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boxwinebaddie · 6 months

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RM5 WAS SOOO GOOD!! curb was so funny also help i have a crush on bebe …. and kyle. ravenstan being nervous on the phone omg i love him so much. AND POOR KYLE😕😕 anyways i loved it without the formatting! im so happy youre deciding to take things easier on yourself <3 hyh! and I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTERS YAAYY

AJKGSASKA!!!! YOU GUUUUYS!!!!!! *bebe vc* i'm crying i'm crying!!!

i can't believe how many of you liked rm5!!!! i was so nervous about even publishing my weird little experiment project fanfiction and i have like????? *me exaggerating* a bajillionmillointhousandhundred asks in my box about how much people liked rm5, rm in general, style's dynamic, my characterizations and AAAAAA??? I LOVE YOU

thank you, darling!!! it was one of my favorite chapters to write ever! it was just so fun everyone was so silly during that last part ( which, actually, i rushed because i was so excited to put that chapter out, so i will be editing that later and making it sound less awful, lmao )

CURB!!!!! i'm so glad everyone likes curb, he is such an angry legend. him and kyle are both angry orange unpleasant legends and i love that so much, like father like son, what can i say??? it makes me laugh sm that kyle is like!!!! i'm so evil!!! rah!!!! i hate everything!!!! everyone could die and i wouldn't care!!! and proceeds to rescue curb off the street every single day and meticulously cleans his water bowl and is like 'were not raising the heating bill just to keep the stupid cat warm' and then pretends he accidentally pressed it w/ his shoulder.

also aaaaa ravesey hate means that ravenstan gets to meet curb, which is so???? BE NICE!!!! its a big deal, okay? i feel like its like when ur dad brings home a date like asdksdls gotta pass the curb test!

but LITERALLY!!!! the b in bebe stands for BAD AS HELL in all my fanfictions, oh my god, she is soooooo fione, step! on! me! also i feel like i haven't gotten around to doing a solid description of what the blondie's five look like in detail ( even kyle because he's narrating most of the time and hates his appearance ) but bebe is plus size in rm and her hair is so pretty and golden and wavy, does very elaborate makeup looks, only wears y2k 'bebe' baby tees and rhinestone mini skirts platforms every day....dominatrix!bebe please just one chance.

( are we excited for that bendy plot arc though, oh my god. i'm so mad. chapter 5 got waaaay too long so i couldn't include it, but that phone call i referenced was an actual scene i was going to write into rm5 where bebe calls wendyl bc her teacher gave her wens number for tutoring and wendyl is SUUUUCH A LOSER oh my god he called her 'miss barbara stevens' like 10000x times way too formal and she was like cANCEL YOUR PLANS OR ELSE TESTICLEBURGER! EVAPORATE, NERD! skdhlksd im in pain. )

i also...have a crush on kyle. like he is so loud and so mean and so fucking crazy but its because the universe made him TOO FINE so they had to make him actually and completely unapproachable or else everyone would be trying to hit his line lmaoooo

that did not stop raven tho!!!!! rip!!!!! he likes emotionally unavailable men who will be mean as fuck to him ig!!!! embarrassing, baby!!!!

speaking of, I KNOW I KNOW I KNOOOOOW!!!! i mean i loved that whole update because it was CHAOS, but literally those like 16k words were all worth it for those 2 precious lines of raven being nervous like...he is my baby...my angel...*holds him in my arms*

raven: literally sings sold out venues in every major city every night of the week sometimes twice in one day, is a world famous celebrity, gets hit on 25/8 by fans, other celebrities, everyone, etc., is routinely and aggressively simped over, gets called hot like every single day

kyle: calls him cute ONE TIME as a JOKE

raven: aHAHAAAAHaaaaa!!! y-you think i'm cu-cute???!!>!>! *screaming crying throwing up*

my hands are over my eyes...oh my god...pathetic. STAND! UP!!!!!

my favorite part of rm is that stans rizz as raven is like 1000000 and stans rizz as...stan is -1000000000000000000. like HEEEEELP

raven: people's choice sexiest man alive, mega famous a list celebrity, punk rock heartthrob, sex symbol, tmz bad boy, lead singer it boy of chart topping super band crimson dawn and ceo of being fioooone

stan: fell asleep last night on the couch crying watching the attack on titan season finale with a corn tortilla chip stuck to his face via mascara tears and missed all 17 alarms for his apology press conference for missing his last press conference bc he fell asleep crying and watching anime AGAIN

its so unserious...all my stans are boyfailures and i mean that wholeheartedly omg.

if you are unconvinced for everyone who doesn't have my cursed twitter, i started blocking out rm6s dialogue because i love to laugh and right before the #raveseyhate ravenstan is on the phone with kenny and its soooo SLKHSKDH he's so STRESSED OUT HELP

like???? HES LIKE kENNY THIS IS SERIOUS STOP IT!!! SDHLKHDLS

( marta the one eyed crack dealer is my favorite side character in rm )

i love kenny and stans dynamic in rm, they're such an iconic duo.

its literally like

stan getting the smallest modicum of shit from kenny

stan: you know what kenny!!! what if i told you i was gonna end it all??? huh!!!! what then!!!!! that's right!!!! i'm gonna throw myself into traffic!!! watch me!!! are you sure you want that blood on your hands???!!!! huh!!!! yep!!! thats right!!! i'm doing it!!!! i'm undoing my seat belt!!! last chance!!! stop bullying me or i'm gonna kill myself!!!!

kenny, playing app games on his phone unbothered: .....are you sure because you didn't do it last time

KHDSLKDSHLSHLKDSDS BRUTAL!!!! BRUTAL!!!! UNNECESSARY VIOLENCE OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD CHILL!!!! IM WHEEZINg

okay but...kyle...yeah....yeah. he is my angel also even tho hes mean. he makes me so fucking sad because he is so lovely and like hes only cruel because the universe was extremely cruel to him also and in turn it made him cruel to himself and UUUUUGH i love him i love him i loooove him...i go into his body issues and mental health more next chapter and sigh...everyone blow jersey a kiss, he needs it so bad.

i'm looking at you ravenstan!!!!! if you don't cut that mans lip open on that canopener u call a lip ring!!! so help me!!!!!! i will do it for you!!!!

you're so so so sooooo sweet though. i'm glad you liked it unformatted, tbh....i enjoyed it a lot? as fun as doing the formatting for pep was originally...looking at those updates...i can't look at them? like theres too much on them i'm actually embarrassed? i'm gonna edit the fuck out of those later and make them way more relaxed.

but yeah, i think i am going to start putting out my updates a little closer to how this one looked with more italics but with only very specific bold or other formatting...idk, i'm in my clean girl era with how my fics look i guess? but only aesthetically...on the inside my fanfictions are crazy like rm is SO CRAZY!!! chapter six...i'm stoked.

i'm trying to be kind to myself and i really appreciate it!!! it's all because you guys were all kind to me!!! i seriously cannot thank you enough for your nice words and warm energy!!!!

update, or rather, upHate coming soon ;)

-uncle nina, ceo of the ravesey hate ship

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #this is so so so so cute #thank you so much my love!!!#the amount of you in my inbox showing rm love is so CRAZY to me im cheesing so hard you guys dont even know #this fic was a large point of insecurity for a long time and i feel really good abt it now and its bc of ur support and luv #raven is....so pathetic...im so...hes so embarassing #simp behavior #please stand up baby ur a disgrace to my bloodline #that entire dialogue exchange is so funny hes like KENNY I WILL THROW UP!!!! THIS IS SO EVIL!!!! DONT DO THIS #live laugh ravenstan and jerseykyle #boy boss and boy failure nation #raven is like i have a date aaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! yayayayay #and kyle is like im gonna kill myself this is the worst day of my life why is this happening to me DHLHSKHDLSD #also not raven threatening to kill himself at any minor inconvenience hes just like me fr

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 9 ~The Christmas Spirits~

Previously in Christmas Eve Rush

Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes almost popped out at the realisation. "Good Lord. You're in love with her, aren't ye? It's all over your face. Oh my God!"

"Please? We dinnae have a lot of time," he whispered, almost close to tears. "Ye're the only one who can get through to Claire."

A few heartbeats passed as he held his breath.

"Fine! Let's do this!" Suddenly spurred by excitement into action, she quickly grabbed a piece of paper and pen and handed it to him. "Write down your number, and I'll update you after I've called Claire."

"Ye will?"

"Yes, yes ..." she muttered. "Come on, chop-chop!" She clapped her hands at him.

Elated with the turn of event, he didn't waste any more time and rapidly scribbled his number and pushed the piece of paper back to her. "Thank ye. I owe ye big time." When an afterthought came to him, he shoved his hand into his pocket, took out a spare key to his cottage and placed it on the table. It was meant to be for Claire. "Another favour, I have a dog and kitten in the house and ..."

"I got it." She grinned and made a shooing motion. "Now go!"

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

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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Claire sat at the airport's cafe, every sound of someone's laughter and the sight of happy couples holding hands, driving a knife into her chest. She still had a few hours to go before its time to go through security. With a heavy heart, she miserably flipped the pages of a glossy magazine, unseeing its pages' articles and pictures. It had taken every iota of her resolve and will power to leave Broch Mordha, and now Annalise had made her book a later flight because her friend was on the way and wanted to talk. Damn her for making this more difficult! In truth, she wanted to know what Jamie had told her friend and wondered what he would have said if she'd confronted him instead of running away. Now that she was finally out of his life was he even thinking about her? Staying in Broch Mordha would have most probably increased the likelihood of her believing his excuses and running back into his arms. She just couldn't handle the emotional fallout.

"I beg your pardon, is this seat taken?" a soft feminine voice asked.

Claire briefly glanced up, offered a weak smile and motioned for the woman to sit. She wasn't in the state nor mood for small talks so she put her head down and pretended to read, hoping the woman would take a hint.

Restless, she glanced again at her phone to check the time. Annalise should be here soon. Is she planning to fly with me? I hope not! She noticed the cafe was beginning to get busy with people waiting for love ones to arrive or the check-in counter to open. Tomorrow at this time, she'd be home. The thought of spending Christmas in London in the cramped apartment made her doubly miserable. She loved the open spaces of the Highlands and quaint villages. Although the weather could be quite grim, the landscape's natural beauty and loads of fresh air more than made up for it. With its tranquil settings, it was an ideal place to start her writing career. She'd put it on hold for far too long, working for a publishing company that gave her very little satisfaction and yesterday she'd even fantasised of moving to Broch Mordha and making it a reality to be closer to Jamie. How could I have been so stupid?

"Highlands in December is romantic, isn't it?" The woman sharing her table smiled pleasantly. "I love this place. There's something magical about it, don't you agree?"

Ah, another English woman to fall for the Highland charm! She was about to give some generic answer about the Highlands' ancient history lending the romance a hint of mysticism when the harsh truth chose that moment to free itself. "Kind of deceiving though, isn't it? I got caught up in that so-called magic, but some wanker decided to exploit it and use my heart to make fertiliser. I've only known him for a couple of days, but I can't stand being in this place anymore without thinking about him and his stupid, stupid handsome face. And the way he looked at me." She blew a breath and blinked back the tears. "I guess I was just plain naive and a bloody dimwit for thinking smooth talkers only existed in big cities like London. I tell you what, they're rife everywhere and you can never be too careful."

If the woman had been surprised by Claire's outburst, it didn't show. "Now, now, I'm quite sure there is a perfect explanation. Lovely and sweet as you look, I see the wisdom that belies your age in your eyes. You don't seem like a person to be taken by someone's smooth line at all."

She let out an almost deranged laugh. "Well, obviously, I am. I took one look at a beautiful face, and all logic went south. So there," Claire huffed.

The other woman looked away and sipped her tea. She was much older than Claire thought - in her forties maybe or could be fifties, but it was hard to tell. She had a dark, sleek modern bob hairstyle that contradicted the mumsy grey slacks, woollen jumper and lack of makeup and accessories. Her face was kind though, and there was a serenity in her demeanour she found comforting and familiar.

Claire regretted her oversharing and decided to shut her mouth and continued reading.

"I met my husband many years ago here. Not far from where we are now. A place called Broch Mordha."

Claire's head shot up. "Oh! Is your husband Scottish?"

"No, he's English. We met one summer while watching a Highland game. He lived in Broch Mordha while doing some research for work, and I was on holiday. We fell in love and eventually married. And every year from thereon we celebrated our anniversary here. It's a very special place for us."

"That's very sweet," Claire remarked, trying not to think of Jamie and what could have been for them if he hadn't been a knobhead.

The woman let out a soft laugh and daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Sweet isn't the description I would have used to describe the circumstance of how we met; nevertheless, it turned out my darling husband is my soul mate and marrying him had been the best decision I've ever made in my life."

"Good for you ..." Claire whispered, subtly glancing once more at the time on her phone. She hoped Annalise would be here soon because the last thing she needed right now was to hear someone else's happily forever after. But in the end, curiosity got the better of her. "So what made you change your mind about him?"

The woman sighed and took out her book. "My husband was an insensitive clod, and when he eventually saw the error of his ways and asked for forgiveness, I gave him a second chance. Forgiving him didn't change the past, and I realised in the end, if I hadn't forgiven him, my actions would have robbed me of the best years of my life. And of course, a beautiful daughter who turned out to be everything I've ever hoped for and much more." She smiled and then turned her attention to reading. Obviously, oversharing was now over.

"I see ..." Claire muttered. Well, what had she expected? A magical solution? She almost laughed out loud. No such thing!

It was too late for her and Jamie anyway. She was on her way to London, and he'd probably moved on now that she was gone. It was definitely better this way. Out of sight, out of mind.

**********

He switched off the ignition of his car and texted Annalise to inform her he'd arrived at his destination. She'd messaged him earlier letting him know Claire would be at D'Lish cafe. Scanning his vicinity, Jamie drew in a lungful of air. He'd only been in Inverness Airport's parking lot a few minutes, and already his nerves were on tenterhooks. From the congested traffic and beeping cars to stressed people madly rushing about, Jamie realised how far from his world he'd strayed, and the distance was only under an hour's drive.

He hadn't even stepped out of his car, and already he was counting the minutes till he was back within the peaceful haven of Broch Mordha. But he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going back without Claire and had taken his passport with him just in case he would have to follow her all the way to London. How he was going to manage that with his unpredictable episodes, he had no idea. He hoped he would be able to keep his panic attacks at bay long enough until he found her and convinced her to come back home.

"I'll walk in with you," Harry said quietly out of the blue as if he'd sense his trepidation. "My flight isn't till later, and my wife is probably enjoying her cuppa tea somewhere."

The tightness in his body relaxed, and Jamie nodded gratefully. Harry seemed to always understand his situation, popping out of the blue at the strangest times. Jamie had never questioned it and put it down to simply Harry being unusually perceptive and a good friend.

They quietly walked side by side towards the airport and when they entered the building, moving bodies and a sea of faces swarmed his vision. The racket and clamour of people going about their business surrounded him, and Christmas crowds trying to make it home before Christmas jostled too close, their cacophony of voices chattering excitedly.

Jamie swallowed the mounting panic and fixed his thoughts on Claire, breathing deeply in through his nose and with a heaving chest, letting it all out with a whoosh. His eyes darted and saw people smiling and nodding animatedly, laughter and children's squeals infiltrating his consciousness, their sound accompanied by an air of anticipation that told him it was a season of joy.

Jamie managed to put a grim smile on his face and concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other, apologising now and again whenever he accidentally bumped into someone, almost stumbling like an intoxicated man. Although aware of Harry's presence, perspiration coated his skin, and he could feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. The usually comfortable soft fabric of his sweatshirt chaffed and squeezed him like a clamp almost suffocating him. The chaotic din typical of an airport during the holiday season came in a huge rush of waves, at first faint, then building to a deafening sound that roared in his ears, shattering his foundation and foothold.

Oh, God, please, not now. Jamie knew it was happening. Attempting not to panic, he began to employ a technique that more often than not worked. He tried listening to his mother's singing in his head, the one that stuck most in his mind and brought him comfort when he'd been amidst a conflict in a war zone, a song that sang him to sleep when he was a wee bairn.

He stopped a few metres away from the cafe where Claire was supposed to be waiting and took a moment to draw in oxygen, clinging to his mother's singing in his head. Goodnight, you moonlight ladies. Rockabye, sweet baby, James. Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose. Won't you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James.

He dimly recognised where he was, busy eateries, cafes and shops lined a wide area, a focal point for those waiting for love ones to arrive or passengers before heading to security that led to the departure area. Someone's child screamed nearby, and the sound of suitcases dragging on its wheels seemed to rumble and reverberate on the ground. Christmas light decorations that normally shimmered unobtrusively and gave a soft glow suddenly seemed to flash all around him, and the Christmas songs playing in the background became disembodied sounds. Jamie froze, gripped in the throes of a colossal panic attack that forced him to sink halfway to his knees.

Everything seemed to fade in and out, but it was Harry's voice he eventually clung to, his mother's singing hushing into the recesses of his head. The Englishman repeated his name and grabbed hold of his elbow, preventing him from collapsing to the floor and leading him firmly away from the moving crowd. Jamie pitched himself against the giant column and fought the crippling dread chipping away at his sanity.

He glanced around frantically, but Harry's hand grabbed his face and forced him to look straight into amber eyes.

"Breathe, Jamie. Everything is going to be alright. Just keep breathing."

"H-Harry ...I n-need to ..."

"It's alright. I know. I'm not going anywhere. Just breath."

Jamie unzipped his jacket and fought for air, sucking in a lungful. And then, again and again, gasping and coughing as he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. Harry's strong hand massaged his back in a circular motion, the older man's presence calm and controlled, breathing with him, encouraging to gradually take in more air.

It took a while to normalise his breathing, his heart to calm down and the cold sweat to evaporate. As he regained more control, though wobbly at first, he straightened up. Gathering his bearings, he ignored the odd looks from passersby, by now already used to it.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "Feeling much better?"

Jamie managed a nod as the initial feeling of shame and embarrassment took over the panic attack. Why am I even here? Claire deserved so much better than this and all his fucking issues. On top of it all, he'd managed to make her feel cheap when he was nothing but just half a man. There was no way she'd go back to Broch Mordha with him.

"Oh no, you don't. I know that look in your eyes. You've made it this far, old sport," Harry whispered fiercely, straightening his jacket. "Don't you even think of going back home without trying!"

Jamie blinked, confused. What the fuck? What does Harry know? But there was no time to ask questions, as he caught a glimpse of Claire past Harry's shoulder. She was in the cafe in the motion of getting up, her head bowed down while speaking on the phone.

Last night, he'd held Claire in his arms and now, the reality of the moment hit him hard as he saw her hand gripped the suitcase next to her, reminding him she's waiting to board a plane. He could hardly think over the furious pounding in his chest as a combination of relief at seeing her and fear of rejection surged through him. He barely registered himself, moving towards the cafe when Harry put a hand on his arm. He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You're on your own now. For now. Remember to breathe."

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now go and hurry."

**********

Claire panicked, her eyes darting around the cafe. Annalise had just called and confessed Jamie was on his way to talk to her. Her friend had insisted on giving Jamie a chance to explain and that he'd made a mistake.

But Claire couldn't do this. She didn't have this sort of experience nor the emotional strength to handle this kind of situation. All she knew and was aware of was how much Jamie had hurt her with his words.

She quickly stood up, said goodbye to the woman sat on her table, grabbed her bags and made her way out of the cafe. She kept her head down and tried not to look around in case Jamie spotted her. She began to walk faster, weaving through crowds of travellers as she wheeled her suitcase, images of Jamie encroaching her thoughts. A new voice was trying to make itself heard, telling her maybe she ought to listen to what Jamie had to say. But what was there to say? She'd seen what he wrote with her own eyes, and there was no explaining himself out of it.

She was just getting into the queue for the security check when a shout cut through the hubbub surrounding her.

"Sassenach!"

She stiffened, and her hand went slack around the suitcase's handle, sending its bulk toppling to the floor. It took a few heartbeats for her to turn around and face Jamie, afraid her resolve would collapse if she looked at him. When she finally saw him, he stood a few yards away, suspended in a sea of bustling chaos. Perspiration beaded his forehead, his face pale and eyes a little wild as they searched hers, snagging on the way she snatched her suitcase to an upright position and pulled it closer to her side. As always, ever since she first laid eyes on him, his unusual male beauty made her chest ache. A head taller than most, he looked out of place in the busy surroundings, his blue eyes penetrating through everything in their wake to reanimate her heart.

She waited for something to happen, but he just continued to stare at her, his body swaying a little. He looked like he was about to faint. Worry, combined with fear prickled her skin when she recalled his accounts of his PTSD condition. She'd made it this far, and now she was torn between going over to him and making her way to the security.

"What are you doing here?" she said a little harshly.

"Dinnae go in that plane.”

"It's too late for that."

Anguish fogged his handsome features. "I need ye to hear me out, Sassenach. Please."

Claire shook her head. "What is there to say, Jamie? That text you wrote, told me everything already."

"Please let me explain ..."

"I already know what you're going to say, Jamie. You're going to say you didn't mean to write that text. It's classic and cliche at the same time and utter bullshit." Claire's shoulders sagged, and she swallowed hard. "No, I'm sorry, I can't ..."

She started to step into the queue, but stopped, her heart caught in her throat when a passerby in a rush accidentally bumped into him, and he almost vaulted over. She saw how much it took out of him just to remain upright. She made a move to come to his aide, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand, telling her he would say his piece without any help. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took several deep breaths, discomfort, and distress in this busy environment evident on his face.

"You don't look well, Jamie. You should go home," she said, glancing around, aware of people looking at him.

"Damn it, Sassenach," he wheezed. "I'm gonnae make ye listen even if it kills me."

A stabbing pain went through her heart. "I can't do this, Jamie. I'm going."

"No!" He took another unsteady step forward. When Claire stayed put, relief washed over his face. "What I wrote to my sister about you was wrong ..."

Rage replaced the hurt she was feeling. "You made it sound I was just a notch on the bedpost," she snapped, angrily.

Jamie winced as a woman nearby gasped and glared at him, but they both ignored her. "No, Sassenach. You were never that ..."

"Your words winter fling said it all. What else could it mean?"

"Sometimes, what I think and what I feel doesn't translate into words ..."

"Or you don't think at all," she interrupted, tipping her head back to keep the tears from falling.

His head dropped. "No, I didnae think. What I said was inexcusable, and no explanation or apologies would take any of the hurt I caused ye back."

"It was a horrid thing to say about someone!"

His face flickered with regret and self-loathing. "It was, and I'm an arsehole for it."

"They why? Why Jamie? Is that how you talk about your conquests?"

His face paled even more. "No! You're not that at all. What we had was special, and I've never felt like this about someone before."

"You could have fooled me ..."

He took a careful step forward as if afraid she would bolt. "Sassenach, I said what I said not because that was what I thought about you and that's the truth. Partly, I text those words to get my sister off my case. She was badgering me for getting involved with ye because she was worried about me falling for someone from the city due to my condition. Another part of the reason I wrote that had to do with my fear of getting emotionally attached. I thought by labelling what we had as temporary, it would be easier to let ye go when the time comes. It was wrong ...so wrong. I wish I hadnae said it."

Claire could barely see him through the blur of tears. The awful pain she'd had in her heart all morning waned a little. She forced her feet to move, but the emotion in his voice kept her rooted in place.

