#like yeah obviously he's gonna mess up- his mind is elsewhere...

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

helloo🤍 I wanted to ask if you can write something with mob!Tom where he’s at the club because of a business meeting making some deals and the reader also comes to the club even though Tom told her not to come because it’s dangerous and something happens to the reader and Tom is really overprotective. Angst with fluff at the end🥺

Totally understand it if it’s to much and you don’t want to write it!! It was just an idea 🥰

Absolutely, I’m excited to do more mob!tom, he’s my best friend tbh. Hope you like this one hun xx

Protective

Pairing: Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: angst, little bit of fighting, harassment

Summary: Tom is worried about having you around during his business meeting

Masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tom had warned (y/n) on his way out that she should steer clear of the club for the night. Unfortunately for Tom, her best friend really wanted to go clubbing, and the other clubs in town made them pay for drinks so they weren't even considered. Plus no other club had Harrison, who (y/n)'s best friend wanted to hit on. (y/n) had tried to steer her elsewhere, warning her that Harrison was going to be working and she wasn't going to drink much, but she hadn't tried very hard.

Truthfully she just knew getting Tom a little riled up always lead to a fun night for her, and he'd looked too good on his way out for her not to mess with him a little. She was very disappointed when they entered the club and Tom was nowhere to be found, essentially leaving her little game pointless.

"Let's grab some drinks," her friend dragged her towards the bar and ordered a shot for them both, "Cheers."

"Cheers," (y/n) clinked her glass against hers before downing it.

A hand came down on her shoulder as she set the cup back down, "What are you doing here?" Tom hissed in her ear.

"Sasha wanted to go clubbing," she turned to him, a sly smile playing at her lips.

He flashed Sasha a tight lipped smile, "We'll be right back."

(y/n) rolled her eyes, letting Tom pull towards the back door, "You two couldn't go to any other club in the city?"

"Drinks are free here," she shrugged, "What's the big deal? We aren't gonna bug you guys."

"The big deal is that I told you not to come," he snapped. "The people we're meeting with are dangerous, I don't want them to even know who you are, let alone be in the same room as you."

"I think you're just a little paranoid Tommy," she frowned, setting a hand on his cheek, "If they don't know my relationship with you then I'm just another girl in the club, I'm sure they'll leave me alone."

His face was locked in an angry scowl, "You're not just another girl in the club, you stand out like a sore thumb, I already know they're going to notice you."

She glanced down at herself with a frown, "I do not, I look perfectly normal."

"You do not," he scoffed, "You're like the sun, everyone notices you."

"That is so cute it almost makes me want to listen," she nuzzled her nose against his, "I'm going to enjoy my girls night though, you're welcome to join me when you're done."

He shook his head, "No, when I finish we're going home and then you're never leaving the house again."

She laughed, "Okay, whatever you say Tommy," she kissed his cheek, "Enjoy your meeting."

He rolled his eyes, "Please be careful."

"I will, but you have to be careful too."

He nodded and kissed the top of her head, "I will."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The night continued as planned, (y/n) danced with Sasha until she found a boy to dance with instead. Then (y/n) took a seat at the bar, sipping at a drink and making small talk with the bartender while she waited for her friend to get bored.

"Hey," Sasha grabbed her arm with a smile, "Would you be okay if I took him home with me?" she peaked back at the boy she'd be dancing with.

(y/n) laughed and nodded, "Of course, have fun, and be careful."

She nodded, pulling her friend into a quick side hug, "Tom won't be much longer right?"

"No, he should be wrapping up soon, go enjoy your new boy toy," she waved her off, watching as she weaved her way through the door.

"Tom's having his meeting down in the basement," the bartender butted in as Sasha left, "You could head down if you want."

She shook her head, "Tommy doesn't want me anywhere near whatever they've got going on."

"Well Roger and his men don't exactly have the best reputation," he hummed.

"Neither does Tom."

He chuckled, "Yeah, you've got me there, but Tom's a good guy, he tries to do the right thing where he can. Roger's the opposite, totally dick, he doesn't care who he has to hurt to get what he wants."

She frowned, a sudden worry settled in her stomach, "You said their in the basement?"

He raised a brow, "I thought he didn't want you down there?"

Usually she didn't worry too much about Tom's work, she tried to push aside any thoughts about how dangerous it was. "Yeah we'll it's good for him to not get what he wants every once in awhile," she hoped off the bar stool and weaved her way through the crowd towards the basement door, where a bouncer named Jeff was assigned as security.

"I'm gonna step down and see Tom," she smiled, reaching for the door.

He grabbed her wrist, "He said specifically not to let you in."

Her jaw nearly hit the floor, "He was kidding obviously, let me in."

"He wasn't kidding."

"That asshole," she swore under her breath, "Okay, well, can you send someone down and just ask how long he's gonna be?"

"They won't be much longer," he assured.

"Hey man, if the pretty girl wants in why don't you let her in," an arm snaked around her waist, a tall, lean man, smiled down at her, "She can sit with me."

"I'm only gonna tell you once to keep your hands on her," Jeff warned.

"It's fine," she assured, removing herself from his grasp, "I was just saying hi."

"This your girl or something?" the tall man snickered at the bouncer.

"No, the boss's," he corrected, "Look you keep bugging her I'll escort you out. And I'll be doing you a favor, because if Tom finds out he'll probably shoot you."

He laughed, "You're Tom's girl? No way!" he seemed unphased by the bouncer's warning as he set a hand on her shoulder, "You really managed to tie him down? That's incredible," his eyes wandered her figure, "I think I get the appeal."

"Great," she pushed his hand off, "Look you can just go back to your meeting now."

"Oh don't worry talking to you is much more interesting."

She rolled her eyes, "Okay, well I'm going home not talking to you," she glanced towards Jeff with pursed lips, "Can you just tell Tom to call me when he gets done?"

He nodded, "Of course, have a goodnight."

"Yeah, you too," she brushed past the men to head to Tom's car, deciding she'd just wait there with the driver.

Suddenly she stopped though, freezing as a hand brushed over her backside. A small pinch that made her turn back to them instantly. The tall man winked at her while Jeff seemed oblivious. She tensed, unsure if she had really felt anything, but of course the wink told her she must have. She didn't know if she should say something or not, an odd feeling of embarrassment bubbled in her stomach. Rather than voicing anything she decided just to leave, and pushed her way through the club as quickly as possible.

Once she entered the car she rolled up the partition, telling the driver she had a headache. She sat in silence as she replayed the small event in her mind, trying to figure out why it had happened. Without warning tears began forming in the corner of her eyes, she wasn't even entirely sure why she was so upset.

When Tom called her she didn't answer, just hugged herself tight and tried to stop crying before he reached the car. She was unsuccessful though, tears were still streaming down her face when he arrived.

"Angel what's wrong?" he frowned, instantly filled to the brim with concern.

She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, "Nothing, it's not really a big deal. I just want to go home."

"Obviously it's a big deal if you're crying about it," he closes the door behind him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Did you and Sasha have a fight?"

She shook her head, "No, no, she's out with a guy. It's really not a big deal I'm just being dramatic," she insited.

"Alright, why don't you just tell me what it is then? I'm sure you'll feel better if we talk about it."

"I just went over to ask Jeff if I could come down and see you and one of the guys from your meeting just started talking to me. I don't know, Jeff like told him to leave me alone and that we're together and he was just being annoying and he just like, well, I don't know. Maybe it was something else but I thought he like, pinched my ass while I was walking away. I thought maybe it was nothing but then he winked at me so I'm pretty sure he did."

The anger was evident on Tom's face, bubbling just under the surface, "And did Jeff kick him out?"

"No, he didn't notice so maybe nothing happened but I think it did. I don't know Tommy, it's a stupid thing to cry over. It happens to people all the time, I just need to get over it."

He shook his head, "It's not stupid, you have every right to cry and be upset. And it's not okay just because it happens all the time," his cheeks dusted pink as he pulled her into him, letting him cry into his shoulder, "I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened, and I should have been with you tonight."

"You don't need to look over me all the time Tommy," she sniffle, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"I want to. And I kept going on and on about you being safe tonight, and I should have stayed with you so I could make sure you were safe. But it's not your job to comfort me right now okay?" he kissed the top of her head, "I'm so sorry that happened to you angel, I promise I'm going to do something about it. In fact if you weren't so upset I'd be out there looking for him right now," he hummed, "I'd probably shoot him, but just in the leg or something because I know you don't like it when I get violent."

"Cause you're really a softie," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Just for you," he kissed her head again, "I'm a dick to everyone else."

"A little bit," she agreed, "Can we go home now?"

"Of course, and next time I promise I will be right there with you and I will make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again."

"Thank you Tommy," she wiped her eyes and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, "For tonight though, I just wanna go curl up in bed."

He nodded, "Then that's what we'll do."

#tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland au #tom holland mob au #tom holland mob #mob!tom x reader #mob!au #mob!tom

[pascalpanic]

hello lovie how u doing? sorry for bugging again but I was thinking.. how about reader lil jelly of the DEAs new secretary hitting on Javi but he's not giving a shh and reader go to the office for a visit with cinnie and kisses javi like out of nowhere and he gets ?????? and she's suddenly shy

Covetous (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: see above

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: jealousy, flirtation, language and innuendos

A/N: HI I hope this was what you’re looking for!! I hope it’s clear enough that reader is insecure and not demonizing Javier or Luisa... you’ll see. Enjoy!

Javier naturally attracts attention. You’re not quite sure what it is about him that does- or rather there are so many things about him that you don’t know which one it is. Is it the tight shirts that show off his broad shoulders and thick arms? His commanding aura? The sex appeal he radiates like humidity on a hot Colombian morning?

You love him more than anything. How can you not? He gives you all of his love, and expects nothing in return from you. His love is a passionate and all-consuming one; Javier fears commitment, but once he’s in, he’s all in. He’s the strong and silent type, but he melts with you, allows himself to be soft and gentle.

You know Javier would never do anything to hurt you. He can, has, and will go out of his way to protect you, especially with the danger of being the DEA agent’s girlfriend. That doesn’t lessen your anxiety, the fear that some poor judgement lapse on his part will lead to a broken heart. You know the man’s past. You’d be lying to say you weren’t a little scared.

When he started mentioning Luisa, you’d brushed it off and frowned. Javier is an adult. He can be friends with whoever he likes. Plus, she works with him. He can’t exactly ignore her. You didn’t know much about the woman other than the fact that she was young and pretty, as Murphy had told you. She was intelligent, a skilled worker as their receptionist. The only reason you had to dislike her was the little demon inside your head named Jealousy. Hell, you’d never even met her.

Javier mentions her in passing, just something she did at work or something funny she said. Never anything to be suspicious, and you know deep down that your Javi would never do something like that. He’s a good man, he loves you. You know it’s irrational, that you have no reasoning at all, but you can’t help but feel insecure when he talks about her.

Javier works ridiculous hours. He doesn’t have time to do much other than work and work and come home to you and do more work on the couch. He loves you for that more than anything: you understand it. You understand the busy hours and that he doesn’t often have the energy to do much when he gets home. You just sit next to him and quietly rub his shoulders, pressing kisses to his skin while he grinds out some paperwork. You don’t always understand what he’s doing at work, but your outside perspective often offers valuable ideas. You’re not just a girlfriend to Javier, but more of his partner. You are his other half, his comfort and relief and love in his hectic life.

If he’s being honest, Luisa bugs the shit out of him. She’s a smart girl, really, but her job is not as an agent. She likes to think she is, but she doesn’t have the training or knowledge to do so. She’s a go-getter, and Javi admires that, but it’s just another problem on his endless pile of them.

The most annoying thing is her flirting. Javier is no stranger to flirtation, obviously, and in any other situation he’d love to play along; she’s pretty and funny and a good conversationalist, but Javier, of course, only has eyes for you. He’s given her signs to back off, clearly, but she hasn’t picked them up. He’s tried to be more blunt, but nothing works. She is dead set on Agent Peña, and she’s a determined little thing.

You don’t visit Javier at work often. It’s rare that you get the chance, since you’re busy yourself. Usually, you’ll coordinate a day with Connie to bring lunch for the boys and sit with them for a while. They obviously both enjoy it, other than the mockery they receive from the other men when you leave. You love doing it, preening under the attention of your boyfriend and laughing at his annoyance with the other men. You’ve been there enough to know some of the other agents, and you know plenty about them from Javier’s annoyance at them at the end of the day.

Planning a day to surprise Javier at the office is fun. You usually do it when you know he’s extra stressed, when he could use the diversion and a little break in his day. That’s why you decided on it last night. Connie has the day off, and she insisted she’ll help you cook something to bring into work; Steve has been a mess lately too. They need it. She was right.

With a fresh tray of cookies out of the oven, you sigh and climb onto the couch to knock on the ceiling. You rap three times; moments later, two come back in response from Connie. It’s easier than using the phone, Connie suggested one night while you and Javier steadily got the Murphys drunker and drunker. It was funny to you at the time, but she was right. You smile remembering it as you put some cookies into a container and walk out of the front of the apartment building.

Connie is in a cheerful mood today. It’s probably because she has the day off; normally, she’d be asleep at this hour, thanks to long night shifts. She chats with you as the two of you drive to the embassy together, humming along to a song on the radio. She tells you all about Steve, the latest recipe she found, her new favorite grocery store. You smile and nod, mind elsewhere. Her blonde head bobs along to the rhythm as she finds a spot and parks.

You are irrational, you remind yourself as you walk in. You know and trust and love Javier. Luisa is nothing to worry about. Then why do you have a painfully tight grip on your container of cookies? “Hey, you’re gonna crack that,” Connie chides and swats your hand. “You okay, babe?”

You shake your head and smile it off. “It’s nothing. Guess I’m just excited,” you chuckle and loosen your grip on the cookies, though your spine is rigid as a board.

There’s a desk and at the front sits a woman, slightly younger than you, writing something in a book. She looks up when she hears the two of you enter through the lobby deeper into the building. “Hola. Soy Luisa, bienvenidos. Necesitá-“

That’s Luisa? She’s sweet, you frown. You’ve been all worked up over this? She’s cut off when Steve walks past. “Woah, hey ladies,” he chuckles as he sees the two of you. He wraps an arm around his wife and kisses her forehead. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Connie shrugs, beaming up at her husband. “We just thought we’d bring you lunch.”

“I made cookies,” you offer weakly, holding up the tupperware. You’re surprised it isn’t shattered into plastic shards on the ground by now.

“Hell yeah,” Steve smiles and snatches the cookies from your hands. “Luisa, this is my wife, Connie.”

She nods. “I could tell,” she chuckles, gesturing to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Who else would she be around here? “And you are?” She asks, turning to you.

“Ah, that’s Peña’s girl, remember?” Steve says for you, which makes you breathe a sigh of relief.

Her smile becomes tight-lipped and passive-aggressive. “Ah, yes. Wonderful to meet you,” she tells you, turning back to her books immediately. “Steve, you will show the women back then?”

He nods. “Thanks, kid.” He steals a candy from the jar she keeps on her desk and leads you back into the bullpen. He and Connie talk about their days, and you trail behind, nervously tapping your fingers against your sides. Now that you don’t have the Tupperware to clutch, you fidget until your heart warms at the sight of Javier. He’s hunched over his desk, shoulders straining against his tight shirt. He’s rapidly banging out a report on a typewriter, and your smile becomes a little bittersweet with how hard you know he’s working.

He’s a jumpy man, but scaring him is your favorite thing in the world. You hold a finger to your lips to the Murphys, telling them to be quiet, and they nod in agreement. Silently padding up behind him, you cover his hands with your eyes. “Boo,” you squeal.

“What the fuck?” Javier jumps, rapidly pulling the hands off his eyes and spinning in his chair. His hand hovers over his weapon, but his anxiety fades when he sees it’s you. “Hijo de puta… cariño,” he smiles softly, laughing a little. “What are you doing here?” He asks as he stands, pulling you into a hug.

His face is all the reassurance you need, his smile and his arms squeezing you making you grin. “We brought you lunch. Wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as you break away, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Got a spare minute?”

He sighs and sits back down at his desk. “Can you give me five? I need to finish this report then I’m all yours.”

“Fine,” you sigh teasingly and kiss him on the head. While he types, you and Connie set up the desks, arranging chairs and plates on top of piles of cluttered papers. Javier’s handwriting is messy, you notice as you look at a folder of information, but legible. Hurried but still nice, looping and arcing.

“Hey,” Javi booms playfully and startles you, snatching the folder from your hands. “That’s classified.”

“That’s about as classified as your dick is to the Colombian population of women,” Steve snorts.

“Stephen!” Connie gasps and scolds, smacking his arm.

It doesn’t matter. You and Javi are laughing, falling onto each other and giggling at the joke. Steve sniggers under his breath, trying to avoid Connie’s wrath from the rude joke.

Straightening up, you take a sip of your water and try to collect yourself, though you’re still chuckling softly. “Does this mean you’re done?” You ask him hopefully.

Javier sighs and signs the bottom of the paper. His signature is beautiful and classy: J. Peña. “Now I am,” he smiles at you and tucks the file away in a desk drawer. “What did you bring us to eat, hm?”

The four of you converse over the meal, waving forks around aimlessly to make your points. The Murphys talk on their own, chatting about plans for the night. The meal is clearly finished and Javier cracks open the container of cookies, winking at you. You know he loves them, adores the little fluffy things. You smile and snag one from the tupperware before he can. He frowns. “I wanted that one.”

“Poor baby,” you tease and cup his face, taking a bite from it.

There’s the clacking of heels on tile approaching before you hear it: “Agente Peña!” a feminine voice sings. You roll your eyes, completely missing the way Javier rolls his too. “Javi?” She asks as she gets closer, about to round the corner.

God, you can’t stand that she calls him that. He’s only Javi to you and the Murphys, to those who love him. Your rational brain is far out of the window, possessed by jealousy as you do the only thing you can to, what, stake your claim? It doesn’t matter. Javier won’t be mad with the tiniest bit of affection. Your other hand cups Javier’s face too and you kiss him.

He’s used to kissing you. The two of you do it all the damn time. He’s just not a big PDA man; never has been. He prefers to keep his passion in private. But he doesn’t care, and cares even less when he knows Luisa is watching. He kisses back, rolling your chair closer to his and cupping your face too.

Luisa huffs at the sight. “Guess you’re busy,” she scoffs in English.

You break away only to find her walking away, and you can’t help but smirk. At least now she knows that Javier is truly committed to you, if she even caught a glimpse of the way he kissed you back. “What was that for?” Javier asks.

“Because I love you?” You chuckle and kiss him one more time, soft and quick.

He knows exactly why you did it. He doesn’t ask again. “I love you too, cariño,” he chuckles and rests his hand on your thigh.

-

Taglist:

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#javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña

[disney-android-foundation]

Hey if you’re still taking requests/asks…(and I think u might like this one ;) ) Can I get a Yandere Alemeda Slim???? Robot AU and regular please.

;)

Normal

- There are two possible ways you could’ve met Slim, him up front or him as Yancy O’Del.

- Meeting Slim up front would be rare considering that he only ever comes out at night without his disguise, he can only go out in the day time with his disguise. So you’d have to be the owner of some land and Bulls to even have a chance of encountering the real Slim. Now normally he doesn’t take anything but the cattle, so you’d have to be pretty darn special in order for him to take you.

- When he does take you, he keeps you in a makeshift cell. It would most likely be a ransom kinda holding where he requests money from your family or maybe the town you sold to. Since you’re already there, he talks to you, just basic things, nothing that seems obsessive. As time goes on, maybe a week (he works quick), the questions he asks and topics he brings up kinda sound like he’s planning something more than just a ransom. He starts sitting closer to your cell now, obviously believing that you can’t do anything. Now he even lets you out of the cell from time to time, but you have to be by his side at all times.

- When asking why he’s suddenly wanting to get close to you now, he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close, he confesses his feelings for you and how you’re the only person to ever make him feel this way. Even though he poured his heart out to you, you refused him, saying you can’t be with a criminal. Slim is just, stunned. How could you possibly refuse him?! You two have spent so much time together (You’ve known them for a week Slim calm down-) how could you not like him?…… Well the thing is, he’s not taking no for an answer. You’re gonna be with him no matter what, if he has to break a few bones, so be it.

- If you met him as Yancy O’Del, perhaps you’re an innocent shop keeper for a general goods store. You’ve had a regular customer come in to buy either mustache oil, hair gel, beef jerky, whiskey, or rope. He was always kind and gentleman like to you when making his purchases, always making conversation with you. It becomes clear that he buys from you constantly just so talk to you, so you inform him that he doesn’t have to buy anything just to talk to you, you have no clue how happy that made ‘Yancy’.

- You two started talking outside of your work schedule, and then you started to date 2 months later. At this point you still have no idea that it’s Alameda Slim under the glasses and coat (bith is you dumb??? JK), but ‘Yancy’ believes it’s time you knew. So he brings you to a secluded location away from society, to you it’s a possible marriage proposal, to Slim it’s something else. Once he mustered up his courage, he went behind a rock, he was there for awhile before emerging as not Yancy O’Del, but as Alameda Slim.

- You were absolutely shattered by the news, how dare he lie to you for so long?! He was shattered as you were, you really can’t like him for being a wanted criminal, after all you two have been through? Of course, he makes it seem like he’s letting you go as long as you don’t go spewing off the town like tweety bird about how famous land owner Yancy O’Del is actually the notorious Alameda Slim. You agree, not actually knowing what Slim was planning.

- In the dead of night, you were woken up by the smell of smoke. The inhalation of smoke caused you to start choking on it. You run out of your now on fire house, wondering if maybe you’d have left a candle burning, your thoughts are quickly interrupted by the sudden hog tie you have been put in. Through your daze of confusion, you see familiar gloved hands forcefully shove a drenched rag on your nose and mouth, conciseness slowly fading. The last thing you hear is, “You don’t get to decide that this relationship is over. That’s up to me, and I sure as hell don’t plan on letting you go.”

