#they should have at least given here another silly little hat to wear. she deserved that

[spacerangersam]

pilot kitty's outfit is amazing and i'm devastated she didn't get to keep it

[hes-writer]

Birthday

Summary: harry forgets y/n's birthday

Warnings: angst and fluff if you squint

Word Count: 2871 words

A/N: I’m tired. My head hurts (sucky ending ahead)

___

How silly was it to stare at a phone in anticipation for hours, waiting for it to buzz and light up with a simple banner stating ‘happy birthday!’ from your closest friends? It was a sad reality for Y/N. She was never very outspoken, often opting to keep to herself and speak only when she was comfortable. Friends were a touchy topic because she had lost so many in the past that she didn’t bother making new ones for the sake of not going through another fallen friendship.

What was the point of going through the cycle over and over again if Y/N knew the dreaded ending? She was better off saving herself from heartbreak and stick with the true friends she had.

For the past years, Y/N’s closest friends brought her joy and animated presents to celebrate her birthday. She appreciated them very much, declaring that they only had to give her greetings and she would be happy. They cared so much until they didn’t. Was it because of quarantine that they failed to realize what day it was? Were they busy with work? Were they finishing up a university project worth half of their marks? Did they forget? Y/N wondered what changed.

Having stability within herself was something that she always struggled with. As much as she tried to convince herself that she is important and that she’s worth it—Y/N knew that it was only a matter of time before all those reassurances blew up in her face.

Sometimes she feels as though she cared too much, expected too much and got nothing in return. It wasn’t a competition; really, it wasn’t. Y/N didn’t want to sound entitled but the fact that she remembered the important days and the special occasions, bringing gifts and cheery greetings only to have nothing but empty silence when the day was about her hurt more than a metal scooter to her ankle bone. 

And for the sake of it, Y/N forced herself to understand that her friends didn’t remember. They were still her friends even if she hasn't spoken to them in a while. Their life didn’t revolve around her even if it felt like she dedicated too much of hers caring for them and making sure that they felt good about themselves. Y/N hated to see them sad, doubting themselves to the point where she had to step in—too irritated to bite her tongue because they didn’t deserve to be put down that way whether it was by their own thoughts or somebody else’s.

It was a completely different story with Harry. She and Harry have been together for three years and counting, sharing memories between the two; affection, intimacy and caressing touches imprinted on one another’s skin. He was the most amazing person Y/N had ever met; always pleasing others but knowing when to draw the line. He was both logical and affectionate, never letting his heart rule too heavy on his decisions but always using his head to think it through.

Recently, Y/N felt as if their relationship was taking a low. She wasn’t too concerned because it had happened before and a simple, meaningful talk was often what she and Harry needed to get back on the right track for a long-lasting relationship. The days were passing by continuously, sometimes even confusing her until she found something to look forward to. Her birthday.

—-

The rays battled through the blinds, blinding her with faint yellow sunshine yet Y/N could see the clouds covering the sky, indicating that it was cloudy and frankly, a little bit cold today.

She yawned, pressing her fists against her eye to knuckle on them, rubbing the sleep out before stretching them outwards. She expected to hit a body laying beside her, Harry, but she was met with open-air and a sudden chill enveloping her body despite the thick comforter laying on top of her.

Y/N pressed her palms on the mattress. The creases imprinting indents on her skin as she pushed herself up slightly in alarm. Sure enough, Harry’s side of the bed was empty, wrinkled with his movements from sleep but he was nowhere to be found. His usual humming habits didn’t echo from the bathroom, nor did his constant yelps of clothes falling off the rack reverberate from the walk-in closet. She concluded that maybe he was in the kitchen preparing a special breakfast in bed—waffles and freshly cut fruit were always her favourites.

Y/N smiled at the thought, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, slipping her feet in her fuzzy slippers before dragging her legs to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Aside from a few work emails needing to be responded to, her day was essentially empty, hoping that her time would soon be filled with long-lasting memories.

Ten minutes later and a questionable frown on her face, Y/N entered the kitchen with a beating heart. The smell of breakfast food didn’t linger in the air as she had expected. In fact, there was nobody there. No one in the living room, nowhere. There was no note taped to the fridge, no gifts sitting on the counter, no cake cooling on the stove rack.

Y/N felt the corner of her mouth dip in disappointment, returning to the bedroom to switch her phone on.

A hole in her chest formed at the sight of an empty lock screen—no messages or calls needing to be tended to because no one had remembered her birthday. She tried not to think too much about it, maybe they were busy or forced by Harry to stay quiet because he had planned a surprise party later in the evening. Y/N sighed, tapping her thumbs to text him ‘where are you ���’.

The damage ripped her further apart at a notification showing pictures of ‘Today, 1 Year ago’. She contemplated whether to view them or not, aware that she was torturing herself for not getting the same amount of sentiment as the previous years.

‘meeting. I’ll call you x’ - Harry

Y/N swiped the message up, opting not to reply and wallowing in self-pity as she tried not to let her thoughts get the better of her. Today was supposed to be a happy day so why was she feeling so sad?

Wandering around Harry’s large house, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a cold blanket of loneliness draping over her shoulder. She wished that Harry was here to ease the ache quelling in her heart. All she wanted was to share sweet kisses with his soft lips, to feel his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Hearing his voice whispering dirty thoughts and compliments in her ear while she buried her face on the nape of his neck where his scent was the strongest. Maybe they would bake a cake in the kitchen. Flour dusting the air as Harry let his fingers wiggle to get it off of him. The finished product didn’t always look good but it tended to taste delicious. At least it was edible.

The daydreams in her head moved with the branches swaying outside the window, the fluffy white clouds moving westward as Y/N reeled in memories of her past birthday like a camera roll, creaking with each spin. The flickering blinking with forgotten remnants of happy flashbacks.

It was nearing four in the afternoon when Y/N decided to stop antsily waiting for the device to buzz in hopes of a message from Harry or anybody, really. The slight grief she felt washed over her mind, echoing that she wasn’t important enough to be remembered.

She didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

Y/N didn’t know what bothered her the most. Is it fair for her to expect Harry to remember her birthday? Was it a given? If he came home right now with a present on his left hand, balloons and flowers on his right with a sheepish smile inching up the lower half of his face—would Y/N still feel angry? Sad? Disappointed? All she wanted was him to remember on his own. Maybe then she’ll feel as though she was worth his time. It wasn’t even about the gifts or a celebration—just a simple acknowledgment that meant he cared for her.

She kept asking herself if she should feel sad. If she had the right to feel disappointed. It wasn’t like they made any plans. It wasn’t like he promised to do anything special with her. It felt more and more like a normal day instead of her birthday and Y/N’s heart twinged with realization.

If Harry ‘made it up to her’, was it overpowering guilt that would make him do it? Or because he genuinely forgot? Maybe both? Nonetheless, the hours passed by with barely anything productive being accomplished, having taken the day off for nothing. The device beside her vibrated once, a message from her aunt saying ‘happy birthday’ left a smile on her face. It wasn’t every day that Y/N received a text from her extended family-- she concluded that it was because her birthday was on the same day as her grandfather’s.

____

The sun sunk down beyond the horizon, darkness littering the streets that the light disappeared due to nighttime slowly cycling through the rest of the day. Y/N spent her time as she would any other day, except this time she baked a cake. A pity cake for her gloomy day. She was like a burnt cigarette crumpled on the ashtray, the last traces of orange hue fire spotting into black traces.

Y/N felt foolish wearing a party hat with a string that was way too short stretched around her head. The tightness tramping her that would probably cause slight indentations on her skin. It was nearing midnight when she decided to sing herself a happy birthday and made a wish.

The door unlocked, followed by keys rattling on a hardwood. The flame on her wax candle dancing with the gasp she released as Harry rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Y/N, you in here?” He froze in place as his eyes caught up with the rest of his body. Harry’s fingers tightened around his phone before slipping it in his back pocket. His mouth parted open, throat closing up as he tried to swallow the lump that formed. The party hat sitting on her head almost took away from the severity of the situation.

He messed up. Really bad.

“Hey, Har,” Y/N greeted, crimping her lips to bare a small ghast to the candle. The flame disappeared in the blink of an eye. Harry’s heart hammered harder in his sternum, Y/N’s plunged to her churning stomach. “Where have you been?”

The tone of her voice was mundane. Harry was trying his best to decipher how she was feeling so that he can act accordingly and that was exactly why Y/N purposefully voided it of any susceptible sentiment.

“Y/N, I-I’m sorry,” He padded his feet closer to her, the kitchen island putting distance between them. She sat on the barstool, removing the hat from her head. She fixed her hair as Harry spoke. “I’m really sorry,”

Green eyes bore through her with a sincere expression, shooting daggers in her heart for staying quiet while Harry apologized profusely. The chocolate frosted cake drooped on the edges--she had a habit of smothering the layers with frosting before it fully cooled down-- just like the corners of her mouth.

“What are you sorry for?”

Harry blinked at her, resting his hands on the edge of the counter. “I forgot your birthday,”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, you did.”

“Happy birthday, baby” His voice was tender, like a bowl of sweet, milk chocolate. Decadent and rich as it released the words she had been waiting to hear all day long. And frankly, it would’ve been enough to put a smile to her face, but the lack of content for the day embedded her in a mindset that not even Harry’s simple words could dig her out of. The amount of self-reflection she did today was a topic that she had tried to avoid for so long because it was too destructive--she never handled these thoughts well.

Y/N peered at the digital clock on the stove just as it switched to ‘00:01’. Harry followed her gaze, hitching a breath in his throat. She stared at him deeply, "Where were you?”

“Studio. I had a flow, couldn’t stop and I--,” He rambled on, nervously scratching the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the tiny curls. A part of Y/N couldn’t help but feel selfish for making this all about her (even if it was about her). Harry had other commitments besides her. He had a music career that depended on him writing songs. She knew how much it meant to him when a flow was just too good--lyrics spewing out of his mouth, melodies humming from the base of his throat. Harry wrote some of his best work in the middle of the night after dreaming about something that absolutely puzzled her to no end. Remorse spotted in her chest.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said slowly. “You were working hard. I get it,” Her hands reached out for his waist, his Gucci hoodie soft to the touch.

Harry hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, wondering if he should uncover the whole truth. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin jutting on the crown of her head. A sudden breeze slipped up his back when she slid her warm palms under the fabric. “No, I wasn’t,”

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat, leaning back far enough that he could maintain eye contact with her, “I wasn’t working hard. I was sleeping. I did write some tunes bu’ then I got knocked out for hours and didn’t wake up until eleven,”

“Oh,” Y/N let her hands dangle beside her, a rush of disappointment flooding her every being. She carefully sewed up her next response, “S’okay, you were tired,” And she was too. All she wanted was to cuddle up in their bed and he can make it up to her another day.

“It’s not okay!” Harry retorted. “I forgot about your birthday, left you all alone. I didn’t even text you,” He pounded his fist on the counter, way too close to the chocolate cake that had Y/N sneakily pulling the tray away from him but he caught her, “Didn’t get you a cake. Didn’t buy ya’ a present,”

“Harr--,” She tried to intervene in his monologue. Disappointment still weighed heavily in her chest. However, the sight of Harry fuming at his ability to remember reminded her that she didn’t enjoy seeing him blaming himself. As much as she wished to have this day play out differently, everything was already said and done.

“Stop that, Y/N! I was sleeping while you were blowing a candle out on your own. I was s’pposed to be there with you,”

Salty tears flooded her waterline, overwhelming emotions swamping her and saturating her mind, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry,” He rushed out, willing his legs to stand between hers from the distance he created. His thumb stuck out to pad a tear to her temple, “I’ll make it up to you. I swear it,”

Earlier, she contemplated if he would be acting out of guilt. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes and hearing the intensity of his voice asserting that he had messed up so badly that he reprimanded himself; there was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that Harry would do everything he can to make her feel better.

“Do you care about me?”

“‘Course, I do,” He cringed internally at his words, visibly shuddering as his actions surely emphasized the opposite. “Dunno how I forgot. It must’ve slipped my mind,” The groove in between his brows thickened, his cheek absentmindedly leaning towards her palm cupping his cheek. “I care about you a lot, Y/N.” He breathed through his nose, letting the scent of her fill his lungs.

“Do you love me?’

His lids snapped open, jaw tensing against her skin, “Loads. I love you so much,” He turned his head to kiss her palm, holding her wrist to press kisses on her fingers, her wrist, her forearm.

“I’m really sorry,” He rested his forehead against hers. Y/N tangled their fingers together as she held him close.

“You’re sorry?” She asked, the crest of her lips brushing over his plump ones. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Very,”

Y/N let her eyes fall shut, peering closer to his cloudy lips and attaching his mouth to his. Her hands travelled to his broad shoulders, straightening her back to reach his height. Harry bent down in retaliation.  They pulled away with a smacking sound, lips glistening from their intense kiss. “S’that mean I’m forgiven?” He mumbled, pressing a kiss on her head.

She scoffed, turning her attention on the cake, “Have you made it up to me yet?”

___

sucky ending, i know.

___

Permanent Taglist: @fangirl-moment-x @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @harrysstyleseyes @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @particularnarry @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @arypesanchez @harriemelonsugar @someinsanefangirl @derangedcupcake @bobo-bush @peachesaquari @shawnsnovel @ivegotparticulartaste @adore-you-hs2 @combativehood @simonsbluee @hockeyschmockey​ @belovedcherry​ @harrysahottie @adore-you-hs2 @splendidsunsetsx @turtoix @la-cey @harrys-watermelons @softkidinlove 

Birthday Taglist: @millie-753 @tomhiddleston-is-mischief @liaabsurd

[itsamejin]

leave me || part 4 || suga angst || finale

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Warning: angst, cheating, cursing

Summary: He’s cheating and you’re aware. You just don’t know what to do about it.

–

Yoongi sat in front of Jieun’s high-rise apartment complex on a bench, suffering from the cold but ultimately unfazed. The argument that occurred only hours before hurt more than this. The tears had dried by then and the only thing that was stopping him from making his way up to her penthouse suite was the terrible numbness in his heart. 

He felt so emotionally exhausted from what happened just a few hours earlier that he found himself in front of her apartment without much thought. It was like instinct to always come back here in the middle of the night. No matter if he was drunk or stressed, Jieun’s apartment would always be the place Yoongi found himself in. 

He always came after a late night of drinking or after a particularly heated argument with you. He felt safer with her, but now Yoongi wonders if he’ll ever get a chance to right his wrongs if he didn’t break up with Jieun- to expose his wrongdoings and have a clean break. Somehow the thought of letting her go too made his heart clench even more.

Yoongi made his way into the lobby and with several deep breaths, finally got in the elevator. He pressed the button to the highest floor where Jieun resided.

The doors opened and it was then he realized that there was no turning back. Jieun was in her own living room, back facing Yoongi, as she scrolled through her phone with a wine glass in hand. She jumped slightly at the sound of the elevator opening and smiled when she saw that it was Yoongi who came up.

“Yoongi! You should have called,” she said excitedly, turning off her phone.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, sorrow slightly hinted in his voice.

“Are you feeling better now, babe?” she asked as she walked up to him, wine glass still in hand. She pulled him into a short embrace and sighed into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you,” she said quietly.

For a moment, Yoongi forgot about the argument that happened earlier. That all was right in the world and that he had both you and her by his side. He felt so selfish at that moment, but it was the truth. His feelings were so muddled he couldn’t choose between the two of you. Yoongi knew he loved you, he was sure of it. But it was something in the way Jieun carried herself that took Yoongi’s breath away just the same. He felt a lump in his throat form as he thought of it.

It should’ve been then when he confessed to Jieun of all his wrongdoings. It should have been then when he got down on his knees and begged for forgiveness- and yet the way she stared up at him without a hint of disgust or sadness had only reminded him that at least Jieun still loved him. Irrevocably and without question, Jieun was still in love with Yoongi.

Maybe that’s why instead of spilling his heart out to her, Yoongi took her wine glass and gulped it down for himself and sat it aside on a nearby table. Maybe that’s why instead of leaving the apartment with any semblance of pride left, he took Jieun by the waist and kissed her deeply. Maybe instead of leading Jieun back into the living room and pushing her down onto the couch, he could’ve told her that he had knowingly broken her heart.

But Yoongi knew what kind of person he was and so he didn’t utter a single word after. Instead, Yoongi undressed Jieun to distract himself from his own guilt.

–

Sitting at home with your chin tucked between your knees, you replayed the conversation with Yoongi from just a few hours ago. You should have at least apologized, you thought. He did deserve an explanation at the very least, but you were too caught up in your own heated emotions that you lashed out on him. How could you expect him to know what you were going through without telling him first?