"Christ, everything happened so fast between us. And I was rushing ahead before I could comprehend what was happening. When ye told me ye live in London, I was convinced that nothing could come out of this ...us ...whatever this is we have ....because I wouldnae ken how to live in yer world and it wouldnae be right to ask ye to give up yers. When I asked ye to extend yer stay, my intention was to make as many memories with ye because I needed to face the truth of my limitations. I was determined not to be that someone who held ye back and made ye regret what ye could've done. I said to mysel' whatever time ye could give me, I'd be grateful. Yet, here I am, begging ye not to get on that plane."

She wanted to go to him, take him in her arms and forget what had happened, but she needed more. She needed to know that this thing between them was more than just a handy itinerary with chemistry tossed into the mix. For her, it had always been more, but he's a man, and maybe it's just all about sex for him.

"Sorry, Jamie." Bracing her shoulders, she pulled her suitcase behind her and joined the line for security check-up.

"Wait!"

She and every person within hearing distance in the queue turned around to look at him.

This time, Jamie didn't flinch and looked at her straight in the eyes with unwavering intensity. "I cannae let ye go without giving it my best shot. I've used my condition as an excuse for far too long, yet not once did ye ever look at me as someone damaged. I dinnae want my condition to stop me anymore from going after what I want. I swear to God, ye havenae seen persistence yet, Sassenach. Ye have nae idea what it looks like until ye've seen it on me. I've fought for my life in a war zone before, and I'm doing it again now. If ye get on that bloody plane, be rest assured I will be on the next flight behind yours. I will show up in every God damned place ye go to until ye give me the time of day. And I willnae stop until I get it through yer pretty head how much ye mean to me. And if ye come back to me, I promise ye, I'm gonnae work my arse off to prove to ye every day how special ye are. Even if it means moving to London to be closer to ye. All I'm asking for is a second chance."

Looking at him, she knew he meant every word, and there was an intensity about him, that told her he would go through with his threat of following her to London. A lump stuck in Claire's throat, so huge she could barely speak. Her face crumpled, and she let the unshed tears she'd held all morning flow. Unable to stand a moment longer without feeling his arms around her, she let go of her grip on her suitcase and began to make a move towards him. Jamie fell back a few steps, both hands flying to rest on top of his head, relief and disbelief visible in every line of his body. She covered the distance separating them in three steps and flung herself into strong arms that circled around her without hesitation. Applause, cheers and whistles from passengers who had witnessed the scene erupted around them, making them both laugh through tears.

"Jesus Christ, Jamie," she stammered with a hiccup. "You really know how to cause a scene and really make it count."

A hand tunnelled through her hair, gripping her neck so he could angle her head and kiss her. "I'm so sorry, Sassenach. Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he muttered against her lips. "I was an idiot. I thought I wasnae gonnae make it."

A shudder passed through her. "I almost got on a plane and spent Christmas on my own."

Jamie fell back into the nearest seat, taking Claire with him. Obviously spent from all the emotions. "Dinnae remind me ...ever again, please. But just so ye know, I have my passport with me. I was ready to come after ye. Today."

Claire clung to him tighter. "It's Christmas, and we're together. Let's just focus on that."

"Christ, I thought I knew fear." His breath shook and fanned her skin. "That was the scariest situation I've been in."

She let out a sigh, inhaling his scent from the crook of his neck. How had she thought for one second that running away would have been a better option? She thought of the woman she spoke to earlier in the cafe and smiled.

Jamie shook her a little. "Ye're going to think this is mad, but I dinnae want to take another second for granted, so I'm just going to say it, so ye ken once and for all."

"Say what?" she whispered. Jamie tilted her face up for a slow, deep kiss, then stood, lifting her in his arms.

"I'm in love with ye, Sassenach. I ken it's too soon, but I want it out there just in case something happens and I dinnae get another chance to say it, or I do something stupid like making ye cry. Life's too short for over-analysing things and keeping something like that to myself."

She smiled through fresh tears. "I'm in love with you too, Jamie. And next time you say something stupid, I'm just going to get into a fight with you about it, instead of running away."

Jamie's laughter rumbled in his chest before his face turned serious. "Merry Christmas, Sassenach. May it be our first of many more to come."

Claire reached out and clasped his face with her hands and laid a soft kiss on his lips. Her heart broke open, and for the first time, all the pieces clicked together in a perfect puzzle, and everything made perfect sense. Because she'd learned early on you needed to take the bad with the good and embrace it all. Despite Jamie's condition and fear of uncertainty, she'd taken a gamble and trusted her guts, and by giving him a second chance, they'd ended up with the best thing of all.

Love at Christmas.

She knew it wasn't going to be smooth sailing forever. There were going to be long talks of how they ought to proceed with their relationship, compromises to be made, and probably many teething problems during their phase of getting to know each other. But as long they both keep their hearts open, they should have a fighting chance.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotion.

"Shall we go home?" he murmured, smiling.

"Yes, let's go home."

Hand in hand they left the airport and headed back to Broch Mordha to celebrate Christmas.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you for your best wishes and feedback from the previous chapter. This latest update was supposed to be published on Christmas day. Unfortunately, because I was so overly ambitious about the storyline, I was unable to deliver. I didn't want to rush it after having gone through the story in my head many times. Rushing it probably would have made me miss many of the elements I wanted to put in this story.

Anyway, I had a lovely quiet Christmas. With everything that's happening globally, it was more of a time for reflection for us instead of celebration. I am just grateful that my love ones are safe and healthy and hope you're own dearests are as well. As for this story's direction, I don't know how many chapters there are to go, but I can safely say there is another one after this. I will try to publish before New Year, and if I am unable to do so, I wish you all a New Year full of exciting possibilities, good health and lots of love. Keep the good vibes rolling and take care. X

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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shotgun--rider · 3 years

Text

Rumor

A Jensen x Reader oneshot

Y/N’s never considered how many suspiciously snuggly photos there are of her and her best friend. Then they all come out in a Buzzfeed article, published just in time for everyone to grill her during her solo panel. Now what?

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: Really dumb fluff, everyone’s anxious, Jared and Briana are sick of everyone’s shit

A/N: This is dumb and fluffy and dangerously song-fic territory but it showed up and demanded to be written so here you go. I have no idea if this is actually any good. Enjoy?

---------* ---------

You were the epitome of normal, growing up. You had decent grades, run-of-the-mill hobbies, and an average high school cashier job. You could hop on your bike (and later, borrow your parents’ car) and take yourself to the coffee shop, or to a friend’s, and the only people that would look twice at you were drivers checking to make sure the kid on the bike didn’t steer into traffic.

You didn’t win any “most likely to” awards in the yearbook, your college major was undecided for an embarrassing length of time, and your 300-odd Instagram followers were comprised of friends and some polite acquaintances from welcome week. And you didn’t mind. You were perfectly happy to go through your day-to-day without turning heads and making waves.

That was all before you’d answered an open casting call on a whim, strapped for cash and mostly there because a sparkly website proclaiming “50 Easy Side Hustles!” had suggested spending your weekends as an extra if you lived in a big filming city. Before your three-episode contract in a show you’d never bothered to watch turned into a series regular.

Now, you’re pretty much guaranteed to have your face splashed across the internet every time you stick a toe off the end of your L.A. property line. Even if the paparazzi aren’t there to get you in Page Six with some wildly exaggerated nonsense, a fan somewhere will snap a blurry photo and upload it somewhere for people to shout about you in the comments section. You’ve never gotten used to being tagged in edits of your own face, or watching your follower count creep steadily upwards. You’re just… you. You’ve always been just the normal, average girl from a nothing-special hometown.

Even after your third year running on Supernatural, you still forget. You still make it all the way to the end of the block before you remember that the person shouting your name is the bodyguard you accidentally abandoned two errands ago. You still get confused when the restaurant wait staff stares at you, still get annoyed calls from your publicist begging you to at least try to appear in fewer coffee shop paparazzi pictures looking like a disgruntled zombie who’s never seen a hairbrush. (Sue you, you can’t be expected to be functional before a cup of coffee.)

You’re a brilliant actress, an unexpected fan-favorite, relatable to everyone in your autograph line...and you’re kind of a terrible celebrity. Unlike certain child models turned actors straight at 18 you may know, this isn’t a world you were trained in. Which is probably why it doesn’t even occur to you that being caught frequently in the company of your best friend might look like something until you’re staring at your own name in a headline on your phone screen, in line at Starbucks before your first panel of the con weekend.

Y/N L/N’s Secret Relationship With Co-Star Jensen Ackles, howls the bold-printed headline, and you blink stupidly at the letters, uncomprehending, until you realize that someone’s trying to get your attention. “Sorry, what?”

The barista looks impatient, suppressing an eyeroll and starting her spiel before cutting off halfway with a squeak. “Oh, my god, you’re her! I’m sorry, I’m just… you’re literally my favorite!” She’s blushing and stuttering and has a near-death grip on the empty coffee cup she was preparing to write your name on.

“Oh,” you reply, forcing the fog of confusion from your brain and slapping on a smile. “Hi, you caught me.”

“Can I...um…” the girl reaches into her back pocket and sheepishly produces her cell phone, complete with a flaming pentagram case. “Um, selfie?”

You smile indulgently, leaning over the counter. The fans are one of the best parts, really, and it’s never a hardship to make someone smile. (That is, when they’re not selling rumors and lies to the tabloids, you think grumpily.)

The barista girl pulls back with a wide smile and a full-face blush, and keeps glancing shyly up at you while she punches in your usual order, plus the second coffee Jensen texted you this morning to beg for. “So I guess Jensen’s around here too, then, right?” she asks perkily, taking your card.

“Uh...sorry, what?”

She shrugs like it’s obvious. “Since you flew in together,”

You blink rapidly, feeling stupid. You’re obviously missing the punchline somewhere. “We, uh...didn’t. I mean...I flew out of L.A.,” you say cautiously. Your home city is already public knowledge, as is the fact that Jensen lives in Austin, and you can’t imagine she doesn’t know this.

Her eyes pop wide with curiosity. “Wait, so you’re not staying with him?”

This conversation is too much for your poor, jetlagged, coffeeless brain. “No?” you try weakly, so far past confused at this point that you might actually be getting a headache. “Why would I…”

Not that Jensen’s Austin house isn’t lovely, and not that you’d object to staying there, and not that you haven’t stayed there plenty of times before, but you’re pretty sure you’re still missing the point.

The barista lunges forward over the counter, leaning in to ask in a hushed voice, “Did you guys break up?”

An emphatic “No!” leaves your mouth so loudly that the old man in line behind you starts grumbling. “No, you don’t--”

“Get a move on,” Old Man grouches in the background. “I don’t care who you are,”

“Oh, good,” the girl cuts you off with a relieved grin. “You guys are so cute, you know? I mean, I kinda figured you had to have something going on, but actually seeing it--it’s going to be so much cuter if Dean and Sierra ever kiss now, oh my god--”

She devolves into a squeal, and the we’re not actually dating dies on your tongue. You have better things to do this morning than correct the misinformation of one teenage barista, so you end up just shaking your head and taking the two cups of coffee wearily. “Right, well, I’ve gotta go, so--” you duck around the old man and beeline for the door before anyone can say anything else. Oh, god, your publicist is so going to kill you.

***

Jared and Jensen are both in the green room when you make it back to the convention hotel, and you groan softly as you walk into the room. Once Jared hears about your so-called relationship, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Then again, better he hear it from you than find it in the tabloids. May as well bite the bullet now before it comes up in a Q&A.

“Hey,” you slide up to Jensen’s elbow, holding out the requested coffee cup as a preemptive truce. “So, we’re apparently dating now,”

Jensen snorts, shaking his head and swapping the coffee cup into his other hand so he can wrap his arm around your shoulders in greeting. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“I think I may have given a barista the impression we’ve had a tumultuous breakup,” you say ruefully, tilting your head up to look at him in apology. “Sorry,”

Jensen’s green eyes are dancing, though, and he throws back his head and laughs, still keeping you tucked close enough that you can feel his whole body shake. “Of course you did, sweetheart,”

It’s pretty much the reaction you expected from Jensen, who’s so used to your antics at this point that he just gives you a fond smile and moves on to damage control. Jared, on the other hand, is...not commenting, and suspicion cuts short your quiet enjoyment of being hugged against Jensen. It took the boys a while to feel comfortable messing with you when you first got on set, but after they figured out you gave as good as you got, they’d never yet missed an opportunity to tease and prank you.

You squint at Jared warily. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

Jared’s lips immediately start twitching, but he makes a valiant attempt at a mock-concerned face. “Oh shit, sorry. Here, tell me again and I’ll pretend like I’m surprised this time,”

Unwilling to bother unwinding yourself from under Jensen’s arm, you extend a childish foot in the direction of Jared’s shins, scowling at him. He dodges easily, laughing, and tosses out, “Someone should really tell Buzzfeed they’re reporting really old news,”

“Shut up and drink your damn coffee, Padalecki,” you shoot back without any real venom.

“Oh, you mean my hotel coffee? The coffee I got stuck with because you only buy Starbucks for Jensen?”

Jensen straightens up proudly, no doubt making a face at Jared over the top of your head. “Y/N just likes me better. That’s why she’s my best friend.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under Jensen’s arm and a few steps away. “You both suck,” you deadpan, resisting an internal wince at the friendzone. “Now shut up and let me drink my coffee, I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes,”

And God, but your head is way too scrambled for a panel right now. Fifteen minutes is nowhere close to enough time to get your shit together, and you’re going to have to somehow walk out there and not let everyone know.

You take a seat halfway across the room, watching Jared and Jensen still standing there, heads bowed together, arguing quietly about something. Jensen’s starting to wear an annoyed expression and he still manages to look beautiful and goddamnit this is how you got in trouble in the first place.

You scroll listlessly through your phone, a headache beginning behind your eyes, and freeze when you realize that you left the damn article open. The headline photo is a picture of you and Jensen on a sidewalk in L.A., caught mid-conversation with Jensen’s hand on your back and a stupid, dopey look on your face while you stare up at him like he hung the moon. Fuck, you’re an idiot.

A hasty scroll through the rest of the article reveals more of the same, and you could kick yourself for making your dumb crush so obvious. The photo captions are practically mocking you, labelled with things like “an intimate evening for Ackles and L/N” and, under a picture of the two of you at a beach, “We might be a little mad that the two most attractive people are together”.

Well, at least now you know what every single question at your panel is going to be about. And somehow you have to figure out how to play this off like it’s nothing. Of course I don’t have a crush the size of a mid-sized whale on Jensen, hahaha, that’s such a hilarious idea!

Your only saving grace is that clearly, Jensen doesn’t think anything of it. It’s nothing more than a brief joke to him and Jared, and as much as that should bring you relief, it still stings to know that he’s obviously never bothered to think of you that way. And why would he? For all Buzzfeed’s nonsense about you making an attractive couple, Jensen Ackles miles above your league.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Misha sitting down next to you, an easy smile on his face as he nudges your shoulder with his own. “So, welcome to the club,”

Typically, you and Misha are pretty close friends, but your patience is too short this morning for any of his shit. “What club?” you shoot back grumpily.

“People who the internet have declared in love with Jensen Ackles,” Misha returns, grinning like it’s obvious.

“Ha, ha. See, except when that happens to you, people think it’s funny,”

“It is funny,”

“Not for me!” you explode, belatedly wincing at your harsh tone. “You and Jensen fuck around on stage and that works for you. If I don’t get my shit together in the next five minutes, I’m getting my name dragged through stupid tabloids and laughed straight off the show because I couldn’t keep my goddamn stupid pathetic crush under control!”

“Hey,” Misha waits until you meet his blue eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Okay? It’s not,”

“Misha--”

“Y/N,” Misha returns firmly. “It’s going to be okay. Jensen would never let anything happen to you. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh softly, nodding. Rationally, you know he’s right. But mostly, as much as you’re worked up about the panel, your fear is that Jensen is going to be the one laughing at you, and you don’t know how to explain that. “Yeah,” you say dully, just as a convention worker comes forward to collect you.

“If it’s really going to shit, I’ll come distract everyone,”

“Somehow, I think that would be worse,” you shoot back over your shoulder as you start walking to the stage. Breathe, Y/N. You’re fine.

You wait for the introductions to finish and take your place on the stage, a slightly breathy laugh escaping into the mic as you look out at the crowd. That is a lot of eyes watching your every move. And they’re on your side, you remind yourself. It’s the fans who’ve been tireless supporters of you and your character, this whole time.

“Hey, guys,” you clear your throat. “What’s up?”

You chatter for a while about whatever you can think of, telling an edited version of the grumpy Starbucks man this morning and rambling a little about Jared’s latest on-set antics. All too quickly, though, you run out of things to say, leaving you with no choice but to ask for questions.

At first, to your great relief, they’re pretty tame. You spend a solid few minutes breaking down Sierra’s latest character arc, and the time she’s spending hunting on her own. You do get a few questions about whether she and Dean could get together when she gets back with the brothers, but as long as it stays firmly in the realm of your characters, you’re not worried.

“And what’s your name?” You ask gently, trying to reassure the nervous young woman at the microphone.

“Uh, Y/N…”

“I love that name!” you wink at her, rearranging yourself in the chair to be more comfortable. “What do you want to know, Y/N?”

“Uh,” she stutters, her face blushing pink. “You’re my favorite actress, and, I, um,”

“That’s very sweet,” you interject, nodding to encourage her.

“I just, uh, really want good things for you, and I just wanted to ask if, um, areyoureallydatingJensen?” she spits out all in one breath. “Cause you deserve him,”

You blink, shifting in your seat. You’d arrived at the elephant in the room. Damn.

“Uh,” escapes your mouth as you frantically try to construct a diplomatic sentence. “No, actually, no, we’re not.” I wish. “The, um, the article was a surprise to us too!” You added a little shrug in as punctuation, trying to play it off.

“But you guys look so cute together!” Other Y/N exclaims. “He looks at you like--” she cuts off, biting her lip so hard you can see the white from the stage. “Nevermind. Sorry.”

“No worries,” you assure her casually, like you’re not dying to know what she was going to say. “Next question?”

The next one up is another young woman, this time much bolder in her question. “But if you were given the opportunity, would you date Jensen Ackles?”

God, Chuck, literally anyone please kill me. “I don’t know how to answer this without getting in trouble,” you finally laugh nervously. “This is a dangerous question,”

The audience all laughs loudly, some of them throwing out comments and suggestions. “In the interests of not getting killed in my bed tonight,” you say lightly when they’ve quieted. “I’m going to skip that question,”

There’s really no saving you, though. After that first question, it’s like a dam has broken and everyone wants to know about your relationship with Jensen. What do you think of his house in Austin and does he cook for you and what do you do between takes and where’s your favorite place to go together. Someone even asks if you’re hooking up even if you’re not dating, which you’re positive turns your face completely purple before you get through redirecting that fan.

An hour later, you stagger off the stage mentally exhausted and thoroughly grumpy.

“Ouch,” Briana sympathizes, sliding up beside you as you grab a water bottle in the green room.

“Can’t wait for my dumb red face to trend on Tumblr,” you mutter, wondering darkly if you could just jump out one of the windows.

Briana laughs like she knows something you don’t, and rubs a hand over your back soothingly. “Come on, let’s get you out of your head before your photos,”

The two of you end up on a walk a few blocks from the convention hotel, fresh coffees in hand and Briana chattering away while you nod along. It’s not that you’re tuning her out, exactly, you’re just...overwhelmed. You do, however, notice when she stops talking.

“Are you listening to me?” she looks at you sharply.

“Sorry, B,” you mumble. “Got distracted. What?”

Briana shakes her head with loving exasperation. “I asked what you’re wearing to karaoke tonight,”

“I’m probably not going to--” you start.

“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t leave me there alone,” Briana interrupts, folding her arms across her chest.

“What do you mean, alone? Kim and Rich and literally everyone will be there,”

“You are not allowed to skip karaoke.” Briana says firmly, and you suddenly know how her daughter must feel when she’s misbehaved. “Besides, Jensen’s singing with Louden Swain beforehand. Don’t you want to see it?”

“Fine. But I’m wearing this,” you gesture to your plain black top and jeans. To be honest, you’re not sure if you actually do want to see Jensen perform, or bother with the rest of karaoke night. Mostly you just want to crawl into bed and put the covers over your head and pretend that you haven’t been making a fool of yourself all morning, but Briana is a force of nature when she wants something.

She smiles excitedly at your acquiescence, pulling out her phone for a moment to type something before you start heading back.

You nudge her teasingly with your elbow. “Your phone more exciting than me?”

Briana just slides it away hastily before you can read more than Jared’s name over her shoulder. “Just taking care of something.”

There’s something she’s not telling you, but you don’t feel like digging right now. You’re just focusing on getting to the end of this convention without spilling all your secrets and looking like an idiot.

By the time you’re sitting down in the seats for Louden Swain’s set, your face is indeed all over Tumblr. (You always deny having the stupid app, but sometimes a girl’s gotta know what people are saying about her and her hot costars.) There’s comments full of stupid speculation that you’re hiding your relationship, including a whole thread about how you’re clearly hiding your secret threesome with Jensen and Misha. Great.

“Uh, okay,” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Jensen’s on stage in front of the microphone, holding his guitar. “This was not part of my original plan, so...if this goes badly, it’s all Jared and Briana’s fault.”

The crowd laughs good-naturedly as your gaze snaps immediately to Briana. Infuriatingly, your friend just shrugs.

“This is a cover of a song neither of us wrote,” Jensen continues, gesturing between himself and Louden Swain behind him. “But I thought it could be fitting,”

He’s nervous, you realize, watching the way he’s fiddling with his guitar strap while he talks. But you have no idea what he’s doing. And you have no idea why he didn’t tell you. The two of you always know what stupid thing the other person is planning, especially stunts in front of the fans. But clearly not this time. With a sinking sense of dread, you wonder if maybe he does hate you a little bit after today, and that article. Maybe that’s why he’s not talking to you. You swallow hard against the sting in your throat, and Jensen starts playing.

The opening chords are definitely from a country song you vaguely recognize from the radio, and you wonder why this is Jensen’s choice over one of his own songs.

“Girl, you know I've known you forever / How many nights we hung out together,”

Across the room, Briana has an enormous smile on her face.

“My boys are laughing and tap me on the shoulder / Making a motion like, ‘Could y'all get any closer?’” He punctuates the words with a little scowl in Jared’s direction.

“There's a rumor going 'round about me and you / Stirring up our little town the last week or two / So tell me why we even trying to deny this feeling / I feel it, don't you feel it too? / There's a rumor going 'round, and 'round, and 'round / What d'you say we make it true?”

There are a lot of people suddenly making noise around you as they come to the same realization that you are, but you’re frozen in your seat. The rumor is you. He’s talking about you. Jensen’s singing for you. And you should be elated but your mind is stuck on a loop of what the fuck there’s no way this is real.

You don’t even realize that the song is over until everyone is clapping and you’re still stuck staring with embarrassingly wide eyes, Jensen up on stage with an embarrassed dusting of red across his face and a slowly deflating expression.

