#but I’m gonna start brushing up on my music theory and maybe even fuck around and compose a little bit

[rosicheeks]

🩷

#I recorded a lil clip of me singing the last classical song I learned back in high school #surprised I still know it so well #I’m not posting it cause DAMN I’m rusty as fuck #but I think it’ll be cool to have a before audio for when I start working on my voice again #lol wish I had a BEFORE audio from before high school and all my lessons #OOOOOFDA BESTIE NAH #I thought I was so fucking good and then I get to my performing arts high school #with a bunch of talented people and I realized I in fact sounded like a screeching walrus #but then I worked and studied through high school and I think I gotta pretty good #even went to a few competitions which was super weird but fun #aw I miss those days so much #so I’m going to try and get back into it #gonna be hard since I’m not like surrounded by it all the time #but I’m gonna start brushing up on my music theory and maybe even fuck around and compose a little bit #I used to learn songs in all of these different languages #I miss it so much #and I’ve decided I’m going to start creating the person I want to be and stop wishing I was that person #anywayyyyyyyyy #idk where I was gonna go with that #if anyone is *genuinely* interested in hearing my classical audio send me a message #but I’m not gonna post it cause bro let me tell you it’s rustyyyyyyyy #I got my high notes down but everything else? (and even leading up to the high notes) nah not there #supposedly I might be able to see the aurora borealis in my area tonight but I’m not holding my breath #I live next to too many damn lights and people ☹️😤😤 #if anyone gets to see the lights tell me all about them! and if you have pictures please please PLEASE send me them!!!!! #shut up rosie

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!” jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #David Rossi #Penelope garcia #the bau #angst #hurt and comfort #spencer reid imagine hurt

[salsadips]

If You Love Him - Harry Styles

This is based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

This song breaks my heart every time I listen to it, and I just thought of this idea. It honestly made me so sad to write and I really got in my feels, so I’m sorry beforehand if it’s too sad, but I’m actually really proud of it so I hope you enjoy<3 (Olivia Wilde appears in this, and it’s in no way meant negatively towards her) 

Summary: you have a hard time living without Harry, and when you find out he’s seeing someone else it breaks your heart and you write a song to his new lover

Warnings: none, it’s just sad:’(

Not my gif, so creds to the owner

You sat in front of the piano, fingers brushing the keys, just barely touching them. You've been crying all day it felt like, and now you just felt numb. You were absolutely drained of all your energy and you felt like you could fall asleep on the spot, but every time you tried closing your eyes, old memories flooded your brain a thousand miles per hour and prevented sleep from taking you with it.

You missed him, fuck you missed him so much. It was so hard just breathing without him and it felt like climbing a mountain just getting through one day without Harry beside you. You barely slept, just the thought of waking up and not seeing him in bed next to you, was enough to start a waterfall of tears streaming down your face. Every day you were in physical pain too, your stomach was in knots, your head was pounding from all the crying and your body had gotten so used to just laying in bed that your muscles had started hurting too from lack of use.

Every day was a hell to go through, but today had been the worst without a doubt. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling you'd felt when you’d checked Twitter that morning and saw rumors that Harry had found someone new. It had been all over the internet after a picture had been caught of him and someone else from the night before. Even though your brain had begged you to stop looking at the pictures and just turn off your phone, you'd spent the entire morning reading articles and fan theories. Eventually, it had hurt more than you could bear and you'd put down your phone and spent the rest of the day soaking your pillow from your unstoppable fountain of tears.

Now it was some time in the middle of the night, maybe around 3 a.m? You honestly didn't know. You hadn't touched your phone since you'd tossed it away earlier and you hadn't moved from your bed until an hour ago when you'd made your way to the piano in your living room.

One time what felt like an eternity ago, Harry had found you absolutely devasted after you thought a heavy argument with one of your close friends had led to the end of your friendship, and he'd told you: "some times emotions are easier to feel if you express them through music" and he'd made you sit down on the same piano bench you were sitting on now, listening while you wrote a song about every emotion that you'd felt. You remembered how he'd been right, that the feelings had actually been more bearable after you'd sang the words. Maybe it would work that way this time too? Honestly, at this point, you were willing to try anything to minimize the painful aching in your chest.

You'd just been staring at the piano in front of you for the last hour though, no words coming to mind that could express exactly what you were feeling. You kept thinking of Harry with this new person: was he with her right now, lying next to her in bed? Were they cuddling? Did he pull her tight to his chest while his head rested atop of hers as he'd always done with you? Were they having deep pillow talks till far into the night, like the two of you used to? Did he touch her the way he'd touched you? Did her entire body ignite whenever he kissed her, as yours had always done?

You knew who she was, Olivia Wilde, the director of the movie Harry had worked so hard on the last couple of months. You remembered the day he'd come home, so excited that he'd gotten the role in the movie, and you'd been equally as excited for him and so fucking proud. Not once had you imagined that you'd be sitting here now, while Harry was starting a new relationship with her. Was she treating him right? You fucking hoped so. Even though you wanted to hate her with your entire being, you couldn't seem to be mad at her. Maybe she was giving him what you couldn't, maybe he was happier with her. God, he deserved to be so happy.

Suddenly a thought formed in your head and the fingers that had only been lightly touching the piano keys now pressed down to make the instrument play out a soft melody.

Take it If he gives you his heart Don't you break it

Your voice was weak as it escaped from your lips. You hadn't spoken to a lot of people the past couple of weeks, having barely used your voice and you couldn't even remember the last time you'd been singing. Losing Harry had made you shy away from your passion for music and writing, too many memories.

Let your arms be a place He feels safe in He's the best thing that you'll ever have

You kept going as the words formed in your head, directing the song to Harry's new lover. Even though it brought you so much pain to see Harry with someone else, you were willing to let him go if she was for him what he needed. All you wanted was for him to be happy and complete, you wanted him to have the world and you'd never been able to give him that.

Memories started appearing in your head like flashbacks behind your closed eyelids. Memories that you and Harry had shared, memories that made you smile slightly even though it shattered your heart to know that you would never share moments like them with him again. While being with Harry, you were the happiest you'd ever been and maybe you were never gonna feel that again, but it was okay as long as he was happy.

He always has trouble Falling asleep And he likes to cuddle While under the sheets

You'd spent many long nights next to Harry in bed, running your fingers through his hair and speaking softly to help him find sleep when it had been so hard for him. He'd always told you how there was no feeling that could compare to being curled up to you in bed, holding you so close to him that you could hear his heartbeat. The most peaceful moments you'd ever experienced with him were these intimate moments where you never wanted to move out of his embrace, praying that you could just stay in his arms forever.

Reality hit you now, that those moments were long gone, but you just wished with all your heart that she would hug him just the way he loved it and that she would be there for him during those sleepless nights he had when adrenaline wouldn't stop running through his body after working too much, or whenever a storm of thoughts in his head was keeping him awake.

He loves Pop songs And dancing, and bad trash TV

Harry's taste in music had always been something else. It was so wide, almost every genre of music was presented on his playlist, but you remembered you'd been surprised when you found all the cliche pop songs on there. You knew, of course, that Harry had spent five years in a boyband, singing pop songs, but to you, he just hadn't seemed like the type to listen to Ariana Grande and Katy Perry, but you'd been so wrong.

You couldn't count how many romcoms and shitty reality shows you'd watched with Harry during your time together. He'd always found them very enjoyable, and you would be lying if you didn't enjoy the times you'd been cuddled up to him on the couch while watching Love Island and discussing all the people you voted for and all the people you absolutely couldn't stand with each other.

He loves love notes and babies And likes giving gifts

A single tear escaped your eye and ran down your cheeks at the thought of all the love notes Harry had given you in the past. After you'd started dating, you'd worn his clothes so much, just because it smelled like him. His hoddies, shirts, sweatpants, jackets, you'd stolen it all from him, you're excuse being that it was more comfortable than your own clothes. Harry had never minded though, in fact, he'd always loved to see you walk into the kitchen in his shirt in the mornings or walk out of the house in a pair of his sweatpants paired with something like a white tank top.

At some point, he started putting little notes in the pockets of his hoddies or pants, knowing you'd put the items on the next day and find the sweet notes he hid. It was just small things like I love you or have a great day, love or excited to see you tonight, but they had always melted your heart, making you love him just that more.

Has a hard time accepting A good compliment

Harry had always showered you with compliments, every chance he got, always making you smile. You'd always made sure to tell Harry what an amazing person he was and how talented he was, how beautiful his music was and how absolutely gorgeous he looked, and every single time a sweet comment like that had left your mouth, Harry had blushed slightly while looking down at his feet. He would start making excuses, saying that it was nothing special every time you were amazed by a new song he'd written, and telling you he didn't know what you were talking about every time you'd told him how good he looked.

Knowing that he'd never been good at receiving compliments, you'd made sure to attack him with them all the time, and even though he never admitted it, you knew he thought about your words with a lot of consideration, eventually, you hoped, he started believing them.

You just wanted her to keep telling him those sweet things every day because he needed to hear them.

He loves his whole family And all of his friends

You thought of Harry's family and how he'd been so proud when he'd introduced you to them for the first time. He always put his family above everyone and though he didn't see them as much as he wanted to, he made sure that they never questioned how much they meant to him.

You'd admired the relationship he had with his family, especially his mother and sister, you could just tell how much he adored them. You'd never really had a home with that kind of love. You were an only child, so no siblings, and your mother had passed away while you were still young, leading your father into years of alcoholism and depression.

You'd never felt safe and loved until you met Harry, he was your family. That was probably the hardest part for you to let go of, the feeling of safety you'd had whenever you were wrapped in his arms or from simply being in the same room as him.

He was such a giving person, never asking for much. He had a lot of friends and they all adored him, how could they not? He had this ability to make you feel so special and he was such a good listener too, giving you all his attention whenever you told him something, not letting anything distract him.

So if you're the one he lets in Take it If he gives you his heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place He feels safe in He's the best thing that you'll ever have He'll love you If you love him

You sang, and god, the words hurt. It felt like your chest was being pried open and your heart ripped out and shredded into pieces. You had to mov eon though, for your own good. You never wanted to forget Harry, he would always have a piece of you, but this grieve that you were feeling had to decrease, you could barely live a life when it hurt so bad.

If Olivia was the one for Harry, then so be it, if she made him happy you couldn't argue. Obviously you hadn't made him as happy as he'd made you, but you hadn't realized that until he'd walked out the door and it was too late. He had let go of you and now it was time for you to do the same, you just wanted, no needed her to treat him right.

On days when It feels like the whole World might cave in Stand side by side And you'll make it He's the best thing that you'll ever have He'll love you If you love him like that

You always thought that Harry and you could get through anything, and your relationship had been put to a lot of tests throughout your time together but never had you thought that one of these obstacles would actually get the better of you.

You remembered that day so clearly. The day your whole world fell apart slowly with every step Harry took towards your front door, and it all crashed down on you when he sat down in his car and drove away without even one last glance in your direction. You hadn't talked to him after that, but still, he remained the single thing on your mind 24/7. It hurt you how quickly he had moved on, but you couldn't be mad because you felt at blame for your relationship ending in the first place.

Harry had always said that as long as you stood together, then absolutely nothing could come in the way of you two, and the only time you hadn't been side by side, that's when you fell apart. You'd always appreciated him so much, sometimes you'd thought it was impossible to care so much for another human as you cared about Harry.

Your hands started shaking a bit and you could feel the tears slowly appearing in the corner of your eyes. You would never stop caring about Harry, he had such an impact on your life, what were you supposed to do without him? God, would this pain ever stop? As you started the second verse, the tears escaped your eyes and silently ran down your cheeks.

Kiss him with passion As much as you can

You missed kissing Harry. Just his touch had been such an essential part of your day and now that you didn't get to feel that, you needed it more than anything. When you thought of it, it was as if you could still feel his lips on yours, kissing you softly.

You'd kissed a number of guys before you met Harry and you'd thought all of them had been fairly good, but that was until you kissed Harry. You'd shared your first kiss one day while you'd been chilling at Harry's and he just couldn't stop himself as you'd stood in his kitchen and looked so beautiful. You knew Harry had experience, but you remember being completely taken aback by how comfortable the kiss was. It wasn't too wet, but not entirely without his tongue roaming your mouth either. He'd grabbed your waist while your arms snaked their way around his neck, and he'd tasted good after the smoothies he'd made for the two of you earlier that day. You hadn't been able to get enough and he had seemed to have the same problem because you'd barely taken your hands off each other for the rest of the night.

Harry was a very affectionate person and he’d loved holding you, kissing you, just touching you in general. It had made you feel so loved and now where that feeling had belonged in your chest, was just emptiness. You were certain no one could ever make you feel the way Harry had, he could make your entire body feel like it was on fire just by holding your hand.

Run your hands through his hair Whenever he's sad

It wasn't often Harry had been sad in front of you, let alone cried, but it had happened a couple of times, and many times he'd come home and you'd been able to see that something was wrong, but he would deny it. It wasn't because he’d been embarrassed to be sad in front of you, but he’d often pushed it away because he didn't want to burden you. You knew him well though and you could tell the second he would walk in the door, that something was wrong. If he didn't want to talk about it, mostly you'd just put a romcom on the television and pulled him into your arms while you'd cuddled on the sofa, gently running your fingers through his soft curls. You would do anything to brush your fingers through his hair right now...

And when he doesn't notice How amazing he is Tell him over and over

So he never forgets

On the outside, Harry had always made a great effort to appear confident and independent, but when you'd managed to get to know him behind that exterior, you'd discovered that he had a bunch of his own insecurities. He always questioned if his music was good enough, if his performances were good enough, if he was a good idol, if he deserved everything he had, if he was good enough.

Once you'd found out he felt this way a lot of the time, you'd always made sure to tell him how absolutely extraordinary you thought he was. You hoped that she would tell him too, help him build a better image of himself in his head.

You managed to get through the chorus again before your feelings became too overwhelming and you had to stop. Your fingers halted on the piano while your tears had become slightly more uncontrollable.

You couldn't help but think that you were pathetic for sitting here when Harry had clearly moved on with someone else. You'd realized how much your joy had depended on him, but you had to be able to live a life without him. How could you move on when Harry had completed you though?

It was cliche, but you felt like you were missing a part of you and without Harry, you would never be able to get it back. It was like he'd been too good for you, so he had been taken away from you. You had always known you didn't deserve him, but you'd tried your very hardest to be worthy of his love, but you weren't and now someone was making you pay for those years where you'd been granted his affection without actually deserving it.

What were you supposed to do? How the fuck were you supposed to live a life when your source of happiness had been taken away from you?

With tears still in your eyes and your body shaking, you removed yourself from the piano and went back to bed, hoping that maybe tomorrow would be the day he would come knocking at your door, because moving on from him clearly wasn’t an option...

——————————————————————————

A/n: I've got a bunch of requests that's been sitting in my inbox for so long and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to them. A bunch of them are with JJ and I just haven't been in the mood to write for him lately, I've just kinda been diving deeper and deeper into my Harry obsession (when am I not), but I'll get around to them at some point. Again I'm really sorry, school is just really stressing me out too, so I haven't been writing much at all, please don't stop requesting though<3

#Harry Styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #louis x harry #fine line #watermelon sugar #Golden #adore you #louis tomilson #louis tomlinson x reader #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction x reader #Niall Horan #niall horan x reader #liam payne #liam payne x reader #Zayn Mailk #solo zayn #zayn x reader #Zayn #zayn icarus falls #four #midnight memories #up all night #made in the am #take me home

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part VIII

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person requested and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Send me requests for other fics, ideas for this one, opinions, whatever! My apologies if the quality seems to have one downhill; I'll be doing minor edits for the sake of readability when I have a good chunk of free time.

“Shhh, guys, leave it,” Jens said. Everyone’s comments died on their tongues. Zoë and Moyo herded the superfluous students from the room and left as well, shutting the door behind. Moyo almost clapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it in favor of a saddened smile. It didn’t really help. Robbe wasn’t sure if they ended tonight on good terms.

“We’re going to bed early,” Aaron suggested. “We have to get a jump on those damn exams.”

“Leave it,” hissed Jens.

“I was just saying, we’re—”

“Leave it.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Robbe. “We’re going to bed early.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was all week until faced with its culmination. And now—now he was tired. Stupid and single and tired.

There were still no sheets on his bed; he hadn’t gotten around to doing anything with them. He could perform a cleaning spell on the mattress if it got too bad in their absence. Whatever. Robbe couldn’t be bothered to rifle through his trunk for a cleaner blanket, so he crossed the room and grabbed the one off the fourth bed.

Motherfucker. It smelled like Sander. He really couldn’t win, could he? Robbe threw the blanket to the decimated floor and curled up without any covering at all.

“He wasn’t that attractive,” said Jens, breaking his own rule. “Had to get those roots done again.”

Robbe clamped his pillow over his ears. “Shut up.”

“We haven’t been to Hogsmede in a while. Might be nice to go tomorrow. The four of us.”

Hogsmede. Robbe’s eyes burned.

“I need to stop at Honeyduke’s,” Aaron agreed. “It’s Live It Up week.”

“I’d fancy a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

The Three Broomsticks. Robbe was not going to cry over this. It brought him back to Sander explaining their fake love story to Zoë, all the little accurate details, all the possibility… that’s all it was. A story. You don’t like me. He cast the Muffliato charm across his four-poster before the tears started flowing. Once they started, they didn’t stop until morning.

“You don’t have to tell us a thing,” Jens said. “We understand.”

I want to, Robbe thought. He rolled over and faced the wall for the remainder of the night.

***

As much as he would love to hardcore sulk, Robbe had never been that kind of person. Sander was gone. They weren’t even together for that long, so there wasn’t much sulking warranted. He took Saturday and Sunday as unofficial off-days before exams, in that he spent them with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, pointedly not talking about Sander. They did not go to the Three Broomsticks. Jens passed a whole afternoon in Honeyduke’s, attempting to sample every flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor beans.

Okay, Robbe sulked. But not hardcore.

Robbe resolved that one Monday he would snap out of it in time to guard his outstandingin his five classes. What should he do? What had he learned? He could start there. Starting there was something.

1. He should never drop a class for someone he wasn’t really dating.

Robbe’s Potions exam was the first on Monday, and he went into it grossly unprepared, despite hours of common room studying. There was a large difference between reading theory and enacting what it said. Plus, a lot of his library time focused more on Sander’s eyes than on the written material.

Everyone else chopped up their beans and sprinkled them into their brews without difficulty. Robbe couldn’t remember how many he should use. In the end, he dumped a whole handful in completely whole and stirred counter-clockwise. How much could it hurt, anyway? He left fifteen minutes before the exam period was up, and the Potions master did not bother to stop him. The Drought of Living Death he prepared could probably kill the whole class, Britt and all, even if not in the way it was meant to.

Why had he stopped attending in person? What could Britt have done to him? It hit him—she probably knew the dating thing was fake from the beginning. Sander might have planned it all out to make Robbe look like an idiot.

That wouldn’t account for that night in the workshop.

Fuck that night in the workshop.

Sander waited outside the Potions classroom, his back on the wooden doorframe. Britt would be done soon. It didn’t give Robbe any satisfaction to brush by Sander without speaking—or at least, not until he saw Sander rubbing his arm in the aftermath. Robbe must have hit him with the door.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, hoping it sounded blasé.

It could have been anyone there, he thought. Sander wasn’t special anymore. Then he went to his bedroom and stared at the wall over it.

2. He was not straight.

The specifics were, as of yet, unclear. He was in love with Sander, which meant he liked boys, but he’d kind of liked Noor too. Not romantically. Or even sexually. But like, he enjoyed her company.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t in love with Sander anymore, though, definitely not. Robbe figured if he told himself that at least four to five times a day, it might become a little more accurate. Two weeks was too short a time to fall for someone.

After all this, he needed to get Jens alone and lay it all on at once. Bad phrasing be damned. The boys began packing their belongings on Wednesday, after a mostly uneventful Transfiguration exam (Moyo turned his cockroach into a pair of earrings that still moved their spindly antennae—he seemed satisfied). They would leave on Saturday afternoon. Aaron tried a simple cleaning spell, Scourgify, and ended up scattering his belongings to the four corners of the castle. He scurried away to pack the rest manually, Moyo at his heels to help.

Jens and Robbe were alone. Robbe was ready to talk about it.

“Why is Moyo always here?” asked Jens, in a way that made it sound like he was breaking the tension.

His plan failed, of course, because Robbe was already speaking. “We have to talk about something.”

They stared at each other. Jens blinked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Robbe began. “I wanted to, but it was always so complicated.”

“Uh, sure, okay.” Jens shoved a crumpled shirt into his trunk, followed by a pair of ripped slacks he could never wear to class again.

“This thing I had with Sander… it was fake to him. But, well, uh, to me—”

Jens nodded. “I know.”

Damnit, no.

“Jens,” Robbe tried a second time, “I’ve realized some things about myself recently. They kind of explain other things, from earlier, so…” He switched tactics. Who knew how long until Moyo and Aaron returned? “Do you remember when you and Jana broke up? How you found out about what’s-his-name and—”

Another shirt in the trunk. Some more destroyed pants. “Yeah.”

“Cool. So um, you should understand that it was—” It was never this awkward to talk to Jens before. Jens was supposed to be easy. Robbe folded his shirts by hand, like his mother did, and placed them carefully in his own luggage as he thought of how best to phrase this. “I did it on purpose. She was gonna tell you and I—well I said—”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know things about myself now. Learned them. From that. and this.” Here it came, the big jump. Even though Robbe knew Jens, Aaron, and Moyo outlined a whole plan to get him and Sander together, he still worried about what they’d say when confronted with the reality of it. “Jens, I’m—"

“I know.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Again, “Jens, please, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Robbe, I know—”

“I don’t want you to know!” Robbe flopped a shirt down harder than he intended. “I want you to let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. That’s who I am. With or without Sander. Okay? I need you to understand that it’s like that with or without him.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you know. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Jens. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Jens closed his trunk on top of some clothing that spilled out the sides. He sat down on it to close the latch. Then he reached out and gathered Robbe into the tightest hug ever. It wasn’t nearly everything that Robbe wanted to say, but it was some, and Jens didn’t run away from him. Sexuality crisis, somewhat had. Robbe was sure there would be more later.

3. You don’t like me.

Robbe’s final exam was History of Magic. Luckily, his cramming paid off. He breezed through the questions on the first and second wars faster than any of his peers and was out the door within thirty minutes.

Most students were trapped in their classrooms for another half-hour or more. Empty corridor stretched in all directions, and Robbe didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He knew where he wanted to go.

Sure enough, his astronomy tower perch was vacant. Bright sunlight dyed the campus in shades of yellow and gold, made the upper turrets appear as drawings from a children’s book. Robbe noted in passing that someone had collected Sander’s picnic blanket from its forlorn position on the roof. That made sense. Filch himself must have cleaned.

From overhead, soft music played. Robbe was sure he was hallucinating. He sat down on the sill.

Oh fuck, maybe not hallucinating. Noon cast a shadow of someone above onto the roof below.

Sander’s blanket wasn’t where he’d dropped it on night one because Sander sat on the overhang above the window. He had it splayed across the shingles, a compact player oozing the final lines of that same damn song on a loop, his wand gripped in his hands.

Robbe couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape how he felt about him. He could bring it under his control if he made it look purposeful.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you have class?”

Sander startled.

This was a mistake. Never mind. Robbe should go.

He leaned even further out the window for a better view of Sander’s setup. A stack of textbooks balanced precariously, end on end, held aloft by a complicated charm of some sort. A quill rolled down the roof and stopped as if by an invisible wall. Sander had created a bubble for his things.

“Cheers to exams,” Robbe said, a bit louder. Sander did not look at him. The music cranked itself up to mask Robbe’s voice—perhaps it was spelled to muffle all noise Sander did not want to hear. That wasn’t fair. “This is my spot.”

“You said you didn’t want to be friends,” said Sander. He didn’t sound upset. Why did Robbe expect him to be upset?

“Can you turn down the music?”

“Britt’s going to join me.”

“That isn’t really what I asked.” Robbe wondered if interactions like this would ever stop hurting. But he didn’t feel as bad as he felt last week. Or on Friday night. Maybe the finality of a no was all he needed to move on. He recalled Sander’s speech word-for-word, mostly the end. You don’t like me.

It hit Robbe in a moment of irrational bravery, when Sander’s music dialed up in volume. Their first night in the astronomy tower, together, illuminated by Britt’s wand. The CD playing in the background. Sander knew what he was wearing on a specific double-date on a specific day—there was no denying something existed between them.

And to have Sander talk like that, say it was nothing… it wasn’t nothing, not to Robbe, and Sander needed to hear it.

So he said it. No introduction, no nothing. “I liked you.”

The Major-Tom-planet song quieted. Definitely some kind of magic there.

“I liked you so much,” he said again. Now that it existed, now that it was said, there was nothing to stop him from continuing. “You can’t tell me I didn’t.”

One of Sander’s quills rolled to the edge of the bubble, only this time, it dropped out and fell the length of the tower.

“We made it up, we agreed,” Sander whispered. “I’m sorry.” He slid down from the roof, landing beside Robbe on the sill, then jumped to the floor. His belongings trailed behind him in a floating line.

Robbe stood his ground and blocked the staircase. “It’s not your thing to decide.” His voice softened. “I liked you. So that’s that. And it’s done.”

Sander scuffed the floor with his shoe.

“Good. You never have to see me again.” Robbe pointed down the stairs for dramatic effect. “I have class. Bye.”

He felt lighter than he had all week when he descended the staircase. Any lighter, and he would have missed it when Sander said, “I liked you, too.”

4. He was a jerk to Noor.

Robbe sought her out on the train home, abandoning his friends in their own little compartment. They had plenty to discuss without his involvement. Pranks and whatnot. The usual. Noor was alone in a compartment near the back of the train, a dozen or so scrolls of parchment dispersed around her. She wrote on one with a broken quill.

She wasn’t a bad person. Robbe should have just told her. The least he could do was tell her when everything was over.

“Hey,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

She looked up, surprised. “Hello.”

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

Noor blushed. “No, I—Britt’s sitting elsewhere, and I have a lot to do.”

“With Sander,” Robbe supplied.

“What?”

“Britt’s with Sander.”

“Oh, um, actually—”

Robbe wasn’t in the mood for the nitty-gritty details of whatever Britt and Sander had going on. Obviously it was toxic. Not his problem. Besides, this conversation was for Noor’s sake, not his own.

“Listen, about me and him,” he said. “I need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to lead you on.” He hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. The extent of his recent planning was pretty much just say it without warning and hope it works out.

“I don’t read smoke signals,” said Noor curtly. She set her quill down on the seat next to her, ink stains bleeding into the cushioning. “But I get it.”

“No, it was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Robbe wasn’t built for prolonged chatter with anyone besides Jens, Moyo, and Aaron. The girls’ group was the exception, and only when Jana and Zoë were present. He fiddled with the beginning of a hole in his yellow sweater.

“I suppose I should apologize too,” said Noor, after a while. “That was fucked up, to say he’d get bored of you. I was a little—well, you know.”

“If it helps,” Robbe said, “you were right.”

Noor frowned. She sat up in her seat, and her parchment fell to the carriage floor. The sweets trolley passed by their sliding doorway without stopping—its driver could likely sense the tension. Robbe explained, “He’s back with Britt.”

“No, he isn’t,” said Noor. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Jana said—”

“Who would know better: Jana, or me?”

Robbe fumbled for something to say in response. Actually, now was a pretty good time to get out, before the topic became any more serious. He said, “He broke up with me.”

“It wasn’t for Britt. She helped him through some stuff, sure, but everyone knows that train’s come and gone.”

“I guess I’m just boring,” Robbe said.

“Bullshit.” Noor picked up her parchment again. She dipped her quill into her ink and began her writing anew, on whatever mess this was. Robbe couldn’t read fucking cursive. “I don’t believe it. Britt says he adored you.”

