#also the meaning of the song boiled down is “you fucked around now its time to find out”
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I'm so fucking tired of people reading into everything that's Jewish or Israeli with bad faith.
I'm also tired of people who have large platforms spreading misinformation
#yes this is about hasan and his twitch stream listening to the “genocidal hip hop song”#like he watched a video with a translation that was incorrect#if you know hebrew or found the video which has the “correct translation” you would know that its not a genocidal song#i put correct in quotations as not every word in any language can have its true meaning be translated into english#also the meaning of the song boiled down is “you fucked around now its time to find out”#also it is a bop#and stilla is hot#new celebrity crush unlocked lol#jumblr#Israel
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Uhhhh how about 17?
<3
doing these how i usually do! story above cut, commentary below.
All I Need to Know - Thousand Foot Krutch
it’s underneath the shade of the palistrom tree—palistrom tree, and isn’t that something luz never thought she’d be able to say again—that mari, with her paws crossed in front of her, tilts her head into the sunlight that casts her edges in gold and says, “did we ever figure out how to make sure mami survives us graduating?”
luz pauses. “huh. i mean, i think she’s used enough to the boiling isles by now?”
mari stares at her for a long moment. “gus said they dump boiling water on the audience.”
“okay,” says luz, “but consider. do we actually believe him? ‘cause that doesn’t just kill humans, that kills, like, everyone. unless you’re king or sraf—most of the time—or firefly, i think? i think she could survive a little bit of boiling water.” luz nudges her daemon’s side. “what’s your real issue?”
mari huffs, turning away. “you can’t read my mind.”
“yes i can!” luz sing-songs, and mari rolls her eyes, but lets out a long whuff, tilting her head.
“fine,” she says, “i guess i’m just…i mean, all of this,” and she gestures with a paw to the palistrom around them, which is pretty much the best representation of how far they’ve gone in the past four years, “has been great, and i don’t want to let it go. but—we graduate. we do witch college. and then…what?”
“aww, mari.” luz flops down across her daemon, and mari grunts, trying to bite at her hair. “look at you all worried about the future. things are going to be good. we’re going to major in literally everything, continue to learn about how magic and glyphs and all that works, and king is going to follow in our footsteps, and we’re going to cry and be so proud. and wrestle him if he ever dares to usurp us as world’s coolest glyph-user. i don’t care if he’s a titan.”
mari rolls her eyes, but there’s something fond, there, too, that’s soft against the edges of luz’s mind, where their sharp bits don’t poke out so harsh anymore. “fine. fine! you’re right” she hauls herself standing and ignores luz’s giggling. “but we are reminding principal bump to not like, accidentally kill our mom somehow. quite frankly i’m still surprised hexside doesn’t have a higher body count.”
luz reaches a hand up to the sky, framing the fragile palistrom leaves between her fingers.
“it’s doing pretty good,” luz says, and she means hexside, sure, but everything else, too: at all the ways their world has changed, since they were fourteen and fighting and scared. “i’m glad we get to graduate here. together.”
“yeah, yeah.” but mari lands, small and fluffing out her feathers, on luz’s chest. “me too.”
Commentary
genuinely forgot this song was on my playlist. anyways.
post-canon stuff! now that i have the entire story written (I HAVE THE ENTIRE STORY WRITTEN, WHAT THE FUCK) i know exactly where i end in the owl house timeline, which is actually earlier than owl house canon does! as of now the fic ends about 6 months after belos's defeat. so here i decided well, let's do a lil thing around the time owl house proper ends! right before luz-mari graduate hexside.
its really interesting to write these drabbles now that the fic is done. bc like, before i was just testing things out--now i know exactly how everything goes, you know? unless i choose to ignore canon, all of these are now canon to how my fic will end! wild.
i think witch college is such a fun and cool idea. i feel like luz and mari probably will end up teaching there, at some point...glyphs are already sort of a language in owl house proper and i push that even further in my fic, so i like to think that adult luz-mari is out there teaching classes on how to translate witch-magic to glyph-magic and all the overlaps.
theres a LOT of knowledge gaps post-belos-defeat, basically. lots of stuff that was destroyed and has to be rediscovered.
also i think the idea of luz-mari king and sraf (the collector) all collabing on like, an academic paper is literally so funny. these three children are the most prominent scholars on glyphs in the entirety of the boiling isles! they do get into month-long fights over what they're suppose to call dust. stardust? sraf? dust? magic? some new word? who knows!! not them!!!
#and a grove of palistrom to you#toh#luz noceda#i write#one of my favorite things about daemon aus is actually the like#science that would come out of it#i never focus on it in-story as much as i could but in my heart that is all i want
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tl asleep, time to talk about a song for the birds
little preamble to say that i love how this song can apply to both lunter and caleb/evelyn - after all they're one and the same :) the fantasy motif it has going on also helps. and how it's titled "song for the birds", making a reference to flapjack... mwah!
that dungeon metaphor, i am munching it DOWN.
imo this song works so good with both perspectives: the start of the song can immediately show how much luz and hunter are hiding - not from each other, but also themselves. luz's struggle with her grief and her status as an outcast in both realms, hidden under her facade of optimism; and hunter's years of abuse piling up as he struggles with his cognitive dissonance. i also love how this touches on the soulmate-y energy of if all: how they were fated to meet, once again caleb running away from philip with evelyn.
i like the first line as a hint of their playfulness (like fuck if i'm not going to EMBRACE it.) but also "do your dance / take some chances": how luz marks the beginning of hunter rebelling against belos and making a life of his own. boy is indeed taking some chances.
ah, and then:
SHE LITERALLY REACHES OUT TO HIM.
do i need to say anymore...
how they learned to lean on each other during TTT and luz formally welcomes him into the main group ("you're family now"). for how different their, uh, "belos demons" are, there's something so powerful about hunter's realization about belos directly impacting luz's arc. belos tricks people and that's what he does: he did it with hunter and then he did it with luz. it's a rational, real conclusion that manages to pull luz out from her guilt spiral for long enough for her to agree to go back to the demon realm.
i also love that last line: "nothing you could say could ever make me flinch". the contrast of hunter's behavior around belos VS luz during hollow mind. he makes himself small around belos, yet he legitimately opens himself up to luz. again, he takes her hand: she offers him the physical comfort of her hand (along with her trust) and he makes the decision to accept it. yes i feel very normal about all of this why'd you ask :)
i like how "bright as fire" can apply to both of them: obviously with luz ("light" in spanish) and her signature light glyph; and yellow/gold as hunter's signature color contrasting luz's purple palette. there's also the imagery of flapjack covered in flames during the wittebane story in TTT.
the rest of the bridge continues to remind us the bond between caleb and evelyn bleeding through every grimwalker, all the way to hunter and luz. there's the honoring to flapjack, too: this is a song for the birds. the little guy that introduced luz to hunter deserves nothing less.
the last verse can be interpreted in so many ways: darkness could just mean the general jumble of negative feelings both luz and hunter are dealing with in their time away from the boiling isles. in that case, we know how much they lean on each other during that. said "darkness", described as inevitable, makes it clear that they both have each other in case the guilt and grief get too much to handle.
this could also hint to the upcoming last battle against belos: both inevitable and decidedly terrible for them, and with luz and hunter being key players in the plot i don't expect anything less.
the last two lines are clear reminders of their undying loyalty to each other. with belos as a common enemy, they'll always have each other's backs. but beyond that, the recognition of their bond in the context of caleb and evelyn's story: they're bound to each other, forever. oh, romance at its finest.
#lunter#huntceda#yes i did spend my summer vacation listening to this song and thinking about them#Spotify
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thoughts on k r&b? favorite artists/producers? i trust your opinion…..
if you want something more specific then rank beenzino’s discography lol
wow this sent me down a rabbit hole lmao i used to dip my toes a LOT into k r&b but i fell out of it after a while cause the rappers that crossed over with it so often started to annoy me a lil bit when show me the money became like...a big thing LMAO so so many of my faves are old old
beenzino has a great discography. hes definitely up there as a fave. 24 26 girl live life like a fish...still top peak album so good.
i mean zion.t is a classic and he undeniably made so much good stuff, but primary was really where it was at for me. he seems to have sort of...disappeared, but his 2012 album??? unreal. SEETHRU?????
what happened to sonnet son? she was so interesting and its so hard to find her stuff now fdjksf ms. burgundy was my fucking jam the year it came out i was so into it
i kind of fell off of it around the time dean started gaining popularity but his first album i still love. 21 is a solid bop every time i listen to it
simon d. simon dominic. simon d o m i n i c oh oh. classic. he makes great stuff. cheerz still goes as hard as ever
suran is always a good listen. like no matter what she does, her voice just comes through so nicely.
gray had a hand in a lot of songs i really loved back in the day, and to this day still he's making some interesting stuff. blink was and still is a real fave (esp the remix)
giriboy has been making a lot of things lately that i very much enjoy as well, and he has been a staple for a while i think !
i also sort of miss kanto? he did some really fun collabs with some idols. his song with infinite's sunggyu was one i listened to a lot back in the day. i should catch up with his stuff
crush is good, but i never really got too much into his stuff. i loved his song 'sometimes' but i loved the cover by jamie park (ne jimin park) a lot more than the original tbh i was trying to find it but its so impossible fjhdaskjfd maybe ill have to upload it from my itunes
dynamic duo's 7th album (luckynumbers) is one that i really enjoyed. it was like...nice summertime r&b.
i used to listen to this guy called eachone a lot. he had an album in 2012 called diorama that i was really really in love with. especially the song i like...
this soulights album in particular
sexyhomme had some mixtapes that i loved that sort of straddled the line between r&b and hip hop a lot, but i always loved them. theyre difficult to find now, but he has some stuff up on spotify that is still very good ! (also 0 monthly listeners??? wth?)
do you remember that cover of officially missing you that geeks did? i dont know what happened to them but i still listen to that song. they did one with jo hyunah of urban zakapa too called just go and i really love that song
as far as the current k r&b scene goes, i think that bibi and bi (funny) are making some really interesting stuff ! btbt blew my fucking mind so im happy to see him doing some stuff. and bibi is hit or miss for me with her actual songs but i always think she's doing something interesting.
mino's last album is genuinely phenomenal. im so into it. i think he has been doing some really interesting things for a while now but that album was sort of the best of him all boiled down into one package. i loved kill and the title track tang ofc
sam kim put out a nice album in 2018 that i got to late but its a great time.
i would be remiss if i didnt mention feeldog !! ex-idol now doing a lot of production and his own solo stuff. and its all exceptionally good and very underrated. detox really is a favourite of mine this year, such a gem
the scene has changed so much from when i used to actively pay attention to it i dont even really know who is still in it beyond the k r&b that is so seeped into the fabric of kpop itself now. im glad so many idols are finding some purchase in the genre through solo careers and stuff, like genuinely i love yugyeoms r&b, and baekhyun and kai make some really solid stuff.
honestly it seems to me like the future of k r&b is a lot of idols / ex idols who genuinely grew up on and love the genre and are bringing their flavour and experience from the pop industry side of things to r&b and i think thats pretty cool. its always been rather interwoven, but you see more and more crossover now than ever before
#jesus i was supposed to go to bed forever ago but i got really focused in on this question LOL#i know there are so many that im missing#just by the nature of it but#replies#naptimed#also the muddy waters of kpop / k r&b#i was trying to keep it mostly#....non pop focused??? but i do love a lot of what idols are doing rn in the k r&b sphere#the old guard has sort of faded away it seems#this is so long and so like....disorganized im so sorry lmao
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Glass Onion | Erik Azrael | Trial 1.4 | Re: Ae-ra, AIRika, Eureka, Eri
This marks the third time from the third separate person in the last twenty-four hours that Erik and AIRika are simultaneously accused for being closer than friends, apparently. Frankly, if it wasn't for the fact this was getting really tiresome, the thespian might have laughed at the literary significance of the rule of threes, especially given how hypocritical it all was that every single one of those people had someone they probably cared about just as much and would chomp at the bit to defend just as well. But he is really sick and tired of people accusing AIRika for simply existing, and also harping on him for wanting to defend people he cared about. What made him so separate from them? Just the fact he could articulate things politely without resorting to shouting and petty insults? Manipulating people with pretty words? Was that what made the fucking difference?
Sigh. Right now, he was just severely annoyed at the pinkette two podiums to the right. Both Eureka and Eri had gotten the point of his argument against accusing blindly across, at least, so he'd simmered down from boiling point a bit ago.
"If accusations based on assumptions are what you prefer, never mind the fact that you are, to put it, simping just as hard for Mx. Lapis and gutting me about it, then it stands to reason you will have no objection to us dropping the subject now that neither has panned out." And as much as the first source of anger had all the destruction and rage of a hurricane, the second source was the eye of the storm. Perfectly calm and placid on the surface, but bottomless in its depth. "Woe betide me to admit it, Eureka has gotten my implication that I honestly could not think of why Mx. Lapis would go through so much trouble to try and circumvent their restriction, only to be shocked if they knew something had a good chance of undoing everything they had worked for. And as I knew, and as Ae-ra has helpfully pointed out, Mx. Lapis has decent knife skills, which makes them going through this whole song-and-dance routine of sandwich-making even more suspicious in hindsight. They undercooked their fish, grated their cheese, and ate that with lettuce on bread. That is an observation, not any indication of guilt unless it means something to someone else here."
He sighs. "I am not directly accusing Mx. Lapis because those are circumstantial evidence pieces, and therefore they should be allowed to explain for themselves before we settle on anything. I do not intend to accuse them further until they have clarified Eureka's point." And Erik will magnanimously drop the matter at that.
"In the interest of transparency about the knife situation, you all saw me with the cake knife last night. I returned that to its stand after cleaning, and it was present this morning while I was cooking. When our group re-entered the Eatery to look around, all but the one knife was still present, so I imagine it was taken sometime during the investigation." He glances at the fallen plate. "Presumably, by Eureka to make her French Toast. If it is still missing, I can at least say that I am currently not in possession of any knives from the Eatery myself."
Erik pulls out his tablet. "I cannot comment on why her purse had blood over it, but I did want to bring up the fact that Miss Murphy's final letter in the Trampoline Room had been written and rewritten with some length, and the apples had been cut into but not eaten, perhaps because she was busy writing.. I may not have known her long, but I do not suspect in this environment that Miss Murphy would willingly enter a room with someone in it to write her letter since it was not meant for anyone else to see at that point. The only two people that I think she might have been comfortable with were asleep or engaged with Erik A at the time." He means Kaguya and Byrne. "With all sincerity, I do believe she was the one who brought the cutting board and fruits to the Trampoline Room a lot earlier, which matches up with the last time Miss Danger and Ae-ra saw her depart, the knife having already disappeared by then because she took it. Whoever entered next then sparked the chain of events that led us here."
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Oct 4th & 5th Double Whammy The Columist & Cuphead Day 18/19
Exhausted from Covid Booster but not down
A feminist jurno
Twitter dox threats bout her kid
Lil fake model cuuute
Omg that dude is giving pick up artist extrodanaire
She has to write a book
Omg why is there a poster of him in the office
Back to Twitter
If it's that's bad you should go to the police
Bb journo kicked off school paper
Black Pete! Extremely racist no prob with that
Advocating violence
Back to Twitter
Oh she did comment on black pete
A negative commentor looks like a construction worker
Is that her friend? Because she was saying shit things before
Her bike got jacked
Why did she break the fence?
Is that an orb weaver? They make webs in hallways its mad irritating
Grooosss why
Joy boiled egg
Rom com
Now he fucking stay there?
wtf
Now comments section of the egg post
Just murdering guys that probably aren't the commentors at all
Like literally none are confirmed
Now she wants to chat
At least this is confirmed
It's wild hearing older languages than yours and you're like damn we stole Hella your words
Full serial killer trophies and all
These just bug me because you can't just become a serial killer if you're pissy
Out to eat in public
It would piss me off a fake guy spewing fake violence irl has no anger
Now pizza gate shit
None of this is tracking
But what's her face is a great actor
Even still it's getting slow the character deviations aren't explained
The fact that she's doing all this out in the open is....
