around his neck. Killian’s other hand fell to her waist.

“Is this better?” she asked.

“Much better.”

They both fell silent as the words to the song washed over them. “There’s a ghost upon the moor tonight. Now it’s in our house. When you walked into the room just then, it’s like the sun came out.”

Wendy couldn’t seem to look away from the deep pools of his blue eyes, and Killian’s arms wrapped tighter around her. His face bent closer, inch by agonizing inch, until their noses were brushing and their breaths mingled. The music around them swelled in intensity.

“And the day is clear. My voice is just a whisper louder than the screams you hear. It’s

like the sun came out.”

“Killian,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her eyes fluttered closed. His lips brushed hesitantly over hers, and she melted against him.

“Emma, thank God we found you!”

Wendy’s head spun with confusion, as one moment she was awaiting Killian’s lips being pressed against hers, and the next a no-nonsense brunette was pulling her away from him. The woman narrowed her eyes as she clasped Wendy by both elbows and gave her a tiny shake.

“Emma, it’s me, Regina.”

“Emma!” another voice cried out, and before Wendy could process anything else, a man

was crushing her to him in an embrace.

“Wait,” Killian spoke up, “who the hell are you?”

“I’m her fiance,” the sandy-haired man snapped, “the better question is who are you?”

“She doesn’t have a ring.”

Wendy, still confused, looked down at her bare ring finger. “I don’t have a ring.” All around them, there were whispers from the other townspeople. The music still played, but no one was dancing anymore.

“Well, we hadn’t gotten around to that part yet,” the man - her fiance? - grumbled.

Wendy looked dazedly up at Killian. Mary Margaret and David were just behind him. Alice had come up and put her arms around him. Henry was on his other side.

“My . . . my name is Emma. Emma Swan.”

Killian searched her face as his lips ticked up just a bit in one corner. “Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Yes, Emma Swan,” the brunette snapped, “we’ve established that’s her name, and I’m Regina Mills, her agent. Emma, we’ve got to get you back to New York. This solo album won’t happen if you don’t get back to the studio. Not to mention the interviews I’ve got lined up.”

Killian blinked rapidly. “Agent? Solo album?”

“That’s right. She’s Emma Swan, singer and rhythm guitarist for the band Wendy Sewed it On.” It was Zelena, smirking behind Regina Mills, with Sheriff Graham at her side. She shoved a magazine in Killian’s face. Killian scanned it, then looked up in shock at Emma.

“Violet said she thought you looked familiar,” he said softly.

“We found your car Ms. Swan,” Sheriff Graham spoke up, “it’s totalled, but we have your luggage, your purse, and your phone down at the station.

“So come on, Emma,” Regina insisted.

“Let’s go home Emma,” Walsh said slowly to her, as if she were a child.

Emma shook her head and backed away from both of them. “Wait - just a minute. I . . . I have to say goodbye.”

Tears gathered in her eyes as she turned to Killian and the kids. She smiled as she reached for Killian’s hand. It still held the magazine, but he let it flutter to the floor when she took his hand.

“This is my life I guess,” she told him.

He searched her face, lines furrowing his brow. “You remember?”

A single tear slipped down her face, but she forced nonchalance as she half-shrugged. “I remember my name finally. I guess the rest will come.”

He glanced hesitantly over her shoulder at Regina and Walsh, then he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You know you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need to.”

“Don’t go!” Alice cried out, flinging herself at Emma and wrapping her arms around her waist. Emma bent down and kissed the top of the girl’s head.

“I’ll miss you all, and you’ve been so kind to me, but . . . maybe if I go home, I’ll remember my life. I have to try.”

Killian’s shoulders sagged as he nodded slowly. “I understand.” He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. “Your heart’s desire - that’s all I want for you.”

Emma reached up and clasped his hand in hers, then reached forward and brushed a

chaste kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll think about you,” Emma choked, “all of you, everyday.”

Killian forced a smile, tears welling up in his blue eyes. “Good.” Then he forced a wink, and Emma choked on a half sob, half laugh.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, then let Regina and Walsh - who still felt like strangers - usher her quickly from the room.

[gra-sonas]

Alex Manes - an essay

Alright, my inbox is bursting with asks, and I’ll get to them (tomorrow, it’s almost midnight D: ), but I’ve been thinking about this all day while trying to work (had to get up and angrily pace my flat several times), and I had to write it all down to get it off my chest. (Also, I’m sorry, but once again Tumblr won’t let me add a Read More, after two attempts at creating new posts with a Read More, I’m giving up 🙈)

As viewers, we’ve been introduced to two different versions of Alex.

Alex at 17

wears mostly black

puts on nail polish, eyeliner and jewellery, including a stud earring and a septum piercing

loves skateboarding

plays the guitar

works at the UFO Emporium

his mom, a Native American woman from a New  Mexican tribe left the family when he was younger

has 3 brothers, presumably they’re all older than Alex

Alex at 27/28

a soldier, he’s been in the Air Force for a decade

a decorated purple heart airman with three deployments under his belt

an amputee, he lost part of his right leg in an attack in Iraq, sometimes uses a crutch

a codebreaker who's hacked into Russian and Chinese intelligence

a man who still dips fries into his milkshake

the nail polish, spiky hair, piercings and jewellery are gone

Alex wears fatigues occasionally, his civil clothes are mostly neutral colored shirts/jeans (until The Leather Jacket™ in 1x13)

we don’t know whether he still plays the guitar

his brothers are also all military, Flint (~2 years older than Alex) is a Special Forces Weapons Sergeant with the US Army

Quotes from/about Alex’s youth (incl. Jesse’s abuse)

1x01, Alex: "We're not kids anymore. What I want doesn't matter.“

✧→ 17 year old Alex hoped to escape his father one day, he dreamt of making music. His  hopes were shattered that day in the toolshed, and Alex hasn’t allowed himself to go for what he wants since then - including Michael.

1x02, Alex: “Made me think about... I don't know, who I was when this started. Before I went to war.”

1x05, Kyle: “Do you remember that night your dad made us set up that tent to teach us extreme weather survival?” Alex: “Yeah. Your dad had driven home for the night, so mine concocted a brand-new form of kiddie torture.”

1x05, Alex: “My dad was a homophobic, abusive dick."

1x05: Alex: “The dad I got was a monster. Is a monster.” Kyle: “Because he sent you off to war?” Alex: “My father was my war. And your dad saw it, when we were kids. Do you remember the summer - that we built the tree house?” Kyle: “Yeah.” Alex: “That's the summer that my dad found out I was gay. He knew before I did. He thought he could beat it out of me. Jim tried to intervene. But you can't make someone stop hating someone. And my dad hated me.”

✧→ Alex is talking about his father/childhood matter-of-factly, but the language he’s using to describe his childhood allows a glimpse at the hell he went through: torture (through extreme survival trainings), homophobic abuse, his dad is a monster, sent him to war, for years tried beating the gay out of Alex, Jesse hates him. This is not just a homophobic remark his dad made at the dinner table, this informs us about years of violence and abuse Alex endured at the hands of his father.

1x06, Alex: “Things at my house suck.“

✧→ Many teenagers will probably say this at some point while growing up, this isn’t about Alex being upset about a curfew, or having to do his homework tho. This is as much as Alex will disclose about the ongoing abuse.

1x06: Alex: “Dad, this has nothing to do with you.“ Jesse: “Everything you do... everything. And I will not be humiliated.“

✧→  This is Alex, terrified of what his dad might do. And he knows that Jesse will do something (he’s already picked up the hammer). Alex expects violence, because that’s what his dad has done to him numerous times. 😔

1x07, Mimi: "You look like your dad today." Alex: "Oh, good. I was hoping that the rage face might skip a generation."

1x08, Alex: “I've been looking for leverage my entire life.“

✧→ “My entire life”, a clear indication that having Jesse as a dad’s never been a walk in the park, Alex just got the special ‘anti gay’ treatment as a bonus when he got older.

1x08, Alex: “When I was...- I wanted to make music. You sent me to war.“

✧→ Alex at 17 wanted to make music, and although he never says it, I think it’s implied that he never planned to join the military. Jesse didn’t give him a choice though, he made Alex enlist, probably threatening him with what he’d do to Michael if Alex didn’t do as he was told.

1x08, Alex: "Why are you trying to frame Michael? Haven't you done enough to him?"

1x08, Alex: "Do not talk to me about unprovoked violence!"

1x09, Michael: "And what do you want to say, Alex?” Alex: That I loved you. And I think that you loved me. For a long time.” Michael: “Yeah.” Alex: "But we didn't even know each other that well, did we? I mean, we just, we-we connected, - like something… -“ Michael: “Cosmic.” Alex: "Yeah, but we didn't even do that much talking."

1x10, Alex: "My dad is a bigot with no moral compass."

1x12, Flint (to Alex): "You ever get tired of being the black sheep of the family?"

1x13, Alex: "Look... I shouldn't have left you behind when I enlisted. I could... I could stand here and tell you that I didn't want to leave, but I did. After what my dad did to you, I just, I... I wanted to be the kind of person who won battles. But now I-I look in the mirror, and I-I don't even see myself sometimes. I see my father. I'm still fighting his battles. Not mine."

✧→ It’s kinda implied that Alex never wanted to enlist, but once Jesse forced him to do it, he tried to make the most of it. He wanted to be the kind of person who won battles. He was also looking for leverage, something he could use to take his dad down.

✧→  Alex at 17 wanted to get out, he wanted to make music and live life his way. Since Jesse was going to beat him for being gay anyway, he’d at least wear what he wanted, put on make up, and wear jewellery. Jesse hadn’t manage to break Alex.

✧→ The shed incident changed everything, because someone else got hurt. And from Alex’s POV it was because of Alex. Because he’d been selfish. He’d wanted Michael. And because of that Michael got injured.

Now that we’ve established the basics, onto Carina’s statement.

“Alex was too ashamed of Michael  (not of being gay, which Maria knew, but of michael specifically) to name him to Maria for 10 years - until he saw Maria as a threat.” [x]

✧→ At 17, we saw how much Alex cared about Michael, that he wanted him safe and warm bc nights twere too cold to sleep in the car. That’s why Alex offered Michael to stay in the shed. He liked Michael, and he wanted to spend time with him. He even brought Michael a guitar bc he thought Michael would like to play. None of Alex’s behavior gives any indication that he was ashamed of Michael before the shed incident.

✧→ 17 year old Alex was afraid of his father, no surprise after years of abuse, but he also seemed confident, defiant even, believing he could handle it for a little bit longer until he’d finished high school and would finally be able to leave to make music. Despite living under Jesse’s roof, he dressed in all black, openly wore make up, nail polish, and jewellery/piercings, refusing to be another picture perfect son of his military father. We didn’t see it on screen, but given Jesse’s homophobic views, Alex’s behavior very likely caused his father to punish him in some way for it.

✧→  Then Michael kissed Alex at the UFO Emporium, Alex kissed back, one thing lead to another and they ended up at the shed where they had sex for the first time. It was Michael’s first time with a guy, we don’t know whether it was Alex’s first time tho. Alex still didn’t show any signs of being ashamed of Michael.

They were SO in love and happy in that moment. 🥺

✧→  When Jesse and the hammer happened, and it changed everything. Up until that moment, Alex had been used to his father’s abuse, he’d been strong enough, he’d been convinced he could take it, but this time someone else got badly hurt, and I think that broke something in Alex.

✧→  We never saw how things played out for Alex after Michael left the shed, all we know is that Jesse made Alex enlist. And given Jesse’s preference for blackmailing (he blackmailed Jenna, and Alex asked Flint what Jesse had on him) it’s probably fair to assume that Jesse threatened to go after Michael should Alex not do as he says.

Alex didn’t tell Maria for a decade because he was ashamed of Michael (at 17)?

Say what now???

There are several good reasons why Alex wouldn’t have told her, but shame isn’t one of them... I’m sure Alex thought of Maria as a trustworthy friend back then, but the most important reason why he wouldn’t reveal who ‘museum guy’ was would be the one the straight showrunner of the show’s apparently not aware of:

Alex would’ve outed Michael (without Michael’s consent I’d like to add) to Maria by telling her who it was. As a gay kid in 2008, I’m sure Alex was very well aware of LGBTQ etiquette, and the first rule of queer club is, you don’t out a fellow queer. And guess who’d just experience a brutal attack because he’s queer? Why would Alex ever consider outing Michael and potentially putting him at risk???

The outing reason alone would be enough to explain why Alex never told her who it was. And in 1x10 he didn’t outright out Michael either, Maria realized it was Guerin and Alex reluctantly confirmed (there was no way for him to plausibly deny it).

1x10, Alex: “It is just a standard, run-of-the-mill boy problem. Oh, come on. Don't give me psychic face, Maria.” Maria: “It's the guy from the museum, the one that kissed you into crazy stupid love when we were kids. He's back?” Alex: “Wha... How-how do you do that?” Maria: “You're just... I feel it, you're-you're hopeful, like you were before. Who is he? Come on, spill it. I've been waiting ten years for this. - Come on.” Alex: “You... you wouldn't believe it.” Maria: “It's not like you're hooking up with Wyatt Long or Michael Guerin or something. Geez. Please tell me you're in love with Wyatt Long. Wow.” Alex: “Michael's not so bad after a shower. But you know that.” Maria: “I had no idea...” Alex: “I know. I mean, how would you?” Maria: “It meant nothing, Alex. Seriously, I swear, it was just a drunk, dusty, no-good Texas rounder."

Another reason why Alex wouldn’t necessarily have told Maria: Alex was traumatized by what happened at the shed. This wasn’t just the ‘normal’ kind of abuse he endured on the regular (which is a boatload of trauma all of its own), someone else had been hurt, someone Alex liked, and because Alex liked him. On top of that Jesse likely threatened him. There’s no way Alex wasn’t scared and deeply traumatized. It’s fairly common that victims of abuse don’t tell anyone about it, out of fear even more bad things could happen, there’s surely also a lot of shame and self-blaming involved.

Alex also knew that Michael was homeless, and probably not yet of age. Jesse could’ve threatened Alex to put Michael back into the system or whatnot.

Absolutely NOTHING we’ve seen on screen suggests that Alex was ashamed of Michael when they were 17. Alex joined the military afterwards, and was away for a decade. Not many opportunities to talk about it to Maria, but again, the first reason (outing Michael) is a perfectly valid reason not to tell her for an entire decade. And this being a major trauma, Alex probably didn’t feel like opening that box again after such a long time.

And wow, claiming that Alex waited to tell Maria (which isn’t exactly what happened) because she felt threatened by her? Sure, Alex just waited for the right moment. 🙄

Is Alex ashamed of Michael at 27/28?

In 1x03 it seems like Alex let’s his father’s words get to him. “Seems to me the only one you're embarrassing is yourself, son.“ I’ve always interpreted this as a thinly veiled threat tho, and Alex, on instinct, immediately put distance between himself and Michael. Because before he talked to his father? Alex was perfectly happy to be seen with Michael, if he'd been ashamed, as Carina claims, he wouldn’t have approached Michael in public in the first place.

This is also how I read the scene in 1x02: “What happened at the reunion cannot happen again.“ In the pilot, Jesse had been part of the group of soldiers poking around Michael’s Airstream, and Alex saw the way his father looked at them talking. Then they kissed at the reunion, and I’m sure it felt so good and like coming home, but the fear of what Jesse could do if he found out was back the next morning, and Alex once more tried to put distance between himself and Michael to keep Michael save.

This is not an excuse for Alex pushing Michael away, not an excuse for Alex to call him a criminal either. That is absolutely shitty behavior and not okay. I just don’t buy this ‘Alex is ashamed of Michael’ shtick.