Robbe didn’t know what to make of that. There was no way he could segue into his next point, which was, of course, that their dating arrangement wasn’t real in the first place, especially after something so honest from Noor. He gave a bullshit excuse, something about chasing the sweets trolley, and got the hell out of there.

***

Robbe said goodbye to Moyo on the train platform. Jens and Aaron lived close enough that their parents parked in the same general vicinity, meaning that they could walk over as a trio. Robbe considered awaiting Sander on the platform as well. Every time he learned something new about Sander’s behavior when he wasn’t there, he got more and more confused. What fake relationship could be convincing enough to have Sander’s ex lamenting its reality?

The boys shared idle gossip on their way to the parking lot. Nothing substantial. Robbe’s head was too full of thoughts, most of them Sander-related. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or tired right now. How did knowing one little thing from Noor make a difference in his overall mood? They split off to their respective parents with casual goodbyes and a promise to write at least once during the holidays.

“Hey,” called Jens, just as Robbe opened the shotgun side.

Robbe turned back, his rucksack swinging off his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his eyes.

“Were you in love with him? Actually?”

They spent two weeks together. Two weeks, plus months and months of pining from afar that couldn’t count for much. It was supposed to last longer. What had Sander said, that day after their date? He wanted it to continue through the holiday break. And now, nothing. Robbe summarized this feeling the only way he knew how: “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He climbed into his mother’s waiting car, and with that, it was Christmastime at the Ijzermans house.

#sobbe #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #fanfiction #sobbe fanfic

[let-it-raines]

Nonnie, this is quite possibly one of the funniest prompts I’ve ever received. I actually, legitimately laughed out loud when I read it, and I definitely had to find the original post to read it all. Not gonna lie, I’m totally rooting for that poor girl.

I hope you enjoy this version of such a crazy little tale 😘

on ao3 | here | if that’s more your style

-/-

Her back is absolutely killing her. There are bones in positions they are definitely not supposed to be in, and she has to wonder where the hell David and Mary Margaret got their couch. Emma secretly thinks that when she asked them if she could come stay with them for a few weeks – days, weeks, months, who the hell knows at this point – they got rid of their old couch and replaced it with one that they found on the side of the road that’s full of extra springs and the smallest amount of cushion stuffing on the planet.

David and Mary Margaret are too full of kindness to do something like that, but she knows that if her sister – if she had one obviously – called and said she lost her job and her apartment and needed a place to crash for a little while, she would definitely make the stay as uncomfortable as possible.

If the couch crasher isn’t comfortable, it means they won’t stay as long, right?

It’s July, and she’s been on their couch since the end of April. So much for that theory, obviously. But hey, at least she’s not stuck still living with Neal because if she had to sleep in the same apartment as her cheating douchebag of an ex, there is no guarantee that she wouldn’t murder him in his sleep.

Small blessings and all.

Emma raises her arms above her head and interlaces her hands together, stretching her body out and loosening up her limbs, before she moves her legs and starts running. She’s never been much of a runner. She always thought it was some kind of voluntary torture. Back in Boston, she had a kickboxing gym she went to every day, but there’s not one of those in Storybrooke. There’s one gym here, and it’s got out of date equipment that definitely aren’t cleaned every day. There’s no way she’d ever pay for that when she’s already short on cash to begin with.

So running on the beach it is, even if it makes her calves feel like they are legitimately on fire.

There’s no one on the beach this morning. Sometimes tourists will get here early and mark their space with their chairs and their umbrellas, but today, it’s blissfully empty so that she can run up and down the sand without being bothered. Music blares through her headphones, and it propels her forward every time that she wants to quit. She’s never been one to want to stare at the ocean and soak in its beauty. It’s never calmed her, but now, when her days are spent going between having a bad back, serving drinks to people who don’t know how to tip, and wondering if her life is always going to suck this much, she thinks that the ocean isn’t that bad.

It’s calm and beautiful, and right now, it’s as blue as the…what the fuck?

Emma stops jogging, sand kicking up around her, and her breath escapes her as she squints and looks out onto the ocean past the pier.

Is there…is there someone out there?

About forty, fifty feet out in the water, there’s some kind of floating figure. She can’t really tell from here, but it looks like there’s a man floating on his back, his head tilted backward.

Oh shit.

This area has been full of scuba divers this summer, but they’re usually in groups and only go in the afternoon with some kind of instructor. This guy – or girl, she can’t really tell right now because she doesn’t have her contacts in and can’t see that far away – must have been a dumbass and gone on his own.

Her stomach is heavy, like it’s full of wet sand, and when she looks around, she’s reminded that there’s no one around.

Shit, shit, shit.

This isn’t what she’s trained to do. She’s not even technically trained to do anything. She’s only really ever worked in food service besides her boring as hell office job in Boston, and none of that would have ever prepared her for something like this.

“Oh, what the hell?” Emma mumbles to herself as she pulls her tank top off before tugging her leggings down, kicking them off with her socks and shoes. She drops her phone and her headphones into her shoes. She’s in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of underwear that literally has little animated penises on it from Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party, but that doesn’t really matter when this guy (girl) might be dying.

The water is cold when she first dives in, and salt gets up her nose so that her throat is itching, but she manages to swim out to the water as quickly as possible. Now that she’s closer, she can see that it’s definitely a man, and Emma closes her eyes as she closes the final strides and reaches for him.

When she opens them, he is staring directly at her, blue eyes blown wide in what she can only assume is confusion.

So, he’s not dead. That’s good to know.

“Are you okay?” Emma blurts out, salt water still in her mouth that she hacks up.

The guy nods and slowly removes his regulator and his mask. One eyebrow raises before they both furrow together. “Aye.”

Great. He thinks she’s a lunatic. She probably is.

She just tried to save a man from drowning when he wasn’t actually drowning.

This is all Mary Margaret and David’s fault because they own the most uncomfortable couch in existence, and she obviously is suffering from poor decision making because of a lack of sleep.

“I thought you were dead!” Emma explains as she starts treading water and hopes that a shark doesn’t show up any time soon. That would really be the cherry on top of her day. “But you’re obviously not dead.”

“No, love, I don’t think I am.”

“What’s going on here?”

Emma stops treading and dips under the water before she rises back up and sees another guy floating a few feet away. As she looks around more and more keep popping up, all of them deadly silent, and if she had any air in her lungs right now, she would scream.

What the hell has she just walked…swam into?

And then, when she comes to her senses, she realizes that they’re all laughing at her.

The bunch of assholes.

(She probably deserves their laughter, but she won’t admit to that.)

“Alright, alright,” the non-dead guy says, raising his hand in the air, “leave the lady alone. She is a real savior, okay?” He flashes her a pearly white smile and nods back to the shore. “Do you want to go back and get away from these assholes?”

What she’d like to do right now is drown, but there seems to be none of that going around today.

“Yeah, I would. I don’t need you to take me back though.”

“Good because I’m not going to. I’m simply going to happen to be swimming to the shore at the same time that you do.”

Emma nods and then turns around and starts swimming back. He stays at her heels while his friends whistle out words she’s ignoring behind them, and while Emma considers herself to be in good shape, she is not a swimmer. The adrenaline from her run and from her not-so-daring rescue are wearing off, and she can feel her breathing getting heavier and heavier. Is the shore getting further away? That would be impossible.

“You’re so lucky you weren’t actually dying back there because there was no way I was going to be able to drag your sorry ass back to shore.” He chuckles, and she cuts her eyes back at him. “I’m glad you find this funny.”

“I find this hysterical, love. You need a tug to shore?”

She does, but there’s no way in hell that she’s going to accept that.

“Absolutely not.”

Eventually, after what feels like ages, she steps foot on solid, if sandy, ground, and the early morning air nips at her skin as she emerges from the water. She tries to shake it off while walking toward her clothes, but she knows that there’s no way that she could possibly get her leggings back on.

That would be torture of an entirely different kind.

Holy shit. She’s wearing underwear with cartoon dicks on them.

This day could not get any worse.

Except when she turns around, she sees the guy stripping out of his gear, only the wetsuit left on, and this is the first time she gets a really good luck at him. He’s trim, like he spends a heck of a lot more time swimming than she does, and he’s got dark stubble across his jaw that she imagines would feel fantastic brushing against her skin. His eyes also seem to be bluer now, and she definitely didn’t think that was possible.

Okay, so maybe her day could get worse.

Or a little better.

Then she watches his eyes tail down her body, just for a moment, but it’s long enough that she knows that he’s noticed her unfortunate choice in underwear.

“So, do you go about saving people every morning or is this just a one-time thing?”

“Definitely a one-time thing since all of my effort was apparently useless.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. That’s the most entertainment me and the boys have had in weeks. I don’t think we’re going to forget about this for a long time.”

Emma nods and bends down to get her tank top. She pulls it over, and it immediately clings to her skin. So much for getting a little coverage. “You lead that boring of a life then? All diving all the time?”

“Lately, yeah.”

“Is that so?”

He shakes his hair out and runs his fingers through his locks, and she is not distracted by that at all.

(She is definitely not thinking about the fact that she hasn’t had sex in several months.)

(She just embarrassed the hell out of herself in front of him, so that shouldn’t even be a though going through her mind.)

(Even if these were normal circumstances, that wouldn’t be a thought that went through her mind this early in the morning.)

“We’re training for diving school for the Navy,” he explains. “We’ve got a few weeks off that we’re spending up here for the incredible diving spots, but then we’ll be in Florida for four months.”

“Well, I hope you won’t need any saving while you’re there.”

“It won’t be you, so I’m not sure that it’d be quite as enjoyable.” Emma rolls her eyes, and she has to try her hardest not to let herself smile. That was a bad line. She will not smile at it. “Killian Jones, by the way. And you are?”

“Emma Swan.” She reaches out to take his hand to shake, but instead, he pulls it up and brushes his lips across the back of her hand, never breaking eye contact.

“It’s nice to meet you, Swan. You wouldn’t happen to know a good spot around here to get a beer, would you?”

Emma looks down at her feet, kicking them in the sand, before she raises her head and smiles. He’s flirting with her. She just embarrassed the hell out of herself, interrupted a military training exercise, and he’s flirting with her.

What’s wrong with him?

“I actually work at the Crab Shack down by the pier. Don’t let the name fool you. There is only a small possibility that you’ll get crabs if you shack up while there.”

Okay, what is wrong with her?

Killian cocks his head to the side and chuckles as a water droplet falls from his hair and streaks down his face. Why is that so distracting? “I’ll see if the boys and I can stop by tonight. You know, to celebrate the woman who saved me.”

“Alright, alright,” Emma laughs, holding her hands up and bowing her head. “I get it. I’m never going to live this down.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

-/-

David and Mary Margaret are both at work when she gets home, so she thankfully doesn’t have to explain her appearance. Her heart is still racing and her clothes are still soaking wet. Her leggings were pretty much impossible to get on, so she walked through the streets of Storybrooke in nothing but sneakers, a tank top, and dick-covered underwear. She takes a shower and tries to wash away the embarrassment of the morning. She never thought that she was one to embarrass easily, but she guesses that was not some kind of normal situation.

Why is she such an idiot?

Is this just a new low point in her life?

She’s not working until after lunch, and while she would usually take this time to clean up around the loft to show her appreciation for David and Mary Margaret for letting her crash here, she doesn’t do that. Instead, she spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what to wear to work, like she’s not going to wear her regular cut-offs and a tank top. That’s exactly what she puts on, and if she decides to add a lacy bralette, well, that’s just because all of her other bras need to be washed.

Eventually, she heads to work, clocks in, and starts helping to serve the few tables and the people at the bar. It’s pretty slow, though, and when there’s only one guy in a booth in the corner, she tells Ruby about her morning.

Considering Ruby literally starts choking from laughing so much, Emma thinks maybe that wasn’t her best idea.

“You were wearing the underwear from Marg’s bachelorette party?”

“It was clean! I have to do laundry!”

“This is the best thing to ever happen to me,” Ruby laughs, leaning forward and resting her face on the countertop before she pops back up with wide eye and a wolfish smirk. “Wait. Did you say that he’s coming here tonight?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you have on mascara?”

“I wear makeup sometimes.”

“Rarely.” Ruby places her hands on her hips, and okay, maybe she definitely shouldn’t have told Ruby. She probably wouldn’t have noticed the Navy guys coming in. “Oh, is he cute? Are you going to sleep with him? Is that what’s up with you looking slightly put together. Emma Swan, have you gone and found yourself a man in the most ridiculous way possible?”

“I am not going to sleep with him.” Ruby raises her brows and then winks, and all Emma can do is shake her head. “He’s in the Navy. He’s about to go to Florida for four months and then who knows where? What would even be the point?”

“That sounds like the perfect excuse to sleep with him. There are no strings attached, and I’m sure he knows that too. I mean, you’ve got to get over that douche eventually. Why not do it with a hot guy who is going to leave, no strings attached?”

She’s only known Ruby from when she’s come to visit David, but they’ve managed to be pretty close friends over the last few months. Ruby is fearless and crass, and there’s never anything holding her back. Emma often wishes she was like that.

The girl is right, unfortunately, not that Emma would admit that to her. She would never shut up about it.

“He’s probably not even going to show, Rubes.”

-/-

He shows.

His entire crew doesn’t. It’s just him and two guys named Robin and Will, and they all settle down at a booth, ordering burgers and drinks and taking the piss out of her every time she brings them something. Will is the main culprit, and she’s pretty sure that he’s the one who scared the shit out of her earlier by silently popping up out of nowhere.

It’s weird seeing them all out of their gear and in their civilian clothes. Killian is in a pair of dark jeans that hug his legs – not that she was staring or anything – and a short-sleeved gray t-shirt. A tattoo peaks out underneath his sleeve, and she’s curious as to what it is.

She’s not going to sleep with him, though. That’s not…that’s not happening.

“So, I have to ask,” Ruby says after Emma’s been chatting with them on and off for an hour, “did you manage to get a good look at the panties this girl had on earlier?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t, love,” Killian tells Ruby before looking at Emma and winking.

Oh, she might be in trouble if he’s going to do things like that..

“Really?” Ruby asks, disappointed.

“I’m afraid that I was too busy being thankful to be saved to pay any attention to what my savior was wearing.”

“I call bullshit on that, but whatever. You really missed out too. They were the greatest pair of panties in existence.”

Little by little, the bar fills up with people, mostly tourists, but a few locals come in. Will and Robin start talking with a few guys they happen to know, but Killian comes to sit at the bar across from her where she learns that he’s originally from California but that his dad was in the military growing up and they moved around a lot. His mom was British, and they spent the majority of his early years in England, which explains the slight accent, and he has an older brother who lives in Denmark with his wife. At twenty-four, he’s only three years older than her, and he says that he got a bit of a late start to being in the Navy, messing around too much and not knowing what the hell it is he wanted to do with his life.

Emma gets that more than he could probably ever know. She’s literally sleeping on her brother’s couch and working in a place called the Crab Shack.

They don’t even sell crab most days.

He gives as good as he gets with being teased, and she finds that he’s always quick to give back an insult or a jab whenever one comes from Ruby or from his friends.

Or from her.

It’s easy talking to him, laughing and sharing a drink and some fries, and as the night goes on, it’s even easier to forget that she hasn’t flirted since Neal and that the man smiling across from her was the witness to one of the most embarrassing moments of her life.

Killian kisses her against the wall in the hallway that leads back to the bathrooms and the storage closets. It’s dark, the music from the bar dimmed, and the only thing she can focus on is the warmth of his mouth and the expert sweep of his tongue as chills scatter across her body before warming her everywhere, from her toes to her cheeks but especially in the pit of her belly. She hasn’t been kissed like that in quite some time, if not ever, and getting lost in it is as easy as anything she’s ever done.

She doesn’t sleep with him, though.

She desperately wants to, aches for it really, but he mutters something about being a gentleman, which she protests against, but he reassures her that he is, indeed, always a gentleman.

Making out with her in the hallway of a bar doesn’t really allow that theory to hold up, but she guesses he’s going to play the gentleman card.

He promises he’ll be back, though, asking her if she’s working tomorrow, and when she says yes, he kisses her again and then walks out the door.

-/-

Killian comes back the next day.

And the next.

And the one after that.

And then he asks if he can see her outside of work, take her on a proper date or something, and the only reason Emma says yes is because she knows this is temporary. He’s going to leave soon, so it’s okay for her to get to know him and laugh with him and make out with him in the backseat of her car until her lips are kiss-swollen and every part of her is flushed.

It’s okay for her to get to know how he likes his burgers and what his favorite drink is and that the tattoo on his arm is in honor of his mom who passed away five years ago. She learns more about his brother and his apparently shitty dad, just as she tells him about David who he apparently had some kind of run-in with on his first night in town, and little by little, she starts to know all of these pieces of this man she never should have met.

If she were a romantic, Emma would say that this is like something out of a movie, a summer romance that passes by in montages full of laughter and good times. She’s not a romantic, though. She knows that this is the real world where things don’t work out like that, but even so, the weeks pass by, and when she goes to bed at night, she finds herself thinking of blue eyes and a kind but mischievous smile.

Oh.

Oh, okay. Maybe she’s gotten herself in too deep of waters without knowing the way out, and this time, there’s not going to be some idiot running along the beach who dives out into the ocean to save her.

Despite her thoughts starting to attack her, her heart aching even when she tells it to stop, she continues to see him whenever she can. And a week before he leaves, they manage to find a time when no one is home but the two of them, and while she doesn’t intend for it go that far, once his lips brush across her neck and liquid heat blazes over her skin, there’s no stopping them as they shed their clothes.

“No dick-covered underwear today, love?” Killian whispers against her bare stomach as he kisses her in such a way that her stomach ripples.

“I’m afraid those have been retired.”

“A pity that.”

They don’t talk much for the next few minutes, not more than curses and instructions and repetitive words of pleasure, and as her heart races while Killian drives her absolutely mad with his movements, it also aches, the ticking time bomb she wants liked suddenly something she’s dreading.

She likes him.

Honestly, truly likes him.

He’s kind and funny and has a mouth on him that matches hers in curses and in banter. He asks her about her day and listens to her when she talks, which Neal nearly never did, and while she finds that what’s between them is physical, there’s something more underneath the surface, so damn close to breaking through.

When he leaves, she doesn’t want to say goodbye. She’s never been particularly good at those, but Killian still comes to the bar, sits with her at the counter likes it’s not his last day, and when he has to go, he takes her hand and pulls her outside, the wind whipping around them and the smell of salt permeating the air.

“There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

Emma nearly makes some kind of sarcastic quip, but instead she leans up on her toes and slowly glides her lips over his, savoring the softness and undeniable warmth of them one last time.

“Good.”

-/-

Emma wakes to a text the next morning.

KJ: So, I have some time off in January. Do you think I could take you to dinner?

ES: I think that could be arranged. I don’t know if I’ll recognize you all bundled up to live through Maine’s winter weather.

KJ: I’ll bring a red rose, just in case.

Emma rolls over on the couch and buries her smile in her pillow.

ES: I am looking forward to it.

-/-

Emma sees Killian for the first time – FaceTime not included – on January third, four months and a week after they said goodbye. He’s standing outside her apartment – one she shares with Ruby, each of them with their own, actual bedrooms – dressed in his Naval dress uniform with a red rose in his hand.

His hair is shorter, his usual stubble a little bit more trimmed, his skin tanned, and even with his uniform, she can see that his shoulders are broader than they were this summer.

“Hi,” Emma whispers. She thought she was yelling it, but it definitely only came out as a whisper. “You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

He cocks his head to the side, smile bright, and God, she has missed that smile. “Ah, well, you see, I had an opportunity to see the woman I love one day sooner, and there was no way in hell I was going to pass up that opportunity.”

“The woman you love, huh?”

“Aye.” He steps closer, and it takes everything in Emma not to tackle him to the ground. “She’s this fiery lass who is beyond brilliant and witty. And, I’ll have you know, that she is so brave that she’ll dive into the ocean to save a drowning man. Would you happen to know anyone like that?”

Emma rolls her eyes and closes the distance between them. It was once 1,500 miles (she may have looked it up), but that is no longer. And it feels damn good. “I might have an idea where you can find her.”

“Good,” he says, her own word from so long ago echoing back to her, before pressing his lips to hers in a deep, slow kiss that feels like it never stopped.

She has never been so thankful for David’s shitty couch and how it inadvertently led her to this.

#the one where emma goes underwater #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #Captain Swan

[lnfours]

heartbreak weather: arms of a stranger | t.h

summary: she moved to become something more, he went his own way to become an actor. they’re still madly, deeply in love with each other, just in hopes that in the end the universe will be on their side.

warnings: college!au, roommate!au, language (as usual), drinking, and i think that’s it (?)

wc: 1.9k

masterlist | prev. | next⎜’arms of a stranger’ by niall horan

you could feel the warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin where your neck meets your collarbone. your breathing hitched as a pair of soft lips ghosted over the spot where the breath was just hitting, making you uncontrollably move your head to the side to give him more room.

secretly, you wanted him to mark up your neck, cover it in deep purple and blue bruises. you wanted to feel his palms rest against your hips, the way he’d squeeze them whenever you ran my tongue over his bottom lip.

you were pulled back when you felt his fingers loop on the thin straps of your lace thong, pulling them back before they softly snapped against your skin again,”you know you’re mine.”

you turned in his grip to have your front facing his. you wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy toes in order to reach his ear.

softly, you whispered,”prove it.”

your eyes snapped open and you looked at the ceiling fan going around and around, breathing heavy. you had kicked the comforter off in your sleep, making you shiver. it had been a while since you had a dream with tom in it, and to be honest, you didn’t know what it meant. 

dream you wanted him, lusted for him, craved him. 

real world you didn’t know what you wanted. you didn’t know if you wanted to be the ‘mysterious girl’ tom holland gets pictured with. you didn’t know if you wanted to make a name for yourself. you didn’t know anything. 

except for the fact that you missed him. a lot. whether you’d like to believe it or not. 

it had been a week or so since he had helped you with putting together your furniture and helping you move into the apartment. you didn’t know what else to say to him, you had felt embarrassed when you asked if the two of you could start with a clean slate again and start over. 

his reasoning to his answer made you think. maybe he wasn’t the same ‘tom holland’ you knew, but you knew that tom would never change to be a bad person. he has too many loyal friends and family members who help keep him grounded. 

but yet again, could you handle being in the spotlight almost everyday, all day, for, god knows, the rest of your life? that you were unsure of, also. 

either way, for the past week, your head has been swimming with thoughts and theories on how you wanted it to work. 

the only problem, you didn’t know what you wanted to work. you weren’t sure of what to do. even your gut was confused. part of you wanted to stay out of it and be content by yourself and your writing, but the other part of you missed the interactions the two of you would have. 

as much as you wanted to be in his arms, you also weren’t sure if those same arms would feel like him, homey and just the right amount of love, or if they’d feel like the arms of a stranger, cold and dull. 

your thoughts were interrupted when tay spoke, startling you slightly,”what are you planning on doing tonight?”

you shrugged, pressing the button on the side of your phone, making it lock itself,”i dunno. why?”

“the boys are talking about hitting the local bar for a game night. they asked if we wanted to join.” she sat beside you, sitting on the couch with a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch.

“you going?” you asked. she shrugged, finishing her bite of food before speaking.

“not without you,” she said,”you should join us. it’ll be fun.”

“i don’t know-“

“c’mon!” she said,”have a little fun! you've been moping around since tom built your furniture.”

you shrugged,”i don’t know, tay. i mean, i look at him and i think about all the things we could’ve been and it hurts. it hurts so fucking bad.”

she put her bowl of cereal down on the coffee table, turning her body to face you,”y/n, i know the two of you both still love each other and care for each other deeply. you two grew apart as two separate people and you've both matured since the last time you two were together. you’re going to have to learn about one another all over again. it’ll take time, but it will pay off. i promise.”

“don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“good thing i always keep them.” she smiled and you shook your head and let out a soft chuckle. she smiled and got up from the couch, offering you her hand.

“now, c’mon, let’s go pick out an outfit for tonight.”

she wiggled her fingers and you smiled before taking her hand as she helped you up from the sofa, the two of you walking off towards your room.

you fixed your hair one last time before shutting the mirror in the visor of tay’s car, looking over at her. she smiled softly at you.

“you look fuckin’ hot,” she chuckled and you smiled, letting the soft blush rise to your cheeks,”ready, darlin’?”

you nodded and the two of you stepped out of the car and made your way into the bar, the music was soft but just loud enough for you to hear when there was no chatter. you found the boys quickly, their table being the loudest in the bar. you spotted that there was an empty seat next to tom. 

did he save me a seat next to him on purpose?

haz spotted the two of you and waved you over,”tay! y/n! over here!”

you two made your way to the table, tay squeezing between the twins while tom moved against the window to give you a seat.

so he did save it for me. 

“hey, ladies.” harry greeted the two of you.

“what’s up?” tay asked and you looked over at tom, smiling softly and saying hi to everyone before they flagged down the waitress and got the two of you drinks. 

“how’ve you been, y/n?” tom asked and you nodded, the rest of the table lost in their own conversation.

“good, really enjoying that bedframe,” you chuckled and he smiled, softly laughing,”how about you?”

“been busy with work,” he shrugged,”been meaning to text you, actually, i just never got the chance to.”

you shrugged,”it’s alright, shit happens.”

he nodded, swallowing a sip of his beer,”but, i was gonna ask if you wanted to go out sometime? just the two of us?”

your heart skipped a beat and you stayed quiet as he kept talking,”y’know, talk about what you had asked the day i built your furniture.”

you nodded and smiled,”that'd be nice.”

he smiled and the waitress put down your drink, making you turn to say thank you. he moved his arm behind you on the back of the booth, smiling at you. you smiled back, and without even realizing, you were falling in love all over again.

the night continued on and the rest of the party decided to call it a night, but you and tom had decided on walking around the city, wanting to just spend a little bit more time talking and getting to know each other all over again. 

“so you fell off the bike?” he asked and you nodded, continuing with the story.

“yep. 10 stitches on my leg because my cousin wanted to be a jackass.”

he snorted,”was courtney wasn’t it?”

you nodded, a small smile on your lips, shoving his shoulder lightly,”you remember.”

“of course,” he chuckled,”pretty big scar you had. still have it?”

you nodded,”yeah, still thinking about getting a tattoo to get it covered, though.”

tom nodded as the cool summer breeze made you silver softly. it didn’t go unnoticed by him, however, as he shrugged off his zip up and wrapped it around your shoulders. you smiled, knowing that trying to refuse would cause more of a fuss; plus it was really fucking cold.

the two of you walked around the city for a little while longer before you ended back up at the apartment building. you two made up to your shared floor, walking towards your doors. you looked down at the time on your phone, not really wanting the night to end. 

however, it didn’t necessarily have to. 

“tay is probably asleep by now if you wanted to come to mine for a while?” 

he looked at his door and back at you as you could hear the muffled noises coming from the boys’ apartment. you smiled as tom nodded his head quickly, you turning to unlock the door. you two stepped into the apartment and he followed you to your room, the both of you trying to be as quiet as you could possibly be. you closed your bedroom door softly, kicking your shoes off and shrugging his zip up off, placing it on the foot of the bed. you smiled at him softly, his head resting on one of your pillows as he lazily smiled back at you. 

“do you mind, uh, helping me?” you asked, motioning to the zipper on your back.

“yeah, sure, love.” he hopped up from his spot and you turned your back to him, letting him reach the zipper easy. you moved the hairs out of his way and held them to the side, letting his fingers play with the metal zipper.

suddenly, the air got thicker and it got harder to breathe. the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. you could feel his heavy, warm breath on the back of your neck. you knew he could feel what you were feeling too when he unzipped your dress slowly, wrapping his arms around your middle when he was done.

