#they were really awful and way too high on something to even sing coherently

[jaylor]

///

[saints-who-never-existed]

Watched this episode again tonight. Here's another long-winded list of things I liked.

16. Just noticed that whatever the wee doodad it is that Le Vesconte is using to mark the pressure/temperature for the experiment, he has to scrape a big gob of snow and ice off the glass of it first to even see what he’s doing.

17. Love love love Silna’s teeny wee smile while she and Goodsir are having their little translation session/Inuktitut lesson. I’m so glad they didn’t make that relationship explicitly romantic but I’m also not sure I would’ve been too mad if they had done. There’s great respect there but they’re also both just clearly enjoying each other’s company at that point and it’s really nice.

18. I do not, on the other hand, love Collins’ look in this episode – far too neat and tidy and woefully flat for my tastes. Heartbreakingly swagless.

19. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again – the reactions to Hornby’s death really are a great and awful reflection of just how bad things are. They’re not entirely wrong to think first of his skill and knowledge as resources now lost to them – ‘he was a good Mate’, ‘steady, light on his feet’ – but it’s the fact that that’s all they seem to think of that really gets my knickers in a twist. Because it’s not just that they think of him as a Mate first and a person second, it’s that they don’t even seem to think of him as a person at all.

20. Also, Crozier’s shown several times as being very aware of details of his men’s backgrounds and personal lives – remembering birthplaces and the like – so it’s even weirder and worse that he doesn’t seem to know who to order Hornby’s tobacco to be given to. I feel like who Hornby’s mates were would be something Crozier would normally pick up on, especially since Hornby’s quite a high-ranking man who he would’ve worked closely with.

21. Speaking of mates, I find it low-key hilarious just how excited both Goodsir and MacDonald get over the thought of a tooth exploding like a fuckin’ bomb. Wee sick puppies that they are.

22. Also just generally can’t sing enough praises for how lovely their scene is. I feel like MacDonald is a great example of a smart character written by actual smart people (as opposed to something like BBC’s Sherlock who’s written the way dumb people imagine smart people to be). MacDonald is much more akin to proper, original ACD Sherlock. He listens, he seeks the opinions and knowledge of others, he doesn’t just tell of what he knows but also how he knows it, giving specific sources for the things he’s learned. And when he comes across something new and unfamiliar that he hasn’t personally encountered, he expresses his specific intention to go and find out more for himself. Absolute MVP.

23. Love the fleeting little hint of cool competent Hodge ordering Hickey to the hold – no more coherent thoughts than that, I just think he’s neat.

24. I also love to think – again incoherently but in a saucy way this time – about just how bloody strong they all would’ve been. Proper, bone-deep, built-up-from-years-upon-years-of-manual-labour strong. Like, dead bodies are fuckin’ heavy – needless to say – and even wee Hartnell is prepared to hoof one up on his shoulder singlehandedly like it’s not even that big of a deal. Never thought I’d find that attractive and yet here we are!

25. Impeccable body language from Crozier during his conversation with Goodsir – all smiles and enthusiasm only to lean right back and visibly disengage when it’s clear that Goodsir doesn’t have the information that’s needed. The way he looms over Silna and gets all up in her face later on is just perfectly horrible too, the way he grabs for her hands too without so much as a bye your leave. What a fuckin’ bully.

26. Also never really twigged that it’s Blanky who fetches the chair for Silna to sit when she joins them. It’s not really noteworthy, I just find the way he plonks it down with what appears to be a well-meaning if cheesy smile to be very funny.

27. Is it ever established for what reason Goodsir doesn’t/can’t ask Silna about killing Tuunbaq? I don’t know that it’s clear whether he’s just unwilling to ask something so sensitive, or whether, sweet soul that he is, it hasn’t occurred to him to find out the Inuktitut words for 'killing something'. Either option would be very touching to me.

28. Nive Nielsen just needs all the awards too – that look of pure loathing she has for Crozier and his bullshit is outstanding on its own, let alone the glorious rant afterwards.

29. Say what you will about awkward phrasing but between them Blanky and Little drill right down to the heart of things in a second and I love them for that. Tuunbaq has gone ‘off’ and Silna is frightened of it.

30. I do have to wonder the meaning behind the pleading shake of the head Little gives Blanky though. Part of me is tempted to suggest that it’s a ‘you’d better fucking not do what he says – I’m next in command and I don’t endorse this one little bit’ look. But a bigger part of me thinks it’s more of a ‘you can control him better than I can – do something about this where I cannot!’ look. I suppose it’s almost symbolic of all the misery and confusion going on – like, he’s begging Blanky both to do something and not do something all at the same time.

31. Just noticed after the punch-up that Crozier has an instrument right by him labelled ‘[Something] des CLITOGRAPHES’. Now, obviously this is a hilarious word in itself but I did look it up because I’d never heard it before and turns out it’s an instrument for measuring the slope of the land. Interesting, given the position they’re in both physically in terms of the treacherous tilt of the ship, and metaphorically in how sideways things are going.

32. I also feel very heartbroken on Blanky’s behalf – he very much gets the Mr Hornby treatment in that moment. Like, ‘go smoke a pipe and stare at the ice, Thomas because that’s all you’re good for. Go just stare at the ice because I now don’t see you as a person either, only as your job. Go stare at the ice - you only matter to me now because you provide me with a service.’ FUUUUCCCKK. He’s also lowered down the ladder after the Tuunbaq attack just the same way that Hornby was.

33. And last but not least I continue to be deeply unwell about the handing over of the gun. It’s such a fucked-up relationship they have with responsibility and trust, it really is. Like, Crozier’s putting his life in Little’s hands – you just don’t do that unless at the end of the day you trust that person profoundly. And that’s a really powerful thing but it’s also just so so awful because it’s still a burden, another burden that no one person should ever have to bear. It’s awful for Crozier to know that he will literally be incapable of preserving his own life, to know how much he has to rely on others to do it for him, and it’s awful for Little, after everything he’s already done, to be put upon even further. It’s so unfair for all involved and yet it can’t really be any other way.

Episode Five: Random Rewatch Observations

1. Little stumbles as he enters the room to speak to Fitzjames and it melts my heart every time.

2. Interesting to note, given what is spoken about between him and Crozier later in the mutineers camp, that Goodsir happens to be translating the Inuktitut word for ‘Feet’ when we first see him in this episode.

3. That ‘frozen toe clinking into a bowl’ sound effect really is something!

4. I really like that little detail of Dr MacDonald lifting down a chair from a special hook on the wall. It’s so cool to see all the ingenious little ways they would’ve had to save space on the ship historically.

5. I love Hartnell so much in Dead Room scene – willing to hoist a whole-ass heavy corpse on his shoulder and man-handle it along singlehandedly just because his pal was scared.

6. Also love the combination of Blanky’s double face-palm at Crozier’s unreasonableness and Little’s indignant head-shake and pleading look in Blanky’s direction. I’m sure they must have talked at length with one another before about Crozier’s bullshit – I would so love to have seen more of both their working relationship and their personal one.

7. It’s hilarious to me that Crozier’s first instinct when challenged about the whisky is to deny everything like a naughty schoolboy – “I did no such thing!”

8. Also hilarious that, on closer inspection, not only does he not appear to actually land his punch but he also goes flying into a door/wall right afterward.

9. I’d also love to see more of the relationship between Blanky and MacDonald – two good dudes just trying to get on with their jobs.

10. A great hero moment for Hickey battering off the caulk and being the first one up on deck! He’s another good dude getting on with his job at least in that moment and he’s so ready to help, no hesitation. Heart-breaking stuff!

11. A good hero moment for Hodgson too! I don’t really like the common characterisation of him as a garrulous cowardly dumbass – he’s a good lieutenant and is perfectly ready to charge back into the jaws of Tuunbaq-related death. That’s bravery!

12. God I love that moment of quiet tension when they’re all looking up, totally powerless and trapped as Hickey batters away at the door. It reminds me of a platoon of soldiers all crammed together in a landing craft on D-Day. Just waiting.

13. A possible goof! Little takes his hat off twice in the same scene – once when the toast is called then two seconds later when they’re all gathering in to hold Blanky down.

14. Also, I’ve never noticed before but Little appears to already be in the room with Crozier when the other three – MacDonald, Fitzjames, and Jopson – enter. I’d give anything to hear what could’ve been said between them, but it seems more likely they would’ve just been sitting in oppressively angry exhausted silence at that point. It’s so interesting and weird to me that he’s totally blocked from view for the majority of the scene too, completely inscrutable.

15. Also dramatic, interesting, and very weird for Crozier to order so specifically that the whisky be poured over the Tuunbaq’s blood on the ice. There’s surely a deeper meaning to that though I can’t parse at the moment what exactly it is.

[kanene-yaaay]

Yellow, Black, Blue and Warmth

Kanene’s note: I am very proud of this sdfghjqswerty.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Toshinori with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa. Platonic or Romantic. Around 4.500 words.

* This has mouth tickles (raspberries, nibbles, tickly kisses...), teasy nicknames, use of the spotlight system (green, yellow and red) and baby talk. If there is anything that needs to be tagged just lemme know! 

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Tell someone that makes you feel safe how much they matter to you. If you want, no words are needed. Sometimes just an emoji or ‘this reminds of you’ is needed. Don’t forget you’re especial to someone, as well. <33

[~*~]

“W-wait!”

 His arms twitched on their position above his head and, not for the first time, he felt himself starting to lower them in a desperate urge to hide his flaming face adorned by a soft, uncontrollable kind of smile that only a few people in the world could claim the happiness of seeing.

 A warm hand rested on the right side of his ribcage and nails positioned themselves under his toes, two playful gazes looking at him, warningly.

 “Let’s-” a quiet gasp escaped from his lips when he tried to make a placating gesture with his hands and lowered them further, making the nimbly fingers start to wiggle restlessly on his spots. “I aham sure we can think another solution for this p-problem!”

 Goosebumps ran freely across his body in a wave of warm and excitement as the concentrated, evil black eyes blinked lazily at him, their owner not dignifying himself with an answer before he shoved his face back on the right side of his stomach, nuzzling and humming calmly, his nose exploring, drawing shapes on the ticklish skin, the adult being extremely careful and attentive enough so every vibration seemed to buzz on every and any of his so, so sensitive nerves, leading his back to arch with the unbearable sensation and the “attacker” to smirk in his quietness.

 “I-I beg f-for you to reconside-eek!” He squirmed harder as a low ‘oh’ was pronounced, trying - with not nearly all his strength, if he was being honest, but no one needed to know that - to dislodge the other adult from the newly found sweet spot right next to his hip, which was currently being rustless attacked with soft, barely there kisses that, no matter how much he buckled, refused to move. “Please, please. Yohou don’t have to d-do this!”

 His barriers were starting to crumble, quiet sounds beginning to find their way out of his firmly pressed lips, red growing more on his face as an awed cooing researched his ears and the long, awfully long nails lightly scratched the arch of his feet, making themselves known. They prodded, scribbled and danced skillfully across his sole, circling the weak spots that, for the way the blonde’s grin widened every time he stumbled in a new one, wouldn’t be forgotten that easily.

 And then Toshinori giggled. 

 That was when he realized he was doomed.

“Aw, but I do think we do! Who wouldn’t want to hear more of that cute laughter of yours, my dear squeaky listener?”

 “Hi-hizashi-san!”

 “Yes, my wiggly wiggley bear? What is the matter? You seem rather smiley today. ~” Hizashi sing-sang, an only one finger focusing at that lovely spot right under the ball of his feet that made him squeal in a poorly hidden delight, his laughter starting to overcome his titters. Especially as Shouta decided to be a little more hands-on and weak, almost maddening touches were spidered on Yagi’s right side, not helping at all the flow of high pitched squeaks escaping from his mouth. “Does that tickle? Huh? Does that tickle tickle tickle you so much that it makes you want to give us all that amazing squealing squeals and cute yelps? Aw, isn’t that so kind of him, Shou?”

 “You think that after so much hero work the Symbol of Peace would have gotten at least a bit of a resistance.” Aizawa pointed, not bothering to lift his head so his words wouldn’t be muffled as they hit directly Toshinori’s tummy, not even a drop of remorse on his tune as his act made the aforementioned to crackle, kicking as a series of ‘nonono’s filled the room. “Don’t you agree, Toshinori? Just a few well placed tickles here and there and then All Might would be begging for mercy in a few seconds. Tsk. So ticklish, so helpless, so cute.”

 Aizawa didn’t call them cute often. He did, however, reconsider his choice when his gaze quickly locked on Yagi, a nice feeling bubbling in his chest with the other’s half whine, half giggle, his wobbly, happy smile almost disappearing under all the blush that consumed his features.

  “Right!” Yamada experimentally squeezed his calf, beaming when a guffaw answered him, the leg tugging halfheartedly on his grip, arms hugging himself to not push them away. “But that is no problem! We are teachers, after all. Teachers very capable of teaching him how to increase his endurance, and I think I have the perfect idea of a lesson to help him.”

 Yagi was dying. Part of himself wanted to flee away from all the attention, all the warm, caring touches and compliments and that absurdly insufferable sensation that still tingled his body even now, when Shouta and Hizashi stopped to loom over his form with matching evil smirks, making it almost impossible for him to not hide his face and curl in a silly, rather giggly ball.

 The words of the previous finally sank in his mind and he fiercely shook his head, not trusting his own mouth and trying to not let the amusement he felt blooming on him to drip on his move.

 “Awesome! Thank you for agreeing, tickly listener. It’s amazing to know you’re also as eager for this just as we are!”

 “But I did not-” A true shriek cut his words as Aizawa dug his fingers on his armpits, resulting in a sea of wild giggles to overtake him. The tickles being mean enough to be able to completely dissolve his protests, although also the right amount of light so Yamada’s teasy words would still be able to be heard above him.

 ��So!” The Voice Hero clapped joyfully, getting even more excited at the other's reactions. “The best way to be prepared for any situation is to train! Practice! You need to be prepared to all resist to any and every trickys tickly tickle technique that exists, which means scribbles, scratches, squeezes, kneads, nibbles, nuzzles, kisses, spidering, nursery rhymes, and ooooh, of course, raspberries!” Hizashi nodded once, determined.

 “I can’t!” Yagi threw his attempts of forming entire, coherent sentences out of the window, his brain basically short-circuiting on Hizashi’s first examples. “Please, please, I swear! I cahahan’t!”

 “Oh, don’t worry my dear sweet, squirmy listener, it’s really a lot of work to do... But! You will not be doing it alone! Me and Shouta will be here cheering and helping you for hours and hours and hours until you master the whooole lesson. And," the blonde got closer, lowering his tune until his words were just a breath on Yagi's ears, teasing the sensitive spot no matter how much he shrugged and shook his head. "If you get something wrong all we need to do it's just start aaaall over and over again, right, Shou?!”

 “Oh gohod.”

 “Of course, I don’t waste my time with someone who doesn’t have potential.”

 Aizawa’s predator smirk and tone maybe would be scarier if it wasn't broken by Yamada’s loud cooing, the taller coming back to his previous position as he rested a quick squeeze on Shouta's hip, fishing a surprised snort and a warningly glance from the black haired man, who, on his turn received an innocent whistling as an answer. Toshinori chuckled in amusement at the scene, gratefully taking the breather.

 “Better be careful,” Yagi’s tune was innocent, with a titter dropping here and there, still, a dangerous shine gleamed intensely on his blue eyes, “so that lesson won’t backfire on you in the future.”

 Aizawa stared at him, the tip of his lips curling in a barely there grin that heavily contrasted and complemented Yamada’s dramatic gasp in betrayal.

 “Very well.” Eraserhead said, positioning himself on top of his legs, successfully pining him on the mattress. "Let's take care of any riot that might happen right now, then."

 Suddenly, All Might senses all the confidence he felt not a few seconds ago to transform in butterflies flying in despair on his stomach. Shouta’s shadow stood above him, the usual bored expression plastered on his features as his face lowered closer and closer of the blonde, stopping just a few centimeters from his ear.

  Toshinori held his breath in anticipation.

 “Green?”

 Something… something he couldn’t really nominate melted in his heart and for a moment he forgot how words worked.

 He really loved them both so much.

 “Green.”

 Shouta chuckled.

 "Good." He adjusted himself, resting their foreheads together and capturing those blue eyes to himself. "Giggles, titters, whines… every sound you make I will be able to hear clearly so be very, very careful and don't laugh.”

 Toshinori gasped when the feeling of skilled hands, scratching and kneading his side shoot through him. The offending fingers danced slowly, taking their time on each weak spots before switching to another one, a bit too close of his stomach or his spine, completely oblivious to how Toshinori's chest already shook with trapped sounds. Toshinori realized, maybe too late, how their new position prevented him to perceive where Aizawa would attack next, every time the black-haired hero changed his target to an unexpected spot adding a tear in his barriers, the squeaks and crackles getting stronger and harder to contain.

 “So, sweetpea, how would you rate your ticklish experience from one to ten, so far?” Yagi couldn’t help the way his body twitched and squirmed involuntarily at Yamada’s voice, his imagination unhelpfully whispering that, at any moment, any moment now, Hizashi would give up from his purely verbal teases and be touchier. “One being ‘That Is All You Can Do?’ and ten being ‘This Is Everything I ever Dreamed About Please Don’t ever Stop?’” 

 “P-p-lease!”

 “That is not a number.” Aizawa observed, jumping in his friend’s teasing at the same time he stopped, thinking about something until his eyes shone. His voice was velvety, almost as a purring. “But that can be helped. Here, I will refresh your memory.” A finger pressed on the lowest rib on his right and the blonde’s eyes widened, a snort flying from his lips, his head shaking from one side to other, a pleading gaze.

 “Wait! Aizawa, please, wait! I will do anything!”

 “What.” Suddenly the finger was replaced by the whole hand shaped as a claw, the spot where it touched tingled in anticipation. “Did you call me?”

 Aizawa was adamant about very few things, actually.

 Hizashi chuckled darkly, free of any pity, next to him. “I think he is asking for it, Shou.”

 Do not mess with his cats. Do not mess with his kids. Do not wake him up. Do not eat his jelly porches and, of course, if he gave you the permission to call him by his first name, use it.

 “No, no, no! I meant! I meheheant Shouta!”

 Of course, except for the first two, he didn’t actually care that much for when the others were ignored by his close friends, but - he curled his fingers, watching as Yagi continued to squirm and snicker at every twitch of his fingers - that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have his fun with this slip. 

 “And also,” again, Yamada pipped in, “he just giggled, didn’t you just said him to not laugh?”

 “I did.” 

 “Please! Anything! Anything you want! Just name it! I will givehe you anythihihihing.”

 Aizawa adjusted himself so his lips would rest on Yagi’s neck, he sighed deeply, relaxed. 

 “Then give me your laughter.”

 And he started.

 The fingers dug on his spot, prodding and scribbling in attacks which danced in a perfect synchrony with the fast nibbles assaulting all the sensitive skin he could reach, expertly dodging from all the trashing, the attacks seemingly to only be fueled by his shrieks.

 “An autograph!” loud, booming laughter exploded, snorts and an intelligible mix of half English and half Japanese painting his words stumbling and falling nonstop from his mouth. Yagi lost track of what he was saying the moment a raspberry was placed right under his chin and the hand tased his side, vibrating and vibrating and vibrating there for what seemed an entire eternity. “Rare merchandise! My house! Anything, I swear, anything but this!”

 “Oh my god.” Hizashi braced himself on the wall, his conflicted heart torn between cooing and teasing the other for how much adorable he was being and giggling in joy with his funny reactions. “Oh my god. Shouta, please, don’t ever stop tickling him, this is the most precious scene I witnessed in my whole life.”

 Shouta felt tempted to agree, however, after a couple of minutes, he stopped, shoving his face on the other’s shoulder to hide his own soft chuckles, being accompanied by the residual, bubbling giggles. They waited until his breath became steadier before the one with black, deep eyes stared at the watery, gleaming blue ones.

 “Shoutahaha…”

 “Just one more spot, okay?”

 Toshinori closed his eyes, nodding before trying to hide his expression under his hands, being stopped by Yamada, who took each one of them gently and gave a kiss on his knuckles, lacing their fingers, knowing very well Yagi wouldn’t attempt to pry them away like this. 

 “No hiding your beautiful face, remember?” Yagi wanted to huff in annoyance at the unprompted tease, but it was being said with such lovely care that he couldn’t help but melt under it, especially when Shouta began to bombard the place behind his ear with kisses and small raspberries, descending him in quiet titters and silent laughter sprinkled with sporadic guffaws.

 After a few more of kisses, tickles and fast, inaudible giggles he ceased his attack, giving a last nibble on his ear before getting up from him, letting the Symbol of Peace recompose himself between his blush and gigantic smile, offering a cup of water when his laughter stopped to fly across the room, all of them enjoying the silence as Toshinori drank the liquid, thanking Shouta.

 “Green?” Hizashi asked, stepping a little closer, a shy grin on his lips.

 “Oh my… Why do you have to make me say that?” Toshinori squeezed their hands, huffing and deviating his gaze. “Green.”

 The blinding smile that was sent in his way seemed to have enough shine to light up the whole house. “Let’s jam!”

 The Voice Hero tried to untwine their hands kindly, blinking in surprise when the other only held them more fiercely. He tried again, same result. Behind them Shouta snorted, amused.

 “Giggly bear, my sweetpea, you will have to let go of my hands.”

 “Absolutely not, you will attack me.”

 Yagi stared at him with a challenge in his face, daring the hero to do something about that.

 “Well…” Hizashi winked playfully. “I always have my mouth, and, you know? That wiggly wiggley yummy tummy of yours seems to be asking for a couple or maybe a dozen of raspberries… ~”

 “Wait, no!” Toshinori squirmed, instinctively sucking his belly. “Don’t!”

 “Aw, but that is such a pity! I was thinking about being a bit merciful today, you know? Maybe some skittering under your knees, being sure to give enough attention to every inch of both of them, I mean, we don’t want anyone feeling left out of the fun, of course! Then I would give one or two squeezes on them, a swift under your wiggly wiggley toes, a few scratches on your squirmy feet and voilá! A happy, silly, giggly Yagi ready to go. But, well, now I believe I don’t have another choice except place all the mean raspberries aaaall over your unprotected stomach and sides and ribs and sides and neck and ribs and-”

 “Stop, stop!” Toshinori let go of his hands in order to hug his tingling torso, curling in a defense ball, trying to stop the feeling of the imaginary tickles. “J-just get over it!”

 “Aw,” Hizashi placed a kiss on his temple, smiling softly for a piece of moment before letting it turn into an evil grin. “Your wish is an order, my adorably ticklish bear.”

 He positioned his hands in each leg, grazing his nails from the bottom of his calves and lightly scribbling their way up to the wonderfully sensitive spot under his knee, taking his time to draw spirals and rivers on the skin, being very content to feel the other squirm under his touches, huffs of laughter puffing from his lips. “Hey, Toshi, can I ask a question?”

 “Fuck,” he squeaked when an unexpected pinch was placed on his hip before Hizashi innocently continued his previous attack. “Y-you may.”

 “Right! But, first of all, let me take care of this two...” Yamada smiled, completely unfazed as he sat on the bed, holding both ankles and lifting before resting them on his shoulders. “There you go, squirmy toy! All comfy and unable to wiggle away from my curious, tickly fingers!”

 “He is going to kick you.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, getting closer until he could get a firm, yet gentle, grip on Yagi’s ankles, truly preventing him from moving them. “Here. Now ask your question.”

 “Thank you, babe.” Hizashi relished on the way Aizawa’s ears were painted in red before beaming again at Toshinori, who kept trying to pull his legs away from his predicament, and seeming to take the fact that he wasn’t laughing his head off as a personal offense. He rested his hands on his knees again, one of them squeezing them skillfully while the other scratched the sensitive skin underneath it. “So, Toshinori, what do you think it tickles more? When I squeeze, squeeze, squeeze those adorable ticklish kneecaps or when I tickle tickle tickle them silly?”