No, you sighed. He deserved it.

You stood up from the comfort of your couch and raided your fridge for ice cream. It seemed to be your best friend for the past few weeks. Instead of immediately grabbing the large tub from the freezer, the sight of frozen crab sticks next to it almost brought you to tears. It reminded you so much of your first date with Yoongi all those years ago at a sushi place where you ended up paying because his check from his part-time job hadn’t come in yet. 

It was much simpler back then. He didn’t have to wear hats or masks to go out on dates. He didn’t have this facade that he was someone better than he truly was. Yoongi was just Yoongi and that’s all you could’ve asked from him.

The number of times he apologized for not being able to pay for such a cheap date brought a small smile to your face. Yoongi made it up to you later that day by taking you to a secret rooftop spot to watch the sunset together. The first time you ever felt his lips on yours, the first time you felt like love would actually last.

You banged your head against your fist to get rid of the sweet images of him in your mind.

“For the love of God, please forget about him,” you muttered to yourself repeatedly. Without even realizing, you shed tears as you gripped the freezer handle with a new purpose. You stood there crying and crying until your mother walked downstairs to see what all the commotion was in the middle of the night. She rushed over to you.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“I hate him,” you said, trying to convince yourself of something that wasn’t true. “I hate him so much.”

You hoped that he was alone in that stupid apartment, crying to himself and hurting just as much as you. That he regretted every single mistake he made and that his sins would live with him forever. You wished for him to hate himself as much as you hated him.

“Baby it’s alright,” she cooed. “Things will get better. They always do.”

God, you hope it will.

–

The morning came and the guilt came with it. Yoongi stroked Jieun’s hair, as they laid on the couch, nothing but a silk blanket between them. As he stared at the penthouse’s beautiful view of Seoul, he tried to ignore his clothes strewn across the floor. He shouldn’t have come in the first place if all he was going to do was hurt her even more. He tried to get up as silently as he could, but Jieun felt his warm presence leave and attempted to have him lay back down.

“Don’t go yet or I’ll miss you again,” she muttered cutely, her eyes closed and cheeks puffed. He chuckled sadly and pulled her up with him. He held onto her and smiled.

“I’m just gonna go to the restroom, okay?” he said softly, trying to move the stray hairs away from her face. Jieun nodded, but her eyes were still closed.

Yoongi stood up as she collapsed back onto the couch, the thin blanket covering her naked form. He sighed as he grabbed his boxers and gray sweatpants from the ground and put it on. Just a little while longer and then he’d tell her. He was sure that he would.

As Yoongi brushed his teeth and washed his face, he noticed how red his eyes were from the night before. No wonder Jieun had looked so concerned for him yesterday, he looked like a fucking mess. 

Yoongi took a deep breath as he studied his reflection once again. He was thankful that Jieun still took him in and comforted him without question, that she had that much loyalty towards him. Yoongi wished he could have reciprocated the amount of love either of you gave him.

Yoongi rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. He didn’t want to lose her too. 

When Yoongi walked back into the living room, all semblance of contentment washed away because Jieun was there, clearly awake and somewhat dressed, holding a ring that he should not have brought with him in the first place. After you stormed off without it, he had put it in his pocket without thinking. He saw Jieun’s clenched jaw and angry pupils. There was no way he could avoid this situation.

“What are you doing?” he asked as kindly as he could.

“Why do you have this ring?” Jieun asked rigidly, looking back and forth between the ring and Yoongi. “It’s too small for you.”

Yoongi pursed his lips as he walked closer towards her.

“Listen, Jieun,” he started slowly, “I have to tell you something.”

Jieun knew where this was going. She had a feeling ever since Jin told her off that one night. Actually, she might have had a feeling even before then when he started his bar-hopping escapades and coming to her apartment drunker than usual. It was all leading to one thing and one thing only.

“What’s going on Yoongi?” she asked as she put down the ring on her coffee table. She stood up to meet eyes with him.

Yoongi took a deep breath. There was no real way of saying this without it hurting. He was prepared right then for her to slap him in the face.

“I had a girlfriend before you and I started dating,” he eased in, gauging her reaction that quickly turned sour. “And I never broke up with her... I just...”

It took every part of herself to not collapse onto the floor. The pain was unbearable. It seared into her as she looked into his cloudy eyes. Cheating was one thing. Being the second girl was another. In some sick way, Jieun felt dirty.

“I’ve been cheating on her with you,” he said shakily. “And I regret it so, so much.”

She stared at him, sadness and disgust laced in her gaze. Jieun couldn’t help but bite her lip to stop it from quivering. She felt trapped in her own home. As she looked up at Yoongi, he looked like a different person altogether. Not the caring and compassionate senior who showed her around his studio, not the silly boy who’d play with her pinky toe as they played a horror movie that both he and her were too afraid to watch. Before her eyes, she didn’t see the Yoongi who seemed invincible to the world’s judgment and prejudices. Instead, she saw a broken man with tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“You regret being with me?” she asked, trying to appear strong but her shaky voice had given it away.

He shook his head frantically, kneeling beside her.

“No, not that. Never that,” he said, trying to take her hand but having it pushed away. “I shouldn’t have hurt either of you. That’s what I regret.”

“How long,” she asked quietly and continued on when he looked confused. “How long were you with her before you met me?”

It seemed like a pointless question. He cheated point black period. There would be no silver lining to this, she thought. She just wanted to know how long she was ruining another girl’s life.

“I was with her before I even became a trainee,” he said in a whisper. “I was with her for six years.”

It was then she heard the sound of her own heart breaking. Any semblance of hope had drained from her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“How could you?” she whimpered as she pushed him even further away, getting up from the couch. “Yoongi, how could you do that to her? How could you do that to me?”

He closed his eyes to compose himself. His throat was dry. All he wanted was a glass of water, but he had to keep talking. He needed to fix things.

"We should break up,” he said, although every part of his body screamed to stop talking. “You deserve so much better.”

She nodded in agreement, but a small part of her wanted him to stay. To crawl onto his knees and tell her that he chose her.... that he loved her more.

“I think you should go,” she said, turning her back towards him.

“I should,” he agreed. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the floor. Yoongi walked towards her slowly. It took every part of himself not to completely collapse on her body and ask for a second chance, but Yoongi knew that he didn’t deserve it. Jieun was too good for him and you were too. 

As a last goodbye, Yoongi embraced her from behind and kissed the back of her head. She didn’t have the energy to push him off. Even if she was disgusted with Yoongi, she missed this. Jieun missed thinking that she was the only girl in Yoongi’s world. As she stood there, with her eyes closed, it felt like just a few minutes ago when they weren’t fighting.

Yoongi cried into her shoulder.

“I know it’s selfish that I’m saying this all right now, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. Nothing about what I did was your fault.”

He gulped as he heard her let out a sob.

“I love you, Jieun. I loved you so much when I shouldn’t have.”

The two stood there, clutching each other as if their life depended on it. There was something she couldn’t quite shake off and she needed to know.

“What’s her name?” Jieun asked.

He pulled away sadly and tried to look into her eyes but she avoided contact.

“Why?”

“Just tell me, Yoongi.”

He sighed and let her go hesitantly.

“[Y/N].”

It was the sound of your name that had made Jieun ball up her fists in anger. She collapsed to the floor hugging her knees as she cried into them. There really was no going back was there?

“You told me she was your sister,” she sobbed.

Yoongi crouched next to her and cried onto her back.

“I’m sorry,” he would say repeatedly until the words no longer held any meaning to her.

–

It didn't get easier as the days passed. You thought the blunt piercing in your chest would eventually fade, but three weeks after that conversation and it was still hard to get out of bed in the morning. Just a week before, Big Hit had announced Yoongi and Jieun breaking up from “busy schedules” and “bad timing.” You knew better, though... you just hoped Jieun was the one to break it off, not him.

You sighed deeply to yourself as you picked out clothes to wear later that day. You were finally heading back to work after weeks of paid sick leave, unable to come to work as you recovered from the illness that was Min Yoongi. You desperately needed a cup of coffee, but your parents refused to carry anymore around because they didn’t like the smell of it. I’ll just have to go to a cafe, you thought to yourself. 

After getting dressed, you called a cab to the nearest cafe that was within walking distance from your workplace. The eye-bags that haunted your face was still visible, but the taxi driver was kind enough to not point them out.

You ordered your usual and watched as yet another couple sat down at a table, drooling over themselves as they fed each other cute cakes and tiny sandwiches. You scoffed at the lovely pairs that surrounded you. Call it pessimism or bitterness, but you couldn’t stand the sight of couples that resembled your past relationship so much.

“Number 53, number 53,” the worker at the counter called. You made your way to grab your drink until a hand that reached out first got a hold of it before you. The fingers looked familiar and the scent of the person was just too distinct to ignore. You looked up and was met with a masked figure wearing sunglasses.

Jieun.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I thought he said 64,” she said as she pulled her hand away. She hadn’t quite looked at you yet, but when she did, you swore hell froze over. She stared at you blankly and you couldn’t quite decipher what was going on in her mind. The glasses were tinted so black that you couldn’t even see her eyes underneath.

“You’re [Y/N] right?” she asked cautiously, tucking a strand of her hair back.

You nodded as you finally grabbed the drink from the counter. You took a sip from it. Bitter.

“I’m Jieun,” she said softly. “But I think you already know that.”

You could see in her eyes that she wanted to reach out and shake your hand, but it already felt a little too late to do that.

“Yeah,” you replied back curtly not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“Actually, I’m glad I bumped into you,” she said, apprehension laced in her voice. “I wanted to talk... about Yoongi.”

You sighed and checked the time on your watch. It wouldn’t be another hour until your shift started and you felt like you needed to hear what Jieun wanted to say anyways.

“I’m free for a bit.”

She smiled sadly towards you and took off her sunglasses to reveal tired eyes.

Jieun led you a table in the corner of the cafe, hidden by various plants. It was then that she took off her face mask. She looked exhausted, resembling you quite a bit just a few weeks before. She looked at you, searching for a way to start the much-needed conversation.

“[Y/N],” she said hesitantly. “I found out the day after I bumped into you. Yoongi told me everything after I found your ring on him.”

You stared up at her, unable to take a sip out of your coffee. “And?” you asked, more curious than infuriated.

You could tell she was about ready to cry. You wanted to comfort her, truly you did, but maybe it was the bitterness that stopped you from reaching out to her.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

You shook your head in understanding.

“I thought it was my fault too, but it’s not. Yoongi dug his own grave, Jieun,” you replied reassuringly. 

She chuckled slightly.

“But you know what the crazy thing is?” she asked hesitantly.

“What?”

Jieun took a moment to herself as she stared down at her fingers, fiddling with them nervously.

“I miss him, [Y/N] and I feel like I’m going crazy,” she said shakily. “Every time I see him in real life I can’t help but feel like I need him back in my life. I just... I don’t think I can live without him.”

It seemed that Jieun had grown codependent on Yoongi throughout the months they were together. It was unfortunate, but you could definitely relate to her. You were once like that at one point in your life, choosing to still be with him even though he had another woman.

“You don’t need him as much as you think you do Jieun,” you said, taking her hand from across the table into yours. “Trust me.”

You don’t really know who you were trying to convince. You weren’t even fully over Yoongi yet and here you were, offering advice to the other girl that contributed to your broken heart.

She sighed shakily and shook her head.

“I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t forgive him, but I love him so much,” she said, clenching your hand into hers. 

You took out a handkerchief and gave it to Jieun, wiping away her tears with it. Her eye makeup slightly getting smudged. 

“You’re a strong girl Jieun,” you said sternly. “And you’ll be so much better off without him.”

She stared up into your eyes and chuckled slightly.

“I hope so. You seem to be doing fine,” she replied.

If she only knew.

–

Four years later... 

Your small conversation with Jieun had stuck with you throughout the years, never really escaping your mind. The two of you never saw each other again and to your dismay, Jieun did end up getting back together with Yoongi two years after the incident. They created waves in the Korean media, for weeks their love story was plastered everywhere The first celebrities to admit a reconciliation! The headlines alone made you want to gag.

It was another two years later since your least favorite couple got back together when they announced their happy engagement. You shouldn’t have been angry. In fact, it made you upset that you were even getting worked up over something that happened four years ago. It was still fresh in your memory. The nights Yoongi spent with her, the tears you cried, the youth you had given up for him. 

It was hard to admit that deep down inside, you never truly got over Min Yoongi. He’d send you flowers every year on your anniversary date with cards that said “I’m sorry” but he never contacted you at all other than that. He followed through with your wishes to never see him again and you were thankful for that. 

Sometimes, when the loneliness was too unbearable, you’d wish he was hurting just as bad as you. You hoped that Jieun was just a distraction and that she never fully replaced the amount of love and acceptance you gave him. 

It made your blood boil at the thought of Yoongi enjoying his life on a beautiful penthouse with a gorgeous and naive girlfriend at his side and praise from all of his fans. No one knew about you and no one will ever know. You could never truly forgive Yoongi for what he had taken away from you, but you still propped the flowers up near your window every time he sent them.

You tried to get over him several times and date other people, but the trust issues you carried from your previous relationship were never really resolved. You were never one for one night stands and long term relationships were a hassle too. You were stuck in this in-between area in your life where nothing really felt right and no one ever filled the void that Yoongi left in you.

You were starting to worry that no one ever would.

–

You walked down the streets of Seoul, coming back to visit from Daegu for a college reunion. Everyone was married and couldn’t stop talking about it. You got an old colleague’s phone number that you didn’t plan on calling and everyone asked you about your mysterious ex-boyfriend they never got to meet. Needless to say, you were craving to find a place that served the strongest alcohol. 

You found one, neatly tucked away in one of the various city alleyways, playing loud pop music and reruns of old sitcoms on the television. Alone at a table for two, pouring yourself soju until your heart stopped hurting as much as it did and the exhaustion had numbed.

It wasn’t like you hated your life. You traveled frequently with your high-paying job and you lived comfortably by yourself in Daegu. Your friends often told you that you smiled brighter than you did before and your parents stopped worrying about you just as much. 

It was just the idea of Jieun wearing a ring that could have been yours... it made you sick to your stomach. It just wasn’t fair. Were you supposed to forgive him? Were you supposed to live the rest of your life never truly trusting him? 

No. You were sure you made the right decision then. It’s just, during nights like these, you wondered if the hollow feeling in your heart was from you still loving him or the bitterness that came with leaving such a long term relationship.

“[Y/N]?”

You heard your name in the sea of people around you and it came from someone that you no longer recognized.

“Yoongi,” you slurred, staring directly at the man who walked towards you. Just like Jieun on that day, he had on sunglasses and a face mask. His voice was still the same, but it sounded foreign to you.

“Crazy I ran into you here,” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah.”

It looked like he had something to say and it made you antsy.

“I actually wanted to see you,” he said softly, taking the seat across from you. “I was gonna visit home and drop by your parent’s place.”

“I don’t live there anymore,” you said, grabbing your shot glass and pouring another drink.

“I know. Your friends told me,” he said shyly. “You get the flowers fine, right?”

You stared up at him. Despite his disguise, you could tell he was happy and not the kind that was temporary or disingenuous. He legitimately looked like life had dealt him a lucky hand and that made you chug down the soju much more quickly.

“What did you want to see me for?” you said, signaling to one of the servers to give you another bottle. Third one for the night. 

“I wanted to give you this,” he said pulling out a small card from the inside of his coat pocket. It didn’t take a genius to know what it was. 

A wedding invitation.

You scoffed quietly and took it in your hand, opening it carefully as to not stain it with alcohol. The colors were minty and showcased a lovely photo of Yoongi and Jieun in front of a tall forest, looking into each other’s eyes longingly. It hurt to admit, but they were in love. You missed when Yoongi looked at you like that.

“I don’t have any ill intentions giving you this,” he started, realizing the sour look on your face. “I want you to come because you were my best friend before you were my girlfriend. You were with me through thick and thin and I’ll forever be grateful for that.”

You couldn’t see his eyes through the sunglasses, but you could tell he was being truthful. It warmed your heart, just a little, but it also made you want to cry. Whenever you imagined a wedding, you had always seen Yoongi and you walking down that aisle together. That it would be your dad that led you to him and that his cute nephew would hand you two the rings. That you would be the one he’d recite his vows to. It’s crazy how this was where you two were now, in a shady pub talking as if you were strangers.

You set the invitation down and pushed the shot glass away from you.

“Yoongi, I don’t want to go,” you said as calmly as you could. It was better to be honest in these situations than regret it later on.

He only nodded back in response, knowing that you’d refuse his offer.

“That’s okay,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to force you. Just know that you’re welcome to come. I want you there and Jieun does too.”