“tom-”

“shh,” he said softly, turning you to face him, your noses touching as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. you smiled and he smiled back.

“i want it.” you said, blatantly.

“want...what?” tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“you… us,” you said, taking a deep breath,”i let you go once before and i don’t want it to happen again. i don’t care if a million people know your name or if you have thousands of teenage girls swooning over you, i care about thomas stanley holland. the boy i fell in love with. the boy i’ve always been in love with.”

he felt his heart stop for a second before starting again,”are you sure-”

“don’t ask me if i’m sure if this is what i want,” you said, pulling on his button up that just so happened to be your favorite,”i know what i want.”

“well, so do i.” he said before grabbing your face and letting his lips meet yours. you smiled into the kiss, remembering the feeling of kissing him, letting him take control over your body for the night. you had missed him, missed this. 

he continued kissing you and you walked forward, making him walk back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. he sat down, pulling you on top of him. you pulled away for a minute, looking at his red, swollen lips from kissing, his blown pupils, his messy hair from you pulling it, his slightly crooked nose that you loved so much.

you smiled, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him, letting out a soft giggle.

he smiled back at you, and there it was, that damned smile,”what?”

you shook your head,”i love you, tom.”

he smiled back, pulling you closer as he planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose,”i love you more. i always have.”

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland series #tom holland x you #imagine #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #tholland imagine #spiderman #spider-man #spider man #spider-man: far from home #spider-man: homecoming #avengers: infinity war #avengers: endgame #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #like #reblog #fanfic #tom holland fan fic #idfk what else to tag #just enjoy it ig

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

Man After Midnight

Y/N is out for the night on a quest to find someone to sleep with and forget about the next day. The last thing she expects is to run into someone and find herself feeling like she's known them forever. 4k words of fluff, partying, drinking, and cursing (will most likely end up being a series). Enjoy!

Y/n was always up to go out.

It was fun, to get drunk, to party with her friends. It was fun to go to bars all dressed up, flirt with guys that she had absolutely no intentions of committing to. She supposed that was the case for most people her age; making decisions based on the theory that they were invincible. That there was no way they could get hurt when there was nothing and no one they were responsible for.

Tonight was no different than any other. San Francisco was bustling with its usual nightlife, twenty-something year olds stumbling into the entrance of the next bar they were going into. Y/n and her friends had just left one of their favorite places, beginning to head to the next destination for the night.

“Can you believe that guy?” Lydia, one of her friends, frustratedly wipes at her jacket with an old receipt from her purse. “Clumsily grinding on someone and then spilling your drink all over them is not a one way ticket inside their pants.”

“God, it was like watching a train wreck!” Her other friend Veronica skips around them holding a flask. “So bad you want to look away and yet you can’t help but watch.”

Y/n laughs, plucking the flask from her hand. “I kind of feel bad for the guy. He clearly had no clue what he was doing.” She takes a swig, coughing and handing it off to Penelope.

“Fuck that. He was definitely just drunk, not inexperienced.” Penelope says, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck him and fuck these hills. A bitch wants to be able to wear heels out without breaking an ankle.” Lydia groans.

“Cheers to that.” Y/n takes another sip and the girls pass it around, laughing.

Y/n never really got time with her girl friends like this. She was currently working at a coffee shop part time while she got her degree in digital marketing, which meant that between studying and work, she had no time to herself.

“You know, I think this is the one.” Y/n says at a pause in the conversation.

“The one?” Veronica laughs, narrowly avoiding a very drunk couple sloppily making out against a storefront. “You said the last one was ‘the one’.”

“I feel it this time.” Y/n turns to walk backwards to face her friends, entering the bar. “Mama is gonna get her p- Oh!” She falls against someone, laughing.”Fuck, I’m sorry, I should have-”

“Not been walking backwards?” The person interrupts her with a thick British accent, laughing heartily. She turns around, biting her lip when she sees the victim of her drunkenness.

“Well shit, of all the people to fall into...” Lydia says under her breath. Penelope elbows her in the side to shut her up.

Lydia was right. He was hot. Tattoos were littered around his tan arms, the sleeves of his white button up pushed past his elbows. A handful of the top buttons were undone, tattoos of sparrows just below his collar bones peeking out from underneath the fabric. Beautiful pale green eyes looked at her through long, thick eyelashes. His hair was a curly mop on top of his head, slick with sweat from dancing. The worst of it all was his smile. Blindingly white, crooked, dimples. That smile could make an honest woman out of her and she wouldn't mind one bit.

“Fuck- I mean, I’m sorry. You’re right, I probably shouldn’t be walking backwards, let alone walking backwards while drunk.” She laughs, holding out her hand. “No harm no foul?”

“None at all.” He shakes it firmly, his skin rough and calloused. Musician hands. She could feel them on the pads of his fingers.

“Well, we’ll be on our way then.” She says, nodding toward the inside of the club.

“Good luck to you, don’t back into anyone else.” He flashes his crooked grin at her again before his blonde-haired friend slaps him on the back and leads him out.

“What the fuck, y/n!” Lydia says, smacking her friend’s shoulder with her clutch. “He was the one! That was fate!”

“There's no way I’m going to talk it up with a guy that I quite literally ran into.” Y/n leads the group to the bar, ordering herself a drink.

“The sex gods not only sent you a bedtime buddy, they sent you one of their fucking own. Did you even see that man? Are you blind? Does your insurance cover eye care?”

“Forget about it.” She laughs. “They're probably long gone by now anyways.”

“I think Lydia is right. Anyone after looking at him is going to be mediocre at best.” Penelope says, sitting on the stool beside her.

“Whatever, I’ll find someone else.” Y/n says, trying to play it off. Maybe she had been to quick to brush him off. Usually she was the type to be forward and flirtatious, not the type to be nervous. “So, shots?”

As usual, their lucky bar had been a total success. Lydia had already left with a tall guy that said he was an engineer. (“Smart guys have the best dick, trust me.” She had said before she left. “They bottle up all that sexuality in high school and then release the beast when they go out into the real world.”) Veronica had met a guy and was currently pulling him off the dance floor to y/n and Penelope at the bar.

“Derek here says that there's this great spot just a block over with a bar downstairs and a DJ on the roof. Wanna go?”

“Sure.” Y/n shrugs. “Penny?”

“I think I’m going to head back home. I’ve got work in the morning. Should I wait up for you guys?”

“No, don’t worry about it, get some rest.” Y/n kisses her on the cheek, squeezing her arm. “Text me when you get there, alright?”

“Yeah, no problem. Be safe.”

“Always.” Veronica says, grabbing y/n’s arm. She barely has time to slap down money for the tab before she's pulled back out onto the street.

Veronica spends the walk clinging to Derek, leaving y/n to her thoughts. Maybe she was stupid for not talking to that guy more. He was really good-looking, and nice enough to not yell at her for tumbling into him. Not to mention that smile. God, she had never thought about a smile so goddamn much. She shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts. He was long gone anyways, and if she wanted to get any tonight, this was the last stop.

Derek was right, this place was very cool. The bar was dimly lit and clearly busy, people ordering drinks and laughing with their friends. Even from down here she could hear the vibrations of the bass coming from the rooftop.

“Wanna dance?” Veronica yells over the noise.

“Sure! Drinks?”

“I’ve got them. You guys head upstairs.” Derek says, waving them off. Veronica shrugs with a laugh and grabs y/n’s hand to pull her upstairs.

If y/n was impressed by the bar portion, she was blown away by the rooftop. Tables were spread around the edge of a large dance floor brimming with bodies, lights strung up back and forth overhead of them. The DJ had his own light set up as well, colorful lasers darting back and forth to the beat of the music. The sky was clear above them to top it all off, no token San Francisco haze to block their view of the stars. Y/n was suddenly grateful for the rain she had complained about in the morning.

“Fuck, this song is my shit!” Veronica exclaims as ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’ by ABBA comes on.

“Ronnie it's our girl group song!” She laughs, grabbing her friends hands.

“Hell yeah it is.” She takes two shots from the mini-bar adjacent to the dance floor, handing one to y/n and holding her own up. “To getting a man after midnight.”

“To getting a man after midnight.” Y/n grins, tapping their glasses together and downing the amber liquid. She coughs slightly before setting the glass back down and making her way to the dance floor.

Song after song plays, y/n somehow making her way to the center of the crowd of people. It was too tight for anyone to really dance, so she was just jumping around laughing and having fun. This was what it was about. What all the stress and hard work came back to. This. Letting go, having fun, dancing next to strangers who were equally as drunk and stressed and tired. A mass of twenty-somethings tossing away every bad part of their life. Y/n closes her eyes to soak it all in, tipping her head towards the sky.

“Fancy seeing you here. Run into anyone else yet?” A British accent yells over the music next to her. She opens her eyes.

“Not way.” She laughs, pushing her hair out of her face. “Hey!”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He grins, looking up at the DJ when the song changes.

“Not so far. The night is still young, though.”

“Right, of course. Silly me to think one would only step on a single person in a night.”

“I didn’t step on you!”

He looks down at his shoes, which were scuffed up at the point.

“Shit, my bad. I’ll pay for a shining?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pay me back with a drink?”

Y/n smiles. “I’d love to.”

The man takes her hand and weaves through the crowd of people back down to the bar. By now most of the crowd had either left or were upstairs, leaving the bar quiet besides a handful of people and the muffled noises from upstairs.

“What do you drink?” She asks, sitting on a stool.

“I’ll have a scotch, please.” He says, sitting beside her.

“A martini for me, and a scotch for...”

“Harry.” He finishes. “Thanks.” He says to the bartender.

“Y/n.” She says to him. “Nice to officially introduce myself in a way other than fucking up your shoe.”

“Indeed.” He laughs. “Well, y/n, where are you from?”

“Really? We’re starting with that question?”

“Is that a bad question to start with?” The corner of his mouth turns up, amused.

“A terrible one. People always ask that when they’re trying to get to know you, but I’ve found that where someone is from is the least telling information there is.”

“And why is that.” He grabs his scotch when it's set in front of him, nodding his head to the bartender in thanks.

“Well, there's a reason people left wherever they’re from. A reason why they wanted to get out of that place as soon as they could. So, therefore, they are likely the opposite of wherever they’re from and that information is irrelevant.”

“Thats contradictory. If they’re the opposite of wherever they’re from, doesn’t that tell you what they’re like anyways? Perhaps not so plainly, but it still does all the same.”

Y/n pauses and then laughs. “You got me there.”

“So then, where are you from?” He tries again.

“A small town outside of Chicago.”

“Aha. A midwesterner.”

“See, these are the exact kind of assumptions I wanted to avoid.” She takes a sip of her martini.

“You don’t want people to assume you’re nice?”

“I don’t want people to assume I’m a pushover.” She corrects.

“Darling, I have no assumptions whatsoever.” He turns in his seat to face her. “I’m from Cheshire, England. A little place called Holmes Chapel.”

“Little place? You’re from a small town?”

“Population 5,000.” He shrugs.

“I just assume every English person I meet is from London.”

“That's very American of you.” He laughs. “But I suppose I can’t judge you for that, I assume everyone is from LA or New York.”

“Is there anything about me that screams LA?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. As soon as your large midwesterner feet landed on my posh English shoes I knew exactly the type you were.”

“Did not!” She smacks his shoulder jokingly.

“’Did not’ indeed. That would have been cool, though.”

Y/n laughs, finishing her drink. Usually by this time she would have been in between the sheets with this stranger, and definitely wouldn’t know where he was from (or maybe even his name). Something was different about Harry. Maybe it was his teasing, or maybe she just wasn’t drunk enough. Or maybe it was because she felt like she had already known him for forever, which seemed crazy even to her.

“Hey.” Harry clears his throat, setting his empty glass down. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“And go where?” She bites her lower lip, running a hand through her hair. Maybe she had spoken too soon and this was just foreplay after all.

“It's a really clear night for San Francisco, right? My friend told me about this place where you can see the Golden and the entire bay. We could pick up a drink on the way, if you’re interested.”

“I am interested. Let me just let my friend know I’m leaving and we’ll meet back on the street?”

“Absolutely.” He grins lopsidedly, standing up and then helping her out of her chair.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” She sets down money for the tab and then walks back up the stairs, finding Veronica.

“You found who?” She yells over the music, grinning. “No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way.” Y/n grins. “So I’m leaving with him right now, if you’re good with Derek.”

“Absolutely I am. Go get that dick, baby!” She says, high-fiving her. “I guess you were right about that bar being ‘the one’, huh?”

Y/n rolls her eyes, squeezing her friend’s arm before making her way back down to the street. Harry is standing just outside of a taxi, leaning against it. He immediately smiles when he sees her, standing up and opening the door. “Ready?”

“To leave with a man I violently assaulted and just met? I guess.” She jokes, sliding into the car. He slides in next to her, leaning towards the driver, saying something she couldn’t hear.

“Alright, what other get to know you question can I bore you with?” He asks, sitting back.

“What brings you here?”

“What brings you here?” He repeats, looking at her.

“No, I’m asking you.” Y/n laughs, crossing her legs. “No offense, but your accent puts you heavily out of place.”

“Is that so? I hadn’t noticed.” He twists a ring around his middle finger. “I’m here on business. I work for a record label seeking new talent.”

“I would expect you to be a musician.”

“Now who’s assuming?” He teases, running his tongue along his lower lip. “I mean, I am one. A musician, I mean. I write stuff for people sometimes, and just for myself, but I prefer being on the sidelines for the time being.” He shrugs.

“So you sing?”

“I do.”

“That's cool. I wish I had a talent like that.”

“Tell me what you’re good at then.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of humility?”

“A bit, but you don’t strike me as someone shy.” He glances out the window when they stop at a 7/11, smiling. “Press pause on that, looks like we’re stopped at the epitome of class winery. Thanks for the ride, mate.” He hands the driver some cash, opening the door and helping y/n out.

“7/11? Really?” She laughs.

“Can you think of anywhere else open at nearly three in the morning that sells wine?”

“So we’re drinking wine? That’s very classy of you.”

“I’m trying to impress you, what can I say?” He shrugs. The door chimes when he opens it for her, following behind her and waving to the bored clerk. She walks to the wine section, Harry standing behind her with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “This isn’t your first midnight 7/11 wine run, I’m assuming.”

“What makes you say that?” She bites her lower lip, looking back at him.

He looks at her mouth and then back up at her eyes. “No reason. You just went straight for the wine section without so much as a glance at any of the directory signs.”

“So what if I have?” She turns back to the shelf, surveying the selection. “Are you a white or red wine type of guy?”

“I feel like that's a trick question, seeing as how you’re obviously an expert on 7/11 wine.” He grins when she looks back at him, glaring. “Are you going to judge me?”

“Would I ever?”

He snorts. “White. Chardonnay especially.”

“I would never have pegged you for a white wine bitch.”

“Hey! What happened to no judgement?”

“That was before you revealed you were a basic white wine bitch.” She grabs a bottle, pressing it to his chest. She can feel the warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt to the back of her hand, and it gives her the chills. “It’s okay. Chardonnay is one of my favorites too.”

“Is it?” He pulls his lower lip into his mouth, suppressing a smile at her touch. He wraps his hand around the neck of the bottle, covering hers. “Guess we’ll have to settle on that then, shall we?”

“We shall.” She lets go of the bottle, casually walking to the aisle full of snacks and grabbing a bag of Doritos.

“Wine and Doritos?” Harry quirked up an eyebrow.

“Wine and cheese is considered fancy and socially appropriate. Why not wine and… nacho cheese?”

“Right, of course,” He laughs, reaching over her to grab oreos. His arm was positioned beside her head like a boy leaning against his girlfriends locker in every high school rom com, and she wasn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks was from the alcohol or from his proximity.  “And we can’t forget the chocolate.”

“It would be an absolute crime to consume wine without chocolate.” She laughs.

“Precisely.” He takes the bag or Doritos from her hand, walking to the clerk and paying for their haul.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Y/n says, following him out the door. “Pay for everything. I could have pitched in.”

“Don’t worry yourself with it. I’m the one that asked you out, remember?”

“Asked me out? Is this a date?”

He shrugs, smiling slyly. “It’s whatever you want it to be. Come on, the spot is a short walk from here.”

Y/n looks down at her heels with a small sigh before wrinkling her nose and shrugging. “Are you going to be thoroughly disgusted if I take off my shoes?” She asks.

Harry snorts. “I wouldn’t want to wear them. Go ahead.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder to stabilize herself, stepping out of her heels. Harry bites his lip at the contact, placing his hand in between her shoulder blades to assist. “Better?”

“Much.”

He shakes his head with a slight laugh before continuing on again. He leads her up the street and then turns down an alleyway, checking behind him every once in awhile to see if she was keeping up. Y/n trudges behind him with her heels and Doritos in hand, glaring at him when he looks back at her for the fifth or sixth time. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping up.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities.” He falls into step beside her, taking the Doritos. She doesn’t say anything, but smiles to herself. Harry grins wider when they get to a steep hill, blocking their view of what's ahead.

“Are you serious? A hill?” She groans, watching him bound up easily with his long male legs.

“Because a hill is the worst thing you’ve encountered in your life?” He calls behind him. She raises her middle finger in the air. He laughs.

She stomps up the hill, mumbling to herself about being a sucker for tattoos and dimples.

“For fucks sake, y/n. You’re almost there. I promise it's worth it.”

“You don’t live here, of course you think it's-” She cuts herself off, looking out over the view. The Golden Gate bridge was as twinkling in the night, lit up from end to end just to the right of them. Sometimes you couldn't see the other end of it, but tonight you could see the whole city, lit up and peaceful as sleep fell over it. She could taste the salt in the air here, feel the slight humidity on her skin. She could feel the grass between her toes too, this hidden little hill having not been trampled by the feet of locals and tourists alike. He was right. “...worth it.”

“Right?” Harry grins, placing his hands on his hips pridefully. “Not bad for a non-local.”

“Not bad at all.” She approaches him finally, biting her lower lip. “So…”

“So…” He smiles lopsidedly, holding up the wine in one hand and their snacks in the other.

“So.” She grins, taking the wine from his hands and screwing the cap off. Classic, convenient cheap wine. No cork to get in the way. She raises it up in the air, smiling to herself. “To getting a man after midnight.” She says before taking a swig.

Harry snorts, taking the bottle from her and tipping it in her direction. “To getting a man after midnight.” Y/n giggles when he sputters slightly after taking a sip. “Oh. This is cheap cheap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took us to 7/11.”

“Sure, blame the foreigner.” He grins, sitting on the top of a lone picnic table, his feet on the bench. Y/n drunkenly hoists herself up to sit beside him, their sides pressed together as they pass the bottle back and forth.

“You know, I’ve never done this.” Y/n says, looking out at the water.

“Never done what?” Harry asks, looking at her profile.

“Hung out with a guy after meeting him at a bar. Or even wanting to hang out with a guy after meeting him at a bar.” She shakes her head with a laugh. “I was kicking myself for not talking to you, and then there you were showing me your shoes. I am sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be.” He smiles, putting his hand over hers when she starts to pass him the bottle so that they’re both holding it when he leans in. She meets his eyes, biting her lower lip. “I like them better scuffed up. It reminds me of you.”

She had never had a kiss like this one.

One like the movies, the kind where you move slowly and bump noses before you kiss. The kind where your teeth knock together because you’re both smiling, where the kiss turns for a serious note when he holds your face in his hands and kisses you so hard it makes you breathless. He was kissing her like that now, setting the bottle to the side before immediately pulling her closer. There was no hand traveling up her thigh, no nudging her hands to certain places. He was completely invested in her, not her body.

She moves her hand to his forearm, pulling herself closer to him until she's on her knees on the table. Her hand slides up his arm and to his neck, tipping his jaw to fit his mouth to hers like two pieces to a puzzle. He takes this as a que to pull her into his lap, resting a hand on her hip and another in her hair. “Harry…” She breathes.

He pulls away slightly, biting his lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. His hand moves from her hair down to her hip. “We kind of forgot about the snacks.” He says quietly.

Y/n laughs, rubbing her thumbs along his jaw and putting her forehead on his chest to catch her breath. He rubs her back, resting his chin on top of her head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that was not a hook-up type of kiss.”

“That was not a hook-up type of kiss.” Y/n confirms, sitting back onto his thighs. “Whatsoever.”

“Well, in that case, what are you doing tomorrow?”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff

[consultingskeletondetective]

Geraskier college roommates au, or ‘Buttercups’

Geraskier prompt fill for @merthurlocked @witchofmorena

Warnings: bad language and fluff. I don’t know anything about american college so if anything’s wrong I’m really sorry

According to the painfully bright light of Jaskier’s phone screen, it was 2am when his roommate stumbled loudly into their dorm room – crashing into everything on the way – and falling so heavily to the floor that it shook Jaskier’s bedframe.

He wasn’t especially surprised. Geralt Rivia, the six-foot slab of muscle that had stomped into his room on the first day of term, wasn’t exactly known for being light-footed. Jaskier had quickly learned that his heavy-handedness and towering presence made up for a distinct lack of words. He didn’t think they’d exchanged more than a few verbal conversations since they’d met. Geralt communicated in expressions more than anything else. Except when he was yelling at Jaskier to shut the fuck up when he got inspired at 6am with an idea for a new melody and started strumming it out on his guitar.

Jaskier groaned as he shoved his tired head back into his threadbare pillow. It was too thin and worn to really be comfortable, but he didn’t have the money to buy a new one. Never would, according to his parents. He could practically hear them scoffing that his study of musical theory would lead him to be nothing more than a poor street artist. The idea was romantic in the comfort of his family home but in the middle of sleepless nights on bad linen it wasn’t so endearing. Jaskier knew he’d never ask them for money, it felt like too much a precursor for their assumption of his future as a failing musician. That, coupled with the fact his roommate seemed to have an aneurism every time he picked up his guitar, hadn’t done heaps for his confidence.

He envied Geralt’s more ordinary interests, really. The brooding loner was majoring in chemistry and training in mixed martial arts, kick-boxing, advanced fencing and probably a million other fighting styles Jaskier couldn’t remember. But he had gone along to a few of his tournaments. Geralt didn’t have too many friends and Jaskier had been bored, and watching Geralt’s rippling muscles as he’d slammed some poor guy into the mat had the twin effects of ensuring Jaskier never crossed him and had awakened a primal desire within him that stirred in his gut for his roommate ever since.

Jaskier would never tell Geralt, but he liked him, he was one of the few who did. Maybe it was something about sharing the intimate parts of their lives in this dorm room, or perhaps it was because Jaskier was a bit of an outsider himself, he didn’t know. But something about knowing, after a hard day, that he was coming back to the familiar presence of Geralt working out or studying, with his long hair haphazardly tied back and worrying a pen between his lips, was comforting.

Except for right now, of course, when he wished the bloody maniac had stayed out all night.

“Geralt.” He groaned, voice muffled by the pillow. “It’s 2 in the fucking morning.”

“M’sorry.” Came the tell-tale drunken slur of any college kid breaking the door down in the middle of the night and lying face first on the floor. “Sorry, Jask…trying to find my bed…”

Jaskier heard him get unsteadily to his feet – wincing when he heard something crash as he did so – and then his bed was creaking and dipping as Geralt’s hulking weight collapsed down next to him.

“You’ve got the wrong one.” He mumbled.

“Mmm.” Geralt hummed comfortably.

Jaskier could feel the heat and weight of another body beside him on his narrow bed. He did his best to ignore it for as long as possible until it became apparent Geralt wasn’t planning on moving.

He turned over and was surprised to find them practically face to face. Geralt was still fully dressed in his customary black jeans, simple tee shirt and leather biker books. His arms were crossed under his head, his cheek resting in the crease of his elbow and his eyes were closed. His long hair was out of its ever-present tie and lying across his face. The urge to brush it out of his eyes was really quite hard to ignore, Jaskier found.

Jaskier swallowed as he stared at Geralt in the gloom of the dark room. It made it easy to convince himself this wasn’t really happening and Geralt wasn’t really there, being all quiet and soft and vulnerable like Jaskier had never seen him before.

“I thought you were staying out at Yennefer’s?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“Hmm.” Geralt huffed without opening his eyes, or his mouth, too much. Still, the space between them was so small in the narrow bed that Jaskier still felt his warm breath ghosting over his face. “Dumped me.”

Jaskier tried to quell the pleased jump in his stomach. He didn’t like Yennefer all that much. She was older and snarky and had an annoying habit of insulting him in everyday conversation before kicking him out of his own dorm room to shag Geralt. She acted like everyone on campus existed to do things for her, including Geralt, and Jaskier knew the silent chem student was fit enough and smart enough to do better.

Still, getting dumped sucked and it explained why Geralt was drunk and alone. Jaskier didn’t like the idea of him stumbling back from her dorm in the middle of the night, no matter how big and scary he was. He wondered if she’d had the decency to walk him back. Probably not.

“You okay?” He asked with pursed lips.

“Hmm.” But Geralt’s breathing was already evening out, and it occurred to Jaskier that maybe he hadn’t gotten in the wrong bed by accident. Maybe he was upset. Maybe he needed a friend. He looked at his stoic roommate, watching as the ever-present frown on his forehead evened out as sleep took him. You big softie, he thought.

Feeling bold from a mixture of the intimacy of the dark room and Geralt being drunk and probably forgetful in the morning, he lent forward and pressed a chaste, dry kiss to his forehead. Stole it, really, because it was more for him. Warmth and adrenaline surged through him as soon as he’d done it, and it was hard to keep his voice steady when he quietly said: “you’re gonna be okay.”

Geralt mumbled again and shifted, turning more onto his side and releasing his arms from under his head. He inched a hand over the bed and let his fingers crawl over Jaskier’s clavicle until his arm came to a warm rest over Jaskier’s chest. He didn’t move again.

It took Jaskier a long while to sleep after that, afraid of moving and disturbing his depressed bedmate, but when he finally drifted off, his cheek rested against the warm back of Geralt’s hand and – he knew he shouldn’t have – but he felt content.

Geralt wasn’t there when Jaskier woke up and a wave of nervous worry washed over him. Obviously Geralt had woken up hungover and realised that he was cuddled up to his roommate and absconded from the room as quickly as possible. He was probably mad at Jaskier for not stopping him.

Shit, shit, shit, Jaskier began to panic before he forced himself to rationalise that it was probably fine. Geralt wouldn’t remember the kiss. He was probably just embarrassed he’d climbed in Jaskier’s bed or out making up with Yennefer. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.

Jaskier intentionally busied himself that morning. He called his mother, went to the library, checked out some books for his paper on twentieth century music and its influence on post-war youth rebellion, hauled everything onto his bed with papers spread out around him and was halfway through highlighting important sections from the editors introduction when the door opened.

His heart jumped in his throat when he heard the door handle twisting but he forced himself not to look up. He heard the door close quietly but Geralt just stood in the room and didn’t move to his bed or desk.

“Hey.” He finally said.

“What’s up?” Jaskier asked casually, looking up. “How’s your head?”

Geralt was dressed in loose-fitting tracksuit bottoms with a grey vest almost obscenely stretched over his pectoral muscles. His biceps bulged where he held his arms awkwardly by his side. His hair was pulled off his face in a messy bun and he had a weary, tired look in his eyes. So he’d been to the gym, then.

“Fine, thanks.” He replied stiffly. “Sorry about last night.”

Jaskier affected a half-smile. “It’s fine.” He said. “Just don’t give me shit next time I’m playing in the middle of the night.”

Geralt’s face pulled into a tight smile and Jaskier returned his gaze to his papers. Things were going to be alright, then. It was a relief.

“Listen, I saw a flyer for an open mic night at Posada in central tonight, I thought you might like to go?”

Jaskier’s highlighter paused on the paper. The glaring yellow bled through the paper until it softened and scored a hole through criticism of punk music being linked to heightened anti-social behaviour. Jaskier disagreed with such discourse, but not enough to ignore what Geralt had just said. Had he ever invited him to do anything since they’d met?

