#these are all like easy mistakes i wanna be clear but holy shit

[reborn--maggot]

a friend of mine is listening to the magnus archives for the first time and is semi-liveblogging it to me which is nice until I have to keep correcting him on names because he REFUSES to look at the transcripts. Did you mean Mike Crew. Did. Did you mean Nikola. Not Miquela? Nikola. Her name is Sasha and I think its hilarious that you forgot that. Gerard. Not Jared.

[mindninjax]

Exist for Love

Levi x Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Warnings: Talk of Fertility issues, Angst with Happy Ending, Pregnancy, Sex, there’s sex it’s tame.

WC: 4K

a/n: Ok so welcome to my second and final admission for my own little Domestic Daydream collab. Holy shit this was such a blast I to host and I’m so glad y’all enjoyed it too. Once again check out the masterlist for more amazing pieces.

This piece is very very very special to my heart. If you’ve been here long enough you know my ultimate dream is to be a mother. Unfortunately my body has other plans for me and doesn’t necessarily wanna make it as easy as I want to have a baby. This fic is raw ok? I poured so so so so so many of my feelings into this because god fertility issues is fucking scary ok? It’s terrifying and sad and can cause so much fucking stress on a couple. But there’s absolutely nothing NOTHING more beautiful than finding each other again in the darkness. And in the last few weeks life’s been dark for me. And of course I’ve used Katsu as my comfort and it’s been a big help but when I sat down and wrote this idk there was so much emotion. Anyway I hope y’all enjoy it thanks for letting me be vulnerable.

It is amazing. The joy one can get from the tiniest little mark. One stroke of a line crossed over the other and your life is changed forever. You’re frantically wiping away the tears in your eye so they do not cloud your vision.

You’ve been mistaken before, countless times in fact. And each mistake left a bigger hole inside you, ripped at the edges and tore until you thought there was nothing left. A hole that your cats couldn’t fill, that your husband couldn’t fill, that the stupidly large amounts of money you spent on stuffed animals to cuddle at night, couldn’t fill-

No, it's there. Absolutely positively for sure. There. The little pink plus sign.

But just to be sure, a second and third test to cement the fact. One that reads, clear as day, that says the word. The word you’ve always been so afraid to utter. Like it was a curse, like you’d jinx it and it wouldn’t be true anymore.

You don’t say it now. You wait, until you’re with him. So the first time you say it, his disbelief can mirror yours. So you can share in this victory together .You pee on the stick, cap it, and set it on the counter to wait the agonizingly long 3 minutes. Until the answer is clear to you.

And now you lay on the bathroom floor, the cool linoleum against your back as you stare up at the ceiling, tracing the lines with your eyes. The journey of how you’d gotten to this point weighs on your mind.

You think of your husband now. Calm, cool, collected, steely eyes boring into yours, strong arms wrapping around you as you sobbed in this same spot you sit now. The bathroom littered with negative tests strewn about the floor like cigarette butts in a smoking lounge.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into his chest, throat burning from the wailing. He’d assured you there was nothing to be sorry about and whispered loving inspirational things in your ear:

“It’s not too late.”

“There are other options.”

“This isn’t the end for us.”

They were pretty, ornamental words that you think he doesn’t mean. Those were the darkest days. The sun didn’t shine bright, all the food in your mouth bitter and unpalatable. You retracted into yourself, a shell going through the motions. Nasty little thoughts making nests in the crevices of your mind and pulling you further and further from him.

A cashier in the grocery store called you sir once on accident, not even because you looked like a man. Just a slip of the tongue from saying it so many times to the previous three men that were in front of you in line, yet it still didn’t stop you from sobbing dreadfully in the car on the way home.

Were you not woman enough for anyone? What if he left you? Loved you just a little less. What if he stayed out of pity? You can see the worry etched into his face every morning as he sets a cup of tea in front of you. You can feel the hesitation of his fingers when they drag against your back as he strolls past you to leave for work. You can feel the distance of his emotion when he kisses your forehead and tells you in a hushed deep voice “I’ll be home late tonight. Don’t wait up. Get some rest.”

You’re pulled back to the present as you sit up quickly and stop the ringing of the timer sitting on the edge of the sink.  It’s time.  It’s time to look and cast away all doubt. You take a deep quivering breath and stand. The little blue and white stick flipped over on the sink, teasing all the answers. You step forward, flip it over, close your eyes and hold your breath.

A release of breath, a gasp, and then silence.

Fertility Treatments

In vitro fertilization

Adoption

The search history on Levi’s work computer terrorizes him, the cursor at the end of the word blinking impatiently as his finger hovers over the enter button. His mind races, asking a thousand questions and coming up with no answers. Is this the right thing? Is this what you want? Will this fix everything? Will this make you smile like you used to?

He digs the edge of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them until he’s seeing tiny little shining stars dancing in the darkness. It’s been so long since you laughed with him, smiled at him, hell, even reached your hand across the bed in your sleep to pull him closer to you. He’s losing you, he can feel it. And he can’t lose you.

There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. He hopes you know that, but when he looks into your sullen eyes, when he kisses your cold lips, when he listens to the sniffles and quiet sobs you try to hide from him each night, he loses a little bit of hope each time.

The work day drags, folders of cases are stacked on his desk. Levi doesn’t usually let the work get this behind but every time he opens a folder and sees a picture of a kid, or reads the details of the case, he slams it shut. He just wants to be home with you, making dinner or reading a book or watching that weird soft spoken painter on tv you like so much.

The atmosphere at home is frigid. Cold and unwelcoming and he feels like meat that’s been in the freezer too long. He’s never been good with communicating how he feels but it’s always been easy to show when it comes to you. But every touch feels distant. He sits in his car staring at the front door after the long day, the porch light on and beckoning to him. He’s decided to talk to you about the other options. He’ll fix this, be the husband you deserve.

He finds you in the living room, curled up and asleep on the couch. He smiles when he sees you breathing lightly, your eyelashes brushing against your cheeks as dreams swim behind your eyelids. You’re beautiful and he runs his fingers over your hair. Your eyes flutter open and for the first time in months you smile at him, a warm genuine smile with a light that shines behind your eyes.

"It’s time for bed,” he mutters in a deep baritone, caressing your face. You catch his hand before he pulls it away and his sharp grey eyes find yours, worry creeping into his features. “What is it?”

He searches your eyes desperately, though his expression barely changes. His skin is smooth, his eyes tired but wide, and his lips are pursed.

“Levi, I have to tell you something.”

He watches you sit up and feels you squeeze his hand, the titanium band around his finger glistening in the low light of the lamp sitting on the end table. Is this when you tell him you’re leaving? That you found someone who could give you everything you wanted? Someone who deserved you?

He gulps, eyes still locked on you.

Levi can’t lose you. You’re his world. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you. You’re the light in the darkest corners of his mind and he swears he’d do anything to fight for you and get you back. Anything he needed to—

“I’m pregnant.”

And then time stops.

And he blinks in astonishment.

The warmth pours back into the room the second the last syllable falls from your lips. He can feel you squeeze his hand again and he becomes painfully aware of every expression cascading across his face. Confusion, elation, relief, anxiety, and finally adoration. When he’s finished processing he opens his mouth then shuts it again and you smile.

“I went to my doctor this afternoon to confirm. She was luckily able to get me in on short notice. I’m 10 weeks,” you explain.

He can see the worry on your face when he still doesn’t say anything. He scolds himself for making the smile leave your face but he can’t stop reliving the horror of thinking you wanted to leave him.

“Levi?”

“I thought you were leaving me,” he says simply.

His voice wavers on the last word but he doesn’t think you hear it and he’s thankful for it. Your eyes widen in genuine shock and you look pained, like the lingering effects of a wound just made its rounds again.

“What? Why would you—“

“You have to ask? Did things feel normal to you?” he interrupts, frowning deeply and dropping his head. His bangs fall over his eyes and he turns away from you in shame.

“No,” you whisper. “I miss you Levi.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“I know. I know I shut you out. I know I pushed you away. I thought I didn’t deserve you. I thought I wasn’t enough for you. Because I’m broken. Because I couldn’t do the one thing I’m supposed to do naturally,” you say in a rush, voice trembling as you pull your knees up to your chest on the couch.

“You’re not broken,” he says through his teeth, growing angry at the implication that you’re not the most amazing thing in his life.

“Defective, then. I’m the toy you put back on the shelf because I don’t light up and make noises like the ones around me,” you continue, poking at the hurt you both feel right now.

“Stop.”

“It’s true.”

Until it finally erupts.

“I said stop!” Levi yells in a voice that almost doesn’t sound like him. His fists are clenched at his sides.

Very seldom does he raise his voice at you, but he can’t take much more. Levi has always thought you were the most amazing woman he’s ever known or ever will know.

For you to think… how you could ever think you were anything less than perfect causes the utmost frustration. Your eyes are filled with fat tears as you look up at him, lip trembling and on the brink of breaking down completely. He knows you’re thinking he’s going to explode on you, be angry and scold you.

But he doesn’t.

He clutches your face between his hands and stares down into your eyes. He uses his thumb to brush your cheek, right as the tear falls from your lashes and onto his thumb. Then he bends down and kisses you, slotting his lips against yours as a surprised squeak bubbles in your chest. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck to smush your lips harder against his. His eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows knitted together in frustration as he pours every fear, disappointment, and amorous relief into the connection of your lips.

The two of you stay with your lips pressed against each other, fingers curling into each other’s hair before you whimper, open your lips, and flick your tongue against the soft pink lips of your husband. His tongue slips into your mouth easily and suddenly the kiss is heated, passionate and his hands are running down your body and pulling you closer to him.

At this moment, you’re all he needs. In all moments you’re all he wants, and in a few months, you both will have created something beautiful that will always be a reminder of how much you love each other.

But now, Levi needs to have you. He needs to show you how much he missed you, he needs to show you how much he loves you. To his surprise, you pull back first to speak breathlessly against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your eyes still closed as you press your forehead against his. The wicked thoughts swirling in his mind threaten to spill out again and wrinkles form in brow as he tries to push them away.

“Just…” he speaks through his teeth like he’s pained and begging you for relief from it, “just be with me right now. I need you. You need me. Let me be with you. Let me feel you,” his voice cracks like dry earth that’s never seen water. “ Please .”

“I do need you Levi. I need you.”

When he opens his eyes, you’re peering into them with wide glassy irises before you take his face between your hands and kiss him tenderly. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, lifting you gently and pushing you to lie on your back on the couch. He kisses down your neck, warm breath casting a comforting blanket of calm and sensual bliss over you. Your fingers scratch at the buzzed hair of his undercut and instinctively pulls a groan of pleasure from your husband’s chest.

Levi takes his time littering the pieces of skin exposed by the scooped neckline of your t-shirt with kisses. He flicks his tongue over your clavicles and hears you intake a breath and arch up into his touch. It makes him smile against your collar bones. You still crave him, your body still craves him and without thinking you cling to him, pull him closer as you wrap your arms around his broad back.

Nimble fingers reach up to pull your head to the side and expose more of your neck to him, and when he bites down into the sensitive flesh there you moan and whisper his name into the darkness. He grunts in tandem with your sweet moan and for the first time in months he feels like the two of you are one again.

You paw at the edges of his shirt, grasping the fabric and tugging it up to expose his chest. He helps you pull it over his head and you both pause as your fingers coast over his naked chest. There's so much wonder in your expression as you trace the lines of his abs, the dip of his hips into the v where the seam of his underwear squeezes into his skin. His breathing trembles, goosebumps budding on his skin as you become engrossed in his beauty. He watches you, thankful that you’re looking at him like he’s the most beautiful work of art you’ve ever witnessed, the way you used to look at him before the fertility issues.

It’s cemented when you whisper, “Beautiful,” and pull him back down to kiss him. It’s your turn to bite his neck and when you do, the sharp pain makes him grunt and rut against your thigh, cock twitching in the confines of his slacks. You detach from his neck for him to pull your shirt over head and have him palm your tits. They’re so soft and malleable in his hands, but feel unfamiliar and he looks down in confusion and gasps quietly.

Your breasts are already fuller, nipples darkened and hardened and Levi’s Adam's apple bobs as he gulps down the spit forming in his mouth at how much he wants to suck them.

“Look at you. Already changing to be a mother. So gorgeous,” he whispers as he moves down to kiss your sternum.

You whimper and pull at his luscious hair when he finally obliges in his fantasy and pops your nipple into his warm mouth. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue then loses himself in your moans and whimpers as he sucks with gusto. Your hand has ripped from his hair and plunged its way between your bodies pressed together to rub his inflated cock through his pants.

He hisses, a curse escaping through his teeth as he rocks his hips up into your hand. The two of you revel in the pleasure you’re giving each other, him nibbling and sucking your tender breast and you gripping his dick as he humps against the fabric of his pants. He can feel precum leaking through and he’s ready to rip your pants off and take you.

As if you’re living permanently inside his head, you push your clothed cunt up against his cock and beg in a desperate little mewl, “Levi...p...please I need you...please..”

He moves quickly, pulling both your pants and underwear down your legs. You messily unbutton his pants and without pulling his pants or underwear down, desperate to have your hands on him you plunge your hand down his underwear and slip it up and down his hardened member.

Levi clenches his eyes closed, concentrating on your warm grip and not coming right now. He wants to spill inside you, every little bit of himself, to be one with you again. That thought drives his actions further, rolling his pants and underwear down his muscular thighs. He places his hand around yours on his dick and pulls it away. He kisses the back of your knuckles, intertwines his fingers with yours and lies it flat near your head. Balancing himself on his elbow he uses the tip of his cock to tease your entrance.

“So wet, so eager,” he groans, kissing your cheek.

You’re already so wet, slick dribbling down your ass and staining the couch. You’re panting as he runs his dick through your lips, tapping it gently against your clit and feeling you jerk up and lift your hips greedily. Your heat is irresistible and the craving intimacy of fucking you, fucking his wife, the mother of his child and pouring his undying love into you is something he can no longer go without.

“W...want you...please…” you mewl again.

His head at your entrance, he pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, feeling the beginning ecstasy of your stretched pussy around his cock. “Look at me,” he commands softly and when you open your eyes, tears are flowing down the sides of your face.

Levi thinks he can see the answer to all of life’s mysteries in your eyes, like everything is clear and whatever hurt he feels is gone the moment he sees the love mirrored in your eyes.

It’s affirmed when you say with no hesitation, no wavering confidence, “I love you Levi.”

He pushes all the way inside of you, thick cock head pushing past the tight ring of muscle, dragging against every ridge of your velvety walls and finally bottoming out to be connected with you again. He doesn’t realize tears are also cascading down his cheeks until your hand is caressing his face and wiping his tears away. He drops his head to bury it into your neck, and he stays embedded inside you, gathering his emotions, focusing on your clenching pussy, and your soft voice in his ear, repeating over and over how much you love him.

“I...I will always love you… no matter what happens,” he stammers, pulling back to look into your eyes, and it’s his turn to wipe your tears.

And then he pulls out of you and snaps back in, thrusting with all his might. Your hands drop to grasp his ass and pull him more into you. He’s breathing hard, grunting feral groans as he fucks you, deep and desperate. Both of you kiss all over each other’s bodies, sloppy, wet smacks that blend perfectly with the lewd squelching slaps of his balls against your ass.

Your cunt is squeezing him, tighter than it ever has and Levi wonders if it’s because of the pregnancy. It makes him drive harder into you, pulling wails of pleasure from you, his name exploding from your lips over and over. Your fingers dig into the cheeks of his ass, nails breaking the skin and he winces at the pain but doesn’t let up.

When your legs are shaking and your orgasm rips through you, Levi can feel your walls constrict and he pushes your legs closer to your chest, changing the angle his cock knocks against your insides and suddenly you’re yelling, a new sensation wracking your senses. He’s hitting a spot he’s never hit before and it feels like heaven to hear the way your pleasurable moans have changed.

He’s on the cusp of spilling into you, a few more thrusts and white thick cum, a buildup of all the cum he’s been wanting to paint your insides with, fills you. He cries out, a deep husky long moan before he plasters his lips against yours and holds your body against his. He’s shaking as you milk him dry, and when he thinks there’s no more he can give you, he collapses on top of you.

You both catch your breath, the musty scent of sex now filling the room, one more reminder of the love the two of you share for each other. You kiss his forehead, repeating “I love you” over and over. It’s so warm in your home now, the trembling icy cold Levi felt when he first walked in all but vanished now that he has you back in his arms. As both of your breathing slows, Levi knows it’ll be ok, at least for now. He smiles to himself as you drift off to sleep below him.

It is amazing. The joy one can get from the smallest little sound. One repeating little thump of a beat that signifies life and new beginnings. You put your hand over your husband’s as it rests atop your swollen belly. The obstetrician moves the cold wand over your belly to help you see your little miracle from a better angle.

“Would you like to know the sex?” she asks with a big smile.

You peer up at Levi hopefully and he sighs and rolls his eyes playfully before answering. “Sure, I think we’ve had enough surprises.”

“It’s a girl,” the doctor replies and you squeeze his hand in excitement. You’re beaming at him and he places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I’m going to go print a copy of the ultrasound and give you two a moment. Congratulations again!” she says shaking you and Levi’s hand.

When the door closes behind her you gaze lovingly at your bump, cradling it. “A girl. Ahh we have to think of names,” you say, putting a finger to your lip in a thinking motion.

“Actually, I thought of one,” Levi replies simply.

You look up at him, shock painting your features and then your expression turns into a testing smirk. “Aww you’ve been wanting a little girl haven’t you? Hoping she’ll be Daddy’s Little Princess?” you tease.

He blows out a faux annoyed breath and you chuckle. “You want to hear it or not?” he quips.

“Lay it on me Daddio,” you say chuckling at the nickname you know he can’t stand.

“Eliana.”

You blink. It’s… beautiful and strangely the moment he says it, you attach it to your unborn child as if she were meant to be named that. “That's beautiful, Levi. I love it,” you reply with genuine emotion. “How’d you think of it?”

He turns away, his cheeks dusting with red. “It means ‘god has answered’.”

You stifle a sob, your hormones always threatening to have you cry for any old thing. But this...this is different. You take his hand, crane your body to grab his face and make him look into your eyes. As always he’s beautiful and you secretly hope Eliana has his eyes. Your expression says you love him without you having to say it aloud and he nods as a tiny smile fights its way onto his face.

You squeeze his hand and whisper right before the doctor comes back into the room, “It’s perfect.”

--

Thanks for reading!

[kthynes]

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

[lightkrets312]

Rating Services Based On How Easy Their Emails Are To Unsubscribe From

 context: I’m cleaning out my 4000+ Email Inbox.

Target: One pretty easy to find button at the bottom, one “yes i wanna / no i don’t” bullet choice menu, one confirm button. “This action may take up to 10 business days.” Clear communication, simple menus, took all of a minute. 10/10*.

DoorDash: Gray text on a light gray background. Menu with like seven different unsubscribe options. They at least were courteous to provide an “unsubscribe from all” button that didn’t check off the “TOS Changes” box. Took all of a minute, minor confusion. 7/10* for accessibility issues.

Uber: Small white text on black at the bottom. Had an “unsubscribe from all” button AND an option to check account settings. “Please allow up to 10 [business] days for processing.” Straightforward, took all of a minute. 9/10* for accessibility concerns.

Uber (Account Settings): A few hoops to log in, but nothing unusual (phone #, password, 1-2 confirmation codes texted). Allows user to unsubscribe from text message promos and spam. 10/10* for ease of use.

Quora Digest: Small gray text on white background. Bullet menu with “as available, daily, weekly, never” options. Additional disclaimer to check settings. Two buttons with a small green box at the top of the computer screen stating it was done. 8/10* for accessibility concerns.

Quora (Account Settings): Small menu button, relatively straightforward navigation to Email and Notifications. Shitton of buttons with no “uncheck everything” option. 8/10* for being tedious, but clear.