You sighed. Yoongi felt like a different person. Whether it was a character development or him being overly polite, you didn’t like the idea of him being civil.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

He shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “I actually wanted to thank you instead of apologizing this time.”

You tilted your head out of curiosity.

“Thank me? For what?”

If he was going to say thank you for tolerating his unfaithfulness so that he could eventually get married to his mistress, you swore you’d have punched him in the mouth. But he didn’t say that. Because like it or not, Yoongi did change. 

“I wanted to thank you for being supportive of me, even when I had nothing,” he said. “And thank you for not forgiving me.”

“Why would you thank me for that?” you asked, slightly tense.

He smiled a bit.

“I needed to be single for a while to figure out what was wrong with me,” he chuckled slightly. “Jieun and I only got back together after I started attending AA meetings. I learned a lot there.”

You nodded your head in understanding, swigging around the soju bottle and wondering why the server had not come back with a new one yet. You had only tolerated him up to that point because you were tipsy, but now that you were sobering up, all you wanted to do was pour a drink over him.

“I’m really sorry for everything,” Yoongi said solemnly.

You glanced at him. It would be okay to lie just a little, right?

“You don’t need to apologize anymore Yoongi,” you said, rolling your eyes slightly. “I got over it pretty quickly.”

You enjoyed the slight look of pain that Yoongi had on him, even through the face mask. 

“That’s good [Y/N],” he said. “You deserve way more than what I gave to you.”

You were just about to reply when his phone went off from a call notification. He looked at you apologetically and stood up. 

“I have to leave, [Y/N], but call me if you ever need anything.”

Before answering the call, he waited a bit and sighed.

“It’s the least I could do for you,” he said quietly.

Even if you were to ask him to come back, beg to him on the spot that you’d give anything to be with him again, you knew that he’d kindly reject because you knew that Yoongi’s love was long gone by now and even when he was cheating you felt it wane a bit. You scoffed at your own heart breaking as you stared at his walking silhouette.

When Yoongi left, the new soju bottle you requested for finally came. And somehow, as you popped the lid open, you started to cry. The tears in your eyes were enough to fill the shot glass in your hand.

You wished that you could hate him, but your heart wouldn’t let you.... because he was still Yoongi and you were still you. 

At one point in your life, that used to be enough.

–

A/N:  Finally done! I hope y'all are okay with this ending. I knew that I didn’t want it to be the stereotypical “I’m better without him” because sometimes that’s just not realistic.

I don’t really know what to do after this so please send requests in my ask box I’m dying to write angst. Thank you all for the numerous support, I read all of your comments in the ask box and they always bring a smile to my face! I appreciate it very much <3

Tags:  @jaiuneamesolitaiire @milady-mira @somewhereinthestarss @yunkibts @cuteipat @xanny91 @mllelise

[foreverydinger]

Graduation Flashbacks 2k21

Tony reminisces on graduations past while sitting in the ceremony.

Featuring: @tallulahrobinson @notmuchofatail @notbad-justsungthatway @oh-phineas @devyn-morey (lol)

Tony was in his stupid hat and gown again. It was the same one he’d had for years, only updating it when the school decided to change the style of cap and gown they’d want their students to wear. He glanced to the side, daring a look at his ex-boyfriend Haechan Roberts that he was assigned to sit beside. They had both been ignoring the other since being told that they would be sitting in alphabetical order. Tony had known it was coming, had known the moment he found out the other’s surname. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he’d done this sixty times before. Though Haechan reminded him of a few other R-named exes he’d been with many years ago.

“Promise you’ll write to me,” Tally had insisted when they’d discussed the breakup. Tony blinked at her, his heart aching as he realized what he’d have to do. He didn’t want to lie to her but what was one to do when the great and powerful Tallulah Robinson asked something of you?

“I promise, Tally. You go off and get your degree, see the world, send me postcards. I’ll be here, in Swynlake. It’s not like you’ll never see me again, your family’s here after all.” He chuckled through the pain, eyes beginning to water.

Sitting in the ceremony didn’t feel cold, instead they held hands side by side. Squeezing whenever something particularly emotional started to be said. ‘Goodbyes are hard,’ Tony thought as he stared not at the presenters but at her face. ‘She’ll be alright, though. She’s a force.’

“Congratulations, Class of 2010,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

As a roar rang out over the crowd Tony felt that same tingling, saw those same sparkles only he ever seemed to notice as the ceremony came to a conclusion. Despite his desire to hang on, to cling to Tallulah’s hand for dear life, he felt her grip slacken until she had completely dropped Tony. She had no reason to hold the hand of the boy beside her, she didn’t know him despite how small the school was.

She had places to be and a small town to forget.

The speakers were giving some emotional speech and Tony swiped at his eyes in frustration. Most people, if they saw him, might think he was just getting emotional about leaving Swynlake. The rumors had swirled around him about whether he was staying in the small town or leaving them for MIT. It was stupid, he regretted even posting the fake acceptance nowadays, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter shortly. He’d have to just fake a Pride U acceptance instead, as he usually did.

He looked around the expanse of graduates, spotting Phineas Flynn across the room. One of the few people whose relationships had transformed the most. Tony had barely considered the kid back when he had moved to their peculiar little town which had transformed drastically to incensed rage and been doused much like the flames he’d been spared from with, of all things, the power of music. Tony nearly rolled his eyes at the memory now if he ignored the very real damage that had been done to his person at the time.

The evolution of their friendship caused him to reminisce upon another relationship of his that had changed drastically since their first meeting: Gregory Eeyore.

He thought about Greg whom he had been texting constantly the past few days. They were best friends now, Greg had even believed Ian and Tony about the curse, even if the recollection of memories hadn’t been made possible unlike Ian. Honestly, the teenager wasn’t sure whether or not that was such a bad thing given their rocky past.

Tony scanned the sea of people who were all about to leave him behind. He spotted the likes of Devyn Morey—’Good for them, making it this far!’—before his eyes landed upon one Gregory Eeyore. It wasn’t as though Tony had been friends with Gregory by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, Tony was convinced that Greg hated him by association with his friends who had done little more than torment the quieter student.

Over the last few years Tony had dissuaded his friends from torturing their classmate, though the attempts were quieter than Tony knew he should have been and filled with the fear of being socially ejected. It seemed silly, sometimes, thinking about his fear of being rejected from a social group given he had a built-in redo in a way but recovering from that and climbing back up the social ladder even with the help of his curse’s bonus popularity air still took time and effort that he didn’t always want to do.

So Greg had suffered for it.

As Tony watched the other he made a silent wish—something that he should have stopped doing long ago after having his wish granted to never leave secondary—that Greg would find his niche out in the world now that secondary would be left behind him. Tony wanted nothing more than for Greg to find the peace he deserved.

“Congratulations, Class of 2017,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

As the announcement was made and caps were thrown into the air in celebration Tony felt that familiar tingle and sparkle surround him. He hoped that perhaps a part of that magical seal would grant this new wish.

Focusing on what friendships would prevail, Tony had to focus on the positives.

He would still have Pip, feisty and loyal Pip, to keep his feet on the ground and yet also keep him on his toes. There was never a dull moment in their friendship and he couldn’t wait for long nights with him listening to musicals or any of the other interests that the younger boy held to his chest.

Tony could hold onto the friendship he’d newly cultivated with Mim Ambrosius who was a brushfire. Chaotic and terrifying in the danger she could create while also being capable of cultivating a sort of refreshment on life much like the sorts of plants that had to burn to spread their seeds and flourish elsewhere.

He scanned the crowd to see if he could spot any particular faces turned toward himself. He caught a glimpse of someone’s profile for a moment and mistook them for the one and only Jessica Rabbit.

“We’re still friends,” Jessica whispered as she sat beside him.

“What?” He tore his eyes from the headmaster manning the ceremony to look her way. They had determined this when Jess had broken up with him a couple weeks prior, Tony had almost been relieved he wouldn’t have to break her heart. Jessica was of a rare breed; kind to a fault and sharp as a tack. Tony hadn’t wanted to live on in her heart as any form of regret.

“We’re still friends, Tony.”

“‘Course we are, Bun,” he teased, the old nickname slipping into the sentence without his permission. “‘Til the very end.” It wasn’t a lie at least, not really. He didn’t want to lie to her, not ever.

“If you’re not leaving Swynlake then—”

“Don’t worry about it, Jess,” Tony cut her off, not wanting to know where that sentence was going. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.” Just because she was figuring it out without him didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to assuage her fears. He reached over to give her hand a short squeeze before returning it to his own lap.

They had been each other’s support system over this short time together. The long nights at work and the longer nights in his flat reading comic books while a record spun in the background. The hushed and reverent voices mingling in the dark as the two tired teens just allowed themselves to unwind from the pressures that threatened to break down their doors.

“Love you, Bun,” he admitted, glancing at her face for a fraction of a second. He tried not to seek what emotion was shining there before turning his attention back to the headmaster.

“Congratulations, Class of 2003,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. “You did it!”

He’d see her again, just under different circumstances.

Ah, there were the tears once again and Tony chuckled at his sappy self. Haechan turned their face to raise a brow at him but he ignored their questioning expression. It would be alright, Tony told himself. He wasn’t alone, he was determined to believe it. He thought about Ian at home, the journals placed out upon the table ready to inform him of Tony’s existence once again. If it had worked once it had to work again... right?

When his row’s time came, Tony stood from his seat, walking across the stage as he always did. He knew every step, knew every creak in the stage floor that the attendant eyes of the crowd wouldn’t hear but still brought a bit of cringe to him so he avoided it easily. It wasn’t long, then, for when his name would be called. He walked across the stage, hearing a couple cheers for him despite the announcer saying not to cheer until the very end. No one ever listened to that announcement when their kid got called.

After being handed another diploma Tony thanked the headmaster as he always did and retreated back to his seat. This diploma was one of many and he just sighed as he realized it would go into that box beneath his bed like all of the others where it would collect dust unless—until—Tony and Ian broke the curse.

“Congratulations, Class of 2021,” came the headmaster’s voice booming over the speakers. This time breaking him of his reverie. “You did it!”

‘Maybe this time,’ Tony thought with a hint of optimism in his heart. ‘I don’t think that I’ve broken the curse, not by a long shot, but maybe... just maybe... I’ve actually managed to accomplish something. A family. A life.’

[badass-women-league]

TIVALI

Part 22 - Date night

Ziva walked out from the gym club with one of her male friends from the gym. They were talking and laughing. Tony had repeated several times to Ziva that this guy wanted to do another kind of physical practice with her and she had repeated that he was just jealous and that Dan was just a friend and he was married. But yet Tony was still jealous. Ziva was giving some advice to Dan about his uppercut when she noticed that someone was looking at her from afar. Leaning on the hood of his car, with his sunglasses on, long after the sun has set and a confident smile on his face. She hugged Dan and waved goodbye to him before walking to Tony. She stopped in front if him and he started:

-“you say he is married ? Not sure his wife would be happy with the way he was looking at your butt, but I mean I can’t blame him… come on turn around lemme check”

He placed his hands on her hips and made her spin. He tilted his head on the left side and examined her buttocks. She laughed at his silliness, rolled her eyes and asked:

-“are you done ?”

-“just a second.. yep I’m done”

He let her turn around and she asked:

-“what are you doing here ? I thought we were supposed to meet at home”

-“change of plans.. I’m taking you on a date”

-“a date ? Where are the kids ?”

-“what kids ? Just kidding.. Tali is at McGee’s house and Adam is with Abby. You know I’ve realized that we never had a date together.. we went straight to the baby making, which I don’t regret of course” he stood up, took Ziva’s bag from her shoulder and led her to the passenger seat “but tonight we are not Ima and Aba anymore, we are Tony and Ziva going on a date after work, as we should have done a long time ago”

-“Can I, at least, go home to take a shower and change clothes ? Or you want to go on a date with a sweaty woman dressed in a yoga pants ?”

-“No pants at all would be better if you ask me but this would have to wait until after the date…”

He winked and started the engine.

Tony had booked a table into a fancy restaurant in downtown D.C. The room was full of couples but when they walked in Tony was really proud to see that all the mens eyes were locked on Ziva. It has been a long time since Tony had seen her wearing a dress and it was still hard for him to resist the urge to take it off from her body. While following the waitress to their table, Tony whispered to Ziva’s ear:

-“your body has a lot of success tonight”

Ziva laughed and said:

-“Nice try, but this will not be enough to convince me to let you have a ‘night-hat’ at my place”

Tony sat and laughed:

-“A night-cap Ziva, not a night-hat”

She frowned:

-“your chance are going away a little more because of that”

-“what ? I need to convince you to let me sleep in my own bed now?”

-“yes, this is the purpose of a date and right now this is not going well for you. If you do not raise your game, you’ll barely have a goodbye kiss on my doorstep”

Tony laughed:

-“alright I accept the challenge, Miss David, get ready to have the best date of your life”

They were waiting for their food to be served. Ziva looked around and asked:

-“so ? How many women did you bring to this restaurant ?”

-“None, this place is only for you”

Ziva laughed:

-“you’re such a bad liar”

-“No I swear, you are the first woman I’ve taken to this restaurant”

They were staring hungrily at each other, knowing how a night with no kids to take care of would end. Ziva asked:

-“alright! Real question now: what was the first thing you thought when you first met me”

-“hm.. don’t get too close to the fire DiNozzo”

Ziva squinted her eyes. Tony continued:

-“I thought that you were...” he paused to choose his words wisely ”.. different from the women I used to know. And I knew that if we were meant to work together, I would have a lot of trouble respecting Gibbs’ rules. What about you ?”

-“I wanted to sleep with you”

Her honesty caught Tony off guard. He was expecting her to pretend that she didn’t care about him, that she was focused on the mission and only it. He stammered:

-“really ? Why didn’t you ?”

This sounds like a question full of regrets. Ziva chuckled and answered:

-“because I knew you wanted it too.. and you were so confident about your sex appeal.” she rolled her eyes “sleeping with you would have given you credit. You would have been unbearable after that”

They were waiting for the dessert to be served. Some jazz was played as a background music. Tony asked:

-“wanna dance ?”

Ziva was surprised, this restaurant was not actually a place where you were supposed to dance. Tony stood up and held his hand out to her. Ziva looked around, this could become pretty embarrassing. Tony smiled and said:

-“come on, forget about everyone, I told you sweetcheeks, tonight it’s just you and me”

She grabbed his hand and followed him. And once again he was right. They started to dance slowly. One hand on the small of the back and the other hand entwined with the other’s hand. And it was just the two of them, losing themselves in each other's eyes. Everyone was looking at them but they didn’t care at all. They were far from this restaurant. Far from D.Cc far from this world. For a moment there was no more children, no more friends, no more family. Just them. It was as if they were meeting for the first time but they knew everything about the other. They had experienced that kind of romantic moment in Berlin a few years ago but this moment had been blurred with the manhunt they were assigned to. This time there was nothing else on their mind and none of them had ever experienced that before. It was pure oblivion. He was hers and she was his.

Tony parked the car in the driveway. They walked to the front door. She unlocked the door and Tony asked:

-“so ? Are you convinced ? Can I have this night-cap ?”

Ziva bit her lower lip and tilted her head:

-“let me think about it”

-“Come on. I really put on a big spread tonight. Best restaurant in town, very funny and handsome guy, romantic dance. I deserve to be rewarded”.

He put on his most charming smile. The DiNozzo signature smile. She bit her lip. She was teasing him. A wide smile spread on her face. In less than a second he grabbed her face and their tongues, entwined together, were soon dancing a ballet full of passion. He pushed her against the wall and attacked the crook of her neck with his lips. She moaned in response. They had been doing this for a few years now but everytime they were having sex they felt as if it was the first time. The first time he was touching her bare skin, the first time he was kissing her, the first time their body were one. He knew her desire by heart and she knew his too. In a whisper she said:

-“bedroom”

He kept kissing her neck, knowing that this would leave marks on her and answered:

-“No. We still have plenty of rooms we haven’t inaugurate yet”

-“what ?”

She was not sure she understood what he meant.

-“kitchen or living-room ?”

She raised an eyebrow. This was pretty arousing. She hesitated and finally answered:

-“living room”

He lifted her and her legs naturally locked themselves around his back.

An hour later. They were lying on the couch. Ziva was

drawing small circles on Tony’s chest with her finger. She landed a kiss right above her fingers. Tony fingers were caressing her hair. He said:

-“I am hungry”

Ziva laughed:

-“We just ate”

-“No, we had sex. I’ve exerted myself.. I need energy. Let’s cook something”

He jumped from the couch and pulled Ziva from it. She complained:

-“Tony it’s 1am”

After putting on some clothes, he led her to the kitchen.