Friendly reminder that Maria did not only tell Alex in 1x10 “It meant nothing, Alex. Seriously, I swear, it was just a drunk, dusty, no-good Texas rounder.", here’s what she said in her next scene with Guerin:

1x10, Maria: “We're closed. - You found my necklace.” Michael: “Clasp broke. I fixed it. I think it calls for a celebration. And by celebration, I mean booze, preferably the free kind.” Maria: “Alex is one of my best friends.” Michael: “Congrats.” Maria: “I never would have slept with you if I knew you two had history. It can't happen again.”

So in 1x10 Maria

learned Michael is 'museum guy’

realized that Alex is in love with Michael (still), and hopeful

swore to Alex it was a one time thing and that it meant nothing

told Michael that Alex is one of her best friends (and you don’t go after your best friends’ love interests)

she would’ve never slept with Michael had she known

she also says it can’t happen again

And yet Carina’s surprised why many few fans don’t understand

what made Maria ignore Liz’s advice to talk to Alex (which would’ve been the fair thing to do, no one’s mad at Maria for catching feelings, it’s that she acted on them without talking to Alex first what upsets and angers people)

why Maria invited Michael to kiss her just 3 episodes later

why she’s still chasing after Michael 2 weeks later without having talked to Alex

she’ll continue to go after Michael but still won’t talk to Alex

and therefore some are having a hard time not to dislike Maria to some degree? Okay...

Either way, imo Alex was definitely not ashamed of Michael at 17, and I don’t see much evidence of him being ashamed of Michael at 27/28.

Apart from that, shame is for sure NOT the reason why Alex never told Maria.

Alright, this got LONG, but it I had to write it all down. I think I provided facts in the form of dialogue quotes. In addition, I’m sharing my interpretation of these facts.

I don’t claim that I’m right, I don’t claim that I know more than Carina (who seems to have forgotten some things she herself wrote tho), none of that. This is my interpretation of what happened, based on what we saw on screen, what’s been said by the characters, and what we know about the different characters involved.

I also don’t claim that Alex didn’t do anything wrong, that he’s a saint, or whatnot. But I strongly disagree with the notion that by not telling Maria Alex is somehow to blame for her going after Michael.

[purplesurveys]

1057

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - When was the last time you had a roast dinner? What kind of meat or vegetarian option did you have with it? That’s not really a thing we do here, but for our noche buena dinner we did have roast chicken with rosemary as one of our dishes. It was surrounded with bangus (milkfish), lumpia with cheese, callos, baked macaroni with cheese, and mashed potatoes with gravy. My family has never been traditional when it comes to Christmas food and I’ve never tried hamon or queso de bola.

2 - When was the last time you drove or travelled for over an hour? Where did you go? It is for sure going to be today because we’ll be driving to Laguna to visit my dad’s family wearing our face masks, face shields, equipped with alcohol and hand sanitizer, and ready to follow social distancing.

3 - What’s your favourite kind of coffee to order (eg. cappuccino, latte etc.)? I’ve been ordering caramel macchiato in the last...6–7 years. If a coffee shop doesn’t serve it, the next thing I go for is whatever sounds like the sweetest drink on their menu, like a chocolate chip truffle frappe or something like that.

4 - When you get old, are you going to let your hair go grey or dye it instead? I will probably dye it for a bit, like what my grandma used to do. But I guess it’ll also depend; I might end up liking grey hair and not feel the need to change how it looks.

5 - What genre was the last book you read? Was it any good? I can’t remember which one it was but it was definitely a wrestler’s memoir; I must’ve read around four this year. The best ones I read are always of Chris Jericho since he has fantastic stories but he also knows how to write well. A lot of wrestlers have great stories, but are so-so in writing.

6 - Did you ever wear braces on your teeth? Yeah, briefly from the end of middle school to freshman year of high school. I need to get braces again, though.

7 - When was the last time you were relieved about something? What caused you to feel that way? Continued from earlier today. We brought both dogs to my dad’s family’s place today and I was glad that they were fast asleep on our drive back home and that neither felt bad and puked.

8 - Where was the last place you went that required you to wear a mask? Are you used to having to wear one now? Everyone is required to wear masks as long as they find themselves outdoors, period. I wear one even if I’m just walking one of my dogs in our backyard. I’m definitely more used to it now, compared to months ago when I had just started going out again and would be forgetful when it came to masks.

9 - How often do you receive calls from unknown numbers? Do you ever answer them? I get them a lot more often now that I’m working and have to coordinate with third-party people...I get unknown numbers once or twice a week. As much as it irritates me, I have no choice but to answer all of them now.

10 - What’s your favourite condiment to have with sausages or hot dogs (or the vegetarian equivalent)? Whenever I have a sausage/hotdog in a bun, I’d be glad to simply have mayonnaise on it.

11 - Which fictional character can you relate to the most? Is this a character from film, TV or a book? Monica Geller from Friends.

12 - Do you groom your eyebrows? If so, how? Nah, haven’t in a long time. It’s just not something I’ve ever particularly cared about. Whenever I have to, I just shave them. I also haven’t had a trichotillomania episode with my eyebrows, which is a relieving thing to realize.

13 - Did you get “told off” for anything the last time you went to the dentist or was everything okay? My last trip went smoothly. I just had a tooth extracted and there wasn’t really anything to reprimand me for since the tooth was already damaged.

14 - Would you rather get a starter or dessert? Have always been more of a savory girl than sweet, so I’ll go with the starter.

15 - Have you ever been involved with the police? Did you find them to be helpful? I mean...I guess? Kind of? I wasn’t arrested by any means, but I was a journalism student, so *shrug* pretty self-explanatory lol. There was one time in one class where we were all required to write a story covering the police beat, so I had to stay at a police station in Manila and wait for any tips or leads to come in. I was in freshman year and was absolutely scared, but I did have a classmate/friend with me ‘cause we were in the same class and she needed a lead as well.

16 - Are you tired at the moment? Is there a specific reason you feel that way? I am extremely tired and would pass out in a second if I let myself. But I had been out all day and didn’t have the chance to do anything I wanted to do whether it was doing embroidery, watching 2 Days 1 Night, or taking a survey, so I’m making up for all the lost time and powering through this survey.

17 - Are you big on colour coordination? Does that just apply to your outfits or to the rest of your life as well? It rarely comes to mind. It’s not something I feel the need to maintain, precisely because I’m very inconsistent with maintenance. Even though I know I possess the necessary effort and patience to organize a group of items by color, I also know it would be disorganized in less than a week.

18 - What shoes did you last wear? How long have you had them? Puma sneakers. Yep, I’ve had them for the past two years.

19 - When was the last time you wore make-up? What kind of make-up was it? September, for my first job interview. My items were simple; just an eyeliner pencil and some lip gloss.

20 - Have you ever slipped or skidded on the ice? Did you end up getting hurt? Continued from last night because I’ve been so sloppy at taking surveys lately, loooool. I’ve slipped a few times on ice skating rinks before. I don’t know if it’s the same experience, but whenever it happened to me I usually felt more embarrassed than hurt. It only hurt quite a bit when the cause of my fall was crashing into someone on the rink.

21 - Do you wear glasses or contacts? I wear glasses, but I already need to change mine since my eyesight has gotten worse and the lens that are on my current pair aren’t for me anymore.

22 - Do you own any photo albums? Are they dedicated to special occasions or just a random selection of photos? My mom made several photo albums for her kids from our childhood days so each of us have lots of photos from age 0 to about 7 or 8. I haven’t made a photo album just for myself, though I really should. Making memories with a film camera and having them developed still sounds very appealing to me.

23 - What was the last reason for you using a spoon? I was mixing my coffee to make sure all the granules are mixed into the water.

24 - Did your state/region go into lockdown or similar back when Covid hit in March? What did you do to pass the time while you were stuck at home? Of course. I would be more surprised to hear of a city or region anywhere in the world that did not go into lockdown. March was a livelier, more optimistic time, so I tried out lots of new things while the lockdown was still fresh and no one had any clue for how long it would actually pan out, and continue to pan out until the literal end of the year. I played the Switch for longer hours, tried making dalgona coffee, watched Descendants of the Sun, pulled more all-nighters, revisited computer games from my childhood, and did my thesis chapter by chapter with Andi.

25 - What’s your favourite meal of the day - breakfast, lunch or dinner? In my family, lunch and dinner are very identical so I’d go with either of them.

26 - Who was the last person you texted? How do you know that person? I have not touched my phone in a while, believe it or not...I haven’t needed it much during the holiday break. I think it was my cousin? He’s a relative, so I’ve known him since birth.

27 - What was the last thing you put in a sandwich? A hotdog.

28 - What was the reason behind the last time you shouted or raised your voice? I was at my dad’s family’s last night and I had ordered four boxes of empanadas from their business, and I was trying to hand over the P500 bill to my aunt (the total was like P300, but I gave them bonus to serve as my treat and my gift). I kept trying to give it and she kept rejecting it and putting it back in my pocket hahaha, so it became like a game for me to see which tiny space in the house I can squeeze the bill in so she can stop retorting. It turned into a funny cat and mouse situation and I ended up raising my voice a few times.

29 - Are you a citizen of more than one country? Would you ever use that advantage to move abroad? No.

30 - Do you know how to change a tyre? Could you do it without help? HAH, no. I am fucked if it ever happens and when it does, I really hope luck would be on my side that day and have a kind stranger that knows how to change tyres walk or drive by.

[sagesparrow394]

A Big Problem: Part 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

AU: Canon-verse, but when Thomas was a child.

Relationships: None. They’re seven.

Summary: Logan was the first side to figure out they could shapeshift. And, being the curious side he is, he doesn’t hesitate in trying it out.

Things don’t go quite to plan.

Note: ‘Romulus’ in this story is the King, aka Roman and Remus before the split.

—————

Logan didn’t know whether to cheer or go to a wall and slam his head into it in frustration. How on earth had he not come to the conclusion earlier? Seven years of existing and only now he realised this huge ability that was so painfully obvious! He was supposed to be smart!

... Then again, he was still the first side to figure this out. So, he was still the smartest, as he would always be. Clearly, he wore a lab coat. And he wanted to get a tie when he was older. Only serious smart people wore ties.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand! Logan smiled at his notepad, where the revelation was written out in big bold letters, underlined three times, and highlighted.

Shapeshifting. The sides could shapeshift. They were all effectively imaginary, after all. Since they did not adhere to human logic, it would make sense they’d be able to manipulate and change their forms.

Hold on... if they were imaginary, and Romulus was creativity and ruled the imagination... did that mean... Romulus created them all? Romulus created himself?! But how could he create himself before he existed?! How would that even work?! What the-

No! No, Logan. Don’t get yourself stuck in a paradox now. There was an important matter at hand that needed his focus. You could reevaluate your existence later.

Shapeshifting, it still baffled him how he hadn’t come up with it sooner. Patton and Romulus would get so excited when Logan told them about this! Escpecially Romulus. When he found out he could shapeshift into whatever he wanted while on his quests in the imagination, he’d get so excited! Logan would be praised for his findings!

Finally, the recognition the logical side deserved!

Logan stood up, picking up his notebook, and went to leave the room. However, as he placed his hand upon the door handle, he paused.

No... No. He couldn’t go out there and tell them yet! Logan had done enough experiments to know that, well, you needed to do experiments. You must test out your hypothesis before telling others, in case you’re wrong and you end up spreading misinformation - but Logan was never wrong, he needn’t worry about that. The other issue about not experimenting however... Logan had much more experience with.

If you don’t experiment, no one will believe you because you have no evidence. Specifically Romulus. The King was fond of finding holes in Logan’s little test and tearing them down. He was strange... One minute, he’d be reading Logan and Patton fairytales from one of his many books, and the next he’d be making jokes a seven year old should not understand to gross out Patton, and yell at Logan for being a dork - not as in nerd, as in whale penis.

Romulus was an interesting character, one Logan may have to conduct an experiment on at a later date.

Logan placed his notebook back down on his desk. He flicked to a clean page, ready to record the results of his current experiment. Speaking of, what was he going to do for his experiment...?

He went over to his mirror, looking at his reflection. Hm... if there was one thing he could change about himself, what would it be...? It couldn’t be anything too drastic, he didn’t want to risk it going horribly wrong, or the change being irreversible. Just a subtle, yet noticeable change...

That was when it hit him. His height! Logan was the shortest of all the sides, and Romulus always made fun of him for it. Adding a couple inches to his height would be perfect!

He went back to his notebook, jotting down his current height: 3’7”. He then got out a measuring tape from one of the drawers in his desk, and stuck it to the wall. He stood up against it, double checking his current height. Yep. Still 3’7”.

This was it. Shapeshifting time!

He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. Bigger. Taller. That’s what he needed to be. Taller, taller than all the other sides so that none of them could make fun of him again.

He took a deep breath. Please have worked, please have worked...

He opened his eyes and a grin spread across his face. His jeans looked considerably shorter, his shirt had ridden up a bit, showing his belly button, his white lab coat was far too short at the sleeves, and when he looked at the measuring tape, he was just under a foot taller. Perfect!

At least that’s what he thought until his saw his eyeline was still rising. He was still growing. He was definitely the tallest out of all the sides now, he really didn’t need to keep going...

“Um... o-okay, body, you can stop growing now!”

It didn’t stop.

He hesitated, concerned, before feeling stupid. Telling himself to stop wouldn’t work, of course not! He just needed to do what he did to start growing. He closed his eyes, concentrating as he did before. Stop growing, stop growing, stop growing...

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief. He had stopped...

For about two seconds, before with a jolt, he shot up another foot, and then continued to grow at a faster pace than before. He was sooner even taller than an average adult, and it showed no signs of slowing down.

Uh oh.

Logan whimpered in fear. He had no idea what to do! Why wouldn’t it stop?! Concentrating hard was enough to start it, why wasn’t it stopping it too?!

His attention was drawn away from his own panic when there were multiple popping sounds. The buttons on Logan’s lab coat had been forcibly opened as it grew far to small for him. The buttons were followed by multiple ripping sounds, the coat falling to the floor in pieces.

Logan only got a moment to mourn his favourite item of clothing, before being distracted as his head hit the ceiling, causing him to let out a sharp “Ow!”. He ducked a little at first, before he knelt down instead, only for, a few minutes later, his head to hit the ceiling yet again.

He bent forward, in more of a fetal position, growing more and more panicked as the room became far too cramped. His foot pressed against his desk, a cracking coming from it as his foot starting to crush it. Logan was as careful as he could be, trying not to break anything else in the room, but not quite being successful. His bed was the first victim, then his bookshelf.

As the ceiling began to crack, his back pressing against it, he started to wonder if this would ever stop. What would happen if he did break through the room? Would it injure Thomas, given as it would especially be the walls of his mind breaking?! He really didn’t want to find out, as curious a person as he was...

As the ceiling continued to crack above him, Logan sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like it at all! He wanted to go back to normal, he didn’t want to be a giant! He never should have tried shapeshifting ever! He just wanted it to STOP!

And it did.

Right at that moment, the growing stopped completely. The cracking above his back silenced. Logan took deep breaths, trying to calm down, and patiently waited for it to start reversing. However, it didn’t do that. He was just stuck.

He started to panic again.

-

Virgil had no idea what the heck was going on, but he could feel panic from one of the other sides. Like, a lot. A full on panic attack.

His first idea was, obviously, to check on Thomas. He sank out from his room, rising up into Thomas’ bedroom. The boy was led on the floor, drawing, his tongue stuck out in concentration. Romulus was sat next to him, giving him all sorts of ideas.