He looked up at the man still stood awkwardly on the other side of the room. That was another odd thing. Geralt was incredibly sure of himself. It kind of came with the territory of being a beast of a man. He was threatening, but in a calm and collected way, like a bodyguard. He rarely looked as unsure or nervous as he did now.

“What, like a date?” Jaskier joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, a date.” Geralt said seriously, his face evening out as part of his customary confidence returned. That sent shivers up Jaskier’s spine as much as the actual proposition did.

He was so dumbstruck that he agreed, feeling like Lizzie Bennett being asked to dance by Fitzwilliam Darcy. And just like Darcy, Geralt was out of the room with a swift nod not a moment later.

Jaskier just stared down at his textbook in surprise. “What was that?” He asked, as if expecting it to reply.

…

Geralt was dressed normally when they left the campus that night, in his usual black jeans and boots, but he’d changed his usual tee for a black button up shirt and he was wearing a fitted leather jacket. His hair was combed and neatly tied back. He looked kind of – smart, for Geralt at least.

Jaskier hadn’t really made too much effort with his appearance beyond jeans and a tee shirt. He was too surprised that he was apparently going on a date – or some equivalent – with Geralt goddamn Rivia the day after he’d broken up with his girlfriend. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was curious enough to be swept along with it.

Posada bar was a short enough distance away that they walked there, which Jaskier was glad for. He didn’t think he could cope with riding on the back of Geralt’s bike and having to snake his arms around his torso and press into his back.

They didn’t walk hand in hand or anything like that, but they stood close enough to each other that their knuckles occasionally grazed as their hands swung in time with their steps.

Jaskier moaned about his paper and Geralt listened dutifully, smiling occasionally when the conversation demanded it. Jaskier asked him about his training and Geralt replied but it wasn’t what Jaskier wanted to ask him. He wanted to ask why Yennefer had dumped him, but he didn’t dare.

Posada was pretty empty by the time they got there, from a mixture of being a Thursday night and being an open mic night. no one wanted to come and have a drink while a bunch of hipsters crooned out self-penned slam poetry and badly-tuned metal covers. But Geralt knew Jaskier was musical, he probably thought it was romantic.

Geralt ordered himself a bud and Jaskier opted for his preference of spiced rum and coke. Geralt made a joke about asking for a cocktail umbrella. Jaskier bit back good-naturedly with something about being classy. Geralt laughed. It was good banter, as dates went.

They stayed for a while, sat at a small table near the back, chatting easily and half-listening to the musicians playing on stage. Some of them weren’t that bad and Jaskier found himself listening intently and resting his hand on his arm as he relaxed into it. Geralt didn’t watch the band, he watched him.

After a while, a bartender got on stage and asked if anyone wanted to go up and have a go.

“You should go up.” Geralt said, no hint of irony in his voice.

Jaskier snorted. “I thought I was a terrible singer.”

“You’re only terrible at 6am.” Geralt said with a raised eyebrow. Jaskier laughed.

“Go on, go up.” Geralt repeated. “I’d like to hear it. You’ve seen me perform.”

Jaskier felt himself blushing. “I don’t have my guitar.”

“I’m sure they have one.”

Geralt was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that suggested he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and heaved himself to his feet. A few people applauded disinterestedly as he snaked a guitar from the side of the stage. The instrument felt unfamiliar in his hands and he couldn’t help quickly checking it was tuned as he sat on the stool in front of the microphone.

“I, err, was bullied to come up here.” He said into the mic. The crowd laughed. Geralt smiled. It seemed worth it for that.

He played a soft melody he’d been working on and sang a few lines of lyrics he’d scribbled down in his notepads. It was a song about love and longing, as were most of his songs, and when his voice caught breathlessly around a feminine rhyme, the small crowd applauded and cheered and Jaskier finally looked up.

Geralt’s eyes were on him, slack and warm, and Jaskier suddenly felt like he was playing to Geralt alone, and like the song was about him, even though he hadn’t written it that way.

He finished with a blush to applause and awkwardly made his way back to his table as another act went up and started playing. He sat next to Geralt again and fiddled with a beermat on the table.

“You’re wonderful.” He rumbled.

“Yeah, but how’s my singing?” He asked cheekily, charm and bravado disguising shy embarrassment.

“Maybe one day you’ll learn how to take a compliment.” Geralt said into his bottle.

“I’m not used to compliments from you.” Jaskier pointed out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Geralt’s mouth merely stretched into a grin and that same self-assured confidence settled over his features. “I compliment you all the time, you just don’t hear me.”

On the face of it, it was a dumb thing to say, but it made butterflies flutter in Jaskier’s stomach.

Jaskier had a lecture first thing the next morning so they left soon after. It was nearing midnight and it was dark outside, but it was a student city, alive with life and takeaways and lights, welcoming and safe. They took a detour through a park, streetlights illuminating the grass, and Jaskier didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the dark, but he snaked a hand out silently and took Geralt’s. Geralt didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let go, either.

“I had fun tonight.” Jaskier said to the darkness.

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, but it sounded warm.

They walked slowly, both knowing they’d be in trouble for being back late to the dorm at this time but not quite caring.

Geralt ducked down and plucked a buttercup from the side of the grassy pathway and hauled Jaskier closer to him with their still connected hands before holding the small yellow flower under his chin.

“Do you like butter?” He asked.

“I think that only works when the sun’s out.”

Geralt shrugged and continued holding the buttercup out until Jaskier realised what he meant. He disentangled their hands and plucked the small flower from Geralt’s fingers.

“You’re picking me flowers?” He asked with a laugh.

“That’s what you do on dates, right?” Geralt quipped.

Jaskier’s free hand curled around the lapel of Geralt’s leather jacket and pulled the larger man towards him. A sound escaped him before their lips found each other. It was a soft, lingering kiss – a first kiss – and after a moment, Geralt’s hands came to rest gently on Jaskier’s hips as if he’d had to psyche himself up to do it. When Jaskier pulled away, he was bright red but his dizzy, embarrassed smile was dazzling.

He held the buttercup up to his nose and fake-sniffed it before slipping the stem behind his ear. Bizarrely, it suited him.

“Why did she ever dump you?” He asked sarcastically, smile still firmly in place, not chasing an answer, before his gaze dipped embarrassedly and he walked forward a few paces. He was humming to himself.

Geralt watched him with a sad little smile and an erratic heartbeat and replied, so quietly Jaskier wouldn’t be able to hear: “because I told her I’d fallen in love with my roommate.”

 The end

#geraskier #fanfiction #prompt fill #college roommates au #oh my god they were roommates

[artificialqueens]

White Noise (What an Awful Sound) Ch.2 (Crystal/Gigi) - Meta

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter! I’ve been having a lot of fun writing it. Please leave any feedback/opinions/suggests you have, I love reading what people think about my work! :)

“Gigi, breakfast is ready!” The sound of her mother’s voice woke Gigi up. She rolled over to check the time on her phone, 9 am. Ugh, who the hell wakes up this early on a Sunday? Her parents must really be laying into the new “suburban” lifestyle. Breakfast together early every morning, family dinners. Oh maybe they’ll even have movie night! Gigi ignored all the texts she’d received from her friends back home while she was asleep, rolling herself out of bed and walking to the bathroom. She rummaged around in the box labeled “Gigi’s Toiletries” in her mom’s beautiful cursive. Pulling out her face wash and moisturizer before turning to the sink where her toothbrush rested from the night before.

Once back in her room Gigi picked out an outfit for the day. Scanning through the clothes she’d already put away in her closet, she decided on a long, pale green skirt that had a small slit revealing some of her left leg and just a cropped white shirt. Gigi gave herself a quick once over before rushing downstairs.

“My god, would you look at that. Sleeping Beauty has finally joined the rest of the living.” Gigi’s dad said. He was sitting at their dining table sipping coffee out of a mug and scrolling on his phone. Gigi was willing to bet all of her savings he was looking at Facebook. These damn 40’s somethings, always on their goddamn phones. Just shameful.

“There’s so evidence to prove I’m not sleep walking right now.’’ She said, taking a seat next to her father.

“You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and got dressed.” Gigi’s mother replied, poking her head out of the kitchen.

“Right…so what’s for breakfast?” She eyed her father’s plate but he had already eaten what was on it.

“Cereal for you since you decided to take so long.”

“Paul stop it,” Her mom hit his arm playfully before putting a plate of waffles in front of Gigi, “apparently, your father’s version of unpacking the kitchen is only taking out the waffle iron.”

“Hate to say it but I’m not surprised.” Gigi said.

“I am shocked and appalled by how little you two think of me, really. Just wow.” He replied, feigning hurt. Gigi’s dad stood from the table, taking his plate into the kitchen and placing it in the sink. He whispered a small ‘thank you’ before pulling Gigi’s mom in for a kiss. The teen just ignored her parents, public displays of affection were normal in their house. Gigi had a theory that her father was so affectionate to make up for how much time he spent at work back in LA, always hugging, kissing, or holding her mother’s hand just to let her know he’s still there.

“Anyway, Gigi honey, your father and I need to go to the store and get some things for the house. Do you want to come with us?” Gigi just shook her head, she could use this time to unpack her room some more. “Okay, well we should be home before 4. Please don’t forget, we’re going over to have dinner with the Methyd’s at 5.”

“I will be ready, promise.”

Her parents made their way out the front door, her mom yelling something about wearing a jacket if she left the house. Please, like Gigi was gonna leave the house. Where would she go? To hang out with all her friends here in Missouri? No Gigi was going to go back upstairs and unpack her room. She hated living out of boxes, even if it had only been a day. Back home she waited until the very last second to pack up all her things. Nicky, her best friend, had told her to ‘stop stalling and pack your shit already’ to which Gigi argued that she hadn’t been. Now she was willing to admit Nicky had been right. Just because she refused to throw some random crap she’d had all her life into a box didn’t change the fact that the ‘For Sale’ sign outside her house was real. But now Gigi was ready to settle into her new room.

About an hour later Gigi had made good progress on her room. She’d just finished organizing her books when she heard a crash followed by a lot of expletives that she was glad her parents weren’t around to hear. Gigi walked over to her window, trying to see what was going on. She chuckled to herself as she watched Crystal struggle with an easel on her porch. “Oh my god she’s losing a fight to a fucking easel.” Gigi said, slipping on a pair of white sandals before running downstairs and out the front door. She made her away across the street, still smiling at the sight.

“Want some help?” She asked, finally reaching the other girl.

“Jesus, fuck. You were not supposed to see this.” Crystal laughed. She ran a hand through her curls before looking up at Gigi, a fake pout painted across her face. She is way too adorable for her own good, holy shit.

“Well, too bad.” Gigi said. She bent over and started picking all the art supplies that, she guessed, had been knocked over during the struggle.

“I can’t get it to stand up. I don’t know what’s wrong, it was fine up in my room.” Crystal sighed, giving up and letting it drop to the floor. Gigi nodded.

“Okay, well how many times did you let it do that?” She joked.

“I-I may have dropped it three times while dragging it down the stairs, yeah.”

“I think I may know what your problem is.” She said.

“Wow, you know I am so glad Missouri has someone of your intelligence level living in it now. If it wasn’t for you I would still be fighting for my life against that thing.” Crystal pointed in disgust towards where the easel lay on the porch. Gigi just laughed in response. A silence fell over the girls. To Gigi’s surprise, for one of the only few times in her life, it wasn’t an awkward silence. Crystal wasn’t expecting a response from her, instead she turned her attention to focus on organizing her paints.

“Uh, okay, I, um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out today?” Gigi shifted in her spot, running a hand awkwardly through her hair. Crystal raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“Actually, I’m just not entirely sure I can handle a full day with you,” Crystal said. Gigi’s eyebrows furrowed, “I mean you just have such an overpowering personality.”

“Right, yeah, I’ve heard that about myself many times.” Gigi nodded in relief.  Just as she finished talking Crystal phone vibrated, she pulled it out of her back pocket to check the notification.

“Well Ms. Gigi Goode, you’re in luck. My friend Lux just asked me to go thrifting with her. Wanna come?” Crystal stood up and walked closer to Gigi. She bit her lip while waiting for the brunette’s response.

“Oh um, yeah sure. I’d love to.” Gigi said. In that moment she was positive she would’ve said yes no matter what Crystal invited her to.

Crystal ran inside to grab the keys to her car and say bye to her mom before dashing back to Gigi and grabbing her hand, “Okay let’s go.” She pulled Gigi toward her car, her skin burning where they’d made contact. Crystal’s car was very old and a horrendous mustard color but she loved it because it got her away from her parents. She was the only one in her friend group with a car, which meant all her friends loved it too. Gigi had to admit, Crystal was not a very good driver. She was always just a little bit too far over the speed limit for comfort and drove with her left leg up on the seat. They drove in silence, well Gigi was silent. Crystal couldn’t help but sing along to every song that came on as they made their way in town to the thrift store. Crystal’s taste in music was definitely different from Gigi’s, playing songs from King Princess, Cage the Elephant, and Hozier, whereas Gigi was more of a pop girl. She basically played Dua Lipa on repeat 24/7. Sitting so close to Crystal while Cherry Wine played throughout the car made Gigi feel overwhelmed, she tried to slow her breath as she stared down at where their hands both rested on the console. She resisted the urge to intertwine their fingers together, missing the feeling from earlier. She studied the other girl’s fingers, the way they dance ever so slightly to the music, the chipped purple nail polish she wore. She had rings on almost all of her fingers.

“You okay?” Crystal asked, glancing at Gigi out of the corner of her eye. She looked like she was going to be sick. But as soon as Crystal spoke Gigi snapped out of it, smiling and peeling her eyes away from their hands to look up at Crystal.

“Yeah, just uh- never mind.” Gigi stopped herself from saying something stupid. She felt foolish, she hadn’t even known this girl for 24 hours and she already had the urge to profess her love to her. She didn’t even know if Crystal was gay. Well, actually that’s not true, she listened to King Princess and Lana Del Rey. The girl was definitely some flavor of gay. Plus nobody that dressed like that was straight.

“What? No, tell me!” Crystal pouted.

“It’s nothing. Just your music makes me feel like I’m in a coming-of-age movie or something.” Gigi said. She tried to fight off the blush creeping across her cheeks. Crystal just laughed, making Gigi regret she said it.

“I like to listen to this kind of music when alone or like painting. It makes me feel calm and inspired. Or like I’m gonna be the next great sapphic artist,” Well, shit, there it was. The confirmation Gigi needed to insure her gaydar wasn’t completely broken. She swallowed hard, not wanting to show any reaction. “I just need to find my muse.” Now it was Crystal who was stealing glances at their hands, moving her hand just close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from Gigi’s. Missing that same heat when she reluctantly pulled her hand away so she could pull into a parking spot.

The girls made their way into the small shop that was filled with very loud clothes. The way Crystal dressed suddenly all made sense. There were only three other people in the shop, they were all standing together loudly talking about how horrendous the huge bubble gum pink dress in front of them was.

“Oh thank fuck, finally. Crystal you have to try this on!” One of them said, grabbing the dress off the rack and running up to Crystal. She stopped and gave Gigi a confused, but welcoming look. The girl looked so much like a fairy, Gigi had to suppress the urge to ask her how Tinker Bell was.

“Hi, I’m Daya.” Another girl, the tallest in the group, came up to them and put her hand out for Gigi to shake.

“Gigi,” She said, taking her hand. Gigi couldn’t help but notice how pretty they all were. What the hell is in the Missouri water?

“That’s Lux,” Crystal said pointing to the small blonde who was being swallowed by all the fabric of the dress she was holding, “and that’s Daegan.” Crystal pointed to the girl who was standing next to Daya.

“I really like your hair.” Gigi said, looking at Daegan’s bright pink hair. She wished she could pull off a color like that but alas she was destined to have boring brown hair for the rest of her life.

“Oh, my god thank you.” Daegan said, “I like her, Crystal can we keep her?” She made puppy dog eyes toward the girl who just laughed.

“Excuse me, hello?!” Lux huffed from under the dress, “Can we get back to Crys trying this on please.” She whined.

“Holy shit, yeah babe you have to try it on.” Daya said pushing past Gigi and taking the dress from Lux. Gigi felt her heart drop into her stomach. Babe? Crystal had a girlfriend? Not just that but a fucking hot girlfriend? Ugh the homophobia of it all. Gigi just walked over to the nearest rack and started looking through all the clothes, trying to ignore the giggles coming from Crystal as Daya pushed her into a dressing room.

A few minutes later Crystal emerged from the dressing room, pulling the thick velvet curtain back dramatically. She walked confidently out into the middle of the store and spun around for all her friends to see.

“You’ve never looked better.” Daegan said as she pulled her phone out to take a video of Crystal dancing around like an idiot. Crystal curtsied and let out a ‘thank you’ in a horrible British accent.

“I think we found your prom dress!” Lux added jumping up and down like a little kid. Crystal made a disgusted face.

“I’m not going to prom, and even if I was, I would never wear a dress.” She put a finger in her mouth and pretended to throw up.

“Ugh not this again. Crystal Elizabeth Methyd you’re going to prom, you have to,” Daya crossed her arms and stared sternly at Crystal for a few seconds before giving up and turning to Gigi, “Tell her she has to go to prom.”

Gigi looked between the girls confused. What kind of power did they think she had over Crystal? They’d just met, you couldn’t even classify them as friends yet. Shouldn’t Daya be the one to convince Crystal, she’s the one that’s her girlfriend here not Gigi. “I-I’ve never been to prom before but I’m sure it’s really fun. My mom says everyone should go to at least one of their proms.”

Crystal rolled her eyes, “Your mom sounds like mine.” Why couldn’t her friends just leave it alone? She already told them a million times she wasn’t going, although the thought of seeing Gigi in a prom dress did intrigue her. Crystal turned around and walked back into the dressing room.

The girls stayed in the shop for a couple of hours, trying on ugly hats and way too big sunglasses, before Lux declared that they had to leave because she was hungry. Crystal bought three button up shirts, that Daegan said looked something her dad would wear, and a bright turquoise and pink windbreaker that Gigi’s mom definitely would have owned in the 90’s.

They all climbed into Crystal’s car, Daegan complaining that making her sit in the back was transphobia. Crystal just ignored her and opened the passenger door for Gigi. She felt awkward in the front, shouldn’t Daya be sitting here so they could hold hands or something? Gigi ignored her thoughts, enjoying the way Crystal’s perfume smelled.

Being in the car with Crystal’s friends was very different than being with just Crystal. Daegan immediately stole the AUX to play Megan Thee Stallion, Doja Cat, and Nicki Minaj while Lux complained that she wanted to listen to Grimes. Crystal just ignored them trying to focus on driving with all the yelling going on around her.

They had finally calmed down, Lux accepting that there was no chance in hell Daegan was changing the music for her, until the question of where to eat came up. Daya voted for Taco Bell while Daegan complained that they had Taco Bell last time. Lux suggested Chick Fil A before being shut down by Crystal, reminding her that they no longer supported the restaurant because of their anti-lgbtq beliefs. Lux rolled her eyes while Daegan joked that the only reason she ate there was because their hatred for her existence made it fun.

“What about pizza?” Gigi offered. Before anyone could protest Crystal said yes, giving everyone in the back seat a stern look. They all murmured reluctant okay’s before changing the subject to gossip about someone from school.

They finally pulled into a small pizza place with picnic tables scattered out front and a burnt out sign that read ‘The Big Slice’. Daya and Lux grabbed a picnic table while Crystal and Daegan went in to order, Gigi opted to stay outside and wait for them to come back.

It was kind of awkward without Crystal there and Gigi found herself racking her brain for something to say. The other girls hadn’t said anything since they sat down either, instead staring at their phones.

“Uh, so uh Daya how long have y-you and Crystal been dating?” Gigi asked, nervously looking between her and Lux.

Daya choked back a laugh, “What? Crys and I aren’t dating. Ew that would be like dating my sister.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I-I just heard you call her babe and assumed.” She couldn’t help but feel relieved, hoping her face didn’t show it. Lux busted out laughing at the idea of Crystal and Daya together and couldn’t stop.

“I call everyone babe, don’t worry.” Daya assured her. Gigi swallowed, oh god could she tell that Gigi liked Crystal. She thought she had been discreet when she looked at her but apparently not.

“Oh I’m no-” She started to protest.

“What’s so funny?” Daegen asked as she and Crystal made their way to the table. She sat in between Daya and Lux while Crystal planted herself right next to Gigi.

“S-she,” Lux tried to get out, pointing at Gigi, “she thought you two were dating.” Daegen joined in and after a couple of seconds Daya found herself laughing too. Gigi tried to laugh but it just came out as an awkward chuckle. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Crystal. She wore a horrified expression, her eyes bouncing between Gigi and Daya. “Why, why, uh um why would you think that?” Crystal’s eyebrows furrowed as she turned attention completely to Gigi. But she just shrugged and said it didn’t matter.

The conversation was forgotten as soon as the waitress brought out the pizza and everyone was too busy stuffing their faces to talk about how bad of a couple Crystal and Daya would make.

As time passed it became easier for Gigi to be around Crystal’s friends, she actually enjoyed how loud they all were. With everyone else fighting to talk over each other no one really noticed Gigi’s lack of input. Thank god, she used to hate how her friends back home would always try to pull her into the conversation. Why couldn’t they understand if she had something to say she would goddamn say it.

“Oh shit. It’s almost 4. My parents are gonna be home soon and I promised I would be there to get ready for tonight.” Gigi said looking down at her phone. She started to stand up from the table.

“Oh okay, I’ll uh drive you home.” Crystal said, standing up too.

“You don’t have to, I can just walk or uh call a lyft or something.” Gigi said, secretly hoping Crystal would insist.

“Excuse me, what about us?” Lux whined.

“Also what’s tonight?” Daya asked.

“Huh? Oh Gigi and her parents are coming over for dinner.” Crystal mumbled, knowing there was bound to be teasing from her friends. They all raised their eyebrows but before any of them could say anything inappropriate Crystal pushed Gigi toward her car. Crystal yelled at them to find their own way home.

“I hate you, bitch!” Daegen shouted at Crystal. She just put up her middle finger and held it up as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Don’t let her make you listen to One Direction Gigi!” Daya added before Gigi closed her door, unable to hear them anymore. She couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive was quiet, but this time it wasn’t a comfortable silence. Both of them wanting to say something but too afraid to say it. Crystal put on the same music from before, calm love songs that made Gigi feel like she never wanted them to stop driving.

“Why did you think I was dating Daya?” Crystal asked abruptly, pulling Gigi out of her daydream.

Gigi’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?” God why was she bringing this up again? Gigi never wanted to think about that again.

“C’mon I wanna know,” Crystal pouted, “please!” She begged, turning to look at Gigi.

“It’s nothing, I uh, heard her call you babe and I just assumed,” She shrugged trying to look anywhere but at Crystal.

Crystal didn’t respond, instead they just fell back into uncomfortable silence. Gigi tried to come up with something to say. God the one person she actually wanted to talk to and she couldn’t come up a single fucking thing to say.

“This doesn’t sound like One Direction.” Gigi said.

“Yeah I uh, I only bring that out with people I like,” Crystal shot her a devilish smile, “sorry.”

“You’re such an ass, oh my god.” Gigi laughed, hitting Crystal lightly on her shoulder. She watched as Crystal picked up her phone and unlocked it, quickly changing the song to ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ making Gigi laugh even more. “That’s more like it.”

Crystal finally pulled into her driveway, reluctantly putting the car in park. Gigi lingered in the passenger’s seat, not wanting to miss the heat from Crystal’s body. She slowly unbuckled her seat belt, grabbing the handle to the car door.

“So uh, I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” Crystal asked, unbuckling her own seat belt.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” Gigi pulled herself out of the car.

She was halfway down Crystal’s driveway when she heard her name. Gigi spun around to face her, “Yeah?”

“I had fun, uh with you,” She stopped as if she was searching for a difficult word, “today. I had fun with you today.” She ran a hand awkwardly through her hair.

Gigi chuckled, “I had fun with you too, Crystal.”

“Okay, good.” Crystal spun around and stumbled cheerfully up the stairs of her porch, turning around to wave at Gigi one last time before disappearing into her house.

Gigi continued walking back to her own house, smiling the entire way.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #daya betty #daegen michelle #lux kween #crygi #high school au #lesbian au #slow burn #white noise (what an awful sound) #meta #s12 #concrit welcome

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #3- Robots in the Vents, Because It’s Not a Roberts Story if It Doesn’t Happen at Least Once

So, the duobots are having a hell of a day.

Shock, our resident obligate belly-sleeper and newly-single robot, laments the passing of his buddy, leaves a vial of innermost energon by his body- a practice that will be expanded upon later- then covers up any and all traces of their having worked with Prowl. These are the inside guys Prowl called after he flipped that table in issue #1.

As Shock tracks down the tracer Ore was supposed to be planting instead of being eaten by the quantum drive, he comes across that sparkeater that got mentioned last issue.

That is his brain.

Then he explodes.

Which brings us to the scene we left in issue #2. Sparkeater on board the Lost Light, which is full of sparks that probably would prefer not to get eaten.

Holy shit Cosmos is huge. I don’t remember him being that goddamn big.

Rodimus thinks that this whole sparkeater thing is really neat, and he’s happy to be a part of it, but he’s not so thrilled about the prospect of subjecting the others to this event, so he orders everyone to find a friend and go to their rooms until he and his select few sort this whole thing out. He doesn’t tell them about the sparkeater, because that’s some scary bullshit to throw out there less than a day into the trip.

Everyone files out, Swerve having forgotten about Tailgate, who’s having a minor wardrobe malfunction. Since he doesn’t have legs at present, he calls out to the one other guy he knows on the Lost Light.

Tailgate really knows how to pick ‘em.

Over with the dead body, everyone stands what is probably unadvisedly close to the scene of the crime and Ratchet performs a quick and dirty autopsy. The boys discuss the validity of Red Alert’s theory that this was caused by a sparkeater, with the mention of Rewind’s grainy footage making the creature seem like the Cybertronian equivalent of a cryptid. Probably less Fresno nightcrawler and more chupacabra. Ratchet tries to get everyone to focus for two goddamn seconds, when Trailbreaker picks up Shock’s brain module, knocking everyone right back off track again with the discussion of Rossum’s Trinity, the idea that the spark, brain module, and transformation cog are all interconnected, and damage to one can cause the others to shut down.

Ratchet’s had just about enough of this lot, but he gets through his examination.

This is the issue Alex Milne started drawing the insignias in himself as opposed to the previous practice of IDW having them put in in post.

Rodimus, however, wants to show off his new toys as it were, and asks Chromedome to take a gander. Chromedome wearily obliges, having Ratchet pop the brain back in Shock’s head so he can do his thing. Every other person on this fucking ship is a doctor, you see, and Chromedome is no exception- he’s a mnemosurgeon.

(Yes, my spellcheck DOES lose its mind every time I type that.)

Chromedome takes his terrifying pointy hands, jams them into the eye sockets of this corpse, and gets a brainfull of Shock’s final moments.

This is such a cool panel, and I went and ruined it for myself by realizing the upper left portion shouldn’t be visible, seeing as the brain is already outside Shock’s head, without any sort of cord connecting it to his body.

Back upstairs, folks are moving into their rooms for the surprise lockdown. Cyclonus is being a pal and is carrying Tailgate, because I’m pretty sure the little guy is just about the only person who’s talked to him in a non-hostile fashion in the last couple of months, and that really gets old after a while.

Those legs sure are something, Hoist. Is it just, like, a rule that a certain percentage of Transformers designs have to be at least somewhat unintentionally horny?

The two find a room, and then Cyclonus remembers that he’s not supposed to show things like empathy until later in the series, and drops Tailgate on the floor unceremoniously.