He was bare chested with only his pants on and Ziva only had time to put on his shirt.

The water was boiling. He threw some pasta inside the saucepan and returned to his favorite activity: teasing his wife. She was cutting some vegetables. He placed his hands on her hips. It had always amazed him how good his hands were fitting on her body. It was as if her body had been designed to fit with his. He kissed her neck exactly on the point where a little bruise was starting to show. He smiled knowing that she will be mad about it tomorrow. It doesn’t matter, she was sexy when she was mad.

He whispered:

-“I am very hungry”

-“Be patient the pasta will be ready in a few minutes. He chuckled:

-“I was not talking about pasta sweetcheeks…”

She smirked, turned around and let him lift her up on the countertop.

[iamanartichoke]

It's Loki's birthday!!!!!!!! Can you write something about Valkyrie celebrating Loki's birthday? Massive valki shipper here 💚💚💚

Actual footage of Loki on his birthday: 

But he’s just gonna have to deal with it. Thank you for this fun prompt. I wanted to write it first so I could post as close to Loki’s birthday as possible. 

(Word count: 1957)

_____

Birthdays, as far as Loki was concerned, were completely arbitrary celebrations. A year on Midgard was simply a measurement of a miniscule solar cycle, the amount of time it took for the earth to spin around its sun. They were hardly long enough to merit keeping count. 

Yet the humans not only kept count, they celebrated the anniversary of the day one was born. Each solar cycle was an achievement; they celebrated being alive one more year than the last. 

It was rather silly, in Loki’s opinion. 

Deciding that his birthday was December 17 seemed even sillier; yet, when Loki came into the kitchen that morning, Thor cheerfully told him, “Happy birthday!” 

“What?” 

“Happy birthday,” Thor repeated. “Today’s yours. By my estimation, you’re about … one thousand fifty-nine Earth years old. I got you a hat.” 

Loki edged toward his seat at the table, watching warily as Thor produced a ridiculous cone of a thing. It was green and sparkly, and the words Happy Birthday! were splashed across it in bright yellow letters. There was a string attached to keep the hat in place. 

“Get that thing away from me,” Loki protested when Thor came at him with the hat. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Thor warned. 

“Thor -” 

Thor struck. Loki blocked. They tumbled to the floor together in a tangle of flailing limbs, Thor’s laughter punctuated only by Loki’s yelps. 

Unfortunately, Thor had sheer, brute strength on his side, just as he always had. A few minutes later when they broke apart, sweaty and out of breath, the hat was resting snug on Loki’s head. 

“I hate you,” Loki declared. He and Thor were now laying side-by-side on the floor, neither one quite willing to stand just yet. “Why have you chosen today to be my birthday?” 

“I didn’t choose it,” Thor corrected. “Not all of it.” 

“Please, enlighten me on how you came to your conclusion, then.” 

“I looked it up once. When I was here - on Midgard - before, with Jane, I learned about birthdays. The tradition is not so different from a naming-day ceremony, I suppose, though the humans celebrate every single year as opposed to every century or so.” 

“That’s because they don’t live long enough for the latter,” Loki reminded him with a roll of his eyes. Honestly. 

“Right. Well, anyway, when I found out what a birthday was, I tried to figure out what ours would be. Mine, simply out of curiosity. Yours, because … well, I still thought you dead then, and … I don’t know, I just wanted to.” 

An awkward pause fell between them. Then Thor cleared his throat. “I know I was born prior to the last war with Jotunheim, whereas you were born during the end. The humans’ official historical records don’t go that far back, but their stories do.

“After some digging, I found a record of a story of the frost giants’ invasion - passed off as myth, of course. The story started being told somewhere around the humans’ year 950. If I was born not long before that, and you were born at the end,” Thor went on, “then, mathematically, given our ages, I was probably born around the humans’ year 850 and you were born around 960.” 

It made a fair amount of sense. “I didn’t know you could add and subtract,” was Loki’s only response, however. 

“Shut up, Loki.” 

“So then why December?” 

Thor flashed Loki a sheepish smile as he got to his feet. “That’s the part I did choose. December 17 is close to when Yule occurs on Midgard, and I know you like Yule.” 

“And when is your birthday?” Loki asked. He pushed himself up on his palms, lifting an eyebrow at Thor. 

“June 17,” Thor said proudly. “Exactly six months before yours, in the summertime, because I like summer.” He extended a hand to help Loki to his feet. Loki accepted it begrudgingly, and made a show of dusting himself off. He could feel the hat’s little string digging into the skin behind his ears. 

“So, is this how we’re celebrating my birthday?” he asked. “With a ridiculous hat?” 

“Shut up, the hat is cool. And you just wait. This is your first real Midgardian birthday celebration!” Thor was excited enough for both of them and even though it was highly irritating, Loki had to admit it was somewhat endearing, too. “We’re going to go all out.” 

Loki sighed loudly. He reached up to adjust the hat on his head, angling it slightly to the side. “Yay,” he said, in the most flat monotone he could muster. 

* * * 

There was cake. And gifts. And balloons. And a large banner that hung across the dining room entryway that read Happy Birthday, Loki! There was also a disturbing amount of sparkle. Sparkling letters on the banner, sparkling confetti, sparkling glitter on the cake that rested in the middle of the party table. 

“Why is there so much glitter?” Loki asked. He had given up protesting the celebration, but he was making it clear that all of this silliness was beneath him and he was tolerating it merely for Thor and Brunnhilde’s sake. 

Yes, Thor had somehow recruited Brunnhilde to help celebrate this ridiculous birthday idea. Loki had been somewhat surprised to see how enthusiastic she was about it, but now he was only resigned. 

“Because you sparkle and shine,” Brunnhilde informed him, kissing his cheek. “Your birthday should sparkle and shine, too.” She was sitting on his lap, wearing a cone-shaped hat like Loki’s (which Thor had refused to allow Loki to remove all day). Hers was pink and decorated with little balloons. She also had something called a “party horn,” which was a little paper-and-plastic trinket that made noise when one blew into it. 

It was Loki’s opinion, upon observing this, that perhaps Midgard would not be such a backwater realm if they focused less on inventing things like party horns and more on developing means of interspace travel. No one asked for his opinion, however. 

Brunnhilde blew into her party horn. The paper at the end uncurled and then curled back up again. “I love that,” she said with a laugh. She’d been blowing the horn excessively for at least twenty minutes.

“Yes, I’ve heard simple minds are easily amused,” Loki remarked. 

Brunnhilde’s response was to blow the horn so that the paper uncurled and tapped Loki gently in the face. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. At least you have a birthday.” 

That made him soften a bit. He tugged on one of her loose curls. “You can have one, too,” he told her. “This one, if you want it.” 

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. “Nice try, but this one’s yours. We can worry about mine later.” She blew her party horn yet again, which - while somewhat endearing - was getting on Loki’s nerves. 

“What’ll it take for you to stop doing that?” he asked, nodding toward the horn. 

“Mm.” Brunnhilde tapped her chin as she thought about it. “Not sure. But this might be a step in the right direction.” She set aside the party horn and took Loki’s face in her hands, bringing her mouth to his. 

It took a few stubborn moments but, finally, Loki leaned into her kiss. He heard himself let out a small sigh as he pulled her closer, licking into her mouth. Her tongue tasted sweet and tangy, an echo of the candy she’d been eating that evening.

When they broke apart, Loki admittedly felt a little better. At least, until Brunnhilde picked up the party horn and blew it again, giggling at his expression. 

“Brunnhilde,” he groaned, dropping his forehead against hers, “I don’t like you very much right now.” 

“I know, but I can live with it.” Brunnhilde pressed a kiss to his temple and disentangled herself from his arms. She got up, scooping another handful of the candy - Sweet Tarts, Thor had called them - from the little dish on the party table and popping it into her mouth. 

“Where’s Thor?” she went on, around the mouthful of candy. Loki sat back in his seat, finding her both absolutely adorable and also somewhat appalling. “Shouldn’t he have been back by now?” 

“I don’t know. With any luck, he got kidnapped or captured,” Loki responded. She held the candy dish out to him, and he selected a single Sweet Tart.  “It’s an awfully dangerous mission, buying ice cream.” 

“If we have to rescue him, it doesn’t mean we’re not celebrating your birthday,” she told him. She wandered over to the front windows, peeking through the curtains. No sign of Thor yet. “We’ll just reschedule it.” 

Loki got to his feet and went over to her. He came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. Brunnhilde clasped her hands over his, leaning into him. “Why are you - and Thor - so insistent about this?” he asked. 

“You need to have some fun,” she said simply. “Why are you so opposed to it?” 

“I don’t suppose I have a good reason,” Loki admitted, after thinking about it for a few minutes. Considering birthdays and birthday parties silly wasn’t really a good reason.

“Then why don’t you relax and let yourself enjoy something, for once?” Brunnhilde twisted her body around so that she was facing him. She draped her arms over his shoulders, looking up at him plaintively. “You do deserve to have fun sometimes, you know.” 

“I know.” But did he, really? Loki sighed and brought his mouth to hers. He lingered there, making no moves to either deepen the kiss or pull away from it. They brushed their lips together, moving softly and unhurriedly, Loki closing his eyes. 

Brunnhilde drew back first. “Come on,” she said, against his cheek. “I have something for you.” 

“It’s not another hat, is it?” 

“No, but the hat is a good look for you.” She grinned and laced her fingers through his. They went into the kitchen, and Brunnhilde ducked into the refrigerator, reappearing a moment later with a small pink box. She set the box on the counter and retrieved a small birthday candle and a lighter from a drawer. 

“I was going to give it to you later, after the party,” Brunnhilde said, “but I think you could use it now.” 

Loki leaned against the refrigerator, lifting an eyebrow. “A surprise? For me?” 

“Imagine that.” She flicked the lighter and opened the box to extract a very large cupcake - chocolate, from what Loki could tell. It had an obscene amount of icing on it, along with colorful little sprinkles, some of which fell off and scattered to the floor as Brunnhilde stuck the candle into the top. 

When the candle was lit, Brunnhilde dimmed the lights in the kitchen and moved over to Loki, holding the cupcake in both of her palms. “You have to blow it out,” she said softly, “and make a wish. But you can’t speak your wish aloud, or else it won’t come true.” 

Her features flickered in the soft light of the candle. Inexplicably, Loki felt a lump in his throat. “I don’t think wishes work that way,” he said, even as he moved closer to her and to the cupcake. 

“On birthdays they do.” 

Loki felt a smile tugging at his lips. He pondered for a moment and then, when he’d thought of a wish, he leaned in and blew the candle out. Then he kissed Brunnhilde. “Thank you,” he murmured against her lips. “For gifting me a wish.” 

Brunnhilde smiled. She set the cupcake down on the counter so that she could free her arms. She slid them around his waist, pressing in close. “Happy birthday, Loki.” 

___

Author’s Notes: 

1. I completely made up Thor’s logic on how Loki ended up with a birthday. I couldn’t find an official one for Thor, so I just made up his, too. 

2. Loki’s wish is anything. He could have wished for happiness with Brunnhilde forever, or he could have wished for Thor to spend eternity stepping on Legos. 

3. If anyone with artistic talent wants to draw Loki and Brunn in their birthday hats, I’d give you my first-born. 

4. This is not the Sanctuary ‘verse (bc I have a different birthday celebration for Loki planned in Sea). 

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT Retrospective (4/7)

[Note: This was originally written on January 13,2013.  I embedded YouTube videos on each part, including several Evanescence AMVs, but Tumblr won’t cooperate with that for some reason.   Just look them up yourself.]

Today I'd like to talk about the Super 17 Saga.  It sucks, but it's short.   Man, there's an Evanescence AMV for this too?  I'm starting to see why that Daredevil movie was so poorly received.  Starring Ben Affleck!   Soundtrack by Every Fifteen-Year-Old on YouTube!