Android

- Slim was bought to help you on your chicken farm. Yeah it seems silly having such a big man help handle such small birds, but he hasn’t complained much.

- You’ve had a Mcleach droid before Slim. He mostly kept predators away from the coops. Plus it was mentioned in reviews that Mcleach’s and Slim’s are best friends so it would be great for the two to have each other while you were busy elsewhere. So you can imagine how shocking it was to arrive home to see Slim nearly beating the life out of Mcleach.

- You had to pull Slim off of him, asking what the hell was going on. Slim didn’t answer you, just stared at you weirdly before picking up some notebook and calmly walking out of the house. You couldn’t be bothered to follow him, you had to get Mcleach to a repair shop immediately.

- Upon arrival, bystanders and the repair team were just staring in awe. “Wha, What happened to your Mcleach?!” “My Slim droid went berserk on him! Aren’t they supposed to be friends?” “Well yeah usually, let’s work out his voice box first so that we can get the full story.” They fix his voice box and the whole story spills out.

- On the second day of Slims arrival, Mcleach noticed that Slim would stare at you for a long time without your knowing. Way longer than what should be necessary. Mcleach asked him why he kept staring at you, but was only given a “mind your damn business” they weren’t exactly friends at this time so it was understandable that Slim would want to keep to himself rather than just spill everything there is to know about him. So weeks go by and he still catches Slim staring at you, now he’s been writing in a journal. Mcleach would try to peek at what’s inside, but Slim seemed very protective of it so it was hard to even glance at it without Slim noticing. So he waited until the day Slim finally let his guard down enough to where he would leave the journal behind or just plain forget about it. You had left to go to the market and Slim heard some of the roosters fighting so he had to go sort that out, leaving the journal defenseless on the table. Mcleach had to be fast, so he quickly but quietly darted for the table. He didn’t even care to start from the beginning, he just opened a random page and started reading. The entries were all about you. Everything you have done while Slim has lived here, everything you like and love, every shower, everything you’ve eaten, what time you usually go to bed at, how you look when you slept. There were some entries on Mcleach, mostly on how he’s nothing but an obstacle and must be dealt with as soon as possible. Mcleach was so caught up in the reading, he didn’t even notice the cowboy, right behind him. That’s when the fight started.

- Everyone in the repair shop was horrified by Mcleach’s story, an employee immediately called a task force to retrieve the Slim droid immediately. They had you stay in the repair shop until they gave the ok.

- The task force definitely saw the damage that Slim made in the house but couldn’t find him there. So they had to start checking the surrounding area.

- You requested to go home after 3 hours of searching, saying that your chickens need to be cared for. The task force was reluctant but agreed so long as an 2 officers were at home with you.

- Even with the officers, you were on edge and jumpy about every little thing that went bump. The officers tried their best to calm you down, but how can you be calm knowing a deranged robot that you thought you could trust could be stalking you at this very moment?

- Despite the worry, you still needed to go to bed. One officer stayed in the house while the other would guard the outside. Not matter how strong Slim may be, he isn’t resistant to bullets.

- You woke up early in the morning like usual, you had to feed the chickens or else they’ll wake up the neighbors. You put on a bathrobe and work boots, strange, shouldn’t at least one of the officers be heard?

- You open you door, only to be met with an all familiar cowboy. You tried to scream, but your mouth was quickly gagged. “I don’t need you makin so much noise, not when I’m tryna bring you home!” Bring you home?! What was he talking about?!

- Slim bound your hands and feet together and slung you over his shoulder. He started to walk out with you, that when you saw the mess that he made, the officers weren’t moving, they didn’t even look like they were breathing. You quietly started to cry as Slim made his way into the woods, where he promises your new home will be better than your old one.

#disney villains #disney #android #android au #alameda slim #yandere Alameda Slim #yandere Alameda Slim x (y/n) #alameda slim x (y/n) #(y/n)

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Charlie Dillon

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Charlie see each other a few times before you actually meet. You’d been going to the all girls boarding school since you were fourteen so you’d obviously seen “the big men on campus” from time to time; usually at your schools joint dances. 

- And you’d always thought Charlie was handsome but you didn’t know him just yet. You thought he was handsome in the same way you think a person on the street is handsome, you give them a passing glance, acknowledge the obvious in your mind and maybe have a little “what if” sort of idea but then you move on. 

- It isn’t until you manage to be introduced to each other that things start looking up.

- It’s before a big football game and you’re there with your parents, or with a guy friends parents, to cheer on the football playing boy in your life. It’s then that Charlie appears and is greeted by the boy as he passes, prompting him to stop and chat for a few minutes.

- Your brother/friend introduces the two of you and you exchange a few quick pleasantries before him and the other boy go off and find their team. After they do so, you and the family find your seats and watch as the team plays; and later as they win the game. 

- Once the game is over, you meet back up with who you were there for and start to say your goodbyes. You pass Charlie as you’re walking back to your car so you stop and congratulate him on the win, telling him that it was nice meeting him. 

- He gives you an award winning smile and tells you that it was nice meeting you too, and for a split second, as he watches you get inside your car and talk with the other boy through the window, he forgets about how disappointed in himself he is. 

- He spends most of the night thinking about how many times he fumbled the ball, but every now and again, the image of you drifts though his mind and he finds himself picturing you in vivid detail: how you smiled at him, how earnestly happy for him you were, how pretty you looked in the fleeting sunlight. 

- It seems at least one good thing came out of that day....

- The next time you meet is a chance encounter as you’re out with your family and some family friends for dinner. He’s a few tables away and takes notice of you as you’re sitting alone, waiting for your group to be back from their separate conversations elsewhere in the dining area. 

- Once he sees you, he excuses himself and walks over, saying hello and talking with you for a little while before asking if you’d like to dance. Once you agree, he takes your hand and helps you up from your seat, leading you into the dancing area. 

- At least on the outside, Charlie is the exact type of boy that most parents want their daughter to date. The all American, upper class football player who pretty much has a full ride into Harvard, what better is there? So when they return to find you dancing with him, chances are, they aren’t going to rush to pull you back to the table. 

- So, you and Charlie dance and talk until one of your families decides that they “really must be going” and excuses you from your embrace. 

- But that little dance was all it took, he smiles at you and tells you that he hopes to see you again, already planning on how to ask you out before you’re even out the door. 

- Chances are, someone probably spotted you on the dancefloor together and later asks Charlie about you, to which he makes some bragging ambiguous comment that leads everyone into thinking that you’re a couple. So it’s really quite lucky that, when he calls you up a few days later, you do agree to go out on a date with him. 

- Regardless of the fact that most of his school and some of yours think that you’re already dating, the two of you go out to an ice cream parlor for your first date that next Friday and you have a really great time with him. 

- And, though he considers the fact that you went on a date to sort of mean that the two of you are dating, you share your first kiss after a couple more dates. He’d sort of surprised you with it but you weren’t really complaining.

- Technically, he’d been trying to kiss you all night so I guess that’s mainly why it surprised you: the only way he finally managed to do it was by doing it swiftly before you could cluelessly turn your head or move onto something else. So yeah, it was a little abrupt but it was still pleasantly accepted by you. 

- You don’t get a formal “will you be my girlfriend” but after that, he calls you “his girl” and everyone thinks that you’re dating. And since you have no issue with that, you just accept that you’re dating a handsome, Harvard ready preppie. 

- Charlie wants to show off that you’re “his girl” no matter where you are so there’s quite a bit of Pda in your relationship. Although, if you’re around his parents then his mother probably scolds him for “being all over you”, which him and his father usually laugh off. 

- His hand on your back or his arm wrapped around your waist.

- Temple and cheek kisses.

- Chaste, cheerful kisses when he’s happy and excited.

- Soft, slow kisses when he’s in a more serious mood. You’re probably his first girlfriend; or one of his first girlfriends, so these types of kisses are usually laced with hesitancy. He’ll look into your eyes and lean in slowly, softly brushing his lips to yours waiting for you to kiss him back. 

- Long makeout sessions. He always ends up with mussed up hair and his lips tinted the shade of your lipstick. 

- How the two of you cuddle really depends on what you’re trying to accomplish. It isn’t exclusive to this but if he’s having a bad day or you want to talk, then you’ll wind up with his head tucked under your chin and his hands tracing patterns on your back and sides; along with your hands running through his hair. Other times, you’ll spoon interchangeably. 

- Charlie loves using pet names; particularly when he’s trying to show off. Like I said before, he calls you his girl, but he’ll also call you things like honey and sweetheart. 

- Considering the way your lives are, the two of you don’t get to see each other incredibly often, but you learn to make things work. There’s a lot of waiting around for phone calls and spending holidays together and trying to shuffle around activities to find time for dates. 

- Jumping into his arms when you reunite. Like I said before, you don't get to see him extremely often, so you’re always ecstatic when he shows up and/or surprises you; and he loves seeing you all excited to see him. 

- Phone calls. He likes calling you to say goodnight or plan a date every now and again but he definitely gets at least somewhat embarrassed to say “I love you” if his friends are around. 

- Says “god, I know” when you tell him that he looks good or handsome. You always roll your eyes and push him as he smiles a shit eating grin. 

- He really cares about his looks, especially his hair, and it’s always immaculate which makes you want to mess it up; the fact that it annoys him only makes you want to do it more. 

- He absolutely does the real life equivalent of an 80s movie dress up montage as he gets ready for your dates and I will not be convinced otherwise. 

- He brags about you constantly. Everyone who knows him knows that the two of you are dating.

- Dancing together. He likes pressing his face to yours and keeping you as close as he can. 

- Family dinners and get togethers with his parents. They always insist that you join them whenever they’re going to do something. 

- Going to the diner and other teen hangouts. 

- He definitely steals your food constantly. This boy is almost always eating so if you’re into baking or cooking then you’ve found the perfect man.

- Ice cream parlor dates. 

- Soda shop dates. 

- Pool dates. He definitely has a pool at his house and you can’t deny that it’s nice seeing him without a shirt and watching as he shows his different jumps and flips into the water or the show of him shaking the water out of his hair. The only downside is his occasional; or frequent, attempts at throwing or carrying you into the pool.

- Picnics in the park. I can just picture him laying between or resting against your legs and tossing a football in the air as he talks with you.

- He always gets the biggest smile on his face when he sees you and when he’s with you. He especially gets a big smile on his face when he sees you all dressed up; he just thinks you’re the prettiest.

- Late night dates; and maybe sneaking out to see each other.

- He’s probably taken you out to that lake and the two of you have sat there on the dock and talked all night; probably with him giving you his jacket because it’s cold.

- Helping him study and reassuring him that he’s gonna do fine. Study dates are some of the only times where you get to see the magnitude of how stressed out and serious he can get. 

- Trying to help him calm down and loosen up whenever school and all other aspects of his life get too hectic, stressful or upsetting. 

- He definitely has your picture in his dresser drawer and it’s one of the things that bring him the most comfort when he’s frustrated. 

- Wearing his class ring. 

- Having quick conversations before football games. He thinks it’s good luck to see you and talk before he plays; and he finds it comforting to get a little reassurance from you before he goes out on the field.

- Him trying to impress you with his football “skills”. Charlie isn’t awful but he certainly isn’t the greatest, but you didn’t get with him for his football playing so you just congratulate him on wins and pretend like you didn’t notice his fumbles; if you even did to begin with.

- He loves being able to make you laugh; it makes him feel so cool. 

- He definitely spoils you. It’s both because he loves you so much and wants you to be happy; and grew up with his father doing the same for his mother, but also because he wants to show you that he can provide for you and that you won’t find another boy your age who can do the same thing for you, which isn’t the greatest mindset but he is a rich kid. 

- He got you this special necklace pretty early on in your relationship and it might arguably be like, a little too much, but you accepted it anyways because you really liked him. 

- Charlies got a big mouth, he blurts stuff out without thinking, so you’re oftentimes giving him looks or hitting his arm or telling him what not to say. 

- Charlies also; on the outside, the stereotypical all American good boy that every parent in the 1950′s wanted their daughter to date. He’s rich, he’s clean cut and he’s pretty much perfect. He can probably do no wrong in the eyes of your parents so they'll likely be very happy to let you go out with him. 

- Being a little jealous of Sally. I mean, the girls gorgeous and she’s been around and is around your boyfriend constantly. You don’t think he’d cheat on you but it’s still a bit difficult seeing them together. 

- He’d be completely surprised when he realizes that you’re jealous; and jealous over him. It might not be the nicest but he’d absolutely find a sort of sick satisfaction in you being jealous. Like, the fact that you value him that much and feel the same feelings that he does would be reassuring to him. 

- Being a big part of the David situation: whether it be you forcing him not to do anything or breaking up with him for a while or otherwise being the reason that he doesn't find out or at least do anything about his findings. 

- He’s legitimately a bit insecure about himself and his family ties s he might, on occasion, think that you’re just with him for his name and his status. But at the same time, he’s okay with that because at least he has you. 

- You constantly reassure him that you love him and that you love him for him, and scoff whenever he even insinuates that you might not. And sometimes you’ll prove to him that how you feel is real, which might not be the best resolution but it’s certainly one of the funnest. 

- He’s a pretty jealous person. He cuts in whenever someone tries flirting with you or shows interest in you, though how he does it depends on where you are or who they are. Sometimes he’ll save face and just excuse you from the situation or politely join in and show that he’s your boyfriend.

- Other times he just goes straight to throwing around his popularity and status, acting like a bit of a jerk and maybe making you a little annoyed in the process. 

- He rarely has a reason to be protective over you so he tends to not be, but he’s definitely one of those naively ignorant boys who was raised on the belief that women are dainty and more fragile. So there’s that and his possessiveness which accumulates into him being; in theory, somewhat protective. 

- Charlies a bit hot tempered, he’ll say and do things he doesn't mean; particularly when he’s upset, so the two of you might fight quite often and possibly temporarily break up from time to time. 

- He gets a little worried when you’re obviously angry or upset after an argument and he almost always tries to smooth things over and apologize; which he oftentimes does so fairly quickly after or during arguments regardless. 

- If you do wind up ambiguously breaking up then he’ll probably curse your name; not meaning it, and cry a little: both in frustration, anger and sadness. He’ll later do whatever he can to make things up to you and apologize, trying to get you to forgive him however he can and possibly finally get a hug or kiss. 

- He prefers to show you he loves you rather than tell you. He just gets a little shy about actually saying the words; though he loves hearing you say it. 

- He already acts like your husband so it’s pretty much a given that he’s going to propose. He probably wants to do it as soon as possible and start your life together; the all American dream: a white picket fence, two kids, and a dog. It’s a sitcom story but with him it’s possible to have a future that idealistic. 

#charlie dillon imagine #charlie dillon headcanon #charlie dillon headcanons #charlie dillon imagines #school ties imagine #school ties imagines #school ties headcanons #school ties headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

CURIOUS MINDS THINK ALIKE ; PART 5 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: Through guessing games and walking on eggshells, it’s you and Loki that dance the strange choreography of two curious minds trying to figure out the other. A/N: Slow moving chapter! If any of you speak Norwegian and know that sentence is wrong, please tell me! I took a risk, not sure if it's worth it. Anyways, I promise there’s more stuff coming in the next chapters. Tell me anything about this chapter, what you love, what you hate. Enjoy xo gif from this gifset by@marvelheroes WARNINGS: Swearing? More paperwork. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

The narration of Miss Minutes accompanying the grainy animated graphics of a training video on how, why, and when a branch of a timeline is reset seems to be the source of Loki’s absentmindedness. If he is typically referred to as outrageously and mostly unnecessarily communicative, it is his mind that beats his mouth—the tumult of his thoughts is loud and overwhelming like the people who amass at taverns every evening to drink themselves silly whilst singing jolly drinking songs until the wee hours of the morning. Except, his thoughts are far from jolly. He, mastermind of language and a silver-tongue, has no words of any language to describe the complexity of his mind with accuracy.

Kraftig regn som faller i en fossende elv.

Like heavy rain falling on a cascading river. Water from the sky on water streaming through the ground—thunderous raindrops from above against the river that strikes every rock of every winding turn.

Those were the words of his mother.

Maybe, that’s how his mind should be described.

It’s the mechanical creaks of spinning wheels against the polished floor that pulls him out of his thoughts and finds that he had been staring blankly at a page of men riding jet skis of a magazine he'd nipped from the stack of junk on Mobius’ desk for the last minute or hour. A second or a day? He isn’t sure.

Time works differently at the TVA.

“Hey Casey,” he hears you chime, the cart squeaks as it pulls to a halt. “Do you have a paperweight or something I could use?”

There’s a sound of rummaging as the clerk searches the drawers. Loki restrains the urge to look.

“Uh, yeah...Here.”

“Thanks.”

Probably an infinity stone.

The clerk then wheels by, pushing the evidence cart as he casts a cautious glance his way.

Right. He did threaten to gut him like a fish earlier on although the threat was not as deadly as he intended but proved to be surprisingly effective. Yet, Casey is probably the type to be afraid of his own shadow, he would comply with any sort of threat even if it isn't death.

Pathetic. But amusing.

The training video continues to play in the background, and Miss Minutes’ stupidly charming and cheery voice is starting to sound like gibberish to him. At this rate, it’s white noise to him—attention elsewhere but somewhat listening to a certain extent. He loves multi-tasking and isn’t afraid to admit he’s great at it though it likely plays a huge factor in contributing to the uproar of his brain. It’s why he doesn’t get any sleep for most nights.

There’s just...so much to think about.

And now, it’s filled with the reminder of how you met another version of him. Somewhere. Sometime. An inferior Loki, obviously.

Suddenly, the jet ski magazine becomes less interesting, his mind fleeting.

Discreetly, he spins in his swivel chair and sees you through inked writings and diagrams on the glass partition of your cubicle. Your coat’s discarded, and you have your sleeves rolled up, looking less formal, less tense than before. Yet, still as fierce with that constant scowl of your brows. He watches you bring your fingers to scratch the left side of your cheek and notices a vague resemblance of a fading scar.

He hadn’t seen that before.

The glowing orange hue of the soul stone sits idly on top of a stack of papers beside you.

Loki makes some sort of contemptuous noise in his mind at the sight.

The TVA is a strange place. The thought of a cosmic organization that overlooks all of the time doesn’t make it any less weird and neither do the uniforms—dull color combinations and collars that never seem to end. And the Time-Keepers, well, he isn’t sure what to make of that. Things are a little too straightforward, too simple for handling such a complex matter of the universe—Time. It doesn't make sense.

You spark his curiosity. You had a connection with him. Another Loki trusted you to a certain extent. He wonders what makes you so special, that Mobius was willing to try everything to convince you to help.

He also wonders what your name is.

The clearing of his throat comes off as a sudden and disruptive sound that resonates clearly through the somewhat silent environment of the office floor. A subtle way to gaining your attention although it's proving ineffective. You continue to flip through documents, scribbling notes on a notepad.

He wheels his chair closer to you. For a moment, he catches sight of a white mug amongst the mess. It says, 'Rocket scientist at work.' There’s no way a person as intimidating as you have that kind of mug.

He clears his throat once more.

Still nothing. It’s like he doesn't exist to you.

Then, he notes your vague attempt to fight down a growing smile.

Oh. Oh. You—

Hm.

He scooches closer and taps on the glass partition a little too aggressively.

“I know you can hear me.”

His tone comes out in a sing-song manner. Finally, your eyes turn up to meet his. They are different from when you first saw him emerged into the hallway. Less angry and shocked. Now, you just look unimpressed.

Loki somehow thinks it’s a great idea to charm his way to you.

A grin finds his way to his lips, curving widely with oozing allure.

Or so he thinks.

“Pardon me, but I believe we haven’t properly met and I didn’t catch your name earlier on.”

You don’t say anything, only blink in response.

Tough crowd.

Loki shifts in his seat.

“...What is your name?”

He articulates his words with care, and he doesn’t know why he finds it a need to tread lightly around you. Like with a touch, you will transform into a fiery beast from his childhood nightmares and eat him alive.

You and Mobius are polar opposites—personality-wise. It’s a wonder how the two of you get along.

Do you scare him? No. Definitely not.

Do you intimidate him? Perhaps. But, he will never admit it.

Maybe it’s the way you’re gazing at him with that constant, deafening deadpan look.

Then, you finally give him an answer.

“Agent.”

And with that, you're back to scribbling notes on a notepad.

Agent.

Loki scoffs silently to himself.

Well, that turned out to be completely pointless.

He turns his back to you, returning to scanning through Mobius' jet ski magazine within his grasp.

Loki doesn’t see how you’re now staring at the back of his figure, tapping your pen against the notepad absentmindedly.

Curious minds think alike.

-

You needed a change of scenery.

With all the noise of the muffling narration of the training videos from Mobius’ desk, you began to feel like you forgot how to do your job. The only job you were created for. The disturbance seems to be putting your brain into a frenzy and it’s preventing you from getting your head straight on report protocols. Trying to think of better words to describe the things you’ve seen on Sakaar that weren’t words that meant trash and didn’t end up sounding unintentionally sexual, is where you draw the line.

Times are hard for the variant turned analyst.

The archives are serene amid your solitude. Extensive tables hidden between shelves of identical-looking binders that expanded throughout the hundreds of floors of the building. The spot that overlooks the three looming statues of the Time-Keepers is your favorite. The occasional swish of a passing elevator calms your nerves from all the frustration and pressure ever since you were released from your arrest. You’re just happy to be somewhere familiar although it’s not home.

Although all distractions are gone, you manage to find new ones as you gaze at the glowing ‘357’ signage from across the building as you decide to let your thoughts run for just a little while. You feel like you’re looking through foggy glasses and your brain feels like it’s about to shut down any moment.

Dream away the pain, then.

Then, you hear a voice from afar. Two voices. It’s Mobius; you’ll recognize that quintessential Texan accent anywhere from the times he would rave about a new jet ski magazine he’d found on a mission...something along those lines.

Much to your chagrin, you also hear Loki with that irritatingly posh accent of his.

You should probably move somewhere else. Run and hide before you're being pulled even more into this mess because you know Mobius is trying to get you to spend as much time with the variant turned analyst to gain trust.