Pizza gate person is a punk
This is... Dozens
I would say it's writing but there was one on the news
19/16 is not cool though
Still making protest posters
It's lagging in the middle how can she be that good at murder with no practice
Principal way too far
What's the payoff if she's already around the bend?
Police
Just dropped a name and left
Dumb enough to leave bloody tools but smart enough to have a kit? 🙄🙄
The pizza gate is intense though
They going to bring up the writing eventually or nah?
The good guy stick doesn't play like they think it does because he is still peddling misogynistic violence and he never backs her about anything he just says ignore people saying all the things I do generally but to your face
You're not a good guy
They can't all be single yea
There's the model
What kinda writing call the police but not who or why
🙄🙄🙄
Too busy with murder to see the kid is the turning point?
Sigh That only makes narrative sense if she expressed.. Nm
Crying?
Sirens were heard she just chillin??
Boom living with dad
Cold turkey nature walk
Now he's fucking enabling
HOW CAN ANYONE BE THIS INEPT
Back at it
She love touching evidence
Pick up artist gone
Going to the event bloody
I mean good ending but not enough to justify the lag
Could have made it a tight hour also needed more messiness too clean a narrative
The Cuphead Show
I never watched the original
It was a game
Based on 36 Japanese animation
Well first off the theme song is a banger
In classic style of explaining the show in the intro
youtube
Come with me to the Inkwell Isles
It’s just off the coast, maybe twenty-nine miles
Where there’s good and there’s bad
And then there’s in between
With Cuphead and Mugman, you’ll see what I mean
Ice cream and rockets, trouble never ends!
Watch these ding-dongs as they make new friends (Zig-zag, zig-zag!)
They’ll need some help just to stay on track
Oh no, there’s that guy! You better watch your back
So, if you’rе lookin’ for fun (Yes, we’re lookin’ for fun!)
And a dash of heebiе-jeebies (We’ve got the heebie-jeebies)
Then pack your bags and let’s go!
Welcome to The Cuphead Show!
Welcome to The Cuphead Show!
Absolutely has the vintage feel
The main thing is two chuckle nugget brothers
One neurotic one chaotic get into shenanigans
And by the end it turns creepy
There's 2 seasons
It's only 10 min per sode
The cups live with their elder kettle
It's in that time frame
They run into the devil on day one
After that there are mobsters and adventures in babysitting but also ghosts pirates murder mystery and they get locked up meet a beastie girl ghost scammer and a monster candy town mayor
It's 80 slice of life 20 creepy
All while having near by brushes with the devil oh because one of the cups owes the devil his soul
I mean oh no that guy you betta watch your back
They don't try to update it the animation is retro
And the voice work
There are some fourth wall breaks
Some episodes are all horror and some are the horror of children misinterpreting things
The background is, - the painting uh landscape is creepy and set (old timey) and the animation is bright and incongruent like it used to be
They are bited sized and only a few episodes are flat
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hi, i just love you and your writing
can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp
i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them
(also on ao3 if you prefer)
Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.
This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.
Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.
“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.
Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”
“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”
Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”
Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.
She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.
Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.
But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.
"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”
Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”
The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”
“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”
"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.
Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”
She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”
Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.
Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.
Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.
But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.
Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.
In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.
-
Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.
This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.
The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.
“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”
She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.
The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.
So, Lena drinks.
She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.
Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.
Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.
They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.
She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.
Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”
Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.
"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”
“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”
She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.
Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”
Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”
Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”
Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”
Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”
Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”
“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.
“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”
Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.
The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.
And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.
In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.
-
Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.
This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.
And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.
She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.
And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.
Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.
Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.
When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”
Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.
“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”
Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”
“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.
Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”
Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”
So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”
And Lena believes her.
That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.
Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.
The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.
"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”
Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.
“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.
Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”
They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.
Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.
Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”
Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.
Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.
In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.
-
Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.
This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.
Another round of bloodshed, and for what?
Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.
Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.
It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.
Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.
She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.
She hasn't.
They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.
Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.
Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.
“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.
Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”
“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”
Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.
“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”
An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.
Now, though— now, she's just too tired.
“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”
Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”
“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”
Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.
“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”
She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”
Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”
Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.
“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”
“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”
Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.
Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.
Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”
The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.
She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.
In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.
-
One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.
This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.
Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.
Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.
Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.
In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.
"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.
Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.
The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.
Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”
A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”
Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.
“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”
Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.
She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.
Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.
They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.
For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.
-
Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.
It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.
It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.
It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.
It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.
It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.
And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”
And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.
The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.
And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.
#sorry this took approximately 8932018207402 thousand years to materialise#if you've ever sent me a prompt and thought well fuck she's taking so long with this she's clearly forgotten about it i'm just here to say:#nope!#still here#unsure how inspired by the song this actually was in the end#it's either way too close to the lyrics or not close enough#who can say#but anyway yeah. supercorp song#thank your for the prompt and the lovely message! hope you like it#asks#anonymous#ridings writes#supercorp#supercorp fanfic#supergirl#lena luthor#kara danvers
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Poppy I’ll do you one better. I present you: Stepbro! Eren who plays drums in the garage way too loud with his band friends but gets oddly possessive over you when said friends come into the house and start eyeing you down 👀👀 -Sukuna thirst anon
I kind of went in my own direction w this IJWDOJW putting it under a readmore
You come down, angrily stomping your feet along the steps as you do, with every step. For dramatic affect? Maybe. When you fling open the door to the basement, and stamp down those stairs, mouth open and ready to rant about how loud they’re being and how they need to be quiet because you’re trying to study, for fucks sake, you draw up short.
You recognize connie and jean vaguely from the times they’d come over to game, jean is cradling a microphone to his lips as he belts out lyrics, connie is jamming out on some guitar, but your eyes are immediately drawn to him. To eren. Sitting perched on a stool with his hair pulled back in a barely visible black headband, hes playing the drums expertly, deft fingers wielding the drumsticks like they are weapons somehow, head nodding along to the beat they’re all creating, and in your stupor your eyes wander a little. He’s wearing a black tanktop, and ripped jeans, those weird tattoos he has of big monsters cording around his tan arm, flexing as he drums. He’s biting his lip in concentration, a hint of a smile peeking through. He’s sweaty, high on adrenaline obviously and totally in the moment.
You blink. A moment that interrupted your studying! You remind yourself, coming out of your shock and your irritation coming back. You dont even bother to yell out for them to stop, eren would just roll his eyes at you, and you want to mean business. You stomp right over to the outlet connecting connies eletric guitar and such, yanking it out and effectively ruining their jam sesh. Three pairs of eyes fly to you, Connies and jeans from surprised to intrigued and erens whos eyebrows draw together as he scowls.
“The fuck?” he snaps at you. You meet his eyes, angry seagreen, and dont look away, crossing your arms.
“Heyy,” You hear jean sing song, and your gaze darts to his, missing the way erens jaw ticks. “Erens little sis, what can we do for you? Were we being too loud?”
You straighten a little, puffing your chest. “Yes actually, im trying to study” your glare meets erens again. “I told you that”
Eren just shrugs and looks away from you like hes bored, rolling his eyes. “And? That affects me….how?”
You stamp your foot, “I need quiet you jerk!! You play all the time, all i asked was for one day of peace and quiet and you cant even give me that?”
“Yeah you asked. Didn’t say i would listen,” he taps the end of one drumbstick idly against his knee, and quirks his brow at you, “so unless you’re here to bring us snacks, i couldnt really give less of a fuck about your peace and quiet” He sneers, “run along now”
Your blood boils and you clench your fists, god! Hes so! You dont want to do this, you really hate playing this card but sometimes he leaves you no choice. “I’ll call your dad” you threaten, and sneer right back at him, “im sure he’ll love to know how his deadbeat son is ruining his precious little stepdaughters studying time”
The result is instant. Erens gaze narrows on you like you’re the enemy, and his lips pull back, knuckles turning white from where they grip the drumbsticks. He shoves himself off the stool. “You threatening me right now, little sis?” he asks, his tone deadly. A stray peice of brown hair slips from his headband to swish against his forehead, and your brain uselessly reminds you of how beautiful he is, even when hes pissed.
You lift your chin, “S’not a threat, its a promise.” Your heart clenches a little as you say, “We both know he’ll take my side.” An ugly truth, out there wafting between the air between you. Fighting words, you can tell, because the look in erens eyes also carry a promise of war.
He looks you up and down with utter disdain before jerking his chin at the door, without taking his eyes off you “You guys go home,” he says, clipped, referring to jean and connie. “I need to deal with her”
You don't hear much complaints from either of them, just Jean shooting you an apologetic look as they both grab their stuff and leave the room quickly. The air is quiet between you and eren for a couple of seconds and you actually gulp, thinking he might cross the space and strangle you or something. But he just assesses you coldly.
Eventually you snap “You won't be dealing with me, eren. I’ll deal with you, if you dont quit it”
“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” Eren tells you, “You and your gold digging whore of a mother just think you can sweep in and run shit, is that it? You think i’ll heel to you because my dad likes you? Like that’s some kind of shit you can hold over me? Lets get something straight, princess”, and then he is pushing off the stool and approaching you, slow and methodical. He comes to stop inches in front of you, and this close you can see the light reflecting off the metal piercings adorning his earlobes, the dog tag necklace around his neck swaying as he pulls to a stop. “I dont know what stopped working up there,” and he flicks your forehead meanly, “to make you think you have any power in this house, much less over me, but-” And his grin is mean, mean, mean. “That’ll change soon”
And then hes walking back, hands in his pockets as he says casually, “You just waged war on me, little sis, hope you can keep those big girl panties on for the fallout”
#ask#sukuna thirst anon#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger smut#NOT YET BUT IN HE FUTURE#aot x reader#stepbro!eren#band!eren#tw: stepcest#incoming#this should be a series#hehe#eren yeager smut#eren yaeger imagine#eren jaeger imagine
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Cum and Cookie Dough
Synopsis: Late night sloppy and sweet encounters.
Masterlist
Send Me A Request
Word Count: 2,841
(Not my Gif)
Your phone brought you out of your sleep, its constant buzz for the past few minutes on your night stand, reaching out. The first thing you saw was the time, in big white text it said '3 A.M.' Below that was the contact photo of your boyfriend. You swiped across, answering the call and bringing it up to your ear.
"Why are you calling at 3 a.m?" You groaned, scrubbing a fist into your eye to try and remove the sleepy fog.
"Can I come over?" Cals shockingly perky voice responded.
"I mean, I guess, I'm fucking tired though, and I look terrible, why do you wanna come over?"
"I just wanna see my baby, is that illegal? And I'm sure you look stunning" You mumbled a no in response to the first question, although it was rhetorical, a blush spreading on your cheeks at the compliment. You listened to the silence before You heard a door click closed in the background of the call, alerting you to the fact that he was already getting in his car. "Can we bake cookies?"
"Sure, I'll get the stuff ready" you mumbled, pulling back the covers and shaking your head, trying to wake yourself up. "I'll see you when you get here, love you, bubba" you hummed
"I love you too, Bubbaloo" he responded in a sing-song voice before hanging up.
Your bare feet slid against the cool hard wood, sending a shiver up your body causing goosebumps to spread on your skin, you suddenly missed the comfort of your bed but you were excited to see your boy in a couple minutes.
Stepping into your kitchen you opened the cabinets, grabbing the ingredients for gooey chocolate chip cookies and setting them out on the counter and setting the oven to preheat. You put the kettle on to boil, digging through your cabinets to find your most caffeinated tea, knowing how Cal was and that you were not going to sleep for a long time. As you waited for the water to boil you started to doze off where you stood.
The click off of the kettle brings you back to the world, tearing the tea sachet open and putting it in the cup, pouring the boiling water over it tugging on the tab, watching as the water changed to a darker color as it sloshed softly at the side of the mug.
The sound of knuckles on wood made its way to your ears, shaking your head to perk yourself up again as you reached to the door handle, flipping the lock and opening the door, on the other side stood your boyfriend, loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a plain black tee shirt gracing his toned torso. You were wearing one of his shirts that you had stolen months ago and a small pair of sleep shorts, nothing underneath either piece. His soft chocolate eyes drank in your appearance before stepping over the threshold and engulfing you in his muscular arms. His lips met yours messily, sleep evident in both your beings. He pulled back, breath fanning across your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes.
"I've never seen anything more beautiful," he mumbled making you smile and giggle softly holding him close. The oven beeps from the kitchen alerting you to the fact it was now preheated.
"Ooh, the oven is ready!" He spoke excitedly, pulling your hand and guiding you to the kitchen.
"Here is the recipe," you giggled at his childlike demeanor, handing him the cookbook that you had set out earlier. The two of you began to bake, you chose to measure the ingredients because you didn’t trust him to do it right and him sifting them altogether in the bowl. When it came time to mix the wet ingredients in with the dry you put your hands in the bowl as Cal chose to stand behind you, hands slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts as you worked. You moaned softly at his cold rings on your hot flesh, but the moan got louder as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers, lips going to your neck and sucking gently at the skin, you knew that he was going to leave marks but you were enjoying it too much to tell him to stop. You felt his teeth scrape over the marks he had just made as you started to form the dough into balls and place them on the baking sheet.
“Cal” you groaned as his hand slid down your body and into the front of your short, dipping the calloused tips of his fingers into your rapidly dampening heat, he began to rub slow circles on your clit, your knees buckled under you as you gripped the counter, but Cal took your hand, sucking your fingers clean of all the cookie dough, his mouth was warm and wet, his teeth gently bumping into your knuckles, a slight pain rapidly soothed but the gentle suck of his mouth. You imagined it must be how his cock feels in your mouth. He took your fingers from your mouth, his lips returning to your neck, biting your earlobe.
“You gonna cum? You gonna cum on nothing as my fingers grind your clit, let it drip down your leg?”
“Fuck, Cal!” you screamed, as he ground his bulge into your ass, sucking harshly on your sweet spot and moving faster against your clit, your orgasm rapidly building. “Cal, more” you needed just a little more to send you over the edge and he immediately obliged, his free hand sneaking back underneath your shirt and tuggin on your nippled, rolling it between his fingertips and that was it for you, you came with a scream, your fingers gripping on to the counter as your legs shook, Cals hand between your thighs held you up as your legs couldn’t. Your abs clenched, body lurching slightly forward as his rough fingers kept you at a high for longer than you thought you could.
“Cal, fuck, Cal” you spat out as you finally came down from your high, your breath coming in pants. Cal took his fingers from your pussy, they glistened with arousal in the low kitchen light, catching your eye, you watched his movements intensely. He reached for the cookie dough bowl, scooping the final bit of leftover dough onto his two fingers and splitting them apart, cum and cookie dough on each finger. He brought one finger to his own mouth, sucking it clean and releasing a satisfied noise before offering you his other finger which you gladly accepted. It tasted of chocolate and sugar but there was the slight tang of your cum mixed in with the uncooked ingredients.
You turned around in Cal’s arms, looking him in the eye as you felt his dick press against you, you felt the need to have him, nearly insatiable, the way his pubes tickled the tip of your nose and how soft he felt in your mouth. You held up a finger, signalling him to give you a moment as you slipped from his grasp. Grabbing the baking sheets and placing them in the intensely hot oven before turning back to your wonderfully horny boyfriend who had jumped up and was now sitting on the counter, legs spread and bulge evident as his eyes devoured every inch of you, the rapidly darkening marks on your neck that he had given you, the glisten on your thighs from where you had began to drip, god it all made him want you more. You positioned yourself between his thighs, nails scraping along his sweatpants covered thighs as you got nearer his cock. You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyeing his lip caught between his teeth, holding in moans that built in his throat. You stood up, his face covered with confusion as you tugged his lip from between his teeth.
“I wanna hear you moan, baby” you whisper, your eyes boring into his, leaning in to kiss him gently, eyelids fluttering closed as your lips meet. “Never hold back again, okay?” you hum as you fell back down so you were mouth level with his cock. You felt the heat radiating off of the warm ove, the cookies baking inside releasing a delicious smell but all you could think about was Cals cock in your mouth. You ran your hand over his bulge, a small whimper coming from the back of his throat at the tender touch. You bit him gently through the cloth, eliciting a moan from him, encouraging you to do more. You reached for his waistband hooking your fingers and pulling down, letting his cock spring free in front of you. Reaching for his hard on, you traced a gentle line up one side, following the pattern of his veins before getting to the tip, you felt as he squirmed under your touch. Without warning you took him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before you went deeper, his tip touched the back of your throat causing you to gag, the sudden contraction of your throat around him made his hips buck upwards, cock going even further down your throat. Your fingernails dug into his hip bone as you saturated to bob your head up and down, his dick hitting the back of your throat with every downward movement.
