#music is so special to him it takes up an entire row

[matchingbatbites]

No Upside Down AU where Dustin says fuck it and invites his favorite band to his wedding.

Corroded Coffin shot to popularity when he was 17, and even now, eight years later, they're still his favorite band, his favorite music to put on whenever he's working late on one project or another. Him and the boys have been to a handful of concerts over the years, and it's some of the best memories he's created with his friends.

After he proposes to Suzie and they're working on the invitation list, he jokingly proposes the idea of inviting the band. To his surprise, Suzie encourages it, telling him that he has nothing to lose.

So when they mail out the invitations six months before the wedding, there's one in the stack addressed to the Corroded Coffin PO box, along with a short but heartfelt letter.

In the midst of planning and working and everything else, he forgets about it. The day of his wedding, Mike comes stumbling back into the room where Dustin is getting ready, stammering about "Band- it's the- they-!"

It takes a moment for the three of them - Dustin, Lucas, and Will - to decipher what he's saying, but when they realize-

Dustin sees them once he's up at the church altar, a few rows back on the groom's side. All four members of Corroded Coffin plus a woman Dustin in pretty sure is their manager. He's vibrating as the ceremony starts, and the thing that pulls his attention from the surprise guests is Suzie, absolutely fucking radiant as she walks down the aisle towards him.

It's a bit of a blur after that, and Dustin doesn't get the chance to talk to the band until the reception, after the first dances when he actually has a chance to mingle.

The group is genuinely delighted to meet him and Suzie, says that they've had people ask them to perform at their weddings before, but they'd never just been invited. So they made sure to add it to their schedule, and even brought them a wedding gift.

(Yes, Dustin loses his entire mind over the signed guitar. The chunk of money meant to go towards their honeymoon is also nice, he guesses.)

They happily give autographs and take photos with anyone who asks, and Dustin gets to have a dream conversation about D&D with Eddie, the lead guitarist. It makes an already amazing day all that more special, especially when Eddie gives Dustin his personal number and tells him to call whenever he wants to chat.

(And later on, if Dustin catches Eddie making eyes at Steve, his babysitter-turned-older brother figure, and he also happens to see Steve flirting back, well. You can't blame him for encouraging it.)

[cuubism]

Found this old fic concept in my notes, I doubt I'll ever get around to writing it or that I could do it justice if I did, but it still makes me laugh so I wrote it up as a little blurb. Perhaps it will make you laugh too.

Mega Popstar Dream and Hob, his extremely non-famous celebrity crush

So in this universe Dream is an extremely famous musician. He's like Taylor Swift level of famous, if you walk up to any random person on the street they would know who he is. Meanwhile Hob is an actor but really not very well known, he was in a few small projects and is in the core cast of one TV show that's well-regarded but not super popular.

It's Dream's FAVORITE TV SHOW and Hob is his FAVORITE ACTOR that he's ferally OBSESSED WITH. Everyone knows about this too, Dream is really obvious about it. In interviews people will ask him what he likes and he's like "this is my favorite TV show" "have you seen Hob Gadling in that show isn't he incredible", They'll ask him if he has a celebrity crush (as a joke) and he's like "YES HOB GADLING 😍" like it's become a meme in Dream's fandom how much he has a crush on this random actor.

They've never met though, probably Dream was afraid to -- 'never meet your heroes' and all -- and never let his team book any overlapping events. So he's never seen Hob in person, only watched his favorite TV show 65 times in a row and memorized every inch of his face. Like a stalker.

So then a Buzzfeed-esque YouTube channel is running a special edition of their usual challenge show, "People Meet Their Celebrity Crush", except this time it's "CELEBRITIES Meet Their Celebrity Crush." Dream's entire team conspires against him to book him on this. Dream doesn't know what it is until the very moment since the whole point is to surprise people with their crush. Needless to say, Hob was REALLY dubious when the channel reached out like "do you want to come on as Dream's celebrity crush" but what's he gonna do say NO? say NO when Dream is so pretty and cute? So yeah he goes.

Anyway during the moment in the video when they revealed his celebrity crush to him -- aka Hob just looking like a totally normal and random guy -- Dream literally tripped over a chair and fell on the floor and then fainted. Instant meme and it became the thumbnail of the video. When Dream woke up to find Hob crouched by him all concerned asking if he was okay he nearly had a panic attack, he was never more flustered and nervous in his whole life not even performing for crowds of millions.

Hob fell in love instantly. He doesn't even know much about Dream, he hasn't even listened to Dream's music other than what's just playing ubiquitously on the radio all the time but all it took was watching Dream fall over a chair and then look up at him with his huge starry eyes and he was like 'This one's mine forever idc. I gotta protect this nerd he won't survive in the wild.'

Anyway they did start dating after that and Dream never leaves the honeymoon phase for the rest of his whole life, he truly thinks Hob is the most handsome man and best actor in the entire world and will tell anyone so at any opportunity, he goes around saying things like "see if you believe really hard you too can marry your celebrity crush 🥰" with zero irony, he might have skipped the Grammys to go to the premiere of season 3 of Hob's show (Hob didn't ask him to do that) (Dream won the Grammy but had more fun staring at Hob's face for 2 hours than he would have had at the awards show). Meanwhile Hob never talks about Dream in public because Dream already has negative 500% privacy in his life, he's extremely protective of him, and he allegedly punched one of the paparazzi in the face when they tried to take stealth shots at their wedding which was supposed to be a private affair. ALLEGEDLY. No charges were filed.

Dream did post one photo of the wedding on insta for his adoring fandom in which he described Hob as his knight in shining armor and then denied any knowledge of any 'alleged' events when asked about it in the future. Because Hob was so much more private about their relationship than Dream, for a while Dream's fandom had been like HOB DOESN'T DESERVE DREAM but after the (alleged) story about Hob punching someone in the face came out they were all obsessed with him. So that solved that problem.

(Despite Hob's efforts a paparazzi photo did come out of them the morning after the wedding, Hob sitting on the terrace drinking coffee, Dream sitting on his lap wearing Hob's shirt and looking thoroughly ravished. Dream might have framed it.)

Then they lived happily ever after. Dream put Hob in every one of his music videos regardless of whether it made sense for the story. Hob got one of Dream's songs put in his favorite TV show which made Dream's whole entire year. The end :)

[thecharacterchronicler]

District Girl (Part 3) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: Coriolanus meets you again and, as a bad thunderstorm approaches, you invite him to take shelter in your cabin…

Word count: 3’686

Warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, power imbalance, virgin female (implied) and rough explicit sex.

Author’s note: I tried to fulfill a request I received while sticking to the original idea I had for this part 3, so I hope whoever (anon) asked for it will be okay with this one being a bit rough. I promise I’ll try to write a much sweeter, more romantic, one shot of the reader losing her virginity to Coriolanus for you soon. Thanks for inspiring me with your request! 🖤 (Though I’m not sure I’ll know how to write sweet and romantic Coryo…)

((Part 1 )) - ((Part 2 ))

It had been cloudy since morning, causing the humidity in the air to rise above what Coriolanus usually deemed acceptable. It was still warm, even without a trace of sunshine, hidden behind menacing black clouds. Far in the distance, he could hear the distinctive roar of a thunderstorm approaching from the mountains, electricity almost palpable in the air.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy sunny days either, mostly because he couldn’t get used to the uncomfortable climate of District 12, but standing between broken shacks, on a dirt road that would probably flood and turn into mud as soon as rain would start falling was a whole new kind of hell to him.

Hopefully, the party he was supposed to keep in check would end soon. It had barely started, with the two newlyweds couples returning from the justice building, gathering with their guests in a narrow space of grass between two cabins. Music was playing, but he didn’t like how wrong it sounded in his ears. People were joyfully chatting, trying to ignore the presence of peacekeepers nearby, watching them in search of an excuse to break out this gathering before it could turn sour because it somehow always turned sour in district 12… But maybe it would be the approaching storm that would put an end to the festivities first, allowing Coriolanus to go back to the barracks and have the rest of the afternoon to rest.

Standing tall, stoic, with a hand on his weapon, he watched the party unfold as some kids ran off to gather branches and burnt grass. He didn’t know the traditions for a wedding in this district but it sure seemed kind of pathetic to him. If it was his wedding, he would have made sure that it was a special day, he would have worn his best outfit and he would have made sure that his guests did too… Unlike most of the ones present today, still in their mining clothes and covered in dust. He also would have made sure that he had a proper venue where to celebrate his wedding, not a small patch of burnt grass near a row of sad cabins. And surely, he would have made sure that no storm was threatening to ruin it all.

“Hurry up or we won’t have enough time to get the fire going for the toasting.” You instructed a group of kids, as they placed a few fragile branches in your hands before running off again. You looked worried, your eyes on the black clouds in the horizon.

Coriolanus’ entire body reacted to your voice, briefly breaking his steady posture. He gazed at you, an irrepressible smirk appearing on his lips at the sight. You looked lovely. Even better than usual. Of course, you - out of all the other people - had had enough respect for the newlyweds to show up to their party wearing a nice and clean dress. The color brought out your eyes, making it all he could see for a moment. Until he lowered his gaze to your silhouette, noticing how it hugged and highlighted your lines and curves in the best way possible. It was as if the dress had been tailored for your body. Flawless.

Even if he wasn’t invited to the party and was instructed to keep his distances unless anything important occurred, he was happy to see you. He could watch you from where he kept guard, admire your beauty and make sure he memorized the contours of your body in that dress to entertain him later, when he’ll be alone in the showers. It wasn’t so bad after all.

The kids brought back another batch of branches to you and you placed them in a pile on the ground, taking a step back as a couple leaned down to light them on fire. All the guests applauded when red flames appeared, you included, as if lighting a fire was some kind of victory… Maybe it was after all, in such a humid climate.

A second couple did the same thing, starting a smaller fire next to the one slowly gaining strength and it pleased the guests just as much. Coriolanus held his breath when he saw you step up again, expecting you to follow suit on the odd tradition with a man that wouldn’t be him. You were dressed so nicely, your hair so beautifully arranged, that it finally occurred to him that it could be your wedding too.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his. You had tasted him and he had tasted you, you knew each other intimately, you couldn’t belong to another man. Not anymore. Not when you could have him.

Instead of lighting a third fire, you handed both brides a loaf of bread and they proceeded to impale it on a branch, the grooms held it above the dancing flame and everyone watched as the bread slowly cooked. In the Capitol, cakes and desserts were served at weddings not… Toasts ?

He shook off his grimace of disgust. He wasn’t sure if it was because he kept being surprised by everyone’s lack of dignity in this district or if he was still slightly unsettled by the idea of you, marrying someone else.

A louder bang resounded through the street, bringing everyone’s attention to the mountains from which menacing clouds were quickly approaching. It was brief, everyone preffering to focus their attention back on the darkening bread held above the fire rather than on the weather, except for you. Coriolanus locked eyes with you, his heart strangely racing in his chest. He wanted you to notice him, but the possibility you might ignore him again, like you had a few days ago at the Hob, made him uneasy. He had showed you how good he could be to you. How lucky you should feel that you had somehow managed to catch his interest. But maybe you would provoke him again, just so that he could show you who you belong to once more.

A few very explicit images bloomed in his mind, he could be pretty creative when thinking about all the ways he could mark you as his. And as usual, it made him hard and desperate for attention.

But it seemed you weren’t going to need a reminder of his claim on you after all. You had stepped away from the party and were now walking in his direction, your pretty dress caressing the dirt road in the wake of your steps. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you grinned at him, as if you were happy to see him too.

“Are you keeping an eye on me, Coriolanus Snow ?” You asked him, playfully, stopping in front of him just slightly closer than what he would have expected.

His whole body buzzed at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. He had never told you so it must mean you had asked around about him. Maybe you had been obsessing over him as much as he obsessed over you, trying to find out who he was and how you could keep being the object of his desires.

“Always since I know how good you are at sneaking around.” He replied, with a grin. He didn’t know your name, but he would eventually. He simply couldn’t ask anyone about you, not when it might bring negative attention on him from his superiors. And what about his colleagues ? They might think that you’re an easy girl, or at least one who isn’t bothered by the peacekeepers’ uniforms and try to flirt with you - very much like Junius had - if they knew. It was better if he kept it that way for now, you’d be his little secret. “You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you.” You replied, seemingly a bit surprised by such a compliment. “My friends got married today.”

He nodded. That much he had gathered, even though wedding celebrations definitely looked nothing like the ones he had seen in The Capitol. He glanced to the sad party, where one couple was now eating their toasted piece of bread while others looked at them with emotion in their eyes. You followed his gaze back to where you came from.

“I’m sorry, I can’t invite you it wouldn’t be…” You started, but stopped yourself as he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, of course.” He finished for you, with a smile meant to reassure you that he had absolutely no desire to be invited to such events anyway.

A moment of silence went by, a bit awkwardly. He couldn’t force you on your knees and get you to suck him off right there, in front of everyone, even though there wasn’t anything he wanted more at this very moment and you couldn’t bring a peacekeeper back to the party with you, so you were both frozen with indecision, unsure of what else to do when you couldn’t put your hands - and mouths - on each other.

Despite daylight, an orange lightning illuminated the sky, fracturing the black clouds over your heads. A few seconds later, a loud bang resonated against the wooden walls of the nearby cabins, making the road under your feet tremble. Rain instantly poured down from the clouds, cold drops of water mixed with icy hail, piercing through the leaves of the trees and bouncing off of the roofs and ground.

Coriolanus left out a curse as the wedding party he was meant to keep in check dissolved, people hurrying in different directions to take shelter from the hail. If anything happened now, it would be his fault because he wouldn’t be able to tell if everyone went back to their cabins or if anything illegal took place afterwards…

You pulled him out of his thoughts by taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the nearest shack on the road, just as another lightning hit the ground, a lot closer than where the previous one did. You opened the door and pushed the peacekeeper in, closing it just as the roaring thunder reverberated through the street.

Coriolanus took in the modest house he was standing in, the few pieces of furniture and the broken window above the kitchen sink. It was about the size of his dormitory, but contained everything a house should, there even was a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You can stay here until the storm passes… If you want.” You suggested, the confidence you had been able to display during your previous encounters with him suddenly gone. Maybe because you felt awfully more vulnerable having him standing in your home rather than in a more public place. “Your clothes are wet, maybe I could hang them to dry ?”

A smirk appeared on his lips at your words and you smiled back at him, slightly blushing. He fixed his pale blue eyes on you as he slowly began unbuttoning his vest, you followed the movement of his fingers with eager eyes. He remembered how it felt when it wasn’t his buttons he was so deftly working on but you, pumping his finger deep inside the warmth his cock was so desperate to be buried in too.

He removed his vest, carefully placed his gun on the kitchen table and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. He saw the way your eyes widened at the sight and liked how you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles, gaze lowering at the same speed your cheeks were gaining colors.

He opened his pants, lowered his underwear and left his erection proudly stand up from the fabric. He was hard for you, so hard it was almost unbearable, and you had barely done anything yet, apart from wearing a dress that hugged your silhouette and smile at him. It was kind of pathetic, how he probably could have come undone simply from closing his eyes and imagining his cum shooting out of his spent cock inside of you… Either buried deep in your wet pussy, either lodged down your throat while you gagged on his length, or even painting your face and chest with his cum again, the lovely sight it had been the first time still burned in his memory.

