#I hear Ryan Gosling’s voice and I’m like this is about to be some Good Shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diorsluv · 1 month

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open arms (tz¹¹)

❝ in which your ex calls you back to his apartment on a late night, hoping you’ll come back to him ❞

wc: 5.3k

warnings: ANGST, a bit of fluff, more angst, allusions to a toxic relationship, reader’s comfort movie has ryan gosling but is not specified so imagine whatever you wish, no use of y/n, some really bad writing, proofread at 1 am so i can’t promise that it’s good

notes ) this is not my fav piece of writing i’ve ever made.. but maybe it’s just been a while since i’ve written (i’m a wattpad survivor) so FORGIVE ME if this is really shitty i promise i’ll get better this shit was mad repetitive but it’s okay we ball (i wrote this based off of a real life experience…) and take a shot every time you see trevor say “please”

It had been months since your breakup with Trevor, and you two were far from being on good terms. The day you found him in your shared bed with another girl was the day you swore not to ever be in contact with him again. You moved your things out of the apartment before he could even manage to blink, and you refused to hear his sorry excuses as you walked out the door with tears brimming your eyes.

Trevor was the first person you could ever fully be yourself around, and you genuinely thought he was going to be different. But when he managed to break your heart so easily, you realized how wrong you really were. You broke off all contact with him and his friends, and you only spoke to Quinn and Luke after the whole ordeal.

Now, as you stood outside his apartment door, you felt like you had taken one step forward and three steps back. His apartment still looked the same except for its barren walls, once filled with photographs of you and him, and he smelled just like he did when you first met. His hair was all tousled, his eyes were red, and his face was far more pale than you remembered.

“You’ve been crying.” Your words came out as more of a statement than a question, truly depicting how indifferent you felt towards your ex-boyfriend. Watching as he brought the back of his hand up to his eyes, you bit the inside of your cheek, not really knowing what to do with yourself.

The boy could barely even whisper your name. “Please,” he tried to plead, but you weren’t having it. Over the course of the four years you dated, you had never heard any other word more than that. The amount of mistakes you had forgiven him for could never equate to how much you loved him, but catching him in the act was what sent you over the edge. Months after your breakup, you still tensed up every time a man begged you to forgive him.

You were about to turn around. You were so close to leaving. But hearing your ex’s desperate voice almost made your knees buckle with guilt.

Trevor’s lip quivered, “I need you.”

Those three words held a chokehold on you like no other. You could recall all the times he called you at two in the morning after a bad road game, knowing you would pick up because you loved him to that extent. Even if you had work in the morning, you would stay up with him for hours, comforting him and validating his feelings because he “needed you”.

Seven months ago, if he told you he needed you, you would’ve dropped everything to see him. If he was away, you would’ve booked the nearest flight just to hold him in your arms and tell him he would be okay.

But now, his words only aggravated you even more.

“Don’t say that.” You stood your ground, not wanting to look him in the eye in fear of caving in. You couldn’t show him that he made you weak. You couldn’t show him that after all he’s done to hurt you, you still cared for him deeply. You couldn’t show him that all he needed to say to convince you to come running back was a simple, three-worded phrase. “You can’t say that to me, Trevor. We’re broken up. You can’t ‘need me’ anymore.”

“Please, I just need to hear your voice. One last time, that’s all I want.” He begged you with his whole heart, his voice tired from all the screaming and crying he had done before he called you over. “You can block me, cut me out of your life, hate me forever, whatever. I just really fucking need you right now.”

Huffing out a sigh, you weakly nodded your head as he pulled you through the frame of the front door and into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist while he buried his head into the crook of your neck, finally allowing his tears to release in the safety of your presence.

He was never afraid to be vulnerable around you when you dated, even when you first became a couple. That’s what made you love him so much; he wasn’t ashamed to be himself and always encouraged you to be true to yourself.

“God, I had the worst fucking day of my life. I just—fuck, I wish I never let you go.” He mumbled into your skin, his words barely even audible. You stiffened up after hearing his words, slowly beginning to regret your decision to comfort him one last time. “Coach is always giving me shit, the league hates me, the fans are always yelling at me, and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Unsure of what to do to comfort him without fully bringing your guard down, you brought your arms around his body and rubbed soothing circles onto his back. You bit your lip in thought, trying to think of how to calm him down while also escaping this now-uncomfortable situation. There was just so much to process all at once. Your mind was running at top speed and going in way too many different directions for you to get a hold on all your thoughts, and you just didn’t know how to handle everything.

“And then when I came home, all I could think about was you.” You felt goosebumps shoot up your skin while listening to him talk, knowing that you would break eventually. Every syllable he spoke felt like he was pricking needles into your skin, one by one, trying to make you give into him and his pitiful words. He continued, “I know you hate me. I know. I put you through so much shit, and I broke your heart, and you were the only one who really loved me for who I was, but I still managed to fuck everything up with you and make you leave me.”

Tears were now running down your face, too. It was like you were reliving every moment with him, standing with him in his apartment. You could remember every argument you had with him, every night he slept on the couch, every movie marathon you had with him, and every time you spent hours in the kitchen baking little treats with each other. In the corner of your eye, you swore you could see the faint, younger, more naïve versions of you and him happily spending your time together.

“There hasn’t been one day where I haven’t thought of you. I regret all the shit I did. Every goddamn day. I lost you, and you were the one person in my life I could rely on.” Trevor’s grip on your waist was now much tighter as he pulled you closer to him—so close that you could feel his heartbeat on your chest. “And I know it’s too late for me to say all of this, ‘cause I know you’re probably already happier with a boyfriend who can treat you ten times better than I ever did, but please, I need you to stay with me.”

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your stomach, tears still streaming down your face as you began to pull away from him. You couldn’t stay with him. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of you, and it was as if your ex could read your mind, because he frantically began to ramble once more.

“Just for a few hours. Please. I haven’t even showered or eaten yet, and I came home five hours ago.” He pulled his head away from your neck but still kept your body tightly pressed against him, his tear-stained cheeks only making you want to stay even more. His nose was flushing into a bright pink, and once he locked eyes with you, he started to tear up again.

Against your better judgment, you contemplatively placed your hands on the sides of his waist and tapped against his body comfortingly, nodding with slight hesitance. “M’kay, Trev. Just for a few hours though, okay?”

The boy looked like a puppy wagging its tail at the sound of your softer voice agreeing to his bargain, and he promptly began to walk through his living room and towards his room. You allowed your eyes to wander around the apartment that felt so familiar but looked so different at the same time. All the pictures of the two of you on the shelves were now gone, for obvious reasons, but part of you wished he still kept them up.

“Think ‘m gonna take a shower now,” Trevor mumbled mindlessly, not necessarily directed towards you nor himself. He then turned to face you. “Can you, maybe, like—”

You knew what he was referring to. When you dated, you regularly took showers together, but when he had just come back from a roadie or a late practice, you would typically sit down on the bathroom floor and talk to him while he cleansed himself. The two of you would converse about everything that happened during your time without each other, and it had become so integrated in your routine. At the time, it felt so normal, but now, it felt far too intimate for you to just agree without thinking about it.

You still said yes.

A few minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with your legs curled to your chest and your back leaning against the wall. The glass door moistened up enough to where you could look straight at the figure behind the fog and still be unable to see anything. Your ears picked up the sound of Trevor squeezing his three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into the palm of his hand. (You scolded him for using it multiple times during the four years you were together; he never listened, but he always drained your shampoo a week after you opened it.)

“So,” he started, just like he used to. “Boyfriend?”

“No. Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

A silence washed over you, and all you could hear was the water beating down on the shower tiles. It remained that way for a while, and then it was your turn to start up the conversation.

“How’s hockey been going? I haven’t really watched any NHL games since we broke up.” It was a bit embarrassing to admit, considering you fell in love with each other because you both loved hockey so much, but you couldn’t lose any more pride, anyway. You were sitting on your ass while your ex-boyfriend took a shower less than a foot away from you.

“It’s been alright.” No one to look for in the front row, he bit back a thought. “We still suck ass, nothing new there. It’s just been so tiring lately.” The tone of his voice indicated that his mood was slowly beginning to decrease, and you knew you had to shift the conversation.

You cleared your throat. “Do you still have those cake mix boxes?”

Trevor’s eager “Yes!” in response to your question was enough to tell you that his mood did a complete switch-up. “Lemme just finish this shower real quick,” he told you, and you could tell he was trying to speed the process up by the way you could hear him aggressively scrub soap onto his skin. About two minutes later, he called your name quietly. It was as if saying your name out loud physically hurt him, but he loved the way it sounded so much that he could endure the pain as much as he could. “Is there a towel there? If there isn’t, there should be some in one of the drawers on my dresser.”

“I’ll go get one,” you spoke briefly, pushing yourself off the floor and opening the bathroom door. Taking a turn to the oak dresser in the corner of his room, you squatted down and tugged on the handle of the last drawer. Back when you were still together, you always kept the towels and other linen in the bottom drawer, so you assumed he kept it the same way. He would have no reason to change it.

You assumed wrong. Instead of towels, you found about thirty framed photos laying flat in the compartment. They were your old photos. The photos you cherished so much were just casually sitting in his dresser drawer. Your eyes landed on the picture laying on the very top, its golden frame contrasting with the neutral, wood frames of the others. It was your favorite one: a photo of Trevor gleefully smearing whipped cream all over your nose as you bit down on a chocolate covered strawberry. The sun and the stars combined couldn’t compare to how brightly your smiles shined in that photo.

Grazing your thumb over the ornate carvings on the frame, tears began to well in your eyes without your notice. You only realized once you heard Trevor yell your name, causing you to blink the tears out of your eyes. Quickly looking down to see that the tear landed perfectly on the boy’s grinning face, you used your shirt to wipe the tears away before gently placing the photo back in the drawer. You hastily searched for a towel in the other drawers, fishing one out and making your way back into the bathroom.

Trevor cracked the shower door open so you could hand him the towel, thanking you before closing the door once more. He then exited the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still dripping down his toned chest.

Fuck, you forgot how good he looked.

The boy seemed to notice your staring, because he let a chuckle escape his lips, “You gonna give me some privacy to change, or what?”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning as you realized you were caught in the middle of gawking at your ex-boyfriend, and you quickly nodded your head as you walked out of the bathroom.

Hours later, as you stood in your kitchen with your old apron and flour dusted all over your cheeks, your mind seemed to blank when you tried to think of why you left Trevor in the first place. (Reminder: he cheated.)

Your laughter meshed perfectly with the boy’s hearty chuckles, and all it did was remind you of how happy you used to be with him. His whole life used to revolve around your happiness, and vice versa. At some times, it felt a little bit overbearing, but it just proved how much you loved each other.

Other times, you felt like you had never hated anyone more than him.

It wasn’t like you forgot about all the times you would argue with each other about something stupid, like forgetting to buy the groceries or mistakenly saying the wrong thing to a nosy reporter. But those weren’t the arguments that mattered. They were just petty quarrels that occurred in every relationship.

It was the ones over the phone that really hurt. Trevor would be miles away from you for days on end, not even bothering to contact you unless you spoke first. But, of course, it was your fault whenever you called him late at night and it ended with tears and a loud argument. It was your fault when he came back home to a dull and unloving apartment. It was your fault he cheated, clearly, because you weren’t giving him enough love and time for him to truly appreciate you and not have to seek out some other woman.

You could handle the toxicity. You could handle the breakdowns after every argument. You could handle the utter hatred that sparked between you and your boyfriend. But God, you would never be able to handle the thought of him loving anyone else when he so thoroughly invaded your heart and mind.

Trevor waved his hand in front of your face to wake you from your trance-like state, causing you to shake your head and blink as your thoughts dissipated into the air. “You good?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. You could only nod your head and purse a smile at his question, returning back to your old tasks as if you never stopped doing them in the first place.

The kitchen was a mess, just like it always used to be after you and Trevor would bake. There were three rolling pins covered in flour, ten tasting spoons in the sink, a batter-covered spatula on the counter, and unwashed bowls cluttered everywhere. Usually, while the two of you waited for your baked goods to finish in the oven, you would get to work by tidying up the kitchen, and Trevor would begin washing all the dishes.

You immediately grabbed all the bowls in sight, placing them in the sink before squatting down in front of a cabinet and opening it in your search for a clean rag. You typically kept them all in the same spot, and just like how you hoped his dresser was laid out the same, you hoped he didn’t renovate the interior design of his kitchen too much.

Before you could even set your eyes on what you were looking for, you felt a gentle hand on your wrist, pulling you back up to your feet.

“You don’t have to clean up,” your ex-boyfriend spoke softly, his eyebrows furrowed. Watching you fall back into your old habits felt so domestic that it hurt him. He already regretted losing you, and he knew that deep down, you’d never be able to forgive him for what he did, so he didn’t want to get his hopes up with the idea that you felt so normal in his home, in his presence.

“Oh, I’d feel bad, Trevor—”

“Please.” He was desperate. So you obeyed his wishes and leaned your back against the edge of the counter, silently watching as he scrubbed the dishes down and wiped the counters clean.

The light hum of the oven, along with the trickle of the faucet, were the only sounds you could hear in the large kitchen. The speaker sitting in the very back corner between the refrigerator and the stovetop reminded you of all the times you would force the boy to listen to your slightly concerning playlist, screaming out all the lyrics as he stared at you like he would fly you to the moon and back.

And he would. He still wanted to.

Eventually, the beep of the oven signaled that your cake was ready, and Trevor rushed to grab an oven mitt before you could even move a limb.

“I got it!” He exclaimed, shuffling over to pull the oven door open and grab the cake pan from the interior of the hot oven. As he bent over to retrieve the spongy substance, his hair grazed against the very top of the oven. You quickly reacted with a lift of your hand, using your fingers to pull his hair back as your other hand came up as if it was protecting his head. It was a force of habit.

Grimacing, you gently moved his hair back to its original position, lightly scolding him for not being careful. “You almost burned your hair off, Trev. You gotta be more careful next time.”

The use of his old nickname made his heart beat faster in his chest. You were allowing yourself to bring your walls down and open up to him, and both of you were beginning to recognize it. It scared you, but it gave Trevor a sense of hope. False hope.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, too eager to begin decorating the cake to allow himself any time to think about what he was getting himself into. You shook your head at his careless demeanor, trying to ignore how the sparkle in his eyes was just pulling you closer and closer to him. He was like the sun in your solar system, and you felt like a mere planet revolving around him, the pull too strong to resist.

The boy waited for the cake to cool down before popping it out of the pan and slathering frosting all over it, using a very tense piping bag to pipe cheeky designs onto its surface. He was still immature as ever, but his little evil giggles made it all worth it. Even after all these months, there was nothing you would ever love more than his sole happiness.

There was a point in time where all you could feel towards him was hatred, but you were finally over it. You realized you shouldn’t be wasting all your energy into something negative, especially towards someone who hurt you so deeply. So you stopped hating him. You thought you felt indifferent towards him, but this whole night was finally beginning to change your mind. There was always going to be a part of you that cared about him, and there was no fighting it. It was just a matter of how much you were going to let that affect you and your future.

You swung his fridge open, looking for fruits you could cut up to use as decoration for the cake. Your gaze landed on a plastic tray of strawberries, and you immediately pulled it out to begin cutting them up. Once you carved out the leaves of the red fruit, the two of you sporadically placed them onto the cake, finishing the look with a few dollops of whipped cream along the rim of the cake.

Both of you migrated to his living room with a slice of cake in your hands, all your better judgment being thrown out the window once Trevor proposed the idea of watching your comfort movie. He vividly remembered when you first watched it together, not knowing you would soon play it practically every time you were remotely upset or had nothing better to do. In fact, you watched it so much that he found himself getting less and less fond of it as the months went by. Now, he would do anything to see your smile when you watched the intro of the film, and this was his chance.

“But,” he interjected, “if you get annoying about it, I’m changing it to Miracle.”

Miracle was like his comfort movie, and you felt very similarly about it as he did to yours. The movie came out when he was a mere three years old, and it might’ve been his earliest memory of watching hockey on his family’s television screen. He’d never gotten tired of it and had even gone on a ramble about it during one of your first few dates, so it became some sort of a running joke between the two of you.

“As if. You can’t resist the Ryan Gosling.” Your retorts only made the boy’s heart swell up with even more admiration, even though it felt wrong. The banter reminded him of the old times he spent with you, and how he could always expect a comeback to his incessant teasing.

With a roll of his eyes, Trevor held the remote up to the TV and began the movie, casually throwing a small blanket over the two of you to force close proximity. Without a second thought, you scooted closer to your ex-boyfriend (who was really feeling like less and less of an ex). Your mind was too focused on the introduction for you to care how close you were to him.

Thirty minutes flew by, and he was able to blow it all off by focusing on how the light of the television screen reflected so perfectly against your face, your eyes glistening as the scenes passed. You were so gorgeous, and he couldn’t even fathom how badly he fucked up his relationship with you. He wanted you back. He needed you back.

He was going to get you back.

Just as Trevor stretched his arm out to extend behind you, you leaned over to grab your phone off the side table. His nose crinkled in disappointment as he watched your eyes widen at the sight of the time.

“It’s almost midnight,” you gasped, shoving your phone into your pocket. You tossed the blanket off your legs and scurried over to the kitchen, placing your empty plate into the sink in a hurry. Within a blink of an eye, you found yourself slipping your shoes on near his front door. “Sorry, Trevor, I gotta go now. Tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I hope you feel less stressed and stuff, but, uh, I don’t really think it’ll be a good idea if I come back to see you again.”

The boy swore his heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

You could feel your gut begin to twist in guilt like it always did whenever you saw his face fall into that damned dejected expression, but you had to stay strong. It wouldn’t benefit either of you to keep going on the way you both wanted to. “I just don’t think it would be good for either of us. We broke up for a reason, Trev. You know that.”

“I thought we were good? I mean, you were letting your guard down, and we were starting to be the way we used to be,” his voice sounded so small.

“We’re never going to be the way we used to be—”

He cut you off, determined to win you back. “I can fix this. I know I said you didn’t have to stay for long, but this whole night made me realize that I want you to stay with me for the rest of my life. I need you with me.”

You sighed. “Trevor—”

“No, listen to me, please. It’s been months. We’ve spent some time apart and I don’t think I can spend any longer without you.”

It was your turn to stop him in the middle of his spiel. “You cheated on me! I was willing to give you everything I had, because I loved you that much! You broke my trust. There’s nothing you can fix or do to make things better. I prioritized you over myself. It didn’t matter if I was at my lowest, as long as you were happy. That’s how much I cared about you. That’s how much trust and love I put into you.

“What about the nights I was home alone while you were on your roadies? You wouldn’t talk to me unless I interacted first! We were falling apart long before you cheated on me, and I was the only one in the relationship who tried patching us up when things started to get bumpy. We were one-sided, Trev.” You watched as he shook his head in denial, still desperate for you to hear him out. “We still could’ve fixed ourselves. We weren’t bad at communicating with each other. But you turned to another woman instead of talking to me about the things that were going on in your life.”

Trevor was an inch away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay. “Then stay. Stay with me, and I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m so, so fucking sorry—”

“That’s the thing. ‘Again.’ The fact that you made me feel that way in the first place, the fact that you cheated on me, will never go away.” You huffed out another sigh, listening to the boy’s pleading babbles as you continued to speak. Running a hand down your face, you took a deep breath and calmed yourself down before you blew up on him again. “This isn’t healthy.”

“What isn’t healthy?” He questioned, knowing damn well you both knew what you were talking about.

“This! You and I. Us.” You gestured your hands between your bodies, your tone now contorting into fleeting despair. There was no saving your failed relationship, but you already knew that. It was only a matter of time before Trevor realized it too. “We can’t keep going like this. I know that you needed me tonight, and that’s fine, but you can’t keep calling me and telling me you need me anymore. We’re just gonna get stuck in this cycle of you needing me, convincing me to drive over to your apartment to comfort you, then us getting into some argument like we are right now.”

The boy looked deflated with the way he stood, slumped against a supporting pillar near the entrance of his apartment. There was only one more thing left to say to you. His last resort. Nothing else was convincing you, so he only had one other option. “I love you.”