Thomas didn’t acknowledge Virgil as he appeared, but Romulus did. The King frowned, raising an eyebrow. “Anxiety? What are you doing here? Thomas and I are kinda in the middle of creative stuff! Nothing for him to be anxious about...”

“It’s not him...” Virgil mumbled, looking around. Everything seemed normal enough... “So, you’re doing good? Not panicking?”

Romulus shrugged. “I’m fine. Why’d you ask?”

“No reason...” And with that, Virgil sunk out.

Romulus turned back to Thomas, looking over the boy’s shoulder at what he was drawing. “Um, Thomas, why is that guy bigger than all the buildings?”

Thomas just smiled. “He likes to be tall!”

“... Okay?”

Meanwhile, Virgil rose up back in his room. He ran to the next door over and knocked. “Dee!”

There was a groaning and shuffling before, a few seconds later, the door opened, a very sleepy Deceit rubbing his eyes and looking up at Virgil. “What’ssss up...?”

“Sorry to wake you, it’s just... you doing good? You weren’t, like, having a nightmare or anything?”

“No... Why, what’ssss happened...?”

“Dunno... Sorry again, see ya!”

“Ssssee ya...”

Deceit retreated back in his room, as Virgil ran off again. He continued through until he reached it: the others’ corridor. He hesitated a little before tiptoeing in. He heard the sounds of humming from the kitchen, and assumed it was Patton. He went over and stepped in the room.

Patton had his back to Virgil, and was stirring cookie batter.

“Patton?”

He let out a yelp of surprise at the voice, dropping his spoon. He turned around. “O-oh! Anxiety... Uh, what are you doing here...?”

Virgil didn’t blame Patton for being nervous. The moral side didn’t hide the fact that he didn’t exactly like Virgil’s side of the, well, sides.

“Sorry to startle you, I, um... Just felt some panicked energy... You, like, good?”

“Oh, yeah, um, sure...”

“Cool... Sorry for bothering you...”

Virgil left the room again. This just left Logan. Logan would likely either be in his room or the library. May as well check his room first.

Virgil went to the indigo door just down the corridor, knocking on it. “Logan? You in there?”

“A-Anxiety?! U-um... J-just give me a minute!”

Yep. Logan was definitely the one the panicked energy was coming from.

“Logan, I’m coming in.”

“N-no, wait!!!”

Virgil opened the door, only for it to stop halfway open. Something was in the way. Virgil frowned, and slipped through the gap.

His eyes widened immediately as his eyes met Logan’s. Logan’s giant eyes, which were in a giant head, attached to a giant body.

Logan was a giant, basically.

Virgil was speechless. Logan’s face was burning in embarrassment. “Um... one of my experiments didn’t go quite to plan...”

[creativenostalgiastuff]

Dance with Me, Darling

Warning: dancing, stress, frustration

Pairing: Prinxiety (romantic or platonic… most likely romantic)

Word Count: 1700

Prompt: “dance with me, darling” but the line cannot be from Roman

Virgil sits on the couch, curled and wrapped up in a blanket as he scrolls through yet another random YouTube video, his eyes heavy. He has no idea how much time he had been there mindlessly shuffling through the various apps on his phone. All he knew was that it had been long enough that his back was a little stiff, but his attention was still trained on the phone. He had worked hard and this was his reward: no actual interaction with people, just the phone.

Or at least, that’s what he told Patton and Logan when they asked earlier. The real reason was that he wanted to make sure that Roman came back okay. He had been under a lot of stress recently due to the creative demands that Thomas was under recently (so what else is new). And while he was doing his best, Virgil was very well aware that the Prince needed more support than he let the others know. Roman wore his princely smile that exuded confidence, or at least tried to, enough that honestly Virgil was surprised that Deceit hadn’t been practically attached to the creative Side’s, well, side.

Don’t get him wrong, Roman was trying his hardest to keep it from them, but makeup can only hide so much when close up. And Roman had been keeping his distance from Virgil, most likely due to his correct assumption that Virge could feel the negative emotions rolling off of the romantic.

So Virgil had taken a kind of Virgil in his ball on the couch, only looking up when Roman pops back into the room. Virge doesn’t move as his eyes scan over Roman, noticing the slump in the man’s shoulders and practically feeling the heavy sigh that came with a hand to the forehead.

“Hey.”

Roman spins around, jumping slightly, “Ah, Virge. I didn’t see you there. You blended in with the blankets with your hoodie.”

Vigil pushes the blankets off of himself as he slides his phone and hands into his hoodie, looking away slightly, “Well, you know me: the blankets and I are one.”

“Heh, right,” Roman laughs, although Virgil could hear the dead hollowness thud in it. “Well, don’t let me stop you from your activities…”

Virgil nods, his hair falling into his eyes with the shaking, “Hey, uh, Roman? Can I ask you a question? No, never mind, I shouldn’t…”

“No, no,” Roman quickly takes a few steps towards his friend, “Go ahead. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

Virgil shuffles his feet before he looks through his hair at the other man, “Are you doing ok?”

Roman takes a half step back, his mouth open as his hands come slightly up in front of him before he seemed to regain his composure and smiles, “Of course! Everything is as wonderful as always.”

Virgil stares down his friend, “Come on, Roman. It’s me you’re talking to.”

Roman’s eyes stay fixed on Virgil for a few minutes, not saying a word.

“Listen,” Virgil says pinching the bridge of his nose. “We both know that you are struggling with the current workload. You’re putting up a brave front, but you look exhausted and… I don’t know, man, something seems off.”

Virgil is met with silence. Roman looks at the floor for a while before he says, “I think I lost it, Virgil.”

“Lost what?” Virgil asks as he takes another step forward, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. Anxiety’s eyes get big as he notices the red splotches on Roman’s face, a trail from the makeup running etching itself in his features.

“It!” Roman says sharply, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. “Whatever you want to call It. The fire? The passion?” He turns away.

“Oh.” Virgil says, his mind running in circles going oh shit how do I fix this. “How do I help?”

“You don’t,” Roman cries. “You’re Anxiety! It’s not your job. You protect. I’m supposed to be a driving force, the passion, the dream. How do I help Thomas have the drive to fulfill his dreams when I’m so burned out like this?”

Virgil’s eyes grow large when an idea hits him. Dreams, that’s it!

“I don’t care if it’s not my job,” Virgil says as he walked to face Roman again. “You try to help me when I’m down, now it’s my turn.” He holds his hand out to the Prince, looking at him with a sense of determination. “Now, do you trust me?”

Roman laughs through his tears and wipes his nose on the back of his hand, “I’m sorry, are you trying to sway me by quoting a Disney Prince?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Well, if the glass slipper fits…”

Roman shakes his head as he took Virgil’s hand, “That’s a Disney Princess, Nightmare Before Christmas.”

Virgil smiles despite himself as he leads Roman up the stairs towards the Prince’s own room, “Whatever.”

Roman looks to see Virgil reach for the door to the Imagination and stops him, “Wait, you’re volunteering to go in there without me having set it up?”

Virgil shrugs, “First time for everything. Besides, I read some of Logan’s theories of your room and I have a plan.”

“Alright, then lead the way,” Roman says, the tears from earlier starting to dry some.

Virgil takes a deep breath and opens the double doors. The room is black and empty, not surprisingly to Virgil. Roman’s face wrinkles up as he looks inside at the abyss.

“Logan thinks your room, when serving as Imagination and not just a normal bedroom, doesn’t have a set form,” Virgil explains. “That YOU are what gives it form.”

Roman scoffs, “I don’t think-”

“Ballroom,” Virgil says flatly, watching the room. Roman gasps as the room appears out of the nothing, just like Virgil expected. Where before it had been a void of nothing specific, now was a majestic ballroom with beautiful tiling floors, mirrors lining the walls, a wall of just windows that were draped in beautiful red curtains. Red walls and gold crowning left the room with the hint of royalty that was expected given Roman’s thrill for drama. In a word, it was a ballroom that Roman would have pictured if asked to describe one on the spot.

Roman walks into the room and looks around, “Yes, my dear Emo, this is indeed a ballroom now.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said as he leaned up against the doorway, “One that you came up with in a moment’s notice. No planning. Nothing extra. Just you.”

Roman walks over to one of the mirrors and frowns at his reflection as he pokes the shadows under his eyes, “Is this what I really look like right now? Oh god, Virge you should have told me I looked a mess.”

Virgil smirks as he walks over towards Creativity, “Mess is relative. Logan would say that my natural state is a mess while you would just call it ‘creative expression’.”

“You know what I mean,” Roman shoots back as he inspects his hair. “The Prince needs to be in shining armor, no matter what dragons he faces.” He snaps his fingers and everything fixes itself: his hair flips the right way and the makeup fixed.

Virgil can’t help but smile as Roman continues to fix and fuss on his appearance. He almost actually laughs as Roman runs a hand over his hair and makes a face that Thomas was most often caught doing in the viewfinder between takes.

“So what exactly was the point of bringing me here?” asks Roman as he looks at Virgil’s reflection in the mirror. “If you just wanted to tell me I looked bad, you could have done that in the bathroom, so why are we in the creative realm?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “I just wanted to show you that you can do more than you think.”

“Fair point,” Roman admits as his eyes start to wander up the wall and across the ballroom. “So a ballroom?”

Virgil shifts uncomfortably for a moment, “I… well… I thought you could use a distraction.”

“And this is the distraction?” asks Roman. “I mean, not that it isn’t a good distraction…”

“No,” Virgil sighs as he looks at his feet for a minute, feeling the rush of heat come to his cheeks. “I mean, you probably need something more… ugh…” he holds a hand out to Roman without moving his eyes to the floor, “Just… here.”

Virgil can feel Roman’s eyes on him, clearly trying to see what Anxiety was thinking. He hesitated before he took the hand offered him.

Virgil snaps his other hand and the room flickers dark for a moment. When they came back on, Virgil is dressed in a black button up shirt with an unbuttoned black vest and purple bow tie. His eyeliner is on perfectly and his hair has the purple in it restored back to his preferred level of brightness. He lets out a slight laugh, happy to see that Roman was doing most of the heavy creating.

Roman stands there watching, wearing a burgundy jacket with a button up, looking very curious at Virgil, “What are you thinking, Virge?”

Virgil just smirks as he slowly starts to pull Roman in towards him, the blush returning to his face, “Just dance with me, darling.”

Roman’s mouth drops open as he complies, moving close and placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil can’t help the bubble of worry that creeps up in him oh god he thinks this is ridiculous! Until a soft melody starts playing from seemingly nowhere. A slow, sort of jazz fills the air and helps to reassure Virgil that he’s doing the right thing. He starts to lead Roman, taking a few steps as they start to move around the empty room.

“Did you just take my line?” Roman finally asks with a nervous laugh.

Virgil shrugs, “I figured, the reason you feel like the spark is gone might at least in part be because you are always trying to romance others, but when was the last time you let someone do that for you, Roman?”

The Prince says nothing so Virgil continues, “Sometimes you have to let others help you out and remind you that you are appreciated. I’m not saying always. But you aren’t the only one here. Sometimes you have to let us do things for you.”

“That’s almost funny coming from you,” Roman chuckles. “You could really use your own advice sometimes.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Virgil quips back.

“Fair enough,” Roman nods with a sigh.

They continue to dance around the room, gliding together with the music almost perfectly. Virgil has no idea how long they stay there dancing. Slowly he can feel Roman relax as they talk about nothing in particular and the music changes from a slow melancholy sounding saxophone to a more upbeat trumpet. And Virgil is surprised to realize that he is relaxing as well. Maybe they should do this more often, he thinks before he quickly pushes the thought away.

They stay until the sun starts coming up through the windows of the ballroom, causing the golden designs to glisten. Roman pulls back from his dance partner and gives his dazzling smile. He says something about pancakes and is pulling Virgil out of the room with him, causing the ballroom to fade away behind them. Virgil follows, happy to see that the Prince is back to his usual self and that all was right with the “kingdom” once more.

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 17

17. four letter words to inspire fear (home/love)

Chapter Summary: motley’s first stadium show brings lola and tommy closer together.

Warnings: drinking, anxiety/PTSD symptoms but nothing graphic

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite @colsons-crue @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7

{masterlist}

When they're first stadium show rolls around, Lola realises far too late that she can't watch it. During the tech run of the show she realises she can't be side of stage as the pyrotechnics go off, and she's close enough that she can feel the heat, and Doc's been double and triple checking the drum risers she'd set up, second guessing her, and maybe she wasn't quite expecting it, his tone, it comes from a place of concern but it feels so painfully and familiarly condescending, so she leaves to go drink and smoke and try to think about anything else because she can't deal with an anxiety attack now, on the biggest night of the band's career so far.

By the time they're finished, Lola's sitting by the tiny window in Tommy's dressing room, chain smoking cigarettes. Her knees are drawn up to her chest on a folding chair, and she's got a bottle of Jack in her other hand that she's already gone through a quarter of. There's a cool breeze coming through the window, but it's mostly hitting her back with the way she's positioned herself, the wind ruffling the hair at the back of her neck where she's pulled it into a ponytail. Her gaze is glassy. When the door bangs open and Tommy's the first through, she actually jumps.

"Dude, this is fucking awesome!! I can't believe we're playing a fucking stadium- what are you doing back here? Even without the crowd we kicked ass, you missed out on that exclusive front row, first glimpse of greatness," he's beaming, so earnest and enthusiastic it almost hurts, and all Lola can do is open and close her mouth, words refusing to come out as her cigarette burns dangerously close to her fingers and the filter. She's wearing a jacket he recognises as his own over her own denim one, which is a warning sign if he'd ever seen one; Lola's always been very vocal about how she hates wearing more than one jacket if it's not for a very specific look.

"You guys sounded great," Lola tells him through a thin-lipped smile. Instead of looking at him, she stubs out her cigarette on the windowsill and takes another swig from the bottle.

"No," Tommy stepped into the room, letting the door close behind himself, "no fucking way, something's up with you; was it the flames and sparkler things 'nd shit?" He asked, making his way over to her, frowning as she pulls out another cigarette and lights it up.

"Yeah, sure, it's the fire; it's always the fire," she gives that up easily, not necessarily lying, but not giving the full truth. She hands over the packet of cigarettes when Tommy asks for them. He leans against the wall, giving her a look like he's trying to figure her out; his nose crinkles just a little and he one arm over his chest to prop up the elbow of the cigarette hand. It's a cute look, but Lola's too in her own head to make mention of it.

Tommy knows her well enough to know that something else, something more serious, is bothering her, and isn't that a strange thought.

"I was just in my head about some of the setup, and the pyro shit was closer than I thought it was and-" Lola took in a deep, shaking breath, before squeezing her eyes shut tightly, "it's fine- I'm fine, I'm just gonna keep my distance." Holding her cigarette between her lips, she still can't meet his gaze, reaching beneath her two coats and shirt to scratch at her shoulder blade.

Nikki and Vince are talking to the sound guys, and Mick is still practicing while he's got the stage to himself. Lola knows that it's only a matter of time before the rest of the band comes back, looking for her before they get ready for the actual show, or Zutaut'll need her for an errand, or Doc will, or all of the above , but she feels like she's frozen. Like if she sees Doc and he makes one more comment about making sure everything's secure, she's gonna scream. She's so painfully aware that she'd come to Tommy for a very specific reason.

Tommy, for his part, hasn't said anything, just took the bottle from her and had a long drink of his own. Lola takes a puff of her cigarette.