“Fuck, Y/n you feel so good, so fucking good,” he moaned, his head falling back and hitting the cabinet, but he didn’t care, his fingers going through your hair. You felt him twitch against your tongue, alerting you to the fact that he was close to cumming. You pulled back, wiping the built up spit from around your lips and look at Calum through your eyelashes.
“I want you to cum in my pussy” you groaned.
“I want that as well” Calum hummed and just as he was slipping off the counter and grabbing your waist you jumped back.
“FUCK” you screamed making Cal freakout
“What? Are you okay? What happ-”
“The cookies!” you yell grabbing the oven mits and opening the oven, a cloud of smoke exiting the oven and tainting your vision. You reached in once you could see well enough and pulled the tray of charred treats out.
“Did you set it on fire?” Cal asked, trying to look over your shoulder.
“No, they aren’t on fire, they are just burnt to all hell,” you mumble, greatly disappointed at your failed baking endeavor, “Also it wouldn’t have just been me who set them on fire, this” you gestured between the both of you and then to the cookies “was a team effort.” Calum laughed as you set the cookies down, turning the oven off. His hands found your waist, squeezing your hips and pulling upwards signaling for you to jump, which you did.
“I can think of another team effort I want to do with you” he spoke, leaning into your lips.
“That wasn’t as hot as you thought it was but I love you anyway” you giggle, crashing your lips to his swollen pink ones. His hands on your ass, squeezing the supple flesh and holding you tight to his chest, he walked you both to your bedroom, never leaving from the fight between lips, teeth, and wandering hands.
The both of you fell onto the bed, Calum hovering over you as his lips stayed on yours, fingers slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and pulling it up to just above your breast, as soon as the mounds of flesh were uncovered he ducked his head down and took a nipple into his mouth while you finished removing your shirt, as well as awkwardly wiggling out of your shorts, while treasuring the feeling of his lips sucking your pebbled nipples. He pulled back, taking in your naked state, his cock somehow getting even harder as he took in your swollen lips, dazed eyes, and hickey covered neck. He quickly removed his pants, leaving him in just his shirt and you couldn’t help but think of Winnie to Pooh, you giggled as his eyes looked at you to as if he was asking what was funny but instead of answering you stuck your foot out, bunching the fabric between your toes and pulling upwards, effectively removing his shirt from his body.
“I didn’t know you could do that” he mumbled as he leaned down reattaching your lips with his.
“I am full of surprises” you mumbled against his full lips. You felt his cock press between your lips, the head teasing your entrance and a moan escaped your lips. His hips eased slowly till you were hip bone to hip bone, every inch of his cock sheathed inside of you, you could practically feel his cock pulsing against your walls as you clenched around him.
“Fuck, baby, so warm and wet,” he groaned against the shell of you ear as he drew his hips back before pushing forward and into you again. It almost felt like it was too much, how his skin felt slick with sweat as his body gilded against yours, how hot his breath felt, how your walls stretched around him as he pulled in and out of you. You felt like you were on fire, every nerve in your body aware of his gentle touch as he continued to thrust, a familiar heat developing in the bottom of your belly, right where it met his, where your gentle flesh touched. Your toes curled as you dragged your nails down Calum’s back.
His hands explored your body, running up and down, feeling every curve and bump of your soft body beneath him, there was exhaustion on your tongue and the faintest taste of cookie dough. He felt your nipples rub against his chest, their hardness tugging against his taught flesh as he felt muscles in his lower belly clench.
“Baby, I’m close” he hummed, continuing to thrust in and out of you, his rate picking up ever so slightly as he felt your pussy clench around him more rapidly.
“Cum with me, Cal,” you cried as you arched your back into his chest, your fingers tugging at the hair at the nape of Cal’s neck. You felt Cal cum within you, it felt warm and in an odd way comforting, you felt closer than you had ever been. After you had both rode out your highs Cal rolled off of you, both of you in silence as you caught your breath.
As you both lay exhausted in your bed, the smell of burnt cookies still wafting throughout your house but it mostly reeked of sex now. Reaching out you intertwined your hand with Calum’s, turning your head to look at him and finding him already looking at you.
“Hold my hand and don’t let go” he said in nearly a whisper, squeezing your fingers between his.
“I'm going to have to go to the bathroom at some point, Cal” you giggled, his face mocking extreme hurt.
“Why can’t you promise me forever?” he cried dramatically, pulling you into his chest and laying on leg over both of yours so you were fully engulfed in his embrace. You laughed at his dramatic antics, enjoying simply existing with him. His fingers traced up and down your back gently soothing you into a nearly asleep state.
“Baby,” Cal whispered into your hair and you hummed in response. “We have to get ready for bed” he reminded you, pulling you up into a sitting position. You nodded your head slightly before standing up, reaching out for Cal and he grabbed your hand standing with you. You stood in front of the mirror when the dark marks on your neck caught your eye.
“CAL!!” you shouted as you spun to look at him, your hand on your neck touching the tender flesh with the tips of your fingers.
“Yes babe?” he asked sheepishly, as though he didn’t know what you were talking about.
“How am I supposed to cover these up? There are so many of them and they are so dark!” You exclaimed, slightly exasperated but also very entertained.
“I'm sure you will figure out a way” he spoke, wrapping his arms around you, continuing to look at your reflection in the mirror.
“So when can I see you again?” he grinned at you through the mirror, you turned around to meet his gaze, raising your hand and covering his eyes with your palm.
“Right now.” you giggled as you pulled your hand away causing him to laugh at your childish antics. You finished brushing your teeth in silence, Calum using the toothbrush that he kept at yours, the occasional glance to one another making you both smile widely. Once you were both ready, you wandered back to your bed, the sun peeking from beneath the curtains as you finally settled down, falling asleep in each others arms right as the world began to wake up.
Hope yall enjoyed!
@major5sosstan
#calum hood#calum hood one shot#calum hood x reader#calum#calum hood 5 seconds of summer#calum hood 5sos#calum hood smut#calum hood fluff#mae writes#5 seconds of summer#5 secs of summer#5 seconds of smut#michael 5 seconds of summer#calum 5sos#calum5sos#5sos#5secondsofsummer#5sos calum
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Jealous
A/n: y'all should already know I really like beyonce and I really like fics inspired by music so this is just a product of that 😘 I linked the song in the title
Also language warning? Da be cursing in this one
You watched the clocks hit 4am
Keigo should have been home hours ago
Yet he wasnt
Not even a call or text
Clearly he forgot or he didnt care
And all you could do was sit there alone and feel pathetic
Your tears had already dried up a half hour ago
But that didnt mean you felt anything less then humiliated as you sat there with the now empty bottle of champagne and half naked in the lingerie you bought
It was your two year anniversary
You had it all planned out although you didnt plan for him to be a no show
But you could only blame yourself for that
Having a hero as a boyfriend is difficult
Anyone who was in a relationship with one would agree with that
But you were sure you had it just a bit worse
Because your boyfriend just so happened to be the number 2 hero
You thought it was bad when he was just number 3
But since hawks started holding the second spot it kept getting worse
At first things were fine; Great even.
He was a dotting boyfriend the two of you talked and laughed with each other about everything
Anyone who saw you together wouldn't have any doubts that you were in love
And you knew being in an official relationship would be difficult he was a hero after all
And especially since he didnt even want anyone knowing about the two of you
But you remember all those sweet words keigo would tell you
"I don't know what I'd do without you babe."
"I dont want anyone else sweetheart."
"Kid you're the most important person in my life."
"I love you y/n."
But that was the thing keigo said those things keigo was the one who kept promises he was the one you fell in love with
Not hawks
They were different people
Hawks was the man who put everything above you
The one whos lies and refuses to be straight with you
The one who shuts you out
The one who shamelessly flirted with everyone even on national tv knowing you'd see
But still didnt seem to care
And if he didn't care why should you?
Hawks got home around 6am and saw the place a mess
Curtain on the floor, broken glass. Everything disheveled
He almost thought someone had broken in and had a fight
But he knew bettter when he saw you sitting on the couch mascara stain on your face
"Shit." He mutter to himself
He knew exactly why you were upset and had this tantrum
But it wasnt exactly like he could pause in the middle of a mission to text you
"Im sorry y/n." He said sitting a banquet of roses down beside you
But keigo knew at this point those flowers were useless
"You think thats supposed to make me feel better?" You said bitterly
"Babe-"
"Dont fucking babe me." You yelled at him, "You forgot! I sat up all night looking like an idiot and you forgot because when it comes down to it you don't care about anyone but yourself keigo!"
"I was working."
"Like I believe that," you shook your head, "I bet you were with one of your new sidekicks. I bet you were just showing off for one of your adoring fans forgetting that im here."
You knew he was telling the truth he had no reason to lie about it
But in your mind you wanted to yell, you wanted to be angry you wanted to hurt him like he had been hurting you
Because tonight wasnt the first time he didnt keep a promise as of late or just simply neglected you
This had been boiling for a while and now the pot was over flowing
Hawks grew more frustrated as you yelled you were making stuff up and it wasn't even his fault
"It wasn't like that," he tired to talk only for you to jump in
"Save it hawks." You rolled your eyes walking out the room, "just admit you dont appreciate me cause you're comfortable knowing im just sitting here waiting on you and you don't have to put any real effort when you want to get your dick wet."
Keigo followed you from the other room yelling, "You know that isnt true! And you knew how this relationship was going to be from the beginning!"
"What realtionship?" You yelled, "You're barely home! I never see you anymore, and when I do its either you on tv flirting with some random person! Or when were here together you dont talk anymore! How do you think that makes me feel?"
You were letting your fears and jealousies speak, "is it someone else? Are you fucking somebody else Keigo."
"You are so insane of course not! Im working all the time its commission stuff I cant talk about it." Keigo knew deep down you were right he had been drifting away but that was because of work not because he was falling out of love with you
But maybe it was the stress of being up all night or because he was angry that you were clearly yelling at him for no reason he didint tell you that instead he yelled "You're being so fucking paranoid."
"Dont just brush me off-" but Hawk cut you off this time
"If I wanted to fuck someone else trust me kid I would, and I can cause if you hadn't noticed im pretty popular."
"You're such an asshole!"
"And your crazy!"
"Then why do you even bother Keigo! Just go!" You said throwing a pillow from your bed at him
"You're right I should! Cause its fucking pointless when your-you're acting like such a bitch." He said catching it and throwing it on the floor
His words hurt and you knew you had been pushing him to yell but still not wanting to let go you yelled with hot tears in your eyes, "I hate you!"
You both seemed to freeze once those words were spoken
You wanted to immediately take it back
You wanted to tell him that you didnt hate him that you loved him so much that it hurt
That all you really wanted tonight was to spend it in his arms
But you couldn't swallow your pride
Instead you turned away from him
Keigo knew things had already gone too far when he chased after you yelling
He felt guilty about his words
He didnt mean anything he had said, ...you kno- I- Im sorry y/n." He tried to reach out to you but you pulled away from him
"I cant do this anymore Keigo..."
Panic was clear on his face once you spoke those words
Couldnt do what?
Him? You two have aruged before you can get over it, "Y/n-"
"Ill sleep on the couch tonight." You said leaving the room and keigo
Who could only sit and wonder what would become of your relationship in the morning
Y'all bet ur sweet asses there'll be a part 2
#bnha imagines#bnha x reader#bnha headcanons#mha x reader#bnha hawks#mha hawks#bnha keigo#keigo takami x reader#my hero academia keigo takami#hawks x reader
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funeral
y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.
a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3
**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories
warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)
word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)
Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.
As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.
The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.
Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.
The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.
Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.
In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.
She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-
"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.
She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.
"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.
"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.
She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.
"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.
The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.
"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.
He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."
Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.
"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.
"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."
"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.
Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask. He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.
Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."
This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"
Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.
"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.
"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.
"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.
"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.
"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.
He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.
"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.
"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.
He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.
"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.
"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.
She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."
He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.
"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.
"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.
She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.
"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.
She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.
"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.
"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.
"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."
She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.
"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.
"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.
This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.
"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.
As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.
Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.
Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.
"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."
The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.
Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.
***
The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.
"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."
Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)
"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.
Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.
"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."
"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.
"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.
"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.
Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."
They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.
As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.
The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.
"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.
"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.
She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.
Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.
"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.
She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."
"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.
"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.
"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.
"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.
***
Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.
As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.
Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.
So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.
What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!
She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.
"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.
"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.
She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.
She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.
"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.
"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.
He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."
A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.
She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.
When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.
She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).
She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.
"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.
"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.
"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.
"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.
"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."
She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.
Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."
He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.
She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.
"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.
Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.
"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.
"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.
Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.
"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.
"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.
"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.
"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.
"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."
He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.
***
Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?
She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.
Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?
Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?
Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.
"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.
She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.
"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.
Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.
"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.
A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.
He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.
"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.
"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.
"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"
She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.
They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.
She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.
"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.
"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"
He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.
"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"
"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"
He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.
"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.
"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.
"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."
Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.
"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.
"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.
"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.
"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.
"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."
She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.
"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"
"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.
"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.
He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.
"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.
Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.
"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.
"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.
"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.
"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"
"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.
"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down.
"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.
“F’what?”
“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs.
They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.
***
Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.
She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.
Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).
Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.
That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.
Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.
He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.
"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.
The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.
Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.
Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.
"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.
"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.
The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.
Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.
He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."
"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.
"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.
She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.
"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.
She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"
Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."
"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.
"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.
Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-
Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.
Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.
"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.
She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.
He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.
She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.
Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.
A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.
"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.
"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.
"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.
"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.
He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."
She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.
"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me." He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.
"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.
"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.
Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.
******************
ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ??
anyways, stay safe and much love <3
#playlistficchallenge#Harry Styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry#hshq#hs#hs1#harry styles writing#fanfiction#fanfic#romance#funeral#one direction#harry blurb#harry one shot#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles prompt#writing#adore you#lights up#fine line#falling#golden#dont worry darling#1025cherrystreet
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“Maria Bonita” - [ Timothée Chalamet | One Shot ]
Summary: We invite you to take a glimpse to the Chalamet’s house. A teenage parents who would do anything to protect, love and take care of their little one despite all the eyes of society.
Written by: Crispy Imagines.
Soundtrack: main theme
Notes: A promise is a promise ppl, after two years of waiting Maria Bonita is finally here. First of all I want to thank every single person who was asking for this masterpiece, I hope i don’t let you down. Feedback is always welcome and nothing, enjoy it cause y’all deserve it. Also, we attach several audios to make you feel part of the story, so contrast them just as a background sound.
Tags: @miss2001babe ; @lg-vangogh ; @expectodonuts ;
[1]
The creaking of the bed came to a halt as your two-year-old Maddox weigh crashes down the mattress; his tiny feet pressed on daddy’s back, sending a burst of chills down Timothée’s spine. Maddox hands traveled to mommy’s cheeks, pitching or stretching them as he let out a chuckle.
“Mommy?” he whines, kissing your cheeks softly “Mommy” he repeats, nuzzling his face on yours.
“What’s up champ?” Timothée speaks, his groggy voice echoing the room as he stretches his body.
“Daddy!” the little one leaves you and jumps all the way to Timothée.
“Good morning.”
“morning.” Maddox repeats.
You opened your eyes, and the first picture your eyes capture was little Maddox hugging tightly his daddy with a Woody on his right hand. When he saw you, you could see his eyes glowing and leaving daddy’s side just so he can be with you. Immediately you open your arms, letting his tiny weigh crash on yours as he looks at you with pure happiness.
“Hi mommy”
“Hi momma.” You hear Timothée’s voice as you rolled your eyes. He slowly approaches to you two, snugging and earning laughs from both of you. “How’s my family?”
“We’re fine. You need to get Maddox a shower bef-…”
“Noo…” the little kid as soon as he heard shower leaves the bed in such a hurry, leaving his favorite toy in bed. Both of you laughed.
“I’ll make some breakfast and I want you ready by the time I’ll call you.”
