#songfic: the listening

[wayfayrr]

YOOOOOOOO HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO YOUR FIRST LU X READER FIC 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

Also, if you want a song for a fic, how about 'not another song about love' By Hollywood Ending?

I found this song through Pinky's Legend playlist and have since latched on and not let go :)

THANK YOUUUUUU - being here this long and just everything that happened in the last year and a bit now?? insane, this fandom is just incredible and I'm so glad for it <33

BUT THIS SONG???? screams legend beyond belief, and it's written like a wholeass internal dialog - so it was easy to work the lines into this <3 [@h4wari come and get your husband]

“I hate your voice.”

“I know.”

“I hate your lips.”

“Sure.”

“I hate how bad I want to steal your kiss.”

THAT is new. This whole song and dance happens nearly every single night now, always a twisted song about love because he simply doesn’t want to be vulnerable with anyone. But this? This is brand new, he’s not gotten quite this close to a true confession ever before. If I wasn’t so worried about him retreating into himself I’d question it more, but I know better to do that. Not that that stops the words slipping from my lips, afterall he’s all that I’ve been dreaming of. 

“Well what if I handed it over freely?”

This is not another one of our songs about love. 

With me asphyxiated just to say the least, his eyes staring into my very soul suffocating me. But he couldn’t care less, even as it’s getting hard for me to breathe. 

“Nothing ever comes for free darling. I live with ravio, I’ve learnt that well.”

“You think I’d charge you for a kiss?”

“I think your empty lungs are a much greater cost than some measly rupees.”

But everything you do makes my heart race, I can't even think straight. Is this all just a game to you? My feelings, my heart is it nothing but your plaything? This is not our clockwork fight. 

“So you’ll… let my breathlessness go to waste?”

“I never said that darlin.”

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 19

PREVIOUS

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2.  Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!

[luchicm04]

Pride

Masterlist

Summary: When hatred and pride speak louder, even a childhood love can fall apart.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Fem!Uchiha, Uchiha Madara/Fem!Uchiha

Word count: 2.6k

Overall warnings: angst, bittersweet ending

All characters belong to Naruto, and all rights are reserved to the original work whose author allowed me to translate it.

A/N: The lyrics come from this song. Whoever cried, raise your hand. Please, leave your opinions and criticism in the comments.

posted on ao3

I was there, standing on top of that mountain where I could see the sunset that covered the village below with golden light. After so many battles, Konoha finally flourished in peace. 

Peace that hadn’t existed in my heart for a long time since I met her: Alexia. 

──

In the heart of the war between Senju and Uchiha, in the small moments when there was a truce, I, Tobirama, youngest son of the general of the Senju clan liked to get away from all that suffering for a while. During the day, I found a way to escape to the river, just to be able to see and hear the current that followed its path without caring about what happened on its banks. It just flowed.  

And it was there, on one of those days, that I saw a little paper boat with a yellow flower inside going down through the crystal-clear water, and then one more and another. Like the curious child that I was, I went up the river in the opposite direction of the boats, until I saw her.  

A little girl with long, black hair messed up by the wind. She was kneeling on the riverbank and placing paper boats with colorful flowers in the water one by one, while her black eyes watched them move away. Until her eyes fell on me, and we stood staring without saying anything on either side of the river. Then, she got up, smiled at me and disappeared into the forest.  

──

Without realizing it, a soft smile curved my lips as I remembered that day. How the silent meeting of two children could change so much. 

──

After that meeting, I went to the river more often, wanting to see her again. But it was weeks before I saw the little boats go down the current once again. I found her in the same place and this time, I walked over and crouched down next to her.  

“Why do you do it?” I asked.  

She looked at me with those dark orbs, smiled and responded as if it were the simplest thing in the world.  

“Because I think it’s beautiful.”  

I saw her pick up another little boat with a red flower and place it in my hand. I quickly put it in the water and saw it go away down the river. I smiled without realizing it.  

“See? It’s so pretty,” she said and looked at me again. “I’m Alexia. And you?”  

“Tobirama,” I replied, hiding my surname, because during the war it wasn’t wise to say it to strangers and apparently, she knew that as she didn’t say hers either.  

We stayed there talking for hours, without ever saying where we came from, until I heard my brother Hashirama calling me from inside the forest. I went home but not before making her promise that we would see each other again, right there.  

The months passed and as the war worsened, our meetings began to become rarer, until she never appeared again.  

──

I felt a lonely tear run down my face. Even though we were just children, the loss of my first love hurt a lot. 

But I moved on with my life, and during the following years, thanks to the war, I didn’t have much time to rummage through the past. Until... 

──

Until, at the peak of my 21 st year, I became the second-best ninja in my clan, second only to my older brother.  

Even though the years passed, and I became a man, I still had the childhood habit of going to the river.  

That day, I bent down to wash my face in the cool water, and I felt my heart speed up when I saw a little paper boat with a pink flower touch my hand.  

I ran as fast as I could, going upstream and I saw her... she was there and looked at me as if she was waiting for me.  

Her black hair, now longer, swayed in the breeze. Her body, that was once small and thin, had become beautiful and curvy. She was a woman now, but her eyes, oh those dark eyes, were still the same ones that haunted my memories.  

I approached, and the only thing I could say was her name.  

“Alexia...”  

Without knowing why, or without caring if I was going to be rejected, I kissed her. That old childhood love turned into an urgent desire to erase all that longing that I had stored deep within my being. Alexia responded to me with passion. She seemed to feel the same thing as me, and she wanted to make up for all the lost time.  