PNC Bank: Small white text on a blue-ish, dark gray background, weirdly hard on the eyes. One text box to fill in email and a submit button. “Please note, you may continue to receive commercial electronic communications from PNC that we are under an obligation to send.” 7/10* for accessibility concerns, and I’m already concerned I’m gonna have to unsubscribe SEVERAL times.

Hulu: Small gray on black button at the bottom of the email, but it immediately unsubscribed me with a prompt to resubscribe if it was a mistake. 8/10* for accessibility concerns but holy shit was that fast.

Google: Apparently I’m getting advertisements for upgrading my phone. Small black text on white at the bottom of the email. One button, with an additional button to opt out of more emails. 9/10* for accessibility concerns.

Paypal: Unintuitive placement in the middle of a long-ass text segment; small blue-black text on white, link is obviously a link. Checkbox menu with “Developer Updates” turned off. Simple and straightforward, if a bit strange. 7/10* for accessibility concerns.

Casting Call Club: Obvious link at the very bottom, light orange on white. Two buttons, kind of confusing in intent but otherwise straightforward. 8/10 for clarity and accessibility concerns.

TurboTax: Small lettering at the bottom of the email in the “security” section, an unintuitive spot. Log in leads to the same website no matter which of the two buttons provided you click, neither lead to an obvious “unsubscribe from newsletter” section. I had to google it, every user is complaining that they don’t unsubscribe and there is no obvious method. -5/10*, pretty sure that’s illegal if the comments are correct; additional “i am biased and hate them, do not make me purchase shit to do my fucking taxes” tax.

*Score will drop by a minimum five points if I have to update this with a “did not actually unsubscribe me” / “took multiple tries” disclaimer.

[softholand]

drunk words, sober thoughts - t.h

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, sexual themes, lap dance, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut

word count: 4k

a/n: it’s here, my first ever smut, go easy on me, i’m fucking nervous!!!! i wanna thank @missevrythingg for helping me, i wouldn’t dave done it without you, i love you ray 💖 i really hope you guys enjoy!! i also made a playlist for this fic, it really sets the mood for it!! again, english in not my first language so there’s probably some mistakes/typos, just pretend you didn’t see it! ;) oh and please, do let me know what you guys think, it really helps! i love you all, happy reading! 💓

It had been a long time since Tom last saw you. Between his acting career and your college scholarship in Canada, you guys barely kept contact for the last year. That’s why, when you finally came back home, he decided to throw you a surprise birthday party.

Sam was responsible to bring you to the club Tom had rented for the night, with the excuse that the place had just opened and it was a success already. He told you to get dressed and since Tom’s car was already full of people, he offered you a drive, which you gladly accepted.

Music was blasting from the nightclub when Sam parked his car near the entrance of the building, making you even more excited to be celebrating your birthday with your childhood friends. It wasn’t until you stepped foot in the club and saw all your friends with a giant banner on top of their heads saying “Happy 21st Birthday, y/n!” that you realized the party was, in fact, for you.

Sam was the first to hug you and wish you a happy birthday, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Tom approaching you with a smirk the size of the place on his face, making you sure it was his idea.

“Surprise!” He whispered in your ear as soon as he wrapped his arms around you. “You little shit!” That was the only thing you could say upon realizing he was, in fact, the mastermind behind all of this.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s your 21st birthday, I had to!” Tom stated, making you roll your eyes. “No, you didn’t! But thank you!” You answered, giving your friend another hug.

The rest of the boys greeted you, all wishing you a happy birthday, which you thanked, hugging each one. Suddenly you saw Cara, one of your friends from high school that had unfortunately moved to Australia and you hadn’t seen her since.

“No, you didn’t!” You screamed, making direct eye contact with Tom. “I did it!” He stated, making your smile grow even wider. Without wasting time, you run to your friend, hugging her like she was going to disappear at any minute.

“I can’t believe you’re here! I missed you!” You said, smiling so much that your cheeks hurt. “I missed you too, y/n/n! And yeah, I couldn’t believe either when Tom Holland contacted me, wanting to bring me to England!” She said, making both of you laugh.

Once you had greeted all of your friends, Tom went to the stage with a microphone, shouting “It’s time to party!” at the top of his lungs, making everyone scream and celebrate. “Crazy In Love” started to play as soon as he left the stage and that was only the beginning. Tom knew your obsession with old pop, so throughout the night, he made sure the DJ played all your favorites.

Between the bar special drinks and tequila shots, you lost track of time and were now dancing “I’m A Slave 4 You” with your girlfriends. The song blasted from the speakers, the alcohol in your system making you lose control of your own body. Cara still remembered some of the choreography of the song, from when you two were kids and used to learn all of Britney Spears's music videos, and so practically obliged you to do it with her.

Tom, Harrison, Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam were sitting in one of the dark red booths at the back of the club, with beers in hands, watching as you and Cara gave a show to everyone present.

“When did y/n get so hot?” Harry was the first to point out, making his twin brother chuckle. “While she was in Canada, apparently!” Tuwaine shrugged, gulping the icy liquid in his hands.

“Tom, you better close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies!” Harrison teased his friend, earning him a deadly glare. “Fuck off!” Tom shoved him, before going back to admiring how your body moved perfectly to the music.

When the first notes of “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” started, your drunk body made its way into the stage, grabbing the microphone, ready to lip-sync another one of your favorites songs. Your friends all gathered at the front of the stage, screaming and encouraging you to keep going. You still remembered Britney’s classic performance and so, you tried your best to copy her movements, just like in the music video.

Screams filled the crowded space of the nightclub while you pretended to sing the song. Cara and another one of your friends joined you on the stage, pretending to be your back singers. The boys observed you while you played with the microphone cord, twisting it on your finger. What they didn’t expect was for you to get on your knees, continuing the, rather sexy, performance on the stage floor.

“Holy shit!” Harrison exclaimed, not drawing the attention of his friends, who were busy watching you. “Should we do something?” Asked Sam, clearly concerned by your, rather drunk, actions. “Yeah, get closer!” His twin brother answered, getting off the booth and making his way to the stage, quickly being followed by the others.

When your eyes caught Tom’s brown (and lusty) ones, you made a point of getting close and teasing him by playing with his hair, which made everyone else lose their minds over it. When the song ended, he helped you get out of the stage while your friends applauded, praising you for the performance.

“Need some help there, love?” Tom asked, securing you in his arms when your legs felt like jelly. “Nope! I’m goooood!” You answered, extending the o’s, completely out of your mind.

“I see! Maybe you should slow down the drinks?” You knew Tom was just trying to help you, but being in your embriagate state, you just shushed him, putting a finger on his lips. “I have a better idea, what if... we did more shots?” You shouted, getting out of his embrace and making your way to the bar.

A couple more hours had passed and unfortunately, the party was coming to an end. Some of your guests had already left, but the ones that stayed were left on the dancing floor, with not so much energy as before.

But everything changed when “Dance for You” by Beyoncé started to play, you didn’t know how but a chair appeared in the middle of the dancing floor, completely out of nowhere. You immediately understood what whoever put that chair there wanted and if you haven’t before, your friends shouting “lap dance” had also made it very clear.

As intoxicated as you were, you knew exactly who you wanted on that chair. Seductively, you made your way to Tom, making grabby hands once you were in front of him. The screams only increased when he accepted your invitation without so much of a protest.

Making your way to the chair, you made Tom sit, going around it and putting your hands on his shoulders. To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were even doing. You never gave a lap dance before, so this was new territory for you. But your friend's screams and Tom’s lusty eyes gave you all the encouragement you needed.

Your hands explored every inch of his body, through his chest, abs, neck, shoulders, what your hands could reach, you were touching, always making sure to get close to his ear and tease him as best as you could.

You used the music to your advantage, moving your body to the beats, making sure to emphasize your hips. When you finally sat on his lap, it was like the end of a war, everyone was celebrating, screams and whistles could be heard even with the loud music.

Tom didn’t know what to do, he just awkwardly sat there, with his hands by his sides, dying to touch you. His wishes came true when you finally took his hands, putting them on your waist, where they stayed glued to your body. You continued your performance, grinding, swirling, doing all the things you knew about lap dance and by Tom’s reactions, you seemed to be doing a really good job. His eyes were on your body all the time but they seemed different, now dark shades of brown, almost black, covered his once hazel irises.

The song was, unfortunately, coming to an end, and to finish your show, you properly took a seat in Tom’s lap, straddling his waist, and this time, you could feel how much he was enjoying your performance. With the position, your already revealing dress left nothing to the imagination, and locking your eyes with his, you saw nothing but lust and desire, very different things that you used to see in your friend's stare.

You leaned in and he did too, and once your faces were only millimeters away, you suddenly lost all the courage on your body and pulled away, burying your face into his neck instead. Next thing you know, you were being helped into Tom’s car while your friends discussed where you were gonna spend the night.

“I can’t bring her home like that, her parents are going to kill me!” You heard Tom say. “Well, let’s take her to our place then! We can send them a text saying she’s staying with us.” Sam offered and the rest of the group seemed to agree since you didn’t hear any more discussion.

You must have blacked out again because suddenly you were being put in a bed. “Where am I?” You asked, feeling your throat dry. “You’re at my house, darling! It’s okay, you can sleep now!” You heard Tom’s voice but couldn’t find him with your blurred vision. “No, I don’t wanna sleep!” You protested, sounding like a three-year-old, which Tom chuckled.

“What do you wanna do then?” He pushed, and you felt a weight on the bed. “I can think of some things…” You whispered, passing your fingers through his shirt, feeling his hard abs underneath your palms. “y/n, you’re drunk!” Tom tried warning, earning him a scoff. “You are too!” You mocked, really sounding like a child now.

“Yeah, and that’s why we’re not gonna do anything that we may regret tomorrow.” He said, taking your hand in his. “Nooo, I want you!” At this stage, your mouth had a mind of its own because you couldn’t even process the things you were saying and that was one of them.

“I’m sorry, darling! We can talk about this tomorrow when we’re both sober. Okay?” Tom was trying. He was trying so hard to not give in to your pressure, you were practically begging him to sleep with you. But no, he couldn’t. You were both drunk and this type of decision shouldn’t be made under the influence of alcohol.

“You’re no fun!” You complained, earning another chuckle from him. “Yeah, yeah! You’re gonna thank me tomorrow!” He told you and once you didn’t respond anymore, he realized that you had fallen asleep.

He then took off your shoes, your makeup with one of his spare makeup remover wipes and exchanged your dress for one of his old shirts, making you the most comfortable he possibly could, since he knew you were going to have a pretty bad hangover the next day.

Oh, the next day. You woke up feeling like the whole world was spinning, you felt nauseous, your head was pounding and you smelled like alcohol. Opening your eyes, you saw a bottle of water and some painkillers by your side, which you were quick to chug all down.

“Good morning, birthday girl!” Harrison’s voice was like a hammer to your already sore head. “Please, don’t! I’m dying!” You pleaded, laying down again.

“Oh, c’mon! Wore yourself out yesterday?” Harry’s voice came out of nowhere, but you were too tired to further investigate. “How bad was it?” You asked, actually scared of the answer.

“You know… the normal! You drank, danced, drank more, did a lip sync of a Britney Spears song, drank some more…” Harrison started to point out, making you groan and hide your face in the covers.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m in Tom’s bed, wearing only one of his shirts… Does that mean we…?” you inquired, making the boys loudly groan. “y/n, c’mon! No, he slept on the couch!” Harry grunted, making a disgusted face.

“But you gave him a lap dance!” Sam’s voice startled you, making you jump on the bed.

“I did what?!!!!!!” You shouted, making the pounding in your head even worse. “I knew you weren’t going to remember so I recorded everything.” Harrison’s passed you his phone.

And just like he said, there you were, in Tom’s lap, with your tits practically in his mouth, while you danced and swirled your hips to a Beyoncé song. “No, no, no, no! Why did you guys let me do that?” You asked, completely perplexed with your actions.

“Well, you seemed to be enjoying it and it was your birthday party, we didn’t want to ruin your day,” Harry said, which earned him a death glare. “But my day is ruined! How am I supposed to face Tom now?!” You questioned, looking dumbfounded at your friends.

“Well, you better think about something because our families planned a brunch in a couple of hours,” Sam told you, matter of factly, making you loudly groan and slide even further under the covers.

Half an hour later, you were forced by your friends to get up, take a shower and get ready for brunch, since there was no way your parents would let you miss it, it was your birthday after all. With a simple summer dress, that you had laying around at the boy's place and sunglasses that were the size of your head, you made your way downstairs, where they were already waiting for you.

“Good morning!” Tuwaine’s deep voice startled you from his place on the couch, next to Tom, who you completely ignored. “Please, don’t!” You protested, feeling a hammer in your head every time you took a step.

Quickly, you made your way to the garage, not wanting to face Tom in any circumstances. Once he and the twins got into his car, Tom made his way to the restaurant where your families were already waiting.

To say the brunch was a complete disaster was an understatement. You were practically a zombie, the food at your plate made you want to throw up and the pain in your head was not ceasing. You could see Tom sneaking glances, trying to talk to you, but you looked away and dismissed him every time, you were just too embarrassed to even look at him.

When the torture was finally over, your parents asked if you wanted to come back home but you decided to stay with the boys, since you knew you had to talk to Tom at some point. The ride back was silent, only the sound of the radio could be heard and to be honest, the tension was starting to get you. Once Tom parked the car in front of the house, you and the twins were getting out when he stopped you.

“You can go ahead, I want to show y/n a place.” He said and you immediately looked at him with your brows raised, having no idea what he was talking about, but praying it didn’t have anything to do with last night's events.

Once the twins were out, you got into the passenger seat and Tom drove away, not even saying a word to you. The drive was short and just a couple of minutes after, he was pulling into an empty parking lot. Turning off the car, he put one of his arms behind the passenger seat, facing you completely.

“Oh, that’s it?” You asked, clearly confused with what was going on. “There wasn’t a place, y/n! I just wanted for us to be alone so we could talk.” Tom stated.

“Tom, let’s not…” You tried to brush off the conversation but he wasn’t having. “Yes, y/n! What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me?”

“Please, Tom! Don’t pretend nothing happened last night!” You rolled your eyes, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m not the one pretending here! You won’t even look me in the eye!” He huffed, getting tired of your behavior.

“I’m ashamed, okay?!!!” You screamed, losing your inner battle and finally looking at him. “God, the things I did to you last night were… awful!” You said, quickly averting his gaze.

“I wouldn’t use that word!” Tom smirked, making you roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Seriously, y/n! It’s not that serious!”

“It is to me, Tom! I’m not used to stuff like that!” You told him, getting tired of the conversation. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t thought about you like that!” The boy tells you.

“You what?” Looking back at him, you could see a giant smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, c’mon y/n! Don’t tell me you never thought about it?” Tom inquired, making you suddenly nervous.

“What? No! I mean… yeah, you’re… you’re hot but… no! Never like... that!” You tried your best to keep your voice steady and not give in to him but your stuttering made it clear you were failing.

“Really? That’s a shame! Because you looked stunning sitting on my lap last night. Made me think about so many things to do to you.” He whispered, very close to your ear, making you squirm on your sit.

“Tom…” You moaned, feeling his hot palm on your thigh. “What is it, y/n?” Tom asked, looking at you with eyes full of lust and desire, all for you. “Kiss me!” You begged and in seconds, his lips were on yours.

You were lying before, of course, you had already thought about Tom in more… sexual ways. The boy was practically a greek god, there was no way you couldn’t notice how his perfect six-pack showed even underneath his stupidity tight T-shirts. But nothing in this world could prepare you for the overwhelming sensation you felt when you kissed. It was like a fire ignited inside of your body and only he could help make it stop.

When the kisses weren't enough anymore, you tried to get into his lap, but the positions you were in prevented you from that. “Backseat?” He asked, breathing heavily. “Yes!” You desperately nodded.

In quick but awkward movements, you and Tom made your way to the backseat and he didn’t lose time by putting you in his lap, encouraging you to grind on his already hard bulge. “You’re so hot!” He breathed between kisses, making you grind even harder.

“Tom…” You moaned, putting one of your hands on his pants, teasing his still clothed cock, while the other stayed on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself. Moans filled the car once Tom put one of his hands on your core, already dripping wet. “God, look at you!” He praised, biting your bottom lip.

“Tom, please…” You pleaded, moving your hips faster, trying to get some relief. “What do you want, darling?” He murmured, putting your underwear to the side, coating his fingers with your slickness. “Fuck!” You cried out, begging him to keep touching you.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you!” Tom increased his movements and in seconds you were a mess on top of him, moans mixed with curse words left your mouth, making him even more eager for you. “Tom!” You moaned, taking his hand off of you when you were on the edge of your high, making him raise his brows.

“I wanna cum with you!” You whispered and at that moment, Tom felt completely intoxicated with you. Smirking, he fished a condom from his wallet, before taking his pants and boxers off. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, spreading his precum, feeling him twitch only with your touch.

Teasingly, you took the package out of his hands and opened it with your teeth, before sliding the latex material on his cock. “You know we don’t have to, right? I mean, I want to but if you don’t, that’s okay!” Tom let you know, and the look in his eyes told you he was telling nothing but the truth. “I know! But I want to!” You stated, making him smile before colliding his lips on yours.

One of Tom’s hands goes to your hip to guide you onto him as you hold your underwear to the side. Moans fill the car as you sink onto him, both of you at a loss of words with this new overwhelming sensation. “So fucking good!” You gasp, as Tom starts to help you move your hips up and down, increasing the speed with each move.

It doesn’t take long for you to be reaching your high but this time Tom will not let you escape. He presses one of his slender fingers on your clit, doing circular motions that drive you insane. “Tom, don’t stop… oh, fuck!” Your walls clench around him, as you feel your orgasm washing over in waves of pleasure.

“You good?” He asks with a cocky smirk after a few minutes of your racked breaths, making you want to slap it out of his face. “Not bad!” You tease him, quickly regretting your choice of words when he starts pounding into you with no mercy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried, closing your eyes with the amount of pleasure he’s giving you.

“What is it, darling? I can’t hear you!” It’s his turn to tease you and after a few minutes, you’re left moaning out his name again, like it’s the most blessed praying in the world. “y/n, fuck!” With the feeling of your body convulsing on top of him, Tom loses the battle and as he screams your name, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, making you clench around him.

With heavy breaths and sore bodies, you and Tom stay glued to one another, in silence, enjoying the post-sex feeling. “God, we should have done this a long time ago!” Tom smirks, making you chuckle. “Absolutely!” You laugh, leaving a kiss on his swollen lips.

Once you two had cleaned up and Tom got rid of the used condom, he invited you for ice cream, and, to be honest, how could you deny it? The place he took you was like a unicorn dream, the walls were pink with colorful sprinkles painted on it. After you were both seated on a rainbow table, a waitress came offering you a smile, before taking your orders, chocolate fudge for you, vanilla bean for Tom.

“So…” He said, trying to start a conversation. “So…” You copied him, feeling suddenly aware of what you two had done. “I’m… you know what? I’m just gonna ask it! What we did before was just… sex for you?” Tom blurted out, making your whole body fill with anxiety.

“Oh, I… I don’t know. I mean, I was... hoping not?” You answered, using the courage still left on your body. “Yeah?” He smiled, seemingly relaxed with your choice of words. “Me too!” He completed, taking one of his hands in yours.

You smiled, feeling completely enamored with the boy sitting in front of you. Leaning in, you kissed his lips, sweetly and slowly, feeling his smile grow between the kisses. Once you were done with the ice cream, he took you to the park, where you stayed until sunset, holding hands, stealing kisses, and watching adorable old couples doing the same things you were doing, even after all the years together.