“Yes momma.” Timothée gets up from bed and before leaving the room he approaches to give you a tiny peck, then a kiss and later a passionate kiss; grabbing towels from the drawer.
“Come here little man, before I’ll catch you.” You could hear Maddox giggles all over the apartment and timmy’s footsteps running around.
…
“Come on bub, we’re late for school. Just put some damn clothes.” Timothée’s voice came out as desperation as Maddox was running in circles butt naked. He tried everything, baby shark song, let Woody shower with him and even doing some funny voices, but none of them work. He sighs, face palming as he listens to the little one singing “You’ve got a friend in me”.
“Love.” He speaks. “Can you help me with Maddox?”
“Sure, just watch the scramble eggs.” He sighs in relief, and lifting himself from the wet floor walking carefully. When he clashes glazes with his son, he mumbles him
“You’re going to get in big trouble, mommy is coming.” Maddox smile fades and the fear got in his eyes, so he quickly runs to his bedroom bringing the first piece of clothing he found.
…
“Dammit.” You whispered as you tried to adjust the child seat. Timothée was right behind you, holding Maddox; both of them watching you getting pissed.
“Let me try, love. Here, hold Maddox.” You sigh, extending your arms as little Maddox lunges towards you. You lay your head against his, as you rock yourself back and forth. “we’re ready.”
Today was going to be a long day due to your shift, leaving early sounds nice, but also means going to the grocery store, doing laundry, cleaning the house, teaching Maddox, do some paperwork. Although timothée helps you in every way he can there’s still more job to do, like you’re working nonstop all the year. As you drive towards Maddox daycare Timothées hands were on your thing, resting peacefully as he slowly reads some scripts.
“Shit” he mumbles, you looked at him with an arched eyebrow. He realizes his mistake and quickly covers his mouth and watches Maddox, who’s been gazing at the window without a clue of what happened. Timothée let out a sigh as he slowly began to read his duties when the little one laugh.
“Shet” Maddox said giggling as he smashes his toys. Both of you close your eyes in regret, he will now say the word to nonstop and the ladies from the daycare will complain, like always.
“Oh no.” you let out “Maddox, honey.”
“Wa mommy?”
“Remember when we said that kids shouldn’t say big words?” he nods. “You need to stop saying that, it’s rude and people will not like it.”
“Shet.” He repeats giggling.
“Love, say something to your child” you said looking at Timothée.
“Me? Why?”
“Cause you said the big word.” You insist.
“Why I’m always the bad guy…” he whispers as he take a breath. “Bub, what do we talk…”
“shet shet shet shet!” Maddox said out loud causing both parents to sigh.
“Well, we tried” Timothee said as you parked at the daycare.
[2]
Picking up Maddox from daycare was the heavy stuff of the day, receiving each and every day complaints from the teachers about his hyperactivity, molesting other kids or yelling in story time. Today was not the exception, despite the look of irritation from the teacher you were calm and hugging a tired Maddox rocking back and forth.
“Maddox is… a special kid. His behavior today concerned the other teachers due to the fact that the child said the word shit many times. That cause the other kids to follow him and my job here is to ask you, Is everything okay with your… boyfriend and you?” you arched your eyebrows surprised.
“Y-yeah, we’re fine, Maddox is like a sponge absorbs everything, including the bad stuff.” You chuckle nervously. She shakes her head.
“Kids at your age don’t know how to raise a child, it surprises me that you’re still together and with Maddox temper…” you were in shocked, does she tell you that? And in front of your kid? Oh, you’re so mad you’ve couldn’t hold your tongue.
“Believe me that my kid is surrounded by love and emotional stability lady, you have no right to judge me or my husband. We’ve been swallowing some bullshit since I was pregnant, but I will not tolerate to insult me in front of my kid. So, fuck yourself and your stupid business.” You raised your middle finger and walk towards the exit without looking back.
After you put Maddox in his chair, he looked at you in a lovely way, touching both of your cheeks and smiling.
“Love you mommy.” Your eyes watered as you kiss him on his forehead.
“Love you too.”
…
Going to the grocery store was Maddox favorite thing; the thrill of daddy pushing the car so fast; when mommy buys his favorite cereal and the music that always calms him. So when you said your next destination a chorus of happiness filled the entire car.
“Okay, we’re supposed to get the basic. Love, get a car and I’ll see you on the aisle 2.” You grab Maddox hand but he didn’t walk. “What happened?”
“Daddy.” He points with his little finger towards Timothée direction.
“Daddy will come soon. Come on, let’s go.” But Maddox stayed, making his little body heavier so you couldn’t walk.
“Daddy.” He repeats.
“Love he will come back, let’s go.” You tried once more, but he let himself fall on the floor, starting a tantrum that led all the eyes of the store on you two. You smiled awkwardly picking up Maddox as you tried your best to avoid the judge of the people’s eyes, walking down the first hall as you let him down with tearful eyes.
“Maddox, honey, you need to listen to me.” You cup his cheeks in an attempt to catch his attention. After he saw you his concern became evident.
“wa hapen?”
“Here you are, I thought you said aisle 2.” After he saw your eyes, his smile faded and he kneels with you two. “What’s wrong, baby?” you shake your head.
“Nothing, I just-“ you immediately tried to recover yourself and got up wiping your eyes. “We need to hurry up, we still have to make dinner.” You grab the car. “Love, please take Maddox with you.”
And so were you grabbing everything you need and both of your boys were trying hard to cheer you up by singing or listening to Timothee saying stuff like “Mom looks pretty today, isn’t she?” “We’ll make dinner so you can take a rest”
You were in line ready to pay and behind you there was a nice lady pampering Maddox. Timothee smile to her.
“Taking care of the little brother, huh.” She said waving at him. “what a handsome man.” You both look at each other without saying anything. It was normal that many people believed one of you was babysitting a younger sibling or a cousin so you didn’t bother to correct the lady.
“Mommy sleep.” Maddox said, looking at you with tired eyes. Your eyes immediately watch the lady who was quite skeptical. “Mommy.”
“Oh” she only said. Your eyes travel to her, you’ve could see her disappointment on her face, it was something you’ve got used to it. You tried to recover yourself, this was too much for one day and it hasn’t ended yet.
“Love, can you pay? I’ll have to take some air.” Timothee’s eyes were concerned.
“Sure love, here, take the keys. Maddox will stay with me.” You grab the keys and exit the store as soon as you can, fighting hard to keep the tears from falling.
When you get into your car you let yourself go, tears streaming down your face and allowing yourself to feel this way.
The migraine you’ve been dealing with was in its best moment, due to Maddox screams and the tv in all the volume it has. Timothee was in the bedroom with a script; he left you with all the toys, crayons and food on the floor. You sigh, frustrated and just when you were calming yourself you saw Maddox torn one of Timothee’s scripts and laughing. Timothee was behind him with a red face, taking him the pieces of paper to look directly at you.
“Seriously? Are you not watching this kid?” after those words your blood began to boil, throwing him the nearest object.
“Are you fucking serious? I fucking make dinner because you “innocently” forgot, I’m doing laundry so you can go to your fucking auditions clean; I’m washing dishes cause you’re so busy reading your stupid scripts and you can’t watch Maddox. And you’re implicating that it’s my fault that I don’t watch our kid? Unbelievable.” You said furious. “I don’t fucking have a break, I work my 8hr shift, pick up Maddox; do all the chores; helping Maddox with his homework; shower him, giving him dinner; make us dinner; shower myself if I have time; and checking some paperwork. You’re… You’re just auditioning, promising that one day we’ll be in a mansion and lived happily ever after, you do not do anything unless I asked you for.” He was shocked, avoiding all eye contact with you.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” You sigh, leaving the kitchen, taking one of your coats and leaving the apartment.
…
You could hear Timothee’s footsteps behind you, but you just keep on walking, breathing deeply so you can’t say something you regret.
“Wait, love.” He tried to grab you softly by the arm.
“So now I’m your love, huh?” you rolled your eyes, stopping yourself to look him in the eye.
“You’ve always been my love. Sorry for behaving like an asshole. You were right, I’m a completely shitty father. I leave you with all the heavy duty while I focus on a stupid dream.” You could see the sadness of his face, eyes beginning to water. Immediately you cupped his cheeks and touched your forehead with his, staying in silence for a couple of seconds.
“You know I’m the biggest supporter of your dream.” You said in a whisper. “But you have to be a responsible father and husband. We are a team; we’re supposed to help each other in every way we can. I’m not asking to give up on what you are passionate about.” you sweetly pressed your lips against his.
“I love you.” He said, with eyes pure of love that your stomach curled up.
“I love you too, handsome.” You stayed hug for a while, while you feel like there was something missing. It was Maddox!
“Oh my god… where’s the kid?” you lift the head to catch his eyes.
“I left it with Maddie, I think we should pick him up before she calls us.” You nod.
An so where you, walking back home holding hands having the warm sensation that everything from now on will be just fine.
[Soundrack] [3]
The sound of nature calms both of your boys, you suggest to travel to the nearest park to set up some wood fire. And now you are carrying Maddox tired body, the little one is closing his eyes so often, and it will not take too long for him to sleep; since he’s got his thump already in his mouth. Timothée was watching the stars, with a sad tone on his face he said:
“Sometimes I forget that I’m a dad. When they invite at some restaurant for brief seconds I forget that I’m someone’s dad, that I change diapers or fed him. And that feels weird, not good weird, like something is missing. I’ll never going to regret being a father at my age, I will have a long way to watch him grow and become anything he wants; and somehow that makes me happy.”
“I don’t regret either. I feel that this kid connects us in beautiful ways; we are his mentors to teach him the good and bad. I think we’re more than ready to take the challenge.”
“I love you. And I’m so happy I chose you to be the mother of my child, even if that means by accident.” You couldn´t help but laugh.
“I love you too. Come on, let’s go to our house.”
“At least let us heard one more song before we go.” Timothee got up shaking the dirt from his pants, he went to the car and shuffle a couple of songs before he found out the one. “This one will work. Let me get Maddox on the car.”
After he let the baby he slowly approaches to you, touching his forehead with yours, rocking back and forth as Maria Bonita was playing on the back.
“Even if this song is made for a Maria. In this park, at midnight with the stars and moon as witnesses you’re my Maria Bonita. The one I will always be in love, beyond my body and soul. I’m all yours baby. Just say the word and we will go to the nearest chapel.” You smile.
“Yes.” You whispered on his lips
“Promised me that you don’t lie just because you feel idolized.” You kissed him. “I love you Mrs. Chalamet. Let the world know I Love this woman.” You shake your head, chuckling, the song ended and to seal the promise he kissed you passionately taking from his coat a jewelry box; knealing.
“Will you marry me?”
#Timothee Chalamet#timothee chalamet imagine#timothée chalamet#timothée chamalet#timothée chalamet imagine#timmy tim#timmy chalamet#timmy x reader#timmy blurbs#armie x timmy#Call Me By Your Name#cmbyn#CMBYN MOVIE#ladybird#Beautiful Boy
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we can never be friends
Requested?: Big mash up again... Oopsies. Someone wanted angsty luke smut, someone wanted the phrase ‘well i fucked your girlfriend and there’s nothing you can do about it’ implimented, someone else wanted a lil fake dating to get back at an ex, bad boy luke, the sex scene from charmed, y/n is a witch... also decided to make y/n a child genius to sweeten the pot.
Word Count: 10.2K+
Author’s Note: this story is brought to you by machine gun kelly, and the songs ‘bloody valentine’ and ‘why are you here’. i stumbled across the songs by mistake, and can’t get them out of my head, so now you get luke smut based on them.
also, everyone is aged up by like six-seven years, this takes place over a period of like a year and a half ish? yeah, read the nonsense and take from what you wish my doods. and a part two might come along if y’all want it, so like, lemme know.
song featured is ‘bloody valentine’ by machine gun kelly.
Warning: smut, drug and alcohol misuse, infidelity. and when i say smut i do mean smut. like oof smut. enjoy...
masterlist, i write more stuff like this sin.
--
It was always a mistake, whenever they got together.
Of course, it never felt like it in the moment: when his body was pressed up against hers, his lips on her neck and marking what was his, her fingernails clawing into his back and doing the same, it didn’t feel like a bad idea. It felt like euphoria, it was sweat and teeth and passion and sex. And for the first few moments after, as they came down from their highs and his arms pulled her close as they both caught their breath, there was a moment when they both wondered if they could actually work, they could actually be together.
“You’re thinking it again.” She muttered softly, pressing her lips to his once more before slipping out from under the satin sheets, making a beeline for the hotel bathroom. It was just chance they had run into one another in New York, what with them both calling Los Angeles, California home. But she had been called to Columbia University, and he had a habit of appearing where she least expected him to be.
For all the years Y/N had known Luke Patterson, he had never failed to surprise her.
“Is it so bad to think it? It’s not like we’re ever going to act on it.” He responded, biting his lip as his eyes scanned over her figure. He threw off the covers, recovering his boxers and slipping them on before walking after her, his thoughts giving him away, though he knew that already. “You sure you can’t stay for another hour?” He asked, leaning against the bathroom’s doorway as she freshened up. ‘Maybe this time I could fuck you against the window…’ her eyes shot up, a scowl upon her pretty face as she walked past him and back into the bedroom, quickly collecting her clothes.
“You really ought to control those thoughts of yours, Patterson. One day they might get you in trouble. Besides, I have an early lecture in the morning.” She muttered, pulling on her underwear, pausing to look for her second stocking. Luke walked over towards the door, lifting the hosiery from atop a lampshade.
They had been in a rush to get into bed.
“Crazier things have happened than you missing a lecture, Y/N.” He reminded when she came over to collect her second stocking, sitting on the bed and slipping it on quickly, the pair sharing glances.
“Not when I’m the one giving the lecture, you asshat.” She reminded, and Luke grinned. He forgot sometimes how unbelievably clever the girl before him was, and as she pulled on her dress, Luke took a step forward to zip up the back for her. One of his hands came to hold her waist as his lips pressed down on the exposed skin of her collarbone, his cold breath fanning over her skin and causing the girl to shiver and goosebumps to form. “This can’t happen again, understood?” She breathed out, the last of her words turning to a moan as Luke nipped at the crook of her neck, his free hand coming down from her shoulder, his fingers brushing faintly against her skin as their hands finally met.
He spun her around, bringing the hand he held to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles, his eyes locking with hers, his lips quirking to a smirk when she blushed at his actions.
Luke loved the effect he had on her. Y/N hated it.
“It’s cute how sure you are about it.” He remarked, moving away and breaking their touch, Y/N trying not to frown at the loss of his cold hands against her warm skin. “I mean, we’ve been saying the same thing since high school.” He swung open the hotel room’s door for her, and she quickly rid herself of any feelings of affection for the man before her: he always knew how to annoy her.
“And this time it’ll stick.” She snapped back, locating her purse with haste and slipping on her heels before marching for the door.
‘I like when you scream my name, Princess, don’t you?’ The intrusive thought belonged to the boy leant against the door, and Y/N scoffed as she walked out into the hallway, the carpet underneath a crimson red, something she hadn’t bothered to notice on her way up to his place.
“Get out of my head, Ghost Boy.” She ordered, not looking back as she made her way down the hallway, though she heard Luke laugh behind her, one of his smug chuckles that made her blood boil.
“I think it’s the other way round, your Highness. Rude to listen to what other people are thinking.” He called back down the hallway, earning a rather offensive hand gesture before Y/N stepped into the golden-door lift at the corridor’s end, the girl refusing to turn around until the doors had closed behind her, sparing her from his haunting gaze, those green eyes that managed to steal into her soul every time.
Luke watched the doors close at the end of the hall, letting out a soft sigh at the loss of the girl from his sight, though his moping was shortly interrupted by the sound of another room along the hallway opening its door, a scowling face looking back at him.
“You’re looking at me like I did something wrong.” He commented, walking back into his room and grabbing his jeans, that had landed on the back of the dining chair in the suite some five metres from the rumpled sheets of the bed. He pulled them as a set of footsteps approached, Luke again met with the disapproving expression of his band mate.
“Luke…” The concern dripping from Alex’s tongue with just his name had the guitarist shaking his head, walking across the room to grab his shirt, pulling it on quickly. “Luke, you know this is going to end badly.” He continued, taking a step further in the room while Luke grabbed his jacket. “Just like it did last time, and the time before that.”