"Doc sounds like my mom sometimes." And she lets the statement hang in the air for a moment.

"Like he's mothering you, or -?" Tommy frowns, and Lola's jaw clenches.

"No, like he's possessed by the spirit of my batshit, controlling mom," she says in complete seriousness. After a beat, Lola can't help but smile wryly, "which is weird; never thought a middle aged Californian asshole could sound like my bitch of a Bostonian parental figure, but hey." How has it taken this fucking long to place her accent; it's not strong enough to be immediately recognisable, more than half a decade in LA would do that, but that's not what's important now.

Her hands shake. She can't meet his gaze, and her hands fucking shake.

Lola's good at being independent, at finding comfort in Tommy that he hadn't even realised he could offer, curling into him when Nikki's setting himself on fire in the living room. He'd found her on the balcony once with her hands shaking like they were now, and she couldn't even light her cigarette, but it didn't matter. That time she'd talked a mile a minute, about everything and anything, and Tommy had lit her cigarette for her, zoning out a little as she rambled, but she hadn't seemed to mind. She kept herself focused on him, her free hand taking his, grounding herself in the present, in him. She hadn't told him why she'd needed him there, or even that she'd needed him at all, but somehow he could tell. He knew.

But there's a difference between Nikki setting himself on fire, and stuff to do with Lola's family.

Her hands a shaking and she doesn't reach for him.

Strange as it is, it almost hurts, not knowing what to do, what to say, to see Lola so fragile and not knowing how to help.

It's the most she's ever spoken about her family, apart from little tidbits she'd drop about her dad - his favourite food, how he always wore cargo shorts, how he had worked in a garage - but never about her mother. But he doesn't press her about it, instead, he swirls the bottle of Jack thoughtfully.

"Lols, can you gimme a hand with my makeup?"

He steps away from the window, away from the folding chair she's holed herself up on, and offers his hand. For a long moment Lola just silently regards him, taking an almost painfully long drag on her cigarette. It's evaluative, almost judgemental, and Tommy wonders for a moment if she knows what he's doing, knows that he's at a loss. The light overhead is too bright and the sky through the window is watercolours of blue and lilac and for the barest moment Tommy thinks he's made a mistake, that she'd think less of him for taking her away from something so pretty and peaceful, but she takes his hand. He doesn't give pause as he feels the way the tremors still move her hand, even as gentle as it is, instead he pulls her to her feet.

Though she's quiet, she moves diligently. She puts out her cigarette on the thick buckle of her belt, still wearing Tommy's jacket over her own as she rifles through the mess of bottles and brushes and tubes and pencils she'd brought along in a bag.

"You know you're gonna be ready way before the others," she tells him, gaze still flat as she compares two bottles of foundation. Tommy leans back in the makeup chair set up opposite one of the mirrors.

"Don't give a shit, now talk to me Lols, what are you looking for?" Tommy watches her with a half smile, watching as Lola paused, the tense set of her shoulders relaxing after a beat. Turning back to him, she held two bottles in hand.

"Foundation; you're paler than Nikki but darker than Mick, aren't you?"

He keeps her talking, even though they both know he knows how to do his own makeup, and soon enough, she's stopped talking him through the process, and she's just started talking about the first thing to come to mind, her earlier anxiety having passed. Lola's halfway through applying Tommy's eyeshadow, sitting in his lap and rambling about how she's thinking of investing in red eyeliner, when the door opens and Vince and Nikki barrel in, voices loud, obnoxious, and excited, and they greet Lola and Tommy enthusiastically, looking for their own makeup to start getting ready in their respective dressing rooms.

"You're doing a fuckin' great job," Vince grins, perching his chin on Tommy's shoulder, and Lola leans out of the way obligingly as the boys, side by side, grin at each other in the mirror. Lola can't help but smile as Tommy planted a rough kiss on Vince's cheek, leaving a messy, red lipstick print. It's a moment of surprisingly playfulness and comfort, and both Tommy and Vince break out into laughter, and Vince reaches past Lola to grab the lipstick, before passing it to her.

"Come on, make it even," he insists, and Lola obligingly puts on a rushed coat of lipstick, and kisses his other cheek.

Despite being in and out of the dressing rooms, wearing that smile like he knows he's got a groupie who's a sure thing, Vince leaves both marks right up until he moment he has to start applying his own makeup, and beside them Nikki's talking a mile a minute as he's sharpening one of the many eyeliner pencils they'd brought, so bright and excited about the night ahead. It's nervous excitement, not that he'd admit that, but they're all feeling a little bit like that. Mick is quiet when he comes in to collect his makeup, asking Lola quietly if she'll help with 'the dark shit on his cheeks' when she has a moment, and her smile softens as she agrees.

And then they're alone again.

It seems like she's on autopilot as she works, barely registering what she's saying, and they're almost nose to nose as she applies his eyeliner and she starts talking about a woman named Nadine who Tommy recalls Nikki mentioning in passing.

"Nadine's the one who taught me how to do eyeliner; Nikki looked like a raccoon when he went out back then, there was no way I was asking him," she paused, laughing a little, but Tommy quietly holds these little moments she shares with him close, "she gave me my first eyeliner pencil, actually, it was dark grey, not actually like black black, but it worked." It was quiet and surprisingly fond, and she's gently holding his cheek as the eyeliner pencil drags across his lash line. He tested his luck.

"So your mom wasn't a fan of makeup?"

Lola gives pause, goes still and he feels her lean back, and when he opens his eyes, ready to apologise, he sees her sour expression, though she just seems thoughtful rather than anxious at the mention.

"She wore a full face every single fuckin' day but thought I'd look like a whore?" Lola snorted, rolling her eyes, "bitch, I was fourteen," she snapped, as if envisioning her mother before her, "some lipgloss wouldn't kill me; it was fucked, I looked like I was Amish all through high school." Her mouth closed as her gaze flicked back to Tommy, jaw tightening for a moment. There was a tense few seconds that passed, before Tommy brought his hands to rest on her hips, smiling carefully.

"Nikki's gotten better at eyeliner since you first met him though, right?"

"Christ, fuckin' obviously."

She's still wearing his shade of red lipstick, and it looks good on her, especially the way it's smeared a little at the edges; it softens her look, and soon enough she's back in her rhythm of rambling. It's everything and nothing and she's grinning even as she reprimands Tommy for laughing while she's trying to apply facepaint to his cheek, both of them laughing at her chosen phrasing.

She reapplies his lipstick, and admonishes herself for applying it so early, citing that she was 'just out of it' but he shrugs, tells her he doesn't mind.

"Done," she announces with a proud flourish, grinning broad and bright, and Tommy's answering smile is goofy and sweet. She moves to climb from his lap, but he holds her gently by the lapel of his leather jacket, and makes mention that she's warm.

"You've gotta get into costume," Lola reminds him, her hands finding his, her smile just edging on exasperated, but Tommy grins.

"I've got time."

Lola relaxes against him, his hands finding their way beneath her various layers, fingers trailing up and down the scarred skin along her spine. The faintest shiver runs through her, and he can hear her breath catch for a moment. But then there's a sigh, gentle and content, and she tucks against him, her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"Hey could you- I mean, I was just thinking-" Tommy began, "like would it be better if you stood up the back, like in line with me, and the drums and shit? You miss half of Vince's strutting probably, but I'm pretty far back from the main pyro shit; there's a few with me on the risers but it wouldn't be anywhere near you." A silence stretches between them; he's still rubbing her back, half expecting her to say no, to tell him that she can't deal with any of it-

"I love you."

It's quiet, an exhale, like a sigh of relief. Her grip on him gets a little tighter, and he wonders for a moment if she even realises what she's said, because fuck if he hasn't been feeling it for months, but he was quick to trust, quick to love, open in ways that Lola sometimes seemed incapable of. Suddenly having the rest of the band in the room feels like too much. But then Lola's shifting away, out of his arms and to her feet, smiling.

"Sounds good;" her voice is cheery as she actually responds to his suggestion, but there's something in her eyes that Tommy can't quite identify, "let me just check in with Doc and Zutaut, but that should work out great." Tommy's nodding, but he's lost for words.

She breezes in and out of the dressing room for the time remaining until they perform. The moment she steps foot outside, she can hear Vince's voice from around the corner where he's very obviously flirting with someone.

"Vince, you've got forty-five minutes for hair, makeup, and costume," Lola peers around corner and sees a very pretty brunette in a leopard skin bikini standing close to the singer, twirling her hair. She raises an eyebrow at Lola, as if challenging her to say something, but Vince was just grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, it'll get done Lo, don't stress," Vince assured, and Lola gave an amused smile.

"If your friend wants to help, she's more than welcome to," Lola gave a conspiratorial smile to the woman, who's eyes lit up.

"Like properly backstage? Like the dressing room?" She enthused to Vince, who had to bite back a laugh as he lead the woman into the dressing room next to the one Lola had just left. She remembers to stop in to Mick's dressing room. He's already halfway through a bottle of vodka, but sits patiently as she applies dark, sharp contour to his cheeks.

"You alright, girlie? You left the rehearsal pretty early," Mick notes, and Lola hesitates for a moment before she actually smiles, not feeling the need to act tough.

"Listen, Doc was being a dick about tech stuff," she paused, "and I'll admit, the flames aren't exactly my favourite, but I'm okay."

"You got one of your boys to help you through it?" He asks, no malice behind his words. Lola can't help the strange little smile that twists her lips, liking the way he'd called them 'your boys'. She admitted that they had, without going into details, and Mick gives a small smile of his own, much to her surprise. "Good."

Mick's far less judgemental of their arrangement than she'd thought he'd be. When she'd mentioned it, though it should be noted that they were both reasonably drunk at the time, Mick just told her that everyone seemed happy, and if the band was happy, he didn't give a shit.

And tonight? Happy didn't even begin to cover it.

Nikki, dressed in his full BDSM-esque stage gear, his hair sprayed up and makeup almost fully done, called Lola into his dressing room, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

"You look ready to fuck shit up, Niks," Lola beamed at him, and Nikki hummed in agreement, making his way to the mirror, and his own stash of makeup. He looks for a moment, and Lola can hear the clatter of the plastic packaging, before he turns back.

"Tommy and I wear the same shade of lipstick, right?" It takes a moment after he says it for Lola to nod, but then he's making his way over to her, bending down in his platforms to kiss her.

"You're nervous!" Lola gasps as she steps back, eyes alight, and Nikki's expression goes murderous, not that she cared, picking her way to the sofa in the middle of the room as he begins fuming.

"Don't you fucking get it? I found you practically on the streets of fucking Boston, and now we're in a stadium in L-fucking-A, do you not get how far we've-"

"Stop being so dramatic, of course I get it," waving him over, he realises the reason she'd climbed up to stand on the sofa was so that she'd be at eye level with him with the added height of his boots, for which he's quietly grateful, "though I'll always have a soft spot for that gutter punk; he got me into my first bar, you know?" She teased, smirking.

Nikki doesn't have a rebuttal, which is the biggest clue that he's in his head about the upcoming performance, but Lola rests her forehead against his. For just a moment it feels like a moment they'd shared years ago, back in Sister or London, but there's a new security there, a comfort and familiarity they hadn't allowed themselves for so long, and Lola kisses gentle, affectionate, full of warmth and unfiltered kindness. That's still rather new to their dynamic, and Nikki's kissing her back like he never wants this moment to end.

But it has to.

She's with the band when Zutaut gives his short and uninspiring speech, and she hugs them each in turn, and rolls her eyes and smirks as Vince joins them. The pep talk that Nikki gives the band isn't her place, and so she follows Doc to side of stage.

The band, her boys, Mick included, are sensational. Pride wells within her, and it's all she can do to dance and whoop side of stage to show it off. With the crowd practically salivating for them, the band has a new intensity, electricity, and Vince has them all in the palm of his hand the way he's working the stage.

The crowd roars with feverish applause when they crash to an end at the end of the concert, and Lola's sweaty and out of breath from dancing, but she feels like she's grabbed a live wire, ecstatic and enthusiastic in equal measure. The whole band crowds her into a hug once they're done celebrating amongst themselves, and she hugs them each in turn, lifting each and every one of them off the ground, even Mick, who grumbles about his bones, but gently hugs her back once she puts him back.

And they're all quick to change out of their costumes, throwing over their shoulders that if Zutaut sees any groupies, that they're allowed - encouraged - to come backstage. Lola laughs, trailing after the boys, pausing as they head into their individual dressing rooms, but she can feel butterflies coming to life in her stomach as she lets herself into Tommy's.

He's struggling with part of his harness, and his whole expression lights up when he sees her, asks her help. Of course Lola obliges without question, nimble finger working on the buckle of the belt part of the harness; it didn't take long, and soon he was in just his stiff shirt, and red leather pants. His shoes were flat; heels weren't exactly conductive to drumming, and it's not like he needed the height. That being said, the moment Lola straightened up, she took a step back, surprised at the look in his eyes that she recognised. The butterflies were growing stronger.

"Hey so I- I said something, uh, earlier, and-" she paused, for a moment, before she met his gaze. He looked so fond, a little amused by her stuttering, as if he knew where this was going, but she was done playing safe. With Nikki she would spend forever dancing around admitting anything because it's all they knew, but the moment she told Tommy she wanted him, like really wanted him, he'd told her he loved her. He was so quick to love, even if it was puppy love at first, something fickle and short lived, it had lasted, evolved beyond that.

Steeling her resolve, she forced herself to stop fidgeting, stop stuttering. He could see it on her face, the change in her, the determination; his smile widened.

"Fuck, I love you, Lols." He laughed, and Lola's eyebrows shot up, her determination breaking as she swatted at his arm.

"That's my line!"

"I think you mean 'I love you too'," he snickered, reaching behind himself to untie the back of his stiff, shiny shirt-thing. Lola hummed, eyes narrowing, though her smile betrayed her. Her heart had softened, the moment had been easier than she'd thoughts and the words came easily to her.

"I do, you know? I love you too."

[lynneshobbydomain]

Love’s Sacrifice Chapter One: The Summoning VxFemale OC

Author’s Note: You seen me around as a secondary blog, I was trying to do things and my blog accidently got deleted. I’m working on bringing things back don’t worry. For now enjoy. Inspired by @spirit-of-the-void Her story will be linked at the bottom as well as my AO3.

The Summoning

It’s hard to see her like this. This is the fifth time they had to put her on a breathing machine since her lungs were incapable of working properly. This is the seventeenth time she was doing so well, only to cave back under. I lost count of how often I sat by her bedside, trying to focus on a book, but unable to process the words. How I would glance up every time the heart monitor would skip a beat, and I would wonder if once again I’d have to leave her side. I looked over at her, her chest barely rising and falling. There was no semblance of peace anywhere on her face and I know that she’s fighting to see the next sunrise. A small, tiny victory she was so proud of.

I closed the book with a snap and leaned back into the chair. The book was heavy on my lap, reminding me of my research that I was trying to do. Demons. The Occult. I already tried to appease gods and angels since she was practically one herself, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. No, I -she- needed results. Her life was being drained every moment of every day. I already knew I couldn’t bear to see her funeral. I couldn’t watch them place her in a coffin and lowered to the ground. Loneliness could kill someone and it definitely would come after me since I didn’t pay my dues.

I looked back into my lap. There was a specific spell that I could probably do that would help expand her life. I don’t know what the price would be, every demon was different. I knew that I should take time to prepare myself. I could very well be leaving her behind to a world where I was no longer around.

I reached and took her hand into mine. I was disappointed in how cool her touch was to me. I remember when her hands were warm and affectionate. I remember her vibrant with life, and a spark that could set fire to a nearby building. Trouble was in her veins, and I would follow her just so that I could get a taste of what she could see. I was not apathetic, but I certainly didn’t have the empathy for life she had.