You’re still not sure how it’s helping with his case. Loki has better trust in Mobius than you as far as you’re concerned.

Before you could even gather the mess of your files, the two men you’ve been trying to escape are already by the desk you’re sitting at. You suddenly notice the stack of files on the other end of the desk, not remembering seeing the archivist putting that there.

Crap.

“Let me park ya at this desk and don’t be afraid to really lean into this work...”

You look like a deer caught in the headlights, signaling to Mobius that you really don’t want to share a desk with Loki. He continues to speak to him, ignoring your silent plea. Then, he gestures to the seat across from you.

There’s still time to leave.

Mobius addresses you with the stretch of his pointer finger.

“You, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna get a snack.”

Well, too late.

With a turn of a heel, you and Loki watch him walk away and pass neverending shelves of the archives. Once again, the two of you are left alone in the silence and the white noise of the TVA.

You meet each other's eyes at the same time, struck with the thought that you and he will probably be seeing each other a lot until the Loki variant is arrested. Plus, you’re tired of giving him the cold shoulder although you believe he deserves it.

This is a different Loki. The one who’s still power-hungry. The one who still wants to rule.

Time to start fresh.

You notice he now wears a jacket, a color somewhere between green, grey, and brown with a striking image of the TVA’s official badge above his chest. The lapels of his jacket jut out in an attempt to replicate his sense of pride and confidence.

He must have been on a trip with Mobius to the Renaissance Faire in Wisconsin, 1985. Oh, how you would kill to tag along. Everyone who knows you knows about your obsession with Earth’s music pop culture, specifically the 1980s. It explains the cassettes you have lying around. Your apartment has more of it.

Unfortunately, you're grounded. That's reality.

Thus, you decide that Loki deserves a second chance because he’s also somehow looking at you for some kind of approval. You’re starting to wonder if this is the same Loki that was tapping aggressively on your cubicle earlier on.

With an open palm, you gesture to the empty seat surrounded by stacks of binders and folders. It's the first time he has experienced some kind of acknowledgment of his presence that you weren’t ranting or screaming about. Oddly calm. Oddly inviting. Momentarily, he shifts in his stance, eyes darting between a fading figure of Mobius rounding the corner and to the seat, across from you.

The air is tense. However, still breathable.

Loki slides into the seat, legs shifting under the desk as it brushes against your by accident. You shoot him a pointed look, and he responds with a coy expression, blinking at you innocently. It’s mischievous.

Classic Loki.

You turn back to your case file, ignoring the way his gaze seems to burn holes into the side of your face for a fleeting moment before flipping a binder open from the stack to his left.

-

You snore when you sleep.

Loki wouldn’t describe it as a snore; it's more of a wheeze. Soft and subtle but it’s there, cutting through the ambiance of the archives, drifting and resonating in his ears. Through turning pages, uttering words to himself for his amusement, and having an irritating lady shush him for that, he realized how it became a lot quieter. The grazing sound of pen furiously scribbling words onto the yellow notepad has stopped.

Then, he hears it. Your pathetic snores. Your cheek is unceremoniously pressed against the back of your hand while the other holds the orange pen that’s still pinned down on the paper, mid-scrawl. The tip of the ballpoint pen sits idly, halfway through the curved stroke of the last letter of the word, ‘debris.’ He cranes his neck, face tilting in an attempt to read the chicken scratchings of your handwriting.

0132: L1190 hauls me through the time door and I miserably land on Sakaar, the planet of wastelands and debris.

You are quite...miserable. In a comical way. And he knows how much you hated your time on Sakaar—Mobius warned him of your apparent irritation in reminiscent of being stranded and then having to resume paperwork immediately. He wonders if he, too, is the reason for another boiling rage.

Apparently, you were pardoned on behalf of not only Mobius but the Time-Keepers as well.

You, an agent, are recognized by the holy and almighty Time-Keepers.

You, an agent, who sleeps with your mouth agape.

The statues of the TVA’s creators loom over him like they’re watching his every step. Every movement. Every lingering thought. Right now, he has the urge to uncover, perhaps deduce, the holes within this whole mess. In a carefully calculated and discrete movement, he reaches to prod you on the forearm. You don’t move.

He prods you again.

You still don’t move.

Now, Loki is trying to chat up the archivist who watches him through narrowed eyes, glasses framing the austere and rigid structure of her face, in favor of files that turn out to be classified.

Classified, classified, classified. Only able to gain access to his own file.

His journey from the desk proved to be useless and unproductive although the much-needed stretch somehow made it a little worthwhile.

When he returns, you're surprisingly still asleep, brow twitching and lips still parted.

Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?

The pen you held has now left your grasp, rolled over to his stack of binders. He notices the words inscribed on it, ‘Mars is there, waiting to be reached.'

Through your fury and chaos, he knows there’s a part of you that feels, a part of you that loves. And you love everything about the Midgardians’ space program. It's shown in the way you cling to collected memorabilia.

There are dark circles that adorn your shut eyes, barely hidden under your lashes. You’re exhausted, fractured.

Loki is having a difficult time trying to suppress how he likes the way the frizz of your hair glows against the glowing table lamps from the desk behind you. You’re raw, flaws presented on a silver platter for everyone to see. Maybe, that’s the reason why you entice him the way you do.

He’s staring. Right. Back to work.

Loki returns to running through neverending case files, engrossed in the pixelated monochrome images that accompany the monospace typeface of endless reports.

Then, he sees it.

‘Destruction of Asgard’ in big, bold, and red letters. It glares at him sharply, images of his once divine home of Asgard, crumbling at the feet of Surtur. Buildings, people, engulfed in the flames of the fire demon. The prophecy of the end, Ragnarok—it was meant to be.

His home, it still was. Although an untrue Asgardian.

He knows how it ends. He knows he dies. He wishes his true self, the one on the Sacred Timeline, could have done more.

He doesn’t realize the forming tears that linger. He doesn’t realize that in the sense of premonition, you’ve awakened. He doesn’t realize that even with sleepy eyes, you notice the grief that glints in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

With three words, you’ve struck him with those eyes that seemed all-knowing. You see through the facade he has created, sealing the true nature of what is truly a child that is afraid of his destiny and to lose all he had ever known. His mother, father, and brother. His people. You see through it all.

You know that face. You’d seen it on Sakaar when he sat at the doorstep of your makeshift home, watching the splintered moon drift through the star-lit sky. You’d seen it in yourself through the dusty reflection of the screen of the tempad.

He longs for home. He longs for family.

For a moment, Loki sees Frigga in your eyes.

Then, his world shifts, hauling him back to reality. It’s you who’s across his way, not his mother. Loki blinks, partly to get his head straight with the excuse to blink away the sting in his eye. He shifts in his seat, rolling his neck and squares his shoulders.

“Yes. I’m alright. It’s just...”

Trailing off, he clears his throat. You follow his gaze and from your spot, you catch sight of those deafening crimson letters. Maybe, it was the spur of the moment. You blame your drowsy state, but there’s a growing warmth that spreads across your chest from the pit of your stomach. It’s subtle, a spark, but evident. Before you know it, you’re uttering words that leave your lips faster than your brain could perceive.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know when was the last time you said those words and meant it. Loki doesn’t know when was the last time he’d ever heard those words addressed to him, spoken from the lips of a stranger. Until now.

You mean it. He sees it in the curve of your brows.

Loki swallows, nodding curtly. For the first time, he has nothing to say. And as quickly as the moment comes, he brushes it off and so do you. Whatever is reminiscent of a residing unknown feeling, bubbling within, has disappeared.

He sees your hand reach for the pen and for a while, he thinks you’re about to reach for his arm.

But no, you’re back to scrawling notes on the paper and he’s back to studying useless documents.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your normal antics as you find yourself chasing after Loki, who abruptly left the desk with wide eyes.

Curious minds think alike. Mostly.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki series #sylvie #mobius x reader

[mooniefics]

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her  torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

[meltwonu]

36. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

52. “I’m not jealous! its just…you’re mine!”

96. “Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”

notes; the littlest bit of dom!jun but mostly jealous/possessive!jun, car sex, car quickies!, dirty talk, the smallest hint of exhibitionism, the way i thought this was so hot but then i thought about MAMA and how they were just sitting in the cars/outside so I’ve remixed this a little bit heh hope u dont mind!! 😭😩💕 also prime example of that last ask and me having to be in the mood for certain prompts bc im pretty sure this one has been sitting in my inbox for months ☠️ sorry ‘bout that. just goes to show I don’t go in order!! As always, thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

The van door shuts behind you louder than you expect it to; grimacing when you turn and meet Jun’s annoyed stare.

“Really?” He drawls, ushering you to scoot over to the back of the van as he follows suit. “He was three seconds from asking for your phone number if I hadn’t stepped in, y’know.”

You roll your eyes at Jun as you rest against the other side of the backseat. “I was just talking to him. And let’s be real, it’s boring staying in the van when everyone’s mingling outside.” Mumbling, you watch as Jun loosens his necktie; licking your lips at the simple gesture. “And it’s not like I was going to give it to him anyway, so you don’t need to be jealous, Jun.”

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… You’re mine!” He whispers harshly; careful to remember that the two of you were only in a van and that there were still people standing outside. “And I saw the way he was looking at you!”

“Yeah? And what kinda way was it?” Your voice drops slightly, eyes dancing up to Jun who meets your suggestive stare.

He chuckles under his breath, tinkering with the rings on his fingers as he thinks. “It’s the same way I look at you. When I want to bend you over the table and pull your panties to the side so I can fuck you when we’re both impatient. Or the way I look at you when you’re cumming on my cock and you’re so fuckin’ lost in getting off that you start playing with yourself to really milk your orgasm.”

Your body burns hot; pussy clenching around emptiness as you hang onto every word that leaves Jun’s lips.

He smirks in return when he sees the way your eyes seem to hollow, mind obviously elsewhere.

“And it’s the same look you have in your eyes now that you’re thinkin’ about my cock inside of you.”

“Ngh.. Jun…”

You swivel your hips; soft cries spilling from your lips as Jun’s blunt nails dig into your clothed waist. The two of you really didn’t have the time, so he’d quickly tugged you into his lap, harsh kisses against your lips while he snuck his hand up your short skirt before he had you sinking down onto his cock.

“You should really be careful, baby. You wouldn’t want them to hear you in here, would you?” He teases quietly. You shake your head in return as you open your foggy eyes and immediately start scanning the windows.

There were still staff running around outside and the two of you were unsure how long you even had before someone came poking around.

You’d thanked the higher powers that at least the windows had been tinted, at least a little.

“I’m suh--sorry, it’s j-just… you feel so g-good and--and, mmh, it’s been a-a while since we had t-time…” You mumble; bottom lip quivering when you feel him start to thrust up just as you start to bounce on his lap a little harder. His cock curves into you perfectly and you can’t help the loud cries that fall from your lips. 

Jun pouts up at you, brows furrowed. “I know, but we’ve been busy rehearsing. You know how it is.” He pauses; images of you speaking to the other male idol dancing in his mind before he gently scoffs. “Didn’t expect to invite you here and then catch you mingling with other male idols though.”

“Ugh, we were just t-talking~” You whine, “And I’m, ah, here n-now getting d-drunk off your c-cock…”

He grins at this; ego slightly boosted. “That’s right. Taking my cock in the backseat of our van that anyone can walk into. Letting everyone know how good I fuck you since you can’t seem to stay quiet either. Say, could he make you feel as good as I do?”

“N-no, fuh--fuck, Jun! Right there, please! Please…” You mewl, bouncing in his lap harder when the head of his cock slams into your g-spot.

The van sways slightly at your frantic movements and you’re sure by now that someone’s already caught on that there were definitely people in the van hooking up. Not that you cared.

“Play with yourself, baby. I wanna feel your ‘lil cunt getting tight around me when you cum on my lap.” Jun licks his lips, eyes dancing to the manager that almost opens the door but steps away once they realize the van’s moving. “I wanna cum in your pretty pussy. Gonna fill you up with so much of my cum that it’s spilling out of you and then once we get back to my room I’m gonna fuck it back into your tight hole while you beg me for more.” Grinning, he relishes in the way you only tighten around his cock at his words. “Or, you can go back out there. Go mingle with everyone while my cum slides down your thighs.” 

Jun can feel himself close to cumming too; hips canting upwards to meet your frenzied movements once you push your panties even more to the side to play with your clit.

His cock throbs inside of your tight heat, soft moans spilling from his own lips when he can feel you cumming on his cock not even a minute later.

“F-fuck, baby…” Your walls clamp down onto his cock in a vice grip as the pleasure washes over you, fingers still rubbing harsh and quick circles on your clit as you cry out Jun’s name in a hurried mess.

He cums soon after you, biting on his bottom lip to keep in his noises as the two of you ride out your highs.

You let out a drawn out moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “J--Jun I--you’re c-cumming so, ah, m-much…” The warmth spreads throughout your body as he fills you up and you find yourself swiveling your hips to ride out the remnants of your orgasm as he laughs under his breath.

“Yeah and don’t drop any of it or else the stylists are gonna kick my ass for getting my suit dirty.” He responds breathily, wiping at his forehead gently. You blink at him incredulously, wondering how you were supposed to get off his lap without spilling any cum on his, somewhat, still properly pressed slacks.

“But--but--”

“But what? Don’t you like a challenge?” Smirking, Jun watches as the gears turn in your head. You pout back at him, pulling your panties slightly until the hem is right against where his cock is still inside of you.

You quickly raise yourself off of his lap, tugging your panties back into place and letting out a guttural moan when you feel his cum already pooling in the material a second later.  

“Uh oh~” He singsongs, already making disapproving noises as you look down into his lap.

Jun reaches a hand between your legs in return; fingertips pressing into your cum covered panties as he teases your clit through the soaked material.

“J--Jun!” Letting out a shaky moan, you let him tease you through your panties, already somewhat grinding down onto his fingers. 

“You got cum on my slacks, baby. You know your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”

“But---But I didn’t d-do it on, mmh, pur---purpose!” You cry out, breath hitching when he slowly pushes your panties into your hole. “I p-promise!”

A knock on the window drags the two of you out of your world; Seungcheol’s suit-clad form on the other side of the tinted glass. “Jun. 10 minutes.” He mutters, eyes focused elsewhere before briskly walking away from the van.

Your entire body is warm from the post-orgasmic bliss and slight embarrassment but all Jun does is smirk and retract his hand from between your legs.

“On second thought, stay in the van. I’ll deal with you once I get back and don’t even think about touching yourself while I’m gone.”

#jun smut #Junhui smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #jun imagines #jun scenarios #Junhui scenarios #Junhui imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt fic #seventeen fic #Junhui #jun #jun fic #Junhui fic

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

If Glee did a Taylor Swift Tribute Episode...

Just my opinions, feel free to add on to them. I know I have some fellow gleek swifties following me. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Obviously they have to do some of the hits but I think some people would have some out of the box picks.

*This post assumes all Taylor songs are available to choose from as of May 14th 2021 but focuses on Taylor’s first 6 albums (if you want more glee and Taylor I have fics with that; LOVER and FOLKLORE) and takes liberties with where this episode’s placement is in terms of canon. But since it’s all made up anyway who cares (but Blaine’s involved so I guess season 3 idk).*

Okay, trying to do a full plot here (completely inspired by @kurtdeservesbetter head canon posts. I hope this lives up to her fabulous posts). This will be my version of glee so everyone gets solos and Rachel can’t hog the spotlight. Also, this is about to be super long (both post wise and episode wise).

Let’s open the first episode with

...Ready For It because the New Directions are in their reputation era. Santana does the opening cough centerstage. Everyone in black and/or camo green outfits (can you just see Kurt in a dark green bedazzled snake jacket, Santana in a black leather dress, and Tina digging out some goth clothes for people to borrow?), snakes everywhere, but probably no Karyn (she just wouldn’t fit on the auditorium stage). Santana takes the first verse but we have Blaine step up for verse 2. (I just love their friendship in the Michael tribute, cute little badasses are BACK. Also him singing “Burton to this Taylor” is such a Klaine thing to do).

Everyone is still dressed in their rep outfits but we’re in the choir room now. Mr. Schue is talking about why Taylor had to disappear and clap back with rep, how rough the industry is for women and tries to uplift the ladies in the room and encourage them to not silence their voices (cue snarky comment from Santana about Rachel needing to be silent).

Then, Mr. Schue goes on about how you can only understand how Taylor got to her rep era by studying her earlier music. So we have a performance of Tim McGraw. Simple, front of the choir room performance, maybe Puck does guitar, and sitting on stools.

Everyone is surprised to find out how pumped Sam is for this assignment but he is all over it. “It's about time we did some country in this room.” Cue Sam and Quinn at her locker talking about their ‘date’ last night, Sam’s all cute and teasing and Quinn is not into it. She tells him it was fun but she was wrong, they shouldn’t do this again. In turn, he does a wonderful performance of Bye Bye Baby. He thought it was more but clearly he’s “a part of her past.”

Then, we’re in the empty choir room. Tina and Mike are there. (I love their cutesy duets) They sing Everything Has Changed and it’s utterly adorable. Can’t you hear Mike asking Tina if she’s “good to go” like Ed does? And while we’re on the subject of cute duets and RED, we flash to the courtyard to see Santana and Brittany. They turn Stay Stay Stay into a duet. “I’ve been loving you for quite some time,” “before you I only dated self-indulgent takers who took all their problems out on me,” “no one else is gonna love me when I’m mad, mad, mad,” and “it’s occurring to me that I’d like to hang out with you for my whole life” it’s perfect for them. Adorable ladies kisses are had.

Let’s toss in some boy drama for fun. Idk shit about football but somehow Puck is praised by their coach over Finn, which gets him all pissy, and Puck’s upset and jealous because Finn is back with Quinn now (this is why Quinn shut Sam now earlier, she changed her mind). Can we say duet of Bad Blood? “So if you’re coming my way...just don’t.”

After their dramatics, we have a Brittany solo in the choir room. It’s after school at this point (or whenever glee club is). Brittany does You’ll Always Find You Way Back Home.

When she finishes Mr. Schue tries to explain that it’s a Hannah Montana song. Britt injects that it’s confusing how she’s really Miley Cryus “like how can you be two people at once?”. Before Mr. Schue can continue, Kurt pipes up “you never specified that the songs had to be sung by Taylor Swift, just that they were her songs.” Mercedes adds, “yeah, Mr. Schue, Taylor wrote that song.” Mr. Schue concedes that he has once again been outwitted by Kurtcedes. The friends do their little hand shake thing.

With a sigh, Mr. Schue asks Mike if he’s ready to go and Mike asks to take things to the auditorium for some dancing room. Everyone’s on stage with him and it’s kind of a group number but Mike is the focus. It’s Shake It Off. All inspired by the music video. He’s tried to fit in elsewhere (i.e. football, with the smart kids, etc..) but he’s really himself in glee when he’s dancing.

Part 2 of Taylor Tribute Episodes

We begin with an ALL GIRL NUMBER of A Place In This World. Just because.

Glee is dismissed and we zoom in on Artie. He’s watching Tina with Mike and Brittany with Santana. Both Tina and Britt have broken his heart by this point. So, he’s rolling down the halls singing A Perfectly Good Heart. While Artie’s soloing, we cut to Rachel watching Finn and Quinn chatting. Artie’s song playing over this scene. Rachel is feeling similar to him at the moment.

She’s pretty sure Finn dumped her to be with Quinn again even though Kurt and Blaine told her they saw Quinn and Sam at the movies last night together making out in the back row. Fine, if that’s how he’s going to be, she doesn’t need him anyway. Cue Mr. Perfectly Fine. Uber dramatic solo performance walking around McKinley’s halls watching Finn and Quinn together ending in the auditorium alone. (see what I did there, both broken hearted peeps singing a song with Perfectly in it (this was not at all planned, actually, happy accident))

After some good old heartbreak, we have Kurt and Blaine on screen. Blaine walks into the auditorium to see Kurt sitting on the edge of the stage. “What’s all the fuss?” he asks from the door. Kurt had texted him “EMERGENCY.” The band starts to play and Kurt just starts singing, Enchanted. It’s time to profess their love for each other, just like they sing Perfect together in the car, this duet needs no audience. Blaine catches up and sings while walking towards his boyfriend. It’s very reminiscent of past New Directions competitions where they come in from the back and make their way to the stage. “Wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you?” Kurt and Blaine both know the answer to that question now but just a few months ago they were both wondering that exact thing.

They kiss before we cut to Kurt and Blaine walking hand in hand into the choir room where everyone else is already. Mr. Schue is praising the performances thus far and of course asks Rachel if she’s ready to solo (some practice for her completion solo). This causes an uproar from Mercedes and Santana. Another classic argument of how she gets too many solos. Mr. Schue tries to shut them both down but Santana tells Rachel to watch her back, and we get three very different reactions to this. 

All three girls storm out.

First, we visit Mercedes alone in the courtyard. This solo is all about being hurt over this great thing in her life (glee) and her being denied happiness within that club. Thus, Cold As You. (mostly to indulge myself because she’d blow us away with this song).

Next, Rachel in the auditorium. A huge bridge on stage (very Speak Now Tour of her), belting out Better Than Revenge. Santana’s dropped the last straw (the humiliation, name calling, Finn at one point and now solos,) it’s too much this time.

And finally, Santana walking around McKinley, showing us flashes of Rachel ‘outshining’ her and the rest of glee and Mr. Schue being unfair, while singing Look What You Made Me Do.

Tina walks out at the same time as Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana but no one seems to put two and two together. She feels just as underutilized as the latter two do. She ends up in an empty classroom and sings The Outside. “Nobody ever lets me in” and “on the outside looking in.”

Once the 3, err 4, divas have left the room, Finn sticks up for Rachel. Quinn, of course, has something to say about this along the lines of “you always defend her.” Finn, intimated by her ‘scary Quinn’ fumbles and blurts “because she’s my girlfriend” WHICH IS NOT TRUE AT THIS POINT. Quinn dumps him on the spot, cuts quickly to Blaine and Kurt sharing some ‘oh my god, can you believe this’ expressions, and vanishes from the room.