 “No, no, no!”

 “No?! Aw, I am afraid that isn’t really the answer I am looking for, darling… But that is okay! Do you know what I am going to do now, Toshi? Huh? Do you know?” 

 Yagi just shook his head, knowing pretty well that anything said would just fuel the evil words dripping freely from the other’s mouth.

 “Not even a guess?” He changed his technique to lightly tease with plentiful of scribbles the sensitive spot with just the tip of his fingers. “An itsy bitsy tiny guess? Awn.” A fake pout adorned his face. His fingers ascended a bit more, now tormenting the thighs, their owner smiling wide as the squirms began to get stronger, drawing circles around the little weak spots he knew that would fish the wildest laughter. “But I will tell you anyway! Because the Tickle Monster is feeling very kind today. I am going to get those sensitives calves riiiight here!” 

 “Hizashi!” Yagi tried to pull his legs again, his giggles becoming more frantic as he realized they didn’t even buckle from their spot. “I can’t. I promise you, I can’t! Hihihihizashi!”

 “But I do think you can! I believe in you, Toshinori. You’re such a strong, nice tickle bug. I think you definitely can take some good cootchie-coothie-coos right here!” He poked. “And here” Poke. “And here, and here, and here, here, here!” 

 Suddenly a sea of pokes - just that, just tiny, harmless, quick pokes that shouldn’t be able to make him feel even more ticklish than he already was - assaulted his calves, some surprising pinches and clawing also making an appearance and disappearing just as fast as they came.

 “Shut up, please, shut up!” Throwing his head with loud, squealing chortles, Toshinori pleaded, his mind overtaken with how much it tickled and how unbearable it was and how amazing all of this felt. 

 “Gasp! Toshi! How can you say that? The Tickle Monster thought you loved his teases. Why would you want them to ever stop? Do they make you feel more ticklish? Huh? Do they? Do all my silly teases and tickly attacks make the big, strong Yagi Toshinori become a very lovely and adorable mess of those cute sounds? Huh?”

 “Don’t you think how great would it be if we just stayed like this forever? Me, here, playing with you and your awfully helpless toes,” at the mention of the new spot Yamada changed his target, making the other to arch his back and shriek in belly laughter as fingers attacked under his toes, tickling and digging unmercifully at every single one of them. “and hearing this wonderful laughter! Don’t even make me start about your laughter! It is music to my ears.”

 When nothing but a series of snorts and loud laughter answered him, the blonde decided to stop his tickles, slowing them until his warm hands just rested there, peacefully.

 Toshinori wiped the single tear that traveled to his hot cheek, just a quick glance in Aizawa and Yamada’s general direction being enough to make his giggles start a-new.

 “I am not even doing nothing to you.” The tease couldn’t be helped, especially as his giggles got stronger and, consequently, quieter.

 “Your hands!”

 “My hands? What about them?” Hizashi shouldn’t be allowed to feel that much smug nor powerful.

 “They’re just…” A flow of intelligible noises fell from Yagi’s lips, and he decided to try again. “They’re just there! It tickles!”

 “Now, it does?”

��“I would never have guessed.” Aizawa deadpanned, watching as the other wiggled and squirmed in protest.

 “Right? I mean, they’re just chilling there. No moving, no tickling and Toshinori attacks them like that! I would feel wounded, but I guess he is really just a very ticklish giggle bug. Shouta, what are we going to do? The lesson clearly isn’t working… Oh, I wonder if there is something I could do to stop tickling him...”

 “Just take them off there!” Yagi gasped when the fingers started to skitter around his ankles, another newly discovered sweet spot that erupted a new round of snorts. “No!”

 “I don’t think there is anything that can be done. We could just stop and stare at him and he would be laughing uncontrollably in three seconds.” Aizawa remarked.

 “He is just too much sensitive, ya know? Just an itsy bitsy touch and you get him all giggly and blushy.” 

 “Am nohohot!”

 “And helpless too. Cute and helpless.”

 “Shouta, plehehease, let me go!”

 “Yean, absolutely.” Hizashi agreed, shaking his head with fake sadness, a tiny grin blooming on his lips. “I guess this is our fate, Sho, to hear him laugh and squeal and snort and giggle-giggle-giggle at anything we do.”

 “A pity.”

 “Enough!” Both stopped, hearing the light of tiredness painting Yagi’s tune. “That- haha, that is enough, please.”

 “Yellow?”

 “Red.” Toshinori smiled, feeling yet too shy to find their gazes with his. “I'm just an old man with one lung.”

 Hizashi snorted, offering him a bottle of water and heading to the kitchen to make his special tea - after all, no one knew a better recipe for tired throats than the Voice Hero himself, - and Aizawa just rolled his eyes, sitting on the mattress and massaging his feet, a calming gesture that helped both to relax as they enjoyed the silence with the phantom laughter and reminiscent giddiness that still ran on their veins.

 “Shouta,” Toshinori lightly hit the other’s thigh with his free feet until the black haired one turned his attention to him, not even slightly prepared for the soft, incredibly soft, expression and gleaming, energetic eyes which found his. “Thank you.”

 Aizawa scoffed, quickly trying to brush off the warmth engulfing his heart and smile that tried at all cost to appear on his features. 

 “It was very… enjoyable.” Toshinori pressed further, tipping his head to the side in an attempt to see his expression. “Your technique is very effective! You don’t rely a lot on verbal teases but the way you can mix different attacks and keep track of which spots bring the most reactions is very impressive! Not to mention-” A squeak broke his thoughts when a mean squeeze was delivered on his calf, Aizawa huffing before massaging the local to make the tingles go away.

 “Continue with this and I will not be above ganging up with Hizashi to wreck you, again.”

 “If it’s Complementing Eraserhead hours and you’re being too stubborn to accept the deserved nice words I think it’s very clear who I will end up helping.” Hizashi remarked as he got into the room, distributing the tea before squishing himself between them, almost spilling the drink as a warning tickle on his stomach made him jump.

 “Hey!” The one being called just quirked an eyebrow at him, almost challenging. Hizashi just shrugged. “It would still be worth it.”

 “Yagi,” Toshinori blinked, surprised at being pulled on their usual bickering, staring Aizawa above the rim of his mug. “Analyses about Hizashi as the ler.”

 An inhumane screech flew from Yamada’s lips. “Don’t you dare!”

 When he was over, sneaking one and other praise for Eraserhead here and there, they were all laid on the bed, limbs entangled due both the magnetism that seemed to pull them together and the fact that if it wasn’t for it, Yamada would have already fled from the room on the shine of Yagi’s first word.

 “I don’t like you.” The one with long, blond hair complained, grumbling when his sentence only made the others snuggle closer, snickering. “None of you. You’re both very mean and dirty traitors and I am going to scream.”

 “Don’t.” Aizawa slurred from somewhere behind Toshinori, his tune showing he was almost asleep. Hizashi, who already forgave them for their “betray” searched for his waist, resting his arm on it and very lightly scratching the base of his back, a spot he knew would make the underground hero absolutely melt. Toshinori captured his free hand, coming close and humming softly as his finger traced the lines on his palm.

 Soft. Good. Warm.

 At some point of the conversation, someone had turned the television on, and for a few pieces of moment the show playing in the background was the only thing that filled the silence.

 “Hey, Toshi.”

 “Yes?”

 “I know you don’t like a lot of attention when the tickling is over but… thank you.” A quick kiss was delivered on his forehead, happy to see no trace of discomfort on the other’s features, only a tiny, timid smile. “Thank you.”

 “Go to sleep, Hizashi.” And then he kissed his knuckles, just like Hizashi did back then, and Shouta murmured something, pulling them closer and Hizashi smiled and the television started to grow more and more silent.

 “Ok.”

 After that, everything was soft, good, warm.

[~*~]

Inspirations!

* That entire AllEraserMic tickle series that I absolutely live for

* The teases from the fanfics of that amazing author

* A very especific post about cute reactions when the lee is being tickled but I can’t find it so please enjoy Onion’s blog (the op)  instead. His blog is gold.

[derekmorganscrocs]

Galentines Gone Wrong

Pairing: Wendell Bray x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 2,623

Summary: Y/n Booth is an FBI agent who works under her brother Seeley Booth and is also partnered with the Jeffersonian. Valentines rolls around and Cam, Daisy, and Y/n are all painfully single. Brennen and Angela join in and the group decides it’s girls night, get absolutely smashed, cause major chaos and get arrested for disturbing the peace. When their counterparts show up to bail them out, girls night turns to date night... or whatever this is.

Edit, March 11th: I hate the end of this. I reread it and it’s lowkey trash, but I’m going to keep it up because people seem to be enjoying it. Just a disclaimer that this is not my best work.

Notes: Tbh I second guessed this yesterday, hence the late post. I want to clarify that Wendell IS NOT preying on a drunk girl, and there was no drunk hookup. This is definitely not my favourite thing I’ve written and I was so out of ideas for the ending, but fck it, I have a migraine and feel like the personification of death. ALSO I WOULD NEVER USE GALENTINES IRL IK ITS LAME BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT CARE. HOLDIDAY SPIRIT BABES. Anyway, on with the show.

It’s been a long night. Fun, but long. You wake up against Daisy’s side, stretching lazily, and still partially drunkenly. As you sit up, you recall the events that led to your current seat in a drunk tank.

The five of you ended up in a biker bar, huge leather-clad and big bearded dudes all over the damn place. Despite being big scary bikers, they were chill and actually bought half of your drinks. Then you and Daisy got a little too close to an attractive younger biker, and his girlfriend was not having it. So an argument turned full on brawl caused the lot of you to bail out of the bar and trek back into town.

Only you were real rowdy, laughing and singing, a little to loudly for anyone’s liking. And got the cops called on you. And got thrown in a dunk tank. Unfortunately “you can’t arrest me, I am the law” doesn’t work if you’re drunk. The cops weren’t a fan of your badge, either.

You’re torn from your thoughts at the sound of voices down the hall, and you stumble over the the bars of the cell, holding onto them for balance. A half-hour nap didn’t do much to sober you up. The voices get closer, and your friends and brother walk in. Wendell’s the first one you notice, your eyes immediately darting to him. He’s wearing a hot ass black jacket, jeans and a white T-shirt, and you stare at him for a lot longer than you should.

“Hey, BJ. Never thought I’d see you on the other side of the bars.” Hodgins laughs at your expression of annoyance, and lets the cop they’re with open the cell door. He walks over to grab Angela, and you scoff.

“I told you to stop calling me BJ. I know you mean Booth Junior, but other people might think something else,” you mutter, much less than impressed at the innuendo tied to the nickname.

Your brother and Sweets go collect Brennan and Daisy, and Cam stands up on her own. She’s the most level-headed of all of you, and she’s completely sobered up now. Wendell walks to your side, your brother is too occupied with his (much less coordinated than you are) wife. Wendell puts an arm around you, and you gladly lean into him, hands settling on his chest.

“You’ll never guess what we did,” you giggle drunkenly against Wendell’s chest, overcome with the giddiness of a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Apparently you guys disturbed a lot of peace.” Wendell has somewhat of an impressed/concerned/entertained smirk on his face. He looks down at you, massively interested in the story as to how you got here. Not that he’ll hear it anytime soon.

“How’d you know?!” You look up at him with surprise written all over your face, a gasp escaping your lips, and it takes a lot for him not to burst out laughing.

“The sheriff told me. Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, much more sullenly than five seconds ago.

Wendell keeps an arm around you, more than a little worried that you’re gonna fall over, and takes you to his car. You get in the front seat, smacking his hand away as he tries to help with your seatbelt. After successfully buckling the seatbelt, you glance back at him with a smirk.

“You know if you wanted to get on top of me all you had to do was ask.”

Wendell nearly chokes and dies at what you’re insinuating. He’s also not sure if this is the tequila talking or if it’s you talking. Composing himself quickly, he lets out a chuckle, saying something along the lines of ‘okay then,’ and closes the door for you. He walks around the front of the car, making his way to the driver’s seat. Hodgins drives by, Angela and Cam in the car with him, and waves as he heads home.

Seeley pulls up beside Wendell, looking at him sternly. Daisy and Brennen are singing in the back seat, and Wendell can see Sweets in the front seat, holding back laughter. It’s a funny sight really, the usually stoic Dr. Brennen and overly excitable Daisy, swaying together in the back seat singing an off-key rendition of piano man. Seeley makes a face at a certain piercing high note that comes from Dr. Brennan, before turning to Wendell.

“Listen man, I appreciate it. If we didn’t live on the opposite side of town, I’d take her home.” Seeley leans out the window slightly, looking at Wendell.

“It’s no problem, really.” Wendell smiles, giving your brother a small wave as he turns to get in his car. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“Wait! Not that I think you will, but don’t try anything. Alright?”

“Course not, man. Don’t worry, I got this. Head home, I’ll text you when I get Y/n home.” Wendell knows your brother means no harm, obviously, yet can’t help but think about why he’d even think to say that to him.

When he gets back in the car, seeing you sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, curled up and leaning against the window, his worries melt away and he smiles. He turns the car on and lowers the radio volume before driving off.

Tonight summarizes the two of you pretty well, actually. Y/n, the chaotic do-good-er badass, and Wendell, the (sometimes also chaotic) best friend, who always has your back. Sometimes it pains him that you only see him as that, a best friend, but he’s okay with just being that. A friend. Because it means he gets to see you happy. Little does he know, you wouldn’t have gotten so sauced tonight if you weren’t drinking away the thoughts of his lips on yours, his skin pressed against yours as the night turns to morning, the idea of a spark that doesn’t exist. The day of love sucks.

And for some reason, neither of you can see that you’re crazy about each other. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid to ruin what you have, or maybe it’s because you’re both just oblivious, but it doesn’t make a huge difference. Nothing seems to be happening.

Wendell is occupied with a lot of thoughts as he drives to your place. His mind bounces all over the place. He thinks about how you met, when you first walked into the Jeffersonian covered in dirt and sweat (in a cute way... even though he thinks anything is cute on you) after a chase in the desert, just to see your brother and make sure he was okay. He also thinks about the time he literally ran into you and the two of you fell down the platform stairs. The alarms went off, and everyone stared at the pair of you tangled up on the floor. Needless to say it took a while to live that one down. He thinks about every time he’s seen you laugh, and the few that he’s seen you cry. Not that you really even cried, you just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You don’t exactly do emotions, not out in the open at least.

He thinks about every reason he’s so smitten with you. You’re courageous, selfless, you protect your friends and family, you’re cutthroat and ferocious, yet simultaneously the sweetest person he’s ever met. You care about every detail of his day when you ask how he’s doing, and you can tell when the slightest thing is off with him, or anyone else at the lab, except for noticing his flaming crush on you. And as he thinks about all the little things, he realizes it can’t stay bottled up forever. He has to tell you.

Before long, you’re home. The two and a half hour drive have Wendell a lot of time to think, yet somehow it also feels like he’s had no time at all. The time has also started your trail toward sobriety, and you can at least think coherently. Wendell wakes you, and when you wake up, your hand goes to your head.

“Good god. Did I get hit by a bus?” Your words are still slightly jumbled together, but you’re getting back to business as usual, and that’s good enough.

“There she is,” he singsongs playfully, glad to see your usual demeanour starting to return. You unbuckle your seatbelt, groaning when you go to move. Wendell offers you a hand, and you take it.

Helping you up, he puts an arm around your waist again. You stumble slightly, and when he catches you, you fall against him, leaning against his chest. He ends up just scooping you up off the ground and carrying you inside, placing you on the couch. You’re mostly in good shape, just awful clumsy and distracted due to your headache. Wendell heads into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and some crackers.

“How you doing?” He sits by your thigh, putting an arm on the back of the couch and looking over at you. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently.

“Ugh, please tell me I didn’t actually make the worst sex implication joke ever.”

“Um...”

“Oh shit. This is embarrassing.” You sit up, still a little tipsy, but not as messed up as you were at the police station. Maybe if things go off you can play it off as Valentine’s tequila. “Fuck it. I’m just gonna go for it. Tonight was fun or whatever, but I really wanted to spend it with you.”

“We could’ve done that. We can hang out this weekend if you want.”

“No, no. You really are a blonde.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder with your fist. Suddenly nervous, you start to ramble. “Not that that’s bad, because you’re definitely pretty. You’re a cute blonde, and you do have really nice arms, they’re really toned, and you know, at the garage you wear these tight shirts and sometimes I just stare and I worry you see, but-“

“Y/n! You’re getting off track here.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, laughing at your rambles. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.”

“I like you a lot.” The words are out of your mouth before he’s even finished his sentence. “Like I have feelings for you?” It comes out like a question, but it’s meant as more of a fearful statement.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and his smile falls. At first you think he’s about to run for the hills, but when a small smile appears on his face you’re not so sure.

“Ah, shit, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you curse, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. That’s fuckin embarrassing.

“No, I like you, too. A lot.” Wendell takes your hand, and you lay against his side as he keeps talking. “We can talk more, when you’re sober. But I do like you. And I think that if we decided that this weekend’s hangout was more ‘ice skating in the park’ instead of ‘trying to kill each other at the rink’, I’d be more than okay with that. I’d like that a lot, actually.” He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, and he glances down at you, fingers grazing your cheek as he contemplates if it would be weird to cup your face with his hand and run his thumb over your cheek.

“Really?” You look up at him with an adorable awestruck expression, and he nearly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, really.” A smile stays glued to his face, and he shifts slightly, which causes you to sit up. “Now, you should probably go to bed, so that you’re not completely useless tomorrow.”

Wendell plants a small kiss on the top of your head, before standing and scooping you up, bringing you to your room. He drops you gently on your bed, and you let out a small giggle as you bounce slightly with the impact. You banish him from your room so that you can change, and not really paying attention, grab a black hoodie and shorts out of your closet. When you open the door again, he’s just leaning against the wall outside.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where you wanted me to set up- is that my hoodie? I’ve been looking for that!”

“Huh?” You look down at the sweater, seeing the small Jeffersonian logo on the left side of the chest, and the initials on the sleeve. “Oh, I guess it is.” You remember when he gave it to you, he couldn’t stand the idea of you remaining in your blood soaked T-shirt, the grey had become a sticky maroon, too much so to be comfortable. “You can have it back-“

“No, you keep it.” He steps closer, lifting your chin so that you look at him, and brushing a stray hair out of your face. His voice drops, becoming softer and breathy. “It’s much cuter on you anyway,” he murmurs, making you blush profusely, a little laugh escaping your lips.

The two of you fall silent, each staring at the other’s lips. A hum comes from the furnace, causing you both to startle slightly, and it ends the moment. You glance back at Wendell again, before sitting on your bed. He tilts his head at you, mildly confused as to what you’re doing.

“Where did you want me to sleep?”

“Wherever you want. There’s blankets and a few pillows in the closet.”

He thanks you and walks out, and you breathe in deeply, not realizing how shallow your breathing had become. Your mind is racing, and so is your heart. This is simultaneously about the best and worst Valentine’s you’ve ever had. As you mull over the events of tonight, you slide under the blankets, laying back and staring at the ceiling. The shuffling in your living room comes to a stop, and you can hear Wendell coming back to your room. He stops in the doorway.

“Came back to say goodnight,” he says softly, making your heart melt.

“You mind staying for a while?” You sit up, looking at him. He glances over his shoulder at you, a perplexed expression plastered on his face. “What?! I’ve had a rough night,” you say, pretending to be offended. He makes his way over, laying on your bed, on top of the blankets. You roll over and face him, looking up at him lazily. “Goodnight, Wendell.”

You drift off to sleep fairly quickly, but not before you subconsciously lay your head on his chest. He’s terrified at first, frozen in place and afraid to breathe, but after a few minutes he collects himself and calms down. You sleep soundly, curled up beside Wendell. He’s warm and he smells good, and he’s pretty comfortable. By the morning, the two of you are completely intertwined, tangled in blankets and each others’ arms.

The two of you grab a greasy breakfast (and some Advil) and spend the day together, actually talking about what happened the night before. Most of the day is spent at your place, you and Wendell lounging around on your couch as you binge watch your favourite series and try to overcome your hangover.

The next days and weeks fly by, you and Wendell getting closer and closer. The pair of you go on a few dates before things are made official, Wendell going as far as taking you on a walk in the snow and officially asking you out by the outdoor rink. He even reserved ice time so the two of you could skate around like idiots and pass a puck around.

And eventually, when people start to see you’re together, and ask about your story, you have to tell them he bailed you out of jail after Galantine’s gone wrong.

[sbtlns]

Home, part nine

Warnings: NSFW, smut

A/N: this is the final part of this series! this is set at the same time as 9x09. I hope everyone had a great holiday season and wish everyone a very happy new year!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven Part Eight 

As the smoke cleared and the persistent whine of the fire trucks’ sirens finally stopped, Castiel absentmindedly thanked the firefighters, looking beyond them to your trembling form crumpled on what was left of your front stoop. The trucks drove off as he made his way to you, unsure of how to begin to comfort you. His shoes came into your line of vision and you sniffled, wiping a stray tear away as you lifted your head to meet his apologetic stare. You saw the sympathy and inexplicable guilt swirling behind his brilliant blues, and gave him a small smile, prompting him to hold his arms open, eager to hold and comfort you.

You let out a shaky chuckle, standing to gratefully melt into his embrace. Strong hands gripped you tighter to his chest and rubbed up and down your back, engulfing you in his warmth. “You know, it’s funny,” you said after a moment, pulling away just enough to look up at him. Castiel gave you a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow to prompt you to elaborate. “It’s like I’m finally getting the closure I didn’t know I needed. I’m-” you paused, searching for the right word. “I’m almost relieved. It’s like a fucked up ending to a fucked up chapter of my life,” you explained, glancing up at Castiel, whose expression softens at your words. 

“I’ve always admired your tenacity, the steadfast determination you have to create a silver lining out of utter devastation,” he murmured into your hair, holding you closer. You stay like that for a while, finding comfort within each other’s embrace before you finally wriggle out of his hold. 

“We can go apartment hunting tomorrow, the realtors are probably closed by now and besides, I don’t think I have it in me to look at any tonight,” you sighed, reaching for your phone to check the time. When you glanced back up, you’re met with a knowing look. Furrowing your brows, you stood a little straighter, unsure of what Cas could be getting at. “What?”

Cas looked back at you and sighed. “I think it’s time to call Dean, Y/N,” he said gently. You bristled at the thought. 

“Yeah and what? Beg him to let us back in the bunker? I don’t think so,” you scoffed, not believing the incredulous suggestion from the former angel. You turned on your heel, not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Y/N,” he said softly, putting his hand on your shoulder to stop you from walking away from him. You sighed, releasing your tensed muscles. Deep down you knew he was right but you didn’t want to admit it. You knew that you couldn’t keep giving Dean the silent treatment, declining his calls and not responding to the numerous texts he’d sent you since you left. 

“I know,” you said finally, turning around to face him. “I know,” you repeated. “But,” you started, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of his flannel, “We’re gonna have some fun first.” Castiel catches the glimmer of mischief in your eyes before you shift to your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Castiel sat anxiously in the car as you drove the two of you to the old dive bar in town. He wasn’t too keen on social interactions, as he’d stated before that his “people skills” were “rusty”. However, after shooting you a quick glance and seeing you smile while humming whatever song was currently playing, he felt himself smile and relax a bit. Soon enough, you pulled the truck into the lot and hopped out. Taking a deep breath, he followed suit. 

Castiel followed closely behind you as you made your way through the establishment and into an empty booth. He sat down and shrunk into the vinyl, suddenly overwhelmed at the sound of music blaring from the jukebox and dozens of people talking loudly over the music. He flinched as two bikers barreled past the booth and again at the sound of glasses clinking at the bar. 