There were so many ways he wanted you. If he could have it his way, he’d probably lock you up in his dorm so that he could come back to you and fuck you mercilessly every time he felt the need to. Having you at his disposal would be such a relief for his cock - and hand. Maybe he’d finally manage to get you out of his mind if he could indulge in every fantasy he had about you, act out every scenario, test out everything he thought of, until he no longer had anything to think about to bring his cock to life at the most inconvenient times.

Although you seemed a bit more reserved this time, you still had the courage to reach behind your back to unzip your pretty dress, the fabric instantly falling and pooling around your feet.

Coriolanus’ blood changed course and flew to his already stretched cock, making it even harder and twitching with impatience. What a perfect sight you were, standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. It wasn’t a fancy set of lingerie like the girls from The Capitol usually wore but maybe it was because you weren’t a girl from The Capitol that he was so obsessed with you. You were a district girl, and he had never seen a body more beautiful than yours, even in plain underwear that didn’t even match. It was as if he had designed you himself, the shape of you perfectly tailored to his preferences, with curves and dips that drove him crazy and plump, soft, skin that haunted his sleepless nights. It left him unable to decide between his desires to ravage you or worship you.

He stepped forward and carefully pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He unclasped the hooks in your back, a bit less assured than he wanted you to believe he was and, once he was able to pull your bra off, he took a step back to admire your bare chest. Perfect.

He pressed a hand to your tender flesh, excitement buzzing in his veins when he felt the soft malleability of your breast. His hands weren’t calloused like the ones of the miners you probably knew, they were soft and delicate, a clear sign of his luckier upbringing.

He leaned down to place a kiss against your neck, just so he could press his body against yours, feel your heat, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. It was the most intimate he had ever been, with you and with anyone else. He couldn’t say he disliked how it felt, but it was also terrifying. He couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable with you, not when it risked leading to feelings he really didn’t want to have for a district girl like you. He already barely could manage how badly he wanted you, how much he thought about you, day and night… What if he fell in love now ? Surely, it would ruin his life.

No, there wouldn’t be any feelings, not on his side and not on yours either. It was just sex. Really good sex. But just that.

He didn’t have to be soft with you so that you’d like him, he could just take what he needed and give you what you wanted too and call it quits. Yeah, it was a good plan. Flawless even.

He pulled your panties down with a rough motion, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to kick the crumpled fabric off of your feet when he reached for the back of your knees, lifting you up into his arms with your legs closing around his hips for support.

He took a few steps until your back was pressed against the wall. Your face was so close to his, your wet lips making it so hard for him to resist kissing them with all the depth of his passion for you.

No feelings. He reminded himself.

He pushed his hips forward, his hard cock easily gliding through your arousal. You were so ready for him. Just like you had been the other day. And this time he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being inside you. He pressed himself all the way up to your entrance, finding an unexpected resistance on the way. He heard your breath catch in your throat as he attempted to pass it, noticing the grimace on your face but since you didn’t ask him to stop, he kept trying to dive into the surprising tightness of your pussy.

He felt your hands clasping his shoulders for stability, your body writhing with discomfort at the invasion. He knew he was fairly big - bigger than the fingers he had put inside you at least - but he didn’t expect you to be so incredibly tight around him. The pressure of your walls clenching on him almost making him dizzy with the intensity of the pleasure it built in his abdomen.

Then, without a warning, you suddenly relaxed and your pussy seemed to swallow him whole, finally allowing him to fully bury himself inside of your wetness. He cursed at the sensation and you quietly cried out when he hit the deepest point possible.

You still felt tight, but you were finally giving him permission to move. He gently rocked himself, getting his cock to slide back and forth as a way to loosen you up. He was molding you to fit him. Him, and no one else.

No feelings.

He closed his eyes. He could come just from this but he wasn’t going to be selfish. Not when he wanted you to keep wanting him as much as he did. So he focused, keeping his movements slow and wide despite how fast and rough his brain urged him to go.

Suddenly, you came, digging your nails in his shoulders and whimpering against his neck, your pussy contracting around his cock, forcing him to stop his movements inside you again and stand completely still while you moaned in bliss. He was good at this, it was his second time making you reach your climax and it gave him an unreasonable amount of pride each time he achieved this. This time especially, had merely felt like work at all, you simply couldn’t take that many slow thrusts inside you. And now your cunt was contracting around him, trying to milk cum out of him like the only thing missing from your orgasm was a load of his release inside you. But he wasn’t going to give it to you, not yet. No matter how limp your body suddenly felt in his arms and how you cried out as soon as he resumed his thrusts, he was going to fuck you until he was satisfied this time.

He adjusted his grip on your body and carried you to the bed, lying you down and immediately placing himself on top of you, putting his dick back exactly where it belonged, buried deep inside you. His hands behind both of your knees, he held your legs against his hips as he pushed himself back and forth in you, on his knees while you were lying down with your head resting on your pillow. He could feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, demanding more to finally explode and allow him some relief. He was so desperate to finish, he needed to fill you up with his seed, make sure you would be his from now on. Hell, he wanted to spill everything he could inside you until he was bone dry and then, feed you every drop that might escape from your folds so that none of his release would go to waste.

He leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting and pressing yours deeper into the mattress. The bed was creaking loudly with each of his violent thrusts, menacing to break, while your cries of agonizing pleasure escaped through the broken window, mixing with the splatter of the heavy rain outside and the low rumble of thunder.

It wasnt so much the way he drove himself in and out of you, fast and without mercy, that pushed him off of the edge but the sight of you, gasping for air like you couldn’t take him anymore, crying out his name with half of your face buried in your pillow, your pretty lips forming a perfect oval as he finally groaned and released himself inside you, making you climax once more, in unison with him this time.

He filled you up, waiting until his cock was done twitching, the very last drops of cum dripping from his tip before he took it out. He needed to catch his breath now but the way you were still shaking with pleasure in front of him, beautiful as ever and claimed by him made his heart race.

Rain and hail crashed noisily on the roof of the cabin, covering the sound of your panting breaths, lightning illuminating the darkness that had filled the room every once in a while. He knew that his friends were probably waiting for him back at the barracks, that his superiors might start wondering where he was since he wasn’t on permission yet, but he couldn’t get himself to leave. Not yet. He had been dreaming, imagining, fantasizing about this moment for too long to cut it short. The way you had felt, how your body looked without any clothes on, your face when he poured his release inside you, everything had exceeded his expectations. You were truly perfect for him. And he no longer could resist kissing your lips, making sure you’d understand how obsessed he was with you.

No feelings.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Soft Yandere Simp with CamGirl Reader, part 2

3, 2, 1, FINALLY IT’S TIME! He can hardly contain himself as he counts down the days until he finally gets to meet you in person. 

During your nightly video chats with him, which he’s grown to cherish dearly, you brought the idea of meeting up to his attention. You have no idea how happy he was that you brought it up on your own accord! 

Through some shady research, he already knows you are about 3 hours away from his home-city. It wouldn’t hurt to drive your way. He’d row a damn boat for hours if it meant getting to see you in person. 

The two of you decide on meeting up for a picnic, and then a shopping date at the mall closest to your vicinity. 

The night before the designated meetup, he sits at his computer desk studying everything he had learned about you over the past couple of months, lest he forgets something important.

He wishes he had a perfect memory, but he doesn’t. So he opted to writing down every fact he had ever learned about you in a special journal, dedicated to you and only you. All your likes, dislikes, blood type, height, weight (all three of which he had to break into your medical records to find) , favorite games, health issues, the amount of freckles on your face—every little detail he knew about you was written down, along with many, MANY hearts and grade-school doodles because he really can’t help it. You make him feel like a giddy kid again. 

Saturday morning. It’s show-time. He leaves thirty minutes early, dressed up and ready to tackle the day and meet the love of his life for the first time. He shoots you a text when he arrives (Did he ever mention his background screen was a photo of you?), nervously standing at your doorstep with a box of your favorite chocolates in hand, as well as a little vase with succulents in it, since you’re allergic to the pollen in actual flowers. 

You greet him with a hug and he just about melts in your arms, taking in your scent and rubbing his face into your beautiful locks. 

You’re pretty on camera, but nothing beats the real thing. You’re simply a goddess in the human form. He wishes he could take a photo to capture this moment forever, but his eyes will have to make do.

The drive to the park is an awkwardly quiet, but serene one. He swears you might be able to hear his heart pounding the entire ride, despite the music playing in the background (a playlist he made dedicated to you, obviously). When he glances over to the passenger seat, you’re gazing out the window with the cutest little smile on your face. He’s happy you’re happy. 

When the two of you arrive, he opens the trunk and removes all the supplies he brought to ensure today’s picnic would be great. He brought a giant blanket for the occasion, a small speaker for music, and even packed sandwiches and cookies that he had made himself, praying to god they would taste good. He wasn’t the greatest cook, so he watched about five different baking videos on how to make the perfect cookies. He hopes Youtube hasn’t failed him yet. 

He silently thanks whatever god lives in the sky when you take a bite into a cookie and compliment his baking skills. You take another bite and moan, making him feel ten times hotter than the warm spring day already made him feel. 

30 minutes pass and both his and your bellies are full. You lay down on the blanket, inviting him to do the same, and he nervously lays next to you. He relaxes once you intertwine your fingers with his. He thinks he’s never felt more at peace than in this moment, relaxing with you. The two of you talk about random things, watching the clouds in the sky morph into various shapes as time passes. 

Eventually, you both pack up and head to the mall. You buy him a figure from his favorite video game, and he gets you a new set of earrings. You laugh when his face turns fully red as you two walk into a store specializing in lingerie. 

He feels like he might faint from the sheer intense feelings he has when you ask him to pick something out, ‘just for his eyes only’ you say with a whisper into his ear. 

If he didn’t have such good self control he’d bang you in the try-on rooms right then and there. But no. He’d be a gentlemen. 

But be prepared for all his pent up longing when you two finally share an intimate time together. Let’s just say he has…plenty in store for you :) 

The date ends with you being dropped off back home. You invite him in for a drink, and chat a little more before it becomes late. He finds your yawns adorable, and he kisses you on the forehead before heading out for the night. 

He sincerely hopes you don’t ever find the tracking device he’s planted in your purse when you weren’t looking. He convinces himself it’s for peace of mind since he’ll know where you are, whenever you are. To protect you. That’s what good boyfriends do, right? 

Wait. Are you two even dating now? 

He wants to pull over on the drive home and just sit in utter defeat because his dumbass totally forgot to ask this. 

He sighs as he asks the dumbest, most cliche question in the world. He shoots you a text. 

“Hey, Y/N. What are we? (｀・ω・´)”

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Stealing Kisses

(Actors from The Boys in the Boat)

Joe Rantz, Don Hume, Bobby Moch, George (Shorty) Hunt

tbitb masterlist

A collection of kissing scenes. Might write something for Chuck Day later, we’ll see, anyway, got carried away with Don, I would die for Bobby

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz:

Joe is a gentleman. He plans it’s out, wanting to take you on a decent date beforehand to set the mood and feel out just how much you like him. He doesn’t have money or a nice apartment or cooking skills for that matter. What he does have is his strength and his smarts.

So he takes you for a boat ride one sunny afternoon. He brings his guitar, opting for a little less country than the banjo, and paddles you out to a secluded spot. Despite his protest, you brought a basket full of treats and you talk as you share them under the hot sun.

His blond curls become waves of amber grain in the sunlight. After a while you fall into a comfortable silence which gives him the opportunity to pull out his guitar. Now he’s been planning this date for a little while so he picked some new songs to memorize. Sweet and romantic but not too lovey dovey. Though he doesn’t hide the fact that he loves country music.

As he strums his guitar he catches you intently staring at him. You look at him with so much affection that it makes him blush and stutter and he forget the words to his song.

“You’re cute, Joe.”

It makes him laugh so much he has to stop playing entirely. You tease him, enjoying his laughter.

After he recovers you both decide to venture out onto land. Wild flowers grow along the banks in great colorful bunches. Joe begins collection some, blue and purple and white and yellow, and he begins to weave them together.

It’s a special trick he learned while he lived alone, cutting and clearing trees for a living. During his breaks he taught himself to do this. The braid the delicate flower stems into bracelets and rings and crowns.

Joe makes the finest crown his has ever managed. He carefully lays the creation on your head and tucks away any loose strands of hair. ‘You’re gorgeous’ he wants to say. If he was a little more gutsy he would.

His hands trail down to cradle your cheeks. He’s not gutsy enough to tell you you’re pretty but for some reason he has the gall to lean down and kiss you.

His lips are a little chapped from rowing practices, the heavy breathing dropping his jaw and the wind biting his lips. But they’re gentle and sweet. Joe soaks up the private moment and rests his forehead on yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and sways back and forth with you. He starts singing again and you dance together in the afternoon sun.

Don Hume:

Let’s be honest here, you’re more likely to kiss him first. You simply make him too nervous to even find the coordination to plant his lips over yours.

After their first win, Don is dragged out to celebrate. Luckily his sweetheart of a few weeks now is already there. You’re happy to see Don out and about whether or not he likes it. Bobby flashes you a wink as he pushes Don into a chair next to you.

It’s too loud. You can’t hear a word the other says. In a blinding moment of courage, Don takes your hand and pulls you out of the hall. His calloused palm is sweaty. His fingers tremble between yours. You remember him first approaching you, Bobby pushing him forward and then abandoning him at your library table.

“Hey, you’re Don Hume right? From the rowing team, right?”

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“What can I do for you, Don?”

His tongue had gone dry. Where are his words? His mouth dropped open “I—” you smiled at him and it made everything worse.

“C’mon, Don!” You heard Bobby whisper shout, a collection of the rowing team has amassed behind a bookshelf, quietly cheering him on.

“Can-can I takeyouonadate?”

He panicked and cursed himself out, thinking he spoke too fast and you don’t catch what he said and now he’s going to have to ask all over again.

“I’d love to go on a date.” Your smile brightened and Don’s shoulders drooped in relief.

He still stutters asking you on dates now.

Don finds himself walking you across campus grounds and the pale light of the moon. “You did so good, Don, in your race.”

“Thanks.” He speaks so softly the whistle of the night breeze in the leaves is almost louder. He turns to you, catching your gaze first and then blushing and nervously glancing down at your lips.

He’s never kissed anyone before, but he thinks he wants to kiss you.

There’s a comfortable silence that fills the space between your faces. Don’s eyes keep flickering to your Cupid’s bow. To that perfect curve. He starts to say something but his words leave him again as he feels soft lips shutting his mouth.

His lips are rough, worn from the blustering winds. He smells faintly of sweat and the river water that sprays up from the churning oars.

Don can hardly think enough to kiss you back. He blinks, stunned and you lean in to kiss him again and again. He’s overwhelmed by the warmth of your lips and the velvet soft press of your tongue. His shaking hands clutch at your cheeks, trying to ensure that it doesn’t end.

“Don, baby—”

“Kiss me again, please.”

There’s a smile on your lips when you wrap your arms around him. “Only if you promise to dance with me.”