We pulled away from each other with difficulty, but the feeling of being complete surrounded us like a golden aura. We didn’t need to say anything to know that time hadn’t changed the feelings of the two children.  

We talked and kissed for hours on end, until we heard sounds coming from the forest, and before I knew it, she broke away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes and said:  

“Tobirama, I need to tell you something very important.” Her face became serious. “Meet me here tomorrow night. Please don’t miss it.”  

I nodded and let her go.  

I didn’t know that conversation would change my entire life.  

──

The night of our meeting had arrived. I managed to leave without being seen by my brother and went towards the agreed location. My hands were sweating, and my heart was racing with every step I took. I thought what I felt years ago was a child’s thing, but the closer I got, the more I knew I was madly in love with that woman. When I arrived, she was already there waiting for me, her gaze fixed on the waters of the river. She seemed sad and that made me worried.  

“Alexia, are you alright?” I asked and without waiting for an answer, I hugged her.  

Feeling her warm body pressed against mine, the kiss was inevitable. It started out soft, but when she opened the way for our tongues to mee, I could no longer resist. We made love right there, on the riverbank, listening to the water run and taking our secret with it.  

Leaning on my body, I heard her soft cry and little by little, hot tears touched my chest, making me look at her.  

“What happened? Did I hurt you?” I said with concern.  

“That’s not it,” she got up and started to dress up. “This shouldn’t have happened. Not without telling you first.”  

“Telling me what?” I started to worry even more, seeing her crying.  

“I know who you are, Tobirama Senju,” she whispered between tears, emphasizing the word ‘senju’. “And I... I am... Alexia Uchiha.”  

My heart almost stopped when I heard her say her full name. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t... the girl I loved since I was a child, the girl I loved there, on the riverbank, was from that damn clan that had been at war with my family and friends for years. I looked at that familiar and now strange face for several moments, until she broke the deadly silence that hung on us.  

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid,” she took a step towards me. “Say something, Tobirama.”  

“Alexia... Uchiha...” I could only repeat her name, still not believing that joke of fate.  

She got closer to me, and with her trembling hand she tried to touch me, but my body involuntarily took a step back, avoiding the contact.  

“Please, say something,” her voice was already starting to get exasperated with my silence. “Say that this doesn’t change anything. Say that you love me. Say that everything will be alright. Just say... say it and I will wait for you.”  

But I didn’t say it. Even though my heart was screaming like crazy inside my chest, I didn’t say the words that she wanted to hear. I couldn’t.  

I caught a glimpse of her beautiful eyes fading with the tears that came flooding back before she left.  

──

When I found out who that little boy was in the river, I knew I had to stay away for my safety and his. However, the war helped me maintain my decision. I was sent to another village along with other women and children who could not fight. But fate found a way to bring us together again many years later. I wanted to see him, see how he grew up and try to make possible that childish love that I always carried in my chest, despite the situation.  

An Uchiha and a Sunju. It seemed like a joke, but I didn’t care. I wanted to fight for that feeling.  

But...  

But my hope faded that night, after we made love. He ran away from my touch like running away from a venomous snake when he learned the truth. I saw the hurt in his eyes, and anger. I was willing to face everything and everyone for us, I just needed to hear him say it. But the words didn’t come.  

──

After that fateful night, I still hadn’t given up on us. Maybe he just needed some time to put his thoughts in order, maybe there was still hope. But I was wrong.  

Every day that followed, I went to the riverbank and one by one, I placed the little paper boats with flowers in the current and watched them slowly descend into the clear waters, waiting to hear his footsteps on the gravel. The long-awaited steps never came.  

And every time, I cried. But this time, I held back the tears and noticed that someone placed a coat over my shoulders and spoke to me in a soft voice.  

“Alexia, what are you doing here?” he said in a worried smile. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go before you get sick."  

I looked at him as I stood up. His long, black hair was tousled because of the wind, which I didn’t even realize was blowing strongly, and his dark eyes, so similar to mine, stood out from the strong, beautiful face that smiled at me. Madara Uchiha, the new leader of the clan. I had known him for a long time, but only at that moment did I really pay attention to him. I took one last look at the waters of the river and followed him back home.  

──

That image of Alexia waiting for me, words I didn’t say and the sadness in her eyes, the plea in her voice haunted my thoughts.  

Every day I went to the river, and I saw, day after day, the little paper boats going down the river. I knew they were for me, that she was waiting for me just behind that curve. But my pride prevented me from going there and taking her in my arms and never letting her go.  

Another little boat came down and came closer to my feet, and before I could pick it up, it sank and dissolved in the water. I didn’t know why, but that image made me cry. Nevertheless, I still didn’t go after her.  

──

A year has passed since that day, and there have never been any paper boats for me on the river again. 

Same bed, but it feels just a little bit bigger now

Our song on the radio, but it don’t sound the same

When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

‘Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

And as the world loves to play tricks, that same year the battle between the Senju and Uchiha clans ended, beginning an alliance that led to the founding of Konoha. If I had said something, if I had waited... 

Mm, too young, too foolish to realize

That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours when I had the chance

Take you to every party ‘cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man

But I hadn’t said anything, I hadn’t waited, and I lost her. Now, we live in the same village, our families are no longer enemies and there is no more war. But it’s too late for us. 

My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways

Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out of my life

Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh

And that haunts me every time I close my eyes

It all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

I see her almost every day, but her eyes don’t look at me anymore and her smile doesn’t shine for me. Now, another man holds her hand, another man is the owner of her look and the reason for her smile. 