“So… did you enjoy your birthday?” Tom asked, as soon as you took a seat on the freshly cut grass in front of a beautiful lake with a couple of swans peacefully swimming. Smiling, you leaned in, placing a kiss on his lips, before answering. “It was the best!”

tagging some mutuals: @definitely-not-black-cat @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @missnxthingg @peeterparkr @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @screamholland @fallinfortom @duskholland

[allsassnoclass]

hi hazel! for the prompts how about "67. When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More", i wanna say for mashton but if you want to write some muke that works as well i think! -taylor<3

@squishmichael I looooooooooooove mashton. just in case anyone forgot lol

mashton: when one stops the kiss to whisper "I'm sorry, are you sure you-" and they answer by kissing them more

"Michael?"

Michael blinks, then forces himself to look up from his computer and the seemingly endless code on displayed onscreen. Ashton is standing in the doorway, dressed for bed with boxers, a big t-shirt, and his glasses perched on his nose.

The only thing Michael needs less than the mistake in this program is the sight of Ashton in his glasses with his legs on display.

"Hey, Ash. What's up?"

"How long have you been working?" he asks rather than answering. "I called your name a few times before you looked up."

Michael sighs and rubs at his eyes. His own contacts should probably come out soon, but he knows that if he gets up now he's not going to want to sit down and do more work.

"I can't figure out where the error is," he says. "The client wanted the website done by Monday and I really didn't want to have to work this weekend."

Ashton hums and comes to stand behind him, putting his hands on Michael's shoulders and beginning to rub out some of the tension there. He's probably looking at the computer in an attempt to help even though he knows nothing about programming. Michael doesn't know how he got such a great roommate, but in his current state he might cry about it if he thinks on it too long.

Michael exhales, submitting himself to a brief break to let Ashton work his magic.

"You know," Ashton says, voice low and gentle, "you'll be more likely to catch the problem tomorrow when you're awake and rested verses now when you should be asleep. It's past midnight and you've been at it for hours."

He digs his thumb into a knot in Michael's shoulder. Michael lets out a sound before he can stop himself, leaning into the touch, feeling his muscles unravel under Ashton's hands.

"I don't want to," he groans. "I was going to sleep in tomorrow, then we have that thing with Calum later, and I need to do laundry. I'm running out of acceptable clothes."

"Don't worry about that," Ashton says. "I can throw your stuff in tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"And we're not meeting Calum until mid-afternoon. You can sleep in, then work a bit after lunch. If you still don't manage to find the problem, you have all of Sunday."

Michael hums. He doesn't want to admit that Ashton is right, but it's getting harder and harder to argue with him the longer this massage goes on. He feels like he could melt into a puddle right here in his chair, but he'd much rather do so in his bed, possibly while curled around Ashton.

"Come on, Michael," Ashton coaxes, leaning more into Michael's space. If Michael didn't know better, he'd say that Ashton is fully aware of the affect he has on him and using it for evil, but there's no way he would continue their easy-going intimacy if he was aware of Michael's true feelings.

Well, maybe he would. Ashton's cool, so he probably wouldn't ruin their friendship if he found out. Sometimes, Michael even lets himself read a little too far into things and consider the possibility that Ashton feels the same.

"Michael?" Ashton asks, hands stilling and jarring him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," he says automatically. "Just thinking."

"Yeah, I think it's time for bed," Ashton says. "You weren't thinking, you were zoned out. I could feel you drifting off under me."

Michael fights down a blush, thankful at least that Ashton can't fully see his face.

"It's your fault for giving me a massage," he tries to protest. "You know how relaxing your massages are."

"All part of my evil plan to get you to stop working and come to bed," Ashton says, rubbing his thumbs in hypnotic circles on the back of Michael's shoulders. "It's for your own good."

Michael sighs again. He really should keep working, but Ashton's right. At this point he's probably overlooked the mistake five times without realizing, and he's not in the best mindset to continue now. The most effective use of his time would be going to bed, even if that means losing Ashton's attention until he wakes up tomorrow.

"I don't want to move," he says in a pitiful attempt to elongate this moment. Ashton snorts, leaning down to wrap his arms around Michael's shoulders in a hug. Michael hopes Ashton can't feel the way his heart speeds up with him draped over his back.

"Come on, Michael," he says, gently rocking them back and forth. "Moving is good for you! Moving means you get to go to sleep in an actual bed!"

"I can't," he says. "You'll have to carry me."

Ashton hums like he's actually considering it.

"I could try to fireman carry you, but honestly I don't think it'd go over well," he says. "Besides, I doubt it'd be very comfortable for you."

"Damn," Michael sighs.

Ashton releases him, pulling out Michael's chair and offering both his hands to tug him up. If Michael spends a bit longer than necessary drinking in the sight of him up close, he can blame it on being tired and a little out of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he groans dramatically, taking Ashton's hands and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Ashton doesn't release his hands immediately nor back away, so they're standing really close, closer than is properly acceptable for two roommates. It takes everything in Michael's willpower not to take one more half-step forward and lean against him.

"I don't hate you, Michael," Ashton says. "Not even close."

Ashton smiles, a gentle and private thing between the two of them. His eyes are soft, an emotion in them that Michael thinks he recognizes, one that takes his breath away.

Ashton's eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. Michael inhales, because he didn't hallucinate that. He knows that he's tired, but he's not that tired.

"Are-- did you just--"

He doesn't know what he's trying to ask, but thankfully he doesn't have to complete the thought, because Ashton is kissing him.

Michael has thought a lot about what it would be like to be kissed by Ashton. Would his lips be chapped or smooth? What would he taste like? Where does he like to put his hands? Would he be gentle or rough? Does he like to lead the kiss or does he prefer to follow his partner? Would Michael enjoy it because Ashton is particularly good, or just because it's Ashton?

Michael doesn't think about any of those things when he feels that first press of lips against his. His first immediate thought is holy shit, then his mind goes completely blank and he kisses back. There's no space for him to form cohesive thoughts because everything inside him kicks into overdrive. He might have been dead on his feet a second ago, but now his whole body is lit up like a live-wire, right down to the nerve endings in his fingers, which have somehow tangled themselves in Ashton's hair. It's beautiful and wonderful and he can't get enough, which is why he doesn't understand why Ashton is leaning back.

"Wait," Ashton says, breathless in a way that definitely makes Michael's heart skip a beat. "Sorry, are you sure you--"

He doesn't even dignify that with an eye-roll, just kisses Ashton again, letting out a pleased noise when Ashton pulls him closer by his waist. When they eventually have to take a breath neither of them go very far, foreheads almost touching.

"So," Ashton says, then clears his throat. "I don't hate you. Obviously."

"Yeah," Michael says. "I kind of got that."

Ashton giggles, genuinely giggles, and Michael can't resist kissing him again.

"You're supposed to be going to bed," Ashton says when they part again.

"I don't want to," he says. "I want to keep kissing you."

"Okay, what about this: you go take out your contacts and brush your teeth, then meet me back in my room. We can keep kissing right up until you fall asleep, then if you're still into it we can continue in the morning."

"I'll still be into it," Michael says. He leans back a bit more, waiting until he's fully caught Ashton's eye again to continue. "I've liked you for a long time, Ashton. I don't think I'm ever going to get sick of kissing you, but I definitely won't after only one night."

Ashton's smile leaves him just as breathless as the kisses did.

"Go get ready for bed," he says. "I'll wait for you."

Michael smiles and takes one more kiss with him for the road.

[oceanivoxjoquainx]

First Dates

"Pick a place, he said, ANY place, he said, and I'll meet you there. That's what his texts say right y'all? I'm not suddenly illiterate right?"

Joaquin Torres was nervously pacing in front of the park entrance he chose to meet Sam Wilson at. Thee Falcon! Its was currently 8:03 and Sam said he'd be there at 7:55 but he wasn't there yet.

"Oh my god he changed his mind. Maybe it was something I said? Dammit I knew I shouldn't have sent that winky emoji. Too strong Torres, too stro-"

"Would you please chill the hell out Jo? You have us here on this group voice call waiting for this man to appear but remember he's a superhero! Maybe air traffic is just a little congested! Take a breath babes."

That was Sharon Carter, Joaquin's best friend and the person that stopped Joaquin in his tracks when he started spiraling. Like right at this very moment.

"Easy for you to say Sharon! The last time you went on a first date your date showed up on TIME!"

"I mean that's true, but its funny because my brother is usually hours early."

And THAT was Sarah Wilson. Sam's sister anddddd Sharon's wife.

Joaquin looked down at the clock on his phone. 8:06. He groaned, completely tuned out the both of them and kept rambling, "I'm so dumb, this was a mistake, it'll ruin EVERYTHING, I'm calling it off." And with that he began to walk away until he heard the tell tale sounds of metallic wings folding behind him.

"Aww you're running already? You haven't even looked at me yet!"

Joaquin froze in place and suddenly was very present of the amount of air he was breathing in. Or the lack of air. He stared at his phone and saw Sharon and Sarah staring back, all three wide eyed. The two women waved at him and mouthed a quick "Gook luck! Love you!" before hanging up. Leaving Joaquin alone in the presence of the man of his actual dreams.

"Well? What're you waiting for?"

Sam's voice was suddenly in Joaquin's ear, which sent shivers down his spine and his body was pressed right up against him which sent goosebumps along his arms.

After taking a deep breath, Joaquin turned around, took a step back, and looked up at Sam but couldn't quite meet his eyes for fear he'd turn to jello on the pavement. Oh wow he was really close. Definitly close enough to smell his lightly applied cinnamon cologne, Joaquin's favourite, and peer right into the opening off his button up that exposed a little bit of his chest which Joaquin just wanted to get his mouth all ove-

"Well? I was umm waiting for you obviously. You said 7:55."

"Oh yeah my bad my flight plan got a little messed up. I apologize for leaving you waiting. I'm here now though so we can get started. But first-," Sam pulled one hand from behind his back and handed Joaquin a single red rose. Joaquin wasn't big fan of roses (he actually preferred hibiscus') but he took it and loved it regardless. "And then-," Sam pulled the other hand from behind his back and handed Joaquin a pair of googles.

"Thank you very much but what're these for?" Joaquin asked, tilting the goggles up and down to study them.

"Just put them on. Can I hold you for a sec?"

Something was up and Joaquin knew it, but he followed through with the instructions and put the googles on anyways. "I- um- well- uh- aha- sure yes you can um hold me!" Joaquin had started to blush but hoped the night fall would conceal it for now. Sweet mother of all things holy what is happening? He asked himself.

"Do you trust me?" was Sam's next question.

What kind of question was that? Joaquin wondered. "Of course I do! With my life!"

"Fantastic." Sam stepped towards Joaquin and hooked him around his waist with one arm. They're faces were nearly touching at this point. "Hold on tight!" He whispered into Joaquins ear, "We're about to get some serious airtime."

"What the hell do you mean AIRTIME!?!?" Joaquin gasped as Sams wings extended out his back and his thrusters engaged themselves. By this time he had already hooked his arms around Sams shoulders and threw his head deep into the Sams neck. He heard Sam say "Going up!" before finally turing his head and realizing his feet were no longer touching the ground and instead of looking at trees and the street he was getting a full face view of the stars and the cityscape.

"Holy shit we're FLYING????"

"It's okay I'm not gonna drop ya. Unless you start causing problems!"

"YOU BETTER HOLD ONTO ME SAM WILSON OR MY SHARON'S GOING TO HEAR ABOUT YOU IN MY DAILY RANTS!"

Sam only laughed and readjusted Joaquin in his arms. Now instead of Joaquin's feet dangling in the air his legs were now supported by one of Sams arms and the other was arm was holding his back. Joaquin though was still holding onto Sam's neck for dear life.

They gained height extremely quickly and after the reached an unspecified level Sam slowed his thrusters down and instead started going at a cruising speed. This was definitely more of Joaquin's style. He didn't think there would ever come a day where he was actually flying, nevermind being carried like a damsel in distress by an actual hero, but here he was doing just that.

Sam looked down at Joaquin and noticed his head was still deep into his neck so he thought he'd try to encourage him a little bit. "Hey you know you can look around right? Take in the view. I promise its beautiful and I absolutely will not let you go."

"Nuh uh. Nope. Nada. Zilch. Negatory."

"You're in the Air Force and scared of flying?"

"No! Planes are fine! I just didn't think I'd be thousands of feet in the air only supported by arms! Albeit they are very.... toned... strong.. arm...."

"Oh so that's what you like huh?" Joaquin couldn't see his face but he knew Sam was giving his signature smirk that made the blood rush to unspoken of places.

"Come on just look up," Sam whispered to him. This was enough to do it and Joaquin slowly began to lift his head up.

"Holy... mother of St. Francis wow that's beautiful." They were now flying over a lake and Joaquin took in the beautiful still water. His googles automatically turned into zoom in mode and he could actually see some fish in there! He also looked at the sky around him and took in all the stars and the massive full moon that felt so close he could reach out and touch it. The wind hitting his face felt both like a smooth hand cradling his face and little knives giving him some kind of exfoliation treatment.

They flew for a little bit more before spotting an island in the middle of the lake and landing there. Sam put Joaquin down and the smaller man began studying his surroundings.

"Well hey this is a neat little island! There's this cool beach and a picnic set up with food and these awesome trees and a- PICNIC SET UP WITH FOOD??"

Joaquin stared at Sam in bewilderment while finally looking him up and down and taking in the outfit. The button up was short sleeved with pineapple patterns on it and was paired with a simple pair of jeans and some boating shoes. It was kind of a train wreak fashion wise but on Sam the simplicity worked for some reason.

Sam simply laughed at the stare and said, "I told you, flight plans got mixed up!"

"Okay cooking a feast and getting flight plans mixed up are NOT the same Sam!"

Sam shock his head and slipped one his hands into Joaquin's, "Oh come onnnnn come eat some of this good food I made for you."

Joaquin felt like his skin was on fire at the simple yet intimate touch and eagerly accepted the guidance the table forgetting all words as the scent of seasoning and spices hit him all at once.

"You made all this for me?" Joaquin asked, looking up from the display to face Sam with wide eyes and open mouth.

"Yeah. I got a little help bu-"

Sam's answer was cut short as Joaquin perched up and locked their lips together. Sam slipped his arms over Joaquin's shoulders while Joaquin put his arms around Sams waist. Every time one of them broke away for a breath, the other came back in with a vengeance for more until they finally both had their fill.

"It's perfect." Joaquin breathed out. He didn't know what he wanted in life before this but at this point in time he had a pretty clear idea.

"Great. Wanna eat then?"

"Definitely. I'm hungry as hell!"

The two ate their fill, cracked as many jokes as they could fit in, and even went for a late night swim. Joaquin wished he could say that after that they went to sleep but alas the very opposite of that is what happened on those shores. But that's for another time.

[the-peak-of-despair]

Mastermind! Chihiro Fujisaki - The Sixth Trial

This wasn’t exactly an old request, just a suggestion to write whatever I felt like. And I love mastermind AUs so fucking much, please, flood my inbox asking about them, I just wanna talk about our lord and savior mastermind chihiro - Mod Akane

“And that would mean..” Makoto begins, the realization striking him as he turns to Chihiro, staring fearfully back at him. “Y-You’re the mastermind, Chihiro!” 

There’s doubt in his voice. He doesn’t want to believe it. His friend, who’d opened up to him, who shares his deepest secrets, in his most vulnerable state… he’d orchestrated all of this? From the outside, he looked like he would burst into tears if he killed a bee. Suppose that’s the trick behind it…

“C-Chihiro..? I-It was you..?” Asahina stutters, looking at him horrified.

“I-I-” Chihiro begins to stutter. He looks like he’s on the verge of bursting into tears. No one in the courtroom believes this claim, how could they? But the evidence was stacked against him.. 

It’s before anyone can argue that Chihiro snaps into an entirely new persona, and the tears are gone. “Yep! That’s me! I’m the mastermind!” 

Everyone takes a step back. Chihiro’s face contorted in a way no one had ever imagined. In an instant, his entire personality changed. His tears evaporated into thin air and despair seemed to wash over his face, seeping down to his very core as his eyes lost all sign of true emotion.

“Gosh, you’re so smart, Makoto!” Chihiro says, clapping his hands like a child. “I can’t believe you found me out!” 

“No. There’s simply no way this is possible.” Byakuya interrupts, crossing his arms. “Chihiro, stop playing games. There’s no way you are the mastermind.”

“Oh no, I really am!” Chihiro smiles. With a snap of his fingers, Monokuma shut down, almost like he was playing dead where he stood on the ground. Chihiro left his podium and approached the robot, standing next to it and humming while he examined it.

..And then, in a sudden instant, he slammed his foot into the robot, kicking it as hard as he could. Monokuma flew into a distant wall, shattering into a million black and white pieces as Chihiro didn’t even blink. Everyone in the courtroom drew back, even Byakuya and Kirigri, unable to hide their shock.

“H-Holy shit!” Yashuiro screams in fear as Chihiro turns back towards the circle of survivors. The room begins to fill with smoke, making most people cough and wave it away from their faces. In a second, it clears, revealing Chihiro in a new outfit, with a Monokuma-esq color palette to boot.

“Da-dun-dun! That’s right, the mastermind all along was Chihiro Fujisaki!” He smiles wildly, throwing his arms out in a grand gesture. Standing between Asahina and Yashuiro at his new podium, he seems so small, but he’s so.. Terrifying. The sudden switch in personalities shook everyone to the very core.

“This doesn’t make sense..” Kirigiri mutters. “How could you control Monokuma and almost never leave our sight?” 

Chihiro backs up until he’s sat on top of the ‘throne’ Monokuma used to always sit on top of. He crosses his legs and leans back, getting comfortable in his seat above everyone else. “Pfffffffft! He’s an AI, come on Kirigiri, aren’t you smarter than this?” Chihiro mocks Kirigiri. “I’ve been living under your noses as the Ultimate Programmer, Monokuma wasn’t even my best work!” 

“That doesn’t make sense. His movements and conversations with us.. They’re nothing like any AI I’ve ever seen.” Byakuya argues.

“Clean your glasses, Byakuya! Didn’t you see Alter Ego?” Chihiro poses the question as he sits up and leans over the arm of his chair towards Byakuya. “They’re all easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy!~ I’ve got an iron grip on the technology production from here to Towa City!”

“Speaking of Alter Ego..” Kirgiri interrupts, halting Byakuya’s personal slander. “What was the point of presenting him to us?” 

Chihiro lets out a giggle. “Yeaah, Alter Ego was a bit of a mistake on my part! You weren’t supposed to find it. But since you did I thought it wouldn’t hurt to spin you in the wrong direction a bit!” 

“And his execution?”

“Oh, that was Monokuma’s decision! Spur of the moment thing. I didn’t really mind, it was collateral damage!” Chihiro shrugs. “Collateral damage.. Kinda like Mondo and Kiyotaka!” He smiles, and as he watches everyone in the room come to a full stop before looking at Chihiro with disgust.

“C-Collateral d-damage..?” Makoto stutters. “T-Those were our friends, Chihiro! What the.. What the hell!? They were your friends!”

“Huh, were they?” Chihiro asks sarcastically, tapping a finger to his chin. “Huh. If they were, I just used them!” 

“Y-You what…?” Asahina stutters.

“I used them! I mean, Mondo and Taka were like a package deal! I needed Mondo to make me stronger, and Taka only played by my rules! Let me tell you, it was s-”

“S-Shut up!” Makoto interrupts Chihiro, who perks up, interested in his sudden boldness. “W-We still need to talk about what happened in the last trial!”

“Oooh, you mean where I killed Sakura and framed Toko ‘cus I got bored? What’s there to talk about?” Chihiro asks, excited. “...Aha, did I let that slip?” 

“R-Repeat that.” Asahina suddenly becomes cold, her fists balled tight at her sides. 

“I’m sure you heard me, Asahina!” Chihiro smiles, standing from his throne and once again approaching the podium. “I killed Sakua and framed Toko!”

Asahina begins to breathe heavy, doing  everything in her power to contain her anger as Chihiro continues to talk. “I mean, really, do you think Toko could actually kill Sakura? I don’t even think her wacky double-personality could’ve taken her down! So I worked a bit of magic, aaand..!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Asahina screams, slamming her hands on her podium. “Y-You- You bastard! What the fuck is wrong with you Chihiro?!” She screams, turning and grabbing him by the collar, dragging him close to her face, so close that his feet barely grazed the ground. “I- You fucking killed her! Y-You killed Sakura! I-I- I loved her, you...you..!”