“Yes, yes, okay. Just…”

This time he kisses first.

Bobby Moch:

Bobby is a confident man. He maybe shorter than your average guy but his boldness makes up for it. But I also think you’d kiss him first.

You’re waiting for him to finish up practice, your routine being to go on a long walk and let Bobby blow off some steam before studying together and then going home. Bobby emerges from the shell house, clearly bothered, but he can’t help his smile when he sees you waiting on a bench with two warm cups of tea in your hand.

“Good evening, lovely, should we go to the library or the bridge?”

You hand him a cup and take his free hand. “I think… the library would be nice.”

“Me too.”

He squeezes your hand. He starts his rant and angrily blabbers on until you’re at the steps of the library. Somehow, between all his complaining, he’s managed to chug his whole cup of tea.

The library is fairly empty at this hour. Most students having given up on studying for the day and retired to either their dorms or gone off to work. Bobby drops his bag onto a secluded sofa and the two of you sit down for a nice, quiet study date.

While Bobby reads over his textbook chapter, you notice things about him. The wrinkle that forms on his forehead when he's focused. The tilt of his eyebrows. How his lips purse. You notice the tiny blemishes on his cheeks; they were once little nicks or pimples that he picked. You keep stealing glances of him. Absolutely fascinated by the way lamplight reflects off his skin or the curve of his jaw or the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallows. He hadn't really bothered to straighten out his hair after his shower and it's dried wild, tickling his face.

Bobby catches your gaze and it's stunning, how light pools in his eyes. How his irises brighten. His gives you an adoring look and returns to pouring over his textbook.

Then there's his lips. They look so soft and they're so gently rounded they look hand carved. Occasionally he'll lick his lips and you get a flash of tongue and white teeth. At some point you decide to just go for it. You've been dreaming of kissing Bobby for some time now but he's been content to let you take things at your own pace.

You reach of his textbook, "Need something?" Bobby asks genuinely. His gaze is uncharacteristically kind. He's always yelling at the top of his lungs or bossing around or saying something snappy. That's just Bobby. So why does he look at you like this? Like he's watching the sun rise.

"Yes, actually." And then you deliver a kiss to his lips. Bobby is caught off guard and before he can really even kiss you back, you're pulling away. "Sorry--"

"Don't even think about it." Bobby quips, "Get back here." He cups the juncture of your jaw and throat to bring you in but you hide in his palm. "Finish what you started. C'mon. Don't you feel like trying it again? I'm ready."

When your lips touch again Bobby is gentle in making it last. He never presses too hard but be doesn't let you shy away again either. He kisses you until the taste of him has stained your tongue and the oxygen is gone from your lungs.

George "Shorty" Hunt:

Sly dog, this one is.

George is highly tactical(he likes to think so) and because he’s so brilliant he hatched a perfect plan to get you to kiss him. He wants to see how bold you can be.

He makes three plans, two of which fail. They go like this. The first time he tries it, you’re walking him to practice. His jacket is slung over his shoulder and he’s telling you about his engineering class. “You know there’s this term we use called osculate which is where the curve of on surface meets the curve over another and they share a common tangent.” You raise a brow. Shorty licks his lips, “It’s also formal code for kissing.”

“Don’t even—” you swat at him and push him towards the shell house. “Go practice and share a tangent with Day!”

“Hey now,” Shorty pouts and disappears into the shell house, defeated. That was attempt 1. The second attempt hardly goes better.

It’s the night after their first win and Shorty is dancing with you. His nerdy pick up lines proved to be a failure so he goes for building some good old fashion romance. He’d gotten you flowers and taken you out for dinner before he brought you here where the music is so loud it blocks out everyone else around you.

Now you’re slow dancing, cheeks pressed together, hands laced with one another. The first thing you notice is that he smells good. You have no idea if he’s wearing cologne or if it’s the soap he uses to wash his clothes but he smells divine. The second thing is how soft his hands are despite the wear and tear of the pad. The third is that he didn’t put any product in his hair. You’ve always loved to play with the dark curls and fluff it up. But sometimes he styles his curls and the products make his hair stiff. But his curls are free today which tells you he’s been thinking about you and all the things you do.

“Watcha smilin’ about?” Shorty asks, his eyes light up as he smiles back. He hopes you’re thinking about it. He hopes you’re wanting to kiss him.

You plant your hands on his chest, “Nothing, you just make me happy.” It’s quite possibly quite possibly the nicest compliment he’s ever received. And then you rise up on your toes a place a kiss on his cheek. It’s not what he expected but he’s as pleased as ever.

The third and actually successful attempt is on the train before he leaves for Poughkeepsie. You’d arrived late and missed him boarding. You force your way to the train and look through the window. George sees you and throws the window open. “I was afraid you weren’t coming!” He shouts of the chatter. He’d actually been heartbroken.

“Had trouble getting here!”

“Can I…” you don’t catch what he says.

“What!”

Shorty smiles and shakes his head. He turns and gestures for something. He opens the window as far as he can and you see Chuck and Johnny behind him. And then George is falling out of the window. First his shoulders and chest and then his hips and your almost scream but Chuck and Johnny are holding his thighs. He wedges one hand on the window sill to support himself and the other reaches for you.

He pulls you as close as he can and gives you a kiss goodbye. “I’ll come home with a gold medal!” Don’t you worry!” The people who notice give him a cheer and a laugh as he’s pulled back into the train. He blows you one last kiss and then the train starts rolling.

tbitb masterlist

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this piece please be sure to check out my masterlist and if you want to request something you are more than welcome to. Have a nice day.

- the author

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Random as heck but can you please do one where the reader is very good at the harp (harp music is so beautiful!!) Like so good people gather around when she plays and Baldwin IV loves listening to her play and it just relaxes him so much. One night Baldwin was in pain and he asks her to play it. Thanks in advance!❤️❤️❤️

♡ The Lullaby Of An Aching Heart - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon!!! This is the first of many amazing requests I have gotten today! I got so exited when I saw this, it is an adorable idea, I love it so much so thank you for sending it in 🫶. I hope it is what you had in mind! As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: (EDIT) I re-wrote a lot of this because when I wrote it last night I was sleep deprived after 2 all nighters in a row.. 

TW: Leprosy

Baldwin loved music.

Beautiful, melodic sounds brought him nothing but relief from a life of pain and suffering.

But of all music, there was something special about the harp. More importantly, his wife's harp.

Her music was his favorite, there was really nothing like it. Since hearing it for the first time, no other instrument or musician could even come close to being half as brilliant as her.

In between the notes of her songs, he made a home and did not plan on leaving anytime soon.

Her music was like a warm blanket, wrapping itself around his frail body and keeping him safe from all harm and pain.

Y/n was famous in the kingdom for her music, many gathered to listen to her play. Still, Baldwin was always there amongst the crowd.

He never missed any opportunity to listen to her beautiful songs.

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

One night, the pain was worse than usual. His head throbbed and his body ached.

Baldwin had returned to the royal chambers after a visit to the physicians for new bandages and some medicine in hope to relieve him of the pain.

But for the entire day, there was only one thing on his mind.

The single thing that his tired mind craved more than rest was his wife's music.

Her sweet melodies had put him to sleep on many painful, restless nights. That night would be no different.

As he entered the royal bed chambers, y/n rose from her desk to greet him with open arms, just as she did every evening.

She wrapped her husband in a warm embrace, her hand resting itself on the back of his head.

“How is my beautiful boy?” she asked, her voice softer than silk.

Baldwin only hummed tiredly in response. That told the young queen everything she needed to know.

Y/n sat him down on their large bed and removed his mask, exposing his freshly bandaged face to the cool night air.

Carefully, she helped him take off his day clothes and put on a cotton nightgown. The texture was pleasant on the areas of his skin that still had sensation.

As she was laying him down, Baldwin spoke.

“My love, could you please play for me?” His voice was quiet and filled with pain. It hurt her heart to see him like this. It always did.

“Of course my darling, anything for you” y/n replied, leaving him for a moment to move the harp closer to their bed.

Taking a seat on the small stool, the queen began to play.

The beautiful music filled the room. Baldwin sighed as he allowed the music to envelop him, feeling his aching body relax further and further. All sense of tension released him from its firm grip.

The king desperately tried to keep his eyes open for a little while longer. He wanted more than anything to stay awake and listen to her gorgeous song, but as his eyelids grew heavier with each note, he finally surrendered himself to sleep.

The last thought that went through his mind was of how beautiful she looked while playing. The dull moonlight and candles illuminated where she sat, she looked like an angel.

When the song finished, y/n looked up at Baldwin, half expecting him to request another song. But she smiled at the sight of him, fast asleep, thankful that he was no longer in pain.

She stood and went to sit down on the edge of the plush bed.

Admiring his resting features was always the best part of her day. In wake, the king's mask made him look stern and much older, as did his calm temperament.

But in sleep, he looked completely different.

She could see just how he really was, no mask, no words, no expressions. Just him. Her wonderful husband.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, y/n stood to pull the covers over his body, tucking him in.

Giving Baldwin one last look, the queen laid down beside him and closed her eyes. The knowledge that he was safe beside her allowed her to sleep easy that night.

[softnsquishable]

Well, i want to ask, how is joe irl? Lol

Like how was the m&g interaction

Finally, an excuse to tell the whole story. I will spare no details, so buckle up. tl;dr he is the nicest boy on earth.

About thirty minutes before Joe's signing block began, me and some other fobbies had clustered at one end of the area. I was totally cool - and then someone said "oh there's Joe" and I turned around and yeah, there he was, only a few feet away. He was holding his hands behind his back, looking lost, just trying to figure out where he was supposed to be and presumably where Rick was. No joke my hand covered my mouth and my heart raced and in that moment I was so SO thankful I had the foresight to get a notecard and write a few bullet points for what I wanted to tell him. Side note, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT METHOD because I always think I'll be fine going up to somebody I admire and then my mind BLANKS in the moment. This made everything so much smoother for me.

Once we found out Rick Remender was a big deal and we had to line up, we spent over an hour in line before getting up to where Joe was. I watched two people in front of me go, and then made myself a fantastic introduction by immediately dropping my bag, water bottle and phone on the ground in front of me. I backed up and let the girl that went before me get a photo before stepping forward with a little "hehe, take two".

I was wearing my "I Have Mental Illinois" shirt and Joe looked at it right away, smiled and said "Don't we all?" to which I brilliantly said "I was hoping you'd like it."

I was in the second row center at Sacramento 2ourdust back in March and I had made this sign for Joe.

I figured since it was a signing event for Holy Roller and Rifters I would bring it along to show him. On the night of the show, I had held it up during 16 Candles and he had seemed to see it, smiling over at me and giving a little wave, which definitely made my entire night. I didn't think he'd remember but...

I set the sign down on the table with the comics and said "I don't know if you remember this, but-" and Joe cuts in "I DO remember this. That was you? Yeah, I saw this, and I texted the guys about it right after the show." He then proceeded to tug on Rick's sleeve and say "Hey, Rick...Rick, look, look at this, look what she made." (Side note, seeing Joe just tugging on Rick's sleeve to get his attention, absolutely precious.) I am still completely blown away that he remembered seeing this sign after playing almost forty shows and eight months down the line, but it totally warmed my heart. He even signed it for me with a special sharpie - he dug around in his little cup of markers and then declared, "Rose gold. You're getting rose gold."

I felt my mind start to blank so I took my little notecard out, which I apologized for, but Joe said "Yeah, that's good to have". I then told him, as he gave me his complete attention, thank you for the music (I've been a fan for over 10 years) and for the books, the memoir, all the laughs, and for the community his band has fostered. I told him that I've met all of my best friends because of his band via Tumblr Discord etc. and that it's come so far that one of my closest friends, who I met on a "Fall Out Boy Forum" (it was wattpad but I wasn't gonna tell him that) and I had met after eight years of online friendship at Forest Hills. Joe asked if we were still friends after meeting because sometimes that changes things and I assured him me and them were cool.

I asked him what comics I should read to get more into comics in a similar vein to what he'd written. He thought about it and said that for Holy Roller specifically, a lot of it was inspired by early Batman comics (I believe he said Batman Year one) and that he was currently reading some of that with his daughter - turning his children into little nerds apparently! He went on for a little while like that and to be honest I do not remember all of what he was saying about it, except for at the end he did say "...that's a lot to remember."

Joe then asked me if I had the rest of the books (Holy Roller and Rifters) as he had copies of every single issue on the table. I have to preface this by saying I was a dumbass and didn't think to bring anything to be signed, so I had run into the bookshop earlier and bought an older issue of both Holy Roller and Rifters for the signing. I said yes, I was subscribed and had them at home, even if I hadn't read them yet, and he clarified "I wasn't doubting you, I just wanted to make sure, otherwise I'd give em to you".

Sidebar, he was signing anything people brought, including art, and someone's FUTCT CD. He asked where they wanted it signed and he helped them work it out, noting that, "In the past, people have had me sign on my photo. Yeah, this one, where I'm like...ten years old or whatever". He also signed a memoir or two (mine was signed when I bought it or I might've done that too).

I then asked for a picture and he said sure and he was very glad that "we (the band) helped to bring you friendship". I then asked hi for a handshake, which I got, and stepped over to meet Rick, giving him a little hello and telling him I enjoyed the books, as it was the first comic series I'd ever subscribed to. I then held up my phone for a selfie, which Joe saw us taking, and so he made this face, and then proceeded to laugh about it to himself, which was so SO sweet.

Just before I walked away I told Joe "oh by the way, my (not really mine but) discord server Fall Out Bastards say hi" and he looked mildly confused and said "I do not know them...but pass on my greetings".

I realized a few minutes later that I had forgotten to take a picture with the disposable camera I brought, so I waited for a gap in the Fall Out Boy fans and kind of timidly went, "Hey, Joe...can we get another picture with my disposable where I'm holding the sign?" He said sure, and so I went back over and posed, all the while he was giving us instructions for the camera. ("Make sure you do it with the flash on, I really recommend that...yeah, it's the little switch on the front. Is it on? Okay, good.")

I left the meet up so so happy, and when I sat down on the train to go home, I ended up chatting to the person next to me a bit. She was a casual Fall Out Boy listener it turned out, and when I opened up the sign to show it to her, I noticed that next to Joe's signature-

-he had drawn me a little smiley :') just something that made my heart soar that much higher.

Meeting Joe was genuinely one of the best experiences I've ever had. He gave his full attention to you as you talked, one knee on his chair, wiggling his flip flop sandals and chewing his nicotine gum (I know it's nicotine gum because we audibly heard Rick offer him some and he said yes and took it). Such a sweet guy and I would absolutely recommend that anybody meet him if they have the chance because though I've had to come home to my nine to five and all the issues in the world and in my own personal life...I cheer up a whole lot when I think about this interaction and see that photo of us together.

I do have to say, even as a 5'1 girlie, Joe is SMALLER that I thought he would be! Yes, he looks tall next to the rest of the band, but he is a SMALL BOY and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Yes, he was leaning over on the table and I was elevated slightly above him, but even when he was standing straight, he did not come across as tall.

I do partially blame this interaction as the reason I went ahead and bought tickets to Innings Fest as well shdfjlsjdlhf but I'm glad I did! I hope to meet and make many more moots there and keep cheering Joe and the others on from wherever in the crowd I may be!

