#whats better then singing tom petty? nothing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedropenguin28 · 8 months ago

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Samuary frankie f reader spent the night togther but things are going to get completed for him fast he can't control his emotions

Warning smut frankie gets emotional and angry takes over him drugs abuse frankie losing it pet names

An I got so many plans how this going to turn out at first it's a slow burner

18+no mintors

Chapter 6 just and me and the ocean beach

Frankie pov

" I turned around nuzzled into n/y kneck her smell of her sweet perfume is sweet. I kissed her on her bare naked shoulder, and she hummed sweetly, moring honey moring frankie she turn around her sparkling blue eyes and her bed hair her cutie dimples popping the sun dancing on her naked body "I moved my hand up and down her body she smirk some eger this moring hum I kiss along her jaw line "shh let me take good care so you I slid my handher thighs she panted I "then I sneakily with my fingers she moaned that it pretty girl fuck I kneeled by her your okay I got you she throws her head back frankie I am here baby "you feel so good baby I pull my fingers out "and she sat up and ,kissed me " we better get back hum "I quickly got changed " we can spend the whole day together of you want sure "okay have you got everything yeah okay

"I opened the door, and the beach was empty. I closed the beach shed and began to walk " do you want me to walk you back the villa no I will see you later okay kissing her u had fun last night okay " once I left her I walked back home "getting there you are "I looked it was James "how did you get in you gave me your spare key oh yeah

"Hum, last night clothers yeah he pointed what his that he pointed is that hickey morals maybe "some get lucky last night yeah he winked yeah could say that who the lucky girl "I don't kiss and tell frankie I am your best mare okay is n/y you mean tammy and Lauren and Grace mate yes "it happed oh yeah "I am spending the whole day today with here you mean another date no I just like her okay . What about Tina she knows it fun okay " Well, see you at work tonight, okay

"I quickly freshed up having a shower and getting changed in cargo shorts tanned colour with white t " which probaly come off when I get the beach "I grabbed my car keys " I drive a beetle I stopped "and walked back to the kitchen " maybe I should make food "I bent down looking for a basket or something I rember James was trying to impress a girl so I used the basket making sandwiches which I didn't have a clue about " placing them In the basket and grabbing 2 root beers "and a towel off my sofa I walked out "putting all the things In the car "boot " I got in the car driving to n/y villa I was excited "I stood out of car resting arm on the door "she walked out

My eyes lit up she was beautiful frankie the way she says my name. I melt, wrapping my arms around her. You look cutie, I laugh, thanks. "Lady's first, I open the door. I was thinking going to the other part of the town or private, okay I kept my hands on the wheel placing my other hand on her thigh she kept looking at me " do you want music on sure okay turning my playlist up omg she laugh what looking at her she throw her feet on my dashboard I love this song maybe I sure "she turned up know I am free falling " we both carried on singing you like Tom petty yeah he has good songs " well you have good taste in music she smiled " we Carried on listen to my playlist " her hair blowing and her fingers drumming on the window " "belting the song out " finally arriving this is better smirking at here it's lovely frankie "I opened her door "and walked to my boot "she looked and you even made food nothing 5 star star a couple of peanut better and jelly sandwich yeah "well I looked "Carring the basket why am I nervous my hand was sweated " she smiled and intween are finger we walked "laughing and Joking me Goff balling around " so have you enjoy this yeah " well Iike you she blushed I smirk hum yeah I didn't know how was i feeling "

We carried on walking by the harbour "she smirk you have to be pretty rich to get on these hum i knee down undoing a boat just a speed boat looking at her "frankie want are you going you are crazy am I "what are you going having fun "I held my hand out and she "stepped on the boat what happend if we get caught we want I promise .

" I pulled the cored and drove the boat she sat back until we was far as the can and just bobbing in the sea "I stood up peeling my tee shirt off "and sitting next to her "she stood up and stripped down to her swim wear we both ate are pinci on the boat "until jumping in the ocean we splash each other moving her wet hair I kissed her

"This is perfect. Yeah, she smirk kissing me again "we spent most of the time in the ocean and chilling "so what is your favourite movie " mine I pointed hum probably god farther really she lay back on her arms "yours probaly rom com "how did you know she learned forward because she kiss me ' all day it was nice spending time with her " until the sun was setting over the beach we better head back yeah .

"I drove the boat back retieing it no one will no yeah "walking back to the back I put the things back In the boot closing it I put the engine on " opening the door n/y was dancing the brust of engery in her ho.ding her hand we both danced on the hood of the car " music blasting August was playing " I placed my hand on her waist looking into her eyes she was singing and I moved closer kissing her. We better get back. Yeah, we got back In the car n/y rest her head on my shoulder she smirk, you smell nice yeah "are you coming the br tonight? Yeah okay I will make you a special cocktail pinching her chin playfully, okay we arrived back in the town dropping her off kissing her goodbye I kissed her lips driving back to home "Throwing My keys in the bowel I went to get changed for work " Throwing a shirt on and getting my bar keys and things "walking got oi James smirk " did you have a good day n/y yeah here he hand a joint I inhaled it "blowing smoke is she going to the car tonight yeah "so are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend I don't know maybe we'll. Hung up man

" we contain to walk to the bar James was winding me up finally we was at the bar it was full again taking people order and things next "I looked over she was with her group of freinds "frankie James clicked that is 3 vodkia frankie hum drinks sorry 'man I kept looking, over she was chatting to Todd the snake he got his hand placed on her waist she smiling " here are the two vodkia i turnway frankie Tina leaned over yeah can I get another drin, sure pouring her another drink " cingrent James waved sure j was High throw most of the shift" the bar got busy Todd was sitting with them he moves closure kissing her "what are you doing after this shift Tina smirk nothing do you want to hook up sure " grabbing a drink of vokia downing it frankie slow down what " this is a party turning the music up the bar was in full swing "it was getting late the and James lock up you staying for a drink no I have plans okay " I left the bar what if n/y is having sex with him right know "I got in fuck shouting I punched the wall smoking another joint " fuck pushing my hair back the door went Tina was standing there kiss her hungry I picked her up carrying her to the sofa we had sex feeling her I groaned grabbing protection you feel good my head was hazed keep going she scared my name one was thrusted rolling over she kissed me same time this week again hum "I looked at my blooded frist and pass out my bed I can't stop thing of n/y is she with him I want her this is a mess

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

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How I listen to each of my favourite bands (a bullet point piece)

Aerosmith: They're on the radio. It's the fifth time today. Somehow never the same song. Until tomorrow, anyway. One will make you homesick. One will make you sit in slack-jawed awe of Joe Perry. One will make you curse the day he was born. They all make you love him. In the back of your mind, your thumbs hurt.

The Beatles: You have all the studio albums on your iPod nano with the scroll wheel. It has 2GB of space, so there's nothing else. You sing along to the songs with your best friend in 7th grade during school. The teacher tells you to keep it French or to shut up. You switch to "Michelle" because you're 12 and a smartass.

Bon Jovi: You're on the bus home from a long day of fifth grade. When you get home, the same old, same old. You don't know it yet but this is the beginning of your depression. As you graduate from Crossroads to a 2-Disc Best Of, everything feels worse. You work on a puzzle in the basement and even though maybe no one will ever love you, Bon Jovi understands.

Buddy Holly: For the first time since high school started, you have a friend. She's wonderful and she understands you. Maybe there's 3 time zones between you, but it doesn't stop you from digging a hole deep into a fantasy world that you live in for months with her. Buddy's music is simple and the records are bright yellow. Maybe everything will be okay.

David Bowie: You didn't care when he died. You didn't know better. You got a CD of greatest hits for your birthday two months later. You still didn't understand the fuss all too well. A few tracks pop out at you and you get the album that features them. Dad insists you listen to the album in the dark on the floor (he doesn't say while smoking weed, but if it were the 70s, you would have). Finally you understand: David understands you.

Def Leppard: You're 13 and trying to find your place in the world. Trying to make a name, so you write. As the characters who make no sense are fleshed out in 1667 words every single day, the drum loop that finished Pyromania follows you around.

The Doors: You don't know how Jim Morrison came into your life. Maybe it was by an experiment gone wrong or a curiosity. Your classmates question why you're reading a book with a shirtless man posed as if being crucified. You don't know how to answer that you think you might be him. You hadn't believed in reincarnation, but he sparked something inside you. You can feel consciousness slip away when he plays his game called 'Go Insane'. You hold a Celebration Of The Lizard for a poetry slam and the adrenaline pushes you through your fear. You feel Jim's words in your actions for years. He watches you when you sleep.

GNR: You send your siblings out of the basement. They aren't old enough to hear swear words in music and you want to listen to Appetite in the dark. You want to jump on top of the couch and punch the floor. You can feel Axl's anger and it courses through you.

Journey: You've been told you look like Steve Perry. You aren't sure if it's a compliment or an insult. You think you sound like him. You know all the words to Don't Stop Believing at the school dance. Your first memory of your boyfriend was him singing it at the talent show. Your last memory of him is singing I'll Be Alright Without You, severing the final tie. Wheel In The Sky opens your next day. Things don't feel okay anymore.

KISS: You're 4 years old and your Dad is watching the scariest freaks you've ever seen on the TV. In the next scene, the scariest one is sitting and talking to people who look like your grandparents. You forget about them for 7 years. They show up again in your newest hyperfixation and you give them a chance. The freaks who once scared you strip away your fears and set you free.

Led Zeppelin: Your imagination was just opened to the possibilities of stories beyond the realms of reality. What you thought you never knew opened you to a new layer of your past that you didn't understand. The tendrils of influence wrap around every part of your future.

Motley Crue: The writings paint them as the villains. In many ways, they are. In just as many ways, they're the same scared kids you are. For better or for worse, they bring you into a community. There, you experiment hurting yourself in ways therapists don't look for. The greatest friend you could ever want.

Ninja Sex Party: They're a rock band for kids who don't understand rock bands. You have no physical media for them and it feels like you may never get the chance. Copies are limited. So your spotify is thick with every song they've ever recorded. They're fleeting and they're your rock.

Queen: You know just a little too much about them. They're bigger characters than the radio lets them be. You love Bohemian Rhapsody before you begin to hate it before you learn to love it once more.

Rammstein: As they bleed for their art, so you bleed for yours. Perhaps out of spite, perhaps out of desperation, but plague cuts your work short. It cuts you from the glory you could have had. The first album you've ever waited for the release of by a band.

Reckless Love: Never before has a band felt so attainable and yet so far away. Your family doesn't understand them, so you hide them away. The only recklessness was falling in love.

Rolling Stones: Angie helped you through more than you know. The lips are on your tapestry for a reason. You were blind for so much for so long. You never gave them a chance. They're using their chance now.

Rush: Once shrugged-off nobodies. You gave them a chance out of curiosity and desperation. Now you can't understand the possibility of never having liked them. They brought you your first great grief and your first proof of miracles. The red star of the solar federation burns bright. Assume control.

Styx: You're standing in the snow. The bus is an hour late. You can't contact your parents because they took your one method of contact as a punishment for not making your bed. You're listening to a Greatest Hits on your iPod. Crystal Ball. It's an hour. Blue Collar Man. You get home and no one noticed you were late. They're eating without you. Suite Madam Blue.