“Hey,” Jared’s elbow digs hard into your ribs suddenly. “Please do something. I can’t take any more of him like this,”

“What--oh--shit!” spills out of your mouth as you stand hastily, your phone tumbling off your lap. “I’m just gonna--”

By some miracle, you make it through the crush of people and around to the backstage area, your heart racing unevenly in your chest. You have no idea what you’re supposed to say, or if Jensen will be there, or if you’re even interpreting this right. Maybe it’s all just wishful thinking. No, Jared wouldn’t have encouraged you if that were true. Would he?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you end up plowing straight into Jensen’s chest, his arm sliding automatically around your waist as you wobble off balance. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

He steadies you, green eyes searching your face with a flicker of vulnerability. “Hey,”

“Hey,” you whisper back. You have no idea what happens now.

With his free hand, Jensen rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, if that was too much--”

“No!” you shake your head quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just...processing. I...it was really sweet, Jen,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I just… me? Are you sure?”

“Why not you?” Jensen’s face wrinkles in confusion. He moves both hands to your waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through your thin shirt as he tugs you closer. “Y/N,”

There’s something in you screaming that you might not get to do this again, that he’s going to come to his senses, that the whole thing is a dream, and before you can second guess yourself you launch yourself up onto your tiptoes and kiss him.

Your arms go around his neck while Jensen wraps you up tighter against his chest and it’s not fireworks, or earth shattering, or anything so dramatic. His mouth moving against yours just feels like home and love and of course. Of course you were going to get here, of course it was going to be like this.

Jensen lifts you off your feet for a moment before breaking the kiss, and he looks just breathless and flushed enough that you’re equal parts proud and turned on.

“Of course it’s you,” he murmurs, one hand under your chin to tilt your head up to him. “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend.”

------

Something ate my taglist! If you want to be tagged, please message me!

#supernatural #jensen ackles #supernatural rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #spn #rpf #x reader #reader insert #oneshot

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sugarsugarmoon · 4 years

Text

Something New (m)

Summary: You suggest to your boyfriend, Jin, that you try something new in the bedroom, and you aren’t sure how he’s going to react.

Genre: Smut and a small amount of Angst

Warnings: masturbation, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, soft dom!Jin, swallowing, marking, a very small amount of cum play, an accidental tiny bit of angst

Word count: 3967

A/N: so...here it is. My first fic published here. I did not picture it was going to be smut, but here it is. Thank you so much to @taetaesbaebaepsae for encouraging me and loving me. You inspire me, and I love you. Also, thanks to @purpletigertaetae for being hella supportive.

You had been nervous to see your boyfriend, Jin, because you hadn’t talked to him since this morning when you’d mentioned to him that you might like to try to be a little “more adventurous” in the bedroom. He usually texted you throughout the day with dumb jokes and puns he thought of, but he had been upset when you left. It’s not that sex with him was bad; you just wanted to expand.

Sex with Jin was good, but it was starting to feel a little bland after years of the same thing over and over. You had a routine. Only in the dark, in your bedroom at night before going to sleep. You would start by making out. He would put his hands in your shirt and roll his thumbs over your nipples until you whimpered for him, then he would shift slightly on top of you and put his hand in your underwear. He would rub your clit and finger you at varying speeds and intervals (you’d tried telling him that it’s better to just do one thing at a consistent speed, but he got so excited that he had a hard time controlling himself). He would be bucking into your hip by the time you hit your orgasm (if you hit it). It was never an overwhelming, blacking-out, toe-curling orgasm. Just a tensing of muscles and a release of pressure. It felt good, but it never felt amazing. After that you’d get on top of him and grind down on his clothed length. You would slide down, kissing his stomach on the way down and take his length into your mouth. You’d bob up and down, tasting his salty precum until he pulled you up to ride his dick until he came. You would ride him, leaned back, tits bouncing until he hit his release. When he came, he came hard, and then it was done.

Every time. The same thing. For years.

And it was fine. Until one day, you read a story online. You hadn’t been looking for smut, really. It came up in a search for something else, and the prose was intriguing. Before you knew it, you were soaking through your panties reading about one character tying the other to the bed, choking her, and degrading her. You masturbated in the shower thinking about those scenes, crying out as you came hard from rubbing gentle, slow circles on your clit.

So you read more. Everything that you could get your hands on, particularly the ones where a mild-mannered guy took a dominant role.

After that, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was on your mind in everything that you did. As you folded the laundry, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have your hands bound to the headboard with the lace panties you were folding absentmindedly again and again. As you typed up reports at work, you wondered what it would feel like to have Jin call you “his little slut,” instead of the usual “princess” or simply “y/n.”

Jin noticed how distracted you were. When he rolled on top of you, rutting against you like always while rolling your clit between his fingers, you didn’t respond to his body the way that you normally did, didn’t lean up into him, arching your back. He didn’t say anything right away, ego feeling slightly bruised, but he had definitely noticed.

Then one morning, as you sat at the table with your coffee cup, he stood over you until you looked up at him with big, confused eyes.

“All right. What is up with you? Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, his voice revealing the hurt that his expression was trying to cover.

“Nothing? What? No,” you responded confused and taken aback by his sudden accusations.

“The last few times that we’ve had sex you’ve clearly been...distracted. So what is it? I’m starting to worry. Is there someone else?”

Tears are starting to pool behind his eyes as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What? No. Baby, oh my god. No.”

You stand up, reaching for him, but he pulls away, refusing to look into your eyes.

“Don’t say it’s nothing. Don’t say that nothing is wrong because something is definitely wrong.”

“Jin, baby, you have to believe me. You aren’t doing anything wrong. I’m not cheating on you. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I think I’m maybe just distracted by work.”

“Stop lying to me. Just tell me,” he says in a barely audible, miserable voice, a single tear cinematically rolling down his cheek.

“Fuck, Jin. No please. Fuck,” you coo.

You hadn’t realized how much this would hurt him. You had been afraid to ask him, afraid to hurt him or make him think that you didn’t like what you had. But now he’s staring at you with so much pain and fear in his eyes that you know that you have to tell him. You take a step forward, gently placing your hands on his shoulders and sigh.

“Jin, look at me. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong. I...I just was reading something online, and I think that I’d like to...change things up a little bit in bed. There are some things that I want to try that I think that you might like to. I want you to dom me, and I...I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Things you want to try? So I am doing something wrong.”

“No, baby, I promise. That’s not it. I love what we do, but I know it could be even better.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you look down to see that it’s 10 minutes past the time that you needed to leave for work. Fuck.

“Go,” he says meekly, “we can finish this later.”

You look him in the eyes, trying to convey as much love as possible with your gaze. You run your thumb over his cheek to wipe away the tear streaks and chastely kiss his lips.

“I love you,” you say, as you gather your keys and phone off the table.

“I love you too. So much,” he whispers as you glance over your shoulder before shutting the door.

***

Jin felt torn. He knew felt like you wouldn’t lie to him, and he trusted you. But you had been so distant, and you’d never acted like that before. You were always the first person to laugh at his stupid jokes, and you were the person who would rub your hand up his thigh, kiss up his neck to his ear, and moan into his mouth.

He tried to do his normal off-day routine, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Two things you had said stuck in his mind. You had been doing some reading, and you wanted him to dom you. He’d be lying if he said he had thought about you pliant and submissive underneath him, following his every command. He didn’t know that you had been interested in that because it had never come up in conversation.

By noon, Jin can’t control his curiosity anymore. He sits down in front of your computer opens the browser. He goes into your history, and there it is: countless pornographic short stories that you had been reading. He couldn’t help but think that he really needed to teach you how to use Incognito again. He starts to click through the stories and read. He is captivated by the stories on the screen. Thousands of words describing unassuming, mild-mannered guys with substantial dicks taking control of a normally self-assured, career-driven woman. When he reads the words “my little slut,” for the umpteenth time he feels himself hardening in his pants. He loves you so much, and he wants everyone, including you, to know that you are only a slut for one person, you’re his little slut.

***

When you walk in the door, you aren’t sure what to expect. After this morning, you’re worried that Jin is going to tell you to get your stuff and get out. You throw down your bag and keys, calling out for Jin.

When you come around the corner to your bedroom, he meets you there and, without saying a word, pushes you up against the wall with his body. You let out a little surprised “ooh” as your back hits the wall and he presses his lips into yours. His firm, broad chest presses into yours and keeps your firmly in place. He guides your mouth with his hard, feverish kisses that make your face heat up. As he leans further into you, his already hard cock presses against your stomach, and you feel the heat spreading down through your belly and between your thighs. He pulls away from your lips and starts to nip at your neck and collarbone.

“Hi to you too,” you say. “What’s going on?”

With his mouth still against your skin, he responds, “I did some reading. You should learn to clear your browser history.”

He bites down on the skin on your neck sucking and laving his tongue over the bruise you can already feel forming. You are too turned on to be embarrassed that he saw all the smut you’d be reading. He brings his large hand into your hair, running his fingertips over your scalp before wrapping your hair around his fist. He lifts his eyes and meets your gaze. He gives a gentle tug of your hair.

“Is this all right?” he asks before moving any further.

You nod as vigorously as you can with all of your hair in his hand.

“Uh uh, baby girl, use your words,” he admonishes.

“Yes. Please pull my hair, Jin.”

He presses his mouth to yours again, full lips overpowering yours while his tongue traces along your bottom lip. He pulls his lips away from yours and pulls gently on your hair. You can’t help the urge to talk that comes over you.

“Please, Jin, harder.”

He looks at you with something like menace in his eyes, pulling your hair until you feel the pricks in your scalp. The tug angles your head differently, and Jin runs his tongue along the newly exposed line from your collarbone up to below your ear then nips at the skin of your neck.

You cannot stop the moan that escapes you, deep and primal.

“You don’t call the shots anymore,” a breathy whisper tickles your ear, “...this is okay, right?”

“Yes. You’re amazing. You’re so fucking hot,,” you whisper back as your mouth finds his again, his hand still pulling your hair taut.

He pushes into you again, thrusting his erect dick into you for friction and lets out a small, low moan. He releases your hair and pushes you onto the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, tone unrecognizable from the sweet, silly boy that usually occupies that body.

You throw your shirt over your head and pull your jeans down, struggling to kick them off. You look up to see two intense, blown out eyes watching you.

“All of it.”

You unhook your lace bra and throw it to the side, keeping eye contact. His tongue darts to the corner of his mouth, and his eyes follow your hands as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slide them down your thighs and kick them off toward him. He catches them and makes a low growl in his chest. He puts them to his nose and inhales deeply before he throws them aside.

“Lie down and spread yourself open for me,” the voices commands again.

You do as your told, slightly embarrassed by how much you are dripping from the domineering persona Jin has taken on.

“Oh, so wet for me? I can see you glistening from here, baby. You’re such a little slut for this cock, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen at the use of the term, and you feel your cunt unexpectedly clench around nothing. You whimper again just from his word.

“Is this okay?” He asks again, with wide innocent eyes. When you nod, he continues, “then use your words, you little slut. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, Jin. I’ll be good.”

He throws his head back and moans deep in his chest. He begins palming his cock through his pants and looks back down at you, making brief eye contact before looking at your drenched pussy.

“Fuck, I’ve never been this hard before. You’re such a slut for me, getting me all worked up like this. Touch yourself, and show me,” he practically growls.

You slide your hand down between your legs and begin to rub slow circles on your clit, already feeling like you could come just from tone in Jin’s voice and the domination in his actions. You moan as you feel the tightness in your stomach begin and your pussy clenches again.

“Don’t cum until I tell you,” Jin grunts, taking a step closer, so, now, he’s standing between your legs inches from your arousal. You want to reach out, shove his pants down, and pull him into you, but he was giving you exactly what you asked for this morning. You remove your fingers from your clit and slide them down your folds. You rest them at your entrance and look up to Jin for approval. When he winks at you, his usual cocky wink, you slip a finger inside.

As you pump in and out, you feel the desire clawing in your chest, begging to be let out. Begging to be fucked.

“Please, J-Jin,” you whimper.

“Please what, my little cock slut?” He responds.

“Please let me see your dick. Please Jin, I need it. I need you. Please.” You have never begged anyone for anything in your life, and both you and Jin know it. But the pleas fall off your tongue anyway, and Jin groans.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this. I’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that,” his eyes look a little panicked, as he undoes his belt and pushes his pants down his hips. He bulge strains against his underwear, tip visible poking out of the top of the waistband. After he’s kicked his pants aside, he glances from your eyes to where you are desperately thrusting your fingers into your cunt. His fingers start twitching watching you do it. “Let me feel how wet you are.”

He takes his hand squeezes your hip first, licking his lips. You pull your hand away and gently stroke his forearm. He runs his thumb over your clit, down through your folds, and gently presses it against your entrance before sliding it back up. You whimper at the contact.

“So wet for me, huh?” He takes his thumb and brings it to your lips. You open your mouth, and he presses it against your tongue. “Taste it. Taste what I do to you. Only I can do this to you.” You lave your tongue around his thumb, then shut your lips around it and suck. “You’re mine,” he states before bringing his hand back to your core.

“I’m yours, Jin. Only yours,” you whine back to him as he slips two fingers inside you. “Only wet like this for you.”

When Jin starts to pump his fingers into you, he keeps a steady pace, curling his fingers up to hit the bundle of nerves inside you while gently rolling his thumb in slow steady circles over your clit. You’ve been stimulated for so long that before you know it you are whimpering, muscled starting to clench.

“Please, Jin, please let me cum. Please I’ve been a good girl. I’ll be a good girl. Please,” you’re rambling, words spilling out of your mouth, head thrown back, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Look at me,” Jin commands. You peel your eyes open and meet his dark, fiery gaze. “Cum.”

The tightness in your belly snaps, and you feel a floodgate breaking in your core as a rush of warmth is all you can feel. Your mind is blank and all you can see are iridescent swirls behind your eyes, the sound of the room muffled as if you’re under water. The only thing in the world is the sensation between your legs. Your toes feel like they’ll never uncurl, and primal, guttural sounds are escaping from deep within you.

As you start to catch your breath, coming down from your high, you whisper, “Holy shit” and feel Jin slip his fingers out of you.

Once your eyes start to focus again, you see Jin has his cock in his hand, eyes wild, breathing heavy. “I want to feel you on my dick,” he growls.

“Okay, come here, I’ll ride you,” you respond.

“That’s not what I mean. And, you aren’t in charge remember? I told you I was going to punish you if you did it again.”

Oh shit. The idea thrills you.

“I’m sorry, Jin. I’ll take my punishment.” You watch as Jin brings his hand back to your pussy, swiping at your arousal pooled between your legs. He collects it on his fingers and strokes it down his cock, groaning slightly as he does it. He reaches his fingers back to you and does it again until his cock is shiny with your arousal. He pumps his cock a few more times before he says anything. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

You shakily push yourself off the bed, muscles exhausted from the intense orgasm he’d just given you. He grips his shirt from the back and pulls it over his head. His broad chest, one of the things that turns you on the most, bare, his nipples hard, begging to be touched. “Are you still okay with this?” Jin asks in a much more self-assured voice than the last time.

“Yes,” you respond from your spot on the floor in front of him, “I’ll tell you if I’m not okay. And maybe just...ask me before you do anything crazy…”

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re such a little slut, but you’re my little slut. I’ll take care of you.” He takes his cock, still slick with your arousal, and runs it across your slightly parted lips. “I want you to lick yourself off of me. I want you to taste us both to remind you whose little slut you are.”

You open your mouth and circle your tongue around the head of his cock before taking it into your mouth. As you suck, you taste the familiar salty taste of his precum, but this time it’s mixed with the musky taste that Jin had put on your tongue earlier. The taste of you and Jin mixed together has heat rushing to your core, and you lick a stripe up the underside of his dick, swirling your tongue around it as you move up the shaft. You take the head of his dick in your mouth, rolling your tongue around it. You feel him twitch in your mouth, and you moan around him, reaching your hand up to help stimulate his cock. He gently slaps your hand away. “Keep your hands behind your back. I’m going to...take control,” he said a little hesitantly.

You put your hands behind your back adjust the position your kneeling in, settling back on your heels. You look up and make eye contact with Jin, who, despite having his throbbing cock gently resting on your slightly parted lips, is looking down at you with a gentle affection in his eyes. “I really need you to tell me that this is okay before I do this.”

You flick your tongue over the head of his dick. “Jin, baby, please. I need you. Please fuck my mouth. Please,” you beg, having seen how your begging has affected him.

He doesn’t need you to tell him again. “Open,” he commands as he fists his fingers into your hair again.

When you open your mouth, Jin slides into you slowly, let you adjust. He pushes into you until your nose hits his pubic bone. He slowly pulls back out then starts thrusting. You feel the delicious pricks on your scalp of him pulling your hair. His thrusts get more erratic when you moan on his cock, and he pushes the back of your head gently. You gag a little bit and hear a sharp intake of air from above you.

“Such a good little slut. Look at how well you take my cock.”

He starts bucking harder into your mouth, and you feel your throat completely relax as you gasp through your nose for air, feeling slightly panicked to breath, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You feel Jin’s cock twitch and his muscles tighten. His thrusts are shorter and less rhythmic as he gasps, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.”

You let out a little, affirmative moan to let him know that you’re ready, and he yanks on your hair as he fills your mouth, grunting, hips stuttering. You feel his hot, salty cum in the back of your throat and on your tongue, and before he finishes, he pulls out and the last of it hits you on the cheek. He rubs his cock on your cheek and spreads the cum around. Look at you with his fucked out expression, relishing his marks on your face. You take your finger and wipe some of the cum from your cheek and pop your finger in your mouth. His expression changes to amusement as he starts coming down from his high. His bitten lips spread into a smile, and then he starts laughing his windshield wiper laugh. “Oh so you’re nasty?” he laughs out.

He pulls you up to kiss him, and it is tender and loving. You feel all of the relief that he feels from having you as his and only his in his kiss. He wraps his arms around you and holds you against his firm chest. “I really would love to go for round two, but I think I need a few minutes,” he whispers. “But what can I do for you right now? I was reading that baths are really good for after. Do you want a bath? Let me wrap you up in this blanket. Do you want a plushie?”

You are overwhelmed by the rush of fondness that you feel in your chest. You feel tears stinging the back of your eyes. “Can we just wrap up in the blanket and cuddle? I just want to be near you.”

Jin picks you up and carries you to your side of the bed. He tucks you in firmly before he climbs into the bed on his side. He pulls you into his chest, and you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. “Really though, Jin. If that made you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do that. I know that you wanted to do it for me, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel okay doing.”

“You’re kidding, right? Clearly, I had an amazing time. I wish that you would have just asked sooner.” He gently kisses the top of your head, ghosting his fingers over the skin of your shoulder. “Besides, I already ordered some silk ropes, so we at the very least need to try those out.”

You bury your face deeper into his neck, and the two of you continue talking and giggling until you fall asleep in the arms of the man who would do anything for you.

#jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts smut

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jiminssizzles · 4 years

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autumn leaves

Word Count: 1,237

Prompt: the one where you and Yoongi are lighting fall-scented candles.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warning: None

Rating: G

Author’s Note: This is not edited, so if you see errors, I’m sorry!! :)

PART OF TRIVIA: LOVE {masterlist}

You snuggle closer to Yoongi that morning while he rubs your back. “Baby,” he whispered. Not bothering to open your eyes, “What?” He giggled, “I read from the news last night that today’s officially the first day of Autumn.”

He loves the Autumn season and you grew to love it too. It’s that one season that the skies are clear and it isn’t too hot nor too cold. 5 years into the relationship, you already know what it means when he says it’s the first day of Autumn.

It means he’s going to bring out fall-scented candles and you two are going to light it up before breakfast, before lunch and before dinner. Technically, he likes it lit up for the whole day. “Shall I make breakfast?” You ask, Yoongi nodded before kissing your lips. “I love you. I’ll get the candles.”

You smiled as he got out of bed, thinking about how much you love him and how it touches your heart that you two already have a tradition in your relationship. You wonder if the tradition is going to last until you two have kids and until you two are grey and old.

He hugged you from the back while you are cooking. “Are you done?” He asked. “Almost, just sit there.” Yoongi kissed your cheek, not letting go of the hug. “Baby,” he whispered again. You shot him a look, “What now?”

“BigHit emailed me last night. They want me as a producer.” He said. You let go of the spatula and face him, “Really? Oh my god, this is great!!!” You praised him and kissed him stupid. The two of you are laughing in the kiss. You knew it was his dream ever since, to be part of a company wherein he can showcase his skills in music.

You and Yoongi kept your tradition for that day. Before breakfast, he settled two, tall, fall-scented candle in the middle of your dining table. He gave you your own lighter and counted to three, then the two of you lit your own candles. You’ve been doing this for 5 years with him and you still feel the same as the first time you did it. It made you feel secured in this relationship and hopeful that no matter what falls, you’ll always have each other.

“Why do you love Fall so much, baby?” You ask while wiping the ketchup that stained the side of his lips. “Hmm, you know how the leaves fall and dry up?” He asked while chewing on his food. You nodded, “Well, it’s not everyday you see something dead yet it still looks beautiful.”

Winter came, the weather became cold. You are busy wrapping a scarf around Yoongi’s neck and adjusting the beanie in his head. “How long will you stay there again?” You ask. “A month?” He answered with sad eyes. You just nodded, you don’t want him to notice how sad you are for him leaving and how happy you are for him for finally reaching his dreams.

“That long, baby?” You clarified. He rubbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, “The top boy group in Korea, TXT, is making their comeback. They chose me as main producer of the album. I need to be there for the whole process. I’m sorry, baby.” He explained.

You tapped his hands on your cheeks, “Don’t be silly. Why are you saying sorry? That’s okay. I know you’re going to shock the music world with your skills. Promise me that?” You said. Yoongi showed you his gummy smile, his eyes turning into slits, “I promise you that.”

Spring came and you started to wonder why Yoongi exceeded 1 month in Seoul. TXT’s comeback was moved to a later time since there are problems with their schedules, but does that mean that the song process was elongated too? You can’t ask Yoongi about this because you don’t want to sound like you are being suspicious about him.

Summer came and you started to lose contact with him. Whenever you call, he rejects it. He doesn’t answer to your messages. You don’t even know if you still call this a relationship. You feel like his things in your house are owned by a ghost that left long ago.

You already feel weak. Trying your best to function everyday, you feel weak that you can’t get in touch with the love of your life. Does he still care? Does he still worry about you? It’s summer, but your heart feels cold like winter.

You don’t demand for him to be here, you just wanted an explanation. Until one day, he finally answered your call. You were quick to talk, “Yoongi, what’s happening? Aren’t you coming home?” You heard him sigh from the other line, “I don’t know..”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean you don’t know?” Yoongi sighed again, “Look, I’m sorry I kept you hanging and waiting. I’m thankful for the 5 years of relationship, but I don’t think I can keep it anymore.. I can’t keep you anymore. I’m sorry.”

You were about to say something else, but Yoongi already ended the call. You felt your insides fell like shattered glass, thinking where did you two went wrong. You were understanding, never nagging at him, never the one to stop him from what he wants to do.

You called sick at work for the whole week. Staying cooped in your room which you also despise because everything here reminds you of him. You heard your phone notification and upon checking it, you saw Yoongi’s deposit in your bank account for your monthly payment in this house. You have no intention of using it, you’ll pay on your own. After rolling your eyes, you sent his money back to him.