You bit your lip in hesitation. “I know that, Trev.”

“Do you still love me?”

Your reluctance to answer was now more evident than ever, your conversation becoming more solemn. Five minutes ago, you were scolding him for all the shit he put you through, and now, you were just trying to resist his desperate attempts to try and win you over. Again.

You shook your head lightly, “I think we both know the answer to that.”

There would never be one day where you didn’t love him. You knew that. He knew that. Maybe that was what kept him going all those months without you.

His hopes were now much higher than before. You weren’t looking forward to the aftermath of his high hopes crashing and burning. “Then what’s stopping you? I still don’t have a girlfriend, and you still don’t have a boyfriend. It has to be because we’re still meant to be together.”

“No, that’s not—God, you know that’s not what it means. I don’t have a boyfriend, but it’s not because I want to get back together with you. I stand by what I said. We’re not good together. We were really fucking toxic when we were together. I don’t think I can put myself through that again. Even if you promise to fix yourself, or if you promise you’ll be better for me. Some things just aren’t fixable, and this might just be one of them.”

The more you spoke, the further Trevor fell into the pit of rejection. He put his all into trying to get you back, and all his efforts were proven futile. His sad puppy eyes were just making you feel worse and worse about the things you were saying, but they were all true. Your whole relationship, you put him before yourself, but it was time to focus on your mental health.

You took a step towards him, bringing your hand up to his cheek comfortingly. Leaning in for the last time, you gently pressed your lips to his in what seemed to be a sealed farewell. Just before you could pull away, the boy brought you back in, and you let him. You let him savor the moment for as long as possible, because you knew you could never let yourself be near him again. The more you allowed yourself to interact with him, the harder it would be to let go of him.

Both of you pulled away with your eyes still closed, Trevor leaning down to bring his forehead to yours as if attempting to convince you for the last time.

You spoke ever-so-softly, “I think I’m always gonna love you. I just don’t think I can keep being in love with you.” And with that, you gently pushed yourself away from him, slipping out the front door without so much as a squeak.

You knew there would always be a fine line between love and hate, and for a while, you found yourself flirting with the temptations of the latter. You were always going to reserve space in your heart for Trevor, and you came to accept that long before he begged you to come back. You just didn’t want to catch yourself on the other side of that thin, thin line.

— diorsluv 2024

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras angst #tz11

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scentedkittenperfection · 2 years

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Sneaking in

Me and @meetmyothersouls collaborate for this Timmy Chalamet story.

the reader invited the girls (Lady Bird (Christine), Jenna, and Julie) for a slumber party. The reader is dating Kyle.

The girls and the reader are having a slumber party.

The reader's sister gets involved and her name is ahlai.

Meanwhile, Kyle snuck the reader's house through her bedroom window and things got a little crazy.

Y/N and her sister Ahlai wait for their friends to come over for a slumber party.

The doorbell rings, Y/N and Ahlai both go to the door and open it to see that their friends Christine, Jenna, and Julie arrive.

"Hey girls, come in. Make yourself at home" Y/N said.

They all came in. "Thanks for inviting us, Y/N and Ahlai." Christine said.

They all went into the family room.

"So I was thinking about ordering pizza..everyone likes pepperoni right?” Y/N picks up her phone to order the pizza.

Julie says, "Pizza sounds good, oooh let’s watch The Notebook. I’ve been craving some Ryan Gosling.”

Ahlai says, "Hell yeah."

While watching the notebook.

A familiar red low battery chimes on your phone, “Gotta grab my charger,” she says as she hops off the couch and leaps for the stairs. A friend throws a throw pillow at her as she dodges it skillfully and throws a middle finger up at her.

y/n bends down and pulls the charger out of the wall by her bed. Upon standing, she hears the squeak of her window opening up and a figure wearing a dark hoodie climbing in. Y/N let’s out a loud shriek as the hooded figure quickly stalks over and gently places a hand over her mouth.“Shhh, y/n, it’s me,” he says

"Jesus, Kyle, what the hell," she says, recognizing the voice.

Kyle replied, "I wanted to surprise you."

"My friends are downstairs and my parents will pitch a fit if you came here uninvited." Says y/n as she tries to get him out.

"Sorry, my good girl. I just wanted to see you."

"I see, I was just getting my phone charger because my phone was dying. Now I really have to go." Was about to get out of her room but Kyle grabbed Y/N's hand and said, "Wait, how's the slumber party going?"

Y/N replied, "it's all good."

Kyle said, "don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to show up uninvited."

Kyle grabbed her hand, and she couldn’t resist the touch. “I’m not mad,” she said, giving in. Kyle smiled at her as he pulled her in closer. Their lips touch as Kyle backs her onto the bed. They fall into it.

As they made out, Kyle accidentally stroked her ticklish spot(her side) and y/n squeaked and Kyle smirked, "you ticklish?" Y/n slowly moved away, "no." She lied.

Kyle held and tackled her to her bed and tickled her sides and every part of her.

"Pleaheaee dohon't, stohop, Kyle." She said in between laughs.

Kyle replied, "don't stop, okay you little gigglebug." Continues tickling Y/N

Y/N tried to fight it but due to much laughter she couldn't.

Then She got out of the torture and ended up tickling Kyle. "Revenge is the dish best served tickled."

They end up cuddling and fall asleep

She ends up spending most of the time upstairs with him leaving her friends and sister wondering.

Ahlai replied, "Has anybody noticed that Y/N's been gone for a long time for a phone charger."

Christine and the other girls nodded.

Ahlai said, "I'll go check on her."

"I'll come with you." Christine replied.

Christine and Ahlai go upstairs to Y/N's room.

Christine and Ahlai knocked on the door.

Christine said, "Y/N, you ok?"

Y/N wakes up and gets to the door and unlocks it,"hey guys, sorry if I took too long. Things are a bit chaotic."

Christine said, "What took you so long?"

Kyle woke up and replied, "I think I might have been the cause of that?" Kyle went to the door

Chris said, "Hi Kyle."

"Hey Christine," Kyle said.

They all went back downstairs and a little while later they enjoyed themselves and had a great fantastic night.

#timothée chalamet #kyle scheible #kyle x reader #LadyBird #tickle fic

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haml3t · 4 years

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I need at least two new Ryan Gosling films every year mentally it’s good for me also his voice is soothing

#that’s my boy #like with Keanu and Daddy Darko I see they’re in something and am immediately more interested #he’s a little hot but I don’t even have a crush on him I just think he’s great #I watch a new Ryan Gosling movie and have a new source of intellectual stimulation for months #I just love the guy #I hear Ryan Gosling’s voice and I’m like this is about to be some Good Shit #I know NOTHING about his personal life #watched two of his films today one of them was new for me #soliloquies

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outofsstyles · 4 years

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I LOVE YOU; ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

a/n: Hello friends! This is a small little concept that has been on my head for a bit now. It does envolve Roommate!Harry + Friends with benefits so.. Hope everyone enjoys it!! As always, feel free to leave feedback or just chat with me on my inbox if you want to :)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: mention of sexual content.

You’re a mess.

And you’re aware of that. You feel ridiculous for reacting the way you are over something so silly, but you can’t help it.

The fruity taste from the numerous cocktail you’d consumed still lingers on your tongue. Your mind is blurry, the movement of the car making you a bit dizzy. You can feel your face sticky from the tears and you hate it, moving your hand to wipe away harshly the ones that still fall stubbornly from your eyes.

“Don’t rub it so hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” you hear Maya say from your side, grabbing your hand gently and moving it away from your face.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, not even convincing yourself as you close your eyes tightly.

You know in the morning you’ll probably feel very embarrassed for putting her in this position. But at this moment you can only feel grateful for her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, the other coming up to wipe your tears.

The night wasn’t supposed to end like this. It was supposed to be a girls’ night to celebrate the end of the term. Mary was excited to visit the new club that opened downtown and wouldn’t shut up about it for the entire week. You’re not even the biggest club kind of girl. Not finding the fun in over-crowded closed spaces filled with people buzzed out of their minds. But it had been so long since you had a night out with them that you agreed with no need of much convincing from their part.

And it all started nice and dandy, the place was packed but you still managed to find an empty spot by the bar. You felt good to finally have a relaxing night out with your friends and enjoy their company while having strawberry flavored drinks. Too many of them, if you think about it now.

Before you knew your head was filled with clouds, your chest hot from the effect of the alcohol in your system. The lights flashed from the ceiling, dancing around you, as Mary pulled your hand gently to follow her to the middle of the party. A loud beat you didn’t even recognize ringed on your ears.

You felt giggly, laughing as you and Maya stumbled a bit on your foot as you tried to move along to the song.

You remember a hand laying lightly on your shoulders making you look back to be met with a stranger’s hooded eyes. It hasn’t been that long but you can’t really recall any distinctive feature, only remembering you thought he reminded you of a young Ryan Gosling. You know he whispered something in your ear that made you giggle. Not knowing exactly what, you can still recall the raspy tone of his voice.

You remember melting into his kiss, smiling to the sweet taste as his tongue met yours. You’re not sure how long you stayed like this, but even with your foggy mind, you can still remember when you pushed him away. Murmuring a quick “sorry” to his confused eyes before speeding your way through the crowd.

You remember hearing your friends’ voices calling you as you rushed toward the bathrooms. The tears already falling down your face, making you feel more stupid than you already felt.

And this is the best word to describe this. Stupid. Everything about this breakdown is stupid. And you hate yourself for being this affected by it.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” his words rang on your mind.

Harry.

Just the thought of him lingering back into your mind makes you choke on a sob again.

How are you even going to face him like this? How are you even going to tell him what happened? You can just go in and say “Hey! I made out with a random guy and cried because I felt guilty that he wasn’t you.”

Yes, he is your friend. And that’s it. He is just your friend. It doesn’t matter that you live together. It doesn’t matter you have sex every so often. That’s all you’ll ever be. Friends.

Then why do you feel so guilty about it?

Isn’t that what this whole friend with benefits deal is about? What happened to the “no strings attached” rule?

You’re not exclusive, and you know that very well. So you’re allowed to make out with a random stranger if you feel like it. But this whole situation still falls heavily on your heart, and you can’t help it but think of your curly-haired roommate waiting for you in your shared living room couch.

You could kiss every person in this world and it still wouldn’t compare to the feeling of his lips meeting yours. No one’s hands knew how to explore your body so gently yet still roughly when you needed it. No one knew if the sucked on the right spots in your neck you’d melt into their arms. No one knew how to say the words that make your heart speed up and a wet spot to grow on your underwear.

No one but him.

Which is why you feel so stupid. If you see any kind of media portraying this kind of relationship, it always ends up in the same cliche way. Friends start having casual sex. One of them catches feelings. The same said friend gets heartbroken. The end.

You should’ve seen it coming.

The car stops in front of your building, and you take a few seconds to try to recompose yourself. You wish you could just sneak in without Harry noticing, climb into your bed and cry silently until you fall asleep. He would never have to see you like this and would never know about your feelings for him.

But you know him. You live with him for a year now. You know he’s waiting for you, snuggling on his soft blanket while watching some old documentary on History Channel.

You don’t want to look at your reflection as you go up on the elevator, but you know you should, anyway. So you turn around, scrunching your nose as you take in your messy appearance.

Your eyes are puffy and there’s still evidence of the dry trail the tears made down your cheeks. You have a few strands of hair leaving the bun Maya attempted to make while you cried on her shoulder at the club’s bathroom stall. You can feel her eyes watching you closely on the side of your vision.

Taking a deep breath, you re-tie your hair back on a low ponytail before stepping out to your front door.

You fiddle with your keys, unlocking the door and opening it slowly. The light of television illuminates the room, as you predicted, a mop of curls laying comfortably against the cushions.

Harry looks up from his spot as he hears you open the door. You stand there awkwardly with Maya, waiting for the moment he’ll realize something’s wrong.

“Love?” He gets up from the couch lazily before making his way to you. His eyebrows knit together as he takes in your appearance, his hand moving to cup your cheeks gently. “Were you cryin’? What happened?”

You shake your head slightly. Closing your eyes for a moment holding back the tears that are threatening to fall again. Opening them, you’re met with Harry’s worried eyes, gazing between you and Maya as to look for answers.

You glance at your friend standing by the half-open door as she looks back at you with a frown. “I’m gonna clean my face.” You say, shooting Harry a quick look before you make your way down the hallway.

The walls spin a bit as you stumble slowly on your steps. You can hear their rushed whispers as you walk, knowing that Maya was most likely updating Harry on your earlier breakdown. It makes you want to get away as quickly as possible, not wanting to face him after he’s aware of the situation.

You take your time as you do your nightly routine, your mind still a bit slow and your head pounding from crying so hard earlier. You wash your face, taking off the smallest bit of makeup left and getting rid of the sticky feeling from the dry tears.

It’s when you pull your head back from the sink after washing it that you’re met with his green irises watching you from the mirror reflection.

“Are you feeling better?” His voice is soft and careful as he approaches you.

You simply nod, turning around to look at him properly.

“Hate seeing you like this,” he says, reaching with his hand to rub your cheek. I’ll make you something warm to drink so you can go to sleep, how does that sound?”

“Nice,” you say, smiling softly. “But don’t really feel like sleeping right now.” You start, “Just-wanted to be with you for a bit.”

He coos slightly at your confession. “How ‘bout I put on a movie then?” He suggests, “y’can fall asleep to it.”

You chuckle, knowing he’s teasing you for never staying awake when you watch movies too late. “Sounds great.”

“Does it?” He smiles, “put on something comfy then, I’ll get everything started.”

After he leaves, you quickly brush your teeth, putting on the first sleeping clothes you can find in your room. You meet Harry in the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder as he feels you walk in, smiling softly as he turns around with a mug in his hand.

“‘S tea,” he says, handing you the drink. You shoot him a grateful smile as you take it, taking a small sip and letting the warm feeling take over your mouth. “Movie’s ready just gotta cuddle in and hit play.”

You smile at his words, “Which one?”

“Coraline,” he answers with a slight smirk on his face.

You gasp, “but you hate it!”

“I don’t hate it, just creeps me out a bit,” he steps closer to you, reaching his hand to move a strand of hair from your forehead. “But I know you love it, so I’ll make this sacrifice.”

The warmth in his voice as he says it makes your heart swell. You put the mug down on the counter next to you before you hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love,” he whispers. “Just don’t like seeing you upset,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head before patting your back gently. “Now c’mon get settled down, I’m right behind you.”

Soon, you get comfortable in the same place you found him when you first entered the apartment. He doesn’t take long to join you, coming from his room with a knitted fabric in his hands.

“Here,” he sits next to you, giving you what you find to be one of his sweaters. The one you always like to nuzzle when he’s wearing it because you find it so soft.

You pout at the gesture, quickly putting it over your head and nestling yourself on the oversized sweater. He shoots you a fond smile before reaching for the remote, “Ready?”

“Wait,” you stop him, making him look at you with the sweetest eyes it makes your heart skip a beat. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

“Wow, let’s stop right there, darlin’,” he quickly closes the space between you two, placing his hand on your knee. “You’re not a mess, not even close.”

You sigh, “I know, but it’s just-” you shake your head slightly, feeling your thoughts still floating on your head, making it harder to concentrate on your words. “Thank you for this.”

“Love-”

“No, seriously,” you interrupt. “Thank you for taking care of me, and being so sweet, and nice, and loving. Dunno what I’d do without you, I just- really love you a lot.”

Your eyes widen as you feel the words come out of your mouth with no thought behind them. You can tell Harry holds on his breath as he hears them, opening his mouth slightly but saying nothing.

It’s not like the concept of saying ‘I love you’ to each other is new. You’ve said it plenty of times before. When he brings you a chocolate muffin from the bakery in the corner. When you agree to watch one of his cheesy romcoms for the hundredth time. Or even between rushed whispers as you feel his skin pressed against yours - but those you’ve silently agreed to ignore.

But it’s the way you say it. It comes off of your lips as if your heart just screamed it. It’s not just a thoughtless declaration. It’s a confession.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart speed as you feel like every drop of alcohol has left your bloodstream. “That was probably the worst thing to say right now.”

His hand gives your knee a gentle squeeze, moving up just barely. “‘S really not,” he says just above a whisper. “Y’know I love you too.”

Unlike yours, his words come off clear and gentle, they’re not rushed. You’re not sure what he means behind them, and the thought makes your headache. You glance at his eyes, trying to glimpse his intention, but you only find yourself with more questions than answers.

You don’t know how to respond, blinking at him a few times. “I know,” you say, gazing at your lap.

“Hey,” he calls you, making you look into his eyes, “let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

You give a small nod at the proposal, smiling weakly at him. He opens his arms inviting you in, to which you don’t think twice before snuggling further into him.

And as the opening scene appears on the screen, you find yourself frowning in deep thought. Wishing you could wake up and erase all this from everyone’s memories. But you can’t. So you simply curl up in his arms, trying to push these thoughts to the back of your mind.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #my writing

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agentnico · 3 years

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Soul (2020) Review

Ah, I get it, Soul as in both jazz and blues music and also the human soul....ahhhh I see what you did there Disney. You and your clever clever puns. So wise Disney, so very very wise. Look at you being all clever and witty. Oh Disney, Disney, Disney...........I’m not sure where I’m going with this. Look, Christmas has only just passed, I’m still recovering from the abundant intake of alcohol and food, so give me a break, okay?!

Plot: A musician who has lost his passion for music is transported out of his body and must find his way back with the help of an infant soul learning about herself.

So following the controversial Premium Access release of Mulan on Disney+ (the studio’s streaming service) where subscribers were expected to pay an extortionate additional charge in addition to their subscription to be able to watch the film, Disney has decided to redeem themselves by putting their new Pixar film Soul on the service at no extra cost. Look, I tend to speak against Disney when I can, as I don’t like them as a business, but this I do admit was a good movie. So touché Disney, Merry Christmas to you too! This will be that one rare review where I won’t complain about you and your evil corporate ways.... Wait, hang on, I already did by referencing Mulan’s release. Ah well, I can’t help it. We are meant to be enemies by nature. Anyway, let’s talk Soul!

First off, let’s get the obvious out of the way - the animation in this is amazing! That goes without saying though, as stating that a Pixar film is well animated is like saying you would burn in moments if you decided to have a swim in a molten lava fountain because you were bored. It’s obvious! Pixar has some of the best animators in the business working for them, hence why all their movies look great. This one is no exception - Soul manages to use the animation to create and rationalize images, worlds, characters and concepts so complicated and imaginative that usually can only find their form inside minds. Yet their is a peculiar simplicity to it all. Visually this piece is an artistic masterpiece! Goes without saying....even though I said it. I know, quite the paradox!

Secondly, there’s a lot of jazz in the music. So much so that Jeff Goldblum has probably watched this film 20 times by now, and this thing hasn’t even been out half a week! So yeah, if you don’t like hearing the blues, you might hate the soundtrack of this film. There are a lot of light hits to the drum, trumpets belting out their sweet serenades, and the soft notes of the piano that make you think of Ryan Gosling from La La Land flicking his hair as he performs “City of Stars”. In fact many of the musical sequences in this film reminded me of La La Land’s style. Whiplash also comes to mind and even the recent Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is here in spirit. So, as the Blues Brothers would say, this film is on a mission from God!

Now of the narrative itself. The reason this movie truly works is due to its empowering great message of morality, and how simply being alive is the greatest gift one has. 2020 has been a tough year on all of us, due to the virus and all these restrictions and the bad things happening on the news on a daily basis, and of course many of us have suffered lots, through missing loved ones and ensuing mental illnesses. This film shows how to cherish the little things. Those small moments that we should be grateful for. We can get so consumed in material things and its the small things that we need to remind everyone about. Yes, we live in difficult times, and it’s hard as knuckles to keep a straight level headed outlook, but things will be okay in the end. We will be okay. Try and enjoy the little things, and we shall all get out of this mess eventually. Heck, I’m willing to get sentimental here. I’m lucky enough to be in a relationship with someone who loves me and I love them back. Yes, we cannot see each other lots due to social distancing restrictions, but I’m still so lucky to have her in my life. That is something I can be grateful for. Hopefully you all too have something special in your lives that even now you can properly appreciate. This earnest message is what makes Soul so special. In fact, in moments I felt like this didn’t even feel like a Disney film - the message was very complex but also really humbling.