Tom Petty: The news hits you. Your throat is blocked and you don't say anything. You listen to I Won't Back Down before telling your Dad. He was the first you experienced while being a fan. He wasn't the last. You torture yourself artistically in his honour. You attend a tribute concert and scream yourself hoarse.

Tuff: You want to leave home and block out all the memories as best you can. Stevie makes it impossible. But he's also one of the only ones there as all your best friends who aren't online forget your birthday. He acknowledges you.

Van Halen: The grief is insurmountable. For weeks afterwards, Eruption makes your heart sink. 5150 makes you cry instead of imagine pleasant nonsense as it once did. There is no comfort. If he can go, what's stopping anyone else?

The Who: Maybe they got to your head a little. You were sitting in a room in school for hours each day, completely alone except for Tommy playing on your tiny laptop. No supervision. No classmates. Just your monstrosity of a project and Tommy.

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thelastdj · 2 years ago

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One, two, three, four

Requested by: definitely not requested by @caspian-eats-guitars

Request: On your classic rock imagines book could you do a tp one where its mudcrutch era mike campbell x tom petty and like theyre practicing together and both wondering how the other feels sorta thing? Thank youuu

Warning(s): none

masterlist

It was already half past two when Tom finally pulled up in the driveway in front of Mudcrutch Farm. Loud guitars could be heard from all the way outside. It appeared as if the band had started without him. He rushed inside as quickly as possible and tried to set up his bass as inconspicuously as he could.

“Jesus, Tom,” Ben immediately started once they finished, “You’re over an hour late.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not having an excuse prepared.

Benmont rolled his eyes but thankfully didn’t argue further.

“What are we doing today?”

“Up in Mississippi,” Mike informed him, “You said you had the bass figured out?”

“Yeah I think I got it,” he nodded.

Tom turned around to the rest of the band to see if they were ready, and then, “One, two, three, four.”

They played without vocals, not having set up a microphone beforehand, nevertheless Tom still mumbled the lyrics to himself quietly. He’d have to sing them at some point anyway. Tom tried to stay focused on the bass, the recently written notes were still somewhat unfamiliar.

When the solo finally arrived he allowed his eyes to wander around the room a bit until they came to rest on Mike. It was fascinating to watch him play. His fingers flew across the fretboard of his guitar with such precision and ease, it seemed as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. Suddenly Tom became painfully aware of his own playing when he started losing track of the bassline. First one wrong note, then two more, and he had lost it completely.

“Fuck,” he hissed and quickly tried to pick it up again.

When he glanced up again he saw Mike staring at him. The guitarist raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘What was that?’ and for the second time that day Tom didn’t have an answer, so he shrugged. Mike held his gaze for a few more seconds, before realizing he was staring and turning back to the guitar.

They ran through the song a few more times, but they never managed a rendition where everyone was perfect. Much to Tom’s dismay, most of the screw ups were his, but how was it possible to focus on playing bass when he could feel a pair of dark brown eyes on him while he played. He had caught Mike looking in his direction a few times, but every time Tom tried to meet his gaze, the guitarist happened to become very interested in his own guitar.

Frankly it pissed him off. The whole ‘trying to catch the other staring’ thing was something high schoolers did. Not grown men. Especially not grown men. Tom knew how he felt, he was sure of it, and it didn’t make sense. But feelings like that barely ever made sense, did they? But that wasn’t exactly what frustrated him. It was the way Mike would blatantly stare at him, but bashfully look away if he ever caught him looking. It was the way he would seem like he wanted to say something, but then he’d catch himself at the last second and pull back. Maybe Tom was reading too much into these small actions. On other days they would act just like any two friends would. It was probably nothing. Mike definitely didn’t feel the way he did, and it would be much better for both of them if Tom just forgot about everything before he did something stupid that could mess up their friendship, the band, and a thousand other things.

Despite the odds, and despite trying to ignore it, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he had a chance. It was a pathetic thing to hope for, but not all things you hope for you get, and this probably was one of those things.

“Tom?”

“Huh?” he spun around coming face to face with a certain curly haired guitarist.

“You seemed out of it today,” Mike noticed.

“Yeah, umm…” Tom looked down at his feet, not wanting to look up into Mike's dark eyes, “Didn’t sleep well I guess. Dunno.”

“We could run though it a couple of times, just you and me,” Mike suggested, before he considered how that might sound.

”Because, um, Randall’s got a date and Ben-”, he tried to explain himself but Tom cut in before he could finish.

“Yeah that’d be good. Thank you.”

He smiled in relief and sat down on the coffee table. Tom plugged in his guitar and moved to sit opposite of him. They were far apart enough that their guitars wouldn’t knock against each other, yet he could feel Tom's knee brushing against his.

“Where’d the others go?” Tom asked suddenly.

“Hm?” Mike looked up, “They went to Dub’s. Didn’t you notice?”

His brow furrowed comically, “No. I- I guess I spaced out.”

“You ‘spaced out’?” Mike laughed, he couldn’t help himself, “Ben and Charlie had a whole ass argument about where they wanted to go. You didn’t notice?”

Tom didn’t look hurt at his laughter, in fact a genuine smile was spreading across his face as well, not the one he used for pictures, but the one that graced his lips whenever he was really happy. ‘Why do I know that?’ Mike asked himself. It was true, Tom did have different smiles, but it surprised him that he knew that. He had never noticed such a small detail about any of the other guys. Then again, the other guys didn’t make him nervous when they were sitting only inches apart. For a second he wondered if he made Tom nervous too, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Why would Tom feel like that too? Other men might, but not Tom.

“Hey, Mike?” Tom asked, drawing his attention away from the thoughts beginning to invade his brain.

“Mi-ike?” he repeated in a singsong voice, “I think this time you're the one that spaced out.”

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking what song we should do?” he said, grinning as he added, “Since I’m not too good at Up In Mississippi I thought we could do that one again.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure,” he said, maybe too quickly.

“You okay?”

Tom was watching him closely, now those blue eyes were completely focused on him instead of staring into the distance at nothing. It seemed as if Tom could stare into his soul, seeing every thought that was currently racing though his mind.

“I’m fine,” he assured him, “Let’s go.”

Tom didn’t look entirely convinced at his statement. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think the better of it. Instead he started tapping his foot to the beat and began the count off.

“One, two, three, four.”

Mike wondered what he wanted to say. What stopped him? Was it the same thing that stopped him whenever he wanted to confess? Or was it the opposite? Whatever it was that Tom wanted to say was going to plague him, he knew that already. Tom rarely decided to remain silent once he felt the need to speak, so whatever it was must’ve been important. Most times the words left unsaid were left that way to make life easier. And other times, they just made everything a thousand times more difficult. Maybe he’d never know which applied here, or maybe he would find out soon. Only time would tell.

#tom petty x mike campbell #tom petty #mike campbell #tom petty & the heartbreakers imagine #classic rock imagine #mattie writes #fanfic

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pen-paper-and-ink · 4 years ago

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Champagne Problems

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Sam eventually went to back to his own apartment around noon, leaving Aelin with plenty of time to focus on her English assignment. Instead of a final test in English, there was a final paper, and Aelin was struggling with what words to put down.

She knew the book inside and out; the words just were not coming to her today. She could usually just sit at her computer and let the words flow out of her, but that was not happening. She eventually just went back and skimmed through her outline, getting herself to refocus. She finally gave up a half an hour later and resorted to texting Rowan.

“Want to come over and study. I’ll order takeout from Emry’s. It will be just like old times.”

The response came only seconds later. “I’d love too, but some of us have class in an hour.”

She could practically here the snort in his reply. “Could you possibly skip this class and study with me instead?”

“I would but it’s the last class before the final, and I need the review.”

“Boo. You suck.” She emphasized with an emoji that was sticking its tongue out at him.

“See you later, Ace :)”She swore he refused to use emoji’s just to spite her.

When she was finally done pouting, she eventually pulled her phone back out to text Lysandra, who easily agreed to come over. Although Lysandra was not diligent as Rowan when it came to studying and making study schedules, she was better than nothing, especially when Aelin was having trouble concentrating.

She showed up to Aelin’s apartment wearing an oversized fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of black leggings, as well as two chocolate bars. She might now be Aelin’s favorite person.

She definitely was not Aelin’s favorite person the first time they met, though. They were both petty and stubborn and got along about as well as cats getting a bath. That eventually changed the march of their freshmen year, when Aelin chased off a shady guy who was trying to follow a very drunk Lys into the bathroom at a frat house. Lysandra had been her constant companion since then, especially when it came to topics including clothes and boys.

“Hello, Babe,” Lysandra chirped happily as she strode into Aelin’s apartment. She shrugged off her bag and dropped the candy onto her plush sofa. Aelin went to wrap her harms around Lysandra who returned the gesture. “I brought chocolate as a study motivator for the both of us, but you already smell of candy.”

Aelin groans. “Shut up. Sam bought me this perfume, it’s his favorite.”

“Mhm,” Lysandra hums giving Aelin a conspiratorial grin, “I think he like’s that you’re his own personal snack.” Lysandra says wiggling her eyebrows.

Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend, “whatever.”

“You smell good, babe, just really sweet. Even sweeter than that bath and body works body spray that everyone bathed their selves in in middle school, if that’s even possible. But I think he likes that. How many times has he bitten your neck when you have been wearing it?” Lysandra asked with further eyebrow wiggling.

“You’re way too into our love life. How long has it been since you’ve had date?” This time it was Aelin’s turn to wiggle her eyebrows.

“It’s been a while,” Lysandra moans loudly, but she turns her grin back onto Aelin, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

Aelin sighs loudly and slumps back onto her couch. “It’s not like he does it often.”

Lysandra snickers and she lounges next to Aelin. “So, I see it’s getting pretty serious. I even saw the picture he keeps of you in his wallet.”

“In his wallet?” Aelin snorts. “I didn’t think that people still did that. I thought the real milestone of a serious relationship was making a picture of your significant other your home screen on your phone.”

“Yes, you relationship guru. Are you ready to study now?”

. . .

It turns out that Lysandra was the perfect person to get Aelin to finish her English paper. About two hours after Lysandra arrived, Aelin had finished her paper, submitted it, and was able to eat her chocolate bar as a reward. They then watched a shitty romcom on Netflix until Lysandra had to leave for her evening class.

That now left Aelin plenty of time to get ready to go to the Cadre’s for the night. It also gave Aelin some time to harass Rowan about his class.

“How was class?” Aelin texted.

“Good. Did you finally finish your paper, you demon? Bribing me with Emry’s and everything.” Rowan replied.

“I finished it and submitted it and everything. I even ate a celebratory chocolate bar without you.” She brags.

“I just wanted you to know that I am rolling my eyes at you.” Was his only response.

“Would it kill you to just use the emoji?” Aelin demanded.

“Yes.” Well at least she had her answer.

“See you at the Cadre’s in a few hours or so?” She inquired.

“Yes,” was once again his only response. Boys, Aelin thought rolling her eyes. What was with boys and their one-word answers. With that, Aelin pulled up Spotify on her TV to blast some music as she prepared for her night.