Your phone beeped. The message is from Yoongi, saying, “This is the best I could do for you. Why did you give it back?” You typed a quick reply, “No. You could’ve done more. You could’ve done better. 5 years and you chose to leave me? You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.” Exiting the messaging app, you stare at your home screen where the weather widget is placed. You saw that today’s the first day of fall. It annoyed you more, then you turned your phone off.

You rolled off the bed in frustration, twisting your body until your ass is on the floor and your legs are under the bed. You accidentally kicked a box that you don’t remember placing there. Pulling it out, you recognize the emblem in the box as the brand logo of Yoongi’s favorite fall-scented candles.

Opening the box, you found a stack of polaroid pictures of you and Yoongi ever since the start of your relationship. It made you cry. Nursing a broken heart is one thing, but nursing it alone? It hurts more. When you finished looking until the last photo, your eyes found a last pair of fall-scented candles in the box.

You thought about Yoongi and his love for lighting these up on the first day of fall. Taking out the candles, you settled it on the dining table. With the photos still in your hand, you remembered why Yoongi loved fall.

“How is our love dead, but still beautiful?” You asked your latest photo of you and Yoongi.

For the first time in years, you lighted the fall-scented candles alone. You basked in the loneliness, ready to let the tears fall again.

Your front door suddenly opened, revealing a panting Yoongi, hair ruffled from the wind outside. "Why did you start without me?"

- end -

published 06.02.20

#bangtanidx #btswritingcafe #bangtanscenery #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #yoongi fluff #yoongi drabble #yoongi fic #bts yoongi fluff #bts yoongi angst #bts yoongi drabble #bts yoongi fic #yoongi angst

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five-wow · 4 years

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i watched 10.17 a few days ago and this has been lingering in my drafts since then because i forgot to post it! as always, rambles about the episode behind the cut.

i’m for once really glad for the “previously on” recap, because it showed us the yakuza big bird telling adam that adam is going to be his eyes and ears in five-0 and the bit where steve welcomes adam back home, which i had both forgotten about, and which make the last two episodes make slightly more sense adam-wise

oh BOY. tani and junior are incredibly cute and then suddenly, bam, car sex. i’m really happy for them!!! but i’m also really scared that with how quickly this is happening suddenly, it’s a prelude to something bad happening that they don’t know about yet, ahhhh. they don’t deserve that! they deserve their happy post-coital snuggling, even if it’s in a car.

fjdkfd steve and danny at a literary festival, bickering (obviously), is not something i knew i wanted. also. tom clancy. dear lord, steve, if you want to sound like a guy who likes reading, you might want to dig a little deeper than the number one most obvious choice. :p

oh gOD harry is here!! maybe i should have known that but i DID NOT.

harry: “it seems, uh. it seems i’ve written a best-selling book.” as a person who pretends to know things about writing and has never published anything but definitely done a lot of research on the subject, i am both intrigued and made very wary by the implication that harry accidentally wrote a best-seller. go on.

fjdkfdjkfdjfkd it’s EXACTLY the story i was expecting him to tell, which is that he randomly sat down one day, had a manuscript within a few weeks, sent it to a friend and was immediately offered a seven figure book deal. i both hate and love this, because this is in no way how anything at all works, but it’s also very... harry langford, by which i mean basically james bond, by which i mean definitely a male mary sure, which to be clear in this case i don’t mind, but does amuse me greatly.

oh my gosh, the dramatics with harry suddenly talking nonsense at no one and then it turns out he has an earpiece in to talk to his “literary alter ego”, i just. oh my god. this is all so stupid and i love it.

fjdkfjdkfjdk steve’s little cyrano namedrop with a meaningfully faux-whispered “de bergerac” in danny’s direction is killing me dead, haha. well done, steve! you know at least one (1) literary reference that is not tom clancy. i’m sure danny will be deeply impressed.

right, so deirdre naysmith was a fictional crime writer and maureen townsend was the real life writer behind her. the agatha christie vibes are strong with this one.

we’re switching kind of abruptly from steve on the phone with lou about the case, to steve at hq in his office with adam, talking about tanaka and how they haven’t caught him yet, and then he tells adam that he knows adam did what he did for good reasons and adam’s FACE. he does not look entirely convinced of his own good reasons, pff.

adam: [turns to leave] steve: “hey. i trust you, okay?” oh dear lord, this hurts.

danny: “it’s like a vintage murder art project, or something.” what a lovely description!

junior and tani walk in!!! and there are huge smiles all around and it’s super cute and then the FIRST THING danny says to junior is “i have a confession to make. i’ve been uh, sleeping in your bed” and LOOK, no offense, dear h50 writers, because you were very close there, but you made danny say that to the wrong seal. totally understandable mistake, just make sure to keep an eye on it next time.

they have to go back to the literary fair for their case so steve throws up a hand and goes “just came from there” and danny says “well you love books, so we’ll go back” and that’s some good throwback banter on its own, but what really makes it for me is that in the brief reaction shot of steve we get to also see junior crack a huge grin. sometimes a family is two bickering dads involved in the slowest friends to lovers slow burn in human history and their navy seal son (and a whole bunch of other people) and that’s not only okay, it’s pretty damn great.

harry’s double gets abducted, because of course he does, but he didn’t deserve that! he’s just an idiot who stumbled into a really nice, really dangerous job.

harry tells junior (who is at the wheel as they’re chasing down harry’s double) to “drive it like you stole it, my friend”, which i get, but also makes me think junior should slow down and stick to traffic laws, because if he had actually stolen the car he wouldn’t want to attract the attention of the police by speeding and causing near-collosions.

harry is guiding his double through transferring harry’s money, like the kidnappers asked, and we’re casually told he has a total balance of ten million hidden cleverly behind the password “LAN9F0RD” and all of it is objectively hilarious, fjdkf.

adam is now climbing a tree in the middle of the forest to do something with a camera, and i really wish this means his subplot gets switched to “adam has developed an interest in birdwatching since the divorce and is hoping he caught this rare species of [insert type of bird] on tape!” instead of more crime stuff.

harry transfers the money for the kidnappers and there’s probably some ruse or trick involved (either that, or it turns out he actually owns like, another ninety million), but also... would any reputable bank just let you remotely transfer ten million while only requesting a username and a password? i feel like my bank asks for better identification if i just want to view my own balance.

fdjkfd harry employed an ex in the caymans to get the money back from the kidnappers’ guy there, and she tells him she’s keeping it now because he never called her back. beautiful, A+, i love this. i hope she lives her best life with this new fortune.

so. harry’s double has been rescued and is in harry’s expensive hotel suite going “thanks for letting me use the bathroom” (shower, it’s implied he used the shower) while there is some piano music in the background that could be taken as vaguely romantic and they kind of swagger each others’ way and harry says something about the finer things in life while sort of toasting his double’s face with his drink and i’m not saying harry definitely slept with this guy, but, you know. i’m not not saying it.

there are fireworks! and i’m not sure why (what american holiday am i missing? are fireworks a set part of every literary festival?) but steve and danny and harry and tani and junior are on a balcony and looking at it and it’s very pretty, and tani and junior hold PINKIES, which is almost painfully cute, dammit.

ah, adam’s mystery tape shows two executions instead of pretty birds, which is a bummer. hate when that happens.

this was such a good episode though!! again!!! seeing harry again was a lot of fun, the main plot was ridiculous but also super fun, and tani and junior got to actually be happy for a little bit without immediately being thrown into turmoil for whatever reason, and that’s also wonderful. and oh my god, i enjoyed all of the side characters so much - harry, harry’s stand-in, the woman who was obsessed with a mystery writer from the past and ended up being the murderer. they were all such characters and just really delightful to watch, honestly, which is awesome because it means it wasn’t just the main cast that i’m here for. (adam, though. oh, adam. what are the writers doing to you? i minded his subplot less this episode, but mostly because it got less screentime.)

#10.17 #h50 #*#h50 spoilers #!! lots of good stuff this season and i love it

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floralguccistyles · 4 years

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three: a new hope

My first and only relationship had been during my second year of university. His name was James Trinity, and while at first I had been excited because he had the same name as Captain James Kirk from Star Trek, the novelty wore off very, very quickly.

It wasn’t that James had been a bad boyfriend. On paper, he had checked off all the necessary boxes. He remembered dates, sent me sweet good morning texts, and wasn’t an embarrassing eater that I couldn’t take out to restaurants. The problem with James was that he was so...boring. He always suggested we went out to a movie and then dinner for our dates. And while that was perfectly acceptable while we were starting our relationship out and getting to know each other, it got boring after awhile when that was all he wanted to do.

There was also the flower problem.

When my dad picked up my mom for their very first date, he bought her flowers. When he picked her up for their second date, he bought her flowers. When they got married, he didn’t bring her flowers because she already had her own bouquet, but he had drawn a rose on a note and had one of his groomsmen deliver it to her before the wedding. It was a stupid tradition that in reality I actually should have hated, but my heart stopped every time I thought about a guy bringing me flowers. I wanted someone to pass by a bunch of daisies and think, I’ll get some of these for Petra to brighten her day.

James hadn’t bought my flowers.

I knew it was stupid and if James had been my dream man, my deal breaker wouldn’t have been an absence of flowers. But paired with the fact that all he wanted to do was watch movies and eat, and he had been on his phone when my parents had come to London to meet us for dinner, the lack of flowers were a big deal.

After James, there really hadn’t been anyone that had caught my eye. I was more focused on Alien Crossing, anyway. I didn’t have time for a relationship. The only relationships I needed were with Jeremiah, Veronica, and Melody. Anyone else took a backseat.

Except, of course, my parents.

“We were listening to your podcast, love,” my mother said from the other side of the Skype call, smiling in confusion because technology still freaked her out. My dad was the one that dealt with all the computer and phone problems they had, but given that he was in Bristol to help with construction of a school there, my mum was alone this time to deal with the Skype call. She had already accidentally hung up on me twice while trying to turn the volume up. “The lad you had last time, that Harry fellow. Didn’t you go to school with him?”

My experience with Harry on AC the previous week was odd, to say the least. Realistically, he had done fantastically for his first time on a podcast. He had answered my questions seamlessly and the conversation flowed a lot easier than I thought it would have. I supposed it was because he knew so much about music. And though the scores of big movies were different to the music he created, it will still interesting to hear what he thought of them. I had, regrettably, been sitting on the edge of my seat every time he had answered one of the questions I asked. It was easy to discern why people loved him all around the world. He was charming, charismatic, and knew what he was talking about.

I hated him for it.

“Yeah, I went to school with him. He was the one that bullied me all the time and then became a famous singer.”

“Right, right. His mother sent me an edible arrangement once. I offered it to our neighbor a day later because he husband passed away.”

I felt a little stab of selfish satisfaction when she told me she hadn’t eaten the edible arrangement. I’m sure Harry’s mum was a wonderful enough lady, but she had spawned Satan himself.

I hadn’t spoken to Harry since I had watched him drive away from Outset’s lot at around three in the morning. After recording, he had stuck around to listen to the editing that Jeremiah and I did, which was unnverving but we got through it. Then, he had done that weird handshake-bro-hug thing with Jeremiah and had offered me a polite smile. He probably knew that if he tried to hug me I would have thrown him off Outset’s roof. That smile was the last thing I had seen before he got in his nondescript black sedan and drove away.

“So are you two friends now?” my mother asked. She hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with Harry being on the show. She had called me the day after we recorded and when I had complained, she had reminded me that it probably took a lot of guts and courage for him to apologize. She was a little annoyed I hadn’t accepted and forgiven, but I reminded her that I was a grown woman and could make my own decisions.

“No, Mum. Believe me, Harry Styles and I will never be friends.”

I heard her click her tongue disapprovingly. “Sweetheart, he was very kind to apologize,” she reminded me, “and you shouldn’t hold grudges. It isn’t good for you.”

It was the same argument every time. Harry wasn’t brought up much with my parents, but when he was, it was always the same. Forgive him, Petra, he didn’t mean it. Oh, he was just a kid, Petra. I could probably guess what she was going to say verbatim. It did nothing but piss me off. Did they not care that this was the kid who had me sobbing in my room at two in the morning because I felt like shit about myself and it was his fault?

“He made my life hell, Mum,” I said through clenched teeth.

“He was sixteen years old, sweetie. He didn’t mean what he said. And look at how successful you are now! Obviously he didn’t do any lasting damage.”

I wanted to scream. I had weekly appointments with Doctor Thorne. I was hit with waves of insecurity that debilitated me. I sometimes didn’t even want to go out of my house and deal with people because I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to call me names and make fun of me. Of course, she wouldn’t see the lasting damage he and his friends had done. I hadn’t let her known. But dear god, shouldn’t she have seen that something was still wrong? Did she really not know me?

“I’ve got to go, Mum. I’m meeting with the publisher today for my book.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for it! You’ll tell your father and I when it’s available for pre-order, right? We want to get a hard copy and he’s going to load one onto my Kindle.”

When she said things like that, so vocal in her support for me, it made me think being mad at her was foolish. “Yeah, Mum, I’ll let you know. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, sweetie. Give your father a call when you’re free. He misses you!”

I hung up feeling the way I always did. Confused and tired. Talking to my parents shouldn’t have left me feeling so exhausted, but it always did. It was like I was divided into two different versions of myself: the version I was and the version they wanted me to be. I knew they wanted me to forgive Harry, forgive all my schoolmates that had made me go literally mad. But that wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t quick to forgive. And I hated feeling like I had disappointed them because of it.

While I loved what I did, sometimes I wish I had a normal nine to five. If I had a normal job, I would have to bury thoughts my mother had put in my head and be blissfully distracted until my day was over. And by the time five rolled around, I would probably be over it anyway. Instead, I would sit and stew and work myself up. I picked at my fingernails and decided that I wouldn’t allow myself to focus on it today. Today, I would be blissfully distracted.

I grabbed my purse and changed into some leggings, shoving my feet into my slippers while I locked my door shut behind me. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out of the house. Melody was unfortunately at work so I knew contacting her wasn’t an option. I could try Jeremiah or Veronica, but I didn’t want to bother them if they were doing something important. Obviously, my parents were out of the question.

So I found myself at a coffee shop.

I had a habit of carrying around a book with me everywhere I went. I kept one in my purse at all times. The book this time around was The Princess Diarist, or the book Carrie Fisher had written before she died. I had already poured over the pages four times, but the book never got old. Ordering a peppermint coffee, which were still luckily around because it was still early January and the festivities of Christmastime hadn’t completely worn off yet, I sat at one of their tables in the back and flipped through the pages of the book, drinking in the words like a giraffe leaning over to drink from a pond. When I read, I devoured. I was sure I looked a little crazy, sitting there wide-eyed and so invested, but I didn’t care.

“Any good?”

I didn’t hear the question at first. It was only when someone cleared their throat that I jumped a little, looking up from the text to see a man around my age standing next to my table. He had a drink in his hand and was offering it out to me. I eyed him weirdly. “What?”

“The book. Is it any good? Also, this is your coffee. My name’s Peter so they messed up.”

I could only stare at him for a few moments, still enveloped in the world of Carrie Fisher before I processed what was happening. “Oh. Thanks.” I took the coffee from him, our fingers brushing just slightly. Peter was an attractive man. He had dark colored hair that was cut pretty close to his head and a strong, angular jaw. His eyes were the same color as the wood grain on the table I sat at. “You like Star Wars?”

“Is that a trick question?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Top three characters, go.”

If my insistence phased him, he didn’t show it. “C-3PO, Obi-Wan, and Vader. But only Vader from the original three. Anakin’s annoying. You?”

I was impressed by his answer. Really, there was no wrong answer to this question, but it was nice to see he had taken my question seriously. “R2, Leia, and Obi-Wan.” I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the peppermint taste before I sent him a smile. “And yes, the book is good. Might change your perception of Harrison Ford a bit, but it’s nice to read Carrie’s version of events.”

“I’ve been meaning to pick it up, but haven’t gotten the time. I was thinking about just ordering the e-book.”

“You should get the print, if you can. There’s something nostalgic about reading her last memoir in an actual book.” I, ironically, had The Princess Diarist in my Books app on my phone, but I much preferred reading it from the original source.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Before he could say anything else, the barista called his name. “Ah, this must actually be mine.” He went to go collect his coffee and I thought that was the end of it. This stranger had just somewhat made my day better and that was all he was going to do. So, I lowered my eyes to my book again. It wasn’t until I heard the chair across from me scraping against the floor that I realized Peter had come back.

“Mind if I sit?” Peter asked, gesturing to the chair.

“Your admission price is a question. Favorite Star Wars film?”

“Well now, that’s a hard one. Empire Strikes Back, probably.”

I crinkled my nose. “I guess you can sit down.”

“Ouch,” he mentioned, though he was grinning. He lowered himself into the seat and scooted the chair back in. “What’s yours?”

“The original three are the best because of their iconic status, no doubt,” I countered, slipping a bookmark into the page I was on before shutting it. “But the new trilogy is developed so much more. And the plot line is better. So I’d probably go with The Force Awakens.”

“The horror,” he said, clutching his chest and laughing a little. It was a nice laugh, deep and strong. It filled my stomach with butterflies. “But I’ll concede. The Force Awakens is brilliant.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, what do you do, Petra?”

I was going to ask how he knew what my name was, but as if anticipating his question, he pointed to my name scribbled on the cup. I wanted to laugh. “I run a podcast. And I’m publishing a book soon, once my editor and publisher get their act together.” He laughed again and I swore in that moment I would try to make him laugh at least three more times during our conversation. His laugh was too addictive and sexy to not hear it. “What about you, Peter?”

“I’m afraid I live a much more boring life. I’m an accountant.”

“The horror,” I parroted.

“Believe it or not, I enjoy it a lot. I’m good with numbers.” He took another sip of his coffee. I noticed that his hands could wrap around the entire cup and he still had room to lace his fingers together. I almost swooned. Something about a man’s hands was extremely hot. “Tell me more about this podcast. What do you talk about?”

“Mostly stuff like this,” I answered, gesturing to the book I had set on the corner of the table. “Amongst other nerd things.”

“Would these nerd things include Harry Potter?”

“Naturally.”

“Let me guess,” he said, trailing off for a moment as he gave me a once over. “Hufflepuff?”

“I self-identify as a Hufflepuff, but Pottermore has spoken. I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“Damn. Do I get half a point?”

“I’ll give you the full one, just because you’re speaking the language of my soul. Which is, of course, Harry Potter. You’re definitely a Ravenclaw.”

“Hole in one. Though I self-identify as a Slytherin.”

I smiled. I wanted to ask him more about him self-identifying as a Slytherin, but his phone beeped from his pocket. He wrestled it out of his jacket and stared at it for a moment. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I only get a thirty minute lunch break.”

I felt myself deflate like a balloon. “Oh. Right. Have fun with the rest of your work day.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he stood. “I really enjoyed talking to you, Petra. Would you…” he trailed off, chuckling nervously. “I don’t know. Would you want to hang out some other time?”

I was already sliding my phone across the table. “Put in your number. I’ll text you.”

He grinned and typed in his phone number, thumbs almost too big for the buttons. When he handed it back to me, his contact glared at me like a giant neon sign. “I’ll hopefully hear from you soon, Petra.”

“You will,” I assured, giving him a smile.

“Great,” he said simply, grabbing his coffee. “Bye.” The farewell was spoken sweetly and had the butterflies swarming again. I repeated the sentiment and watched him walk out of the coffee shop door, smile permanently on my face.

I was too excited to even pick up my book.

“Are you wearing your good bra?”

Melody’s question came from the small speaker of my phone. She was propped on my vanity dresser in my room, on the tiny FaceTime screen. She had spreadsheets scattered around her on her kitchen table, and I could hear her roommates playing the telly too loudly. Every five minutes or so, she gritted her teeth and refrained from telling them to go fuck themselves.

I’d only met her two roommates once. There was Cassandra, who was a petite girl who Melody had met in uni. She had been there on a volleyball scholarship, which I didn’t think existed until I met her. She had blonde hair that was pinstraight and was always pulled back into a ponytail. The other was Vera, who had been born in Canada and moved to London with her boyfriend from uni. They were still together as far as I knew. I didn’t like being around Derek, her boyfriend, because he never stopped staring at Melody’s tits. Or my tits. Or any tits that were in his vicinity, besides Vera’s.

Therefore, I could understand her ire.

“I didn’t want to come off as presumptuous,” I answered her question, twisting and turning in my dress to try and see how the material moved. I had already tried three dresses and none of them seemed to be working for me. This one was a short green dress, but you could see my underwear line and all my seamless ones were in the wash.

“It’s not presumptuous to wear a good bra,” Melody argued. I heard the volume of her telly turn up and saw Melody roll her eyes.

“It’s kinda presumptuous. Like I assume I’m going to have sex.”

“I hate to tell you this, Pet, but you probably are going to have sex.”

“Still, I don’t want to look like I was expecting it.”

I stripped off the green dress and stood in my room, clad in only my underwear and bra. I heard Melody tisk in the background, so I assumed my bra was not to her liking. I didn’t care. This bra was comfortable and I liked it. Although it was comfy and had completely molded to fit my boobs (as most good bras did over time), it was still white and lacey, so she couldn’t complain much. My underwear didn’t match, but didn’t white go with everything?

“Try the burgundy one. That one makes your legs look long.” This was a feat, because I had short legs. I reached for the burgundy dress she was talking about and held it up to my body, inspecting it in my vanity mirror. It was decent, I decided. Not too fussy but not too plain. “And for God’s sake, put on a new bra.”

“I’m not putting on a new bra,” I admonished, rolling my eyes as I slipped the burgundy dress over my shoulders. It had short sleeves and ended just past mid-thigh. Once it was on, I decided it was perfect. “Coat or no coat?”

Melody snorted. “I don’t care how hot this guy is, he’s not worth freezing your arse off. It’s January in London. Don’t be a twit.”

She was right, of course. I grabbed a black coat my mum had gotten for me a couple Christmases ago. I slipped on some short black boots and did a little twirl. “What do we think?”

“Better if you changed the bra, but this will do.” At my glare, she chuckled. “You look great. You’re going to know Peter on his ass. I can’t believe you met someone as nerdy and weird as you. It’s just your luck.”

“I don’t always have this luck.” I checked the digital clock I had on the stand next to my bed and decided it was probably time to leave if I wanted to make it there on time. We were meeting at a little Mexican restaurant at six, and it was nearing 5:45. “I’ve got to go, Melody.”

“Good luck babe. You’ve got this.”

“Melody, can you shut up? Vera and I are trying to watch Hollyoaks!”

I saw Melody shut her eyes. I could only guess that she was debating homicide. “If I haven’t killed myself by the time you’re back, call me. I want to hear all about it. I might also stay at your place tonight.”

“You’ve got a key. Come over whenever you want.” I was used to Melody letting herself into my flat, especially when Cassandra and Vera were being annoying.

“Might take you up on that. Have fun tonight. Do everything I wouldn’t do.”

I ended the chat and ordered myself an Uber. I really needed to get a car. Maybe I could bribe Zach to drive me around like he did with Jeremiah. Melody had complained that Peter hadn’t offered to come pick me up for our date, but I didn’t tell her that I preferred it that way. In case there was need for an escape, I wouldn’t have to feel pressured into him driving me back to my flat.

I had been looking forward to this date all week. We had been texting back and forth about various subjects of nerd-ism and then after about three days of texting he had asked me out. I would not admit to jumping around my flat like a loon when he finally did ask me out, but I wouldn’t deny it either. It had been so long since I had been interested in someone that I nearly forgot the protocol for how I was supposed to act on the days leading up to the date, but the conversation had still flown well.