By this point, Rachel is long gone from the auditorium but the bridge is still there.

Here’s where we go way off script but imagine, Quinn has decided to just quit boys. They’ve all failed her anyway, she’s better off being alone. She walks up the bridge and thinks to herself “god Rachel’s so dramatic, where did this thing even come from” before it hits her “fuck, I’m as bad as Finn. I want her.” Then, she starts singing Clean to herself in the auditorium, likely tearing up throughout and ending with a good cry. (Because Dianna would DELIVER with Clean.)

While Quinn is having a sexuality crisis, the rest of glee is still happening. They’re discussing upcoming competition and debating solos and songs.

Kurt’s all: “Mr. Schue, if I may” and performs a lovely rendition of Call It What You Want. Those opening lines are too good. “My castle (ie McKinley) crumbled overnight, brought a knife to a gun fight (ie couldn’t fight off Dave Karofsky), “I’m doing better than I ever was ‘cause my baby’s fit like a daydream,” and “at least I did one thing right.” When he’s done, Blaine’s a mess in the back of the choir room, and Mr. Schue says: “not really what we’re looking for but very nice, Kurt” however, Kurt’s too busy sitting beside Blaine teasing him about blushing.  

Then, the missing girls return to the room having sung out their emotions. Quinn, having realized her feelings for Rachel, ends up soloing You Belong With Me to the New Directions in the choir room. Odd looks all around, no one knows what’s up with her and why does she keep glancing at Rachel? (Faberry just fit so well I had to add it, don’t know if I’m a shipper or not but it’s here now) (also thanks to @spicygemini for pointing out the obvious “Quinn would have ate YBWY”).

Mr. Schue wants to move the group to the audition to perform their final number of the Taylor Swift tribute well but Tina asks to sing first. He’s surprised but allows it, taking a seat with the rest of the New Directions.

Tina sings Beautiful Ghosts. “Watch from the dark, wait for my life to start” because New Directions is refusing to use her talents AGAIN. She’s singing this to Rachel and the girls who were in the Treble Tones. Because she absolutely SMASHES this number, the glee kids agree she gets solo for their next competition (and they deliver on that promise).

To conclude Part 2 of the Taylor tribute episode, we have a group performance of Long Live. “One day we will be remembered”, “all the years we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now”, “for a moment a band of thrives in ripped up jeans got to rule the world” ie wining completions, “when they look at the pictures please tell them my name...”

#this took so long please enjoy it #Taylor tribute glee episode #glee head canon #gleek swifie #glee #taylor swift

[womenstan]

One More Night - P.4

Let Me Forget You

Summary "Now, Sander held the power of breaking this thing off whenever and leaving Robbe a mess again. But, Robbe had decided he wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t just going to sit still and look pretty until Sander decided he’d had enough of him. Besides, it was nothing more than sex between them. He could live without it, or find it elsewhere.

He was going to stop this thing and he was going to move on.

How difficult could it be, right?"

Part four of one more night

Robbe had always been one to overthink things, to let them stew and simmer in his mind for hours on end, until they either stopped making sense or managed to completely freak him out.

This time, it was the latter. He hadn’t meant to keep thinking about Sander, or, rather, the feelings the simple mention of that name evoked in him. Yet, here he was, two days later, unable to focus on anything else.

He’d known since the beginning that they were walking a very thin and dangerous line and that this was never going to end well, but now he was starting to realize he might have a lot more to lose here than Sander did.

He’d tried to ignore it, push it to the farthest corners of his mind, but to no avail. He knew that once he would enter Sander’s vicinity, his brain would lose all sense of logic and he’d just end up repeating the same mistake again and again and again… until Sander got bored and ditched him again, probably.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to resist, but simply ignoring Sander didn’t seem to be an option, as they constantly ended up in each other’s way. So, he couldn’t ignore him, but there was no way he was going to let Sander win this either.

The angry, fiery sex was great. No, it was beyond amazing and by far the best Robbe had ever had. He was like an addict who needed his fix and that gave Sander the upper hand over him, which Robbe really, really hated. He’d walked right into it too, promising himself he’d never have anything to do with that guy again, before jumping into his bed, both figuratively and literally.

Now, Sander held the power of breaking this thing off whenever and leaving Robbe a mess again. But, Robbe had decided he wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t just going to sit still and look pretty until Sander decided he’d had enough of him. Besides, it was nothing more than sex between them. He could live without it, or find it elsewhere.

He was going to stop this thing and he was going to move on.

How difficult could it be, right?

----

Turns out the answer was: very fucking difficult.

Not only did they attend the same university, but they also both followed classes in the same wing and hung out at the same parties.

Robbe managed to avoid Sander at school by only showing up to his classes and never hanging out at the library afterwards, but this solution could only last so long. So, he needed a plan.

“Milan, what? I’m not going to fuck some guy just to get over this thing with Sander!” Robbe exclaimed, incredulous.

Milan sighed, sitting down next to him on the bed while throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “Fine, Robbe, be boring, then!”

Robbe huffed at that, already regretting coming to Milan for advice. Milan crossed his arms, pouting, before turning his back to Robbe. They stayed in silence for a bit, as Robbe was starting to consider having to switch universities to get out of this.

Suddenly, Milan spun back towards Robbe, grabbing him by the arms in excitement. Robbe arched one his eyebrows in question, prompting Milan to inhale dramatically.

“Ok, I have a solution,” Milan said, which only made Robbe scrunch his face in doubt. “And before you ask, no , it doesn’t involve sex or illegal activities.”

Now, Robbe’s curiosity was piqued. “Go ahead, but I swear if you suggest your cousin aga-“

“No, no, I swear! How was I supposed to know he was married, Robbe, seriously!” Milan interrupted, waving Robbe off. “ Anyways , no, I’m talking about Theo .”

Robbe felt his hopes get crushed all at once. “Milan, no. I can’t.”

Milan tutted him, but Robbe just kept shaking his head in disbelief. “No, Milan, that guy has, like, genuine feelings. I can’t just use him for this!”

Theo was a barista at the university’s small student café. At first, Robbe had thought he was simply extremely nice, but his kindness had escalated into flirting quickly enough. He was very obviously interested in Robbe and he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. And the thing was that he was far from ugly. Theo was a little taller than Robbe and objectively handsome with his side-swept brown hair and his deep blue eyes that seemed to read into your soul when he looked at you. He was also really nice, which might actually be part of the problem. He was so, so, nice that he ended up being quite… boring. Every time Robbe stopped to grab a coffee, he prayed to every single God he could remember that Theo wouldn’t get the guts to ask him out. So far, he’d been safe.

See, Robbe wasn’t good at saying no to people. He hated seeing the hurt on their faces and he felt guilty every time he’d see them again. So, he was pretty sure he’d end up saying yes if Theo proposed a date and he really didn’t think he could survive going out with Theo without falling asleep on him.

So, he couldn’t just use him to get over Sander. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Milan got up and walked towards the door without saying a word, which only aggravated Robbe even more.

“I won’t do this to him, Milan!”

-----

And he really, really wasn’t going to. But then, as he was walking to his last class the next day, he caught sight of a sliver of white hair out of the corner of his eyes and his brain kind of just stopped working.

He couldn’t even think about escaping before Sander’s gaze had met his.

“Robin. Long time no see.” Sander said. He didn’t even bother smirking to smooth his tone over, all coldness and anger that sent chills up Robbe’s spine.

Robbe laughed dryly, his otherwise good mood crushed in an instant. “Yeah, too bad you decided to ruin it, hm?”

Sander stepped closer to Robbe, making him take some tentative steps back towards the wall. The corridors were mostly empty now, most students having already reached their classes. Robbe should definitely follow suit if he doesn’t want to be late, which he definitely doesn’t, considering how strict this teacher is and how behind he is in the course. But it’s as if his body stopped obeying his mind, his feet rooted in place as if cemented into the floor.

“How long are we gonna keep playing cat and mouse for?” Sander said, voice low and hoarse, letting Robbe know he was actually pissed off by Robbe’s avoidance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

If Robbe had thought Sander was mad before, it was nothing compared to now. His eyes had gone dim and narrow and if the way his breathing became more labored was any indication, Robbe was in trouble.

He looked to his left, then to his right, but Sander’s body was pretty much crowding him, making it impossible for Robbe to simply walk away without a confrontation.

“Oh, really? ‘Cause that’s not what you were saying last week when you couldn’t get your hands off me at that party and I had to drag your drunk ass home.”

Robbe’s head snapped back to Sander’s, now angry as well. “Fuck off, I was drunk. Of course I’d try to go for someone like you.”

Sander’s hands slammed the wall on each side of Robbe’s head, making him flinch slightly. They were so close by now that Robbe could feel Sander’s hot breath on his face, which was only slightly distracting him from the hurt that flared in Sander’s gaze.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Sander asked, practically growling with anger.

If it was anyone else, Robbe might have felt bad about what he’d insinuated. But this was Sander and making Sander angry only resulted in making Robbe even angrier.

Raising his chin to match Sander’s height, Robbe locked his eyes with his, trying to appear as unbothered as he could. “Someone who’d fuck anything with a heartbeat,” he spat out, smirking at the way Sander’s face fell.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sander said, eyes closed and sounding out of breath.

Robbe’s brain was no longer thinking logically, completely wrapped up in the tension electrifying the air between them.

“Make me then.”

And for once, Sander didn’t respond with some snarky remark to one-up Robbe. He just dived right in.

Fumbling behind Robbe, Sander pushed open a nearby door, gripping Robbe’s shirt and pulling them in. He shut the door close with his right foot, shoving Robbe against a shelf roughly.

Robbe winced a little as he was sent backwards, preparing himself for the landing, but Sander managed to slip his hand behind his head just in time to avoid a collision. Robbe sighed in relief, but the end of his sigh was caught by Sander’s mouth on his, harsh and demanding.

Instinctively, Robbe’s hands went up to Sander’s hair, twisting his fingers in the strands and pulling in desire. Sander’s moan was barely audible, swallowed somewhere in their kiss. As Sander’s tongue found its way to Robbe’s mouth, his fingers slipped to Robbe’s waist, holding him tightly against the shelf.

The room was entirely silent, apart from the wet sound of their mouths gliding together and the occasional whimper from either of them. Robbe had closed his eyes as soon as he’d felt Sander push him back into the room, but as Sander’s mouth navigated to his neck, he took the time to look at their surroundings.

Sander had ushered them into a closet, buckets and mops laying all around as the air smelled distinctly of cleaning products. It was dark, the only light coming from the small crack under the closed door and Robbe could barely make out where he ended and where Sander started.

His train of thoughts was quickly interrupted by Sander’s teeth sinking into the delicate skin of his neck, pulling and sucking. His head fell back against the self as his eyes rolled back a little, overwhelmed with the sensations. He was really glad for Sander’s hands on his waist keeping him upright, because he was pretty sure they were about to give out.

As Sander kept sucking his way along Robbe’s neck, Robbe brought his hands down to the hem of Sander’s shirt, pulling a little. Sander seemed so absorbed in his task that he didn’t react to Robbe’s touch, forcing him to physically get Sander’s head away from his neck.

“Sander,” Robbe said, as Sander just grunted, clearly annoyed he’d been interrupted. “Sander. Shirt off.”

That seemed to wake Sander up from his daze, as he quickly got rid of his shirt, before removing Robbe’s in one swift move. The second Robbe’s shirt hit the floor, Sander’s mouth was already back on him, making its way down his chest.

Robbe had to stifle a moan with his hand when Sander got to the edge of his pants, sucking yet another bruise there. Sander was taking his time, clearly enjoying the way he could make Robbe squirm with his mouth.

Robbe’s hands had found a home in Sander’s hair, pulling especially hard to make Sander go faster. It had the reverse effect, as Sander slowed his sucking down to come soothe the mark with his tongue, licking slowly over Robbe’s skin.

Robbe whined a little, annoyed at how slow this was going. Sander chuckled, clearly amused at how eager Robbe was to move this along and decided he’d made Robbe suffer enough.

In an instant, his hands were on Robbe’s belt, struggling with the buckle for a few seconds before harshly pulling it out of its hoops and throwing it behind him carelessly. Sander hooked his fingers in both Robbe’s jeans and underwear, tugging them down in one swift move as he dropped to his knees.

Sander’s hands gripped Robbe’s waist hard, making sure he wasn’t going to move. As Robbe brought one of his hands to Sander’s neck, the other still twisted in his hair, he felt Sander breath heavy on his skin. He barely had a moment to register the heat before Sander’s mouth wrapped around him, all warm and wet. All Robbe could feel was pure bliss, closing his eyes shut as Sander moved his head back and forth.

He’d had sex with other guys before Sander, but right now, he couldn’t remember a single one of them. It was like Sander’s mouth had wiped his slate clean at the first flick of his tongue.

Robbe’s muscles ached from how hard he was clenching them, and he could feel his toe curling in his shoes. It was so unbelievably good that it had made Robbe forget all about the promise he’d made to himself.

That’s what Sander did to him, he made him throw all caution out the window and indulge himself in this bad, bad, mistake.

Because that’s what this was: a mistake.

As Sander moved his head a little faster, Robbe’s brain started screaming danger at him, making panic rise up in his chest.

“Sander. Sander! Wait, wait, wait, stop,” Robbe stuttered out, pushing at Sander’s shoulders.

Sander immediately pulled back, his eyes wide and worried. Robbe hurried to pull his pants back up, refusing to even look Sander’s way.

“Robbe?” Sander asked, voice low and careful.

He took a tentative step towards Robbe who immediately threw his hands up to stop him. “Don’t.” Robbe bent down to pick his shirt up, throwing it on carelessly. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just have to… go.”

With that, he practically ran for the door, knocking over one of the mops on the way. Sander just stared at him, confusion, but mostly concern, written all over his face.

As he opened the door and stepped out, Robbe had to fight the urge to look back at Sander, instead choosing to swallow his shame and hurry out of the room, out of the corridor and out of the school.

----

After the complete humiliation that had been, Robbe swore to Milan he was never going to show his face again to uni. He was just going to have to change university, or even country, to make sure he’d never have to cross paths with Sander again. There was no other choice.

But there actually was another choice, which Milan kindly reminded him of.

Theo.

So, here Robbe was, nervously fiddling with his headphones as he queued at the small café where he knew Theo was working today. He knew that because he’d usually try to avoid coming in at this time, just so he’d be sure he wouldn’t be subjected to Theo’s flirting. Today, though, he was hoping for the exact opposite.

“Welcome to Café Het Hoekje, how may I—” Theo began, raising his head at the same time and coming to an abrupt stop as his gaze fell upon Robbe. “Oh! Robbe!”

He straightened up a bit, his bored expression transforming into a radiant smile. “Hey, how are you?”

Robbe ran a hand through his hair, a habit he couldn’t seem to shake, and smiled back at Theo. “Hey! Yeah, I’m good, you?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, seeming overjoyed that Robbe cared enough to ask him how he’d been. That made Robbe’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I mean, it was fine. I’m better now that you’re here.” Theo added, punctuating his sentence with a wink.

Robbe chuckled slightly, already wondering if he should just order coffee as usual, leave and forget all about his plan.

Theo leaned slightly on his forearms, shortening the safe distance the counter between the two of them provided.

“I missed you,” He said, whispering so only Robbe would hear.

Theo had always been very forward in his flirting and Robbe was more than expecting it, but he still blushed a little. It was now or never, so Robbe inhaled deeply, before putting on his most charming smile.

“Me too. Say, how about we grab some coffee after your shift?” Robbe asked, trying his hardest to stop his voice from shaking as he spoke. His mind was begging for him to stop, but Robbe simply ignored it, smiling a little more and shoving his hands inside his pockets so he’d stop playing with the hem of his jacket.

Theo’s face was almost comical, as his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped open. He stayed frozen in place for a few seconds, as if he was expecting Robbe to laugh and say it was just a joke. Theo shook himself out of it, coughing awkwardly before immediately letting out a quick series of ‘yes.’

Robbe took pity on him, asking him when he was off and promising he’d be back for him then. Theo answered each question a beat too late, as if in a daze.

When Robbe made to leave the café, he heard Theo shout after him, half-walking, half-jogging up to him, a piece of paper in his hand.

“Robbe! Here, my number. Just in case,” he said, his tone assured, having clearly regained his confidence on his way over.

Robbe smiled, grabbing the paper and sliding it inside his pocket. He thanked Theo, who just winked at him again, before walking back towards the counter. Robbe watched him go, smiling a little to himself, proud that his plan had so easily worked. As he pushed through the door and breathed the soft outside air, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to regret this.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last long. As soon as he sat down facing Theo, a steaming cup of cappuccino in his hands, the worries came back to him like a slap in the face. He was worried about hurting Theo, about getting over Sander, about not getting over Sander. The more he tried to forget about it, the more he ended up relating everything to him. It was like Sander had lodged itself in a corner of his mind and now refused to leave. He had a Sander shaped squatter in his brain and he was really getting fed up with it.

“Robbe?” Theo said, slowly, bringing Robbe out of his thoughts so abruptly he almost felt whiplash.

Robbe sent him a sorry smile, before asking him to, please , repeat what he’d said. Theo shook his head while laughing, as if Robbe had just told him something unbelievably funny. From the look in Theo’s eyes, Robbe wouldn’t doubt he thought Robbe was too absorbed by him and stopped listening to look. God, he felt like such a fucking asshole.

“I just asked how your classes were going,” Theo finally said, still wearing a proud smirk, not unlike the ones Sander sent him time after time. On Theo, however, it simply looked wrong. While it suited Sander, as if his face was molded to accomodate a smirk, Theo’s looked uncomfortably twisted.

“Yeah, I’m really busy, but other than that, it’s going fine,” Robbe answered, barely managing to lift the corner of his lips high enough to qualify for a smile. “I mean I have this really stressful exam thursday in the hall…”

Theo nodded solemnly at that. “Ah, semi-finals, right?” Robbe nodded, sighing a small ‘yeah.’ “When’s yours, in the morning?”

“Nah, thank God. I’m from one to four pm,” Robbe said, feeling his eyes drift to the side despite himself. They weren’t alone, but the café was empty enough that he probably wouldn’t be meeting anyone he knew. He was glad for that sense of intimacy, because he wasn’t sure he’d know how to explain what he was doing with ‘won’t-stop-flirting-with-me-please-help-jens-I’ll-literally-pay-you’ Theo to one of his friends.

Theo nodded again, sipping his own drink carefully. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to hesitate before any word could leave his mouth. He breathed deeply, as if to steel himself, and now Robbe was starting to get properly nervous.

“Look, Robbe, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be one hundred percent honest, alright?” Robbe gulped hard, nodding his head nonchalantly, despite his heart rising up to his throat. Theo knew. Somehow, he knew that Robbe was using him and this whole thing would fail.

“So… Do you, like, have a boyfriend?” Theo asked finally, refusing to meet Robbe’s eyes.

Robbe frowned, taking a few seconds to process what Theo had just asked him, before starting to laugh.

“A boyfriend? What? No way!” Robbe answered, stifling his laugh awkwardly with a slight cough.

Theo’s face lit up instantly, as he straightened his back and brought his eyes back to Robbe. Green eyes, just like Sander. Well, not nearly as beautiful.

“Oh? Great, that’s great! I just saw you with this guy at a few parties, so I thought…” Theo trailed off, scratching his neck.

Robbe furrowed his eyebrows, unsure he understood what Theo was talking about.

“Guy? What guy?”

Theo half-shrugged, giving Robbe a lopsided smile. “The blonde guy? From Arts?” Sander.

“Sander?” Robbe asked, prompting Theo to nod hesitantly. “God, no, Sander isn’t my boyfriend. I mean, we… you know, a couple of times, but there were zero feelings there.”

Theo laid his right hand over his heart, dramatically exhaling. “Good. That’d be too bad.”

Robbe smiled, giving him a small nod. Yeah… too bad .

----------

“No, Jens, you don’t understand. I had to order three cups just to make sure I wouldn’t fall asleep on him!” Robbe said, laughing along with the other boys.

Jens laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, giving him a serious look. “What about the plan then?”

Robbe sighed, shaking himself out of Jens’s grip. “Man, fuck the plan.”

That got him another round of laughs and a clap on the back from Moyo, whose approval didn’t actually feel good at all.

“It was a shit plan from the start, anyway,” Jens added. Robbe nodded vehemently, before plopping himself down next to him at the table.

Moyo clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “So, guys, time for serious matters now,” he paused, turning to look at each of their clueless faces, before he sighed and continued, “Tomorrow’s party, jongens!”

The three other boys cheered him on, Robbe included. A party was exactly what he needed to forget the Theo Fiasco. He’d get really, really drunk, so he could, one, not think about Theo and, two, not sleep with Sander in inadvertance. It was essentially a fool-proof plan.

“God I can’t wait to get laid!” Aaron said in a whiny voice, which only made everyone erupt in laughter again.

“Aaron, you’re as likely to get laid as Jens is to graduate in time,” Moyo said, laughing at his own joke as Aaron just looked away, defeated. Jens mocked him, saying Moyo wasn’t anywhere near any of those two things, which only resulted in Moyo’s protesting.

“Man, for someone who loves teasing so much, you really can’t take a joke,” Jens said, shaking his head with a smile.

Moyo smiled as well, shrugging. “A man’s gotta defend his honour, Jens.”

They all went back to their phone, scrolling aimlessly. Robbe was jumping from profile to profile on Instagram, trying to find anything that would capture his attention. When he fell upon a picture of Theo smiling with the caption ‘To new beginnings!’, he closed the app, shut his phone off and slid it in his pocket, sighing.

“Guys, who’s keeping the stash this time? I don’t want to have to run from the police again like last time because you’re a bunch of cowards,” Robbe said. At their last party, Moyo had gotten too scared and chucked the weed at him. A cop had seen the interaction and started approaching Robbe who, naturally, ran out of the back of the house. He heard shouts following him, but he just ran until he couldn’t feel his lungs, satisfied when he realized he’d lost the cop somewhere along the way.