She was having fun running around her apartment sing- screaming the lyrics to Teenage Dirtbag as she prepared dinner and tidied up her apartment. Pop-rock and other angsty songs which she listened to as a teenager, always brought back fond memories. Her friends always made fun of her emo music in high school, so she decided to switch to some more mainstream stereotypical party music when hanging out with her college friends. The mainstream stuff like Doja Cat and Cardi B, stuff that was always playing loudly at clubs and house parties.

Aelin also had a soft spot for love songs and romantic ballads. Frank Sinatra always reminded her of her parents spinning around their living room on a weeknight. She always thought that they were disgustingly in love. Always holding hands and kissing in front of her and her friends. Aelin now regrets giving them crap about it, especially since the time they had together ended up being cut short.

She ends up eating her frozen pasta dinner over the kitchen island as she hummed along to an old fall out boy song. She went to check her phone and saw a message from Sam which simply asked if she was going to be at the Cadre’s in an hour, she sent back a simple yes as a response and finished up her dinner. Once she was done, she decided that it was probably time to get dressed for the night.

Aelin loved getting dressed up. She found it calming. Once she picked out an outfit she would methodically paint her face and do her hair. She scanned her overflowing closet, her gaze gliding over black cocktail dresses, sportswear, blazers, sun dresses, and band T’s. She decided on a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized concert t-shirt since she just wanted to wear something simple, and the Cadre’s was a fairly run-down dive bar, though Aelin didn’t mind being overdressed, she loved her clothes and wasn’t afraid to show off and look fabulous doing so.

Once she was dressed, she went into her bathroom to do her makeup. She blended concealer and foundation into her skin, and painstaking lined her eyes with black liquid liner. She had decided on a classic cat eye with red lips, something you could never go wrong with. She reached down for her tube of lipstick then remembered that Sam got kind of soppy and romantic when he was drunk and reached for a liquid lip instead.

She then quickly curled her hair and accessed her appearance. Her skin was flawless, her eyebrows were groomed to perfection, the eyeliner accentuated her blazing blue-gold eyes wonderfully, and her crimson red lips went well with the look. Her golden hair was voluminous in big beach waves, she overall was pleased with her appearance, especially after spending the entire day in lounge wear studying. It felt good to be put together after a day of lounging around her apartment while trying to write. Overall Aelin thought she looked hot as fuck.

She quickly pulled on her heeled black booties, grabbed her bag and she was out the door.

. . .

The bar was so loud, the baseline of the song that was playing was all that could be heard. Lysandra had left the group about an hour in, to go flirt with some guy she had met previously that night and had eventually went home with him, after checking in with Aelin. Aelin dutifully took down the guys information, with Lys promising to check in with her later in the evening. That left Aelin to hang with the guys.

They had all gathered tonight. Sam, Lorcan, Conall, Fenrys, Rowan, and Aelin. They had all had a few rounds and were now all laughing over stupid shit, even Lorcan, who Aelin didn’t know could even laugh before tonight.

They were all giddy over the thought of finishing the school year. Rowan, Lorcan, and Sam were all graduating in a week, and Aelin and the twins were officially 75% done with their education. There was a lot to celebrate and drink to.

Aelin’s thigh was pressed against Rowan’s in the booth as they started arguing over which actor was the best Spiderman. That was the one habit they had kept from the time when they hated each other, the arguing. Rowan and Aelin were known to argue over everything, though now the disagreements were over trivial things and mostly just involved teasing. Rowan was arguing in favor of Tobey Maguire, which Aelin made gagging noises over when he finally confessed as to who her thought the best actor was.

“I’m sorry to inform you,” Aelin started, elbow on the table starring up at her best friends face, “That we cannot be friends anymore. I simply cannot be friends with anyone who thinks that Tobey Maguire makes a better Spiderman than Tom Holland. That’s blasphemous, and I will not stand for it.”

“You can’t mess with the original, Ace.” Rowan responds looking serious. “He just cannot be beat.”

“Yeah, Ace.” Conall responds, apparently feeling the need to weigh in on their argument. Rowan frowns at him, no doubt from the fact that Conall called her Ace, which usually only Rowan called her that, with the exclusion of Sam who had recently gone about calling her that. Rowan has always felt a little possessive over the name Ace.

“No, No, No,” Fenrys butts in, his words slurring slightly, “I agree with Aelin. Tom Holland is simply the best. Also, have you seen his lip sync battle? Tell me Tobey Maguire could pull that off. I dare you.”

“He can’t,” Aelin laughs, “He simply can’t.”

“I also agree that Tom Holland is the best Spiderman.” Sam says with a sly smile.

Rowan frowns at him. “You’re only agreeing with Aelin because she’s your girlfriend.”

Sam laughs, gets up and slides onto the opposite booth and sits next to Aelin, “No, no one can compete with Holland’s acting chops.” He says as he throws his arm around Aelin’s shoulders.

“There’s only one way to decide then,” Conall says with a smirk. “Lorcan must be the deciding vote.”

Aelin and Fenrys both protest loudly, claiming Lorcan had no taste, and that Lorcan would choose Maguire just to spite them.

Rowan shuts the protests up by turning to Lorcan and asking for his vote.

Lorcan looks sheepishly around before he says, “I actually think Andrew Garfield plays the best Spiderman.”

The group eventually quiets back down, as the night begins to come to an end. Lorcan was the first one to head out, claiming he had a final tomorrow. Fenrys left soon after, receiving a text from a semi-frequent hook-up asking him to come over. Conall then convinced Sam to play darts with him, beating Sam every round. Sam still seemed to be enjoying himself though, laughing every time he missed one of the rings, and once the board entirely. Aelin never understood why bar owners thought it was a good idea to put a dart board in the middle of drunk men with questionable aim, but who was she to question it.

Sam and Conall’s questionable game of darts did, however, leave Aelin and Rowan alone for the first time that night. Aelin had been missing spending time with her best friend. It seemed that every time they tried to get together, outside of their morning runs, they were busy or surrounded by other people.

“So, how are you Buzzard?” Aelin asks with a slow smile.

“How are you, fireheart?” Rowan asks, far too seriously for the night they have been having.

Aelin’s heart begins to pound loudly in her chest. He hardly ever called her that, only when he was feeling particularly affectionate.

“All’s good.” She replied, still smiling. Her heart pounded faster still when his fingers brushed against her cheek.

“An eyelash had fallen.” Was all Rowan said, still gazing at her with an intense stare.

“Oh.” Aelin said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Rowan only gave her a sad smile as he stood up. He ended up tripping while trying to remove himself from his seat, which made her burst out laughing. Rowan, who was usually graceful to a fault, had tripped. He was more drunk than she had initially thought, he must be excited to be graduating.

“Do you need help?” Aelin asked.

“I am fine.” Rowan growled back.

“Are you sure about that?” Aelin asked, trying to hide her laughter. “You seem a little unsteady on your feet.”

“I’m fine, I’m going to head home for the night.” Rowan said, regaining his balance and his usual stoic expression. He grabbed his jacket from where he had been sitting.

“How about you come home with me,” Aelin offered. “You seem a bit unsteady there, Buzzard.”

“I’m fine,” Rowan said again. “I’ll get a cab. Goodnight.” Rowan threw her one last smile, then exited the bar, never bothering to turn back.

. . .

The dreams usually began with a dizzying array of colors, then quickly moved on to flashes of memory. Her heart begins to pound so loudly she can hear it in her head, in her dreams. Once her senses are overwhelmed with the shadow of memories and the deafening sound of her own heartbeat, is when she would stop breathing. The lack of air is what usually wakes her from her slumber.

Aelin Galathynius quickly padded across the floor of her bedroom to her bathroom, closing the door behind her, where she then vomited into the toilet. She always made sure the door to the bathroom was closed and locked, so Sam could not hear her, or accidently open the bathroom door in the middle of the night to find her lying on the floor next to the toilet.

After Aelin was done emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she slumped down onto the floor. The cool tile against her back, where her loose sleep camisole did not cover, always seemed to ground her. The hot flashes, the insanity from the dreams and then the vomiting always began to dissipate once she felt the cool tile against her body.

She laid on the floor for a while, breathing in and out and waiting for her pulse to return to normal. The memories she tried to escape during her day, where always ruthlessly unleashed during the night, pursuing her where she could not escape them. Although she couldn’t escape the dreams and memories, they were significantly better within the last few years, only occurring every once in a while, instead of every night.

Aelin thought back to her freshmen year, where she would drink all night long, or get into fights, just to try to stay awake just a little longer so she wouldn’t have to face what was waiting in her subconscious. Aelin was good at that, pushing things away, not examining anything too closely in case it might trigger a panic attack.

Aelin would eventually have to get up, brush her teeth and make her way back to bed where her loving boyfriend was sleeping, but she allowed herself to rest for a moment more on the floor. Though Sam knew what happened when she was eighteen in veiled terms, and through short bursts of vulnerability, she couldn’t get herself to admit to him that she still had panic attacks, and nightmares from her previous years. In fact, the only person who knew she still suffered through them was Rowan.

Rowan was her constant star and steadfast companion when it came to the pain of suddenly losing someone. He was also well aware of the way she tried to deal with it afterward, for that was how they found each other. They were both so wrapped up in their grief and their own self destruction that they couldn’t see the other person in front of them. When Aelin pulled her head out of her ass, as Aedion called it, and finally called a truce with Rowan, and later became friends with him, is when Aelin realized that they had the same grief festering inside them. They also had the same self-destructive streak, so they vowed to find their way out of the madness and grief together.

For a moment Aelin wished Rowan was with her, gently coaxing her get up and brush her teeth, rubbing his hand on her back soothingly, waiting for her pulse to slow back down. Rowan always knew how to reach her, how to soothe her.

Aelin slowly got up, and eventually made her way back to her sleeping boyfriend who was unaware that anything had happened. She tried to fall asleep next to her boyfriend, but she couldn’t, she was too busy wishing Rowan was beside her with his soothing touch luring her back to sleep.

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@rowaelinismyotp

#champagne problems #celaena sardothien #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #sam cortland #throne of glass #tog #au #lorcan salvaterre #lysandra ennar #fenrys moonbeam #connall moonbeam

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 13 ~The Reunion~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Obstacle Course ...

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

"What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said."

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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The full moon illuminated Jamie's and Claire's path as they made their way to the cottage into the cold night. It seemed they were the only two people in the world, walking in comfortable silence, lost in their own respective thoughts, and the only sounds to be heard were their footfalls and the dance of the trees. Inhaling deeply, Jamie pulled Claire into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the crown of her head, and in turn, her arm slid familiarly under his jacket to settle around his waist. For the first time in five days, every cell in his body was alive and buzzing, and it felt amazing to hold and have her close again.

Earlier, after the excitement and stramash outside Christie's apartment building had settled, they'd gone back in search of Quentin. It hadn't taken them long to spot him where he'd leaned on the wall outside the pub working his phone, most probably trying to call Claire. Though Quentin had looked like he could go for a few more round of drinks, to his relief, he hadn't put up much of an argument when Claire had firmly suggested it was time to call it a day. They'd escorted him back to his lodgings, making sure he had everything before heading for home.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them.