Soul is truly worth the watch. It’s a surprisingly small and touching film, and is an honest piece with incredible artwork, a solid voice cast with stand out turns from Jamie Foxx, Graham Norton and Rachel House. This one is definitely worth your time. Merry late Christmas everyone, stay well and safe.

Overall score: 8/10

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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haikyuu!! characters and their fave musicals

pretty much an hc’s for funsies type of thing. which characters are absolute nerds for musicals and which ones couldn’t care less? i know not everyone likes musicals but if this is your thing, feel free to read!

Hinata: he’s one of those people who watched Shrek the Musical unironically and ended up getting really hooked on it but no way is he going to tell anyone

Kageyama: thinks that the Shrek trilogy are counted as movie musicals because ‘the characters sing and everything’. will fall asleep in a theatre so don’t bring him you’ll be disappointed

Tsukishima: loves Avenue Q and The Producers because the humor is right up his alley. also has tASTE and his fave is probs something like Hadestown because it is the best musical. loves to break down the lyrics and listens to an album non-stop when he’s obsessed

Yamaguchi: he tried to watch Grease but ended up throwing popcorn at the tv-screen because of the blatant sexism. yams is not About That. gets his recommendations from Tsukki and has never looked back

Tanaka: likes anything with awesome choreography and really cool special-effects like Hamilton or Be More Chill. when you ask him about the story though he’s like ???

Noya: doesn’t get the concept of musicals. ‘she’s singing about the guy but he’s right there??? doesn’t he hear everything????’ ‘WHY ARE THEY SINGING JUST FIGHT ALREADY’

Ennoshita: also has Taste. watches pretty much anything and loves to keep track of new productions and new casting. if you ask him about his favorite musical he’ll probably specifically mention the cast and where it was performed

Asahi: y’all are gonna hate me y’all are gonna hate me but JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR haha jk. one hundred percent a Dear Evan Hansen kinda guy because he relates to the main guy’s personality. has waving through a window on repeat

Sugawara: LOVES the classics: Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon. knows every song and movement by heart. sings them everywhere. would not listen to anything else. also Moulin Rouge because he’s one Classy Bitch

Daichi: appreciates any good musical recommended to him but the kind of person who presses ‘shuffle’ when listening to the recording and all the fans around him die inside. does this more than once just for that reaction

Kiyoko: loves anything with awesome female roles, particularly Legally Blonde and Six the Musical. raises an eyebrow at you if you say you like Grease and you land on her list of people she would barely talk to

Yachi: practically raised on disney movie musicals. loves to watch and re-watch videos from Broadway Princess Party a lot. is basically a disney princess herself and loves to put some songs on when she cleans the house.

Kuroo: one of those people who got really into Hamilton back in the day. would sing the vocals, the back-up vocals, the chorus parts, and hum the intros. says he’s a musical fan but that’s the only one he’s watched/listened to.

Kenma: someone recommended Be More Chill to him (probably tsukki) and he ended up actually liking it. once in a while you’ll hear him humming ‘christiiiiIIiine’ under his breath. likes to listen to michael in the bathroom at 2 am

Yaku: hates musicals ever since Nekoma had a movie night and then decided to watch Lion King and lev dead-ass lifted him up over his head like what rafiki did to simba in That Scene.

Lev: another one who likes disney musicals but like, the basic ones (frozen, tangled, beauty and the beast). mostly because they’re his sister’s favorites tho. has more than once did the whole ‘do you want to build a snowman’ thing with alisa and probably his teammates

Oikawa: thinks that liking Heathers makes him edgy it doesn’t. practically paid hanamaki and matsukawa to sing Candy Store with him and using iwa as veronica. absolutely vibes to the Mean Girls musical

Iwaizumi: a hard High School Musical stan, now and forever. thinks that Ryan and Chad are definitely gay. one time oikawa was giving them a pep talk and said ‘what team?’ and iwa yelled ‘WILDCATS’ and then everybody looked at him because they KNEW they KNEW HE NEVER GOT OVER THAT PHASE--

Matsukawa: Cats. The Movie.* wrote a long-ass thread on twitter about why the female cats should be given six boob and tagged Tom Hooper. was blocked.

Hanamaki: *see above. probably had his sexual awakening when he saw Idris Elba as a sexy cat. there’s nothing gendered about a sexy cat

Kyoutani: likes the leather jacket aesthetic in Grease. looked up the lyrics to ‘Greased Lightning’ once and shut off his laptop when he saw the innuendos. may have tried to replicate the choreography at one point but fell off a table

Yahaba: a romantic at heart. has a copy of the West Side Story DvD and loves to sing ‘Maria’ and ‘One Hand, One Heart.’ he and Oikawa love to duet ‘I Feel Pretty.’ also tried to copy the choreography and sUCCEEDED

Ushijima: you’ve taken him to see an array of musicals, from the much-loved classics to the inventive modern musicals. every time, you glance at him hoping for any reaction. he always leaves the theater saying ‘it was good.’ only one musical has managed to make him crack a smile: The Muppets (the movie ver.)

Tendou: another boy with Quality Taste. is a hardcore stan of any musical by Team Starkid (also loves that they’re all on Youtube). makes so many references to them but nobody else understands. will yell ‘TIGERFUCKER TIGERFUCKER’ out of the blue

Shirabu: thinks that La La Land is Peak Taste. got angry when tendou showed him a video of ryan gosling scenes in the movie but it’s all replaced by barry, the bee from Bee Movie. now La La Land is ruined because he keeps on remembering ‘you like jazz?’ in barry’s voice

Semi: tells you that he just doesn’t watch musicals but he secretly had such a Les Miz phase. writes enjolras x reader fanfics and his longest one was 200k words. if he hears anything that vaguely sounds like ‘do you hear the people sing’, a tear will fall out of the corner of his eye

Goshiki: was looking for slime tutorials one and stumbled on ‘not hamilton just a 2 hr slime tutorial’ y’all kno what i’m talking about and watched the whole thing. was disappointed that there weren’t any slimes but is now into hamilton

Akaashi: knows and understands the peak performance quality and biblical philosophy of Jesus Christ Superstar. doesn’t tell anyone about it though because they all assume its all church music. ‘it’s not’, he sobs. ‘it’s more.’

Bokuto: akaashi recommended Jesus Christ Superstar to him and he watched it, thinking that he’d see jesus playing an electric guitar. he was very disappointed and sulked about it for a week. LOVES disney musicals though

Atsumu: was one of those kids who would look up the Harry Potter Puppet Pals videos on youtube and stumbled in to A Very Potter Musical. ever since jk rowling’s snake side came out he began accepting that fan musical as canon. likes to piss rowling off by posting screenshots of the musical and saying its from the movie

Osamu: the Disney fan but with Quality Taste. loves Hunchback of Notre Dame, Princess and the Frog, Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia (the last two aren’t disney but animated musicals). cries at the sound of Phil Collins’ sultry voice.

Kita: is in love with Phantom of the Opera because his grandmother loves listening to it. he’d sing THE ENTIRE SOUNDTRACK pretty much every day until his teammates catch him singing in the locker rooms while they were changing AND NAILING ALL OF CHRISTINE’S HIGH NOTES LIKE ITS NOTHING

Terushima: doesn’t like musicals so his friend recommended that he watch The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals by Team Starkid because of the crackhead humor. watched Robert Manion perform and ending up going on google and searching ‘does watching men move their hips real nice make me bi?’

Koganegawa: y’all are gonna be surprised but this one’s a hardcore Wicked fan. has watched all of the different castings of it. he loves to imitate Elphaba’s iconic ‘FIEEEEROOOOOOO’ line in the showers and records it, just to see if he’s close to how it sounds onstage. has Idina Menzel’s autograph

Futakuchi: bitch does nothing but roast everyone else’s musical tastes. hamilton? ‘wow, mainstream much?’ dear evan hansen? ‘psshh, basic.’ be more chill? ‘think you’re edgy or something?’ the greatest show? ‘what are you? five?’ his favorite musical is actually Cats

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #hc's for funsies #haikyuu!! characters + their fave musicals #i watch a certain amount of musicals #and i thought this would be fun #don't mind me lowkey dragging some of y'all's musical tastes #feel free to download

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angryinternetduck · 4 years

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Like a Fool

this... was supposed to be a uni friends to lovers fic. oopsies :) It’s still a university au (kind of? idk) but uh... well. A bit under 2k words, no warnings I can think of besides a bit of swearing, potential underage drinking, lots of yearning, and some unpopular opinions on Starbucks.

“You’re late,” you announced as you opened the door.

Harry groaned, stumbling into your apartment and dumping his bag by the door. “Had the most horrific exam - lasted for hours, lad in the row behind me kept tapping his bloody pencil, questions were fucking rubbish - and then Java was closed.”

You wrinkled your nose, shaking your head as you closed the door behind him. “Java’s coffee isn’t even good.” Harry glared at you from where he was stuffing chips into his mouth from the bowl on the coffee table. “‘s certainly better than that Starbucks shit you’re such a fan of.”

“I’m not a fan of Starbucks,” you muttered. “Just better than Java.”

“You so are,” Harry said with a grin. He raised his voice to copy yours, “Oh, I could just die for the caramel frappe whipped cherry cream chocolate hazel -” You scoffed, hitting him on the chest with the back of your hand, and cut him off, “You’re so dramatic! I do not sound like that.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “you do. Also, what’s the film, then? Doesn’t look familiar…”

You sighed, collapsing onto the couch next to him. “It’s a new one.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at you skeptically. “A new one,” he echoed.

“Yup,” you chirped, clicking on the remote.

“Absolutely not,” Harry deadpanned as he saw the title. “I am not watching a movie called The Kissing Booth. Already sounds ridiculous.” You tsked, leaning against the arm of the couch and throwing your feet over his lap. “Give it a chance.”

“This is rubbish,” Harry mumbled through another handful of chips, and you shushed him.

He didn’t say anything when the movie ended, and you grinned, poking his shoulder with your finger. “You liked it,” you said, and he rolled his eyes. “I did not like it.” You laughed, poking him again, and exclaimed, “You loved it!”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “It was cheesy and stupid and just unrealistic. It’s -”

You laughed, shaking your head, and interrupted, “Dude, you’re literally describing every single one of your coveted classics. Look me in the eye and tell me The Notebook isn’t cheesy, stupid, and unrealistic.”

Harry pursed his lips. “The Notebook is a classic.”

“You’re so pretentious,” you said.

“Oh, shush,” Harry said back, finally breaking into a smile, and then he sighed, dusting crumbs off his pants, and stretched. “Finished your essay, then?” he asked, glancing at your open computer.

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Wonderful,” Harry said, and you looked up to see him grabbing his stuff. “I’ve got to sleep, and you’ve got to write. Have fun with that.” You pouted, leaning over the couch, and said, “You should stay! I’ve got to introduce you to the modern rom com! You haven’t even seen Noah Centineo yet!”

Harry made a face. “Sounds like a bug,” he said, and you laughed despite yourself. “Work on that essay,” Harry went on, “and next time, I am picking the film.” He grinned. “And it’s not going to have a multi legged bloody creature in it.”

“Oh, go to Starbucks.”

“Uncalled for,” Harry said.

“See ya later,” you said.

“Arrivederci,” he replied as he closed the door behind him.

You sighed, turning to your laptop reluctantly, and got to work. ***

“I need a date,” Harry declared as soon as he walked into your apartment the next week.

You raised your eyebrows, able only to gape as he collapsed onto your sofa, and he frowned, noticing your expression. “You alright, then?” he asked, and you blinked. Cleared your throat. “Uh - yeah. What’s this about a date?”

“Nick’s mum’s out for the weekend,” Harry explained, “so obviously he’s hosting a little something on Friday, and I need a date.” You nodded. “Right.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “So?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow back. “So?” you echoed.

“Have a start on the wine, did you?” Harry asked, grinning. “I need a date, so hook me up. Who’s single, who’s not, who’s complicated…” He faded off, staring at you expectantly, and you cleared your throat. “Right,” you said, sitting down next to him. “Um… well, I’ve got a friend…”

Harry grinned, propping his head on his fist and leaning in. “Tell me more.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, she’s got a car and you can take her to the arcade,” you muttered, “but I dunno how friendly she’d be down in the sand.” Harry huffed. “Your references are woefully arcane.” You scoffed. “A, it’s Grease. B, arcane?”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed. “You’re getting off topic!”

You sighed, picking at your fingernails. “Yeah, she’s nice. Name’s Casey. You’ll like her.”

“Have her number?”

You handed your phone over to him, and he laughed giddily as he scrolled through your contacts. “Bloody hell, need a proper shag - haven’t gotten laid in ages…” You made a face, shoving all the dirty thoughts flooding your head about Harry Styles and his proper shags, and told him, “Shush, Styles, nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”

He looked up, smirking. “Sure about that?”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, distracting yourself from his smirk by flicking through the TV. “Figured out your movie?” you asked. “Or should I find your hundred legged boyfriend?” Harry grinned, apparently finished keying in Casey’s number into his phone, and grabbed the remote from your hands. “The Notebook,” he announced, and you scoffed.

“You’re kidding,” you groaned, flopping onto your back. “We’ve seen it a million times!”

“That’s what you get for comparing this classic to that kissy bench rubbish,” Harry hummed, clicking on the movie and getting situated as the sun rose and Ryan Gosling’s name flashed on the screen.

You sighed, and grabbed a few chips, and prepared for the two hours of boredom.

***

You were watching Harry flirt with Casey, all dimples and bad jokes and too close touches, when you decided that you were going to get drunk. Harry laughed as you walked over to the refrigerator, and whispered something in Casey’s ear that made her giggle and lean in as you cracked open the bottle of beer.

It tasted disgusting.

You weren’t really a fan of good beer, much less this cheap piss water the little fridge was stocked with. It tasted sour in your mouth, but maybe that’s just because you were a bit sour yourself over the whole Harry situation.

It was weird, the whole thing, because you really shouldn’t have been mad. It was your fault and your fault alone that you hadn’t told Harry about your ginormous crush on him, that you hadn’t kissed him or confessed or even talked about feelings with him ever.

So you had no right to be mad.

Harry wasn’t yours. And really, he never would be.

You sighed and wondered if there was any other alcohol in the huge house you were in that would taste better or, at the very least, get you drunk faster. You could probably ask somebody, but that would mean talking and social interaction, and you were really just not in the mood for that at the moment.

A few seconds after you peeled your eyes away from Casey twirling her finger around one of Harry’s stray curls (he really needed a hair cut, you thought irritably), letting your gaze wander, somebody shouted your name from behind you.

You sighed as you recognized his voice, letting faux annoyance flash over your face when all you wanted to do was turn around and kiss him, and asked, “How are you already drunk? We’ve been here less than an hour!” Harry giggled - he tended to do that when he was drunk - and shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “‘m not drunk,” he told you, slurring his words, and you rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“Really!” Harry exclaimed, giggling to himself like he knew he was lying. “Really, swear it, lovey, ‘m sober as - as -” He faltered, and then laughed again, and said, “I’m sober!” You bit back a smile and said, “Whatever you say, Styles.”

“Look bored, lovey,” Harry murmured, leaning on the wall next to you.

“You’re very observant,” you said, and Harry pouted. “Shouldn’t be bored. Should be happy!” He gave a little smile, lifting up a finger to bop you on the nose. “Deserve to be happy, lovey.” You flushed, looking away. “Where’s Casey?”

“Oh, somewhere…”

You looked at your beer. “Seem to like her a lot.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed absently. A beat of silence, and then he said your name, and you looked up. He suddenly seemed a lot closer than before, and you blushed harder. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice coming out a whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured.

You blinked, startled. “I -”

He was so close, still leaning in, so, so close, that you breathed, “Yes,” and he barely had to move for your lips to meet. He tasted like tequila and that cheap beer, but somehow minty and buttery and wonderfully sweet and perfect.

And then, just like that, he was gone, his breaths just a tad quick, his cheeks tinged red. “You’re the bestest,” he told you softly, just a bit breathless. “The bestest in the world,” he repeated, laughing slightly.

“I -”

“Harry!” Casey squealed from behind him, and then he was whisked away.

***

You didn’t talk to him for almost a whole week after that.

And then, when he was supposed to come over for a movie and he was forty minutes late, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You walked over to his apartment, and knocked hard, ready to be mad or yelled at or have your heart broken, and waited.

But he didn’t look upset. He looked overjoyed. “Guess what?” he asked as soon as he opened the door, not even saying hello. “I have got a date!” You froze, unable to do anything but gape, and he said, “Casey was all upset because I didn’t call her or summat, and I decided to, like, ask her out on a proper date, you know? And she said yes!”

“Um - congratulations?” you finally managed, and he grinned, nodding as he fiddled with his tie. He frowned, glancing down at it, and you sighed, reaching forward. “Help?” you asked, already nudging his fingers away and pulling the knot through.

“Thanks a million,” Harry said, already grabbing his keys. “Hope you don’t mind I’m missing movie night, yeah? You understand.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he went on, “I can’t wait. Bloody hell, this is gonna be - have you seen my wallet?”

“On the shelf,” you answered reflexively, and he grinned, pocketing it.

“Wicked,” he said, and his hand was on the door when you finally said, “Wait!”

He paused, turning around. “What?”

“Are we gonna - are you ever gonna -”

Harry frowned. “What?” he asked again.

You bit your lip. “The kiss?”

“What kiss?”

You faltered, and he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The party,” you said, your voice barely there.

He blinked. “Oh.”

A beat of silence, and then you said, “Harry?”

“I was drunk,” Harry said, and then he repeated, “I was drunk.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t - I don’t like you like that.” He frowned. “You know that, yeah?” You nodded. “Of course,” you whispered, and it sounded like a lie even to your own ears.

But Harry just smiled, and opened the door, and said, “Good. See ya later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, and then Harry left, and you were alone, standing in his apartment like a fool.

***

HELLO IF UR FEELING SAD DON’T!!!! HERE’S PART TWO!!!!!

lol thanks for reading!!!! if you liked it feedback and a reblog would be v much appreciated 💜

masterlist | ask

#1dff #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #noah centineo #the kissing booth #harry styles au #harry styles story #harry styles stuff #idk hehe #hope you enjoyed :)#fics

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theunderdogwrites · 3 years

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Why I’d Make A Terrible Cult Member

In case you didn’t hear NXIVM founder and Ryan Gosling look-a-like, Keith Raniere,

was sentenced to 120 years in prison after being convicted of sex trafficking, racketeering and conspiracy after testimony that he had created a harem of sexual “slaves,” branded with his initials and kept in line with blackmail. There are currently two docu-series running right now (SEDUCED: INSIDE THE NXIVM CULT and THE VOW) that give you a chilling look into this cult. Both series are palatable and will have you saying – “How the hell did these people get pulled into a cult? Because from my couch I can tell you that would never happen to me!”

There is so much information out there about the NXIVM cult that I don’t feel the need to educate you on all their dastardly deeds. Instead, I want to ramble on about how the majority of us probably feel we could never be drawn in and held captive by a cult. Plus, after that election in the United States we could all use a wee laugh.

First…

The TOP FIVE Reasons WHY I’d Make A Terrible Cult Member

5. Terrible with Crowds

Does anyone really like crowds? Hoards of people gathering is a whole lot of stupid I just don’t want anywhere near me. Cults can’t survive without people. I suppose you could be a cult of one. If that is allowed, I want that. I brain-wash myself on a daily basis as is (‘Today is going to be awesome!’ ‘You absolutely do deserve a donut!’ ‘Drinking wine from a mug is considered sophisticated!’) so I feel I could make this work. Gym clothes are required clothing but will make an exception for all-day PJ’s on the rare Friday when I ‘just can’t even’.