Mm, too young, too foolish to realize

That I should have bought you flowers and held your hand

Should have gave you all my hours when I had the chance

Take you to every party ‘cause all you wanted to do was dance

Now my baby’s dancing, but she’s dancing with another man

Although it hurts

I’ll be the first to say that I was wrong

Oh, I knw I’m probably much too late

To try and apologize for my mistakes

But I just want you to know

I could see him day after day gluing together, piece by piece, Alexia’s heart, which I broke. Healing her wings, which I hurt, and giving her the love that, out of pride, I couldn’t give. 

I hope he buys you flowers, I hope he holds you hand

Give you all his hours when he has the chance

Take you to every party

‘Cause I remember how much you loved t dance

Do all the things I would have done

When I was your man

And today, I’m here, at the top of this mountain. Down there, I can hear the happy laughter and the music that rose up to me. 

It was Alexia’s wedding, my Alexia... I lost her the moment I was too weak to say I loved her. 

My life ended there, on the edge of that river. Those waters witnessed who foolish I was, how my hatred and my pride took from me the woman I loved my entire life. 

The sun had already set on the horizon and the stars were beginning to emerge in the dark blue sky. That was when I noticed someone approaching, a servant, who handed something into my hand that made my heart skip a beat. 

It was a paper boat with a white flower. My eyes clouded with the threat of tears, until I saw that there seemed to be something written on the paper. I unfolded the little boat and read the words that seemed a little shaky. 

‘Tobirama,  

I want you to know that despite what happened between us, I have no regrets. On the contrary, you will always be in my heart, as my first love. It’s a shame that it’s too late for both of us, but I wish from the bottom of my soul that you find someone, and that you don’t let your pride speak louder than your love again. Be happy.  

Alexia.’ 

As I read that, my fists clenched the paper tightly and the little flower fell apart on the floor. And I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I fell on the ground and cried, cried until my eyes had no more tears to cry. 

I cried for the lost love. I cried for the future without Alexia. I cried for the regret of not having said the words she expected to hear. And I cried even more for having my heart in pieces while my pride remained whole. 

[jinkoh]

i wish you didn't want me anymore

ex-bf!sunwoo x gn!reader

tags: exes to ?, angst, they can't let go and it's not healthy, somewhat suggestive wc: 0.34k

Masterlist

It’d been months since you’d last talked and you’d finally started to feel okay. You didn’t miss him anymore. You didn’t think about him on the daily and you didn’t start crying when you did. You were finally a person again, whole without Sunwoo by your side.

And yet, one text from him and you were right back at the start.

happy birthday, little honey

As if you wanted to hear from him on your birthday; as if you wanted to hear from him at all after months of radio silence. As if he had any right to still call you that.

So why did you find yourself in his sheets again that night, lying to your friends to leave early from your own birthday party because you knew they wouldn’t approve and they were right. You were better off without him. But whenever you were ready to let go, he showed up again, barging into your life as if he’d never left. He didn’t fit in there anymore, but you couldn’t shut him out.

“What’s on your mind?” Sunwoo whispered into your ear, brushing a few strands of hair out of your forehead. He looked at you like you belonged to him, and the hickeys on your neck would argue that you did.

“You,” you replied and a small smile spread on his lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, a gesture full of sweet soft intimacy that you shouldn’t be sharing anymore. “What about me?”

You stared at his bedroom ceiling. “I wish you didn’t want me anymore,” you admitted and as hard as it was to get the words out, as easy it was for him to brush them off.

“Don’t say that, little honey.” His lips left kisses on your skin, tracing the marks he’d left just a while ago. “You don’t mean it.”

His touch was so warm and familiar and even though you knew it was wrong you closed your eyes and gave in to the feeling. “Maybe not.”

Masterlist

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

It takes him a moment to adjust, for the sight in front of him to focus into a plaster popcorn ceiling rather than a block of bright white. He blinks rapidly, clearing the bleariness, steadying himself on the steady couch cushions in the castle common room.

He stills.

The castle?

He glances back up at the ceiling, but it’s as smooth as it’s always been; dozens of feet above him. No bright plaster, no textured popcorn ceiling. He squeezes his eyes shut, wondering what he’ll see when he opens them again, wondering where he even really is.

But when he opens them again, it’s still the castle. He’s still in space.

“Did you fall asleep?”

He drops his gaze from the ceiling, landing on Keith, who’s looking at him in fond amusement.

“No,” Lance says, because he doesn’t remember losing consciousness.

“Yes you did,” Keith responds, grinning. “Loser.”

Lance rolls his eyes and tries to kick him, but Keith grabs his foot easily, tugging it towards him. Lance gets the hint, lifting his feet and placing them in Keith’s lap as he reclines back into the couch cushions. Keith rests his hands on Lance’s ankles, tugging up the hem of his pants to brush his fingers on cool skin. Lance matches his breathing with the steady movements.

“You can go back to sleep,” Keith murmurs. “I don’t mind.”

Lance almost protests. It’s lovely to be sitting with him. He’s cute when he’s soft, when he’s not worried about what they’re doing next, when he lets his guard down. Lance only wishes things were less slow, less lethargic, so his eyes weren’t so heavy.

.

.

.

The rain starts to come down harder, faster, and it gets harder and harder to see. Lance squints, trying to see through the sleet of rain. It’s hard; he can barely see the shadows in front of him even though it can’t be past noon. The wind is icy, blowing at the soaked fabric of his orange uniform coat. Strangely he’s not cold. He’s hot, actually, suffocating in a blanket of heat, even as the rain pelts his skin, drops down his nose.

“Taylor! Come on!”

A boy appears in front of him. Lance startles — it’s so hard to see in the storm that it’s like he’s popped out of thin air. The boy’s long black hair is plastered to his head, and he’s soaked to the bone. He reaches out and wraps a glove-covered hand around Lance’s wrist, pulling gently.