Chihiro doesn’t even look phased as Asahina spits venom in his face. “Hey, Hina! You remember what happened to Junko? Right?” He grins sadistically as the fear begins to strike Asahina, who drops him and takes a step back. 

There’s a familiar whirring noise, and out of nowhere there's a spear that shoots from the middle of the room towards Asahina, almost identical to what happened to Junko. Asahina flinches and draws back violently, forcing the spear to only grace her cheek before slamming into the wall behind her. She opens her eyes, breathing heavy with fear as she held her hand to her cheek. “O-Oh my god..”  

“Gah, I missed!” Chihiro pouts. “I need to get better at shooting games.” 

“G-Games?! Y-You could’ve killed me!” Asahina yells, still holding a hand to her cheek. 

“That’s the fun in it!” Chihiro grins. Once upon a time, this was a wide, innocent grin. Now, it was nothing but evil. Full of despair and agony. And that’s probably exactly what Chihiro wanted. 

Makoto could only wonder- what could possibly push this poor boy to the breaking point..?

If you looked close enough, the answer was laid out in plain sight. 

“Well!” Chihiro claps his hands. “What is there to talk about now? Surely the trial won’t come to a close so easily!” Chihiro scans the room, taking in every facial expression of pure disgust and pain around him. 

“Why..? Why did you do all this?” Makoto asks, basically gripping his podium for dear life. He couldn’t just take all of this in easily. One of his best friends, through this entire hellhole, a person he’d protected with his fucking life and would follow into battle blindly… he was the mastermind? Chihiro, a boy who no one would suspect, he was pulling the strings, he’d orchestrated every death, he’d warped Hope’s Peak into a place of despair..? 

He recalls the moment in the bathhouse when he told Kirigiri: “I’d follow you into battle if I had to!” 

And her response.. “Not such a wise choice, is it?”

Chihiro’s face falls. “Do you know what it’s like, Makoto..?” His tone changes, it’s low and unlike anything anyone had heard from Chihiro before. “To be bullied, every single day, pummeled into the fucking dirt?!” Despair overwhelms his entire face, but he starts to laugh.. “Every.. Goddamn day! Until the point where you.. Hahaa.. You’ve gotta change your whole identity, just to be safe!”  

“Chihiro.. I-” Yasuhiro looks like he’s about to set a hand on his shoulder. Forgetting for just a moment that this was a boy who’d killed his friends, and possibly even thousands, just remembering that once upon a time they were friends.  

Chihiro smacks his hand away with alarming strength, still laughing all as tears gather in his eyes. “NO!” He screams, almost like it was a reflex. “I don’t need.. Ahahaha.. I don’t need anyone’s help anymore! That despair..it only.. It only made me stronger! AhahaAHAHAHA! A-And I- I’ve basked this entire world in despair!” Chihiro hugs himself, breaking into boisterous, manic laughter. 

“What do you mean, the entire world?” Byakuya asks, seemingly unphased by Chihiro’s manic breakdown. Of course, Byakuya wasn’t ever ‘friends’ with the boy… though part of him couldn’t help but reflect on the.. Choice words he’d used against him before. 

Chihiro doesn’t even stop laughing. “Oh, ah..ahaha! I forgot all about that! While you were all locked up in here, the entire world has plunged into despair!” He claps his hands twice, before throwing his arms out wide, gesturing towards the monitors on every corner of the room. The monitors flicker, then turn on, showing a repeating news broadcast.

The broadcast was simple, a repetitive broadcast of a red sky overtop of war and destruction, all with the face of Monokuma plastered all over.  It shakes everyone in the room to the core, except for Chihiro, who gleefully watches his handiwork as he wipes his tears away. “Isn’t it lovely!? Everything destroyed.. Right down to your very bloodlines!”

“No. I simply won’t believe this.” Byakuya starts again. “This is foolish. A highschool boy couldn’t just take down the world.”

“Ahaha, I didn’t work alone, silly Byakuya!” Chihiro grins. “Despair spreads like a plague! And that plague even took down your precious Togami family!” 

“Wh-What..?” Fear seems to take over  Byakuya, if only for a split second. “Th-The Togami family doesn’t just lay down and die! Who the hell backs you!?”

Chihiro laughs. “Despair, dummy! How many times do I gotta repeat myself!?” The words send Byakuya down a spiral, even without evidence.. The very thought shook him to the core.

“H-Hey!” Makoto argues. “This can’t be true! Last I remember, the world was just fine! We’ve been here a month, tops, there’s no way you could’ve done this in all that time!” 

“Weren’t we already over this?” Chihiro asks. “You lost your memories! If I whack ya hard enough, you might get ‘em back! But we’ve all been cooped up, shielded from the outside world! And now you’ve spent your days trying to crawl out of this home we all built together! Isn’t that just a tad hypocritical?” 

“W-Wait, you mean..?” Asahina catches what Chihiro means first- the world had crumbled, and they’d all been here for two years, and then they… 

“W-What was the point of all of this!?” Makoto asks, cutting off any other thought processes about how they’d been gone for two whole years. 

“Huh? Well, I kept you alive, hijacked the airwaves, and displayed you murdering each other for the world to see because I wanted to spread despair to the last dying shreds of hope in the world!” Chihiro explains casually. “I mean, I’ve laid this all out in plain sight for you.” 

“W-” Byakuya begins to speak.

Chihiro interrupts. “Yeah, yeah, be quiet, we’ve had enough of you. Now!” He claps his hands together, excited. “Since this is a trial, I give you one last vote. You can vote for despair- vote to give me the punishment I deserve- or, vote for hope, and stay here for the rest of your golden days!”

“L-Let me get this straight..” Asahina starts. “If we just vote for hope, none of us die..?” 

Chihiro hums. “Well, I suppose, but.. That doesn’t sound as fun! So how about this: vote for hope, and I’ll only execute one of you! The rest of you get to live out the rest of your lives with moi.” He folds his hands under his chin, in an oh-so familiar way. Was he mocking Celeste..? 

“W-Who’ll get executed..?” Yasuhiro stutters.

“Hm..” Chihiro hums as he looks around the room. He starts pointing from person to person. “Eenie.. Meanie… minie… you!” He lands on Makoto, who exhibits a fearful look in return.

“Y-You’ll execute me…?” Makoto stutters, fearful. Somewhere inside him, this felt familiar. 

“Well of course! You seem to be the obvious answer.” Chihiro smiles gleefully, as if he didn’t just imply that with ease he would slaughter his friend. “Why, you used to be my closest friend! You.. were the first person I trusted! What better despair than for you to die at my own hands?” 

Makoto takes a deep breath as he turns to his friends, full of despair and pain. Their hands hovering over their levers, obvious that they would seem.. Almost willing to put Makoto’s life on the line. He looks back at Chihiro, with a devilish grin paired with despair-filled eyes. He starts to laugh, like a loud symphony, bouncing off the walls and into everyone’s ears in an inescapable manner. He laughs so hard he almost starts crying once more, laughing so much it hurt.

Laughing like someone who’d been torn up inside and out and loved every fucking minute of it.

[skepticallysound]

A short story that I’m taking name suggestions for?

I didn’t turn around, because I knew that if I did all I would see is her face, screwed up in pain. Maybe she’d be on her knees, sobbing. I don’t know, because I didn’t look back. I wanted to. Oh, god, how I wanted to turn around and see her one more time, I recalled how her face dropped when I told her; I know I would cherish that last memory of her face forever. It was senior year and we’d both be going off to college next year, so that was the end. We always talked about spending these last few months together, before I left for Yale and she went to UCLA, but I guess my parents had something else in mind. My parents. That was it, they were the problem. I was angry at them, understandably, but they were still my parents. I needed them. I didn’t need her. Just wanted her really, really, really badly. When I finally got home I called Mick. He picked up right away. “Hey, I was just gonna call you. Wanna go get some pizza or something?” I let out a sob. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?”, Mick asked.

I tried to explain but I was crying too hard for him to even understand what I was saying. “Ok, it’s ok. I’ll be there in ten.” That was Mick. Reliable. Caring. The best friend I ever had. I can’t even imagine my life without him, we’re basically like siblings. And of course we’ve had the moment where he confessed his love to me - because we’re a boy and a girl, we have to be romantically involved right? It went something like this:

“Jess, I like you. I have for a little while now and I just thought you should know.”

“Mick, I like girls.”

“Oh… Ok. Never mind then.”

And that was that. He was great. Anyway, he came over and found me curled up in a ball in my bed under my covers. “What’s happened, love?”

“I broke up with Alisha.” I cried.

“Oh, honey. Why?” He cooed. He was good like that, supportive.

“Because, because -“ It was at this moment that I realized it was a very stupid reason, probably one of the worst ever, in fact. I started crying even harder.

“Ok, it’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it.”

And like that we stayed for quite some time, him holding me, stroking my hair and me, bawling, unable to speak.

Of course, eventually Mick had to leave. My mom came home and although both my parents adore him, it was also getting late and, like I said, boy and girl. So, no sleepovers allowed - stupid rule if you ask me, especially since I had come out, like obviously I don’t want to have sex with him now, surely you understand that. But no, my parents are very much the “Oh, this is just a phase” type of people. So, no sleepovers. Mick told me to text him if I need anything. He knew how to sneak into my window and he told me that he would bring ice cream or Kit-Kats - my favourite chocolate - in a heartbeat. My mom asked what that was about. I hesitated. I loved my mom, but, she didn’t really get me. She tried really hard, I have to give her credit, but her life was so different from mine and she just really didn’t get what it was like for me. Plus the whole lesbian thing, but we’ve already covered that. I decided to tell her. “I broke up with Alisha.”

“Oh, honey. That’s tough… but I really think this is for the best.” She hugged me. Best my ass. “If you need anything, let me know. I love you.” She let go and kissed me on the forehead. I went back up to my room. I felt like throwing up. I probably grabbed my phone to text Alisha about a thousand times, even typing out what I wanted to say. “Hey, I’m so sorry. It was a huge mistake, can you forgive me?” But I never sent them, it wasn’t fair to her. I break up with her and then a couple hours later change my mind? Bullshit. So, I laid in bed. Eventually, the tears stopped, and all I felt was numb. Right about now, all I wanted was a big hug from my dad and a deep talk from my mom, but my dad wasn’t home yet and my mom wouldn’t really want to get into the depths of my relationship with Alisha. Slowly, the sweet release of sleep came over me as I blasted my music, and I drifted off dreaming of her. Her gorgeous chocolate eyes and dark brown skin. The way she used to straighten her hair everyday in eighth grade because she “thought it looked better” but eventually left it natural most of the time from tenth grade on because she finally started to believe me when I told her it was beautiful. If it wasn’t clear already, Alisha and I were friends. Good friends. Not quite Mick and I good, but good. It’s kinda funny, because normally the two girls are the best friends and the guy and the girl fall in love, but this time the guy and the girl were the friends and the two girls fell in love. So, yeah, we were friends. And I loved her as my friend, but I always thought she was beautiful. Honestly, she was a big part of my sexual awakening, I never really realized that thinking other girls were pretty wasn’t normal, especially because my one girl friend that I talked to about it was also into girls, so, I guess neither of us really realized we were not straight for a while. It took me talking to my sister to figure it out. I remember we were both on instagram and she showed me this picture of this girl and said something like “Ugh, her stomach is so flat. Why can’t I look like that?” Which is total bullshit to begin with because my sister is hot - it runs in the family, I guess. But then I said something like “Holy shit, I’d [Insert sexual comment here]” which got a very strange look from Paige, my sister, and I thought ‘Huh, maybe that’s not normal.’ So, yeah. After that, Alisha and I started dating, we dated halfway through grade 11 through until the end of senior year. At first, I kept it a secret from my parents, and she understood that. Coming out was not an easy thing for me, for Alisha though… lets just say, she had a very different relationship with her parents. They were much more accepting than mine, but also much more strict when it came to some things. Like, for example, when they did find out we were dating, her parents did not let us go into her room, in fact, they barely let us stay at her house alone, ever. My parents, on the other hand, didn’t really care about that as much. Even when my sister brings her boyfriend over, they’re allowed in her room. So, it’s a bit of a different dynamic between her and I. When I did finally come out to my parents, I wasn’t shunned or anything, but I wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms either. I got a lot of “I’m sure you feel that way now,” and “Theres nothing wrong with experimenting.” But it was clear that they either didn’t think this was a lasting thing, or hoped that it wasn’t going to be.

The next day when I woke up, I had a text from Alisha. I bolted upright in bed and opened my phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?” It read. Why didn’t I stay up? I hated myself for a moment, then I looked at the time stamp. 4:32 am. I wouldn’t have been awake anyway, but I felt terrible because I felt like I was the reason she was up that late. Of course, Alisha was always one to stay up late. I, on the other hand, was much more sensible, usually going to bed by 11:00 or 11:30. I texted her back “Of course. Whats up?”. I sat and waited for a minute. Nothing. I felt the tears coming back. Then, a text from Mick came in: “How ya feeling?” Not great. I send him the crying emoji and the puking emoji. “That good, huh? Want me to come?” Theres that reliability again.

“No, I’ll be ok. Thanks though.”

“Anytime, and I’m still here if you need.” I don’t need to reply to this one, Mick and I are very low communication type of friends. I flip back to my chat with Alisha. Still nothing. Then the text bubbles appear, and disappear again. I wait, but they don’t reappear. More tears. I fling my phone across my bed, watching it bounce and then land on the pillow. My sister comes in. I hadn’t seen her since yesterday morning. She understands what goes on in my house better than anyone, even Mick. I guess Mom told her what happened because she didn’t say anything, she just came over and sat with me.

“Was it because of them?”

I nodded. Again, unable to speak.

“You shouldn’t let Mom and Dad dictate your life. I know theres a lot they have control over, Jess, but not this. They don’t get to decide who you love.” She was always more independent than I am, and even though she didn’t quite have this exact problem, she understood. I loved her for that. I gave her a smile and she kissed me on the cheek and left. I felt a vibration through my bed. I sat up and flipped over my phone, Alisha had finally texted. “Sorry. I just need to know why…Did I do something?” I was in shock. I can’t believe I didn’t even tell her why. I am such a horrible person.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t you at all. It was -“ I hesitated. I felt stupid. It was still a dumb reason. “It was because of my parents. And I feel so stupid. I shouldn’t let them control my life.” My finger hovered over the send button, and eventually it fell. My stomach dropped.

“So, what are you saying?” She replied, almost immediately.

“I’m saying that” I sent that first, that way I couldn’t back out of it. “I’m sorry, and it was a huge mistake.”

My phone started buzzing, she was calling me. I took a deep breath and tried to make it sound like I wasn’t crying. God knows why, but I did.

“Hi.” I exhaled

“Hi.” She replied. “Sorry to call. It’s just-“

“You hate texting, I know.” I finished for her. After all, I did know her very well, we had been friends for four years and dated for two of them.

“So, look. I know you and your parents have a rough relationship, but I just don’t understand why you broke up with me.”

“Like I said, it was stupid. I just felt like, I don’t know, they were starting to resent me for our relationship.”

“Oh. Well, how did you feel?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I felt like you were one of the best things that ever happened to me.” There was no reply, so I continued, “And I feel like and idiot for ending things with you.” I waited.

“Jess, I-I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what to say.”

“I get that. I know you’re probably mad at me. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“No. I don’t want that. I want the opposite, but how can I know that you won’t do this to me again?”

“You don’t, but I can make a promise to you that I have seen the error in my ways, and if you want me back, I’m yours, with the promise that this wont happen again.”

“The point is, Jess, that if you didn’t want to end it you shouldn’t have." “I know! I know I shouldn’t have. So, of course I want you back, but if that’s not what you want then I completely understand.”

“Give me some time to think.”

“Of course!”

“Ok… Bye.”

“Bye.” There was a moment while neither of us hung up and I could hear her take a couple breaths in, then the line disconnected. I took a deep breath and felt, renewed? I just hoped she would understand that I knew how much of an idiot I was and that I never wanted to hurt her like this again.

The next day, Alisha texted me asking if we could meet for coffee. I replied right away. “3 at our spot?” She asked. “Sounds good.” I replied. I looked at the clock, 1:43pm. Only another hour to wait, I quickly hopped in the shower and then picked out my bright yellow top and paired it with my solid light blue palazzo pants. Alisha always talked about how much she loved this shirt. I put on my makeup and got in my car and drove to Liz’s Coffee House. This was “our spot”, where we had our first real date, all our hangouts, we went here all the time. I got there and checked my phone. 2:54pm. Perfect. I went in and walked towards our usual table, Alisha was already sitting there, she clearly made as much of an effort as I had. Her hair was down, the way I liked it best, and she was wearing her green off the shoulder shirt and black shorts. God, she was hot. I sat down and she pushed a coffee cup towards me. “I got you your usual.”

“Thanks.” I blushed, half surprised she did that, but then remembering Alisha, feeling more surprised that I was surprised she did that. “So,” I opened

“So.” She let it hang in the air for a minute. “I still like you.” “I still like you too.” I couldn’t meet her gaze, but I felt it on me.

“Then, as long as you follow through on your promise and don’t do anything stupid again…” I managed to look up at her.

“You have my word.” I giggled

“Good. Then we’re good.” She beamed. I let out a sigh and beamed back at her.

So, Alisha and I kept dating. In my head, it was just a few more months but Alisha said that she felt like it was a few more months she could spend with a girl she had the most fun she’d ever had in her life with, and I had to agree. So, a few more months until we would have to say goodbye again. We weren’t thinking about that, though. We were just focusing on us and now.

[luvleekaotix-imagines]

Hello 😚 Can you write a fanfic between Vergil (DMC game) and a Dhampir reader (a hybrid of a vampire and a mortal) who is capable of using ice magic in combat? Please add a scene in which the reader is satisfied drinking human blood (in a goblet), when caught by V she gives him a mysteriousss smile 😈 I'm sure this relationship is going to be very interesting 🤣 Thanks for receiving my request, luv ya 😘

A/N: [sliiiiides in] ahhhhh ha ha I am back on my fucking dmc bullshit lets fucking gooooo bitcchhh. This is a very odd mix of ideas that I can’t put into one thing, so hopefully its okay I kind of take the gist of it and put my own spin on it. Also it’s been a million zillion years since I’ve written, so be gennnntleeeeee. Or hate it, idk, whatever.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

You were still learning the ins and outs of what you were. Everyday there was something new to learn. There were a million things to not understand. A million boundaries to push and pull and play with. It was exhausting, it was fun, it was wild and beyond anything you could have imagined.

The best and worst part was that you were not alone in this journey. Since it was Devil May Cry agency who found you that fateful day, lost in blood and rain, it was the Devil May Cry agency that watched over you. At first it was to keep an eye on what you were, but eventually it was because they loved who you were. Of course, the feelings were mutual.

“Don’t do it.” Vergil’s stern warning cut through the ringing in your head as you stared at one of the weakened demons in front of you. When you took a step forwards, he clicked his tongue. “What did I just say?”

“Oh, but I just—you know, I’m so...” There was a terrifying glee reflected in your eyes. Or was the hunger? Sometimes the expressions looked the same. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just a b-bit—” You stuttered as your teeth grew sharp. It was uncontrollable when you crossed the line into this state.

“You need to learn to control your urges, Little Fang.” V seemed content not to stop you. He knew his reflection would disagree, but you were one to learn through experience, not stern words. “It’s your turn to carry them back, by the way.” He shot Vergil a sly look and got a scowl in return.

“I am well aware.” If you fucked up his coat again though, you’d be in for it.

You panted as the ringing in your ears became so loud that it drowned out any of the banter. All you could see was the life beating within the demon in front of you. It looked so—hells, it looked so delicious. Something in you was desperate to harvest it all.