Maybe YOU shouldn't meet your heroes...but if your hero is Joe Trohman, I think you're better off giving it a shot. Here is a bonus photo or two of him being a very good listener.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hello hello - please feel free to ignore if it's not your jam but I'm in love with future fic rockstar eddie/ non famous steve being sickeningly in love - especially outsiders getting jealous when eddie only has eyes for steve!

I got two rock star Eddie requests in a row so I had to break them up a little. I love the idea of Steve like surviving some of the worst shit to happen and then absolutely not able to deal with the crowd at a concert. He is clearly traumatized by what happened, and has to face his fears a bit, and it doesn't go so well. This could have been kind of a time skip thing, but I decided to make Steve suffer more because I'm suffering and that's just how the world turns. Thank you for this one! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve’s favorite part of going on tour with Eddie was being able to watch soundcheck.

Eddie always put on a great show, and Steve watched from the side of the stage as often as he could, but he went to soundcheck because it felt more intimate.

He could stare openly, not hide the fact that he was one hip thrust away from drooling all over the floor.

The guys in the band just rolled their eyes, used to it for the last several years since Steve started coming with them.

They were all perpetually single, hooking up in some cities, but mostly just enjoying the ride as a group.

Steve could admit though, he was hesitant to go to actual shows, and that was the main reason he never missed soundcheck.

About a year ago, Steve was front row at a show, trying his best to just blend in. It was easier that way. But sometimes blending in wasn’t good enough, not for the hardcore groupies.

They recognized him, and while they didn’t know he was Eddie’s boyfriend, they knew he was special to the band in some way. They quickly got too close, much too close for Steve’s comfort, even for general admission at a metal concert. They crowded him.

He really thought they were just being overly friendly, trying to get backstage, tried to just suck it up and deal with it for the remainder of the show.

But then Eddie did his song. The song he wrote for Steve. He always sang to Steve, in the subtlest way he possibly could, which wasn’t very subtle at all.

He looked towards Steve the entire time. He would smile at him, sometimes even find his way to the side of the stage and blow him a kiss. With a crowd around, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to know who he was blowing a kiss to.

But for this particular show, the groupies surrounding him were almost completely blocking his view. If Eddie wasn’t elevated on stage, he wouldn’t have even been able to see the top of his head.

He knew Eddie must have seen him in the group, must have noticed his predicament.

The music stopped. Dead silence in a metal concert was never a good sign.

“Everyone take a step away from the person you’re closest to. Everyone’s pushing too much.”

Some people listened, but not the groupies surrounding Steve.

“If everyone in the front doesn’t take a couple steps back, I leave. Security will clear this place out, and we never come back. Got it?”

Steve felt the groupies to his left start inching away, and hoped the rest would follow.

Eddie was now standing right in front of Steve. He looked concerned, and Steve knew he probably looked a bit panicked.

“Stevie, give me a thumbs up if you’re good.”

Steve wanted to, he wanted the show to go on, and make this just a distant memory of one of his least favorite Corroded Coffin shows.

But the group around him didn’t seem to like the attention on Steve. Not when they wanted attention on them.

Plus, his arms were pretty much glued to his sides from how close everyone was to him, so even if he was feeling okay with the situation, he had no way to put his thumb up.

“Alright, sorry everyone. Some of you can’t listen, now all of you suffer, just like school. I need security to the front, my left now.”

The crowd was pissed, but once Steve was pulled from the crowd by security and set up on the stage, Eddie pulling him backstage, the rest of the guys following, almost as concerned.

Eddie never stopped a show, never canceled one, never postponed one, never gave less than 150% on stage every night. If he was doing this, it was for a good reason.

Once everything was explained, Eddie had security find out who it was near Steve, and make sure they got banned from all of his shows.

But they were long gone, and Steve obviously didn’t know their names, barely could have picked them out of a lineup.

He decided to stop watching shows from anywhere but backstage, and then it became only watching soundcheck.

But he and Eddie kind of loved that, loved having their moments without having to hide.

The guys would roll their eyes and complain, but they didn’t mean it. They were just happy to have some decent food waiting in leftover containers for them when they got back to the buses or hotels because Steve cooked while they performed.

Eddie would run through a few of the songs, always including Steve’s song even though he didn’t have to.

The venue for tonight was smaller than most of the rest of this tour, intended to be that way so they could go back to their “roots” and have a more intimate setting with fans.

Eddie asked if Steve would want to watch this one, maybe hang out by security at the front of the stage.

Initially, he said no. But Eddie seemed disappointed, even though he insisted he understood and he didn’t want Steve to be uncomfortable, and Steve didn’t want him to be disappointed.

So the day of the show, while watching soundcheck from a chair on stage, he yelled, “Got a ticket for me, big boy?”

He could do this for Eddie. It wouldn’t even be that many people in the crowd, and the chances of the same thing happening again were slim to none.

He’d been through worse.

The way Eddie’s face lit up at his words, his excited bouncing causing his guitar to sway around him.

‘I always got a ticket for you, sweetheart.”

One hour before the show, the guys usually ignored visitors, choosing to use their time to get hydrated and snack, sometimes smoke a bit if they weren’t focused right.

Steve was rarely part of this, even he knew this was a band thing he shouldn’t force himself into.

But tonight, Eddie used the hour before the show to make sure he was taken to a good spot by the stage with security, had a water bottle and granola bar so he wouldn’t have to leave.

Since there was no one but security there, Eddie planted a quick kiss to his forehead before walking away.

“Enjoy the show, Stevie!”

“Always do, Eds!”

The crowd started trickling in only a few minutes later, excitedly getting up to the barricade, talking amongst themselves about the set list. A few people were next to him, but there was enough space that he didn’t feel worried.

He relaxed a bit, taking a few sips of water and smiling at the security guard.

As more people came in, they crowded behind him and next to him. He was somewhat pushed further to the side, but he didn’t mind. He wanted fans to get a great experience, and if that meant he only saw some of the stage, he could live with that.

The lights went down, and he felt a few people crowd in closer to him.

It was fine.

Until the guys took the stage, Eddie immediately bouncing over to his microphone stand and starting on the first song.

The crowd moved in more.

It couldn’t be possible that he was being shoved between people, but he was.

The room was closing in, literally, around him, and he had no idea what to do. The security guard was watching the front row closest to the band, not paying attention to the way Steve had been drawn into the crowd.

He took a deep breath.

Then someone yelled in his ear.

“Hey! You’re Steve right? Like, with the band?”

He managed to nod, but he didn’t want to have a conversation. This was a concert, a loud one. It wasn’t really the time to talk.

But the guy didn’t stop.

“Are you like an assistant? Or a tech guy?”

Steve shook his head.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Well, you go to all the shows right? What do you do?”

He wasn’t going to stop. Steve had to leave.

But there were now a few people in front of him, and he was completely surrounded by people having the time of their lives.

He just needed the security guard to look his way, he could signal him, and he’d be out.

“They stopped that show for you before. People kind of hated you for a while.”

Okay, Steve was done. He knew people kind of hated him for a while, he hated himself for a while. Hated that his reaction caused a whole 2500 people to miss out on half of a show they paid for.

But he reminded himself, the same way Eddie had for weeks, that it was Eddie’s call to end the show.

Any fans that wanted to blame Steve, could take their blind idolization somewhere else.

“I was there. Actually, right next to you. I doubt you remember me.”

He got that right, he didn’t remember him.

“I told everyone you and Eddie must have something going on if he’s willing to stop a show for you. No one believed me.”

Steve remained silent, his breath coming in short pants. He could see Eddie singing to a group on the opposite end of the stage.

“But that’s what it is, right? You two are together and he’s so whipped he ended a show because you can’t handle a crowd?”

Steve had to go.

The guy was touching him in most places, half of it out of necessity, but some of it not. His hand was wrapped around Steve’s wrist, much too tight for it to be accidental or just to get him to move.

“Let go,” Steve managed to say, loud enough to be heard, but his voice was shaking.

The guy did let go, but he didn’t give him any space.

“My friend fucked him once you know.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie had slept with two people before he met Steve, and he didn’t even remember their names. One was a guy at the bar in Indy he frequented, celebrating his 18th birthday in a way he regretted the next morning. The other was a girl, admittedly a test of his sexuality and she probably knew it from the way he fumbled around the entire time.

So whichever one of those people was this guy’s friend, clearly they were telling whatever story got them attention from other fans.

“Good for them,” he said, trying to focus on Eddie.

If he focused on Eddie, he’d be okay.

“Eddie promised to call him and never did. Kind of sucks to be left like that.”

Steve knew that too. That in Eddie’s somewhat drunken stupor, he’d gotten his number and said he would call him, but lost the paper at some point and never went back to the bar.

“Happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah, but not to you apparently.”

Steve started pushing forward, desperate to leave.

Eddie was talking to the crowd now, introducing the guys like he always did after the first two songs.

“You’re not even into this music. Why does he like you?”

Well, that’s certainly a question Steve asked himself often. Couldn’t help it, really.

Eddie, especially now, could have anyone he wanted. Any famous person would probably drop whoever they were currently with to have even a moment of Eddie’s attention.

Steve loved Corroded Coffin’s music, he loved the passion they all put into creating it and performing it, loved listening to Eddie at two in the morning furiously scratching down lyric ideas. He loved hearing some of their influences over the years, even going to some shows for Metallica because he knew it meant a lot to Eddie.

But it’s true he wasn’t a huge fan of this kind of music. He liked pop, he liked stuff you heard on any standard radio station driving down the road. He liked being able to dance along to it when he was cooking.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t belong here just the same as anyone else. He did. Anyone could enjoy this band, just as anyone could enjoy any band, even if it didn’t mesh well with their other interests. That’s regardless of the relationship status between them and the lead singer.

So Steve kept pushing forward, doing his best to get out of the crowd, away from this guy who was much larger than he was.

“Where you going? Can’t handle people knowing you aren’t worth his time?”

Steve’s heart was beating fast, so many sweaty bodies pushing against his on his way to the security guard who looked like he was finally noticing what was going on.

“Can’t believe he wrote a song for someone who doesn’t even watch his shows!”

That one hit Steve in the chest, hard.

This guy was why he couldn’t watch Eddie. He wanted to. He would be at every single show if he could.

But clearly that wasn’t in the cards for him.

He could feel bad about that later.

His focus was entirely on getting backstage for now, ignoring the shouts of everyone he was pushing through.

“Dude, you can’t just push to the front!”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Should’ve been here earlier if you wanted front row!”

Steve’s heart was racing, but he was trying to get to the security guard who was coming towards the barricade.

He reached him, but got shoved hard into the barricade.

The guy from earlier had managed to follow him through the crowd and just pushed him. If there were less people around, he would’ve fallen on his face.

He felt the edge of the barricade dig into his ribs, but it was a minor pain compared to things he’s felt before. He just wanted to go.

He stood up straight, took the biggest breath he could, and let the security guard lift him over the barricade.

Somehow Eddie must have seen it, and he immediately stopped playing.

“What’s going on? Stevie?”

Steve held his thumb up, hoping Eddie would continue and he could sneak out back without causing any more of a scene.

But Eddie must have seen the way Steve was hunched over, holding his rib where he’d been pushed into the barricade.

He was immediately on the edge of the stage, asking the security guard to help lift Steve while he pulled him up.

He was honestly too far into a sudden panic attack to even resist.

Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as soon as he was sitting on the stage, his wide eyes looking over everywhere. The rest of the guys had all come over to see what was going on.

“Stevie, what happened, sweetheart? Are you hurt? Who did this?” He turned to the guys before Steve could even try to answer. “We’re done. Send everyone home.”

Steve was shaking his head. He didn’t want this to happen again, not because of him.

“People will hate me,” he managed to say.

“What? Sweetheart, no they won’t. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. Just let me go backstage.”

Eddie was watching him, trying to figure out if he was faking being okay.

He was, and he knew Eddie would see it, and he would cancel the show, and even more people would hate him.

“We’re done. If people hate you for it, they can hate me too.”

The guys all agreed, because they’re the best, and they know they can’t put on a real show without Eddie anyway.

Steve focused on the way Eddie’s hands felt on his face, his neck, his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, managing to calm down enough to see the lights come on and the tech guys come out to start breaking down.

“Think you can walk or do you need me to carry you? Where does it hurt, love?”

“I’m okay.”

“That doesn’t answer my questions, sweetheart.”

Oh. Guess not.

“I can walk. It’s just my ribs. Not broken.”

“Who did this?”

Steve knew he could probably still find him in the crowd, had managed to glimpse enough of his clothing and face to point him out if he was still inside.

But it wasn’t worth it.

This would continue to happen. As long as people loved Eddie the way they did, as long as they didn’t like Steve, this would happen.

And Steve was okay with it, he had to be. He knew Eddie would take this harder than he did, maybe even the rest of the guys would too.

“Just a guy. He didn’t like that you never called his friend.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“You remember your 18th birthday?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Steve nodded.

“Fuck them. Seriously, fuck him for seriously thinking a one night stand was gonna go anywhere. Jesus Christ.”

Eddie kissed Steve’s forehead, forgetting that there was still a crowd of disappointed fans, though pretty much everything that had just happened made it pretty clear Steve was his boyfriend.

“Let’s go back to the bus, get on our way home. Wayne’s baking you a cake for the birthday you had to celebrate with us. Said there’s no way the cake we got you was as good as his homemade butter cake.”

“He’s right,” Steve smiled.

This is what it came down to, in the end.

Eddie loved him, loved him enough to come out on stage just to make sure he was okay. Eddie loved him enough to bring him home to his family whenever they could, knew Steve needed to see the kids, see Wayne and Robin whenever possible. Eddie loved him enough to make sure he had a special spot for every soundcheck, sang his song to him every time so he could get his own personal show.

Steve loved him enough to deal with the fans hating him, for some fans to hate them all for supporting Eddie despite the fact that he was queer. Steve loved him enough to let Eddie baby him even though he hated it, especially in front of others. Steve loved him enough to watch every soundcheck like it was a sold out arena show.

[st4rbwrry]

TENNESSEE WHISKEY ☆ reiner braun.

☆. warnings — drabble, fluff, drinking, country music, reiner’s lovesick, readers infatuated, slow dancing, making out, going back to reiner’s after to bang. this is nothing special just a random thought.

listening to tennessee whiskey got me thinking about construction worker!reiner who spends this weekend attending a friends concert at the infamous devil’s tavern. he’s got on a white tshirt, light blue washed jeans that are a bit raggedy from being years old. and rugged brown leather boots adorned on his big feet. blonde hair messy from running his hands through it from anxiety. this is their first getup and he could feel his palms sweating. he knew how excited they were for this gig, they’ve been talking about it all week at work on the site they were fixing up. reiner’s sitting at the bar, sipping on a glass of whiskey and bopping his head slowly to the music playing from the other band on stage at the moment.