“Come on, it’s freezing, you’re going to get sick. Let’s go, Taylor.”

Taylor?

Lance’s sneakers are soaked through, and usually that would bother him. But for some reason he can’t bring himself to move, to walk away. He hasn’t felt the rain on his skin in two years.

That doesn’t make sense. It’s the middle of the rain season in the Arizona desert. All students are forbidden from going outside. He’s not supposed to be here. This boy isn’t, either, this boy who calls him Taylor.

Lance followed this boy. Didn’t he? That’s why he’s out here in the first place, against Garrison orders. He always gets in trouble for following this boy into trouble.

His shoes are heavy with water, but slowly he picks up his feet, crossing his ankles. He smiles slightly and lets himself twist, holding his open palms out to the sky, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. A raindrop hits his cheek and slides down to his lips. It tastes of salt.

“You’re ridiculous! It’s a storm, Taylor! We need to get back before we get caught! Or hurt!”

Lance looks over at the boy. His indigo eyes are narrowed, clouded over with frustrated, strong brow furrowed to protect his eyes from the water.

He looks troubled. He’s too young to be this trouble. They both are.

Lance shifts their hands, so they’re entwined, and pulls the boy forward. He stumbles, but doesn’t fall.

“What are you doing?”

Lance smiles, grabbing his other hand, and twirls him around to imaginary music. For a minute the boy stubbornly resists, then a small smile cracks his face, and he relents.

“You’re crazy,” he says.

Lance just smiles. It’s kind of nice to be rained on with this boy, whoever he is.

.

.

.

.

A hard bump in the road smacks Lance’s head to the window, dragging him awake.

“Fuck,” Keith curses. “Sorry, Bluebell. Go back to sleep, we’re still a little ways away.”

Lance yawns, shaking his head. “No, I wanna stay awake. Don’t want to lose any time with you.”

It’s clearly the right thing to say. Keith smiles, wide, showing the crooked incisors Lance loves so much. He reaches over and grasps Lance’s hand in one of his, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to one of the knuckles. Stubble tickles the back of his hand.

“Me either.”

Neither of them speaks after that. Keith’s broken car radio lets out a burst of static every couple of minutes, but it’s drowned out by the sound of rain pelting the windshield. Keith hums slightly as he drives, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. It feels familiar, almost, like the start of a movie Lance has seen a thousand times. He supposes he has, with how often they’ve made this drive.

The drive takes another hour, but it feels so short. Too soon they’re driving past the farm fields, turning onto a long gravel driveway, stopping in front of a brick house with blue paint peeling from the door.

Keith parks the car, pulling off his seatbelt and shifting to face Lance. His smile is kind of melancholy. He cups his hands around Lance’s face, and the leather of his gloves feels too soft, almost blurry, somehow, corporeal. He leans in and kisses Lance gently, reverently, sadly.

“Tell your family I said hi,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly.

“You could come in for a while,” Lance offers. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want Keith to leave.

But Keith is already shaking his head. “You gotta go, Lance.”

His words are muffled. Far away. Lance isn’t sure that’s even what he said.

Lance blinks and then he’s slamming the car door, running to the porch with his jacket hiked over his head. He turns back when he reaches the front door, but Keith is already gone.

.

.

.

.

.

Lance wakes to sunlight warming his bare skin. His sheets are smooth on his legs, resting on his thighs and belly, barely really covering him. Most of the sheets are tangled around toned, pale legs, knobby knees. Lance follows them all the way up to a wide chest, covered in scars, and a well-defined jaw, thick black hair streaked with grey. A man stares at him, bleary-eyed, smile making his crow’s feet more defined. A long purple scar stretches across his cheek. Lance realises he’s leaning on the man’s chest, fingertips tracing shapes on his rough skin.

“How long’ve you been ‘wake, sweetheart?” the man mumbles, slight Texan accent bleeding into his words.

Lance shrugs. Truly, he has no idea.

The man says nothing more, only pressing a kiss to Lance’s hair before leaning back into the pillows, holding him tightly. Lance takes the time to look around the unfamiliar bedroom, trying to find out where he is. There are pictures everywhere; the man, Lance, Lance and the man, Lance and the man and a group of other smiling faces. Lance recognises none of them. There’s a large vanity table by the window, surface covered in various bottles and lotions, obviously not the man’s. It’s all as familiar as it is foreign.

The man runs calloused fingers over Lance’s ribs, slowly, and he shivers. No one has ever touched him like that before; intimately, quietly, adoringly. Touching for the sake of touch, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than in Lance’s space.

He’s cute. He makes Lance feel safe.

Lance should probably find out his name.

But the man traces what’s clearly a heart on Lance’s sternum, and Lance is so comfortable. He feels like all his worries are a step away. Something’s wrong, he knows it is, but it’s lovely to sit between this comfort and chaos.

He doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

.

.

.

.

.

.

This time there’s no rain. He’s not asleep beforehand. He simply comes to awareness in the car, hand clutched in Keith’s, static playing gently through the radio. They’re driving to Lance’s family’s house again, and the sense of deja vu is stronger this time, the sense of wrongness. It slips out of him, the feeling.

“Something’s not right,” Lance says quietly.

Keith snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. You could just move in with me, you know. Then we wouldn’t have to do this every couple of weeks.”

That’s not it. It’s not — separation. That’s not what Lance meant. He opens his mouth to say so, but as he does, he feels something hook around the inside of his ribcage, yanking him backwards, out the car, out of his body, out of the space. He hovers above, watching himself settle back into the passenger side, clutching Keith’s hand. Neither of them say anything for the entire drive.