In a blur, you launched forwards and sunk your teeth deep into the demon’s flesh. There was a distant howl and you weren’t sure if was one of pain from your prey, or your own muffled predatory roar. Nothing mattered when you fed except for the feeding itself. The feeling of draining life was so, so intoxicating. You could never find the words to explain it when someone asked. You felt full, you felt powerful, you felt—

Suddenly you pulled yourself away from the demon. Your vision cleared enough for you to spot Vergil and V watching you with knowing looks. 

And then the world began to slowly move even though you were standing still.

You felt sick.

You instantly vomited all the black ichor you had hastily consumed. You coughed out little shreds of flesh that you had managed to tear off with your sharp teeth. “...M-mistake.” You wheezed. The taste was awful. Oh god! Holy shit! You gagged at the aftertaste. The hunger in you had quietened, but at what cost? You could also feel some power being absorbed into your body, so it wasn’t like it had completely rejected the demonic essence. It was more likely that you had consumed too much, too quickly.

“Well, at least you held on a little longer than the last time.” V carefully approached you and offered a warm hand which you gratefully took. You were starting to feel a lot more unsteady on your feet. Not quite drunk, but something akin to vertigo.

“L-last time?” Your head was starting to clear, even though the nausea lingered. Ohhh… The last time was with V and Nero and it was ugly. Nico made you clean out the van on your own and she was right to do it. You opened your mouth to protest—

“We did try to stop you. Don’t even try to make that argument.” Vergil very quickly cut in and gestured for V to hand you over to him. “If you ruin my coat, I will make you pay for it.”

“Why are you bullying a sick person? You’re mean, Vergil.” You whined as you were put in the blue devil’s arms. You felt so ill. Fuck your hunger. You understood that you had to learn to control it, but it was hard to ignore. Really, really hard. Frustration and shame seeped into your feelings of sickness.

V trailed behind but had sent Griffon ahead to let the rest of the agency know you were unwell. “You seem intent on learning to control your hunger the hard way.”

“What other way is there, you dickhead?” You snarled. Vergil coughed to try and hide a laugh, or maybe you accidentally elbowed him in indignation. “You have no idea how it feels when the hunger hits. Nothing else matters. It’s really—it just takes hold.”

There was no reasoning with you, at least not right now. V knew your caustic name-calling was out of frustration and you’d apologise to him later in private when you were feeling better. The last time this happened you had used a lot more colourful language to curse both him and Nero out, so this was just peachy compared.

You settled into Vergil’s arms and kind of sulked as the three of you trudged on in silence. “...This sucks.”

“It was never going to be easy.” It was as warm as Vergil would get.

“Yeah…” You chewed on your lip. “At least I have you guys to help.” The thought actually made you feel a bit better.

But then—

Vergil resisted the urge to yell as ichor dribbled out of your mouth and onto his sleeve. 

“Oh god—I am so sorry, Vergil, I swear—I didn’t even know it was coming up, it just came out—”

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

A/N: Post hunger clarity like post nut clarity???? Adfegzrhtrdmngbzfsdfa whats the bet the snarky DMC crew tell you to feed before you make seemingly bad decisions to see if you really wanna do that or not dafsdmhtrgefsaggrsfeas hahaha

[followyoursecretsmutblog]

dazed.

Song: “Sleeping In” by All Time Low

A/N: There are different scenes pre stanza, the events do not go in order. Just enjoy the ride.

p.s. I don’t know why I picked this gif, but I’m not mad.

Imagine:

I woke up on a Tuesday Felt like a Friday night to me Never wanna leave this bed Tell me that you got nowhere to be Can we stay all day? Lay low in our lazy luxury Sex in a rosy daze All day, it's a real good thing

Shutting off the alarm, you lay there staring at the ceiling.

“Just one more day.” You whisper to yourself, sitting up on your elbows.

“It’s Tuesday.” Henry mumbles next to you, shoving his head under his pillow.

“Fuck.” You say, throwing your head back.

“Only if you ask nicely.” His cheeky response comes out muffled.

You giggle, laying back down and turning toward him. You trail a finger along his arm, tracing the muscle.

Henry peeks his head out, watching you. In a flash, his arm moves around your waist and pulls you towards him, holding you captive.

“Why can’t we stay like this all day?” He asks, kissing you softly. 

Just like that There you go, making it hard to stay on track Got shit to do, you got work But we fall right back Into bed, like it's all just a game And we can't help that, no we can't help that And we fall right back Just like that

You and Henry both are putting the final touches to your outfits. This would be the first time you and him would be attending a party together as a couple.

“I’m so nervous.” You say, tugging at your dress.

“Don’t be. You look stunning.” Henry comes behind you, places a soft kiss on your cheek and watches you watch yourself in the mirror. He places another kiss on your neck, and another on your shoulder.

“Henry...” You moan, tilting your head to the side to give him better access.

His fingers start working on the zip of your dress, pulling it down.

“Come on, we told the others we would be there.” You say, threading your fingers in his hair.

“We will.” He says as your dress pools to the floor. “We will just be fashionably late.” He picks you up and walks to the bed, tossing you softly onto it.

“Henry!” You laugh, watching his eyes take in your body.

“I can’t help it.”

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now (We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in) Closing up the curtains while you call out of work Now I'm turning off my phone while you take off your shirt Waste another day, another night, another weekend We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

“You know, I didn’t think the blonde wig would do it for me, but I’ll be damned.” You say as you walk around Henry, who just got out of hair and makeup. “You look so... primal. Like you would totally fuck me in the middle of town with people watching. Fast, dirty, and very satisfying.”

His eyes snap to you, the easy-going smile going away in a flash, being replaced with a devilish smirk. “Tell me more about these fantasies you have, darling.”

“Geralt could fuck me and leave me and I would still say ‘Thank you’.” Your eyes take in every part of him, He looks so un-Henry, it was crazy. Your sweet, soft boy, now transformed into this man.

“We will have to test that theory, won’t we?” He looks at the time and nods to himself. “Come on, we still have time.”

“Time for what?” You ask as he grabs your hand, pulling you toward his trailer.

“To see if I can make you say ‘Thank you’.”

Everyday's a holiday We stay hot when it's cold outside, y'know Haven't left your place in days Postmates and dirty laundry

It was one of those rare occasions where you and Henry had a few days alone. No interviews, to red carpets, no parties. So, you spent the days the only way you wanted to.

Tangled in the sheets, hair mused, clothes on the floor, with take away containers covering your nightstand.

“Maybe we should go out and eat dinner. Get out of the house.” You muse, running your thumb over his jaw, his stubble scratching you.

“1. We have been in bed for three days, because 2. we have done nothing but have sex, because 3. we don’t know when the next time this will happen again. And you want to go out and eat?” Henry asks, nipping at the pad of your thumb.

“Well sorry if I thought you might want to enjoy some time at a nice restaurant, instead of eating out. I’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“I’d rather eat you out.” He rolls you over onto you back and kisses you feverously, sliding his hands down your body to cup your sex. “Besides, you don’t feel like you want a wholesome night out.” He says as he slips two fingers in you.

Just like that There you go, making it hard to stay on track Got shit to do, you got work But we fall right back Into bed, like it's all just a game And we can't help that, no we can't help that So we fall right back Just like that

“I don’t know what you want from me, Henry! I can’t help what I feel!” You shout, tears running down your face.

“Don’t you trust me?” He asks, confused as to why this would be happening.

“Of course, I trust you. I just don’t trust those women. I know what they think when they see you, I think the same way.” You cry. Your jealously getting the best of you. Henry has never given you any grain of doubt of his loyalty to you. Yet for some reason, you can’t seem to clear your head from the thought of someone taking him from you.

“Baby, there is no one I want more then you! I know my job does this, but I can’t do anything about it.” He says. He knows how hard it is for you. He knows he has asked you to put a lot of faith in him and his work. 

A job is a job. He needs to work, and he loves what he does.

You sit on the bed, trying to calm your breathing, “I’m sorry.”

The bed dips next to you. “It’s okay. I know you have given up a lot for me. But I love you. And there is nothing that is going to get in the way of that.” He lifts your head up, wiping your tears away. “You are my dream girl. There is no one above you.”

“Promise?” You wince, cursing your insecurities.

“Promise.” Henry leans down and kisses you softly.

You put your foreheads together, just breathing together.

Being together. You and him against the world.

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now (We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in) Closing up the curtains while you call out of work Now I'm turning off my phone while you take off your shirt Waste another day, another night, another weekend We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

“Of course, yes. I’ll be in the office soon so go over everything.” You say, pulling your clothes out of closet.

As you step out, Henry walks into your bedroom. He looks up at you and gives a soft smile.

You give him a little finger wave, continuing your phone call. Turning away from him, you pull out some shoes, tossing them on the bed.

“Yeah...” You say distantly, watching as Henry takes his shirt off, then his pants through the mirror. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it. Something just came up.”

Henry looks up, concern crossing his features. You bite your lip as he steps out of his jeans. A chuckle escapes him, he wads his shirt up and tosses it at you.

“So important.” You mumble, ending the call. 

“Shower?” Henry asks. You run into the bathroom, turning the water on, his laugh echoing.

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now (We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in) Closing up the curtains while you call out of work Now I'm turning off my phone while you take off your shirt Waste another day, another night, another weekend We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

“No, under no circumstances did that happen!” You whisper-shout into your phone at your best friend. “Our first date was last night, and he was nice enough to let me stay in his spare room. Nothing happened!” 

“So, you are telling me, you had a great time with this man. And when all hell broke loose, he let you stay at his place. And in the process, you didn’t jump him?”

“Yes.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. Like I just googled him and holy hell, I’d fuck him.”

“You are not helping!” You hiss, “I know he’s attractive, I’m just not going to mistake his kindness for sex!”

“He’s a guy, he won’t know the difference.” Your friend backfires.

“He’s different.” You say softly, peeking your head out of the door, looking up and down the hallway. 

“That’s what every Rom-Com says, and yet they all end the same.” She sighs, her eye roll could be heard.

“Shut it, you don’t even dat- Henry!” You squeak, bumping into him, dropping your phone, your hands flying to his chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” 

He smiles softly, “No problem, I didn’t know you were up. Was just going to check on you.”

How sweet.

You smile back, “Thank you for letting me stay with you. You really didn’t have to.”

“No problem, the weather was terrible, I wouldn’t feel right having you drive home in that.”

You glance down, seeing your hands still flat on his chest.

His bare chest.

Where is his shirt?!

Tearing your hands off him, you give him another sheepish smile, a distant voice ringing between the two of you.

“Fuck her! Please for the love of Go- yeah you old hag, wanna fight? I’m trying to get my friend laid!” 

Henry looks at you, a blush taking over his face, ears, and chest.

“I’m sorry about her...” You start, bending to pick your phone up. “Goodbye!” You hiss, smashing the end button. “Ignore her, she is insane.”

“Can I at least offer to cook you breakfast before? Sex on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”

“Yes.” You reply without thinking.

If I said I want your body, would you hold it against me? Seven in the morning, wanna listen to Britney? Anything you wanna baby, that's okay with me now We don't sleep, but we like sleeping in

There is something about that first kiss in the morning with the man you love. You can’t help but smile, and never pull away.

“Good morning, my love.” Henry says in his morning voice, sending chills down your body.

“Mmmm, mornin’.“ You kiss him again, moving on top of him. He holds you in place, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, you stop, “Come on, we promised your parents we’d meet them for breakfast.”

“I’ll call them later and said that we slept in.” He says, situating you on top of him so that when he shifts, he would slip inside you.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Changing Channels: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,876

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this is out late. I’ve been dealing with shit the past few days.

I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

When the morning came, Dean wanted nothing more than to get out of this town. Sam was nowhere to be found which was odd, but you didn’t say anything of it until Dean started to notice. When he was finished brushing his teeth, he spit out the rest of what was in his mouth.

“I'm worried, man. What that SOB did to Cas. You know, where is he?”

“Sam isn’t in here,” you called out from bed.

“Where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know. I woke up and he wasn’t here. His bed wasn’t even slept in,” you frowned.

Dean shrugged on his jacket before pulling out his cell phone. He grabbed his keys, and you both walked to the car as Dean called his brother.

“Sam. It's me. Where the hell did you go?” Dean left a message just as you two got in the car.

“Dean? Y/N?” Sam said, his voice a bit strange.

“Where the hell are you?” you asked since he clearly wasn’t in the car.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Noticing the flashing red light on the dashboard, it lit up in time with Sam’s words.

“Shit,” you sighed.

“Oh shit. I don't think we killed the Trickster.”

“Is it too early for an ‘I told you so’?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Save it,” Sam sighed.

Dean put the car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot and down the road.

“Okay, stake didn't work. So, what, this is another trick?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think it’s a Trickster,” you announced.

“What do you mean?” Dean wondered.

“Don’t you find it kind of weird that he’s so invested in this Michael/Lucifer/Amara storyline? He’s so obsessed with us saying yes, it’s getting suspicious. Did you know that there are currently and only has been four archangels? Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and—”

“Gabriel,” Dean finished for you.

“Yeah. We know who Michael and Lucifer are. Dean and I met Raphael when Castiel needed him. That leaves Gabriel left. This isn’t a Trickster. He’s an angel, and he’s hiding. And I know just how to get him to admit it,” you grinned, looking at Dean with a mischievous look.

“For once, I like that look in your eyes,” Dean smirked.

Dean drove to the spot where it would be perfect to do your little experiment. If you were right about this, then you get to go home—your real home. If you were wrong about this—and you knew you weren’t—then this really was a Trickster, and you’d need to find another way home. After retrieving the holy oil, you made sure to leave a big enough circle that if Gabriel does show, then he would land in it. Once that was complete, then Dean rummaged through the Impala’s trunk to hide the container of holy oil.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“That, uh, feels really uncomfortable,” Sam cleared his throat. Dean slammed the trunk of the car down hard. “Ow. You sure this is gonna work?”

“No, but we have no other ideas,” he sighed, looking to the sky as if Gabriel could see you three that way. “Alright, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!”

“Should I honk?”

“Wow. Sam. Get a load of the rims on you,” Gabriel appeared right in the spot you needed him.

“Eat me.”

“Okay, lady and gentlemen. Ready to go quietly?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs.”

“What's the difference? Satan's going to ride his ass one way or another.”

“Now,” you glared.

Gabriel rolled his eyes but snapped his fingers. The lights go off in the car, and Sam stepped out of it with narrowed eyes.

“Happy?”

“Tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?” you asked.

“I am the Trickster,” he chuckled.

“No, you’re not,” you smirked, holding up a flaming cigarette lighter and tossed it to the ground. A ring of fire springs up around the archangel right where you laid the oil out. He looked all around himself before laughing. “You’re an archangel.”

“A what? Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?”

“Fine, then why don’t you jump out of the holy fire, and we’ll call it our mistake… Gabriel, the youngest of the four. I wonder what your big brothers would think if they saw you here. They do know you’re here, right?” you chuckled, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Gabriel laughed, but stopped once he knew he’d been caught. The surrounding areas vanished in a burst of static, only to be replaced by the inside of the warehouse you approached days ago.

“Well played, Y/N and Co. Well played. Where'd you get the holy oil?” Gabriel clapped.

“Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass,” Dean chuckled.

“Where'd I screw up?”

“You didn’t. I wouldn’t have figured it out if it weren’t for Castiel. Ever since I first met you, I knew there was something about you that just didn’t add up. Plus, it was mostly the way you talked about Armageddon.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family,” Dean explained.

“So, Gabriel, how does an archangel become a trickster?” you asked.

“My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, and carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you three screwed it all up.”

“What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?” Dean asked.

“Daddy doesn't say anything about anything.”

“So why ditch your family?” you asked.

“Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles,” Dean smirked.

“Shut your cakehole. You don't know anything about my family. I love my father and my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So, I left. And now it's happening all over again.”

“Then help us stop it.”

“It can’t be stopped.”

“You wanna see the end of the world?”

“I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you three! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over.”

“That’s no way to think. Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” you nodded.

“You do not know my family,” Gabriel laughed. “What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. A fight against a force that comes out of nowhere, and acts as if they know and rule everything. You'd think you'd be able to relate.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you three are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father. Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. Amara, the surrogate mother who invades and latches on like a leech. Why do you think she’s in prison right now? You three were born to this. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Dean glared.

“Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always.”

“No, there is no way in hell that’s happening. I won’t allow it,” you shrugged.

“And therein lies your similarities. See, Amara was just like you. Strong, powerful, and protective. Then she stopped caring and it all went to shit,” he groaned after pausing. “Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers and endings wrapped up in a bow... but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be.”

“No,” you whispered painfully.

The four of you stared at each other for a long time before Gabriel spoke up about it.

“Now what? We stare at each other for the rest of eternity?”

“No, you’re going to bring Castiel back from wherever you stashed him,” you glared.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you are. I wasn’t pissed before, but I will be. You don’t want to see that,” you crossed your arms with the promise of your blue magic.

Gabriel groaned, but he snapped his fingers to bring your angelic friend back. Castiel appeared next to you three, and you placed a hand on his arm in comfort.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Hello, Gabriel.”

“Hey, bro. How's the search for Daddy going? Let me guess. Awful.”

“Okay, we’re done here. Come on, Sam and Y/N,” Dean decided, turning and walking to one of the doors.

“Uh. Okay. Guys? So, what? Huh?” Gabriel stuttered as everyone began walking away from him. “You're just gonna, you're gonna leave me here forever?”

“No, we’re not,” you stopped by the door and turned to the archangel. Sam and Dean were already out of the door along with Castiel, but they stayed close to hear what you had to say. “We don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family.”

Lifting your arm, you swept your hand from your left side of your body to your right, the flames dying down in motion of your arm. Your magic was able to extinguish the flames on their own.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” you scoffed as the archangel glared.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel left, and you were about to follow when Gabriel stopped.

“I saw her. Amara. I don’t know what she’s doing to you or how she’s communicating with you, but don’t trust a word she says. She’s evil and manipulative and stubborn. Most importantly, she’s real because I’m the one that helped put her away. If you say yes to her, she will destroy everything good about you and then the world.”

“Like Michael and Lucifer?” you asked. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t need someone like you to look over my shoulder. I have family for that.”

Leaving the warehouse, you joined Sam and Dean at the car where they were discussing what happened.

“All that stuff he was spouting in there, you think it was the truth?”

“I think he believes it,” you commented.

“What do we do now?” Dean asked.

“Live our lives the way we want to. I don’t believe in destiny because if I did, I’d at least hope there was something better for us out there. We make our own rules, and the angels are going to regret it if they think they can try and dictate our lives,” you announced, turning to Castiel after. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Right about now I wish I was back in a TV show,” Dean huffed, sliding into the car.

“Yeah, me too.”

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen​ @essie1876​ @gh0stgurl​ @redsalv20​ @superrandomnatural​ @scarletmeii​ @babypink224221​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​ @akshi8278​ @a--1--1--3​ @kendlemariee​ @miraclesoflove​ @earthtokace​ @teamfreewillsstuff​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @kiwihoee​ @jennazeise​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @22sarah08​ @tricksterdean​ @andi-mendes-barnes​ @put-my-favorite-record-on​ @countrygal17a​

[your-typical-giggle]

Two Truths, One Lie (Damien Haas)

This was originally written as a Damien Haas fanfic, but then my friend (who loves wes) wanted a story, so I changed the names of a few things, but now it’s back with its original names and holy shit, that took forever to do because I forgot about find and replace.

Requested: No

Word Count: 1272 Words

-

“So today we’re playing two truths and one lie. I’m here with my girlfriend, Y/n.” Damien gestured to you. “Are you ready?”

“I guess, I’m really nervous. I don’t want to get any wrong.”

“We’ve been dating for four years now. I’m going to be really disappointed if you get any of these wrong.” Damien laughed. 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, you can start.”

“Okay,” You grabbed your phone. “My first ever boyfriend shared the same name as my brother.” You looked up to make sure he was listening. “My first kiss was with a girl. And I had a crush on Shayne when I first got here.” You looked up at Damien and put your phone away.