Meanwhile, over with Skids and Swerve, the pair’s found something truly wonderful- a fully-stocked bar. Swerve’s always wanted to run a bar, and this just might be his chance to chase his dreams.

Swerve is the punching bag for MTMTE, in case you couldn’t tell.

While Swerve is not-so-subtly crying for help, Skids is busy enacting another Roberts writing-staple- the robot in the vents. See, Skids has hit his bad boy phase; he doesn’t play by your daddy’s rules, so he’s gonna sneak out and do generally whatever pleases him, because he’s got a big honkin’ chunk of memories that just aren’t there anymore. Apparently that’s all he needs to go AWOL.

As Skids lifts himself up into the ceiling to fulfill his destiny as a vent-pest, he asks Swerve if he listens to music, which is met with a negatory. Odd, given his later characterization, but maybe he’s more into contemporary works.

The ass poking worked! Swerve is now the proud owner of one whole entire friend!

Back with the corpse crew, Chromedome’s finished his assessment of the body, and agrees that there’s a sparkeater amongst them. This is a huge fucking problem, to put it lightly, both in the sense of actual, physical danger, and the metaphysical space of the Lost Light itself.

Are we sure this thing didn’t just see this ship full of over 200 war veterans and say “that’s some good eatin’ right there” and snuck on board? Because if I were a horrific monster that was drawn to pain and emotional trauma, I’d absolutely consider the Lost Light a gold mine.

As Chromedome lays his head in Rewind’s lap, the others weigh their options. Sparkeaters go after the brightest sparks, then work their way down, so this thing is probably on the move as they speak. The thing’s eaten recently, the sparks haven’t completely digested, and that means they can’t just shoot it, because then it’ll explode, and we’ve had enough of that for one day.

Rodimus has everyone else go to hunt the thing down, while he and Drift hang out here in the basement. When Ultra Magnus questions this plan of attack, he’s brushed off, though Rodimus appears to imply that he thinks he’s got the brightest spark on the ship. Probably all that Matrix nonsense he went through.

Back upstairs, Animus gets shot with the irony gun and gets his soul vored.

This is what happens when you tell lies, kids. Your lemon-lime flavored soul gets eaten by the mecha-Krampus.

Whirl, who had locked the door to the habsuite, which is why Animus was out in the hall to begin with, realizes that something seriously messed up is happening, and does what he knows best, i.e. shooting first and asking questions probably never.

Good thing Trailbreaker is there to keep Whirl from exploding the entire ship, employing the help of his forcefield ability to contain the barrage.

In the resulting chaos, the sparkeater escapes, having triangulated its next meal, and it’s not Rodimus.

It’s this dweeb.

You can tell he’s in his office, because he’s got a landscape painting in there. Landscape paintings are pretty much the only decor allowed in doctors’ offices, I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.

Luckily, Rung decided to get threatened by a space-cryptid directly under a vent, so Skids can save his skinny little butt. Good job, Skids. Proud of you.

Back with Tailgate and Cyclonus, little dude’s just finished explaining his whole deal. He’s still trying to figure out what the hell happened during his dirt nap, so Cyclonus tries his best to fill him in on the several million year war. Keep in mind, Cyclonus wasn’t exactly there either, so his whole explanation probably isn’t the best. He wonders out loud which side Tailgate would have gravitated towards, had he been around for the massive mess the Autobots and Decepticons made.

Meanwhile, back in the GODDAMNED DUCTWORK, Rung and Skids are crawling as fast as they can to escape the sparkeater, though they can’t be that worried about it, seeing as Rung answers a phone call on his weird body-harness phone setup. Rodimus tells the two of them to head for the engine room, so that the sparkeater follows them down. Rung doesn’t seem too thrilled about this plan, but what’s he gonna do, argue with a potential space-pope?

Skids punches through a vent into the elevator shaft, then uses his grappling hook- which I want to say is never seen again after this issue- to lower them down in one of the most well-known crotch shots in the entire comic series.

Iconic.

They land on top of the elevator, and Skids yells at Brainstorm to punch the "E for Engine Room” button. The sparkeater bursts in through the ceiling, and Skids and Rung book it out of there, leaving Brainstorm to his inevitable demise.

Or not.

Rung and Skids have made it to the engine room, so now it’s time for the next portion of Rodimus’ plan, which is really only a small tweaking of what Rung was doing earlier- instead of being a moving target, he’ll be playing the role of stationary bait, as Rodimus holds him like a fucking crucifix made out of people, urging the sparkeater to come take a bite.

Up on the bridge, Perceptor gets ready to kick on the quantum engine, as per his captain’s request. Sure hope this plan works, because if they lose Rung, I don’t think they’ll ever find another therapist, thanks to the apparent ratio of 1:1/3 of the entire population of Cybertron.

The sparkeater lunges, Rodimus throws Rung off to the side, and he and the beast wrestle, Crocodile Dundee style. Perceptor initializes the jump, and, because they’re in the danger zone for the quantum engine, they get sucked in.

Rung seems a little miffed, but I’d say this is a win for Team Rodimus, even if those arms of his are toast. It’s cool though, he can get new ones.

Smashcut to Rodimus and his sick new arms, as he finishes explaining just what the hell happened to Magnus. Magnus isn’t quite as jazzed about the whole “used our therapist as a worm on a hook” thing as one would think, surprisingly, but Rodimus isn’t in the mood for a lecture. Off in the background, Tailgate’s getting his butt fixed, curtesy of Ratchet. Tailgate’s talking up a storm, regardless of Ratchet’s rather cool reception to the chatter.

Tailgate did some thinking while everyone was locked in their rooms, and he’s made a decision, based on his limited understanding of the Autobot/Decepticon war.

I guess Cyclonus forgot to mention the fact that there isn’t a single Decepticon on this ship for a reason.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #liars A-to-D #issue 3 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

[poguesofthebau]

hi! if youre still doing them can i get a ship? my name is sam, im a straight female and i have brown eyes with kinda long brown hair. im about 5'7. im pretty quiet unless im with friends although i can be very talkitive, im very sarcastic. at times i can be stubborn. i care a lot about other peoples feelings and opinions more than i probably should. lowkey a hopeless romantic. i mostly listen to pop and sometimes rock music. i like to draw, watch movies, and hang with friends.

first and foremost... i love your blog. okay now let the ship begin :)

i ship you with jj!! (honorary mention: a lot of the time, you’d seek refuge in pope. aside from jj, pope matched your energy the best of all the pogues, and you often found yourself plopping down next to him on a log at the Boneyard when jj was being annoying, or on the couch in The Chateau when jj wouldn’t get out of the hammock after the nap you’d taken together, or in the back of the van when jj insisted on riding shotgun instead of kie for once. you and pope would just be like... bros. half the time you had super quiet conversations that no one else could hear until one of you burst out laughing. then jj would make a sarcastic comment about pope stealing his girl, and john b would make one about the two of you secretly plotting to dismantle the government or something)

you would be the pogue who insisted on a weekly movie night every thursday during the summer. in your mind, there was no excuse for any of the pogues to miss it, and because they knew how much it meant to you, none of them ever did miss it. eventually, these movie nights led to you and jj’s relationship, so he liked to tell everyone who asked that you made the first move. (not directly true, but we all know how convincing of an argument jj could make, no matter how absurd the lie.) the first few times you guys met up at The Chateau for movie night, summer had barely even started. school had ended on a thursday night, and all five of you had gone straight to john b’s after last period, immediately breaking out the celebratory beers and joints before settling in a few hours later for a movie. the entire time, jj would be snuggled up right beside you, arm tossed around your shoulders, whispering little comments about the film in your ear every few minutes. you’d laugh quietly when he started ranting to you about how much of a rip off the movie re-make you were watching was, and the tiny giggle you let out was apparently enough to light a fire among the pogues. john b and pope were convinced that the two of you secretly had something going on, and, no matter how much you both brushed it off, you knew the taunting and teasing was there to stay for the summer.

unsurprisingly, you were right. john b and pope wouldn’t let it go. the following day, the first official day of summer, the five of you would spend the day on the hms pogue, swimming and fishing and drinking and laughing. when jj grabbed you by the waist, both of you laughing loudly and uncontrollably, and dragged you off the boat and into the water with him, the other boys started up again. “jesus christ, jj, at least act like you’re not desperate!” john b would call as you and jj paddled around to the other side of the boat. “i know, dude,” pope would jump in. “just because you’re in the water now, doesn’t mean you washed the love off your face.” you’d snort at that, jj throwing his friends the finger. kie simply sat there, observing the interaction between her friends with a smirk. she, too, had her own little theory that jj felt some special kind of way about you, but she was holding on to it until she could get one of you alone to discuss it. little did you know, she actually would get jj alone the next day. after your day on the water, everyone would return to their respective homes to clean up and get a good night’s sleep before the first saturday night Boneyard party of the summer. the next afternoon, when kie and jj both coincidentally arrived at jb’s at the same time, she saw her opportunity. “hey, by the way,” kie would say after greeting the blonde, pulling him back by the shoulder with a sweet, sarcastic smile. “how long have you been in love with sam?” his face would pale for a second, but just as he regained his composure to jab back at her, you were stepping out of the Chateau with a grin on your face. “who’s ready to fuck the Boneyard up this summer? come on, losers, me and john b already started pregaming!” with one last knowing grin thrown at jj, kie was scurrying up the stairs and grabbing a beer and getting the party started. that night, jj got totally sloshed and fully confessed his feelings to kiara. he also made her swear on the pogues not to leak his secret before he could confess it to you.

so a few more weeks would go by, jj and kie both keeping his secret perfectly. they’d have short interactions of just the two of them, where the two would gush like teenage girls over the cute thing you’d said to jj one afternoon, or how beautiful you looked in that one sundress you’d worn for a day of hanging around at john b’s. during all the following movie nights, jj would be sure to save you a seat next to him on the couch, always slyly putting that arm around you and telling you little fun facts about the films you’d watch. eventually you caught on to jj and kie’s behavior, and how sneaky they were being. on top of that, you finally admitted to yourself how special jj made you feel. funny enough, you’d wind up confiding in pope and john b about your newfound feelings for the reckless blonde. there’d be one day a few weeks into the summer when kie had to work at The Wreck and jj had to work at the kook hotel, but the rest of you had the day off, so you, pope, and jb would take the boat out for a chill day of fishing and tanning. you’d be laying out on the front of the boat, pope in the driver’s seat and john b throwing a net out to try to catch something for dinner. (the vibes that i am imagining on this boat... immaculate. something about pope x john b seems so comfortable and just literally vibey to me idk but i love it.) you’d have your eyes closed and a hand thrown over your face to block out the sun as you chatted with the boys, and eventually the topic would flow over to jj. “i dunno, i think him and kie might kind of have a thing or something,” you’d admit, disappointment prominent and obvious in your voice. “which, like, i don’t really care, but it’s just kind of... i don’t know.” pope would be looking at you from his spot on the boat, a slightly concerned look on his face. john b would just shrug, shaking his head a little as he spoke despite your eyes being closed. “i don’t really think it’s serious. i’ve noticed them like, whispering a little, too, i guess, but i don’t think it’s a big deal.” you’d sigh at john b’s words, your hand falling from your face as you flipped onto your side to look at your boys. “can i just admit something to you guys? but it has to stay on this boat. no kie, and no jj. this is between the three of us only. promise?” john b would draw an invisible cross over his heart as pope raised his right hand and gave you a quick scout’s honor. “it’s stupid, but i just thought maybe jj had a little thing for me. so with all this kie shit, i’m just kind of confused.” pope’s eyes would widen and john b’s eyebrows would raise. “seriously, do not repeat what i just said. i will kill you both.” “maybe you should just tell jj before either of us get the chance, then,” john b would offer. you’d roll your eyes, laying flat on your back again. “no, seriously,” pope would agree. “just because he’s been spending some extra time with kie doesn’t mean he feels that way about her. maybe they’re talking about you all the time. you never know.” although you didn’t know that pope’s idea was actually the truth, it really got you thinking.

the next thursday on movie night, you decided to sit between pope and john b instead of snuggling into jj’s side. it seemed like a harmless change to the other three pogues, but you could see jj burning up inside. he sat through the entire movie with his jaw locked, grinding his teeth when he heard you mumble something to john b about the movie. by the time the film was over, jj was about to explode, and everyone noticed. “you good, buddy?” john b would ask twenty minutes later when he saw jj’s knuckles going white from how tight his grip on his beer was. he’d glare at his friend before turning to you. “can you come outside with me for a second?” you’d glance at pope in a panic before quickly nodding and standing. jj stormed out of the house in front of you, dropping into a hammock and running a hand through his hair as you nervously followed. “what’s up?” you’d timidly ask. while your voice was steady, your mind was running a mile a minute. he knows. he hates me. i should’ve known not to tell the boys. with their big fucking mouths, they probably-- “do you have a thing for john b, or something?” you were stunned out of your thoughts, freezing where you stood at the (seemingly impossible) question. “why would you think that?” you’d finally ask, jj letting out a puff of air. “i-- can you just answer the question?” you’d shake your head, causing him to sigh. “then why’d you sit next to him? you always sit with me on movie night.” you’d shrug, shuffling your feet and avoiding eye contact. “i dunno. i thought you’d wanna sit with kie.” there was a moment of silence then, and you could’ve sworn you felt your friendship dying. you were gonna lose jj, because of some stupid crush, and you were going to absolutely break over it. “you’re an idiot,” jj would mumble under his breath after thinking for a few moments. as you looked at him, completely puzzled by his words, he was standing swiftly from the hammock and approaching you quickly. “such a fucking idiot, sam.” those would be his last words before his hands were suddenly on the sides of your face, tucking your hair behind your ears, his lips kissing you. barely seconds into the kiss, you heard whooping and screaming from behind you. when you pulled back from jj, he was smirking, raising his middle finger once again to pope, john b, and kie, who were all standing in the door of the Chateau, cheering you on. you, however, were still confused beyond belief, unable to move your eyes from him. he finally looked back to you, still smiling. “are you okay?” he’d laugh, tucking another stray hair behind your ear. “what was that?” he’d tilt his head at you, smile now replaced by a smitten look. “i thought-- i thought you and kie--” you simply shook your head in place of words, causing jj to laugh. “i told you you’re an idiot. every time i was with kie, it was to talk about you.” your jaw dropped at that, and you spun to face your friends. “pope, you fucking genius! you were right!” as per usual. pope was always right, especially when it came to his best friends.

#outer banks #obx #outer banks imagines #outer banks imagine #outer banks ships #outer banks ship #outer banks blurbs #outer banks blurb #outer banks fics #outer banks fic #obx imagines #obx imagine #obx ships #obx ship #obx blurbs #obx blurb #obx fics #obx fic #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank blurb #jj blurbs #jj blurb

[twokinkybeans]

Jar Of Dirt Chapter 6: Bow Tie [Starker Fanfiction NSFW/18+]

Kink/Sexual Warnings: Public Teasing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Striptease. Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Feminization. Other warnings: Tony's ex saying some hurtful shit to Peter as he tries to crash the party

All Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 ... Masterpost (More to come!)

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Chapter 6: Bow Tie It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. New York City, the rising sun shining over its tall buildings surely is a magnificent sight. Peter’s at the kitchen table, working through his Nuclear Physics homework. Yesterday, he and Tony were chilling in the lab together, working on Peter’s suit. It didn’t really need any enhancements, but that didn’t stop them. It was just so much fun to be in the lab together. Peter didn’t have to hold back. He could say everything. He’s smart. He knows that it makes people uncomfortable. From a young age, he’d learned to keep his mind from spilling all his new theories or excitement about specific topics. But Tony. Fuck. That man was just as intelligent and had years and years to study whatever topic the man put his mind to. Peter loved learning from him. They would bounce off ideas on one another until both of them would be out of breath from rambling on and on and on. It’d been rather late when they went to bed last night, meaning Tony was still fast asleep. Peter figured that if he finished his homework right now, they’d be able to spend the rest of their day together.

In the end, Peter thinks Tony is taking a bit too long and he wakes him up with a blowjob. Tony loved the surprise and groaned the filthiest things as he guided Peter, fingers tangled tightly in his curls. This time, Peter didn’t allow Tony to get him off. Yes, the boy had been hard, but he wanted to put all focus on the other man for now. Tony’s been working very, very hard on opening up and trying to stop using his mind’s filter around the boy. Peter loves it. Loves him. He’s happy to speed up the process. He feels like they’ve made huge steps when it comes to experiencing all their kinks together so far. It makes him feel more confident.

Later that afternoon they’re curled up on the couch together, watching the last Pirates movie. Peter had been skeptical about the possibility of Tony liking the movies, but to both their surprises, he did enjoy it a lot. He’d been making references all day long. Tony figures they should watch movies together more often. He’d get better at all those pop culture references, and Peter would get some education of the hot items when Tony was younger. It would bring them closer together, he knew that much. “Hmmm, Tony, what do you want for your birthday next week?” Peter asks with a wide grin on his face. Tony groans. “Oh God, why’d you have to bring that up.” “Aren’t you excited?” “To become even older? Not exactly.” “Hmmm, well, I am excited. I want to get you a present. A nice one. What do you want?” “You’re all I need.” Peter huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “I know. But, I still want to give you something else.” Tony looks at Peter, who’s eyeing at him with the sweetest and loving look in his eyes and his sarcastic demeanor softens. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t want to sound cliché but, I’ve literally got everything I could ever want or need.” “Hmm, guess I’ll have to be creative then.” Peter grins, causing Tony to raise his eyebrows. “You already got something on your mind, kid?” “Maybe?” He doesn’t have a single clue, but he’ll figure something out. Maybe he could ask Aunt May or Ned for help.

Tony kisses his cheek and turns off the television. “Sooo, is it time for our jar of dirt? No matter how much I think Johnny Depp’s got quite the value in his, I think ours is more… exciting. Peter laughs and nudges his side. It’s pretty much a daily ritual for them now to pick a note when they’re together, so they decided to keep the jar in the living room for the time being. No one else really visits Tony’s private suite anyways. Peter reaches to pick it up and then leans back against the couch. He sticks it out to Tony. “Your turn, daddy!” “Hmmm, let’s see what we got today.” Tony opens the lid. “Are you excited to try some new stuff before you gotta pretend to be an innocent boy back in college?” Peter’s sad that he has to leave again tonight, but seeing how amazing their phone sex had been last week, he knew they would pull through it easily. Besides, they still got tonight. “Very curious what it’s gonna be!” He watches Tony’s hand carefully and the man laughs. “No worries, Peter. I’m not cheating anymore. Look-” Tony fishes one out and Peter doesn’t miss how it makes Tony swallow when he sees it’s one of the white, crisp notes. One of Tony’s. He watches carefully, looking at Tony’s lean fingers as he opens the paper. The man looks at it, frozen in place. Peter doesn’t miss the panic sparking in his eyes, the billionaire’s skin turning paler than he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, no way.” Tony folds the paper and throws it back in the jar, his eyes widened in shock. Peter stares, startled. The other man mutters something inaudible and he draws away from the boy. Peter’s mind immediately chants fuck, fuck, fuck. “Tony?” The older man closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Tony,” Peter says, more gentle this time, scooting closer and placing his hands on his knee, squeezing reassuringly. He can’t let Tony shut down again. He won’t let him. “-what happened?” “I am so sorry. I… This is like, the kink…” Tony takes a moment, taking a deep breath. Peter feels a stab in his chest looking at his lover. He’s never seen Tony like this. So scared. So insecure. “God. Peter. I want to do that one with you. Very, very badly. But I’m not ready for this one yet. I’m sorry.”

Peter swallows down the lump in his throat. Slowly, he pulls Tony in for a hug, holding him close and tight. “Tony… Daddy. I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s not, though. You’re so brave for me, Peter. You were still a virgin when jumping into all of this with me. And here I am, scared of-” he says, gesturing at the jar angrily, “-something I know you probably wouldn’t judge me for. I just can’t shake this horrible feeling of it being the one thing that might drive you away from me.” He nuzzles his head in the crook of Peter’s neck. He suddenly seems so small compared to his usual composed self. So fragile. “Do you want to talk about it?” “I… Not really. I’m sorry. Let’s say my ex ran away from me when he found out, and I’ve been made fun of more often than not when people knew. I just… Stopped telling people altogether. Haven’t brought it up in years.” The man sighs, breath shaky. “I want to, Peter. You deserve to know. I will, one day. But not today. I can’t.” “That’s okay, Tony. I’m here. Thank you for telling me, I don’t want you to push yourself just because you’re the dominant one.” Tony nods slowly, a hesitant but still nervous smile playing on his lips. “You’re a smart kid.” “Mhm.” They put the jar away and decide to just keep with just cuddles and sweet kissing today. Peter wants to give Tony the space he needs, and Tony enjoys the downtime with his boyfriend. He couldn’t bring himself to have any type of sex after this… fiasco. However, Peter not bolting right away is a good sign. They’ll get there. They will.

-

Peter’s staring at his reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow, it’s Tony’s birthday. Tonight however, is the celebration with all his friends and families and random people that are interested in Mr. Tony Stark for whatever reason. It’ll be fancy. Peter’s never been to a fancy party like this and it’s making him anxious. God. He’s wearing a tux. Everyone knows he’s Tony’s boyfriend. He’s not sure if he’s ready to face all the judgmental staring. The whispers behind his back.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, baby.” Tony whispers, hugging him from behind. “Love seeing you all dressed up. It suits you.” He kisses the boy’s hair and turns Peter around, away from the mirror. “Got you a little something, the cherry on top.” Tony hands him a deep red bow tie and Peter’s eyes widen. “I have no clue how to tie that,” Peter rushes out right away. His nerves are getting the better of him, dammit. Tony shakes his head slowly with a smile. “Let me help.” He takes the bow tie back from Peter’s hands and wraps it around him. Peter closes his eyes as he let’s the man work his magic. He tries taking a deep breath, focusing only on the way Tony’s fingers brush along his skin as he ties it into, of course, a flawless bow. “I know you’re feeling a bit uncomfortable,” Tony starts, lifting his chin up with one finger. “-but we’re gonna show all those idiots out there what we’re made of. Just stick with the people who know us. Know you. If people talk shit to you, talk shit back. Permission granted. If they don’t like it they’re free to leave.” “But- I don’t want to ruin your party." “Kid, believe me, good riddance and all that. I want you and my friends to have a good time. If I could, half of the people here tonight wouldn’t have been invited in the first place.” Peter nods. He gets it. He knows that if it were up to Tony, he would’ve just wanted to invite his closest friends and have a lazy pizza party or whatever. But, him being as famous as he is, it’s not gonna happen. Next year, Peter promises himself, next year he’ll organize a surprise party like that.

And of course, he’s got a surprise for Tony tomorrow.

Two hours into the party, Peter let his guard down. It was a lot of fun. Good music, the happy laughter and clinking of wine glasses, creating a nice, open atmosphere. It was still too fancy for Peter’s liking, but not too stiff. No one seems to be actively bothered by the fact that he’s there. Of course, there’s been some side glancing, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Tony’s advice to just stick with the people he knows had been good. He’d been hanging with Cap and Bucky for a bit, and then, to his surprise, Aunt May who’d been invited as well. When he saw her walking out the elevator he’d nearly teared up. He knew Tony invited her for his sake, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. “Oh, Peter! Look at you!” She’d gasped, her eyes glimmering with pride. “Such a handsome gentleman, aren’t you.” She’s been supportive of their relationship since day one, after interrogating Tony for about an hour, that is. Peter’s lucky to have her in his life.

Right now, he’s trying to get to Tony through the dancing crowd. Suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, turning around fast. He breaks out into goosebumps right away and he takes a step back. He doesn’t think he’s seen the man in front of him before. Blonde hair slicked back, a slight beard. The man is staring him down and it makes him highly uncomfortable. Something’s definitely off. “Oh, uh, hi, Sir. Can I help you?” “You must be Peter Parker,” the man starts, dragging out his name and then scoffing a laugh. “I’m Quentin Beck. I’m here because I have an offer for you.” “An offer?” “Yeah, you see,” the man leans in as if he’s trying to spill a secret, “-I know that Tony’s rich. But so am I. I can give you more. And not just financially.” He glances down to look at Peter’s crotch. “I have a few inches on that man and just hearing you talk to me like that has me imagining what pretty little sounds you’d make. Sounds that I would get you to make. I know how greedy Stark is. I-” Peter needs a moment to process everything this man is throwing at him and he tries to shift a little to hide his crotch as much as possible. “Look, Mr. Beck. I didn’t get with him for his money if that’s what you’re asking and also no. I’m not interested in… that.”

Peter tries to get away from this creep, feeling sick to his stomach by the comments he made. However, the man grabs his shoulder again, holding him in place. Peter clenches his fists, trying to keep himself from turning around and pushing the man off him. He easily could. He doesn’t want to ruin this party. He wants Tony to have a good night without having to deal with men like this one. “Fuck, you know you want to.” Quentin hisses, his voice getting louder. People around them start to notice, their whispers increasing. “You’re just a needy little boy toy, running after his riches. Such a fucking gold digger. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t deny it.”

That’s it for Peter. He will not let some douchebag talk shit about him and Tony at his freaking party. He grabs the man’s arm and drags him to the elevator, ignoring the shocked faces of the people they pass. He pushes Quentin inside the elevator, with just a tad more force than a normal man would be able to use. The man groans as he comes to a halt against the wall, looking up at Peter in surprise. He too steps into the elevator, closing the doors. He wants to make sure Beck leaves the Tower.

“Take us to the lobby, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he says through gritted teeth. “Oh, you’re stronger than you look, aren’t you?” Quentin narrows his eyes, eyeing him once more. “And all that coming from a cute, little twink like you. It’s adorable. I’d have so much fun with you.” “Shut up.” Peter can’t hear another word from this man. “Now, now, don’t go all tough on me. You’re hotter when you’ve got that submissive vibe going on. Don’t think I didn’t notice you re-tying Tony’s shoes earlier tonight. On your knees right in front of him. Like an obedient bitch. God, aren’t you his perfect little toy to play with?” “Shut. Up.” “You’re really living up to his perverted tendencies, aren’t ya?” Peter’s expression falters for only a millisecond, but it didn’t go unnoticed. It sparks something in the other man. “Ah…” Beck coos. “He hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

Before Peter has time to comment on that remark, the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. “Get out.” “Oh, didn’t you like our little bonding session? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be Tony’s slut?” Beck laughs as he steps out the elevator, brushing past Peter. “But sure, I’ll leave you two to it, for now. When you change your mind, come find me. I’ll be looking forward to your pretty moans.” The man laughs again and walks towards the front door, blowing him a kiss. “Ruuffffff!” Peter frowns. Did the man just… Bark?

Peter stares as the doors slide shut, locking the man out. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., deny access to Quentin Beck throughout the entire building.” “Access denied, Peter.” “Good.” He steps back into the elevator. “Take me back to the party.” As the elevator brings him up, Peter thinks about everything that Beck has said. The insults. The insinuations. God. He can’t even believe the things this… creep said to him. If this is Tony’s ex… He feels a tug on his heart. No wonder the man has such trouble opening up to him. And fuck, how brave of Tony to try it anyway. Whatever happens, no matter what Tony’s kink might be, he’s determined to make sure Tony will never feel like this again. He’ll show Tony that Beck is wrong.

When he walks back into the party he goes to find Tony, wanting to give him a long, loving hug. Which is exactly what he does when he spots the dark-haired man in the kitchen, grabbing a little snack. “Hey, Peter, where have you been?” Tony smiles, returning the hug. “Hmmm, just taking out some trash.” “Honey,” Tony laughs. “We got people for that.” “I know, I know.” Peter answers, trying to figure out whether he should tell him what happened. He’d find out anyway. “Just wanted to be absolutely sure he’d leave.” “What, he?” Tony looks down at Peter, his face filled with worry. Oh God. Peter should’ve just not said anything. He knows Tony would never leave it at that. “Hey look, whiskey! You should try it” “Kid, I picked this whiskey, I know what it tastes like, who’d you throw out?” “No one. Just this dude being a little too drunk. It’s fine. I handled it.”