“what’s got you all sweatin’?” a soft voice pulls him from his thoughts, turning to his left to see a pretty young girl sitting on the stool beside him. glowing brown skin, auburn curly hair that grazed her collarbones, and warm, cat-eye shaped brown eyes. he feels the wind knock out of his lungs, throat going dry. you’re wearing a red and black checkered button down that’s tied to your front above your belly button and it’s butterfly piercing. so much skin exposed he feels naughty just glancing. black shorts hugging your thighs, and a pair of beat up converses. you have a few strands of hair tucked behind both sides of your ears where an array of piercings lay.

you raise a brow at the man’s lingering eyes. “you deaf or sum?”

your smile is pretty, like the moon shining in the sky above the old ranch his father has. reiner clears his throat. “sorry, jus’ got distracted.”

“i’m pretty, aren’t i?” your entire face raises as you smile and coo at him. reiner’s eyes nearly abandon his sockets.

“yeah, i-i guess,” he’s holding onto his glass dripping condensation with both hands, swallowing it from how big his veiny hands were. “change the subject, ma’am.”

“oo, manners. but you never answered my question, hun.” your elbows are leaning against the wood of the bar line, kicking at the ground softly, inching your face closer to his room hear him better. he swears he’s gonna pass out. he’s never met a woman so beautiful like you in his lifetime. the man’s only thirty-two but still.

hazel eyes meet yours as the pink on his soft lips part to speak. he smells nice, you think. looks even nicer. “my friends are playing tonight. they should be on in a few minutes. it’s their first gig.”

“mmm, are they any good?” you take a swig of your beer. he almost looks bewildered when you ask that. you shrug innocently, “what? is that wrong of me to ask?”

“they’re fuckin’ astounding,” reiner corrects you, sounding like a fanboy who’s diehard for his favorite band. think he’s a little tipsy. he hears how he comes off, and the scoff leaving you and immediately goes to apologize. “sorry, sorry. that was rude. i meant that they’re. . . good.”

“nah, you said astounding. stick to that,” you laugh, tilting your head to the side. “i like you. you seem very protective of your friends and their passion.”

then it’s his turn to laugh. “thanks. they’ve been up my ass about showing up tonight so i made a promise that i would. i’ve been in a little drought lately.”

“how come?”

reiner goes silent, staring off into space. the sudden announcement of his friends’ band causes the big, beefy man to sit up straight, a wide smile on his face. his eyes lit up like he’s just won a million dollars, shocking overtaking you as he yells ‘c’mon” over the loud music, grabbing your hand gently and pulling you with him to push past the crowd and make it to the front row. this man you met only a few minutes ago having your heart in the palm of his hand that still interlocked with yours. you felt small under his touch, safe, protected. it’s like going to a concert with a first date. adoring as he jammed out to the mellow, country music, switching to indie tunes. the bands versatility fitting your music taste well.

reiner felt like he was in a dream. squeezing a pretty girls hand as he jams out to his favorite music. feeling free, feeling happy. it’s been a while since he’s felt happy. his friends performed five songs, the last two being covers to famous artists. one of them being tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton. he took this opportunity to dance with you, slow dancing to the tune and smiling into each other’s faces. kissing not long after. your full lips gliding with his own delicately, tasting the strawberry chapstick in your lips. moaning into his mouth and pulling him closer, if that was remotely possible. as the crowd cheered around you two, empty in your heads, you continue to kiss. reiner applauding for his friends mentally. they’re watching with glee for their friend, going to mention it later on.

not long after were you making out against the fluffy sheets of his comforter, wrapping your legs around his waist as you hug him close to you. reiner kissing your neck while making love to you under that same moonlight he saw in your smile.

© 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖊. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[geeerage]

date headcanons // blue lock

;; just some brief date headcanons, gender neutral reader, a lot of characters <33

Isagi- Just going on walks + using one of those apps where it makes random coordinates, and you have to walk to get there like Randonautica. You’d probably end up lost and have to use a gps to get back home.  

Bachira – He would be super excited to take you to the aquarium on your day off. He would drag you to go see the dolphins first and buy you a dolphin plushie after. 

Nagi- You’d probably go on a date with Nagi that’s simple like picnics. You would set up your food on a cute picnic cloth on the grass and converse with each other about your week. After eating Nagi would fall asleep on the spot. 

Reo- Reo would take you to the theatre to watch a musical or ballet. He always gets front row seats so you can watch the show up close. After which, he would treat you to a fancy dinner. 

Chigiri- He'd invite you to go outdoor skating in the wintertime. I feel like Chigiri would naturally be good at skating, so he’d help you out if you don’t know how to skate. 

Rin- He would take you to a haunted house for fun. The dynamic between you two would be so funny and chaotic since you’re screaming your head off and Rin is just straight-faced the entire time.   

Sae- After a long week, Sae would treat you to a spa day. Sae probably has an annual spa pass so you could go whenever you want. You’ll get the whole experience facials, massages, manicures etc... 

Shidou- Shidou would be very excited to take you to the amusement park. He definitely begs you to go on the most terrifying rides they offer to step out of your comfort zone, you do, and you end up feeling very sick afterwards. 

Barou- On an early Saturday morning you could find yourself going to the farmer’s market with Barou. He always knows which produce to buy and which to avoid. After you’re done shopping, you go home together and make a breakfast full of the freshest ingredients. 

Kaiser- Would book a room at a luxury hotel for the entire weekend to impress you, which works. He’s probably friends with the staff too so you’d get special treatment.  

Kenyu- On a Friday evening he would invite you to watch the fireworks with him at the local park. He may or may not have look at you more than the fireworks. 

Aiku- He would take you to do something that he is already good at like bowling just to show off. He would be very surprised when you kept getting strikes and ultimately beat him. 

[iwonderwh0]

I wanna expand on Emma's character. She likes attention, she likes filming herself. There are piano in their room, so it's practically inevitable that she learns to play it. Who is her teacher? It's possible that it is human as, you know, music, maybe her rich parents think that it's best to learn it from humans. At least, we never heard that household models could teach playing instruments. Or actually, she probably learns using built-in program in the piano itself. Like, we saw this holographic screen when Markus was playing, it must include some learning modes.

She has favourite bands. She probably has some kind of spiritual beliefs, probably not like any specific religion but a mix of some new-age ones, at least their home looks like they are like this, like, if I remember it correctly there are Buddha statues so that's one thing. I think Emma, at least, believes in a few things, like karma and manifestations.

Her wrists are full of those handmade bracelets. Did she make them with someone? Alone? Are those friendship bracelets and there are some friends of her that have them too? She must've made at least one of those with Daniel, and it would be such a nice detail for him to wear one in-game. Missed opportunity. Maybe he took it off?

Daniel was activated for four years (huh, I thought longer, but it's still years though), so his character must've been quite developed for a while even prior to deviancy. Or, actually, maybe he deviated a lot earlier than the day we see him in the game. It is entirely possible that there was another event that made him freak out of his line, perhaps after fucking up and accidentally endangering Emma (they kept it a secret. I headcanon that Emma loves secrets. It makes her feel special), but he just stayed and continued his life with Phillips as if nothing happened without change because he liked it and felt responsible about it. I mean, it's not like he had somewhere to go — he doesn't know about Jericho as was confirmed in the evidence room. But ever since that day of his potential deviation he started to accumulate suspicions and paranoia that tipped over when he found out about AP700.

You know, it's kinda ironic that kids with household androids raise them as much if not more than household androids raise them. For kids those androids are part of their life, for androids it's their whole world (I mean, outside of some additional errands and other family members interactions that I don't think are composing even half of the time androids spend with kids they're looking after). Emma was 5-6 years old when Daniel was first introduced into her life. She must've already had friends and all kind of interests by that time, so Daniel didn't raise her from infancy.

You know, it's possible even that those kinds of androids get jealous of kid's other friends and family members. Daniel definitely feels like a jealous type, I doubt August 15 was his first time feeling resentment. The fact that he became Emma's first choice in four years must've been a really deliberate effort on his part, which, I mean, he spends the most time with her so he had this advantage.

Daniel belongs to the Phillips family but at the same time Daniel developed such a possessive attitude towards Emma as if she was his property. He integrated himself into her life as a "need, not want" and he will take her with him on his death row. He wants to believe that Emma needs him, but the truth is he needs Emma much more than she ever could. And it drives him mad.

Hear me out

What if

What if he was so jealous of Emma's other friends and so paranoid about her distancing herself from him that he cultivated circumstances where Emma preferred him over anyone else. A victory. And he put so much effort competing with other people for her attention that possibly of Emma replacing him with another android never crossed his mind. Until it hit him like an anvil. All of his work was for nothing. All this time he thought of himself as her friend. A person. Competing with other people. Turned out he wasn't even within the same category. He had always been only a toy.

[ranchracoon]

"To Be The One"

Ch. 1 A New Assignment

Master Post

The large glass building looks menacing in the early hours of dawn with minimal sunlight and dew covering the ground only adding to the aesthetic. The large Umbrella Corp logo sitting in the center of the building like a hypnotic red and white eye. Numerous people enter, wearing business casual or business formal depending on their level of importance. They each scan their ID badges to gain entry, then take the elevator to their respective floors to start on their work. Only a handful have access to the basement where rows of individual laboratories are stationed like those little glass boxes they keep the rats in. Before one can enter, they must go through a lengthy decontamination process, mask up, suit up, and go through a final trial to make sure their suits do not have any punctures. Any kind of defection could be deadly considering the severity of specimens they work on. 

One of these scientists is Dr Faekah Kahlil, one of the nations leading pathologist doing what she always dreamed of doing; making the world safer. She's been there since before the sun, working on her newest batch of frozen diseases sent straight from the arctic. Little does her bosses know that sometimes she loses track of time, and often sleeps in the company break rooms. She may or may not use the flushing system to give herself a quick rinse, and keeps a change of spare clothes in her locker. Add a little spritz, cup of coffee, and some makeup, no one is the wiser. Except Francis the nightguard, who has on more than one occasion found her passed out on the couch. She frequently butters him up with homemade dishes and baked goods so he looks the other way. 

Last night was one of those nights, she makes sure she's in her respective area before anyone arrives and they just think she has specialized access to come in early. As her colleagues trickle in she's already started on her work. Studying these new found diseases and the impact they could have on humanity. Should a single speck of one of these diseases get out, it could cause a world wide black plague 2.0 and she's not going to be responsible for the death of millions. So she moves slowly, cautiously, and takes her decontamination ritual seriously. The other perk to working with deadly diseases that need to be kept in minus Celsius temperatures, is she gets to work entirely alone. A blessing and a curse. She doesn't get to talk to anyone unless on break, but she also gets to listen to music she likes and can be completely absorbed into her world. 

A knock on the glass shatters her from her concentration, luckily she wasn't transporting something fragile and simply examining under a microscope. She looks over to see another scientist, Dr Cooper, waving at her and signaling for her to listen. Faekah reaches over and mutes the music currently playing quietly through the speakers, Cooper pushes a button making the speakers crackle and whine. 

"Hey, Mr. Moore wants to see us."

That's all he says before he releases the communication button and leaves her line of sight. She sighs. It'll take her at least an hour to clean up, then another fifteen minutes to properly decom. This better be important and not like last time where she was promised an expedition to the arctic to study these specimens, and wound up doing glorified secretary work. She did not spend eleven years of schooling, six years of active duty, residency, and competitive interviewing with backed sources just to be a glorified secretary. She takes her time, she gets a little satisfaction from making Mr. Moore wait. He constantly referrers to her as Miss Kahlil or some wildly inaccurate nickname because he can't pronounce her first name. Nothing irritates her more, so she gets off by making him wait longer than he needs to by taking her sweet, sweet time. By the time she does arrive with Dr Cooper, Mr. Moore is impatiently pacing back and forth in his office and his irritation is evident on his face. 

"It's about time Miss Kahlil."

"Dr" she retorts. 

"Not today" he grumbles before walking around his desk with two large stacks of papers, "I have a new assignment for you and Mr. Cooper."

"Dr" he says casually. 

Faekah looks up at him, Dr Cooper gives her a wink and a cheeky grin, making her smile back before returning her gaze to Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore rolls his eyes and shakes his head, he would ask anyone else if he could, but he needs the best of the best to work on this new assignment. He hands the large stacks to each of them, letting them take a moment to read through the assignment details and view all the legal paperwork they have to sign. 

"So you want us to study...mold? This seems like Dr. Coopers area of expertise. I'm a pathologist not a mycologist." She states.

"If you agree to the terms laid out in the packet, I can answer any questions you have." Mr. Moore answers.

"Can we at least know what we're getting into?" Dr. Cooper asks.

"That is all I'm legally allowed to disclose unless you agree. This is a big job that requires my best people and the utmost secrecy. No one else can know what you two are working on, and you'll be given special clearance to our sister site where you'll be working together. It's a secondary location located just outside the city."

"Can we have some time to think about it?" She asks. 

"I need an answer now."

Faekah looks down at the stack of papers, every instinct inside her is telling her this is a bad idea. If she were in an animal form, her hackles would be raised in defense. Yet, a smaller, deeper part of her wants her to take the opportunity. This could be the key to realizing her dream or could be the key to even more paperwork and a worldwide outbreak. 

"I'll do it" she answers. 

"Well, if she's doing it, I'll do it too."

"Excellent! I just need you both to sign those papers, pack up your things, and you'll start tomorrow."

Faekah couldn't sleep that night. She hovers over the folder of information given to her about this new assignment. She keeps reading the headlines of the incident report over and over again about this Baker House incident. She's never heard of mold being capable of turning people homicidal to this degree. Her mind is running a million miles a minute on what could be so secretive of this new assignment. Part of her thinks there may be something illegal behind it, wouldn't be the first time Umbrella got caught in a scandal. She loves her work, what she does, but now she's regretting this choice. What if she gets caught up in something and can't back out? 

The next morning does very little to ease her concerns as she arrives at the sister sight only to be escorted through the unmarked building by an armed guard. The guard guides her to an all glass room where she goes through a lengthy decon process, and dawns brand new protective gear. She carefully positions the mask on and the safety glasses fit over her own, as she steps into the glass chamber like she's prepared for surgery. She waits for Dr. Cooper before beginning anything, while waiting she takes inventory of everything made available to them and makes a handwritten list. Dr Cooper arrives shortly before she's done, and by the time she's finished he too is geared up and ready to examine the specimen. 

"I've never seen anything like this" Dr. Cooper states. 

The following days bleed into weeks and eventual months with no clearer answers than before. This mold is different, it acts as though it's alive in the sense a mammal is alive; it looks as though it's made from tar rather than mold. Feakah spends a lot of time researching how pollution might impact the mold and its spores, with nothing so far. As she looks through another slide of samples she narrows her eyes, seeing the mold indicating properties similar to common parasites. There's something they're not telling her. She looks up toward Dr. Cooper then glances over to one of the glass walls, seeing two armed guards standing at attention with their backs toward her. She watches for a moment, then sees two more guards patrol pass. 

"Hey Cooper" she whisper yells. 

"What's up?" He answers, poking his head up. 

She motions with her head, "have you noticed there's more armed guards lately? I thought there were only the two at the gate."

"Oh yeah, I saw them on the way in this morning. You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Cooper looks around the room then pushes his rolling chair closer to her, leaning over the desk. 

"There was a huge breach last night. Some files got leaked from inside Umbrella Corp. Of course they're blaming H.C.F but, I think it's bigger than that. All these soldiers are from B.S.A.A. Smells a little suspicious to me."