She’s an adventure, and she’s not done yet. Though, what adventures have I had that would make me pause and ponder? I already knew that answer. I already knew that she didn’t belong on this bed. Not in this room filled with machines that were endlessly beeping and nurses muttering about how much time she might have left and doctors wondering if there was even a point to keeping her here or to let her die comforted by family and friends.

Her mother would have been torn apart, my family wouldn’t bat an eye at me, considering I didn’t have one to begin with. Though I can imagine her mother already yelling at me for thinking such things. Being her daughter’s friend meant family, so perhaps I should take that back. She would definitely be upset at the way my mind was whirling about, trying to find a way to save Xina.

I eyed the book with skepticism, and with hope. I don’t think there’s a reason to continue my endless tirade. I picked up the book and I looked back at her. It’s hard to see her so pale, so dead. It’s hard to see her without make up that’s usually decorated on her face. I want to tease her for forgetting her eyeliner. I want to make fun of the crazy lipstick colors she found. I want to see her eyes roll at me, and tease me for my black wardrobe and my personality.

These wants made my heart clench. There was nothing to say to someone that couldn’t hear, but just in case she could…I stood up and squeezed her hand. “‘You drew memories in my mind I could never erase’.” I started walking towards the door and paused. “You painted colors in my heart, I could never replace’.”(1) I walked out and headed down the hallway. The further I left her room, the more resolved I became.

I was going to save my best friend’s life. The cost and the price didn’t matter. I couldn’t afford hesitation.

X

Home. They say that’s where the heart is, but my heart wasn’t anywhere in here and you could tell. I turned on the lights of the apartment, and I felt a wave of disappointment, grief, and anger swallow me. The last time I was here, I merely took a shower and headed back, I didn’t want to be where she wasn’t. She was alone, and suffering, and fighting. I know that nothing I could do would help; not there.

The chairs were still knocked over and scattered from when she had stopped breathing during…was it dinner or lunch? She had fallen to the ground and I had dove to make sure that I could cushion her impact. The dirty plates and utensils were still in the kitchen sink, aching to be cleaned again. The couch still had a rumpled bloodied throw that needed to be neither cleaned or tossed since the blood had dried. Her door to her bedroom was closed, but a light was still shining through. My door was open and completely dark.

There was a thin layer of dust coating the coffee table as well as the other furniture. The apartment needed to be vacuumed and cleaned, if we were going to pass inspection. I wondered if the landlord already came by, and already knew that we weren’t here. He was never surprised. I remembered when he pulled me to the side once. The conversation wasn’t exactly crystal clear, but he wasn’t pleased with the idea of having someone that could drop dead at any moment for a tenant.

I do remember making a joke that having a ghost around the apartment would make things more lively. I recall her laughing at it later on. Now I would do whatever I could to take those words back. Anyone’s ghost was better, just not hers.

I walked into my room, the book in my hand still clenched. As I walked by her room, I could smell a faint scent of vanilla and lavender, one of her favorite perfumes. The ache in my chest increased and I reached to touch the doorknob. I hesitated, and then I turned it and pushed the door open.

The fairy lights that were strung up on the wall behind her bed were still on. They were twinkling a soft white light, bathing her room in an orange glow. Her dream board of different places that she wanted to visit was hanging on the wall next to the window where an empty vase was. I mentally noted to collect a flower and put it there for her. Her desk was in disorder, notebooks and papers strewn all over the place, I couldn’t tell what was important and what wasn’t.

Her one game system looked more dusty than the rest of the apartment combined. I wrinkled my nose, how could she let it go like that? I wasn’t by any means a tidy person, but that just bothered me a little. Then I looked to see there were three pictures on either end of the desk. One to the left, in the middle, and on the right. Pictures of us.

A picture of when we graduated high school. Xina wore the dark black lipstick as though she were mocking the colors we had to wear. Her arm was wrapped around my shoulder and I had my own wrapped around her waist. I remember the fight she had with her hair. The wavy curls were a bitch and she had wanted to chop her hair off since she thought that would be better. I remember what we wanted to do afterwards. Xina was going to go to college and work as a library assistant, I was going into literature. Maybe do something with writing since poetry struck my fancy for so long.

The other picture was of a beach, of us and her mom. Her mom had the same colored hair, but she was a little more darker skinned than the rest of us. My lips quirked. We both weren't exactly pleased to be in the sun, the sunburn afterwards made us both agree that we were probably vampires and we shouldn't try to change that fact. shades we wore looked out of character for us all. I wanted to cringe. I should've just tossed those when I had the chance, but it was a fun picture. She looked better in shades and she knew it. She got out in the sun more, we were more homebodies. I admit, it was the first time she wore a bikini that wasn't black. She looked in red, though I'd never say it to her face.

The third picture was of us in the photo booth. It was our first time in one and I wasn’t exactly pleased about being dragged into it. She wanted to, she wanted to know what the hype and interest was about it. She had kissed my cheek and my surprised expression captured what I thought. I could still see the pink in my cheeks. I had told her to get rid of it, I suppose she decided to sneak it somehow someway.

I looked down at the book that I was holding. I flipped through the pages, I looked for the exact ritual that I would need to use. The materials listed weren’t too hard to find. It was just going to take a long time to collect…and I wasn’t sure if time was really on my side for this. I looked back at the desk, at the photos of us.

“To the you who have shown me love and gave me shelter, it’s only right and fair I do the same for you.” I reached and I touched the picture that I despised at the time. I could no longer find it in my heart to be upset that she had taken the photo with her and displayed it openly.

If it made her happy. I let my fingers trace her cheek. If it made her happy then that was all that mattered. I turned on my heel and I walked into my room, which was a lot more darker and colder than hers.

My memories of her were etched in pen and ink. The journal was still laid open on my desk. I didn’t have much in my name. My walls were filled with shelves had plenty of books. My bed was unmade, the blankets still tangled in knots from that morning. I had been sleeping on the couch here instead of in my own room, just in case the phone rang and I needed to answer it quickly.

V-

I turned around quickly. She wasn’t here, and yet I heard her voice clear as day. There was a loud bang and I jumped, realizing that the book had fallen from my grasp. I bent down to pick it up when I saw that it had landed on a page of a demon summoning circle. It was simple, much more so than the one that I had previously found. The picture of the demon was a horrendous drawing, probably in hopes to dissuade people from trying. It looked practically ridiculous to me, though I couldn't shake off the cold I suddenly felt when I looked upon the drawing.

Real demons were going to be a lot scarier, if the summoning circle was legit. There was no harm in trying. If it didn’t work, then it didn’t work, there were other occult books out there that would probably have a better, easier way of making a pact with a demon. I couldn't afford to waste time, Xina couldn't afford me to waste time.

I folded the corner of the page and I closed the book. I didn’t have a bookmark and I didn’t have this book memorized. I could hear her laughing, faking a gasp at the book’s defilement.

She wasn’t dead. I had to remind myself that I could hear her laugh later. That I could tell her about this. I could tease her about the photo in her room. But time felt as though it was ticking down. The wait for midnight wasn’t going to be easy, not in this apartment, and certainly not when the phone stayed eerily silent in the kitchen.

I was just going to have to breathe, read, and hope for the best till then.

~

Midnight came torturously slow. I should be grateful that the phone hadn’t rang once, but my nerves were on edge. I don’t know if it’s because I was away from the hospital and I wasn’t sure about her condition, or if it’s because I was about to do something that would change our lives forever. I would’ve told her. I would’ve told her my idea and plan. She would’ve given me every bit of advice she could find, she would have been more thorough in her search, she would have stopped me.

Perhaps I was waiting for the phone to ring. I was waiting for a reason to not try. The phone stayed silent and I cut my hand with a steak knife. The serrated edges burned my skin and I immediately regretted not using a smooth blade instead. The blood dripped into the black candle that was lit.

“I call out my wish into the dark abyss. Three drops of blood for the demon’s bliss. I welcome you here with my soul to kiss. A sacrifice and a promise, I offer you this.”

The candle flickered and turned into a ruby color. The energy crackled around me, making my hair raise up. My stomach twisted and I felt the room spin in so many directions I wasn’t sure if I was still sitting or if I had gotten up to stand. The demon that appeared before me…I couldn’t even begin to describe it. Every time I tried to look, I felt static go against my eyes and my ears rang. I could imagine an eye, and the color blue. But what color the eye was, and where the blue was from, I couldn't even begin to try to say.

“A human? Summoning me from the Underworld?” The demon clicked his tongue, his words were practically a growl. “You’re not even a witch’s descendent, this shouldn’t have worked.”

I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. The words were slurring together in my mind. Was this a trick to make sure that I'd just agree to anything so that I wouldn't know the consequences or was this the energy that was being sucked out?

“Yet here we are,” The Demon cooed. “What’s your wish?”

“Alexina.” I knew that I had to give her full name. It was the only way that I could be certain that this would bind, that this would work. “Her life hangs. I want to do something to get rid of the disease that racks her body.”

“I am not a God,” The Demon spat, “Hadn’t you tried to pray for that?” Selfless reasons and wishes I supposed would make a demon cower. “No matter. I suppose we could do better than that. Considering who you are…” He trailed off. “There is a price.”

I held my breath.

“She will get her health back, but you will lose yours. You will be filled with my energy. You will exist only as long as she exists.” The Demon said thoughtfully. “You will lose your humanity.”

“Then that’s the price I pay.” I wouldn't even stop to hesitate.

The Demon laughed, a wicked and cruel sound that brought another shiver down my spine. The world continued to spin and I tried to hold myself up. I felt weak. I felt like I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The Demon leered with a fanged smile that was too close for comfort. He was going to eat me, was my fearful thought and my sight started to darken around the edges.

“You're on your own on how to use the energy given to you. I wonder how you will fair." The Demon smirked. "I wonder if you'll call upon me again, to beg this curse removed."

He snapped his fingers and I felt a strong surge of pain rack through my body. I felt as though someone was tearing at my skin, claws ripping at my flesh. I screamed, my nails gripping onto the ground as I tried to steady myself. I didn’t realize that I was on my side until I opened my eyes again. I felt as though someone had slammed me hard with a van. I felt so sick to my stomach, I could easily vomit. My breathing was erratic and I didn’t dare try to sit up. My body was trembling as though I hadn’t eaten in three days.

"I will see you in death."

I blacked out, his laughter echoing in my mind.

(1) Perry Poetry

You can find my fanfiction here: AO3

You can also find Spirit-Of-The-Void’s story here: SpiritChilde

[danielleelesterr]

Survival of the Fittest Part 1

Hi! This is my very first time posting one of my phanfics. I never wanted to because I was too frightened, but I finally built up the courage! This is something I once wrote at 5 am on a school night and I have no idea if it’s any good, but I enjoyed writing it. So thank you for reading and let me know if you’d like for me to post part 2!

Word Count: 3.2k

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Content, Suicidal mentions, Prostitution, Swearing, Violence

Summary: Daniel Howell is all alone in the world and has to sell his body to survive. Philip Lester is rich and can't seem to make up his mind.

"Disgusting," a middle aged woman mumbled as Dan strutted past her. He made sure to twist his hips more than usual and to ignore her venomous glare. This wasn't unusual. In fact, Dan was used to this by now. Having people call him out or bluntly insult him for his 'job'. It wasn't like Dan wanted to live on the streets and sell his body in order to survive at all. But they didn't care. They never would and they'd never be able to understand. They had families and jobs to give them a reason to live. Dan never bothered any one else, but everyone always bothered him. At first, it had drove Dan to the edge of insanity and he hated himself. But now, he realized that they were in the wrong just as much as he was and should just brush off their hateful comments. Besides, he needed the money. Dan never graduated high school and with his record, he'd never be able to have a normal life. He could never just drop prostitution and try to succeed in the real world no matter how hard he wanted to. He saw himself as unworthy and worthless. That this was what he deserved and that he'd never be able to find anything better.

The wind fought against Dan's greasy curly hair as he walked to the end of the alleyway. Dan didn't have a certain location he needed to be and didn't have any specific objective for the night. He never did. He drifted from shady neighborhood to shady neighborhood, hoping he wouldn't be caught. There was also always the fear of someone from high school wanting to buy him for the night or recognizing him as they drove past. Hopefully, no one ever would. His life was already embarrassing enough and he could handle the occasional insult thrown at him, but being targeted by someone he knew would be too much for him. The sound of Dan's large black heels began to echo and grow louder as he neared the end of the street corner.

This should be good enough. He thought to himself as he came to a sudden halt and leaned against the street lamp. Even though he had been wearing heels consistently for about 8 years, they still hurt like hell. However, they really screamed 'prostitute' for men driving by for some reason. Days when he wore them he seemed to get more business compared to the days that he didn't.

Dan reached into his purse and pulled out his portable blush compact to perfect his appearance. He opened it and brought it up to his face. Eyebrows recently plucked, grey eye shadow still in tact, eyeliner still making a grand cat eye, blush still rosy, and red lipstick hadn't smeared yet. He was in good shape and was ready for the long night to begin. Each day got easier for him, but it also got more difficult. Dan hated every moment of being handled by a stranger in ways that strangers shouldn't handle you. But Dan was brave and good at what he did. So therefore, why should he stop if it was bringing in the money he needed for food and clothing?

Dan glanced one last time at his reflection and attempted to make his hair look presentable when he noticed a black Mercedes approaching him.

Typical.

The car rolled by to his side and rolled down the passenger seat window. Dan sighed before pulling on his signature smirk and preparing to win whoever this was over.

"Can I help you, Sir?" Dan asked smoothly as he bent down to lean inside and peer at the man. However, when Dan made eye contact with this man, he nearly lost his ability to act. He was incredible and took Dan's breath away. Raven black hair that went up into a high quiff on the top of his head and deep ocean blue eyes that had traces of yellow and green in them. Dan had seen thousands, maybe even millions, of men before, but none of them even came close to the one set in the drivers seat across from him.

"Uh," He paused to awkwardly cough. "Yes, please."

Please? Please.

No one had asked Dan for his services as politely and quietly as this man was. Nobody really even asked. They drove up, demanded Dan get into the car, drive off till they find a place they deem safe enough, have meaningless sex, pay Dan, and drop him off. That's how it always went.

"Hmmm," Dan looked Phil up and down. "Just for you, I'll give you a discount for 65 pound," Dan winked and leaned further into the window, allowing his butt to be prominent to Phil.

"Yeah, of course, thanks," He said all in one breath and Dan had barely anytime to process his words. "Is it okay if we-um-go to a hotel?"

Dan had had a couple of customers who wanted to try and dignify their reasons for buying a hooker. Dan liked it when opportunities like this arose, and even though he was losing money, it was less men he had to please.

"Sure, anything you want, Daddy," Dan threw in the last word just to see how the other man would take it. He watched as he flinched at the name and swallowed thickly. Dan knew he was an amateur to this and it was obvious he had no clue as to what he was doing. He was probably just lonely and needed to interact with someone. Dan gave him a seductive grin and batted his eyelashes before opening the car door and slipping into the passenger seat.

The ride to the hotel was silent and the tension in the air was ridiculously high. Once they had finally reached their destination, Phil jumped out immediately after parking and waltzed over to Dan's side to open the door for him.

Was this guy insane? Was he expecting some sort of date with a hooker?

Dan nodded at the man in thanks before stepping cautiously out of the car in astonishment.