Once my Uber had dropped me off at the restaurant, I texted Peter to let him know I was here. Assuming he was already inside, I pushed open the door to the restaurant and walked to the front.

“Hi. Reservations for Gerber.” The hostess clicked a couple of buttons on the computer and gave me a smile.

“Great. Follow me,” she said. I noticed her name tag said Stephanie. I don’t know why I noticed her name tag first, but I liked to know people’s names. My dad had always instilled in me that I needed to be polite and get the names of everyone I came across, whether it was an employee or boss. It showed respect, he mentioned. And it was true. My dad knew the names of all of his builders and still kept in touch with some of the people he had contracted for.

I followed Stephanie to where Peter was sitting at a booth. He was dressed in a nice navy blue jumper and dark black pants, shiny loafers on his feet. I wondered briefly how much accountants made, but didn’t dare ask. I would simply have to look it up when I got home later.

“Wow,” he said, standing to give me a quick peck on the cheek. He smelled heavenly. “You look amazing.”

“You too,” I responded, giving him a smile as I sat across from him.

“You want some wine?” he asked.

“I’m not a connoisseur by any means, so I’ll trust whatever you get.”

He ordered some fancy bottle of red wine I couldn’t pronounce the name of and Stephanie set off to go retrieve it. “How was your work week?” I asked, grabbing my napkin and setting it in my lap. I’d be damned if I let any food get on my dress. “I’ll have you know I’m very intrigued in accounting now. I know almost nothing about it.”

“Lots of numbers, lots of financial documents, lots of typing. The rest of the week was good. I was looking forward to this.” My heart fluttered a little bit at his confession. “But accounting is boring when you’re comparing it to podcasts. How was your work week? Any cool guests?”

“Work week was great. I don’t record this week’s podcast until tomorrow, so I’ve got tonight free. The guest is Ray Holman, who did the costuming for several series of Doctor Who.”

“That’s exciting.” Stephanie brought back our wine and poured us each a glass. When she asked if we were ready to order, I shook my head. “Couple more minutes, please,” Peter suggested. Stephanie left with a smile.

“Have you been here before? I wonder what’s good.” I opened up my menu and started scanning the entrees they had listed.

“I was going to ask you.”

“This is my first time here.” I looked around the restaurant. It was decorated with varying shades of neon colors. It looked like a festival of some kind. There was a mariachi song playing over the speakers that had a lot of trumpet sounds. It made me want to get up and dance.

“Yeah, but you’d probably still know what’s good,” Peter said. I looked at him in confusion and raised a brow. He furrowed his brows, like he didn’t understand what I wasn’t getting about his statement. “You know… because you’re Mexican.”

Because you’re Mexican.

I was lucky. In England, I hadn’t been made fun of for my race until high school, when Nathan Penrose had gotten tired of me not responding to his other taunts and teases. He told me to go back to Cuba, where people like me belonged. I didn’t let it bother me because I knew Nathan Penrose was a jackass. Plus, he had been in high school at the time. Though it was no excuse, teenage boys were incredibly stupid. Peter, however, was no teenage boy. This was a grown man. Who had just said I would know what to order at a Mexican restaurant because… because I was Mexican.

“I’m Cuban, actually,” I said in a whisper, unable to come up with any other response.

“Aren’t they sort of the same thing?”

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to burst into tears. I wanted to curl up in a ball and bury myself underneath blankets. “No,” I responded, my voice still pathetically quiet. “Cubans are from Cuba.”

“But you grew up in Cuba, right? So you probably know what kind of food is authentic or not.”

“I was born in Cheshire,” I tried to argue, but my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. I didn’t have time to say anything else when Stephanie was back, notepad in hand and a cheery smile on her face.

“We know what we want?”

“I’ll take whatever he gets. I have to go to the loo.” I couldn’t stand up fast enough. I felt the embarrassment fill my veins, like ice water. My throat was tightening, a sure sign that I was going to start crying. I didn’t want Peter to see me cry. The jackass didn’t deserve it. I wobbled in my heels, teetering as I marched to the bathroom, but I didn’t care if I fell flat on my face. It would still be less embarrassing than what Peter had just asked me.

My tunnel vision for the loo was so severe I almost didn’t hear someone call my name. I didn’t realize anything until a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. I jerked away, thinking it was Peter and preparing myself to scream at him and admit defeat in front of all the patrons of the restaurant, but the face I saw when I turned was familiar and comforting.

“Petra?” Bailey asked. Her short red hair was pulled into a tiny bun at the base of her skull and her blue eyes were watching me with worry. “Are you okay?”

Numbly, I nodded. And then I sniffled. Bailey’s eyes widened. “Come on,” she said softly, standing from her seat. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I could only imagine this meant a tear had escaped and my mascara was running. “I’ll be right back, lads.”

It was then that I noticed who she was sitting with. There were two men sitting at the table with her, one of them nodding his head and thinking nothing of Bailey’s weird departure. The other, however, I knew.

“Petra?” Harry asked, eyes widening when he saw the tears on my face. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. I just turned and made a beeline for the loo, feeling Bailey following behind me. I burst into tears fully when the door of the bathroom shut behind me, and Bailey was immediately at my side, brushing my hair away from my face like a mother would to a child.

“Oh, Petra,” she signed out, her gaze pitying. “What happened, love?”

So I told her. I told her about how excited I was to go on a date with Peter, how swimmingly things had gone when we were texting, and then the cold reality that hit me like ice. Her eyes narrowed and hardened as I blubbered through an explanation, my words barely sounding like actual words and more like garbled sounds strung together. Her hands on my shoulders rubbed reassuringly as I buried my face in my hands.

“He’s a prick, Petra. A racist, selfish prick. He doesn’t deserve a second of your time or your tears.” Bailey grabbed some toilet paper from the stall and handed it to me so I could dab my tears away. My makeup was beyond saving, but she grabbed her purse and held out a concealer. “It’ll be too light for you, but it’s there if you want it.”

I didn’t care that Bailey was at least ten shades lighter than me. I sniffled, picked up the concealer, and smeared some underneath my eyes so the mascara tracks disappeared. I looked like a ghost, but I didn’t look like some racist arsehole had just stomped on my heart. I preferred the ghost. “I don’t even want to go back out there.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll take you home. Jeff and Harry won’t mind.”

That brought on the second topic of discussion. “How the hell do you know Harry Styles?”

“I don’t, actually. Jeff and I are family friends though, and he worked with Harry on his record. Jeff just said a friend was in town and asked if he could come to dinner with us.” Bailey raised her finger to blend in a spot of concealer I missed. “But Jeff’s really understanding. He’ll get it if I need to drive you home.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dinner,” I said quietly. “I’m just being stupid.”

“No you aren’t,” Bailey responded vehemently. “He’s being an arse. C’mon love, it’s better than taking an Uber home. Between you and Veronica, I’m sure you’re funding the entire Uber company on your own.”

I managed a small chuckle and tossed the toilet paper in the bin. “How much do I look like Casper the friendly ghost?”

“On a scale of one to ten, an eleven.” But she smiled. “You look fine, love. Let’s head out, yeah? Maybe you, Veronica, and I can have a good old-fashioned slumber party?”

“I’m afraid my front room won’t fit us all.”

Bailey laughed and linked her arm with mine. When we opened the door to the loo, I almost hit someone with it. Standing outside, leaning against the wall, was Harry Styles himself.

“Christ, wear a bell,” I muttered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He reached out, as if to check me over himself to see if I was alright, but decided better of it. His hands dropped back down to his sides. He probably knew that if he tried to touch me, I’d bite his fingers off like a rabid chihuahua. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” I grumbled angrily.

“But everything’s okay now, yeah?”

I knew he didn’t mean his concern. It wasn’t genuine. He couldn’t give a fuck about my feelings when Nathan Penrose was screaming at me to go back to “where I came from” and he couldn’t give a fuck about me now. “Leave me alone, Harry.”

Bailey and I said goodbye to Jeff, leaving Harry standing outside of the bathroom. I didn’t even look in Peter’s direction as I left the restaurant with Bailey at my side, making sure to slip Stephanie a five before I left. Bailey kept her arm linked through mine, as if she was afraid I was going to fall over if she let go. Oddly enough, I appreciated the support.

Minutes later, I was tucked into Bailey’s small little Volvo and we were on the way back to my flat.

“Do I want to know what’s going on with you and Harry?”

“Too much to explain. I’m surprised Veronica hasn’t mentioned it.”

“She mentioned that you guys grew up together in Holmes Chapel, but didn’t mention much else. There some bad blood there?”

I let out a wry laugh. “You could say that.” We pulled up to my flat and I saw the light on. Must have meant Melody had actually taken my offer. “Looks like Melody’s there.”

“That’s good. Didn’t want you to be alone.” She parked the car and turned to face me. “You’ll be okay, right? I don’t need to stage an intervention?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks Bailey. Veronica’s lucky to have you.”

“Damn right she is,” Bailey laughed. She leaned over to give me a quick hug. “Try not to dwell on what that arsehole said. He’s just insensitive and rude. And the first thing I want you to do when you get inside is delete that prick’s number.”

“Will do. See you later.” I hopped out of her car, wobbling slightly on my heels but gaining my balance pretty quickly. I walked to my front door, digging through my clutch to get my keys and holding them up triumphantly to Bailey. I unlocked my door as her headlights faded away.

Melody was sitting on my couch, her spreadsheets spread around her again. She had her glasses on (which she hardly wore) and her hair was up in a wet ponytail. She must have taken a shower. She looked up when I shut the door behind me and waved. “Thanks for letting me come over. I couldn’t get any of my shit done with Vera and Cassandra blabbering about Hollyoaks in the background. How was…” she trailed off when she saw the expression on my face. “Oh no, Pet. That bad?”

“He said I should know what to order because I’m Mexican and I would know what was authentic.”

“He didn’t.”

I nodded as I flopped down on my loveseat, not wanting to disturb the organization strategy she obviously had going for her spreadsheets. “He did.”

“What a prick! I’m glad you wore the bra you did. He didn’t deserve the good bra.”

“No he did not.” I toed off my boots. “I should have known the second I walked into the restaurant. He didn’t bring flowers.”

To anyone else, this statement might seem weird, but Melody knew what I was talking about. “Someday someone will get you flowers, Pet. You’ll be sick of getting flowers. He’ll buy you a whole florist shop.”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but it was a nice idea. “Whatever. Bailey was there with one of her friends and she drove me back. Speaking of which, Harry Styles was there.”

“And the night gets better and better.”

“Exactly.” I shrugged off my jacket. “I need a shower. I want to wash this night off of me. Will you order some take out? I didn’t actually get a chance to eat.”

“Sure. I’ll surprise you.”

I sent her a half-hearted thanks as I made my way to my bathroom. Tossing my dress on the floor as if casting off the events of the night, I turned the water to boiling. My underwear and bra joined my dress on the floor as I stepped into my shower.

If I stupidly cried a little bit more, I made sure my sobs were quiet. I didn’t need Melody knowing how pathetic I was feeling about this whole experience.

Once I was clean and in some warm pajamas, I walked back out to the living room. In addition to the spreadsheets, Melody now had a box of pizza and paper plates spread out on my coffee table. I reclaimed my spot on my loveseat and thanked her for the plate she offered me. “What’re you working on?” I mumbled through a bite of pizza.

“Shit Trennan was supposed to get done. I’m almost done with it, but I’ll be mad about it for the rest of the week.” She looked up and gave me a small smile. “You want to watch Avatar the Last Airbender?”

“I thought you were working.”

“Eh, I can deal with you watching the telly. You don’t scream at it like Vera and Cassandra. Plus, I know seeing Zuko’s character development always makes you feel better.”

She was right.

“Okay.” I grabbed my Apple TV remote and pulled up my Amazon account, where I had already purchased all three seasons. “Thanks, Melody.”

She didn’t look up from her spreadsheets, but she smiled as I clicked on the first episode.

“Who the fuck is at your door at nine in the morning?” Was what I was woken up to. Melody was standing at my bedroom door, clad in the pajamas she had packed when she left her flat last night. I was bundled in my blankets, head barely poking out above the fleece as I groggily stared at her.

“What?”

“Someone’s knocking on your front door. Woke me up, the prat.”

“It might be Bailey checking on me. She and Veronica wake up weirdly early.” I pushed back my blankets and shivered when the cool London air hit me. Shoving my fuzzy socks on my feet before I dared to put them on the cold wood floor, I stood from my bed and blinked slowly, trying to wake myself up. I had watched the entire first season of Avatar the Last Airbender before both Melody and I decided to call it a night. I had gotten about four texts from Peter before I finally decided to just block his number. I didn’t feel like dealing with him again.

“Tell Bailey that the rest of the human civilization doesn’t wake up at nine on Saturday morning.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the note along.” I padded out to the living room. The knocking seemed to have stopped, but I still looked through the small peephole to make sure whoever it was had left. “There’s no one there anymore.” I didn’t remember ordering anything online, but I could have purchased something for AC while half-asleep one night. It had happened before.

However, when I opened the door, it wasn’t a cardboard box at my doorstep.

It was a pretty bouquet of flowers. There were baby’s breath sprinkled in with pretty dusty rose colored tulips. There was some greenery mixed up with them, but the tulips were the center of attention.

“If those are from Peter, toss them in the fucking garbage.”

I lifted them from my doorstep and kicked the door shut with my foot. I brought them over to my kitchen counter, staring at the beautiful arrangement. There was a small little card attached to a silver bow, wrapped around the vase. My fingers shook as I reached for it.

Petra,

I hope you’re feeling better. These are a thanks and a sorry. Thanks for letting me be on AC and getting to know the world of podcasts. Sorry for everything else.

- Harry

P.S. That Peter guy is a arse. Don’t let him get to you.

“Well, shit,” Melody muttered as she read the note over my shoulder.

Well shit indeed.

#1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ou #ac

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sagamemes · 5 years

Text

love and other disasters (2006) sentence starters. below the cut, you’ll find a total of 140 lines of dialogue from love and other disasters. as per usual, feel free to alter diction, pronouns and anything else your heart desires. i’ve edited slightly to fit roleplay and randomised the order. warnings for sexual themes, aids mention, marihuana use, cheating.

❝ well, actually i was just having lunch across the street and came to tell you the good news in person. ❞

❝ why is it that as soon as i fall in love with a man, he abandons me? ❞

❝ we fuck and then you say you don’t want a relationship. ❞

❝ so despite your fragile beauty, you’re actually built like an ox. ❞

❝ what other secret are you keeping from me? ❞

❝ what’s more important, true love or fashion? ❞

❝ you’re straight? since when? ❞

❝ why else would someone like you have a coffee with someone like me? ❞

❝ you make me sound like an exchange student. ❞

❝ i can’t believe i drove him out of the country. ❞

❝ what’s the point of shagging someone ad nauseam if you’re never going to love them? ❞

❝ it’s okay. i forgive you. so you can stop feeling sorry for me or guilty or whatever. ❞

❝ i think accidental meets are better... that is not to say accidents can’t be planned. ❞

❝ i had to give his ego cpr. ❞

❝ it’s just sex. he fills a void. literally. ❞

❝ news of my crush just travelled across the atlantic ocean! ❞

❝ you’d know if you were great. ❞

❝ i suppose i first noticed when i was around 8. i thought it was just a phase, you know, but eventually, i had to accept the truth. i like women. ❞

❝ it’s a romantic comedy! how do you think it ends? ❞

❝ i’m like, fuck that. i know i’m talented. i don’t need some ____ degree to tell me. ❞

❝ have you ever thought this whole ‘true love’ thing might be a conspiracy? ❞

❝ [full name] may be a giant, but you are a giant in waiting. ❞

❝ three years and you still treat me like a one-night stand! ❞

❝ the stages of a relationship can be defined by farting. ❞

❝ no, actually, i’m very out of shape and that nearly killed me. ❞

❝ i was so caught up in my head i missed out on getting to know you. and i would like to get to know you. i mean, if you’re willing to give me another chance? ❞

❝ i've never actually been in a relationship except in my own head. ❞

❝ so how do i get to know you? ❞

❝ i don’t know that [name] is the love of my life. but i’ve decided to give him the chance to be. ❞

❝ are you asking if i’ll still love you? ❞

❝ there’s nothing more important right now than global poverty. i mean in the warming sense. ❞

❝ that boy---gay as a goose. ❞

❝ i think you’re exactly the kind of person they would have wanted me to marry. ❞

❝ we had a row about his car. i told him i don’t generally get into vehicles that cost less than my handbag, he accused me of being a spoiled bitch. ❞

❝ if you’re going to get any more in touch with your inner child, you’re going to need an inner nanny. ❞

❝ was i right or was i right? ❞

❝ he went to [public/private/boarding] school. he probably enjoys being spanked. ❞

❝ where did you learn to speak [language] like that? ❞

❝ what’s more important, anything or fashion? ❞

❝ you /are/ a desperate fantasist. ❞

❝ do you want to go to bed? you know, have sex. ❞

❝ it would’ve meant breaking your rule to only to have sex with people you don’t really love and to only love people you don’t have sex with. ❞

❝ i had no idea that under that shy, sweet exterior was such steely confidence! ❞

❝ i’m afraid you’re drunk. ❞

❝ truth is way too complicated. and unsatisfying. and hard to believe. ❞

❝ i’m going to this black tie thing for my roommate. ❞

❝ that’s not love, [name], that’s the flu. ❞

❝ we work in fashion. everyone is an overpampered monster. ❞

❝ [name] is going through a nasty divorce. she needs positive affirmation. ❞

❝ i’m sorry, but [full name] stands for everything i absolutely despise. ❞

❝ i think people shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds them. ❞

❝ how very ‘all about eve’. ❞

❝ i’m just nervous. he’s meant to have a ferocious temper. ❞

❝ i’m probably gonna get fired tomorrow, but it was worth it just to see [name] in action. ❞

❝ he came over and we shagged. then i asked how he felt about monogamy. ❞

❝ and this is the person you think you could be in love with? someone you’ve never even spoken to? someone you’ve never even met? ❞

❝ the only thing that’s changed is what might happen between you two. ❞

❝ i mean, i had a bad age five. i had a terrible age five, actually. ❞

❝ maybe love isn't something that happens to you. maybe it's something you have to choose. ❞

❝ you could’ve worn something nicer. ❞

❝ you want a brownie? i made them myself. ❞

❝ i’m not miserable, and i believe in true love. ❞

❝ well, you know what they say, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. ❞

❝ [name], pick out the sexiest outfit and go home immediately! ❞

❝ i think my parents would have really liked you. ❞

❝ i can’t believe you’re cooking dinner for some guy you met yesterday. ❞

❝ an affair? you’ve only been going out for two weeks! ❞

❝ nothing like a happy set. ❞

❝ well, i better be off. my flight’s at 9 and i’ve still got to pack. ❞

❝ my memoirs, darling. i’ve decided to publish. ❞

❝ i’m sure you’re far prettier than [name]’s wife. ❞

❝ everyone’s miserable because they’re looking for this nonexistent ‘thing’, or else they’re miserable because they think they settled for less. ❞

❝ do you always judge people so quickly? ❞

❝ you and [name]? you and---you and [name]? oh my god! oh, look, i... i.... i won’t say a word, i promise. cross my heart. ❞

❝ i’m a superficial assistant at a major fashion magazine. you’ll ruin my reputation. ❞

❝ stop doing research and would you write your goddamn screenplay! ❞

❝ when’s the last time you’ve considered falling in love?---i’m not talking about some character in a book or a movie. ❞

❝ [name] would have loved to come tonight, but thanks to the conspiracy of silence between the catholic church and the tories in the face of aids, he can’t. ❞

❝ love isn’t always a lightning bolt, you know? maybe sometimes, it’s just a choice. ❞

❝ there’s quite a bit of hash in them. ❞

❝ i’m following your advice. i’m breaking my rules. ❞

❝ i know i should have said something before. but every time i started, it seemed like the wrong time. ❞

❝ everyone knows you can’t be drunk and tango. so if i can tango, then i’m not drunk. ❞

❝ would it be alright if i borrowed an outfit just for tonight? i have kind of a date. ❞

❝ actually, i can’t believe i haven’t tried to fix you up with him years ago. he’s perfect for you! ❞

❝ can we not talk about my non-existent film career right now? ❞

❝ well, i suppose i’d never have lived up to your fantasy anyway. ❞

❝ you’re almost out of shampoo so i had to use soap. ❞

❝ you broke up with him a month ago! ❞

❝ i just remembered. i need a pedicure. ❞

❝ for the last six months, you’ve been saying one thing and doing another. ❞

❝ there is no need to be nasty to me just because i don’t remember people’s names. ❞

❝ hello? i’m waiting! [name], when i have to ask for it, it’s too late! ❞

❝ that’s the problem with life. it’s nothing like the movies. ❞

❝ apparently, he shags her four times a day and inspires her to write new volumes of poetry! isn’t that great? ❞

❝ i happen to care about [name]. a lot. and i hate the fact that he feels more than me. and i hate the fact that i'm not in love with him. because i know i should be. because he's smart and sweet and decent and i don't want to hurt him. so i keep hoping that i’ll grow into it. ❞

❝ you could’ve worn something, full stop. ❞

❝ we can’t have you all alone in [city] on a friday night! ❞

❝ so then i had to fuck him. ❞

❝ he calls me five times per day, begging me to go out with him. apparently, my voice haunts him. ❞

❝ oh, these are lovely, but [name] hates flowers. ❞

❝ i promise i won’t make a pass. ❞

❝ i’m going to enjoy making her feel stupid about this one. ❞

❝ but you don’t like me in that way. ❞

❝ oh, so you’re saying i should forget about him for purely geographical reasons? ❞

❝ why are you reading a cookbook in the nude? ❞

❝ since when do you say ‘lots of love, big kiss’ to your boss? ❞

❝ i can’t explain it, but... it was amazing. because it was like i was finally seeing the person i’d been waiting for my entire life. ❞

❝ we’re related, but only by birth. so don’t hold it against me. ❞

❝ i mean, thanks to a chance encounter at a beach party, you hook up with one of the world's top fashion photographers. first class travel, exotic locations. you really hit quite the jackpot. ❞

❝ i just wanted to tell the truth and somewhere along the line it got mixed up with a bunch of lies. ❞

❝ i thought this whole dead animal thing was ten years ago. ❞

❝ you don’t talk about monogamy /after/ you shag a guy... ❞

❝ whoever designed those heels must really hate women. ❞

❝ you’ve got to go. i’ve got friends coming over for brunch. ❞

❝ he never even showed, which proves my theory: he must think i’m a stalker freak. ❞

❝ he’s in love with you, [name]. you’re not in love with him. it doesn’t get more simple than that. ❞

❝ well, unless you want me to feel totally humiliated, say ‘yes’. ❞

❝ i just don’t see much of a future together. ❞

❝ you’re an artist, [name]’s an artist. ❞

❝ he said you really sorted him out on the relationship front. and i could certainly use some help there. ❞

❝ you’re not stupid, you just saw what you wanted to see. ❞

❝ i just remembered [name] might have a boy at the house. can i stay at yours? ❞

❝ we’re having a strictly phone-based relationship. ❞

❝ i can’t help it, i’m naturally dramatic! ❞

❝ oh, you know, i said how great he is, how he’s going to make the right [girl/boy/person] happy, how it’s really not him, it’s blah blah blah... ❞

❝ i’m feeling small enough as it is. ❞

❝ look, most great artists have to deal with rejection in their lifetime. ❞

❝ see, this is exactly why i don’t want to be in a relationship with you! ❞

❝ i’m always like this when i have to see my mother. ❞

❝ maybe true love is a decision. you know, a decision to take a chance with somebody. to give to somebody without worrying whether they'll give anything back. or if they're gonna hurt you, or if they really are the one. ❞

❝ the problem with straight men is that no matter how hard they try, they still need to control, to dominate. ❞

❝ thank god you’re gay! ❞

❝ you seem to think the only reason anyone would be with him is for this ‘jackpot’. ❞

❝ i never felt ugly or fat. ❞

❝ i’m not getting married without a maid of honour. ❞

❝ he’s just the sweetest, funniest guy i know. if he wasn’t [straight/gay], i’d have married him ages ago. ❞

❝ i’m a fantasist, not desperate. ❞

❝ you don’t know me. and if you did, you’d know i’d never take advantage of [name]. ❞

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #ship sentence meme #rp meme #rp ask meme #* meme.#* sentences.