“Alex, it’s fine, alright?” He said quickly. “What we have is good, it works.”
“It’s stopping you from finding someone you’d actually get along with.” The blonde disagreed, following Luke out into the hallway as the brown-haired boy started for the elevator. “Where do you plan on disappearing to? You remember we are meant to be on a plane in four hours?” He reminded, the other boy slowing to a stop, halfway between the golden doors and his friend.
“Is it really that late?” Luke asked, a smug look on his face, his iconic smirk and raised eyebrow causing Alex to roll his eyes.
“If you want a drink, order something up. Preferably, don’t order anything at all. Last thing you’ll want to be on an eight hour flight over the ocean is hungover, Luke.” He had always been the one with common sense, and Luke wavered on the spot for a moment, eyes fixed on the door. A part of him was sure he could catch up to her, that the pair could get a drink at the bar downstairs together. A part of him was sure she was waiting just beyond a press of a button, that she too was hoping he would join her.
“We’re bad for each other, aren’t we?” Luke found himself sighing happily, turning on his heels to face Alex once more. “God, she’s an asshole.”
“Most geniuses are.” Alex remarked with a smile, Luke taking one last glance back at the elevator before he headed towards the drummer’s room. Alex followed him in, walking to the drinks cabinet and pouring them both a drink: vodka, good stuff from what Luke could see, having taken a seat by the balcony windows. “You know, Julie’s got a friend you might like…”
“I don’t date, Alex. We’ve established this… Last thing I need is to break another one of Julie’s friend’s hearts. She’s only just forgiven for the last one…” Luke paused and nodded in thanks as Alex came over and took a seat across from him, handing over a drink. “Fuck, what was her name? It was something like Ruby or Pearl or Opal…”
“Crystal.” Alex corrected with a grimace and cold chuckle, finding the humour in his superior knowledge of Luke’s exes compared to the man across from him. “So, what? You’re going to spend the rest of your life like this, your closest encounter with romance being a girl you screw twice a year?”
“I mean, I see her twice a year… There are multiple rounds of sex involved each time.” Luke corrected with a strained laugh, downing the liquor in his glass. “I’ve really fucked myself over, haven’t I?” He asked, and Alex’s expression softened a little.
“Luke, don’t tell me you’re in love with her…”
“No, no… But it wouldn’t be the wildest thing, would it?” He asked, looking up at his friend for some sort of guidance: Alex was, after all, the one of their friendship group who had been dating his boyfriend since, God, since Julie’s senior year of high school. How far they had come since then…
“Everyone knows that you wouldn’t work out… For the obvious reason you’ve both been avoiding.” Alex sat straighter, picking up Luke’s empty glass and walking back to the cabinet to refill it, bringing the bottle back with him that time. “You may be alive again Luke, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re not actually alive, and that we don’t mix with…” He trailed off, and Luke nodded, accepting the second glass and downing it in one, the alcohol in his veins the warmest thing about him.
He knew all too well what Alex was inferring, though in the guitarist’s defence, he hadn’t been privy to the rather large secret Y/N had until about a year into their… relationship. She had figured out his backstory rather quickly of course, but she had the advantage of reading his mind. Yes, Luke may have been a ghost, and that should have been complication enough.
But Y/N also happened to hold the title of supernatural being. It was just Luke’s luck, wasn’t it?
Just his luck to end up screwing a witch.
--
If there was anything to know about the intricacies of supernatural species, it would be that some of them didn’t get along very well: vampire and werewolves, mer-people and sirens, angels and demons. Amongst the long list of rivalries one might find in their research, one of the oldest and most conflicting pairings was that of witches and ghosts.
Witches, in practice, have one job: banishing spirits from the mortal realm. Alongside all the candle lighting and chatting with deities, witches like Y/N spent their lifetimes on earth getting rid of lingering souls. And with her family lineage and standing amongst the American covens, Y/N was rather good at what she did. Alongside her shocking intellect and undeniable beauty, she took on the part-time role of vanquishing ghosts to purgatory before they did anything stupid like come back to life.
Y/N hadn’t expected to find out her classmate Julie Molina was a medium halfway through their sophomore year, nor had she anticipated the arrival of three ghost musicians who could be seen by mortals when they all sang together in a band. Of course, her seeing them too didn’t help things, and her conflicted feelings over banishing the very attractive guitarist had led to a delay in her actions, and before she knew it, Julie was bringing them all back to life, or as alive as ghosts can be.
Noticing a resurrected ghost was nearly impossible: they age, they appear human, and if they avoid utilising their previous ghost powers, the only thing that would ever raise suspicions of a mortal, or any species for that matter, was how cold ghosts stayed.
It was a common misconception that vampires were ‘cold as ice’, popularised by teen movies that suggested the bloodsuckers sparkled in the sunlight, when it was ghosts who in fact held that trait (vampires were actually constantly warm from the excess of blood in their system). To touch a ghost was like shoving the body part into a freezer, there was an element of pain to it if the feeling was continuous, and it worked the other way around. A ghost touching the living could hurt, something that could perhaps be compared to the nipping on skin just a little too close to an open flame.
Y/N and Luke had found a loophole to that, of course: the heat of sex tended to offset the cold, mixing the inklings of pain with waves of pleasure.
Their relationship had been a complicated one from its beginning: there’s a certain level of tension that comes with the possibility that Julie’s pretty friend could destroy you and your friends with the same magic Caleb had threatened them with all those years ago, but when a year passed of the boys being present on earth, both invisible and visible to the human eye, and Y/N having done nothing to report them to her coven, the boys were sure they were in the clear.
And they were almost right…
--
“I need your help, Ghost Boy.” The words had Luke spinning on the spot as he stood under the early autumn sunshine. He had been waiting for Julie, tasked with picking her and Flynn up from school that day. Ever since the boys had stopped being dead, they had taken on chores in the house to help out Ray as a thank you for him letting them stay in the garage. Luke had expected to find Julie or Flynn, or anyone for a matter of fact: just not Y/N. The pair rarely spoke, most likely to do with the fact she should have reported him to some magical authorities over a year before.
“What do I owe this pleasure, Miss Magic?” He asked, his chipper tone and easy smirk causing Y/N to frown further. She disliked that she found him attractive, though it was exactly why she was approaching him that warm September day of her senior year. “Aren’t you meant to be at college?” He asked with a raised brow, and she sighed, folding her eyes.
“My academic schedule is none of your business.” She was, in fact, meant to be at college that day: Y/N had simultaneously attending high school and working towards her first degree, her parents insistent on her growing up amongst peers despite her summer having been spent working on her final dissertation for her first bachelor’s degree. “I am going to make this quick, Patterson, simply because talking with you makes me nauseous and I worry I’ll catch a cold if I stay close to you for too long.”
“You always had a way with your words, Princess.” Luke grinned, leaning back against the car’s bonnet and folding his own arms, his eyes quite blatant in their racking over her body: the sundress she wore leaving just enough to the imagination to leave the boy intrigued. “What can I do for you?” He asked, and Y/N snapped her fingers in front of his face, frowning.
“I can hear what you’re thinking, asshole… But you’re not far off.” She muttered, and Luke’s eyes widened. His thoughts had been far from pure. “I need you to come with me to Carrie’s party on Saturday, alright?” She exclaimed, clearly upset that she had resorted to asking assistance from the ghost. “My ex is going to be there, he’s an asshole, and if you say no I do have the means to banish you to purgatory.”
“I don’t get much of a say then, do I?”
“No, you don’t…”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
--
There was one thing certain about the relationship Luke Patterson shared with Y/N Y/L/N: they could never be friends.
After six years of casual sex in high-end hotel rooms and bathroom stalls; six years of cheating on ‘significant others’ with one-night stands; after Julie and the guys signed their multi-record deal and began touring and Y/N found her own level of moderate celebrity thanks to her genius brain; after all of it, they knew each other too well to like one another, and saw each other too little to develop anything beyond their physical encounters.
Because even though Luke annoyed Y/N with every smirk and his scoffing chuckle, and Y/N drove Luke to the edge with her superiority complex and constant need to prove her intelligence, it couldn’t be helped that whenever the pair found themselves faced with the other, all sanity went out the window. They became different people, and for the few hours they were in one another’s arms, who they really were didn’t matter.
Luke hated her a little bit for it, the effect she had on him, the same way Y/N hated him. There was no love lost between the two, there was no love to begin with. It was just convenience and desperation that had transformed into a primal hunger for one another. Neither had had better sex with someone else, no matter how hard they both searched. It wasn’t a secret that twenty-five year old Luke Patterson of Julie and the Phantoms, the four-time Grammy winner, was a ladies’ man and the free spirit of the band: it was plastered over every tabloid magazine across the globe. And while her fame was lesser than that of the rock star, the sophisticated twenty-three year old Y/N, the scholar who seemed to be headed straight for becoming a household name, was notorious in academic circles for her love affairs: at least two tenured ivy-league professors had slept with and left their wives for the young woman.
In recent years, concern had grown amongst their shared friends, mainly being Alex, who witnessed the rather undesirable parts of their relationship play out to their fullest. It wasn’t just that the pair used one another for sex, they were fine with that: but there was suddenly this need to impress the other, a competitiveness between the two. There was enough heat on Luke’s love life, but whenever Y/N came around, that seemed to escalate to excessive drinking: and one time, Alex and Reggie had to haul Luke into his apartment after he decided to get high on some sort of pill with the witch.
Despite disagreeing with one another on everything but sex, it was almost comical how quickly they could give in to one another. Constantly, even when they weren’t in the same country. It was too common of an occurrence that Y/N would be on the TV as the younger generation’s voice of science, sat on some couch in a studio in LA or New York or Paris or London, or she would be another key note speaker at an event: she had even managed to get herself on the cover of Vogue, an exclusive interview with Anna Wintour herself titled ‘The Sex of Science’. Luke saw all of it, of course, and like clockwork, he would then, for some reason, make it his mission to get another scandal on the front page of tabloids, like he was trying to one-up her.
And he was, and in a way, it was a form of foreplay for the pair. Luke’s insufferable gloating transcended physical presence, he was in every shop Y/N walked into, with a new girl on his arm. Y/N retaliated with success, building the brand she had been working on since high school as the country’s new scientific mind, acting like she was too above the rest of the world to even care to know who Luke Patterson was…
One year.
One whole year since that night in New York, and the band were back by personal invitation. With their third world tour finally finished, and their fourth album in the works for release later that year, the guys and Julie had been riding a high, not quite sure if they’d ever fall down.
Their half decade of commercial success had handed them their third invitation to the Met Gala, a PR opportunity to promote themselves, according to Flynn. Their manager was flown out from LA with Willie, Reggie’s girlfriend Kayla and Julie’s girlfriend, the group opting to share a plane with Trevor and Carrie Wilson, almost a reunion for them all. It wasn’t often they all got to see one another, with the band constantly on tour the past years, but it felt like there was no better place to catch up: over $1,000 champagne as they all talked about the clothes they wore.
“And stepping out onto the carpet now we have the Phan-tastic Four themselves, Julie and her Phantoms!” It was the first voice Luke heard as he stepped out of the limousine and onto the red carpet, suddenly joined by a barrage of questions and flashes of cameras, hundreds of reporters and fans calling out his name. He gave his signature smirk and a wave, opening the car door wide and holding out a hand to Julie, helping her onto the carpet and smiling as gasps sounded around them.
She was a vision, dressed in a tulle ballgown, a mixture of blues and greens and yellows layered on one another, decorated with butterflies like she was some type of goddess. The theme for the year was Sense and Sustainability: Fashion of the Planet, and she had hit the nail on the head with the help of their designer that year. The boys too, had gone for the blue and green tones to match their lead singer: Luke was in a dark blue suit, Reggie in an emerald three-piece and Alex in a topaz shirt, all of them looking like they were straight out of some utopian alter-reality.
“You know, Luke, I think it’s my job to help Julie out of the car.” A voice spoke, Julie’s girlfriend emerging in a white tailored piece, she too decorated with butterflies, a flower the same colours as Julie’s dress proudly displayed on her lapel.
“He has a habit of coming to these things alone, he just likes having something to do.” Julie teased her friend, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go, turning her attention to the girl by her side, the pair sharing a soft kiss, the camera surging into another frenzy.
“Honestly, it’s like we’re famous or something.” The next car pulled up, the voice this time being Reggie’s as he jumped from the still rolling car, assisting his girlfriend Kayla out the vehicle, she a beauty in purple. The pair were quickly followed by Alex and Willie, who both looked like they belonged on one of the Vogue runways instead of the red carpet.
“Divide and conquer, meet back at the steps?” Alex suggested, taking in the extravagance of it all, the constant flashing lights and the noise of it all. “Flynn and Carrie texted, they’re already inside.” He alerted on top of his question, the group sharing glances and nodding in agreement.
“Don’t say anything stupid.” Julie warned them all, the group breaking apart to make their ways down the carpet, towards the Met, respective partners in tow.
The next forty minutes were a slow crawl down the carpet amongst the world’s superstars, and Luke did his very best to answer the questions posed to him by prying reporters: he stuck to talking music, and the band and touring, and whenever questions about his love and sex life came up, he quickly laughed them off and changed the subject, a tactic that seemed to work quite well. He wasn’t the only person the journalists were looking to interview, and with each evaded question he felt the weight in his chest get lighter and lighter.
He had promised Julie and the guys, after all, that the night was about what really mattered: they had been asked to play a few songs for the event’s official after party, as well, their popularity shared amongst celebrities alongside the general public. Despite it being a fashion event, that night was about the music for the four.
“So, Luke, correct me if I’m wrong, but tonight is almost a school reunion, no?” The reporter asked, Luke stood to her left as the camera rolled, live feed of the night going straight onto TVs across the country.
“Well, yeah! I guess it is. It’s the first time we’ve had the chance to all be together since before the tour, and you can-” Luke was interrupted by a squeal, he and the reporter turning around to catch Julie and Flynn hugging in the centre of the walkway, coos coming from nearby celebrities who watched on as the girls embraced around the volumes of Julie’s dress fabric. “You can tell we’ve missed each other, can’t you?” He said, turning back to the reporter, who’s eyes flicked down to his arms and back up. He had forgone his suit jacket about twenty minutes before, the shirt underneath sporting sheer sleeves that showed off his biceps quite nicely.
“It’s uh.” The reporter cleared her throat. “From what I gather, the Los Feliz alumni make up over 1% of attendants tonight, and considering we have guests here from across the world, seems like there’s magic over at that school.” She suggested with a raise of the eyebrow, and Luke found himself chuckling. If only she knew…
“I should say hello to Miss Harrison actually, best music teacher in the world.” Luke waved at the camera quickly, and his eyes quickly surveyed the space. His friends had found themselves nearing the steps, and he was quite set on joining them.
“Of course, not all of the reunion class are in the music industry though, are they?” The reporter posed, and Luke frowned a little in confusion.
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me there…” He admitted, though his wonders were quickly answered as another car pulled up at the end of the carpet, yells and cameras flashing making it hard for Luke to focus on the person stepping out of the car, though it soon became rather clear with reporters crying out her name.
Plus, Luke knew Y/N’s body like the back of his hand.
There had to be something said for showing up to the biggest fashion event of the year in black, and more so for showing up in the iconic Coco Chanel fashion of a little black dress. There weren’t many people who could pull it off, but as she walked down the carpet, passing reporters begging for her attention, adorned in the form fitting dress that just passed her knees, the boatline neck putting focus on the gold chain necklace she wore, her stilettos red bottoms to match the crimson lipstick she wore, her hair in its natural waves and framing her face beautifully: no-one could have garnered more attention.
“Will you excuse me?” Luke asked, but before the reporter could speak up he was already making his way across to the centre of the carpet, a lazy smirk on his face as he looked her over, and she came to stand before him, the pair staring one another down. ‘You should’ve told me you’d be here, Princess’, he thought, a smile quirking on her lips as she held out a hand, Luke taking it in his own and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, his cold lips giving her goosebumps.