She rolls her eyes, "you and your conspiracies."

"I heard it from the big boss himself. He was having a very heated conversation the other night before I left. I don't think he knows I heard."

Faekah looks at him for a moment then shakes her head, she's not getting into this debate again. For a scientist and a doctor, he believes in some crazy things. She's fairly certain half the things he says are made up just to get under her skin or see what she reacts to. However, she continues to look over at the guards, growing weary and suspicious about the amount of them and by the specimen. Something is up for sure. 

That night when she arrives home she flicks on the light to her apartment and stops dead in her tracks upon seeing a folder lying on her counter. She looks around quickly and locks the door behind her, her gun is in the safe by her bed. Luckily for her she has a backup plan. She squats down and shifts through one of her shoes, grabbing a knife she keeps stashed away before she creeps around her entire apartment. Once she's certain that the apartment is clear, she hesitantly approaches the folder, seeing her name on the tab marker. She swallows thickly and flips the folder open, looking it over. 

It has all of her information in it; her full name, her birthday, her hometown even the full names and information on her immigrant parents. She flips the page and her blood runs cold, seeing pictures of her as a preteen in Racoon City. Next are the articles of the city being destroyed by the president. She had blocked those memories, the horror she faced of people being infected and the sounds of their screaming. Sometimes those screams still haunt her. It's the whole reason she wanted to do what she does, so that no one has to face such a trauma again. 

She flips through the pages, the second to last page has a screening of her parents genomes and the discrepancies between their genetic makeup and that of a normal human. The next page is her with the same notes and pictures of her midshift. So they know. They know she's not human. Down in the farthest corner she sees in bright red stamped letters: INFECTED. 

Continue Reading

[strawberryfairi]

Back When I Knew You

“I loved you then…back when I knew you”

Synopsis: 💎 When your old high school best friend, and admittedly, first love randomly shows up at your door one morning after a bit over ten years apart, your memories of him that you once locked away comes flooding back. Are you open to hearing him out after all this time? (In other words…will you take your man back or nah?)

♕Pairings: Kazutora X Black Fem Reader🤎 🛑Content: 18+, Eventual smut, Some grief, Some angst ~Crossposted On: Wattpad ONLY ~Updating WEEKLY

w.c 3.9k💠

Next | Chapters Masterlist

CHAPTER 1: WRONG DOOR

There's probably not a single person in this world that hasn't experienced what you have.

Especially, when there's a person in your life that has a special place in your heart that's no longer there. You live off the memories, those sweet moments that as time passes, begin to feel like a dream you struggle to hold on to. The memories blur together sometimes, but the feelings attached never die. For some, even the arguments and moments where you couldn't stand them become precious too. That's you. Now at twenty five, you've quite obviously moved on, not letting the lingering thoughts and questions get to you too much.

Today is Saturday, a gloomy weekend, but a weekend nonetheless. This entire week had been nothing but light rain and cloudy skies, as a hurricane was passing along the coast a ways from where you live. It was transition season, that phase where we adjust from summer to autumn. Remnants of the previous season fade out, leaving behind crisp air, cold breezes, and longer nights. It's the morning, so you go in the kitchen to start your usual home routine.

You begin with the dishes, quickly getting to work on those and finishing in no time, then set the kettle on the stove to make some decaf coffee. You haven't been much of a coffee drinker ever, but sometimes you get so hooked on the flavor for a while that you can't help but make some a few days in a row. Heart palpitations made coffee an issue for you, along with other caffeinated drinks, but a few cups of decaf couldn't hurt. The kitchen is connected to the living room, which has a nice sized flat screen tv. You turn on Spotify through the tv, deciding to start the morning extremely tranquil with some chillhop and lo-fi music.

Sometimes there's mornings where you know exactly what you want to eat for breakfast, and other times, like today, it's nothing but a question mark. As you stood in the kitchen sifting through breakfast ideas, a few gentle knocks catches your attention over the music. Your brows furrow. It's not usual someone comes to your apartment without first telling you in advance.

You prepared yourself to open the door and tell the person they have the wrong door, as it's normal sometimes for people to confuse their friend or family member's apartment number for another. "One second!" You called out in an unintentionally sing-songy way. You still had on your pajama shorts set and light pink satin bonnet on, but answered the door nonetheless. It's your place anyways. You opened the door a crack, giving the person on the other side a small smile, speaking with a soft and kind tone of voice.

"Hi, I-

Whatever sentence you had come up with in your head instantly evaporated. You stood completely frozen, heart racing. The door was only open just a bit, but you immediately recognized the face in front of you.

He stood there, eyes wide, lips slightly parted just like you. You blinked rapidly as nine thousand different emotions and thoughts coursed through you.

"Hey, it's-...it's been a while." His tone was so soft, so cautious.

His voice was just the same, but much deeper now. He still has the same big eyes, tiger tattoo, and earring just like before, too. It was highly overwhelming..and very confusing. You felt like you were looking at a ghost, a mirage, or some sort of mythical creature in front of you. Suddenly, every memory of the past became crystal clear, as if it all happened just months ago as opposed to years. Everything that you locked away came surging back like a wave you had your back towards, colliding with you and taking you under in just seconds.

Flashback

10 Years Ago

Moving to Japan was an odd experience to say the least. After your father cheated on your mom, she decided that was the last straw with him, and took you and just up and moved to Japan. She's always loved Japan ever since you all went on a two and a half week long vacation when you were too young to even remember. Your older brother of five years has been off to college for some years now back in the states, playing basketball while studying undergrad in business communications.

As for you, it's about three months into the school year in Japan.

"Morning!" Your friend Yumi called out in a sing-song tone.

"Heeey!" You and your other mutual friend Asuka sang back, smiling brightly with a small wave. Yumi made her way over to the both of you, her expression looking as if she had been waiting to tell us something all night.

"Guys! I have something crazy to tell you!" She beams right on cue. This was a regular occurence with her. She was your teapot and you two were gladly her cups, taking in whatever gossip she had to say with excitement every single time, without fail.

"What? Another cute boy passed you by on your way home from school again?" You teased. Asuka and you giggled lightly at Yumi's reaction, a cute pout and narrowed eyes.

"No! But it is about a boy, though!" She started, her tone lowering so others around us walking towards the same school wouldn't hear. "So, I heard these other girls talking yesterday on the way home from school saying some boy at our school is in a gang! But then! They were also saying he's like super hot, like, smokin' hot." She finishes with a wide, mischievous grin.

"Smokin' hot?" You raised an amused brow. "Just as smokin' hot as that dude that sits in front of you in history?" You chuckled.

"Ahhhh, Harada-kun." She swooned before turning serious again. "Well, I've never actually seen this guy myself, but I don't think those girls would talk about a delinquent so openly like that unless he really was attractive." She smiled wide.

"At our school though? If he's at our school wouldn't we have seen him by now? He must not be that cute if we've never noticed." Asuka chimed in, her expression clearly showing she didn't believe Yumi.

"Exactly! That's literally what I was thinking." You add. Yumi tsk's to herself, shaking her head in disappointment.

"Well see that's the thing, since he's a delinquent it's not too often he shows up to school. We'll have to just wait until there's some kind of commotion about 'em, I guess." She shrugs nonchalantly.

You scrunched your face up, not really buying this whole mysterious, hot, gang boy thing right along with Asuka. This could very well be just another case of the rumor mill. There's always some talk about gang boys this and gang boys that, but who knows at this point which stuff is actually true?

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

At school, you don't necessarily call yourself popular, but you are pretty well known. You stand out like a sore thumb anyways having big afro textured hair, dark brown skin, and an American accent as heavy as an expensive fur coat. Some admired your uniqueness while others, usually some of the girls, looked at you with distaste and jealousy. Attention from guys was never an issue for you as it was always someone who wanted to "try you out". Aside from the fuckboy type, there were also some sweethearts that just genuinely liked you, but usually they were always too afraid to make a move. So you moved through high school life fairly unbothered, sticking to the friends you do have and trying to keep your grades as high as possible.

The day went on as usual, pretty boring, and absolutely zero sign of a "smokin' hot gang boy" as Yumi mentioned earlier that morning. Math was annoying and confusing, history was interesting, and music was the best part of the day, same as always.

But it wasn't until the late evening, while on your way home from purchasing a few items your mom had asked you to pick up from the nearby grocery store, that things started to get...intriguing.

"Oi! What's a cute lil thing like you doing out by yourself?"

The voice of a guy, seemingly college aged, made your heart practically stop. Unfortunately, you were quite used to this. Guys always loved to hit on girls when they were alone and vulnerable. Usually you and your friends walk together for as long as y'all can manage before having to part ways after school. They were no longer with you to help ward off the guy trying to make an advance.

"I'm just heading home." You respond, keeping your voice composed yet slightly stern so he understood clearly that you weren't down for any games tonight.

"Oh yeah? How 'bout I walk with you? Make sure nobody else comes to try and steal you away from me." He suggested smugly, grinning down at you. This guy was tall, and looked at you with nothing but lust.

"Oh, no thank you; I'll be alright-

"Come oooon, don't be like that, sweetheart! You could come with me; it'll be fun." He reached out for your arm holding the plastic grocery bag.

Your heart started racing. Now this wasn't normal, not usual in the slightest. You were used to guys approaching you and being persistent, but never have you experienced a guy continue to come onto you so aggressively even though you've already declined. Your eyes widened, trying to remain calm as best as you can. Freaking out definitely won't help deescalate a situation like this. The man could be drunk or armed for all you know.

"Please, let go. I don't wanna go with you, ok?" You asserted, keeping your shaky voice as stable as possible. He chuckled dryly, pulling you by the arm, the force was so strong you lost your balance. Your head came right into contact with his chest as his other arm wrapped around your waist. Your grocery bag fell out of your hand in result, some items spilling out unceremoniously.

"Why you fightin' so hard? High school girls like you always wanna-

"Stop! Let go!" You trembled, using your free hand to push yourself away from him by the chest. By this point you were starting to hyperventilate, fear of being raped or kidnapped overtaking your mind. Your eyes searched around the area, hoping maybe someone was around to see or even hear what was happening and come through on your behalf.

"I don't wanna go with you!" You cry out in English, voice cracking as involuntary tears welled up in your eyes. A fight or flight response kicked in within you, causing you to become way more forceful with trying to get out of his grip. He grunted in frustration, holding you tighter while backing you up into an alleyway behind a corner store. Noises of struggle blended with small sobs and cries as you struggled.

This was it, he was definitely going to rape you.

Your heart could barely keep up with the way you were hyperventilating, causing it to work overtime to make sure blood was pumping and enough oxygen flowed through you. If you kept up like this, you'd surely pass out. The grocery bag was long gone, abandoned somewhere on the vacant sidewalk. The older man shoved you to the ground, causing your head to make contact roughly. One small scream was all that you could get out before he quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, the other making quick work to yank your uniform open. Buttons popped off, flying in multiple directions, one even hitting him in the face in the process. You squirmed and flailed all over, aiming to knee him in the family jewels, but it seemed he was used to this kind of fight.

With everything in you, you didn't wanna give up. This wouldn't go down without a fight from you, but with the way this was going everything you attempted was futile against this older, much stronger man.

You squeezed your eyes closed, wondering what you did for this to happen to you.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make you feel so-

The man's words were cut short, the sound of a grunt and heavy thud filled your ears. Your eyes flew open, taking in what happened. Instead of one, now there were two guys here, one standing over the other. It was a boy who seemed to be more closer to your age. With a small gasp, you lift to a sitting position and scramble backwards until your back hit the cold, stone wall of the corner store.

You watched the scene unfold, utterly shaken up. The two got into a pretty one-sided fight. The college dude seemed like such a strong and forceful guy until this other boy showed up. Now it's as if he's never fought at all. Your supposed savior was beating the absolute shit out of the other dude. His punches were clean, and looked to have some genuine technique behind them. Grunts and cries of pain left the offender as he took punch after punch.

Once the older guy was knocked to the ground by a right hook from your savior, he stomped onto his chest multiple times, knocking the wind out of him instantly. At first a sense of relief and gratitude had washed over you when he showed up, but now, it was starting to look a little scary. He wasn't stopping at all, and the look on his face was beyond menacing. He didn't even say a word this whole time, just pulled up and immediately started throwing hands. You were afraid if he kept this up, he'd break that man's sternum or something; maybe kill 'em.

Eventually, he finally stopped, seeming to come back to his senses at the sound of your fearful whimpers. He stared down at the beaten and battered man, squatting over him and grabbing a fistful of his bloodied shirt.

"Let me catch you pull some shit like this in my sight again-

"I-I'm sorry! I-

He was quickly cut off by an abrupt, swift punch straight to his already bloodied nose, making his head snap backwards. You jumped, turning away and covering your face with your trembling hands as the man hollered out in pain for probably the hundredth time.

"-I'll break your arms, you got me?"

The older man swallowed, nodding his head frantically in fear. It was so crazy how the tables had turned. The once confident looking man was just reduced to a whimpering, apologetic mess within minutes by a seemingly fellow high schooler.

"Get your punk ass outta here." He commanded, abruptly letting go of his shirt, making the man plop back onto the ground roughly. Was his threat even eligible to be considered mercy after the way he just ruined him like that? Honestly, you didn't really care, because you were too busy teetering on the edge of an intense panic attack and/or just full on passing out.

The beaten man scrambled to his feet, wincing in pain as he scurried out of the way while clutching his nose and left side, long gone into the night. Your savior walked up to you, his expression softening just a bit. It didn't do much to take away from his intimidating presence though, as he was splattered with blood along his face and once fully white bomber jacket, and his fists might as well have been dipped in red paint. He looked freaking terrifying!

Involuntarily your body trembled harder, a part of you didn't trust him as he could very well kill you with those hands.

"Here." He uttered softly, extending a bloody hand to you. You didn't move an inch, only looking at his hand with a jumble of emotions. It seemed he realized how 'tainted' his hand was, quickly wiping it on his black shirt under the bomber jacket he wore, then extended it back out to you. It was an appreciated move even though it did nothing but just smear the blood around his hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand onto his larger one, letting him gently stand you up on your feet.

Suddenly, you became oddly hyperaware of the way you probably looked right now, feeling self-conscious about it. Without a doubt your hair was an absolute mess, that one you knew for sure, and your clothes...

Your top...

The top that man ripped open...

It seemed you both realized at the same time that the majority of your buttons were missing, exposing a black lace bra with a little fuchsia pink bow and jewel hanging off it right in the center. You gasped, ripping your hand away from him as you held you shirt closed with both hands.

"Sorry! I uhh, didn't see anything." He lied, quite obviously. You kept quiet, too embarrassed and overall overwhelmed at everything that just happened in such a short amount of time.

"Could I..walk you home?" He offered, making sure to keep his eyes up on your face and nowhere else. You nod, standing there a bit dumbly, waiting for him to show the way as if he knew where you lived.

Oh right, he doesn't.

Your shaky legs finally dragged their way across the ground, walking past your savior and heading towards the sidewalk. He followed after you, going and picking up the groceries you had left behind earlier.