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siriuslystarbucks · 5 years

Text

Write Yourself A Love Story-- And Make It Last

A commission piece for @oceanicsignposts! We’ve got relationship fluff, no magic, and Sirius with EDS ✌ (no major warnings apply, also on AO3)

The funny part about how James and Sirius met, was that James was technically right when he thought that Sirius's parents were abusing him, he was just wrong about the how. He saw the bruises on his arms and the one on his face from when he'd been sleepily walking to answer the door and walked straight into the corner of a wall, and assumed that Sirius's parents were hitting him. Sirius had tried to explain, but saying that you walked into a wall sounded like a line that people who were being abused would say. It certainly didn't help that when James saw him walking around campus, he'd just had his leg popped back in the socket so it hurt like all hell and he was limping.

Somehow they went from that to living together and being ridiculously in love.

Sirius was an author and got to work from home, thankfully. Back when he'd been working in everyday customer service, he'd gotten more bumps and scrapes than he could keep up with, not to mention that being on his feet all day just about killed his legs. He was a little ashamed to admit that he'd pretended it didn't matter so that James wouldn't leave him, which had resulted in probably the biggest fight they'd ever had, but- well, he didn't like to think about it. It was in the past, and he was doing so much better than when they’d first met. They were together and happy now, and dwelling on the past when he was a git wasn't going to make his day better.

He was staring at a mostly blank page on the screen, and he blamed his lack of creativity for the way his mind was taking a walk down memory lane. He brought up a game, playing a few rounds before going back to his writing document and jotting down a couple sentences. He reread them, sighed, and went back to the game. He wasn't going to get anything done right now, and pretending otherwise would only stand to annoy him. Just as he was starting to wonder when James would be home, he heard the lock turn, then the door opened.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Sirius grinned, spinning the chair around to see him. "Hey sweetheart. How was your day? Aw look at us; we're so domestic and cute."

"We've been domestic and cute for years."

"I know, I'm just enjoying it. Let me enjoy this James."

He held up his hands in surrender even though he knew that Sirius was just joking. "I'm not stopping you from doing anything. Enjoy this all you want. The world is your oyster."

"I'm allergic to oysters."

"Yes, and that's why you work from home," he said with a grin.

Sirius rolled his eyes. James had told this joke at least a dozen times since Sirius got his first book published (and it actually made money and it meant he could quit his job as a waiter), but he thought it was funny every single time. To be honest, Sirius didn't mind because of the way it made James smile, but he wasn't going to mention that unless James specifically asked. "You're such a loon."

"A loon who looooooooves you."

"If you love me so much, then how come I haven't gotten a kiss yet?"

"We have a firm no shoes policy, Si." James finally tugged off his other shoe, dropping it haphazardly on the floor before striding over to Sirius and kissing him tenderly. "Hullo love," he said, grinning so bright he was practically a piece of the sun.

"Hi. How was your day?"

James shrugged, giving him another quick kiss before stepping away to get undressed the rest of the way. He slid out of his jacket, but was far more careful with it than he had been with his shoes. "Lots of paperwork, as usual. Snape's been getting on my nerves again, but what else is new?" He hung his jacket by the door, then bent down and put his shoes to rights. One of the things he'd had to force himself to learn when they moved in together was not leaving things on the floor for Sirius to trip on. He didn't trip often, but when he did it tended to end with an injury of some sort and a whole lot of guilt for James.

"Same old, same old then?"

"Yep. What about you?"

"The words exist, but not on paper, and not for me, and not right now."

"How rude. You should kick their arse."

"Would if I could, darling. Give us another kiss."

James sighed and made a big show of walking back across the room, but if he'd minded he would have said something. He rubbed lightly at the velvet soft skin of Sirius's neck, careful not to press too hard and accidentally bruise him-- which had happen exactly once when James was giving him a massage, but he was extra gentle now, just in case. "I'm gonna get changed and then we can talk about what we're doing for tea?"

"Sounds good." He grabbed James's wrist and gave it a kiss before he walked away. Sirius got up carefully, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair. He grit his teeth when his leg shifted uneasily in the socket, but after a minute the sensation passed. It wasn't always a part of his day-to-day experience, but he would have preferred if it never happened again, thanks. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his temple. He should probably eat a snack and drink some water before he snapped at James over something stupid.

Sirius was going through a bit of a depressive episode, and, as usual, James didn't quite know what to do because he was shooting in the dark and hoping that when he missed it wouldn't hurt Sirius. Needless to say, he hated these times for the feeling of helplessness that he couldn't shake. It also didn't help that this time he didn't know what-- if anything-- had set him off.

He knocked tentatively on their bedroom door. At first there was no answer, but then Sirius made a wordless noise to let him know he could enter. He opened the door quietly, stepping in and shutting out the light of the hallway. "'ello love," he said softly. He walked over and sat on the bed slowly so it didn't jerk Sirius from where he was currently laying face down on the duvet. "Did something happen?"

Sirius didn't say anything, but silence could go either way right now.

James decided to let it go for the moment and asked, "Are you hungry?"

He made a noise that was probably yes, but he wasn't sure enough about it to actually fetch something for him. He took the noise as a good sign all the same and scratched lightly at Sirius's scalp. "So Snape found all his pens in jello in a drawer in his desk, and he decided it was my fault. Marlene said like twenty times that it was her, but he didn't listen, so I'm expecting some sort of 'retaliation' tomorrow. Which is a shame, because I could have done better than a prank from a popular show on the telly." James kept up a one-sided conversation, sharing stories that weren't necessarily interesting but filled the space without putting any pressure for a reply.

It overwhelmed Sirius how much he loved him, sometimes, and he turned his face into James's leg as he continued to listen to his work stories. He hadn't meant to drift off, but that's what ended up happening to him, lulled to sleep by the cadence of James's voice and his comforting presence.

James understood that failed Valentine's Day plans were not the end of the world. He knew that how well and how romantic the date went had absolutely no bearing of the healthiness and longevity of his relationship with Sirius.

All that being said, he hated when their Valentine's plans fell through. They'd just had their tenth anniversary, so he wanted this to reflect how much he'd loved the past ten years with him. They'd celebrated their actual anniversary on the day it happened of course, but that didn't mean he wanted to stop celebrating when the day was done. They'd made it ten years for god's sake. So he started making plans for Valentine's a few months ahead of time, scoping out places for accessibility, romance factor, and of course, good food. He found the perfect place, made reservations, and told Sirius that he had it all taken care of so they didn't end up with the fateful confusion of a few years ago, where they had both planned a surprise. They didn't have good luck with this holiday, which was why James was determined to make this one good.

Fate disagreed with him apparently, because in January at Sirius's doctor visit, it was recommended that he have surgery on his left leg. "Recommended for surgery" when Doctor Shacklebolt said it meant "it isn't life threatening so technically you could choose not to have it." Which meant that Sirius was having it.

"Doctor Bones has two openings in her schedule from now to the end of February. The eighteenth-- this coming Saturday-- and February tenth, which is a Tuesday."

Sirius made a face. "I promised my editor I'd finish this draft by the end of the month, so I guess the tenth is good."

Doctor Shacklebolt nodded, and they went through the rest of the details by rote. No liquids the night before, take these meds as soon as he wakes up that day, et cetera, et cetera.

Sirius insisted on going in alone to get the prescription, so James got out his phone and called the restaurant. "Hell this is James Potter, I had a reservation for two on the fourteenth of February."

"One moment." Something clacked in the background, and then they said, "Yes, I'm seeing that reservation for you at seven o'clock Mister Potter, we'll have a table ready and waiting for you."

"Actually I'm calling to cancel my reservation," he said apologetically.

"Oh," they said, sounding surprised. "Of course I can do that for you." More clacking the background as they logged it into the computer. "Do you mind if I ask why you're canceling your reservation? Going to a different restaurant or...?"

"No, nothing like that. My husband's having a medical procedure done and won't be up to go anywhere."

"Ah. Well I hope you have a happy Valentine's Day sir, and thank you for calling to let us know."

"Yep. Have a good day."

"You as well."

James hung up and sighed. Now he had to find some other way to make this Valentine's Day great, and he didn't have the faintest idea for how to make that happen.

Sirius's surgery went off without a hitch, thank the gods. As always, James was relieved to his core that nothing had happened. So far in Sirius’s life, he’d only had a difficult surgery once and it was before he and James ever met, but it made James worry every single time. Now that the surgery was passed however, he was free from that unease. It left him feeling guilty then, to be sad that they'd had to cancel the Valentine's plans when he knew that something bad could have happened, could have very likely happened while he was sitting at work. He was a jumble of conflicting emotions, and he knew that Sirius knew something was going on.

Sirius was something of a dramatic bastard, so instead of asking James what was wrong, he dropped a stack of blank papers in front of James when he was sat at the table.

"Er, what are these?" He flipped through them, hoping that it was just the first page that was blank and the others would have some clue as to why they were in front of them; but there was no such luck to be found.

"The story of why you're acting like you are. I would've written it but I don't know why you're being so weird."

James looked up at him, because Sirius was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, and gave him a curious look. "Was there something stopping you from asking me what was wrong like a normal person?"

"If you wanted to marry a normal person, you should've gotten together with Moony."

"Moony's your definition of normal? That explains a few things," he teased. "I er, wanted to make Valentine's something great this year. Since we haven't had a lot of luck in the past. But it ah hasn't really worked out and I guess it bummed me out a little."

Sirius's expression softened and he ambled closer, putting a hand on James's back and rubbing at him through the shirt he was wearing. "Jamie. I love you so much. And I love that you wanted to make it a special day, and I'm sorry it didn't work out, but you know I don't care about any of that right? All I need for a good day is you, me, a bed, and a few free hours."

James smiled weakly. "Thanks love."

Sensing that James felt the need to do something, Sirius ran through ideas quickly, trying to find something they could do at their house that wouldn't require any planning since they hadn't the time. "We could watch a scary movie," he offered. "One of those shite ones that's just funny and a little gross. Pop some buttercorn and cuddle on the sofa?"

James laughed quietly, turning so he could press his face into Sirius's stomach. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks Si."

"It's purely selfish, don't go getting the wrong idea about me. I'm hoping for couch-sex."

He just chuckled. "I'm sure."

The movie was, as expected, utterly terrible. Unfortunately it wasn't in the hilarious way, and Sirius was coming back from the kitchen with some chocolates when there was a jump scare on screen and he jolted, ramming his leg into the table. "Fuck!" he shouted, dropping the bowl and watching as all the chocolates bounced out and scattered across the rug. James was at his side in an instant, helping him keep his balance as he took his weight off the hurt leg.

"You okay?"

Sirius grit his teeth and nodded. "Can you get me some ice?"

"Yeah." He helped Sirius get to the couch before he left, grabbing the ice pack from the freezer and hurrying back. Sirius was already in his thin sleep pants though, so he grabbed a rag from the laundry room before he sat back down, wrapping the fabric around the ice pack before he handed it to Sirius.

Grumpily, he took it, pressing it high on his thigh, just under his hip, and James winced in sympathy. That was going to bruise spectacularly, and it was on the side that Sirius usually slept on so it was even worse. He knelt on the floor and turned the bowl right side up, then picked up all the chocolates he could find because it wouldn't do for one of them to step on a piece in the morning. In the background, the movie was still playing, but both of them were thoroughly unaffected by the glaringly fake screams coming from one of the blonde women in the movie. James glared at it, fumbling blindly for the remote.

It was on the other side, so Sirius picked it up and stopped the movie. "Sorry," he muttered. "I thought it'd be fun."

"It's fine." Valentine's Day wasn't for them apparently, and James decided that he was going to stop trying to force it. The night ended on a good note though, with a cutesy rom-com on the screen and Sirius in his lap, determined to make his couch-sex goal a reality. James had zero complaints about that.

"Can we get a dog?" Sirius asked suddenly one day.

James looked over at him, taking in his excited expression and felt like an absolute jerk for what he was about to say. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"What?" Sirius said, just as surprised as James himself was that he'd said no. James rationalized in his mind that he hadn't flat out said no, but they both knew what'not a good idea' meant as a response. "Why not?"

"Dogs jump. They have claws, and sure they're not very sharp, but it still leaves marks. I don't think they have sharp teeth once they grow out of the puppy phase, but it's still something to consider."

"I know."

"Your skin bruises so easily and I don't want you to just be hurt all the time like you were when we were younger."

"Wow James thanks for bringing that up, I never considered it before," Sirius said in a flat voice to convey exactly how much he did not believe what he was saying.

James's cheeks pinked in shame, but he kept talking. "I only meant that-"

"Oh I think I know what you meant. 'Poor pitiful Sirius who can't take care of himself didn't think this through even though it’s a bloody pet and takes a shite-ton of effort and constant care'."

"No," James said immediately, holding out a hand as a peace offering. "That's not what I meant at all." When Sirius continued to glare at him, James dropped his hand to the side and took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the usual defensiveness he felt when they knocked heads like this. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you if you'd thought this through or if it was a spur of the moment idea instead of assuming."

"And?"

"And I'm sorry I continued after you said that you had."

"You're damn right you're sorry," Sirius said, but it was obvious to James that he wasn't actively upset about it anymore.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked hopefully.

"You will be in a minute," he said, but then he walked up to James and wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his head on his shoulder. James put his arms loosely around Sirius's hips, linking his fingers together to keep them in place. After a minute, he turned his face into James's neck, but he still didn't say anything.

James was starting to get restless not being able to move or shift his weight, and it was around that time that Sirius spoke up. "It's a stray at the pound. Snuffles. He's deaf so no one wants to adopt him. I'd like it if you met him before you make a decision or we talk about it more."

"Okay." Sirius had a bit of a bleeding heart, not that he was much better-- Peter and Remus claimed that he was worse, but they both thought football was stupid so James didn't trust their judgement very much. He determined that he would meet Snuffles before he'd think about it anymore because there was no point in getting prepared to say no if it turned out that Snuffles was fine-- or vice versa.

Of course then he went to the pound that weekend with Sirius, took one look at Snuffles, and said, "So what do we need to buy before we take him home?" Snuffles was a shaggy black mountain of a dog, and while he was certainly happy to see them, he didn't seem like the jumping sort-- and in this case the jumping was a concern for both of them, not just Sirius. If Snuffles jumped on anyone?

They'd go down, no question about it. The fur around his snout was grey, but Charlie-- the man running the shelter-- told him that that was common in the breed, not a sign of age.

They told Charlie they would be back, raced to the pet store and set up the house to be more dog-friendly, then went back to the shelter, brand new collar and leash in hand.

They were at St. Mungo's, sat in the waiting room. There was a rift between people that were there for lifelong issues as opposed to 'I broke my arm cause I'm a dumbarse'. It's not like Sirius ever did anything, but he knew how long the wait would be, knew where to look when someone was going to be called in for their appointment, and somehow it left an aura around him that the others could see. And, because people were shitty, sometimes they asked invasive questions or made inappropriate jokes, and Sirius would just give them a tight smile and ignore them as best he could for the rest of the time they were both in there.

"So what've you got?" someone asked one day without so much as a 'hello' or 'how are you'.

Sirius had set his book aside ten minutes ago with no intention of picking it up because all of a sudden there was a love triangle and he wasn't interested in that bullshit, so with a mental shrug, he figured that he could answer without anything too bad happening. "EDS-- Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome."

The other man's face scrunched for a second as he searched his brain for any information he had on it. "Is that the one that makes you super flexible?"

Sirius already regretted entertaining the question. "Yeah."

He got a smarmy grin on his face that Sirius one hundred percent did not trust as soon as it came into view. "You ever gone down on yourself? Self care is all the rage these days y'know and-"

"Actually," James said loudly from Sirius's other side, cutting him off, "he's got me for that." He didn't look up from the magazine article he was reading. "But I doubt you do, so how about you run off and bugger yourself? Get rid of some of that tension in you."

The stranger looked like he was halfway between saying something back and just leaving. Fortunately for everyone in the room and most especially himself, he rolled his eyes and mumbled something about learning to take a joke as he slinked away with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs. It would have been smarter overall if he hadn't said anything, but luckily James was all grown up and now knew what a bad idea it was to punch someone in the teeth because they were slightly rude to Sirius. He had been arrested once or twice, but the charges never stuck for some reason or other.

Sirius was a little closed off after that-- and understandably so--, so James set his magazine to the side and casually put an arm around his shoulders, musing aloud about getting a new chew toy for Snuffles. He'd eaten straight through a plastic bone that was supposed to last at least a year (two! the description had boasted, but online reviews had placed it more around one), and it only took him two weeks before every sign of the bone was eradicated. They'd gotten him a Kong after that, but he didn't use it for chewing, instead opting to carry it around carefully like a prized stuffie for nap time.

"We should give up on trying to get him a permanent chew toy," Sirius decided after a few minutes of back and forth. "They sell the rawhide bones in packs, we should just stock up on those and give him one every couple weeks."

"I dunno,” James said uneasily. “They make him sick sometimes."

"It made him sick once, and that was because he'd gotten into the mini chocolate donuts beforehand. Rawhide is made for dogs Jamie, I seriously doubt his system mutated to make it unpalatable."

"Hmph."

Sirius held up one hand like he was swearing on something. "I promise that if he throws up because of it, I will personally clean it up."

"Oh come on, I'm not going to leave you to clean it up all by yourself," James said, as if that was obvious, and so out of this world for Sirius to even consider otherwise. "That would be rude, and likely to leave me without random cuddles."

"I wouldn't hold out on you," Sirius said with a laugh.

"Well no, but if you're in a bad mood you aren't going to be snuggling up to me, are you? I thought not."

Sirius shook his head, smiling. James was truly ridiculous sometimes; there was nothing that could keep Sirius from hugging James for long, and cleaning up Snuffles's vomit was nowhere near enough to make him reconsider that. The arsehole from before was forgotten, and Sirius was able to walk into his appointment with a good mood.

James stared into the freezer, a look of disbelief on his face. There was cookie dough ice cream in their freezer. Why was there cookie dough ice cream in the freezer? It didn't belong there! Cookie dough ice cream belonged no where on the entire planet, yet here it was, polluting his life. He reached in and picked up the pint, holding it with two fingers to minimize contact with it like it was a dangerous item that too much touching could set off.

"Sirius?" he called, walking out of the kitchen and heading to the loo where he was pretty sure his husband was.

"Yeah?" He stuck his head out of the room, careful not to trip over Snuffles, who was laid in front of the doorway taking a nap.

"What is this thing doing in my home?"

Sirius tilted his head, then squinted at the tiny pint. "Oh, that. I think it's Remus's."

"Why is Remus's food in our house?"

Sirius shrugged, leaning back into the loo to keep cleaning. "He finally left that arse boyfriend of his, and where he's staying now doesn't have a working freezer. He asked if he could keep a few things here, and I said yes."

"Oh," James said dumbly. Why hadn't he heard any of this? "When did that happen?"

"A couple hours ago."

"No, I mean when did he break up with Greg?"

"A couple hours ago," Sirius repeated.

"Sirius my love. If they broke up a couple hours ago, how does Remus already have somewhere to stay?"

There was an audible pause as that processed in Sirius's mind, and when it clicked he took off his rubber gloves forcefully, banging them on the squeaky clean counter. "Shit." He glared down at Snuffles. "This is all your fault, you know. I was too busy petting you to pay attention, and Moony the little worm took advantage of that." All that being said, he still gave Snuffles's stomach a scrub with his foot before stepping over him. "I'll call him, tell him to drag himself back over."

"You can't force him to stay with us," James pointed out, even though he very much agreed with the mental image of them shoving Remus inside the house and piling blankets on top of him until he was warm and happy again.

"Watch me."

Snuffles stretched and yawned, and James bent down as he saw a glint of bright blue on his paws. "Err Si?"

"Hm?" He didn't look up from where he was furiously tapping at his phone-- surely a strongly worded text to Remus about getting his arse back inside their house.

"Why are Snuffles's nails blue?"

Sirius froze. "Er. They aren't?"

James gave him a flat look. "Sirius, I am looking at them right now."

"No, you're looking at me."

James's look somehow got even flatter.

"I was bored!" Sirius defended. "Besides, it'll wear off in a few days and don't we have bigger things to worry about at the moment?" he asked, waving his phone pointedly.

"I suppose." Honestly James was just sorry that he had missed seeing it happen.

Remus got on his feet not long after he moved in with them, so it was only a few months before he was moving out again. "We can shag in the living room again," Sirius noted. "I suggest we celebrate by doing that."

James rolled his eyes with a fond grin. "You're insatiable."

"Don't be ridiculous! You always manage to satiate me, I just like having you often and a lot."

"Is satiate a word?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"That argument would not hold up in a court of law."

"Luckily for me, you're home, not at work. Nothing's going to stop me from winning this argument, so I suggest you agree with grace and take your trousers off."

"You're a true romantic."

"James," Sirius whined, tugging on his shirt as he backed up into the living room towards the sofa. "I'm plenty romantic when the situation calls for it. A quickie in the middle of your day off does not call for it."

"When we were first married you didn't need an excuse to be romantic."

"And I don't need an excuse now. Jesus James let me get my afternoon dicking down without nagging me about it."

"You are a teenager in adult clothes."

"Yep and you're right there with me." Sirius pulled James onto the sofa so he was laying on top of him, wrapping his arms around James's neck and kissing him deeply. James's complaints were superficial, more for the banter than anything else, and they both knew it. That was proven handedly when he kissed Sirius back without hesitating.

Things were just starting to get heated when Snuffles woofed lightly, pawing at the back door in a request to be let out. Sirius dropped his head back on the cushion with a disbelieving groan. "You have got to be kidding me."

Snuffles nudged the door frame with his head, and James sighed, carefully climbing off of him. "I don't think he's kidding." He adjusted himself through his trousers as he walked to the door, undoing the deadbolt then opening the door so Snuffles could nose his way out of the house and into the newly fenced in backyard.

"Come back?" Sirius asked hopefully, holding out a hand for him.

James raised an eyebrow. "Just so he can whine when he doesn't immediately get let back in ten minutes from now? I think that'd just make you feel worse sweetheart."