“Hey, angel, relax” you cooed, taking his hand from across the booth. His wide eyes found yours and you watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest start to slow. You flipped his hand over in yours, lightly tracing the lines of his palm, further soothing your overwhelmed lover. A pang of guilt suddenly washed over you as you remembered how apprehensive he is in places like this. You looked back up at him and gave him a soft smile. 

“We don’t have to stay,” you murmured only loud enough for him to hear. “We can leave whenever you want,” you said, giving him an earnest look. His features softened even further and his tensed shoulders slowly relaxed. He gave you a sheepish smile. “No, I want to stay. It was just...overwhelming at first,” he assured you, tightening his fingers over yours. 

You opened your mouth to speak again when suddenly you heard a high pitched squeal followed by your name. You tensed and whipped around as a familiar face came bounding towards the booth. “Liz?” you blurted out, somewhere between a question and an exclamation. You sprang out of the booth in time for her to throw her arms around you, the momentum almost sending the both of you to the floor. You pulled away beaming at each other with I can’t believe its and is it really yous falling from your mouths. You watched her eyes glance from yours to Castiel’s and back, quirking up an eyebrow. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Cas this is Liz, we went to school together. Liz this is Cas, my-” you cut yourself off, suddenly self conscious and acutely aware at the fact that neither of you had taken the liberty to label your relationship. Castiel glanced between you and your friend, settled his gaze on Liz, and extended his hand.

“Boyfriend,” he finished for you proudly. Your heart leapt in your chest and you beamed at him. Liz accepted his hand and shook it. 

“Cas, huh. Is that short for something?” she inquired, taking back her hand. 

“Castiel,” he clarified. Her brows furrowed, wheels turning in her mind, before they shot up. 

“Castiel” she repeated gleefully, turning to you with a smile. “Like one of the angels we read about in theology!” she exclaimed. At this unexpected revelation, Castiel’s brow furrowed as he shot you a questioning glance. You felt your cheeks burn, refusing to meet his stare. You opened your mouth to try and backpedal from the subject but she kept going. 

“You know,” she said, turning to a very confused Castiel. “Castiel was probably my favorite angel to learn about. Angel of Thursday, right?” she asked turning back to you. You gave her a stiff nod, still not daring to look over to your former angel. “I always thought the translation of his name was fitting, shield of God, you know, seeing as he was probably heaven’s greatest warrior.” She continued singing the angel’s praises, not noticing the soft blush creeping up his face, nor the well of tears threatening to spill over his lashes as he stared at the two of you with an awe-like wonder. 

She abruptly cut herself off, chuckling, and put a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve blabbed on enough. It was really nice seeing you, Y/N. Text me and we can catch up more!” She gave you one last hug before disappearing back into the crowd. You stayed facing the direction she ran off in, feeling the former angel’s stare burning into you and unwilling to turn to meet it. 

“Y/N,” you heard him say in a strained voice from behind you. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him, careful to avert his gaze. “Look at me...please,” he implored softly. Mustering whatever courage you could scrounge up, your eyes slowly lifted to his. His brows were softly furrowed with a whole range of emotions swirling behind his wet eyes. You were surprised to see he wasn’t angry as you had anticipated. Instead, he looked at you in a mix of adoration and confusion. His upper lip twitched as he struggled to form a coherent sentence for you, his mind racing and crowded with too many thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally settled on. You bit your lip trying to find the right words. 

“Well, to be fair, you were kind of terrifying when I first met you,” you admitted sheepishly. His eyebrows rose slightly and the corners of his lips tugged upward. He closed the distance between you, placing his hands softly on your hips, tugging you even closer.

“You thought I was terrifying, hm?” his voice now several octaves lower than usual. You gulped, becoming increasingly aware of the heat pooling between your thighs. Castiel smirked, enjoying his obvious effect on you. He hummed, watching you struggle to form a response to him, eyes darkening with lust. Castiel leaned down, breath ghosting your ear and hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’d like to test that theory, if you wouldn’t mind,” his words like velvet, contributing to your intoxicating arousal. 

He released his grip on your hips, took a step back from you and looked around the bar, feigning disinterest to mask his lust blown eyes. “Unless of course you would like to stay,” he said smugly. 

“No!” you croaked out, cursing yourself for sounding so desperate. Castiel’s smirk grew at your sudden outburst. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure. “I mean, that’s okay, the beer here is crap anyway,” you said cooly. Castiel narrowed his eyes at you, seeing through your obvious attempt to hide your eagerness. Luckily for you, he was feeling merciful. He tilted his head at the door. “Shall we then?” he proposed, taking a step towards the door. You practically tripped over your own feet trying to follow him out.

The two of you got back into the car and you pulled out your phone to get directions to the nearest motel, cursing under your breath when you realized the closest one was still a 20 minute drive. Sighing, you turned the key in the ignition and started your drive to the motel. Castiel’s ears perked at the sound and placed a calming hand just above your knee, giving you a comforting squeeze. You caught his meaning, be patient. 

About 10 minutes into the drive, his hand made its way up your thigh tantalizingly slow before making its way back down to your knee. You gripped the wheel tighter, trying not to focus on your growing arousal. On the next upwards stroke, Castiel shifted his hand to the inside of your thigh before bringing it back to your knee, causing you to jerk the wheel slightly. Castiel let out a light chuckle, continuing his ministrations. On this pass, the tips of his fingers barely brushed past the apex of your thighs. You let out a sharp sigh, shooting him a quick look of annoyance. “Cas,” you said in a mock warning, but he saw past it. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, bring his hand back up to your clothed sex, lightly tracing everywhere but where you wanted him most. Castiel enjoyed watching you squirm, trying to focus on the road in front you you while also desperately wanting to chase your release. He could only imagine how soaked you must be at this point, the thought contributing to his own growing arousal. He could feel his pants tightening and looked down at the bulge steadily growing. Swallowing a growl, he returned his attention to teasing you, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his hardening member.

“Cas,” you gasped, slightly panting at this point. He looked up to see your knuckles gripping the wheel, brows tilted up and gaze still locked on the road. “Please,” you said in a strained whispered. He hummed again, lowering his hand back down to your thigh, the opposite of what you were asking. An involuntary whimper escaped your lips and you shot him a quick confused glance. He stared straight ahead with a smug smile on his face. “Patience,” is all he said.

The remaining three minutes to the hotel were torture. As soon as you pulled into the lot, you yanked the door open and struggled to keep yourself from running to the front desk. Castiel gave you an amused smile and followed you into the lobby. 

“Single, please,” you said as you thrust your card toward the woman at the desk. She quirked up an eyebrow glanced between you and Castiel, smiled to herself, and checked you into a room. You took the key from her and quickly found your way to your room. Upon entering, Castiel closed and locked the door behind him before turning to you with an almost predatory look. 

“Strip,” he commanded firmly. Your eyes widened at his sudden dominance and your fingers began blindly ridding you of your clothing. He watched you undress with lust blown eyes, savoring every inch of your body. “On the bed,” he instructed as the last article of clothing left your body. You vehemently nodded and scrambled to the bed, waiting for his next instruction. He shrugged out of his flannel and tshirt, slowly undoing the buckle of his jeans as you licked your lips in anticipation. Stepping out of his jeans he made his way over to the bed and crawled over you. You gasped as his cock brushed against your center as he made his way up to kiss your neck. Supporting himself on one elbow, his free hand roamed down you body to cup your aching heat. A moan slipped past your lips as he ran a finger through your soaked folds.

“My poor honeybee,” he cooed in your ear. “Absolutely dripping for me, hm?” he just barely grazed your clit, and you moaned again, bucking your hips fruitlessly. The coil in your belly was overwhelming, every nerve in your body already on fire from pure need and his teasing. He grazed your clit again, eliciting a choked sob from your trembling body. “You’ve waited this long, honeybee, what’s a little while longer,” he teased in a honeyed voice. The thought of waiting one more second set your heart racing. 

“Cas- please..not tonight...need you now. Please,” you strained, palming him through his boxers. With a grunt, he obliged, peeling himself off of you to rid himself of the last article of clothing separating the two of you. He chucked them into the corner of the room and crawled back up to you, catching your lips in a deep kiss. Your tongue swept his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He happily granted it, deepening the kiss and gently rocking his length against your pussy. 

You reached between you to line him up with your entrance and rocked your hips up, imploring him to sink down. Castiel slowly lowered himself into you, breaking the kiss to choke out, “is this alright?” before continuing. 

“Nngh Cas yes,” you moaned. “Please move,” you begged rocking your hips again. Castiel slowly pulled himself out of you before snapping his hips back in. A surprised moan left your lips as pleasure shot through you. He continued this, grunting and panting against your neck. His body twitched with restraint and you pulled him down into a kiss before releasing him and whispering, “let go, angel.”

His eyes widened and lifted his eyebrows, silently asking are you sure? In response you smiled and looked up at him through your lashes before wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. His hips faltered for a moment before he lowered his head and began snapping his hips against you faster. A string of moans fell from your lips as he murmured praises in broken Enochian. 

“Y/N,” he panted, “I’m-” he strained. You brushed the hair out of his eyes and raked your nails through his hair.

“It’s okay Cas, me too, just-” a surprised moan cut you off as he wedged a hand between your bodies to begin tracing rough circles on your clit. The added stimulation was enough to push you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over your body. Feeling you clench around him was enough to send Castiel over with you, both panting as he sloppily thrusted inside of you to coax the two of you through your climax. Once he regained the ability to move consciously, he slipped out of you with a grunt and collapsed beside you. 

The two of you laid there panting for a moment in post orgasmic bliss before he drew you close to him, your head resting against his chest and your body melting against his. “I love you, my honeybee,” he murmured into your hair. “I love you too, angel,” you sighed contentedly, before drifting into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up the rays of sunshine aimed directly toward your eyes through the blinds of the motel’s window. You grumbled, tucking your face closer against Castiel, using him as a shield against the rays. He chuckled at your grumpy state, weaving his hands through your hair to soothe you. You hummed contentedly at the welcomed contact, snuggling closer to him.

“As much as I would enjoy laying with you like this all day, my love,” he placed a kiss to your temple. “We need to inform the Winchesters of our situation,” he said gently, knowing it would only add to your morning grumpiness. As he predicted you groaned against him. He let out a light chuckle, gently detangling your limbs so he could get up. You groaned again at the loss of contact, moving to sit up straight and pushing stray strands of hair from your face. You watched as he gathered his clothes and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

You sighed as you rolled over and picked up your phone, squinting at the harsh light. You scrolled through your contact list, finger hesitating over Dean’s name but instead scrolling past to get to Sam’s. You didn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction of hearing you ask to come back home. Jaw set, you clicked on Sam’s name and listened to the dial tones until you reached his voicemail. You furrowed your brows and checked the time, 8:30, you thought, Sam is definitely back from his morning jog by now..what gives?

You begrudgingly scrolled back up to Dean’s name and clicked on it with a huff. He picked up on the second ring and spoke before you could even greet him. 

“Come home,” he said in a weak, hollow voice. You felt your stomach tighten at his tone.

“Dean-” you started but he cut you off.

“Please. Come home. Bring Cas too. I...just-please” he said strained. Your heart sank with worry. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, desperate to know what could’ve possibly happened to flip the tables and make him beg you to come home. He was silent for a moment.

“Something happened,” he choked out. “I just,” his voice cracking. “I just need you both to come home. Please.”

“We’re on our way.”

~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @antoniamarie1989-blog @transparentfestivaltiger @tinymalscoffee @dark-as-love 

[smilingleoo]

Bts reaction-Finding you in a compromising position with another member!

Request: Hello❤️ would you mind doing bts reaction to him finding you in suspicion position with another member and overthinking, when in reality it’s something completely innocent 😇🙏

Warnings: connotation of sexual poses and/or actions!

Author’s note: I added a little bit of mix cultures to this one, hope you don’t mind!

—————

RM (Kim Namjoon)

He wasn’t expecting this at all.

He had entered the common room after the makeup artist was done with him, expecting to find you slumped over the couch as he had seen you minutes ago. However, he found himself gaping at your kneeling figure, a confused gaze adorning your innocent features. Jimin was standing in front of you, hands knotted behind his neck, observing how you bobbed your head lightly.

“Y/N?”-Namjoon gasped and you turned around slowly, still glancing over your shoulder towards Jimin’s way.

“Hey baby!”-you greeted him-“Are you finished?”

“Don’t ask me that!”-he snapped-“What were you doing with Jimin?”

You stared at Jimin, who returned your hesitant look, and shrugged-“I was cleaning his shoe. He spilled some coffe and I decided to help. Why are you asking, though?”

Namjoon felt utterly embarrassed. He had really though you were capable of cheating on him with someone as close to him as Jimin-“Don’t mind me, babe. I’m just a little tired”

“Then let’s nap together. I’m in for some cuddles!”

Suga (Min Yoongi)

Yoongi didn’t get possessive often but when he did, it was over serious things.

Could you blame him, though? Poor Yoongi was walking through the hallways of BigHit company searching for your hungry-self. You had told him you were starving about thirty minutes ago and that you were going to look for something to eat nearby. When you hadn’t returned, Yoongi began to worry. Effortlessly, he had made a short journey through the company’s floor until he heard an abrupt noise from the insides of BTS’ practice room. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the sudden urge to know what was happening overtook him.

Gentle sighs and soft moans erupted from the room’s solitude. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he attempted to get as far as prossible from the door, but he stopped right on his track when he heard your voice-“Is that okay?”

Yoongi slammed the door open, rage swirling through his entire body. His first move was to scream but his action was silent as he caught your confused gaze and Taehyung’s sleepy grin-“Hyung?”-he mumbled. Your hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing every now and then to ease the boy’s painful knots.

“Is something wrong baby?”

“No, I was just making sure you were alright”-Yoongi coughed while embarrassement flashed through his cheeks. You gave him the sweetest smile and told him you were sorry for being away for too long without sending him a message. Yoongi brushed the topic off and offered to help with Taehyung’s massage.

“You love me, right?”-he just wanted to make sure.

“What’s with the question?”-you rolled your eyes-“Of course I do”

Jin (Kim Seokjin)

You often accompanied Jungkook and your boyfriend, Jin, to their daily gym routines.

You loved it since you could not only work out but also spend time with your boyfriend and Jungkook, who you had come to care for dearly. He was a goofball, just like you and Jin, so he understood your dynamic quickly.

At the moment, you were currently lifting a bar with a pretty heavy weight on both sides. You liked pushing yourself and so adding some extra weights to your routine wasn’t weird at all. However, you might have exceeded your berable limits, quivering when you tried to push the bar high enough to clamp it back to place. Jin had gone to fetch some water so he wasn’t near by. However, Jungkook noticed you struggling and dashed your way.

Because of the wall behind the machine, he had to position himself on top of you to get a good grip on the bar. Although he wasn’t touching you at all, the position he was currently in was somewhat...compromising and Jin just couldn’t formulate a coherent explanation-“What the heck are you doing?”

“Hyung! Belive me, Y/N was going to be burried underneath that bar if I hadn´t help her”-Jungkook stammered out and you laughed as you walked towards your angry boyfriend, kissing his cheek to brush any misunderstanding off.

Jhope (Jung Hoseok)

Jimin was small.

And you were smaller.

Therefore, cooking was extremely difficult.

“I’ll climb on the kitchen counter and grab the bowl”-you clarified-“Please, stay behind me. I don’t want to fall”

Jimin chuckled but nodded anyways, positioning himself behind you as you wiggled your hips up onto the counter. Your arms pushed you upwards and, before you could turn around, Hoseok entered the room. An empty bowl of cereal rested on his opened palm as he gazed the scene with confusion. You knew that your legs were dangling off the counter, Jimin snuggled between them, and that Hoseok was clearly not happy with it.

“Hobi-Hyung, it’s really not what it looks like”-Jimin stammered but you were faster, propping yourself higher to reach for the bowl you had been looking for and showing it to your boyfriend-“I wanted to surprise you with dinner and Jimin-ah offered to help me”

Hobi, of course, understood. Yet he decided to dismiss Jimin by claiming that he would give you a hand from now on.

Jimin (Park Jimin) 

Bts and, obviously you, had gone to the beach for the weekend.

Everyone had a agreed that it would be a great way to relief some longtime stress and that the boys deserved some small vacations. Excitedly, they had urged you to tag along since they loved you even before you had started dating Jimin.

Therefore, you now found yourself slumped on a comfortable towel under the burning morning sun. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung had gone swimming while you decided to stay dry besides Seokjin, who was also tanning, and Yoongi, who preferred the soothing shadow of the steady umbrella. Because you had been under the sun for too long now, your back started to itch dangerously.

Jimin had obliged you to bring with you some sunscreen yet you struggled while applying it on your back. Yoongi, who saw you having difficulties, offered himself to help you with it.

His hands were cold while he spread the lotion on your back, your eyes closing slightly at the pleasing feeling-“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Jimin stood, dripping wet, in front of you. Yoongi had sensed the sudden change on the atmosphere and decided to leave both of you alone. You, slowly, explained to your boyfriend why Yoongi was caressing your back moments ago yet Jimin kept on pouting until the sun went down.

“Baby, you know that if you had been there, I would’ve asked you”-he nodded but didn’t seemed convinced. Annoyed, you leaned forward and pecked his plump lips.

“You’ll have to give me tons of love now”

V (Kim Taehyung)

Taehyung had invited you to a gala BTS had been scheduled.

You agreed instantly, wanting to spend more time with him, but told him you didn´t own an appropiate dress to wear. He was fast to hush your worries buying you a gorgeous gown that flowed beautifully down your legs.He had made you go to their dorms to change and get your make-up done by their artists, although you had told him numerous times that you didn´t want to be a nuisance-”They´re going to be plased! Always working on men must be pretty tedious”

So you got your make-up done perfectly and were now proceeding to get the zipper of your dress up. Teahyung was with the hairstylist and you couldn´t go, half-dressed, for him to help you out. Namjoon, who just happened to walk by, asked if you needed help. You nodded, wiggling towards him, and poistioned your back in front of him-”This is a stunning dress!”

“I know, right?”-you chimmed-”Tae got it for me”

The mentioned man entered the room and got a glimpse of Namjoon´s hands near your lower back-”Hyung? What are you doing?”-Taehyung would feel a little discouraged with the whole ordeal, thinking that all his tiny details had not been enough. However, when Namjoon was finished, you jumped into Tae´s arms and smiled happily-”You have the best taste ever, baby! Look at me!”

How could he be mad at you? After all, you were his and only his-”Beautiful as always...”

Jungkook (Jeon Jungkook)

You wanted to dance with your boyfriend but you were embarrassed by your poor dancing skills.

You weren´t awful yet Jungkook´s amazing moves made yours look sloppy and weird. Therefore, you asked the only person you could think of; Park Jimin. Of course, he was down with the idea quickly, telling you that you just needed to loosen up a little bit.

Now, once a week, you gathered up with Jimin to have a fun dance class. It wasn´t weird at all since you had been always pretty good friends. You laughed, danced and even sing along, goofing around when you got stucked or frustrated. Jungkook, however, noticed how you disappeared once in a while every week. Thus, one day he decided he had had enough.

He followed you to your secret classes and watched in disbelief how Jimin helped you stretching or how he touched your hips delicately. In a swarmp of rage, he stormed in the studio and interrogated both of you. Nevertheless, all his anger extinguished when you, appollogetically, explained to him the reasons for your time with Jimin.

“Baby, you could´ve asked me!”-He sighed hugging you-”Everyone has a rough start but that does not make you any less. Come on, let´s have a dance date”

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Reluctant hurt/comfort?  Why yes!

Both Tim and Jon have a bad time after the Buried.  

cw fever, illness, vomit mention, suicidal ideation, grief. Also as a note, the night I wrote this was a hard one, and the day after was worse and this might reflect that.  I don't think this is one I can go back through and comb for more cws, so hopefully that is warning enough.  Stay safe, and enjoy something that was very cathartic to write.

The day after the Buried, it doesn’t even occur to Tim that he should be hungry.  He hasn’t needed to eat in so long that he simply forgets.  Just downs glass after glass of water in the break room after a shower that lasts far longer than the meager supply of hot water.  He can’t be fucked that Daisy and Jon still need to wash the muck off.  At least Daisy has somewhere to go, Basira is hovering around, ready to ferry her out of this hell archive.  

Of course, it’s his own fault that he doesn’t have a flat.  

He supposes he owes Jon.  Or something.  

He doesn’t care.  

He’s still angry.  And tired and filthy and depressed.  The only thing the buried did was keep him from dying.  Hell of a suicide watch to be on.  

Sometimes when he closed his eyes down there, he could believe it was Jon or Martin lying on him.  Keeping his fingers from itching to do harm…  Well, almost, anyhow.  

After that, he sleeps.  And sleeps.  

And, well, after that.  He feels like shit.  

Complete shit. 

When he was a teen with soup for brains, Danny got sick.  A bad flu, but he couldn’t keep anything down for three days.  Three days of foisting broths and lucozade on his brother with little success.  Should have been taken to hospital, by all rights, but their mother didn’t really believe in the whole modern medicine thing, and well.  Dad was away, so Tim couldn’t even get Danny to an adult who could help, even if he didn’t give a damn.  It had been awful.  

He really thought his little brother was dying.  Cracked and dry lips, fever so high that he wasn’t coherent.  Three days he sat vigil.  Praying to a god he barely believed in.  

A fever that scooped out his brother until he was praying for a breathing corpse.  Giving oblations of thin liquid.  

On the third day, his eyes opened and he stroked Tim’s hand, as Tim shook with exhaustion by his bedside.  He had to be propped up to sip at his broth, but it was far better than trickling it down his unconscious baby brother’s throat.  

Pure helplessness.  Both in empathy for his brother, who was probably having a worse time than Tim, and because he was next to useless.  

Three days and Tim can’t keep down food.  Gave up trying.  Just shivers on the cot, gazing nearly sightlessly at the ceiling, muscles too wasted to move.  He doesn’t know if anyone notices that he’s gone.  He hasn’t heard any word from Martin.  Basira and Daisy fucked off days ago, as far as Tim can reckon.  Then again, he doesn’t have so much as a working phone.  He doesn’t even know if it’s been three days or thirty.  

His skin feels hot and tight.  Like the Buried is taking a new approach to suffocating him.  A dreadful thirst clawing at him, but he doesn’t have the strength to stand and get water anymore.  Barely could limp his way there before the lack of food and probable fever stole what little he had left.  

Is this just some divine punishment for prodding too hard at the forces of evil in the universe?  

He’d finally come to terms with the abstract and incidental nature of these things, but he can’t help the hazy imagining that he deserves this.  

Failed to keep his brother safe, for all his bedside bargaining and promises made to the wind on long walks after his brother disappeared.  All the broken promises betwixt his savior and himself.  Bitter words corroding promises that could have been harder than diamond.  

It was his fault.  Couldn’t hold up his end, and he deserves this dreadful heat and the foul desert of his mouth.  His body generating his own funeral pyre.  

He wishes he could bring himself to care.  But all he’s known since Jon betrayed him has been anger and dissent disinterest.  

There is an ache at his very core.  

He lies there, on the cot.  Tangled in the sheets.  Bone dry.  Dry as parched soil.  For he has no moisture to spare for sweat.  His own body out of anything that could bring his temperature down.  

Finding Tim isn’t easy.  Jon’s body betrays him after the Buried.  Months of uneasy sleep, and days of pressure on all the wrong parts of him leave him poorly put together and his joints slipping apart at the slightest provocation.  He spends days on the floor of his office, in too much pain to move, too dizzy to stand, and running a fever from the pain in his squashed and shitty joints.  

His own fault, but a small price to pay for Tim and Daisy.  

He would have stayed there if it meant getting them back.  

One less monster.  