“Peter!” Aunt May’s voice chimes in, and he sighs, grateful for the distraction. “It’s late, darling. I’m going home. You,” she says, pointing at both men. “-have an amazing night. I’ll see you both soon!” She hugs Tony, then Peter, giving him a kiss on his forehead. When the elevator doors close, Peter can almost immediately feel Tony’s demeanor shift. The billionaire wraps his arm around Peter’s waist and pinches him in his side, making Peter jolt slightly and laugh. “You know, Mr Stark-” Peter raises his eyebrows. “I appreciate you waiting for my aunt to leave to become all grabby, but that was fast.” “What can I say?” Tony says softly. “I just prefer you at my side.” Peter scoffs and looks up at Tony with a cheeky smile. “Gonna show me off to all of New York?” “Now, why would I do that?” Tony licks his lips with a smirk, setting the idea aside for later, and he and eyes a small group of people near the bar. “Let’s get you something sweet to drink.”

The rest of the evening felt way different. Tony was teasing. Constantly. From having Peter suck on an ice cube to his hand wandering a little too low on Peter’s back to be socially acceptable. It had the boy hard and aching within half an hour and he still had to pretend everything was all fine. Quentin Beck was long forgotten when Tony fed Peter a bite of some small French treat. One by one people are leaving. It’s late and Tony - as generous as he is - arranged chauffeurs to bring all the people who are too drunk to leave of their own accord to their homes. Tony winked at Peter when he said that he didn’t want anyone to sleep over that night for… Personal reasons.

At about 2am, Steve Rogers was finally ushered out of the Tower. He insisted on helping clean everything up, but Tony promised that it was okay. Tony drops himself on the couch, surrounded by leftover snacks and empty glasses. Multiple party poppers had exploded in this area, leaving confetti everywhere. God, they were going to be finding small pieces of paper for the next half year. Small pieces of paper. Tony’s mind goes back to the jar. Maybe he should take out what scares him the most. Just… Do that when he really feels he and Peter are ready for it. His head falls back and he closes his eyes as he widens his legs, airing out. He groans, tired, and he manages to lift his hands to loosen up his tie.

Suddenly, he feels Peter sit down on top of him, his legs on either side of Tony’s body. His soft, small hands take the tie out of Tony’s rough ones and he tightens the tie again as he leans in, grinding down into Tony’s crotch. A sweet moan falls off Peter’s lips. “Look so hot in these clothes, boss. Keep them on, please?” Tony’s eyes go dark with lust as he pushes Peter back slightly. Oh, he likes where this is going. He bites his lip and his hands roam over Peter’s chest. The soft fabric of his button-up wrinkling under his touch. “I like you better without clothes,” he mutters. One by one, he starts opening the buttons of Peter’s shirt. Peter keeps grinding against Tony, whimpering at the attention. When Tony opens the last button, his hands move up to Peter’s shoulders to push both the jacket and the shirt down his arms, discarding them to be found after the fun. Tony flicks the bow tie he didn’t take off with his index finger. “Though… I’ll leave the little bow on my present.” The compliment makes Peter blush and smile.

After an entire night of teasing, Peter’s feeling bold. Also horny as fuck, but bold. “Want me to put on a show for you, daddy?” He asks, cocking his head. Tony nods, an uncharacteristically loving look in his eye. Peter wastes no time, trailing his hands over his body, teasing himself further. He traces the lines of his abs until he reaches his nipples, evading them and letting go to push his hands through his hair, all while still grinding down on his daddy. He lowers his hands, presenting them to Tony, bringing them to his mouth. The billionaire slowly licks up Peter’s index finger and then moves quickly in order to wet all of Peter’s fingers with his tongue. Peter thanks his daddy before bringing his digits back to his nipples. He squeezes them. Plays with them, not pausing his slow grinding into Tony’s crotch. They’re both hard and the friction is dizzying. Soft, sweet whimpers and moans fall down Peter’s lips and Tony soaks up everything, taking in every second of how his good boy plays with himself.

Peter starts speeding up. His breathing quickens and his moans turn more desperate. It’s too much for Tony’s liking. He doesn’t want the boy to come just yet. “Get up, Peter,” he orders. “Why don’t you strip naked for me and get on your knees like a good boy would?” Peter obeys without second thought. He hates the sudden lack of attention on his hard-on, but he can’t say he’s not enjoying the attention he gets from Tony. Tony angles his head up to look Peter in the eye, yet Peter still feels like he’s smaller. With one turn of his hand, F.R.I.D.A.Y. knows exactly which playlist to turn on. Peter had made fun of Tony for having a sex playlist, but he now realizes that the music has a whole different effect on him in this situation. Peter takes the music as an invitation to start swaying his hips. He smiles and closes his eyes, amazed at the fact that 15-year-old Peter Parker would never have imagined giving Tony Stark a fucking striptease. Yet here he is. Shoes and socks discarded, playing with the hem of his trousers.

Tony drinks it all up. The way Peter is thoroughly enjoying himself. Touching himself. As if there is no one else in the room. Eyes closed, a dreamy smile on his face. Peter toys with the belt around his waist and something inside Tony screams at him to take the belt and use it. Maybe as a collar with a leash, or maybe to spank his pretty boy’s pert butt. He holds back, though. For now. Tony lazily palms his hard-on through his pants while Peter tosses the belt aside. He slowly pushes down his pants and underwear at the same time. His cock springs free and Tony can tell it must be aching, so hard.

The air is cold on Peter’s skin and he feels naked. Well, he is naked, but it feels worse. More humiliating, with Tony still fully clothed in his incredibly expensive, Italian suit. Peter keeps turning eights with his hips, in tune with the music, pushing his hands through his hair again and letting his fingers with the remains of Tony’s saliva still on them linger on his lips. He sucks on his digit, feeling the sensual beat of the song thrum through his body. His hands move down, not touching where he wants to be touched. He knows he doesn’t have permission. He vaguely recalls Tony had ordered him to get on his knees, so slowly, he lowers himself and sits down with his knees slightly spread, displaying himself for daddy. His hips still rolling sensually and slowly to the music.

“My perfect, little slut…” Tony groans as he unzips his pants, relishing in the power imbalance. He slowly pulls out his hard cock and strokes it a few times, watching Peter’s jaw go slack. The boy nearly drools at the sight and it only spurs Tony on. “You want this, don’t you?” Peter nods, only half present. His mind hyper-focusing on the throbbing shaft in Tony’s hand. “Yes,” he whispers. “Want your cock, daddy.” “Mmm…” Tony moans. “Such a good cockslut for daddy. Come here, boy. Come get your reward.” Peter has to get on all fours to be able to move closer and Tony nearly bursts at the sight of Peter crawling towards him, back arched, butt sticking out and eyes still strained on Tony’s cock. He decides that he imagined the boy’s tongue hanging out slightly, but part of him is sure he saw it.

Peter opens his mouth wide and his lips wrap around Tony’s dick. Moaning lewdly at the contact. The vibrations send shivers through Tony’s entire body and he pets the boy’s head as Peter does as told, his hands slightly trembling. It nearly knocks his breath out of his chest. Peter’s perfect. So submissive. So eager. “Oh yes,” he sighs, “-just like that, baby. Sucking me so well.” The older man can’t help himself. He knows he’s threading the border of giving into his kink too much, but with Peter unconsciously initiating it, he needs to have that little taste. He hooks his finger through the bowtie still around Peter’s neck, tugging on it. Peter whines, letting Tony guide him without pausing the movements around Tony’s cock. ““F-Fuck, baby, the things I wanna do to you. My pretty boy,” he grunts, tugging at the tie.

“Mine.”

Peter’s entire body is burning, tingling underneath the dominant presence that’s Tony. He loves how much he praises him, spurs him to go on. He wants to. Never wants this to stop. Every gasp that leaves the billionaire’s mouth, every little brush of his fingers, it sends Peter closer and closer to that mindspace that Tony had explained to him last week. “Peter, baby, slow down for a bit, will you?” “Hmmm?” He moans around Tony’s cock and obeys, slowly bobbing his head up and down while looking up. “That’s right, look at me sweetness. Daddy wants to see that pretty gaze of yours.” Tony whispers, making Peter’s mind spin even more. Tony’s eyes are sweet, and loving, yet demanding in a way that has the boy shiver all over. “Want me to fuck you?” Peter nods desperately. “I could fuck you over the desk, huh, how does that sound? You could call me boss again, I really liked that, Peter.” Tony caresses the boy’s cheek, enjoying the little blush creeping up there. “Or I could fuck you against the window. Show all of New York who your pretty body belongs to.” He tangles his fingers into Peter’s hair gently, tugging the boy off his cock. Peter gasps for fresh air. Fuck, he looks obscene. “What do you want, Peter. Answer me,” he orders, “-honestly.” “T-the window,” the boy chokes out. “Please, boss.” Tony smirks at his newly given name, licking his lips. “Excellent choice, now, get that pretty ass of yours to the window. Hands on the glass, legs spread. I’ll get the lube.”

He watches as the boy scrambles to his feet and walks over to the window. Tony has to bite back a moan when he sees how incredibly stunning he looks. His pale skin shimmering in the New York City lights. “Good boy. Stay.” Tony startles himself with those words and he bites down on his bottom lip harshly. Fuck, he should really get a grip on himself. He shakes his head quickly and rushes off to the bedroom to get the lube.

Once he grabs the bottle, he realizes he should probably buy a new one soon as they’ve nearly run out. It makes him grin. He hasn’t ran out of lube this soon in a long time. When he walks back into the living room and is pleased to see Peter still in the exact same position. Waiting patiently. His eyes are closed and his body occasionally twitches to the music that’s still playing. He walks towards the boy slowly, knowing that Peter must be hyper-aware of his movements.

“You’re gorgeous,” Tony whispers, “-can’t wait to ruin you.” When he’s nearly reached Peter, the boy reaches into his presence. Arching his back real nicely, sticking his ass out a little further. Tony trails his fingers across the soft skin and he leans in, his lips mere inches away from Peter’s ears. “Tell me how badly you want to fuck me, baby boy. How eager are you?” “Oh, shit, Mr. Stark. So badly, please. Been thinking about you fucking me all day!” “Yeah?” “Y-Yeah! I-” Peter cries out when Tony’s hand reaches around his waist to grab his hard-on. “Need you inside me. Please.” “Hmmm, you sure you don’t want me to just jack you off, you respond to it so nicely.” Tony coos, voice sweet as honey as he gives a few experimental tugs. “No, I need more than that. I want you to pound into me fast, and rough, and hard. Claiming me as yours, daddy.”

Tony’s composure is crumbling down with each word the boy speaks. He curses under his breath and lets go of him quickly to squirt a generous amount of lube on his dick, dropping the bottle to the floor. He spreads the lube across his shaft and grips Peter’s hip tightly with his other hand. “The entire city’s gonna know you’re my pretty slut, baby.” “Y-yes. Show them. I want it.” That’s it. Tony growls, taking every little bit of effort to not push himself all the way in. He’s slow. Just pushing in the head and waiting for the boy to relax in his arms. He hasn’t been prepped, not really. He knows the kid’s been using the dildo multiple times throughout the past week, but still. He wants to make sure he’s good. The tight heat clenching around him isn’t making that any easier, though. “Peter, baby, I’ve got you.” He says, grazing his teeth across the smooth neck. “Can’t believe how big you are, daddy! Please, please go all the way in. I want to feel you more.” Tony swallows and complies, pushing until he’s completely inside his sweet little boy. He’s so tight. So warm around him.

“Can you see your own reflection in the window, Peter? See how hot you are?” Peter nods frantically in response, feeling one of Tony’s hands curl around his neck, raising his head and making his back arch. The vague image of himself opposite him has him whimpering, but it’s when he sees Tony’s hungry look- his eyes boring straight through Peter via his reflection that has him buck. He tries to keep still but he presses himself against Tony involuntarily, jolting and moaning. “Fuck, you’re already so desperate. So gorgeous. All of New York can see what a horny, little slut you are for me.” Peter can’t contain himself, moaning obscenely and closing his eyes, feeling Tony’s fingers dig into his skin on his hip and below his jaw. “I’m your slut, daddy, I’m yours, yours alone, please fuck me-”

Tony slowly moves out, bending his hips at an angle before pushing back in. The boy gasps and the thrust has them both move closer to the window until Peter’s chest is flush against it, nipples rubbing on the cold hard glass. “Oh, Peter-” Tony moans, his mouth leaving wet kisses on the back of Peter’s neck. He moves back out again and when he pushes back in, he decides to follow the rhythm of the song that’s playing. It’s slow. And he knows how much Peter hates that. Well, he doesn’t really, but Tony likes to tease. Halfway through the song, Peter’s ragged breaths turn to continuous whines as the window fogs up from their fucking. The glass constantly stimulates Peter’s nipples. Tony’s been leaving hickeys all over the boy’s upper back and neck, quietly annoyed that they will be gone by morning because of Peter’s increased healing speed. And his thrusts…

“Sh-shit, Mr. Stark, Tony, daddy, boss, please-” Peter pleads. “H-harder, faster!” “As you wish, sweet pet,” Tony growls, once again swearing at himself for letting go too much. It does fuel his arousal though, and he speeds up, slowly, knowing which angle to take to hit Peter exactly where he wants him. “R-right there-OH!” Peter opens his mouth wide, a pleasured frown curls his brows. His eyes roll back in their sockets. “Go on, Peter, push back. Help daddy out. Fuck yourself on me.” Tony has to move both hands to Peter’s hips to keep up with the boy’s sudden surge of excitement. A string of short “ohs” falling from both their lips as they fuck each other. Peter’s hard cock bounces against his abdomen, occasionally bumping against the ice-cold window, causing him to gasp at the impact.

Last week, after one of their phone sex sessions, Tony had explained to Peter that men don’t have a G-spot, but a P-spot. Peter said that, though he knew, he liked G-spot more. He chuckled when he said: “My penis is my P-spot.” Which in turn, had Tony laughing out loud. “So you prefer it if we call it G-spot?” Peter was quiet for a second before replying. “I… I do.” “What’s with the pause, kid?” “I- I kind of like the female terms, Mr. Stark.” If Tony didn’t have a cooldown-time on his dick, he’d have been hard again.

He’s been wanting to test other female terms ever since, but they haven’t really had the chance. Now, however, with Peter as far gone as he is, he knows it’s the perfect timing. “How’s it feel, boy? My cock fucking your pussy until you’re leaking my cum-” Peter scrunches his eyes shut in response only able to let out a string of incomprehensible vowels. Tony grins wickedly, pumping into the boy without remorse. Peter’s eyes roll back in their sockets and he’s unsure if he’s able to keep himself upright. Tony holds on to him though. Tony’s got him. Daddy’s got him. “Fuck, so pretty with your tits rubbing all over the windows. You’ll be seeing stars tonight, Pete, and it won’t be the stars out there-” Peter feels like he’s losing himself in the moment, the sensation of Tony’s dick ramming right into his G-spot overwhelming him. He cries out when the man grabs his cock and pumps it fast. “Daddy-daddy-daddy-daddy-” Neither of them can hear the music anymore. The slapping noises of their skin clashing together and their moans and whines drowning out everything else.

“You’re gonna cum all over the glass, baby? Such a messy boy aren’t you?” Tony growls, increasing the pace of his hand around Peter’s throbbing cock even more. “Show me.” Peter’s trembling by now, unable to hold still, unable to form any coherent word. His forehead resting on the glass, just taking everything that Tony’s willing to give him. He’s so close. So damned. close. “I want you to come for me. Let it all out. Come, Peter, darling.” All it takes is just a couple more strokes for Peter to cry out loud. His body tenses, clenching around Tony and spilling himself all over the glass. He collapses, holding himself up but barely. “That’s my boy, good job, baby,” Tony praises his lover and picks up his speed, holding Peter steady. “Daddy’s gonna come inside of you. F-fuck!” Tony grunts, his hips buck forward and don’t move back, pushing into Peter as deep as he can as he releases into his sweet body.

Both men try to catch their breaths as they sink into each other. Tony’s still fully clothed body supporting Peter from behind. This must be Tony’s favorite moment throughout all this. He loves everything; the teasing, the stroking, the fucking. But this, having Peter soft and sweet and fucked-out in his arms. That’s what makes his heart flutter in his chest and want to hold onto this boy forever. “Mr. Stark…” Peter breathes softly. “That… That was amazing.” “Oh, it was sweetness. Best birthday present ever.” Peter chuckles at that, pushing himself off the glass a little and craning his neck to look Tony in his eyes. “Can we go to bed? I want to cuddle.” “Of course,” Tony smiles and presses a kiss on Peter’s cheek before pulling out carefully. Ignoring the strain in his back, he picks the boy up bridal style, making him squeal. “-I’m gonna cuddle you all night.”

--- More: Chapter 7 Masterpost

#peter parker #tony stark #peter x tony #tony x peter #adult peter parker #ironspider #iron man x spider man #spider man x iron man #spiderman #spider man #spider-man #iron man #ironman #marvel #mcu #kink exploration #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #ao3 fanfic #quentin beck #mysterio #jar of dirt #jarofdirt #twokinkybeans

[jaxl-road]

Howl

Sup bitches, you ready for some motherfucking *✲ﾟ*｡⋆Metaphors*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

Summary: Nikki’s been acting strange, pulling away from the band, running off on his own. He’s hiding something. And Tommy is too head over heels not to find out what.

Warnings: None I think, but hit me up if I missed something!

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t fair that the second Tommy felt like maybe he had a shot with Nikki, the bassist started pulling away.

Not that he’d ever admit it, but Tommy maybe sorta had a tiny crush on Nikki back when he was in London. Who would blame him though, the dude was hot as Hell and Tommy wasn’t blind. Talking to Nikki after that concert had been surreal. It felt like he was floating above his body, watching himself blurt out “I have your poster on my bedroom wall” and leaving his soul helpless to anything but scream in mortification. He had been fully prepared to return to his date and politely ask her to bash his head in with a napkin dispenser to put him out of his misery. 

But Nikki hadn’t laughed at him, even though there was a certain hesitance about him-  a pause before he said that London was over, before he’d started talking about his new band, before he asked about his drumsticks and how he learned to spin them so smoothly. Before he asked Tommy to join him.

And oh boy if Tommy’s heart was compromised by Nikki’s looks, the first time he heard him laugh was a one-hit K.O.

It was all downhill from there, every smile,  every rant about his vision for the band, every playful shove at his shoulders just sent the drummer deeper and deeper into something way past infatuation. And for awhile, it seemed like it might even be possible. The two grew closer, and even as the band expanded and solidified, Nikki and Tommy were always a pair. The Terror Twins. Tommy would seek him out, trotting after him, and he would go along with any crazy scheme, would even smile when Tommy leaned against him. Admittedly though, the drummer was getting impatient, and was trying to figure out how to push things forward more, more, more.

But before he got a chance, something happened.

And Tommy didn’t even know what.

There was nothing unusual about the night- Motley Crue rehearsed, slowly working their way towards a full set, before catching a show at The Whiskey for some old fashioned “networking” (aka, drinking with the bands). When they had finally left, Mick heading his own way, Nikki split off before they could make it back to their shitty apartment.

“Fuck, I’m outta cigs,” he groaned, “I’m gonna run grab some, I’ll meet you guys at home.” They had waved him off, none of them thinking anything of it. After all, the corner store was only a block away.

When Vince and Tommy reached the apartment, Vince had crashed almost immediately, but Tommy had lingered. He had hoped to maybe hang out with Nikki just a little more, just the two of them. Not because of any ulterior motive or anything. Of course not. If Tommy kept telling himself that he might even start to believe it.

After fifteen minutes, he figured maybe Nikki decided to smoke a few of those cigarettes he got before coming in.

After half an hour, he sat by the window and watched the street.

After an hour, he started pacing the living room, chewing on his fingernails and ignoring the anxious burning behind his eyes.

An hour and a half later, Tommy was ready to burst into Vince’s room and shake him awake and/or call 911. Or both. But luckily, before either of those things could happen, Nikki finally, finally, walked through the door. For a moment Tommy didn’t know if he was going to punch the man for worrying him or kiss him for coming back, but then he caught sight of his face, dried blood streaked under his nose and a darkening bruise on his cheek.

"Holy shit, dude, what happened?" He tried to get a closer look, but Nikki shrugged him off, side-stepping around him.

"Just some asshole, it's nothing." 

“‘Nothing’? You said you were going to the corner store and you’ve been gone for like, almost two hours!” It wasn’t nothing. This was Nikki, and Nikki was everything.

But the bassist just shrugged, head ducked and bangs hiding his eyes, “It’s fine. Just a little fight. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy wanted to help- wanted to wipe away the blood, press ice to his cheek. Wanted to kiss his bruised knuckles better. There was an air of Deja Vu to the situation, a chasm like a diner table stretched between them, only this time Nikki is shutting him out and Tommy was too much of a fucking coward to reach across and stop him.

Nikki shuffles into his room, something like embarrassment radiating from him. When the door shuts, Tommy stands in the living room for another ten minutes, trying his best to convince himself it doesn’t matter. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow.

~

Everything is very much not back to normal tomorrow.

~

It wasn’t unusual for Nikki to be the first one awake, but it was unusual for him to be fucking gone. Especially after having been missing for a chunk of the night before, and bruised up on top of it, Tommy had figured Nikki would just hang around the apartment during the day. Instead, he found a hastily scrawled note in the kitchen.

“Went out, be back later. -6”

Tommy frowned. He knew Nikki didn’t have work or anything today, and usually any “going out” involved the whole Crue. Or, you know. At least Tommy.

Biting his lip, the drummer couldn’t help but worry. This, combined with Nikki’s behavior the night before, was doing nothing to ease his nerves. When Vince finally woke up and wandered out, he only raised an eyebrow at the news.

“Weird. That dude is weird. I’m going back to bed.”

Tommy threw Nikki’s note at Vince’s head.

When Nikki comes home for rehearsal that night, he one again brushes off any attempt to ask where he was. “I was just out,” he said, “Is that a crime? Just play the fucking song.” Mick chuckles and rolls his eyes. Vince grins and flips him off. Tommy tries to smile but it feels more like a cringe. 

They play the song, and then another, and another, and things don’t feel as normal as Tommy hoped.

~

It keeps happening. Nikki leaves each morning, sometimes leaving a note, sometimes just calling out a quick farewell to whoever was awake. On days when he has a shift at the shitty call center he works at part-time, he comes home late- much later than he should, Tommy knows- and continues to evade any questions as to his whereabouts. 

The first time they go out as a group since Nikki’s strange behavior started, he comes with them, and for a few hours everything feels almost right. They drink, and dance badly to the music, and Tommy and Nikki laugh together, and when they put their arms around each others’ shoulders, Tommy maybe holds on just a little tighter than usual.

But then, far too soon, Nikki pulls away.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out."

Tommy frowns, and even Mick and Vince shoot looks of confusion at the bass player. It was nowhere near late enough for any of them to be calling it a night. Feeling a little desperate, Tommy moved towards him again, "Heading home already? I'll come with you-"

Nikki shook his head, "No, I'm... going to a friend's place."

"You have friends other than us?" Vince raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Nikki flipped him off, but he didn’t answer.

"Who?" Tommy asked. Who’s taking you away from us? From me?

"You wouldn't know 'em," Nikki shrugged, backing away as he spoke. Shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned to leave, he called over his shoulder, "don't worry about it. I'll see you guys later."

He was gone before they could get another word in.

The rest of the night, Tommy tries to distract himself with his other two friends. With booze, and girls, and coke. But the club feels just a little too empty.

~

Vince and Mick finally start getting suspicious the next day, when Nikki is actually late to rehearsal.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Mick grumbled. They all joked about how hardcore Nikki could be when it came to Motley Crue- he was determined to make them a hit, and it wasn’t uncommon for one (or all) of them to have to tell him to tone it down a bit, or end practice after it had run past what they planned. So for him to be late...

Vince sat next to Mick, splayed out and far too relaxed in Tommy’s opinion, “He’s been a space case for like, over a week now.”

In front of them, Tommy paced back and forth, “Maybe he like, owes money to the mafia or something,” he theorized, “Oh my God, what if he’s being held hostage somewhere?!”

"Pffft, please, Isn't it obvious?" Vince chimed in, cutting off the drummer’s dark train of thought. The blonde leaned forward, grinning deviously, "Nikki's got a girl~friend~," he sang the word, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

"What? No way. No way!" Tommy responded just a little too fast and a little too loud to be mistaken for anything remotely close to subtle. He could feel his face grow warm as Mick raised an eyebrow knowingly and Vince smirked in something like victory.

"Yes way. He probably met some long-legged beauty on his way home that one night, maybe rescued her from some dick and became her knight in leather pants, and now they're enjoying a torrid love affair,” he threw a hand in the air, the other clutching his heart dramatically.

"Don't be stupid," Tommy tried his best not to pout, "why wouldn't he tell us?"

"Probably to keep this bastard's hands off her," Mick deadpanned as he jerked a thumb at Vince, who winked in response.

“Smart man.”

Scowling, Tommy crossed his arms, “I still think it’s the mob.” His band mates only laughed at him, exchanging high fives as soon as the drummer turned away.

His theory was disproved fifteen minutes later when Nikki rushed through the front door, “Sorry, sorry, got held up.”

“With what?”

“With who?”

Nikki blinked at Tommy and Vince’s simultaneous questions, “Nothing, no one. Why didn’t you guys just start without me? We’re wasting time!” The bassist snapped his fingers, nagging at the others to hustle to their places, ignoring any further attempts at interrogation with a glare and a reminder that they had work to do. 

But all night long, Tommy just couldn’t focus on the music. His head was echoing with Vince’s words, dread and sorrow descending on him like a cloud.

Nikki’s got a girlfriend.

~

It’s not surprising that Tommy barely gets any sleep that night. He tosses and turns and shoves his face in a pillow to stifle the tears over losing the man he loves to some girl he doesn’t even know. He’s trying to talk himself out of getting drunk at six in the morning when he hears a door open across the hall.

Nikki’s door.

Tommy sits up so fast his neck cracks. Before he can think better of it, before he can even really think about what he’s doing at all, he’s stumbling out of bed and throwing on his clothes as quickly and quietly as he can. He hears the front door open and close just as he finishes tying his shoes, and he almost trips over his own feet as he rushes out of his room.

He pauses at the front door, opening it slowly and peeking through the crack. Nikki is a dark silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, like a shadow slipping silently through the cracks. He’s got a beat up backpack slung around his shoulder, his normally wild hair falling loose without any product or hairspray. The second he turns the corner, Tommy exits the apartment and jogs after him. 

Every corner Tommy stops to check that Nikki is a decent distance away before trotting after him. Once they’re outside, he’s careful to duck behind corners and any structure he can find when he feels he might be getting too close. It’s while he’s crouched behind a trash can, staring at the bassist’s back that it fully clicks in his head that he is fucking stalking Nikki fucking Sixx. 

And that’s weird. He knows that’s weird. But at the same time, he just has to know. If he’s going to have his heartbroken, he at least wants to see the person he lost to. Wants to see who Nikki chose, wants to see the person that beat him. He just wants to know for sure.

After all, he hasn’t completely discounted his mafia theory yet.

The sky is turning a vibrant orange with the rise of the sun and they’re maybe four blocks from the apartment when Nikki slows down. Tommy frowns when he sees he’s standing at the entrance to a nondescript alleyway. But there is a soft smile on the bassist’s face that sort of makes Tommy want to cry.

Nikki lets out a couple low, short whistles and oh God, Tommy thinks, they have a secret signal! It really is a torrid love affair!