"I-uh-um-I'll get a room," He informed Dan before scurrying off to the office. Dan waited patiently while leaning against the car. What exactly was this guy expecting? Was he some sort of undercover cop? No, he would've arrested Dan the moment he entered the car. Was he just a clueless virgin who finally gave up searching for the right one? No, that'd be impossible with how gorgeous he is.

Dan thought and thought until the man returned by Dan's side, key now held firmly in his hand. Dan nearly jumped out of his skin when the man took his hand and interlocked their fingers. Nobody had never held Dan's hand while on the clock unless it was to keep Dan from squirming during sex. As the man directed Dan to the correct room, Dan couldn't help but stare at their hands intertwined and grin. This guy was not only sexy, he knew how to treat a man. It was really cute and amazing to Dan. He wished he could get this type of physical affection more often, especially from this beautiful man.

Once they reached the door, the man opened it and walked in with Dan in towe. Once they were fully in, he closed the door and lead Dan to the bed, never breaking the grip he had on Dan's hand. His skin was warm against Dan's and made his heart beat speed up to a rapid pace.

"I'm Phil."

Dan's eyes widened in pure shock. There had only been a hand full of people who had actually given Dan their real name. When Dan didn't respond, Phil spoke up at an attempt to clear up the confusion.

"What's your name?" He asked, his voice soothing.

"Dan," Dan responded, almost sounding dumbly because of how awestruck he was by Phil.

"You're really gorgeous, Dan."

Dan felt his cheeks flush red as he shyly looked down at the ground. No one called him that. Ever. Why did this guy have to be so nice and completely catch Dan off guard?

"Thank you. I could say the same about you," Dan flirted, leaning in closer to Phil. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Phil stared at him as if he had just just given him an hundred step algebra equation. "Oh-um-I-You could-I dont know-give me head?"

Phil looked almost ashamed and could no longer meet Dan's eyes.

"Just lay back and relax and I'll give you a special treat," Dan cringed at himself and reluctantly released his grip on Phil's hand. Phil nodded and complied by doing exactly what Dan had instructed him to do. Or at least tried, his chest was still heaving. Dan went to the end of Phil's feet before crawling up his body slowly. He softly pressed his lips to Phil's and instantly was put into a trance. His lips were so perfect and fit perfectly with Dan's even when they were slightly quivering. Dan wanted to make Phil feel at ease and needed foreplay to warm him up. Dan pecked Phil's lips a couple of times to allow him to adjust before sliding his tongue against Phil's bottom lip. Phil quickly opened his mouth and granted Dan access. Dan and Phil's tongues met and swirled in perfect rhythm together. Dan felt himself growing underneath of his black skirt and knew Phil had to be doing the same inside of his jeans. Dan pulled away and Phil let out a groan at the loss of contact.

"Have you done this before?" Dan questioned, a smirk hinting at the corners of his lips as he began to unbutton Phil's shirt. Phil paused for a moment before shaking his head no. So Phil was a clueless virgin who had given up on finding the right one. This only made Dan want to pleasure this gorgeous man even more. Once Dan had fully taken off Phil's shirt, he admired his bare beauty. Phil looked insecure and acted as if he wanted to cover himself from Dan's lurking eyes. This made guilt rise up in the pit of Dan's stomach and he learned down to Phil's ear to whisper something to make him feel better.

"You're perfect. I love your body." When Dan pulled away for a brief moment just to gauge Phil's reaction, Phil was as red as a tomato. A sudden wave of courage washed over Dan as he realized how much power he had over this man. He leaned down to give Phil one last kiss before trailing his lips down the center of his chest to his stomach to his happy trail. Phil arched his hips and was begging to be touched. Dan grinned widely in triumph before helping Phil discard his jeans and boxers. Dan felt himself salivate when Phil's huge hard leaking cock popped up and slammed against his stomach. Dan generally despised participating in sexual acts with strangers, but this man was perfect in every way. How could Dan not enjoy himself?

Dan wrapped his hand firmly around Phil's cock and Phil hissed in response.

"Fuck," He muttered as Dan begun to slowly stroke him.

"Mmm, Daddy, you're already so hard for me," Instead of flinching at the nickname, his cock twitched eagerly in Dan's hand. Dan pumped him a few more times and licked up the pre-cum leaking out from Phil's tip, but getting into a better position and attaching his mouth to Phil.

"Ah!" Phil groaned once Dan had taken every inch of Phil into his mouth and he was now pressed against the back of Dan's throat. Dan was very skilled at deep throating with the amount of practice he had had, but Phil was huge. Taking his cock this far brought tears to Dan's eyes, but that didn't stop him. He begun working wonders on Phil's cock, making Phil thrust upwards craving more. Dan had to press down firmly onto Phil's hips in order to steady him and to take his cock at a better angle. Dan hallowed out his cheeks and worked his trained mouth to the best of his ability.

"Oh-my-god! How are you so good at this?"

Dan chuckled, the vibrations going right through Phil and making him let out a sudden moan. Dan pulled off of Phil, making a loud popping sound. "I can't help myself. I love taking your massive cock in my mouth."

"Oh fuck," Phil murmured out as Dan reattached his mouth to Phil's dick. Dan quickened his pace from before, each time Phil's tip pounded against the back of Dan's throat. Dan never choked once though. "I'm going to-" Phil trailed off, not even able to finish his sentence before he was shooting his sticky white liquid inside of Dan's mouth. Dan grinned and continued to move to help Phil finish off his orgasm before swallowing every last drop.

"That was... amazing. Thank you."

Dan pulled off of Phil's cock and smirked when he realized Phil was still half hard and that he wasn't going flaccid anytime soon.

"Do you want to put your huge cock inside of me, Daddy?" Dan purred, his words once again going directly to Phil's cock.

"I-I-I," Phil tried to form a sentence, still trying to come down from probably the high of his lifetime.

"Shh, it's okay, I know what you want," Dan turned himself around and lifted up his skirt to fully expose his behind to Phil. Dan knew Phil's eyes would immediately look at the shiny red jewel buttplug. "I'm already stretched for you, see Daddy, I know."

"I-," Phil tried to speak, but got distracted when Dan let out a small groan as he pulled out the buttplug and reached down to stroke Phil a couple of times. Phil released small moans as leftover cum spurred out of his growing cock. Dan angled himself up with Phil's dick and caught Phil off guard when he begun to lower himself. One moment Dan was being stretched by Phil's amazing cock, the next he was being shoved off of the bed.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Phil shouted loudly. "I can't lose it to someone like you."

Dan felt his heart shatter and fall from his ribs to the very bottom of his stomach. Dan should've figured that Phil had been pretending that Dan was his date and that they were making love. Dan felt like he had fucked up everything and that he shouldn't have failed to please Phil.

"I thought this was what you wanted."

"Yeah, well so did I until it actually started happening."

"Was I bad?" Dan felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He had never once left a customer feeling disappointed, they had all been pleased by his skill.

"What? No? Course not!" Phil exclaimed. "I just can't have sex with you! Hard to tell what shit you have!"

Dan felt so tiny and disgusted with himself, he wanted to throw up.

"I don't, I promise!" He cried.

"God, this is absolutely sick! What the fuck am I doing picking up a cross-dressing whore?"

"I'm not a whore!"

"Yeah right, you'd have to be to do this for a living. You let strangers do whatever they want to you and I bet you like it!"

"No! Stop!"

"You're a fucking dirty whore, just admit it to yourself already!"

"No, please, stop!"

"I can't believe myself for doing this! You can't even admit to yourself how much you like being a cockslut!

Dan broke down at that. Something deep inside of him had finally snapped in two. Tears immediately fell from his big brown eyes. He didn't want to do this-god how he didn't want to do this! How he wished he had choices of his own and a life worth living. All those times stranger's hands had wondered down his body and touched him wherever they pleased. They way Dan had let them and then got paid afterwards. Phil was right. Dan was a whore and nothing but it. But he didn't want to be. He didn't want to accept that he was a whore either. He hadn't even thought about what exactly he was until now.

"You asshole!" Dan stuttered through tears. "You come pick me up and take up my money-earning time and I give you a pretty decent first blowjob! And this is how you treat me?

"Oh! Excuse me for taking up the sweet time you need to get pounded in the ass! And how you expect me to treat a hooker? You were basically begging to suck my cock anyway!" Each one of Phil's words really got underneath of Dan's skin and triggered something deep inside of him.

"I don't want to, okay? You already proved your fucking point! I get I'm a whore!" Dan tried to yell louder than Phil, but his voice gave out on him and cracked mid sentence.

Phil seemed to soften at this and pulled up his boxers before standing up to sit beside Dan. Dan was a mess. He was sobbing so hard, his body was beginning to rock back and forth on its own accord. His legs were pulled tightly to his chest as he cried into his knees. Phil was terrified and didn't know what to do.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I was just angry," Phil tried, but failed horribly. Phil didn't even think Dan could hear him as he begun to unravel. "Hey, it's okay! I'm sorry!" Phil begun to cry too, bewildered by Dan's unsteady breaths and constant whimpering.

"I don't want to!" Dan repeated himself, making guilt punch Phil directly in the face.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry. Please calm down," Phil tried a different approach by pulling Dan out of his defensive position and placing his head gently into Phil's lap. Dan gripped tightly onto Phil's bare leg and scrunched his body up. "Shhh, it's okay. I've got you," Phil begun to rub Dan's back in a comforting manner and was glad to see Dan was slowly, but surely, relaxing.

"I don't want to," Dan mumbled out one last time before his vision went black and he passed out in Phil's lap.

[ladywinchester1967]

Made to Be Broken

Summary: She’s the President’s daughter and he’s head of her security detail. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Secret Service Dean Winchester x Julianna Mills (OFC, The President’s Daughter)

Word Count: 5104

Warnings: Language, Smut (of the dirty, filthy variety), secrecy, FLUFF (good lord, the fluff came from no where!), mentions of torture, angst, feels, dirty talk, unprotected sex. I think that’s it.  

Square Filled: Secretly Dating

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo the title was inspired by THIS performance of “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls. It resonated with me and I hope that shows in this work (granted, I’ve seen the song performed a million times but for some reason, this one just stuck with me.) Unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, but the pictures are NOT. I found them on Google, Pinterest and tumblr.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was wrong, on so many levels. This could get him fired and her publicly shamed; that didn’t stop them however, God himself could have told them to stop and they wouldn’t have listened.

He hiked her skirt up as he flung her panties off as she practically ripped his belt and fly open.

“How long do we have?” She asked as she pulled his pants down

“Twenty minutes?” He asked “Give or take.”

“Better make it quick Winchester,” she told him as she feverishly kissed him “wouldn’t want anyone to come looking for us.”

“You’re with me baby,” he said “NO ONE’S gonna come looking for us.”

He pushed deep inside her as she moaned.

It had started eight months ago; shortly after Dean had been hired on as a member of the Secret Service. They’d first laid eyes on each other a few days before the Presidential Inauguration when they’d been introduced.

“Ma’am, this is Agent Winchester,” The Director of the Secret Service, Bobby Singer, has told her “Agent Winchester, this is Julianna Mills. You’re now assigned as part of her security detail.”

With raven hair, eyes as blue as sapphires; she wore a grey suit with a pencil skirt, a pale pink top poking out from under her suit jacket and t-strap pumps; she had black, winged eyeliner and ruby red lipstick on as well. She gave him a kind, white toothed smile and extended her small, perfectly manicured hand to him.

“Agent Winchester,” She said with a smile “a pleasure.”

Dean flashed her a grin; he looked sharp in a navy blue suit, white shirt and black tie.

“I completely agree.” He told her.

Dean had followed Julianna around like he was supposed to, keeping her moving as her father walked in front of her and her mother.

“Agent Winchester?” She asked him later that night as he walked her to her hotel room door.

“You can call me Dean, if that helps.” He told her and she nodded.

“Dean, how many people have you looked after?” She asked

“Quite a few,” he said “I was a body guard before a decided to join the Secret Service.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” She asked

He shook his head

“A few well placed kicks and punches usually gets my point across,” he told her “but when I served in the military, yes I did.”

“Can you tell me more about that?” She asked

“Not tonight ma’am,” he said “maybe another time.”

“Why not tonight?” She asked “If you’re going to follow me around I should at least know things about you.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Dean told her “If you don’t give me any trouble, I’ll tell you all about my military career. Deal?”

She stuck her hand out and shook his

“I’m holding you to that.” She told him.

“I know you will ma’am.” He said

“Please, just call me Julie.” She told him and he nodded.

The next day, Dean escorted Julianna to a local children’s hospital that she frequented. She loved to go in and see the kids and read to them; even bringing books she thought they would like. The Secret Service had gone ahead with dogs and made sure the room Julianna would be meeting the kids in was completely secure.

“Dean, we have a problem,” Dean’s brother, Sam, told him “we’ve got media outside and Julianna specifically asked that no media be present.”

“She did?” Dean asked “She didn’t tell me.”

“She told me this morning,” Sam told him “can you get the police or security here to get them to back off?”

“I’m on it,” Dean said and pulled out his phone “I thought it was a good thing for her to be seen doing shit like this.”

“It is,” Sam said as they walked “but she wants to protect the privacy of the kids.”

Dean was slightly thrown off, but nonetheless, made the call and got local police and hospital security on the media. Once they were back on public property, Dean went back to Julianna’s hotel room.

“Why did you tell SAM you didn’t want media presence and not me?” Dean asked, annoyed.

“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do,” Julianna told him “he’s Chief of Staff.”

“But I’m head of YOUR security. I’M the one in charge of YOUR safety, this is the kind of shit I need to know.” Dean told her.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked him, taken aback.

“When someone that isn’t me knows something that involves your safety before I do, yeah I would say that qualifies me to be mad.” He snapped at her.

“I’m sorry!” She shouted at him “I don’t know how this whole security things works! Ever since my Dad got elected, I’m having to answer a million questions and have my every move questioned and I hate it!”

They stared one another down and Dean’s expression softened

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” he told her “your safety is my number one priority and when my brother is telling me what I’m supposed to do to protect you, it threw me for a loop.”

She nodded and finished pinning her hair up. She wore a black and grey striped top, black pants and Converse shoes. Her hair was pinned into a proofed up ponytail along with her signature black eyeliner and red lipstick.

“Dean, can I ask your honest opinion?” She asked him.

“Sure.” He said

“Do I look okay?” She asked “I mean, for a president’s daughter?”

“Honestly?” He asked and she nodded “You look like a pinup girl and that’s not a bad thing.”

“Like Marilyn Monroe if she’d married JFK?” Julianna asked and he laughed.

“Probably, but better.” He said and his cheeks turned pink “Sorry, I’ll just wait outside for you.” He said and shut the door behind him. Her mouth curved into a smile as his comment sunk in. He thought she looked better than probably the biggest blonde bombshell of all time. She grabbed her purse as she blushed.

From then on, Dean always knew about what she was planning to do. Anytime her family stopped in a town, she always went to read to children. Her main platform was promoting literacy among children. Dean watched one day as she gave a passionate speech at a local school library one day.

“Without words we cannot communicate,” she had said “without the ability to read, how will we learn from our past mistakes and how to make our world better? That is why I want to issue a challenge to every child at Silver Springs Elementary and beyond. Nurture your mind the same way you nurture your body with a healthy diet. You’ll be surprised at what you can create.”

He watched as a smile crossed her face and she went on

“I’d like to tell you a story about a young lady that liked to write, just for fun and to tell stories to her mother and sisters. One day, she sat on a train and came up with the idea for a boy with glasses to go to wizard school. Today, we know that woman as J.K. Rowling and the boy she envisioned as Harry Potter. The only limit in your arsenal of written words is your imagination.”