Moyo groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Can’t we just decide that at the party?” Robbe opened his mouth to retort, but he was immediately interrupted.

“Party? What party?”

Robbe’s head whipped to the side, only to find Theo, fucking Theo , standing right next to their table, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was clearly interrupting something.

Robbe turned towards Jens, sending him a panicked look, silently trying to convey that he shouldn’t mention the party. To his demise, Jens just smiled back at him, clearly intending to have some fun at Robbe’s expense.

“Hey Theo! Good to see you, man!” Jens said, exchanging a handshake with him. “We’re going to a party friday night, I’m sure Robbe told you all about it, right?”

If looks could kill, then Jens would be dead and buried, from the way Robbe was trying to drill holes into his skull with his stare.

Theo shifted uncomfortably on his feet, turning to Robbe in question. “Uh, no, he hadn’t?”

Fucking Jens. He was so going to pay for this.

Robbe tried to swallow back his anger as best as he could, before turning towards Theo and offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I was just about to text you, actually. D’you wanna come with?” Robbe asked, silently praying Theo would be otherwise occupied.

However, he could feel his hope shrivel up and die inside of him as Theo smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah! Of course. I’ll pick you up around seven and we can pregame together?”

Robbe coughed, trying to hide his eagerness to end this conversation as he racked his brain for an excuse.

“Eh, I’m actually already pregaming with my friends, but I’ll meet you there?” Robbe said, hoping Theo wouldn’t try to get himself invited to the pre-party too.

Thankfully, he didn’t, smiling again, always , before agreeing to meet him there around nine.

As soon as Theo was out of earshot, Robbe turned to Jens furiously.

“Seriously Jens! You’re a fucking asshole!”

Jens just laughed, sending Robbe a look that suggested Robbe might have been an asshole too. Sighing, Robbe let his head drop in his arms, facing the table and closed his eyes.

“Fuck my life.”

-----------

Robbe hadn’t managed to get drunk at the pre-party like he’d planned to. The boys had hogged the beers at first, relenting a grand total of two beers to Robbe, claiming he had to be sober to meet Theo.

Robbe really needed to find new friends.

So, here he was, sitting on a couch with his third beer in, like, four hours, and bored out of his mind. He watched the people come and go, dancing in the middle of the room or making out in darkened corners. The walls were illuminated by a soft glow, emanating from tiny colourful led lights stuck all around. The stereo was playing some rap song Robbe didn’t know the name of, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t even paying attention to the music.

Ever since they’d entered the party about half an hour earlier, Robbe had been on the lookout for a familiar strike of white. He hadn’t realized he’d been searching for him at first, but once he did, he chucked it off to habits and went to sit down where he was still currently sipping his drink.

He leaned his head backwards on the couch, closing his eyes slowly. Theo had texted him a few minutes ago that he was almost there, so Robbe’s peace was sure to be short-lived. He could try and escape, but he already felt like the biggest asshole on Earth, so he wasn’t going to also stand him up.

He’d meet Theo, have a few drinks with him and then excuse himself by making up some bullshit excuse and he’d go home to wallow in his own misery alone.

Feeling a light tap on his left shoulder, Robbe opened one of his eyes to peek at the person who’d decided to interrupt his small repose.

Theo , of course. At least now he could get this over with and get back to his bed.

“Hey! Sorry for the wait,” Theo greeted him, with his ever-lasting smile. Robbe wondered if he’d keep smiling if he told him why Robbe had even asked him out to begin with.

“No problem. I just…” Robbe gestured around him, unsure himself what exactly he was trying to say.

Theo sat next to him, their entire sides completely plastered to each other and Robbe felt a little like he was choking on air, and not in a good way.

They talked for a bit and in the time it took Robbe to even finish his beer, Theo had gone through more than a few unidentified sugary drinks, becoming more and more self-assured and talkative.

“Come dance!” Theo exclaimed, pulling on Robbe’s arm. Robbe shook his head, firmly sinking himself down further onto the sofa.

“No, no, I don’t dance”

Theo tutted him, unrelenting in his tugging. “Everyone dances! Come on, alsjeblieft…” Theo pouted, probably aiming to convince Robbe with his puppy eyes. The truth was, Robbe had invented that trick and he wasn’t about to be swayed by an amateur. However, he was tired and he had an inkling that Theo wouldn’t stop until he got Robbe up on that dancefloor.

So, up he went.

The song had moved on to something more upbeat and clubby, but Robbe couldn’t make his limbs move in any way that resembled dancing unless he was properly hammered, which, again, he wasn’t.

Theo really didn’t seem to mind though, as he was dancing closer and closer to Robbe. As Theo’s hands came in contact with Robbe’s skin, his own hands instinctively rose up to the other’s hair.

He tried to push his thoughts away, but he couldn’t help comparing it to what he knew best: Sander. Theo’s hair was shorter and while it was well kept, it lacked the distinctive softness Sander’s had. It didn’t please Robbe’s fingers the way Sander’s did and when he tugged on the strands a little, the sound that escaped Theo’s mouth filled Robbe with disappointment. It didn’t make him hot all over, it didn’t make him want to burrow his fingers even deeper, no, instead Robbe had to fight the urge to pull his hands back entirely.

When Theo brought one of his hands to Robbe’s neck, guiding his head towards him and leaning in, it took everything in Robbe not to push him away. Their lips met harshly, but it didn’t feel like it should. Like he knew it would with a certain someone else.

As their lips glided together, the kiss felt sloppy and where Robbe couldn’t get enough of Sander’s hands on him, Theo’s felt scorching and bruising. Theo pushed a little forward, trying to deepen their kiss, but Robbe leaned his head back and away a little to prevent access.

This didn’t seem to dether Theo, however, who just slowly slid his mouth on Robbe’s jaw, all the way to his neck. Robbe felt a little dazed, as if he was having an out of body experience. He could feel Theo pull onto a small bit of skin on his neck with his teeth, but he didn’t get the wave of pleasure that usually came with it. It wasn’t painful, it just… wasn’t very much. When Sander would get a hold of his neck, however… Robbe was pretty sure he could come simply from Sander sucking hickeys onto him.

Theo bit a little harder, probably trying to get some kind of reaction from Robbe. Robbe brought his hands up, intending to detach Theo from where he was sucking like a leech at his neck, but before he could reach Theo, he felt him back away quickly.

Confused, Robbe blinked a few times to make the room clearer. That’s when he saw that Theo hadn’t backed away, he’d been quite literally rippedaway from Robbe.

By none other than the blonde who’d been occupying Robbe’s brain himself.

“What the fuck, man!?” Theo shouted at Sander, panting as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

Sander wasn’t paying him any attention, though, all of his focus being on Robbe. He looked a little disheveled, his hair in disarray and his pupils blown. Robbe had seen him in a similar state before, but it was usually while they were right about to have sex, pleasure and anticipation written all over his features. Now, all he could see on Sander’s face was a heart-wrenching mixture of anger and betrayal.

“Sander? What… Why...?” Robbe started, unable to find the right words to voice his thoughts.

Sander’s gaze bore into Robbe’s and it was painful to maintain, but Robbe was unable to tear his eyes away, in a trance-like state.

Theo’s voice shook him out of it, cutting through the tension like a sharp knife.

“So you’re Sander, I thought that was you too, with the whole…” Theo looked Sander up and down with a slight scrunch of his nose. “Moody thing going on.”

Sander finally turned his head towards him, his jaw clenching as soon as his eyes landed on Theo.

“Stay away from this.” He turned back to Robbe, clearly unbothered by Theo’s presence. “I knew you were an ass—”

Theo cut him off, now sounding angry as well. “Just because Robbe doesn’t have feelings for you doesn’t mean you get to insult him like this.”

Robbe knew he should intervene, prevent the situation from escalating, but he felt frozen in place. His brain was in overdrive and he just felt like running away, but his legs refused to obey. So, he stared, helpless, as they bickered on.

“Ok, who the fuck are you exactly?” Sander growled at Theo, rising the volume of his voice even more. By now, they were practically screaming and Robbe was thankful for the loud music covering the exchange from prying ears.

Theo puffed his chest out a little, a gesture which would have made Robbe laugh under any other circumstance, staring right at Sander as he said, “His date. Who are you ?”

Sander’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the bold answer, but the surprise on his traits was soon replaced by conceit. He smirked, quirking his mouth in just the right way to seem insolent and charming at the same time.

To anyone else, Sander might have looked like he was going to make a silly joke, but Robbe knew him better than that.

“I’m the guy who had him screaming under me more times than I can count, but I guess Robbe failed to mention that, hm?” Sander answered, turning to Robbe, wearing his most innocent smile. “Right, Robbe?”

Robbe looked away, unwilling to play into Sander’s game, but also unable to deny what he’d said.

Sander turned back to Theo, whose face had turned completely red, both from embarrassment and anger, Robbe guessed.

“No, really, was it not a problem for you? I got worried my neighbours would send a formal complaint,” Sander laughed, dryly, his tone void of humour. At the sight of Theo’s reddened face and Robbe’s avoiding eyes, something lit up in Sander’s eyes, as if he’d just made the link he needed to deliver the last blow.

“Oh, have you not…? Oh, well that’s awkward, isn’t it?” Sander smiled, as Theo took a step towards him. Instead of backing away, Sander gave him a little pout, before letting out a small ‘Oops?’ that suggested he was anything, but sorry.

Robbe felt like he was boiling inside with shame, but, more than anything, he wanted this whole thing to be over. As he raised his foot to take a step between the two boys, he was cut off by Theo’s fist flying towards Sander.

Robbe let out a small scream, but Theo missed Sander by a good few inches. Robbe was about to sigh in relief, thankful Theo wasn’t sober, when he saw Sander reel his own arm back.

It happened like in slow motion. Robbe, standing there, dumbfounded, as Sander punched Theo square in the jaw, making him stumble a few steps to the side. Some blood fell into Theo’s hand and the mere sight of it sprung Robbe into action.

“Enough!” He screamed, making both boys turn to him. “You’re acting like two fucking macho idiots! You guys keep fighting it out, I don’t care, I’m going the fuck home.”

With that, Robbe turned on his heels, pushing through the swarms of bodies and heading straight for the door. He stomped his way down the alley, angry at Theo, at Sander, but mostly at himself.

As he reached the street, he could hear his name being called from behind, but he didn’t stop. He kept going, satisfied when the screaming stopped following him. He slowed down, feeling so overwhelmed he thought he might start to cry. As he came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, a familiar hand wrapped around his wrist, gently, but firmly turning him around.

It was Sander, of course it was. The only thing that kept Robbe from wretching his arm away from Sander’s hold was the creases of worry that were etched into his forehead. The anger from earlier was gone and the emotions whirling in Sander’s eyes gripped and pulled at Robbe’s heart.

“Robbe…” Sander started. His tone was low and calm, almost tender in the way it’d been last time when Robbe had  freaked out in the closet. It pained Robbe, probably a lot more than anger would have.

“Sander. I’m tired, ok, I just… Can we just not fight for one night?” Robbe pleaded, truly feeling like his bones suddenly weighed more than they should. He was tired, tired of this, tired of not knowing, tired of the push-and-pull, just so tired.

Sander stared at him for a beat, staying silent. Robbe sighed, starting to pull his arm away, but Sander held on.

“I don’t want to fight,” Sander said quickly, as if he was worried Robbe would run away if he took one second too long to answer. Robbe wasn’t even sure he had the energy left to walk, let alone run.

“Then what, Sander?” Robbe asked, trying to sound annoyed, but ending up somewhere between fatigue and worry.

This time it was Sander’s turn to sigh, running his free hand through his strands of hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally, making sure he held Robbe’s gaze as he spoke. “For what I said, in there. I’m not sorry I punched that asshole,” Robbe gave him a warning look, but Sander just winked and kept going.

“I’m not. He deserved it. But I am sorry for what I said about you. I was angry and I had no right to say that. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.”As soon as he was done talking, Sander averted his eyes , refusing to see Robbe’s reaction to his words.

Robbe wasn’t sure what he was meant to think, but he knew one thing: he was exhausted of thinking.

So, he did the first thing that went through his mind, stepping closer to Sander and latching onto his lips.

Sander immediately responded, pressing back against Robbe’s lips. Their usual kisses were heated and filled with urgency, but this one was anything but. Their lips met softly and they kissed leisurely, savoring every second of it. As Sander’s hands came to their spot on Robbe’s waist, their creases almost imprinted there, Robbe broke the kiss off slowly. He quickly pecked Sander’s lips one more time, making the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Come over?” Robbe asked, whispering. He felt like a single loud noise could shatter the bubble they made in the alley.

Sander rubbed his nose with Robbe’s softly, breathing out a ‘yes’ in the air between them.

The walk over to Robbe’s apartment was slow. They walked side by side, stopping from time to time to steal a kiss or two. Their smile was permanent and the air between them felt playful and void of its usual tension. Yet, it didn’t feel like anything was missing, on the contrary. Robbe felt full and light, as he raced Sander for the last mile to his front door.

Robbe won, obviously, but his words lacked their usual bite when he called Sander ‘slow as fuck’. They made their way upstairs, Robbe constantly having to shush Sander who was tripping over the stairs from trying to get up first.

“Sander!” Robbe screamed in a hushed voice, “I have roommates, be quiet!”

Sander only turned around briefly to offer him a toothy grin, before he’d go right back to his antics. Robbe laughed along, following him inside the apartment and all the way to his bedroom.

They took their shoes and jackets off, throwing them carelessly on the floor. Sander walked towards Robbe, making him take steps backwards until his knees hit the bed. He smirked up at Sander as he let himself fall ungraciously on the bed. Sander laughed, maneuvering him around a bit to comfortably climb over.

Sander’s face appeared right above Robbe’s, both smiling at each other like idiots. Sander raised his hand, slowly bringing it to Robbe’s face. He caressed the side of his face slowly, settling his palm over his jaw, right where the disappearing bruise of their distant fight remained.

Sander bent down, wetting his lips with his tongue right before he met Robbe’s mouth. That kiss was just like the one they’d shared outside of the party, slower and softer than their usuals, but just as passionate. Robbe brought his hand to Sander’s hair, tucking a strand behind his ear before brushing his fingers through it.

The familiar feeling made him smile into their kiss, which in turn made Sander lean his head back, one eyebrow raised in question.

“I missed your hair,” Robbe half-whined, tucking on a few strands to demonstrate his point. Sander snorted, resting his forehead on Robbe’s.

“Only my hair? I’m hurt,” Sander teased, but Robbe winced, hearing the honesty behind the banter.

Robbe held Sander’s entire face between his two palms, locking it in place. “No. I missed you too.” Robbe said, hoping that Sander could hear the honesty in his voice too.

Robbe saw something twitch in Sander’s eyes, like a crack in the wall he’d carefully built around himself. Sander nodded, serious, before his lips curved into yet another smirk.

“Oh, yeah? Any parts of me in particular?”

Robbe smiled, pretending to think it over. Sander took advantage of Robbe’s distraction to slide his free hand under his shirt, stroking his skin softly. Robbe’s muscles shifted under Sander’s palm and Robbe let out an involuntary gasp, making Sander look at him proudly.

“Yeah, your hands,” Robbe said quietly.

Sander smiled even more. “What else?” He asked, now bringing both hands under Robbe’s shirt, lifting it up slightly. Robbe curved his back a little to help Sander pull the shirt off. Robbe tucked at Sander’s shirt, removing it swiftly so he could have Sander’s hands on him again.

Without breaking eye contact, Sander lowered himself until his head was over Robbe’s chest, pressing his lips right above his stomach as he trailed his way down with open-mouthed kisses. Robbe sighed with satisfaction, sinking further in the mattress.

Suddenly, as Sander started sucking a bruise on his hip, Robbe remembered the singular hickey Theo had been trying to etch into his skin earlier. Tugging on Sander arms’, Robbe brought him back up to face him. Sander’s eyebrows were furrowed, probably wondering why Robbe was interrupting him.

“On my neck,” Robbe said, pointing the general direction of where Theo had been attached to his neck.

A look of recognition passed through Sander’s eyes as he looked at Robbe’s neck. Still, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Robbe nodded, giving a small smile as he admitted quietly, “I like yours better”.

Sander smiled brightly at Robbe, before diving back in. The second Sander started sucking on Robbe’s skin, Robbe knew it was right. His whole body lit up, a fire burning in his stomach, flames licking all the way up his body as Sander licked his way down.

Once Sander’s hands made it to Robbe’s jeans, it was a quick affair. Both of their pants were discarded in a matter of seconds, underwears quick to follow. Sander began to lower himself, stopping short of Robbe’s skin.

“This is ok, right?” Robbe nodded rapidly, whispering a small “Yeah, more than ok,” with a smile.

Sander grinned back, licking his lips before wrapping them around Robbe.

Robbe let out a small whimper as Sander started working his way up and down in precise motions. As he clenched his hands in Sander’s hair, Robbe felt a thick mist envelop his thoughts.

Hands sliding over skin, rough and needy.

Lips envelopping, soft and comforting.

Hair being tugged, harsh yet soothing.

And love being made, bruising yet tender.

Once they were both lying next to each other, blissed out and still trying to catch their breath, Robbe turned on his side, facing Sander.

“Your mouth,” Robbe said, hushed.Sander just hummed in question, unmoving.“You asked what else I’d missed. Your mouth, I’d missed your mouth.” Robbe admitted, smiling softly to himself.

That made Sander turn his head towards Robbe. He smiled too, idly caressing Robbe’s face.

“I missed your dick, mostly,” Sander said.Robbe chuckled and playfully pushed at his shoulder. Sander simply brought his arm over Robbe’s waist, bringing him even closer to his body. Robbe raised his head, laying it on Sander’s chest, right over his heart. The sound of his heartbeat, still a little too fast, was soothing and Robbe felt himself slowly slip into unconsciousness.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Sander’s voice brought him back to the surface.

“Robbe?”

Robbe hummed, physically unable to move a single muscle.

“This, tonight… This means something right? Something more?” Sander asked, his voice laced with insecurities in a way that broke Robbe’s heart a little.

So, he snuggled closer, laying a small kiss over Sander’s heart before settling back down. “Yes,” he breathed, “It does.”

Robbe felt Sander shift a little under him, just as a kiss was laid atop his head.

And there, as they laid cuddled up together in Robbe’s bed, there was no doubt in Robbe’s mind that what he felt for Sander was so very far from hatred.

So, so very far.

#one more night fic #wtfock #sobbe #drijzermans

[jimmys-zeppelin]

ghostin'

chapter sixteen

(table of contents)

(chapter fifteen)

july 4, 1976

be my mistake

Ellie balanced a variety of liquor bottles in her arms. Some were for her to take home, others were for the party later that night. Carolyn had asked her—practically begged on her knees—to get some and shoved a shopping list in her hands.

In an attempt to look at her watch and check the time, two bottles had begun to slip. Just before one could shatter to the linoleum tiled floor, a hand rushed in and grabbed it for her. Roger's face quickly became familiar to her as her entire body relaxed. Major embarrassment had been avoided.

"Thanks, Rog." Ellie exhaled.

"I told you not to carry so many bottles. Or at least get a basket." Roger said, guiding them toward the checkout line.

"I thought I'd be able to make it," she replied simply, letting a few bottles fall onto the belt as she adjusted the others she had been holding. Roger reached out and stood the remaining bottles up as they moved down closer to the cashier stood opposite them.

"Can I see some ID, please?" The teenager asked, stopping the belt, the bottles clinking against each other as a result.

Ellie scoffed, starting to pull her wallet from the small handbag that had been slung over her shoulder. Roger stepped in instead, handing over his own ID before Ellie could even get her wallet out.

"You the guy from Queen?" the boy asked upon further inspection, handing Roger back his identification. The blond nodded curtly, not wanting to be too loud about his identity. "Rock'n'roll, man." He eyed up Ellie, who smiled at him sweetly, just waiting for the items to get scanned so they could leave.

☆

"Why didn't you let me show my ID?" Ellie asked, handing Roger the wad of cash Carolyn had given her for the drinks while they carried the two paper bags clinking with alcoholic beverages back to her car.

"Didn't want him seeing your address." he shrugged, reaching in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes after placing the bags in the backseat.

Before lighting up, he offered Ellie a cigarette, motioning the box toward her and she decidedly took one, placing it between her lips as Roger came forward with his lighter, firing up the cancer stick as she started the car.

"Very gentlemanly of you, Rog."

"Always." he chuckled, rolling the passenger window down as he exhaled the nicotine from his lungs. He looked around the vehicle as the bottles made their existence known behind them. "What kind of car is this?" he asked.

"A P1800. Volvo. My parents got it for my 18th birthday. Neat, isn't it?"

"Very," Roger replied, running his hand over the dashboard, "You talk to Jimmy recently?"

Ellie paused, "yeah. We spoke a few days ago. Not much to talk about, though, since neither of us are doing shows. We're relatively boring people." she chuckled, taking a drag and tapping the remnants of the cigarette out the window.

"Right right. Zep's newest album was great."

"Oh, you heard it?" she asked, reflecting on the fact that not even she had heard it yet. Somehow she felt guilty about it.

"Yeah, I mean, like the energy. Great great great. He produced, right?"

"Always. I like that he produces the band's records. Really keeps the integrity within the band, you know? Like it's truly their vision that's being put out."

"I thought the one song..." he paused, searching for the name, "Tea for One! It sounded a bit like their other song from a few years back. Gosh what was the name..." Roger trailed off, snapping his fingers as he racked his mind for the title. Ellie pulled into her driveway as Roger pondered, "Ah! Since I've Been Loving You."

The two exited the vehicle and tossed their cigarettes before reaching into the backseat for the various drinks they'd purchased. Ellie got her keys ready before looking back at the drummer.

"You think so? Who was on the writing credit?" she asked, unlocking the front door and letting Roger in first, "excuse the mess."

"I think the credits were to Page/Plant." Roger replied, quickly finding the kitchen and setting the paper bag down on the counter. "Are you putting these in the ice box?" he asked.