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom.

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa."

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief.

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie."

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?"

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it."

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!"

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home."

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?"

Jesus! "Outside."

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself.

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?"

"Aye."

"Where did her hands go?"

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?"

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?"

"Oh, um ...around my neck."

"And what about your hands?"

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there."

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably.

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy.

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?"

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..."

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours."

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted.

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?"

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need.

"Is that what ye want?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want."

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?"

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop."

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough."

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard."

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly.

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach."

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!"

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen.

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated.

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

Signing off now and wishing you a fabulous weekend. Stay safe and always take care! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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earthfire-75 · 3 years ago

Text

I don't know what to say about it,

When all you ears have turned away,

But now's the time to look and look again at what you see,

Is that the way it ought to stay?

Kashmir

Chapter Two, Part One:That’s the Way (Sleepwalking)

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music and beta’ed by @lady-jane-revisited )

I woke up the next morning and got out of bed. It was then I realized that I was indeed in a bed, when I had fallen asleep on the couch. Robert must have moved me when he came up to the room. I shook my head and went back out into the main room to get my clothes, quietly and quickly getting dressed. Sure enough, there was Robert in my place on the couch. I took the room key once more and made a dash out to the hall. Unfortunately, I was stopped by Cole.

“Enjoy yourself?” He asked sarcastically. “Honestly, though, I figured you’d be coming out of Jimmy’s room. Since he found you and all. Such disloyalty.”

“Do you actually know what happened last night, or are you just talking out of your ass?”

“I know how things work around here, girl. More than you do. It would have been bad enough if you had been with Jimmy. But Robert? That just looks bad for you. Half the other roadies already think you're getting special treatment just because you’re a girl. Myself included. This? Just reinforces that assumption.”

“I’m sorry, should I have slept out in the hallway? You know what, I don’t have time to stand here and justify to you where I slept last night. I have things to do before I officially start my job this morning. If you’ll excuse me.”

I stepped forward, trying to walk past Cole, but he stuck his arm out to stop me from leaving. Thankfully, before he could say anything further, G came around the corner. Less fortunately, Rogina was right beside him. It seemed they had been talking, but stopped upon seeing the scene in front of them. Rogina came to my side, glaring up at Cole, but it was G who spoke.

“Is there something wrong?”

Cole immediately dropped his arm and straightened his posture. “I was just explaining to the newbie that employees don’t sleep with the band. Even if she is a girl.”

G’s eyes narrowed at Cole. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“And I was explaining that it’s none of his damn business and I got a couple of things to grab from the drug store across the way because I currently have no toiletries or anything to pack my stuff in.”

“You’re right, it isn’t any of his business. That being said, you were supposed to get everything you needed yesterday.”

“I know and that’s on me, but everything was so rushed yesterday. And I know it’s not going to be any less so today.”

G sighs but nods. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you, my dear.”

“You’re just going to let her go?”

“Yes, and if you’re the reason she’s late coming back because you refuse to get out of her way, not only will you be picking up her slack, you can carry her things as well!” G boomed at him.

Rogina piped up beside me, “I’ll go with her, help her get what she needs so it goes faster.”

Cole just threw his hands up and stepped to the side. “Fine!”

Rogina roughly bumped her shoulder into Cole as she walked past him, glaring daggers at him before we headed to the elevator. We were silent for some time as we made our way to the drug store across the street.

Rogina grabbed a shopping basket, “Sorry that you had to go through with that Anj. Cole’s always been fucking prick that loves to cause trouble.” She tossed in hair brush, “If he or anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

I smiled as I added in shampoo and conditioner bottles, “Thank you. I’ll be okay, I can handle him.”

Rogina sighed as she placed a tube of toothpaste in, “Well let me know if he does anything, okay?”

“I will. Come on, we better hurry.”

We had managed to grab what we could during those five minutes. Having her here was great, given the time crunch and that she could help me find the necessary items that I would need, plus a backpack to my belongings. She offered to help pay for some of the items, but I let her know that I could take care of it. Once we were done, we hurried back to the hotel and found everyone in the lobby. G and Bonzo were conversing with Cole, their arms were crossed as they stood before the bearded man.

Robert spotted us and walked over, “There you are, is everything alright?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I just needed to get a few things-”

“No I mean, I heard about what happened this morning. G told me. I’m sorry Anjelika,” he continued.

“Really, I’m okay Robert. Besides he can say and think whatever he wants to,” I assured him. “I doubt he’ll be much of a problem anyway.”

Robert’s eyebrows pulled together, “Even so-”

G’s voice bellowed, “Alright everyone, make sure that you have what you need! It’s time to head out!”

And with that, we all grabbed our stuff and made our way out to the buses.

Robert had been kind enough to already have my things with his, so I was able to quickly transfer it all to the backpack. He mentioned something about needing a bag for my dresses so they wouldn’t get all wrinkled, but I didn’t have time to respond, quickly closing up the backpack and getting on the roadies’ bus. At least the trip to the venue wasn’t all that long.

Once there we got out and started unpacking the equipment to take inside and set up while G took the bands to go talk with the venue owner and crew. The whole process took quite a few hours and we took a break for lunch before resuming. We finished about three hours before the show was to start and slowly, everyone else left the stage.

Alone at last, the other roadies, Cole included, left the stage after everything was set up, I went to pick up the acoustic and sat at one of the stools and began to play. I didn’t know it, but I was being watched by Robert and Jimmy at one side of the stage, Rogina on the other.

“Life detaches

Much less loved

A taste familiar

But watered down

And each day passes

Into the next

Like television

Flickering unseen”

“She sounds so sad,” Robert whispered to Jimmy.

“She sounds…lost,” Jimmy responded thoughtfully. “There’s something else, too. I get shivers whenever I hear her sing.”

“I breathe

But I don't often think about it

Anymore

It's become a habit

Those embers fragment

That fire was

Just a fracture

In the ice“

Bonzo came up behind Robert and Jimmy. “Hey, guys!” Robert and Jimmy shushed Bonzo at the same time.

“Okay…” he responded in a whisper. “But why are we watching Anjelika like a bunch of creeps and whispering about it?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking“

“Because,” Robert whispered sadly, “I don’t think she would keep doing this if she knew she was being watched.”

“She’s turned down every opportunity to play in front of an audience, even as a backup. But, for me, it isn’t just that. I get the feeling she isn’t telling us everything.”

“And poetry

Fills an empty room

With science broken

And confused

And my desire...

Becomes a pacifier

I need to feel

Alive & awake”

“Everyone is allowed some secrets, Jimmy. You, of all people, should understand that,” Bonzo said pointedly.

Jimmy finally looked at Bonzo with a raised eyebrow. “You know something we don’t, don’t you?”

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking”

“S’pose I do?”

“Care to share with the class?

“Not my story to tell, Jimbo,” Bonzo shrugged .

“Something aging

In the water

In the damage

To my soul

The wishing fire

Is still alive

And I think his heartbeat

Will not die

How can I give

Anymore of my life

Away…”

“Fine, keep her secrets too.” Jimmy walked away.

Robert and Bonzo sigh and shake their heads at their friend. Both of them know that Jimmy won’t let it go so easily. He never did.

“Do you hear me?

Can you hear me?

Do you hear a voice from my side?

Sleepwalking.”

“I just want her to be ok. No, more than that, really. I just…don’t know what to do.”

From her side of the stage, Rogina finally stepped out of the shadows toward me, a broad smile on her face. “That was beautiful, Anj. Robert’s right, you really should show off your talent.”

I smiled and ducked my head, given that my face was red. She had been nothing but good to me and for some reason, I had a harder time resisting her charms. Not that it was easy resisting Robert’s. Instead of answering her, I started to play again, something that might be more familiar to her. Tom Petty’s Breakdown, even taking on the singer's more southern dialect.

“It's alright if you love me

It's alright if you don't

I'm not afraid of you runnin' away, honey

I get the feeling you won't”

“There is no sense in pretending

Your eyes give you away

Something inside you is feeling like I do

We said all there is to say”

“Baby, breakdown, go ahead and give it to me

Breakdown, honey, take me through the night (baby, baby, breakdown)

Breakdown, now I'm standin' here, can't you see?

Breakdown, it's all right”

“It's all right

It's all right”

The next thing I knew, Rogina sang along with me as well. Her singing started out softly at first until she reached the chorus and her voice came out strong and powerful like a mountain. While I was familiar with Daltrey’s voice, to hear it before me was something else. As we continued, we found ourselves singing in such a lovely harmonious manner that the world around us seemed to have stopped.

The song came to a close, she placed a hand on my shoulder, “You have a great talent Anjelika.”

“Well compared to you, I seem like more of an amateur,” I joked.

“No Anj, your voice is lovely and so is your playing. That song you were singing before, I’ve never heard of it.”

I looked down for a moment, “Oh it’s just a little something that I’ve been working on.” I stood up from the stool and placed the guitar down, “I better get back to work.”

“Anj-”

I had already made my way off the other wing, only to see Robert, Bonzo, and Jimmy there. My face was flushing as I walked past them. I felt like such an idiot! What on earth was I thinking? The show was to start fairly soon and I had a job to complete. The ticks on the clock continued as everything from lighting, technical matters, clothing, and the instruments were put into place. The doors to the stadium opened and the fans made their way inside. The more dedicated fans were attempting to do what they could in order to get as close to the band members as possible. Security was already on the matter and they kept their composure as they desperately hoped to catch a glimpse of their idols.

I walked through the hallway with a black coffee in hand, hearing the echoes of varying conversations going on between roadies. I would offer a smile as I passed by, some would offer one back, others would give me a look of disdain. Cole was within my sights and so I kept my eyes facing forward. I kept my distance from him as I moved out of the way.

Cole blew a cloud of smoke in my direction, “On your way to give ol’ Plant a little ‘warm up session?”

I kept my back to him, “Why don’t you go do that yourself? Since you seem so keen on the idea.”

G walked over, “You two ladies fighting again?”

Cole answered back, “Actually I was just about to check on the boys.”

G raised a brow as he watched him walk away, “How are you doing Anjelika?”

“Well things seem to be going well for my first day.”

“Good. Now since this is your first night, I don’t expect you to know everything that happens. You might feel a little confused about how we do things at first, but you’ll learn pretty quickly.”

I nodded, “So how long do you think tonight’s show will be?”

G took out a cigar and lit it, “I reckon about three and half, four hours tops. I’ll have you out on the wings to help with instruments for right now. I want to see how you do tonight, then I’ll add more duties to your list.”

“Thank you Mr. Grant.”

I felt a gloved hand on my shoulder. Following the black leathered glove, I was greeted with the sight of Alice Cooper wearing a leather ensemble. His eyes and sides of his mouth were marked in his signature look.

“How do I look?” He asked

“Like a freak,” I answered with a smile.

“Why thank you,” he responded kindly with a genuine smile. “See you after the show.”

He and his fellow bandmates excitedly made their way down the hall, ready with their instruments in hand. They greeted the cheering crowd with the first notes and so the first act of the show began.