“I think your friends might be waiting for you.” She said softly, the pair breaking their hold on one another and beginning a walk for the steps, Y/N gasping softly at the sight of Julie in her dress. “My goodness, she looks stunning.”
“Yes, you do.” Luke responded, the pair sharing a glance before Y/N started up the stairs, Julie descending to meet her halfway as the pair held onto one another, Luke watching as they seemed to communicate telepathically: they had learned rather a lot from Y/N about Julie’s gifts, ones she had inherited from her mother, and Julie’s ability to see and speak to the dead also seemed to have the added bonus of receiving messages from witches. Y/N could read minds, Julie could mirror the effect.
“Oh, you haven’t met Hannah!” Julie exclaimed suddenly, the girl in black shaking hands with Julie’s girlfriend in white. “Why, how are you here?” The question seemed to perk more than Luke’s interest, microphones held out across the barricade by reports to try and catch a snippet of the words soon to leave Y/N’s mouth.
“Who do you think suggested the theme? The fashion industry is one of the biggest pollutants in America, and where better to flagship the reusable movement than at the biggest fashion event of the year.” Y/N giggled, Julie’s arm linking with hers as they began to walk again, a vision of colours against black. They complimented one another, strolling along the ways old friends do, Flynn coming across to greet them as Hannah and Luke followed behind, the four making their way for their waiting friends. “Besides, Anna owed me a favour.” Y/N added with a smirk, Luke catching the words and raising an eyebrow.
“Are you here on business, Y/L/N?” He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and coming to a stop beside Alex and Willie, the former of whom glanced over at Luke with warning: the last thing they needed was Luke on another front page, this time with the brightest young mind in America.
“Wintour has… Bouts of lycanthropy, and a problem with the undead hanging around museums.” Y/N explained in a low voice, glancing over and spotting the iconic magazine editor, sending her a polite wave from across the way. “I promised to do some banishings if she would kindly assist in the environmental progress movement. An endorsement from Anna Wintour goes a long way.” She shrugged. “It seemed like a fair exchange.”
“I’m sorry, can we backtrack for a moment? Banishings and lycanthropy?” Hannah asked, the group turning to look at her, Julie taking her hand as they decided who might explain. She was the newest addition to the friendship circle, her and Julie having been dating for just over a year and a half. She had joined the band for a leg of the tour, met Flynn.
Y/N was not a person Hannah knew very well, and the sudden talk of magical things, quite understandably, made the girl uneasy.
“So, you know how we told you about us being the g word? And Julie’s a medium?” Reggie said, throwing an arm over Kayla’s shoulder and pulling his girlfriend closer. When Hannah nodded, he continued. “And you know how there was the dead magician who tried to kill us again when the band first formed?” He stopped again, making sure the girl was keeping up with him. “Well, Caleb was a witch when he was alive, and Y/N over there, the one in black, you two have met. Well, Y/N was the alive witch who was meant to banish us and didn’t, thank you for that.” He nodded to the girl, and she smiled slightly, her eyes more focused on Luke across the circle from her. “And now she’s the science girl that everyone talks to on TV since Bill Nye is too old.”
“So… Potions and spells and candles and stuff?” Hannah asked, the group joining in a light chuckle as Y/N nodded.
“Indeed, though it’s a lot more logical than myth has people believing.” Y/N said, her attention diverting from Luke as their host approached, the young men and women all finding themselves straightening up at the sight of her.
“Dr Y/L/N, it’s lovely to see you again. Might we have a word?” Wintour asked, removing Y/N from the group with the words and a quick wave goodbye, the young woman sending a wink Luke’s way before disappearing with the chief editor of Vogue, the pair stopping for an interview further down the stairway.
The title was one that made Y/N smile every time she heard it, the hard work of her youth paying off with respect from elders. It was important for her public persona too, people tended to believe you more if you had the suffix, and for someone so young, it helped her appear mature. There weren’t a lot of perks to getting your first of two doctorates at nineteen, the whole process of being a wunderkind leading up to it had been stressful to say the least, not to mention the added pressures of being groomed to lead the coven one day, but she made it work.
“So, Dr Y/L/N, perhaps we should talk about why you’re here?” The reporter’s question brought Y/N back to reality, stood beside Wintour with a practiced smile to the camera.
“Well, Monica.” Y/N was sure to use the reporter’s first name with a smile. “When Vogue made the move to promote sustainable fashion and opened the bid to make the top designer brands carbon neutral by 2030, I simply couldn’t refuse.” She had rehearsed what to say, she always did. Her appearances were important, her time on screen needed to mean something to viewers. “We are saving our planet, our economy, our livelihoods one step at a time here, this move to recycled materials is predicted to create thousands of new jobs globally within the fashion industry. And as someone who studies these things for a living, probability and the effects of pollutants, the political climate on these issues, I know that I’m here representing the entire scientific community tonight, approving of the incredible work done by our designers, our celebrities who help spread awareness, and by the people at home.”
“You know, I still can’t get over how young you are, I apologise.” The reporter responded with a light laugh, Y/N offering a soft smile back.
“Young, but wise beyond her years. She’s the one we need to listen to.” Anna interrupted with a nod to Y/N. “Two doctorates and five degrees under her belt, not to mention the sense of style.” She complimented, and the reporter rounded off the interview as the pair walked away. “How long until the banishing is over?” She whispered, the pair ascending the staircase to enter the hall, celebrities by the dozen milling around, finding their tables, sitting themselves down for the dinner soon to be served.
“Surely you can trust me to get the job done in a timely fashion, Anna.” Y/N remarked, hands clasped behind her back.
“You’re a witch, of course I don’t trust you.” She muttered, the pair sharing masquerade smiles as they quickly separated, the rather cruel thoughts wandering around the fashion icon’s head causing Y/N to smirk. Her night was just beginning, of course, and as she made her way towards the security corridors on the far side of the hall, her eyes scanned over the room to find Luke looking right back at her, that smug look her hated on his face, arms folded as he rather blatantly checked her out.
’12.05?’ Luke asked as they shared the gaze, the time meaning something to them both. When she nodded, Luke’s gaze focused back on his table of friends, leaving Y/N to disappear in peace, though her mind was once again at war.
She just couldn’t say no to him.
--
It was a fairly desperate call for Luke to have to rope Y/N into something, but she owed him a few favours from the year before, and he was not going to be the only person at the Halloween record label party without a date: especially not when his ex-girlfriend was going to be there.
As much as he disliked it, Luke was quite certain he needed the hottest person he knew, and it was, rather unfortunately, the witch. It helped that Julie, Flynn and Carrie had banded together that summer to reimagine their friend’s wardrobe: they had fitted Y/N with a style somewhere between ‘if looks could kill’ and ‘you wish you could’, outfits that all looked like they belonged on the cover of a couture magazine, with elements of the witch theme laced in. And while Luke and the band hadn’t seen Y/N in months, what with them recording in LA and her studying at Stanford, just outside of San Francisco, he was hopeful that he could salvage some shred of dignity if he had a pretty girl on his arm.
His breakup with Alice had been front page news for weeks, a mess of lies and cheating and constant scandal that had worked in everyone’s favour, even if it left Luke feeling worse for wear. It was the same as his relationship before Alice, and then his relationship before Alice and Rita… He was quite committed to swearing off romance until he hit forty, at least then he’d be avoiding the front page if things went south.
He arrived at the Fall Down Records HQ coming close on eleven o’clock, a slam of his car door echoing around the street as cameras flashed and caught him on his way in. He blocked out the bright lights and noise, the questions of how he was coping with the breakup, of how he was feeling about Alice’s new boyfriend: by the time the new month started, he had no doubt his tragic affair with the country singer would be overshadowed by the mysterious girl who had arrived at the party earlier that night.
“Luke, you made it!” As the boy entered into the lobby of the building, decorated from top to two in Halloween décor, Trevor welcomed his friend with a smile and quick hug. It was weird, Bobby now being Trevor and Trevor being the same age as Julie’s dad, perhaps weirder that he helped run the label JATP was signed to, but apologies had been handed out and late statements made by Trevor to credit the guys on his first album, so he had sort of just become an uncle now. He was older, wiser, changed from the kid Luke had known, but he still cared about him and Alex and Reggie, just instead of getting them fake IDs and letting them crash in his old garage, now Trevor read the fine prints of the band’s contracts and offered free use of his helicopter.
“Did a pretty girl dressed as an angel show up?” He asked, getting straight to the point. He himself was dressed in an all-black number, sleeveless of course, and had managed to put in some red contacts, a modern take on the Devil.
“She’s with Julie, doing a rather good job at outshining your ex-girlfriend…” Trevor muttered, gesturing to the left of them, Luke’s head turning to locate the girl he had effectively hired to date him for the night.
And she took his breath away.
Y/N stood at Julie’s side by a karaoke machine, the two singing to one another as crowds cheered them on, his ‘girlfriend’ looking like she could’ve quite literally come down from heaven: she had flat out refused to dress up as a witch, and when Luke suggested that their dressing as angel and demon could also be construed as cultural appropriation, Y/N had laughed until she cried. He had asked what was so funny, and she had asked if he had ever seen an angel in person.
It was safe to say that the fluffy white wings and halo mortals had commercialised was a far cry from the true essence of angelic powers: they more resembled blobs that floated, one large eyes in the middle, usually surrounded by rings of heaven fire and something one might describe as spinning wheels of death. All spikes meant to destroy anything impure that came close.
Safe to say, Luke didn’t plan on going to heaven any time soon.
As the song ended, the girls turning to the crowd to bow, Y/N’s eyes fell on Luke at the far side of the room, and she took the opportunity to pay him back.
“You’re here!” She squealed, sending a quick wink Julie’s way, their friend aware of the favour, before putting on her best performance: rushing through the breaking crowd to jump into Luke’s arms, his own instinctively wrapping around her waist to hold her up as he spun around to gain his balance again.
‘Happy to see me, Princess?’ he raised an eyebrow as she read his thoughts, Luke’s eyes drifting over to land on Alice, who watched from the corner of the room rather intently. ‘She’s looking at me…´he thought, Y/N glanced back as Luke placed her back on the ground, a thought coming to her head.
“Let’s give her something to gossip about, yeah?” She suggested, pulling Luke close to her by his collar, planting her lips on his in front of the entire room, making quite sure to embarrass the girl who decided to cheat on Luke Patterson.
--
“How’s everyone doing tonight?!” Julie called out, the crowd filling the Bowery Ballroom cheering back as she took the stage, microphone in hand. Julie had opted to change dress, her ballgown replaced with a white strapless number, keeping to the theme of butterflies that night and now matching her girlfriend, who stood in the front row of the crowd encouraging her on with a thumbs up.
The evening had been more than a success, with the crowd of celebrities migrating from the Met to the music venue she stood on the stage of as the formalities quickly came to a close. JATP had been begged to play a show, many of the celebrities that night major fans of the young rock stars, and after a DJ set from a mix of the Billboard 100’s top producers, Julie found herself taking the stage with the promise of a song.
“I just want to say thank you, on behalf of myself and the guys, for letting us play. And… Well, we’ve decided that for such a special occasion, we ought to give you something new.” Another chorus of cheers echoed in the space, Julie walking round to place her microphone on the stand by the keyboard waiting for her. “The guys and I have been working on album number four, and this song was one Luke wrote last year just after we left for the World Tour.” Julie paused, looking out into the crowd, her eyes finding Y/N’s as she watched from beside Flynn. “It’s called Bloody Valentine, and we hope you like it.” She finished, the cheers and applause dying down when a sudden guitar riff came from out of nowhere, Julie joining in with piano chords alongside a bassline and a drum beat from Alex, the sounds filling the air despite three of the four musicians being absent.
“The simulation just went bad, but you're the best I ever had. Like hand prints in wet cement, she touched me it's permanent.” Julie sang out, another swell of cheers as the crowd began dancing to the fast paced drum beat and guitar riffs of the song. A flash of light, and Reggie appeared on stage, no longer in his emerald suit from the event, but changed into a silk shirt of the same hue, a pop of colour under his trusty leather jacket and tucked into his ripped skinny jeans.
“In my head, in my head, I couldn’t hear anything you said but in my head.” Reggie took the melody line, Julie harmonising on top, moving away from the piano and crossing the stage to sing with her friend, the two beginning to dance along to the music they made. “In my head, I’m calling you girlfriend what the-” the curse word meant to finish the phrase was overshadowed by a drum fill as Alex appeared on stage behind the pair, his topaz shirt now half open, his hair a mess and his sticks hot from the sheer speed of his hands.
“I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight. I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight.” The three sang the first half of the chorus together, Julie jumping up onto the drum stand with Alex to rock out as he played an sang, leaving room on stage as their final member flashed onto the stage, his suits pants switched for a pair of jeans and sneakers, his shirt now without it’s sheer sleeves, showing off Luke’s arms as they flexed, the guitarist taking lead on the song with a complicated guitar riff.
“I can't stay forever, let's play pretend, and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine.” Luke sang to the screams of the crowd, a smile on his face as he sang, his eyes roaming the crowd for the girl dressed in black, stood a row or two from the front, sending her a wink as he performed. “Tonight.”
“I'm overstimulated and I'm sad. I don't expect you to understand. It's nothing less than true romance or am I just making a mess?” Luke and Julie found themselves singing together, his friend dancing across the stage and leading him along with her microphone as they played for the hundreds before them, Julie switching to the harmony line as the second pre-chorus came back around. “In my head, in my head, I'm laying naked with you, yeah. In my head, in my head, I'm ready to die holding your hand.”
“I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight. I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight. I can't stay forever, let's play pretend and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine tonight.” Luke took the second chorus by himself, while Julie hyped up the crowd, Alex and Reggie going hard on drums and bass behind him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over to Y/N as he sang, the girl stood there with a smirk on her lips. He wondered if she was reading his mind, if she knew what he was thinking, if she knew the song was about her, about them: about the chaotic and borderline toxic relationship they had developed over the years. He wondered if she remembered the year before, the night they shared in New York before he vanished off for a World Tour, before she had fully accepted her role as America’s Greatest Scientific Mind.
The instrumental break had the crowd going wild, Luke, Reggie and Julie harmonising on their separate instruments while Alex improvised on the drums, quickly bringing the tempo down and starting a roll on the snare, Luke coming back to his mic to sing.
“I can't hide how I feel about you. Inside, I'd give everything up tonight, if I could just have you be mine. Be mine, baby.” Luke’s voice had a gravel in it, something raw and powerful that took people’s breath away. He glanced over to Reggie and Julie as he sang, the three sharing smiles until Reggie glanced out at the crowd, his grin dropping to a frown, Julie’s soon following. Luke tracked their gazes as he held onto the microphone for balance, every piece of joy in him suddenly filled with rage.
There, in the third row back, was some guy, dressed like he’d just come from a giving a university lecture, with his arms around Y/N’s waist, his chin resting against her shoulder as he pressed kisses to her neck.
“I can't hide how I feel about you. Inside, I'd give everything up tonight, if I could just have you be mine. Be mine.” Luke continued, dropping back from the mic once he had sung the last of the bridge, leaving Alex to another drum fill, a chance to show off that Luke had before been so excited to hear. Now? He just felt numbing anger, it was clear on his face: he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Y/N, who seemed to be refusing to return his gaze, her eyes anywhere but on him.
“I don’t do fake love but I’ll take some from you tonight. I know I’ve got to go but I just might miss the flight.” Reggie and Julie took over singing the last chorus, trying not to show concern as they performed, trying to remain professional. They both wondered exactly what Luke would do once they got off stage, wondered if Reggie and Alex would need to hold their friend back while Julie attempted to talk him down, but it seemed like Luke’s frustrations were coming out on his guitar and the song. He stepped up to the microphone again, green eyes piercing into Y/N’s very soul as he played like he wouldn’t get another chance.
“I can't stay forever, let's play pretend and treat this night like it'll happen again. You'll be my bloody valentine tonight.” Her eyes finally looked up, her face one of blank expression, and it almost gave him hope. She almost look annoyed, though he couldn’t tell if it was at him or the man who’s hands had begun travelling across her body.
“No not enough, no not enough, no not enough, no not enough no just tonight.” The four sang, repeating the line over again as the song came to a close, Luke swinging his guitar behind him as Alex drummed them out, heavy breathing in a mix of adrenaline and wrath.