Ellie found solace in the question, taking advantage of it and using it to change the subject, "Yeah, I'll keep it in until we have to leave and I think I have a cooler in the garage that we can take with us when the car comes to pick us up."

"Awesome, do you mind if I go get it?"

"Not at all, the door's right over that way. You should be able to find it. I'm gonna take a shower and get ready, okay?"

Roger nodded, "of course, take your time."

☆

Ellie's eyes met Andrew's as she and Roger made their entrance at the rooftop of some building in association with her label. The blonde hurried over as best as she could in her high heels while the two seemed to screech in excitement.

"I see you brought Project Blondie with you."

"Stop calling him that." Ellie said, trying to be serious, but at the same time holding back a laugh. She looked back to see Roger handing over her cooler to someone in formalwear. He pulled the man aside, whispering something to him before pointing in Ellie's direction. The blonde smiled and waved at the two when they looked over at her.

Another word of communication was exchanged between them before Roger made his way over to Andrew and Ellie.

"Hey, I was just telling him that the cooler's yours and you'd need it back before you left."

"Thanks Rog." She replied, "I don't believe you've met Andrew."

The men shook hands, "I'm the one who came out to you over the phone." Andrew chuckled.

"Ah, yes. I do recall that. It's a pleasure." Roger said, turning to Ellie, "can I get you a drink?"

"Oh yes please." the blonde stated. Roger nodded, trying to hold back a laugh as he went to grab the two of them some drinks.

Andrew reached back to the table behind him and grabbed two shot glasses. From the smell, Ellie could tell it was vodka as it was shoved into her hands. "What's this for?" she asked.

"Liquid courage." the man replied as if it were obvious.

"Courage for what?"

"You're obviously trying to please him. Maybe you'll ease up a bit with some vodka in your system."

Ellie sighed, clinking the two shot glasses together before the two of them downed the alcohol that burned its way down their throats. With a dry cough she looked up at her best friend, "I'm not cheating on Jimmy. If this is your ploy to get me to sleep with Roger you'll regret the day you were born."

Andrew feigned fear, "As if you couldn't make that decision on your own. Deep down you know what you want."

"And that's to be with Jimmy." She said as Andrew collected his things and started on his way elsewhere.

"I can't hear you because I'm walking away." he replied nonchalantly as the sound of his voice floated away with each step he took.

Ellie rolled her eyes, peering over the edge of the building where she could see three men on the ground floor setting up the fireworks display that would be going off in a few hours. Things like this always excited her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a red cup blocked her view of the ground. She looked up to see Roger, looking pleased as he held the cup out to her. Ellie took it graciously before downing a quick sip.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?" he asked, staring out into the West Hollywood cityscape. They faintly saw an airplane touch down at LAX before turning to look at each other.

"California's a beautiful place to be. Kinda wish I could've taken you to the beach before you had to leave. Sorry I've been tied up with my studio stuff."

"Oh, it's no bother, really. I took a walk down the Santa Monica pier last week during sunrise. It was beautiful."

"Was the jet lag bad?" She asked.

"I walked down to the pier to watch the sun rise, didn't I?"

Ellie laughed in response, taking another sip of the drink in her hand, "I never really get to go down there anymore. Always doing something."

"You're up and coming, darling. It's good that you're busy." Roger replied, taking a swig of his drink. Ellie smiled at his calling her darling. It made something inside her flutter a little.

☆

Ellie placed another glass of champagne down on a random table, nearly tripping over her feet as she did so. The number of drinks she'd downed in the hour and a half since she'd arrived at the party were already immeasurable. Whoever the barista was, she'd have to thank them later.

The boom of the first firework startled her as it did many on the rooftop. Gazes shifted to the bright lights illuminating the sky and they ooh'd and ahh'd in amazement. Ellie looked over to see Roger sitting at a table on his own and couldn't help but make him revel in amazement along with her.

"Roger!" she exclaimed, making her way over to the drummer. He turned his head quickly, seeing her barreling over to her. Quick to stand up to try to hold her before she fell, Roger set his drink down and caught her hand in his. "The fireworks, look!" she marveled.

Another was set off into the sky, the high pitched whistle as it flew through the air before it burst with a crackle caught their attention. Ellie turned to Roger, with a beaming smile on her face, "I'm so drunk right now," she whispered in his ear.

"I'm aware." The blond laughed as he guided them toward the wall so Ellie could rest on it and watch the fireworks display at the same time. The continuous, loud booms kept them from being able to speak too much, but their fingers remained intertwined as they watched on.

"Y'know," Ellie started, slurring her words slightly as she leaned into his ear, "Jimmy never came over at the Fourth to watch the fireworks with me."

"Gosh, I'm sorry about that. I hope you're having a good time though."

"Yeah, I'm having fun. Good drinks...good music...good company...drinks..."

"I think you've had enough drinks for tonight, Els." Roger said, only to be interrupted again by the drunken woman.

"Jimmy....he's completely off his rocker. He's on that heroin stuff, it's completely doing him in. I can hear it...when we're on the phone he's like....completely off in space." Ellie said absently, singsonging the end of her statement.

"Oh...uhm. I hope he gets well, then." he replied awkwardly, not knowing how to respond to the personal confession.

"I know. And like—" the boom of more fireworks, "wow. I feel bad because the whole album, I mean the whole album is about him. I don't wanna," a few more explosions, "I don't wanna seem like a sellout."

"Well, people write what they know, right? This is what's affecting you at the moment, of course you'll want to write about it."

"Y'know, Rog...you're so sweet to me," Ellie said, looking right into his baby blues and rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb. Her voice hushed slightly as she leaned in closer to him the slightest bit. Roger, being too confused to do anything, stood in place, not moving. "Maybe I should...get rid of Jimmy and get with you instead." she finished as fireworks cluttered the world around them.

Roger searched Ellie's eyes for any answer as to what she was going to do next, but the drunken haze clouded her judgement. A firework hissed through the night sky and exploded with a big bang as Ellie pressed her lips to Roger's. Confusion crossed his features and he contemplated what to do before tentatively kissing her back for a brief second.

As the gunpowder dissipated in the sky, Ellie pulled away, her gaze still glassy and not totally there as she went back to watching the fireworks as if nothing had occurred. Roger stood stunned in place, watching Ellie instead of the display of fireworks for a long moment. It was only when she looked over to him again that she realized her fingers were still intertwined with his and she giggled at the predicament.

Roger looked around. It seemed no one had noticed the kiss. He was glad on that note, but his heart sank in his chest when he realized the gravity of what had happened. Maybe he should leave. Or maybe he could pretend nothing happened just as Ellie had. If they just didn't talk about it, the occurrence could get erased from history and Roger likely wouldn't get his shit rocked by Peter Grant, Led Zeppelin's gargantuan manager for being The Other Man.

He quickly let go of her hand and walked over to the bar, "Scotch, no ice, please." he said, drumming his fingers on the bar-top nervously.

---

it's ironic because I finished writing this chapter on the fourth of july...

masterlist | playlist

Taglist: @diaryofafan17 @tophats-n-lespauls @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @princesspagey @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx if you want to be added to the list lmk!

#*nervous sweating* #ghostin' #jimmy page #led zeppelin #fanfic #fanfiction #roger taylor #queen

[my-writings-and-musings]

hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."

#transformers #idw #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #whirl #human reader #self insert #platonic #amica endura

[terrortalesv]

Starting a family

@tr85n asked for prompt #99 from that list, with Pam/Benson.

Human AU where Stella is the bio child of both of them.

Pam chews on a pen absently as she wanders into the breakroom to join her coworkers, who had already started their lunch break about ten minutes prior. Instantly, the smell of tuna and mayo hits her nose and makes her gag.

She steps out again and runs to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Leaning against the washbasin for a few seconds, she waits to see if the feeling will pass or get worse, sighing with relief when it goes away. Weird. What is going on lately? she thinks.

Pam looks at herself in the mirror again and leaves the bathroom.

When she returns, her colleagues welcome her back with strange stares. Fortunately, they are all no longer eating, so the food, including the dreaded tuna, is gone, though she swears some vague smells still linger. She tries to ignore it, and sits down.

“Uhh, yes?” Pam looks around at the group while she takes her salad from the fridge beside her.

“Pam? Is everything okay? You seem a little… off today,” Stefan takes the seat right next to her. His tone is sincere, maybe even a little worried, the giggle as he snatches a piece of tomato from her bowl decidedly less so. Pam tosses a glare his way.

She shoves a forkful of leaves into her mouth before speaking, “I don’t know, it’s really weird.” And then she rattles off the various things she’s been dealing with as of late. She describes the mood swings, the fatigue, the constant hunger, the nausea.

By the end of her spiel, Stefan and her other closest coworker, Tobias, are giving each other a strange look, as if they’re in on a secret, a piece of the puzzle that they want to reveal but aren’t exactly allowed to.

“Ohhh. I know what’s going on here,” Tobias says smugly. The other man chuckles.

Pam looks at him and puts more salad in her mouth, not bothering to ask him to elaborate. She knows he will regardless.

“Obviously somebody’s pregnant,” Tobias leans over the table, close to her face, and says in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooohhh! Uh-oh!” Stefan teases.

Pam’s eyes widen and she almost chokes on some cracked pepper. After a few brief seconds, she comes to her senses.

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. It’s probably just that bug that’s been going around,” she tells them, and continues eating.

“Actually, yeah, maybe it is,” one of their older colleagues chimes in as he gets up to leave the breakroom.

“Psh, yeah. Whatever you say,” Tobias teases. He rolls his eyes and then he and his friend exit the room to go back to work, leaving Pam alone.

She sighs into her salad bowl and stabs at the remaining leaves with her fork. “Pregnant? Yeah, really funny, guys. No way,” she laughs to herself, but those strange symptoms linger in the back of her mind and she begins to have doubts.

No, but we haven’t even been trying. Besides, I’m way past that age anyway, right? Obviously it’s just a coincidence and they were messing with me. Yeah. You’re not pregnant, Pam, stop thinking about that.

She doesn’t stop thinking about it. She spends most of the next few hours thinking about it, convincing herself she’s not pregnant, that that was just a stupid joke those guys were telling, and then doubting herself.

She continues like this for a while, until she steps into one room to check on the equipment and sees something that catches her eye. She remembers their boss telling them about this thing, a super new, super high-tech machine that allows the user to see inside anything. She remembers her telling them about how this device was not only better than a standard x-ray machine, but safer.

Pam thinks for a moment. I mean, I already know I’m not pregnant. But what’s the harm in just having a little look-see, right?

She checks to see if there’s anyone watching her and closes the blinds just in case someone might walk by. Breathing a sigh, Pam presses some buttons on the device, listens as it whirs to life, and steps behind it.

She has to wait a few minutes before an image appears on the whiteboard to her right. All the usual things are there, nothing seems amiss. That is, until she shifts her eyes to her lower belly area, where a tiny, strange shape sits. 

Her heart sinks and the nausea returns with a vengeance. She looks away from the screen, breathing heavily. Whatever it is, upon first glance it looks unlike anything that would ordinarily be inside a healthy human body. Pam swallows, although the dryness in her mouth doesn’t so easily allow it.

What is that? Some kind of weird mass in my stomach. Oh, no. It can’t be. Is this how I’m going to die? I should’ve caught this so much sooner, it’s probably way too late to deal with it now. But maybe I should book in with a doctor anyway, see if they can—

She shakes her head. Slowly she comes to her senses, though her heart rate and breathing take longer to return to normal.

“It’s okay, Pam. You’re not dying. At least not yet. Let’s just take a better look at this thing and then make our assumptions,” she tells herself.

She cautiously cranes her neck to look at the board again and takes more notice of the shape. One part of it is much larger, and the other has four small… things sticking out from it. She swears she sees a tiny human in that shape, as strange as it sounds, with the big head and teeny-tiny limbs. Wait.

Hand over face, Pam slowly steps away from the machine and turns it off. The picture is still projected on the wall. She stares wordlessly, eyes wide, hands slipping down to her belly. She’s unsure if she should be concerned or happy.

A million thoughts race through her mind at once, not daring to leave her alone for even a second, as much as she tries to ignore them. She wanders the halls of the vast laboratory, pretending to work whenever someone else is nearby, but spends the remainder of the work day too distracted to actually do anything.

How am I going to tell Benson? How is he going to react? Does he even want to be a dad? He seems perfectly content with just the pets. And what about me? Am I even cut out to be a mom? The animals are kind of a handful already, how are we possibly going to deal with a kid?

When Pam arrives home, she walks past the throng of cats that greet her at the door, enters their bedroom and flops down on the bed, exhausted.

She tells herself she’s only going to lie down for an hour, but wakes up several hours later to the sound of her husband setting the table for dinner. Groggily, she gets up and stumbles out to the kitchen.

Benson’s head snaps up at the sound of her footsteps and he smiles at her. She loves that smile, so much so that it causes all her worries to fade away. But not for very long.

“Hey! Sleep well?” He puts an arm around her and kisses her on the cheek.

“Yeah,” Pam offers him a tired smile and sits down at her usual chair. Benson quickly follows, tucking her chair in for her and then sitting down himself. He scoops up some pesto linguine and plops it onto both of their plates, then grabs a piece of garlic bread and takes a bite out of it. Pam tries her best to eat as much as she can, but her mind is still elsewhere. Benson notices.

“Pam, honey? You okay? You don’t look like yourself tonight,” Benson reaches a hand across the table to grab hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Um, oh, I…” she sighs, turning her hand over to give his a squeeze, “can I tell you something?” Her heart races and she sips from a glass of water in an attempt to ease her dry mouth. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Who knows, maybe putting it out there and telling him will help calm my nerves.

“Yeah, of course,” her husband looks her in the eye with a smile, voice as calm and comforting as he can possibly make it. He takes another bite of bread.

“I…” she has to clear her throat, “I’m pregnant.”

Pam watches Benson’s face. He takes a moment to process her words, then his expression goes blank and he coughs up some crumbs. A strange combination of concern and surprise paints his pale, bearded face. Slowly, a large grin appears and the tips of his ears turn pink. Pam swears she’s never seen him look so in love.

“Oh, my god… Are you for real? We’re gonna be parents? I’m gonna be a dad?” Benson whispers, almost a squeal.

“Benson? You okay?”

He wipes that tear from his eye before answering, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m great.” He gets up from his chair, seemingly completely forgetting about the food on his plate, and kneels in front of her. He gently wraps his arms around her and presses his fleshy, weathered cheek against her belly.

“We’re having a bay-bee,” he says, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice that Pam has never heard before, even after all these years.

Later that night, as they’re lying in bed facing each other, Benson gives Pam a kiss on the nose and whispers, “I’m so excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

‘I know, you keep saying that,” she giggles.

“Well, I can’t help it. We’re having a baby. Together. Don’t you think that’s… the best?” He moves some hair out of her eye with a finger.

Pam can only respond with a tired “mm-hmm” as she closes her eyes. Benson carefully presses a cold, calloused hand to her belly and she shivers.

“Sorry,” he tilts his head toward where his hand is sitting, “we’re so excited to meet you, baby.”

“You know it can’t hear yet, dad.”

“Dad…” just from the tone of his voice, Pam can tell Benson likes the sound of that.

#regular show #pam #benson #mywriting

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

I feel like Harry doesn’t get enough love and attention in the fandom 🥲 and since it is The Summer of Harry, could we get a small fic or headcanons about being best friends with Harry and getting into shenanigans with him?

xoxo

Omg yesss I love Harry, I agree he does not get enough love!!!

Here’s my unsolicited preamble: I truly adore him. In all honesty he’s the character I relate to most, personality wise. SO I had to do both a few headcanon’s and then a short lil fic that played those out. Not sure if this was exactly what you had in mind but this is what I picture being besties with Welsh would be like :) (p.s. sorry for any typos, I didn't do a lot of re-reading and I'm dyslexic sooo free pass)

- I feel like Welsh would be a very affectionate and physical love kind of friend because he seems really sure in his body language and physical space.

- He would be the kind of bestie you could cuddle with without any sort of apprehension over it being anything more than friendship.

- Welsh is the kind of friend that will lead you straight into trouble but charm your guys’ way right out of it.

- Welsh is the kind of friend to give really good advice but never the kind to pressure you or judge you if you don’t take his advice.

- At the same time he’s a bit of a hot mess himself but in such a confident, surly way that keeps him from becoming a basket case. Which means he’s not an exhausting friend to have. He gives energy to his friends.

There was a good chance that those who didn’t know you and Harry well would assume you had a flirtationship. Everyone knew about Kitty, especially after three months of having Harry as an Easy Company officer. So a judgmental look from an onlooking stranger wasn’t uncommon. But those who knew you well knew things could not be more platonic between you two. You and Harry had bonded from the beginning; like long-lost twins. You filled in each other’s gaps. You met each other note for note in every situation, from teasing Winters to sobering conversations about core values. Most dangerously, you fed off of each other’s mischief (much to Winters’ chagrin). That night wasn’t much different from the many you shared with Harry. The difference was that it was preceded by a particularly terrible day.

You were exhausted by the day's work. You had had the privilege of being singled out by Sobel who had berated you at length without real cause. You had very little energy to do anything except take a shower and go to bed. But it was a Friday, and Harry wasn’t about to let you get away with that.

“Good evening!” Harry skipped through the doorway of your barrack. He was cleaned up and dressed neatly in his khaki uniform.

“Hi Harry,” you said unenthusiastically from where you were stretched out.

“What’s up, cookie?” he kicked the side of your cot, trying to elicit a jolt of action from you.

“Crappy day.”

“Well come out and we’ll at least make sure it ends well.”

“Not in the mood.”

“Aw come on,” Harry whined, “I want to go have fun.”

“I’m in a bad mood, Harry,” you protested.

“Who put the bee in your bonnet?” he sat down beside you.

You wriggled slightly out of the way to make room for him. “Sobel.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “the guy’s a yuck, don’t let him ruin your night.

“Too late.” You knew you were just being a brat at this point. But Harry knew he was going to win you over.

“Come on, you’re getting up and we’re gonna have a great night. Dick’s coming out for an hour or so, you can’t miss that.”

“Is he drinking?” you sat up in shock.

Harry huffed, “pff, no, of course not. Still, it’ll be good to chat with him. Come on, get up.”

The pub was full of soldiers from all of the Airborne companies. Harry was leading you to the bar when you spotted him, Sobel.

“The hell is he doing here?” You asked.

Harry followed your eye line. “Gross,” he muttered, “come on.” He pushed forward.

“Harry,” you said reluctantly.

“Trust me,” he grinned mischievously. You recognised that glint in his eye and you couldn’t help but smile in excitement.

“Captain,” Harry addressed Sobel formally as he approached. The haughty officer barely acknowledged them with a nod but Harry began to spin his web.

“So rowdy in here,” he leaned on the bar conspiratorially, “so much reckless drinking.” He paused to make sure you were in on the conversation. “We were just discussing how drinking should only be done in fine taste, with quality liquor.” Sobel seemed to be listening despite his silence.

“We were,” you jumped in, “the ability to appreciate quality is a mark of superiority.” You matched Harry’s buttery tone, careful not to appear too direct with Sobel.

“That’s why Colonel Sink has all those beautifully decanted scotches in his office! Have you seen those?” Harry directed to you, across Sobel.

“Beautiful!” you enthused.

You two let those words hang there. Sobel had obviously taken in your words, you wanted them to settle.

“Anyways,” Harry said cheerfully, “can I buy you a drink, Captain?”

“Oh uh-,” Sobel stumbled, “I uh-,”

“I’m gonna get your strongest scotch, neat please,” Harry grinned charmingly at the bartender. Then he turned to Sobel, “should I make that two?” There was a challenging look in your friend's eye. You suppressed a grin but relished in the situation.

“Sure,” Sobel said curtly, then as an afterthought he turned to you, “are you getting one?” Had it been anyone else it would’ve considered him thoughtful.

“Oh no,” you said you said nonchalantly, “can’t stand the stuff. It’s wicked strong.” You swelled with sadistic delight as you watched Sobel’s eyes widen in fear.

“Cheers!” Harry handed the officer the dark brown drink with a mischievous smile.

To Sobel’s credit, he did take a generous sip of the liquor with only the slightest of flinches.

The two of you posted up at a table with Winters, Nixon, and a few of the other officers who had distanced themselves from the enlisted men. You sat chatting and drinking and generally having a good time. After a drink or two, you spotted Joe Liebgott in the crowd. He smiled over his drink at you and you couldn’t help but smile coyly back. He always seemed to catch your eye on nights out. Though nothing ever came from it you enjoyed the attention from the handsome man.

Welsh caught the exchange between you and Joe. “That boy is trouble.”

“What? I thought you liked Joe!”

“I do, great soldier.”

“But trouble?” you asked jokingly.

“Yeah, part of why I like him. Why don’t you go for someone sweet?” Harry scanned the crowd, “like Carwood?”

“Lipton’s married, Harry.”

“Oh right, Shifty then!”

You sighed, “you know I adore Shifty but..”

“You’re right, he’s too sweet for you. Better stick with, Joe.”

You and Harry stared at each other until you both broke into laughs.

“Thanks for the romantic advice,” you teased.

“Anytime,” Harry laughed into his drink.

The night progressed. Winters left early and eventually, Nixon retired as well. Soon enough, you and Harry were left alone at a table playing tiddlywinks with coins. Between the alcohol and the company, you were feeling good. The pains of the day had melted away.

Smokey Gordon, with the assistance of George Luz, began to lead the crowd of soldiers in song. It was a darkly humoured Irish ballad that Harry seemed to know well. From beside you at your table he belted out the words off-pitch, a cigarette burning away between his fingers, momentarily forgotten.

“You’re shit!” you laughed over the music, “you’re a terrible singer!”

Harry paused quickly to say, “shut up, I’m singing,” before launching his voice back into the chorus.

You laughed as the Easy Company men wrapped up their song in cheers. You smiled to yourself, grateful to be a part of such a great group of men.