Lance watches as his body presses Keith against the door when they park, kissing him soundly, laughing about something, then standing to get out. There’s no rain this time, so he lingers, leaning against the car door and sticking his head through the open window. He says something. Keith laughs, then leans over and kisses Lance again, gently, softly, hand sliding through his hair. Lance feels that, far away, from where he’s floating above them, the phantom hands in his hair.

As his body walks back to his family’s house, turning back and waving at least six times, Lance realises that it’s not real. None of it. Not the car, not the kiss, not Keith. None of it is. He presses his fingertips to his lips and they slide right through, like he’s made of air. He can’t remember the last time he was kissed. He can’t remember anything. The realisation is familiar, like the end of something, like watching the last scene of a movie and realising as the credits roll that he’s seen it before.

The familiar wrongness of it all bubbles up in him. Suddenly he wants to scream as loud as he can, but he finds he doesn’t have vocal chords to do it. Or a mouth.

Slowly, the world around him blinks in and out, the colours fade, the shapes and shadows disappear. All that’s left is a bright, endless white.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Lance opens his eyes to white nothingness.

[kit-williams]

Sleeping Fields

Nostraman is said to be poetic sounding right? I've been binging this Dzivia's stuff recently and heard this one today... and Anrir wormed his way into my mind... I think this is Belarusian but just SLAVS throws hands into the air

This should be a short fic

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams

Amir sobbed as you did your best to calm him down but it just was one of those nights that he wouldn't sleep... out of everyone else in the nursery he was the only one awake. You bounced him over your shoulder as you rubbed his back... gave him the oral paste... fed him... everything. He would frown and fuss if you tried singing to him and you were getting tired. You watched Amir suddenly stop as his eyes focused on something in the dark. You swallowed as you looked over your shoulder at Anrir slowly slinking out of the dark.

Fussy hands reached out for the paternal figure as this was a problem with many of the children... they were very comfortable around their paternal figure causing many of the caretakers here to fear giving Anrir their charge worried if it will look badly upon them but out of the roughly ten or so children here being taken care of... you knew that sometimes they just wanted their... father if you could call him that.

"Now why are you up Amir?" He cooed flipping some of his hair over his shoulder to keep Amir from grabbing it and pulling... some of your strands of hair in between his tiny fingers. The black sclera of Amir blended in with the dark but contrasted by the light grey of his eyes... in time his eye color would develop and most likely turn an almost black like his father.

"He doesn't want to sleep." You said tiredly.

A deep timber fills the air as the low tones of a song rumble out of a chest meant for bellowing orders... snarling like an animal... being barely human while still counting as human... as the poetic tongue of the droning lullaby doesn't match the body it comes out of. You watch Amir let out a big yawn, his tiny body stiffening for a moment just like before he sneezes.

Anrir hums for a bit before continuing his song... it sounds far too pretty for his mouth... sounds like it should come out of a kinder man... a far more romantic creature then what sings it. Your eyes slowly droop as the song sounds so comforting and inviting... but knowing Anrir it's probably about something horrible... but it's so... relaxing.

He feels Amir's heart relax as he sings him the Nostroman lullaby. He looks over to you seeing how his lullaby also worked on you... How Amir buried his face into his chest as he walked over to you and easily picked you up in his other arm feeling your face nuzzle into his neck as he continued to sing. He could wake you up... but he enjoyed the feeling of your breath against his skin as he assigned another caretaker to watch Amir for the rest of the night as he took you out of the nursery for the night.

The ending of the lullaby breathing in your ear softly... gently... as you weren't on this cold ship... you were back home in a field as insects chirped at night... знішчыць.... знішчыць.... знішчыць.... знішчыць.... знішчыць... he whispered to her as the door to his room closed behind them.

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hi ignore that I haven't been working on the prologue so I can start editing+posting The Fobwatch Fic. Anyways this fic scene possessed me at like 2 AM the other night and I needed to. Get it out of my system. And now you get to see too. This follows not-terribly-long after this scene actually. (Only other one posted)

Context to get here: Rory's watch opening, processing, the Master failing badly at kidnapping Amy, returning her back, and an argument that had ensued between the Doctor(11) and the Master.

Timeline context: Rory/Darvill!Master regenerated from Missy. Timeline fuckery.

"Anyways, now that we're over that." The Master presses a button on his TARDIS console. "Maybe it's time for something more familiar."

Music plays over the speakers.

Oh-oh-oh-ohhhhh-

"Wait-" The Master bangs on the console in his frustration, and the song starts to skip.

Rah rah-ah-ah-ah-a-ah

Gaga ohh-la— -la

Thud. "— that's not right-"

Caughzz—

- Want your—

Bad Romance.

"That isn't- oh- oh yeah, right, sorry - last chick was on the aux-"

Ooh-la-la

Want your-

Last chick? The Master had been holding Amy hostage... Kind of. The Doctor glanced at her, and she looks at him. "I was in here for all of forty minutes, I wouldn't even know how to put it on-" she starts, and there's a moment before the Doctor catches up and turns to follow the Master with a look of knowing delight on his face.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, wait a second, last who?"

Love love love I want your—

The Master rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on Doctor. I feel like that was very clear. Last girl round. My darling little sister, trying her best..."

Amy's brow knits, and she speaks up to direct a question to the Master, who was... stewing. "Sorry- Can you guys change that much?"

His face scrunches, and he pulls himself out of it."We can change much more than you think, Amy."

I want it bad your bad romance—

"Last time around I was a very cunty Scotswoman and I wish I could say I took inspiration."