The moment the song ended, the crowd bursting into applause, with significant others quickly rushing to the stage to congratulate Julie, Reggie and Alex, Luke watched Y/N slip her way out of the mystery man’s arms, making a beeline to a door by the stage side. It took Luke a second, setting his guitar on the stand and following after her, ignoring a call of ‘Luke wait!’ from his bandmates as he slammed open the door walking down the backstage corridors.
He was hunting, following the scent of perfume, that sweet mix of apple and lemon that made him lightheaded, the echoes of stilettos on concrete. It wasn’t often that he used his ghostly gifts, more because he had gotten used to being human again, but it a moment of frustration at the endless hallways and rooms that seemed to filled that backstage of the Bowery, he poofed with Y/N in mind.
She had expected him to follow of course, they had agreed it earlier that evening. While Luke hadn’t been paying attention to the time, he appeared in one of the Bowery’s backstage bathrooms just as the clock hit 12.05, finding Y/N perched on the sink with a window cracked open and a cigarette between her blood red lips. She blew the smoke out the window, turning back to look at him, reaching out a hand from him to grip onto as he steadied himself. He hadn’t jumped like that in years, the feeling foreign to him.
“Luke…” She said softly, sincerity in her voice that was rare: she wasn’t a woman prone to expressive emotion.
“You could have fucking told me you were with someone before I got on stage.” He hissed, cutting off any type of apology she might have tried to give, not that she was known for them. “I mean, I knew you were a total bitch, Princess, but do I not get any warning?!”
“We don’t do feelings Patterson, you know that.” She whispered softly, taking another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and tossing it through the window, the smoke she blew out hanging in the air.
“Are you really going to sit there and act like we don’t have something?! Really?” Luke exclaimed with an angry laugh, running a hand through his hair in disbelief at the girl before him, who sat stoic, straight backed with her legs crossed one over the other, like she was being interviewed on one of those stupid news shows.
“It doesn’t matter what we have if it would never work, Luke!” She finally let her temper break, yelling the response back at him despite her perfect posture. “We aren’t friends! We can never be friends! We’re two different people leading two very different lives. And to be quite honest with you, Jackson fits into mine.” She admitted, trying to stop her bottom lip from quivering. The last thing she was going to be was weak.
“Jackson, so that’s his name.” Luke scoffed, taking a step closer to Y/N, and another. “Tell me something, Princess.” He muttered, his hand lifting her legs apart for him to get closer, his cold demeanour matching the chill that exuded from his body, causing goosebumps to form on Y/N’s arms and legs. “Does he have the same effect on you that I have?”
“No.” She confessed, her head hanging low as she let out the word. Luke’s thumb and forefinger caught her chin, raising her face to look him in the eyes, the smirk on his lips prompting Y/N to add to her confession. “But I suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Can you tell me honestly that you can give this up?” Luke posed the question, and for a moment Y/N had to pause, to gulp, the closeness of their bodies all too tempting. “You know, you may be the smarty pants young doctor out to save the world around everyone else, Princess, but I’ve heard you scream my name before.” He whispered, his lips centimetres from making contact with skin. “You like this, you love this. Us…Late nights in hotel rooms and sneaking out before morning.” A hand finally placed down against her thigh, the cold skin against her flushed body almost shocking had it not been a feeling Y/N had craved. “You like the adrenaline that comes with going back to what ever pencil neck you’ve wrapped around your little finger while my cum is still on your thighs, marks I left still on your neck.”
All of it was true, but of course Y/N had no intention of admitting it, of boosting that asshole’s ego anymore than she already had. She shouldn’t have agreed to even meeting him, no matter how badly she craved the feeling of Luke’s body against hers, of his hand around her neck as he fucked her senseless.
“Let go of me and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.” She promised, to which Luke laughed, the hand he had on her thigh pushing her skirt higher and higher, coming down towards the inside of her thigh, brushing the lace of her panties. Her breathing hitched, her body betraying her.
“Face it, Y/N…” He said softly, moving back to look her in the eyes as a finger hooked under her panties and pull them down her thighs, Luke biding his time, waiting for the fabric to fall to his feet before continuing. “You need me as much as I need you.” He assured her, his eyes flicking between hers and her mouth. He silently asked permission, Y/N giving it to him when her hands moved to the belt buckle on his jeans, quickly undoing it and letting Luke’s pants fall slack.
Luke didn’t hesitate any longer, taking her face in his hands and pressing their lips together, his tongue fast into her mouth and dominant. He often took control like this, something Y/N could never quite bring herself to resist, and she was almost immediate in her reciprocation of the kiss, her hands coming to the hem of Luke’s shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and pushing it off his shoulders as their lips collided.
Kissing him was like jumping from a cliff into waters one would assume were warm, only to land and hit the freezing sea below. It was the taste of salt on his tongue, the tug of his hands in her hair, the way she panted for breath between kisses like she might drown in him.
Y/N was always the one to make the second move, it was how they worked. Luke always initiated, she always responded, it was a back and forth. They didn’t speak, they knew each other so well they didn’t need it. Her hands coming to his boxers briefs and palming at his stiff member through the clothes, asking for him to take his turn, prompted Luke to do so, moving aside the last piece of clothing separating them from the thing they both begged for.
Luke lined himself up with her entrance, breaking the kiss to pull Y/N to the very edge of the counter, pushing her skirt completely past her ass. His body between her thighs spread her legs, Luke smiling as she whimpered.
“You asshole, don’t make me wait.” She moaned out, giving up on trying to feign resentment, her hand coming to his locks and pulling him in for another kiss, Luke pushing himself into her as they lips collided once again.
A year without one another, Luke had missed the feeling of her walls clenching around his cock. He had missed the way she whimpered curse words under her breath as he set a hard and fast pace. She clung to the counter top for some sense of stability, letting her head fall back as a moan racked her body.
“Fuck Princess, so good for me.” Luke groaned, his lips coming to her exposed neck and pressing down on her sweet spot, making sure to leave a mark, to tell whoever saw her next that she belonged to someone else. His eyes trailed over her in the vulnerable state, taking his cock like the good girl she always was once he had her panties on the floor. He admired the site: her tight cunt spread around his girth as he pounded into her, evidence of her arousal catching the dim lighting overhead.
“Luke… F-fuck…” Y/N whimpered, one hand coming round the back of his neck, pulling him deeper as she began chasing her high, the knots in her stomach slowly beginning to form, his body against hers beginning to burn with each touch. They weren’t meant to be compatible, and yet sex never felt better than with one another. “Baby, don’t stop.” She gasped out, her eyes widening as he bit into her skin, a guttural moan leaving her body, unable to fight back against the smug look on his face.
She had forgotten just how good he was, just how much she wanted him. As the knots in her stomach tightened, the tension in Luke’s abdomen increased, both chasing towards euphoria, Luke’s breathing grew shaky, his pace turning sloppy, his thrusts deeper and deeper.
“Cum for me sweetheart.” Luke muttered, a hand coming down to rub circles against her clit, the action throwing Y/N over the edge, into the waves of ecstasy as the knots in her stomach unfurled, her eyes squeezing shut and her head falling onto Luke’s should as he too spent himself inside her.
They stayed like that for a moment, ragged breathing and Y/N’s rapid heartbeat seeming to pound hard and loud enough for someone two rooms over to hear. She found herself holding onto him, letting herself relax for a moment, even enjoy it, as Luke’s hand came up and petted her head, only moving back when her cheek burned too much from his icy skin.
‘I think she’s in love with me…’ Luke’s intrusive thought wasn’t one he meant to think, but it seemed to be the one Y/N heard. She pushed him back to the other side of the small bathroom, Luke unable to rid himself of the smug expression he wore as he tucked himself back into his boxers and pulled up his jeans.
"He doesn't make you happy." Luke’s voice almost sang in victory, leaning back against the wall as Y/N cleaned herself of their scandal, their affair. Once she had finished, flushing the secret they shared down the toilet with the toilet paper, he reached out and pulled her close to him. His hand came up to her mouth, his thumb pressing against her bottom lip, ego inflating when her felt her tremble slightly in his grasp. "You know he doesn't…"
"Yeah, well at least he doesn't make me sad, Luke." Y/N snapped back in response, interrupting him from finishing his sentence, a stray tear rolling down her cheek as he held her in his arms, catching Luke off-guard and forcing his hands to drop away, his mind to go blank. He didn't think he had ever seen her cry before, but then again, Y/N never had cause to feel shame. She didn't have cause to feel it until then, storming out of that bathroom, knowing for a fact she would do everything in her power to stop herself from loving Luke Patterson.
--
Tags: @siennanoelle01 @epikskool @eries45 @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @lanasfandoms @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @korydickson @sunsetpatterson @uglypeachh @reggieandthereggies @rogersangel @izzyhogue @writerinlearning @independentgirl @delicatelukepatterson @melsucks1 @uhmitstori @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance @mjflower @heimdoodle @kcd15 @-episkey- @walkingonshunshine @obxmermaid @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @kristencoontz @n0wornever @simp4madi @aliciameix @kinda-just-chillin-here @jatpfan99 @blueyed-one @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter @daisiesforlacey @valntynegillespie @ritz-hell-hotel @reggiesleatherjacket @hemmingsness @ssprayberrythings @whitemanshoe19 @mishapned @lukespaterson @caitsymichelle13 @dovesgrangers @morganayennefertyrell @kissing-thunder @localfangirlx @queenxxkiller @sunset-swerves @dmcfarland1 @cherrymaybank @fireballdaisy @theatricalfangirl @marinettepotterandplagg @kaylinfayezink @crappy-unicorn @all-in-fangirl @hologramband @calamitykaty @dxlanhxlland
#luke patterson#luke patterson x reader#luke patterson smut#luke patterson x y/n#jatp luke x reader#jatp luke#jatp au#jatp#julie and the phantoms#angsty smut#smut#luke patterson imagine#luke patterson fanfiction#julie and the himbos
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Alright everybody today we're losing it over 3 things:
Pastel Jughead
Northside Jughead being adopted by Fred
Jughead & his many lady friends
SO HERE'S THE THING- IM CRYING, JUST, - JUG. JUG ALWAYS WANTING TO WEAR PRETTY PASTEL THINGS BUT HE COULD NEVER BC IT WOULD MAKE FP LOOK BAD, THEN BC he doesn't want to put a burden on fp. From a painfully young age, he knew they weren't well off, so yes, hand me downs would suffice, no worries.
There's also that lingering, possessive fear digging through his hopes, that maybe it won't matter, that people won't care, but-
but then he remembers Kevin getting slammed for wearing lip gloss on the playground, or how Archie stopped writing his songs with glitter pens after some douchebag made fun of him.
Or how Jason loved playing dolls and match dresses with Cheryl until he was stopped. And he's just- there's gentle advisory to hide all of that, and so he does?
But then they grow up, and Riverdale, at least in some places, does too. So when Betty kindly offers him some clothes to try on, offers to teach him how to do make up, Val, Polly and Veronica fast on call, having their little fashion shows, it felt... free.
SO, ns jug and ss sweet pea who met through fangs, whom jug found battered up behind the movie theater and took him home to patch up, and it was infatuation at first sight.
Sweet Pea is bold and confident and makes gold feel lesser and he loves the blush preening, bashful but fervid across Jug's face, illuminating the freckles he's found himself counting more than once, and he says he'd like to see it more often.
So Friday. Jug better be ready.
And so - so Jug IS, invites Sweet Pea to his room until he goes to tame his brother Archie, his sister Cheryl (bc in a perfect world Fred adopted Cheryl ok don't tale that from me) and Papa, " protective cave people. You know."
And sweet pea just watches him, a ball of indigant fluffy bed hair, hopping down the stairs.
" You can't ruin this for me! This guy is so sweet and smart and cool, why aren't we talking about Archie's unrelenting habbit of bringing a new girl over every week. I don't want to shame anyone but its really mean I'm the only one targeted!" And he snorts.
This dork will make such a good boyfriend, yes, he can already see it, boyfriend to husband to maybe possibly father of his children.
But he's not thinking too fast. No.
It's just- Jug is a good boy, starry eyed bright, sea water calming and tranquil, makes you want to drown, and sweet pea would. He doesn't know how something that pure goes hand in hand with all the dark he's wearing. A dark he doesn't even enjoy, by the look on his face.
But then. Then sweet pea sees. Pretty pink clothes, shirts and sweaters and skirts, pastel everything, some on the bed, some on the bean bag, and his insides freeze over. They look awfully close in resemblance with the other ball of pastel, sunlight forrest green that creep him out. And Sweet Pea assumes the worst.
Just- Jug coming back, excited, saying that he actually convinced Fred to let him ride on a motorcycle, but sees the dark on sweet pea 's face, watches fingers casually tear his pretty fabrics apart, then fling it at jug and jug- he's he's so upset, water pooling around his eyes, " w- why?"
" why? Cause you're fucking disgusting. THIS is disgusting," gesturing to the mess and rags of Jug's precious things, sliced by a talented blade, precise, masterful, gleeful. " God, I'm so glad I didn't let you touch me. You've got to be one of the sickest fuckers I've ever met. WHY would you bring me here, knowing I'd find out?"
Lips trembling, shaking like fluttering petals blew by wind, Jug, shame eaten, mortification boiling him from the inside out, " I- I didn't think you'd- you'd care."
There's betrayel, soft but noticeable, because he TRUSTED sweet pea, trusted Fangs' promises of their youthful viewpoints, how they're progressive even with their slightly traditional tracks.
Sweet Pea, floored, scoffs, like Jug is spewing some of the most offensive words he's heard in a lifetime, and shakes his head. " Northsiders are something else. Crazy fuckers, the lot of you. Dont look for me, or that pretty face of yours won't stay pretty for long"
He carries that bravado with him out the door, but as soon as he reaches his truck, Sweet Pea cries, you know he does, because there goes his heart, broke open by another northsider with too much time on their hands and not enough life in their hearts.
Meanwhile, Jug is cleaning his room, sobbing quietly, because the boy he likes hates his pretty clothes and thinks Jug is disgusting.
there's nothing Cheryl does better than revenge.
She watches Jug, shoulder to shoulder with a paired of concerned amber eyes, angry, wrathful, as her baby brother gently packs the clothes into a bag, shoulders trembling as if he's carrying so much weight on them Atlas would bow.
Watches him, head down, little trash bag filled with the same things that nerd was so bright eyed with excitement at just a few months ago, and knocks on Betty's door.
He apologizes, Cheryl knows, because of the loving, fond crease between Betty's brow, when Jug would apologize for seemingly nothing and shed say "why"? With her face alone.
She spots the blankness taking over as she opens that bag, slowly, eyes not changing once her and Cheryl lock eyes.
" Fetch my phone, Archie. This is a Code Red."
So here Jug is, under his fluffy blankets, cuddlin and hugging FP's serpent jacket, hoping a gentle hand would materialize out of thin air and brush through his tangle of curls.
When suddenly, it's yanked, and he makes a sad sound of dejection, upset because he wants to SNUGGLE and forget that he's but a mere goldfish in this bitch of a world but surprise surprise, lady friends.
Lady friends holding hair brushes and cosmetics, clothes of all kinds, all comforting, mischievous storms.
Jug whines, low in his throat, uses the leathers as shield. The bed shifts under multiple weights, but he can recognize them all- the soft, private gentleness Cheryl secures only for him, now more tender than ever through his curls.
Betty's ginger squeezes around his thigh, Val, feline agility, perfect grace snuggling around him.
Ethel's timid but strong pat on his shoulder, accompanied by Ronnie's playful tickle to his sides, sending him in a shriek that he needed. They're all there, all pieces of his heart that he'll never forget. " wh- what are we doing?"
" Revenge, dear hobo. Revenge. You know the best way to get it?"
" ...Success?"
" yes. And the best way to kill?" When he doesn't responded, Cheryl's eyes thunder. " Beauty."