“It’s supposed to be two truths and one lie, Y/n, not three truths!” Shayne said, getting a laugh from everyone. You looked back at Damien, raising a brow.

“Oh god. I know you dated someone with the same name as your brother. I’m not certain about kissing a girl. But I’m really skeptical that you had a crush on Shayne. I’m pretty sure that you had a crush on Noah first.”

“Is that what you’re going with?” You smirked, leaning down and grabbing a water gun.

“Yes.” Damien crossed his arms.

“Well, I hate to do this to you… but…” You sucked in air as you pumped your gun, “you’re right.” You sighed, setting the weapon down.

“Wait, what?!” Damien looked shocked.

“Why do you seem so surprised? You got it right. Now spray me.” You laughed.

“I know,” Damien reached down to grab a water gun. “Then who was it?” He started pumping the gun, then pointed it at you.

“What do you mean?” You put your arms up, hoping to block the water that has yet to hit you.

“Who did you like first?”

“You think I remember that? It was five years ag- AH!” You squealed as the cool water hit you.

“That is such a lie,” Damien said, squirting more water at you.

“Fine! Fine!” The water stopped and Damien raised a brow. “I liked Noah.” You got hit with water again. “Hey!”

“I knew it!” Damien looked at the camera. “I should get double points for getting the name correct!”

“No!” Everyone shouted.

“Fine.” Damien pouted. “Alright, my turn.” Damien looked you in the eyes. “Our anniversary is February 12th, my mom didn’t like you at first,” That got some ‘oohs’. “And I drank two cups of tea today.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Oh god. I know our anniversary is February 12th, that’s easy-”

“Are you sure?” Damien leaned forward.

“Positive. I believe your mom didn’t like me at first. So… you had three cups of tea today.” You stated confidently.

“Darn it! Yeah, I had three.”

“Boom!” You grabbed the water gun on the table. “I wanna get you wet.” You gave him a wink and smirk while everyone laughed.

“You don’t have to though.” Damien pleaded.

“Oh, but I want to.” You pumped the gun.

“Can we get a close up on Y/n, she looks deranged,” Shayne commented, feigning a laugh of worry.

“I’ll spray you too, Buffy.” You threateningly moved to the gun towards Shayne.

“Oh god!” Shayne leaned back, laughing still.

“I can feel the power coursing through my veins.” You looked at the water gun in your hands. Very quickly you pointed the weapon at Damien and pulled the trigger.

“Oh my god! That’s cold!” Damien moved in his chair, trying to get away and dodge the stream of water.

“The power felt so good. I want to do it again…” You whispered.

“Please no.”

“Oh, but I want to.” You said, manically.

“How about this, if I get this next one wrong, then you can spray me again.” Damien pleaded. You cocked an eyebrow, considering his words.

“Alright.” You agreed, setting down the weapon.

The game continued with the both of you neck to neck. No one getting any wrong, so you were tied. After a while, both of you went into a tie-breaker; the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“Because apparently Y/n and I know each other so well, we’re going into a tie-breaker,” Damien said to the camera. While he was explaining the rules you couldn’t help but smile. “You ready?”

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p’ while pulling out the biggest water gun, Damien doing the same. “You first.”

“Okay,” He pumped his gun. “I plan on marrying you.” A few awe’s echoed around the room.

“I’m going to say true?” You looked at him confused. Was he planning a surprise, too? You regained your composure. Rolling your shoulders back and giving the best straight face you could, “I’m pregnant.” 

The room went quiet. Damien had a look of shock written all over his face. He lowered his gun. “Wait…” He tilted his head. “Are you serious?” You gave him a sly look.

“Yes, that is my serious statement. Now, true or false?”

Um… false? I don’t think you’d tell me this way. Not with how shy you get on personal things.” Damien brought his gun back up.

“Okay, Three! Two! One!” The sideline shouted.

Nothing happened, the two of you just starring at each other.

“So, you’re not pregnant?” Damien almost didn’t finish because of a large stream of water hitting his face. “Wait.” He whipped the water off his face with one of his hands. “Does that mean I got it wrong?”

“Yes.” You said, slowly losing your confidence.

“So you’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” You sunk into your chair, a worried expression staining your features. Did he not want a child? Is he not excited? Did you make a mistake?

“And it’s mine?” You nodded in reply. “Holy shit!” Damien stood. “I’m going to be a dad?!” He came over to you as you stood up, and picked you up. “This is amazing!” Damien hugged you, laughing in your ear. “I can’t believe it.” He set you down.

“You’re okay with it?”

“Okay? I’ve been wanting a kid for forever! And the fact that it’s with the love of my life? I couldn’t be happier!” He hugged you again. “I can’t believe you out surprised me.” You pulled away.

“What?” You questioned. You stood in silence as Damien got down on one knee. He pulled out a little box from his pocket.

“Y/n L/n.” He cleared his throat and looked you in the eyes. “Will you do me the honors of becoming my wife?” He opened the box, showing off a simple but perfect diamond ring.

The room went quiet, the celebration of your pregnancy dying out. Tears were streaming down your cheeks. The room, waiting for your response.

“Yes.” You whispered. You went to your knees so you were eye level. “Yes.” You said a little louder, nodding your head. You grabbed the side of Damien’s head, pulling him in for a kiss.

Loud cheers erupted behind you and Damien, but it was drowned out in your ears. The only thing you cared about was you and Damien. You pulled away, looking the love of your life in the eyes. You both had tears streaming down your cheeks.

“We’re going to be a family.” You said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” Damien chuckled, pulling you into a hug. The two of you sat there for a few seconds, just enjoying the embrace. When you pulled away again Damien took your left hand and delicately placed the ring on your finger.

“I want to be the bridesmaid,” Noah said, earning a laugh from everyone.

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 4

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 4 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Also this chapter was partially inspired by this post  by @sinfulserpents about Billy playing piano. Credit where credit is due.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.  I’ll make a header image at some point.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

Hawkins seems to be caught under a heavy blanket of thick gray clouds. Rain is thumping down on the roof of Billy’s car, drumming along to the song coming from his car radio. 

This weather makes Billy miss the California sun extra hard. It just all seems even more dull and boring and — grey. 

He drives along the narrow roads of the town flanked by trees left and right. The therapy session as ended just a few minutes ago though he doesn’t particularly want to go home just yet. It’s saturday which means Neil is home which means all there is for Billy is yelling and looks of utter disgust thrown his way. And though he’s used to it all, he takes the long way home. 

The camaro is his safe place. It feels more like a home than his actual home ever did. It’s solely his. It’s so much more than just a status symbol, it’s his escape. Whenever things at his house get too loud, too much, too hard to handle, he just gets in his car and drives. As far and as long as he can. Far away from the bullshit and the hurt and the toxicity of one Neil Hargrove.

The silhouette of a person appearing in front of him, walking slowly along the side of the road makes him slow down a little. It’s a woman — no, it’s a girl, dragging a large duffle bag. 

Everything inside of Billy screams at him to ignore it. To let this be someone else’s problem. To just keep driving. Keep driving.

As he gets closer though, he catches a glimpse of the girl’s face and suddenly it’s not just a stranger anymore. It’s someone that he kind of knows. Someone that he’s talked to before. It’s someone he’s well aware can use all the help she can possibly get.

So he slows down and comes to a stop beside her.

“ Hey, hey uh — “ fuck what was her name again “ — Alex ? “ 

When she looks up at him, it becomes abundantly clear that she’s been crying. Even with the rain pouring down on her, soaking her down to her bones, there’s no doubt in his mind that she’s been crying. He knows what crying girls look like, seen the red in his mother’s eyes one too many times. She always tried to hide it, play it off as if it was nothing. Hay fever, stress, a sad movie she’d seen. It was always something else but never the truth. Billy used to wonder if she was telling those lies to convince him or herself.

There’s something else about Alex that looks familiar though and it makes Billy’s blood boil. A big bruise colors the side of her cheek in hues of blues and purples. 

“ B — Billy ? “ 

“ Where are you going ? “ he asks through the open window, hoping to god that the raindrops finding their way inside the car won't ruin his seats too much.

She sniffles then looks around as if trying to find the right words floating through the air around her. “ Wherever this road leads, I guess “ 

“ You guess ? Hey aren’t you supposed to be back at home ? “ 

“ HHTCY ? Yeah. But I — I can’t go back now. “ 

“ And why’s that ? “ 

“ None of your business ! “ he can see the tears rising again as she snaps at him. Her hands curl up into fists, gripping tightly to the handle of her duffle bag. 

“ C’mon Alex, get in the car. “ 

“ I can’t go home ! “ 

“ I’m not taking you there! “ 

She hesitates for a moment. When he looks back at him, her eyes lock with his and there’s a silent question in them. He knows the emotions running through her, knows them all too well. They’re ever present in him. Wherever he goes, whatever he does.

She asks if she can trust him. Asks herself more than she asks him. Billy can’t blame her for that. 

“ I promise. “ 

Billy doesn’t make a lot of promises but the one he does make, he wholeheartedly intends to keep. There’s no room in his life for fake promises, he’s been on the receiving end of far too many of those. 

“ I promise to protect you. “ 

“ I promise, we’ll be out of here one day. “ 

“ I promise I’ll be back soon. “ 

They all mean shit and in the end they hurt far more than the truth ever could.

“ I promise, Alex. I don’t break my promises. “ 

He doesn’t know why it suddenly become so important to him to get this girl out of the rain and bring her someplace safe but it does. Maybe it’s because he’s growing soft. Or maybe it’s because he knows the pain she’s feeling, the sadness, the anger. 

Maybe it’s because in that moment she reminds him all too much of himself.

“ Okay. Thank you. “ her words are but a whisper as she walks around the car and slumps down on the passenger seat. 

If this was any other day, Billy would be complaining about her wet clothes against his precious leather seats and her dirty boots propped up against the door. He doesn’t though. Because it isn’t another day. It’s this moment and this lonely broken girl. 

So he swallows his pride, keeps his mouth shut, and drives.

                              “ Holy shit “ 

“ Nice to see you too. “ 

(Y/N) stands by her front door only in a pair of short pajama shorts and an oversized sweater. Her hair is piled on top of her head and yesterday’s makeup is still smudged around her eyes. Earlier, Billy had left before she had even gotten up but seeing her in all her post party glory, he wishes he hadn’t. 

“ I uh — what are you guys doing here ? “ 

“ Can we come in ? “ Billy asks, motioning his head towards a still completely soaked Alex who timidly hides behind his frame.

“ Oh yeah, sure. Please. Alex let me get you a change of clothes and some towels. “ 

As (Y/N) hurries Alex into her bedroom, Billy walks towards the fridge, takes out two cans of Doctor Pepper and sits down on the couch. It’s only the second time he’s been here but it feels weirdly familiar, like he’s been here a thousand times before. He feels comfortable. He feels safe. And maybe that’s why he’s brought Alex here. To make her feel as secure as he does whenever he’s around (Y/N). 

She radiates a warmth he’s never encountered in another person ever before. Not even his mom on good days. It’s like a little ray of California sun captured in a person.

How awfully cheesy.

When the girls return he hands one of the cans to Alex then opens his as she sits down next to him. 

He doesn’t miss the way (Y/N) smirks as she watches him act like this is his home, giving out drinks and making himself comfortable on her couch.

“ So, can I finally ask what’s going on ? “ (Y/N) asks and for a moment no one answers. That is until Billy realizes she’s looking at him, asking him for an answer.

“ Don’t look at me. “ 

“ Well you brought her here. “ 

“ Because I made a promise. “ 

“ Guys, I’m right here, you know ? “ Alex chimes up, taking part in the conversation for the first time since they arrived. As she lifts her head and the hair shifts off of her face, (Y/N) catches sight of the bruise.

“ Oh. “ 

“ It’s nothing. “ 

Oh it all sounds so familiar. He knows those words too well, sure they’ve left his mouth many times before. It’s nothing. It isn’t though. It’s everything.

“ That’s not nothing, Alex “ (Y/N) chimes up, softly taking the girls hands into hers “ what happened ? “ 

“ It doesn’t matter. “ 

But it does matter. It matters a whole lot.

“ Alex, someone hurt you. We have to talk about this. “ (Y/N) tries again.

“ No we don’t ! “ Alex yells, ripping  her hands out of (Y/N)’s “ because if I tell you, you will tell Lydia. Then I won’t be allowed to see my mom anymore and I — I miss her. But I know she won’t stop seeing Kyle so — I promise, it’s nothing. “ 

There’s tears now. There used to be for Billy when he was younger. They made things worse though. Neil doesn’t do well with crying, especially crying boys, especially his crying son. Billy hasn’t cried in a long time. At least not for anyone to see. 

In private, that’s a whole different story.

“ Alex, if I promise you that you will still get to see your mom, will you tell me what happened ? “ 

To his surprise, Alex glances towards Billy, sends him another silent question. Do we trust (Y/N) ? 

Billy nods. He trust her more than pretty much anyone else in his life right now. It fucking scares him.

“ Kyle is my mom’s new boyfriend. He lives with her, I guess. Came home this morning and didn’t like that I was there. That mom and I had fun, kept laughing through his tv show. He smacked me right in the face, told me I was too loud. And mom — mom just stood there. Didn’t do nothing. She just watched, looked at the ground. Then told me to leave. She chose him over me and she will chose him over me any other time too. I miss her though, I want to see her. I do. “ 

Billy’s blood is boiling again, sending hot shivers down his back. He’s pretty sure his lip is drawing blood by how hard he has to bite down on it not to get up and find the guy. Make him feel just as small and helpless and he did this girl. She’s a little girl. You don’t smack around girls, ever. And her mother? God, what a bitch. You’re supposed to love your kid, protect them. Fight their fights for them. 

“ Alex, I need to tell Lydia what happened but I pro — “ 

“ You can’t ! They won’t let me see mom again. “ 

“ I promise you they will. It just won’t be overnight and she won’t get to take you home but you will get to go places together and she will get to come see you. I promise. I promise. “ 

The girl is in her arms in the matter of seconds, holding on to her as if all depends on it, as if she’s the only thing keeping her afloat. Billy thinks that maybe that’s how he’s feeling too. 

He gets up slowly and walks towards the kitchen area, throwing his can in the trash and opening the freezer. “ Knew it. “ 

As he sits back down next to Alex, he holds out a pack of peas, wrapped in a kitchen towel.

“ huh ? “ 

“ Hold them to your bruise, cools it down. The peas work better than anything else cause they take the shape of your face better. Some girl once told me that and she was absolutely right. “ Billy explains and throws (Y/N) a wink as she glances at him over Alex’s head.

As she smiles back at him, he feel it again. That one ray of California sun.

                              Two hours, a lot of tears and several episodes of Happy Days later, Alex is fast asleep on the couch, Luke the cat happily resting on top of her.

The rain has stopped and Billy has resorted to the tiny little balcony that looks out into the woods. It feels tranquil here, almost like time stops. Though his insides are a whole nother story. Fury is still brewing inside him only waiting for the inevitable eruption. 

He’s used to swallowing his anger when it’s about him. He’s used to ignoring the facts that he shouldn’t be in the situation he’s in. So fucking used to being miserable all the times. So much so that at this point it’s become his default. 

It’s a different story when it happens to someone else though. He can’t just stand there and pretend like this is okay. Like her mother isn’t a full on trash person for not protecting her daughter, for choosing some dude’s micro dick over her own flesh and blood. And the guy ? He doesn’t even want to think about him. Thinking too much about it would only fuel the fire that’s already threatening to burn everything to the ground.

The balcony doors slide open then close again. Billy doesn’t need to turn around to know who comes to stand beside him. She brings a warmth wherever she goes. 

For a moment they don’t speak, just soaking up the fresh air still thick with a promise of more rain to come. It’s not cold out yet but the wind sends a chill down (Y/N)’s skin and makes her move just a little closer towards Billy so that her arm just merely brushes his.

Billy takes one last drag from his cigarette before he stubbs it out and throws it down over the railing. 

“ Sorry I didn’t warn you. I just — she didn’t want to go home and I didn’t know where to bring her. “ 

His voice is deep and husky and he tries to hide his emotions but he knows they’re shining through. 

“ Don’t apologize. You did the right thing ! “ 

“ Yeah ? “ he turns to face her. There’s absolutely no uncertainty in her eyes. None. It’s something he appreciates about her. (Y/N) doesn’t do things half-assed. No half assed hugs. No half assed friendships. No half assed caring. No uncertainty. 

Billy however, feels awfully uncertain about — well everything. 

“ Obviously, Billy. You got her out of a shitty situation and you did what was right. You made her a promise and you kept it. You made her trust you and you didn’t break her trust. What you did was right ! What you did was very sweet . “ 

Billy scoffs out a humorless laugh “ sweet huh? Billy Hargrove, local asshole, doing the right thing for once in his life. Shout it from the rooftops, people. Put it on the front page, it doesn’t happen much. “ 

“ Would you stop “ 

“ It’s true, (Y/N). I fuck everything up I — I’m gonna fuck this up at some point sooner or later “ he says and motions between them two “ I haven’t yet but I will, I just know it. “ 

“ Is that really what you think ? “ (Y/N) questions, softly placing her hand on Billy’s arm though he quickly pulls away, lunging into another rant. 

“ It’s what I do, (Y/N). I almost fucked it up earlier. When she told us what happened, I wanted to punch something. The guy, preferably. I wanted to destroy something. I’m angry. All the time. All the time, (Y/N), and that just put a cherry on top. She’s just a kid. Who punches a kid ? And for what ? For laughing ? For doing what kids do, what they should be allowed to do. It just won’t make sense. She’s a little girl, for fucks sake. And her mother ? Just stands there and watches. She knows what happens. She knows. “ 

And suddenly it’s not about the girl on the couch anymore. 

“ She knows so why did she leave ? It must be because I fuck things up. It must be. There’s no way. There’s just no way she — “ 

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. His words become a blubbering mess as the tears cloud his vision. Billy Hargrove hasn’t cried to anyone but his pillow in what feels like forever. Because there was no one there who would’ve cared. To not judge him for it or make him feel less manly. All that ever came with tears was more anger, more resentment, more pain.

It’s different now though because as soon as the first tear falls, he’s engulfed by a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. He buries his head in the crook of (Y/N) neck, her hair sheltering him from the world. She’s warm and soft and comfortable. Crying doesn’t make him feel vulnerable or angry. It doesn’t scare him. It’s cathartic. 

“ You’re gonna be okay, Billy. “ (Y/N) says and pulls away slightly as his tears start to slow down.

He doesn’t want to be okay though. He wants to be good. He wants to be grand. 

As she takes his face in between her hands and brushes back some of his hair, he can see her eyes are glossed over. The emotions he’s feeling, she’s feeling too. Feeling with him. He doesn’t think anyone has cared this much in a long time.

She smiles again, so soft, so gentle, it’s hardly a smile at all. And yet, he thinks right then, that maybe it’s not just one ray of sunlight, maybe it’s the entire sun. 

                              They bring Alex home later that day but Billy comes back to (Y/N)’s place. You don’t just cry to someone about your fucked up childhood and then leave. There’s no manual for it but Billy is fairly sure that’s not how this works.

He stays until Sunday afternoon, eating pizzas and watching stupid tv shows. He watches her do her hair, listens to her sing, just experiences her day to day life and something in him changes. He wishes he could have this. A home that doesn’t feel like a prison. A place where he can be himself. Free. Safe. Happy. 

When he leaves, neither of them mentions that moment on the balcony. Some things you don’t need to say, to talk about. Some things you just feel.

                              It’s monday after school when Billy arrives back at HHTCY. (Y/N) isn’t there yet so he changes into his “uniform” and checks his schedule for where exactly he has to be to help set up.

“ Room 322 “ 

It’s not a room he’s familiar with but what he does know, is that it’s located in the newer section of the place. There’s a gym there too and an auditorium for when they have little festivals or the kids put on plays. 