From what I've read, Episode 41 was supposed to have been the finale of Dragon Ball GT, but the show got renewed and so it chugged along for another 23 installments.  I don't know if the post-Baby storylines were rushed, per se, but it does sort of feel like Toei was caught flat-footed.   For one thing, the opening credits still kept using the same animations of Goku, Pan, and Trunks flying around in space, looking for Black Star Dragon Balls, and fighting Baby.  Well, the outer space adventures are over, the Black Star Dragon Balls are gone, and Baby's friggin' dead.  Hell, Trunks even gets kicked out of the main cast.   From here on out It's all Goku and Pan with a little Vegeta now and then.   Also, I think the Super 17 Saga feels like a kneejerk reaction.  "They ordered more shows, what do we do?   Shit... uh, let's just bring back all the bad guys from the old series!"   For a Dragon Ball Z fan, watching GT for the first time is like getting whiplash because they kept switching the premise around.   The whole point of the first two dozen episodes was that they were abandoning the DBZ formula and trying to do old school Kid Goku stories in outer space.  Then they spend another dozen episodes setting up a Goku vs. Vegeta fight with new power-ups.   By Episode 42, the series has given up any ambition of offering a distinct flavor or vision.   It's settled into a rut of doing lame comedy and watered-down superhero fights.   So first off, Episode 41 is about the latest World Martial Arts Tournament.   Goku used to compete in these things, but after he won the tournament he let everything that happened in DBZ distract him from the event, and during that time Mr. Satan became the multi-time World Champion.   The gag with Mr. Satan is that he has no super powers whatsoever, and while he's a brilliant martial artist, he only dominates the competition because all the super-fighters lost interest in the event.  By the end of DBZ, Goku and Mr. Satan's kids got married, so now they rig the tournament like some kind of kung fu mafia: Whoever wins the tournament has to fight Mr. Satan to actually claim the championship, and that person always agrees to take a dive.  By the end of DBZ, the Z-fighters are comfortable letting Mr. Satan serve as a figurehead hero to the people of Earth, while they do all the actual daysaving.  By the GT-era, Satan is now in his mid-fifties, and feels comfortable retiring and passing the torch to someone new.   He tries to rig the event so his grandaughter Pan can win, but she withdraws for fear that she'll be required to wear his ring gear and mustache if she wins.   Goku wanted to compete, but Mr. Satan convinces him to fight in the junior division because he's too short.   Ultimately, it's Uub who wins the tournament, but at the last moment he freezes and Mr. Satan actually eliminates him cleanly.  The reasons for this are complicated, and so I gotta explain Majin Buu.   The final bad guy of Dragon Ball Z was Majin Buu, a genie who could absorb the personalities and traits of his enemies.   This ability eventually caused him to split into two Buus, a good fat Buu and an evil version who went on to be the main villain.  The good Buu made friends with Mr. Satan, and was instrumental in preserving his stranglehold on the World Championship.   The evil Buu was killed by Goku, who wished that he could be reincarnated as a good guy so they could fight again.   Goku's wish came true, and the evil Buu was indeed reincarnated as a young human boy named "Uub" (get it?).   Goku quickly took the boy as his student so he could train him for a rematch and groom him as his successor.   You'd expect that Uub would have been a major player in Dragon Ball GT, but instead he barely ever shows up, and when he did finally make his big move to stop Baby he got his ass kicked.   Fortunately for him, the good Majin Buu stepped in and recombined with Uub, transforming him into "Majuub".   Majuub still got his ass kicked by Baby, but at least he made him work for it.   The point of all this is that Majuub consciously wanted to beat Mr. Satan for the World title, but unconsciously, the part of him that was once Mr. Satan's BFF wanted to let his old pal have the glory one last time.   This is sort of a problem with DBGT.  I meant the show has tons and tons of problems, but this is one that I think deserves more attention.   There's a certain fatalism to the series, because even if it isn't the final act for these characters, they're all older and half of them got 9-to-5 jobs and so forth, so it's clear that things are winding down.   To that end, it makes sense that GT would see the deaths of some of the major characters, but they're all kind of cheap death scenes.  Majin Buu doesn't die so much as he just merges with another iteration of himself.   Mr. Satan misses him, but only because he doesn't understand what's happened.   Piccolo dies, but it was a stupid and pointless sacrifice as I explained last time.   In any event, he shows up later on in the afterlife, so it's not like he's actually gone.   Then there's Krillin, but I don't want to get ahead of myself.   Mr. Satan retaining his title is a variation on the theme.    He talks about retiring, but when the moment arrives, he can't bring himself to step out of the limelight.   In a similar vein, one could argue that Dragon Ball GT should have been mainly about Uub and Pan as the successors to Goku and Gohan, but Goku just couldn't walk away from the action.   Anyway, with that business resolved, the Super 17 Saga can get started.   Basically, it's like the Batman stories where a bunch of villains break out of Arkham Asylum, except all the worst offenders in Dragon Ball are dead, so they have to literally escape from hell.  The plan begins when Dr. Myuu is recruited by Dr. Gero.  Again, it really feels like Toei was just trying to come up with something on the fly, and they decided Gero and Myuu's resemblance was a feature instead of a bug.    Myuu designed the Machine Mutants in the early episodes of GT, and Dr. Gero created the android villains in DBZ.   They're both doctors and they both wear silly hats and long, bushy mustaches.  Also, both of them were betrayed.   Gero was killed when Android 17 turned on him, while Myuu was killed by his creator Baby.   Gero's plan is to work together with Myuu to correct that whole "betrayal" thing that made Android 17 backfire.   Android 17 is still alive on Earth, but if the two doctors build another Android 17 in hell, they can.... harmonize their subspace... tachyons.... resonance.   Something.   All I know is they somehow managed to build an exact duplicate of 17 in hell, so apparently they have hardware stores in hell.   Dragon Ball has never been very consistent about how hell works.   In theory, a dead bad guy is stripped of his corporeal form and he languishes in hell as a disembodied spirit until he's finally allowed to be reincarnated in a new identity.    That's why Frieza can't just beat everyone up and conquer the afterlife.   But Toei always liked the idea of dead bad guys stirring up trouble, so they kept depicting them with their bodies in hell, complete with their full powers.  Dr. Gero was a cyborg, and I think they let him keep his robot body in hell, even though Frieza didn't get to keep his own cyborg implants.   Go figure.   For that matter, I'm pretty sure Dr. Myuu is purely mechanical, so I'm not convinced he'd even be in hell to begin with.    But somehow he and General Rildo are there.    So if Machine Mutants have souls, why isn't Baby there with the other villains?   He's the strongest one, so wouldn't it make more sense to rebuild a stronger version of Baby and use him in the big revenge plan?  Realistically, Toei probably left Baby out deliberately because they just killed him off, but that's why you don't do a story like this right after killing off a major villain. The point of all of this is that "Hell Fighter 17" and "Not Dead Yet 17" are mentally linked because they're basically the same unit in two bodies.   They both fire some sort of energy beam in unison, and this allows them to open a portal connecting Hell and Earth.   It's just sort of implied that the original Android 17 was mind-controlled for all of this, because he's the guy who sent Dr. Gero to hell in the first place, so I doubt he'd willingly endorse a plan to help him get out.   Gero and Myuu send a bunch of dead villains to invade Earth, and they issue a challenge to Goku: Come fight Cell and Frieza in Hell, or we'll send them to Earth too to make the situation even worse.   Goku is eager for a rematch with his old archenemies, even though he's gotten far, far stronger while they've been puttering around the afterlife all this time.   He stupidly flies through the portal, only for Gero and Myuu to close it from the outside.   So now Goku's trapped in Hell and most of his enemies are  causing trouble on Earth.   One of the first episodes of GT I ever saw was #43, because it came on a bonus DVD packaged with a strategy guide for a DBZ videogame.  This was the episode where Goku fights Cell and Frieza in Hell, and I guess they put it on the DVD because it seemed like the best possible choice to promote the new show to DBZ fans.  Cell's my favorite character in the show, so this has gotta be good, right?   Well I watched the episode and quickly realized that GT sucks ass.   First of all, it's been 43 episodes and Goku's still stuck as a child.   He can turn into a Super Saiyan 4 and blow Cell and Frieza away in one hit, but he never does this.   Hell, he could annihilate them in one of the lower Super Saiyan forms.    But this is GT, and GT-logic demands that any preliminary fight be fought in base-form.   Never mind that Goku had to go Super Saiyan the first time he fought these guys.   Now he's fighting them at the same time, with a smaller body, and he wants to do it in normal form.   Frieza and Cell act like they're gonna curbstomp Goku because they have scary new ghost powers, and they can't be killed themselves because they're already dead.   But the reality is that Goku makes them look like idiots because he won't even bother powering up to fight them.  Up your ass, Dragon Ball GT.   At one point, Cell tries to absorb Goku with his scorpion tail, which doesn't even make sense because Cell only absorbs Androids whole, and he doesn't need to absorb anything anymore because he's in his final form.   Goku simply forces his way out of Cell's ass.   Later, Goku defeats Cell and Frieza using a snowblower.   I wish I was kidding.  It's some kind of magic snow blower, designed to freeze dead people, but it's still stupid.  Cell deserved better.   Meanwhile on Earth, the other bad guys get their asses destroyed because they're all incredibly outclassed by the good guys.  Seriously, most of the villains from Dragon Ball were just mercenaries in helicopters and shit.   They were fine at the time, but now all the good guys can throw mountains and shoot lasers from their hands.  They're treated like cannon fodder, and rightfully so, but it kind of makes you wonder what the point of all this was.   I always appreciated the fact that DBZ villains have to die because they're obsolete after their first loss.  The good guys always train and get stronger, so if they were to come back for revenge they'd just be at an even bigger disadvantage.   It's kind of neat to see Nappa come back and confront Vegeta for killing him, except Vegeta's like a thousand times stronger than he was the first time he killed him.   The lame thing is that a handful of the villains might have had a chance, but Toei screwed them over.   Trunks and Goten shoot down Android 19 with hand energy.   Well, fine, they're probably strong enough to do that, except #19 was built with the power to absorb energy blasts.  If a good guy kicked his head off or something I'd be fine with it, but they went for the one quick-kill scenario that made the least amount of sense.  Captain Ginyu can switch bodies, so if he played his cards right he could trade up and be a contender again.   I don't think they even used him in the story, though.  A lot of these guys would have been better off running away from the battle and hiding out somewhere.   I mean, if you're a human bad guy, you could just slip away in the confusion and if you can stay out of trouble for a few days, you're home free.  You'd think most of these rank and file guys would rather have a new lease on life than revenge on some goofy kid they only met once.   Once the villain army is wrapped up, Gero and Myuu sic Hell Fighter 17 on Vegeta, while the original #17 wanders off and tries to seduce his twin sister, Android #18.   I'm not really sure what his motives are exactly, but he does some sort of hypnotic thing to her, but when Krillin snaps her out of it, he kills him, then attacks 18 when she objects.  Maybe Gero wanted to use 18 in his plan, or this was 17's personality trying to fight his programming, but whatever.   Guess how Vegeta fights Hell Fighter 17.   If you said "base form", congratulations, you understand GT-Logic.   Gero and Myuu summon the other Android 17 to the battle, and they combine them together to make "Super Android 17", a taller, more eyebrow-deficient version.   Super 17 basically no-sells everything, and his secret weapon is that he can absorb energy from his opponents, just like #19 could do, except it actually works.   Vegeta, Trunks, Goten, Gohan, and Majuub all take turns getting their asses kicked, then they finally power up and do it all over again.   I should point out that the original, non-super, one-at-a-time 17 was more than a match for a Super Saiyan back in the day, and yet they all had to try fighting him in base form, just in case it suddenly works this time.  The whole thing is a pointless debacle, because we all know Super 17 is too strong for anyone but Goku to fight, so we're just marking time until he can show up to save the day.   Fortunately, Piccolo has an idea to free Goku, but he's stuck in heaven because he's a good guy.   The guy in charge of that sort of thing refuses to send Piccolo to hell, so Piccolo starts blowing shit up to deserve the punishment.  Once he arrives in hell, Piccolo starts duplicating the Android 17 thing.   He and Dende time their energy beams just right, and that creates a polaron inversion that realigns the warp field coils, allowing Goku to jump back to Earth.  Piccolo is unfortunately stuck in Hell now, but he gets to spend all his free time beating up bad guys, so he's probably happier that way.   Goku finally comes to the rescue and shockingly transforms to fight Super 17.   The only beef here is that he starts out in Super Saiyan.........1, the same form Vegeta used when he got his ass kicked.  After a short warmup, he finally gets down to business and whips out SSJ4.   The weird thing is that Super Saiyan 4 was GT's signature thing, and yet they barely ever let Goku use it.   It's like they were embarrassed or something.  It doesn't really matter anyway, because Super 17 can just absorb Goku's energy no matter how strong he is, so Goku gets beaten just as easily as his weaker allies.   I should point out that, along the way, Super 17 turned on both Dr. Gero and Dr. Myuu.   In Gero's case, Myuu secretly programmed Super 17 to only follow his own orders, but then he later blows up Dr. Myuu in an act of defiance, so it probably would have come to that no matter what.   The only thing that stops Super 17 is his sister. 18 shows up at the critical moment and demands revenge in spite of the odds.  Her rejection of what 17 has become stirs his original personality, and he manages to sabotage himself just enough that Goku can use 18's attack as a diversion and defeat him with a Super Dragon Fist.   For no obvious reason, 18 tears her blouse during this scene.   GT.  Logic.   So the saga ends as it began, with a character taking a dive to let a weaker character win.  Not that I was rooting for Super 17 or anything, but it doesn't really make Goku look special when he can't even fight his own battles.   On the other hand, Android 17 is finally, definitively killed, after years of being in a sort of limbo where no one really knew what had happened to him.  It's really the only death scene they let stick, so I guess I have to give some credit there.   The interface of hell and Earth causes environmental problems, so Goku resolves to find the Dragon Balls and use them to restore the Earth and resurrect Krillin.  Unfortunately, all seven Dragon Balls are cracked.   These are the good old Red Star Dragon Balls, by the way, the ones that don't blow up the Earth when you use them.   At least, they used to be reliable... NEXT: Breakin' my balls

[footballffbarbiex]

Autumn Walks.

This is the very first time I’ve written Justin, so if you read this and like it, please let me know :)

_______

Justin slips his hand into hers ever so slightly; his fingers entwining gently but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She’d suspected as much but she never dared to actually think it would become a reality. She’d noticed the small changes in Justin over the past year. They’d always been friends. He’d known her longer than anyone else had and knew her better than anyone had ever. Including her best friends. She’d always just assumed though that he hadn’t paid attention or he never thought of her like that. Why would Justin ever look at her like that when he could have hundreds of girls to choose from. His looks, especially now he was rising to fame, was not going unnoticed and he was lucky to come home with no numbers given to him of willing girls wanting to be taken out on a date.

But over the past year, he’d been there more. She couldn’t explain it. His presence has been more. He’s been there…more. She’d noticed his touch there when she least expect it. The lingering looks he’d given her, the ones he thought she hadn’t spotted, she’d felt and it made her excited. She’d had a crush on Justin for years, never once believing that he would look at her in the same way that she would look at him. Never once believing that he would want her in the same way that she wanted him until recently.

“Are you not cold?” He asks. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot and there’s certainly a chill in the air. Despite it only being Autumn, it certainly feels as though snow is coming. Their breaths appear before them in soft puffs of whiteness as a shiver ripples through the two of them. “I am but I’ll be fine.” She says, turning to look at him. He wears a hat just as she does, a thick scarf covers his neck as one does hers yet his nose is bright red. “You on the other hand,” she giggles and tugs his hat down and tightens his scarf, “look very cold.” “I’ve definitely felt warmer but I shouldn’t be admitting this if I have to look strong for you.” He comments, pretending to look ahead while carefully side eyeing her. “Look strong for me? Since when?” His fingers link with hers a little harder, “I’ve known you for a while right?” “Uh huh.” “And you know I’ve been single for a while right?” She looks at him with a smile playing upon her lips, “you’re just picky.” “And that’s a bad thing?” He asks her cautiously. “No. It means you shouldn’t be played for a fool. You’re wanted Juju, I’d say you were smart.” “But I want a girlfriend.” Her heart pounds against her chest and she wonders if this is the moment she’s waited for or if she’ll be disappointed, left feeling sick because he’s chosen another. He’s not mentioned anyone else and she hasn’t seen him with someone else either. “And yet here you are trying to hold my hand without me noticing?” She asks with a laugh as she lifts their linked hands. His eyes drop to their hands as she holds hers up. He presses his palm to hers and openly locks fingers, a real hand hold. “I like you.” He says. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I like you. More than a friend. I’ve been trying to think how to tell you or ask you but…” he trails off as he shakes his head. Her confident friend with the boyish grin and beautiful eyes stands before her, “you deserve more than silly words to try and win you over. And if you don’t like me now, you won’t after a speech.” “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend Justin?” “I was asking if you liked me but if you’re jumping ahead?” “I would like to date you Justin.” “Yes?” She nods. “Then we date.” He presses his lips to their closed hands before letting it drop between the two of them. He begins walking again, her trying to match his stride but there’s certainly more of a spring in his step. “You seem happy.” “I am. Are you not?” He asks, a confused expression clearly on his face. “I am now. I just wasn’t expecting this. Not today.” “Maybe I should have waited until tomorrow then…” he laughs, pulling her into his arms and rearranging her own hat. When he fixes her scarf too, she notes his head is slowly lowering. His nose brushes against hers as she tilts her face upwards. With one last look, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers.

__________________

Forever tags: @starkrogerspls , @neymarlionelmessi7 , @elle-aaron , @rafinhasmarco, @djikhead, @kxndrixx , @pasate-la-acuarela, @imakemyselfcringe , @leduqdefoot , @fangirlinsince1998 , @fcbarcafics , @paul–pogba , @msgem , @grizifc , @xxsophie-raabxx , @stxnesy , @degea-drama-llama ,  @20rey03, @evapr00, @i-ship-it-okay

bold and struck out doesn’t mean I don’t love you, it just means tumblr can’t find you. If you’ve changed your username and wish to still be tagged, please let me know.

[gunhandsam]

I forgot my birthday.

I'm thirty now.  My birthday was a few months ago, and I spent it away from the only person I've ever truly cared about.  I had tried going home, to our home, just to check on things.  Maybe rest, take in the fleeting hints of her scent in the sheets and hope for a pleasant dream or two.

I couldn't even step on the tattered welcome mat, let alone open the door. My gut heaved as my hand reached out for the knob and threatened to reject what little food I had managed to choke down that morning.  My bones ached with a constant cold and dull throb, somewhat like the after effects of an adrenaline dump.  Fingers sliding over the worn metal conjured up memories of the two of us, of her, strolling home after a day of wandering or a night at the drive-in.  The contentment as she pressed against me, my arm over her shoulder or hand in hers, the giggling and teasing and smirking as we both hurried out of our clothes, perhaps aided by the other.  It was all too much, the memories crashing over me in waves, threatening to break me down and leave me crumbled on her step.

So, naturally, I determined the best course of action was to crawl into my little hole outside of town and treat myself to a swift libation.  Or several.

I mean, that's ok, isn't it?  It's not the Prospector.  Emma asked me to stop going there so often as apparently people were talking, and while I personally could care less of what some teetotaler thinks of me; their prudish thoughts of judgement and contempt fired from their eyes as they looked down at us less wholesome people, sight of us skittering in the dark obscured by their upturned noses, I still promised her I would spend less time in the local saloon.  

I promised her a lot of things.

Like... oh, I promised I'd keep her safe for example. 

That went well.

As did my decision to drink rapidly and heavily on an rebellious stomach and minimal sleep.

I found this strange.  I'm a well seasoned professional, after all.  One little bottle shouldn't put me on the floor, something is amiss.  I managed to claw my way across the concrete floor towards the bunk beds, when I heard a strange sound.  Something was gurgling... was it raining outside?  The previous owners of this little bunker had cobbled together some piping to gather rainwater and funnel it down into some cisterns, and if it rained hard enough, you could hear it.  This was different though, it felt more... direct. Focused.

More... personal?

Oh.

Well, that's different.

"Come closer.  Sit."

I was reasonably certain I was alone, as nobody really knows about this place... well, nobody alive anyway, and I distinctly recall being on my own when I entered and unscrewed my belated gift.  I was also in no condition to fight, so I did as the disembodied voice instructed.  Don't get me wrong; I can shoot fairly well drunk, but this was different.  All I was able to do was haul myself across the cold floor and slump against a steel bed frame.

"I meant on the bed.  But that is alright.  Should you stand, you may fall again and injure yourself.  And nobody knows about this place, correct? Nobody to come and help you?"

That voice was so familiar, and my head rang as I tried to pin it down.

"Right... there was a log on a terminal from the previous owners, some Desert Ranger types... the ones that didn't die slipped in with the NCR once that treaty of theirs went down... who are you?  Where are you?"

"Who I am is irrelevant, as are my whereabouts.  You, however, are very relevant.  And the things you have done since she left.  You have been a bad boy Samedi, have you not?"

The hairs on my neck stood stock still as my eyes cracked open.  They found me.  My old compatriots.  They tracked me across the country and waited for me to come tumbling down the hole, get good and drunk and helpless, so they could put one in my ear.  My hand groped for the gun on my hip, only to find an empty holster.

"I... yeah," I sighed, rubbing the leather with a finger tip.  "Yeah."