I gave all the support I could from the sidelines and adjusted guitars, restringing them when needed. His act lasted for a little under an hour and I gave him a hug in congratulations when he came off the stage. The Who were next and as Rogina passed me, I gave her a hug as well and a kiss on the cheek, despite my better judgment. “For luck.” I explained with darkened cheeks when she gave me a questioning look.

“Thank you,” she responded with a smile, then headed out onto the stage to join her bandmates. Halfway through their act, Rogina made some anecdote about life on the road and as a woman in rock music. She mentioned me, though not by name and dedicated the next song to a “special someone”, all the while looking at me and began to play ‘Love Ain't for Keeping’.

When their act was done and Rogina came off the stage, she came up to me and gave me a proper, if chaste, kiss before going back to the changing rooms. Then it was time for Zeppelin, the last act for the night. I hated how heartbroken Robert looked as he walked past me on his way to the stage. I had been so worried about getting my own heart broken…

“Wow, Anj…Rogina too? And poor Robert had no idea, did he?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cole,” I seethed.

“Or wha-“

I was beyond done with the man, if he could be called one, I whirled around and decked him, knocking him to the floor. Standing over him now, I took a fistful of his shirt and hauled him into a sitting position and got in his face. “You really need a lesson in minding your own fucking business. Do yourself a favor and keep Rogina’s name out of your mouth and the next time you decide to butt into my life outside of actual work, I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be eating my steel toe boots!” I hadn’t realized it, but my eyes were glowing as I spoke.

I stood back up to find G standing there, but he didn’t say anything to me, just gave me a nod and I went back to doing my job. G had security take Cole to another room to get looked at and bandaged up as his nose was bleeding a little.

I marched into the hallways, grabbed myself a beer, and found an isolated area to sit and cool down. The day hasn’t ended yet and Cole continues to be a nuisance. I had hoped that after today he would have gotten the message. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching and quite frankly I wasn’t in the mood to talk. At this point I didn’t care who came over, I was angry and I needed some time to be alone. Yet my ears perked up when I heard a familiar voice.

“Anjelika,” Rogina softly called. “Are you alright?”

She took a seat next to me, but I scooted away, keeping my eyes on my beer, “I’m fine.”

“I saw what happened from the changing room.”

I uttered under my breath, “So? It’s resolved, let it go.”

#led zeppelin fanfic #the who fanfiction #robert plant fanfiction #roger daltrey fanfiction #fem!roger daltrey #robert plant #fem!oc #Led Zeppelin #the who #alice cooper #peter grant

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Unspoken: Chapter One - Oikawa Tooru x f!reader

Oikawa has been in love with you since you became a manager for the university’s volleyball team, but keeps it to himself in fear of what his fan club might do to you if they found out

genre(s): college!au, mutual pining (mostly Oikawa), friends to lovers, angst, eventual smut words: 3k+

a/n: don’t worry folks, i just got carried away with this fic and felt it would be better to split it up. chapter 2 is complete and will be up tomorrow 💖 with a bonus smut ending if you are a heathen like me. enjoy ~ J ✨ i am also sorry i made the fan club so bitchy

taglist: @takingyouruwus @kurosarium @apollochjld @afterglowkuroo (lmk if you’d like to be added to my general or a specific taglist!)

Chapter 2

The Oikawa fan club is definitely not a fan of you, and you certainly aren’t of them. Not because you have a crush on him too but because they’re obnoxious and take the best seats at volleyball games. It also doesn’t help that they outright despise you. They don’t even try to hide it. Snickering in the hallways at school or passing quick remarks whispered amongst them at games. You really aren’t a fan of that. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care—you chant to yourself to keep your tongue locked behind your teeth. It isn’t worth your time or the effort.

Not until you hear one of them hiss today at the game, “What is she even doing up here? I thought she’s the manager,” a scoff. “Guess the team likes Miko better.”

Your fists ball instinctively. You can’t sit down there, as much as you’d like to. If they knew anything deeper about volleyball beyond Oikawa’s killer serve and being obsessed with his ‘pretty hair’ they’d know that you might be a manager but there is a senior manager who outranks you and only one is allowed on the bench down on the court.

Though you have to admit, sitting up here in the bleachers with the Oikawa ogling brigade in front of you—the manager—fawning over his every move is degrading. You don’t necessarily have to sit directly behind them, but god dammit you want to see the game too and are willing to grin and bear it for the sake of the team. You can’t sit in the normal cheering section crowded with students either since you arrive late and would have to sit at the back of the stands. So, this is the better of two options, even if today the fan club is being particularly petty.

“Or maybe she’s just a wannabe,” another snickers, loud enough that you know she is intending you to hear it.

That pushes you over the edge, making you abruptly stand up. You’re wearing a university volleyball club jacket for fucks sake! Are they really so shallow as to start slinging rumors like that around? They jolt at your sudden movement, glaring back at you, clearly with no intention of apologizing. They so obviously just want you to leave.

You want to watch the game, support the boys you watch work so hard and work hard for yourself, but you don’t want to be around for this bullshit. You know shouldn’t care, but you do, and it fucking ruins the game for you.

Instead of giving them some mean remark like you’re itching to throw at them, you just turn on a heel and go. You stride up the steps and towards the exit right as you hear the crowd gear up for Oikawa’s serve. You stop once you reach the doorway, fists clenched and trembling with anger, furious at yourself for letting them get under your skin. Exactly like they wanted to. You should have stayed as a silent ‘fuck you’ to them, but you can’t stomach going back either. Not like they even care anyways, probably too wrapped up in Oikawa’s serve. Now a sigh escapes you; forcing your hands to unfurl and stretch the ache that formed from how tightly you had them clenched.

You need to take a breath and move on. You have nothing to prove to them, all the matters is that you know where you stand. It also makes you feel better that the team actually knows you, they can pretend it isn’t true all they want but that doesn’t change that you get to spend time with the team, and inevitably, Oikawa. A fact they loathe.

You end up lingering in the hallway near the entrance to the gym, waiting for the game to finish. Usually you can be a part of the between game meetings if you want to, sometimes you can’t get down there fast enough but sitting here in the hallway, you’ll make it today. While you wait, you slide down the wall to sit, leaning against it and pulling your legs close to rest your chin on.

You like to think that you have tough skin and their words can’t hurt you, but they do. And while you may not put the same about of blood, sweat, and tears the boys do into the sport—you put in your fair share for them, and it’s hard to be met with scoffs and sideways glances purely because of jealousy. You’re appreciated enough by those who matter, so why are you so bothered by the fan club? Shaking your head at the fleeting thought that it has anything to do with Oikawa, you convince yourself it’s just annoyance that you can’t enjoy games like you’d like to.

Interrupting your thoughts, the whistle blows to signal the end of the game and you perk your head up. You’re grateful for the distraction, not really wanting to delve deeper into your thoughts about Oikawa, and peek into the gym. Miko notices your head in the doorway and waves you in to join the huddle.

Ha, take that fan club. Wannabe my ass.

Miko’s movement catches Oikawa’s attention. He looks to where her attention is drawn and watches you beam before throwing the door wide and joining the huddle by Miko’s side. He wonders what you were doing waiting by the door, normally you wait until the last possible moment before bolting from your seat in the bleachers to join the huddle. You never want to miss a single second of the game, which he finds rather endearing. And he can’t remember the last time you skipped out on a game early.

He stares at you, trying to get your attention, but you’re fixated on the coach, no doubt trying to soak up as much information as possible. It makes his mouth curve ever so slightly at how eagerly you listen during these huddles. When you do briefly slide your gaze over to him, he gives you a questioning look to which you just shake your head at and point discretely at the coach.

Ah. Your way of saying, ‘shut up and listen’.

He supposes he likes that about you. Your bluntness.

So, with an eyeroll, he fixes his eyes on the coach, fully intending on pestering you later about it. He tries to grab you before the next game, but you hurry away as soon as the whistle is blown, and his fingers grasp empty air.

The team wins the next set, winning the match without going to the 3rd set. As customary, he lines up with the team to thank the spectators and Oikawa gets the chance to pick you out in the crowd. He spots you off to the side, and he’s noted since meeting you that you don’t sit with the cheering crowd, but rather on your own. It’s never too hard to find you, your face split in two by a smile as you clap for them. It’s then that he notices who is sitting directly in front of you.

He fights the urge to frown. He likes to think he’s a polite guy, having always given attention to his so called ‘fan club’. He got used to it in high school, the constant barrage of placating a group of fans, but had been secretly looking forward to hopefully leaving it behind. Only to have a new one re-emerge within the first few months of school. The other guys on the team weren’t too keen about him for a while after that. It took him forever to convince them to tolerate him again.

And he hates that they give you trouble. Ever since they discovered you interact with him outside of school, it seems they deemed you an enemy. He tries to stay away from you during regular school hours, keeping it limited to volleyball only, but lately the two have started bleeding together. He simply can’t help himself, however selfish that may be. Gathering his things, he wonders if they’re the cause for your weird behavior earlier.

He glances at you helping Miko put away the chairs, a tight feeling constricting his chest. God—if he ever told you how he actually feels about you, what would his fan club do then? How miserable would they make you? But damn him to hell, he’s selfish, and it doesn’t stop him from striding over to you cooing your name.

Without hesitation you reply, “Oikawa-san~,” in the same sing-song voice he uses for you. You don’t even bother to look over your shoulder at him, continuing your task.

“What was with the little peeping tom imitation earlier?”

You’re glad to be facing away from him, your skin prickling with the thought of having to explain to him that his fan club was pissing you off. Surely earning yourself a more prying follow-up question that you definitely do not want to answer. So instead you shrug, brushing off his question, “You guys were so far ahead, and I was sure your serves would end it, so I figured I’d actually be a part of the entire huddle.”

He squints, finding that to be rather out of character for you. “You missed my serves though!” He pouts, deciding it’s better for him to let you off the hook than continue to pry. He doesn’t think you’d tell him anyways, no matter how much he pesters you.

“Oh, big baby. I missed what? Two?”

“What if they were my best yet!” He protests, leaning around you so you can see his impressive pout. It delights him that he elicits a smile from you, peering at him from the corner of your eye, clearly finding his antics amusing. “Guess you’ll have to help me with serving practice to make up for it.”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he hates to admit he watches very closely as you answer, “Fine.” Though, truthfully, he’s not really pulling your leg too much. You like helping him practice.

He can’t help how his mouth turns downward into a frown as another member of the team, a bold freshman, butts into the conversation. “Need any help?”

Though he does find immense delight at the way your face falls to a neutral expression, giving him a curt, “I’m alright, thank you.” You don’t even turn to him, instead tilting your head to look at Oikawa continuing, “Oikawa-san is more than enough help here. Why don’t you see if they need help putting away the net?”

The freshman slinks away and Oikawa has to physically restrain himself from doing a victory lap as you shove a chair into his hands grumbling to yourself. The muttering continues as you move to put away more chairs, loud enough that he catches you say, “Is he ever going to get the hint?”

“What?”

You almost drop the chair you’re holding, turning wide-eyed at Oikawa, not realizing you’d been talking out loud to yourself. “It’s nothing.”

He frowns. “Is he bothering you?”