Of course the Eye doesn’t let him die.  Aren’t humans supposed to die if they don’t drink water for three days?  

He spends most of his time passing out when he tries to stand.  

And he can’t bring himself to care.  He’s so tired.  Too tired.  

He didn’t expect anyone to come after him.  Certainly not Tim.  Not after everything.  

Well maybe he hoped.  

(He did).  

(Damn his… well it isn’t optimism.  Damn his longing for someone to give a shit if he vanishes for days.  He should know by now that no one is coming.  No one ever does.)  

Groggy and foggy and battered.  

He’s tired.  He needs a proper mattress for just one night, but he can’t even get off the floor.  Just lays in the remnants of mud, waiting to whither like the corpse he is, one just hasn’t stopped breathing yet (again).  

But something draws him upright, more or less.  Clinging to the walls, bracing his stilted journey on aching limbs.  

It’s probably the Eye.  Probably the Eye, or maybe Jon’s piercing curiosity, control slackened by fever, peering though a hairline fracture in the door of his mind.  

He all but crawls to the cot, securing a half empty water bottle from somewhere he probably should be worried about, but he arrives to find Tim burning away before him as his own vision swims dangerously.  

A face in front of his.  Features obscure and unreadable.  He can read the worry in those eyes.  Even in the half light.  

Tim couldn’t hear Jon in the Buried.  His hearing aids long since ran out of life.  All for the best, for the singing of the coffin in the rain will haunt his dreams (not only in a spooky way) for the rest of his life.  

Only knew it was Jon by Jon guiding his (Tim’s)  hand with too thin and gentle and burned fingers to his (Jon’s) mouth.  So Tim could read his lips by feel.  An imprecise thing, but better than nothing.  

Filthy fingers against dry and dusty lips.  Almost like a kiss.  Perhaps more intimate.  

The face hovers closer.  Thin and careful fingers soothing his brow.  

Pressing water to his lips.  Mouthing words that are lost to Tim.  And even if they reached him, he knows he wouldn’t understand them.  

Is this Danny before him?  Would he know his own brother?  After all these years?  After the Stranger chewed him up and regurgitated …whatever.  Is he lost as much as Sasha had been?  Like she’d been?  

And what good would knowing that do?  He would rather keep the memories he has, doesn’t want to know the creeping uncertainties that plague him when he closes his eyes.  

He supposes that the advantage of the Buried is that it keeps the mind off things that aren’t the slow process of returning stone to stone in a way that obliterates everything in between.  Everything but fear.  

Not Danny, but Jon, Tim discovers.  Pulled awake by uneasy stomach, and panicked breath, to find Jon fluttering out of consciousness by his side.  

He wants to be put out that they are flush with each other, but …but they were closer still in the choking darkness with air thick with the soil that Tim swears he can feel coating his internal organs.  

He’s drifting off again when he hears Jon gasp awake, looking nearly as unwell as Tim feels.  

The small figure curled at his back is not his brother.  But he feels as warm and as fragile as Danny did when he sat his vigil.  Counting the seconds between breaths.  His heart stuttering when they lagged and caught in his raw throat in the muted hours between sunset and sunrise.  The hours that Tim feared if he stopped willing the next breath to happen, they wouldn’t.  

But Jon is hardly human.  His pulse is jittery and uneven.  Each breath just a little more strained than they should be.  Likely matching Tim’s own.  

Some distant part of him… the distant part that can feel Jon’s pulse when the rest of him is floating away, untethered to a body too light and empty without topsoil and rich loam to brace him into and against the earth… worries that his own furnace of a temperature is too high and will roast Jon.  

Another equally distant part of him is annoyed that Jon dares to share this pyre of internal heat with him.  …If this is how he goes out, he wishes he saw the stars when he still had any strength.  

Tim wakes again to cool water against his tongue.  

Jon is mumbling to himself fervently.  And Tim can recognize that look.  That fear.  That determination.  The will of someone breathing for someone else.  Holding their life-force steady in the mind.  Knowing to let it faulter is a death sentence.  With wild certainty that is bounded in something beyond reason, for when you are willing another person to breathe, you are often beyond the reach of science.  

And Tim wonders who Jon could possibly be breathing for, because there is no universe in the extensive multiverse that Jon would ever will the life into someone who has spewed such hateful things and led another fragile being he swore to protect to his death.  

And yet…

Tim exhales deeply.  Sliding into what looks to be a restful sleep for the first time in uncounted months.  Watching the rise and fall of his chest look more natural and less like an afterthought, what little strength Jon had found, abandons him.  And he curls himself around Tim.  A small and fragile and dusty shield.  And is asleep in an instant.  Knowing without a doubt that Tim will sleep comfortably through the night, and if anything changes, Jon will know.  Both in body and from beyond the waterlogged door in his mind.  

[murdereraisuha]

screaming about chapter 5 but more coherently this time

This is gonna cover 1. the recent update’s events in comparison to my previous theories & expectations, 2. the winner of the VDC and Vil’s character development 3. Kalim & Jamil’s character development, and 4. the main story moving forward

Spoilers for everything up to 5-67. Word count: 2117

So, in my “Jamil is Snow White” theory post, I used the events of the original Snow White to try and guess how TWST chapter 5 would correlate to it and what characters would fill what roles (Snow White, huntsman, prince, etc.) in the story.

Originally, I kind of assumed the beginning of chapter 5 would line up to either the beginning of the movie or halfway through when the Queen is already hatching her plan to get Snow White with the poison apple. However, it seems like the movie events have actually been compacted into 5-57 to 5-67.

After the NRC rehearsal, Vil becomes the most beautiful, corresponding to the beginning of the movie when the Queen is still the most beautiful. Then, Neige, out of his natural cuteness rather than hard work and practice like Vil, usurps him, representing the point Snow White becomes the fairest in the land. The next part with the apple juice and Rook coming to the rescue is a mix of the next part of the movie, when the huntsman tells Snow White to run, and the part of the movie with the poison apple. Then, the MC and the rest of the dance team kind of act like the dwarves by fighting the Queen/Vil. However, other than that, everyone follows their corresponding role: Neige is Snow White and Rook is the huntsman.

I think the story as it has played out makes sense. I was initially startled by Vil suddenly going murder mode, but. To work so hard on this song and choreography and training up your team, only to have the media love your lifetime rival who’s only brought an arrange of a kid’s song with clumsy singing and dancing to the table, potentially crushing your plan for victory here... I understand Vil’s feelings here and the sudden, desperate decision to curse Neige.

Rook’s actions after that don’t seem too out of line with what we know about his personality and his unconventional beliefs/actions regarding beauty and Vil’s beauty. Seriously though, wtf please don’t just drink poison. Anyway, I really enjoyed Kalim coming in then. The way he noticed Vil’s face being like Jamil’s before his overblot? The part when he tried to remind Vil that no one drank the juice so Vil hasn’t hurt anyone yet? Good stuff right there.

However, the way things played out also disappointed me somewhat. Though we had a Kalim & Jamil interaction, we still haven’t had a good resolution to their character/relationship development, so hopefully that’s in the final part of chapter 5. Furthermore, though Kalim did slap the apple juice away, I really felt like he and Jamil would have had more involvement with poison/curses in this part considering all the stuff in this chapter about Kalim being poisoned in the past.

There’s also the fact that all Jamil did was evacuate the area, it was Kalim and Rook who were around when Vil overblotted. The pattern of the previous overblot causing the next has kind of been broken. It could mean that the pattern was actually the dorm leader causes the next overblot?? Anyway, I’m hoping that Jamil will have his time in the spotlight in the next part.

-----

So that kind of brings me to the future. First off, who will win the VDC? Personally, I think that it will be NRC. With everyone so enthusiastically proclaiming in 5-67 that they’re going to win the championship, it would feel off for them to fail. From things that Vil has said this chapter, like in 5-37 when he admonishes Deuce that effort isn’t enough to succeed, it seems like the bad route/worst case scenario of Vil’s outlook is to lose hope that his efforts will ever give him success or a happy end. Therefore, the good route would be for him to keep hope, to keep the belief that he can get his happy end, and I think winning the VDC would be the thing that would support this belief. I do not think he would learn much from losing; if he has already lost and got relegated to the role of villain so many times before, one more time would not mean much to him. 

Other people have said that Vil also needs to learn to chill and stop holding people to such high standards, which is something I agree with. Though Epel’s beliefs on masculinity and power were pretty harmful, Vil’s methods of trying to correct those beliefs were also harmful. Vil’s treatment of Epel at the end of Epel’s ceremony robes story seriously left a bad taste in my mouth. The thing is, something or someone would need to prompt a change in Vil’s beliefs for a change to occur. After Deuce and Epel’s  outing, they seem to be pretty chill with Vil, so there aren’t any conflicts in the group. I can’t think of anyone in the team other than Kalim and maybe Ace who would have a strong enough opinion on not pushing yourself too hard that they would try and give that opinion to Vil, and Kalim’s already had a big interaction with Vil in 5-62.

So, I feel like any further Vil character development this chapter would come from an interaction with Neige. Going back to the debate of who will win VDC, we know that Vil resents Neige for always being the hero. If Neige won yet again, would Vil take what he says to heart? However, if Vil won, that would be a new situation. I think that the first things he hears from a Neige that has finally lost would be impactful to him.

I’m not sure though of all this though because of this line in 5-66:

Vil’s saying that throwing a tantrum and taking it out on other people was awful of him. Though it obviously refers to his attempts to murder before and during his overblot, it could also point to an overall shift in mindset regarding how he treats others. His attempts to mold Epel into a poison apple, for example, stemmed from his own ambitions and frustration at Neige, which you could interpret as a sort of tantrum that he then took out on Epel. Vil may have already learned to relax on pushing his high standards on others.

Regardless of if that’s true or not, I personally think that Vil and Neige still have a lot that they could learn from each other, assuming my perception of Neige as being innocent rather than a white lotus is correct. Vil’s team’s performance had a lot of cohesion and rehearsal put into it, but it was very competitive focused. On the other hand, Neige and the dwarves obviously had a lot of fun with their performance. However, it was clumsy and they were ill prepared. Therefore, Vil could teach Neige more discipline and planning while Neige could teach Vil about how to not lose sight of finding joy in your work.

-----

As I have already said, I’m hoping for more Kalim & Jamil stuff in the final part of chapter 5. I originally theorized that something would happen to one of them, probably Kalim, and that would lead to some sort of reveal about their feelings and the chapter would end with them clearly on the trajectory to repair their relationship and really become friends. 

Since nothing happened yet and neither got poisoned/cursed, I think then that the event that sparks the finale of their character development would probably relate directly to the VDC. First off for our possibilities, we have the two’s families watching as Jamil takes the spotlight as a main vocal while Kalim is in the back. Given what we know, I don’t think Kalim’s family would be too happy about that. The conflict from that definitely seems like it could result not only in some sort of understanding between Kalim and Jamil, but also maybe even a change in Jamil or his family’s status. For a less dramatic possibility, we also know from 5-47 that Jamil’s sister will be coming to watch. If she makes an appearance, perhaps she will have some unexpected insight to say that would lead to a discussion & development between Jamil and Kalim.

Finally, my Jamil becomes the most beautiful theory might still be partially true, though idk if that’s just me not wanting to give up on it cause of how funny it would be. Basically, the theory was that, after the VDC performances, the internet/media become super interested in Jamil due to how talented and handsome he is. I originally thought that could serve as a factor for Vil overblot, but now I think it could prompt some discussion & development between Jamil and Kalim due to it serving as a clear example of Jamil finally showing his true ability and by how much Jamil was letting Kalim win. Furthermore, Vil might be affected by an event like that. Though the overblot’s already happened, perhaps something happening with Jamil specifically would lead to something happening between him and Vil, fulfilling the pattern of the previous overblot doing stuff with the next. I’m out of ideas for the Scarabia boys, so let’s continue.

-----

Honestly, I don’t think anything will happen with Idia and Ortho outside of a quick teaser at the very end of the chapter. Considering that we still have to cover all the stuff with the VDC performance and its results and the aftermath of the results, Idia’s presentation thingy might not even happen until chapter 6.  ?

Idk, rn I’m more concerned about the overarching plot with Mickey Mouse than I am about chapter 6 Ignihyde shenanigans. So, we had a little flash of the Queen/Hag during the day, and also we finally discovered that Malleus is Malleus. So things are picking up a bit. I’m not sure if something unexpectedly big this chapter will happen though. I’ve seen people saying that the boss was surprisingly easy so there might be another big battle coming up. I don’t actually play the game so I don’t know anything about that, is it intentional or is it just that the chapter took so long to update that y’all had tons of time to beef up your boys? For me, it did feel like the Vil overblot was the climax of the chapter. With all the other stuff like the VDC results and the Scarabia boys’ character development, I don’t know if there’s any more room. There could be some big new info with Mickey Mouse or Grim’s bad eating habit, but I can’t picture something happening that would warrant another boss battle.

I do have some thoughts on Mickey Mouse, but I think I’ll save my memey ones for another post and wait for the end of chapter 5 before getting my serious thoughts together. Anyway, now a little talk on chapter 6. So, we have 4 options: chapter 6 will be something regarding Idia’s presentation, something regarding Deuce borrowing the magical wheel, something combining those two plot points, or something else entirely. 

Well, for something combining those two, Riddle was the one wanting Idia to go do the presentation in person, right? So, Idia probably doesn’t like Riddle that much. Maybe he wants to make some sort of plan to get back at Riddle. What can he use? 

Uh I just looked back at 5-39 to figure out what exactly is up and one translation says Deuce forcefully borrowed the magical wheel and another says he borrowed it as a huge favor??? The original says 無理言って借りてきた, deepL translates it as forcibly borrowed, 無理を言って means asking for something unreasonable. What exactly are the circumstances here?

Okay whatever, look, Deuce is in some sort of debt to Ignihyde. Idia could use him since he and Riddle are in the same dorm. Idk my train of thought got wrecked by the translation confusion.

But anyway so we know Deuce is probably gonna be Meg. I’ve never watched Hercules and I don’t know anything about it aside from what I’ve just read on wikipedia. The summary there says that Hercules kills a bunch of monsters and becomes famous then Hades holds Meg hostage in exchange for Hercule’s powers and Hercules accepts the trade but then “Hades reveals that Meg was working for Hades all along” ??? And then in the end though “ Hercules chooses to remain on Earth with Meg”. So what happens, is Meg good or what? Alright it might be better to at least wait for whatever sneak peek of chapter 6 we get at the end of chapter 5 before speculating. Let’s end this here before it gets any longer.

[let-it-raines]

What a Wicked Game {15/15}

Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.

That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.

Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.

rating: mature

a/n: thank you to @captainswanbigbang for running this event and letting me write this story, to @resident-of-storybrooke for plotting and listening to me talk and for reading this, like, four times while never complaining, to @captainsjedi for making all of the incredible art for it and writing the sweetest tags, and to @wellhellotragic for finding the original story over on ao3 years ago and supporting me then and still supporting me now ❤️

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

-/-

February 2021

His heart is in his throat.

It’s been that way for several hours now, and at some point, Killian should probably get that checked out by a medical professional who can assure him that he’s not going to die and that his heart will return to his chest and beat at a normal rate again.

He is in a hospital, after all, so there’s likely someone who can help him out.

“Killian, you have to stop clenching your fist.”

“I’m not clenching my fist.”

“Literally, look down at your hand.”

Killian blinks before looking down at his hands. His right is tangled with Emma’s, his grip stronger than it should be, while his left is, indeed, balled into a fist on her mattress.

Oh.

Sighing, Killian unclenches his first before loosening his grip on Emma and leaning forward to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’m sorry, love. I - fuck. I really don’t mean to be so dramatic, but you fainted out of nowhere just as we were about to leave to go home, and I’m terrified that something awful is wrong with you.”

Emma’s hand pushes into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he shouldn’t be the one who is being comforted right now. He should be comforting Emma. She’s the one who is in a hospital bed waiting on the results of all of the tests they ran on her, and while he knows she likely had low blood sugar and a lack of sleep from the hectic schedule of their tour, he cannot help but think of all of the horrendous things that could be wrong with his wife.

He loves her in sickness and in health, always, but God, he hopes she’s alright. He can’t live without her, which is so damn selfish to think, but this is where they are now.

(And he can be selfish when it comes to wanting Emma to be alright.)

It’s nothing. It has to be nothing.

“I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he knows she doesn’t actually know, not yet. “It’s been a crazy week with no sleep, and I skipped meals, which was stupid. It’s probably low blood sugar or exhaustion or something else I can fix when we get home and have some time off.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“I mean, I could be dying, but I didn’t think that’s what you wanted me to say.”

“Swan - ”

Emma huffs and rolls her eyes at him. “I’m fine until the doctor says otherwise because I pretty much refuse for something to be wrong with me.”

Killian nods and leans down to press his lips against her knuckles once more. He understands. He refuses for something to be wrong with her too. They’ve already spent too much time in their lives with Emma in a hospital, and he doesn’t want to keep doing this.

“Good afternoon, Your Highnesses,” Dr. Roberts sing-songs as she walks back into the room. He has no idea if this woman is always this peppy or if maybe this is her way of saying there’s nothing wrong with Emma before she actually says it. If there is something wrong, Dr. Roberts really has to work on how she speaks. “So, I have some good news.”

Killian perks up, while Emma stays sitting as she was, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re fine,” Dr. Roberts continues, her smile bright as ever, “and so is your baby.”

“Oh thank God,” Killian sighs, leaning forward again. He’d truly convinced himself that something awful was wrong, but Emma is fine. She’s fine.

“I’m sorry,” Emma mumbles, “did you just say I’m pregnant?”

What?

“I did.”

Pregnant.

“I cannot be pregnant.”

Emma is pregnant.

How did he not hear that part?

“You are most definitely pregnant, Your Highness.”

How is Emma pregnant?

“You just told me I apparently have a baby in my uterus. You can call me Emma.”

Is he going to be a dad? Is Emma going to be a mum?

Killian’s head shoots up from where it’s buried against Emma’s hand to quickly look at her and her slack-jawed expression before looking at Dr. Roberts.

The doctor nods before looking between the two of them, and Killian stops staring a hole into her eyes to turn to look back at his wife who is apparently carrying their child. He feels like the biggest asshole in the world because he can’t seem to form coherent thoughts and should probably be having some kind of poetic thought about what this is going to mean to him, to the both of them.

Killian may be a little shocked.

The fact that Emma is too makes him feel a hell of a lot better.

“Emma,” Dr. Roberts sighs, “I think I’ll give the two of you some time to yourselves to talk since I seem to have shared some rather big news. Just know that both you and your baby are fine, but you need to make sure that you’re not overexerting yourself. You fainted because of a lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and your pregnancy.”

“Thank you,” Killian manages to mutter out while his thumb caresses Emma’s knuckles and Dr. Roberts walks out of the room. The moment the door closes, Killian leans down to kiss Emma’s hand before looking up at her. “Penny for your thoughts, love.”

“I’m really scared that my feet are going to get bigger.”

Killian barks out a laugh and rises from his chair in order to get closer to Emma, dipping his head down and kissing her because he can’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t be kissing her at every available moment.

Especially now.

Especially always.

“I believe that means you’ll simply have to get new shoes. I think that can be arranged.”

“Never did I think there would be a day where you were encouraging me to get more shoes.”

“Well, you do have to throw out the old ones, of course.”

Emma’s chuckle is small, but it’s there, and Killian rests his forehead against hers while Emma’s hand comes to rest in his hair, toying with the little strands at the nape of his neck.

God, that feels good.

They’re having a baby.

“Killian,” she whispers, “how am I pregnant?”

“I don’t think I really need to explain the concept of sex to you.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious. When we are having sex, or making love if that’s your preferred term, and I reach my - ”

“You’re being an ass.”

“Wrong part of the body.”

“Ten years from now, when we think back on the moment I found out I was pregnant, this is what you’re going to have to remember.”

Emma is pregnant.

They’re going to be parents.

Bloody hell.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, pulling back from her so that he can tuck her hair behind her ears and see the beautiful green of her eyes. They’re wet with tears, and he imagines his are too. “And I don’t know how this happened. I assume...I don’t know. I don’t know how this happened, but I do know that I’m happy. Are you happy?”

Emma nods while tugging on her bottom lip. “I’m happy, but I’m scared. I mean, we’ve talked about wanting kids, but talking about it and actually knowing that I’m pregnant is - ”

“Nerve-wracking.”

“Pretty much,” she laughs. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. I don’t think we know how to have a baby.”

“I imagine we’ll figure it out.”

“I guess we will.”

-/-

Killian is flooded with joy for the first week of them knowing Emma is pregnant. She’s only eight weeks along now, so they haven’t told a soul yet, but he’s itching to, if only because he desperately needs to talk to someone about it.

Someone who isn’t Emma because right now, he’s feeling like a piece of worthless scum on the sidewalk for some of the thoughts he’s having.

There are so many damn emotions that come with Killian knowing Emma is pregnant - happiness, elation, joy, terror, anxiousness, excitement - and as much as he fluctuates between all of them, there’s only one that creeps into the forefront of his mind in the middle of the night after a day wandering around knowing that their lives are going to keep changing every single day.

Uncertainty.

And it’s rubbish because he’s not even sure if uncertainty is an emotion, but it’s also rubbish because he’s feeling uncertain not because he doesn’t want this baby, but because he’s terrified that he won’t be a good father to their child.

Killian has a piss poor excuse for a father, and as much as David has filled in for that role, it’s not the same as having a good example for his entire life and seeing year-by-year proof that children can grow up to love their dads and not resent them or be hesitant to even be in the same room as them at family gatherings. He doesn’t love his dad, and he hates that he’s consumed by that. This is supposed to be one of the happiest times in his life, and all Killian feels some days is that he’s already a failure.

(It’s been a week. How is he already screwing up after a week?)

If he didn’t know that Emma is going to be the most incredible mum on the planet and make up for all of his shortcomings, he’d be fully convinced that he couldn’t do this and that fatherhood simply wasn’t for him.

Which is utter bullshit. He’s been in love with Emma for nearly a decade, has known he’s wanted to have children with her for most of that time, and Brennan should not still be able to take up so much space in Killian’s head.

Not anymore.

He’s fighting those demons and dealing with them in his counseling and every time he has to deal with his father, and Killian is determined not to let him taint this.

He can’t.

Not when the woman in bed next to him might as well be an angel sent to him from above, and not when the almost invisible curve of her stomach resting underneath his hand can be felt. They weren’t prepared for this. It wasn’t planned, and it’s apparently the result of the two of them thinking that the month of December was some kind of sex parade where birth control was sometimes optional.

(Emma found where she had skipped birth control pills after they got home, and he thinks she stared at the package for an hour at the very least.)

They were so stupid.

But he doesn’t regret it. Killian can’t. If they’d waited and tried some time from now, the baby growing in Emma wouldn’t be this baby. It would be a wonderful baby he and Emma both love with everything in them, but it wouldn’t be the same. Maybe next time, if they’re lucky enough, the pregnancy will be a result of months of careful love-making and a pointed attempt at trying, but to him, it doesn’t matter.

He’s scared out of his mind about being a dad, doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he wouldn’t change a thing. Not when he has Emma.

“You’re thinking too much,” Emma mumbles, twisting in the bed.

He lays his hand flat over her stomach. “You’re talking in your sleep.”

“I’m awake. Your thoughts were so loud.”

“If you can hear my thoughts, I feel like you need to explain quite a few of the fights we’ve had.”

“Don’t wanna,” Emma mumbles sleepily. Killian huffs into her hair before twisting around her and allowing her to stick her freezing cold feet between his calves while his lips brush over her cheek. His hand flexes over her stomach again, feeling the proof of a decade of love and heartbreak and everything in between. “You’re a good baby daddy.”

(He rather despises that term, and Emma seems fit to call him that this week. Hopefully that will die down, but he really can’t complain when Emma has just become fraught with morning sickness as of yesterday.)