There's a moment where he tries to skip, or stop, or something, but it kept going. So he did the next best thing- smack the column of the console with a loud, dull thud from the glass. And a sharp, quiet hiss from the Master when he winces and grabs the offending hand.

I want your - bad bad bad bad-ad —

oh-oh-oh-oh—

After a moment, the Master turns to the Doctor and points. "Don't go getting any ideas copying me next time around."

Bad Romance finally stops.

The Doctor suddenly turned serious about the whole thing. Right. Next time around. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Master to know that. Or Amy... "Master, the thing- about next time-"

The Master got closer, and prodded the Doctor's shoulder with a finger. "Don't worry about that too much, I wasn't talking to you right then. That was for later." The other song starts.* And with that finger poke, the Master makes a dramatic motion, as if he pushed himself away from the Doctor with great force as he circled his TARDIS console away from them both to check another monitor.

*Most Likely: Mamma Mia, Under Attack, or Istanbul(Not Constantinople). It will probably be mentioned again in a manner similar to Bad Romance once I decide. Yippeee.

Insert A Song Beat

"Did you seriously do that on purpose?" Amy asks, looking around the TARDIS for the exact source of the music, and then back at the Master. He still wasn't as far off from the sad drowned cat look earlier as he thought, looking up at her.

"Oh, Amy, there's on thing you should've picked up on by now: I'm dramatic." He winks at her. "You have to be, to keep up with him." He tilts his chin to the Doctor, and his attention returns to a monitor as it makes a beeping noise.

"... Anyways, Doctor, you can start running now." He says.

The Doctor hesitates. "... What do you mean?"

The Master continues to look on idly. "I mean that I happened to- to take- Amy to buy time. And to bother you. Oh, I know it bothered you. Probably even more than the whole Rory-Oopsie."

If the Doctor didn't want to believe he didn't have A Plan, he'd find A Plan.

"I knew you'd come back to Leadworth as soon as I did. Gave me enough time."

"... Time for what..?"

"Oh, to use that little trip-alarm you left for me to download the psychic data I needed from yourr TARDIS. To my TARDIS." The Master looked up with a big self-pleased smile to the Doctor's serious furrowed brow.

"Doon't worryy! I only took what I needed. C'mon, what's a little hacking among girls? Buut, I'll tell you this," he pushes a big square button, and the door to his ship opens.

"If you start running now, you'll get to your TARDIS with enough time to stop me from getting access to try 'n send her into orbit from here— ah,ah,ah,ah-" the Master tuts and pushes the monitor away from the other two, and braced himself against the Doctor when he tried to rush at his console with a shout, "- don't bother, Doctor, the controls are isomorphic," a lie, "you know me," he said into the Doctor's ear. "But I would run."

That felt. Good. That felt familiar.

The Doctor was already backing up. The Master didn't let go, right away, his hands following the other even as he left the embrace in unexpected panic.

"Amy, run!" The Doctor shouts, and runs.

"Amy, you can stay!" The Master shouts immediately in turn, turning to Amy with an open hand out.

And Amy hesitates, mouth open and eyes wide as she stares at the Master(at Rory's eyes), before following the Doctor out at a sprint. [cont]

[idontknowreallywhy]

Stars Are Only Visible In Darkness

A scene thrown down in my lunch break. I’m still not particularly confident writing Serious things but this was inspired by two things -

A song on the Scott playlist shared by @lenfantdeverone this morning - Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons which has some lovely angsty chord sequences, gorgeous vocal melody and the cracker of a line that is the title of this little ramble.

The most excellent @sofasurf who is constantly encouraging and has clearly slightly broken my brain with her angsty-ptsd-Scott writing. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? Here is a weirdly dark birthday present for you… 😘

It’s established fanon that Scott ended up as a POW in Bereznik while in the Air Force, but how did that happen? One possible version of events…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Fear and fury danced a tango through his veins as he watched the khaki-clad thugs surround the small group of children and a woman he guessed was perhaps their teacher? An impromptu lesson in how to calmly stand up to playground bullies was underway but this particular gang was armed and accountable to nobody. One of them laughed with a coldness that sent ice rocketing down his spine.

He tried to tear his eyes away and move on. But his body was deaf to his logical instructions and so he waited.

It had been nearly 44 hours since he had been spiralling towards the ground with both engines aflame. He hadn’t stopped moving since his parachute caught on a rocky outcrop and arrested his fall with a jolt he was still feeling in his shoulders. He’d dodged the roving bands of soldiers and all the locals too - for how could he know who to trust? And even if he could, he’d only endanger them further. He’d crept slowly but surely towards the local town - hoping for somewhere to hide, food to steal, maybe some kind of weapon more useful than the short length of crumbling iron railing he carried and then… Well. A plan of some kind.

The town had been used as a shield for the local militia and everyone who lived there was effectively imprisoned in their own neighbourhoods. From the moment he’d entered through the heavily guarded gates clinging to the bottom of a truck he wondered how any of them were still functioning.

The devastation and oppression he had witnessed had crept under his skin like a poison he knew he couldn’t outlive. He would carry it for always now. 

The latest Allied onslaught had meant half the place was in ruin. The residents were stoically keeping on going as best they could with what remained… as well as the makeshift medical centre he’d clocked a handful of shops, a tiny church and the primary school across the square from where he crouched among those that were still welcoming people through their sandbagged doors.  

As for the rest… well… at least all the rubble and mostly-collapsed buildings provided shelter for one who knew how to use it. He’d slipped from shadow to shadow. 

Watching, listening. 