God he’s talking so loudly, making you nervous that the underclassman might hear him. “Can you talk any louder?” You hiss. Oikawa’s expression doesn’t change, however, and you groan really not wanting to get into this right now. “He’s been at it for a couple weeks now,” you say, trying to play off the situation as best you can. You’ve never had someone as persistent in pursuing you as he is, or someone as oblivious to your subtle rejections either.

You vaguely wonder if this is how Oikawa feels all the time with his fan club.

“Wanna pretend to date for a while?” He suggests harmlessly in your opinion, but very selfishly in his. And while he knows he isn’t joking in the slightest—you certainly think he is and bark out a laugh at the idea of fake dating him to get the underclassman off your back. “What?” He pouts. “Is it so crazy of an idea?”

You’re laughing even harder now, enough that people are beginning to look your way, so you swallow you remaining laughter and wipe your eyes dramatically. “It just don’t want to be murdered in the dead of night by your fan club, that’s all.”

You go back to collapsing chairs and don’t notice Oikawa stiffen. He doesn’t like being reminded that his fan club will literally rip apart any girl he is even remotely interested in. And he isn’t just interested in you. He likes you. A lot.

Clearly not thinking anything of this conversation, you say over your shoulder, “What are all those muscles for if you’re not going to carry more chairs than me?” He blinks back to reality and makes a show of picking up way more chairs than you and putting them away faster too. That only earns him a scowl in response, but he knows it’s only for show.

“Oh, pleeeeeease?” Oikawa almost gets on his knees begging you. Practice is done but he wants to stay late and hammer in more serves before the night is over. And sue him if he thinks it’s way more enjoyable if you stay to help him. “You promised last week!” You groan, scrunching your eyes tight, not wanting to look at his stupidly adorable pouting face that usually breaks you. It doesn’t help that you can feel he is standing very close to you. “You’re going to have to open your eyes sometime.”

“Nope, I’ll walk all the way home like this.”

He pleads your name again. “You’re going to miss the rare sight of Oikawa Tooru on his knees for you!”

You don’t budge. “Nice try.”

“I’m serious!” Now he really does get on his knees, dramatically putting his hands together to beg you. “This is a once in a lifetime chance!”

He keeps it to himself that you could definitely get him on his knees for many different reasons.

He’s sure that he’s broken you when you groan loudly and peek an eye open at him. Upon seeing that he is being serious, both of your eyes widen, and you have the audacity to start giggling at him. “I should take a picture.”

That makes him scramble to his feet, sticking his tongue out at you. “You better not.” It just makes you grin and his heart soars at the sight. He can’t help that your smile makes his stomach do somersaults. He takes you by the arm and drags you further into the gym before jogging over to the other side of the court and grabbing a ball from the cart.

He loves that he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. You’re already digging through your bag to find objects to place around the opposite side of the net for him to aim for. He notices that you’ve placed some of them very meanly—some sitting just barely on the outside line, others in spots that he has a record of having trouble hitting. And while it makes his chest swell with pride you even notice his performance, the scowl across his face betrays his annoyance that you aren’t making this easy.

If you’re going to help him—he’s going to have to work for it.

And hell, if that doesn’t drive him wild.

“Those good?” You ask, stepping off to the side, a smug smirk splayed across your lips.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

He levels a look at you that you return with a sickeningly sweet yet utterly terrifying smile. “You’re going to have to do better than that, I’m afraid.”

Your smile transforms into something that makes his stupid fucking shorts tighten, holding his gaze steadily as you challenge, “We’ll see.” Then you tear your eyes from his and he feels like you’ve ripped his chest out with it and like he can barely get enough air into his lungs. He knows the challenge is to drive him to do better, to perform the best of his ability, but damn—he’ll give 110% for the rest of his life if you ask him to.

You will never admit how much you love watching Oikawa play volleyball. Watching him shift from his teasing, easy-going smile, to this intensely serious and calculating gaze that while foreign to you—is also so strangely familiar. You feel lucky to be able to watch him up close, someone who has honed their craft, yet is ever looking to be better. When it comes down to it, you truly admire Oikawa and want to be there to watch him grow and see where he goes. Because to you, the sky’s the limit for him.

Where the hell are those thoughts coming from?

The sound of a volleyball slamming onto the court, sending the notebook you placed on the line skittering across the floor, startles you. “Hey! Pay attention!” Oikawa scolds. You quickly apologize, knowing full well how much a stray volleyball can hurt. “And make sure you’re watching! I’m going to hit every single one of those first try.”

You nod, a bit blankly, still reeling from the thoughts tumbling through your head. He tosses another ball up, his powerful thighs straining as he thrusts his body upwards, hand meeting the ball at the perfect point—the sound of his hand cracking against it almost as loud as the sound that reverberates around the gym when it connects with the floor. It all happens in the blink of an eye, but you feel like you’re watching it in slow motion until his feet touch the floor and you’re jolted back to reality.

God, what the fuck is going on with you tonight?

Oikawa isn’t blind. He knows you’re watching him. And it sends such a thrill down his spine he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides channel as his energy into his serves. Otherwise he’s going to do something very stupid tonight.

You’re uncannily quiet for the remainder of the night. Just watching him serve over and over again, and when he’s finished, helping him pick up the balls and set up the targets so he can start again. He is desperate to know what’s going through your head, but he lets you stew, just as interested in what conclusion you might be coming to on your own.

It’s not his fault that his imagination runs absolutely fucking wild that night. He can’t sleep, theorizing what changed today—if anything did. What were you thinking about as you watched him so intently? What flipped the switch? Are you thinking about him right now, lying awake in bed like he is? It torments him even in his dreams.

He does keep you awake that night. You can’t get the image of him out of your head. His voice either. It’s infuriating. You try to convince yourself he’s just a friend. That all those late nights in the gym, all the times he’s walked you home, all the bus rides you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, are harmless. He hasn’t wormed his way into your heart, he hasn’t made you fall in love with him slowly and quietly and its only now hitting you like a tidal wave—has he?

Fuck. Has he?

You’re grateful your roommates’ room is down the hall, giving you the freedom to scream into your pillow.

Are you a fucking Oikawa fan girl now?

You don’t know the difference between you and them is that he’s been in love with you a lot longer than you can even imagine.

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #oikawa tooru

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crimsonheart01 · 4 years ago

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Bells Are Ringing (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

A/N: Full disclosure here, I haven’t watched past Season 8. Don’t come for me! Also, I know how it ends so spoilers aren’t an issue for me. Anyways, thank you @may85 for the request! I hope you love it!

Prompt: 19. “You really want a pair of fuzzy socks?”

Word Count: 2.2K words

Playlist: Christmas All Over Again - Tom Petty [Spotify] [YouTube]

Warnings: Supernatural and Paranormal things, guns and minor violence.

"Everybody's singing All the bells are ringing out And it's Christmas all over again." Christmas All Over Again – Tom Petty

It was freezing outside while she stood on the loading dock. The Winchester brothers were due to meet her here, and they were, of course, running late. She rubbed her mittened hands together, hoping to get some extra friction and warmth back into her fingers. With a puffed-out exhale, she lifted her hands to her toque and tugged it down before laying her mittens over her cheeks. She swayed from foot to foot, keeping herself from keeling over in the bitter cold while she waited.

Finally, after what felt like several hours, she heard the chug of the impala as it rounded the corner and came to a stop a few away from her. She waved at the brothers and hopped down off the ledge. As she reached the car, Dean rolled his window down, and she pulled off one mitten to let him splash her with holy water, confirming that she was safe. She pulled out her own vial from inside her pocket and sprayed it on the boys.

The spluttered as she did it, having given them no warning. She laughed and leaned down onto the windowpane and grinned at them. She knew they didn't need the holy water test, as long as they showed her the tattoos, but she liked to spice things up. Catch them off guard.

"So glad you could make it," She sassed, touching on the point that they were late.

Sam laughed, "Blame my brother. He refused to pull away until we had the right soundtrack playing."

She nodded and gently shoved Dean's shoulder, "It's always gotta be you holding us up, huh?"

He shifted the car into park and rolled his eyes at the two of them, "You can stop with the theatrics. We're here, aren't we?"

He started rolling the window up, forcing her to back off while she protested in jest but stepped away from the car. When he opened the door, she came to stand next to him, giving him a tender smile.

"It's good to see you again, Winchester."

He sighed, reaching over and wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer to him.

"You too," He smiled, letting her know he wasn't put off by her teasing, "I was surprised when you called me up. I didn't know you were up here in Chicago."

She shrugged as they rounded the car, and Sam popped the trunk open.

"Been keeping busy and on the move." She explained, "I was just relieved you two were close by. I was not interested in doing this particular job alone."

They both smiled over at her. All three of them understanding the implications of going up against a higher-level demon alone. If there was anyone well versed in the subject, it was the Winchester boys.

Running through their plan one last time, they slammed the trunk shut and quietly made their way into the department store to get their trap put into motion.

~(SPN)~

She ducked quickly as the explosion rang out across the floor. She crouched down, peering under the racks of clothing to scan for anything coming towards her. She couldn't see Dean anymore due to them splitting up. She tucked her shotgun in the front of her jacket and began crawling forward, careful to keep a weather eye out for any possible pursuers.

She stopped, realizing it had gotten too quiet, and a cold chill ran up her spine. She shut her eyes and shook her head at the rotten luck.

"Shit." She swore, taking a chance and peering over her shoulder.

The damn thing was only a few metres away from her, staring menacingly. Letting out an audible exhale, she jumped up and started running. It chased after her, sending hangers of clothing flying in its wake. She ripped the gun out of her jacket and cocked it as she took off, swerving around aisles, hoping to lose her tail. Where the hell was Dean? She frantically thought to herself.

A whole rack of pants flew inches past her head, and she dropped down, covering her hands over her head. This had to have been the worst laid out plan the brothers had ever come up with. She heard Sam's shout from several aisles over, and she chanced popping up to try and spot him. He hollered at her to take cover as another rack of clothing went sailing on by.

She scrambled over clothing that had been tossed around until she made it to the clearing down the middle of the department store. She could see both Sam and Dean with their backs leaned against the shelves, peering over their shoulders. Sam was deliberately shooting rounds off in the wrong direction, hoping for some semblance of a distraction while Dean was watching its pursuit. She locked eyes with Dean, and they both understood that it was gaining on her. Regardless, the plan was still working.

Seeing that it was getting too close, Dean popped up and spun around, facing her with his shotgun cocked and aimed. With little to no warning, he fired, and she threw herself sideways, down an aisle of shelves. She crouched into a ball, holding her hands over her head as the boys continued to fire round after round. She was sure that Sammy had switched up his diversion tactics and was now engaged in the same fight as his brother.

She whipped around, laying flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling where they drew the trap. She counted the remaining steps needed to trap their little friend, but of course, nothing went smoothly. As she began shimmying down the aisle, hoping to reach her destination, something grabbed her ankle, and she screamed.

"It brought a friend!" She kicked out, trying to dislodge its grip on her.

All it did was laugh and continue to pull her closer to itself. She had no idea if either brother heard her, and she knew they had a mission to get the other demons stuck in the trap. She began to swear in repetition, reaching around for her gun, but as she went to shoot, the demon knocked it out of her hand. Realizing that it'd let go of her, she clambered back up, and they both scrambled towards her weapon.