There was a soft chuckling to my side, low and smooth and deep.

"Not going to deny your true name?  Interesting.  Your weapons are downstairs on the table.  Waiting.  As I am.  Take your time.  Although... I am curious.  The trunk to your left."

I don't remember getting up, or moving for that matter.  But there I was, looking at the trunk in question.

"What about it?"

"It is not the trunk I am interested in.  The contents however..."

The lid popped open and I pressed it back down with an unsteady hand. This was getting silly, since when do things just open on their own?  The latch on the trunk was sturdy and well oiled, it shouldn't be able to spring open whenever it pleased.

"No?  Do you not want what is inside?  We both know what is in there.  How nice it feels against your shoulder, how your hand envelopes the grip... almost as if it was made just for you..."

I wanted to slam the lid shut.  Close the trunk, lock it, weld it, tip it upside down, sit on top.  I also felt a growing urge to hit something.  But what? There was nothing to strike that wouldn't leave my hand worse for wear.

"No.  No need."

More chuckling that echoed inside my head.

"Very well.  Downstairs.  No rush."

My hand lingered on the chest for a moment before I headed through the armory door.  Upstairs was home to weapon storage, munitions and components were down a level.

"Fancy yourself a collector?  Strange, you only have two hands, and you know how foolish it is to fill both with a pistol..."

"It'd be a shame to leave the walls bare," I grumbled, firing up a cigarette without a thought.  "It gives me something constructive to do.  Find something I don't have, repair it as much as I can, maybe toss on a mod or two, stuff it on the wall."

A deep hum reverberated off the walls of the bunker as well as my skull.  I could feel it in my bones and my eyes, and I fought down the terrible urge to vomit as I descended the stairs, as the act would surely leave me falling head over ass, showering myself with bile until I lay broken at the bottom. Sure enough, my usual guns were waiting for me, as was the bear.  

At least it wasn't wearing my hat or glasses anymore.

"Those are mine, alright. I suppose it's foolish to ask how you got down here..."

"A better question: Is a man the sum of his parts, or is he more than that?"

"I don't fu... I don't know.  I was working on a perfectly fine bottle of whisky when you came calling."

My response was met with more humming and a quiet chuckle.

"Yes, I saw.  Now, what if the parts change?"

A fancier revolver and a semi automatic rifle, .223 and .308 caliber respectfully.

"Does the man change with them?"

"I don't know!  Guns are just tools to me!  I use what works or what I feel comfortable with!  I might change 'em out if need be, but once I find something that works well, I tend to stick with it!"

"Temper, Samedi.  I do not mean to upset you.  I'm curious as to why you have the rifle down here, I thought you were not proficient with them?"

"Am I not allowed to try and learn something new?  Oh!  I should rephrase that to keep the theme going!  Is a man not entitled to better himself?! What is this all about, really?"

The walls seemed to press in against me and the pounding in my head intensified.  I shut my eyes tight and fought down the bile churning in my gut.

"Flattery will get you nowhere.  Mockery will take you places even you cannot return from.  Still... interesting that you chose this particular pistol."

"I... yeah, I suppose.  I managed to work up a couple of loads for it that give good expansion and penetration, better than the stuff I've seen for sale.  The longer than usual barrel adds velocity... why am I even explaining this to you?"

Another hum, softer than before, almost comforting.

"I am well familiar with your firearms, my friend.  Why would I not be? Surely you have noticed how observant I am of you.  However, a lesser man would make a crude joke following such a statement of penetration.  But given your recent... indiscretions with the tribal girl, perhaps you are not feeling a need to compensate for something?  Even more interesting is how willing you were to let her penetrate you, and to say nothing of how much you enjoyed it... ah!  I guess I am not above crass humor after all..."

I slammed a fist down on the table as I felt my blood begin to boil.  This had gone on long enough!  Maybe in my haste I had grabbed a bottle of absinthe rather than whisky, and now things were getting weird.  It happened, almost without fail, when I drank the stuff.

"It was either that or kill somebody again!  Maybe it wouldn't be somebody so deserving of it!  Maybe someone I just didn't like the looks of for whatever bullshit reason I came up with!  What do you want from me!?"

The room went frigid, and I could feel a terrible pressure over my chest.

"What I want?  Why, that is simple my friend.  I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.  You spent so long being your own worst enemy, and how many times did it nearly get you killed?  You need to start treating yourself better.  Sexual needs and wants matter not to me.  Wanton violence does not bother me in the least.  I only care that you are satisfied regardless of the path you choose.  A clear head results in an able body.  Do you not remember Quincy?  Your mind in a fog, cleared away as the rope grew tight, your breath hitching in your chest and your vision dimming as those on the other side took hold of you?  And when you were freed from the gallows, and your clambering out of the burning barrel, do you not remember how focused you were afterwards?  You certainly put on a display... what was it, nineteen?  Twenty people killed by your hand that night?"

That was it.  I was done.  The air in my lungs had long since escaped, and the room had begun to tilt and spin.

"Twen... twenty-three... fourteen men, nine women," I stammered, steadying myself on the table with a rubbery arm.  Whatever this was, I wanted clear of it.  I wanted to wake up in my bed next to Emma.  That's all I ever wanted.

"Impressive for a man that was mere minutes away from his end... amazing what you are capable of when you put your mind to it.  I fear our time however is at an end.  Before we part, I want you to say it."

"It?  What?  What do you want me to say?"  I was drawn to my hat.  I knew that if I had it in my hands, I'd be ok.  Things were growing dim and distant as I reached out, fingers brushing the brim before I collapsed on the floor.

"You know.  The thing you've been wanting to say ever since it happened.  Do not play dumb with me, Samedi."

I curled up by the table, clutching my sides.

"I'm..."

"Say it."

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I let her down.  I'm sorry I couldn't help her..."

I could feel a hand brushing my cheek, and the humming had become a quiet sigh.

"That is all I wanted.  You may hear from me again, I do not know when.  I do hope you are feeling better by then.  Please, do take care of yourself, Samedi. If not for yourself, for her.  As you know, without her, the alternative is... well.  You can figure it out."

"You may think you will not remember this night, but you will."

[bluenet13]

Little Drummer Deeks

Another Densi Holiday fic inspired by a @densi-mber writing prompt. This started as the moms sharing holiday baby stories of Kensi & Deeks but might have grown into something more. Anyhow, here it is and I hope people like it.

The drive was made in complete silence, the couple still at odds about their upcoming breakfast meeting and both wanting to have their way over the other.

None of them wanted to be the one to break the silence, but as it typically was in this sort of situations, the young detective was the one to cave first. “Come on princess, do we really have to go?”

“Deeks, we have been debating this for a week, and I already told you in no uncertain terms this meeting is happening” she didn’t take her eyes away from the road as she drily responded, tired of having the same debate over and over again.

“But…”

“No, buts Deeks. We’re already on the way, and we’re not canceling…”

“We could say there’s a national security issue that required our participation… no one will give it a second thought.”

Kensi blew out her breath and took advantage of the traffic light to turn around and look at her boyfriend, the man she loved with all her heart but who could always irritate her like no other. “Come on baby, you’re acting like we’re driving to a doctor’s appointment or to an LAPD meeting…” She reached out to grab his hand and squeezed as she said the next words, “we’re just meeting our moms for breakfast…” Seeing the uncertain look still in his eyes, she decided to keep trying to reassure him, “we walk into firefights all the time, and put our lives on the line daily, today is just breakfast… with our moms… for the holidays… there’s no reason to worry about, everything will be great.”

“Yeah… You, me, Julia and Crazy Bertie in one table… What could possibly go wrong?” He then paled and look at her as if he just had the worst realization in the world, “…and what if Guy is there?” He buried his head in his hands and moaned.

“Oh Marty… You’re such a drama king…”

“Deeks…” he mumbled from under his hands.

“What?”

“You called me Marty, you know I prefer Deeks…”

“Sorry baby… I forgot…” Then a recurrent question popped in her head and she decided this was a good time as any to ask. “Why don’t you like anyone calling you Marty?”

“Not now Kens…”

The finality of his words gave her some pause and she realized the subject must not be a pleasant one so she decided to stop asking… for now. But she was determined, and soon enough she will get her answer.

“But really, why do we have to go? If Guy’s there… I’m looking for an excuse and leaving…” He could be really insistent when he wanted and apparently this time he had no intentions to stop his whining.

“Everything will be fine, and if Guy is there, we will just talk to him like the adults we are and maybe… even try to get to know him, considering he’s with your… mom,” she said the last words sounding uncertain and slightly worried of his reaction. At his silence, she decided to continue, “Shaggy… you know your mom’s life hasn’t been easy, she deserves to be happy and to find someone who gives her that… just like we found each other…”

“But… He’s her trainer…”

“Yeah… and you were my partner!”

-x-x-x-

Kensi’s final response silenced any further argument or reproach from the man setting beside her and they finished the last 10 minutes of their drive in silence, eventually arriving to the restaurant and going straight to their table.

Roberta and Julia were already there, both talking loudly and smiling widely at whatever it was they were discussing… Probably something having to do with the two people making their way towards them.

“Martin, I’m so happy you could make it. I was just betting with Julia if you would bail out or not” Roberta got up to hug her son, not missing the opportunity to fluster and slightly embarrass him.

“Hi mama… you know I would never miss the lovely opportunity of meeting you and Julia” He said the first part of the sentence with an ironic tone, but at the end he turned around and smiled warmly at Julia.

After hugging their mothers and wishing them Happy Holidays, the couple took their seats, each next to their respective mom and facing each other and started looking at their menus so they could order quickly.

After some minutes of silence and sensing the tense aura around the couple, Roberta decided to continue her previous conversation with Julia, hoping with it to bring her son and future daughter-in-law out of their heads.

“So Julia… I brought the picture I promised you the other day…”

Deeks perked up at the statement and worriedly asked… “What picture?”

“Oh Martin, I can never shut you up and today you decided you finally wanna rest that tongue of yours, but now you suddenly want to talk again?” Julia looked at her son with raised eyebrows, always knowing what was going on through his head and the best way to rattle him.

“We met last week for some drinks and Bertie here promised me a picture that she so kindly brought today” Julia got in the way in order to avoid an argument between the mother and son, all knowing how common those were from the few times they all had met together.

“Drinks? I hope you’re talking about tea… or coffee… I wouldn’t want to add alcohol into your mix.” Deeks had paled a bit at the admission that the two moms have met without them present.

“Martin, don’t be silly we were obviously meeting for some wine… and maybe it then got to other drinks…” Roberta answered with a smile, enjoying how her son’s face kept losing color as she continued.

“And it’s not the first time… It’s a glamorous activity that we partake in every couple of weeks,” Apparently Roberta wasn’t the only one enjoying the young man’s discomfort and Julia was keen to join in.

Kensi feeling sorry for her boyfriend, and knowing that as partner, in everything, she needed to have his back decided to help, not knowing that really she was making things worst. “Okay, okay, enough of this, I want to know what picture you both were talking about.”

Roberta smiled in a way that could be argued was more like a devious grin as she looked for her purse and starting rummaging for something. Eventually stopping as she took a piece of paper and held it in her hand, not letting anyone see what was on it.

After putting her purse back behind her chair, she passed the picture to Julia, who looked at it with a huge smile on her face and quickly showed it to Kensi, who squealed in a matter not common to Bad-Ass Blye and looked at her man with loving eyes.

Deeks on the other hand had a pretty good idea of what, or rather who, was in that picture and just wanted to jump ship and abandon these three women to enjoy their breakfast on their own.

“OMG Marty you were the cutest kid… look at that hair and that perfect little face…” Julia reached across the table to squeeze his cheeks, making Roberta and Kensi burst out laughing at the redness that had suddenly appeared in said cheeks.

When the picture was finally passed to the man in question, he found himself staring at a young Marty Deeks who was probably around 4 years old. His bangs were already long and they were partially covered by the fluffy red Santa hat that he was wearing and which highlighted his striking blue eyes even more. The green vest and Christmas tree sweatpants that he was sporting only adding to his embarrassment at seeing the picture.

He remained quiet and passed the picture back to his mother, glaring at her as he did so.

“Baby, do you think you could dress like that for me one of these nights?” Kensi breathlessly asked even as she started laughing again. At first wanting to reassure him, but now enjoying the teasing too much not to join the other two women.

Deeks couldn’t believe the three most important women in his life were ganging up on him… Or really he could totally believe it and he just knew that he shouldn’t have come to this meeting.

“And Kensi, you should have heard some of the stories Bertie was telling me the other day, Marty was such a funny kid.” As Julia said the words, Deeks head fell on the table and he closed his eyes, wondering if this supposedly simple and harmless breakfast could get any worse.

“Roberta you have to tell me now, I can’t wait to hear what crazy things little Deeks was involved in.” Kensi’s voice was full of amusement and curiosity, especially wanting to know of some good times in her boyfriend’s childhood.

Deeks, still with his head on the table, turned to look at his mom pleadingly, but realized he was doomed as soon as he saw the smirk spreading on her face. A smirk that was so similar to his own.

“It would be my pleasure Kensi…” Roberta then proceeded to tell Kensi and Julia some stories of her boy, all which sadly painted the picture of the perfect childhood they all knew he didn’t have.

“…Every Christmas morning he used to come down running down the stairs wearing his holiday pajamas and a Santa hat, eager to open his gifts and start playing with them.” As Roberta finished the story Kensi wondered about Deeks’ father on these stories. They all showed a normal childhood, with laughs and presents and love, but from the few stories he had told her, she never associated any of those words with Brandel.

Kensi opened her mouth to ask, but then decided against it, not wanting to get the mood down. But Roberta was a very intelligent woman and she knew what the woman, that had finally given her son the happiness he deserved, wanted to ask.

“This was before things turned… complicated with my ex-husband. At this time we were a normal family and he used to enjoy the times with his son a lot…” As Roberta kept talking her eyes glazed over and she got a faraway look on her face, clearly lost in her memories. “…Until Martin turned 5 or 6, Brandel was a great father, we didn’t have much but he provided everything he could and every Christmas he got his boy at least one new toy…”

Kensi looked at Deeks who hadn’t said a word since Roberta started telling her stories and wondered what he thought about them.

“…I always remember one Christmas when Martin was 3, Gordon got him a toy train that he loved… after that he always asked Santa for a full train set, but then…” She suddenly stopped, evidently having reached the not so pleasant part of her memories, “…It just didn’t work out.”

Wanting to turn the conversation back to happier times, Roberta decided to tell her newfound family another story from their earlier holidays. “Martin used to love Christmas songs, so much that I used to call him my Little Drummer Boy, because that was his favorite and he used to sing it a lot during the Holidays. But his father was more traditional and having grown up in the 60s his favorite was John Lennon’s Happy Xmas, so our household during the holidays was a strange mashup of traditional Christmas carols and more modern ones like Lennon’s and Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas… Martin and Gordon used to spend a lot of time together sitting in the front porch, sharing their love for music and the holidays…”

Kensi’s eyes had started to mist with the stories, happy to know that at least Deeks had managed to enjoy some good early Holidays, even if somehow they had all turned out bad after that. She didn’t know a lot of what had caused his family’s situation to end the way it did, but now she was more curious than ever, and again she was determined to one day ask and get her answers.

“I would have love to meet you at that time, you were probably such a cheerful and happy kid…” The love and admiration in Kensi’s eyes as she said the words were enough to melt any man’s heart.

“Yeah princess, I was…” He sounded sad, and all three women noticed it.

Julia, wanting to cheer up her future son-in-law and the man that had returned her daughter to her, decided to share some stories of her own.

“Marty, I’m sure you would also love to hear some stories…” Kensi tensed at the words, thinking that it had been too good to be true, and now it was her turn. “Because my husband was in the military we moved a lot, and one year he was participating in some training in Camp Lejeune in Jacksonville, North Carolina… This was around the Holidays so a few of the military families decided to travel to NC to meet our guys in time for Christmas…”

Deeks was looking intently at Kensi while Julia told the story, seeing all the different emotions play across her face as the story progressed. From sadness, to happiness, to pure joy, and eventually back to sadness.  

“After the training was over, all the families decided to make the drive to the mountains in Boone to give our kids a more normal and fun Christmas before their parents were deployed again… We spent 5 days there and it was magical… We stayed in this little cabin and while all the little girls stayed inside by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate and staying warm, our Kensi decided to go with all the boys and the fathers to do some snowboarding… and not surprisingly she gave them a run for their money…”

Deeks laughed, totally imagining a little Kensi, with her perfect mismatched eyes and long brunette hair, running around with the boys and snowboarding better than most.