4. Blindly Following Directions is Not My Strongest Quality

I am not a wanton rebel but I do fail (succeed) at being a part of a collective consciousness, especially where one person places themselves in charge of everyone else. While I don’t require for you to have degrees or letters of recommendations from heads of state, I must insist that you’re not a fascistic idiot. Also, you need to be a good person. Not just on the outside where you’re putting on a show for others, but on the inside where it really counts and shines through without you having to promote your intentions. There is just no way I am able to blindly follow directions from a person who I do not respect. And typically, I don’t respect anyone who craves and NEEDS control over a group of people, no matter the size, to make themselves whole. The bottom line here is: if you are this type of person and you attempt to snare me into your cult, I promise you I will be your problem child.

3. Isolation? Yes Please!

Cults wish to isolate you from your family and friends because then it becomes easier to indoctrinate you without any outside voices cluttering up your mind. Instead of isolating me from family and friends (who, I assure you would appreciate the break) it would be much more effective to separate me from my inside voices, of which there are many. Obviously, I am more attached to those voices than my family and friends and I bet my inside voices would eat your inside voices for breakfast, so if your intention is to try and control me you better be prepared for a fight similar to that of the Game of Thrones Battle of the Bastards. But seriously, I’m begging you… please isolate me from my inside voices. I could use some peace and quiet. This is a cry for help people!

2. Refusal to Have My Food Intake Monitored

The NXIVM cult preyed on women by forcing them to go to extreme measures in order to lose weight. They often had to take pictures of their food (counted and weighed on a scale) and ask permission to eat. Right away I’d have a serious problem with this bullshit. If I want a donut. I am going to eat a fucking donut. You want a picture of it? Ok, knock yourself out:

I’m eating this no matter your opinion.

I understand that withholding / limiting food (valuable protein, nutrients etc.) makes it easier to break someone down but just how far gone do you have to be to allow someone else to monitor and approve BY TEXT MESSAGE what you eat? I guess if we want to pull at this thread we can say organizations like WW, Jenny Craig and Nutrisystem “approve of” and even provide you with what they want you to eat in order to be successful if using their programs… and if I wanted to rip into them some more I could claim they are somewhat “cult-like”, but at least they don’t require naked, compromising photos of yourself just in case you fail to lose weight and they want to keep you accountable.

Confession time: when I go to a restaurant with friends and they want to “share” plates, I am not amused. Who the hell came up with this concept of “sharable plates”? If I want to order some crab cakes (usually two to a order) what makes you think I want to give you one in exchange for some of your fries? If I want fries, I will fucking order my own fries. Now that this secret is out… sorry to my friends who have politely forced me to share my food with them.

1. I Can’t Be Any More Brain-Washed Than I Already Am

BRAINWASHING: any method of controlled systematic indoctrination, especially one based on repetition or confusion.

Here’s a thought – we brainwash ourselves.

Well, first it’s our parents. And we don’t have much control over that for a long time. In that mix of original brainwashers is television with it’s cleverly made and repetitive commercials. We are being advertised AT from an early age and it’s a process that continues for our entire life. You don’t watch TV? Doesn’t matter if you own a cell phone or surf the web or have a pair of working eyes. It’s everywhere. You’re being convinced you need stuff. Or persuaded to believe in the magical powers that alcohol will give you (which through experience is NOT charm, grace or coordination). Just last week I realized I’ve been programmed to not give a flying fuck whenever I see a Kardashian. Or Mariah Carey. Or emails from Christian Mingle (please stop contacting me, you really don’t want this).

We brainwash ourselves into believing certain untruths in exchange for temporary happiness. I believe we all fall into this trap. Let’s be real and admit that life is fucking hard. Our collective goal is to be happy and to survive. If you need to convince yourself of some untruths for a short while in order to get through, you go right ahead. Just don’t let the lie take over your reality. It’s destructive. And you’ll miss out on how beautiful life can be if you don’t pull your head out of your own shit.

These two NXIVM documentaries really had me shaking my head in disbelief over just how these seemingly intelligent men and women fell for such a gigantic load of crap. To listen to this Keith Raniere speak and think to yourself “yes, here is a stable human being I want to follow who just happens to talk about how it would feel to rape a baby (it feels like nothing apparently) and requires us to kiss him on the lips when we say hello and goodbye” seriously puts your mental health into question. Am I right? Because I don’t actually know. Am I sitting in judgement of these cult members? Maybe just a little and that is simply because I believe myself to be… not smart, but not a total moron. Now having said that, I know that everyone is searching for spaces where they can belong. Where they feel comfortable enough to be themselves. Spaces that speak to them and people who mirror their desire to be better, do better. Their tribe, if you will.

If you were brand new to this planet and I told you about this activity that millions of people took part in, in some capacity, where they used a curved stick to chase around a hard rubber object on frozen water while wearing steel blades, you might give me a curious, tilted head look. You know, the one you give someone when you’re trying to determine whether or not they’re insane. Sports teams and especially their fans could be considered cult-like. Some people will shell out big $$$$ to attend the Super Bowl dressed head to toe in their team’s colors. Soccer fans in Europe have killed referees over what they felt was a bad call.

Look at this line-up:

This was for the release of the latest iPhone (12). All these people brought together by an inanimate object with the technology to make/receive phone calls, take photos, listen to your conversations and advertise to you across all your social media platforms. Oh, and it can tell you the time.

If you dig far enough into the NXIVM cult (beyond the “ring leaders” who profited financially and at the same time fed their perverted yearning for supremacy over others) you will inevitability come across people who were at their very core – lost. Lost and looking for purpose. Lost and looking for a place where they could belong. Lost and looking for something special. I don’t know about you, but when I am feeling lost and low on hope, I don’t always make the best decisions.

Time to go eat all the donuts.

And if you’re interested in making me a member of your cult, please PM me. I come with impeccable references as long as you don’t believe a word of what they’ll say. I really am a constant fucking delight.

#nxivm #keith raniere #ryan gosling #cults #donuts #iphone #lost #found

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captainchrisfics · 5 years

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Jealousy

About: Chris Evans and a first person pov reader go to an awards show. The couple runs into her celebrity crush on the red carpet, causing Chris to develop a bit of a green-eyed monster. A heated argument ensues... followed by an equally heated reconciliation.

Word Count: 2,873

Warnings: language, arguing, and implied/mild sexual content.

Don’t get me wrong, celebrities rarely surprised me anymore. Once you see Scarlett Johansson hanging out in your living room, you just start to get used to it. When Anne Hathaway comes up to you and compliments your boyfriend for his latest film, you think that’s as good as it gets. I thought that too- well, until Ryan Gosling was about an arm’s reach away from me on the red carpet.

“Chris,” I hissed through my teeth as I smiled, trying to draw the least amount of attention as possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan walk towards the next interviewer. My grip tightened on Chris’s arm, pulling him with me. “What’s wrong?” Chris asked, moving his face as little as possible. It was always hilarious- how his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squinted, making his smile look so much more like a grimace on the red carpet.

“That’s Ryan Gosling,” I said like I still couldn’t believe it. Suddenly, a microphone was in my face. “What was that?” an interviewer asked. “Are you a Gosling fan, too?” I usually didn’t like to answer so blatantly, but I was already caught off guard. I tucked a fallen piece of my updo behind my ear and said, “Of course. With his blonde hair and those blue eyes, he’s just gorgeous.” It came out breathier than I intended, but I wasn’t even looking at the camera. I couldn’t stop staring at Ryan, just a few feet away.

“What do you think about that, Chris?” she asked, shoving the mic toward him. Chris cleared his throat, bringing attention to how tense he’d grown. Chris scratched the back of his neck and forced a chuckle, trying to play off how uncomfortable he was. I didn’t think much of it considering he was always pretty uncomfortable on the red carpet. “I mean, she’s still on my arm right?”

I patted his arm, trying to calm him down. It was a terrible joke but the interviewer laughed anyway. She said something about how he might have to keep bleaching his hair even though his Cap contract was up, which Chris laughed at just to be nice. I tugged us away again, hoping we could catch up to my celebrity crush.

Eventually, at the end of the media circus, we ran into him. Well, I did. I had locked in on my target and failed to calculate exactly how fast I was going and (more importantly) how much time I would need to stop. That’s how I all but tackled Ryan fucking Gosling to the ground. As I apologized profusely, he steadied me with a hand on my waist. “Moving a little fast there,” Ryan said, smirking at me. I giggled and glanced away, trying to hide my blush as I offered another feeble apology.

Behind me, Chris cleared his throat. He grabbed my hand, shoving the other in his pocket and puffing out his chest. Chris had this hard look in his eye I’d only seen him have in that Scott Pilgrim movie. Needless to say, I didn’t like it. “Almost lost you,” he said, pulling me into his side. When Chris wrapped his arm around my waist, it felt more like he was trying to hold me back.

“Glad you found me,” I responded. I rubbed my arm out of a nervous habit, feeling a bit awkward. Ryan looked between the two of us, reading the situation seamlessly. He held up his hands in surrender and smiled in an attempt to ease some of the tension. “No worries here man. It’s been nice to meet you both,” Ryan said calmly, taking a couple steps back. Then he turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

“The hell was that about?” I asked Chris, all but stomping my foot. I don’t know what brand of toxic masculinity he had for breakfast, but there’s no excuse for being so possessive. Chris sucked on his teeth and avoided my angry stare as he tried to come up with anything that would sound rational coming out of his mouth.

Chris shook his head. “Later,” he said, effectively ending any conversation. In another circumstance, I would’ve pushed him harder to talk, but these events stressed him out enough as is. I could always give him hell later, but right now he didn’t need me to be another problem on his plate. Don’t get me wrong though- I was planning on giving him hell.

Chris was extremely quiet. Usually, after the media fiasco the red carpet offered, he relaxed. We spent events like these making jokes to each other, coping with how crazy all of it was and relishing in the dream we were living. Instead, I sat as far away as I could from Chris without falling out of my seat. His silence was even more deafening amidst the stars around us as they talked and laughed with each other all around us.

His stone face only cracked when he was nominated for an award. All the cameras were on us so we smiled and held hands while the announcers created tension and I hoped the viewers wouldn’t notice our unease. The last thing I needed on top of a moody boyfriend was an internet shit storm.

Chris won and, no matter how annoyed I could be with him, I was overwhelmed with pride. Even in our worst moments, we remained supportive of one another. I always reminded myself that it wasn’t Chris against me or vice versa- it was the two of us against our problem. I stood up almost faster than he did and pulled Chris in for a kiss by the lapels of his suit, hoping it conveyed exactly that. The frustrated crease between his eyebrows hadn’t faded, but that didn’t stop Chris from mouthing an ‘I love you’ in my direction.

I sat down again, watching him accept the small statue as he grinned at the audience. “Wow…” Chris looked at the gleaming award again before facing the cameras. It gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach, thinking about how he seemed so much more relaxed and happier on the stage- like a weight of sitting next to me evaporated despite hundreds if not thousands of eyes on him.

Chris launched into his acceptance speech, thanking everyone involved in the project, his family, and then me. I hated how a part of me questioned if it was just for show. He thanked me for sticking by his side and my first thought was if it was meant to be some sort of jab. I shifted uncomfortably but smiled nonetheless, knowing someone’s camera had to be on me.

I thought closing the front door behind me and blocking out the rest of the world would be a relief, but it was just more nerve-wracking. Neither of us were in the mood for an after party so we came straight home, though I don’t know if we thought this through. Now we were alone and not quite sure where to go from here.

I wanted to yell at him for being such an insufferable, pig-headed idiot. For embarrassing me in front of everyone like that. For shutting me out all night. For even thinking I’d want anyone other than him. I had countless reasons I’ve been coming up with since the red carpet, but it was almost like the air was too thick for such angry words.

We stood in front of the dresser in our bedroom, taking off the glitz and glam and turning into a normal arguing couple again. I mean, how many people got into fights over meeting your celebrity crush on the red carpet and had to wait until after an award show to talk about it? I think we both felt pretty bizarre. “So, are we going to talk or…?” Chris asked tentatively, tossing his suit jacket on to our bed before working on his bow tie.

If it were possible, steam would’ve come out of my ears. That ‘us against the problem’ shit was out the window. “Don’t you dare ask me if we’re going to talk as if I’m the one giving you the cold shoulder, Christopher,” I fumed at his reflection, tugging on my heavy earring probably harder than I should to get the backs off.

Chris, who was still struggling with his bowtie considering I was usually the one taking it off, nearly choked himself by tugging on the left. “I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically. “Is that not how you and Ryan argue? Maybe I could apologize until I turned blue and then we’d kiss and make up. Would that be better?” I wanted to strangle him, but instead, I reached over and pulled the right side of the tie.

“I can’t believe you just went there,” I said, my voice coming out louder than I intended. I began taking the bobby pins out of my updo. Before he’d even gotten his belt buckle undone, Chris shot back, “Trust me, I just went there.” I grunted through gritted teeth, taking out my frustrations with Chris on my hair. He reached over and twisted the pin just right, causing the curl to fall before throwing the clip onto the dresser.

“You’re such a jealous ass sometimes, you know that?” I yelled, sending the last of my pins flying across the tabletop. We made eye contact in the mirror, but I could still see how red my reflection was turning. “Please, tell me about it,” Chris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. I ripped a makeup wipe out of the package, scrubbing furiously at the mascara and eyeliner under my eye as I assured him I would.

“You are! I’d never even seen Ryan in person before, but wow I find one guy other than you attractive and suddenly it’s the silent treatment,” I said, feeling like my blood was boiling. I was on a roll now. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on that jab about my commitment in your speech! That was a low blow, Chris, especially considering all I did was say sorry for running into someone,” I said as almost every thought cycling through my mind tumbled out of my mouth.

Chris laughed sarcastically, throwing his belt onto the bed harder than he’d tossed his jacket. “Is that what you call it?” he spat. Chris did his best to mock my bedroom eyes, twirling a piece of pretend hair and giggling like a little girl. He really aced his impression of me with some air-headed remark about getting Ryan to bed, but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears.

I threw out my dirty makeup wipes, trying not to pout while showing exactly how unamused I was, feeling the angry tears brimming my eyes. Chris had a look in his eye that told me he knew he’d gone too far. He averted his eyes, focusing intently on unbuttoning his shirt like it was his first time.

“Do you even see yourself?” I said quietly, running out of fire as my rage was replaced with hurt. I tugged at the exceptionally small clip holding my necklace together. Anyone who was at all familiar with those little latches shaped like crab claws knew they required the utmost concentration, which I was lacking right now. Chris moved behind me. I complied with an annoyed huff, lifting my hair out of his way. He had it off in record time, leaving the two of us staring at ourselves in the mirror.

“Do you want him?” Chris asked in a low voice like he was afraid of the answer. My heart clenched in my chest, shocked he could even think such a thing. Still, I crossed my arms and let the vindictive side of me win. “What if I do?” I challenged, failing to convince even myself. I wasn’t proud to admit it, but as I was suddenly surrounded by all of my sadness, I wanted Chris to feel a fraction of it.

Chris closed his eyes for a second and let out a shaky breath before gently grabbing my waist, turning me to face him. Now just inches away from him instead of a few feet from his reflection, I saw how blue his irises looked, exaggerated by the agitated red the whites of his eyes turned when he cried. In my anger and pain, I hadn’t realized how this fight was affecting him.

Chris caressed my face, running his thumb across my cheek. He wiped away tears I didn’t notice falling. Suddenly, with every ounce of passion he had left, Chris kissed me. It was like diving into a freezing pool, filled with the kind of water so cold it shocks all of your senses awake, and coming up for your first gasp of air at the same time. His force sent us stumbling backward until I hit the dresser. I wrapped my arms around his neck while Chris lifted me by my thighs, sitting me on top of the table with a disregard for whatever clattered to the ground to make room for me.

My hands traveled down his torso, relishing in each bump his stomach offered before slipping under the fabric of his open button-down. Chris wrenched his arms, helping me take it off. He nearly tore off his undershirt before diving back into a kiss. I tucked my index fingers in the belt loops of his trousers, pulling him between my legs. Chris tangled his fingers in my hair, moving his mouth down my jaw until he reached the soft patch of skin behind my ear. He elicited a gasp from me as he nibbled gently, testing the waters. The involuntary arch of my back, pressing my body to his as my chest rose quickly seemed to be the encouragement he was looking for.

My eyes fluttered closed as he moved down my neck, stopping to suck on my collarbone. I reached to lay my hands on his chest, loving how the muscles felt clenched under my touch. If I really tried, I could feel his heart beating rapidly. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him as close to my hips as I possibly could. Feeling him pressing against the inside of my thigh made me smug, reminding me as I came undone that he was just as affected by my touch.

Chris reached behind me, unzipping my dress. He tugged the top down so it sat at my waist before touching me over my bra. I hadn’t noticed how thin the material was until now when it was one of the only layers between us. I found the button of his pants, fumbling to release him.

Keeping one hand kneading at my chest, he slipped the other up my skirt through the dress’s slit. His fingers toyed with the lacy trim of my underwear, teasing me as he tugged the fabric down my thigh so slow it was almost frustrating. He stopped suddenly and instead traced the curve of my hips up to my chest until he reached my hair again, tangling his fingers in the strands as he kissed me again.

Chris licked my bottom lip and I complied, absolutely at his mercy. He pulled away again before I was satisfied, leaving me right on the edge. He prided himself on making me as desperate for him as I possibly could be until he gave me what I wanted. Chris traveled to my ear again. “He wouldn’t know how to do this to you,” Chris whispered so faintly, giving me goosebumps all over.

It dawned on me exactly how we ended up here. I pushed Chris away, scowling at him. “You can’t kiss me like that and make this go away,” I scolded, half-heartedly angry he’d even tried.

Chris shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding so defeated it almost made me feel bad. Almost. He looked at me with so much sincerity in his eyes. “For all of it. I’m sorry for everything. I was stupid and jealous and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I love you so much,” Chris professed, the words tumbling out of him like he’d wanted to say them all along. “It wasn’t cool to try to brush over it like that, but I just…” Chris trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I just wanted to know you were still mine,” he concluded, averting his eyes to the floor.

I bit my lip, teasing Chris as if I even had to think about it. “I love you too,” I grinned so big it hurt, my lips still slightly sore from the kiss. I reached my hand out to his, playing with his long, calloused fingers before intertwining mine with his. “I’ll always be yours. I don’t want you to feel so insecure in our relationship. We’re gonna have to talk about it,” I said, looking up shyly only to be greeted with Chris’s grin. It was so big it squeezed his eyes shut. “Later,” I giggled as I pulled him towards me, picking up where we’d left off.

Tagged: @patzammit

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfic #imagine chris evans #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #cevans

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Humility: Almost Easy/Power & Control - Dave x Reader (Lost River)

Hahahahahhahahaa... Author’s Note: Okay. I chose Dave of all the suggestions for 2 reasons. 1, I had more of a plot for him. 2, Nolan was the most requested - but I’m working on something similar for him that I assure you won’t be disappointing sequel to Sugar, anyone? As for Vince... Well... Damn. I’ll work on it. SO! It’s a two song fic because I really liked the song @sufferthesea sent along for Dave: Power & Control - Marina and the Diamonds AND this AX7 gem Almost Easy worked for this particular premise too... So you better consider it added to the Dave playlist. ** Idea credit to Amanda, because she took my thought and then flipped it a little and added some details so I can’t say this one is whole-y mine. Disclaimer: Lost River came from the (obviously slightly mad) brain of Ryan Gosling / Gifs & lyrics not mine. Premise: Some of Dave’s performers are fed up with his attitude. It’s time for them to teach him some humility. And they figure that asking his favourite to do this for kicks makes their plan flawless... You’ll agree to do it, for a price. Words: 4083 Warnings: It’s Dave... come on... / Swearing / Sexual Connotations / Very subtle dom/sub tones - but also present in both songs.

__________ I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise 'Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways And that's the way it stays So how long did I expect Love to outweigh ignorance? By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip Shame pulses through my heart From the things I've done to you It's hard to face but the fact remains That this is nothing new... I'm losing the fight, I've treated you so wrong Now let me make it right I'm not insane, I'm not, not insane… Come back again, it's almost easy (You learned your lesson) Come back to me, it's almost easy (It's still your fault) Come back again, it's almost easy… --- Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Power & control I'm gonna make you fall Women and men, we are the same But love will always be game We give and take a little more Eternal game of tug and war Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good-looking but you're not a piece of art ---

noun

the quality of having a modest or low view of one's importance.