He can barely hear Nikki’s soft words as he disappears into the alley, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me…”

It’s a terrible idea, Tommy knows, but he can’t stop himself from creeping closer. He just wants a glance, a quick look, that’s all. He presses himself against the wall, and as he looks around the corner, he braces himself to get his heart ripped out.

Which means he’s not braced at all for what he actually sees.

Nikki is kneeling on the dirty gravel, dark hair hanging around his face, but a soft breeze giving Tommy a glance of the warm smile on his face. His hands are stretched out, gently stroking the dog in front of him.

It’s some sort of mutt, but if Tommy had to guess it looks like a cross between a lab and a pitbull, fur as black as Nikki’s hair, and a stocky build offset by how skinny it was. There were silvery scars along its side, and its held a misshapen front paw close to its body, but its tail was wagging happily, and it licked at Nikki’s hand as he scratched its ears. Tommy could see Nikki’s mouth moving, but his words were too soft to make anything out. As he watched the dog inch forward, and heard Nikki laugh as it licked at his chin, Tommy felt like he was going to cry for a completely different reason.

But the moment is far too short lived. Because the dog suddenly notices the hidden figure and immediately jumps back, barking and growling, causing Nikki to jump in surprise before snapping his head to the side and locking eyes with Tommy.

Busted.

“Tommy?” Nikki stood to face him, glaring in a way that made Tommy gulp, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I…” Oh God, how was he supposed to explain this?

“Did you fucking follow me?”

Oh boy. “I- well-...” He swallowed again before choking out, “...Yeah?”

For a moment, the terror twins just stared at each other, the dog still growling from its place huddled in the back of the alley. Finally, Nikki let out a huff of frustration, “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he turned away, kneeling back down and holding his hand out again, “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay boy, Tommy’s a dumbass but he’s chill.”

And, well, Tommy figures that’s a good sign at least. Nikki still thinks he’s chill. Score.

Looking over his shoulder and narrowing his eyes at the drummer, Nikki jerked his head, “Get over here you weirdo, and try not to be a total spaz.” Eager to get back in Nikki’s good graces, Tommy immediately knelt by his side. “Okay, hold your hand out, slowly,” he emphasized. His voice was gentle again, though there was still an edge in his eyes when he glanced at Tommy.

Doing as he was told, Tommy carefully offered his palm to the dog in front of him, who wasn’t snarling anymore, but still growled lowly. Nikki reached into his bag, rummaging around for a minute before pulling out a pack of beef jerky. Almost immediately the growling stopped, and the dog’s ears perked up. Shifting to sit cross-legged, Nikki handed some of the snacks to Tommy before settling back to watch.

“Just give him a minute. Let him come to you,” he mumbled.

Determination filling him, Tommy tried his very best to exude calm, keeping his hand low and open with the jerky cupped in his palm, and smiling encouragingly when the dog started limping towards him slowly.

It takes some time, the dog moving forward and backing away again a few times before he managed to get close enough to sniff at Tommy’s hand. The drummer’s face split into a wide smile when the dog finally took the food from his hand, giggling when he licked at his palm for any remnants.

“Move slowly and pet his side,” Tommy had been so focused on soothing the animal in front of him, he had almost completely forgotten about the entire reason he was here. When he turned, his heart almost stopped at the affectionate look in Nikki’s eyes. Even more so when he realized Nikki was looking at him.

Following his instructions, Tommy carefully reached his other hand out until he could stroke the side of the dog’s neck. They stay like that for maybe ten minutes; Tommy petting the dog gently while Nikki occasionally handed him more jerky to help ease the animal’s nervousness.

Eventually though, once he decided Tommy wasn’t a threat, the dog limped over to Nikki. The bassist smiled, scratching his ears and stroking his back when he laid the front of his body in Nikki’s lap.

Tommy allowed himself a few moments to just watch, to see the peace and gentleness in Nikki as he sat with the stray. But eventually he felt the need to speak, “I’m sorry for following you,” he said softly. When Nikki glanced at him, his face was blank, and more words started spilling from him in desperation, “I was just worried, dude. You kept just vanishing on us, and you were acting so weird, I thought maybe-” he cuts himself off, quickly glancing away in case his face betrayed his assumptions, “I was just worried.”

Nikki looked back down at the dog, petting him quietly for a few minutes. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet, "I found him last week, when I was grabbing cigarettes. Saw some bastard try to kick him,” Tommy thought back to that night, the bruises and blood his best friend brought home, and thought of how much rage Nikki must have felt to see someone dare to try to hurt something that couldn’t fight back. Nikki tilted his head as he continued, “Something's up with his front leg, but he's skittish as Hell. He only just started to let me touch him the other day. I've been bringing him food and water and shit.”

There is a pause before Tommy asks the biggest question on his mind, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He tries to look nonchalant, but Nikki’s shrug is stiff, and when he speaks his voice is tense, “I figured you’d make fun of me.”

“What? No way! We’re not gonna laugh at you for something like this, dude.” It doesn’t even make sense to him, but Nikki only shrugs. He shifts slowly until he’s sitting across from his friend. He wants to say more, wants to reassure him that they’re in this together, that Nikki doesn’t have to be afraid of them, but he just can’t find the words. He settles for reaching out to gently pat the dog’s stomach.

Tommy is still trying to figure out how to break the silence when Nikki breaks it for him. The bassist sighed shakily, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead before admitting softly, “I don’t know what to do, T-Bone.”

Frowning, Tommy leaned forward to try to look at Nikki’s eyes through his dark curtain of hair, “What do you mean?”

His fingers tapped against his knee rapidly in anxiety, “I know I can’t keep him. We can barely keep the roof over our own heads, let alone take care of a dog that obviously needs a vet. And I don’t want to leave him here, but what if…”

“What?”

Nikki’s voice is soft, and sad, and scared, “What if no one wants him?”

He wants so badly to reassure this man that he loves so much, that Tommy spits out platitudes immediately, “That’s crazy! Who wouldn’t love him? Besides, everyone loves dogs-”

He’s caught off guard when Nikki’s face snaps to his, glaring with fiery eyes, “No, people like normal dogs. They like golden retrievers, and lapdogs, and cute fuckers who wag their tails and roll over and shit like that. No one likes dogs that are beat up and damaged and snap if you move too fast.” His words are heated and angry, and Tommy feels his heart clench a little at the certainty in his voice. This time, he pauses to really think about his next words.

“You do.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a freak, what else is new,” Nikki looked back down, dejectedly reaching into his bag to offer more snacks to the dog in his lap. 

And Tommy decides right then and there that he is going to do everything in his power to make sure Nikki never gets that note of sadness in his voice ever again.

"Hey,” he says firmly, “The world is full of freaks. Motley Crue is nothing but freaks. Someone out there is gonna love the shit out of this guy and give him all the patience and love he deserves. Just like you did for him,” Nikki still looks skeptical, and Tommy comes up with a plan faster than he ever has in his life, "Tell you what, let's get this dude back tonight, and I'll ask my parents to call around and see if anyone will take him. We’ll make it work until we know for sure he’s got a home."

Nikki’s head snaps up, eyes wide with something between hope and wonder, "You'd do that?"

Tommy smiled, "Of course,” his words are soft and sure and certain, “He's worth it."

~

It’s slow going, luring the dog out of the alley and back towards their apartment, especially not that more people are out and about. They take turns, one of them coaxing the animal while the other glares and gets people out of the way. They’re about a block away when Tommy finally asks, "By the way, what's his name?" Nikki looks back at him with a questioning look, and Tommy just grins teasingly, "Come on, I know you named him."

Nikki ducks his head down, trying to hide the embarrassment Tommy can read in his whole body. Finally, he mumbles, "...Moonshine."

When Nikki finally looks back up at Tommy, the drummer is grinning fondly. “It’s perfect.”

~

Moonshine stays with them for three days. When they first arrive, Tommy stayed with him in the hallway while Nikki cornered Vince and threatened him with bodily harm if he scared the dog. Admittedly, it’s probably a good idea considering the way the singer is vibrating with excitement when Tommy finally leads the dog inside. With great effort though, Vince stays calm long enough to ease Moonshine’s nerves.

By the time Mick arrives, the three of them are sitting on the floor in a circle with Moonshine in the middle being happily pet by all of them at once.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Despite his attempts at being gruff, by the end of the night Mick is sitting on the couch with the black dog pressed against his side, scratching his ears with a smile he can’t quite hide.

As much as they all love having him, Tommy keeps his promise and calls his parents that very first day. When he explains the situation, they happily agree to ask around. The next night, they give him the number of two of their friends- some empty-nesters who had dealt with high maintenance animals before and would be happy to have a new addition to their family.

He expects Nikki to be sad when he tells him the news, and maybe he is a little, but it’s overshadowed by the sheer relief on his face. Tommy kept his promise. Someone wanted him.

On the third night, the couple come to pick up Moonshine. They meet outside, none of them wanting to subject the older pair to their questionable apartment, and spend about half an hour letting the dog warm up to them before they pack him up. They open the window so Nikki can get a few last kisses from Moonshine, hugging his neck tightly before allowing them to drive away. 

“It’s okay, Nikki. Just write a song about it and then you’ll feel better,” Vince teased gently after the car had disappeared.

The bassist shoved his shoulder, “Oh fuck off,” but he was smiling, if a little sadly, but no one mentioned it as they went back inside. They have a few drinks, clinking glasses in honor of their canine buddy, before Mick heads home and Vince runs off to find a lady to keep him company.

Alone in the apartment, Tommy tries to think of some way to lighten the mood. But before he can do anything, Nikki is stretching out on the couch beside him, dropping his head in Tommy’s lap. The drummer can only pray that his face isn’t as red as it feels, especially when Nikki smiles up at him.

“Hey, thanks for everything, man.”

“I-it was nothing. Seriously,” Tommy stuttered out.

Nikki laughed lightly, “Whatever man. Just…. Thanks.”

Swallowing thickly, the drummer smiled back, “Anytime.”

~

Things ease back to normal after that, the terror twins wreaking havoc again, Nikki throwing himself into the band, and once they start performing, Motley Crue starts tearing up the Sunset. Nikki smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and Tommy keeps falling harder. But he doesn’t mind so much, these days. He loves throwing his arms around Nikki, but there’s something special about when Nikki throws his arms around him.

Two months later, Tommy grins as he hangs up the phone. He practically skips into the living room because he is going to see Nikki smile and he can’t wait.

“Dude, dude, dude!” the drummer immediately leapt onto the couch, pushing and pulling at Nikki’s shoulder.

The other man smirked, pushing him away playfully, “What? What’s got you so fucking wired? I told Vince we should stop giving you sugar.”

“Oh shut up,” Tommy laughed, “I have a present for you!” Nikki raised an eyebrow in surprise, but before he could question, the younger boy burst out, “We’re gonna visit Moonshine tomorrow!”

There it was. There was that smile Tommy was pretty sure would be the death of him, “Seriously?” Nikki was practically bouncing in his seat and Tommy was so in love.

“Hell yeah! Apparently he got the cast off his leg a few days ago, and Paul and Debra said it’d be cool if we stopped by.”

“Oh man, I gotta buy, like, five bags of jerky.”

Tommy snorted in surprise, “Dude, they’re feeding him I promise.”

“Yeah, but probably only like, prissy rich people dog food. Moonshine needs some real treats.”

Nikki’s joy is infectious, and even Vince laughs when he teases him. The next day, Tommy convinces Nikki to only buy one bag of beef jerky before they hop in the drummer’s beat up car and drive out to the suburbs. It’s a forty-five minute drive filled with blasting music and planning outrageous stage shows and Tommy trying not to crash the car by looking at Nikki too long. 

In the middle of suburbia the two of them stick out like sore thumbs, but none of that matters when Moonshine runs across the neat green lawn to greet them. His coat is shiny and clean, his bones no longer visible, and instead there is a healthy layer of fat and muscle on him. The fur is still growing back on his front leg, a long surgical scar running down the length of it, but his limp is gone as he bounds freely towards them.

Kneeling down, Nikki laughs as the dog jumps up on him, licking his face with his tail wagging frantically, “Hey boy! I missed you too!” Tommy leaned down to join in petting their old friend. Nikki gasped when he caught sight of the tag jingling from the bright red collar around his neck, and he turned to grin at Tommy excitedly, “They kept his name ‘Moonshine’? I figured they’d change it!”

“No way, dude! It just suits him too well!”

They stay for about an hour, two punk rockers rolling around on the front lawn with a happy black dog while the older couple looked on fondly from their porch. When they finally said their goodbyes, they couldn’t even be sad. Moonshine was too happy and healthy for them to be anything but glad for him.

Waving one last time, the couple and their new dog went back inside, leaving the two musicians on the sidewalk. Just as he’s about to get back in the car, Tommy felt Nikki’s hand on his arm, halting him in place.

“Tommy, you’re my ride back, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” he furrowed his brows in confusion at the odd question.

“Promise not to leave me stranded in the suburbs?”

“What the fuck? What are you talking about?” 

“Just promise!” Nikki looked like he was vibrating with a cross between excitement and nervousness. It was the exact same look he got every night right before they went on stage.

“Okay, fine, I promise!”

He had barely gotten the words out when Nikki surged forward and kissed him. 

For a moment he was sure he must be dreaming, but nothing in his imagination comes close to the taste of Nikki’s lips and the feeling of his hands on the sides of his face. It’s wondrous,  it’s perfect, it feels like all the time spent leading up to it, all the patience and build up was so so worth it and Tommy can’t resist wrapping his arms around the bassist to pull him even closer. In all the times he’s imagined what it would be like to kiss Nikki, nothing compares to Nikki kissing him. 

Neither wants to get back in the car, but eventually they laugh into each others’ mouths and admit that they should maybe stop making out here before they scar some poor middle-class housewife. The drive back takes an hour and a half, because Tommy keeps pulling over to kiss Nikki again and again. 

He’s patient. But not that patient.

#YEET #motley crue fanfiction #my writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx #I'll upload on AO3 tomorrow

[calumsvapor]

wherever you are | c.h

word count: 2357

warnings: cursing

pairing(s): calum hood/reader

notes: soulmate au. the povs in this are kind of weird. it’s 2nd person, but you don’t get that good of a view into the reader’s thoughts until near the end. it’s sort of from calum’s point of view but not really. idk just read it lmao :)

for as long as he could remember, the skin on his chest above his heart was occupied by the small lettering. by the time he entered grade school, calum knew that the letters spelled out the lyrics to his soulmate’s favorite song.

once he entered high school, calum was convinced he didn’t even have a soulmate. surely it was possible for the universe to mess up, or maybe his soulmate died earlier on in their life. all calum knew for certain was that the song the lyrics came from didn’t exist.

despite this fact, he was still amazed by the people all around him, brushing hands with someone they barely knew, locking eyes, and grinning from ear to ear as their markings flashed red before fading into their skin. 

calum wanted to write the songs that people fell in love with. he wanted his lyrics tattooed above the hearts of the people who would bump into their soulmate while rushing through the halls, or while standing in line at a coffee shop. he wanted to write the songs that people listened to on repeat, sitting alone in their bedroom, trying to hear a small piece of their other half in the melody.

the years flew by, and before he knew it, he was writing songs and performing. he and his friends from australia had become more and more popular with each passing month, and their songs were played all over the world. calum’s dreams had come true.

so why did he still feel so empty?

maybe it was because he and the rest of the band were still in the middle of their new album, and he hadn’t completely figured out the lyrics to one of the songs he was writing for it yet.

or maybe it was because everyone around him was meeting and settling down with the people who they knew would complete them for the rest of their lives. even most of his bandmates and crew had someone. michael had crystal. luke had sierra. 

and calum had his guitar and his notebook.

“why do you think you don’t have a soulmate, cal? you’re a great guy and anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

calum sat on his plush leather couch, on the phone with his friend and bandmate, ashton irwin. due to the pair’s single statuses, around 50% of fans were completely convinced they were each other’s soulmates, which wouldn’t be too bad, honestly, besides the fact that his favorite lyrics were most definitely not from an ariana grande song.

“because i’ve googled this one line about a million different times on a million different days, hoping that maybe some singer somewhere just came out with a new song and i’ll finally get a sign that i won’t be alone forever.”

“maybe that just means you have to write it yourself.”

of course. why hadn’t he thought of that before? 

“sorry ash, i have to go write a song. i’ll call you later.”

with a chuckle and an “alright,” ashton ended the call, leaving calum alone with his thoughts. 

after around three hours of sitting alone with his guitar and his notebook, with approximately zero ideas and zero words written on the paper, calum set down his things and decided to find a nearby cafe to take a break. he was in los angeles, after all, and anyone who lived within 20 miles knew there was no shortage of coffee shops.

once calum decided on a fitting store to get his caffeine fix, he ordered his drink and sat down at a small table by the window. instead of pulling out his phone and brainstorming like he expected, calum found himself switching his gaze between the street beyond the window and the barista behind the counter, making his drink. 

hey, just because he doesn’t have a soulmate, doesn’t mean he can’t recognize a pretty girl when he sees one.

eventually, his name was called, and he left the swirling mess of a chasm that was his mind and walked over to the pickup counter. as he was handed his drink, he met eyes with the woman who he’d been observing just moments before. the woman, of course, was you. the cafe was empty, save for calum and yourself, so he had no problem with making small talk - just a little mindless flirting - even if it was simply to kill time. 

“busy day, huh?” he said, a small smirk adorning his features. you let out a shy laugh, and for some reason, calum found himself thinking that if somehow, someway, you turned out to be his soulmate, it wouldn’t be so bad.

“yeah, i’m absolutely swamped. you wouldn’t believe how many people come in for coffee at 2 pm on a tuesday in the middle of a workweek.”

“since you have so much time, why don’t you sit down and have some coffee with me?” calum quipped, the smile on his face never fading.

with a smile and a nod of your head, you maneuvered around the counter and walked over to the table for two calum had previously been sitting at. 

“so, i’m just gonna cut to the chase,” calum started, “what’s your favorite song?”

“if i’m being honest,” you said, pausing, “i would have to say i don’t know. none of the music i’ve heard so far has really spoke to me enough to be considered my favorite song, and on top of that, i’m not really that in touch with current music.”

the bright smile on your face wavered as you met calum’s eyes.

“sorry, i know it’s a really important topic, given how things are, but i just don’t have an answer,” you finished with a sheepish, almost guilty smile.

“don’t even worry about it, it was a dumb question anyway. if it makes you feel any better, my soulmate’s favorite lyric is from a song that doesn’t even exist. just don’t tell the gossip magazines.”

“why would i tell the- oh. you’re famous, aren’t you? i knew i recognized you from somewhere!”

calum laughed a bit at your obliviousness.

“yeah, i’m the bassist for 5 seconds of summer. maybe you’ve heard of us?”

“mhmm! i think i’ve heard a few of your songs. she looks so perfect, right?”

“you really need to catch up on modern music, sweetheart.”

blushing at the nickname, you asked calum for some song recommendations, and you spent the rest of the afternoon discussing anything and everything, right up until customers started getting more frequent at around 4.

“so what days do you work? can i swing by tomorrow around the same time?” calum asked, fiddling almost nervously with his fingers, a stark contrast from his bold and flirtatious behavior from earlier. 

you grinned and nodded happily, then waved goodbye to him as the door swung open then closed again, the bells hanging above it making a pleasant ringing sound.

on his walk home, calum couldn’t stop thinking about you. and yet he couldn’t figure out why. the fact that you didn’t have a favorite song meant nothing. it was just too good to be true. he had lived 23 years of his life, happily believing, no, knowing, that he was soulmate-less. and honestly, he felt it was for the better. he could focus on his music. he could focus on his dream. he was living out his dream right now, and if not having a soulmate was what it took, it was well worth it.

so when he finally got home, calum flopped back down on his couch and scribbled down the lyrics he had memorized by heart before he even turned 13.

he then stared at the paper for a good 30 minutes.

it almost felt like stealing. the lyrics, in theory, were his, and it wasn’t like some other artist had written them into a song yet, so there wouldn’t be any legal issues, but he didn’t really come up with them himself, did he? were they really his to write and record if it was just dumb luck that had tattooed those words onto his chest?

“what do you need, cal?” ashton’s groggy voice sounded from the other end of the phone.

calum had gone about his usual evening routine, then decided to go to bed around 10, since there was nothing left for him to do. but then after 3 hours of laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, he decided he needed some help.

“i really don’t know if i should write this song, ash. i have absolutely no ideas for the melody, the lyrics don’t even feel like mine, and honestly i’ve been doing just fine without a soulmate. i don’t really see why that has to change now. not to mention that i just met some girl at a cafe and she’s… i don’t even know.”

“cal, slow down. do you want me to be honest with you? i mean completely and totally honest?”

“yeah?”

“you should write the song. and i think the reason you haven’t yet is because you’re scared. you’re scared that even after you finish this fucking song, you still might not find her. you’re scared that this girl you met isn’t gonna be your soulmate, and you’re scared that you’re going to be alone forever, surrounded by everyone that already met their soulmates, and you’re going to feel like complete and utter shit for ever believing that you had a soulmate in the first place. and i think that’s complete bullshit. you can’t just throw away your one chance at finding someone because you’re scared. that’s not how the world works. now goodnight, calum. think about it.”

with that, ashton hung up, leaving calum in the dark of his room, his words playing like a broken record in his head. and even though he hated to admit it, ashton was right. and he’d put this off for far too long already.

after you and calum’s first meeting, you were disappointed to say you didn’t see him again for another two weeks, and by the end of the first, you had accepted the fact that he just wasn’t interested in you once he realized you didn’t have a favorite song. 

which was completely understandable, seeing as once you hit your 20’s, it seemed like people only cared about meeting their soulmates as quickly as possible.

so you could imagine your surprise when, exactly at 1:45 pm, the bells dinged softly and the cafe’s doors swung open, calum emerging from behind them, swinging his phone around like a trophy and smiling wider than you thought possible.

“hey, y/n,” he said, breathless to the point where you almost believed he sprinted all the way there.

“hey, cal,” you replied, matching his elated expression, “what can i get for you?”

“you can sit down with me and listen to this,” calum gasped, still trying to catch his breath. 

“and what’s this?” you asked, motioning to the file pulled up on his phone, his thumb hovering over the play button, and his other hand holding out a pair of headphones for you.

“modern-day music.”

you grabbed the headphones out of his hand, inserting one into your ear and motioning for him to take a seat. once the two of you had been situated at a two-person table, he put the other earbud in and clicked play. 

once the three minutes of the song were over, you took the earbud out and stared at him in awe.

“shut. up.” you said, no hint of a smile on your face.

calum’s gleeful expression dropped to a look of confusion.

“you wrote that?! no fucking way!”

a look of relief passed over calum’s face as he grinned at you once more.

“yep. took me two weeks.”

“so that’s what you’ve been doing while you were too busy to visit me. i can’t say i’m angry.”

the two of you took some time to catch up on everything that had happened since you first met. you’d been coming into work and interviewing at various jobs in your free time, and he had been writing and spending time in the studio recording the demo you’d just heard.

as the pleasant conversation dwindled to an awkward silence, you finally remembered what you were going to say when you’d first heard the song.

“by the way, i think i finally have an answer to your question. that song is and will always be my favorite song.”

“you really mean that? you’re not just saying that to be nice?”

calum honestly couldn’t believe his ears. he may have been living out his dream of making music, but during the past two weeks, he’d learned enough about himself to know that a life with you was his new dream, whether it was as soulmates or just as friends.

“would i lie to you?”

calum smiled at that.

“no, at least i hope not.”

“i especially liked that one line…”

you then proceeded to recite the lyrics written on his chest word for word.

“it’s just amazing how you can write such meaningful and amazing lyrics. i could never do anything like that. i remember once in like 7th grade we had to write a song about the louisiana purchase or something and it was absolutely terrible. i mean we got an A, but that was only because-”

“can i kiss you right now?”

and with that, your rambling was stopped in its tracks.

“what?”

“you heard me,” calum said, the same smirk on his face as when you first met him.

with that, you leaned across the table, grasped the collar of his t-shirt tightly, and pulled him forwards. calum let out a short gasp of shock at your uncharacteristic boldness.

as the tips of your noses touched together, you felt a strong burning sensation right above your heart. as you looked down, you noticed a red glow, shining through the thin fabric of calum’s shirt. 

calum placed his large, warm hands over your own as you looked straight into his deep brown eyes.

“take me on a date first, cal.”

#5sos #5sos x reader #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #ashton irwin #x reader #calum x reader #calum x oc #calum hood x reader #calum x y/n #calum hood x y/n #calum hood/reader #calum/reader #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates #soulmate #au #soulmate au #fanfiction #michael clifford #luke hemmings #sierra deaton #crystal leigh #wherever you are #sophauthors

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 4

SUMMARY: After kissing Tommy, you think that maybe it’s time to slow down just a little and get to know his friends and bandmates better. Deciding to go to one of their shows, you assume it’s going to be just another night of enjoying music. But, as always in the case of Mötley Crüe, you get more than you bargained for. 

word count: 5,010

[Warnings: swearing, mention of injury, body image, major angst, drug and alcohol mention/usage.]

NOTE: Jesus Christ, I am so goddamn sorry this took so long to finish. Listen, I know there’s some angst in this chapter but I promise there will be a light at the end of the tunnel! Apparently I’m just the queen of cliffhangers lately, so I hope you dig it! I’ll be working on a few requests before I get the next part going again, but I promise it’ll be out within this week. (also if for some reason a few people couldn’t be tagged and I’m real sorry about that, if you know how to fix it lmk!)

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @abbysdogcollar, @dirtysixxers, @black-tights-black-heart

 With Tommy’s lips pressed softly against yours, your mind goes completely blank. He kisses you with all the confidence and tenderness of an old love, fitting so comfortably against the curve of your mouth that you nearly forget that this wasn’t normal. Instinctively, you kiss him back, feeling as though you had done so a hundred times before.

 Tommy’s hand drifts from the edge of your thigh, eventually coming to a gentle landing on the side of your face. His thumb rests comfortably on your cheek bone while the rest of his fingers nestle into the hair at the nape of your neck. You lean into his touch, unable to resist how right it against your skin. Something about him is completely sucking you into the moment– and you’re letting it.

 Much to your surprise, Tommy is the first to pull away. You feel breathless as his eyes meet yours, looking up at you through mascara-coated lashes. Although Tommy broke the kiss just as quickly as he had began it, his hand continues to caress your cheek affectionately.

 “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry I–I shouldn’t have done that,” Tommy confesses, shifting his gaze away from you in remorse, “God I’m such a fucking dumbass.”

 You try to ignore the pang in your chest as you register the obvious guilt in Tommy’s voice. Does he regret it? Swallowing hard, all the anxiety that you had while thinking of Tommy earlier that day came flooding back. Your mind is racing, trying to find some explanation as to why Tommy would kiss you in the first place if he was going to feel bad about it. All the while he still held you in place on his lap as if he didn’t want you to leave. It just wasn’t adding up.

 “No, Tommy you–” you start, desperate to salvage the moment that the two of you were sharing, but Tommy cuts you off.

 “Ruined everything? Yeah I know,” there’s a bitterness in his voice that you don’t recognize, and firmly decide that you never wanted to hear again. “I can’t believe invaded your space like that, dude. You barely even know me.”

 Without any further hesitation, you grab the sides of Tommy’s face and force him to look at you. At this point, the makeup doesn’t even matter anymore. All that matters to you is getting that goofy smile back on Tommy’s face. He doesn’t seem like him without it.  “Tommy. Stop it,” your voice is firm, and Tommy’s hard expression turns into the same defeated look he had showing up at your doorstep with a bleeding hand. Only this time his hand wasn’t bleeding, but his heart.

 “But, Y/N–” he tries to interject, and you shut it down immediately.

 “No buts– just let me finish,” you notice a stray hair clinging to Tommy’s eyelashes and gingerly brush it out of the way, hoping the small act will show Tommy that everything will be fine. “I like you, Tommy.”