And it had paid off. His grasp of the local language was basic but he knew some key words and because of that he knew a cargo plane of armaments was due to arrive at the playing-fields-turned-airstrip on the other side of town in 2 hours. All he had to do was get there unseen, stow away until the ship was airborne again and then overpower the single pilot with the sedative that was the sole item left in the micro first aid kit stowed in his left thigh pocket.

The plan kept him upright when the despair surrounding him dragged his bones towards the ground.

The teacher crouched and addressed her flock with a gentle but emphatic tone as the soldiers jeered behind her. One lad shook his head, horrified, and one of the taller girls frowned and grasped her by the arm. She was shaken off and the trembling woman barked a one-word command that echoed through the courtyard

“RUN.”

Even he knew that word. And his brain shrieked at him to obey…

Seconds ticked by. Each one should have been taking him closer to that airstrip. He had a home to get back to. Brothers to get back to. Dad, Grandma, the farm. That cute librarian he’d promised to meet for coffee when he returned from duty. The smell of maple pancakes and bacon. A thousand sunrises. Hugs. Probably a medal and recognition as a war hero.

He had a life to live…

But so did the woman not 30 feet away, who was now stiffening her spine and lifting her chin in defiance to impossible odds. 

She was more of a hero than Scott would ever be, the quiet, un-showy type only visible when everything else became so desperately dark. The kind that made the world worth saving.

He tightened his grip on the rusty metal bar and stepped out of the shadows into the square. 

[AO3]

Ok a TBC did happen and got a bit massive…

[blooms-in-april]

Lana Del Rey 's young and beautiful is officially Guxmir's song. I don't make the rules

[lu-inlondon]

Hob has to admit that, even though he tries to stay up to date with current trends, his taste in music never much got the memo. But that's always been the case. It is terribly annoying to get into something, twenty years after he could have had the live experience.

Or, in this case, fourty years. Though he had liked the music in the eighties well enough at the time.

It's Saturday morning and despite the mountain of housework he has to get through if he intends to find any of his stuff or dishes to eat from in the last week of exams, he is in a fantastic mood. The weather took a turn for cold and rainy but his flat is cosy and warm, he managed to find an unused cup to make himself some tea and a playlist with all the 80's hits is playing in the background.

Of course, this is not the sole reason for his good mood. It doesn't even cover a fraction of the reason why he looks like the sun's shining out of his arse at seven on his first proper day off in weeks.

Before Hob's never been one to remember much of his dreams. Ever since he and Dream were sort of dating (they hadn't discussed the terms and conditions yet, and as long as both of them were happy as is, he didn't feel the need to push the topic) that happened more and more. Just last night, he'd spent a part of his sleep walking with Dream through his realm, being shown around and introduced to a variety of creatures.

It had been utterly fascinating!

The best part though was that Dream had let slip, that he had been working more in the last days so that he might spend today with Hob in the Waking World. He knew that - aside from some housework - Hob intended to do nothing but laze around.

So of course he's in a good mood, belting along to a playlist that at least somewhat betrays his age. How else can it be?

(Hob had also noticed that the number of 80's songs circling the topic of dreams was surprisingly high. He had never noticed that before but now it made him think of Dream all the time, painting a big smile on his lips.)

It's his luck that the inn's still closed and no one is around for a noise complaint, because with questionable synth pop he gets through his dishes in record time. Cleaning the bath is done in a fraction of the time it usually takes him - only delayed by the thought if he could persuade Dream to relax in the tub together - and the feather duster that's no longer made of actual feathers makes a wonderful improvised microphone for his one-man interpretation of Sweet Dreams.

Which is, unbeknownst to Hob, how his own Dream finds him.

The song ends and Hob uses the brief interlude before the next one starts to actually dust off some of his books. He knows that one too, and he can't help but grin because of course it reminds him of Dream.

He stumbles over the first few lines until he catches the rhythm, swaying to it, moving on to the next bookshelf.

There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you

Further into the song, he's much more secure lyric-wise, and even though he knows his voice is croaky at best - missing the whiskey he uses to prepare for karaoke nights at the pub - he gives it his all.

Yes, Dream is absolutely on top of his list of things he plans to do today, even if that sounds a bit crude. And he has been thinking about him for the past two hours, his thoughts never straying far from the entity/man because as soon as his mind wandered to other things, the music in the background conveniently reminded him of his love.

Not that Hob minds. Quite the opposite actually. He just hopes his daydreams made it to his love's realm so that he might profit a bit from Hob's good mood.

He throws himself into the beginning of the chorus - a thousand kisses are most certainly not enough - spinning around to get to the next bit of his living room, when he finds Dream standing in the corner, watching him with a bemused smile.

Now, at this point, he probably should stop singing, but then again Hob's never been afraid to make an arse out of himself in the name of love. And he knows that Dream - even though he won't admit to it - loves cheesy displays of affection. The cheesier, the better, in fact, and Hob has had more than six centuries to practice.

So, non-feather duster repurposed to serve as a microphone again, he grins at Dream. Trying to get a laugh out of his love makes Hob do a very exaggerated and nearly indecent wriggle with his hips as the second verse begins.

He doesn't have to go to work today but that's neither here nor there as he yells at the top of his lungs:

Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler

It does not elicit one of Dream's rare laughs, but Hob gets a fond shake of the head for his troubles.

Well, that won't do. He can be even worse and thankfully the chorus is starting again.

Only in socks, he slides across his hardwood floor, performing a spin that nearly sends him tumbling into his coffee table. Dream grabs him before Hob can hurt himself, and he uses it to immediately draw Dream into his arms.