They both lunged, grabbing opposite ends of her gun. She tugged, but the demon used her own strength against her and smashed the butt of the weapon into her shoulder. She groaned and flipped over. Delving into her jacket pocket, she grasped for the flask of holy water she had.

"HEY!" She heard Sam yell.

That caught the demon's attention, and she took her chance, dumping her holy water over its face. The demon screamed, and as she righted herself, Dean came running up. He gave her a quick glance, asking her silently if she was okay. She nodded in response, and together they hauled up the demon and dragged it over into the same trap where they'd managed to get the other one into.

They let the demons stew in their predicament for a short time while the brothers questioned them. She knew there was information that they were collecting, but she didn't need to stick around and hear about it. Instead, she left them to their interrogation while she went back to the aisle where she'd dropped a few of her things. Walking through the shelves, she spotted her gun and picked it back up.

As she turned to head back to the brothers, she spotted row upon row of the most garish socks she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Hey Dean," She called out, bending to pick up the neon-coloured ones, "Did you mean it when you said you really want a pair of fuzzy socks?"

Dean spun around as her head popped back up over the shelves, his face screwed up in confusion. She watched as the second and final demon was exercised behind him before gracing him with a brilliant smile. She strolled on back to them and tossed the package of ugly socks over to him. He caught them with a bewildered expression.

She laughed at him and winked, "Merry Christmas, Winchester. Consider that my thank you and payment for helping me out."

Sam broke out into laughter as he spotted the neon green in the pack, and together, she and Sam left Dean to stand there astounded by the sheer madness of her whole statement.

"Come on, Dean," Sam yelled back to his brother.

~(SPN)~

Once they'd gotten outside, Sam gave her a hug goodbye, telling her he hoped to see her soon and then ducked back into the impala. Dean nodded to his brother, communicating in only a way that they could before he fell into step next to her. He was taking a spare moment to walk with her back to her car.

She chuckled over at him, "You didn't have to come with me, y'know."

He shrugged, his hands firmly encased in his jacket pockets, "I know, but after what happened in there, it'd make me feel better knowing you got to your car without any hassles."

She shook her head in delight. With all the adrenaline out of her system, she was spooked by how easily she'd been overpowered by the demon but was glad to have the brothers with her. It was precisely why she called them in the first place.

Instead of admitting to any of that vulnerability, she joked, "When are you going to admit you like me?"

A quick smile graced Dean's features, but he stayed quiet. She hadn't realized how bothered he was by the snag in their operation.

She paused, looking over at him and touched a hand to his forearm, "I'm okay, Dean. We got everything sorted back there."

He let out a scoff and nodded his head. This time he let his fake smile linger, also not wanting to dwell on the scare he'd gotten. They worked with a lot of hunters over the years, but she was one of the ones that he thought about often, to the point where they messaged each other on a semi-regular basis. He probably knew her as well as Sam. That's how close they'd gotten over the years. As her car came into view, Dean nudged her shoulder with his. She knocked his back playfully, and they stopped in front of the vehicle.

"How long are you staying in town for?" Dean asked her.

She shook her head with a shrug, "Making my way out in the morning. Thinking of heading south. I've never been a huge fan of winter."

He smiled at her, nodding. He recalled the several jobs they'd done together over the years. She had always been vocal in her dislike of the cold. She pulled out her keys and pressed the button to unlock the car.

"Thanks again for the help," She smiled.

Dean nodded, "No problem. I'm pretty sure Sammy missed you anyway."

She let out a single chuckle at that. It was probably true, but she knew more than anything that he was alluding to the fact that he also missed her. She turned to get into the car but pivoted. If he was willing to let some of his own feelings for her bleed into his reactions, then she could afford to show him one of her weaknesses. Feeling bold with her decision, she took the chance.

Dean had already turned away and was about to walk away when she laid her hand on the crook of his arm. He stopped, looking down at her hand and then back up to her. She leaned in and pressed a cool kiss to his cheek. She felt him freeze under her touch, but she lingered, wanting him to know how much he meant to her. How much him caring about her well-being meant to her.

As she pulled back, he stopped her by pulling one hand out of his pockets and framing her cheek with it. She tilted her head to the side, staring at him in curiosity. He licked his bottom lip, and with a curt nod, he bowed in toward her, locking lips. She felt her knees give way as he softly kissed her. He wasn't demanding with it, nor was he flimsy. It was just right—a perfect show of his hidden affections.

She responded in kind, lifting the tiniest amount onto her tiptoes. They stayed locked together for another long few moments, soaking up all they could of each other. When they finally broke apart, she kept her eyes closed, licking her lips and memorizing the feel of his mouth against hers.

She opened her eyes to see him smiling warmly at her.

"Let's not wait so long to see each other again," He murmured, "Okay?"

She grinned and nodded in agreement, "Yeah. See you around, Winchester."

He winked at her and watched as she settled herself behind the wheel of her car before turning on his heel and making his way back. She glanced up before driving off and booked when he pulled the top of the package of those stupid socks from the inside of his jacket. She bit down on her lip, a feeling of warmth flushing through her, knowing that even though it was a joke, he'd keep them just because they were from her.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #12 days of ficmas 2020 #holiday prompts

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allsassnoclass · 4 years ago

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meg sent me the prompt lashton+”It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard this morning” before tumblr ate her blog and therefore her ask but @tastetheoceans this is for you

set in the Off-Screen verse

Luke wakes up disoriented, shivering just a little and blindly reaching out for the covers, certain that when he fell asleep he was warm and content. His hand seeks Ashton, and it takes him a moment to realize that the disappointment from not finding him is not a remnant of a dream, but rather a result of him not actually being here when he should. Ashton is home, and for some criminal reason he is not in bed with Luke during their first morning together since the semester started.

The spot next to him is still warm when Luke runs a hand over it, and he takes another moment to blink himself awake before he even attempts to detangle himself from the sheets, memories of yesterday finally slotting into place in his head the further he pulls himself out of sleep.

Ashton made the entire 11 hour drive yesterday, getting in after dinner because he had to pack his car with as many art supplies as possible first. He originally was supposed to fly, but you can't take as much luggage with you via plane, and Ashton wants to be prepared. He'll be teaching from home for two weeks after break ends, but it's already highly suspected that they'll be here longer. Other schools around the country have switched to fully online learning, and Ashton thinks his will be following suit.

Luke should feel a little upset about it, because Ashton loves seeing his students and teaching art remotely is hard when students might not have access to materials, but he can't bring himself to. This event is scary and weird and throwing every plan out the window, but he's always been taught to look for silver linings, and getting to spend more time in person with his husband is the best silver lining he can imagine.

He's missed him. It's bad enough to have to be away from home whenever they tour, but Ashton is his home. He's away from him all the time, and it’s only during breaks like these that he stops feeling so lost.

Which is why he doesn't understand why Ashton isn't in bed next to him right now, giving him cuddles and some kisses and just basking in each other's presence.

Luke finds a sweatshirt, one of Ashton's that was left here when he went back to Utah, and tries to think of where in the house Ashton could possibly be. He doesn't hear anything in the bathroom, but the longer he stands still the more he thinks he might hear something faint coming from the kitchen. Ashton likes the kitchen, so Luke heads in that direction, noise beginning to take the shape of Ashton's voice, singing along to the radio.

There's nothing Luke likes better than Ashton's voice. He's heard so many amazing singers over the years, but nothing can match the gravel of Ashton's untrained vocals filling their house in the early morning, when the world is sleepy enough that it feels like a secret just for them. Luke has to stop right before he enters the kitchen to compose himself, because Ashton will tease him if he tears up over something like this, as if Ashton himself didn't nearly cry with relief after getting in yesterday.

Ashton stands at the stove, dancing a little as he prepares an omelette with Tom Petty accompanying in the background. Luke takes a moment to drink in the sight: his black hair, a little longer than when they last saw each other, the dimples in his back, the tattoos on his arms, the slight love handles curving over the edge of his sweatpants. Luke is in love with every inch of him.

He knows that some people were nervous when they got married, worried that it was too early or they were too young or that the distance would be too much. Logically, he understands the concern, but there was never any cause for it. Luke may have taken a while to realize it, but it's always been Ashton for him, and it always will be. He has too much love for this man to let anything happen to them.

"Hey," he says finally, stepping into the kitchen and approaching. Ashton turns and beams, a smile that Luke has seen a million times through a pixilated phone screen but that still makes him feel incredibly fuzzy in person. It's infectious, and Luke savors it.

He has three weeks of that smile, perhaps more. Maybe his heart will stop going crazy at the sight of it, but that's not likely.

"Hi," Ashton says, opening his arms for Luke to sink into. He's warm, Luke's own personal heater, and no one's arms feel as good around him as Ashton's. They always fit together perfectly, no matter how long it's been or how many changes might've happened since they last saw each other.

"How did you sleep?" Ashton asks.

"Good," Luke sighs. "I always sleep better with you there. 'S probably what woke me up."

"Not my singing?"

"No," Luke mumbles against his shoulder. "Couldn't hear it until I got down here, but it's nice that your voice was the first thing I heard this morning."

Ashton kisses his hair, gently swaying with the music in a subconscious dance. Luke follows him easily, pliant against him. He'll always follow where Ashton leads.

"Why aren't we in bed?" he asks.

"I wanted to make you breakfast," Ashton says, low like a confession. "I was going to bring it to you."

"It's your break," Luke says. "You shouldn't be doing anything."

Ashton is going to spend a good chunk of this break figuring out how to adapt his two painting classes for online teaching for the next few weeks, but other than that he deserves to rest.

"I always like to do things for you," Ashton says. "It makes me feel good to make you feel good."

Luke can feel himself blushing, and it's too early for him to come up with the proper words for a response, so he kisses Ashton instead.

They both have morning breath. It's a little gross, and the eggs might be burning, but nothing feels more right than kissing Ashton here in the their kitchen, early morning light streaming through the window and arms wrapped around each other. He savors the feeling, relishing in the comfort of it and the gentle way they move against each other. He could stand here for hours, and it occurs to him that they could. They both have time. Whether they stay here kissing in the kitchen or retreat to the bedroom for breakfast, this morning is theirs, and Luke is incredibly thankful to spend it with the man he loves.

It’s one of the best mornings Luke has had in a long time.

#my writing #lashton #drabble #off-screen #off screen

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piratewithvigor · 4 years ago

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My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously.

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged.

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

#I made this instead of doing homework #Classic Rock #Meme

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musicrunsthroughmysoul · 3 years ago

Text

Tag games

Okay, so I was tagged in two tag games by @reignoerme, so I will do them in one post for sake of ease and put them below a read-more. Thank you for tagging me in these! They look fun, and I don’t think I’ve done either of them before, so here we go. :D

List 5 albums I can’t live without. 💓

1. Damn the Torpedoes by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers This should surprise no one. This album, from start to finish, is literal magic. And I don’t mean the way it makes me feel (although listening to it on vinyl is such a JOYOUS experience that there are times I just LAUGH to express my awe over how talented these five musicians are and what they collectively arranged in the form of this album), but whatever they all did - HOWEVER they did it - to create this album’s existence is nothing short of magic. And god dammit, everyone needs some magic in their lives, even if it’s auditorily experienced.