“Am I?” he whispers into her hair, trying not to laugh. She’s not going to remember any of this in the morning. She has a habit of waking in the middle of the night, having a conversation, and then forgetting about it the next morning.

“Mhm. You’re sweet, and you’re also really hot. I like that about you.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad I can be of service for you in that way.”

Her breathing starts to even out after that, slowly returning to how it was, and Killian keeps moving his hand over the small, almost swell of her stomach, something that he knows is a comfort to both of them already.

“Killian?”

“Yes, love?” he whispers so quietly the ceiling fan drowns out the noise of his voice.

“You’re going to be a good dad.”

And even though she’s mostly asleep when she says it, Killian knows that Emma thinks that. She has so much faith in him even when she shouldn’t, and her words settle the beating of his heart and the worry running circles in his mind.

It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

(And technically, Emma having faith in him is everything.

It’s all he’s ever wanted and far more than he deserves.

But he’s glad for it.)

-/-

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s rather beige.”

Emma huffs and tugs at her bra, pulling it out and gathering all of the excess fabric there. “My mom thought it would be appropriate to buy me nursing bras, but this isn’t even close to my size. Like, I understand I’m going to balloon up in every way imaginable, but this is gigantic.”

“We told your parents about the baby two days ago. How has your mom already sent you new bras?”

“Express shipping, babe.”

Killian laughs and walks toward her. She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but her knickers and this massive bra that he can’t ever imagine Emma properly fitting into. Apparently, she can’t imagine it either. It hangs far off her back and over her breasts, and if she lets it go from her grasp, it falls to expose her nipples.

She looks ridiculous.

But also rather lovely, and when she turns around to face him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout, he steps up to her and places his hands on her hips, fingers inching up over her sides. “This is the sexiest you have ever looked.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, slapping his stomach.

“What? Can I not talk about it? This bra is so much better than everything you have in your closet.”

“You’re being dumb.”

“Oh, always.”

He leans into her and brushes his scruff against her neck, knowing that it tickles her, before doing the same with his fingers against her sides. Emma is squirming away from him, or, at least, trying to, but he doesn’t let her, backing her up against the counter as he keeps moving against her while she gasps for breath and laughs.

In between calling him an asshole, of course. That’s her favorite name for him.

“K-killian,” she gasps, leaning away from him as he kisses her neck and moves to kiss her jaw. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“In an hour.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Aye,” he promises before kissing the corner of her lips until she’s turning to him so she can move her mouth over his, soft and slow and absolutely perfectly. As always. “But I think I might have some time to spend with you first.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I take this damn bra off?”

“That was kind of the plan.”

-/-

They’re having a boy.

Killian was convinced that they were going to have a girl, as was Emma, and while it’s definitely a shock despite the equal odds, it doesn’t change anything about their excitement level or any of their plans going forward.

They’re having a boy.

And they can’t decide on a name. Everything in his head and on the list on the refrigerator were decidedly more feminine names, and while David, Liam, and Graham all cheekily suggest that their son should be named after one of them, Killian isn’t too sure about that.

(Ruby says their son can and should be named Ruby because she simply cannot wait until they have a girl for her to have a kid named after her.

When Emma suggests she have her own kid - “pregnancy is a bitch,” Emma mumbles - Ruby raises her hands in defeat and says they should name the kid whatever they want.)

It’s not that simple.

For as much as he and Emma push back on the traditions of his family and some of the inane rituals, they do want the name to fit. However, they want it to fit both them as a couple and his family. It’s a mixing of lifestyles and opinions, and the debates seem to rage on and on. Killian’s mum tells him she’s happy with whatever name they choose because it’s their family, Killian’s father makes a rare comment just to tell them how much he’s still pissed over Emma saying she won’t pose for photographs the day after giving birth, and Emma can’t seem to decide on anything.

(Except that she’s still not going to pose for photographs and expose their child to the wildness of the press after twenty-four hours of life, and he supports her wholeheartedly.

The press has tried to ruin them time and time again, emotionally and physically, and Killian will not stand for it for his wife or their child.)

Killian has his preferences, but he’s trying to narrow down her choices on the massive list that seems to keep growing and growing each day.

The name debate wages on as the weeks pass by and Emma’s stomach continues to grow. Killian never spent a lot of time imagining what this period in his life would be like, but overall, it’s mostly the same as he expected it would be. At least for him. Emma has gone through highs and extreme lows as her hormones attack her and change her body, and all he could do was support her and rub her back when she was vomiting.

And make every food that she wants, no questions asked. Though, surprisingly, her cravings are not at all what movies make them out to be. They do follow along with a lot that he’s read in the books and articles he’s consuming.

“There is literally no reason to read ten different books on the same thing,” Emma mumbles as she pulls her up into a bun. “That’s got to be information overload.”

“It’s varying opinions, love,” he insists, taking another note and sticking it to the page in his book. “I want to know as much as I can so I’m not caught unaware, and I needed a break from looking at cabinet handles for the new house.”

“Babe, you’re going to be caught unaware. It’s going to happen. Not even you can completely prepare for this.”

“Aye, but I can try.”

And he does try. He tries as he reads his books and looks at articles online so that he can at least be the tiniest bit more prepared than he would be. Emma reads books as well and is always looking to see his notes and what he knows, but she’s definitely the more relaxed of the two of them.

At least he thinks that.

She’s six and a half months pregnant and in a wonderful phase of constantly wanting him no matter what they’re doing when he realizes that Emma doesn’t like to constantly talk about the baby because it is all anyone talks to her about. When she does engagements, it’s what people mention. When they go out to dinner, even the servers mention their impending parenthood. When Emma talks on the phone with his mother, Allison is constantly talking about gifts for the baby and plans and asking if Emma has looked into some of the classes Allison suggested. Everyone means well and simply wants to share in their excitement, but their life isn’t all about this baby.

Their life is greatly enhanced by him and will change because of him, but at the core of it all, they’re still Emma and Killian who have been having conversations for nearly a decade about things other than a baby.

And Emma is still Emma, and she wants people to ask her how she is or what books she’s read lately or any conversation that would have been had before she was pregnant.

Late at night, though, when they’re lounging in bed with his hand on her stomach and his chest pressed into her back, sometimes she likes to whisper her thoughts and her fears, all of the hopes that she has for this future that keeps getting nearer and nearer to them.

The road to getting here was full of sharp wrong turns and dark corners full of heartbreak, and while they may have gotten a little lost along the way, they’re here now. That’s absolutely all that matters.

It always has been.

“Babe,” Emma calls out on a sunny day in June. They’ve been home all day, neither of them changing out of their pajamas, and he imagines from the look of it, Emma hasn’t combed through her hair. To be fair, he hasn’t either. “Do you know where the peanut butter is?”

“We had that entire box shipped here for you. It should be in the cupboard.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Have you checked the bottom shelf?”

“Yes.”

“Did you really?”

“I’m going to slap you.”

Killian sighs and puts down the letters he was responding to in order to get up and walk toward Emma and the cupboard. When he steps inside the room, he immediately goes in search of the box of jars of peanut butter he ordered for Emma only for it not to be there.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“That’s kind of an extreme reaction to not being able to find the peanut butter.”

“How did we lose an entire box of peanut butter?”

“It can’t be lost. It has to be misplaced.”

“Lost, misplaced. Whatever, love.”

He squats down to look over all of the bottom shelves before scanning each and every other one, shifting around containers and boxes and every other insane organizational tool he decided to buy when he wanted this room to be contained and not a mess.

Except he can’t seem to find anything.

Mostly this damn peanut butter.

“You know what,” Emma sighs, “it’s fine. I’ll eat something else.”

“Darling, I will find it.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll find it.”

“Killian,” Emma huffs, tugging on his wrist until he turns around to look at her, “it’s fine. We have those smoothies I like in the fridge. I’ll drink one of those instead.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.” She tugs on his wrists again until she’s pulling him out of the room and back into their kitchen. “It wasn’t important.”

“I simply don’t understand where the peanut butter could have gone. I mean, I suppose it could have been moved, but I - ”

Emma loops her arms around his neck and presses up on her toes until she’s gently sliding her lips over his in a slow kiss that has his heartbeat quickening and gooseflesh rising over his skin.

“Stop worrying about it,” she murmurs as they sway back and forth with her stomach pressed tightly against his. “I don’t want a repeat of the blueberry muffin incident.”

“Dammit, don’t - ”

She kisses him again, insistently pressing her lips into his, and Killian presses back, pecking her lips once before doing it again and again and again. He kisses her fleetingly all the while continuing to sway the both of them. The wood is cold against his bare feet, so he’s sure Emma’s feet are literal icicles, but he’s not focusing on that as Emma begins to laugh, a small melodic sound that carries with the music that’s playing over the speaker on his phone from where he was listening to it when he was working.

But the laugh grows louder as Killian’s mouth moves away from hers and more toward the corner of her lips so that his scruff brushes against her skin, tickling her in the same way that his fingers are scratching against her sides and over the edges of her belly.

“You’re the only one I want to make laugh, truly.”

Emma’s laugh quiets at those words until she’s tightening her arms around his neck and nuzzling her face into his neck. There’s a sharp inhale of her breathing him in, and Killian kisses the top of her hair.

“You’re a romantic, my love,” she whispers.

“That’s what I strive to be.”

“I know. It’s why you practice all of those lines in the mirror.”

Killian scoffs. “I do not do that.”

“If anyone asks, it’s your word against mine, and well…”

She lets the words trail off, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks and continue their banter, but he doesn’t. He can’t, because the song is changing, and it’s been ages since he danced with her in the privacy of their home. Everything lately has been in suits and dresses with Emma’s heels making her nearly his height, but it hasn’t been the two of them in pajamas with messy hair and the ghost of missing peanut butter cascading over them.

So he keeps moving them, a gentle sway that turns into more, and they traverse the space in the kitchen, their feet quickly moving as Killian whispers in Emma’s ear words of affection that flow from his heart. It’s moments and times like these in the sanctity of their kitchen when it’s just the two of them and no one and nothing else that he thinks of how grateful he is that they fought for their love and won. Nothing about this was ever guaranteed or predestined, but they figured it out.

“I love you.”

Emma hums. “I love you, too.”

She pulls her head back until he can see her eyes, the beautiful glint of blue wrapped up in the green, and her smile is so bright that he can’t imagine not kissing her. He can’t imagine not kissing her as often as he’s able and not kissing her every day on a multitude of occasions. So he does.

And he hopes not to ever stop having that desire.

He won’t.

Emma is his wife and the mother of his child, of this one between them now and any ones in the future, but most of all, he thinks, she’ll always be his closest companion.

His best friend.

“Hey,” Emma whispers after they’ve been silently dancing for at least two songs.

“Yeah, love?”

“I think I’ve finally decided what name I want for the baby.”

Killian chuckles and tilts his head to the side to press his lips into her hair once more, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and everything that he’s grown accustomed to over the years. “And what’s that then?”

-/-

Their son is born on September twenty-third, a few days after Killian’s thirty-second birthday.

They name him Andrew Killian Phillip Jones.

He always goes by Andy.  

-/-

-/-

-/-

Any of my Second in Command (the original version of this story) will recognize Andy. He was, like, star of the show for that crazy long epilogue/sequel I wrote, and I really wanted to include him here. The main reason, though, was to show that even though some parts of Emma and Killian’s story changed, that they went through more of a wild ride this go round, that they still get to have the same happy ending...wait, I think I have to say “happy beginning” here 😉

Thank you all for the INCREDIBLE support! I hope you enjoyed this story!

@mrtinski @klynn-stormz @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @shardminds​ @captainsjedi​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @owlways-and-forever​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @397bartonstreet​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @scarletslippers​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @captainswanbigbang​

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 8

oof I don’t know if I actually like this chapter or not. imposter syndrome has taken up residence in my brain and it’s not looking to move out anytime soon. hopefully this is better than I’m giving myself credit for. 

I’m gonna try and get on a more regular schedule of updating this weekly. I think we’ve got one more part to day three and then a chapter each for days four & five. there might also be another middle of the night chapter, trying to figure out if it fits into the timeline like I want it to or not. you get some sneak peaks of angsty Luke in this part which I’m kind of excited about. can’t be all soft boy all the time. gotta get that ~dimension~

also, I wrote a one-shot of Ray and Rose’s first date that was referenced waaaay back in pt. 6! it’s also the story of Tia Victoria’s 21st birthday that was referenced in pt. 7! I really love it which isn’t something I’ve felt about my writing lately so you should check it out.

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

Julie had expected a mess of sloppy, overlapping notes and kinks that would need to be quickly smoothed out by Friday’s performance. She had been ready to go into the Showcase and just give it their best, hoping that maybe they would sound somewhat coherent, but not really expecting much all the same. A band couldn’t be built in a day. It was part of why she thought Luke’s plan was so insane. She couldn’t have been more wrong if she tried.

Within the first three run-throughs of the song things just seemed to click into place. It was like she had been playing with them her entire life. The longer they played, the more they slipped naturally into their role as bandmates. The energy in the room, the chemistry between the four of them, was palpable. She knew they could feel it too.

It was the way Reggie turned to her at the exact moment she moved towards him, playing off of her as she gave into her need to move to the bassline vibrating through her feet. It was how Alex’s face lit up with a kind of unrestrained joy she had never seen before, face shining as he nodded his head in time with his tapping foot when she turned towards him. They laughed together as she flipped her hair out of her eyes at the exact same time he did, completely in sync as they moved to the rhythm created by his fast-moving sticks. It was every single part of Luke.

His head, tilting to the side to call her to him just as she began to drift closer to his side. His voice, blending with hers like they had been made to sing together. His eyes, drilling into hers as she held her microphone out for them to share. His fingers, so sure on the strings beneath them that he didn’t once break their stare down. The tension she had felt simmering between them for the last few days exploded. They felt it at the exact same moment as their most seamless playthrough of the song came to a close.

Julie’s voice rang out beyond the instruments as she held her final note a beat longer than everyone else. She could hear the sound of Reggie and Alex’s voices rising with enthusiasm as they talked, but she couldn’t make out their words. Everything felt a little soft on the edges as Luke gazed at her with so much awe she thought she would float off the ground. He made her feel transcendent. Like the celestial being he claimed her to be. It was hard to feel like she wasn’t in Heaven when he looked at her like that. Her breath caught in her throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly she was being jostled from behind, her moment with Luke broken. Her feet stumbled as leather-clad arms wrapped around her tightly, sweeping her into a clumsy spin.

“Julie! That was amazing!”

Reggie’s voice was sparkling, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly, giving into the all-consuming feeling of happiness that was bubbling up inside of her. They came to a stop as a longer pair of arms covered in soft pink cotton pulled them close. Julie met Alex’s eyes, giving him a grateful smile as the studio finally came back into focus. He beamed back at her, completely relaxed and damn near glowing.

“I gotta agree with Reg for once.”

Julie giggled as Reggie let out an indignant shout, lips slipping into a pout. Alex ignored him, releasing his hold on both of them, but still talking to Julie.

“Seriously, Julie, I totally see what Luke has been saying. He was right, you’re perfect.”

Julie felt hot all the way from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. She gave Luke a side-eyed glance, heart tripping as she caught the quick expression of embarrassed betrayal on his face. So, he had actually used the word ‘perfect’ to describe her. He had talked about her to his boys, and not just as a musician. This wasn’t only about the music. She knew that, or she should have known that by now, but to be faced with it so plainly was something else entirely. Luke attempted to slip into a casual slouch, but his hand scratching at the back of his neck gave away the nerves he was feeling as his gaze slipped back over to hers. Julie gulped, breathing out slowly.

“What can I say? You definitely make us better.”

Another attempt at a nonchalant shrug that was foiled by his still-scratching hand and slight vocal crack. Julie’s heart raced, her stomach flipping low in her gut. So, this is what a real crush feels like. Julie had crushed on boys before, or so she had thought. Never before had she felt like this. She hadn’t actually known the other boys she had been attracted to. Not in the way she was beginning to realize she knew Luke. She had kept herself at a distance from them, building up a fantasy in her mind as to what type of person they were and what it would be like to see that fantasy come to life. Her crushes had always been somewhat superficial and definitely unobtainable. Luke was neither one of those things. He was right here. She knew him. Connected with him on a level deeper than should be possible after only three days, but it was undeniable all the same. Her soul whispered that she had always known him, she had simply been waiting for him to return to his true home within her heart all this time.

Luke was shifting uneasily on his feet, just like earlier in the day when he realized he had taken his bold declarations a step too far. Only this time, Julie realized she liked when he did that. The way he built her up without even trying, an endless supply of support and admiration falling from his lips so easily. Julie simultaneously wanted to reassure him and also continue needling him because the way his words made her feel was a high like no other. His eyes crinkled at the edges, smile softening just for her. She gave in to the temptation to touch him, reaching up to lightly grasp his wrist. The scratching finally stopped, and Julie gave a special soft smile of her own.

“I think we make each other better. That’s a great song, Luke. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Julie released her grip and lowered her hand, biting her lip slightly. She didn’t miss the way that Luke’s ears tinged pink, his arm hovering in the air for a second as he processed her words. Their eyes locked, a million fleeting emotions passing between them in seconds, their own form of silent communication. With Luke, Julie was learning that there was a lot more in the things left unsaid than the things that he let slip out. Her words meant more to him than he would ever be able to express and she wondered if that related back to something with Bobby or something with his parents. Maybe even both. The moment stretched on, the rest of the studio melting away in the background. Until Reggie’s whisper broke through.

“I see chemistry.”

The twin slaps of Alex’s hand on his forehead and Luke’s hand falling to his thigh echoed in the otherwise silent space. Julie felt her cheeks burn, breaking away from Luke’s gaze to face the other boys once again. She really had to stop letting herself get swept up in him. Especially when they had such an observant audience. Her eyes darted to the clock behind them, surprised to find several hours had already passed. Her dad would probably be calling her up for dinner soon. Right on cue, the studio doors rattled and opened. Carlos, framed by the setting sun behind him, studied the group of teenagers.

“So, this is your boy band?”

“Boy band! Who you callin ‘boy band’?!”

Luke’s indignant shout would have been funny if Julie wasn’t hyperaware of how close she was still standing to him. Carlos’s skeptical brown eyes darted back and forth between them like he could tell he had missed out on a golden opportunity to embarrass her. He smirked slightly, crossing his arms as he regarded Luke.

“I mean, you’re boys in a band. Ergo, boy band.” His hands lifted in a falsely innocent shrug. “I don’t make the rules.”

Reggie giggled as Luke’s jaw dropped slightly, stunned into silence by her brother’s sass. Even Alex was fighting back a grin. Reggie stepped closer to Carlos, whipping out his hand for a high-five.

“Up top, little dude!”

Carlos’s smirk melted into a genuine smile as he lifted onto his toes to smack Reggie’s hand. Julie rolled her eyes, nudging Luke a bit while the others were distracted. He turned to her with a small pout.

“Kids usually think I’m cool.”

“No, kids usually think you’re another kid.” Alex chimed in gleefully.

Luke’s pout deepened and Julie couldn’t resist knocking their fingers together for a quick brush of contact.

“I think you’re cool.”

The whisper was low, but she could tell he heard it by the way he snatched her hand into his, squeezing it for a brief moment as he gave her that burning look again. The interaction was over in a second, but Julie felt the lingering fire race across her skin. She wished she could have a minute or ten alone with him. She turned back to Carlos in the doorway before he could notice. That kid didn’t need any more ammunition against her, thank you very much.

“Did you need something, Carlos? Or are you just here to be a pest?”

He broke off his conversation with Reggie to stick his tongue out at her. She repeated the gesture back to him.

“I need a lot of things actually. Like a normal sister for one.”

He snickered at the way her nostrils flared, fully aware that she wanted to reach out and cuff the back of his head but wouldn’t do it in front of other people. She settled for gritting her teeth and reminding herself that as annoying as Carlos was, he was also her little brother and she loved him. She just didn’t always appreciate his astonishing lack of a filter around older boys that he thought were cool. Luke had read him all wrong of course. Carlos only teased people he was in awe of. That reminder calmed her as well. He was teasing out of love, and because he was nervous around these teenagers that he clearly wanted to like him. She could give him a pass. She could also tease him right back.

“I know where you sleep, twerp. Relay your message or scram.”

He rolled his eyes at her lame threat, but dropped the bratty attitude nonetheless.

“Dad says it’s time to eat. He said the guys can stay if they’re hungry.”

Carlos couldn’t fully hide the hope in his voice, though he tried to sound indifferent about it. Julie watched the boys share a quick look, an entire conversation taking place in mere seconds. Alex’s arm went around Reggie, who sagged a bit like he was disappointed. Luke’s hand went back to his neck, body slumping as if to shrink himself. Alex’s fingers tapped out a restless beat against his thigh. None of them moved to speak. Julie couldn’t stand the uncomfortable way the air grew thick between them.

“I’m sure the guys have plans already, bud. This was kind of a last-minute thing. Maybe tomorrow?”

She aimed the question at the boys instead of Carlos. They seemed to melt all at once. Another silent conversation communicated through glances. Reggie took the lead this time.

“That sounds great! As long as you’re sure your dad won’t mind. We don’t wanna be a burden.”

Julie shook her head, heart aching at the way Reggie said ‘burden’ like it was a title he was used to.

“No burden at all. Dad always makes too much spaghetti anyway. And my Tía usually brings food a few times a week so we literally always have leftovers. You guys would be helping us out by eating them up, honestly.”

Reggie smiled at her, and Julie was surprised to find that she wanted to cry. Not because she was happy or sad or any particular emotion really, but because Reggie made her feel the same way Carlos did when it was the middle of the night and she was waking up to the feeling of his cold feet against her calves and his whispered confession about not wanting to be alone right then. She felt protective. Ready to fight whatever or whoever it was out there that had made him believe he was too much simply by existing. Was this what her mom had talked about when she said the best bands were actually families? Julie had always taken that to mean her family, as in her mom and her. Maybe what she had been saying all along was that the magic of music could make a family. The right connections, the right mix of artists, and it wasn’t just about playing anymore. It was about creating something together, breathing life into their art as one entity. Caring for each other, lifting each other up, bandaging each other’s wounds.

The enormity of the realization that all it took was one afternoon for her to adopt these three idiots hit her like a ton of bricks. She didn’t even know them, and yet, she did. Their souls were forever intertwined. Whatever feeling had overtaken them during their practice would linger for the rest of eternity, burned into her heart like a brand. The magic of music.

“Thanks, Julie.”

Alex’s voice was soft, fingers calm once more. Julie nodded, not trusting herself to speak right then.

“Cool!”

Carlos whooped, breaking the moment once again. This time, Julie didn’t mind so much.

“I’ll go tell Dad. See you guys later!”

He was off like a rocket, propelled forward by his unshakeable enthusiasm. The arm that Alex still had around Reggie flexed for a moment before dropping. Reggie gave him a quick smile, lifting his bass over his head. Luke swung his guitar onto his back, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. Julie could tell something was bothering him. Alex seemed to feel it too.

“Hey, Reg, can you go unlock the van? I’m gonna start carrying my kit up.”

Alex tossed the keys to Reggie, who somehow managed to catch them singlehandedly while still holding his bass. His eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then he looked over at Luke and understanding dawned. He raced out of the studio without a word, Alex close behind him cradling his bass drum in his arms. Julie turned to Luke once they were alone, only to be met with his back as he fiddled with his guitar in its case. His shoulders were raised high, muscles bunched tightly under his shirt. She took a few steps forward, resting her hand lightly on his back once she was next to him. He relaxed slightly and she sighed in relief. Her fingers took on a mind of their own, softly rubbing until he let his shoulders fall.

“Please don’t feel obligated to stay for dinner tomorrow if you don’t want to.”