Whispers spread like wildfire. You expected that from the second you got on stage. Bitchy bickering. Or complaining you guessed? It always happened when Dave caught your eye, or your wrist after your act was finished. “Meet me later...” You knew what that meant well enough. You didn’t need him to tell you. Mind you, Dave caught your arm so often his fingerprints might as well have been imprinted into your skin.

It wasn’t that they were jealous of you. Probably the contrary; that didn’t stop the whispers though. And tonight, as you changed, they seemed to be a little louder than usual; “I mean who the hell does he think he is-!? Walking around like he’s better than us?!” “Like he owns the place!” “He does own the place... but still, fair point. We do all the hard work!!” “People come for us - he only ever sings!” “And that’s only on bloody occasion too - not every night!” “We have way better work ethic-! I bet he doesn’t even PAY us fairly.” “I bet he pays himself better than us.” “...Well, he might pay some of us well then...” they all turned around to you, and you saw that from your mirror. You sighed, here we go again. Couldn’t be for love... had to be for money... You supposed it might not even have been for love... maybe just for company... but he wasn’t paying you for your time. They turned back around, whispered muttering you couldn’t hear that made you focus back on your mirror. You caught the paper tacked there out of the corner of your eye. Dave’s writing; “Room 3”. You took a deep breath. A little part of you was always a little nervous about it. Dave had very distinct moods; if this wasn’t a good one, it might give you problems... “Oh! Y/N..!” They turned back to call your name and you turned, pressing you lips together to even out the lipstick; “Mm?” “Come here a second.” You sighed and stood; this could only be bad. “What’s wrong?” “Nothin’, yet. You seein’ Dave tonight?” Well, they knew you were so it was a stupid question. But they wanted affirmation. “Yes...” “We got an idea...” You didn’t like this one bit already, “Right...” “But we need your help.” You folded your arms, eyes narrowed in suspicion; “Why?” Rob gave you a look like you were dumb; “Because you’re his favourite! He trusts you.” No, you thought, you were his favourite right now. Next week that could all change, especially if someone newer younger and prettier walked in. Dave was always down to seduce the next big thing. “...Well what is it?” “Well, you agree. He thinks he’s great. Right?” “Yeah.” He did, on occasion, get this smug kinda swagger about him that annoyed you. Clearly not as much as it annoyed them though. “And it’s getting a little out of hand?” “Maybe.” you didn’t want to seem decisive on this “Maybe?! C’mon Y/N don’t be amicable - he thinks he can do whatever the f*** he wants. We gotta stop this before we can’t anymore.” “Well what do you want me to do?!” “He taking you to a room tonight?” You glanced back to your mirror “Yes.” “Give him a taste of his own medicine.” “How?!” “What room?” “Three.” They all looked at each other for a minute, and suddenly you didn’t like the smirks they were all giving each other; “Shells, huh?” That didn’t really bother you. Dave had a remote, sure, but you knew him. “Yes?” You wondered where this was going. “Lock him in one.” “What?!” that sounded about as crazy as they all looked. “Yes! That’s such an excellent idea!!” “You guys do realise the lock mechanism keeps you safe right? And that he has a remote system too?” Rob tipped his head knowingly “Aw, like as if a girl like you can’t wrangle the remote from him?” You frowned at that - yeah, you guessed he had a point. “And… what am I doing this for?” Kat scoffed; “yourself for one!” You almost dared shoot her a look, but Rob cut in before the cat fight could start “The good of all your friends here! Our eternal gratitude? To feel good! Put him in his place? Y/N the list is endless!” You noticed no one was offering up a monetary reward! You shook your head with a smirk; “Okay. But I’m getting bragging rights for at least a year, I get a longer routine AND-!” You put your hands on your hips and turned to Rob, “I get to be the MC. At least a couple of times.” “Well, you gotta prove you did it.” Your smirk only grew; there’s one-way glass isn’t there? You’re welcome to watch.” All of them opened their mouths, hesitated, and looks appeared on their faces which let you know they realised exactly what that would entail. “Bring us the remote and any other proof you can. We’ll take it.” “Alright, you’re on...” you held out your hand to shake; Rob took it, and everyone else grabbed your handshake. You winked; “You guys better be thinking of how many precious seconds you can shave off... I’m coming for them.”

** Only that meant by the time the show was over, and pretty much everyone had left. Except the huddled group, because they wanted to make 100% you were going to go ahead with this; you were even more nervous. You could do it sure, but did you want to? Dave was good to you, forward sure - but a good man. And he took care of everyone here. Even if he had a kinda self-important attitude. Still, you saw their point completely. He usually got what he wanted; there was something alluring about him, and you probably weren’t the only girl he’d taken an interest in working here. You’d heard the words ‘Dave Situation’ often enough. In fact you probably weren’t the only girl he was seeing right now. But, you were his favourite. Apparently.

He stood watching you wait patiently for a few minutes. Leaning on the door frame, with a smile. Such a good girl. But Dave knew that already. He scanned the room, frowning a little at those still loitering. He knew who had clients tonight and who didn’t. That caused him slight annoyance as he stepped into the dressing room, calling your name. You turned instantly with a sweet smile and he walked towards you. Dave had an energy almost unreadable, that uncertainty gave him power and he knew it. His eyes traced the group who had allowed pause in their talking; “You can go home, right?” He looked between them, “I don’t pay you to stand around here, you don’t earn commission chatting either. Go home. Get rest.” “Yeah we know what we need to do to get paid around here.” You didn’t visibly wince at that obvious shot at what was about to happen between you and Dave; but he simply furrowed his eyebrows. Saying nothing he turned back to you; “You ready?” “Mmm!” You nodded and stood gracefully. “Good... let’s go.” You turned to the group again with a wink; watch this!!

You always thought that the electronic female voice telling you to play safe was a tad ironic, considering the catered to audience. And you thought that shell safety was a little bit of a joke too. Dave, after all, did have a remote that overrides the lock in system. Who said he didn’t have more he could give out for the right price? You wouldn’t have thought he would though. Even Dave didn’t seem like the kind of man who would put you in danger for money. He waited for the lock to click in place on the entry door and then was on you. Leaving you little-to-no time to take a breath, you found yourself pushed up against the wall in less than seconds. You weren’t wearing a heck of a lot anyway, but your thin coverup didn’t last long - floor - you weren’t about to let him get away with something like that without going for it yourself. Where the hell would he keep his remote, though...? Maybe you could get him to give that information up... You made sure to let him know you didn’t want him wearing his suit jacket too long either - floor. He’d already done the work on his top two buttons, allowing you to push his shirt collar back and kiss his neck. You got a kick out of the sounds he made, and the way he gripped your hips tighter “...Y/N...” Oh! Well, if you could keep him saying your name like that... You bit him just hard enough, and pushed him back. When he conceded a step you knew this would be easy... it couldn’t have been many to the shell, push him in and lock it, and your work was done.

But Dave wanted your lips back on his. So he pulled you to him, hands running as much of your body as was within reach with you pressed up against him like this. Oh god- Dave... Yes-! He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d certainly never wasted his time with getting in tune with you. Okay, so what if you pulled him to the shell, if you lulled him into a false sense of security... You turned him, tugging him closer to you by his shirt. And your moans were are real as his were. He’d deny you his fingertips if he thought he could. There was nothing quite like the way he touched you. Dave chuckled, as he realised where you were heading. “My, my, so eager?” “Yes...” you pitched your voice at just whiny and needy enough for him to give it to you. “Good girl.” ...c’mon a few more feet... You paused just in front of it and broke his trial of kisses. “What?” You looked between his eyes; it was strange to think that for once this man had no idea what was coming. You shook your head, kissing him again - this only soft and gentle... and you knew you were asking for forgiveness before you’d even done what you were going to. You took his hands in yours, turning him on the spot. Perfect. Best guess on where the remote was and you could do this; and it’s not like he would mind your hands on his body. But that kiss confused him. Being so different from the rest as it was... he didn’t have time to quiz you though; because you pulled him again, this time undoing a few more buttons, you ran your hands down his body. That picked his groan back up. He wouldn’t have dared leave his remote in his jacket... that ruled that out. It wasn’t in his shirt pocket... that left his pants. And Dave was left handed. “...Careful...” his whispered against your lips as your hands had to run that low; “...don’t make me call you a bad girl just yet...” Only he would be. Considering. The second you found it you broke the kiss - and pushed him. It was pretty hard and athletic for you, but still. He realised what you’d done far too late and the door closed on him.

At first he sighed, and then laughed; “Oh I see...” but he didn’t. “Funny... let me out.” You at least gave a playful shake of your head “Y/N... don’t make this hard on yourself...” your eyes flicked to his hands searching his pockets. He still thought he had the upper hand. And there was a sick sort of pleasure in watching his face change as he realised he didn’t. “Wh-!” You held the remote up; “Looking for this?” He slammed his hands on the plexiglass - clearly unimpressed. “C’mon, Y/N!” You at least laughed a little, folding your arms “Nah, I think it’s good for you...” Dave’s face changed again, and you’d never seen him look so vulnerable; “W...why??” Your eyes flicked to the club above your heads; “They all think you need a taste of your own medicine. I say they probably have a point...” you threw the remote behind you. You wouldn’t need it for at least a minute; “... I have to watch you... now you have to watch me...” You tilted your head “...The crew thinks you think you’re too good for us. Guess you have that air, but just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean...” you weren’t even sure Dave was listening as he looked around the enclosed space you’d now trapped him in. If he was looking for an escape route, you could happily confirm for him there wasn’t one. You continued “...I guess they think you have an attitude problem they’d like you to tone down... Me? I’m just not sure I hold your attention... or could ever hope to hold it... and I’m not sure how that makes me feel. But certainly not good. You can’t always do whatever you want and expect it not to have... consequences...”

Dave sounded like he was laughing, half hysterically. Like all the words you were saying meant nothing. All jokes for him. Only you realised with horror he wasn’t laughing. Dave was having a full on panic attack. SHIT HE’S CLAUSTROPHOBIC!!?! “Oh my god!! Shit!!!” You turned around; with the nonchalant way you’d chucked the remote it could be anywhere and you, nor he, really had the time for you to waste. “Shit! Dave! Just hold on!!!” Damn the seedy lighting in these rooms!! Eventually it glinted at you from a corner and you couldn’t run to it quick enough. Running back to the shell you never thought you’d heard anything that gave you as much relief as Shell Unlocked

Dave all but collapse into yours arms; gripping you tight. “Baby... baby... hush... hush. It’s okay... it’s okay, I’m here...” you sank down onto your knees, cradling him close to you with soothing tones; “Breathe... sweetheart... just breathe...” if you could regulate his breathing, hopefully you could help him calm down. ...well that wasn’t exactly the humble kind of attitude you expected to evoke. Sure you wanted him to meekly beg you, before you to let him out with an agreement that he’d bend to what the guys wanted. So you could put him on his knees and call him a good boy and feel whatever power he did. But this was more like humiliation. And you weren’t so sure he deserved that. Also, causing a panic attack was the last thing you’d wanted. That was such an awful thing to do. You had a sudden horrific thought; did they know??! Had they asked you to do this because they knew?! It took him a little while to calm down, and he was still clinging onto you even then. “I’m so sorry...” Dave shook his head gently; “Is that how you feel...?” He nodded to the shell “...when you step in that?!” “I’m not claustrophobic, so no. I’m fine... but Dave I’m sorry. If I had any idea...” “That’s why they asked you to do it, isn’t it. Because you didn’t know.” “They do?!” your heart sank and you felt slightly sick – they really had come up with this plan to set off his claustrophobia then… But they didn’t think of you either, did they just expect you to let it happen to him and laugh it off? It hurt you that you’d hurt him. “They probably have some idea...” his breathing was still deep; “Did you mean what you said?” You ran your hands through his hair “We don’t have to talk about that...” “On the contrary... I thought you put me in there to talk about it...” He let out a small laugh “...Good negotiation tactic, I’ll give it that.” You moved your hands slowly as you dared down to his chest. To feel his pulse, under your fingertips - the way it was calming down. Thank Goodness.

Dave lay in your arms in silence for a good while; his only movement a shift to get more comfortable... and his hands found yours, clasping them with a gentle, dare you say affectionate, squeeze. You bent your body and kissed his forehead with care, making his eyes flick to your face and one hand reach up to touch your cheek. “What are you staying here for?” “I’m staying for you. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He shook his head, with a chuckle that seemed almost out of place; “Is that what it is?” “Mmmm…” You couldn’t help but place your hand over his and fit your fingers between the spaces in his own. “You’re a good girl.” “I...” you wouldn’t disagree, neither would you agree with him. You just humbly bit your lip and dipped your head a little more; “...Can I get you out of here...?” He let you help him get to sitting up and then you stood together - still holding hands that way. “Yeah... sure. What you thinkin’...?” “Room 5?” Even he raised his eyebrow at your suggestion of the bedroom. “Why?” “It’s a little more comfortable that the floor...” you nodded to the shell, “It’s considerably lacking in claustrophobic spaces...” Dave chuckled again; “Aw, she’s good and smart too...” This time you conceded quietly; “I try my best...”

Your idea with bringing him in here had nothing to do with taking your clothes off. This was much more neutral; it would give him a safe(r) space to just calm down, chat... rest easy...

You shut the door and waited for it to click into a locked position. Please play sa- “SHUT UP!!!” You chided the female voice with annoyance and turned back to him; “Seriously? Do you know how annoying that thing is?!? And talk about IRONIC!!” He sat on the edge of the bed and threw his jacket over the chair “...It’s supposed to be fun! But I’ll take it into account...” Dave ran a hand through his greying hair, and loosened two or three more of his shirt buttons. “But I don’t like your use of the word ironic...” “Safe is about the last word I would use sometimes... this room...” You folded your arms, watching the way his fingers grazed against the fabric of his shirt a little too closely. Ah! Maybe this was a bad idea! You shook the thought away “…This one is something different. This is what goes on between you and me... but the shells, and some of these other rooms. Because of the barriers, I reckon people think they can do whatever they want without consequence.” You walked over to him slowly “Just because I know I’m locked in there, doesn’t mean I feel safe if someone is screaming things I’d rather not repeat, and trying to get me out...” Dave looked a little perplexed at that; and you figured he either was pretending he didn’t know, or he simply thought if he ignored it it wasn’t happening. But his gaze dropped from yours as you sank onto the bed next to him, so you knew he was taking responsibility for it in his head. As he should - as the establishment owner. “I’m...” “Sorry?” You shook your head “It’s a little late for both of us to say that tonight... don’t you think.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” He places his hands on your thighs, over where your own were resting. “Would you have listened?” You gave him a hard look, to let him know you weren’t messing around when you said that. He gave a sigh “...I wish I wasn’t even considering that I might not...” You tipped his chin back with your fingertips, so his eyes faced you; “...We both have a few things to work on, huh?” “What do you have to-!” You placed your finger to his lips; and you got a few seconds satisfaction of having them back on your skin; “I should never have agreed to do it...” He took your hands in his again - he wanted that physical connection too, it seemed - and those grey-blue eyes studied you; “...God, I must be truly awful for you to agree to do this...”

You weren’t sure he was. That was the problem. Maybe he had good intentions that just didn’t work out. Of all the men you’d interacted with here (besides your colleges), Dave was the only one who cared, and took care of you. Who made you glad that you got to be here with him... and even more glad no one else could. You gave a gentle shrug “Maybe I had stupid selfish reasons...” Dave caught on straight away; “You think I’m seeing someone else.” “Are you?” You tried to not look so hopeful that he’d deny it. “It’s not... like this...” that confused you; because it was neither a yes or a no... You bit your lip “I don’t share well...” That only made him sigh again; “Seems we share that problem.” “Who is she?” “Not you...” “That’s not an answer.” “I know. It’s much less than you deserve. But I am also not at liberty to say...” That had you turning away from him, so he pulled you back - “Y/N... I promise you... you are the only girl I am intent on actively seeing.” “Good. Because I’ll put you in the box again and throw away the remote otherwise.” There was a stalemate of staring for a moment; Dave cracked first; “And... that would be fair...”

The sexual chemistry of the evening had long since passed, and he looked like he was doing a lot better... but you still craved some of that promised intimacy. “Will you hold me..?” “Now?” He opened his body to you; allowing you to wind your arms around him and thread your legs with his “Of course... it is the least you deserve...” Dave could say that all he wanted... but it was obvious he needed it as bad. When he felt you were secure around him, he lay back on the bed; caressing your hair he whispered gentle apologies against your skin. You closed your eyes gently to that - and this once; because of the feeling of him against you like this - you wouldn’t tell him they weren’t good enough. “Ah-! Shoot!” You broke the silence in a way that had him laughing “What...?” His voice was still soft, and he pressed kisses into your forehead. You opened your mouth with a breath, and then covered it; “No! You know I still feel terrible..! Buuuut...” “Buuuut..?” He repeated with a smile “... I promised them I’d prove I did it...” you muttered with a pout “...Gosh, I’m awful...” Dave snorted “Okay, darling, where’s your proof coming from?” You tipped your head, and couldn’t resist the tease; “Guess you walking in tomorrow looking a little shaken would do the trick, huh?” “Don’t push it...” he growled gently, tracing his kisses across your cheek and jawline “...I said I’d get the remote...” He pulled back, eyebrow raised; “How would that prove it?” “I have it, which means I got it from you and locked you in there, as dictated by the plan...” He propped himself up on his elbow and couldn’t help but look amused “...oh, really? Interesting...” “Uh huh. But that means asking for it back...” “Oh.” He shrugged “Take it... you deserve your proof...”

You were surprised by that - he’d just been through a personal hell but he was still going to tell you win? “Oh you don’t need-” “Consider it a favour. I owe you enough, don’t you think...?” Dave ran his thumb over your lips as he held your chin to keep your gaze on his. “Y-Yes...” you couldn’t help but respond that way to the glint in his eyes. And he went back into his pocket; holding out the remote for you. He chuckled; “You go prove to them you did... I’ll go work on myself... and we’ll go from there. What do you say?” You smiled, taking the remote gently from his hand and looking back to him, lacing your fingers with his once more; you asked him for a kiss and he granted you with what you wanted. Pushing his forehead to yours he kept you barely millimetres apart, tangled up together. “I think... that’s a good idea.”

--- Thank You For Requesting!! We are ALL 7 Virtues down! 🎉 2 Sins to go! @dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. 💜❤💙

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

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Chapter 5: A Good Night to Die

A HEROES Fanfiction Angel Before the Fall Series By: Allyssa J. Watkins

“I am going to kill Sylar tonight."

Noah turned the iron spike over and over in his fingers, practically trembling with anticipation. It was red with rust and dried blood. The first time he'd held this spike, he was pulling it out of Sylar's skull. Tonight it was going back in for good. I am going to kill Sylar tonight. How many times had he said those words aloud, wielded them like his choice weapon, threatened it, savored it, promised it, to Claire as she sobbed against his shoulder, to The Company as he stood over the blood-stained carpet of yet another Special with the top of their head sawn off? Hundreds. And every promise, every vow had been a lie. Sylar was an infection, a cancer that he could never quite get all of, that kept coming back even stronger than before. Finally, after four grisly years, Sylar Gray had made a mistake. He'd fallen in love, and given Noah a heart to break, a weak spot to press and ultimately shatter. The plan was foolproof, flawless, and would end in Sylar's Death. It was an impending event, the only outcome, an actual definite. I am going to kill Sylar tonight.

He squeezed his fingers into a fist around the spike, his eyes sharp and focused as he imagined it dripping with Sylar's blood. That snarky psychopath had raised his lethal finger for the last time. I've got you, Gabriel. No more running, no more smart remarks or murderous parlor tricks. The chase is over.

"Hey Bennet, we got Ally to the cell, and gave your orders to the five guards in position. Man, your Primatech Paper Phonies, they make my brother's guys look like punk kids playing paintball!"