The crowd clapped as she thanked the crowd and walked off stage toward Dean and the rest of her security detail. The rosy glow that illuminated her face was enough to entrance him.

“What’d you think?” She asked Dean as he walked her to her hotel room that night.

“You’re very passionate about reading and writing, why?” He asked and she had smiled.

“I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours.” She told him as they arrived at her door.

“What secret is that?” He asked

“About your military career.” She told him.

“Damn, I was hoping you’d forget about that,” he said and then added “pardon my French.”

She held up a hand

“Nothing worse than what I’ve said,” she told him “so care to tell me that story?”

“I’m gonna need alcohol before I tell that story.” He told her as they arrived at her door.

“Well, you’re in luck.” She told him “I can have room service bring it up.”

“You mean me?” He asked “Because I have to check everything you get sent.”

“Everything?” She asked and he nodded “Jesus, when do you sleep?”

“I get my four hours a night and I’m fine.” He said. She shook her head and rolled her eyes

“Fine, do what you must, but don’t keep me waiting.” She told him

“I would never.” He told her as they walked into her room.

She was surprisingly easy to talk to with all their formalities out of the way. Wearing her NYU hoodie and yoga pants with no makeup on, she was just as beautiful as when she was dolled up for the press.

“So you gathered information?” she asked, as she poured them another drink

“By whatever means necessary, yes, I did.” he told her, as he took the drink “Am I proud of what I did? I guess that depends on who you ask.”

“If I asked you?” she questioned and he shook his head as she sipped from her glass.

“The things I did to get the information I needed? No, I'm not proud of that.” he told her “The lives I saved because of that information? Yes, I am proud of that.”

“Did you ever think if those people had families? Children that were waiting for them?” She asked

He shook his head and knocked back the rest of his drink.

“No, I couldn't afford to. If I thought of them as more than a mean to an end, that made me weak. In my former line of work, I couldn't afford to appear weak.” he told her

“Why not?” she asked as she kept sipping.

“Weakness meant they could've found out anything about me. My family, my friends, anyone I had contact with and used it against me.” His green eyes were set, as he moved the glass from hand to hand “I basically had to turn off who I was; everything my parent taught me about being a good and decent person, I had to lock away while I tortured those people.”

She let out a breath and finished off the rest of her drink.

“You hate me, don't you?” he asked and she shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

“No, I couldn't hate you.” she told him “You're too good for me to hate. Do I agree with your methods? No.”

“But?” he asked “I'm sensing a “but” somewhere in there.”

“This is difficult for me to grapple with because of my background.” She told him “I mean, before my dad became president.”

“I'm intrigued,” he said “So you wanted to be a what before your Dad ran for president?” Dean asked as he poured them another whiskey.

“A human rights lawyer,” she told him as she took the glass “like Amal Clooney.”

He shrugged

“You’d be good at it, you could still do it.” He told her and she shook her head as she took another drink.

“Nah, my Mom said the family has to stick together while Dad’s in office. Looks better that way.” She told him.

“If you say so,” he told her “you’d do well at anything you try though. You’re really smart.”

She grinned

“Thank you.” She told him

“Truth or truth?” He asked her

“That’s redundant,” She told him “just ask me to tell the truth.”

“Okay, so tell me the truth,” he said “how had some little rich guy not come and swept you off your feet?”

She laughed

“Because they’re intimidated by me.” She told him “They’re not used to girls who speak their minds and who stand up for themselves. They want decoration and I’m not decoration.”

“You’re got enough to be decoration, just too smart for it.” He pointed out and immediately regretted it. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“You think so?” She asked

“Sorry, I overstepped.” He said and stood up. She followed after him, setting her drink down.

“Dean, please don’t leave.” She said as he walked to the door.

“I should,” He told her, not looking at her “I should walk out of this room and resign, go back home and live a life of mediocrity.”

“But?” She asked

He slowly turned back around, with his loosened tie, un-tucked shirt and light stubble on his face, he looked delicious. He set his drink aside and stood in front of her.

“But then I wouldn’t have the chance to do this.” He said and held her face in his hands as he kissed her, catching her off guard. He pulled back and she pulled him back in, kissing him again.

“No,” he said as they kept kissing “we can’t.”

“We shouldn’t.” She told him as she untied his tie, flinging it to the ground.

“I should go.” He told her as he unzipped her hoodie, peeling it off of her and leaving her in a thin tank top.

“Yeah, yeah you should.” She said as she unbuttoned his dress shirt and tugged it off of him. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her over to the bed. He got on top of her and kissed her hard. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he practically begged as he kissed her neck and collar bone “tell me to fuck off.”

She tugged in his hair, making him look her in the eye.

“No,” she told him “I’m not gonna do that.”

“I could get fired for this.” He told her

“I’ll tell them I seduced you.” She shot back

“I can’t even begin to think of the names they’d call you.” He told her, his fingers trailing over her cheek.

“I don’t care.” She told him “I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you. I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“How could I NOT want you?” He asked

“I thought you’d want someone like my sisters.” she told him

Julianna had two younger sisters; Alexis and Claire.

“Alexis is the tomboy. They all love her because she likes to hunt, golf and fish.” She said.

Alexis was a brat, she didn’t care to attend much of anything and would rather spend her time on a baseball diamond than anywhere else.

“Claire is basically Biker Barbie, if anything I figured you’d go for her.” Julianna told him.

With a snotty attitude and a chip on her shoulder; Claire wore black eyeliner and her hair in braids, she was a bigger brat that Alexis.

Dean shook his head

“No, they’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t compare to you.” He told her. “You carry yourself with this quiet confidence and you can command the attention of a room without trying. You’re sharp and witty and you speak with such passion about the things you care about. That, to me, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You think I’m sexy?” She asked and he nodded

“Of course I do,” he said “who wouldn’t?”

She kissed him with renewed passion, locking her legs around his waist.

“I want you,” She told him as they kissed “fuck I want you so badly.”

She clawed at his belt and pants as he yanked her tank top off, leaving her topless. Her bare torso exposed to him, he kissed every inch he could get to, tasting the salty and sweet mix of her skin. He licked and sucked on her nipples, the pink, sensitive buds hardening in his mouth as she writhed under him.

“Dean, oh Dean!” She mewled

“What do you want me to do to you gorgeous?” He asked as he kissed down her belly and to the waistband of her yoga pants. “Your ass looks so fucking hot in these.”

“Mh, really?” She asked “Why don’t you pull those off and see what it looks like bare?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but did as she commanded and realized she wasn’t wearing panties.

“You dirty, dirty girl.” He said as he spread her legs open, she was practically dripping with arousal. He looked up at her and she nodded, giving him permission. He picked up one leg and kissed from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. He intentionally skipped where she wanted him most and kissed down to her other ankle.

“DEAN,” she hissed “don’t tease me.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said “and I’ll quit teasing.”

“Go down on me,” she told him “I want to know what that mouth can do.”

“Yes ma’am.” he said as he laid on his front, his head between her legs. He flattened his tongue and licked her from hole to clit, making her back arch. He placed his hands behind her knees and pushed her legs up. He licked the curve of her butt and the backs of her thighs. Surprising even herself, she cried out in passion.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh, that feels, FUCK!” She cried out.

He hushed her

“If anyone hears you, they’ll come to investigate,” he told her “you have to be quiet or I won’t get to finish you.”

She nodded and he went back to work, his tongue seeming to be able to find every spot between her legs that made her pant and bite her lip. He sat up a little, grabbing behind her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He grabbed a pillow from the nearby chair, set it on the ground and placed his knees on it as he opened her legs again.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.” He told her as he dove back in. She sat up and realized what she was looking at. In the full length mirror, she saw the both of them. She looked strung out on passion and her hair was a mess, but the sight of her gorgeous head of security on his knees in front of her was intoxicating. She ran her fingers through his hair as he thrust his tongue into her, his mouth sealing over her pussy. She gripped his hair and rocked, his nose bumping her clit as he gripped her hips and moaned.

“Yes, like that.” He said as she rode his tongue.

“Fuck me Dean,” she begged him “god, please fuck me.”

Without a word, he stood and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. She had gotten glimpses of his “equipment”, his dress pants didn’t do much to disguise what he had, but the truth was far better than she expected. She reached out and gently ran her hand over his velvety length, the tip leaking pre-cum. She lapped her tongue over the tip and he nearly growled.

“Fuck Julie,” he said as he ran a hand through her hair. She took him into her mouth, bit by bit, adjusting to his length and girth, her hand compensated for what her mouth couldn’t take as she began to bob her head up and down him. He hissed and moaned as he held her hair and watched in the mirror.

Here he was, a guy from a small town in Kansas getting a blowjob from the President’s daughter.

It sounded like the plot to a cheap porn but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” he moaned “you suck cock like a champ sweetheart.”

She hummed and he gripped her hair tighter and let her keep going. She was winding him tightly as she lightly twisted his skin and then started to fondle his balls.

“Fuck,” he hissed “oh fuck!” He yanked her off of him and said “I was enjoying that, but this is gonna be over a lot quicker than I want it to be if you keep going like that.”

She nodded and he helped her stand as he kissed her. He backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed. Her wrapped his arms around her and sat down. She straddled him and took his length into her hand, guiding it to her waiting hole. She flicked him through her folds and moaned as he kissed her harder.

“You ready for me?” He asked and she nodded guiding him inside her. He thrust his hips up as she took him in, moaning. She quietly moaned his name over and over again in his ear as he grabbed two handfuls of her ass in his hands.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he kissed her “you have the firmest ass I’ve ever grabbed.”

She smirked and kissed him

“And you’ve got the biggest cock I’ve ever had,” she murmured in his ear as she bit the lobe “let me ride you.”

He pulled back as he fully sank into her and nodded as she moved her hips. The sound of her skin hitting his echoed in the room as she rode him slowly at first. She could feel every inch of him filling her nearly to the breaking point. He gripped her flesh hard, there would surely be bruises on her ass in the morning, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was them and being in that moment with him. He laid down, his back flat on the bed as she placed her hands on his chest.

“Mh, look at you riding me like a champ,” he commented “fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

She smirked and asked

“You like that? A girl taking charge over you?”

“No,” he said “a WOMAN.”

She bit her lip and slid her hands up and down her own body as he watched. She placed her fingertips on her clit and began to massage the engorged bundle of nerves.

“Fuck!” he moaned as he tried to push into her faster and she shook her head.

“No,” she moaned as she moved her fingers in a slow, torturous circle “I want us to take our time, I want to feel EVERYTHING.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” He told her as she moved and he drank in the sight on top of him. The girl he wanted, that seemed just out of his reach, was now playing with her clit while she rode his hard cock.

If this was a dream, he’d be royally pissed when we woke up.

“Dean,” she moaned “oh god Dean, you feel so good inside me.”

“That’s it,” he growled “use that filthy mouth.”

“You like watching me fuck you?” She asked “Playing with my clit on top of you?”

“God yes,” he groaned “taking what you want from me.”

“Sit up,” She commanded and he followed through, he watched as she glided her hands up her body and cupped both her breasts in her hands. “Mhhh, you wanna suck on these?” She asked him and he nodded

“Yes,” he choked out “yes ma’am, please? May I?”

“Such a-FUCK!-such a good boy. So polite.” She breathed as she kissed him “You may, you may suck on me.”

He captured her nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud while his other hand captured her other breast, his thumb flicking over the nipple, making her whine.

“Oh fuck, Dean! Dean, oh fuck!” She moaned “God, I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna come all over you!”

“Mh,” he moaned “Come for me baby, come all over me.”

She rode him hard, the sound of slapping skin getting louder as she dug her nails into his shoulders, screaming into his chest as she came. He bit into her shoulder and cried out as he let go deep inside her, finally stilling.

After their romp in the broom closet; they straightened themselves up and went back to the engagement she'd been dragged to. Dean watched as she navigated the flurry of people wanting to talk to her, asking which designer she was wearing and what lipstick she used. The black, winged eyeliner has become part of her style and the press pounced on it.

“The eyeliner and lipstick is by Wet N Wild,” she told the reporter “the eyeliner is H2O proof in black and the lipstick is Missy and Fierce in their Liquid Catsuit line.”

Dean smirked internally and said in her ear

“Time to go.”

She gave him a nod and said

“Thank ya'll, it's been a pleasure.” and shook the interviewer's hand.

The next night, they were allowed to go a little more casual; Julianna had ticket to see her favorite band, The Goo Goo Dolls, and wouldn't miss the performance for anything.

“I don't like this,” Dean told her as they walked into the venue “not at all.”

“Relax,” she told him “Secret Service was here beforehand and gave the all clear, don't you have any faith in your men?” she asked

“That's not what I'm worried about,” he said “drunken fools are more my concern.”

“Dean, can you do me a favor for tonight?” she asked and pulled him to the side, out of sight of the other concert goers as they filed into their seat “Please? I almost never ask you for anything but can you throw me a solid on this ONE request?”

“What?” he asked, his eyes searching around them

“Can you please, put the Secret Service on the back burner for ONE NIGHT?” she asked “Just this one? Please?”

“And do what?” he asked

She took his hands and placed them on her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck

“Be my boyfriend?” she asked “We NEVER get to go out. Never get to be a couple. All I want is a night of normal. Just one, is all I ask for.”

He sighed

“But the risks.” he insisted and she kissed him

“We'll be fine.” she assured him “I know good and well off duty and undercover cops are here. We will be okay. Just be my boyfriend? Please? It would make me so happy.”

She gave him the sad puppy face and he laughed.

“Fine,” he relented “I cave, I'll do it. But just this one night.”

“Thank you.” she told him and kissed him.

Even though they were supposed to be a couple for the concert, Dean kept his protective guard up. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around he shoulders, gently pushing away anyone that was too close for his liking. When The Goo Goo Dolls took the stage, Julianna swayed with the music in his arms as they both sang along to the songs they knew. Thunder cracked overhead and the sky opened up, raining down on the crowd just as the band was closing the show with their biggest hit, “Iris”.

“Come on, we gotta go.” Dean said in her ear as they both got drenched.

“No, please!” she begged as the song started and she looked at him “This is my favorite, we can leave after this. PLEASE just let me hear this song.”

He sighed, annoyed and nodded.

“This one more song and we're gone.” he told her and she nodded. His boots were soaked, his back ached and all he wanted to do was go the hell home, but hearing the familiar chords of the song brought him to a place in his mind that made him smile.

And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't want to go home right now

He held her through the song, singing the words in her ear as they swayed. She tightened her grip on his arms and closed her eyes. It was perfectly imperfect and that was what she loved about it and him. As the song ended, she turned to face him, rain rolling down her face

“When everything's made to be broken,” she sang back to him “I just want you to know who I am.”

They kissed as a loud clap of thunder sounded over their heads and he whisked her away as soon as the kiss ended.

The next day Julianna awoke and joined her parents and sisters in the dining room for breakfast where someone immediately poured her a cup of coffee. She thanked them and her Dad asked

“Have fun at the concert last night?” his tone seemingly off from his usual, neutral one.

A woman stood next to Julianna, waiting to take her breakfast order and Julianna looked up at her.

“Can I have eggs? Scrambled with some cheese, and turkey bacon please?” Julianna asked and the woman nodded as left. “I mean yeah,” Julianna said as she added cream and sugar to her coffee “I mean, it was the Goo Goo Dolls. Not Rage Against The Machine, but yeah they put on a good show.”

“You. Were. Seen!” her father said and stood up.

“Dad, I'm a little hung over, so if you could arrive at a point, that would be GREAT.” Julianna told him as Alexis and Claire giggled into their plates.”