Luke spun around so quickly Julie didn’t have time to step back. He grabbed her elbows, steadying her but not moving out of her space. His expression was torn, eyes intense. Julie felt her throat tighten.

“No, Julie, it’s not that. I just...families are hard. For me. For...us.”

His eyes flew to the still open doors and back. She didn’t have to ask who the us was.

“Your dad seems really great. Your brother too. I just...it’s silly, but I don’t wanna let you or your family down.”

He bit his lip, gaze slipping down to the floor. They stood toe-to-toe, the tips of their sneakers almost touching. Julie breathed in deeply, the faint smell of her shampoo tickling her nose. It had to be coming off of Luke. Her own hair had been tied back into a bun at the beginning of band practice. It was an intimate reminder of the night before. When he hadn’t been home in the middle of the night because sometimes it was better to be elsewhere, even if elsewhere just meant not there. She couldn’t relate to that feeling. Her home had never felt like anything other than a welcoming, safe space. Her family had never been anything other than loving and supportive, even in the rare moments when they fought with each other.

“Luke, I’m pretty sure my dad thinks that you’re an angel. He was so happy this afternoon he didn’t even bring up the meeting with Lessa. You’re the reason I’m playing music again and that’s as good as gold in his eyes.”

“No way, Molina.” Luke scoffed, hands raising from her elbows to her shoulders. “That’s all on you. I didn’t do anything except ambush you for my own personal gain.”

Julie was shaking her head before he even finished his sentence. He was trying to play everything off with that cocky, cool kid attitude, but she knew him better now. That bravado was all a defense mechanism. One of her own hands lifted, brushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers lingering along his jawline.

“You’re wrong, Patterson.”

She didn’t miss the way he jerked a bit when she used his last name, his pupils widening slightly. A small smile formed on her lips. Two could play at that game.

“You rescued my mom’s song and protected it all this time. You brought it back to me right when I needed it. Did you know that was the last song she ever worked on? The last song we ever worked on. That song is the last piece of my mom. I don’t think I would have ever been able to play again without it, and I didn’t even realize that until yougave it back to me.”

She edged forward until their shoes touched. It wasn’t that much closer, but Julie could feel every inch of space lost between them. Luke’s eyes were doing that soft, starry thing again, and Julie thought her own eyes might look the same. He let his hands fall from her shoulders until they were resting lightly against her waist. Her own hands snuck around his neck, fingertips brushing against his soft, jasmine scented hair. Luke swayed their bodies slightly, his need for constant motion of some kind getting the best of him. It made her want to laugh, but this moment felt too big for that. Of all the ways her relationship with Luke had rapidly shifted in the last few days, this felt like the most serious. She wasn’t trying to fight him anymore. She was laying her cards out just as openly as he had.

“Julie...”

She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him further, his voice twisting her name into the sweetest sounding melody. Luke didn’t get a chance to say or do anything else before noise filtered in through the still open studio doors. Alex’s voice, louder than Julie had ever heard it before, as he chatted with Reggie. Luke’s shoulders curved slightly, like he was disappointed, before he straightened and put some more space between them. They dropped their hands at the same time, the loss of contact causing her to shiver. Luke shot her a quick smile, so Julie knew his actions were less about hiding her and more about not wanting to share their delicate relationship with anyone else just yet. That was okay with her, too. It felt a little too new, a little too fragile, to let anyone else in on it just yet.

Alex and Reggie appeared only seconds later, Alex looking a little wary like he wasn’t sure his loud approach had been enough warning, Reggie’s expression open and happy, clearly oblivious to the thick tension between Luke and Julie. He was babbling to Alex about something involving physics homework, both of them moving to collect several other pieces of Alex’s kit. Luke gave her one last glance before he left her side to lift an amp. Julie was silent for a moment as she watched them before a realization had her smacking her forehead. The sound was loud enough to startle the boys, who turned to her with matching confused expressions on their faces.

“You guys are going to be right back over here tomorrow. You don’t need to take all your stuff out just to haul it back in here in like 24 hours. I should have said something earlier.”

Another silent conversation, the boys wary and anxious again. Julie wished she had a better understanding of the landmines she seemed to keep stumbling upon. Luke had given her a small hint, but the rejection anxiety ran deep in every single one of these boys. Reggie spoke up before Julie had the chance to reassure them.

“Are you sure your dad won’t mind?”

He was fiddling nervously with the strap on his bass, eyes wide. Alex’s grip flexed on the snare he held, Luke stepping closer to his guitar case. She heard the underlying question behind Reggie’s tone. Are you sure these parts of our souls will be safe here?

“He won’t mind at all. He hasn’t touched a thing in here since we locked it up after Mom...since we locked it up a year ago.”

She tried to keep her voice soft, her steps slow as she moved to place her hands against the top of the grand piano.

“My mom’s piano has been stored in here my entire life. I promise you the Molina’s know the importance of protecting our instruments. It’s up to you though. I totally get it if you want to keep them with you.”

Julie didn’t wait for their response, letting them process and decide for themselves how they felt about the situation. She bent to lift the sheet that usually covered the piano, shaking it a few times before closing the fallboard and draping the soft material over the instrument.  By the time she turned around, only Luke was left behind her. She raised a brow, concerned she had said the wrong thing. His lips stretched into one of the smiles reserved just for her.

“They went back to the van to get Alex’s bass drum.”

Her eyes darted off to the side behind him, noticing that the snare Alex had been holding was back in place, Reggie’s bass once more nestled into a guitar holder. She felt her frown soften into a smile, relieved that they seemed to trust her despite not really having much of a reason to.

“Thank you...for, ya know, being so cool about all of this.”

Luke’s voice was quiet, hands fidgeting like he was fighting the urge to raise them to the back of his neck.

“Luke, I should be the one thanking you. Seriously, you guys don’t have to do this for me, and you are anyway. Actually, you very well could get into trouble for doing this, and yet you’re still willing to take that risk. The least I can do is house your instruments for a few days.”

Julie didn’t mean to, but something in her voice had his head snapping up at the way she said her last sentence. Like he could tell that she was trying to say it wasn’t just the instruments she was willing to care for. It was the boys too. It was Luke. They didn’t say anything more, letting the sentiment hang in the air between them. Luke’s eyes were impossibly soft. If Julie hadn’t already plunged over the cliff ledge falling for him, this moment would have toppled her.

Reggie and Alex stumbled back in, both of them laughing but unable to fully articulate why. Something about an old Vine video and bible study. Alex reset his bass drum, Julie scrounging up another sheet from the linen closet in the bathroom to cover it for the night. And if she took an extra second to run her fingers over the towel now hanging on the hook next to the shower, the faint scent of jasmine and citrus body wash and Luke drifting off of it at the movement, well no one else had to know about that.

[goodomensblog]

Denial

I feel like Madame Tracy, who shared a body (and thoughts??) with Aziraphale for a hot second, would absolutely have picked up Aziraphale’s very obvious head-over-heels adoration of Crowley. So naturally, here’s my 2,000 word fic about her cluing in an oblivious angel to his own feelings. 

Denial

Inhabiting a new body was usually quite a lengthy process, and that wasn’t even including the paperwork. There was actually a very good reason why celestial beings didn’t just slip into human skins whenever they felt like it - beyond the moral quandary, of course. Much in the same way that no two humans are exactly alike, neither are angels. A human must try on shoes for size, and so must an angel, well - try on bodies, that is.

As the apocalypse was imminent, Aziraphale did not have the luxury of choice.

So Aziraphale had taken what he could find, and what he’d found was Madame Tracy.

If Aziraphale’s old body could be likened to a six thousand year old comfortably broken in, yet remarkably cared for pair of loafers, Madame Tracy’s was a pair of stiletto heels, fresh out of the box and half a size too small.

Not that Aziraphale wasn’t grateful. Really, he considered himself fortunate to have found a body that could accommodate him at all. It just...really wasn’t very comfortable.

It’s not a walk in the park for me either. I appreciate the metaphor though. The heels, I mean. Terribly uncomfortable, breaking in a new pair.

The voice was high and saccharine and seemed to echo around the space of his head. Or rather, he amended, within her head. He was, after all, the intruder here.

I appreciate that acknowledgment, Mr. Aziraphale, Madame Tracy sniffed.

I do apologize, Aziraphale thought, consciously shaping his wandering thoughts into words. I’m afraid sharing a body is very much a new experience for me.

You’re not alone there, love.

No, I suppose not, Aziraphale said. And when he smiled, it was Madame Tracy’s red painted lips which parted.

Now, what exactly is it that we’ve got to do?

First of all, get through that gate, Aziraphale thought, squeezing the brakes as Madame Tracy’s scooter sputtered to a stop.

Before them, the Tadfield Air Base loomed.

The man out front’s got a gun.

So he does.

As Aziraphale struggled to park the scooter - hindered by Madame Tracy’s attempts to commandeer her hands to help - he noticed that it was quite a large gun, at that.

By the time the scooter was settled, the soldier stood before the gate, gun cradled against his front.

Mr. Shadwell marched up, brandishing a grimy finger.

Oh dear, thought Madame Tracy.

“You see this finger Laddie? This finger could send you to your maker.”

Good God, the man is going to get himself shot.

Yes, Madame Tracy agreed. Please do something.

Aziraphale stepped in front of Shadwell, waving Madame Tracy’s purple gloves through the air.

“It really is vitally important that we speak to whoever is in charge-” he started.

From their lips, Madame Tracy’s voice interrupted, “He’s telling the truth, I’d know if he wasn’t.”

Lord, Aziraphale thought, save me from the whims of foolish mortals.

Madame Tracy’s annoyance flared hot and bright in their shared headspace.

Aziraphale flared his own annoyance right back and took control of their mouth.

“-would you please stop interrupting? I’m trying-”

Madame Tracy took it back.

“-yeah I just thought I’d put in a good word for-”

“I understand, but-”

“Will you please be quiet?” The guard ordered, impatient and confused. “Both of you?”

Well now you’ve done it, Madame Tracy tutted.

I’ve done it?!

“I mean, Ma’am,” the soldier continued, licking his lips, “I must respectfully ask you to-”

He was interrupted by blaring music.

A bebop, Aziraphale thought, and twisted round, heart in his throat.

Pardon? A what?

A car roared round the bend.

Normally when one describes a car as roaring, what they are describing is the sound of a working engine.

In the Bentley’s case, it was not the engine.

Unfortunately, the Bentley roared because it was literally on fire, and the flames were exploding and crackling, making awful noise as the vehicle flew over the darkened pavement. Contributing to the roaring was the metal frame, which beneath the considerable heat, had begun to fracture, and was now squealing its death throes.

None of the roaring could be attributed to the engine as by now, it was little more than a blackened husk and didn’t actually appear to be powering anything.

Oh my, thought Madame Tracy.

Indeed, Aziraphale thought, staring uncomprehendingly at the flaming car.

It was Crowley’s car. That much was clear. Up until now, Aziraphale had never seen it quite so...inflamed, however.  

The guard, Mr. Shadwell, and the united persons of Madame Tracy and the angel Aziraphale watched, transfixed, as the conflagration of heat and steel skidded to a halt before the barbed wire fence. Cacophonous music blared from speakers which had surely long ago melted.

The door swung open and - oh.

There was a flutter in Aziraphale’s - er, well technically Madame Tracy’s stomach.

From the vehicle, a lanky figure unfolded. Heedless of white flames, he swung the door closed behind him. The music evaporated as though it had never been.

“You wouldn’t get that sort of performance from a modern car,” he called, flippant. As if his cheekbones weren’t marked with soot, and his black, fitted jacket, not thoroughly singed.

Aziraphale took over their shared mouth without a thought. 

“Crowley,” he said, like a sigh after a long held breath.

Crowley? Madame Tracy probed at Aziraphale’s thoughts, curious.

As Crowley sauntered away from the burning car, carelessly swinging Agnes Nutter’s book at his side, Aziraphale finally registered the question.

Oh, ah yes. Crowley is a demon - but a very good one, even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

I see, Madame Tracy thought back.

Aziraphale could feel her gearing up for another question - and he fought against annoyance, because he was in her body, but Crowley was here now and they had things to do. Like avert the apocalypse.

So how do you know each other then?

That, my dear, is a very long story. Suffice it to say, we’re friends.

Ah.

Crowley strolled over, shades down and flames licking at his back, and Aziraphale conceded that Crowley was quite good at making an entrance. Not that those sorts of things mattered in the end - but, ah - well, there was something to be said for style, Aziraphale supposed, gaze following Crowley’s sauntering approach.

Aziraphale felt a flash of amusement from Madame Tracy’s side of the head.

Now what? Aziraphale thought, and was immediately horrified by how rude it sounded, echoing around the shared space.

Nothing dearie.

But then, Crowley was speaking, and Aziraphale found his attention most immediately diverted.

“Hey Aziraphale! See you found a ride.”

A ride? Madame Tracy huffed.

He didn’t mean it like that-

“Nice dress. Suits you,” Crowly added, sidling up beside them.

“Ahh,” Aziraphale managed, and was embarrassed to feel his shared body flush with warmth. Had he done that? Or was it Madame Tracy-

All you, I’m afraid, Madame Tracy answered - and did she sound smug?

Ah.

He’s very handsome, isn’t he? Your demon friend.

He - why - what?

Aziraphale vaguely wondered if the prolonged sharing of a body was having a negative effect on his angelic essence, as he couldn’t seem to formulate a coherent thought.

And then Crowley was at his side, brushing shoulders with him - no Madame Tracy - no - oh confound it!

“This young man won’t let us in!” Aziraphale burst out, once more taking control of their mouth.

And then - oh dear - Crowley was leaning in.

He smelled of spice, and charcoal-

And burnt rubber, Madame Tracy added, unhelpfully.

Madame Tracy’s body was just slightly shorter than Aziraphale’s had been, so he found himself craning his head back just slightly more than he was used to. Crowley’s dark gaze flickered over Madame Tracy’s face, as though trying to find a trace of Aziraphale within it.

Aziraphale, quite unconsciously, forgot to breathe.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a moment, but for both Aziraphale, who was, for some strange reason, distracted by the sheen of sweat that had collected on Crowley’s soot stained upper lip - and Madame Tracy who did, inconveniently, require oxygen, it felt much longer.

Aziraphale blinked. Pressing his lips together, he swallowed.

Crowley leaned back and grinned, apparently satisfied. Flashing them a wink, he said, “Leave it to me.”

His voice was low, assured, and Aziraphale didn’t have time to consider the way it made something flip in his stomach - because Madame Tracy was hissing in their head.

Could you please breathe Mr. Aziraphale?

Oh. Right. Of course.

They drew a breath.

Better.

With a bounce in his step, Crowley strolled toward the tense guard.

He’s a friend, you said? Madame Tracy thought, looking pointedly at Crowley’s back.

A very good friend, Aziraphale amended. We’ve been through quite a lot together.

And it was impossible not to think of nights at the Globe, shoulders pressed together in the crowded theater, of quiet, content meals taken in elegant restaurants, of late nights spent drinking and reminiscing on centuries long past. Or, alternatively - the cold burn of metal around his wrists in that jail cell in Paris, and the feeling of utter elation upon hearing Crowley’s voice in the darkness and knowing he was saved. And that church in England, when Crowley had danced upon holy ground to come, once again, to Aziraphale’s aid.

I see, Madam Tracy thought - though Aziraphale was unclear as to exactly what it was she was supposed to have seen.

Before he could ask, Crowley was speaking.

“Army human!”

Aziraphale looked on, satisfied in the knowledge that the situation would be handled. Crowley had said he would take care of it, and so he would.

The Antichrist had risen, the world was on the edge of annihilation, and Angels and Demons eagerly awaited The Last War. But - now Crowley was here.

It was a comfort in spite of it all.

And then Madame Tracy piped up again. Hm. Yes, now I get it.

What are you even talking-

“My friend and I have come a long way, and-”

The sharp ringing of bells cut him off. And then the gate shuddered open.

Crowley and the guard stared open-mouthed as four children on bikes raced past. Pedaling furiously, they entered through the open gate.

- and then Crowley’s car exploded.

From that point, time shot forward - from the merciful splitting of Aziraphale and Madame Tracy, to the showdown with the four horsemen, to the rising of Satan himself - until Crowley stopped everything, time included.

It was only for a moment, of course.

And then Adam had done what no one else could. With one single, simple statement, he changed everything.

After that, it was all mercifully anticlimactic.

Adam’s father took Adam and the other children home, and Anathema kindly offered to squeeze the remaining adults into her car to drive them as far as the village.

It was quite a walk back to the vehicle, however, and as they walked, Aziraphale’s mind turned over the frankly mind-boggling events of the previous hour. The apocalypse had been started - and thwarted. And Adam had succeeded, so the world still turned round.

It was a lot to take in.

Crowley walked ahead - forced into a brisk pace by Shadwell, who was in hot pursuit, asking pointed questions about his eyes. 

Aziraphale, walking at an easy stroll, watched the demon from afar, thinking of all Crowley had done to avert the end of the world. Aziraphale certainly wouldn’t have been able to do it without him, of that he was sure. He should tell him - or congratulate him, perhaps? On an apocalypse well averted.

Aziraphale hurried to catch up, still deciding precisely what it was he wanted to say, when a soft touch drew him up short.

Madame Tracy sidled up beside him, linking her arm through his.

“Busy day,” she murmured, red lips curving in a tired smile.

“Indeed it was.”

“It wasn’t so bad, sharing a body with you. At least for a little while. A few more hours and I would have been ready to kick you out though.”

“Thank you. For sharing with me,” Aziraphale said sincerely. “It’s because of you I was able to get to Tadfield at all.”

Madame Tracy nodded and hummed. “It’s strange. Though what we went through should, by all rights, be unforgettable, my memory of recent events is already becoming a tad fuzzy.”

“Adam,” Aziraphale mused, tilting his head. “When he - er, fixed things, he may have turned back the clock, in a way.”

“Will I remember all of this then?”

Slowing, Aziraphale patted her hand.

“I don’t know,” was his honest answer.

“Well then,” Madame Tracy said, slowing with him. “Best get this out before I forget about it then”

“What’s that?”

“What are you going to do about that demon of yours?”

“Do about-” Aziraphale stuttered, “my demon?”

“Crowley,” Madame Tracy leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.

“What about him?”

“Oh come now, I heard quite a bit when I was in your head.”

“Wait, what did you hear?” Aziraphale questioned, equally confused and alarmed.

“I know how you feel,  Mr. Aziraphale,” she said, gentle.  “About him.”

“How - how I feel?”

“Yes. Don’t tell me you haven’t realized.”

Aziraphale, like all creatures, was in possession of a set of instincts. His, celestial and finely honed, warned him against extended introspection regarding Crowley - because angels were naturally predisposed to favor the status quo. And Aziraphale had always known, with Crowley, came the potential for world rending change. Change that Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

Pressing his lips together, Aziraphale glanced down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come now,” Madame Tracy said, giving him a nudge. “You know. It was written all over your thoughts.”

“What?”

Madame Tracy sighed, “That you’re in love with him, dear.”

The thing about denial is, it works only so long as an individual is able to actually deny the truth. And for Aziraphale, who was forced to face the truth so plainly stated, denial slipped through his fingers like ice melting to water.

Aziraphale’s steps slowed. And stopped.

In the distance, Crowley strolled, his lanky figure silhouetted by the oranges and reds of the setting sun. Aziraphale knew in the depths of his very being, he’d follow Crowley anywhere. And now, with truth rearing its ugly head, there was no denying why.

Aziraphale blinked, suddenly aware of all he stood to gain - and with Heaven and Hell out for blood, all the more he and Crowley stood to lose.

There, in the quiet forest, with the sky alight in warm pastels and the demon whom he could no longer deny he loved walking oblivious, just out of earshot, Aziraphale did something he hadn’t done in centuries. He cursed twice within twenty four hours.

“Well fuck.”

[hatsukeii]

hello! could you possibly do a scenario where tsukki has a secret passion for dancing, n one of his favs genres to listen to is like 80's music ?? i prefer it to be like raining n dark, just you two. i want tsukki n the girl to be like rly good friends, but tuskki lowkey likes her jus a bit n the girl is like totes in love with him, but they dont rly know about each other, until they like kiss after the songs stops. wkhsjdbf idk if this is too much but i love your writing sm!! thank you. 🥺❤

Okay that’s super cute so don’t worry lool

80s and indie music are SUPERIOR NO ONE TELL ME OTHERWISE.

I was looking through my playlist bc I have 80s songs but then I realised IT’S ALL ROCK LMFAO SO I HAD TO STEAL SONGS FROM MY FRIENDS JAHAHAH

Like I can’t make them dance to ACDC or like Guns n’ Roses wtf are they gonna do air guitars?

But then I realised I literally have a song called we can get together sooo👀👀👀👀

And I genuinely love it so much SOOOO👀👀

Earphones// Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: None lol I’m not even gonna warn for swearing anymore if it’s just swearing then none

Summary: You randomly discover Tsukishima’s knack for dancing.

You always saw him as a calm, or sly person. He was witty, mean, sarcastic, an asshole in every way possible. He was that one person that would call everyone out for looking stupid while dancing at a party, or the one that would remind couples on Valentine's day that it was to celebrate the death of a tortured and beheaded saint. He was pretty much the most no-bullshit person you’ve ever met. It was as if he simply didn’t understand the meaning of enjoyment, and thrived to seek out every opportunity to ruin it for others as well. He rarely went to social events, never showed up at parties, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile genuinely. Ever. 

Yet tonight, you witnessed something you never thought would happen.

You see, every night, you would take a good old stroll around your neighbourhood. Tonight was no different, except it was pouring, the constant pitter patter of your umbrella clouding out any other sound that was coherent. Sometimes you might run into street vendors, other times you would get a bowl of ramen to fulfil your midnight hunger.

Walking along the street to your favourite convenience store, instead of an eerily empty park, what you saw was Tsukishima Kei, the one person you were somehow close to, sitting in a park, with no headphones on. What a shocker.

Ever since you gave him those iconic white headphones, he has never gone anywhere without them. It was as if those headphones were a staple of your friendship, or more so, how much he meant to you. Just saying, those things were expensive. Like eighteen thousand yen expensive. You knew how much Tsukishima enjoyed listening to music, especially whilst doing work. You saved up for months, just to scrape together enough money to get him a brand new pair of headphones to replace his broken ones that only worked in one ear and had shitty quality. You would never admit it, but something in your heart clenched at the sight of the absence of those headphones you spent so much on. Many might have thought you were just sensitive, but they didn’t understand. In fact, no one would understand how insanely in love you were with him. 

“Hey, beanstalk.”

The blond looked up from his phone, his legs crossed on the bench.

“Well, would you look who’s here. It’s the infamous shorty.”