"Is she still unconscious? I need her completely blacked out, Sylar's already enough of a variable without adding Mrs. Smith too. In fact, I want all the intercom speakers to the detention wing silenced, alarms, emergency warnings, kill it all. When he comes, I do NOT want her to know. And Peter...... they aren't your brother's guys........ make no mistake, they're DANKO'S guys. Your brother is just the friendly face that legitimizes an ultra illegal operation. Don't forget that. I'm watching out for him. If we need anyone right now, it's Nathan Petrelli. He'll come around, you'll see. Killing Sylar is exactly the win we need to get him to stop this ridiculous witch hunt.

Peter got really quiet, biting the corner of his lip before looking at Noah with solemn eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Noah. God....... I needed to hear that. It all comes down to tonight. I just want my brother back. Ally's down for the count, I'll tell the security guys about the intercom........"

"I have a question. What happens if someone comes here, actually wanting to buy some paper?"

Noah cracked a smile, as he pocketed the spike. "Good question, Parkman. You know, it's funny, in all my twenty plus years in the business, that has never once happened."

Noah stared at his flip phone on his desk, and Peter followed his gaze.

"Has he called yet?"

"Sylar? No, not yet, but it's coming. I can feel his hatred and rage from here. Rene hasn't checked in though, that's what's worrying me. I told him eight o'clock on the dot, or I'm deporting him."

"Relax. I just got off the phone with Claire, she's fine, she's having some kind of sleepover girls night with her dorm mates."

Noah whirled around, his features hard. "I didn't say anything about Claire, what do you mean you just got off the phone with CLAIRE!?"

"Whoah, Angry Dad, she called ME!! Your daughter's worried about you, Noah. C'mon don't give me that look, I played it cool, I didn't tell her anything about tonight. I'm her uncle too, remember? I told her Sylar was a near miss, and that The Haitian's there strictly as a precaution. Smart move by the way, Sylar's not getting anywhere near her with him hanging around.

"Perfect. Now you know my daughter's exact location, just what I wanted, and HELLO, "Cool Uncle Peter," how do you know that, "girls night sleepover," isn't the secret code for "college rager party with tons of strange boys," any one of them being SYLAR!? She's MY daughter, Peter, she may not have my actual DNA, but she inherited my lying ability pretty quick."

"I just want to say," Parkman started, looking at Noah earnestly, "I myself, didn't hear anything about where Claire may or may not be. And if she is where I don't know, Sylar's not getting it from me."

"Na, she's not trying to pull one over on you, Noah, I heard Notebook playing in the background, and at least one girl crying over some guy named Chad. I think we're good."

Parkman made a face, "Wait.......You've SEEN Notebook?"

"What? No......" Peter stammered, his cheeks turning red.

"How did you recognize it if you haven't seen it?" Parkman asked trying not to laugh.

"I..... I just guessed- I mean, I'm sure she told me the name of the- one of the other girls probably-

Both Parkman and Noah leaned in expectantly, with knowing smiles.

"Alright fine!!! I watched it with my mom one night when I got off late, she'd been fighting with my dad, and GEEZ it was just the one time, okay!"

"Did you fantasize about being Ryan Gosling?"

"No! Well, maybe a little....... Rachel McAdams is hot, alright?"

"Let's hope for the love of GOD you lie better to my daughter, than you do to us."

Suddenly the flip phone on Noah's desk rang, and a cold, deathly silence filled the room.

"That's him. Everybody out. It's showtime."

**********

Noah inhaled deeply, as he took the phone in his hands. The ring sounded angry, accusing. He flipped it open, his hand steady, and slowly brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Nothing at first. Silence. But it was the Sylar kind of silence, the calm before the storm, the kind of silence that was an obvious threat. He heard it then, the heavy, erratic breathing, and could almost picture Sylar, shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to keep his composure.

"Hey Syyy! I had a feeling you might check in. How's it goin' buddy? Thanks for the scar."

"......... Where......... is............ she?" Sylar's voice was seething, animalistic, and not at all human. It sounded the way you'd talk to someone right before you murdered them.

"I've got her, Gabriel. You want her back? You better be willing to make a deal."

Noah could practically hear Sylar's nostrils flaring on the other line, his fuming inhale as he tried to steady his breathing. More silence.

"Sylar?"

"DAMN you to HELL, Noah! You son of a BITCH, you have NO idea what you've just done!!!!"

"You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth? You'll be kissing her goodbye, if you don't start talking."

More silence

"Let me guess, Noah," Sylar responded venomously, saying Noah's name like it was an insult all its own. "This is the part where I break down sobbing, the distraught boyfriend, begging you not to hurt her, and offer myself in exchange, right? WRONG. I don't plan on dealing. This is a courtesy call. THIS is the LAST chance you'll EVER have to hand her over, before I raise hell all around you and take her anyway. You don't do every single damn thing I tell you, then you're in for the WORST night of your life, and oh GOD you're going to wish I'd just killed you." Sylar chuckled coldly, his voice dripping with dark sarcasm.

"You're not really in the position to be making any demands, right now, Sy." Noah smiled, his eyes razor sharp, practically feeling Sylar's back arch, disgusted. "I know you. You're playing it cool, chillin' like a villain, but you're going CRAZY without her, it's tearing you up inside, I can feel it, I can hear it, in the edge in your voice. You're off your handle, and you don't know what the HELL you're going to do........."

Sylar's nostrils flared with his fury, and he scrunched the burner phone in his hand as he lowered it against his cheek, tempted to crush it with his fist, his eyes flashing like wildfire embers.

He looked at the violent destruction all around him, half of it he didn't even remember doing, he'd been so blind with rage. It was one of his old haunts, a long ago abandoned hotel in Queens called, "The Rogue." The kind of place he would have never taken his lady. Dark blood spatter on the floor from previous kills, slashed paintings, broken ceramic pieces from lamps, ashtrays, soap dishes, anything he could throw, torn down wallpaper, green marble actually dug out from the floor, crumbling holes in the wall, shredded curtains and sheets, and an entire mattress torn clean in half, feathers still floating in the dusty air, after he'd ripped his way through the down pillows. Every single thing in the room had been ravenously demolished. His whole body shook with his deep hatred of Noah and how dead on he was. Damn right, he'd gone mental.

"Face it, Sylar. You're out of moves. Your shield is literally down. Checkmate, because I've got your Queen. Step away from the board and turn yourself in. You do that, and I might even let you say goodbye."

"What do you mean LITERALLY down!?" Sylar said far louder and much more concerned than he'd meant to. Damn it. He turned his head at an exact angle, feeling his chest expand. "No....... no, nice try, you wouldn't kill her before you got to me. Ha. Yeah right, Good Guy Noah Bennet. She's alive. I would know if you were lying. Besides, she probably reminds you too much of your precious Claire."

"Gabriel, you know better than anyone that Good Guys are capable of some very BAD things. She's not dead...... not yet. But if you don't give yourself up...... She will be. Especially if you even say Claire's name one more time."

Sylar waited for it, the reassuring tingle, his body signaling Noah's lie, his vision shaking. Noah was a good liar, but he wasn't a killer. He waited..... But it never came.

"I should have KILLED you in the alley, Noah. I had you. I had your throbbing jugular between my fingers, and I should have squeezed hard, until it burst open."

"You didn't have me, Gabriel. I had you. I had everything right where I wanted it. If you'd taken one step where you weren't supposed to be, I'd have shot her in the chest, her blood cloaking possibilities be damned."

"Please. No you wouldn't have. Even if you did, I can heal, or did you forget? You know who you can thank for that. One injection of my blood, and she'd be alive, and you'd be just another NYC homicide. You EVER shoot her, or so much as touch one curl, and I'll cut out your beating heart."

Noah grinned jovially. Oh he didn't know, didn't even realize it yet. He wished he could see his face as he told him. "Wrong. Your blood can't save her, you fool. One shot, she's dead. Her blood can't be altered by anyone but herself, or did YOU forget? You can give her every drop you've got, but she's not coming back. It doesn't matter if I killed her then, or if I kill her now, or if YOU kill her later. That's right, one day you're going to get in one of your moods, you're going to get angry, you're going to work out your aggression without thinking, and she's going to be standing too close....... Don't you get it!? You're going to kill her the same way you did your own sweet mother, the same way you killed VIRGINIA!!!!"

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY MY MOTHER'S NAME!!!!!!! Sylar screamed into the phone, his eyebrows slanted dangerously downward, his bottom lip shuddering, incensed. He punched another hole into the wall, with a yell, felt it crumble with the force of his fist, and watched his bruised and bleeding knuckles melt softly back into perfect skin. He was nauseous, his head swimming. He couldn't save Ally. If they took her life, he couldn't bring her back........

"You can save her, Sylar. Turn yourself in, and she goes free, untouched, safe, and you'll never have to worry about living through that trauma again. Her life for yours, it's that easy.

Noah could feel the uncertainty, the fear in Sylar's silence.

"You were right about one thing...... No matter how this goes down, I'll NEVER let you have her. You really think you deserve LOVE after all that you've done!? Villains never get the girl, Gabriel, there is NO happily ever after for you. After you DESTROYED my marriage there's no way in hell I'm just going to let you ride off into your twisted version of a sunset, with that girl, letting you use and abuse her to your black heart's content. I'd rather see her dead, than on your arm."

"You'll never take her from me again, Noah. I'm going to get her back, and when I do...... I'm going to punish you, ohhhh yes, I can make you feel pain that you'd never believe exists. You take away my dream, and I'll introduce you to your nightmare." Sylar felt his blood quicken, the killer within stirring, a slow smirk salaciously working its way across his lips. "The game's not over, it starts with me throwing away the board."

"Listen to you. You love it, don't you?" Noah said, a bit incredulous. "Sylar Gray, The Big Bad Boyfriend."

Sylar smiled, one eyebrow raised, his dark eyes positively sinful." It certainly makes the downtime more fun. So much more....... interactive."

"So you're sleeping with her?"

Sylar chuckled, brushing his thumb along his strong jawline, feeling his heart race at the thought. "Come, Noah, must you be so crass? It's called love-making and no. She's not that kind of girl."

"But you ARE that kind of boy. Don't think I didn't see you with Elle before that second eclipse. If you hadn't already killed her father, he would have killed you."

"Oh you know me, Noah, always plan ahead. Yes, I am, and I'm ready, but she's delicate, and worth waiting for...... besides you know how I love to have my imagination teased. The anticipation........ can be exquisite."

Noah felt his stomach writhe, thoroughly creeped out, and his voice was wildly unenthused. "Well..... lucky her. I suppose third time's a charm."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know EXACTLY what I mean. You're a literal lady killer, first Maya, then Elle, and now your new victim, Lovely Miss Ally."

Sylar rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Maya was a means to an end, and last time I checked still very much alive, I might add. The whole seduction was a ruse, and I didn't even have my powers then."

"Which didn't stop you from putting a bullet in her chest if I remember correctly."

"Insurance. If I hadn't, there would have been no way to know if Mohinder was giving me the right vial. I needed my powers back. And Elle....... Elle was your fault."

"Alright. I'll give you that one."

"Although........ I should thank you, really. If you and Elle hadn't pulled your messed up little stunt, I never would have become Sylar. You created me, Noah, and stopped poor Gabriel from killing himself."

"Like Frankenstein's Monster. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret that. I should have let you hang yourself."

"Oh Elle....... If she hadn't used me, manipulated me, and outright lied to me about my parents, we might have worked. I think of her every time I'm electrocuting the life out of some poor soul......." He flipped his wrist, smiling fondly, and Noah could hear the crackle of blue lightning. "Oh yes, Elle's parting gift. It's funny...... at first, my little brunette seemed too good to be true as well. I threw her against the wall because I thought she was working for you. Fool me twice......"

"If I could have possibly known the hold she'd have on you, the unsettling fascination you'd have for her, she would be. Honestly, I imagined your taste in women much more malevolent. Nobody thinks the serial killer's going to fall for the girl scout. It sounds like a bad slasher flick. But then again..... what is it you call yourself? Sylar, The Great Defiler?"

"A lot of people call me that."

"No, it's just you. You make them good girls go bad, huh? Or is it opposites attract and all that?"

"Who says it can't be both? I just find it so sexy that the same girl and boy that always stayed in, unnoticed, unimportant, and spent every single night of their lives alone, are now the two most powerful beings in this world. Just warms ya up, doesn't it? I own the night now, Noah. And I own Ally.

"Not right now, you don't. You may have her fooled, with your tortured soul, misunderstood, all-I-need-is-love act, but as usual I see right through you. She's nothing but your next casualty. She belongs to The Company now, where her powers can be used for good, and not shielding worthless scum like you.

"Before you get too excited, Noah, about using her and get these grand delusions of invincible armies, allow me to enlighten you. "It won't work if you try to force her. She has to do it willingly. She has to want to do it. And she only has enough power to surround one person at a time."

"How the hell did you get her to do it for you that first time, then?"

"Hmmm.....It's killing you isn't it? I can't decide if it was my sexy eyebrows or my annihilating smile that convinced her. Huh. Probably both. You see, she has a thing for bad boys. And as it so happens, I have a thing for good girls. Especially when they have that little something extra y'know?

"Or much more likely, she showed you out of pure desperation so that you wouldn't kill her that first encounter. That's one to tell the grandkids."

"Yeah," Sylar smiled softly, remembering. She'd been so brave and instantly drawn to him, so willing and gentle. "That too...... God she's so clever. The moment she touched my chest, and I felt that inexplicable power pulsing through my veins, what can I say? She had me.

"And her little spell lasts about two hours doesn't it?"

Noah heard Sylar go dangerously silent on the other line. His breathing getting quiet, deadly.

"Yeah, that's right, I know about that too. Two hours, and it's been, what do you think, at least nine since your last power up?"

"Isn't that fortunate?" Sylar practically hissed, his snarky tone turning again cold and vicious. "You might actually have a fighting chance..... for once, Noah. Or at least a few hours longer than you deserve to live....... Well, it's been swell chatting, Bennet, but I'm bored. This is your last chance. Are you going to give me what's mine, or do we get to do this the fun way?

"You don't even know where I am, Gabriel. You'll never find her."

"I don't? You sure about that, Noah?"

A loud bang came from inside the closet and Sylar twitched like a predator that hadn't yet been fed.

"I know when you're bluffing, and I know when you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"Fun way it is. It's a good night to die, Noah. See ya in a few."

Sylar hung up, and Noah slowly lowered his phone. "Yes, Gabriel, it is."

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#sylar #heroes #gabriel gray #noah bennet #peter petrelli #matt parkman #primatech #claire bennet #sylar x oc #angel before the fall

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nevergiveupneverrun · 5 years

Text

Bodyguard - Chapter Twelve “The memory of the body” Part One

Hello, I hope you’re all doing great. Here is chapter twelve of my Story Bodyguard. I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

A week had passed since the reception for Amelia’s foundation and this chase. A week that Amelia’s stress was climbing with each passing day… not so much because of the threats, she had regained the upper hand in record time… but because of the upcoming concert, which was only a few days away. She kept repeating and I didn’t count the number of trips back to the Conservatoire or the studio. Richard was even worried about Amelia’s diligence, so much that he had imposed today on a day off, which had the effect of annoying Amelia noticeably. She was not particularly happy and had spent much of her day in her composition room playing and humming her songs.

I was looking for her in the house, no longer hearing any melody escape from the end of the corridor. Approaching the room, I soon perceive two distant voices: those of Amelia and April who were be installed on the terrace. - It will change your ideas! - I don’t know April, a quiet evening at home would do me good too, I think… - Not at all… an evening between us, where we drink more than reason and where we dance all night, it is the best remedy for your state of mind… you are a too anxious sweetheart! Even if the best remedy is not the best expression: it is a good remedy but not the best… - Oh yes, and what is the best remedy, doctor? I hear Amelia’s smile through her voice as she challenges her friend. - You know Amelia… but you can not do it alone… April’s mischievous tone echoes in my ears. - April Kepner, you will never change! - Stop, you know that it’s effective, and besides, you don’t have to look far! - Clearly, men are jostling at my door right now… I’m about to move away from their discussion when April’s sentence suddenly stops me in my movement. - Maybe not, but there is a man 24 hours a day at home… - And who works here…Amelia adds. - You should take things more lightly sometimes… frankly, I saw some of the bodyguards on the filmings where I was able to work and they look more like Schwarzy than Ryan Gosling… I’ll pay a lot for a ride with Mr. Hunt… - You know it’s a very bad idea April… - Stop thinking from time to time… - You will not make me believe that you don’t like him? - I didn’t say that… - What do you say then? - He is… I listen carefully despite me but she doesn’t finish her sentence. - Anyway, it’s my bodyguard and I’m not… Amelia stops again without revealing her thoughts clearly. April remains silent a few moments, then I hear her voice again soon, but more weakly than before. - Everyone will not let you… just one person… just fall on the right… then you should take over Owen’s contract and add a clause so that he takes care of you in every sense of the word, ends April in a laugh. I slip away on this remark; I should not have heard this conversation let alone the colorful comments that knew so well April. I had always noticed certain looks from women: I knew that I could count on real ease in contact with them, but this kind of opinion about me always made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t see at all what seemed to fascinate them. I go down the stairs to join the kitchen and serve myself a glass of fresh fruit juice while trying to chase the conversation out of my mind. I finish my drink quietly when I hear steps down the stairs and a question that reaches me from the stairs. - We will ask him, we will see what he answers, right? April and Amelia step into the kitchen: April first, with a decided step and Amelia behind her, a little less assured. - Owen, we were looking for you, April launches. Amelia told me that my idea of soirée was not compatible with your rules, so I just check with the expert? - I listen to you… - Here: Richard asked Amelia to relax today and decompress a maximum… and for me, it is necessary that Amelia takes a little air and has fun: hence the soirée that I propose, a soirée in a night club for her to let go a little! A soirée in a night club?! I remain silent after April’s announcement. Nightclubs were some of the places I feared the most in my profession: noise, crowds, lack of space. I had always managed to avoid this environment that combined all the risks. - You see April, it’s not a good idea, whispers Amelia taking her friend by the hand. The distant and weak voice of Amelia calls me, she carefully avoids my eyes. Her face strikes me, however: more dull and closed than usual, so that I consider in spite of me the suggestion of April. - Is it really important to you? Amelia stops in her movement and finds my gaze while April moves forward again. - Of course, it’s important… - I ask the question to Amelia, April… Amelia hesitates a few seconds then answers me in a voice almost shy while fixing me. - April knows how to be convincing… and that could change me a little the ideas actually… I look at her for a long time, she really didn’t look better today. I would have like to detect a glow in these two pupils that I could recognize between a thousand henceforth… enjoy a frank smile on her face… April’s idea was perhaps complicated to manage but if it could give a little energy and confidence to Amelia… and revive the joy of life that I missed at this moment by seeing her in front of me. I think quickly reviewing the details of such a soirée. - Are you aware that you can not go out alone? - Yes, of course, that’s why we talk about it, says April. - Well… I’m not going to say that you make my job easier… but if it’s important to you… - Thank you, Owen, you make two happy, exclaims April. - Some small remarks, however… have you already a place in mind? I prefer that it’s not a night club accessible to anyone. A place that already makes a minimum of sorting… and that we can enter through discreet access… - No problem, we expected to go to a friend’s night club: a pretty select place… and since we know the owner well, she can arrange all the necessary details… she can keep us a table in a corner a little less discovered, privatize a VIP zone… - Good, and agree with her that she keeps a table near the exits while giving a view of most of the room… and that we can enter by the entrance of the staff and not the official entrance. - Ok, I will call her, it should not be a problem… - Are you sure, April? Saturday night, she often has a stage with bands playing live… and well-known DJs who mix… tables are often booked well in advance. - She will make us a little place, don’t worry, Amy… something else Owen? - At with time do you plan to leave? - Around 10:30 pm… are you ok? April asks turning to Amelia. Amelia just nods her head. - Okay, I’ll tell Jackson, I said going back to my room.

4 hours later.