You were feeling intoxicated late into the evening but nowhere near as intoxicated as Harry. He had had a fair amount to drink but luckily he held his alcohol well. He wasn’t a sloppy, sick or angry drunk. The alcohol only exacerbated his most questionable traits; characteristics you had grown to appreciate.

“You hungry?” you asked him as he polished off another beer.

“I can always eat,” he responded.

“Do you think they’ll serve us something here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “I bet they’ve closed the kitchen. Probably hours ago!”

You eyed the bar. Things had died down slightly. Many people had gone home and the patrons who hadn’t were losing their energy. Conversational groups furnished with half drunk pints peppered the pub. “I bet we can make them serve us something. Surely something!” you said.

Harry looked deep in thought before saying, “you know, you’re right.”

“What’s the harm in asking?” you said with an alcohol-induced sense of confidence.

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Harry pulled you up from the table and the two of you made for the bar.

Harry leaned across the wood counter. “Can we get anything to eat? One of those pies maybe?” he asked the bartender.

“Ooh or eggs and bacon!” You interject. The thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble.

“Oh yeah, that sounds really good! Good call,” Harry turned his attention back to the exasperated bartender, “can we can some eggs and bacon please?”

“You think I got bacon?” The bartender asked dryly. “It’s midnight…during a war,” he explained like he was talking to idiots, which he kind of was.

“Mm good point,” you were quickly defeated in your inebriated state.

“Ah come on, Fred,” Harry said, “I know you have food! Please, for one of your most loyal patrons.”

It was true, Harry was a loyal customer. He had quickly become a regular at this pub. You had dragged him off a barstool more than a few times when he was meant to be elsewhere.

The bartender Fred eyed the grinning, gap-toothed man. “Fine, but you gotta eat it in the back. I don’t want everyone seeing I’m serving food or they’ll all want some.”

“Ah thank you Fred!” You thanked him exuberantly. He shot you both a stern look as you scrambled around the bar.

You two of you waited patiently perched upon apple crates in the back kitchen as Fred fried you up a couple of eggs and slices of ham. It wasn’t exactly bacon but it hit the spot. You had never tasted anything so good in your life.

“I could eat this for the rest of my life,” Harry said through a mouthful of food.

“Mm s’good,” you responded with equal impropriety. You swallowed, “thanks for forcing me out Harry.”

“Aw,” Harry wrapped an arm around your neck and gave you a sloppy kiss on the forehead, “anytime, cookie.”

#band of brothers #harry welsh #the summer of harry #hbo war #hbo band of brothers #harry welsh x reader #besties

[thefudge]

Do you have any Romanian (language or just content-wise) media recs? Particularly novels and poetry but really any must-sees/must-reads are welcome!

uuuu! 

my brain is too fried right now to do any kind of exhaustive list so i’m gonna rec a few things that i know you could get your hands on/available in translation:

for two thousand years, by mihail sebastian - really heartbreaking yet also lucid, adventurous and darkly humorous memoir of a Jewish writer in his youth at the height of nazism in romania (there’s even a Penguin classic of it)

diary of a short-sighted adolescent by mircea eliade - a funny and bittersweet bildungsroman about a bookish teenager who wants to read everything now and be the cleverest person alive while also struggling with being super lazy and unmotivated because he’s young and restless, it’s very #relatable. but it’s also fascinating to read this in opposition with “for two thousand years” because eliade entertained legionnaire nazi sympathies at one point. (also, you should check out his novellas too, especially the fantastic ones)

anything you can find in translation by gabriela adamesteanu - just lovely, delicate prose about growing up, being an adult, inhabiting your body and your feelings in an oppressive world 

the hatchet by mihail sadoveanu (apparently, there is a translation) - a lot of people give this novel flak, mostly because we had to read it in high school, but it’s a great and deceptively simple little novel that says a lot more about people than it cares to admit. the action takes you through several villages in the East-Carpathians, where a peasant woman goes in search of her missing husband. it’s a fascinating mixture of crime and folklore and mythology. 

any novella by costache negruzzi, but especially “alexandru lapusneanu”, another classic we had to read in school and which gets a lot of flak. it’s so bonkers and #quality-trash. let’s just say there’s a scene where the power-hungry voievod/prince lapusneanu enacts a red-wedding situation and builds a pyramid of freshly severed heads to impress his lady wife *swoon* 

the forest of the hanged by liviu rebreanu - i know people argue this isn’t his best novel, but it’s got the most heart. it’s the story of a soldier/philosopher in WW1 who falls in love with people again. that’s it. he falls in love with people, and the war and everything in between doesn’t matter anymore. or it matters only as it pertains to people, and people alone. 

gallants of the old court by mateiu caragiale - a bizarre gem of early 20th century Romanian nightlife, a wonderful, orgiastic fugue, feverish and infuriating. it’s mostly about rich men and social-climbers getting into existential trouble, but also into real trouble. normally, because the action takes place right before WW1, this would signify the end of an era. but we don’t really have a beginning or end. we are part-balkan, part-french imitators, part-whatever-sticks. nothing moves us, and everything does. and that’s why it’s a sort of love/hate letter to romanians 

in terms of poetry, some personal faves:  nichita stanescu, ana blandiana, monica pillat, marin sorescu,  a.e. baconsky, lucian blaga, emil brumaru, nora iuga, marta petreu, nina cassian. and yes, mihai eminescu, our national poet, though i’m often in two minds about him.  

poetry in translation is really hit and miss because of the “untranslatable”, so here’s two lines from a poem by nina cassian, because i want to show you what i mean:

            De când m-ai părăsit mă fac tot mai frumoasă             ca hoitul luminând în întuneric. 

this roughly and poetically translates to:

          Since you left me I’ve grown more beautiful

           like the corpse lighting the dark 

and this is sort of lovely on its own, but you’d need to know and hear and taste the word “hoit” in romanian to really feel the abjectness, because “hoit” is a smelly, ugly yet also alluring, already decomposing version of “cadavru” aka cadaver/corpse. also “ mă fac tot mai frumoasă” cannot be accurately summed up in “i’ve grown more beautiful”. a literal translation would be “I make myself more beautiful”. in romanian, this is obviously idiomatic and not literal. and yet, these strange self-reflexive valences make these lines strong and eerie, as if the speaker were authoring her beauty, shaping it out of clay and darkness and “hoit”,  like a butterfly cracking the corpse’s shell to get out, but also retaining some of its mesmerizing stench. why did i pause to do a close-reading of romanian poetry??? anyway, you catch my drift

in terms of movies, a recent one i really loved was sierranevada by cristi puiu, which is a neurotic family drama that drains you but also lifts you up 

and yeah, the hype is real, 4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days by cristi mungiu really is that good (about two young women trying to get an illegal abortion in communist romania. it won the palme d’or for very legit reasons. it breaks you in small ways. the very last shot of the film you’ll carry with you forever). i also liked graduation by cristi mungiu, where a young overachieving girl is about to graduate high school and go on to study abroad, until a terrible event unmoors both her and her family. the movie turns almost hallucinatory at one point, filled with ambiguity and a kind of sleep-walking quality 

tales from the golden age by cristi mungiu (him again!) is also fantastic for anyone who wants to get a taste of communist romania and the sad-funny absurdities of everyday life. this movie is split in 2 parts and the format is that of an anthology, almost like watching several short films at once. and there is one film in the anthology that always turns me inside out, and it’s really silly, it’s this bonnie and clyde type story about this girl and boy who meet at a party and devise an ingenious get-rich scam and just run around a few neighborhoods trying to put it into practice and it’s...the sweetest, most incomplete thing. there is such a strange, lovely connection there that never gets realized, and there is a MOMENT between them where he helps her step down from this ledge and he holds her briefly to him and i remember being in the cinema and thinking THIS, this is THE MOMENT where i felt these people were real. it was such an honest, lovely moment. like the equivalent of this song. ANYWAY, why am i rambling so much??? this ask was supposed to be SHORT. 

aferim! by radu jude is also a really neat movie and provides a look into the historical romanian/rroma relationship and why it’s so messed up, yet also so organic

the death of mr. lazarescu by cristi puiu is also a great little film about a man who gets sick and goes to the hospital. and...dies, as you can tell from the title. on the surface, he dies because of institutional ineptness and a broken healthcare system. at a deeper level, he dies because we no longer know how to help people. various hospital staff in the film do try to help him and fail for various stupid or quietly heartbreaking reasons. it’s a movie about being physically unable to care. there’s indifference, sure, but also this great exhaustion of the human spirit. but the movie is also darkly funny. might not be a great pandemic watch, but then again it might be exactly what you need 

there are soooo many other classics in terms of books (morometii by marin preda, for instance, about a patriarch in a small village in the South who slowly realizes the world he used to live in doesn’t have room for him anymore, and maybe it never had) but i’m gonna end on a quote from ion creanga, one of the most cryptic classics of romanian lit:

“Şi eu eram vesel ca vremea cea mai bună şi şturlubatic şi copilăros ca vântul în tulburea sa”

my translation: “and I was cheerful like the best weather and frolicsome and childish like the wind in its cloudiness” 

and again, the words in romanian and their particular sound and bite (”şturlubatic”, “tulburea”) immediately take me elsewhere. creanga writes about childhood, but it’s never really childhood. he writes as an adult who, in my opinion, was never really a child, but a weird, small god of the land. i mean the word “tulburea” can mean both “turmoil” and “muddiness”. the wind can be anguished, but also just a little cloudy, just a little hazy, shrinking its agony, howling it in the child. it’s eerie and gorgeous. so, that’s what he does: creanga writes about children as if they were wind-like spirits. he writes stories about devils and the peasants who trick them and school books filled with spit and flies, and warm eggs stolen from nests and fairy-tales of a world that is buried somewhere inside us, but not too deep, things hidden under our clothes or nails or even in our hair. and it’s all so physical and convoluted, just like his prose. and i don’t think anyone will ever make sense of him and that’s what makes him so discombobulatingly great.

anyway, this was supposed to be...like, really short! and not gassy! i’m sorry. i love waxing about all this gay stuff. i’m so gay about it. 

realistically tho, the nearest thing you’ll find in your local bookshop is probably books by famous ‘theater of the absurd’ playwright, eugen ionesco, or novels in translation by contemporary author mircea cartarescu. both are pretty good, so go for it! (if you want to start small, i’d recommend REM by mircea cartarescu, because it’s so trippy and meta and captures that summer holiday eeriness so well. it goes well with this romanian song sung in english)

okay byeeeee 

#romanian lit #recs #romanian literature #reference #my thoughts #romanian cinema #i hope no actual romanians come across this list and eviscerate me haha #im sorry this is such....MUCH

[kiara-carrera]

“I'm a mess” + Leah and JJ!

95: i'm a mess + mayson

thank you for continuously aiding my obsession with them. i'm actually really happy with how this came out omfg. very much not canon compliant to the actual fic and clueless (slightly jealous) babies. also weed, if you're not down with that (the smoking stuff is also probably v poorly written because i've never smoked in my life lmao).

"Is that my shirt?"

Leah nearly fell out of the hammock. She practically jumped out of her skin, one hand grabbing onto the side and the other clutching the joint she'd rolled a few minutes earlier. Her head whipped around to see JJ walking up to the trees outside the Chateau, an amused grin on his face.

"Jesus fuck, J. Don't sneak up on people like that," Leah whined, flipping him off as he came to a stop in front of her. He grabbed the side of the hammock, stopping it from swinging aggressively as she regained her balance.

"My shirt," he repeated, tugging at the sleeve of it.

She glanced down at the Pelican Marina shirt as if she just remembered she was wearing it. She'd randomly grabbed it from his room when she got back to the Chateau with John B, having ditched the party — and technically JJ? — at the boneyard. "Oh yeah, I got beer all over mine."

He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Long story," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Specifically, the one with her lit joint, which didn't go unnoticed by JJ.

"And you took my weed, too?" he exclaimed, eyeing the joint in her hand. Even buzzed, JJ had about thirteen issues with the way it was assembled, but rolling was never Leah's strong suit.

"No." She gave him a mischievous grin, shooting a conspiratorial wink. "It's John B's."

JJ chuckled at her expression, gasping with pride as he slapped a hand over his chest. “My little klepto! I've trained you well."

She shrugged. "I spotted him money for the last keg, he owes me. Wanna smoke it with me?"

JJ eyed her poor craftsmanship, but ultimately accepted with a shrug. Leah tried her best to keep still as JJ climbed into the hammock, sitting back against the other end to be across from her. The swayed a bit before he finally settled in, slotting one of his legs between hers.

She held out the joint to him, waving it tauntingly in front of him. JJ chuckled, plucking it from her fingers.

He took a quick hit, cringing when he let the smoke free. "This is shit weed."

"That's because John B bought it."

" ... Fair enough."

They sat in comfortable silent for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth as the very beginnings of a nice mellow feeling started to creep into Leah's veins. She tried her best to blow a smoke ring, but it came out more like a disjointed blob.

JJ snorted. “Weak."

"Dick," she grumbled, kicking her foot into his calf.

He rolled her eyes at the childish action, before posing a question. "Wanna tell me why I had to walk my ass back here tonight?"

Right. They'd ditched him. Whoops?

Okay, look, they had a reason. One of them being an absolutely trashed John B. He rarely got piss drunk but on the occasions that he did, there was a high chance he'd either do something really stupid or fall dead asleep and Leah had preferred to have him fall asleep at home then on the beach for her and the other's to drag him to the van.

Plus, JJ's attention had been firmly elsewhere at the time.

"Yeah, John B got a little too drunk and I was covered in beer and Kie and Pope have to work tomorrow so we decided to call it," she answered, feeling slightly guilty that they'd bailed on him. She gave him a regretful smile. "We were gonna get you, but you seemed ... preoccupied."

From the start of the party, some girl had practically latched herself onto JJ, and as usual, he lapped up all the attention. Leah didn't blame the girl. JJ was probably the hottest guy on the island, but Leah didn't really want to see him making out with some girl right in front of her.

But, uh, not that she cared. Obviously.

She changed the subject, trying not to sound like some bitter little baby. "So we just, uh, left. Pope said he texted you to let you know."

Pope definitely did not text JJ, but the blond wasn't going to fault him for it. No harm, no foul, especially since he most likely drove home with Kie tonight. God knows Pope was ass over elbows for their friend.

JJ nodded slowly a few times, like he was bobbing his head to an invisible beat. He could already tell he wasn't going to get a good high from John B's shit stash, but at least the keg at the boneyard had gotten him buzzed enough.

The keg, which reminded him of something. "Speaking of beer — "

"We weren't speaking of beer."

"Speaking, thinking, same difference," JJ dismissed, giving a nudge to her leg. "Why were you covered in beer again?"

Leah groaned, letting her head toss back in annoyance. "Fucking Kooks, that's why."

JJ frowned. "I mean, sure, but how ... ?"

Leah sighed, taking one last hit before leaning forward to hand him the joint. When she let the smoke go, she said, "Well, there was this guy I was with for most of the night. I don't know if you saw me after we ditched keg duty."

Oh, JJ had noticed. He definitely fucking noticed.

"He looked like a preppy asshole," he commented, trying to seem nonchalant. It was a wonder Leah bought it, because really he just sounded like a petty little bitch. He brought the joint to his lips, asking, "What happened to your no Kook rule?"

"He was a Touron," Leah replied. "A rich-y rich one, but a Touron all the same."

"But I thought you said — "

"Kook comes in later," she told him. She adjusted her position in the hammock, playing with the hem of JJ's shirt. "Although the Touron was actually a preppy asshole, so you're not really wrong. I mean, he seemed nice at first? But he was also ridiculously boring and full of himself. Ended up being a total dick."

"So basically he was a Kook without the Figure Eight address?"

"Pretty much. So anyways, we're talking and he's mostly going on about himself, which, like, fine, whatever, I was just waiting for him to wanna make out with me anyways — " She didn't notice the way JJ's eyes narrowed just a bit. " — And some fucking Kook drunk off his ass knocks into us and his beer spills all over me."

JJ let out a low whistle. "That blows."

"Oh, definitely. So my shirt's fucking drenched, like, I'm a mess, right? And you'd think any halfway decent person would like, I don't know, be good about the situation? Nope, the fucker decided it would be a great time to make a wet t-shirt contest joke about my boobs. Or, according to him, lack thereof."

Leah rolled her eyes as she laughed at the stupidity of it all, leaning over to snatch the joint back, taking another hit off it. She'd been pissed at first, but the look on his face when she dumped her drink on him was enough to ease her mind.

JJ on the other hand didn't seem as amused. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Like I said, total dick."

"You should've come and got me, would've had him on his ass."

The angry look in JJ's eyes was enough to make a soft smile break across Leah's face. That alone seemed to dim some of the irritation in his expression.

"Easy there, killer," she told him, leaning up to pat him on his leg. "I already threw the rest of my drink at him."

JJ conceded with a grumble, a part of him slightly amused at the thought, but he still muttered, "Still could use his ass kicked though."

"He could've, but I also don't need you fighting every guy who so much as looks at me the wrong way," she snorted. "Besides, I think you're forgetting I have a very nice right hook of my own."

The mental image of Leah socking Rafe Cameron in the face was enough to make them both burst out laughing.

It was a few minutes before all the laughter was out of their systems and they were back to a mellow quiet, the sounds of crickets chirping filling the air.

"So why were you even hanging out with him if he was such a boring dick?"

Because you had your tongue down that girl's throat.

She didn't really know how to answer his question without verging on embarrassing, friendship destroying, Pogue rule number one breaking honesty.

"Boredom? I don't know. Just looking for someone to hook up with, I guess," she replied, not really noticing how he bristled at her answer. Instead, she took an opportunity to try her hand at another smoke right, squealing in delight when a wonky, yet undeniably round ring blew from her lips. "Look!"

JJ grinned at the childlike wonder in her eyes, swaying slightly as she made the hammock swing a little with her excited bounces. He shook his head at her, watching her slip back to rest more comfortably in the hammock, her legs nudging his every so often. His gaze was absentmindedly fixed on the sight of his shirt on her when she cut into his thoughts.

"So, uh, how come you're not with ... " Leah trailed off. She didn't know the girl's name nor did she really want to. She was also worried if she kept going, a twinge of jealousy would leak into her words.

She was totally not jealous, though, by the way. Just to make that clear.

"Just wasn't really vibing," JJ said casually.

In all honesty, he'd only really stopped vibing when he saw that stupid fucking tourist all over Leah. The guy had looked like a dick and her story pretty much proved it, but the sight of them had tanked his mood incredibly. So when his own Touron had invited him back to the place she was staying, JJ bailed.

There were only so many times you could hook up with other people while thinking of the same goddamn person, especially when you shouldn't — no, couldn't be thinking about that person.

Because they were your best friend and you were a fucking idiot.

"Oh."

He leaned over, plucking the joint from her fingers. He took a hit, letting the smoke seep out of his mouth after a moment. He tried to play the situation off, grinning at her. "Eh, not a big deal. Besides, why would I want to be there when I can chill with my best friend?"

The words best friend hung in the air between them.

Neither one of them liked the way it sounded.

Neither one of them had the guts to do anything about it.

#asks #angst/fluff prompts #mayson #claryxjackson

[seblos]

there's not a star in heaven that we can't reach - ch 8/10

chapter title: this is the tech rehearsal, and i'm your choreographer

word count: 5,035

[one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (coming soon)]

read on ao3

“Carlos? Are you awake, mijo?”

Carlos very much wasn’t awake. What high school student genuinely is fully awake on a Monday morning, especially the day after break. If his mom is calling for him though, that could only mean one thing.

He’s late.

“Yes, mamá, I’m up!” he calls back, frantically rolling out of bed. Thankfully, he chooses his outfit the night before so he knows exactly what he’s grabbing in the morning. He zips his backpack, grabs his phone, and does a quick brush through of his hair without looking in the mirror. He probably doesn’t look the best, but half the school most likely won’t even show up, and it’s tech rehearsal today which means no matter how hard he tries he’s gonna be a mess anyway.

“Someone is waiting for you downstairs,” his mom calls up to him again, and he stops in his path. That’s unusual…he usually takes the bus alone in the morning. Who could possibly be waiting for him?

For the first time all morning, Carlos glances at his phone. It’s only 7:00 am; his alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Which, he imagines, can only mean one person is at the door.

Memories of the weekend flood through his mind as he walks down the stairs, suddenly a lot more awake than he was a moment ago despite being woken up before his alarm. Just as he expected, Seb- his boyfriend, is standing in their living room in front of the door, wearing a knit rainbow winter hat with tassels and a fluffy suede jacket on top of red flannel. It’s the most Seb he’s ever looked, and Carlos practically melts.

“Hi,” Seb breathes, smiling. He goes to hug Carlos before glancing at his mom in the other room. “Does she know?” he asks, voice dropping so she won’t hear.

Carlos shakes his head but squeezes his boyfriend’s hand quickly before his mom can see. “Why are you here?” he asks, though, obviously, he’s not complaining.

“Georgie had to go in early for some club meeting. Usually, I just go with her and stay in the library until school starts, but then I thought I might as well come here and, uh, surprise you,” he says, still smiling at Carlos. “If, uh, that’s okay.”

Carlos squeezes his hand again. “Please. As long as you’re okay with taking the bus.”

He calls goodbye to his mom, reminding her that he’ll be home late because of tech rehearsal before they’re out the door.

The moment the two are out of sight from his house, Carlos takes Seb’s hand before he can second guess himself. His boyfriend (!!! he is never going to get used to that) just smiles again. One of these days, Carlos will tell his mom and then he can do whatever with Seb in the comfort of his own home, but for now, he’ll take their not-so-secret hand-holding.

“This is kind of exciting for me,” Seb admits, laughing softly as they approach his deserted bus stop. “I’ve never taken the bus before!”

“Well, it loses its shine after about the second ride, but I’m excited that you're excited,” Carlos smiles back at him.