“I remember that trip… it was one of the best Holidays we spent as a family…” Kensi decided to add her own comment, actually enjoying the memory and the warm feeling it brought her. “After we came back from the mountain, everyone went back to the cabin, but I remember I went with my dad to build a snowman, and we ended up having a huge snow fight between ourselves, until all the rest of the families came out and joined us…”

“Yeah, how could I forget the huge snow ball that one of the other kids accidentally, but I must admit perfectly, aimed at my face?” Everyone laughed, all imagining how the impeccably composed Julia would have reacted in such a situation.

The food had arrived 5 minutes ago but it had remained forgotten until Julia and Kensi finished their story. Now all four individuals decided to mentally return back to the present and enjoy their pancakes, waffles and omelets.

After breakfast… and dessert, was consumed some more stories were shared and after some 30 minutes they all decided it was time to say good-bye and each get back to their Saturday.

As they were exiting the restaurant and starting the walk back to their cars, Roberta turned around excitedly and looked at her son while she said, “next time we met remind me to tell you the story of the first time Martin saw snow, and how he fell on his face when Gordon threw a snow ball at him and my little boy thought it was a good idea to run in the slippery snow…”

Laughter followed all four people to their cars as they each thought the morning had gone well, all looking forward to their next Holiday meeting which had been set for Sunday of next week, to the excitement of the three women and faked annoyance of the one man.

As they started the drive back to the house, Kensi reached out and grabbed Deeks’ hand, bringing their joined hands to her lips and kissing the bundle sweetly. “See baby, it went well…”

“Speak for yourself… 80% of the morning was just sharing stories about myself… and now mama also promised to show you and Julia even more pictures…” Unlike the morning he didn’t sound as exasperated anymore, secretly having enjoyed the simple and carefree morning and listening to the stories of better and simpler times.

“Those stories were lovely, and I would really like to have met you back them… And I was just thinking G and Sam would so love to hear them, maybe we should share them with them when we meet for the Holidays, and the pictures too.” Kensi’s eyes were shining as she said the words, enjoying how they were clearly getting to her boyfriend.

“Don’t even go there Kensalina…” Deeks muttered, not even wanting to imagine the teasing he would have to endure at the hands of the senior partners if those stories and pictures got to them.

They got back to the house 30 minutes later and as they walked towards the door hand-in-hand, as they always did and hoped to always do, Kensi decided her curiosity was winning and braved asking the questions that hadn’t left her mind, “Hey, Deeks…” He stopped to look at her with one hand on the door handle, and the other hand still holding hers, waiting for her to continue… “What happened with your father? The stories today painted a different picture to what you previously told me… I know your mother said it was all well before… So I would like to know when and how it all went so wrong.”

Hearing the questions Deeks closed his eyes and sighed, already expecting they would be coming soon after the talk his mother had started… He didn’t want to go there, but he also couldn’t deny his ladybird anything.

“Not now princess, please. That story is not fun… and it’s related to your previous question, about why I don’t like people to call me Marty…” He squeezed her hand, and mimicking her previous gesture in the car brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed them. “Today, I just want to enjoy the rest of our Saturday, go to the beach as we planned and have a nice dinner with you… But, I will tell you, I promise, soon…” He finished opening the door and stepped inside their home.

“I will hold you to that promise…” Kensi said as she also stepped inside and closed the door behind them, their new Holiday wreath silently shaking with the movement of the door...  

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 241

In this Violet’s world is changed, Courtney spends time with her new friends, Laila get’s hot under the collar and Alaska has to sacrifice for the team.

Thank you to @toriibelledarling @samrull and @veronicasanders - My darling cowriters <3

“Yes.. I, yes.. Thank you.. I’ll talk to you later too.. Bye.”

Violet put her phone in her bag after talking to Sutan who was spending the night with his sister. Violet turned around and walked back inside the gallery. Her shoes were hurting, the drink in her hand almost empty, the people around her mostly strangers. Someone bumped into Violet, and she silently cursed herself for not pleading more for Sutan to come along with her, but she wasn’t someone who begged. Sutan needed time with his sister, and how was she to ask twice if he had something better to do. Sutan had done so much for her lately, and she didn’t want to be the ungrateful brat, she was sure Sutan sometimes saw her as.

Violet took the last sip of her drink, getting lost in the mysterious landscapes of Hercules Segers as she walked around, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, almost making her jump. Violet turned around, and came face to face with Chad Michaels, the woman smiling brightly.

“Darling!” Chad exclaimed happily, enveloping Violet in a cloud of Dior perfume and air kisses which Violet quickly returned.

“Ms. Michaels, hello,” Violet said. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“I am just thrilled that you’re here, Violet! Especially this week! What a wonderful job you did for that Marie Claire spread.”

“Thank you.” Violet smiled, beyond happy that Chad had somehow seen her work and also realised that it was her. She hadn’t expected the other woman, or really anyone, to, and hearing the praise warmed her heart.

“I’ve been meaning to call you and it kept slipping my mind and here you are, it’s like fate!” Chad grabbed a drink for her and one for Violet from one of the waiters that walked by, still chatting away. “I recognized it instantly!”

“Really?” Violet looked at Chad, not quite believing what she was hearing, the fact that she was there alone not all that depressing anymore. Violet couldn’t imagine what would have happened if Betty or even Pearl had been there with her, Chad demanding her complete attention.

“Darling. Of COURSE we can recognize your work. I do hope that this wasn’t a one-time deal.” Chad put an arm around Violet, dragging her off to the side and somehow easily finding a couch where the two could sit down, Chad effortlessly demanding the space. “I’ve been telling that boss of yours for months that she needs to give you your own line, and it seems like she’s finally listening to me with the Marie Claire spread!”

Violet choked on her drink, almost coughing before she caught herself, her hand in front of her mouth as she swallowed the liquid.

“What?”

“The Marie Claire spread you silly goose.”

Violet felt like the breath had been knocked from her lungs. Was Chad the one that had recommended her for the Marie Claire spread? Was Chad the one that had a finger in the game, and not Sutan?

“You…you have?”

“Of course! And why not? You have such a remarkable gift, my dear!”

Chad was still chatting. Violet could see Chad’s lips moving, but she couldn’t really hear the other woman, her ears ringing. Had she been fussy with Sutan for no reason? Acting out and silently punishing him for something he had never done? Violet needed to go, she needed to go, and to apologize and tell Sutan what a colossal bitch she had been, her head spinning.

“Speaking of which, I’d love to commission a few more gowns from you, and I would be honored if you’d design something absolutely over the top for me for the Met Ball this year. What do you think?”

“I have to go.”

***

“What if we just-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Detox sat down on the bed, Grace crying in his arms. The little girl had woken up for the 6th time that night, coughing and crying, her ears hurting.

“No I don’t, but I know you.” Juju took Grace from Detox, Detox silently cursing the new babysitter they had hired, that had forgotten to put Grace’s hat on before she took the small kids outside to play in the december snow.

“Sssh, ssh.” Juju gently rocked Grace back and forth, undoing her top so Grace could latch onto a nipple, the little girl finally calming down, her small hands curled into fists.

“Kids are fucking monsters.”

“And yet you have four.” Juju smiled, and Detox sat down next to her.

“And yet I have four.”

***

“Sutan. Sutan. Wake up.” Sutan felt someone shake him, but he didn’t want to wake up, his head heavy, his mouth tasting of every single drink he had shared with Raja.

{Raj, leave me alone}

Oh god. He was way too old to mix shots and wine, but stomach churning as he tried to sit up. Why was Raja being such a bitch?

“Sutan, come on, please, I have to talk to you.”

Sutan recognised the voice. It wasn’t Raja, and it wasn’t Raven, but someone else entirely.

“.. Violet?” Sutan sat up, his girlfriend sitting on the floor of his livingroom. Sutan knew it wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t help but congratulate himself that he had somehow made it home the day before. “Did you use your key?” Sutan looked down at himself, thankful that he was at least still wearing pants and his undershirt, the rest of his suit properly crumbled up somewhere.

“We have to talk.” Violet was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, her hair and outfit looking perfect. Why was it that Violet hadn’t spent the night with him? Had she gone somewhere? Fuck his head felt so heavy.

“I’m pretty- Vi, I’m pretty drunk, can this wa-”

“No.” Violet looked at him, her expression one of pure determination. “We have to talk, right now, or I’ll never say anything.”

“What?” Was Violet okay? Had something happened to hear? Sutan reached out, grabbing Violet’s knee, his girl allowing him. “Did someone hurt you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Violet, did someone hurt you? Do I need to call someone?” Sutan tightened his grab, the idea of someone hurting Violet unbearable to him.

“I’m sorry. I did a really bad thing and I- I thought you had forced someone to give me the Marie Claire photoshoot.”

“… What?”

The words came out in a rush, “It’s stupid, I know, I know, but I was so sure. Why else would it have been given to me?”  Sutan barely able to hear what Violet was actually saying, everything a mess like it had been at the hospital. “I can’t- I’m not, I didn’t deserve it, and I still got it,” Violet breathed in, almost gasping for air before she continued to speak, like she’d die if she didn’t get it out right away, “It’s been killing me since I secretly assumed it had been your doing, that you, oh I don’t know, made a deal with Bianca or Fame and that you didn’t trust me, and then with thanksgiving.”

Was Violet saying that she assumed Sutan had something to do with her work? That he had somehow talked his friends into giving her a photoshoot? Sutan knew he should properly feel hurt, and if he was being honest he did, but it was part of Violet to worry, and she deserved not to talk to him while he was drunk.

“Hey, hey.” Sutan moved his hand, gently taking Violet’s arm, the girl stopping her stream of words, her entire attention on him.

“I’d never do that.”

The room feel silent, Violet looking at him like he was her entire world, and Sutan took the aking the time to choose his words.

“You don’t need my help Violet.” Sutan could see that Violet was about to open her mouth, but he stopped her, quickly continuing. “If you think you do, you’re wrong. I don’t know where this is coming from, but what you achieve is yours, and I would never try to take that from you. I can guide you and give you advice if you want me to, but your career is yours, not mine. It’s yours.”

Violet threw her arms around him, holding him close, her face pressed into his neck. “I’m sorry.” Sutan wrapped an arm around Violet’s waist, giving her a tight squeesh.

“Vi..”

“Yes?”

“Can I have some water please?”

“Of course.”

***

“Augh!” Courtney shrieked as Sonja opened a bottle of champagne, spraying everyone. Vanity ducked behind her to protect her wig from getting drenched and Bethenny began to tease him.

“Really? She’s your protector? She could fit in my pocket. She’s the size of a Keebler elf.”

“Well,” Vanity reasoned. “I had to make a quick decision and Luann isn’t here.”

Ramona burst out laughing. “Where is she, anyway? She sent me a very cryptic text about why she couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, probably because she feels guilty that she’s dating your ex,” said Carole.

“Tom isn’t my ex! We just went on a couple of dates!” Ramona insisted.

“Well, whatever, she still should have told you when she started dating him. Just like she should have told Sonja, or HE should have told Sonja. The whole thing is very shady.” Bethenny shook her head, pouring another drink. “I do not approve. Breaking the girl code.”

“Girl code! Girl code!” Ramona mocked Luann’s latest catchphrase, laughing.

Sonja leaned on her shoulder giggling.

“So the three of you all dated the same guy?” Courtney asked.

“Is he like, amazing in bed?” Vanity asked.

“He’s fine in bed,” Sonja said. “I wouldn’t say ‘amazing.’”

“He’s desperate to bag a Housewife, apparently,” Bethenny explained. “You’re lucky you’re gay.”

“Yeah, I say a prayer of thanks for that every day,” Courtney said, laughing.

“So what’s this show gonna be like?” asked Ramona. “Do you have hot backup dancers?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they’re super hot,” said Courtney.

“Ramona, you’re talking to a lesbian, you may need to clarify if she means hot boys or hot girls.”

“I knew what she meant,” Courtney said, laughing. “And I’ve got both, Bethenny.” Courtney winked at the brunette.

“Well, good. That gives us more choices.”

Ramona’s eyes bugged out in shock, causing both Carole and Bethenny to dissolve in giggles.

“I’m kidding, you idiot,” Bethenny yelled.

“Well, ya never know with you,” said Ramona.

“Indeed,” Carole said coyly.

“I think we should plan a girls’ trip,” said Ramona.

“I’m so confused as to what the fuck this is,” Bethenny said.

“This is just an overnight. I mean like a real, solid, like 4 or 5 days.”

“I’m busy,” Carole said.

“I haven’t said any dates!” Ramona laughed.

“I know.” Carole poured herself another drink.

“I have a question,” Courtney said. “When you say ‘Girls’ Trip,’ is that code for ‘no significant others’ or does it just mean girls?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I just, I don’t know, 5 days seems like a long time. B’s been feeling kind of neglected lately.” Courtney didn’t add her next thought, which was ‘Leaving her alone when she’s feeling hard up seems like asking for trouble.’

“Remember how much shit you gave Aviva for wanting to bring her husband to St Bart’s?” Sonja laughed.

“Well yeah, because Aviva was crazy. And her husband was a jerk. Bianca might actually be fun,” Ramona said.

“You don’t have to say yes, I was just wondering.”

“I think it’s kind of sweet,” said Carole. “And kind of sad that the 22 year old has the most functional relationship here.”

“It’s not sweet,” Vanity piped up. “They are fucking nymphomaniacs who are gonna be scissoring all over your vacation home.”

Courtney slapped Vanity on the side of the head. “Shut up, Ben!” she exclaimed, laughing.

“Well, it’s true. And I’m not even touching ‘functional relationship,’” she added, holding out her champagne glass. “I need another drink, quickly.”

“Ya dog-ass mole,” Courtney grumbled, crossing her arms.

***

RE: Christmas

Dear Ms. Michaels,

I’m so sorry for leaving you as abruptly as I did last night. I want to assure you that working with you for the christmas season would be a tremendous honor to design a look for you. I’ve made a few sketches based on your tastes and preferences. I have attached the sketches, and I hope that we can use them as jumping off points for discussions.

Thank you for your encouragement.

Best wishes,

Violet

*

RE: RE: Christmas

VIOLET THESE ARE DIVINE!! #2 IS MY FAVORITE!!

You MUST let me take you out to lunch this week so that we can talk more!!

Xoxo,

Chad

*

RE: RE: RE: Christimas

Ms. Michaels,

It would be my absolute pleasure to go to lunch with you! Thank you again for your support, I’m very greatful.

Best wishes,

Violet

***

“Hey babe.”

Laila looked up from her computer, her hands filled with swatched from the tour she had done of her most used lipsticks. She looked up to see Pearl, her girlfriend standing in the doorway, a smile on her lips. Pearl had gone out earlier that night, Laila not even catching that Pearl was going out, until she was already gone, her and Max apparently hitting some concert in Harlem.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Mmmh.” Pearl nodded, her eyes filled with a lustful glint, like she wanted to eat Laila up, and Laila suddenly felt self conscious of her sweatpants and her braided purple hair. “I had whiskey.”

“Did you?”

“Mmh..” Pearl was wearing sinful leather pants, her long legs clad in the black fabric, her hips and stomach peaking out from the shirt that was tied into a crop top.

“… Is that my top?” Laila recognised the Metallica logo, the shirt one she had owned for years and one she usually wore to bed, but on Pearl, paired with a black jacket, it looked like something that had cost a thousand dollars.

“Is it?” Pearl smiled. “I’m so sorry babe, I’ll make it up to you right away.” Pearl took her jacket off, and Laila felt her mouth run dry as Pearl dropped the jacket on the floor, pushing the door shut behind before. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?” Pearl pulled at the shirt, undoing the knot she had tied with ease, her red nails tugging the fabric open before she grabbed it and slowly pulled it up, up, up and over her head, her long blonde hair falling down her back, Laila recognising Pearl’s underwear as La Perla, something she wouldn’t have been able to do at gunpoint a year ago.

“Because I think you should punish me.”

Laila smiled, Pearl’s desire for her thick in the air, the power going to her head as she held up her hand and gestured for Pearl to get closer, which she happily did.

“How can I say no to that?”

***

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking tired…” Jinkx moaned, tossing her clothes and shoes to the floor and climbing into bed. “What are we watching?”

Adore kissed her forehead and began to play with her red hair, cuddling back against Alaska’s warm body. “Forensic Files.”

“That shit gives me nightmares.”

“Awww, we’ll protect you, baby…”

Alaska giggled and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Adore’s neck. She wasn’t into the gruesome murder show either, so she chose to distract herself by letting her fingers trail up and down Adore’s tender skin, hands snaking between her thighs, lips finding her pulse point, sucking on her, rubbing her, until she was sighing and arching, breath coming fast and–

“AUGH!” Adore suddenly shrieked, pushing Alaska away.

“What?” Alaska sat up.