One last look at my outfit and I decided to leave my room. I had finally left my tie on my bed, judging that it would have been the accessory of too much for the soirée: shirt and jacket of the suit were amply enough. I go back to the entrance and I’m surprised discovering Jackson at the foot of the stairs. - Hi Jackson, how did you come home? - I have a key you know now, it was Richard who gave me it a few days ago. - Did you see the girls? - Uh… I saw April… she was coming out of the kitchen… and see a woman welcome me in bra and panties, dress in hand, I didn’t have this pleasure fifteen times in my life… you must not be bored, tell me! He said laughing. - If you knew… He smiles a little more in front of my answer before resuming his seriousness. - In any case, you surprised me when you told me where we were going. Are you sure? - Yes, I’m well aware, but we will take all the necessary precautions and everything will be fine. - What made you accept? - Amelia needed to get some fresh air and I’m not here to stop her from living. - Not so long ago, though, you would have categorically refused these kinds of outings… Jackson observes me for a few seconds, when heels slam a few meters away from us, at regular intervals, to the rhythm of the stairs. I turn around and discover April and Amelia come down and walk towards us. I can not help but quickly note their outfits and the difference between them that expresses through their look. April is dressed in a sleeveless white dress, extremely short, arriving at mid-thigh, with black heels. Amelia has opted for slim black jeans with a red silk top, revealing her shoulders and knotted visibly behind her neck. - Good evening, gentlemen, launches April in a singing voice while advancing towards the coat rack to detach a light jacket. Amelia follows her and just smiles, turning around. And the top she wears is actually much less wise at first sight, revealing her whole back… and I realize that the tie behind her neck is the only link hold this piece of fabric against her. A black suit jacket that she puts on, stops me quickly in my observation. - We can go? Can you give me the address? Asks Jackson by my side. - Yes, we are going to Belltown, on the edge of Western Avenue, I will tell you where to go when we were nearby. - All right, let’s go there. Jackson walks out of the house first, followed by April, as I bring up the rear with Amelia. I notice that she almost reaches my height. A look at her shoes quickly gives me the answer to these many centimeters that she had won for the soirée: a pair of stiletto heels at least 12 centimeters to her feet in which she seemed incredibly comfortable. I see her eyes, looking up and she smiles at me having noticed my observation. - I cheat a little… I’m not lucky enough to have a mannequin size. - You should not pay to much attention to these pseudo-standards… but I remain admiring in your mastery of balance, I will be unable! - Ha, something that I know better than you, I’ll remember, she replies in a burst of laughter. I join her, laughing in my turn, happy to have won this sweet melody. The girls both sit in the back and then we head straight for Western Avenue, under the bright, twinkling lights of a Seattle night, worthy of the most beautiful postcards. April and Amelia chat loudly behind us: however, we remain focused with Jackson on the road and especially on the vehicles surrounding us… Jackson taking care not to take the shortest drive to have time to see if a suspicious car was lurking around us. He finally nods to me saying that there is no warning and continues on the road until arriving on Western Avenue. - April, we are there, says Jackson with a look backward. - Okay, then go up the avenue again and you will take the next right at the light you see in front of you. The night club is at the corner and the « discreet » entrance is from the back, we can leave the car, says April. Jackson follows April’s directions and we head down the small street, cutting off Western Avenue, and skirting a glittering signboard showing “Rainbow World”. Jackson parks in a nook in the back of an imposing building where I guess a door marked “staff only”. - It’s here? - Yes, mission accomplished, announces April with a wink. We can enter through this access, we will arrive by the offices and the owner will let us pass. - Okay, …wait until I go out, ok? - A quick question… what will Jackson do? Jackson looks at me for a few seconds, surprised by the question, before answering to April. - I will wait here as usual. - Are you going to wait for hours alone in this car? Frankly, it will not help much, you should accompany us. - April… - You run fast, you will be quickly in the car less than a minute if we had to leave quickly… - I don’t… - And it might be more prudent to have to former agents with us than one, right? April’s last remark makes me seriously consider her suggestion. Jackson looks at me for a moment again not knowing what to say. - As long as you’re driving when I need you… the rest is up to you… - Ok, so if I can keep company to O’, why not? I think it’s not going to be easy… Jackson and I get out of the car at the same time and open the door respectively to April and Amelia. We go all four towards the « Staff Only » door facing us, a door that I open to let April then Amelia enter first. The heat of the place is stifling from our first steps inside. The light is weak and almost less pronounced than the street lighting we had just left. We walk in the corridors, leaving several doors on both sides of our passage, while I quickly see a silhouette in the background. As I go, I gradually distinguish a young woman, small and thin in front of us, dressed in a long black dress slightly slit on the side and put on… caster shoes. - Hi girls, she said while we are still a few steps away. Her voice is soft and cheerful which is a stark contrast to her assured look. - Hello Ari, April answers by making her a kiss on the cheek. - Good evening Arizona, continues Amelia imitating April. - Access is right for you? - Yes, it’s perfect, thanks… by the way, I present to you Owen and Jackson who are with us tonight. - Good evening sirs. Arizona Robbins, the club owner.

Thank you so much for reading. 💛

#greysanatomy #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics #amelia shepherd #Owen Hunt #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #jackson avery #april kepner #arizona robbins #bodyguard

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misssophiachase · 5 years

Note

Mini Prompt - Klaus kisses Caroline at midnight on NYE and it leaves her a bit flustered, although she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.

Thanks anon! I wish I had this for Klaroeve. I hope you like my take. It’s based on lyrics from New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift, one of my faves. As per usual I’m not too good at sticking to the whole ‘mini’ premise of a drabble, must be your amazing prompt!

New Year’s Day

Hold onto the memories…

PresentDay – Austin, TX

Caroline Forbes hated New Year’s Eve.

Well, since five years ago.

It had become a well-known fact within her family andclose circle of friends both in her hometown of New York and now more recently in Austin. Thankfully no one had dared to askwhy she’d changed her tune so suddenly and that was just fine.

So much so that she insisted upon being left aloneevery year. And for the most part they did so because she was like an extremelygrouchy bear with a sore head. Obviously December 31st, 2018, was anotherstory altogether. Her friends had bravely, or stupidly, decided to poke said bear.

Caroline had bought the supermarket out of ChunkyMonkey and was preparing her first movie. Who didn’t want to watch the Notebookon New Year’s Eve? It wasn’t like the occasion could get any moredepressing, right?

“Ohgod, kill me,” she heard that familiar voice before she saw its owner. “Talkabout depressing.” It was like she could read her mind.

“Idon’t know, Ryan Gosling isn’t too bad to look at, Kat,” the other familiarvoice offered.

“Weare trying to get her out of this sick and twisted situation not remind herthat Ryan Gosling is hot and a totally worthy reason for staying home on New Years.”

“Wayto convince her to come out,” Bonnie drawled, sarcastically.

“Yourealise I can hear you both, right?” She murmured, chomping on some butteredpopcorn and not bothering to turn around knowing her best friends were standingimpatiently in her kitchen. “And while we’re at it, remind me toconfiscate your keys to my apartment.”

“Canyou just drop this whole hostility act, it’s not attractive, Care,” Katherinechided.

“Saysthe girl who is crashing my private movie marathon?”

“Youneed an intervention, enough is enough,” she huffed, her high heels clicking onthe floorboards. Caroline didn’t have much time to react given her supposedbest friend had stolen the television remote and turned everything off.

“Youdidn’t just do that, real mature Pierce. Who are you anyway? The fun police?” She snapped, a comment more than a question. Katherinelifted the remote above her head so she couldn’t snatch it so easily.

“If you think she’s the fun police, you really do need help,” Bonnie added. “This whole, weird tradition needs to be broken.”

“Ithought you were on my side, Bon?”

“Notsince you decided that outfit was acceptable even behind closed doors,” shesuggested. Caroline looked curiously at her combination of pinksweatpants and a blue and orange Knicks jersey and decided it was just fine.

“Iknow you’re a Spurs fan Bonnie but even that comment is low.”

“Justplease stop being snarky and put this on,” Katherine drawled, holding up whatlooked like a small, black garment.

“Byitself?” Caroline baulked.

“It’sa dress, Caroline,” she shot back.

“Areyou sure it’s not a belt?”

“Howold are you again?” Caroline narrowed her eyes in her friend’s direction. Shewas on the older side of twenty-seven but there were moments her Great Aunt Mabel decided to takeover her body. Caroline chose to think this was one of those occasions.

“I’mnot getting off this couch until you tell me what’s going on?” She scoffed.

“Fine,”Kat replied gruffly, relinquishing the dress (or belt) momentarily. “Youknow that guy I was telling you about?” Before Caroline could mentally trawl through theoptions, Bonnie interjected.

“No,not the Italian model, the Australian magician or the Scandinavian fisherman,” sheclarified. “This one is an art critic.”

“Wow, those are the hardest nuts to crack,” Caroline replied knowingly. She was a singer by trade, doing mostly small gigs around town but had met a few of those in her time performing at art gallery exhibitions. “ And I reiterate my previous observation,” she whistled thinking back to the most difficult of them.

5 years earlier…NYC

It was that ominous New Year’s Eve five years ago when she met a difficult art critic for the very first time. While his suit was impeccable, his attitude and supposed manners were grating on her last nerve. She was hoping to escape as soon as their set was finished.

The room was full, barely enough space to breathe in fact. Caroline had finished her song and made her way to what she thought was the back exit for some air but obviously took a wrong turn.

Caroline didn’t consider herself an art expert but she was neither excited nor moved by the works on display. She’d walked in circles, not expecting to meet someone obviously worked up and pacing the length of what looked like a back room.

“Sorry,” she offered, his eyes meeting her gaze unexpectedly. Caroline would be lying if she wasn’t aroused in that moment by his sinful, crimson lips and a stray dimple. “I took a wrong turn.”

“Do you like the art?” His question blind sighted her briefly. Caroline knew exactly what she thought but given they’d never been introduced formally and this guy was the artist paying her bills she was reluctant to speak.

“Well, um…”

“This work is rubbish don’t you think?

“Well, it’s not really my place…”

“Why, cat got your tongue?”

“Fine. If I’m being honest, it seems kind of forced.”

“How so?” She paused, wondering why this guy was so eager for her amateur opinion. “The truth, please,” he implored, she couldn’t miss the desperation in his tone and those pleading eyes.

“Honestly? It has no heart, it’s cold and unfeeling,” she admitted. “But please don’t tell the artist, I’d like to be able to pay my rent next month.”

He’d stared at her for a good few minutes and she wasn’t sure what he was going to do next. Turns out he didn’t have to say anything. She’d obviously said too much and kicked herself mentally. Caroline always spoke without thinking and this instance was no different.

The chants from the art gallery increased in volume and they could hear each number as it was articulated for countdown purposes. Still their eyes never lowered or deviated.

8….

“I hate New Year’s Eve,” Caroline murmured trying to break the tension.

“Me too,” he replied, a slight and unexpected grin tugging at the ends of those lips. “Even more than gallery showings when you hate the work your publicist has chosen without permission.”

6….

“You’re the artist?” She squeaked, “I thought it was the rude guy in the suit.”

“No, that’s my older brother,” he murmured. First she’d insulted his art and now his own brother. “He’s an art critic and thinks he knows everything. My sister is the publicist.”

“Well, I’d be firing their incompetent asses now, unless it makes things awkward at Christmas, of course.” she smiled, hoping a bit humour would dig her out of this big hole.

4….

“Who says it wasn’t awkward beforehand? I know you’re a singer but if there’s any chance you want to be my publicist let me know.”

“I’m not the nagging type but I’m also not the kiss-your-ass type either.”

3….

“Why? Don’t you like my ass?”

“If I was your publicist right now I’d say that ego is not attractive,” she shot back slyly. “And it might be difficult for me to lie if I was asked to deny it.”

1…

“I wouldn’t want you to lie, love,” he murmured. “Your honesty is the best part about you.”

As the countdown ended and the cheers sounded out, it was as if an invisible magnet pulled them together. She thought he was a bit of an ass and he seemed to be going through an artistic crisis, but their kiss lasted much longer than the prescribed time.

And it felt good.

So good.

Caroline didn’t want to enjoy it or him but the idiot had messed with her resolve. She pulled back, trying to find her balance and bearings as she did. “I’ve got to get going and sing some Auld Lang Syne.” She couldn’t miss the disappointment as it crossed his face.

“Thank you,” he offered as she walked away.

“For what?” She couldn’t resist, turning around briefly.

“For being honest.” She smiled briefly, the warmth flooding through her body before heading towards the make-shift stage.

She left not long after her set finished making her way from the venue. She hadn’t seem him again, probably best because guys like that weren’t her type. It was only when she passed him conversing with a very annoyed brunette who was questioning his absence during the countdown that Caroline realised he had a girlfriend but was kissing her instead. Her instincts were obviously right.

Unfortunately she hadn’t stopped thinking about him or that kiss since. He’d sparked something inside that Caroline hadn’t expected. Bastard. She’d even shamefully looked him up on the internet and realised he had multiple girlfriends around the place. She really should have known.

Caroline had always hated New Year’s Eve but now she decided it was best to avoid it at all costs. It was too much trouble.

They will hold onto you…

“He’sholding a party tonight at a place called the Original Gallery. Ineed to be there,” Katherine pleaded, choosing to ignore herindiscretions. “I think this guy is my soulmate Care, I can just feel it.”

“Andthis is your way of convincing her to come, how?” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“You know art, Care. It would help if you were there as my wing woman.”

Granted she loved to visit galleries in her spare time and had recently enrolled in an art history course at UT but it didn’t make her an expert. Far from it, in fact. This was most definitely a stretch on Kat’s part, not that she was surprised.

“How about no?”

“How about you think about it and lose some of that Creature of the Black Lagoon act, you know hating everyoneand everything in your wake?”

“Another stellar reason for her to agree,” Bonnie observed.

“Please Care, you can stay in the corner of the room away from all people if that helps.”

“And Ihear the Hors d'oeuvres are going to be phenomenal if that’s anyconsolation,” Bonnie suggested.

Caroline bit her lip, torn between helping her annoying friend and the comfort of her couch. If she had any doubts, they were sealed when Katherine removed the remote control batteries and placed them securely in her purse.

“You are officially evil,” Caroline scowled.

“Howabout we talk about this while you change,” she smirked, throwing the dress (orbelt) in her direction. She was tempted to wipe the triumphant expression fromher face but decided to leave that for when she needed it most.

“Ihate you.”

“Ilove you too, Forbes.”

Fastforward three hours and Caroline was attempting to pull down her dress withoutmuch luck, it was still too short for her liking. If she had something else She was gladat least that Katherine and Bonnie seemed to be otherwise engaged.

Turns out Katherine had a thing for the art critic she’d met all those years ago. He still looked good in a suit but if anyone was a match for his disdain it was Katherine. His brother Kol, an indie film director, was in deep conversation with Bonnie.

It gave her chance to peruse the artwork, and it was some of the most brilliant she’d ever seen. What she hadn’t expected on entering was it to be at his show.

Of all people.

Caroline had no intention of seeing him again. She wasn’t some groupie even if his work was suddenly brilliant. She also noted that the clock was moving freely past midnight and the lastplace she wanted to be was in a big group of strangers.

Carolinetook the opportunity to escape towards the toilets. In her haste shemissed the marked doors and found herself in what seemed like a makeshiftstudio. It wasn’t her first getting lost, after all.

The lights were dimmed but she could make out the canvases lined upagainst the walls and the easel in the centre of the room which caught herattention.

Carolineshivered slightly, not sure whether it was the cool temperature or thespectacular art stealing her attention. She noticed a white, paintsplattered shirt hanging nearby, slipping it over her barely theredress without much thought. Suddenly she felt extremely comfortable, it didn’thurt that the familiar scent emanating from the collar was the perfect mixture of spiceand soap.

Shemade her way towards the easel, her hand reaching out and tracing the longbrush strokes.

“Doyou usually break and enter and steal people’s clothes?” She couldn’t see him but his crisp, Britishaccent was messing with her concentration. Mainly because of just how familiar it was, even after five years.

“Itook a wrong turn,” she shot back. “And it’s pretty cold when your bestfriend decides you should wear a belt disguised as a dress.”

“Funnyyou mention it, I have that problem all the time.”

“I’llbet you do,” she laughed. It was nice to let loose for a change. As he came into view it was difficult not to react. The semi insecure artist from years ago was oozing confidence in dark jeans and a grey henley. “I’m sorry to tell you this but your work is kind of…”

“Kind of?” A low, self-conscious growl emanated from his throat.

“Is someone worried?”

“You were the one who made me better before but if I need a kick up the ass I’m willing to take it.”

“Well, given our history, you know I’m not a fan of your ass,” she teased. Apparently he was an ass but it was so difficult not to react to his banter.

“I signed up to the gym straight away, my New Year’s Resolution,” he shared. “I also tried to track you down but you never returned my messages. I’d be lying if I said you didn’t give me a complex and not just because of the body shaming.”

“Says the guy who was absent from sharing a midnight kiss with his brunette girlfriend. I saw you two when I left.”

“I didn’t have a girlfriend,” he murmured, his mind obviously racing. “Hayley and I had a brief thing but she turned up that night insisting we get back together. I haven’t thought about anyone but you since that night. She was never really my type.”

“And what is your type exactly?”

“Smart, beautiful, feisty and outspoken. Tells me my work is bad, tells me my family are overbearing and that I’m an arrogant ass. And looks far better in my shirt than me. All of it factually correct.”

“Was there any question? But also….”

“Hang on, I wasn’t finished,” he interrupted. “You were the only person who was honest about my work. You saved me.”

“Now, I think you’re being a little dramatic,” she murmured, hoping he wasn’t. “Why are you here of all places?”

“I’ve been trying to track you down for years,” he said before clarifying. “I hate New Year’s Eve but you made it better five year’s ago and I’m hoping you’ll consider..”

“Consider what?”

“A truce of sorts.”

And I will hold onto you…

#ask #answered #thanks anon #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #new years day

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bored-fan-bs-thoughts · 5 years

Text

Final Chapter: Fluff and Holiday Cheer

Sorry this took so long, but I lost momentum and started planning out another chaptered fic. I hope this is a sufficient end. Enjoy!

Find Previous Chapters Here!

After about a month and a half of dating, T.J. and Cyrus finally convinced Cyrus’s parents to allow them to have sleepovers again. The deal is that they were required to stay in the open, so they decide to sleep on the couch. Well, decide is a little generous. Cyrus actually falls asleep on T.J.’s shoulder and T.J. doesn’t want to wake him up. They have the morning to themselves because Amber and T.J.’s dad were both at work, as per usual.

It takes about an hour to get off the couch and into the kitchen. Cyrus just wants to stay cuddled in T.J.’s arms where he feels safe and warm, but T.J. is determined to get the day started so they’ll have time to enjoy the morning with just the two of them before the rest of his family gets home.

When he finally frees himself from being Cyrus’s pillow, he helps the other boy stand up. He’s a bit shaky on his feet at first, but T.J.’s firm grasp and steady balance allow him to rise from the warm couch. Cyrus makes a pouty face, but T.J. places soft kisses to his forehead, nose, and cheeks thus erasing any sadness from his expression and causing him blush.

T.J. wraps his arms around the sleepy boy’s waist causing Cyrus to burrow his head into T.J.’s soft hoodie as if preparing to go back to sleep.

“No, you’re not allowed to sleep,” T.J. says fondly. He effortlessly lifts Cyrus up and carries him into the kitchen eliciting a squeal from Cyrus. He places the boy down in a kitchen chair and smooths his messy hair.

“Am I pretty now?” Cyrus jokes, batting his eyes flirtatiously.

“You’re always pretty,” T.J. responds dreamily.

“You are quite the charmer, Kippen,” Cyrus says.

“Only for you,” T.J. responds. He kisses the boy on his forehead, and turns to begin pulling out dishes and ingredients for breakfast. Cyrus is left admiring the boy as he begins to measure out the flour.

“Are pancakes okay, babe?” T.J. asks, tossing his head over his shoulder to get another glimpse of Cyrus. He feels as if he has check if Cyrus is there to make sure this is all still real. He still can’t help feeling like any minute Cyrus is going to say it’s all a joke, but he knows that will never happen. Cyrus nods, rising from his seat and rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes.

“What can I help you with?”