The feather duster is quickly discarded in favour of holding Dream close and trying to get him to swing to the rhythm too. He's reluctant, but Hob's nothing if not stubborn, and not even - or especially - the collective unconsciousness can't withstand his charms, slowly beginning to move with him.

A thousand kisses from you is never too much

Hob croons along to the music, closing his eyes to really give it his all. When he opens them, Dream is smirking at him.

"Well, that really is not that much," he says with barely contained amusement.

"So you agree then?" Hob asks, his cheeks starting to hurt from how wide he's grinning. "I knew you were a smart one."

Before Dream can say anything along the lines of just how much knowledge he contains, Hob places a quick kiss on his lips. Might not be that much, but it's a start.

By then, the chorus has started up again, and he can belt the line that really makes him heady.

A million days in your arms is never too much I just don't wanna stop

Dream crooks his head, looking at him with brightly shining eyes. As stoic as his expression might be, Hob knows what the slow twinkle in the starry eyes of his love means.

"You know that is more than two thousand and seven hundred years, yes?" Dream asks carefully, and even though he doesn't mention it out loud, Hob knows that there's a deeper meaning to the question.

He could question it, but he won't allow for either of their worries about doomed past relationships to ruin this perfectly good day that's about to get even better if he has a say in the matter.

"Yup," he informs his love carefully carding his fingers through the mess of black hair on Dream's head to pull him closer. "Still isn't enough though, love."

The kiss that follows borders on desperate. He isn't quite sure if this is Dream's doing or his own, but he hopes it gets his point across: What's two thousand and seven hundred years when he wants to spend eternity with this impossible being in his arms?

Hob's loved him for six centuries, what's twenty-seven more?

They break from their kiss mostly for his benefit so he can catch his breath, the blush high on Dream's cheeks nearly making him lose it again. The song's long over, the next one on the playlist is nearly done as well, but Hob couldn't care less. He's done cleaning and he wants to spend the rest of this day - and every single one that follows - holding Dream and kissing him.

His love doesn't seem to mind, safe for one request:

"Can we listen to it again?"

@karalynlovescake I offer you fluff to make up for the 80's angst from last time

[ladespeinada]

unhinged au idea: marcus and luca as long-haul truckers who keep meeting each other at the same rest stop, gradually getting to know each other. at some point, one of them sheepishly admits that this particular rest stop has the best donuts they’ve ever had, ever, and then they both reveal that they love baking, the creativity of it combined with the science, precision and magic all in one. anyway, this takes their relationship from gradually to suddenly because why the fuck not, and they start meeting at whichever rest stop they can, bringing each other pastries every time, experimenting, tasting, trying. and then, they’re talking one evening, and they just—decide to quit. leave their financially-comfortable jobs to be with one another wholly instead of just in pieces, and they decide to open up a proper bakery at the same rest stop where they met, and it becomes a true destination stop, with people going out of their way to get a taste. anyway.

[glass-coffin-will-graham]

The thing is. THE THING IS. That sometimes there's that one goddamn fanfic that Did Something to You in your early teens. And dear god in heaven do you have Things To Say About It and wish you could make your bros read it. But it is in fact from a fandom/ship situation that you're rightfully not proud of now and it's Not Un-explicit so you definitely can't do that. But it's In There. It's In There.

[vipermirage]

heat hazed days (x) viper x colonnello

a fucking idiot. colonnello was a fucking idiot. viper couldn't help think over and over, the nostalgia that took the tip of their tongue tasting more bitter than sweet. viper hated him, hated his guts, hated the fact that he had someone he would dedicate his world to. detested that he would willingly take the curse they so desperately wanted to break. and what for? she's still suffering, no one's a hero. congratulations.

the annoying blond witch laughed at the suffering of their toddler bodies. it reminded them a little of bel. oh bel. viper didn't like the thought of him, not now. that was quite uncharacteristic, a little disgusting, if you would.

if there was anything they hated more than being owed payments, it was owing payments, no matter the amount. this must have been the moment those annoying time travelling gremlins from the vongola was thinking about years back, them being saved by colonnello, something like that. ridiculous thoughts, but when they could hear the semblance of this same thought in reborn's mind, it has to be true, right?

but him of all people? bleugh, bleugh, bleugh! lover boy? he's not even good enough to sit with them. viper detested that thought, that knowledge, and the thing is he doesn't even know. unfortunately, this wasn't the right universe where the vongola saved the earth is it?

they couldn't even bother with the fucking witch, the radiation stung, it was a losing battle and they knew they, plural, were both dead. but the knowledge from reborn's mind was eating at them. god fucking damn it.

"you know, i fucking hate you," they looked at colonnello one last time, "hate that you have lal and lal has you and i hate your fucking guts and your not-good-enough ass that somehow assed your way into the strongest seven."

"and you may not even know this," they said as they took another blow for him, stupidly, "or you may be far too stupid to even think this, but i think i don't owe you shit anymore."

"don't kill yourself." they said ominously before they let the last shot hit, pushing him away.

[bestparsley]

Song - Strange Sight by KT Tunstall

[cate-deriana]

Broken when I thought that you were whole All the future memories that we'll never get to know Explaining, explaining the pain that I got When you left me in this life Tell me I can do this, I can do this on my own So Far Gone - ONE OK ROCK

Why is this so Lockwood/ Jessica coded?

[adainesfroggieboggy]

one thing about me is that it takes one scene and i'm captaining a ship. the beginning of cm 1x20, Derek accuses Elle of having a boyfriend and she tries very hard to stop him before he tells JJ. and then when Spencer tattles, JJ’s little laugh as she says “Do you?” is so lesbian hiding a relationship