“OUT!” her Dad yelled “OUT! EVERYONE OUT!”

The dining room cleared and her Dad threw the newspaper at her. She took a sip of her coffee and turned it over. The picture glaring back at her was of her and Dean making out at the concert and the headline read

“SECRET SERVICE TOO CLOSE?”

“Care to explain this?” her Dad asked, furious.

Julianna looked down at the paper, at her Dad and down at the paper again.

“Oh fuck.” she mumbled.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You guys good?! Enjoy that??? I hope so!!!! Kind feedback is always welcome, feel free to like, share and comment. Maybe hit that follow button? I love new friends!! All my boxes are open; so if you have any requests or anything you want me to write, drop me a line!!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @girlborninstorms @dacleverfox@emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @salvachester@myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict@theworldiscolorful @dean-winchesters-bacon @animerose96@l8nit-l0vr @drakelover78​ @curly-haired-disaster​

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Saudade - Steve Rogers x Reader

Request: Steve Rogers anon here! would you maybe do one where the reader’s grandmother used to be one of his friends before he was frozen, and she has powers so she’s involved with the Avengers, but not like working with them. she attends one of Tony’s parties and Steve thinks she’s her grandmother for a second before he realizes she’s a different person, and from that moment on he’s mesmerized by her? you can make up the rest! Warnings: My English, language, my first Steve fic!! Gifs aren’t mine. Credits to their original owners. Also, Pietro is alive. I don’t care. He is alive. Oh, and your grandmother is called Meredith. I don’t know why, tbh.  Saudade is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.  “The love that remains” Word Count~3.3k MASTERLIST Pending Requests

His past felt like ages ago. Probably because it was. He had missed out a couple of things, that was for sure. But the truth was, he was missing one person in specific, other than his best friend. A girl. Not just any girl. She was special. She wore flowers in her hair, the cold air blowing against her skin, making him wish that he could just hold her closer. She was different, delicate, elegant, loving and sweet. And she was beautiful. Stunning. And he, just like any other guy, fell for her. But he never learned that she had indeed fallen for him too. Doesn’t it always come down to the love of a woman? 

It had always been difficult but you were always up for the challenge. You had to evolve and excel as everyone kept telling you. You never really took a break from the whole ‘I have to muster my powers and kick ass’ thing but tonight it was an exception. You had powers, you didn’t really want, mainly because they were forcibly given to you by a crazy scientist who worked for HYDRA. That was why you wanted to train and become physically capable of doing what your powers could do. That was how you met them. The Avengers. You had been training with Natasha and Clint, beating the hell out of many punching bags and with Wanda, trying to catch up with your abilities. Speaking modestly, you were good. But you never let that fact get into your head and stop you from becoming better. You knew the others as well, but you had never met Steve. Actually, that was a lie. You felt that you knew him better than you knew yourself. How was that possible? Your grandmother. She had been his friend for as long as she could remember. She had even fallen in love with him at some point, but then he had left and joined the army. The rest was history. She loved and fell in love again, but he always held a special place in her heart. You understood that much. You took a deep breath and entered the Avengers Tower that tonight was packed. You felt like you were entering a club or something and truly wished you were back in the gym, with your sweatpants on. Instead, you were walking in black heels and wearing a lacy, backless and sleeveless, floor length, light champagne pink dress with three strands pearls framing loosely your exposed back. It was beautiful and you were thankful to Pepper. You just felt weird. You weren’t really that kind of girl-in all honesty, it felt like something your grandmother would wear. She was all about dresses and elegance. You favorited jeans and knives. But you didn’t really have a choice. Tony had made it very clear that it was a formal party and nothing less was expected of you. With Pepper’s outfit, Natasha’s makeup skills and Wanda’s hair tricks, you were more than presentable. You tried not to play with your hair- it was a nervous habit of yours- because you would ruin the beautiful waves. ‘Okay, you got this’ you kept repeating over and over again. Once you reached the floor that hosted the main event and stepped inside you froze. Tony had gone big. Even bigger than before and that said something. This was so extra… even if you were talking about Tony Stark. You couldn’t see the walls or much of the decoration because of the dim light but the music that was playing was loud enough for you to not be able to listen to your own thoughts. It wasn’t the kind of music you had been expecting, though. It was soft and melodic and… jazz? What happened to rock? And then it hit you. The reason why Pepper had chosen that very dress, which resembled the vintage style; the reason why Nat had insisted on that bold dark red lipstick and the winged eyeliner; the reason why Wanda had chosen that hairstyle. But then everything seemed to blur; time stilled and your eyes were fixed on a very familiar face and magnetic blue eyes. It was like electricity ran through your veins. “You look spectacular” Pietro told you while his eyes were roaming your figure. That snapped you out of your daydream. You blushed at his obvious flirting. Where was your confidence? You didn’t blush. “You don’t look bad yourself” you answered truthfully. He was a handsome young man and the black, three-piece suit really did make him look ravishing. Especially that silver tie that matched the exact shade of his hair. He wasn’t exactly arrogant, not to you at least. He offered his arm and you took it, sending him a thankful smile. “I’m afraid, you win this time” he admitted as you were approaching the other Avengers. Your eyes took in their outfits. Tony had been serious about this one. “You did listen to me” he commented a bit sarcastic but impressed as well. You wanted to roll your eyes but you stopped yourself. It wasn’t polite. You had manners. You grandmother had taught you well. “It’s nice to see you too, Anthony” you said, calling him by his full name. He hated that and he knew that he was annoying you every time you called him that. “Yeah, whatever. This is Capsicle. Capsicle, this is-” he was cut off. “Meredith?” Steve breathed out. Oh, no. Your eyes went wide for a second. You knew you looked like her but you never understood just how much. “No. Y/N, her granddaughter” you kindly told him as you extended your hand. He didn’t react immediately but when he recollected himself, he grasped your hand in a firm but gentle handshake. For the second time in just a few moments, you felt a jolt of electricity through your body. And you were pretty sure that it was caused by his touch. When you removed your hand, you realized that you had been staring at him as he had been staring at you all that time. If you thought that Pietro looked ravishing, Steve looked enticing, bewitching and tantalizing. He too wore a total black three-piece suit with silky shawl lapels. And his eyes… God save those eyes. “I am sorry ma’am” he apologized and your heart melted when he called you ma’am. You always liked the old-fashioned ways, they were far more polite and … well, romantic. “No need to. I understand” you told him sincerely. He must have been shocked to death. He smiled, obviously relaxed but very intrigued by your presence. You thought that he must have wanted to know about your grandmother but honestly, it wasn’t just that.   “Okay, let’s leave the Capsicle to make a fool of himself, shall we? Here, dear. You’re going to need it to survive this fossil” Tony remarked, every word oozing with sarcasm, as he handed you a Millionaire Cocktail. It was basically, Rum with Gin, apricot brandy and lime juice served in a fancy glass and given its name by the Billionaire. With that, he and Pepper left; Wanda winked at you and dragged an annoyed Pietro with her but as soon as spotted Vision she left him with Clint, Nat flirted with Bruce and Thor was drinking like a mad-man with Sam. “I have heard awfully a lot about you, Steven Grant Rogers” you lightheartedly informed him, leaning against the bar counter and tasting your drink. Surprisingly enough, it was nice. He slightly blushed. The more he was looking at you the more he spotted the differences. You were a bit taller than her. You had a fuller um… chest and more defined curves. He wanted to facepalm. He was being a perv. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering. You had a nice body but you had an extraordinary face. Big, captivating eyes, full, plump lips… “All good things, right?” he joked as he took a sip of his drink. You laughed and it felt genuine. He was nice to talk to. “Quite the opposite, really” you chuckled and your smile sent him a pleasantly warm feeling, making him smile widely. Your whole body was leaning closer and you had to hold back. He was like a magnet, even though he didn’t seem to know. “How is-Is she…?” he trailed off, not knowing how to convey what he wanted to ask you but you got it. After all, it was only natural for him to want to know about his friend. “She passed ten years before you wake up” you quietly told him. His face fell but he expected it. He had lost seventy years. Not seven. “I’m sorry” he said honestly in a small voice. You smiled softly and shook your head. “I should be the one saying that to you” you simply yet truthfully informed him. You didn’t pretend to understand what he had been through but you had your share of losses and you knew how that felt. He took in the brutal honesty of your tone and the soft gaze in your eyes and felt entranced. “And your mother?” he asked again but regretted it when he saw you looking away from him for a second. “She died when I was ten, in a car crash, along with my father” you admitted, hoping that he won’t realize what had truly happened. You were proven wrong. He was clever.   His face fell and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Bucky?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave. “No, no. Bucky has never hurt me or my family. That person was the Winter Soldier. It’s not the same” you firmly told him. You were aware of the whole Bucky-deal. And you truly believed that Bucky could be ‘saved’. You had been experimented on by HYDRA as well. You knew how that felt like. He didn’t answer. You just sipped your drinks in silence, appreciating the music and trying to relax. You had had a long day and alcohol was helping. He, however, was mesmerized by your demeanor. You were sweet like Meredith but you were fierce as well, stronger in a way. It was something about you that made him want to get to know you. Not because you were her granddaughter but because he truly wanted to … befriend you? Not exactly. The music slowed down and a lot of people-most of them, you hadn’t seen before- started dancing to the rhythm. You were about to make yourself another drink when his voice brought you back to reality. “Would you like to dance?” he asked shyly but seductively. At least, it was to you. You bit your bottom lip. “I don’t know how to” you sheepishly replied and looked down as a blush was very visible. “You don’t have to” he softly explained, taking your hand and leading you in the middle of the room. He was being bossy. In a nice way. In a very nice way.  Authority suited him. He placed his hands around your waist, pulling you closer as you rested yours loosely around his neck. This was one of the most surreal things you had ever done. But hey, here you were, dancing with Steve Rogers, the guy your grandma liked, the guy who had woken up seventy years later, the guy who was Captain America. The guy you found so charismatic.

You had left the party after that dance. You had excused yourself because you couldn’t possibly believe that you sort of liked the same guy your grandma did. You felt guilty, even though you had done nothing wrong. Little did you know, that he felt the exact same way. He didn’t know if he had taken a liking to you because you were you or because you reminded him her. That was three months ago. You were hanging around the Tower more often than not, training with everyone including Steve. That was weird. He would go easy on you, at first. But you had shown him that you could take a hit and throw ten more back. He used to beat your ass up but lately, he struggled and that only meant you were getting stronger. You had talked a couple of times about a numerous of things. He asked you about Meredith, about your life and your ideas. You had told him about your powers something that you thought would freak him out but he was so kind that you felt your heart breaking. You truly liked him and he was off-limits. You hadn’t asked much about him because you didn’t want to pry but he had found himself telling you almost everything. He hadn’t told you about his crush on your grandmother because it would just make everything so much more difficult. He didn’t want to believe that you wouldn’t like him if you had met him back then, but then again, no one did. He didn’t know this, but you had seen him in pictures, being all adorkable. It wasn’t his body that made you like him. It was a bonus but it wasn’t necessary. You were currently in the kitchen. It was 3:26 AM. You hadn’t slept because you kept thinking about him and considering the possibilities. He probably didn’t even like you. “You look so much like her, yet you are nothing alike” he had stated once. And you didn’t know how or what to answer, so you tried to play it cool as you replied: “I’ll take that as a compliment”. Boomerang. “It was meant as one, ma’am”. You had to admit that whenever he was calling you ma’am you were melting. He was such a gentleman and-no… you couldn’t. Were you? You were falling for him, for fuck’s sake. God blessed America, you thought bitterly. You were making hot cocoa with a hint of honey instead of sugar. It was something you had come up with when you were just a child. It reminded of you of serenity. Someone was coughing, trying to make their presence known. You glanced up from your cup. Just your luck. “What’s wrong?” he asked you, concerned. You sent him a tired smile as you shrugged it off. “Everything’s fine” you tried to lie. You really tried but you were worse than him. He raised a questioning eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, finishing your hot cocoa and placing the mug in the sink before giving up. “Can’t sleep” you simply told him. He furrowed his eyebrows. You were too tired for this. He didn’t answer, he just nodded his head, gesturing you to follow him. You debated with yourself. Fuck it, what could go wrong, right? He walked all the way to his room and you were left puzzled. What was the meaning of this? Maybe, since you were tired, you couldn’t understand. Maybe you had interpreted him the wrong way. Or maybe – He opened the door and stepped in, before he turned to you, patiently waiting. His room was bigger than yours but it wasn’t the reason you were left speechless. One of the walls was just glass. You could see everything. The city lights were spreading like lava. It was captivating. Everything seemed to be moving and to be frozen altogether. You found peace in chaos. Slowly you stepped inside, too fascinated by the view. “When I first… woke up, I didn’t know who I was. I wasn’t the person who I used to be, that was for sure. But then I kind of found myself in late night drives without a destination. Just driving through the city. I felt so small and I have to admit that when people look up to you and see this ‘big guy’, feeling small is actually rather appealing” he softly said as he sat down on his bed, eyes glued to the city outside. “There is nothing prettier than a city at 5 AM with its empty streets and cold wind” you whispered but it was loud enough in the stillness of the moment. The lights were brightening up the gloomy night but they were also consumed by it. You could feel the circle of life. “There is” he said under his breath but you heard it. You looked at him only to find his eyes fixed on you. Your heart skipped a beat. He had wooed you since the very first moment. “She talked about you, you know” you kindly said, changing the subject and walking over to him, plopping down beside him. His face softened, a warm smile appeared on his lips. “She would always tell me how stupidly brave you were. But the look on her face told me a different story. She liked you. I think she had a crush on you. Who would blame her?” you finally admitted. He had the right to know. His smile widened but it held a bit of sorrow. You realized why. “You liked her too, didn’t you? Well, who could blame you? She was radiant and elegant, sweet and caring… She had this photo of you… you looked so adorkable and she would always laugh because even though you had become… this, she truly believed that you were the same stupidly brave good guy. And she was right”. You were rambling but he seemed to enjoy it. He even chuckled at the last part but then his eyes pierced yours with such intensity that you wanted to avert your gaze. You couldn’t. “You think I was adorkable?” he questioned you and under any other circumstances it would seem playful but right now it only felt like a burning need to know. You just hummed in agreement because you truly didn’t trust your voice. You were so close to him. His hand was resting on your knee. He smiled and you felt like you could literally die. Unfortunately, you couldn’t keep quiet. “You’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town” you breathed out. Suddenly, you became very much aware of the proximity and the way he kept looking at you, the way he had turned his body towards you, the way his breath was falling on your lips, the way his scent was intoxicating you. You were no longer someone who was trying to save the world, you were just a person who was about to risk a friendship, to say a big ‘screw it’ to everything and just kiss the guy. And you did. You slowly leaned forward and paused for a second or two, giving him time to pull away. He didn’t. When your lips touched his, you understood that to live was a beautiful way to die. It felt right. His soft lips were too gentle upon yours but they were fire. The faint taste of sugar and spice was making it too hard to break apart, even when your lungs were screaming for air. “I am not her” you simply murmured against his lips. You felt the soft smile. “I know” he whispered back. He knew that you weren’t her. At first, he thought he liked you because you looked like someone familiar, someone he liked but he soon realized that it wasn’t the similarity that mesmerized him. That was you. You as for who you truly were. Not you as a clone. You as the sweet and fierce woman, the shy and bold the personality that kicked in whenever you witnessed injustice. You as one of the most enthralling people he had ever met. You as his present and hopefully, his future.

Tags: @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @orionsirivsblack