As T.J. and Cyrus cook, they steal glances at each other. In such close proximity, their hands brush frequently causing them both to blush. Eventually, Cyrus grabs T.J.’s hand and interlocks their fingers earning a small gasp from the boy. Cyrus shakes his head affectionately and moves in for a kiss. Despite their two months of dating, he’s still somewhat timid, but that doesn’t stop him from bringing his free arm up to wrap around the taller boy’s neck. He loves the feeling of being in T.J.’s arms. He feels safe and comfortable. And kissing him is definitely a perk.

The entire morning feels so domestic. The boys cook together, hold hands, and kiss. They can definitely get used to this.

—————

After they clean, they find themselves cuddled up on the couch together. Cyrus has his thighs draped over T.J.’s lap whose arm is wrapped around Cyrus’s shoulders as his other hand absentmindedly plays with the Jewish boy’s dainty fingers. They are both perfectly content to sit quietly and wordlessly, and Cyrus can feel himself drifting off to sleep again as T.J. presses the occasional kiss to the boy’s forehead or fingertips. T.J. shamelessly gazes down at the boy in his arms knowing he is so far gone for him.

“So…I was thinking, and I think I might be ready to go public?” Cyrus asks, his voice is soft and laden with exhaustion.

“Hell, yeah,” T.J. says, then coughing he adds, “Only if you’re truly ready, of course.”

Cyrus nods up at T.J. “I want people to know about us,” Cyrus says. “I want to be able to kiss you and hold your hand in public.”

T.J. kisses him on the cheek. “Me too,” T.J. says.

—————

The next day, T.J. and his teammates are preparing for their big game in the locker room. Feeling his phone buzz against his thigh, he takes it out of his pocket to see the usual good luck text from Cyrus. He can’t help but smile as he reads it, catching the attention of his teammates.

“Aw, Kippen’s all smiley today,” Chris teases, “Have you see your boy recently?”

“You can tell by the glow on his face,” Darren says as he exits the locker room. “And the absurd amount of blush.”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m not denying the ‘your boy’ comment,” T.J. responds as he begins to tie his sneakers.

Chris smiles at this. “What happened?” he asks.

“I can’t say,” T.J. says laughing, “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“Since when are you a gentleman?”

T.J. pushes Chris nearly off the bench he’s sitting on causing the boy to laugh and fight back.

“Damn bro,” Chris says. “Is he coming to the game?”

“Always,” T.J. nods. “We gotta get out there before coach gets mad.”

Chris slings a sweat towel over his shoulder, and stands up from the bench.

—————

After the game, Cyrus freely runs into T.J.’s arms, engulfing his sweaty boyfriend in a congratulatory hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cyrus says as he pulls away.

“I want to kiss you so badly right now,” T.J. says.

“Do it.”

Without hesitation, T.J. crashes his lips against Cyrus’s in an aggressive but tender kiss. T.J. blocks out the crowd around them, but he knows he’s going to be hearing a lot about this from his teammates later on. After a few invigorating moments, they pull away for air. T.J. rests his forehead on against Cyrus’s.

“You smell like sweat,” Cyrus says, trying to pull away from him. He is held tighter by his boyfriend’s arms around his waist.

“I’m not letting you get away,” T.J. says. Cyrus giggles and leans up to his T.J.’s sweaty cheek.

“Wow, you guys really took the ‘going public’ seriously,” Buffy teases, breaking them out of their haze. She and Marty stand close to them holding hands.

“You played well, man,” Marty says, patting T.J. on the back. “And I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Thanks bro!” T.J. responds. “Are we all heading to The Spoon?”

“YES!” Cyrus exclaims, “I need some baby taters.”

T.J. smiles as Buffy and Marty nod in response. Cyrus finally detaches from his boyfriend and attempts to push him towards the locker room.

“Please go shower, you sweaty boy,” Cyrus says.

T.J. blows a kiss in Cyrus’s direction before turning around and heading to the showers. Cyrus is left a blushing, blubbering mess. T.J. still has a crazy effect on him, despite how comfortable he feels around him.

—————

At The Spoon, T.J. and Cyrus sit in a booth across from Buffy and Marty. Andi sits at the end of the table witnessing both couples and feeling single as ever.

“Wow, I love being a fifth wheel,” Andi says. She means for it to sound like a joke, but her real annoyance shines through.

“Well, Amber’s here right now,” Buffy says, “You could change that.”

“Guys, she probably doesn’t feel the same,” Andi says.

“Amber?” T.J. says. “Are you kidding me? She couldn’t be more obvious.”

“Hey guys,” Amber says. Seemingly appearing out of thin air, she greets the group before turning her head to Andi specifically, “Hey Andi.”

“Hey, Amber,” Andi says. She can’t hide the blush on her cheeks.

“I’m kind of taking my break right now,” Amber explains looking solely at Andi, “Can I talk to you a bit…in private?”

“Oh,” Andi says turning to look back at her friends who are giving her excited nods, “Yeah, sure!”

Andi stands up nervously and follows Amber out of the diner. T.J. can’t keep his laughter under control. Cyrus simply looks at him like he’s a crazy person.

“I’m sorry,” T.J. says through his giggling, “It’s just, I’m so happy she’s finally telling her. It’s taken so long.”

“I think you’re just a lovesick fool,” Buffy says causing T.J. to stick his tongue out at her.

“Does this mean that we’re the only straight members of this group?” Marty says, looking towards his girlfriend.

“Actually,” Buffy says, “I think you may be the only one…I think I’m bi.”

Everyone at the table gasps. “Oh my God!” Cyrus says. “We can finally be the Gay Hair Crew.”

“Yeah, ain’t gonna happen,” Buffy says.

“How’d you know?” Cyrus asks. “I want to know everything.”

Buffy shrugs with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I guess I kind of used to have a crush on Andi.”

“Called it!” T.J. says, giving himself a high five. Buffy gives him a questioning look.

“He actually did,” Cyrus says. “He asked if you two were a thing many months ago. I’m proud of you babe.”

“Thanks babe,” T.J. says, giving his boyfriend an adoring peck on the forehead.

“Ugh, stop being so disgustingly cute,” Marty says. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“What are your Valentine’s Day plans?” Cyrus asks.

“I’m probably going to kick Marty’s ass in a game of one-on-one,” Buffy jokes.

“Actually,” Marty says, giving an adoring look to his girlfriend, “We are going out to dinner. Maybe we will be competing a bit.”

“Everything between you two is a competition,” Cyrus says with a smile. “We’re just going to watch some trashy rom-coms and do some baking. We have the house to ourselves because my dad and step-mom are going out to dinner.”

“Correction, we are watching cinematic masterpieces,” T.J. says feigning offense, “But go off, I guess.”

“Let me guess,” Marty says, “T.J. picked the movies.”

“It was a mutual decision,” T.J. defends, but he’s given away by Cyrus shaking his head.

“T.J. is just really in love with Ryan Gosling, but honestly who isn’t?” Cyrus says. This earns him a laugh from the group. “Which leads to an interesting conversation. You all know my first crush was on Jonah, and I deserve to know yours.”

“Well, mine was kind of a mix between Andi and Marty,” Buffy says, “Which is probably obvious.”

“I think mine was Buffy,” Marty says, “At least, that’s the only one that matters.”

Buffy blushes as T.J. makes a fake wretch sound. It quickly turns into a yelp as the girl kicks his shin under the table.

“T.J.,” Marty says, giving a glance towards the boy, “Who was yours?”

T.J. looks down. He knew the question was coming, but he wasn’t ready to answer. When he looks up all pairs of eyes are on him.

“Um, my first crush,” T.J. begins nervously, “Was on Marty. But don’t hate me Buffy. I’m totally over it now.”

Buffy laughs. “We can all tell,” She says, looking between Cyrus and T.J.

Cyrus leans into T.J.’s side, and T.J. throws an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. He feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Suddenly, the bell rings signaling Andi and Amber’s reentrance. They are holding hands as the approach the table and Andi sits down in her seat.

“I have to go back to work, Bambi,” Amber says, leaning down and planting a kiss on her new girlfriend’s cheek.

“That was a quick way of becoming not-single,” Buffy comments as soon as Amber walks away (she nearly runs into a nearby table as she does so).

The entire table bursts into laughter as Andi’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

—————

Cyrus opens the door to find a smiling T.J. holding a large bouquet of roses.

“Here are some roses,” T.J. says, his voice slightly raspy from his wide smile, “For my rose”

“God, you’re such a dork,” Cyrus says, but there is a strong, deep blush on his cheeks. He takes the flowers from his boyfriend, gives him a quick kiss, and leads T.J. into his kitchen. He places the bouquet down on the counter. As he turns to grab a vase, hands wrap around his waist and spin him around to come face-to-face with his boyfriend.

“Hi,” T.J. says in a bashful and affectionate tone.

“Hi,” Cyrus says, giggling. He leans in to kiss T.J. It’s slow, soft, and meaningful, and it makes Cyrus’s heart flutter.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Cy,” T.J. says, leaning his forehead against Cyrus’s. His arms are still wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Happy Valentine’s day, babe,” Cyrus says back, “Now lets do some baking!”

Cyrus pulls away, sad to leave the comfort and warmth of T.J.’s embrace. It’s been almost two months, but his heart still flutters when he thinks about his relationship. He can only hope this feeling will last forever.

------------

Tag List: @hithatsmyname @blueberry-my-hero-macadamia @samlynnsblog

#andi mack #tyrus #muffy #ambi

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charlienick · 6 years

Text

some stupid reddie radio show hc

• richie is like grimmy on bbc radio on the breakfast show and he's been there so long and is so well loved that the producers kinda just let him do whatever he wants within reason. he's very loudly and publically bisexual and flirts with Every Single Person they bring in. he hates being up at ass-o’clock in the morning every day but it’s a sweet gig and he’s well loved and he loves his crew so he’s fine

• there's this up and coming actor eddie kaspbrak on the scene that richie is scheduled to interview. he’s struggling to come up with questions for him because he hasn’t seen any of the shit he’s in and is usually too tired to watch films at night anymore (a horrible part of the job because richie loves movies)

• eddie’s out of the closet publically, which he chose to do since this is a movie about the aids crisis, but the topic of boyfriends is blacklisted, which richie is fine with. he’s not a gossip. at least, not on live air

• so eddie’s gonna be in a movie with a bunch of well known people and the interview with richie goes. fucking. HORRIBLY.

• despite being his last guest of the day, it’s still 10:30 am because it’s, well, a breakfast show, and they’re both exhausted. eddie is incredibly obviously uncomfortable/nervous, which in turn is making richie uncomfortable/nervous.

• and when both of these guys get nervous, they really get nervous, so richie is, like, visibly sweating, and they visually record all the interviews too so his camera man (stan) is like "FUCKING COOL IT MAN YOUR SWEAT IS MAKING THE LIGHTS SHINE ON YOUR OILY FACE SO BRIGHTLY WE HAD TO TURN OFF YOUR OVERHEAD LAMP" "oh ha ha ha ha is that what happened?"

• richie asks things like “is this your first radio interview?” (god what is this richie’s first rodeo? what a boring question) and “did you get along with your castmates?” and “does ryan gosling really put his money where his mouth is?” but when he gets to "so what was it like being in a movie with all these famous—" eddie cuts the fuck in.

• beverly, eddie’s handler, giving him the singal to cut it the fuck out. don’t fly off the handle. please. eddie kaspbrak does not fly off the handle. he just. tells it like it is. and if that’s rude, well that’s the other person’s problem

• "okay i'm gonna stop you right there. if you're trying to insinuate that i'm not talented enough to carry this movie like all the other interviewers, i—" "no!” richie shouts, eyes widening and cheeks flaring. he glances around nervously and the crew is giving him looks like this is fucking tanking do something now. “that's not it. not at all. aw hell, alright, let's just—" and then richie RIPS UP HIS QUESTION SHEET like the dramatic motherfucker he is

• "uh. did you just rip up your questions?" eddie asks because this is not his first rodeo, actually, fuck you very much records tozier if that is your real name and he knows that no one can see despite the two cameras being pointed at them. the video feed isn’t live, just something to use for press later.

• "i did. screw those stupid questions i asked you. i’m gonna ask you the things i want to know. what makes you excited about this project? what was your method of getting into character considering how intense the story was?" richie asks, propping his elbow up on the desk and cupping his chin in his hand.

• "oh.” eddie blinks in shock, like, oh this guy does have a soul? and he’s actually interested and isn’t just a weird, awkard guy? whoops. okay. eddie can admit when he’s wrong, at least to himself, so he changes gears. “well my uncle who i was close to as a kid was a victim of aids, and so the opportunity to play a character so similar to his story was a privilege as much as it was cathartic..."

• and then it kind of goes off without a hitch from there. they’re really flowing and eddie is getting asked genuinely interesting questions by richie now, things no other interviewer has asked. he’s totally respectful of the topic while still being his dumb, flirtatious self. eddie is charmed. smitten, really. it’s really obnoxious.

• by the end they're both giggling sweetly and richie is doing some light flirting, not the intensely over the top kind he's been known to with his guests.

• towards the end richie goes "well that was our guest, the delicious, delectable eddie kaspbrak. make sure you go see his movie ‘collison’ in theatres this friday, because i promise you're gonna want this pretty face to bring you to tears on the big screen instead of just hear him do it on radio."

• eddie is blushing like mad and leans into the mic and meekly goes "and because i'm talented." "oh of course. AND because he's talented. what song would you like to play us out with, eds?" "what? my name is eddie. did you forget already? not very professional of you.” zoom in on richie’s grin. “i didn’t forget.” “jesus. can i pick anything?" "within reason, you minx! this IS a top 40 station after all." "well it WAS top 40," eddie giggles. he calls over bill who controls the switchboard and whispers something to him and bill chuckles and nods.

• "what are you two up t—" "well folks, that's our show!" eddie announces brightly. richie scoffs, scandalized, but eddie continues. "i hope you enjoy the dulcet sounds of ‘rocks off’ by the rolling stones." "ohhhh you absolute—" "annnnnd we're clear," bill says from across the room, cutting the mics.

• eddie is a stones guy. fuck, richie seriously hit the jackpot here.

• richie takes off his headphones but eddie doesn't, still dancing to the song coming through. richie smiles over at him and waves mike (the lighting guy) over and asks him to have bill put the music through the overhead speakers. bill does and richie comes up beside eddie, bowing dramatically with his hand out. "may i have this dance?" he asks in some ridiculous british accent, and eddie giggles, rolling his eyes and shrugging. "why not?"

• richie spins him around the room, a bit more practiced than eddie would've assumed with a man who has the gangly limbs of a newborn deer. he calls out to bill to play through his emergency playlist and bill shakes his head with a fond smile and gives him a thumbs up.

• "hey..." richie starts nervously, fiddling with the hem of eddie’s shirt, and, like when was the last time he was this nervous? jesus this kid has gotten under his skin, which is exactly why he says, "whaddya say i take you out to dinner?"

• "are you... are you even allowed to court your guests?" "court?” richie grins with an incredulous raise of his eyebrows. “i like that word. well i'm allowed to court whoever i damn well please. it's a free country," richie shoots back with a sassy cock to his hips and a huge grin.

• "i'm... i'm gonna be really busy with press in the next few weeks," eddie responds breathlessly. "oh. sure. no problem," richie bobs his head very dramatically and for an unnecessarily long time, untangling their limbs. "but!" eddie says, reaching for him again. richie lets himself be tugged into eddie’s space easily. "i'll gladly take you out when the junket is over." "you take me out? i thought i was the one who asked you!" "i thought it was a free country," eddie grins. richie sighs softly, pretending to sound put-out but he can't even manage it with the force of his smile. "alright, mr. kaspbrak."

• "you live in la, right?" eddie asks. "i live wherever you want me to," richie says, trying to pull some sort of seductive Voice, eyebrows jumping. eddie gives him a funny look. "uh. yeah, i do. sorry, i just—you make me a little nervous." "wow. the famous records tozier all tongue tied just from a lowly up-and-comer. why would your viewers think?" eddie asks softly, smiling up at him. "i think they're probably jealous they don't get to court you." "i regret using that word," eddie groans. richie laughs, "you should. it's my new favorite."

• "eddie," bev cuts in quietly with a grin, "you've got another interview at—" "shit!" eddie immediately detaches himself from richie, picking up his things, and richie feels like he just got dunked into cold water. "i'll call you!" eddie yells out to richie before pushing his way through the cameras and lights with bev in tow. she grins and wiggles her fingers at richie. "oh shit," richie sighs, smiling dreamily.

• "oh shit is right," stan says from behind the camera, which still has the green light on, the bastard, "you didn't ever give him your number in the first place." "motherfucker!" "and i caught all of that on camera," stan smirks. "oh i WILL kill you," richie says, turning to the camera and futzing with it. "gimmie that tape!" "nah, you've gotten enough spank bank material for the day," stan says, flipping off the camera. "plus, ben got a whole host of good shit on camera two."

• richie gasps. "BEN-YA-MEEN, YOU WOULDNT" ben just shrugs, flipping his camera off too. "i work for no man, only the love that drives us." "fuck off."

• it’s a week later, the movie has premiered and eddie is the talk of the town. the second the video of the already-infamous interview goes live on twitter (cut with generous amounts of flirting thanks to mike, the absolute ASSHOLE), both their mentions blow the fuck up.

• eddie’s twitter is LITERALLY STILL PRIVATE despite the fact that bev keeps insisting he undo because he can’t get verified that way. eddie could care less about being verified; he just wants his privacy. he thought being private would make it so that no one could @ reply him but he soon finds out that he was very, very wrong when a bunch of ppl on twitter start asking him how his date with richie went. he turns off his notifications after this shit storm

• eddie had followed richie back the day of the interview, and he didn’t know the option to keep replies from ppl you follow had stayed on, so he gets a notif right before one of his last interviews on the junket

• @richierecords: @eddie_kaspbrak you in town? i know a great sushi place

• eddie grins, trying to futz with his phone and figure out how to reply

• @eddie_kaspbrak: @richierecords I’m around, but I thought I was taking YOU out to eat? and how do you know I even like sushi?

• he’s deeply glad he’s private so no one but his friends can see this response because when richie sends back “@richierecords: @eddie_kaspbrak everyone with taste likes sushi, and that gucci suit at the premiere showcased yours very nicely. and i think i’m gonna be the one doing the eating out if all goes according to plan 🍑👅💦” while eddie’s in his last interview. there are like 7,000 likes by the time he checks it

• his eyes widen and his cheeks flush and he immediately presses his phone into his chest so bev who’s beside him in the limo going back to the hotel doesn’t see. he may not understand what the peach emoji was for, but the tongue and the spit was certainly image enough

• bev snorts as she types out a text. “no need to be shy, kaspbrak. your suitor certainly isn’t.” eddie sputters indignantly but bev just laughs without looking up from her phone, “i already contacted his manager. luang’s on center street at 8 pm. it’s like a half-price place and the paps are told to stay the fuck away or they’re getting sued, but seriously? half price? that’s tactless. your boy has no manners. i’m not dealing with you getting food poisoning so be fucking careful.”

• “he’s not my boy! he’s not my anything!” eddie shrieks. bev winces, “stop being shrill at me, i did not do this. you and your libido did.” “i’m barely even attracted to him,” eddie huffs, tapping out a reply to richie of “You stupid motherfucker.”

• “oh, sure, alright,” bev snorts. “we do share a wall in these hotels you know, and they’re unfortunately not very thick. i’m sure it’s very lonely out there for your right hand and your imagination.” “i will fuck you up, marsh, don’t test me,” but then he grins slyly. “and i need both hands for what i get up to, actually.” “oh!” beverly laughs, delighted, finally putting her phone down. “i’d give you a high five, but i don’t need your cum on me. that ain’t in my job description, puddin’.” “FUCK OFF I HAVEN’T MASTURBATED SINCE LAST NIGHT AND I HAVE WASHED MY HANDS SIX TIMES SINCE THEN.”

• their driver chokes on his spit from the front seat and eddie groans into his hands as beverly puts the divider up and laughs

#reddie #it 2017 #fic #should i be working on real shit? maybe #enjoy my procrastination tactic #masterpost #19 #greatest hits

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