Sirius pouted but sat up. Much as he hated to admit it, James had a point, and it would be much worse to get close and then have to stop for a minute to let the dog back in. "It's a good thing we don't have kids, or these interruptions would be a lot worse, and a lot more frequent."

James nodded. "True. I don't know how Peter manages it."

"I'm not sure he does. I think he's suffering silently and telling us all that he's fine."

He snorted. "So trusting of our friends."

"Hey, you don't know. Peter could be a criminal mastermind, and you wouldn't even know it til you were dead because you refuse to acknowledge what a good liar he can be."

"Why would Peter kill me? Wouldn't it be smart to leave me alive."

"That's what you think," Sirius muttered with a faux dark look. It vanished in an instant when James laughed. Sirius made grabby hands, and James ambled over, leaning down for a slow kiss.

"You really are the cutest thing I've ever seen," James whispered, nuzzling at Sirius's cheek.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"It's already gotten me everywhere," James countered with a smug grin.

"Don't you want a repeat visit? You've had those too of course, but I think constancy is our friend here."

"You're ridiculous."

"Pot meet kettle-- hint we're both black."

That startled a laugh out of James and he collapsed on the cushion next to Sirius, leaning into him. "Maybe so, but you're a Potter now. Have been for years, so stop making fun. You're one of us and we're not letting you go."

"James," Sirius said, looking amused, "you're the only Potter left, not including me."

"Yes and we're not letting you go."

"No complaints here." They lapsed into silence, giving the occasional kiss and touch that meant sex wasn't far from their minds.

It felt like no time at all when Snuffles whined at the door, and Sirius stood up to let him in. Once he was inside though, he wanted to play, and he leaned into Sirius's side heavily, staring up at him with soulful brown eyes that he couldn't bring himself to say no to. Sirius sighed, shooting James a commiserating look.

"There's always tonight?" he offered, reaching for the knotted rope they used for tug-of-war.

"Yeah if the lil mutt doesn't decide that he wants to sleep on our bed."

"We'll wait until he's napping then."

Sirius nodded and scratched behind Snuffles's ears, both men smiling widely.

#prongsfoot #marauders #sirius black #james potter #fanfic #my writing #commissions

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maribelsawyer · 5 years

Text

- ̗̀ * ( ella purnell + cisfemale + she/her ) have you seen ( maribel sawyer ) walking around campus ? they are a ( nineteen ) year old, studying ( journalism ). we hear they are in ( delta gamma chi ), and can be ( benevolent & impressionable ), maybe it’s because they are a ( gemini ). they sort of remind us of ( scraped knees , magnifying glasses , vintage oxfords ), maybe we can find out more ! * ̖́- + newspaper writer

god okay looks like i’ve fallen in love w ella purnell and i want to b her. anyways maribel is my newest baby n im sorta making her up as i go so pls bare w me lmao

TW: eating disorder mentions, subtle abuse?

{she is not currently in that mindset ^}

gen. info

full name: maribel ottoline sawyer

nickname(s): mari, bell, lottie b/c middle name, etc. etc. just sawyer sometimes idk

b.o.d. - june 1st, 19 yrs old

label(s): the marionette, the demure, the prevaricator, etc. etc.

height: like 5′3″ prolly tbh

hometown: duluth, minnesota

sexuality: shit she don’t know

bio. info

her dad’s in the air force, her mom’s published three diet cookbooks and two different DVDs--maribel is the only middle child

one of those conservative, all american families, they were strict and definitely made it known that they were parents and not friends by any means

9pm curfew, not leaving the dining room until all ur food is gone, grounded if ur grades were below their expectations, etc. etc.

her older sister can evoke emotions in others thru her acting like no other. has taken the hearts (and leads) of all her acting directors since childhood. her voice is broadway material.

and her older brother? has been the best linebacker on any high school team he’s joined; hopes to make it to the big leagues. but if he doesn’t? he’s been taking college-level classes since he was a sophomore.

and...maribel?

maribel is...just, maribel.

for the longest time, there was nothing special about maribel

she couldn’t sing, or dance, or compose words in pretty prose

her grades were only satisfactory after hrs n hrs of studying everyday

homegirl can’t even cook w/o smth exploding

in short, maribel has never been good at anything. can’t draw within the lines, can’t follow the line, opens her mouth at the wrong time. etc. etc. shit? rough.

ANYWAYS

her family moves around a lot b/c of her dad, so she’s never really been in one place long enough to really prove herself? always been the quiet girl in class while her siblings brought home gold stars everyday

the kinda girl others would sorta push around n bully a lil bit bc she would never know what to say; prolly just cried a lot tbh

grew up w a lot of insecurities b/c of this

definitely doesnt help that her mother is obsessed w beauty n fitness n like

their mother p much forced her lifestyle onto her children, mari has a rough relationship w food b/c of it

ANYWAYS part 2

grew up always in the shadows of her siblings and their accomplishments, and spent a lot of her time tryn find something to be good at just so somebody could give her a stamp of approval

was always the ~wannabe~, the girl who would just endlessly suck up to the most popular girl she could find and try to mimic her to the best of mari’s abilities, just so she could survive her school experience

by the time mari was a freshmen in high school, her parents had divorced and she finally thought she could have a normal school experience and make something for herself

obv not. her mother shipped her off to a boarding school in nevada and that was it; her sister had already graduated and her brother was still in middle school.

it was finally just mari.

of course like she tried to suck up to others but it wasn’t really helpful, everybody was a lil too boujie for her and she always froze up when she tried to speak to the ~popular kids~

they only rly spoke to her b/c she’s got this knack for forging shit, like i dont think she even has her own handwriting; she always copies other people’S b/c she’s just. so used to tryn to mimic others n be them as much as possible

around this time she found herself fucking around in her computer class more often than not; it’d been the only elective left b/c she arrived in the middle of the year

but she surprisingly enjoyed it, like, a lot

her parents never really allowed much computer use b/c like. rots ur brain or whatever.

got into programming, but when she found out that u could ? hack shit ? kinda peaked her interest.

her shift into programming to hacking was subtle but before she knew it, she was fucking around on websites for the fun of it. never anything severe

computers became her friends, y’know

that was until her sophomore year and there was another loser fucking around on the computers during lunchtime

and like...they just started kinda talking, y’know? became friends, prolly mari’s first legitimate friend in...forever, really

the kid was kinda weird but she didn’t mind b/c fuck, mari couldn’t be picky n she didn’t mind weird

like...they were obsessed w conspiracies n mysteries n shit

it started to rub off on mari too, b/c homegirl is an idiot but. an observant idiot.

so she started getting reeeally into mysteries and shit. started acting like a mini investigator w/ her pal; solving stupid things like ‘who wrote ‘mindy is a whore’ in the bathroom stall’ and ‘does mr. roberts have a secret obsession w kpop’

no mindy is not a whore it was slander

yes mr. roberts is into kpop

ANYWAYS part 3

so they were these nancy drew, scooby doo, veronica mars knock off duo

by junior yr her partner started getting into like. drinking and minor drugs and other things that the other boarding school kids were smuggling in, y’know.

this meant that mari was getting into that shit too, y’know. cant stay innocent forever.

became a lil bit of a pothead lmao

so like now theyre just stoners who go around solving shit and prolly also stirring shit up for the hell of it

so like . . . . . one night they were doin’ their thing, right? and her partner brings up this...completely wild idea

they live in nevada. y’kno what else is in nevada?

area 51

these fucking idiots want to go break into this fucking. air force base. to find area 51.

guess what they did?

they attempted to break into the air force base. like. of course they tried.

they failed like, super miserably, got arrested for trespassing and had to be bailed out of the county jail by their parents

her dad almost lost his job so he was mcfuckin PISSED esp once they figured out she was high as shit

her partner? disappeared. nobody knows where they went.

mari was moved from the boarding school to a public school closer to where her mother could, begrudgingly, keep an eye on her

kinda spent the rest of her high school career p miserable, she gave up on her whole ~detective~ thing and resorted to making fake IDs for her fellow high schoolers

was drug-tested like every week or so, too

around this time her mental health and relationship w food got worse, she barely made it to graduation. took a gap year to recover, worked a buncha jobs but usually gets fired from them b/c she’s really fucking bad like most things besides her two (2) unconventional talents that are decidedly useless

came to ucla b/c her mother p much made her, her mother’s a legacy and that’s about the only reason why she got into delta gamma chi

doesn’t want ppl to know she was a loser and also like . fucked up her dad’s life a lil, b/c it was def a thing that made the news and the only reason why her name wasn’t in the articles was b/c she was a minor at the time

so she like...lies abt her childhood a lot

tells a lotta lil white lies b/c she just. doesn’t wanna b her

uuuhh wanted to do computer science bc she loves it but her parents were both like ‘lmao we’re not paying for shit if u do that’ bc they don’t think it’s very ~ladylike~ n they still want her to like. just be submissive and obedient n shit.

so she took up journalism b/c neither her parents think it’s like a real career and they just want her to find a husband n get married n settle down n stop being troublesome

fun fact: she has a scholarship for being lefthanded so that pays for Some of it esp b/c she’s an out of state student

still struggles a lil bit w food but she’s like. doing a lot better. goes to group therapy, probably

uuuh that’s it for now i think ??

OH SIKE !! she’s a writer for the newspaper and writes ADVICE columns on various topics b/c she’s good at offering advice but only when she can sit down n think abt it lmao

^^she goes by an alias b/c she just. doesnt want ppl to know its her idk she thinks its embarrassing

other than that she’s probably like ... doing campus tech support b/c that’s her current job but who knows how long that’ll last lmao

knowing her she’s going to accidentally switch into her phone sex voice (another, old job she doesn’t do anymore) n get fired for tryn seduce a man with ‘did u try turning it on and off again?’

OKAY i think that’s all lmao

personality

mari is just. awkward, man

i mean like...she’s sorta bad at talking to others a lot of the time??

like ppl r kinda like ‘how tf r u a delta gamma chi girl’ n she’s just like i mean u h h h h

prolly stutters a lil bit b/c she’s usually rly anxious

but she’s v v nice, like, she tries her hardest to be a good friend n everything

but she also kinda switches her personality to appeal to whoever she’s talking too ?? like she wants to be. likable. she’s not real w/ others v v often

if ur boujie yeah she’ll pretend to be boujie too

she prolly still sells fake IDs to high schoolers n some of her college peers, she has one herself n hasn’t gotten caught yet sooo

always fidgets like she can’t rly sit still often b/c she’s so nervous

is a lil bit of a stoner but i feel like u can’t ever tell tbh

a lil shy n hesitant at first i’d imagine, or maybe just always lmao

has a bit more of a personality once she sucks it up n gets closer to u but she’s always v v cautious abt befriending ppl just b/c she’s had a bad time w bullies n her one friend in life disappeared so like...bummer, y’kno?

can never say no. like, i dont think it’s in her vocabulary. she’s a yes gal.

will p much do anything u ask of her b/c she’s constantly seeking approval

can ramble a bit when she’s nervous which is always but she also apologizes like a lot.

squeaks like a mouse

present at parties but it’s always kinda like. who r u. n she has to remind everybody that she’s a sorority gal too

considers herself v v forgettable, like, just v unimportant

like she’s just rly insecure

still does computer shit n is still rly good at it but she hasn’t done anything srs w/ it so it’s just wasted potential

going to use her journalism degree to do investigative journalism and maybe escape her parents, eventually

she just. bends easily to other’s wills, y’know? she’s hashtag soft

even tho she’s like. shy n awkward n shit it doesn’t take a lot for her to like, laugh, or smile

like she tries rly hard to appear happy n an optimist n just like. unfettered

a lil plain jane we stan

i cant think of anything else but she’s. she’s a good kid

OH she’s rly good w numbers n math but like that’s abt it. she’s a whole dumbass on everything else sometimes

is bad w talking n giving advice like in person but like ?? in her column or ovr text or smth ? she’s good. she’s concise.

is a good team player/good w/ projects/etc. etc.

OH OKAY YEAH

she’s rly observant n b/c she’s a lil bit of a compulsive liar she can usually tell when ppl arent honest

depending on how close y’all r she’ll prolly crack down on ur bullshit

but she’s also timid so like who knows tbh

this isn’t a personality trait but she wears like medium hoop earrings all the time n it’s cute ok bye

OK OK LAST THING

she’s so. fucking. clumsy. she will bump into everything. she’ll bump into the air. fuck, she prolly falls over just standing straight. usually has bruises n scratches from just being a clumsy idiot

like she can b a lil ditzy y’know ?? doesn’t have much common sense, sometimes, n can b naive but idk it’s all rly dependent on her n who she’s w n just. how i end up playing her lmao

lovs vintage. is cute.

wanted connections

her roommate uwu

ppl she’s interacted w/ during her childhood !! she’s moved around a lot so like . . . . they could kno each other

mmm sorority sisters

um gimme a ride or die or like a best friend or smth PLS she needs more friends

just more friends in general. she’s awkward but she needs ‘em

?? a one night stand ?? she’s not really . . . known for hooking up w/ ppl but i think an accidental occurrence would b fun!

idk somebody for her to just. crush on from afar. prolly stutters whenever they come near or talk to her or smth

^^i mean like an unrequited crush

SOMEBODY USE HER ! RUIN HER !

FRIENDS OR FUCKING OR WHATEVER

fake friends too! use her for her ~kewl skillz~

bad influence

let her b a good influence

some kinda...skinny love idk what that means. a will they wont they. smth cute. smth pure

it’d be wild if her partner just popped up outta the blue like that b/c mari 100% thinks they were like killed by the government

ppl she gets high w n talk abt conspiracies w/ tbh

ppl she gives or has given advice to w her column pieces ! love it

idk partners in a class

enemies or smth. i want conflict.

a tutor for her dumbass

but also anybody who needs help in math? she can tutor u

idk like this we can work a lil smth smth out

i give u one penny, if u plot w me. pls. i am poor.

#uclas:intro #like if u'd like to plot w her !!#pls give her love i think i love her

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fridaygroup-blog · 6 years

Text

name: Pearl Salve Tittle: THREE WORDS, EIGHT LETTERS, say it and i’m yours

AUTHOR’S: BY GIRL IN LOVE MARGaERETTE PITOGO

YR,PUB: 2013

DESCRIPTION pubLIsh : SUMMIT MEDIA

PLACE pUBLISH : PIONEER STREET, MANDALUYONG CITY

INTRODUCTION

PEOPLE SAY HAPPINESS is being with someone who will be with you no matter what. its being with friends who’ll understand and accept you, happiness, they say, does not accidentally land on your lap. you create your own happiness. you decide to be happy or not. I once decided to be happy when i had chosen to love. that’s what people say, right? happiness is being in love. happiness is being loved in return. happiness is being perfectly fine with imperfect relationship, with all its ups and down, and twists and turn. but what if you’re forced to make a choice that will affect everyone and everything you hold dear? what if you are forced to choose between two people; some one you love, or someone who loves you? what if one day, the person to whom you’ve given your heart and soul suddenly leaves you? will you hold on and wait for that person,or will you let go and find someone else who will truly love you? i’m just a simple girl whose only wish life is to be happy, but then life took a wrong turn, and now, i’m left with a difficult choice. to love or be loved? my name is Chanel Country Chua, and this is my story.

SUMMARY

my phone’s busted,dammit. Gian was telling me earlier that Kean was getting married, but our conversation was cut short because my phone chose today to die on me. i swear the world was out to get me

.and what was that about Kean getting married? screw him!! what was he said about loving me to the end of the earth was such, much smaller than what i’m familiar with.

fuck him ,that hurt.

at this very moment maybe they already exchanging vows.

that should be me dam it,

i sat down and scrolled on, through my screwed up phone. it was still om, but i couldn’t receive any text message or call. that was so then . ck tried. i decide to read. i decided to just read the message

.......text message....

from:my kean

courtneeey. have i told you today that i love you? oh? not yet? i love you.

from: my kean

dude. i love you. more than DOTA.

from: my kean

hey. Three words, eight letters. i love you. i hope you don’t get tired of hearing me say those words.

..............

i wanted to cry, but for some reson, i couldn’t cry anymore. maybe i’ve cried myself dry .

my phone suddenly rang, causing me to almost drop it. when i saw the name, my heart stopped.

why... why was he calling me?

‘‘HELLO?’‘

“Courtney! Courtney! Don’t go!”

“kean? kean?”

“where are you now? why did you turn off you phone! are you korea now?!

“what? no! my phone’s broken, kean. what about you? weren’t you marrying dara koleen? tell you’re not-”

“ no. no i couldn’t” he said i released the breath i wasn’t aware i was holding. “Courtney, Gian said you’re on way to Korea for a modeling job. dude, i love you. you can go to Korea, but i’m coming witth you, okay? i won’t let anything come between us anymore.”

“Kean..”

“no. don’t say no i swear to GOD i’ll drive this car off road and kill my self.”

“Kean, you stupid idiot! don’t

“then wait for me!”

i started to cry then. “kean. stupid. haven’t i always told you that i’ll wait for you even if it takes forever?” kean chuckled and released his own breath. “ well, i miss him, his face. his hand. his voice

CRITICAL ANALYSIS

base on this story its very inspiring book because you have a lot of learning that you may catch up and it can give a interest to other people ,if you some one you can go what him happy

AUTHOR’S

JADE MARGARETTE S. PITOGO, a.k.a girl inlove, is an 18years old student, talking up legal management at the DE LA SALLE UNIVERSITY. although she has never been part of a school paper, nor has she joined any writing contest or activities .she daydream a lot, to when she credits her rich imagination. her online writing venture started stated when she and her best friend chanced upon a website, where they initially posted their stories for free, when the website began asking for a free they switch to wattpad,com where she posted’’ three, eight letters, say it and i’m yours,’’ with no reader at first, but eventually, it got noticed and earned more ten millions reads.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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welcome to the dollhouse pt. 3 - fryshook

Trixie enters the House of Malone.

AN: For a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever publish this fic, let alone make it to the end. But here we are. Please note the tws, have fun, and [insert third thing here].

Special thanks to dare for forcing me to engage in drama, chaos, confusion, and madness until I got my shit together and finished this damn thing.

Thank you for reading.

F. Shook

“Sir?

“…Sir?”

Trixie Mattel woke up on a plane with his hat pulled over his eyes and his shoulder wet with drool. He pushed the cap up off his face and blinked up at the flight attendant, who smiled, his perfect teeth a familiar beacon.

“Welcome home.”

K: Are you back yet???

K: Wait - before you answer that; should we make an app? Apps are cool, right? Think about it and get back to me.

K: You are getting back to me, right?

K: Tracy?

“How should we do this? Should we put on actual porn or something?”

Violet looked at Trixie like he was being an idiot, because, well. He was. The shiny shorts they’d made him stuff himself into weren't helping.

“You heard her,” they said. “We only get to watch if we’re jacking off to it. Otherwise we’re cheating, and that would make us really shitty friends, Trixie Mattel.” Trixie chewed the inside of his cheek and stared at Violet, whose gaze became narrower, somehow. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Trixie shrugged, looking away.

“I don’t think I can get hard,” he mumbled.

Violet stared at him.

“Come on,” they said. Trixie shrugged again, still not looking at them. Violet laughed. “Seriously? Jesus Christ. You want me to…?”

“Don’t touch me.” Violet held their hands up and swallowed another laugh. They relaxed and considered Trixie for a moment.

“Nothing?” They said. “Nothing, Tracy?” Trixie’s pokerface was impressive. This was the first time Violet had ever seen it, really; so steely and practiced - maybe he’d finally picked up some tricks out in California. “‘Cause I swear I saw a little something going on earlier.”

“Right,” Trixie said, monotone. “Because you were, as usual, staring at my dick.” Violet rolled their eyes and huffed.

“You idiot. You’re supposed to say, ‘I’ll show you a little something.’ And then, fuckin, whip it out. Gawd, Tracy. What kind of comedy queen are you?”

Trixie scoffed.

“Oh, I’m sorry? I didn’t realize I was taking a fucking improv 101 with Violet Chachki.”

“Well, you better get into it, girl.” Violet set up the phone camera to frame them both on the couch. “Because those straight nerds aren’t gonna be able to edit in a boner for you.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea…” Violet shot him a look. Trixie shrugged. “They ship us.”

“Sit down, Mattel. Sit.” Violet placed a hand on Trixie’s shoulder, shoving him down onto the couch with surprising strength, “down. I’m not worried about your boner. Here’s the deal,” Violet adjusted Trixie’s hat, making sure he was looking them in the eye, “it’s all about the fantasy. Your name is–”

“Chase,” Trixie cut in, grabbing Violet’s hand. “My name is Chase.”

“Malone,” Violet corrected him, slapping his hand away. “Your name is Chase Malone.”

They stared at each other for a moment until Violet blinked and cleared their throat, adding: “Firkus, do you seriously expect me to buy this bullshit that you’ve never even had a fucking wet dream about her?”

Trixie snorted, shaking his head at the other queen. “I’m not–!” he started, stopped. “I never said–”

“So you have.” Trixie looked up into Violet’s dark eyes. He shrugged. The intensity of Violet’s stare was beginning to burn a hole through him. “And?”

Trixie groaned and collapsed against the back of the couch. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.

“We were driving home from the courthouse…”

“Courthouse?”

“…and Katya was wearing that stupid fucking plaid shirt, and I was… upset. We’d just got married and he’s dressed like we’re going to fucking Target. But we get to the house, and he picks me up, kicks the door in…”

“…And then kicks your backdoor in,” Violet finished with a nod, all signs of amusement replaced by disgust, and perhaps - but Trixie didn’t want to give them too much credit - a small amount of pity.

“I can’t come unless there’s a ring on my finger,” Trixie said. “You know that.”

“Ignorant,” Violet bit back a laugh as they considered the pathetic man sitting across from them. “Disgusting. Do you marry everyone in your fantasies, or just that whore?”

Trixie was quiet for a moment.

“Well,“ he began, “there was James Marsden…and Kyle, and then my brother’s friend, Jack…”

“Oh my god,” Violet muttered. “I’m depressed now.”

“Thanks,” Trixie said, nodding his head, “Thank you so much, Violet, wonderful, this is really, you know, really helping me get this boner going–”

“Don’t,” Violet snapped, holding their hand up, “worry about your boner. Don’t even bring it up. DON’T,” and they managed to keep a straight face opposite Trixie's delighted grin, but only just barely, “remark on how accidentally funny what I just said was.”

“I did feel a stir,” Trixie said.

“I know you did, you fucking bumpkin,” and maybe it was the wordplay, or maybe it was the nostalgic exasperation in Violet’s voice, but Trixie did feel something strange trickle into the depths of his gut. “But that is not the kind of film I am - the kind of film we are - making today. You,” they slapped his hat back onto his head, “are my step-brother.”

“Uh huh,” Trixie nodded dumbly, adjusting the cap.

“And you’ve just come home from fuckin’…hockey practice, or some shit.”

“Okay.”

“And you want to watch TV, but I have the remote. Frankie is catching up on Project Runway.”

“But I want to watch the game, you bitch.”

Violet nodded solemnly. “Yes,” they said. “You do. But here’s the thing, Chase. I’m sick of not getting along. My dad’s been riding my ass about the way we bicker. It stresses your mom out, which stresses him out, yadda yadda. So I offer a compromise.”

“And what’s that.”

“Let’s just watch something we can both enjoy…”

“Yeah?”