You approached his hunched-over figure, taking a seat next to him on the bench. “So, why are you here? It’s pretty late already.” Shoving your earphones into your ear, you hastily scrolled through your playlist, trying to hold off the urge to ask where his headphones were. “Lost my umbrella while going home from practise, it’s raining cats and dogs, I’m not looking to get soaked while going home, so I’m waiting for the rain to stop. Thank God I brought an extra sweater, my uniform is all wet and gross.” Chuckling, you punched him playfully, muttering a quick “Idiot,” before picking a song. You were very low-key about your feelings towards him. God knows how he would react if you ever told him. He would probably ignore you for the rest of your high school lives. Even worse, he might make fun of you for being childish and emotional. Just the thought of it sent shivers up your spine and a dark feeling towards your chest. Shaking your head, you tried your best to drown yourself in the terrifyingly loud music that was blasting through your earphones. From next to you, Tsukishima could hear every single note that was playing from the internal speakers. He scooted closer to you, much to your embarrassment. You grabbed your phone, pretending to scroll through it when in reality, you were just trying to hide the burning blush that was now painted on your cheeks. He paid attention to every little sound that came out of those tiny little earbuds, as if trying to figure out what song you were listening to was a fun game. Noticing the sudden absence of music in your left ear, you heard a tiny, almost breathy chuckle, followed by a pull on the earphone jack. “Pulp, hm? Nice taste you got there.” your eyes widened in surprise, mouth curling up into a wide smile. “Ahhh, never thought the great Tsukishima Kei would know them.” The blond smirked, shoving the rubber tip into his ear. “What do you mean? I have a playlist dedicated to this kind of stuff. 80s music will forever be superior.” You rolled your eyes, not falling for his shit. “Nonono, no way. Hand it over, I need to see for myself. I’m convinced you’re listening to raptor mating calls on a daily basis.” The blond shrugged, dropping his phone onto your lap. “See for yourself.” Opening up his Spotify, you were bombarded with a huge selection of his playlists. “Right there shorty, that’s the one you’re looking for?” Pointing his nimble finger at a specific one that was labeled “Old Stuff,” you scrolled through every single song, not believing what you’re seeing. “Holy shit, and I thought you would be into indie or EDM or something like that. This is some new information that I have to process.” Snatching his phone back, he wiped the screen with his sweater, turning it off. “That’s enough snooping for today. Come back at snooping hours again.”

It was at that moment, did the song decide to change. 

“Yeah, no. We’re skipping this shit.” You acted sad, fake pouting and huffing out. “But Tsukishima! All Star is God’s work, you can’t just skip it! Here, I’ll sing it for you!” The blond tried to look at you in disgust, but the smile he was holding back was clear as day, biting his lip as he tried not to laugh at your silly antics. “Oh God (Y/N) please no-” 

Too late.

“SomeBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORRRLD WAS GONNA ROLL ME, I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHEDDDD.”

“Absolutely not.” Laughing softly, Tsukishima managed to heave out.

Grabbing your phone and shoving it in front of your face, he unlocked it with ease, navigating his way through the five pages of otome games to find your Spotify. “Jesus Christ, never knew you were this desperate for a man.” The tips of his ears were red, one thought circling his mind. 

If she really wanted a boyfriend, would she pick him? 

Grabbing his arm, you begged for him to let you continue jamming to All Star. You were shaking him, trying to grab your phone, but nothing worked. “Nooo! Kei! Nooooo lemme listen to the Shrek sex anthem!” 

“No.” 

Scrolling through your usual playlist, his eyes landed on one particular song. “Hm? What’s this? You listen to Icehouse? Nice taste you got there.” Your grip on his arm loosened up as you looked up at him in shock. “You know them too! Yes! They’re very much adequate.” You stared in awe as the blond smiled from ear to ear, picking a song much to your dismay. “Yesss I love this song with my whole heart. My dinosaurs make way for this.” Hearing the similar synth, you instantly knew what he had picked. “Seriously? You like this song? It’s like cheesy as shit! This is so out of character for you oh my God Kei.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, completely done with you. “It’s a good song, don’t come at me. Plus, if you think it’s so cheesy, then just delete it.” You frowned. You liked that it was cheesy. You always imagined someone singing it to you, most of the time this imaginary person being Tsukishima. “I like this song too, it’s fine.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, your earphone jack being the only thing connecting you guys. The park felt weird. You felt weird. This whole situation was weirdly unreal. It was as if the two of you were stuck in a parallel universe, where you and Tsukishima were the only people that existed in that timeline. The silence was thick in the starry night sky, the streetlamps occasionally flickering as the song continued to play. Humming along to the addicting tune, you don’t even realise your body that’s starting to rock, arms swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the chorus. 

“We can get together,“

“Get up.”

A hand comes into your sight, willing for you to take it as you feel another tug on your earphones.

“What?”

“You wanna dance, don’t you?”

Never in a million years, would the thought of Tsukishima being able to dance even cross your mind.

 “What? It’s raining, I thought you said you didn’t wanna get soaked-”

“Just take my hand and dance with me.”

Hesitating a bit as you looked up at the blond, you raised a brow, grinning playfully as you let your hand fall into his, pulling yourself up and letting him take your other hand. You felt the cold droplets of water fall onto your skin and rolling off, the fabric of your shirt going damp.

“Just take one step forward,” he instructed, motioning for you to follow along with his dance moves. “Then take another step backwards. Everything else will come into place soon enough.” Lacing your fingers with his, the two of you danced in perfect sync, having the time of your lives. “I am learning so, so much about you right now and I’m all for it. Why’d you never tell me you could dance?” Tsukishima’s cheeks went a light pink, looking away bashfully. “It’s embarrassing.” Chuckling, you twirled yourself around, pulling on his arm as you forced his attention back onto you. “It’s not. I think it’s super cool. Do this with a girl and they’ll be head over heels for you in no time.” You mentally facepalmed yourself for saying that. His blush went from a light pink, to a dark red in no time, saturating his cheeks like paint. “Let’s test that theory out.” Mumbling to himself, he continued to guide you, twirling you around and hoisting you up at times.

“Baby we can get together, we can get together.”

The two of you were just jamming along now, not caring about your wet hair and soaked clothes. Tsukishima’s hair was now a damp mess, sticking to his forehead as he whipped his head from side to side, laughing as water droplets flew off his blond strands. Your hair was no better than his, (H/C) strands reflecting the light from the streetlamps as they hit your face with every sway of your head. The earphones were falling off at this point, but it didn’t matter. The two of you already memorised the entire song beforehand. All you wanted was to enjoy the short moment. Grabbing his wet hand again, you randomly started jumping to the beat, letting the blond follow along.

“Later sometime, you can buckle my shoes, you can pick up my sticks, why don't you open that door.”

You gasped in surprise as you felt a large hand spin you around one last time, before dipping you dangerously close to the floor, rainwater rolling off your face. The song came to an end with its final guitar chord, the reverb still ringing in the background. “So, what’d you think?” Tsukishima leaned down, his face dangerously close to yours. Feeling a Cheshire grin form on your face as your tried to raise your head up, you gave his nose a boop with your own, before falling back onto his hand. “That was amazing.” Giving you a cheeky grin, you could feel his breath on your face as he sighed contentedly. His breath smelled like mints, you couldn’t help but wonder how lips would taste too. “You good now, or do you wanna go home? I think the rain just stopped.

Still in that intimate position, you decided to finally ask him.

“Where are the headphones?”

“I didn’t want to get them wet, they’re too important to me. They’re in my bag.”

And that’s when your body decided to act on its own.

Your mind couldn’t even register what you were doing as you pressed a long, soft kiss on Tsukishima’s lips, feeling the heat radiating off of him.

“Now I’m good. Wanna go home?”

“Did you just-”

“Yes.”

Pushing you back up to a comfortable position, he stared at you for another ten seconds, face burning crimson as his mouth opened and shut repeatedly, trying to process what you just did. Finally snapping out of his thoughts, he awkwardly leaned towards you, before pulling himself back. After doing that a few times over, you were properly confused. Grabbing your shoulders, he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, before grabbing his bag from the bench he was sitting on, pulling his headphones out and hanging them on his neck, handing you the earphones.

“Wanna do this again tomorrow shorty?”

“11pm sharp, don’t be late, and I expect another kiss.”

“Whatever you say cutie.”

Tags:

@tiger1719 @burnt-tomato @thirstyvolleyballhoe @agentvicinity @izzyphantomgamer @sunshines-and-tatertots @sakusasgarbage @trashcanweeb @kaylacinderella @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @random-fandomlover @bokutokoutarou @for-ests @mariechan123 @justachillgirl @ewfilthymundane @just-another-bored-writer @inlwlevi @tiredgr3mlin @itmekisuu

I’m gonna check over the tags again tmr so feel free to dm or comment if I missed you or if you wanna be in the taglist

Eyyyy this isn’t that great but I hope you like it and feel free to give me feedback both good and bad lol love you guys I’m going to sleep now baiiii

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 1x10 Review

Act 2 was a great finale that capped off a great season though somewhat marred by Disney censorship. Let’s dig in!

Finally Ricky and Nini have found their way back to each other. Sweet callback to Ricky lighting Nini up with his phone as Nini does the same. Breaking Free was great though I had to keep pausing during the EJ to Ricky transition because it was so cringey. Ricky and Nini really do have the best chemistry on the show and it shines through this ep. Joshua did a great job improvising Ricky’’s confession to Nini as did Olivia reacting to it. Tim mentioned in an interview that originally Ricky was supposed to tell Nini that he thinks he kinda you knows in a callback to the premiere but on set he realized that it was too cheesy and decided to let Joshua come up with a confession based on memories of his and Olivia’s real life friendship. That was certainly the steamiest kiss we’ve yet seen on Disney + but it was well earned

 It speaks well of Tim that he recognized that his own writing wasn’t good enough and that he trusted his actors to take charge. It also goes to show how much of a difference it makes having the showrunner actually on set in Salt Lake, whether that was Tim or Disney’s decision. It’s a sharp contrast with Andi Mack where Terri the showrunner was based in LA and only rarely visited set while Michelle Manning was the producer in charge in Salt Lake, a split which I think hurt the show in some ways

That rainbow heart sign from the Mathew-Smith family was lovely. It’s great to see Seb’s family of Utah farmers being so supportive. This also confirms that Seb is out to his family, and since Miss Jenn seemed to greet Carlos’ father near the beginning of the ep it’s likely that Carlos is also out to his family

A historic first for Disney with a Seblos cheek kiss. Though of course while it’s progress it still isn’t equality. It’s not so much the Rini kisses that really drives home the inequality since they’re the main couple and were always going to kiss in the finale but rather it’s the Redlyn kiss. It’s not like Redlyn has gotten any real development nor did their story line really need a kiss so early. They got to kiss simply because they’re straight. That being said, it does once more show that the limits are looser on Disney +, we never would have gotten even a Tyrus cheek kiss on Disney Channel

Unfortunately Disney for the second ep this season released promotional photos of Seblos scenes that were cut from the episode itself. It’s not queerbaiting in the traditional sense but it is baiting the audience as they know that a lot of people are very invested in Seblos and seeing that rep on screen and Disney is willing to use that to draw in viewers while cutting the actual on screen rep down. What’s worse is that if it wasn’t for Disney itself letting us know that these scenes existed we’d never know that Seblos scenes were being cut. And of course, it’s a waste of time and money for the show to film these scenes only for them to be cut. A big complaint with Seblos this season has been their lack of development but that seems to be less on the writers who are in fact giving them more scenes then on Disney which is cutting them down to the bare minimum

It’s all shameless triangulation on Disney’s part, trying to be progressive but not so progressive as to alienate conservatives. It’s not like any homophobes are still watching the show after Seblos got together. So far it seems like the Disney censorship on HSMTMTS is coming mainly in post production like it was in Andi Mack S2 with the cut bash mitzvah scene and the edited look back which is awful but is still better than the much heavier censorship we saw in Andi Mack S3 that was coming in pre-production when things like Cyrus being able to talk about his feelings for TJ and vice versa were just never being written. Hopefully Seb being a main character in S2 means that the censorship lessens at least a bit or at the very least stays in the post production stage

In an interview done early on in the season, Tim talked about sometimes taking giant leaps and some times taking small steps in terms of the representation on the show and know we have a much better sense of what that means in practice. There was the giant leap of Seblos getting together at Homecoming and the small step of them kissing on the cheek. Afaik Tim hasn’t addressed the Seblos cheek kiss which is probably for the best and if he does I hope he has the good grace to not lie to the audience about his ability to have gotten an actual Seblos kiss approved. I do think we’ll eventually see a Seblos kiss though I think the earliest that could happen would be the S2 finale

Very telling that Ashlyn assumes EJ is behind Ricky’s exit and not a good look on EJ’s part to not tell Miss Jenn at least that Ricky left. . Good for him though for playing to lose and giving up the role of Troy to help Nini and Ricky. Confirmation that he paid for Gina’s ticket and we got our first Hell Yeah on the show. I don’t like it but it does seem like that scene was set up for Portwell in S2; at the very least it seems like Gina may have started to feel something for EJ

Pour one out for those poor audience members having to sit through that trainwreck of a second act. You know you’re really in trouble when you have to send your choreographer out there as an understudy

I loved Big Red’s little xylophone during the intermission 

Nice to see Nini and Gina end on a friendly, supportive note. Hopefully that continues next season

Kudos to Olivia and Matt for really selling the high school theatre actors barely keeping it together on stage aspect of the performance. Nini and EJ have so little chemistry that it’s almost hard to remember that they were dating for several months

Mr Darbus’ office set looked great. Nice touch to have Miss Jenn mouthing the lyrics to Wondering off stage

Lynne really sucks. Can’t say I’d miss her if we don’t see her in S2

Will be interesting to see how Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzara save their jobs

Realistically I don’t think Nini’s performance was strong enough to earn a spot at YAC; someone like Gina or Seb would have been a much more credible choice imo. Nice touch to have the Dean leave through one door and Ricky the other

Now that the season is done it’s hard to see any traces of whatever more mature direction former showrunner Oliver Goldstick wanted to go in. The whole season seems very coherent and consistent in terms of tone. We did learn from Tim and Olivia that her song All I Want was a re-shoot so maybe it was a replacement for a song or scene that was pushing the envelope more than Tim and Disney wanted

One thing that may or may not be connected is that EJ’s panic attacks from the original character breakdown made no appearance this season and who knows if we’ll ever seen EJ having panic attacks or suffering from anxiety. Disney seemingly had no trouble showing Jonah’s panic attacks on Andi Mack which is doubtless where HSMTMTS took the idea from but it’s also true that Jonah’s anxiety story line was abandoned halfway through S3 and though it’s likely just the result of bad writing it can’t be ruled out that Disney got cold feet over focusing on mental health in both Andi Mack and HSMTMTS

Looking Ahead:

One benefit of this review being so late is that we now know the spring muscial! Beauty and the Beast which seems to suggest that all future musicals will be Disney owned properties

Tim also confirmed that they will still be incorporating songs from HSM 2 and 3 into the show which will certainly help pad out the 16 extra songs they’ll be doing in S2. Having 12 eps will be a big help to the show; 10 eps just wasn’t enough to properly deal with all the characters and plots

HSMTMTS really turned out to be a delight and while I think S2 will be as well there are definitely potential issues ahead that will need to be deftly dealt with. Nini either going away to YAC and then coming back to SLC or just not going to YAC is probably going to be wrapped up in an unsatisfying manner. In all honesty this kind of plot would have worked much better if it had been saved for Nini’s senior year

Whatever plan Ashlyn is cooking up to keep Gina in SLC is also probably going to be poorly done as there’s no reason Gina’s mother would willingly leave her daughter in another state

EJ is either leaving the show after he graduates or they’re going to have to contrive some way to keep him around East High in future seasons

Seb now being a main will be interesting, if nothing else to see what Disney’s limits are. Tim has hinted at their being drama for Seblos in S2 and I hope that it serves to develop them and is not just a means to keep them apart so there can be two gay mains but no gay relationship. As an aside Tim revealed that Joe originally auditioned for EJ which is wild; it’s funny that both Joshua Rush and Joe Serafini auditioned for EJ when neither of them had any realistic chance of being cast

I have no strong feelings on the cast list for Beauty and the Beast though I do think it’s likely that either Kourtney or Gina end up playing Belle as I think having a black girl play Belle is just the type of subversion that would appeal to Tim. Miss Jenn did say that she wanted Kourtney to come speak to her over break and while Gina is a bigger character I’m not sure if Sofia’s singing is quite good enough to carry the lead in the musical while I think Dara’s definitely is 

I’d say it’s very likely EJ ends up either as the beast or as Gaston since he’s in what should be his last semester. And if Gina also gets a big role it would make it easier to play with Portwell in S2. If EJ is the beast I could see Seb getting Gaston in another subversion of expectations. Regardless I think with Seb now being a main and with Joe having one of the strongest voices in the cast that he’ll play an important role

Until next season Wildcats

[la-paritalienne]

Eve!!!! Need your thoughts about Taylor's album!!!! 💓💓💓💓💓💓

i love getting asked :”(((((( :”))))))) thank uuuuuuuu. let’s get to it. as usual, it’s an almost-first impression (normally i write my basic thoughts during the first listen – yeah i’d started doing it before getting this, you know, just in case – and then i review them w a second one, where i also select my favourite passage). sooo, let’s go

♡♡♡♡

the 1 — such sweet yet heartbreaking lyrics... very soft sound, if it sets the mood for the album im 100 per cent in! This one didn’t stick w me after one listen, but after the second i was like wooow! I love how she says waking up alone ughhh. 8

fave lyrics: persist and resist the temptation to ask you / if one thing had been different / would everything be different today?

cardigan — !!!!!!! the sound has that bittersweet something that gets under your skin and makes you nostalgic for something you can’t even pinpoint. it reminds me of the softest lana, especially in nfr (eg bartender!!). i’m in awe. instant obsession!!!! the ending takes you to another plane of existence – ‘cause i knew everything when i was young... i knew you’d miss me... you’d come back to me. also i’m crying. 10+

[it’s hard to choose bc the whole song reads like poetry but i’m especially obsessed w] giving me your weekends; once in twenty lifetimes; tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy; you drew stars around my scars

the last great american dynasty — storytelling on pointttt and sound, too! telling the story of someone she bought her house from?? the genius jumped out. she paints it like a romantic portrait, mad woman pacing on the shore, but then also gatsbian, the crazy parties, dali... and then takes it back to today w the key lime green dog, idk, iconic. i want to know this woman. this song truly takes you somewhere else, i thought it was a bit repetitive but then the bridge came in and the final vocals plus i had a marvelous time ruining everything, i have to stan! 8+

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen / she had a marvelous time ruining everything

exile — ok wow, bon iver’s voice is something else!!!! i was kind of ignorant when it came to him, i admit. his depth and rasp paired with how angelic she sounds... heavenly. sound-wise, but also thematically, this vaguely reminds me of tomorrow never came w lana and sean ono lennon. (one of my fave songs of all time maybe?). the way they enunciate i think i’ve seen this film before is literally a work of art all in itself, not to mention – well i’m mentioning it bc it’s worth it! – the you never gave a warning sign vs the way she goes over it w i gave so many signs. god this makes me feel sooooo sad and like, involved. it’s so beautiful. 10

you’re not my homeland anymore / so what am i defending now?

my tears ricochet — ok wtfffff??? everything about this speaks to my soul. the airy voice, the way she sets the scene... sunlit room, the funeral metaphor, you turned into your worst fears. i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace speaks to me more than anything, but just, everything about the lyrics. truly something else, cursing my name / wishing i stayed gives me chills everytime she says it. the beat that gets more insistent towards the end, with the bridge....... the high notes that then fade..... just wow. 10

and i can go anywhere i want / anywhere i want, just not home / and you can aim for my heart, go for blood / but you would still miss me in your bones / and i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky / and when you can’t sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies

mirrorball — love the lyrics, maybe a bit less the sound? i mean i do love the sound, so far i’m loving how softly produced and coherent this album is, but this one i wouldn’t listen to on repeat and maybe there’s something a bit whiny that i don’t love. powerful meaning tho, and who’d use a mirrorball as a metaphor for feeling like you’re fragile, trying too hard to be a people-pleaser and no one sees the real you? 7

i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me

seven — ah........ i started crying as soon as this one started, pleeease picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven....... like ok there’s no need to go that hard??? it’s so dreamy and like... naïf? in a perfect way. the way she says i still got love for you...... and everything else... she mentions folk songs... the purest love described in the purest way. i don’t think i have enough words to descrive the way this song moves me. like i want to listen to it again and again, to be able to feel like that again, but also i’m almost scared to listen bc it touches me too deeply. i still will tho hehe. 10+ (also just realised this is track 7 ok makes sense but my mind is blown. 100)

[this is literally deeper than a shakespeare sonnet so everything literally is my fave but, having to choose] and i’ve been meaning to tell you / i think your house is haunted / your dad is always mad and that must be why / and i think you should come live with me / and we can be pirates / then you won’t have to cry / or hide in the closet / and just like a folk song / our love will be passed on

august — i love the contrast between the lighthearted, happy singing and guitars and the sad lyrics. the story it tells is so simple and yet there’s so much poetry in that... plus it reminds me of fearless or even speak now?? which are like. the taylor that gets to my heart, tbh. the bridge and the outro made the song for me. 8,5

for me, it was enough / to live for the hope of it all / canceled plans just in case you’d call

this is me trying — oh god... lyrically this song is so raw and honest, it gives me chills! i do have to say, i don’t love how she says i just wanted to know (like metrically?? idk, im weird) but these are really just small comments on amazing songs, bc i feel like all i’m saying is wow this is great, lyrics and sound, but it truly is a complete and consistent work of art, easily listened to top to bottom each time. 8-

they told me all of my cages were mental / so got wasted like all my potential / and my words shoot to kill when i’m mad / i have a lot of regrets about that

illicit affairs — ok this goes without saying but i love storyteller taylor, it’s the taylor i grew up loving and singing to in my room. the thing about most of these songs, this one included, is that they probably grow on you after a few listens, bc they’re not made to be catchy, the production and backgrounds are always very soft and some i love more than others. this one musically maybe isn’t my fave but the narration is on point, and the bridge?? the fuckkkk. plus it has one of mt favourite themes ever which is so rarely spoken about, which is the fact that language you only speak w a particular someone you love, makes you miss them even more when they’re gone. or well not exactly this but i can’t put it into words, she did tho. 8+

you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else / and you know damn well / for you, i would ruin myself / a million little times

invisible string — the color theme!!! the guitar strumming!!! and the idea of an invisible tie w someone special... i do think she outdid herself w this album. again, not my fave soundwise, maybe slightly whiny when she goes meEeeEee? but, lyrically adorable and moving. 7,5

one single thread of gold / tied me to you

mad woman — maam...... this is iconic shit........ how could she say stuff like this w such a dreamy, breathy voice. musically i get huuuge lana’a nfr vibes again (which i mean. goals) but i also adore that lyrically it’s so taylor, no one would say this shit the way she does. adore how she sings to wrap your news around and bonus for women like hunting witches too, i do love me a nod to the fact that some women are so deeply filled w machism that they’re basically men in disguise. 8,5 

every time you call me crazy, i get more crazy / what about that? / and when you say i seem angry, i get more angry [isn’t this just womanhood condensed in a few lines]

epiphany — aw! it sounds like a lullaby, maybe it’s slightly ‘boring’ for my taste? meaning i get distracted which is surely a shame bc the words seem beautiful, but it’s so soft i just drift off? but reading the lyrics – for focus hehe – i’m moved. 7+

only twenty minutes to sleep / but you dream of some epiphany / just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you’ve seen

betty — okay byeeeeeeeeee. this is taylor at her finest! countryyyyyyyy, storytelling, lesbian jdjdfk no yeah I know I knowww, romance went sour. gut wrenching and beautiful, this feels like... watching a sad teen movie but w a sepia filter, idk. i dreamt of you all summer long oh my......... it’s like og taylor from her iconic first couple of albums came back but w all her baggage and growth and experience and better than ever. also why does taylor sing so wel about being in love w a woman????? well. 10+

betty, right now is the last time / i can dream about what happens when / you see my face again

peace — ..........yes yes yes. the high notes, the honesty, the syncopated parts where she says so much so quick and yet it still hits you. it’s not even a short song but it ends too soon, it goes by like that..... a poem. omg it just hit me this has flo vibes! especially from high as hope, for example grace or south london forever?? i mean... taylor doing alt folk country pop...... queen. give you my wild, give you a child?? ok ok. 10

all these people think love’s for show / but i would die for you in secret

hoax — weeeell the lana inspo jumped out w that piano!!!!! and like. mood. and lyrics...... this reminds me of wuthering heights or of lana’s tormented love stories (shades of blue.....). a powerful closer. poetry. 9

i am ash from your fire

♡♡♡♡

okkkkk this was a flattering review, very well deserved imo since the review is mine gjgjhkhk i agree w myself. thank you again and as i always say, feel free to come back w your comments! and have a great dayyyyy! much love