2. True Colors by Cyndi Lauper Even though I wouldn’t defend that every single track on this album is “enduring” art (whatever that means!), this IS my favorite Cyndi Lauper album and I happen to love every single song on it, anyway. LOL And since the prompt is “albums that I can’t live without,” I have to include it because I literally would not be able to live without the song “Calm Inside the Storm” - it’s the first song on my anti-depression playlist, and I play it often when I’m feeling awful to some degree, and it cheers me up at least a little bit. This album is wonderfully varied, nonetheless.

3. Break Out by The Pointer Sisters Is there a better pop album (including dance, R&B, rock, and soul) than this, especially from the ‘80s?! At least to me: BASICALLY NO! This is one of my favorite feel-good albums that makes me happy and inspires me to dance (and definitely to sing along). Isn’t that what music is supposed to do, essentially? This album serves its purpose...but, in my opinion, IN a lasting way. (Yeah, unlike True Colors, LOL, sorry. I do love Cyndi and the impact her music had, but The Pointer Sisters’ impact has been much longer lasting, I feel. I adore them.)

4. Blueprint by Alice Bag The main point, actually, is that I simply could not live without Alice Bag’s music. I wasn’t sure if I’d mention this one, or Sister Dynamite (what got me through 2020), or even her debut solo album, but ultimately I’d choose Blueprint because “Se Cree Joven” is also on my anti-depression playlist. There’s probably some symbolism present for me to specifically choose Blueprint, as well...but I’m not sure what it is at the moment. Anyway, I love Alice Bag’s music and I also love her for nurturing my love of punk rock. (Not personally, obviously! Just incidentally. She makes me feel like it’s acceptable for me to like the genre even though it doesn’t match my personality or ‘image.’)

5. The Woods by Sleater-Kinney Because sometimes you don’t need to feel like ‘Oh my gosh, I’m so grateful to be alive...’ Sometimes you’re fucking angry, or angsty, and you need music that matches your mood - that you can scream AND dance along to. There’s a few other artists/bands I have in mind who also fit that ideal, but for now, Sleater-Kinney win. And to think I only finally gave their music a chance three years ago, and I still listen to them weekly AND I’ve seen them live. No, I simply could not live without this album or S-K in general.

And then to answer these prompts!

favorite song at the moment: ”Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty (sorry, but my favorite song never changes - which is why it’s my favorite - and being asked what my favorite song is “at the moment” is too overwhelming otherwise, LOL)

song you associate with your favorite ship: “Never Say Never” by Romeo Void (I have, like, several favorite ships across various fandoms? So I just chose my most recent favorite and also the one I am currently writing for, heheheh)

song that could be about you: “Rock a Little (Go Ahead Lily)” by Stevie Nicks

song that reminds you of a good memory: “The Cloud” by Thunderpussy

song you find overrated: “Wildflowers” by Tom Petty lmao this is why I hate when people associate me with this song, however well-intentioned they may be. Just because my name is a flower and TPATH are my favorite band doesn’t mean I want to be associated with a basic song like this one! PLEASE NO. :(

song you want your mutuals to listen to: “Daughter” covered by Nancy Wilson :’)

song that makes you laugh: “Cripple Creek” by Buffy Sainte-Marie (only because I try to sing along with her every time and get tripped up EVERY TIME by actually singing the title, “cripple creek” - my mouth always acts like ‘TOO MANY ALLITERATION TOO FAST, CANNOT COMPUTE’ and it makes me laugh!)

last song you listened to: “You Don’t Know How It Feels” by Tom Petty I actually have not listened to this song in well over a year, haha

I will tag for either of these prompts - or both, if you’d like! (although please don’t feel obligated to!): @aredhel-of-doylkien, @astarkey, @countrymusicandcher, @astoppedclock, @ina-gartens-weave, @buddyhollyscurls, @betweentimeand42, @happytimetravelmilkshake, @plenilunada

#tagged #about me #I know I've recently gained new followers/mutuals and stuff but I'M TOO SHY SO I JUST TAG THE SAME/USUAL FOLKS I'M SORRY #P.S. @ the folks I tagged: please feel free to let me know if you don't like being tagged in tag games and the like anymore and I'll stop ❤

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years ago

Note

Silly prompt Idea for if you feel like it: BATIM but the monsters are chill to humans but are still unnerving; Sammy doesn't care about sacrificing people and is instead constantly trying to commit theophagy, Alice just covers the ruined half of her face with a mask instead of seeking perfection but sings songs about dismembering people anyway, the projectionist is tame and comes when you 'Pspspspspsps' at him but he also plays with corpses. etc.

Summary: Sometimes Joey liked to shake things up a bit to keep Henry on his toes, but this particular loop was probably the weirdest of them all...

---

[[MORE]]

Joey Drew was a creature of positively maddening habit. He'd demonstrated this since he was but a little child, eager to run from the church service and get grass stains on his Sunday best, ready to go on imaginary adventures with his one best friend in the whole wide world. Indeed, a day could not go by where Joey and Henry didn't play pretend in the latter's backyard.

Now as an old and bitter man in a wheelchair, the same still proved to be unfortunately true, although the setting was much different. He'd drag himself out of bed every day, completed his routine, then off he went to put his "toys" and supposed best friend through the same nightmare over and over again.

Surely doing the same old charade had to grow stale even for him, right? Well... That's why once in a blue moon, Joey tried to get a little... Creative.

Henry found that he hated those times more than being a prisoner to a never-ending loop, because the unpredictable nature of Joey's creativity was truly something out of his nightmares. Such was his dilemma now.

The first sign that all was not as it should be was the fact the pedestals that allowed the Ink Machine to be turned on, were already prepared and ready to go. Items placed in their rightful positions awaiting the flick of a switch. The second sign was the apprehensive behaviour of the demon, upon Henry triggering its first appearence in this loop. It didn't jump out at him, instead merely pulled itself out of the ink with something akin to frustration.

"You too uh?" Henry felt for the wretched creature, knowing that it was as unwilling a participant in this show as he was. He also knew that it disliked when Joey shook up the plot a bit because it often ended with it finding a more painful demise.

The Ink Demon said nothing in return, but motioned for him to go with it's uneven limbs. Different or not, the path was a linear one and Henry had to go about everything as if it were a normal run... Except it was anything but. The Music Department was proof enough of that.

He fell through the floor, had the usual visions, acquired a fire axe, and was ready to find the music director creeping about as usual. Instead, the old veteran came face to face with a religious service in full swing.

Searchers and Lost Ones, gurgling and reciting along to whatever "words of god" Sammy Lawrence was currently preaching, were sitting in makeshift booths.

Several alters set up for the Ink Demon were brimming with offerings of dolls, trinkets and cans of bacon soup. So many, many, cans of bacon soup. Brought in by the members in attendance.

Henry paused, completely taken by surprise by this... Arrangement. If anyone noticed his presence, no one seemed bothered about it. If anything, Sammy glanced once at him and merely continued his sermons, giving Henry ample time to accomplish his tasks in the music department.

As he collected the abandoned pressure valve (because Jack had apparently also gone to the "Sunday service"), Henry wondered if the mad maestro would just let him leave peacefully.

When no blow came from behind, he felt pretty satisfied with the outcome. Until he had to pass by the large gathering of ink people again, that is...

The sermons had apparently come to a close, and it was about the time church goers were to perform their theophagy ritual. Henry expected them to just eat the soup as their "body and blood of god", but of course why would any sane man think that these people who followed the ramblings of a mad Prophet, would do so much as dare a glance at an offering to their Lord?

No, Henry should have honestly known better, and he came to a complete stop as he watched the once-respectable composer push a cage full of live rats, and a bowl full of ink, into the center of the room.

"Feast now brothers and sisters, for one day this flesh will allow us to regain our own physical bodies. But let us not forget our Lord's blessings. May drinking his blood infuse us with the courage we need to commit to such ritualistic prayer."

Henry didn't stick around to watch the "feasting", but the shrill screeching of rats and wet crunching of bones followed him all the way to Buddy's safehouse, where the poor cartoon wolf looked just as disgusted and horrified as him. Fur standing on end just as Henry's own skin got goosebumps.

Thoroughly disturbed by what he'd witnessed, the old cartoonist knew to be on guard for whatever came next. While the Ink Demon seemed to just linger and let them pass, Alice Angel was still a supposed threat he needed to contend with. Joey didn't do much with her, as far as petty resentment towards Susie went, so he expected a struggle. He didn't expect a cabaret show.

There, in a room fixed up to look like a stage with Butcher Gang clones working as some sort of bar staff, stood the malicious lady herself, performing with a mask fashioned from an Alice Angel cutout's head.

The left side serving to hide her deformities, while she seductively swung her hips to the beat of a song that was certainly less cartoony and more sensual. A tango of some sort, or perhaps even jazz. Henry had a bit of a tin ear, so he couldn't really tell...

She was pretty content just singing and dancing, although her words were ones that put both he and Buddy on edge.

Sweet words that romanticized death and dismemberment, because nothing spelled angelic mercy like hearing about your innards getting torn out and used in ways he dare not speak of.

At least the whiskey was nice, likely pillaged from a couple of employees's offices.

Wherever Henry went, he found no real danger. This loop was just weird. Of course before moving onto Bendyhell to see what in God's name Joey might have done to subdue Bertrum, Alice did ask him to check up on Norman.

He'd at least hoped the Projectionist was behaving as intended... Except he wasn't. Of course he wasn't. Henry nearly backed off into the lift as soon as he realized the hulking beast was playing with the remains of its dead prey, and then nearly straight up pissed himself when that blazing light fell upon him and his lupine companion.

But then the large beast did something unexpected. It lumbered slowly towards them rather than rushing them, and then gently head-butted Henry's arm, purring like a big twisted cat of some kind.

Buddy shrugged at him when he looked over with a raised brow, before the old cartoonist sighed and gave the object-headed beast a few scratches on the "chin" and left it to its... Morbid activities. Playing with its mangled food like an actual cat...

Bendyhell in contrast, was quite pleasant. Abuzz with the cheers of Lost Ones having fun with the games and rides. Bertrum looked annoyed, but entertained his guests nonetheless. Henry Eve caught sight and waved at the dancing animatronic that ran about checking in on the Lost Ones that were having a blast. Hopefully none belonged to Sammy's church, lest poor Bertrum ended up dealing with upchucked rat remains... Best not think of that.

The encounter with Allison and Tom was postponed to the giant Ink Machine itself. They were in the Ink Demon's throne room, playing card games with it. The absolute look of boredom twisting its grin into a grimace.

"You know what, I don't even care enough to ask..." He threw up his hands in surrender and simply say down with them. "What are we playing?"

"Go fish. At the best of three, then you can end this nightmare..." Allison sighed.

"Amen to that..." He took the hand the Ink Demon shuffled for him, then joined in their game, allowing Buddy to sit down besides him to doodle away in his notebook.

If Joey was going to weird him out with his freaky jokes, at least Henry would get back at him by leaving him waiting in his stuffy old apartment.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim

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