A few more people arrive before the bus pulls up. His stop is the last one before the school, so by the time they enter, most of the seats have already been filled. Luckily, there's an empty seat right in the front behind the driver, which Carlos gratefully takes, Seb in tow. Nobody takes a second glance at their conjoined hands.

“So,” Carlos says as the bus begins to trundle down the road towards the school. “How was the rest of your break?” He basically already knows, considering they text just about every day, but it’s still nice to hear Seb talk.

“It was alright, catching up on homework for Mazzara’s class,” (they both rolled their eyes) “and just hanging out with my family. Josie and Cohyn are home from college, which made the house extra chaotic, but it was worth it.”

Carlos smiles at the mention of the older Matthew-Smith siblings. He still has yet to meet any of them besides Georgie and the occasional glance of one of the younger siblings the few times he’s been to Seb’s house. He’s sure it’s only a matter of time before he gets introduced to the rest of them.

The mention of his older siblings reminds Carlos of the night on Ashlyn’s porch, and how Seb has said that Georgie called their relationship months back.

“Did you, um,” he laughs. “Did you talk to Georgie?”

Seb’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! She freaked, of course, but, like, in the best way.”

Carlos laughs again. “Should I be afraid?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re her favorite, actually,” he laughs as well, and part of Carlos is soaring knowing that.

“Gotcha, so you should be the one who’s afraid.”

Seb shrugs. “I mean, can’t blame her. You’re pretty incredible.”

Carlos can feel his face flushing. He’s hoping he can just blame it on the cold weather before realizing that Seb is blushing as well like he’s looking for the okay that he just said that. So, Carlos gives it to him.

“I don’t know. I think you’re the incredible one.”

Seb ducks his head, not knowing what to say next, but his face still bright red. He opts to just squeeze Carlos’s hand.

Most of the ride passes in silence, Carlos still half waking up and Seb just looking out the window, occasionally glancing over at him or their hands like he’s getting to remind himself that he’s dating Carlos.

It doesn’t feel any different being in a relationship. They’re still them, still the choreographer and the rehearsal pianist, the two boys who danced at Homecoming together. Seb is still one of his closest friends; he supposes dating him doesn’t change any of that except now he gets to brag that his best friend is also his boyfriend. He supposes that’s why they are dating.

Seb is one of the only people to break down the walls Carlos has built up, and while his heart is racing at the thought of it all, for once in his life he isn’t scared.

They have to let go of each other’s hands by the time they get to the school, gathering their backpacks and filing out the cramped space of the bus alley, but as soon as they’re walking into the school, Seb grabs his hand again.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, and Carlos doesn’t know how he’s supposed to make it through the day without holding Seb’s hand.

“You don’t have to ask.”

They walk down the hall together, which is a little nerve-wracking considering they’ve only ever held hands at school when it was after hours, but nobody gives them a second glance. Anyone who stares for a moment just moves on, either not caring or not surprised.

“Do you need to go to your locker?” Carlos asks him. Theirs are relatively near each other, much thanks to alphabetical last name sorting.

“Uh, yeah, I wanted to put my Chemistry textbook before-” he’s cut off as Lou and Addie rush past them, headed towards the auditorium with Ashlyn hot on their heels.

Carlos reaches out and grabs her arm before she can get too far. “Hey, Ash, where are you guys headed?”

Her face drops. “You haven’t heard yet?”

“No…?” he says slowly, glancing at Seb who just shrugs.

“You guys are gonna wanna come see this.”

He and Seb glance at each other again, before following Ashlyn down the hallway.

A million scenarios are running through Carlos’s head as he approaches the auditorium, none of which are positive after hearing Ash’s tone. Was someone hurt? Was the stage okay? The set? The lights? The costumes? Will they still be able to do the show?

What he saw when they reached the back doors so much worse than he could have ever expected.

Water is dripping from the ceiling, falling on burned and crumbled set pieces and costumes. Anything that survived was covered in plastic and almost definitely waterlogged, including the stage. Carlos feels his heart sink the moment he realized even if they cleared the damaged set pieces, the stage was too far gone to perform on.

His fear is confirmed as one of the firefighters informs Miss Jenn that the show, in fact, cannot go on with the stage in this condition.

“The fire ripped through half your costumes and the sprinklers ruined a bunch of your sets,” she tells Miss Jenn. “I’m going to have to red tag the entire backstage area for a month at least.”

There are gasps and sad shuffles behind Carlos as everyone groups up, seeking comfort within the tragedy. Next to him, Seb presses into Carlos, immediately lacing their hands as he blinks back tears.

Behind them, Kourtney lets out a choked “Did she say costumes?” and god, Carlos’s heart hurts.

“Okay, listen up,” Miss Jenn turns to them, and even though Carlos can’t imagine what she possibly can say during this moment, every head turns to listen. “Hug your neighbor, take a moment, and let’s all reconvene in the cafeteria after school to talk about our options. Ricky and Nini, spread the word.”

Nini nods. “Got it.”

“Ricky?”

“Sorry. After school in the cafeteria, got it,” he nods as well.

It’s sort of a concluding moment as everyone realizes they unfortunately still do have to go to class in a few minutes, and the cast and crew slowly begin to trickle out of the theater. Carlos lets go of Seb for a moment to murmur goodbye to Ashlyn, promising to talk to her in History. When he turns back around, Seb is lingering, staring at the stage but his mind is obviously elsewhere.

“Is it dumb,” he says sadly when Carlos approaches again, “that I’m glad the ladder survived?”

His head drops down to Carlos’s shoulder, and Carlos’s body just rakes with despair. His biggest project in shreds, the person he cared about most close to tears… he wonders if, with all the good leading up to this moment, this kind of disaster was bound to happen.

Life never wants to be easy.

—

Carlos doesn’t see Seb again until lunch with him during their fifth period. By that point, the two of them lightened up a bit after getting lost in the waves of Sophomore year schoolwork still circling around them, unrelenting despite theatrical tragedy. Still, the knowledge of their burned theater sat heavily on everyone’s shoulders, and their lunch table was quieter than normal.

“This school seriously needs to work on their vegetarian options,” Seb murmurs, stirring his soup. “I can die happy the day society realizes that not all of us are in love with tofu.”

Carlos lets out a breathy laugh and Natalie leans over to pat him on the shoulder sympathetically. Their cafeteria’s interesting taste in alternate food choices is a conversation they have at least twice a week ever since Carlos joined the table.

He could tell Seb was doing his best to hide it and instead try and cheer everyone else up. He had noticed, at some point, that the other boy always put others in front of his own emotions, making sure they were okay before he was. It was endearing to see how badly he cared, but Carlos knew what hurt looked like on the other boy, knew that he had to be there for him even if he didn’t have the words to make everything okay.

“There’s more to vegetarianism than soup and salads,” Seo thoughtfully reminds them. It’s something Carlos has heard many times before but can never get tired of his boyfriend’s voice.

He results in simply leaning into Seb’s side, ignoring Natalie’s eye-roll towards the two of them, and savors the moment in his day when everything isn’t totally terrible.

—

Carlos does a lot of hugging today. He thinks the entire cast does, to be honest. There isn’t a moment where they see each other and don’t seek comfort, mourning all of the hard work and the potential loss of their show. It’s probably overdramatic to all of the non-theatre kids, but Carlos is too tired to care at this point.

He finds himself hugging Nini and Seb in a sort of prayer-style formation in the cafeteria after school as they wait for Miss Jenn. Even while he and Nini never were quite the best of friends (especially after the “forest of boys” incident) it was nice that they were still able to find some sort of solace in each other.

They break apart from each other, Nini squeezing his shoulder, just as Miss Jenn walks in.

“Okay, guys,” she claps, then pauses. “Wait, where’s Gina?”

Hesitant glances are spared at each other around the room as everyone settles on top and around the cafeteria tables, recalling the phone call they overheard at Ashlyn’s Thanksgiving party.

Ashlyn herself was the one to speak up after a moment. “I think she’s going through a family thing right now.”

Luckily, Miss Jenn brushes it off. “Ok, prayers to our Gina. I’m... really not sure what to say. You've all worked so hard. I’ve seen all of you grow so much,” she pauses, and Carlos feels himself holding his breath as if she’s about to spout a miracle.

Unfortunately, it’s never that easy. “But if we don’t have a theater, we don’t have a show.”

Immediately, a chorus of “what?” and disgruntled murmurs pass around the room as everyone contemplates what that means for the fate of the show. Carlos feels himself turn, letting his hand drop onto Seb’s thigh reassuringly as he looks between EJ and his boyfriend’s concerned expressions.

Carlos turns again, this time to face the drama teacher. “Miss Jenn, we’ve gotta do something,” he pleads.

“I think we… I don’t know. I guess we could consider other venues?” Concerned chatter turns curious as everyone begins to try and brainstorm ideas for where they could possibly move their show on such short timing and essentially no budget.

“Oh, what about the old Kingston downtown?” Ashlyn offers.

Miss Jenn winces. “It’s condemned.”

“The Lucky Ducky Puppet Pavillion?”

“It’s a massive Starbucks now.”

Inspiration hits Carlos like one last glowing star. “How about the El Rey?”

Pride swells in his chest as people point at him excitedly, quickly agreeing to the one possible theater they could actually pull off moving their show to. (Granted, nothing has been performed there in years, but a theater is a theater, right? )

Unfortunately, Miss Jenn is not as thrilled. “Any other ideas?” Carlos pauses from where he’s looking over Seb’s arm at his Google search of the theater, brow furrowing at her tone. “Miss Jenn, I feel like you just had a really weird reaction to what I just said.”

Typically, being blunt with their director is the only way he can get any comprehensible feedback from her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she replies, eyes wide and uncharacteristically emotionless.

“Carlos was asking if we could try and use the El Rey theater,” Nini supplies for her.

“My Uncle Reuben is the listing agent, and the last thing they had there was a fashion show like, four years ago,” Carlos continues, before walking behind Miss Jenn as he excitedly dials a familiar number.

“Woah, this place has 500 seats!” He hears Seb exclaim, followed by Miss Jenn talking. Carlos isn’t able to concentrate on what she’s saying before the other line picks up, and his uncle greets him.

“Tío Rubén, ¿podemos usar el teatro para nuestro espectáculo?” Carlos asks, mustering up the best Spanish he can.

The response thankfully is a very excited “¡si, si, si!”

“Sounded like a ‘yes’ to me!” Ashlyn raises excitedly, mirroring Carlos’s arms out wide. Everyone around them cheers, and even Miss Jenn seems to brush aside whatever her deal is, accepting defeat.

“The El Rey theater it is!” she announces.

Carlos grins. “Miss Jenn, aren’t you excited?”

“Yes… I am that feeling,” she says quickly, then spins back around to face the rest of the cast and crew. “Wildcats, let's grab all the props and costumes that didn’t get damaged, and let’s loadout!”

It’s obvious she isn’t as excited as everyone else, but Carlos brushes it off in favor of celebrating their not-cancelled show. They’ll deal with Miss Jenn’s problem with the El Rey when they inevitably come to it.

Nini and Kourtney gather all the other juniors and seniors who have their driver's license, making plans with Carlos for transport straight to the other theater. They come up with a plan, car arrangements and all, and head into action.

Before Carlos can get too caught up with the crowd, he finds himself quickly pulled into yet another hug from Seb.

“My boyfriend is a genius,” he says once they pull apart, quiet enough that only the two of them hear. (Not that they’re specifically trying to hide it from anyone at this point, but it’s nice to have moments just shared between the two of them.)

Carlos immediately blushes at the words, not at all used to Seb referring to him as his boyfriend. He ducks his head, biting back the flushed grin threatening to cross his face. “I’m not really. There are only so many theaters in Salt Lake City. It’s just kind of luck, honestly, that my uncle is the listing agent.”

“Still, you scored us an actual theater with, like, lights and sound and an actual stage and audience chairs,” Seb reminds him. “I was fully prepared to suggest my barn, but I was really hoping we wouldn’t get that far.”

Carlos laughs. “The cows could have been part of the audience.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure they would totally no t be disruptive or anything,” Seb rolls his eyes, sarcasm heavy in his voice even with the smile adorned on his lips. His eyes drop again, though, as he steps a little closer to Carlos.

“Seriously, though. This has been the best three months of my life, so… Thank you for bringing back the show. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without it, besides lose all my confidence.”

Carlos smiles gently, heart just filled with so much happiness and love compared to before.

“The show won’t end no matter what, I swear. We could probably do it in the gym, everything considered,” he laughs lightly, trying to reassure the other boy. “Besides. The show doesn’t give you confidence. That’s all you, honey.”

(The pet name kind of slips out just like it did at the Thanksgiving party, and Carlos panics for a moment before remembering he’s allowed to do that now. Not to mention Seb’s reaction is just as cute.)

“Yeah,” he nods, then pulls Carlos into one more quick hug before tugging him towards the bomb shelter. “Come on, we have a tech rehearsal to attend.”

—

The transition from East High to the El Rey was surprisingly seamless. In fact, everything about their tech rehearsal was smooth sailing for the most part, minus the absent stage manager and the old tech. It was still a theater, though, and everything leading up so far after the news of the fire, leaving Carlos at least a little bit hopeful for the fate of the show even with the change in location.

Which is why he should have expected it when things got weird.

Carlos was not unfamiliar with subbing in for roles. Typically, if Ricky or Nini was absent for a rehearsal, Gina and EJ would step in like the dutiful understudies they were, leaving an ensemble member or himself to read for their missing roles depending on who was there. More than a few times Carlos ended up reading Ryan’s line outside of private rehearsals with Seb, same with some of the other background boys, even Chad once or twice.

Needless to say, although he wasn’t necessarily the most specialized in acting or singing like some of the members of the cast were, it didn’t mean he couldn’t. It just so happened that out of the three things that make someone a triple threat, he preferred dancing the most out of them.

So when Miss Jenn calls him up to read for Gabriella, he’s unbothered. It wasn’t like he was afraid to act in front of the cast and crew. It wasn’t even acting, anyway. It was just a staged reading for blocking lighting.

At least, that’s what he had assumed.

Carlos knows, realistically, after the incident with EJ in the hallway and Miss Jenn’s director's file that the older boy would have been curious about its contents. Part of him was just hoping that EJ had enough dignity and confidence left to not actually look through the box.

Once EJ started talking, Carlos knew that wasn’t the case.

“Look… I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. Until you,” EJ responds to the cue he gives, more emotional than any high school performance ever needed to be. He never had a problem with overreacting; Carlos immediately knows what EJ had done.

“And now, I don’t want to stop. Ever.”

The more he continued, the lower Carlos’s eyebrows went down his forehead, until he’s tilting his head towards Miss Jenn inquisitively just to make sure he’s not the only one noticing something off.

Miss Jenn mirrors his expression. “That’s excellent… and a little weird,” she tells them, before giving Big Red lighting directions as Carlos turns back towards EJ.

“What is happening right now?” he gestures vaguely into the space between them.

“I’m just emoting, Carlos. Feel free to join me.”

Okay, yeah. He definitely read the file.

“This is the tech rehearsal, and I’m your choreographer,” Carlos reminds him, hoping to give EJ a reality check. Unfortunately, he seems unaffected as Miss Jenn asks them to run the scene again.

Apparently, EJ takes Miss Jenn’s reaction to “emote” even more, to the point where he thinks EJ might actually be crying.

“I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. Until you,” he leans closer, and Carlos leans farther. “And now, I don’t want to stop. Ever.”

The moment EJ reaches out to him, cupping Carlos’s cheek, his fight or flight kicks in. It feels like he’s staring into Carlos’s soul, fake tears rimming in his eyes. (If he wasn’t so incredibly confused, he would have maybe joked about it feeling like a hate crime.) Even as leans back so far it feels like his neck has disappeared into his collar, EJ doesn’t let up. When Miss Jenn finally calls EJ’s name, it feels like he’s going to be the one to cry now.

Their director gestures for him to come over.

“Are you sick?”

The pieces finally fully click in Carlos’s head. “Wait, I know what’s going on here-”

Before he can finish his sentence, a ladder falls over scarily close to him, and everyone flinches as they did earlier with the sandbag at the beginning of rehearsal, and Carlos realizes that maybe everything isn’t going as well as he originally hoped.

—

Carlos doesn’t talk to EJ later, not until Miss Jenn has a full breakdown after the mic check with Kourtney. Ashlyn is sent to talk to her while the rest of them chill out in the hallway.

He finds EJ on the floor with a box of popcorn in his hand that has to be incredibly stale and decides he may as well confront him.

“You looked in the audition files, didn’t you?” he approaches EJ, not even giving the bo a chance to finish the handful of popcorn.

All he gets in response is a muttered “Oh boy.”

Carlos sighs at his confirmed suspicion. “I tried to warn you, those were for Miss Jenn’s eyes only.”

“Not a problem,” EJ stands up. “Because apparently, I don’t have emotions.”

“Sometimes you do have a way of performing that doesn’t exactly feel authentic,” Carlos says as gently as possible the moment he hears EJ’s voice break a little bit. Feeling like you have too many emotions is one thing he’s dealt with more than a couple times; he can’t imagine what it must feel like to be that way and have everyone assume you don’t care at all because you don’t express them the way others do.

EJ wasn’t having it though. “Then what was I just doing on stage?”

“That felt more like an allergic reaction.”

“And what’s authentic to you, Carlos? A forest full of human beings?”

The words cut like ice, worming their way under his skin and confirming his biggest fear that y es, his castmates still think about that and they all think he’s stupid, that his ideas are stupid, even this whole El Rey idea was probably stupid too.

Carlos chooses to ignore the voices in his head. “That concept may need a little bit of time.”

“And so do I.”

The popcorn box is being pushed into his chest as EJ walks off, leaving Carlos wondering how everything could have possibly gone so wrong.

He debates looking for Seb, but he was caught up in conversation with Kourtney. Ashlyn was MIA, and Big Red had come around once to ask for his pizza preference but promptly left as soon as he got it, leaving Carlos on his own with the definitely stale popcorn that he was shoveling into his mouth just to do something with his hands.

Which is why it surprises him when EJ comes back a little bit later.

“Hey, um, it’s been a long time, should we go ask what’s going on?” EJ says slowly, like Carlos is the last person he wants to ask but the first person with all the answers about Miss Jenn.

Unfortunately, it seems more and more these days Carlos never has answers about Miss Jenn.

“She’s having a moment,” he says, unwilling to leave his spot from the floor. “Maybe you can go and ask her.”

“I don’t want to freak her out more with my lifeless eyes.”

Carlos snorts but doesn’t speak.

EJ takes it as his cue to leave. “Anyway, it’s…” he trails off, shaking his head as he goes to walk off, but Carlos jumps up quickly.

“You were right, by the way,” the words tumble out faster than he can stop them, letting out all the frustration and guilt he had been contemplating over the last half hour. “Forest of boys was a mess and coming here was a huge mistake. I have no business taking charge of anything.”

To his surprise, EJ steps closer. “No, you stepped up, dude. You always do. If I’m being honest, it’s…”

“Stupid?” Carlos supplies.

“Admirable.”

It’s not what Carlos is expecting to come from him, and the shock from it makes him stutter for a moment, tilting his back like he’s waiting for EJ to take it back.

“EJ, was… that a compliment?”

“Don’t make me start emoting,” he shakes his head, wincing like he can’t believe himself, but the words stay put.

Carlos just laughs. “Okay. Well, the words were a four but the sentiment was a solid ten.”

EJ laughs, followed by an awkward pause. “I’m gonna walk away now.”

He does, and Carlos stands there for a second trying to process what the heck just happened. His chest is just as tight as it was before, but the tension has left his shoulders a bit and everything feels a little bit less painful.

Just as he sits down once more, another person comes bounding over and drops right next to him. Carlos almost wishes they didn’t, until he realizes who it was

“Tough day?”

“The toughest,” Carlos sighs, and it makes Seb smile a bit as he drops his head down onto Carlos’s shoulder.

“What was EJ talking to you about?��

“Show stuff,” Carlos nearly shrugs, before remembering the weight of the other boy’s head on his shoulder. He gestures vaguely with his opposite hand instead. “Found some stuff out about his audition from Miss Jenn’s show file-”

“-Which is why he was acting weird, gotcha,” Seb finishes for him.

Carlos laughs quietly. “You jealous?”

Seb doesn't answer at first, instead picking up Carlos’s hand where it’s left at his side and traces patterns along his fingertips. Carlos takes it as a cue to keep teasing him.

“I mean, you have to admit, he is attractive,” he nudges. It gets Seb’s attention enough to lift his head off of Carlos’s shoulder, glaring at him with daggers made of cotton candy.

Carlos holds his hands up in defense. “Joking, joking!” he promises, laughing again. “I’m interested in someone else right now.”

Seb hums, laying back down on Carlos’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”

He doesn’t answer, just lacing their fingers together again. “What were you talking to Kourtney about before?”

“Show stuff,” Seb echoes from before, and Carlos rolls his eyes. “I just asked her if she was planning to quit makeup crew and join the show.”

“What’d she say.”

“That she’s not planning on quitting costumes and makeup anytime soon, but she’d be interested in branching out, essentially.”

Carlos hesitates. “Are you jealous of her?”

“Who, Kourtney?”

Carlos nods.

Seb sighs, unlacing their fingers so he can trace Carlos’s hand again. (He’s found it to be calming for Seb, either when he’s tired or nervous. Or both.)

“I’m not jealous. Maybe a little scared, just because I’m sure we have similar dream roles, but it just means competition I wouldn’t mind losing to. I would love to see her perform, you know?” he squeezes Carlos’s hand gently. “Same with you.”

“What about me?” he asks.

“Doing the show. You’re obviously a good dancer, and a good singer, and a good actor. You could easily play a lead,” Seb informs him.

Carlos chews on his lip. “Dunno. I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure being on stage is my thing.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” Seb grins, leaning his head up so he can see Carlos. “I could be your Gabriella.”

“Oh, baby,” Carlos laughs, letting their conjoined hands fall onto his thigh. “I think you already are.”

—

#seblos #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith #high school musical the muiscal the series #hsmtmts #my writing #not a star #thank god for automatic italics on tumblr now