Soon enough Billy finds himself pushing open the doors to room 322. It’s a large room and ar first all he notices is a few rows of chairs on one side of the room, that is until he walks inside a little further. At the other end of the room, there’s all kinds of instruments. A drumset sits in the corner, several guitars are resting against the wall, flutes and clarinets and trombones are placed neatly in a shelf.

And then there’s the piano.

It’s stuck right in the middle of the room surrounded by all the other instruments on one side and the chairs on the other. Made from a dark wood it shines in the harsh light of the ceiling lamp.

As Billy walks closer, memories from his childhood pop up like ghosts in a christmas movie. Taunting him with what once was. Teasing him with what could have been. What could still be.

He remembers one time when he was maybe 7 and dad had a proper job for a while. They had moved to a really nice house that had big sliding windows leading out onto the beach and the ocean. Mom was happy then. Probably happier than he’d ever seen her. Before and after.

She had a piano there and she always played it. Always. She kept the windows open and let Billy play by the water. He could hear her music all the way down to the beach. 

He loved to watch her play. There was a smile in the corner of her lips whenever she played. A secret smile reserved for only the music. Her fingers moved over the keys so elegantly. Like they were dancing.

Billy loved to watch and he loved to listen. So much so, that he memorized her exact movements. Memorized each small little gesture. He knew just by watching and listening, what keys to press at what time to create which sound. 

Billy Hargrove taught himself to play piano by ear without even knowing or realizing it. Solely and purely to be able to remember the magic his mother brought to those days at the beach when things were happy and the secret smile was still there in the corner of her lips.

They didn’t live there for very long and things got way worse after that and the piano was sold to put food on the table and the secret smile was gone and never seen again.

Slowly his feet drag him towards the instrument, like he has no real control over them. His mom always had a certain gift of creating magic in a moment with just pushing down a few keys on the piano. She captured all the best things about life in one short melody. 

Billy despises his dad for taking that away from her. For taking away the magic and the smile. For making her leave. 

When he sits down by the piano, Billy closes his eyes and tries to remember the days of summer. Tries to remember sitting by the open window and watching his mom play. Play and smile. He tries to remember the sound of the songs and the movements of her fingers. 

It feels like it happened just yesterday and in another life altogether.

His fingers begin to move along the keys trying to remember, trying so hard to recall. 

And before he knows what happens really, he plays. A soft melody echoes around the room and for a fleeting moment it feels like he succeeds in capturing the magic just the way his mother did. 

Only he’s still Billy Hargrove. Local asshole. Broken boy with daddy and mommy issues who always fucks things up for everyone. There’s no magic in him. Maybe there used to be when he was a kid with big blue eyes and an imagination and an innocent heart. 

His fingers stop moving and he lifts his head and opens his eyes, expecting to find a big empty room void of all magic.

Only he doesn’t. 

He’s met with a pair of eyes sparkling at him and that one of a kind sunshine smile that he’s grown so fucking fond of in the last few days.

Her eyes are so soft and kind and there’s no judgement in them and yet Billy feels insanely insecure. He’s never showed this to anyone. Never let anyone but his mom know that he was able to play.

It feels more intimate than sex ever did. This is stripping down on a whole new level.

“ I uh — sorry I didn’t — I “ he doesn’t really know what to say. 

“ Don’t apologize. That was amazing. I didn’t know you could play. “ 

Truth be told, until just then Billy believed he had forgotten how to do it. And really, he can’t play he just mimics what his mom used to do. All theory, that’s completely lost on him. He just knows how to do the songs his mom used to play. Put a sheet of music in front of him and he’s hopeless.

“ I only know a few songs. The ones I heard as a kid. “ 

“ Heard ? You play this by ear ? “ 

He shrugs “ — and eyes I guess. Watched my mom do it. “ 

“ That’s incredible Billy. Can you — can you play another one ? “ 

Her voice has never been so soft with him, as if she’s afraid of breaking him should she talk any louder. And truth be told she just might. 

There’s a song his mom always used to play, it’s hidden in the corner of Billy’s mind but he knows he can play it. Remembers it so vividly. It was in some cheesy Audrey Hepburn movie his mom made him watch with her one day. From the moment she heard that song she was enchanted by it, tried to buy ever cover version she could find on vinyl and made it her mission to learn how to play it on piano.

He didn’t like the Audrey version all that much. The one his mom played though, he loved that one. Loves it. Present tense.

So he closes his eyes again and plays, he’s rusty at first but soon enough his fingers glide along the keys creating music. Creating magic, maybe ? 

He knows there is magic though, when a voice starts to sing along. It’s soft and quiet at first but as the song continues she seems to get more comfortable. More sure of herself. 

Billy feels that in that moment when she’s sitting down beside him on the piano bench, singing along to the song he’s playing for her, the song his mom used to play, that magic is present in all of it. There’s enchantment in the way she softly touches his shoulder. How she giggles when she doesn’t hit the note just right. How she makes him feel so effortlessly at home right there with her. Making music. Making magic.

The song ends and Billy turns to her then opens his eyes and oh god she’s so close. She’s so close he can see the different colored specks in her eyes creating one pool of kindness and wonder. He can feel the tip of her nose against his and her breath on his skin.

There’s so much he wants to say and yet no words would ever suffice. 

The words of the song keep echoing in his head, louder and louder with each heartbeat, each breath mingling, each soft touch of her fingers against his shoulder. 

“ Two drifters off to see the world. “ 

“ (Y/N) — “ he says, trying to even his breath, calm his heart.

“ Hmm ? “ 

“ When’s your birthday ? “ 

“ Friday three weeks from now “ 

He nods then leans in closer, and closer. 

Only to pull away when the heavy doors open and a gaggle of kids rush into the room.

And the moment is gone. 

And the magic is gone. 

Only it’s still there. Hidden in the corner of his lips, a secret smile meant just for her. 

                              Taglist:

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx

[lovelylogans]

booyah! (emphasis on the boo)

TOUR GUIDE GARRETT: Now, I'm gonna tell you something a little spooky. The morning of October 25, 1894, Sir Aldridge awoke furious when his breakfast was not waiting for him. So, he called to his servants, but none of them responded. Why? Because, during the night, one by one they had each been stabbed to death in their sleep. It was later discovered that they were murdered by his eldest daughter, Gertrude Aldridge. Sir Aldridge once wrote in his diary, 'I know God makes no mistakes, but I believe he may have been drunk when he built Gertrude's personality.'

-ghostbusters, 2016

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: recreational drinking, mention of homophobia, murder mention, absolute fucking disaster gays, claustrophobia maybe (stuck in a closet while anxious, not specifically because of the closet) 

pairings: logicality, eventual prinxiety

words: 2,244

notes: so, this is for the 13 days of halloween prompt over at @sanderssidescelebrations​! today’s prompt is ghost hunting! i am essentially rewriting a premise i once wrote in an old fic of mine, so. here we go. let’s see how my writing stacks up a couple years apart.

They’re all drunk on shitty wine for one of their intermittent wine-and-whine nights when Virgil brings up his haunted apartment. 

When Virgil says it, Logan heaves a massive sigh from where he’s got his head pillowed on Patton’s lap, where Patton’s playing with his hair—Logan swings between sleepy drunk and ranty, rambly drunk, and he’s landed on sleepy tonight—and grumbles, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Now, Logan, let’s hear him out,” Patton says. “Virgil is, after all, one of our best friends in the whole wide world who should be cherished and loved because he is one of the bestest little boys.”

Patton, on the other hand, solidly embodies the whole “cuddly-complimentary-drunk-girl-in-the-bathroom” stereotype.

“Yeah, yeah, I wanna hear this,” Roman says, from where he’s sprawled out on Virgil’s rug, grinning loose and easy, making Virgil’s stomach flip-flop. “You’ve been living here, what, a year, and you’re just now talking about how it’s haunted?”

“I know,” Virgil says, “I know, I know, but—but I basically have proof, this time, all the other stuff seemed, y’know—creaking furniture and things not being exactly where I remember and whispers in the night, that kind of thing.”

“Proof,” Logan sighs, and rolls his eyes. “All right. What proof is there.”

“It locked me in a closet.”

There’s a brief, thoughtful pause.

“So, like, the ghost is homophobic?” Roman says. Patton nearly snorts wine out of his nose as Virgil feels his face heat—well, even warmer than he already is, from the alcohol—and he sets down the novelty Thanos-glove-themed cup of wine with a thunk.

“I mean, probably!” Virgil says heatedly. “If you look at, like, all of historic times—”

“Homophobia was fairly frequent, yes,” Logan says, musingly. “But it’s not as if you’ve particularly shown off homosexual activity in this apartment.”

Roman starts laughing so hard he nearly falls off the couch, and Virgil fights the urge to chuck a pillow at either Logan or Roman.

“You didn’t have to at him like that, L, oh my God,” Roman says, and snorts, giggling still, and Virgil wishes that it didn’t practically melt away all of Virgil’s irritation at him—it does heighten the embarrassment, though, because he’s been single because he’s been hopelessly pining over Roman. 

Logan glances up at Patton, confused, and Patton explains, “It kind of sounded like you were saying there wasn’t much reason for a haunting because Virgil’s been single for so long, honeybear.”

“Thanks,” Virgil grumbles. “All of you, great, thanks so much, I’m painfully single, we get it, can we get back to the ghost that’s bullying me into going back into the closet and managed to trap me there for two hours—”

“Two hours?!” Roman exclaims. “You were stuck for two hours and you didn’t, like, slam your body into it until it flew off its hinges or something?!”

“I tried, but it wouldn’t budge,” Virgil says. “It swung open again after I, like, learned my lesson, or whatever, and then I spent all of last night not able to sleep and with all the lights on and now I’m wondering if I’m going crazy.”

“So that’s why you called for a wine-and-whine night,” Patton says, which is mostly true. He’d been planning on calling one because he’s going grocery shopping sometime this week and he wanted to clear out the remaining dregs of his bottles of three-dollar wine now before he goes and gets new, unopened bottles, but it’s been rushed up the line because Virgil’s hands won’t stop shaking and he can’t really look too closely at the closet that he’s got propped open through all the means he could think of, and sage burned, and he’d been researching the paranormal all day, which made him even more anxious. So he just says—

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “Just in case something else happens.”

And nothing else does—well, Logan falls asleep pretty quickly after that, and Patton goes on a tooth-rottingly sweet ramble about how much he loves them all and how much better his life has been since they all came into it and how he thinks Logan is The One for him and he’s so grateful they’ve all been with him on this life journey, and Roman wraps an arm around Virgil’s shoulders and leans his cheek against Virgil’s hair and lets out this soft, content sigh that makes Virgil kind of absurdly happy—but ghost-wise, nothing happens.

At least, not until a couple weeks later.

They’re all at Virgil’s apartment again—this time, they’re all doing separate work time, Patton settled under Logan’s arm as Logan read a book and as Patton flipped through a notecard set, and Roman with a script strewn about the floor, Virgil taking notes on a reading he has to do—when there’s a loud noise. Virgil freezes.

There’s another noise—like someone slamming their fists against the floor. Like someone trapped underneath, trying to get out.

Roman glances up from his script. “What was that?”

“Gertrude,” Virgil says through a dry mouth.

“Gertrude?” Patton says, curious.

“The ghost.”

Logan scoffs.

“It’s not funny, Logan, I’m being serious,” Virgil says, and decides fuck it and then digs out his printed-off pages of research. “There used to be a manor here and this lady named Gertrude Aldridge apparently killed all the family’s servants and then her dad locked her in the basement to spare the family public humiliation and she died down there, so—“

Roman makes an interested noise, reaching for the folder, and Virgil hands it over. Roman’s a big fan of true crime and ghost stories and also Buzzfeed Unsolved, so he really probably should have roped Roman into this earlier. Also, ghost research wasn’t even the most pathetic excuse he’d tried to use in order to spend time with Roman alone, he really should have used it.

“So you think Gertrude,” Logan says, voice dripping with disdain, “is going to... kill you.”

“Well, now I am.”

Logan heaves a massive sigh, and sets aside his book. “Look, Virgil, I can understand that you are anxious, and I can understand the popular narrative of ghost stories offering a simple explanation for various noises and occurrences, though there are dozens more logical explanations for—”

He’s cut off by a distant, feminine howl of outrage.

Logan pauses, before he says, “Your neighbor.”

Logan’s book then proceeds to pick itself up and throw itself from his hands.

Logan looks on the verge of saying still not a ghost, but Roman howls “holy SHIT!” before he can, nearly falling backward off the couch in his quest to scramble away, grabbing Virgil’s hand and tugging him back before planting himself in front of him, arms spread wide, like he’s guarding Virgil, like he’s shielding him, and if Virgil wasn’t so scared shitless right now he’d think it was noble or sweet or something, but as it is, Virgil’s legs are trembling underneath him and he distantly, hysterically, imagines himself swooning into Roman’s arms like some kind of southern belle.

And then the floor starts rumbling, and then Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, and Patton yelps, and Logan grabs Patton—Logan shoves Patton down and rolls underneath Virgil’s dinner table—and Roman hauls Virgil closer to his bedroom, and before Virgil can say wait, don’t—

—the door swung shut behind them, and, in the dark, Roman said, “Ah.”

“We’re trapped,” Virgil said. “In my closet. Again.”

“Well,” Roman said, breath a warm puff against Virgil’s neck, “It’s my first time being trapped in your closet.”

Virgil giggles, a bit hysterical because the fucking ghost started shaking his whole apartment, and Roman huffs out a laugh, and Virgil can feel the hot air on his neck, and wow that sure was a strange mix of emotions, adrenaline and fear and a hint of embarrassment at being so close that he can feel Roman’s fucking breath on his neck and a twinge of heat deep in his stomach.

“So,” Roman said, and swallowed audibly. “Should I try slamming against the door?”

Virgil shuffled aside as much as he could, stepping on a pile of what’s probably dirty laundry and trying not to trip directly into Roman as he wobbled for balance. “Sure.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

That repeated a few times, before there was a voice outside the room. “Roman? Virgil?”

“Hey, Logan,” Virgil called, trying not to wince.

“Your closet again?!” Logan said, exasperated.

“It’s not like we chose this, Ego-ist Spengler!” Roman snapped. 

There’s the sound of someone trying the handle, then someone more enthusiastically trying the handle, then a huff.

“It’s stuck.”

“Yeah, Logan, we know,” Virgil said. 

“Is that them?” Patton’s voice sounded.

“Yeah, it’s us,” Roman said.

“I think I’m going to go find some kind of toolkit,” Logan said decisively. “Virgil, do you have one?”

“One, a toolkit won’t work against a ghost, two, no, what do I look like, Bob the Builder?” Virgil snapped, and Roman snorted—he must have been equally pressed against the other wall of the closet, so that they’re as far apart as they can be.

Logan sighed, irritated, and said, “Well, you should have one. Do either of you have your phones?”

“I’ve got mine,” Roman said.

“Fine. Virgil, where are your keys?”

“You’re leaving?!” Virgil demanded.

“Yes, to procure the tools necessary to free you,” Logan said. 

“At this point, you should maybe take the door off the hinges, kiddo,” Patton suggested.

“That won’t work against a—! You know what, fine, yeah, go, my keys are on the kitchen table.”

“Patton and I will be back shortly,” Logan announced. “I’ll ask your neighbors first and if we have to visit a store, I’ll text.” 

There’s the sound of footsteps, and the even more distant sound of Virgil’s front door closing.

There’s a long pause.

“Well,” Roman said. “We’re stuck here because of your homophobic ghost.”

“Gertrude. Yeah.”

Virgil tried to take in an even, good breath. 

“Hey, you okay?” Roman asked, all soft and concerned, and Virgil’s breath hitched as Roman’s hand gently closed around his wrist, fingers grazing delicately along the veins there, the soft skin above them, the tendons standing out stark, and if Virgil’s heart started racing a little faster, well. Roman wouldn’t be able to tell why.

“Fine, mostly,” Virgil said, a little strangled. “Just—y’know. Ghost in my apartment. Even stronger than I thought it was. And now I’m trapped in a closet” with you, my unrequited maybe-love but I haven’t even gotten close to unparsing those feelings and I’m freaking out about enough right now “with no way to really get out, so. I’m just peachy.”

“Right, yeah,” Roman said, still soft, almost uncharacteristically so. “D’you want me to count, or—?”

“Just—“ Virgil said, and swallowed. “Distract me?”

And then Roman does something entirely unexpected.

Roman’s hand slid to cup his cheek, his hand sure and warm, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips against Virgil’s. Virgil’s mouth parted in surprise, and his eyes went wide, but he couldn’t see in this stupidly dark closet, the strip of light from the door only enough to dully illuminate the gold stripes running down Roman’s jacket sleeve. Roman kissed him harder and it felt like finally, finally, and Virgil was grateful now for only that little strip of light as they parted because he was sure he was gaping like an idiot.

“Like that?”

“I,” Virgil said, fumbling, “I—”

“I’ve liked you,” Roman said, stubborn and a little shaky, just around the edges. “I’ve really liked you, for a really long time, and I think you—I think you maybe like me too, or at least I hope you do, and if you don’t this is so embarrassing and I’m gonna spontaneously combust and also never talk to you again just to save you from the—”

Roman couldn’t say anything more, though, because Virgil’s fumblingly grabbed at the lapels of Roman’s jackets and hauled him close, and just like that the kiss went from finally to scorching, Roman biting hard at his lip and Virgil letting out a startled, gasping, embarrassing noise at the sensation of it.

“Fuck that homophobic ghost,” Roman growled. “I’ll show her—”

“Roman, shut up,” Virgil said, sounding closer to a wheeze than anything, and then Roman did shut up, quite tidily and for quite a while, until—

There’s the sound of Virgil’s front door opening, and Virgil pulled back from Roman, who made an incredibly ego-boosting noise when he did, and he attempted to quickly finger-comb his hair into some semblance of array.

Logan’s voice rang out, “One of your neighbors had a toolbox, so we were able to borrow it from them for a bit, if you’ll just—”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, sure,” Virgil called, avoiding the gruffness to his voice as he heard Roman similarly, hastily, making sure that he’s in order, and then the door swings open.

“There we—“

Logan fell silent. Virgil cleared his throat, tugging at his hoodie, making sure it covers any part of his neck that Roman had touched, or kissed, or bit. Logan and Patton looked between them.

“You know, when someone experiences physiological responses related to fear,” Logan said, sounding absolutely exhausted, “people often mislabel those responses, it’s called misattribution of arousal—”

Virgil, cheeks burning, leaned down to grab a t-shirt at random, balling it up and hurling it at Logan.

“It’s not just,” Virgil began heatedly, but then he saw Patton beaming, all gleeful and delighted, and talking about arousal in front of Patton is a bit like talking about arousal in church or something equally awkward and slightly taboo.

“You two,” Patton said, “you two—”

“Yeah, we—yeah,” Roman said, and looked to Virgil. “I mean, we—we are. Yeah?”

“—yeah,” Virgil said, and couldn’t stop his grin. “Yeah.”

“How romantic,” Logan said dryly.

Identically, Roman and Virgil reach out and shove at Logan’s shoulder.

[idkhyuck]

21 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS WITH NCT

DAY 4 MARK  *two days late. 

MARK LEE x READER AU! 

SUMMARY: what if Mark Lee was still that normal boy playing guitar in church. church boy!mark lee x reader have a prestigious Christmas eve duet in front of their entire church

tw// MENTIONS OF RELIGIOUS CELEBRATIONS IDK I DON’T WANNA HURT ANY ATHEISTS I LOVE Y’ALL TOO. 

I sat through the sermon trying my hardest to pay attention but all that’s was on my mind was how good mark looked today. He walked in with his guitar, his hair damp from the snow, cheeks rosy from the snow. A literal Angel. The Choir and the Band were meeting after mass to discuss the Christmas masses coming up. If I was able to not pass out maybe I could ask mark out for a hot chocolate, not that I’ve failed the past 15 times I’ve tried to talk to him.