 Saying it is a relief. As bizarre as it seems to have feelings for someone you recently met, you were so sick and tired of denying their existence altogether.  

 “You do?” The excitement bubbling underneath Tommy’s smile fills you with confidence, and you instantly feel relieved to see a bit of his old demeanor come back.

 “I mean yeah,” you continue, “I know it sounds pretty weird since we only met last weekend but...I don’t know, drummer boy– there’s just something about you.”

 Considering the fact that you and your neighbor literally just kissed in your apartment, you see no point in not coming out with the whole truth. You honestly don’t know where you’d want this to go, or if Tommy feels the same way, but it’s worth it to have your feelings out in the open. Even if those feelings are still uncertain. 

 Tommy lets out an audible sigh of relief, almost as if he has been holding his breath the entire time you were talking. “Thank God, dude! I was in love with you from the moment I saw you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up incredulously, “In l-love?” you stammer, unable to process what Tommy had just admitted. Sure you liked your neighbor, way more than you’d like to admit, but Tommy was in another place entirely.

“Yeah, man!” Tommy grins, “Love at first sight is real. That’s how my parents met.”

 As flattered as you feel by Tommy’s words, you can’t deny how unusual this whole situation is. Being fairly young, you don’t have much relationship experience to go off of, but you had never even heard of someone claiming to experience love at first sight in real life– especially not after seeing you.

“I’m honestly not sure if I believe in all that,” you reply honestly, “but I definitely think we have to slow whatever this is down a notch. You know, try being friends first?” As appealing as engaging in a relationship with Tommy seems in theory, he’s right– the two of you don’t really know each other at all.  You worry about how Tommy is going to take the fact that you aren’t quite reciprocating the same degree of feelings for him as he is for you. To your relief, just he pats your leg supportively and maintains his positive energy. Even under your shitty apartment lights, he still manages to be the brightest thing in the room.  

 “S’okay, dude. Now that I’ve met you it feels like I’ve got all the time in the world.”

 You beam back at Tommy, feeling extremely grateful for his understanding. Knowing that he’s apparently in love with you already makes you a little anxious, but you’re willing to ignore those feelings for now. Especially if that means getting to know him better.  

“Speaking of friends,” you start, “shouldn’t you be meeting up with yours pretty soon?” Prying yourself off of Tommy’s lap, you dust the powdery makeup residue off your jeans and rise unsteadily to your feet. 

 “Oh fuck, you’re right. I’m probably going to be late.” Tommy hops up, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the dining chair and curling it around his arm. 

 You know it would be in your best interest to just let Tommy go so you can process what all has happened in the last few hours, but Vince’s words from earlier started nagging at your thoughts. 

 You should really come see us play, I know Tommy would love it.

 “Hey Tommy!” you call to him just as he is about to rush out of the door. Even though he’s in a hurry, he still manages to turn to you attentively.

 “Since we’re gonna try to be friends, maybe I should come see your band play?” you bite your lip, hoping to god that Vince was telling you the truth earlier. “You know...maybe meet your friends?”

 “Hell yeah, dude! That’d be the sickest thing, like, ever.”

 To your shock, Tommy dips down and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Tommy! I thought we were trying to be friends!” You attempt to scold him, but your outrage quickly turns into a fit of laughter at his sheer audacity.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy shrugs nonchalantly, “Nikki’s my best friend and I kiss him on the cheek all the time.” 

“Ugh, you are unbelievable.” 

 Tommy winks at you in an exaggerated way, and points a finger gun in your direction. “You better believe it, baby.”

 You roll your eyes playfully, “We should probably get going if the good people of Los Angeles want to see Mötley Crüe tonight. Although I don’t exactly look fit to be going to a rock show.”

 “Come, you always look rock and roll, dude,” Tommy scoffs, “Here, why don’t you wear this...?” 

 Tommy untangles the leather jacket from his arms and offers it to you. You accept, figuring it would do just the trick to spruce up your plain ensemble of shredded jeans and a halter top. Sliding it over your shoulders, you find comfort in the way that it hangs loosely on your body, enshrouding you in Tommy’s familiar scent. 

 “I hate to admit it,” Tommy starts, mouth agape, “but it looks way better on you, dude.”

 You try not to let Tommy get you all flustered, but the heat threatening to creep up your neck betrays you. “Uh, thanks man,” you smile, “so where are we off to anyways?”

 “Whiskey A Go-Go! Where else would we be going?” Tommy goes to open the door so that the two of you can leave, and for a moment, you can’t believe you’re actually tagging along. 

 “The Whiskey– uh, what?” you ask, feeling a little embarrassed for not knowing what Tommy was talking about.

 Tommy just yanks on the sleeve of his leather jacket and pulls you through the door frame. “It’s only the most badass club on the Sunset Strip! Come on music nerd, it’s time to give you your first lesson.”

 When you first step inside Whiskey A Go-Go, you immediately find yourself at home among the sea of leather jackets and shredded band tees. The air is clouded in a haze of cigarette smoke as you and Tommy make your way toward the bar. The band is most likely getting a round of beers to bring on stage later, so heading to the bar first would be yours and Tommy’s best bet.

 A club like this would have never been allowed to exist in your town, and you found yourself marvelling at the kind of freedom you were observing within the steadily accumulating crowd. You are so entangled in your own excitement that you barely noticed Tommy turn away from you to sprint in the direction of his bandmates.

 “Hey, Y/N!” Tommy calls to you from the other side of the bar, “Come hang!”

 You spot Tommy and see him waving to you enthusiastically over the top of everyone’s head. Heading in his direction, you realize that he had found his leather-clad troupe of rockstars after all. As you shove your way through the cluster of people waiting for drinks, you can’t help but feel several pairs of eyes watching you as you go to meet up with the Crüe boys. To your relief, the rest of the band doesn’t immediately notice as you walk up, allowing you to pretend for a moment that the evening still belongs to just you and Tommy.

 If you thought before that Tommy’s makeup and outfit were going to be a little too much for a gig, seeing the rest of the is certainly proving you wrong. Each of the guys is dressed to the nines, toeing the line between looking like comic book characters and patrons of a BDSM dungeon. You recognize Mick and Vince instantly, finding yourself amused at the juxtaposition between their stage costumes.

 Vince has clearly gone for a more flashy look, accentuated by a pair of pristine, white leather pants that most people wouldn’t be caught dead in. Although opting to go shirtless, he makes up for it with layers of studded belts and chains fastened around his slim waist. Mick, on the other hand, is a lot more simple. His already vampiric aesthetic is appropriately supported by a decaying t-shirt and a full length leather trench coat. To your amusement, Mick is also wearing a thin layer of black lipstick. You wonder if he knows how much it makes him look like Bela Lugosi.  

 As you observe the group, there’s one leather-clad rocker in their midst that you don’t recognize. Nikki fucking Sixx, you recall, thinking back to how Tommy had described his best friend. With his back to you, the most notable thing about his seems to be his height. He’s tall, and even though he’s leaning against the bar you’d be willing to bet he’s nearly as tall as Tommy. That is, if you aren’t counting the extra few inches his teased hair is giving him.

 “Hey Nik,” Tommy slaps Nikki on his shoulder affectionately, “there’s someone I want you to meet!”

 Nikki turns around and bumps shoulders with Tommy and he shoves back twice as hard. You just smile and shake your head, thinking about how much they seem like two rowdy brothers at a family reunion. Tommy and Nikki honestly don’t look all that much alike, but there’s something about the way that their movements mirror one another that makes it difficult to believe that they didn’t grow up together.

 When you see the bright white of Nikki’s smile, it’s no wonder why Tommy seems so infatuated with him. While Vince exudes an arrogant kind of confidence, Nikki seems to radiate nothing but genuine charisma.

 “Well fuck me, T-bone! It’s about time you got here,” Nikki laughs, “Sweet paint job, by the way,” he gestures to Tommy’s face before tipping back his beer and taking a hearty swig.

 Just as you expected, Tommy’s face lights up at Nikki’s praise. “Thanks, dude! Y/N did it.”

 Tommy slings a long arm around your shoulders and squeezes you tightly to his side, nearly pulling your legs out from under you. There’s something strangely comforting about Tommy wanting to show the same affection for you as he does for his friends, making you feel less awkward and more like an equal among them.  

 “Okay! Okay! That’s enough, dude!” you giggle, struggling against Tommy’s grip.

 Nikki looks at the two of you slyly, “So this must be the neighbor babe we’ve heard so much about.”

 “Well babe is a generous way of putting it,” you reply, shooting Tommy a pointed look, “but yeah, that’s me. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.”  

 Nikki shrugs, “You know what they say– sleep all day, party all night.”

 Tommy opens his mouth to say something, but a shift in the club’s overhead lightening stops him. As the lights above the bar area dim, a series of spot lights switch on, bathing the stage in a fluorescent glow.

 Vince immediately jumps from his place at the bar and rushes past you, “Oh fuck, that’s us!”

 With Vince leading the way, the rest of the Crüe boys frantically race to the stage in a whirlwind of leather straps and clattering beer bottles. Tommy briefly turns his head to look at you and you wave him on supportively. You’re so preoccupied with watching Tommy bound toward his drumset that you barely notice Nikki lagging behind.

 “Nice jacket by the way,” Nikki remarks, his voice startling you out of your trance.

 Nikki doesn’t wait for you to respond, and instead saunters off to the stage as if he has all the time in the world. It takes you a moment to realize how you wearing Tommy’s leather jacket probably looks to rest of the guys and you groan internally. So much for looking like friends.

 With a heavy sigh you decide to go up to the bar and get a drink before the show starts. It’s going to be a long night.

 When Mötley Crüe finished their set, saying that you were blown away would’ve been a severe understatement. Sure, you kind of heard them play from beneath your apartment, but the way they performed live was an entirely different experience. You had been lucky enough to snag a spot on the outskirts of the crowd towards left side of the stage. It definitely wasn’t the best view in the house, but it allowed you to avoid being swallowed up by the trashing crowd below.

    You know he’s got to get away,     To the merry-go-round and round

 When Mötley Crüe was in front of a crowd, a palpable electricity could be felt in the air. It was as if the energy of the crowd fed the young rockers, setting then alight like gas to a flame. Each of the guys played as if it were the last show of their life, allowing themselves to become absorbed in the moment with a reckless abandon that you envied.

    Count times that he laid awake at night thinking     Am I going down now?

 Girls in animal print mini dresses mercilessly clawed at Vince and Nikki from the edge of the stage, and they happily allowed themselves to be ripped to shreds. While the sight was rather amusing, you found yourself relieved that Tommy was bound to his drumkit. Even though you and Tommy weren’t actually together, your brief streak of jealousy didn’t feel like a good sign. You assumed Mötley Crüe was going to be good, but you never anticipated that they would be incredible.      Am I going down?      Am I going down?

Watching Tommy play was utterly mesmerizing. They way he would twirl his drumsticks effortlessly through his fingertips brought back memories from the first day you met. If you were impressed then, you were even more impressed now. Tommy’s eyes eventually met yours as you gazed up at him, reminiscing. He must have noticed the smile on your lips, because he returned it with a lovesick grin that remained on his face for the rest of the set.

     Am I going down now?

 With their performance now over, you had busied yourself with having a couple more drinks at the bar. With nowhere to be tomorrow, you figure you’re allowed to have a little fun for once. It had been such a long time since you had gone out, and right now you are enjoying yourself a lot more than you were willing to admit. Knowing that a club like this is only a few blocks down the street feels extremely exciting. Hardly anyone from your hometown understood your interests, and now there’s suddenly a whole community of people right outside your door that finally get it.

 Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by a pair of arms snaking around your waist and plucking you up off the ground. Being unprepared for such a sudden movement, your glass slips from your grip and shatters on the floor.

 “Y/N!” Tommy shouts excitedly, revealing himself as the culprit. “What did you think?” He doesn’t even flinch as his boots crunch loudly over the shards of broken glass.

 “Tommy, you scared the everloving fuck out of me!”

 He releases you from his sweaty grip as you turn to face him. Laughing out loud, you see that he looks a complete mess. The eyeliner you put on him earlier has all but melted down his face, but to you he still looks as stunning as ever.

 “Yeah, Y/N, tell us what you think,” you tear your eyes away from Tommy to see Vince approaching with the rest of the boys in tow. They all look pretty rough after throwing themselves around on stage for half an hour, but definitely don’t seem as exhausted as they should be. If their house parties were anything to go off of, their night was just getting started.

 “Honestly? I think you guys fucking rocked it,” you’re unsure if it’s the right thing to say, but ultimately it’s the truth.

 Tommy pumps his fist in the air triumphantly, “Fuck yeah, dude! See, I told you guys she was gonna love it.” 

 The boys all groan in disgust at Tommy’s boast, but it’s more than obvious that they don’t actually mean it. Tommy’s bandmates seem strangely comfortable with having you hang around, making you wonder if they know anything about their drummer’s love at first sight confession.  

 Nikki takes initiative and orders another round of drinks, “Well, might as well replace that considering you’re our newest fan,” he comments to you, gesturing to the broken glass on the floor with a lit cigarette in hand.

 “I appreciate your charity, but Tommy should technically be the one replacing it, don’t you think?”

 Tommy shakes your shoulders playfully, “That’s not fair! I was just excited is all.”

 Nikki looks back and forth between the two of you with a knowing smile and hands you a beer anyway. “Don’t sweat it, Y/N, he’s definitely gonna pay for it later.”

 “Jesus fuck, you two are the worst,” Tommy pouts, twirling one of his drumsticks distractedly.

 You and Nikki just laugh together, and for a moment it feels good to be a part of something outside of the little bubble you’d kept yourself in for the past few days. As Nikki soon becomes distracted by a blonde bartender behind the counter, you look up to see Tommy staring at you, eyes sparkling under the dim lights. 

 “Thanks for coming,” Tommy’s voice is soft, emulating the moment you had right before he had kissed you. 

 “It’s no problem,” you insist, “really I’d be happy to come again– if I have to.” Even though Tommy was making an attempt at being sweet, you can’t help but antagonize him a little. “But only if I get to wear this sick ass leather jacket again.”

 “It’s yours.” 

 Tommy’s response is completely unthinking, and you wonder if you’ll ever have the ability to be sure of yourself in the same way that Tommy always seems to be. You want to say something back– something meaningful –but your train of thought is stopped by the sight of Vince swaggering towards the two of you. He has a girl under each arm; the one on his left looking even more fucked up than the one on his right. 

“What do you idiots say we bring this party back home, eh?”

 The apartment is only a few blocks away from Whiskey A Go-Go and, as you head back with the Crüe boys, you notice that a small herd of rockers and party-goers accumulating behind you. To say that they are rowdy would be an understatement. As you stroll down the block, you can hear a symphony of shouting and breaking glass gradually reaching a crescendo as you get closer to home. With each passing moment, the commotion that you were always hearing beneath your apartment suddenly becomes less of a mystery.  

 “Are you ready for this, dude?” Tommy turns and asks as you approach the stairs leading up to the third floor.

 “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

 You walk up to the broken window of the Mötley Crüe apartment, watching as Nikki folds his long body awkwardly through the crooked frame. You cringe as the window slams shut behind him with all the impact of a guillotine. Broken glass and aluminum cans crunch under your feet as you wade through the accumulation of trash on the balcony, making you thankful for wearing heavy boots.  

 As you’re about to reopen the window, Tommy steps in front of you and shoves it opens it for you.

 “Go on, little lady. I got it,” he grins, stepping aside and gesturing to the lopsided window.

 You smile and shake your head, knowing deep down that this is Tommy’s idea of being gentlemanly towards you. Such an unconventional romantic.

 “Thanks drummer,” you wink, stepping into the window with one foot and crouching down just enough keep from smacking your head. Thankfully, you aren’t as tall as Nikki and are able to climb through the window with less difficulty.

 When you finally made it through the window unscathed, you find that the outside of the Crüe apartment is honestly not that much better than the outside. Remnants of past parties litter the floor, while the stains on the carpet remain unidentifiable in the humming fluorescent light. Bottles, guitar parts, cigarette butts, and cans of hairspray all occupy the space like they pay rent.

 As soon as the boys are inside, there is an outpour of young punks clamouring their way through the window. Someone plugs in a stereo and cranks up a Motörhead cassette, causing a surge of energy to flow through the room.

 Tommy comes up and hands you a beer, his own secured firmly in his previously injured hand. “Listen, I know the place isn’t much but it works for us.”

 “Well, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re not getting your security deposit back,” you laugh, trying not to come off as judgmental of the space. Although the place was practically unlivable, most of the Crüe boys were still just kids having fun and trying to figure everything out by themselves.

 “Hey T-bone!” Nikki calls over to Tommy from the kitchen, “I need you to come vacuum some of this shit up for me!”  

 You look over to see that Nikki has occupied himself with cutting up lines of cocaine on a hand mirror sitting on the kitchen counter. There’s a girl with him in a tight, zebra print dress that you recognize as one of the fans from the front row that had practically tried to climb on top of him.

 Tommy back to you, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Be back in a flash, dude!”

 It doesn’t bother you that Tommy left to go to coke with Nikki, but there’s something about the recurring presence of all these groupies that sets you a little on edge. You aren’t sure why, but a bad feeling starts knotting up in your stomach. There’s nothing wrong with groupies in your mind, but you had never found yourself willing to act like that around musicians. Although you and Tommy had met outside of the music scene, part of you can’t help but worry that you might be just another casualty to him.  

 Attempting to distract yourself, you look around the room to see if there’s anyone else that may be worth talking to. Your eyes eventually land on a familiar, sour face resting on the couch. Mick. He’s reclined back, body stiff and statuesque. Despite the fact that Mick still scares you a little, the thought of trying to talk to him seems a whole lot better than worrying over nothing.

 “Uh, hey there,” you say as you approach the torn up couch, “Mick, right?”

 “Neighbor,” he greets you flatly, staring off into the distance.

 If the party weren’t so loud, there definitely would’ve been an awkward silence between the two of you. “Mind if I sit here…?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the couch.

 Mick just sighs and slides over, allowing you a little more room. You sit next to him, trying your very best to avoid being stabbed by any stray springs while also keeping the furthest distance possible between the two of you. A few more painful minutes of silence pass, and you’re just about to scrap the whole idea of talking to Mick when he finally speaks up.

 “What on earth are you doing in L.A.?” he asks, eyes unblinking.

 “I transferred here to study music.”

 For the first time, Mick actually looks at you. You’re surprised find that all the iciness in his eyes is long gone. “So you’re not a fucking idiot after all.”

 “I wouldn’t speak too soon– I am here, after all,” you remark, deciding that you feel comfortable letting out a bit of your humor around him.

 Mick scoffs in response, giving you an approving smirk that almost looks like a full smile if you squint. “Tommy’s told me a lot about you.”

 Memories of Tommy’s small gestures of kindness suddenly come into view as you recall him telling you they were all inspired by Mick.

 “Part of me thought he might’ve,” you admit, “Thank you, by the way.”

 “What for?”

 You take a contemplative sip of beer, wondering how to thank someone for something you weren’t even sure existed yet. “For making him come back.”

 Mick waves a hand dismissively, “That lovesick puppy would’ve come back anyways. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t look that stupid while doing it.”

 You laugh, the warmth from the apartment and the alcohol in your blood making your cheeks heat up. As you sit with Mick, you casually start scanning the room for Tommy, but the crowd has gotten so thick that it’s hard to see all the way back into the kitchen.

 “Does this happen often?” you ask, “With Tommy, I mean.”

 “He’s always falling in and out of love,” Mick replies sincerely, his eyebrows knitted together, “but this time it feels different.”

 You were just about to tell Mick about your own feelings for Tommy when the dense crowd in the middle of the room suddenly parts. Apparently a couple of kids had busted out a bong earlier and decided to start a smoke circle right in the middle of the floor. Considering the fact that smoke circles aren’t usually all that eventful, you and Mick exchange a confused look as you hear cheering coming from the accumulation of people.

 To your relief, your eyes finally land on Tommy. He’s standing among the group with Nikki close at his side, bong situated skillfully in his long fingers. Part of you is wondering why on earth he would hit a bong so soon after doing a line of coke, but figure the answer doesn’t really matter in the long run.

 You giggle as Tommy takes a comically large rip of the bong, knowing that he probably had to exhaust his entire lung capacity in order to make it happen. Tommy is just about exhale when Nikki suddenly shoves a skinny brunette in his direction. To your horror, Tommy cups both sides of her face and shotguns the smoke into her open mouth. Instead of fully inhaling the smoke, she kisses him instead, her bright pink lipstick smearing across his mouth.

 Blood running cold with anxiety, you turn to Mick who is staring at the entire situation in slack-jawed awe. You look back at Tommy, his eyes making contact with your own just as he breaks away from the girl at his side. Unable to control your movements rationally, the beer bottle in your hand drops softly to the carpeted floor while its contents leak out. 

 Tommy starts moving toward you, but you get up, unable to look him in eyes any longer. I was just another fucking groupie, you think as your eyes well up with hot tears. 

Part 5

Masterlist

#sorry i'm the WORST #feedback and comments appreciated pls #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #motley crue #mötley crüe #vince neil #nikki sixx #mick mars #the dirt #the dirt netflix #writing #mgk #80s #80s music

[allulily]

watching the promised neverland ep1

most likely spoilers ahead

(not most likely, most definitely and they are not minor spoilers so you've been warned)

these are in real time(ish) reactions i write as i watch with minimal editing

before starting the 1st episode: ok so the picture looks cute, there is no summery being shown but whatever i'll just see how this goes. my sister has been annoying me to watch it and i have heard good thing about it's use of sound. let's get this started but i have some homework so i'm going to let this play on background while i try to figure what the fuck is up with math

0:57: this gate seems important and a little suspect but cute animation and, yes emma i too wish to ride a giraffe. and they all say mom like they have the same one but they don't really look like siblings

2:26: cool intro fun vibes

2:29: what's up with the numbers

3:10: that's a lota children

3:37: they seem to happy go lucky, somethings up

4:29: animation pretty

4:43: ominous music and numbers mean bad things

4:55: ohhh is it connys birthday happy birthdayyy babyy

5:18: i don't know what they're doing bet it seems ominous and intense

5:31: kinda culty vibes

5:49: yayyyyyy

5:59: eDgEyy

6:15: TAGGGGGGG

6:26: why all white? it's culty

7:02: Aawwwwww Conny and Don are BESSSSTTT friends

7:33: norman's good at tag

7:59: BIIIIIIGG steppppyy

8:09: clocks are cool, whimsical

8:26: oh no norman, emma go help him

8:27: NOOOORRMANNNN UR MEANNN

8:52: how stRatITigiEc

9:53: feeling ominous

10:01: oh no

10:09: ahhhh noooo suspenseee somethings gonna happen

10:24: i'm unsettled i've been unsettled

10:46: oooooooooh exposiiiitioooooonn

10:50: it's a tiny fence man

10:59: yesss be the level head ray QUESTION EVERYTHING

11:08: hmmmmmmm something's a bit weird

11:23: mmmmmmmmk these people gathered seems like some key players because they aren't that stupid and are not 4 years old and are talking about suspect things

11:26: it's an orphanage huh didn't get that till just now i was pretty sold on the cult idea, still could be an orphanage for a cult

11:30: 12 is not the age at which you age out of foster care system/ no longer need a legal guardian what happens at 12? do they go to a new orphanage?

11:33: from who ur orphans? i take back what i said about them being important because they're smart they're kinda dumb but still there is an adaquate amount of them to make sense as being important based on the topic they're discussing

11:38: i redact my previous statement of my redaction of them being smart

11:43: that's not how that's supposed to work

11:56: glasses sweety i don't think that's how that works

11:58: this seems like the type of conversation you shouldnt brush off like that

12:02: based on this background music and the music as emma approached the fence i kinda feel like you don't

12:10: yea that's culty

12:12: so they have access to books that's cool

12:50: they are pretty childish for protagonists

12:52: based on the title that statement ("i don't really want to leave") is either very very true or very very false

12:59: given that this is the first episode of an anime and it has some very culty vibes the "we're all happy here" is not going to last

13:02: someone is not happy

13:03: this child has a very high pitched kind of annoying voice i hope they die first

13:08: ooh this small child is getting adopeted (idk is that like being inducted into the cult? then why a 5 year old before the 10?11? year olds) i take back the ending of my previous statement they seem like a side character/supporting character and they're cute enough and they said something nice so i geuss they can stay as long as they don't talk to much

13:13: like a mom or an orphanage mom?

13:17: the whole "never even think about abandoning my children" but seems odd but my running theory is that they are part of a cult so maybe that's a prevelant issue? or is it because they are in an orphanage that this is relevant?

13:19: this feels a bit creepy

13:55:awwwww

13:59: noooo her best friend don is crying and she's crying and its saaaad but they were part of the conversation of important topics so maybe she'll stick around or we'll get updates on her

14:02: ominous door slam

14:12: ohh nooo this is very not sounding good

14:19: uh oh somethings off

14:31: mk i geuss that gate doesn't look bad at all

14:32: connys bunny, noooooooo

15:03: why isn't he joining them

15:05: whatever i geuss they're very considerate

15:13: uh oh spagetios

15:17: this seems like it's gonna be a bigger deal that the show wants be to believe

15:22: well that trucks suspicious

15:32: oh no ominous music and ominus anxiety inducing camera angles before it was only the video or sound

15:37: ahhhhhhh suspenseeeeee is gettin toooo meeee

15:43: ahhhhhhHhHHhHHHH creepy vibes

15:50: dumb bitch characters are unaffected

15:56: there isn't even ominus music just a consistent background noise and an every so often background noise and creepy ways the scene are shot but it's wooorrrkkkingggggg

16:03 suspense is building what's gonna happennnn

16:08 what's that dark stain. i hope it's water

16:25 shit what's happened

16:28 she is unsteady this is not god the weird noises are getting creepier

16:30 biiiiig step back

16:32 oh no she has seen something

16:36 oh wow this is killing me but like in a good way

1639 wooow this is a looooot creepier now

16:46 the way we are being brought to look at the thing emma is looking at is excruciating ahhhhhhhhh

16:54 oh nooooooo what issss itttttttt

16:56 hot ducking shit is that conny

17:00 ok so there's a flower

17:01 ok so the flower stabbed conny

17:06 SHIIT

17:29 are they out of food why would he want to catch a cat for dinner this seems bad

17:36 FUCK

17:42 god this animation is beautiful

17:46 huh so it seems like connys dead dead. um i didn't mean it when i said i hope she dies first

17:50 so do they eat people

17:52 yes

18:01 what did they just put connys body in?

18:03 oh no

18:09 FARMMMM

18:11 "only the rich can-" CAPITTTALLLLLISIOOOOMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!

18:14 AHHHHHHH SHUUUUT UP U FOOLSSS

18:22 ANOTHER

18:32 MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

18:39 AHHHHHH NOOOOOO DONTTT FINDDD THEEMMMMMMMM

18:52 NOOOOOOOOOO

18:53 AHHHHHYHHHHH SHIIIIIIIITTTTTTTT

19:03 ahhh yes hyperventilation

19:22 no

19:26 denial

19:48 shouldn't everyone be able to hear her pained wail

19:54 badly like it went like shit like thank fucking god they found out but also it's the worst thing ever

20:25 such great expression of emotions is shown

21:09 yes escaping an evil cult canabil type farm shit will be EXAXTLY like playing tag yes great splendid why was i ever worried i might as well stop watching this series now because you can defeat all of your problems with the ability's you have attained from tag

21:12 SOMMMEEBODDDYYSSSSS EEVVEEESSSDROOPPPINGHGGH

21:17 HOT FUCKING SHIT ON A STICK THAT SCARED ME

21:29 SHITTTTTTTTT

#anime #humor #spoilers #deamons #conny #the promised neverland #monsters #noise #sound #the way the story uses sound is incredible #act natural