“…Porn.”

Trixie snorted, shaking his head at Violet.

“You,” he said, wagging a finger at them, “do not get nearly enough credit for being a freak genius, Violet Chachki.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, bitch.” But Violet was smiling like–

Trixie swallowed and thought of the way Violet had smiled at him behind her curtain in the workroom after that first week.

You can’t hate me forever, Trixie Mattel. You won’t be here long enough.

“Tracy.”

Violet’s grin had faded, impatience pursing their lips.

“Let me tell you a story.”

Trixie blinked up at Violet and nodded. They cleared their throat and sat down next to him.

“When I was a kid, my parents took us to the coast. It was fine, kind’ve boring. I wanted to see a lighthouse. My mom had these lighthouse pictures, paintings, whatever, in our house my entire life, and I’d never seen one up close. So I kept asking, you know: where’s the lighthouse? And my dad just said: we don’t got those.”

“This is your dream? Sexy.” Violet shot Trixie a look.

“No, bitch. This is real life. So fast-forward a few years. I’m doing some gigs up North–”

“What coast is this, by the way?”

Violet stared at Trixie. “Does it fucking matter?”

“It would help flesh the story out, yeah.”

“You’re annoying me. I’m in fucking New England, okay? I’m doing a gig in New England. The gig goes well, of course. I meet this guy after. It’s late - probably 1:00am or so, and I just… I just want to get fucked, you know?”

“Sure,” Trixie nodded, “sure.”

“But this guy - he’s actually kinda sweet, which, I’m not gonna lie…is a turn-off. But I kept thinking about his dickpic, and figured, whatever. I’ll humor him.”

“Uh huh.”

“So this guy, he goes: I want to show you something.”

“Don’t tell me he took you to a goddamn lighthouse, Violet. I don’t think I could handle the romance and poetry.” Violet flashed him a tight smile, prompting Trixie to continue: “And you sucked his dick to the soothing sounds of crashing ocean waves under the pale moonlight?”

“No…” Trixie watched as Violet’s eyes drifted. “No. I didn’t. It was cool, I guess. But it was kinda like…‘oh. I guess that’s it.’ I don’t know. I kept thinking: this is something I’ve always wanted to experience–” Violet paused, rolling their eyes, “–and I felt like… everything was off. I’m here with some fucking grindr hook-up with an okay dick. This isn’t the scene I’d imagined for myself, you know? So I made him take me back to my hotel and drop me off.”

Trixie shifted a little, suddenly anxious.

“So who’s dick did you suck?”

“Nobodies. I went to up my room alone and jacked-off thinking about how this idiot from Boston was supposed to come to my show, take me out to a stupid fucking lighthouse afterwards, and fuck my goddamned brains out.” Trixie’s smile faded. Violet met his gaze, continuing: “Or, fuck that, take me to a fuckin, hotel room with a picture of a fucking lighthouse, and fuck my fucking brains out under it.” Violet paused again, their tongue darting out to wet their dry lips. “But she was busy, I guess,” they continued, monotone. “She got caught up in… something. I couldn’t tell you with what. I mean, I probably could, but you know her as well as I do.”

“Better,” Trixie shot back, eyes glued to Violet’s as he tried to comprehend everything they had just said. Violet smirked a little.

“I guess I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” they muttered. “But I was mostly just annoyed with how fucking boring my back-up plan was.” Violet sighed. “I’m too hot for this kind of bullshit.”

“You and Katya had a date…” Trixie muttered, “…and she stood you up.”

Violet pursed her lips, thinking.

“‘Date’ is pushing it.” She looked away from Trixie’s wide and mystified gaze, thinking. “I don’t know. What do you call it,” Violet paused to tap a finger thoughtfully against their lips, “when someone you haven’t seen or spoken to in months calls you at four in the morning with her dick in her hand?” They smirked as Trixie’s mouth hung open, pitching their voice a little lower in a crude imitation of the Bostonian queen: “I can’t wait to see you, you rotted cunt. And I do mean rotted.”

Trixie twitched.

“She told you that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Violet nodded to Trixie’s crotch. “So, what do you think? You good to go over there?”

Trixie blinked, reaching over to cover the sudden tent in his shorts.

“You’re like–” Trixie shook his head, staring at his smug companion, “you’re like a… witch.”

“I am,” Violet said, turning around to hit the record button on the phone. “Now let’s get this fucking thing over with.”

At a certain point, they were jerking off in sync. Trixie cast a furtive glance toward his former rival, admiring the grace with which they stroked their (frankly, ridiculous) cock, and wondered if they were doing the same, if they took notice of the way his newly-toned bicep popped.

Trixie forced himself to stop worrying about Violet and turned his attention back to Katya on the screen as he jerked mindlessly, listening to Violet huff and mewl next to him; were they trying to make him laugh? Like Katya, the line between irony and earnest oddness blurred too often with Violet for Trixie to keep track of whichever side he was on. He risked another glance at the other queen only to find them staring back at him, their breath coming hard, the muscles in their chest working as the lagoon pools of their eyes swallowed him whole.

“Hey,” Violet said, and the quiet rasp of their voice nearly blinded him for a moment, “you want me to suck you off?”

What? He tried to say, but couldn’t; he’d forgotten how to speak, and Violet - an expert, now, at handling the speechless - leaned in and, using their free hand, pulled Trixie to them.

They kissed like that for minutes, Trixie’s preoccupied hand slowing, slowing, slowing, until he finally gave it new purpose, pulling Violet on top of him.

Violet pulled away to looked down at him. They kissed him again, sweet and quick this time, and sank down to the floor.

They rested a cheek against Trixie’s thigh and said: “What if Dad comes home and catches us…”

Trixie’s eyes darted between Violet and the camera.

He said: “Are you afraid he’ll be jealous?”

Violet replied: “He should be,” and took Trixie’s cock into their mouth.

Trixie gasped and dug his fingers into Violet’s hair.

“Oh my GOD, Vi–” they scraped their teeth over his cock, and Trixie choked, correcting himself, “F–f–frankie,” he said. Violet watched as he threw his head back against the couch, his hat popping off and falling to the floor.

He didn’t last long. Trixie came with a gasp, the fingers in Violet’s hair releasing their grip to trail away, grazing their cheeks as Violet swallowed and wiped their mouth. She patted Trixie’s sweaty thigh and stood up. Trixie blearily watched their erection bob as they padded over to the phone.

Violet leaned in until their face took up the entire screen, said: “The end,” and stopped the recording.

Trixie, finally back on earth, frowned.

“What are you – why did you stop it? You haven’t even come yet.”

“What?” Violet stopped fiddling with the iPhone to glance over at him. Trixie nodded at their hard-on. Violet scoffed. “Wow, you really are a big old lesbian, huh, Tracy?”

Trixie’s mouth hung open as he stared at them. “You just fucking blew me.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, don’t look at me like that. If Katya wants to see me come, again, she can send me a tape. Load for a load, Trix. It’s only fair.”

Trixie stared at them for a moment before finally getting up. He reached for Violet’s hand.

“Violet.”

Violet held Trixie’s gaze for a moment, their eyes unreadable. They squeezed his hand before sliding out of his grip.

“Put some pants on,” they said. “You gotta get to the airport.”

Trixie watched as Violet disappeared down the hall. He listened to their door shut and bent over to pickup up his hat. He slapped it back onto his head, caught his reflection in the now blank black screen of the television - a grown man in glittery shorts and a baseball cap - and sighed.

In the hall, Trixie paused in front of Violet’s room. He hesitated before he finally leaned against the door, his ear pressed against the wood.

He heard: nothing. No muttering, no rustling, no strange mewls.

Trixie moved on, shutting his own door behind him as he began to change back into his clothes, trying not to think about the fact that he had, once again, played into Violet’s plans. Whatever the hell those were.

* *

In Los Angeles, Trixie sat on his bed, flicked his hat off, and took a moment.

The last things he remembered clearly were: his hand, grasping the back of Violet’s head as it had mere hours prior, and the mortifying hitch in his voice as he held them close and said:

Thank you for–

How Violet’s smile felt against his shoulder before they interrupted him:

Go home, idiot.

That was how Violet left him at the airport, jacket pulled tight around their slim frame as they walked out the doors without a second look back as the escalator took Trixie up and out of sight.

Trixie sat up on his bed and took a calming breath. A cooling breath? He never kept the terms straight. Was it important?

Trixie… breathed. In, out.

His phone buzzed next to him on the bed.

K: Can you at least let me in?

K: There’s coyotes out here, Trix.

He opened the door and Katya said, “You should’ve never let me add you on Find My Fags. I always know where you are, especially when you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Trixie stood aside so Katya could walk in, rolling his eyes when he realized he was waiting for a hug like a fucking vampire waiting for his invitation. Trixie pulled Katya to him and breathed in the smokey evening that clung to him, kicking the door closed. “I’m fucking exhausted, girl.”

Katya rubbed his back and chuckled, pulling away just enough to get a good look at him.

His voice was gentle when he said, “You look like shit, mama. But a good shit. Healthy shit. The first real shit after two-to-three days of painful constipation, I swear to God.”

Trixie laughed, rolling his eyes. He swung an arm around Katya’s shoulders and brought him in for another hug.

“Did you…” Trixie trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question. He pulled away, looking Katya in the eye. “Did you get… it?”

Katya held his gaze for a while before nodding.

“I did,” he said, his hand still firm on Trixie’s back. “I didn’t watch it, though.”

Trixie wet his lips. The place where Katya’s hand rested on his back began to burn.

“Why not?”

Katya squinted up at him, brows furrowed.

“I was waiting for you, Tracy.”

Trixie watched Katya’s face soften as he grinned, and thought, briefly, of lighthouses.

#trixie mattel #violet chachki #katya zamolodchikova #vixie #trixya #tw slurs #tw incest #smut #fryshook #rpdr fanfiction #submission #welcome to the dollhouse #canon compliant

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libralita · 6 years

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Death Note Part 1

Writer: Tsugumi Ohba

Illustrator: Takeshi Obata

Summary: Light Yagami is an ace student with great prospects—and he's bored out of his mind. But all that changes when he finds the Death Note, a notebook dropped by a rogue Shinigami death god. Any human whose name is written in the notebook dies, and now Light has vowed to use the power of the Death Note to rid the world of evil. But when criminals begin dropping dead, the authorities send the legendary detective L to track down the killer. With L hot on his heels, will Light lose sight of his noble goal…or his life?

Rating: ★★★★☆

Part 2

Review:

I really enjoyed this series. It was so engaging and thought provoking. There was one part that bored me to tears and I kind of hated but other than that it was near perfect.

I’ve broken up my notes into parts because I read the giant 2400 bind up so it would be too long to do one post.

If you kill, say, a leader of a terrorist organization that doesn’t mean their followers are just going to magically go away. This could cause a lot more chaos than Light can imagine. Look what happened in the Middle East. It’s a giant cluster fuck.

“Kira…will have to kill his own family.”—Page 111

Oh shit.

If you legally change your name do you have to use the person’s birth name or old name? What about nicknames?

I knew that Light wasn’t going to take the Death God Eye deal.

L’s mannerism are so cute.

“Even a probability of one percent is better than that, and needs to be scrutinized.”—Page 371

Reminds me of something Batman said about Superman in Batman V Superman.

L is at Light’s entrance exam? L, sweetie, what are you doing?

L and Light are going to college together! Please be roommates!

I guess L and Light are both pretty similar. They both go around telling each other their secret identities.

Wow, I never thought tennis could be so interesting.

L, YOU BLUNT FUCKER! He just ought right said that he thinks L is Kira.

“If you can’t find any good stories out there, then bloody well make something up, dammit!”—Page 495

Fake news before fake news was a thing.

“And even if you do not agree with me, if you refrain from publicizing your views in the media or in public, you will be spared.”—Page 523

Not fascist at all.

You go Yagami-San!

Interesting, so that other Death God came down with a Death Note and is now pretending to be Kira. We’ve got a copycat on our hands.

“…to be killed by Kira, but to die at the hands of an opportunist pretending to be Kira would really grate.”—Page 565

Of course.

Ah, so this is Misa. I’ve heard that “she’s” in the movie. Interesting.

“The internet is full of irresponsible claims about Kira and L’s identity, it would be impossible to verify.”—Page 606

I bet 4chan could have figured this out within ten minutes.

Rem, Misa’s Shinigami, knows how to kill a Shinigami.

They have to fall in love with a human? That sounded silly but it’s actually interesting.

I’m assuming that Misa is going to die because she’ll fall in love with Light. Oh, so Misa was the girl who going to get killed but Gelus saved her. So she received the Death Note.

“If you want me to kill her then I’ll do it right now.”—Page 660

Damn, Misa.

This is going to be an interesting relationship.

“I can’t let her live too long.”—Page 667

Very loving relationship.

“Misa: Then would you like me to call you ‘Knight’ instead? Since you’re Misa’s knight in shining armor, I’d love to call you that. Light:…No…Light is fine… Ryuk: HYUK HYUK HYUK”—Page 670

Alright, I approve of Misa being added to cast list.

Ryuk and I had the same reaction to Light calling Misa, “sweetie”.

“Yes…Light-Kun isn’t Kira…Or rather, I don’t want Light-Kun to be Kira. Because…Light-Kun is my first ever friend.”—L, Pages 701-702

L, sweetheart.

“If I die in the next few days, your son is Kira.”—Page 718

Poor Yagami-San, he’s being dragged along by L.

Wait, there are more L’s?

“I’ve been a huge fan since the March issue of ‘Eighteen’!”—Page 727

L, you weirdo.

L STOLE MISA’S PHONE!

“Misa Amane has been apprehended on suspicion of being the second Kira.”—Page 734

Wow!

So Misa gave up her ownership of the Death Note and now she’ll have no memories of what happened.

“I might be Kira.”—Light, Page 762

Go on.

So, now Light is pretending to be possessed or not have memory of it.

Wait, he actually got rid of the Death Note? I guess the next 1600 pages are going to be full of L and Light having a wacky college experience.

Shit, Rem gave Misa’s death note to someone else.

I’m sure after L and Light beat the shit out of each other, this bromance can truly bloom.

Y’know what would be an interesting villain? Someone who was framing people so Kira would kill them.

I miss Light having the Death Note. Also we kind of stopped hearing Light’s inner monologue which made this story interesting. Hear his thought process and figuring things out was enjoyable. I get that he can talk to L about this but it’s just not that fun.

“Kira can’t be that cheap. That would be so uncool.”—Page 868

Was a Millennial stereotype a thing back in the early 2000s? Matsuda totally is one.

“Dying in the line of duty is heroic, buy dying while unemployed is just stupid.”—Page 886

Nice L quote.

“There’s nothing to worry about. Eraldo Coil…is also me.”—L, Page 910

WHAT?!

Shimura is just nervous as fuck about everything.

“The number of pages of the Death Note will never run out.”

Good to know?

A problem with these business executives are that they’re clearly not really a challenge for Light and L. The two easily figure out who’s doing it, why they’re doing it and able to spy on them.

I don’t understand why is making comments about him dying. Bitch, these business men don’t know what the fuck their doing.

L and Light hit each other a lot.

“I gained another friend.”—Page 1011

D’awwwww! L!

Oh, now the bad guys are trying to be careful?

“I’ll take Misa Amane as my wife.”—Page 1024

That escalated quickly.

Rem took a piece of the Death Note and gave it to Misa so she could talk to her. Also Rem is female. Light, how dare you assume her sex!

“Now that I think about it, Light Yagami may be as pure as you are, Misa. Light Yagami was using the notebook not for himself but for the betterment of the human world…I can understand now why he’d want to erase those who got it in his way.”—Page 1049

Really?

I hope L becomes friends with the business-Kira because it’ll continue the trend of all his friends being Kira.

Well, that recording doesn’t really necessarily prove it was Higuchi. He could just be in contact with Kira. I mean I, as the reader, know he is but in this world’s court of law…I dunno.

I don’t know whether the author really hates Matsuda or really loves him.

“If a Death Note owner accidentally misspells a name four times, that person will be free from being killed by the Death Note. However, if they intentionally misspell the name four times, the Death Note owner will die.”—Page 1102

Harsh.

I haven’t really mentioned this but Namikawa is super attractive and he’s the only good part of this plot. I hope he sticks around.

L can fly a helicopter, apparently. And Watari has a sniper, interesting.

“Wedy: Do you ever loosen up? Mr. Yagami: Nope.”—Page 1158

I love him. Aw, and he took the bullet for Wedy. Such a good guy.

Thank god for all this exposition about what Aizawa was doing.

WATARI SHOT THE GUN OUT OF HIGUCHI’S HAND! HE JUST BECAME A TOTAL BADASS!

“There are male and female gods of death, but it is neither permitted, nor possible for them to have sexual relations with humans. The gods of death also cannot have sex with each other.”—Page 1178

And on the day that this was published millions of fanfic writers wept.

Oh shit Mr. Yagami touched the Death Note and now he can see Rem. This is not going to be good for his heart.

That’s clever using a collage of images from previous books.

“I’ve won…”—Page 1195

My god. That’s terrifying but also I’m so glad that Light has the Death Note back. He’s a really boring character when he’s not INSANE.

#death note #tsugumi ohba #takeshi obata #reviewsdaytuesday #2017 Reviews

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anneedmonds · 4 years

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We’re Done Here

I think I need a lawyer. Not because I’ve done anything illegal recently (unless plotting to kill the man who keeps strimming his bushes at night counts. Who the hell strims in the dark? Surely as an activity that presents so many dangers that it makes the whole endeavour entirely unfeasible? Decapitating badgers is one peril that comes immediately to mind. Slicing hedgehogs in two, like they’ve unwittingly volunteered themselves as participants in a magic trick with the world’s worst magician, is another. Then there’s obviously the danger to your own limbs. Although…the perfect murder seems to be developing in front of my very eyes!)

Where was I? Lawyer. Yes, I’ve decided that I need a lawyer and I need him or her to follow me around 24/7. Not for legal advice, you understand: merely to get me quickly and efficiently out of conversations that I don’t want to have and/or prevent me from doing my usual “nervous rambling on for twenty minutes at the end of meetings to the point where everyone else on the call/in the room can’t wait to get away from me” trick.

I don’t know whether it’s because I spend a lot of time alone, but as soon as I’m thrown into an intense conversational situation – whether work or social – I go into meltdown towards the end. The part where I know that someone – everyone – is going to have to say goodbye in an elegant and gracious manner.

I just can’t do it! Either I feel bad, as though I’m snubbing the other person by wanting to go, and so compensate by being overly nice for five minutes too long, or I begin to panic that I’ll be trapped for hours and hours and so say something stupid.

Which is why I need one of those shit-hot lawyers – preferably an American one – to extricate me. Whether it’s a meeting in person (you know, in the future) or an informal phone call, I want them there, smelling of Tom Ford Private Blend and writing stuff in their Smythson notebook with a golden pen.

And if all of this is confusing and you haven’t got the faintest clue what I’m on about then you need to watch more American crime series on the telly. Because if there’s one thing that you can rely on in an American crime series (and many of the British ones too) it’s that the lawyer will always know when to cut a meeting short. There’s no situation too tricksy for a Netflix/Amazon Prime attorney – if they want their client out of the room then they just utter three words:

“We’re done here”.

We’re done here is lawyer speak for “I know my client’s rights and we don’t have to say any more so there, we’re off matey!” but in television, it’s also code for “the writers have trickled out all of the tantalising evidence they want the viewer to see but are now too lazy to think of a good way to get to the next scene whilst retaining that nail-biting sense of mystery and suspense”.

“I think we’re done here.”

Ugh, so sauve. So assured. The cops never argue with it – the lawyer is usually scraping back their metal-framed chair as they say the magic sentence, standing up beneath the unflattering interview strip-light and gesturing to their client to follow them. It’s so brilliant! Just a few words and it stops everything. It’s like when you’re little and you wouldn’t go to sleep so your Mum would call your Dad and you’d hear him coming up the stairs and he’d say “that’s enough now, get to sleep” and that would be that. Eyes closed, no arguing, asleep in sixty seconds.

Bad analogy, possibly, but you know what I mean. There’s a sense of authority and “don’t mess with me f*ckhead” when the lawyer on the telly says “we’re done here”. Sometimes they get called out – we get double-bluffed and the detective has more damning evidence on the criminal/murderer/trickster than they initially let on – but not often.

Anyway, I digress. I want one of these lawyers to follow me about, to sit and listen to what I have to say (God, how boring!) and then, when they can see that it’s time that I shut the actual fcuk up they could just put a steady hand on my shoulder, look directly at the person I’m babbling to and say, confidently,

“I think we’re done here.”

To be fair, one hundred percent of the time at the moment that person would be my husband, so I’ll allow them to be a bit softer – maybe “I think we’re done here?” with a question mark – but if I’m honest, in lockdown the lawyer is needed more than ever. The number of conversations about bins, painting, hedges and grocery orders that should have been pretty straightforward but that have turned into full-scale wars could have all been avoided if we’d both had a sharp-suited LA attorney next to us.

“Oh that’s right, you always do the bloody bins don’t you and let’s not forget it! Well let me tell you sonny-Jim, doing the bins isn’t all that, because back in 2005 I did the bins for a week so I could -“

Weighty hand on my shoulder. Stern nod. “Ruth, I think we’re done here.”

Could have saved me a dozen arguments, nearly all my fault. Although, thinking about it, maybe I’d have won them more often if I’d had a shit-hot Bosch-style lawyer in a ten thousand dollar Chanel suit! And imagine all of the awkward questions that could have been avoided – all of those ones that tell you you’ve lost before you’ve even begun:

“Erm, did you actually remember to order the dog food when I said because he has none left and it takes a week to be delivered.”

Shit, shit shit.

“No….I think we’re done here.”

Ha. Wouldn’t it be great? I’d definitely my lawyer to sit in on all of my Zoom meetings, which seem to turn me even more random and rambling than usual, if that’s possible. I just can’t shut up! But sometimes it’s other people who can’t shut up, and in that case my attorney (I’m going to call her Barb Wire) would just raise an eyebrow and inch ever so slightly closer to the laptop camera:

“I think we’re done here.”

Bam! Goodbye. I’d never be the last one in the Zoom Room! I can never work out how to exit the bloody thing without looking like someone who has accidentally pressed the “change PIN” button on the cash machine. Fumble no more, my friends, Barb Wire Esq. is here to cut this meeting off at the knees! At the first inkling of anyone beginning to ask what everyone’s up to at the weekend,

“We’re done here.”

The entire group has started to talk about Love Island or I’m A Celebrity?

“We’re done.”

Oh! Here’s the best one. Barb can’t stand it when a pointless meeting is called – usually to “talk over” a presentation that has already been sent by email. She hates those meetings with lots of people on speakerphone, when one assigned representative reads out the presentation word. for. word. The presentation you’ve already read thoroughly the night before and now also see before you with your own eyes. This one calls for an early exit, if Barb is involved.

“Okay everyone, thanks for joining! I hope you all got the email with the PDF of the presentation attached – if you haven’t seen it then it’s on the email titled PRESENTATION ATTACHED. What we’re going to do over the course of this call is a) talk about what we’re going to talk about on the call and b) talk through the presentation word for painful word until your eyes and ears are bleeding and c) any questions? Yes, Barb, fire away!”

“We’re done here.”

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

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