 “Y/N I want you on to do O Holy Night this year.” The choir director said shocking me and everyone else in the room “You’ve grown so much this year, and you’ve earned it.” O Holy Night was the solo performance everyone fought for every Christmas. I never thought I would ever get a chance at it; I didn’t even put my name in the box of names the director put out.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, and Mark will accompany you.” He said, “I’ll over see a private practice every second day leading up until Christmas mass.” He said “Two weeks you guys can do it. Come get the music.” He motioned towards both of us. I walked up and picked up my sheets and turned to smile softly at mark, he returned my smile and I felt lightheaded. Oh, my goodness how am I supposed to survive. I went back to my seat and studied my music. This piece wasn’t easy, but I knew if I worked hard enough, I could pick it up easily, I just had to not be nervous around mark of in front of the crowd for that matter. Holy shit a solo on Christmas eve mass.

 I was sitting in the Café down the road from the church, the snow lightly falling, the cold wind blowing the snow around wildly, I had my first practice with mark in a 20 minutes and my best friend was sitting across from me trying to calm me down.

“You’ve got this in the bag, you don’t even need to practice.” She said “you slayed practice today. Your voice is already warmed up, so it’ll come easy.” She said matter of factly sipping at her latte “You’re the best singer in our choir.” She said, “Mark is the best guitarist in the band.” She said “two God gifted people celebrating the birth of the lord on Christmas eve in song. Father may cry” she laughed. I shoved her and stood up and took a deep breath “I’ll be here waiting for you to come back.” I waved at her and grabbed my tea and made my way back to the church. Mark was getting out of his parents’ car when I pulled up

“hey partner.” He said smiling at me as he got his guitar out of the back of the car

“hey.” I said quietly. “you ready?” I asked as he waved goodbye to his dad.

“Lead the way.” He said pointing to the door, I opened the door and we made our way quietly down the stairs into basement of our church where all of our practices were held.

“hello! Right on time.” Our director said, “We’ll work on just running through it once.” He said “don’t’ worry about mistakes that’s what were here to fix.” He said, “We’re all friends here anyway.” He laughed and we both laughed nervously. Mark looked a little nervous like me, was he worried about this too. He took out his guitar and started tuning it and this is when I would warm up my voice, but I had actual choir practice not even an hour ago and a huge cup of tea. “okay, I’ll play the piano, mark join in when you feel ready. Y/N. start.” I took a deep breath and looked down the first few words quieter than I thought they would be “projection y/n. the church acoustics can only do so much.” He laughed “From the top.” He started again deep breath and this time it came out much louder and clearer. By the second verse I could hear mark start strumming at his guitar, my heart picked up and apparently so did my singing because “tempo guys keep it together ba ba ba, ba ba ba.” He said tapping the top of the piano, I didn’t dare look at mark, but I could feel his eyes on me. My voice was a bit strained as I got to “Fall on your knees” because I wasn’t breathing, and I could hear a few out of tune plinks from marks guitar “okay. Enough.” The choir director said, and Mark and I looked at each other. “it’s obvious we have some nerves here.” He said, “remember to breathe y/n and Mark remember the tempo, it’s not a race.” He said grabbing a metronome from the top of the piano “we’ll work on you first.” He said pointing to me. “you got a bit fast in the middle.” We went through the song a few times acapella and I could really feel it, this song was much harder than I thought it would be. “that’s enough for you today. Just harmonize with marks playing for the rest of the hour.” He said as he turned to mark. He helped mark figure out the best finger placements and they sat there strumming through the song so many times. My fingers were sore from just watching them. It was such a dream to see mark like this, he was wearing a hoodie, his hair pushed back. He was always dressed in the band clothes. He was so focused when he was playing, his face would scrunch when he messed up. He’d smile when he got through a piece. He looked so soft and huggable when he was playing. I still remember the first time he joined the band; I was 15 and had been in choir for a year now. He moved here with his family and was looking for somewhere to play so his family suggested the church band. We went to the same high school but never talked. The time we spent in church together was my favourite. It’s like he was different here and it connected us. When we graduated last year, I was worried he’d move away for college, but he was still here. Our parents actually talked a lot, we just never did mostly due to my awkwardness which has gotten progressively worse as we’ve aged.

 Practice came to an end and we were packing up our things “you uh did great.” I heard behind me, I turned and blushed

“you too.” I said glancing up at him then down again.

“do you have a ride home?” he asked me as he put his picks away in the bag on the bench

“yeah, I’m actually meeting y/f/n at the café down the road for a bit.”

“ah, okay.” He said, “I’ll see you Thursday then.” He said putting on his hood and grabbing his stuff

“yeah.” I replied as I fumbled with my coat and then we both awkwardly made our way up the stairs. I was already halfway down the block when I heard

“hey wait.” I froze and turned to see mark rubbing the back of his head “can I get your number? Just in case we want to work on some things or whatever.” He said, “it’ll be easier.” He said running down the block to meet me

“oh, yeah, of course.” I said as he handed me his phone, I put my number in and “I’ll uh see you.” I said awkwardly doing a finger guns and turning. I wanted to die, I heard him giggle as I walked away. Crap, I didn’t get his number. I was mentally torn to shreds by time I got to the café and all My best friend could do was laugh at me.

 The following Tuesday

“Okay! This is our last practice before the mass sunday.” The director said. “We’ve got to get it all together.” He said. I pretty much had the song down acapella. It was when we tried to piece it together that’d we’d mess up. Mark and I were not in heavenly harmony, and it made me sad. “I’ll see you guys sunday.” The choir director said. “Put in some practice and take care of your voice.” He said to me specifically. I walked home that evening worried beyond belief that we’d never get it. I was just finished dinner when my phone beeped, an unknown text came up

“y/n?”

“it’s mark.” Came in a second later, my heart picked up slightly

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked

“wanna meet for an extra practice?”

“right now?” I asked

“yeah. My bible study group just let out, I’m still at the church, come and I’ll let you in.” He said of course he took bible study, goodness I might love him.

“I’ll ask my parents.”

“I’ll drive you home after.” He said, my heart fluttered.

“okay. I’ll see you in a few.” I said I ran down the stairs and put on my coat and made my way towards the church, the snow was falling lightly and the cold bit at my nose as I ran down the road. I stood outside the church taking a few deep breaths and trying my best to remain calm. The door bust open and a few kids from the high school came out. I snuck in; I heard the guitar coming from inside the church. I walked in and saw him sitting there on the stool in front of him with his eyes closed he was playing through our piece with such concentration it was beautiful. I felt weird just standing there so I walked in slowly and sat in the pew in front row. The creaking of the pew scaring both him and I. I laughed and he placed his guitar down

“sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“no worries. Those guys let me in.”

“k cool.” He said pulling his stool over to me “okay. So, I was thinking we could practice in here like it was an actual church day. Get a feel for how we’ll really sound.” He said pulling his hoodie sleeves up.

“that’s genius.” I said standing up

“okay. So you need to warm up or anything?” he asked

“I’m still pretty okay.” I said clearing my throat.

“okay. So I’ll count us. Stand right here.” He said tapping his foot in front of him. I moved over and awkwardly stood in front of him. he counted and started playing I came in right on que a little quiet. The empty pews kind of intimidating to look at my voice cracked

“you okay?” He asked, I turned and fiddled with my sleeves

“yeah, it’s just it’s pretty empty in here.” I laughed “and like I’m used to it being full and standing with the choir and idk I just feel really alone. And that sounds so stupid.” I said laughing awkwardly playing with my sleeve.

“no, I get it.” He said, “I’ve been kind of freaking out too.” He said, “I’ve never played solo before.”

“I’ve never sung a solo before.” I said

“we’ll technically we’re not solo.” He said smiling and looking down “We have each other.” He said quietly. “Here.” He said standing up “Look right at me.” He said grabbing my arms and standing me in front of him I couldn’t hide the blush that rose on my cheeks.

“okay.” I said looking up at him. his brown eyes so incredibly comforting and absolutely sparkly in the lights of the church. I counted us in and tried my best to maintain eye contact with him. I got so lost in marks eyes and the sound of the guitar playing that I didn’t have time to focus or worry that I hit the note easily. His eyes lit up; realization hit me

“OH MY GOD. OH, MY GOODNESS!” I said putting my hand over my mouth because I just used the lords name in vain in the church. He laughed at me then pulled me into a hug.

“YOU DID IT!” He said excitedly. I was frozen, it was such a new feeling being this close to him, The faint smell of his cologne? Soap? Shampoo? It was intoxicating His arms wrapped around me. He then realized what he was doing he let me go then held me at arms length. His eyes were lit up and his cheeks were blushing furiously. “sorry.” He said. I hoped to the good lord above he couldn’t hear my heart beating 100 miles per hour.

“it’s okay.” I said looking down. “Can we try that again?” I said “The signing. I mean.” I said stumbling over my words.

“Yeah. Of course.” He said sitting back on his stool with his guitar. “okay. I’m right here.” He said I nodded and then we played through the song 3 more times each time I gained more confidence; each time mark would put his arm around me or pat me in excitement.  I wish I could be as comfortable with his as he seems to be with me. “I think we’ve pretty much got this.” He said looking at his watch “If we head out now I’ll buy you a hot chocolate in celebration.” He said standing up and gathering his things then straightening up to look at me “if you want.”

“that’d be nice.” I said walking to gather my music and my coat.

“k cool.” He said loading his backpack with his bible study stuff. “I’m parked on the side so watch it might be icy.” He said as he slipped on his coat. He grabbed his guitar case and we were off.

Once inside his car he cranked the heat and turned the radio to a Christmas station. He blew on his hands then grabbed the wheel as he backed out a bunch of papers fell from his dashboard

“sorry.” He said reaching for them touching my thigh in the process “sorry.” He said again “My homework.” He said. I reached down to pick up the papers out of reach from him. “I was studying before I went into the church.” He said as I passed them to him.

“What’s your major?” I asked him

“um I’m double majoring.” He said, “music and a writing degree.”

“oh wow! And you lead youth group.”

“I like to keep busy.” He said, “I work full time at my dad’s café too.” He said, “I’m saving so I can head out and travel and do music somewhere.” He said quietly “but what about you? What do you want to do?”

“me.” I said dreading this. He was a literal saint and I was halfway through my gap year unable to pick something to do about 5 minutes away from applying to the psychology major program just so I can do something “um. Well I’m taking a gap year.” I said, “I’m not sure what I want to do.” I said “all I’ve ever really done Is go to school, and work and church and choir.” I laughed “I don’t have many hobbies outside of choir.” I said

“well why not that?” he said

“me? Be a singer?” I laughed

“You’ve improved so much in just the two years I’ve known you.” He said

“I don’t know I never thought about it. I still feel like that scared little 15-year-old girl in the backrow every time I get up there.”

“you’re the O’ Holy night angel this year.” He said incredulously

“is that what were calling it now?” I asked

“only because it’s you.” He said. Oh, he’s getting brave

“oh.” I said hoping he couldn’t see my blush “that could be something to look into. Why do you want to do music?” I asked him

“I just really love writing, lyrics, poems, stories everything.” He said “And music is something I obviously love so why not do something I love. I’ve moved around quite a bit so like that’s kind of what kept me sane. I just really love it and just maybe one day I’ll have that same effect on some kid just like me. It’s stupid I guess.” He said, “but it’s what I wanna do so I’m trying my best.” He said

“Mark that’s incredible!” I said, “I’ll remember you when you’re out there performing to millions.” I said reaching out to put my hand on top of his. “do you have any music that you wrote?” I asked, “I’d love to hear it.” I said

“I’ll show you sometime.” He said as we pulled into the coffee drive thru. He placed the order and paid then we were off “you wanna go to like a karaoke room sometime?” He asked

“uh sure.” I said, “I’ve never been.”

“do you only sing church songs?” He asked side eyeing me jokingly

“no.” I said back “I’ve just never done much singing outside of church.”

“We’re gonna fix that.” He said picking up his phone “gimme an artist.”

“uh I don’t know.” I said panicking

“here.” He said passing me his phone “play me your favourite- non church- song to sing to.” He said I put on a Disney song. “now sing!” he said I started out quietly “it’s just me and you in the church.” He said and I couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my lips as I sung along to the song. “See.” He said smiling at me “singing is definitely your thing.” He said

“you really think so?” I asked him taking a sip of the hot chocolate, He nodded beside me as he turned the heat down

“i think it’d be a waste of talent NOT to pursue singing, the worst that’ll come of a music degree is you become a music teacher.” He said, “and even that isn’t a horrible gig.” He laughed

“thanks.”  I said looking down. We pulled into my block “I’m this one right here.” I said “Thanks for the drink. And the ride. And the practice.” I said

“no problem.” He said, “See you Sunday Christmas angel.” He said I leaned over to kiss his cheek and that took his newfound confidence down a notch he sat there looking down with his cheeks blushing as I got out. I walked up my driveway, I turned to see him siting there his hand on his cheek.

 Sunday morning Christmas eve mass #1

“you’ve got this.” Mark said to me as we walked into the church. Our parents not far behind us. Mark and I talked nonstop since our private practice on Thursday. We hung out yesterday at the café. He showed me all the cool things he was able to do within his study at the university. I hung out and listen to him as he did homework. We’re not dating but I could definitely see it going that way someday and that thought made me so happy. My mom surprised me with a dress for today I felt so bad to have to wear my choir robe over.

“you look beautiful!” out choir director said, “do not put that on.” He said, “you’ll stand centre today, We haven’t a moment to waste.” He said rushing me over to the risers. We ran through our warm and up and discussed the schedule for today. We had an hour between each mass. Soon the church was filling for the first mass, it was only the first mass but there was more than the Sunday usual already. I tried my best to keep my nerves are bay I looked at mark

“You and me baby.” He mouthed and I blushed and nodded. We opened with our normal hymns. I prayed really hard during mass for guidance into the new year as I thought more and more each day about pursuing music and mark. Soon it was time for me to sing my heart out for the first time today. Mark started into the song I and I stepped off the riser towards the front of the altar. I was really comfortable singing the song now. I looked out and saw my parents sitting right beside marks parents. Both our dads discreetly recording us our mothers beaming with pride. We finished the song looking into each others’ eyes. Father stood up clapping and all the other people started clapping.

“That was beautiful. Thank you, my children.” He said standing in between us his arms around us “two of our brightest stars with pure god given talent. Give them another hand.” He said we bowed and made our way back to our spots. The mass closed out and then We were free for an hour. I went over to mark unsure of what to do as people left. People were coming over to us and thanking us for the performance and praising us. One of the regulars -an older lady who used to bake cookies for Sunday school- came over to us

“you two are a beautiful couple. I can tell the lord has big plans for you guys, such angels.” she said as she shook both of out hands “may god bless you both.” He said We thanked her. Mark didn’t deny us being a couple, then again neither did I. did this mean anything? Idk. Soon my mom came over to hug me

“That was beautiful my darling.” She said, “And you.” She turned to mark offering him a hug “such talent.” She said as she pulled away. We made our way down to the basement where lunch was being served. My best friend and I sat on the stage singing Christmas carols with the Sunday school kids. Mark came over with his guitar and played for us. Mass started again the nerves were gone from me completely. After our performance father came over and held us again “That’s even better the second time.” He said, “I’m so blessed I get to hear these two perform 4 more times today.” He said as we walked back to our spots. More blessings and praises, more carols in the basement. It wasn’t until after the fourth mass that I started feeling tired and overwhelmed mark must have noticed

“wanna go for a drive?” he asked me as we followed the people out of the church

“yes.”  I said. We grabbed our coats and not even 10 minutes later we were in the Tim Hortons parking lot me with a cup of tea him with a coffee and a cookie. “Thank you.” I said

“I was getting pretty tired.” He said, “you’re doing great, absolutely killing it.” He said

“I’m proud of us.” I laughed “I’m so tired oh my goodness.” I said leaning my head back.

“Me too.” He laughed “we’re killing it.”

“I swear father is gonna cry yet.” I laughed

“I’m surprised my mom hasn’t cried yet.” Mark said taking the final bite of his cookie.

“I’m just shocked they’re sitting through all the masses.”

“Can I be honest?” he asked looking at me “I blanked out these past two masses, I don’t know how father does it the same mass 6 times in one day, same sermon, Same songs.”

“same.” I said, “I’ve sat through it four times already and I’m certain I’ll never forget the readings.”

“Can I be honest again?” he asked turning towards me.

“yes.”

“all I’m really thinking about right now is kissing you. And I don’t know why I said that.” He said taking a big sip of his coffee his face blushing and looking anywhere but at me

“well kiss me then.” I said bringing his chin up, so his eyes met mine. He leaned across the console and held my face in his hands. They were a cold clammy, I was sure mine would be shaking if I didn’t have them balled into fists as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He looked down at me his eyes soft and sparkly as usual. His breath was warm on my face a mix of chocolate and coffee. I closed my eyes as I closed the gap between us. I still tasted the chocolate on his lips as we met, We moved soft and slow against each other, it’s been so long since I’ve been kissed and honestly the first time I’ve felt this way I wanted to kiss him more and longer and forever. His arms moved from my face to wrap around my sides I held him close to me by the back of his head. I wanted to run my fingers through the soft hairs that tickled at my fingers as we moved in unison. I had to pull away to catch a breath. I looked at him his eyes were lit up; his cheeks were flushed. His lips were red and covered in my gloss. Oh my god… he was beautiful. I pulled him back into me and kissed him again. He pulled back so I was leaning over the console and him, my phone was ringing in the distance we kept kissing his hands holding my up by my sides. My hands one around him in his hair on his chest holding myself up. It rang again. I pulled away this time and looked at it was my mom. We had 8 minutes to get back to the church.

“oh no.” He said looking at his phone.

“Go back through the drive through we’ll get them coffees too.” I said pulling his mirror down to look at myself, my face was just as flushed and my gloss was all over my face. I grabbed at the napkins and tried to clean up only to realize I didn’t have any to reapply because I left it at the church. Mark was busy ordering for coffee as I texted my mom where I was.

“Are you with mark?” She asked

“yeah.” I replied. No reply I couldn’t tell if that was good or back. We sped back to the church mark wiped off any remnants of lip gloss from his lips and carried the coffee in. The procession was lining up ready to go in when. We bowed and made our way to our respective spots. I could feel my best friends gaze on me as I smoothed out my dress to sit down. We made It through the service and found ourselves in the basement once again.

“one more.” Mark said sitting down beside me on the stage.

“one more.” I sighed taking a sip of my now cold tea. I looked at him and his hair was still standing up in the back I laughed “Your hair.” I said quietly. He blushed and started patting at the back of his head. My best friend came over

“I could not be prouder of you too.” She said sitting beside us.

“thanks.” I said

“Your parents were freaking the heck out when you two disappeared last mass, I thought father was gonna have an aneurysm when you were late”

“The line at Tim Horton’s was insane. I guess lots of people stop there after mass.” Mark lied

“I guess.” She said. We sat there talking about our Christmas plans a few more hours and we ‘d be home.

Midnight mass, Arguably the biggest most important mass in all the church year. Everyone and their mother show up to midnight mass even if it’s the only mass they go to all year. I tried not to let crowd get to me as the church filled. We had extra duty singing as the church filled. There were the little kids doing the nativity play out in the lobby, they’d come in and sit as the live nativity as mass went on. Mass started and I really paid attention again after tuning out the last few masses. Father was really giving his all. All the kids acting out the actions as the story of Jesus’ birth was told. It was my turn, I went and stood beside mark, I looked right at him as he played, I didn’t dare look out at he crowd. He smiled at me as we sang. This was the last time I’d sing this this year, so I really tried my best to give it my all. I hit the final note and my chest was heaving for air, Mark was smiling at me ear to ear, the church erupted in applause and father came over wiping at his eyes “The presence of the lord has been felt with you two here all day. Thank you.” He said I hugged mark and bit my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh. We bowed and wished everyone a Merry Christmas, we walked out of the church following the procession, Our lips meeting as we stood in the lobby kissing each other softly not caring who was watching.