Adore whipped her head around, glaring at her, “That’s IT!” She leapt out of the bed and into the adjoining bathroom.

“What happened?” Jinkx murmured sleepily from her pillow.

“I told you, if that happened ONE MORE TIME!” Adore said, marching back into the bedroom, brandishing a pair of nail clippers like a weapon.

“Nooooooo!” Alaska whined.

“Oh yes! Those nails are GONE, bitch!” She threw back her head and laughed maniacally.

“But I liiike my naaaaaaaails,” she countered, as Adore straddled her and attempted to grab one of her hands.

“Well tough shit! No more nails!”

“Jiiiiiinkx!” Alaska whined, looking for support.

“Yeah, Jinkx, please help me out?” Adore looked over at the sleepy redhead.

Jinkx looked up. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars for every nail you cut.”

Alaska held out her hand for Adore. “Okay, deal.”

“Wait, that’s ten grand! Do I get anything for cutting them?” Adore asked.

“You can order a pizza. Alaska will pay for it.” Jinkx yawned and rolled over.

“Okay, deal.” Adore giggled and began to cut away, then paused to kiss Alaska on the cheek. “I’m sorry about your nails, boo.”

“Sorry about scratching you.”

“It’s okay. You can kiss it better.” Adore winked at her.

“You got it.”

***

Courtney twirled around with Vanity, high on expensive liquor and the adrenaline of performing. She’d just finished signing autographs for a gaggle of teenage girls, and now she was hitting the club with the ladies.

The DJ was young and sexy and giving her bedroom eyes, and he was blasting Lucien’s dance remix of Ecstasy. Subtle, but cute. She blew him a kiss and continued to spin around with her brother, wondering if it was totally narcissistic to enjoy dancing to her own music this much and deciding that she didn’t care.

“Do you miss Bianca?” Carole called to her over the music, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

Courtney felt a surge of guilt bloom in her chest. The truth was, she hadn’t really thought about Bianca since she’d stepped onto the stage. She’d been having way too much fun. The reality of her newfound independence was both unsettling and freeing. Things with B had been so tense lately, especially since the whole Thanksgiving disaster. Maybe they should be doing more things apart. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Couples weren’t supposed to be codependent, right? This was them evolving into something healthier, something more adult, right? Right?

Courtney looked at Carole, smiling sweetly. “So much,” she said wistfully. “But I know she’s having a good time in New York, and this way it’ll be that much better when we see each other again.”

Carole nodded and exclaimed, “Exactly!”

Courtney tilted her eyes upwards and breathed a sigh of relief as the music echoed off the walls. When I don’t even know my name, when my reckless can’t be tamed…and when the DJ sets us free, we will be in ecstasy…

[carriedvoice]

🎵

♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is.

@steelstriings u better fuckin give me something good for this lmao

I - Barely a week after meeting, he asks her to come to a concert with him. Just her. No one else. Her friends tease her about this outing being a poorly-disguised date. She doesn’t see it as such. There had been no prior indication of a date. Two music lovers watching a band they both like doesn’t sound like a date. Does it really have to be a date ?  Why do people automatically assume such things when it comes to a guy and a chick going somewhere together ?  Platonic seems to be a word with which no one is familiar. That’s all this is between her and Andrei. Totally platonic.

     The night is more fun than she expects. The band is a group she’s never heard of but it doesn’t matter since the sound is exciting and fun. Way better than the Kuhlau and Spindler she’s been listening to all week. A piano recital is coming up quick and she’s devoted nearly all her free time to diligent practice. Nearly two hours a day. Close to three on weekends. She has to be good. Better than good, actually. It’s something close to a miracle that Andrei has convinced her to go out tonight. Bianca isn’t the type to skip out on any chance to perfect her craft. Something about that boy has brought her out of her shell. Even just a little bit. He’s awfully special to have pulled Bianca away from her beloved ivory keys.

      Throughout the entire gig, she finds no indication that Andrei had intended for a date. Just two kids having fun while the new wave music fills the small venue. They stick close together, laughing and dancing without a care. Other teenagers approach them but they hardly stray from each other. The limited conversations with the other kids make it clear that both of them aren’t interested in making friends. It’s the music that captures their attentions. This band is unlike anything she’s accustomed to hearing. Bianca’s parents have limited her to church hymns and classical pieces. The rare instances she hears the current hits are when she spends the weekend with friends. Radio and records are absolutely nothing compared to seeing musicians in the flesh. Live music is much more different. She’s certain she can actually feel the music course through her, causing a sensation so indescribable yet so euphoric. Or maybe that’s just because she’s never stood so close to a boy before. Throughout the entire set, he’s barely left her side except for the one time he ran off to buy them both drinks.

     Somewhere between songs Andrei’s arm drapes over her shoulders without warning, keeping her small frame close to him. She can smell the leather of his jacket and the strong cologne he wears. For a few fleeting moments, she’s convinced that this truly is a date. By the time the guitar’s echo has segued into the next song, the notion leaves her thoughts and his arm slides away from her. 

     Not a date.

II - She hates scary movies with a passion and he knows that. At least, he should. It isn’t some heavily guarded secret. He drags her to see the third installment of Friday the 13th anyways. The assurance that it’s not as hyped up as people make it out to be does nothing to calm her upset nerves. He claims it’s better than staying at home like a bump on a log. Even with his insistence, she finds herself frightened and hiding her face into his arm for a majority of the film. Horror is her least favorite genre, regardless of whether the movie features vengeful ghosts or machete-wielding murderers. It brings up unnecessary paranoia for her. They stay through the entire thing with Bianca clinging to Andrei for dear life. Her only other solace throughout the film is the bucket of overpriced popcorn. Cheesy as the movie is, it still spooks her. 

     As they walk out of the theater, he drapes his jacket over her shoulders. It has gotten chillier since they’ve been in the theater. Winter is upon them. She finds it odd because he’s never done that before. The arm around her shoulders has been the norm lately but he’s never given her something of his to wear. She says nothing of it as they make their way to the bus stop a block away. Silence between them is nothing new and remains that way for quite some time. It’s not awkward when they don’t fill the space between them with talk. Without conversation, she’s left to her own thoughts. Hands reach up to pull the jacket tighter around her skinny frame. The unexpected gesture makes her wonder if this outing is more than just friends going out to see one of the most poorly-made movies in box office history. Can Andrei letting her wear his jacket still considered as friendly ?  Many movies and television shows have established some sort of amorous gesture behind the man’s jacket being put on the woman.

     She doesn’t ask. It may not be the right thing to question so she keeps her mouth shut on the matter. He may get offended if he does think it is a date and she’s had doubts. These uncertainties are kept to herself. 

     They glance over at each other at the same exact time. Smiles appear on both their faces upon realizing the coincidence before turning into amused laughter. Funny how synchronized they’ve become. A sign of a real connection between them.

     ❛  Are you warm ?  ❜

     ❛  Yeah. The jacket does help.  ❜

     Another smile plays at his lips at her answer and he nods.  ❛  Good, good. Can’t have my bandmate freezing to death.  ❜  Beneath the joking tone, there’s genuine concern.

     The word bandmate sticks in her mind. Any possibilities that could indicate that this had been a date is thrown out the window. And all because of one word ?  Well, yeah. It’s more than enough evidence for her. He’s merely concerned with her well-being. Nothing romantic about that.

     Still not a date.

III - Celebrating their successes is just as fun as the milestone itself. The pair of them always find ways to rejoice in the good things that occur in their lives. This time, though, she’s not quite sure what the happy occasion is. They’re at the park, sitting on a blanket with a bottle of wine between them, hidden beneath his jacket so they don’t get in trouble. A while back they discovered a small hill that has a scenic view. The little hill has been their designated spot ever since. The spring sun shines down on them but it’s not too hot nor is it too cold. The weather is just perfect. A rarity.

     The duo pass the time with conversation though it’s mostly bickering over whose turn it is to get a sip of wine. Bianca knows it’s her turn but she allows him the satisfaction of winning the argument and the next swig of wine. 

     ❛  So, why are we out here ?  ❜  she asks once the smug smirk has disappeared from his lips. 

     Brow raises at her question, as if it’s the stupidest thing she’s ever asked.  ❛  Why not ?  ❜

     ❛  I just thought there’s something worth celebrating if we come out here. That’s the usual, isn’t it ?  Get a gig then head out here to congratulate ourselves ?  ❜  Her hand absently reaches out for the bottle he offers as she continues to speak.  ❛  Is there something you’re not telling me ?  ❜

     ❛  Does it have to be every time we get something good ?  ❜

     He does have a point. A small nod exhibits her agreement with the rhetorical question but she continues to press her side. ❛  True, but I thought the whole point was to have some sort of reward to look forward to.  ❜

     A cheesy smile curls on his lips. She can already picture the jesting twinkle behind his heavily tinted sunglasses. He’s seconds away from making some sort of joke. She’s knows that smile from a mile away.  ❛  Bee,  ❜  he begins as he pulls himself up to sit properly on the blanket and meet her gaze,  ❛  your company is a good enough reward for me.  ❜  For more theatrics, he gives an overly sincere nod and rests his hand over his heart.

     ❛  That’s a lame reply,  ❜  she says with a roll of her eyes. 

     ❛  It’s true !  ❜  he whines.  ❛  Better than any other date I’ve had.  ❜

     Brief shock settles on her upon hearing the dreaded “D” word. She masks astonishment with a few more sips from the wine. Overthinking clouds her mind yet again. By now she should have learned how to tune out the silly assumptions that these outings were anything past friendly. They never have been so why would that change now ?  It’s fruitless to be thinking like this. One more sip and she’s blocked out the irritating thoughts. The bottle returns to him with Bianca pushing for him to have the remainder. There’s not much left.

     She finds some reassurance in remembering how previous instances were not at all dates. This one is no different from the concerts or dinners they go to together.

     No date here.

IV - Touring is much more grueling than she imagined. The performances are fun but the travelling is what gets to her. At least there’s a few days of rest before they finish off the tour and head back home. The two of them have been advised to stay in their hotel to get some well-deserved rest but pent-up energy refuses to be contained for a second longer. 

     Disneyland is only a twenty-minute taxi ride from their hotel. It’s not too far. Neither one of them could pass up the opportunity to cavort around the theme park for a few hours. Over-sized sunglasses and tacky baseball caps are deemed good enough as disguises before they sneak out of the hotel without alerting any crew member. It’s like they’re teenagers again, waiting for their parents to be fast asleep so they can creep through the backdoor and meet at the corner of the street. Currently, it’s the middle of the afternoon but the thrill is alive as ever. Neither one of them can hardly contain their giggles as they hail a cab and use fake names. 

     With his arm around her ( when is it not ? ), they roam the theme park like children, eyes wide with awe and smiles plastered on their faces. The two of them look like they’re having more fun than the children. Battered baseball caps are traded for the iconic mouse hats. Just for kicks they pay a little extra to get their bogus aliases embroidered on the front. Billly Bob and Sharon. The three Ls are not a mistake. Sounds idiotic but it’s all part of the humor.

     Hours pass until they find a vacant bench to sit upon. The hot sun is still beating down on them despite it being past noon. Southern states have a completely different climate than the rest of the US. Her head rests on his shoulder, tipping the mouse ears to the side and almost off her head. She lets it settle in its awkward position while she gets a few moments of sitting. Her eyes close and she blocks out as much of the surrounding noise. A minute passes before she feels something soft press against her lips. The unexpected sensation forces her eyes open only see that he’s offering a piece of his obnoxiously pink cotton candy to her. 

     Has their friendship dwindled down to literally hand-feeding each other ?  It appears so. There is hardly any limits between them at this point. The moment is brief but it must have looked so stupid to onlookers. Like they’re a couple. Thankfully, they aren’t a couple. This isn’t some cheesy date. Even if it does look like they are on a date, that’s definitely not the case. It never has been in all the years they’ve been friends. She doesn’t understand why she still gets those instances of doubt. A romantic connection between them is as unlikely as Kajagoogoo getting another Top Ten. It’s just not realistic. 

     Never will be a date. Ever.

V - It seems like they do everything together. Shopping, eating, cooking, even vacationing. They’re a level short of being a couple. Neither one of them have brought up that topic, though. There’s no need when they have something perfectly functional between them now. What’s the point in tainting it with a real relationship ?  No, they’re better off being friends. 

     The hiatus is meant to keep them away from the band, which means even each other. They obviously don’t care about such recommendations if they take the same flight out to Hawaii. Being apart is practically unheard of for those two. No matter what, Mascarade is a packaged deal. You get one, you get the other whether you like it or not. It’s like that Frank Sinatra song. Can’t have one without the other. Besides, vacationing with no one else tends to be lonely. There’s no fun in that at all. 

     Perhaps the tropical destination is not ideal for someone like Bianca. She doesn’t know how to swim very well. As long as she stays in shallow water she’ll be fine. At her insistence, they spend most of the time exploring the island itself. After dedicating an entire day to hiking, the pair of them spend the evening browsing shops and occasionally purchasing items. For family, for themselves, and, of course, for each other. From time to time a fan stops them for a picture or autograph. The cluster of three grows to almost ten. As much as she loves her fans, she wishes they harbored some respect for her boundaries. She’s supposed to be on a vacation, not signing ten different pictures of herself ripped from Tiger Beat. 

    One by one they eventually return to their own endeavors, visibly thrilled to have bumped into celebrities. As they both finish signing napkins, one fan can’t help but ask,  ❛  You guys on a date or something ?  ❜

     The question nearly causes Bianca to drop the pen mid-signature. Why do people always assume that ?  At this point, it’s close to infuriating. No matter how clear they make it, there’s always a person who can’t grasp the simple concept. Bianca and Andrei are not a couple nor will they ever be.

     ❛  No, we’re just out. As friends,  ❜  she tells the fan, handing back the pen and the napkin. Her name is a little sloppy near the end, surname almost illegible. The query momentarily derailed her train of thought. 

     There’s some doubt in the fan’s eyes as he gives them one last glance before rejoining his own group. The fact that he doesn’t believe the answer makes her feel a little sick to her stomach. People just don’t get it. These things wouldn’t happen if they’re the same sex. Hall & Oates don’t have to deal with their platonic relationship being questioned constantly. Mascarade certainly doesn’t deserve to deal with it either. If she has to hear another interviewer or fan ask about their relationship outside the band, she’s going to tear her hair out in clumps and scream.

     This isn’t a date. It’s not.

Final - They never went out for Valentine’s Day. Usually ( and unfortunately ) their dates would have dumped them by now. The could-be significant others find it difficult to compete with the best friend. There’s only so much of Andrei that her dates can handle. Perhaps it’s high time she learns how to stop talking so much about her band mate. Still, she can’t help it. Andrei is her best friend. Why wouldn’t she talk about him ? 

     With both of them alone for yet another year, he’s brought up the idea of going out to dinner. Together. The idea wouldn’t have struck her as odd but, considering their recent conversation about being a couple, she wonders if there’s a bigger reason to his proposition. The fact that he tells her to  “dress nice”  also brings up more curiosity. With some reluctance from her and unrelenting prodding from him, she finally agrees.  

     ❛  Where are we going ?  ❜  she asks once they’re ready to go.

     His attention pulls away from the mirror. One hand absently fixes the collar of his shirt.  ❛  Don’t you trust me to pick some place good ?  ❜

     Instead of an answer, he’s met with a pause. She’s learned through many trials and errors that she can’t give her full trust to Andrei in certain situations. Some of his choices can be questionable at best.  ❛  Kind of ?  ❜  is the answer she gives and he deems that as a good enough response.

     ❛  It’ll be great, I promise,  ❜  he tells her before they head out the door. He extends his hand out to her with a smile.  ❛  Shall we ?  ❜

     That smile becomes so contagious at times. Without much conscious thought, a grin appears on her face and her hand reaches out to take his. She’s done it many times before. It’s almost second nature to her by now.

     There’s hardly a hint given in regards to their destination. He doesn’t even allow her to hear the address he gives to the chauffeur. He claims it will be a surprise. With the way he’s talking about it, the restaurant better exceed all expectations. Throughout the entire ride, the question of whether it not this is considered a date hangs in the back of her mind. Every time she glances at him, the inquiry threatens to leap out of her mouth. During the instances he does meet her gaze, all she can do is smile and say nothing. What if this is the one time she’s convinced and it ends up being just two close friends having dinner ?

     She silently assures her overactive imagination that this is nothing more than just a way to celebrate a holiday without being completely alone. That’s all. The doubts come crawling back when she sees that they’ve arrived at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. Uncertainties pile up as he takes her hand again and leads her inside to a private table for two. He even pulls out the chair for her.

     Perhaps, this time, it actually is a date.