"Thank you", You finally mumbled, shyly, "For helping me." 💎

Somehow, he actually managed to get you to open up a bit as you walked home together. He was actually very sweet, and you both even discovered you go to the same school.

"I've never seen you before." You both mutter at the same time, causing a little laugh to come from you.

"Well, I moved here last year, it hasn't been that long at this school. What grade are you in?" You asked curiously.

"Grade? I'm a third year." He replied, slightly amused that you said grade instead of year. You were still getting used to all the nuances of Japanese culture.

"Oh yeah, I meant year."

Admittedly, the more you spoke to him and looked past the blood stains, he was really cute..like, really really cute. His eyes are a pretty light, honey brown and he has a really adorable beauty mark right under his right eye.

He has an overall bad boy look for sure, but he's so nice and has a kind voice, and he surprisingly makes you smile even though you just had a highly traumatic, intensive therapy worthy experience. You were grateful nonetheless, had he not been there who knows what state you'd be in now.

"Umm, so, what's your name?" You asked shyly, trying to keep the small conversation going. He seemed to react as if he just now realized neither of you exchanged names. Your home was just two blocks away at this point, so you couldn't part ways with him without at least getting his name.

"I'm Kazutora-

"Huh?!" You cut in dumbly. You must've not heard him right. His name sounded like the whole Japanese alphabet to you. He chuckled, making his earring he wore kind of jingle like a Christmas sleigh bell.

"Kazu..tora." He sounded out slowly. You said his lengthy name a few times, getting used to the sound. After a while it kinda grew on you, you thought the name actually sounded cool. You finally introduce yourself, telling him your name which you ended up also having to sound out for him as it isn't a Japanese name, of course.

"So, you're American?" He asked politely, a cute, charming smile on his face.

"Mhmm, from the east coast!" You nod proudly.

Kazutora honestly found you really cute, with that heavy accent and big, fluffy hair, and those brown doe eyes you have. After finding out you both go to the same school, it seemed like for the first time he finally had some motivation to even go, and be there on time at that. He decided he'd show up tomorrow, maybe he'd be able to surprise you in the hallways as he'd pass you by. You were busy talking about something, probably about where you're from specifically in the states, but he was completely tuned out from all that. It was like he could hear you but it wasn't completely registering as he was too busy just watching you.

He took in what he could of you without looking like a creep, his eyes roaming from your coily hair to your curly eyelashes, then your plump dual-toned lips. He noticed your bottom lip was a deep reddish-pink, while the top was a nude brown shade, very different from what he's used to seeing. Another stark contrast was just how plump they really were compared to what he's always seen, and that cute little gap in the center where your top and bottom lips meet was doing something for him. It made your lips look constantly parted slightly, a flirty look that captivated his eyes and held them there.

"You heard me?"

He snapped out of his trance, blinking once blankly while his ears tuned into the sound of your voice.

"Oh, I didn't hear you. What was that?" He said, trying to play off the fact that he was definitely staring at you. "I said have you ever been to the states?"

"Oh no, never. I've never been to any other country before." He shrugged plainly.

You frowned a bit at that. Your mom always taught you that traveling is extremely important and something not many people have a chance to do, so you should always be grateful for the places you've been to. "Well maybe one day you'll be able to travel places! I think traveling's really special 'cause my mom-...."

Once again Kazutora tuned out a little, still hearing you but his own thoughts were much louder. You tend to go off talking about things often, it's already the second time in just a few seconds you've gone on a little ramble about something you care about. He decided it was pretty cute rather than annoying. You're an intriguing girl to him, and even though you've met in a rather wild circumstance, he wanted to know more about you.

"Oh, this is my place here." You mutter softly, pulling him once again out of his own little world. He hummed in response, giving a small nod. "Thanks again for saving me, I was really scared, but I'm glad you came through." You added, going in cautiously and giving him a gentle hug regardless of the bloodstains all over him.

Kazutora's eyes widened, completely taken off guard that you're hugging him. He wasn't sure at all how to respond for a moment, his mind completely blank. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, patting your back in a way that he felt would be comforting. "Don't worry about it." He smiled softly. You both pulled away, his eyes averted as your hands went back to keeping your shirt closed.

"Ahh, I hope my mom doesn't see me looking like this. I gotta go, but hopefully I'll see you around?" You smile shyly, fiddling a bit with your top.

Little did you know Kazutora was planning for you to see him again much sooner than you were probably thinking. "Yeah, for sure!" He chuckled, amused at the cute way your face lit up.

"Ok! Well, bye!" You waved, heading off to your front door with a wide smile.

Kazutora placed his hands in his pockets, walking backwards so he could see you head inside. He'll have to figure out where he put his school uniforms once he gets home now.

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

masterlist is linked here <333

32. God and the Law

Another year and the war was still going. 1945. It seemed so strange. Freddie had been with the WAAFs since 1939. She’d been out of university for six years, almost.

The new year always made her solemn. Another year without Daniel. In only two months he would have been dead for a full four years. It felt like so much longer than that, like a lifetime. Freddie had been so much a different person back then, for better or for worse.

Thorpe Abbotts kept on running exactly as it had been for as long as Freddie had been there - longer, probably, since she’d started the war elsewhere. Pilots went out and came back. American Red Cross girls handed out doughnuts and coffee - Helen still saved some for Freddie when she could. Freddie took Meatball for his daily morning walk with his flash new collar and lead, gifted to him by Rosie this Christmas - Meatball seemed pleased with no longer having to wear his old leather harness every time Freddie wanted to take him somewhere.

Freddie drew up manipulation plans and helped Croz with his flight paths. Whenever any of the bombers went out she sat in the designated Operation Corona wireless operators’ room in the tower and worked for hours on end to convince German fighter pilots away from American bombers. And when the crews came back, if Rosie had been among them she would wait outside the interrogation room for him, always anticipating the smile he gave her when he laid eyes on her with bated breath and sweaty palms.

Over Christmas, Paddy had proposed to Jem. The two of them had telephoned on Boxing Day to share the news. They couldn’t actually get married, of course, but they could wear rings. And tonight was their wedding night. Hosted in the wireless operators’ hut, Amy was Paddy’s maid of honour and Freddie and Millie were splitting the role between them to be Jem’s. Cecelia, apparently, had worked out what was going on between Jem and Paddy a while ago and she’d memorised the wedding vows for them so she could officiate.

Freddie and Millie stood to Jem’s left, opposite Amy on Paddy’s right, while Cecelia read aloud wedding vows and had Jem and Paddy repeat them after her. Freddie, Millie, and Amy were all in tears. Freddie resented that it couldn’t be more special for them, that they only had a small window of opportunity while the other girls were out at the officers’ club and that they couldn’t decorate and that they couldn’t wear pretty wedding dresses and only had their uniforms. But Jem and Paddy didn’t seem to mind. Their eyes were locked firmly on each other - had been, in fact, since Jem had entered the room and been walked down the ‘aisle’ between the two rows of beds with Freddie and Millie on either side of her. When she and Paddy looked at each other, the rest of the world fell away. When they kissed to seal the deal, they were both smiling wide.

They had a little party to celebrate, with stolen alcohol and music they took turns singing in place of a record player. And when Jem and Paddy left to go on their night-long honeymoon in Freddie’s office - because they deserved at least some privacy on their wedding night - Jem pulled Freddie and Millie aside with tears in her eyes, a flush in her cheeks, her smile so wide it must have been hurting.

“I love you both,” she said, taking one of each of their hands and squeezing. “So, so much. Thank you for being here and walking me down the aisle and - and - and Fred, thank you for letting us use your office!”

Freddie laughed. “You’re welcome. Just don’t touch any of my files, please! And if you’re going to use the desk, wipe it down after!”

Jem winked. “We’ll wipe down the entire room, Fred, don’t you worry.”

Millie laughed. “I should hope you’d find cause to! It’s your wedding night!”

As Jem and Paddy met back up again and left the hut hand in hand, grinning at each other and over their shoulders as the remaining girls cheered them out, Freddie felt her heart clench. It was so lovely, she thought. They hadn’t had much but they hadn’t needed much, and it was the happiest wedding she’d ever been to.

Millie linked their elbows together as she guided Freddie to sit on her bed. “Thinking about your future wedding, Fred?”

Freddie glanced at her and laughed. “Why? Are you thinking about yours?”

“I’m always thinking about mine,” Millie replied breezily. “It’s what keeps me going.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t let the poor man propose yet,” Freddie said. She laughed when Millie scowled.

“One, pot kettle. Two, I don’t care how long I have to wait, that man will get down on one knee in front of me and give me a proper proposal. I’ve only been dreaming about it since I was a little girl!”

“I’m sure Brady would absolutely love to be able to get down on one knee in front of you right now, Mils, but he is stuck in a prisoner of war camp,” Freddie reasoned.

Millie scoffed. “Yes, for now. But once the war’s out we’ll be spending forever together, and I want forever to start with a ring and a proper proposal, the way my mum always told me it should.”

Freddie shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“I hope I get married next,” Cecelia interjected, coming to sit down on her bed, beside Millie’s. Freddie’s old bed.

Amy came to sit beside her, raising both eyebrows. “Your fella still not proposed, Cecelia?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. “Not yet, but we only get to see each other once a month.”

“I’d be worried if I was you -”

“If I were you I’d be more focused on finding someone at all,” Cecelia retorted.

Freddie couldn’t help but snort. “Amy, some people like to take their time with these things. It’s a big deal, getting married! But you’ll find someone soon, I’m sure of it.”

“If you don’t marry Rosie soon, Fred, I’m snapping him up for myself,” Amy answered her.

Freddie laughed, because even though she knew Amy had a big crush on Rosie, she also knew that Amy had a big crush on everyone, and she’d never, ever actually do it. She wouldn’t be able to, anyway. If Rosie was marrying anyone Freddie knew it was her. She had a sneaking suspicion he might have already bought a ring and was wondering whether he might be waiting for Valentine’s Day to pop the question.

If he did, she thought, as the conversation raged on around her and she thought back to the pure, unbridled joy of Jem and Paddy’s wedding, she’d say yes. A wedding on base - in the chapel, maybe, unless Rosie wanted a Jewish ceremony. Could they do a Jewish ceremony on base? Or maybe they could go to the village church if he didn’t mind how they did it. She could buy a pretty white dress in the village and flowers from the florist. Maybe her parents could even drive over for the occasion.

Freddie had butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it. Rosie, waiting at the end of the aisle in his dress uniform, his curls perfectly placed, Croz standing beside him as his best man. Her father giving her away, Millie and Jem her maids of honour waiting at the altar for her. Two rings on her ring finger instead of none, and a ring on Rosie’s to declare to every woman who laid eyes on him that he was firmly and irrevocably off the market, forever promised to Freddie, just as she was promised to him.

Freddie’s head was in the clouds for the next few days, thinking about her hypothetical future wedding. Rosie hadn’t even proposed yet but she was hopeful. She went to bed every night hoping that it might be the next morning. When February arrived, she became almost certain she only had to wait until Valentine’s Day. Two weeks, that was all, and she’d be engaged to the most wonderful man on earth, and she’d rush him down the aisle as soon as possible so she could switch her last name and tie their souls together. For the rest of her life she wanted to be tied to him. There was no way anything could come between them if they were firmly tied together, in the eyes of god and the law.

Freddie was daydreaming about it all again as she filtered out of the tower along with all of the other Operation Corona wireless operators. The rest of the girls were grinning; it had been their most successful mission yet. The fighters had barely gone anywhere near their boys. Freddie’s change in tactic had worked like magic.

“Can we host a party tonight, ma’am?” Anneliese asked Freddie, bouncing around on the balls of her feet in her excitement. She was hurrying to keep pace beside Freddie with the way she kept veering out of her course with her bouncing.

Freddie laughed. “If you want to organise it, yes, Anneliese, we can host.” Her attention was only half-focused on the conversation, the rest of her already anticipating waiting outside of interrogation for Rosie to come out. He would have landed about half an hour ago, by her reckoning.

Anneliese cheered her success and hurried to tell Jana and start preparations. Freddie smiled to herself, checking to make sure none of the other girls wanted to speak to her before hurrying on her way to wait outside of interrogation for Rosie.

It was cold today, Freddie realised as she stood there waiting. Colder than it had been yesterday. Colder, even, than this morning, it felt like. Maybe a long-sleeved wedding dress? She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, willing them to cover her hands as well as her arms, and then pulled the lapels closer together. Crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back against the wall, she sighed, and her breath plumed out white in front of her.

“Come on, Rosie,” she mumbled. “It’s freezing out here.” The toe of her left shoe began a steady tapping against the ground.

Up ahead, Millie and Jem rounded the corner. They had their heads bowed together, deep in conversation, though as Freddie called their names Millie stopped talking mid-sentence, her head snapping up to meet Freddie’s eyes. “Fred,” she said, as though utterly shocked to see her there.

“Mils,” Freddie greeted as she and Jem approached. She laughed. “Why do you look so surprised? I wait for Rosie here every time he comes back.”

Jem shot a hasty glance at Millie. “Can we talk about something in your office, Fred?”

Freddie’s heart leapt at the same time as it stuttered. This was it, she thought, an anticipatory heat flooding her cheeks. Her proposal. Valentine’s Day wasn’t for a little while yet but then again maybe they could get married on Valentine’s Day. She clasped her hands together, trying to be subtle about running a finger over the empty space on her ring finger. It wouldn’t be empty for much longer.

“Fred,” Millie said, her eyes flicking between Freddie and the door to the interrogation room behind her. “Please.”

Freddie’s eyebrows furrowed. If Rosie was going to propose, why was he going to do it in her office? For privacy, maybe? But she wanted to see him now, wanted him to do it now. She didn’t care who was around to see.

Freddie gave a quick shake of her head and pretended ignorance to their plan. “Can it wait until after I’ve seen Rosie? I just want to make sure he’s okay, it won’t take long.”

“I’d really prefer if we went now,” Jem insisted.

Millie nodded. “It’s urgent.” For the first time, Freddie noticed that her face was completely pale. Usually there was a rosy hue to her, her cheeks always just a little bit flushed and matching the strawberry blonde of her hair, but right now she may as well have been a ghost. All of the colour had drained out of her face.

Freddie stood up straighter. “Is someone in trouble?” she wondered tentatively. She was just caught off guard enough to push away from the wall and begin following Millie and Jem to her office. She glanced back over her shoulder at the door to interrogation, as though expecting Rosie to appear from behind it, and sighed. “Will this take long? I don’t want Rosie to worry if he comes out and I’m not there.”

“It’s urgent, Fred,” Millie repeated, in place of any real explanation. And as though to prove her point, she took a gentle hold of one of Freddie’s wrists and started to hurry their progress towards her office.

Freddie’s eyes sought Jem. She was clearly fighting to avoid having to look at Freddie.

“You’re kind of scaring me,” Freddie said, looking between the two of them. The excited fluttering of her heart was turning heavy, anticipation turning to dread. “Is everyone okay?” She swallowed hard. “It’s not one of the girls, is it?”

“Fred,” Jem asserted, “please just wait until we get to your office.”

“Is someone pregnant?” Freddie gasped. “It’s not Emma and her RAF chap, is it? I told her that if she was going to do it before marriage she needed to be careful -”

“Freddie!” Millie exclaimed. She stopped walking and turned to face her, the set of her shoulders stern. “We’ll tell you when we get into your office.”