[yupitsfinnhudson]

Who: Finn Hudson and Alexis St James @alexis-st-james Where: Alexis’ room When: 11/10/20  What: Alexis gives Finn a makeover Warnings: None (but I did leave our new nicknames in for your viewing pleasure)

the rat of all your dreams The only time Finn had ever worn any kind of make up was in the various stage plays that he’d taken part of in school. But he wasn’t really nervous for Alexis to put it on him, though he was nervous about making a good impression. He’d picked out the nicest shirt he owned for the meeting, and put on shorts instead of jeans in case he got sweaty like the last time. Then made his way over to her place and knocked, shoving his hands in his pockets in case she could tell they were sweaty.

the wife of obama, mary shelley Alexis could almost hear Fauna ask why the Domme was putting so much effort in her appearance, when she claimed to not like Sawyer’s brother. But why wouldn’t she spend time doing her own makeup to flawless perfection, if that was the skill she was advertising and practicing? It was the same reason you wouldn’t go to a hairdresser who cut in their own bangs in a misshapen way. Look professional, act professional. Also Alexis knew how good she looked when her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab someone, and she did like being fawned over just a bit. She heard the knock at her door, heading over, her initial polite smile as she answered the door morphing into one of curiosity as she took in his outfit. Sure, she wasn’t in the ratty Comfy Clothes only Fauna and Lottie had seen her in, but the nice shirt and short combo were a stark difference from her yoga pants and bralette she herself was wearing in the Florida heat. “Hudson,” She greeted, beckoning him to follow her as they headed over to her bedroom for more privacy, unsure of her roommate’s plans but not wanting to be interrupted. Plus, all of her stuff was in her room and she couldn’t bear moving it all. “Sit.” She indicated to the stool at her dressing table. “How are you?” She then asked, gathering her stuff together. He gave her a bright smile when she opened the door, her appearance taking his breath away a little, he was sure she’d gotten prettier than that last time that he saw her. He should have brought her flowers, she was beyond beautiful. “Hello Miss Alexis thanks very much for inviting me.” He said cheerfully, trying to shake off any lingering nerves and to make a slightly more coherent example than last time. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He added, before he obediently took a seat on the stool that she had indicated to. “I’m doing good.. just sort of getting used to all my classes. But it’s nice to have my brothers all together again, and to have Evan too. How about you? You been finding everything okay?” He asked her with a signature goofy Finn smile. He liked watching her while she started to bustle around, his eyes studying her expressions carefully as she did so. Heart fluttering a little over the  fact that he could see the smooth patch of exposed skin between her bralette and leggings, and found that it was almost a struggle not to reach out and try to run his fingers over that exposed skin. There was something in the way that Finn so earnestly said her title, that wanted her to hear him say it on repeat. However, she instead just nodded as he spoke, his voice though similar to Sawyer's not as irritating, even if she did falter when he mentioned how happy he was at all his siblings joining up. She never saw the big deal in it, honestly, but then again her relationship with her siblings -- Jesse especially -- was sour at best. "How are you finding classes, then?" She asked him, wondering if a person like Finn blossomed in these types of environments. "Yeah, it's basically like my last school but less insane." She told him, moving closer to him, holding up her variety of foundations to see if any were a close match. "I may have to mix my foundation with some bronzer for a match, I'm a bit more pale than you." She mused, wanting to explain every step to him, him being fairly new to the makeup world and all. Finn swung his arms just a little as he sat on the stool. He blushed involuntarily when she mentioned classes, he was still getting used to the idea that he might have to sit next to someone like Alexis while the teacher talked about paddles. “Oh well it’s a bit of a chance of pace from college last year, less drum kits than when I was doing music.” He smiled, as she came back to him. Trying not to seem too overwhelmed when she got close to him. “Yeah.. Sawyer told me about some really odd stories about your last place.” He admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Oh that’s okay.. I’ll be honest the last time I had make up on it was just like that white stage stuff that only comes in one shade.” "Stop that," She murmured without thinking when the corner of her eyes noticed his arms swinging, not one to entertain nervous ticks.  "You play the drums?" She asked, nonchalantly, gently mixing the foundatin on his jawline with her finger, surprised at how soft Finn's skin was. She refrained from rolling her eyes at the odd stories comment, because the word she would have used was horrific, but she just assumed that Fauna's Hudson was merely protecting his brother from the actualities of the last school, and she wasn't going to shatter whatever illusion Finn had in his mind about it. "Odd indeed." Once she was satisfied with the match, she applied some foundation to her beauty blender, dabbing around his face. "I'm gonna blend it now, you'll feel me....bouncing it." She explained. "Stage makeup, are you a performer?" Alexis then asked, wanting to keep her questions vague but expressed some level of interest towards him. He immediately ceased swinging his arms when she told him to stop and folded them across his chest instead. “Sorry Miss Alexis.” He responded nervously, swallowing a little.  “Yes, I have since I was like ten.” Finn told her slightly more easily. “I’m going to start a band.” He added a little more abruptly than he meant to. Trying to smile at her but then stopping when she started to put the make up on his face in case it somehow messed with the look. He nodded when she told him the thing about blending though he had no idea what she was talking about. “Oh I sing a bit.. I was in a couple of plays in high school.” Finn explained. “I actually played Danny in Grease!” Alexis was proud of herself for resisting to roll her eyes at his band comment. “What type of band?” She asked, her own lips twitching at his abundance of facial expressions in the last five seconds, trying to just focus on the blending. “I bet you made a good Danny.” She murmured, as she finished up the foundation. “Concealer now.” She said, flicking it under his eyes, flattering slightly when she realised he didn’t even need it that much. Fuck boys and their effortlessly perfect skin. “You have really good skin,” She told him instead, “Barely needed any concealer, what’s your secret?” She joked. “Well um.. I think Rory said we were indie rock alternative with a splash of punk and the on stage energy of a K pop band. But I can’t always tell when he’s joking and when he’s serious. At the moment we’re mostly playing covers.” He explained, twiddling his thumbs together for a minute and then stopping in case he annoyed her again. A blush returned to his cheeks when she said she imagined that he made a good Danny. “Thank you Miss Alexis I did my best. Obviously I couldn’t be as good as Rebecca who played Sandy but she was like.. ‘destined for broadway’ for something.” He explained, thinking of his very enthusiastic co-star. Her comment about his skin made him smile too. “Oh my Mom got me this really nice soap from the grocery store to wash my face with. I think it’s a Shay Mitchell product from pretty little liars.. because it’s got her butter on it.” Honestly, Alexis wanted to tell Finn that the band idea sounded pretty dumb, but she didn’t know if that was because of the word vomit he just spewed out to her, or just the general involvement of Rory at all. “What type of covers?” She then asked to keep her harsher words at bay. Alexis couldn’t help but smirk at the feeling of heat radiating from Finn’s cheeks, the blush peeking through the layer of foundation as she contoured his cheeks, admiring how much sharper his jaw looked with the added effect. “Destined for Broadway people rarely make it to Broadway, I bet you were a much better Danny than she was Sandy.” The Domme wanted to chalk down to her ego-stroking of the Switch before her as her hatred for those narcissistic Diva wannabes, her brother Jesse popping in her head for the first time in years. She froze slightly at the Pretty Little Liars comment, her brain lagging behind until she realised what he meant. “Shea butter?” She asked for confirmation. the rat of all your dreams04/11/2020 Finn was surprised she was interested in the band at all, he was sure that she got to talk to a lot of people in real bands all the time so he wasn’t sure why she was asking him at all. “Mostly like eighties stuff.. um I really like David Bowie and so does Rory.. um he’s lead singer so he mostly gets veto. He said nothing by journey which was a shame but I don’t really mind.” Finn responded good naturedly having to physically remind himself not to swing his arms as he was so prone to doing. He needed to stay still, or the make up would get fucked up. He knew this much. His blush deepened when she doubled down on her stance that he had been a good Danny. “Honestly Miss.. I’m a bit worried for Broadway if Rebecca doesn’t make it. She was always very determined.” He explained with a little laugh, thinking fondly of the high school diva. He’d never returned her feelings in the way she wanted him too, but he wished her all the best along the way. “Yeah! That’s it. It smells really good.” He told her. “Can you really blame him though? Journey are awful. My old school had this teacher obsessed with them.” Alexis murmured, reaching over to grab her highlighter, showing him the palette. “To help you glow, like a Cullen.” She teased, wanting to roll her eyes at how she was playing into the goth stereotype people assumed about her, obsession with vampires and all. “Determination doesn’t equal talent, trust me on this one.” She told Finn, the soft highlighter brush going over his cheek bones. “Eyes.” She ordered, waiting until they closed to smudge a little bit on. “Keep them closed.” She moved from him for a moment, to choose the palette she wanted to use, mixing in some colours with a brush. “I’m doing the base now.” She informed him, sweeping it along his closed lid. “It does, but I don’t think Shay Mitchell has any sponsorship with it, sadly.” She told him, feeling momentarily bad for shattering the illusion. Finns face fell momentarily into a sort of pout. “I like journey and I think everyone is really harsh on them because of this weird teacher that you all had. Sawyer used to be like fine with journey before he went off to school, and now he turns my CD player off when I put them on.” He complained though not with any real mal intent, but then quickly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be moving his face around and quickly set it back to something more natural. He did laugh at her comment about the Cullens. “I’m sure I’ll be a heartthrob back in like 2008..” He joked back, unsure of how long ago Twilight was a big thing, he just knew that it had made girls at school want to bite him all the time. “I trust you Miss.” He responded, closing his eyes for her and momentarily allowing himself to indulge in a brief fantasy about a situation where she was this close and he was blindfolded. Before realising that was a very bad idea and thinking very strongly about his grandmothers horrible smelling downstairs cupboard. “Oh.. um.. my bad I guess.” He responded embarrassed at his mistake. "Sweetie, pouting doesn't work with me." Alexis reprimanded half-heartedly, clicking her tongue, but very amused at the Sawyer story. If only Finn knew the truth about the previous school, about the hell his beanpole brother and Fauna went through for their relationship to be taken seriously, the mental torture all three and more of the transfer students survived through. But she didn't want him to find out, she realised, knowing she had a million stories on the tip of her tongue, swallowing all of them down in a snap decision. "You're a heartthrob in both 2008 and 2020." She promised him, blending the colours of the eyes now. "Look at me a second." The Domme then instructed. "You really suit this colour. And don't worry, I'm sure Shay will be the face of some soap one day. I'll get you some." She teased. Finn shrugged with a little embarrassment at having been caught doing something that he considered to be something that Odette might do. "I wasn't pouting.." He grumbled a little, but was placated when she told him that he was a heartthrob. Sticking out his chest a little with pride that she thought he could be considered even somewhat attractive. "Thank you Miss Alexis." He responded with a little more enthusiasm than was probably needed for a simple compliment like that. He looked up easily at her, and his face broke into yet another smile as she doubled down on complimenting him. "Um.. what colour is it? Maybe I could get a shirt in the same colour." He suggested. "I'm sure she would make really good soap, the sunglasses she made were always advertised on instagram to me for some reason." She bit her lip at him puffing his chest at the heartthrob comment, keeping a mental note on ways to inflate his ego, if she ever needed to. She leaned in to finish blending, the smell of his cologne waving off his clothes almost intoxicating, and she was almost tempted to ask what it was, but didn't want to seem weird. "You're welcome." She said instead. "You have to wait, but it'd be a pretty shirt colour too. Eyeliner now.” She teased, getting the eyeliner pen, expertly drawing the lines for the winged look, taking a moment to examine each eye to make sure they lined up. "Well, have you Googled her?" Alexis asked in regards to the actress. "I'm really glad that I'm not colourblind." Finn said, expressing the thought that passed through his mind as her brush worked over his face. "I think it would really suck not to be able to tell what was what." The eyeliner pen tickled his eyes a little bit, and he scrunched his nose to avoid moving. "I.. don't think so.. but sometimes I used to let Odette use my phone when hers died.. so I guess it could have been because of that?" He mused. "I only really watched pretty little liars with Stassie... so I don't think it was even on my Netflix." “I’m glad too,” Alexis agreed, bemused at the random thought she decided to share with him, resisting the sudden random urge to boop his nose when he scrunched it. “Odette?” Alexis asked, her stomach turning at the name, the image of her cold mother burning into her mind. “Maybe, who’s Stassie?” Alexis then asked, out of curiosity. She buffed out a few mistakes or what she wanted to improve with his face. “Okay I’m going to add mascara now. It’s going to be a weird sensation.” She informed him. “Open your eyes but look down, do not flinch.” Alexis emphasised, pointing the mascara wand at him as a threat. “My step sister.. she’s like 5’3 and loud.” Finn explained. “If you’ve not met her already believe me you’ll know when you do, Odette isn’t the kind of person that you forget.” He smiled fondly at the thought of his step sister, Odette could be a lot to handle but Finn was pretty used to it by now, it had just sort of become a part of his life. “My ex girlfriend.. we were together on and off for a while.” He explained, not feeling any particular way about his ex at this time. “Okay Miss.” He confirmed opening his eyes, he didn’t like the idea of the little mascara brush at all, but he didn’t say anything Alexis wondered briefly if pointing out people’s heights was a knee-jerk reaction to Finn, maybe developed to be probably hearing about how tall he and Sawyer were for most of their lives. Truthfully, Odette didn’t seem like the type of person Alexis ever wanted to know, but she held her tongue. The ex comment made Alexis’ stomach tighten weirdly, and she reminded herself it was because she had no time for such petty high school relationship cliches like the “on-and-off”, “will-they-or-won’t-they” dilemmas on sitcoms her dad guest starred on. Finally deciding to not say anything, Alexis focused on not jabbing Finn in the eye. “Boys always have such nicer eyelashes, it’s unfair.” Alexis murmured mostly to herself as she worked on him, continuing the test of the makeover in silence. “Just need some setting spray.”’She declared, when she finished the last coat on the lashes. the rat of all your dreams11/11/2020 She was quiet for a minute and she didn’t comment on Odette or on Stassie which Finn couldn’t help but notice. He worried for a moment than he might be boring her, and then he guessed that maybe he wouldn’t want to hear about his step sister or ex-girlfriend if he was superstar cheerleader Alexis St James. He swallowed that little moment of awkwardness, and focused on what she was talking about instead. “How long does setting spray last?” He asked curiously, he was fine with the whole make up thing but he didn’t know if he wanted to wear it to a football practice or like when he went to go and get Mcdonalds tomorrow. Especially because he had no idea if make up held up while he was sleeping, he didn’t want to look all smudged and weird for the rest of the week. The question about setting spray almost made Alexis laugh out of surprise. “Up to 16 hours,” She told him, “if you don’t rub your face. I don’t expect you to keep it on that long, but I just want to make sure the eye makeup doesn’t run for a bit to test it.” She explained, as it was a new way to apply makeup, which could greatly affect how long it lasted. “But,” She reached over, grabbing her bottle of micellar water and some cotton pads, showing them to Finn, “these will take it off. Easy peasy, and soap of water.” She then added, lips twitching at the thought of his confusion of Shay Mitchell and Shea Butter. “You can take it off any time after about an hour, if that’s okay. I just want to see if it holds up before I do it myself.” He nodded with interest, it was kind of weird to him that there was this whole world that he didn’t know anything about. He knew like, who James Charles was but he didn’t think that really counted for anything when it came to make up knowledge. “That’s okay Miss.. honestly I was just sort of curious. The stage make up wasn’t really that complex, they just sort of slapped it on.” He explained. “Come to think of it.. I don’t really remember taking it off…” He’d be more worried that oversight would have had some sort of negative effect if it hadn’t been so long since it had happened. “That’s fine Miss! I don’t mind keeping it on for a couple of hours if you want.. I just wasn’t quite sure if it would be the best look at football practice.” He explained, he knew some guys would be really insecure about make up and stuff and before Kurt he was definitely more cautious but these days who really cared if he was wearing mascara or not. She couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her over his seemingly panicked state at not taking off high school stage makeup. “It might have come off in the shower,” Alexis suggested softly, reaching over for her hand mirror, holding it up so the reflective side was facing her. “Well, it’s certainly not a look for football players, no. Plus it’d be moot since you guys have to wear helmets anyways, I think it’s best for cheerleaders. But you look pretty regardless.” She complimented, half teasing. “Would you like to see?” His ears went a little red when she laughed, because he definitely felt like she was laughing at him. But he also discovered just how much he loved seeing her laugh. It made him laugh just a little bit too, his face settling in a smile. “It must have, because otherwise I’d still be really pale and Odette is always talking about how if she doesn’t get her make up off that her pores will be huge. And I think my pores are okay.” He shrugged, eyeing the mirror with interest. “I’d very much like to see thank you Miss.” he replied, finding that he was actually somewhat excited to see the result. "Your pores are more than okay," Alexis assured him, surprised at how much about makeup and skincare he had taken in over the years, wondering if that were a result of just having so many girls in the house. She let herself smile slightly more, less of a smirk and more soft, at how polite he was constantly, and she knew after today she'd probably arrange to see him again. Even if she wouldn't inform him of this just yet. "Well...tada." She said, flipping the mirror over, gauging his reaction. Truthfully, Finn didn't have to like the look, it wasn't necessarily for his face anyway, except for the contour that she wanted to experiment with his sharp jawline, but she knew she'd be a little hurt if he hated it, though she had a feeling if he did, he'd be too polite to say so. He was excited to see himself, and then was almost surprised when he did. He didn’t really know that he looked like himself, but it was kinda cool to see all his features outlined. “Sick.” He said as he turned his jaw. “I’m like James Charles now.” He told her, referencing the only man he could think of who regularly wore make up other than maybe Kurt. “Way cooler than that weird white stuff I wore for the show.” He confirmed with a grin, it wasn’t something he’d probably do in his spare time but he did find himself just sort of staring at himself and preening a bit. Alexis smiled despite herself. Of all the reactions to those who she gave makeovers too, this was one of the most unique responses. “Better than James Charles,” She argued, nose crinkling at the mention of the beauty YouTuber. “I’m glad you liked it, and thank you for being so good for me as I did it. Nice and still.” The Domme praised. “So, just wait a couple of hours in your everyday routine, and let me know if there’s any smudging or anything. Afterwards, you can wash it off.” She then instructed him, eyebrow raising at how he was preening in the mirror, no doubt entranced by his exaggerated jawbone, as it was something she couldn’t stop glancing at either. “Thanks again, Finn.” She then said, her tone going back to neutral, her face once again careful not to show any direct emotion on it. Finn noted that James Charles was not someone that she wanted her make up to be compared to really, and resolved not to mention him again. He flushed when she thanked him for being good for her. “No, no problem Miss.” He responded, trying not to imagine her saying something similar for other reasons. He took in her instructions and thanked her again, promising that he would text her to see if anything changed and that he would like send a picture of any changes for her. He was almost dazed as he left her apartment, Alexis St James had not only spoken to him again but she didn’t seem all that annoyed by him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

[404fmdminjung]

lyrical verification ; anymore

summary: written for @fmdjiah​‘s song. minjung gets inspired on a friday night thinking of a boy of her past. unresolved scars and she writes it out for someone else to sing, knowing the words are too close for comfort.  warnings: none wc: 904, not including lyrics

she thinks of him on a friday night in the middle of downpour season. the perfect storm to get herself electrocuted in had it not been for a stroke of fate — earphones in, dangling to the inside of her trench coat playing a tune she’s introduced to. the rain’s relentless, yet it keeps her inside a maelstrom of thoughts impeaching the milky canvas of her skin. and it’s the rain that batters on, leading her to think of him.

she could die out here, she thinks — or maybe she’d catch an awful cold that traps her inside a fit of coughs and a fever that might match the high temperatures of her heart. but she doesn’t flinch. no. she remains steady tapping her bare toes to the wet pavement as the words write themselves in her head.

when she comes home, the thoughts become a cesspool of her unwinding thoughts, all straggled in the void of her headspace. and she’s frantic. running around her apartment, water clouding her wooden floors as she searches for a piece of paper and a pen. 

maybe the rain was an excuse for her to reel in the aftermath of her decisions. or maybe it was a moment of self-depreciation — a physical reprimand on her own actions. either way, it provides no closure to a girl so fragmented, carrying an even more unstable heart that seems to drag against the resistance of the floor with each empty movement.

and all minjung can resort to is — “all of it is a burden to me.” 

the first words sprawl themselves out on paper easily, and impulsively. love was a burden, suffocating her. no. drowning her. no. smothering her. no. it all resorts to the same unyielding conclusion, it kills her from the inside out — each moment of love comes like a piece of ammunition, loaded and locked. piercing each inch of her exposed heart. the pieces of recollection that come from the night his arms encased her in a wall of safety, or the times his kisses would speckle themselves underneath the dimly lit candles. it only remains as poorly healed scars — jagged, crooked and half-open. and maybe, that’s exactly how she feels about a song that drags itself to be an eulogy to her misery.

Everything from when we were together Shows that things were hard That night when I was in your arms That moment when we kissed All of that remains as a scar

and she knows she’s a terrible person in all the cruelly lit lines of her stoic expressions and words that wield themselves into pieces of weaponry. a villain at best in her story she crafts for the great end to a one time escape of love. ‘i don’t love you anymore.’ she mutters, yet — the heart doesn’t juxtapose upon the blueprints of the mind, and she finds herself lost in a trance of a limbo, floating somewhere in between how she ought to feel and how she really feels. 

time does nothing to heal wounds, and she’s a bitter victim of its effects — still straggled along, dazed in a cloud of discomfort. and she coaxes herself into thinking for a split second, that maybe she’s allowed to feel this way because the pain at this point becomes an unbearable weight that relieves itself in the melancholy midnight. 

Don’t tell me that I can’t help how I feel It was really hard even up till today

when she’s forced to question how she remains in this state, a full circle of events leaving her stranded in the first place she started — tattered and bruised, painting her heart in solemn blues and somber purples — the words no longer phase themselves into coherencies, just smeared thoughts of dubieties. 

because in the beginning, she was trapped inside her own game of charades. a facade of whimsical words and surface-level expressions, never meant to ever puncture deeper than the skin settling on her bones.  

one touch of intimacy that heaves something heavier than sensual pleasures, then she loses control. it jolts her soul astray, outside of her body. and suddenly, she becomes wounded and lost — relinquishing every trace of the control she has over her trembling heart. 

she’d repeat to herself each time, it’ll be okay, it’ll be okay. and maybe this was her version of permanency that life would gift to her like a sheltered prize of her sufferings coming to fruition. but fear leaves her dwindled and done, and she runs once more.

the words come easy to her, and her pen rustles with the blank paper now becoming saturated with splotches of black ink relieving itself. she writes and writes until her wrists become achy and shaky, and the red tinged eyes find solace in a meager blink. tonight, she plans to write until the pain becomes numb. until the pain no longer becomes a force that wrecks her soul.

All of that At first, I didn’t feel anything But the deeper this got, when I was in your arms I suddenly got so scared of the end So I tried to be alright

catharsis doesn’t feel as good as she’s imagined it to be. it leaves her more frantic with more pops of thought that peek past each word she writes. and now the phase of dejection ensues — a silent sigh that echoes through the hollow shelter of her body.

“i’m sorry.” she whispers underneath another breath that hums inside her lungs. 

 I’m sorry Please understand me I know it’s not easy But I can’t do this anymore

and maybe she writes it to shush her own growing guilt that looms over her daily knowing the sentences would never reach its rightful owner. and maybe it’s just wishful thinking to presume such an audacious sentiment — that it’ll efface each speck he’s drawn on her. then again, she knows the harsh reality that settles deep in her stomach — he’s become permanent. permanently etched into her heart, while the physical presence remains off in the distance.