Freddie frowned, shrinking into herself. “You’re scaring me,” she said softly. “I’m just trying to get some sort of reassurance that it’s not as bad as I’m worrying that it is.”

“Please just wait,” Jem pleaded, taking one of Freddie’s hands in both of her own. “Please, Fred. Please just wait until we get to your office.”

Looking between Millie and Jem, Freddie felt her heart start to pound. Her blood was rushing in her ears. There was a sick feeling settling low in her stomach. Whatever had happened, it was clearly just as bad as, if not worse than, she was worrying it was.

“Okay,” Freddie relented in a small voice. She sounded to her own ears like a little girl. She let Millie and Jem lead the way, each carrying one of her hands in theirs, and was grateful, because now she wasn’t really seeing where she was going. Now she was stuck in the nausea filling her body.

Meatball was waiting patiently for them in Freddie’s office, lying curled up in his bed as opposed to spread out on the couch. He perked up when he saw them come in, sat up and wagged his tail and sat quietly as Freddie stroked him and kissed his head. 

Freddie sat down on the leather couch at Millie and Jem’s insistence. There was an ache in the back of her throat and she didn’t even know what she was preparing to cry over yet. 

It wasn’t Rosie, at the very least. Because she’d kept the fighters away entirely today. And she would know if it was Rosie. She’d thought the same about Daniel but she would know this time. She would know if it was Rosie.

Jem sat down beside Freddie, closer than she usually would, and kept hold of her hand. Millie paced before them a few times as she battled with herself over something. Finally, abruptly, she turned to face them.

“Fred,” Millie began, in a gentle voice but a firm one, too, “I know you’re going to hate me for telling you this but I need you to understand that I couldn’t let anyone else do it, okay?”

“Okay,” Freddie mumbled, eyebrows furrowed, heart pounding in her ears. All of the sound in the room was muffled. It all looked blurry, almost, like she had forgotten to put on her glasses, but she didn’t need glasses. She felt like a little girl being disciplined by her parents.

“Fred,” Millie said again, inhaling a deep breath. She faltered at the last moment and crouched down in front of Freddie, resting both hands on Freddie’s knees. “Fred, he’s gone down,” she admitted all in one breath. “Rosie’s gone down.”

“What?” Freddie asked. The rushing in her ears was so loud she may as well have been standing outside in the midst of a hurricane. 

“Rosie’s fort caught fire,” Millie said, louder this time. “Someone said they saw ‘chutes but they only counted seven and someone was keeping it flying straight. He thought -” Millie choked but quickly regained composure. “He thought Rosie was probably trying to get them out of Berlin and across Russian lines, so he stayed behind. But then it exploded and he’s not sure if - if -”

“No,” Freddie said.

“He’s not sure if Rosie got out,” Millie finished at last. There were tears in her eyes. Her cheeks were blotchy. She was looking at Freddie like it was taking everything in her not to lunge for the door and flee the scene.

All Freddie could do was stare at her. “Rosie’s…”

Millie nodded.

“You think he’s…”

Again, Millie nodded.

Freddie shook her head. “He’s not dead.”

“He might not be,” Jem reasoned. “He might have gotten out and they just didn’t see the ‘chute because the fort was so close to the ground. Or maybe they didn’t see him because of the fire.”

“Jem,” Millie said quietly, lowly, turning to look at her, “I don’t think that’s helpful.”

“You mean you don’t think it’s helpful to give me false hope,” Freddie deduced. “You’ve already decided he’s dead.”

Millie sat back and clasped both hands over her eyes. “I don’t know what to think,” she confessed, her voice choked. “I just don’t want to make this harder for you than it already is.”

And Freddie knew, then, that Rosie was dead. Because Millie wouldn’t try to force her to believe it if there was any single part of her which thought she may be wrong.

Freddie stood up suddenly. She wasn’t sure what to do with her body. She had all these limbs which were just hanging off of her, waiting for instructions, and they felt like dead weight. 

Her hands were shaking, she vaguely registered, as she started towards her desk. They’d been shaking when Daniel had gone down, too. When she’d been pulled into an office to be told that her boyfriend had been shot down and killed in a mission over Germany. History repeating itself. The same now as it had been then.

And this was always going to happen, Freddie realised. It was why she was so reluctant to get to know Rosie at the start. She had always known it was going to come to this. She’d brought him home with her and showed him pictures of Daniel, showed him how she would pay tribute to his memory when he inevitably went down and she was forced to move on. This had been fated since the beginning, predesigned from before they had ever even met. Freddie, returning home after a while away, greeted with a man who saw right through her the instant their eyes met, a pilot who was going to make her fall in love with him before crashing out of the sky.

It was always going to happen this way.

Freddie collapsed at once. Her legs just couldn’t hold her anymore. And distantly she thought she heard some sort of wailing, some sort of desperate, deranged scream, and she pitied whoever was making that sound because it sounded exactly as she felt.

“Rosie,” that voice kept screaming, over and over again.

Freddie clutched her shaking hands against her heart. 

“Rosie, Rosie, my Rosie. My darling. My love. My Rosie.”

“Shh,” Millie was cooing as she took Freddie into her arms and started to rock her gently back and forth. “Shh, Fred, shh.”

The wailing continued, drowning out her reassurances.

It took Freddie’s voice cracking, her throat dry and sore, to get her to stop. And the screaming, she realised with a sudden clarity, was hers. Had been hers. Where once there was catastrophic noise there was now quiet - heavy, wheezing breaths and ragged sobs.

Freddie vomited before anyone could preempt it, even herself. All over the floor, some of it on her lap, she threw up again and again and again, then coughed up saliva and threw up some more. 

Jem left her side to find something to help - a bowl or something to clean it up, Freddie didn’t care, she barely even noticed.

Millie rubbed her back with one hand, holding back her hair in a makeshift ponytail with the other, and whispered that she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere and that she’d stay as long as Freddie wanted her.

When Jem returned there came a reprieve. Freddie collapsed back into Millie, breathing heavily, her face contorted into a fixed, permanent sob. Millie smoothed her hair away from her sweat-sticky face and rubbed her back, murmuring to her that she was safe, while Jem cleaned up the mess and put a bowl beside her in case she needed to throw up again.

And she did. Freddie threw up for the better part of two hours, sobbing in whatever breaks she got from the nausea, wailing whenever she thought about how the rest of the day, the week, her life, was going to look without Rosie at its centre. She threw up until she started coughing up blood, until her body wasn’t strong enough to support itself anymore, until, finally, her own tragedy knocked her unconscious. Until her body decided for her that she wasn’t capable of living in the waking world anymore and let her find peace in the sleeping one.

[fionarara]

+ hipster ! kenma .

+ tw : one mention of a drug, cigarettes, slight cat slander, please this is a joke

+ hipster ! kenma . owns a hairless sphynx cat, because cutesy cats with fluffy fur are for plebs + hipster ! kenma . who shows up to a kickback party at kuroo’s place and upon discovering that the fridge is only stocked full of ultra-generic basic beer brands, decides he would rather drink the warm belgium-imported craft beer which has not yet been cooled, because dude would never be caught holding a shitty bud light in hand or drinking a white claw + hipster ! kenma . “knows the DJ” when you walk into this music venue with him, but in actuality, they only had a singular random encounter on the street during one of kenma's smoke breaks from his part-time job at a local arcade bar: this DJ guy just happened to be strolling by when he casually asked kenma if he could bum a cig off of him and come in real quick just to use the bathroom

+ hipster ! kenma . says, not only is it too expensive to touch up the roots of your hair so often with bleach, but it’s also way too high maintenance, and according to hipster kenma, high-maintenance = highly manufactured, super lame. clearly, presenting with two-toned slightly unkempt hair with a heroin-chic grunge look is some sort of torch one can hold about their own authentic individuality against the status quo...and how one is too cool to give a fuck, yeah + hipster ! kenma . who only rolls his own cigarettes, being the loose tobacco aficionado he is, and uses Bali Shag brand–exclusively. shows you how to roll it just right into a small narrowed cone shape that’s precise and comfortable enough to rest between your pretty fingers, demonstrating how to twist the tip’s end of the handmade cig in the most exquisitely cool way so that when you flame it up, it'll flash with a dazzling little light show right before you take a puff and inhaaale + hipster ! kenma . shows you his entire collection of vintage 8-bit video games, his faves are the few that are most rare and special edition versions where only a handful in the world were made (500 copies worldwide to be exact) + hipster ! kenma . will often wear high quality acetate-plastic glasses with thick-rimmed frames – non-prescription. boy has 20/20 vision and, more often than not, has his bicolored strands of hair hanging over his eyes, barely able to see from his own peripheral vision, so can someone please explain why the guy has thirteen different varying-style pairs of them? + hipster ! kenma . who is, duh, a self-proclaimed male feminist. he even has a cat onesie for his hairless sphynx kitty made of organic cotton with the words 'The Future is Female' printed on it. he makes sure to put the garment on his penisy-looking cat before going out on any first date in case he happens to score that night by getting to bring the date home

+ hipster ! kenma . buys and then wears a thrifted 90s D.A.R.E. T-shirt three days in a row, but later that weekend does cocaine off the cover of a vinyl record by The Stokes at this hole-in-the-wall dive bar while attending Yamamoto’s birthday party

+ hipster ! kenma . hates every mainstream video game, yet you’ll still catch him playing Pokémon GO on the DL when he thinks no one is looking because the nostalgia can’t be beat no matter how much his little alt-heart tries, plus deep down he refuses to quit until he’s at least caught the shiny versions of Jolteon and Umbreon

+ hipster ! kenma . has a nose piercing, with a vintage sterling-silver stud that comes with a whole intricate story and history behind it that he purchased at this obscure pawn shop out in the arts district of a super hip neighborhood he heard about + hipster ! kenma . whose newest pair of skinny jeans are so tight on him, they’ve begun to chafe the delicate skin of his thighs and a small rash developed as a result (despite hinata repeatedly mentioning they were probably a bit too snug), so he takes himself in for a yearly doctor’s visit for a simple topical cream prescription fix when his physician informs him they’d detected some curious results of a lower sperm count, asking kenma if for any reason he’d been doing anything as of late that would impact his testicles…oopsie

+ hipster ! kenma . whose favorite beanie is definitely in need of a wash soon, however he can’t just go ruining the ethically-sourced organic cashmere it's made of and risk ruining this special material + hipster ! kenma . would grow a “dope stubble beard” – if only he could, but alas – (and he would use the word, alas, whenever sharing this dilemma with anyone) alas, he—cannot. “...damn my damned genetics...”

+ hipster ! kenma . has not been to see or support a nekoma game as an alumni ever since he seriously started working (–biking to work, by the way, because ‘excess fossil fuels are whack’) in the tech world at this startup company of some trendy new game app…since being associated with any jock conduct anymore is the antithesis of his counter-culture lifestyle now

+ hipster ! kenma . believes heavily in the issue of gentrification in the new neighborhood he just relocated to, without realizing he is part of the problem + hipster ! kenma. has a snide opinion about eeeeverything …

 + hipster ! kenma . part 2 . ⇢ + link2masterlist . ⇢

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Wincest Wednesdays

for @wincestwednesdays Sept 3rd prompt: Radio

on AO3

“You’re listening to KZSU Stanford at 90.1 FM. I’m Nicole and I’ll be your host for the next hour as we open the lines up for some dedications. This first one is going out to Brad from Angie…”

The coffee shop nearest to his dorm catered mainly to the college crowd and played the campus radio station at a volume that was loud enough to hear when the ambient clatter and hiss and chatter didn’t drown it out.

Sam had developed a habit of studying at a table in the corner, where he had the wall at his back and could see the entire place easily. His father’s voice was still too loud in his head to ignore, barking at him about situational awareness. 

But the noise, rather than being distracting, made it easier for him to focus. Like the act of filtering out the activity around him opened his mind up to remembering, cataloging, making connections in the information. Something about habits developed through childhood made them especially hard to shake, and even when he wasn’t trying to read or do school work in various cafes, diners, and restaurants, he would still need to tune out his brother. Dean who’d always had the tv or radio on, laughing or singing along, or sitting silent and brooding (which somehow was always louder to Sam than anything else).

“We’re dropping way back into the 70’s on this next song with Foghat’s I’ll Be Standing By for Samantha from an anonymous caller. Ooh, watch out Samantha, this one’s giving off creeper vibes.”

~~~

“It’s Tuesday again, so you know what that means! Got a special song for that special someone? Our phone line is open for the next hour, 855-723-9010.”

“Triple shot, soy, flat white!” the barista announced as he slid a cup onto the pick-up counter. 

Sam scooped it up and headed back to his regular table. Sitting down he pulled out his class notes and laptop. He popped the lid off his coffee, so it would cool faster, and got to work. Handwriting in class then transcribing later into a Word doc helped cement the information in his memory, and digital notes were so much easier to search when he was studying for tests. By the time he was finished, he slugged down the rest of his coffee, which had been room temperature for a while now, and started to pack up to go to his next class.

“For our final dedication today Samantha’s anonymous 70’s rock fan is back! This time he’s requested Zeppelin’s Out On the Tiles. So, Samantha, this one’s for you.”

The driving opening riff hit hard and familiar as Sam pushed through the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. A surge of nostalgia smacked a smile on his face as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and tried his best to look like he fit in.

~~~

“Third Tuesday in a row, we’ve got ourselves a regular caller. Samantha, if you’re out there, here’s Telegram Sam by T-Rex.”

~~~

“Oh, Samantha, we’re back in maudlin territory this week. Your anonymous friend requested Dylan’s If You See Her, Say Hello. Maybe check on the people you know, 10:15 in the morning seems a little early to be that drunk.”

Sam was taking both Latin and Greek this semester since he already had a solid grasp of basic Latin and he was taking it because it was a requirement for more advanced classes. He hadn’t been as well versed in Greek so he spent more time going over his notes and working on his translations. 

“Two requests in one show? I think I touched a nerve when I said he sounded drunk. Sam, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.”

~~~

“Another Tuesday, another dedication to Studious Samantha from your 70’s classic rock fanboy. So here’s Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Sam, your creeper’s got a nice voice but he seems to be going through a manic phase, watch out.”

~~~

“Okay, Samantha, this is the sixth week in a row and I gotta admit, I’m intrigued by your man’s musical choices. This week he’s dedicating Shame on the Moon by Bob Seger to you.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. It was the Seger song that finally made the pattern click. It had to be. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number he knew by heart. It rang twice.

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Your mix tapes? First and last song on each?”

“Took you long enough. Hey, that Nicole sounds hot, think it’s just her voice or…”

“Jesus, Dean. Did you need something or have you really been calling up a college radio station DJ for a month and a half just to get my attention?”

“Just trying to have a little fun, shoulda known you be pissy about it.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while Dean was quiet on the other end of the line.

Finally, Sam heard an irritated huff and then, “Whatever, man. Get back to studying, wouldn’t want to bother you.” 

The call disconnected.

Sam sighed and looked at the phone, like he couldn’t believe that was it. He dialed again and it went right to voicemail.

At the beep Sam simply said, “Jerk.” and hung up.