#jughead jones#basically jughead jones being feminine to flip the bird to toxic masculinity#i love soft jughead to heck with u guys#riverdale#sweet pea#jugpea#chughead#archie andrews#veronica lodge#betty cooper#valerie brown#fangs fogarty#jeronica#bughead#ethel muggs#cheryl blossom#polly cooper#headcanons#writing#ramblings#text post#text#angst#sweet pea fucks up but don't worry the misunderstandings get resolved#fluff
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heyyy, this is my first ask ever on this page so I'm not exactly sure how to start this, so ill just get right to it from one jonesy/zeppelin stan to another.
Robert apparently wrote Carouselambra about him being frustrated with Jonesy and Jimmy not being there for him after his son karac passed away,,, the song itself is great inho, it's my favorite off of ittod besides in the evening. The situation was tragic enough on it own, but it also put a huge strain on the relationships between the band members, it seems like. I can't pretend I know a whole lot about that part of their history in particular, just wanted to hear your take on it.
Hello my dear!! Welcome to my asks! I hope it is a cozy and pleasant experience. You are always welcome, no matter how inane, as I myself am the queen of inanity (I'm claiming it here and now folks).
^^ look at these boys in their 30s (36, 34, and almost 32 respectively, dear god)
In Through the Out Door is generally pretty fascinating. 'Carouselambra' in and of itself I think is one of those tracks that if it had been deeper into the canon (as if Zep had been able to make more albums), it would have been openly considered a masterpiece. That's actually how I feel about the whole album, but...instead, it causes consternation.
The track itself is one of my favorites as well. It's like Space Jam but everyone's on drugs and having a midlife crisis and WOW it's good. The actual inspiration for the track, as you say, I think was a combination of the highs and lows of Zeppelin and this includes Karac's death and the aftermath. 'Carouselambra' was originally called 'The Epic' -- I like to imagine the epic poetry it was being likened too and if epic poetry was still written and consumed the way we consume Homer and Virgil, that Zeppelin would be a perfect candidate. 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' could never.
The general consensus is that 'The Epic' was renamed 'Carouselambra' because that's what being in Zeppelin was like. Around and around on this gaudy mechanical and in the process these tragic things were happening and you only got fast glances at them or missed out on important things. And in the case of Karac, I'm sure Robert was grappling with the fact he just wasn't around (and I believe he's said as much).
This culminating with Jonesy and Jimmle not being at the funeral, which at the time, Robert had apparently said to Richard Cole, “Maybe they don’t have as much respect for me as I do for them. Maybe they’re not the friends I thought they were.”
Which is understandable! I mean, anyone that close to you dying, let alone a child. You would want your friends there (...if Robert considered Jonesy a "friend" to me is debatable considering his supposed tongue-in-cheek offer to Lita Ford to be the bassist for Zep in '77, but I'm just a bitter Jonesy stan (and I have plenty of theories and ideas about the Jones/Plant dynamic)). From what I've read, Jonesy was on family holiday, I imagine continuing with Maureen and the girls in the RV they rented for the second leg of the '77 tour -- he stole away after the Oakland debacle and drove it up to Seattle (this is from a glancing in Mick Wall's When Giants Walked the Earth, which I'm currently reading). Can that man get any more precious? And Jimmy was...Jimmy, heroin and all, although he's been quoted saying "We were all mates. We had to give the man some space.”
Potentially illustrating this, Robert commented on this in 2005: “The other guys were [from] the South [of England] and didn’t have the same type of social etiquette that we have up here in the North that could actually bridge that uncomfortable chasm with all the sensitivities required … to console.”
By ITTOD, though, we have our "relatively clean" camp friends Jones and Robert leading the charge and, I hope, having some good heart to hearts and enjoying each others' company. I really do wish we had more from that time, of that dynamic because I think it's a really interesting blip on the timeline given their distance mostly (I believe Robert said in 1971 that he had just started becoming friends with Jonesy, which I don't find hard to believe considering their opposite natures).
And then you get 'Carouselambra', all the nonsense and the mayhem boiled down into "why the fuck are we doing this"-edness. The kids are getting older, the tour is now a slog, and now you've got back pain. Kind of a sad carousel at the end of the day. “The whole story of Led Zeppelin in its latter years is in that song, and I can’t hear the words," Plant said, regarding how his voice is mixed lower than the keyboard in the first half. And there they were, in their 30s, and punk was on the rise and let's be honest, rock n' roll has never been a "middle years" kind of game.
But TO ME, that adds to the theatricality, to the idea that everything WAS getting lost and muddled. It's a brilliant, most likely unanticipated homage in my mind and Led Zeppelin WAS theatrical for as much as it was about the music, it was about the mythos and fable as well.
As a side note, I really hate how ITTOD is talked about for the most part as this like "lame keyboard album" when in fact, if Zeppelin had continued, it would serve as an LZ III/HotH vibe to me in that they could do whatever they want so they did and wow it was great. That's just my opinion, though, and I can definitely chalk it up to bias and also my love for Jonesy's post-Zeppelin work that really showcased just how fucking marvelous he is.
oh my god this got so long how did this get so long
This is just my take...I'm sure many people would be ready to contest what I have to say and that's just fine. 'Southbound Saurez' is one of my favorite Zep tracks and I stand by it.
I hope this was worth the time, lovely. Thank you for appearing in the asks and I hope you return someday. It was really lovely to take a journey into the more "academic" side of Zep...turns out I know quite a bit and I'm pretty good at rustling through the interwebs to find all the quotes I wanted to locate!
Feel free to correct me or engage in discourse kindly. I don't have time for negativity, I just turned 26 after all.
let it be known this is literally 950 words
#just call this MY EPIC#christ#who knew i had so much to say#sidenote why is 34 like a hot age to be#just me?#i guess my ex was 34 when we started dating but like#no it can't be that#when your trauma speaks for you#anywayyyyy#ily#whilemyguitargentlyscreams#thank you for making my brain work#i'm writing this at 11pm#i hope it makes sense#led zeppelin#ask#answered#in through the out door#ittod#carouselambra#the epic#john paul jones#jonesy#robert plant#rp#jimmy page#john bonham#bonzo#zep academia#my new niche
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A Completely Objective and Logical Ranking of Every Hetalia Character Song
New character songs are dropping, I have too much time on my hands, let’s go.
Also here’s a Youtube playlist for the ~✨nostalgia✨~
Bring it on in the tags
71. Ah Legendary Class⭐The Awesome Me Highway [Prussia]: Absolutely tearing it up on the drums and on the vocal cords alike (I pray for Atsushi Kousaka). Great for the memes.
70. Happy Thoughts Museum [???]: This is listed as an official song but I had literally never heard of the title. Then I listened to it and BAM! Smack back to 2013 watching the teasers for the show on Funimation. Not sure I’d count it as a character song though...
69. (Nice) My Song that is written by me for me [Prussia]: Deafened me but I can appreciate the industrial grind.
68. My House is...Quiet. ~With the Trolls~ [Norway]: I have never heard this song, nor can I find any version of it online. By default it goes here and I am so sorry Norge.
67. Make a Wish to Santa♪ [Sealand]: The discordant notes and childish exuberance only serve to make this sound like a demonic plea to Santa to eliminate the singer’s enemies.
66. Heaven and Hell on Earth [Rome]: Rome sounds like he’s been in the corner of a restroom. Extra points for the metal version, minus points for the fact that the beach scene was replayed like 1764 times.
65. Canada Complete Introduction [Canada]: Quiet af until Kumacheerio shows up and blows out your speakers. they did you dirty my darling 😔
64. It’s Easy!!! [America]: I don't think any video of this has ever stayed up for more than 20 seconds. Sounds cool, but like I was listening to 20 different genres at once, someone make him calm down.
63. Bù Zàiyì the Small Stuff ☆ [China]: I cannot for the life of me find the complete song anywhere, clips have a cool beat though
62. Let's Boil Hot Water♪ [Italy]: Exactly what it says on the tin..though a bit too close to elevator music for my tastes.
61. The Fragrance of Early Summer [Japan]: Very ‘from the books’ Japan-esque song
60. Peace Sounds Nice…[Baltic Trio]: All well and good until the radio demon shows up
59. W●D●C ~World Dancing~ [America]: How a song can sound like it’s from 4 different decades at once is beyond me
58. Overflowing Passion [BFT]: This is just drunken karaoke and I have 0 clue what’s going on #iconicforallthewrongreasons
57. Ren●Ren●Renaissance♪ [Rome+Chibitalia]: Wholesome Grandpa with Grandson content - barring the fact that Italy sounds on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Rome has had too much wine.
56. Roma Antiqua [Rome]: Similar energy to any one of China’s songs - there’s a part of the song where it sounds like he’s singing in the shower, and I will never not laugh at [CENSORED]
55. Country From Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu [Japan]: Very chill, very Japan, but just meh for me.
54. Moon Over Emei Shan [China]: Good message, okay song.
53. My Friend [England]: What a mind palace you must have Mr. Kirkland
52. With Love, from Iceland [Iceland]: Three words: Heavy. Metal. Puffin.
51. Having Friends is Nice...♫ [Russia]: Russia is the cutest thing ever
50. Mm. [Sweden]: Smooth transition from WWE Smackdown to shopping at IKEA.
49. Why don’t you come over? ~Beyond the Northern Lights~ [Iceland]: I don’t want to be mean but...this does sound like the second closing theme to an anime whose first closing was much more popular (à la Soul Eater)
48. Gakuen☆Festa [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Sounds like a 60s song of the summer but oh dear their voices do not go together. Hella cute though.
47. Wa! Wa!! World Ondo [Main Cast]: One time I travelled 10 hours in a coach bus with a bunch of teenagers to a city of note in my country, and the only souvenir I bought was the fucking PAINT IT WHITE DVD. Perfectly chaotic, UN ĐĕùX~~
46. In the Bluebell Woods [England]: In the album cover for this song he’s holding a guitar but this is not a rock song. Still has ‘running through the hills’ levels of dramatism though.
45. Poi Poi Poi♪ [Taiwan]: You’re telling me that Taiwan, someone whose has *ONE LINE* in Beautiful World (which is criminal tbh what kind of representation-) managed to get an eNTIRE CHARACTER SONG???????
44. White Flame [Russia]: There’s something to be said for a song that is 3x the length of any Hetalia episode
43. Ich liebe… [Germany]: Baking cakes for your friends has never been so wholesome.
42. We Wish you a Merry Christmas [America, China, England, France, Russia]: Nice to see they’ve gotten their shit together since United Nations Sta-hmm.
41. Ah, Worldwide à la mode [France]: Sounds like a Disney Princess song, hard not to picture France frolicking in a field of flowers.
40. Che Bello! ~My House is the Greatest!⭐~ [Italy]: Would not be out of place in an advertisement for Sea World.
39. May You Smile Today [Japan]: THE feel good song of the summer
38. Let’s Look Behind the Rainbow [Italy]: I will protect you.
37. I'm your HERO☆ [America]: “Anyone who’s sad or sullen will be arrested” did NOT age well.
36. Mein Gott! [Prussia]: Alternating headphone effect at the beginning is cool, so is the confidence...the actual singing on the other hand...
35. Nihao⭐China [China]: Listen, all of China’s character songs are great, I just can’t vibe with this one like some of the others.
34. Pechka ~Light My Heart~ [Russia]: I’m still having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that this and Winter were released at the same time.
33. Pukapuka⭐Vacation [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Seems just a bit too much like they’re running on a treadmill that’s picking up speed and trying to sing at the same time. Peppy.
32. Santa Claus is Coming to Town [Germany, Italy, Japan]: This is unironically the best song sung by this trio; can only vibe with for two months out of the year though.
31. Excuse Me, I Am Sorry [Japan]: Japan’s character traits speedrun. Gives me barbershop quartet vibes for some reason but is catchy as hell.
30. The Story of Snow and Dreams [Russia]: A superhero anime opening in the making
29. England’s Evil Demon Summoning Song [England]: Sir that is not how you roast a marshmallow, don’t cut yourself on that edge.
28. Moi Moi Sauna♪ [Finland]: Exactly the type of song you’d expect and it’s wonderful
27. United Nations Star⭐ [America, China, England, France, Russia]: This isn’t as much of a song as it is a four minute struggle for everyone to sing without America yelling every 5 seconds...Like a particularly musical episode of Hetalia.
26. Paris is Indeed Splendid [France]: Paris-pa-pa-pa-paris
25. Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman [England]: Poppy, rocky, polka-dotty
24. Vorwärts Marsch! [Germany]: To quote the comment section: “This sounds like a German version of I’ll Make a Man out of you.” There’s some truth to that.
23. Hamburger Street [America]: The product of America’s rapper phase. 8/10 because he’s trying so hard and because I can unironically sing along to all of this.
22. Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy [Hong Kong]: A song that would absolutely destroy the ankles of anyone in DDR.
21. I Am German-Made [Germany]: There was once a version that had Germany and Prussia singing at the same time and it sounded positively demonic and Broadway could never
20. La pasión no se detiene ~Unstoppable Passion~ [Spain]: Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping...
19. Fall in Love, Mademoiselle [France]: Sounds like it should be in Mozart Opera Rock, I have kiss kiss falled in love.
18. Embrace the Très Bien Moi [France]: This is the definition of SELF LOVE PEOPLE.
17. Carrot and Stick [Belarus&Ukraine]: Absolutely DRIPPING in 2000s power ballad energy. The type of song that plays on repeat in the mind of the widow whose millionaire husband ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (and the only legit character song ever acknowledged by the anime)
16. C.B.C (Cowboyz Boot Camp) Vol. 1 [America]: AH MAH GAWWDDD
15. Winter [Russia]: Heavy metal fever dream and the perfect song for an angst-ridden teenager
14. Seychelles Here ⭐ Vacation Island [Seychelles]: UN👏DER👏RA👏TED SONG👏OF 👏THE 👏SUM👏MER👏
13. Nah, it will settle itself somehow [Romano]: One day I aspire to reach this level of chill
12. Let’s Enjoy Today [England]: I will never not feel happy when listening to this.
11. Einsamkeit [Germany]: Ludwig manages to air every single one of his worries about not being good enough compared to his friends and always being perceived as mean or uptight when he’s actually just a softie and now my heart hurts. 💔
10. Aiyaa Four Thousand Years [China]: A very poignant and beautiful song about the passage of time and the inevitability of its passing; comparable to an ancient ballad complete with explosive crescendos and meaningful lyrics.
9. Bon Bon Bon❤️C’est Bon C’est Bon! [France]: Peppy, cheerful, adorable, groundbreaking; has been my alarm tone for six years and I’ve yet to tire of it. 9/10 The moaning interspersed throughout has been an interesting wake-up call.
8. Let’s Enjoy! Let’s Get Excited! Cheers! [Denmark]: This is on par with Everytime we Touch by Cascada in terms of rage potential unlocked (the good kind)
7. Dream Journey [Japan]: Whoever’s playing the shakuhachi is absolutely KILLING IT. Dramatic, wonderful, great metaphors.
6. Gourmet’s Heart Beginner Level [China]: Absolute banger, I’m a vegetarian but this would inspire me to eat shumai.
5. Always with you...Nordic Five! [Nordic FIVVVVVEEEE]: Everyone harmonizes beautifully except for Denmark. Extremely catchy, number placement seemed appropriate.
4. Pub and GO! [England]: I love this trash man
3. Maji Kandou⭐Hong Kong Night [Hong Kong]: If you thought Denmark’s song was a banger JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL BLOW OUT MY SPEAKERS LISTENING TO LO-HA-SU.
2. Steady Rhythmus [Germany]: THIS SONG IS METAL AF. Seriously, if it can be classified as ‘hardcore’ by my father and his group of 50-somethings who have decided to single-handedly gatekeep the metal and hardrock genres, it can do anything.
1. The Delicious Tomato Song 🍅 [Romano]: Beautiful, absolutely awe-inspiring, poignant, catchy lyrics with an extremely deep meaning that only years of meticulous research and analysis can unlock, Romano I love you.
BONUS: Closing Songs
5. Hatafutte Parade (World Series)
4. Hetalian⭐Jet (The World Twinkle): The song is good, the dancing is cursed
3. Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda (World⭐Stars)
2. Marukaite Chikyuu (Hetalia: Axis Powers): nE NE PaPA
1. Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo (The Beautiful World)
#aph#hws#hetalia#aph america#aph england#aph france#aph russia#aph china#aph italy#aph romano#aph germany#aph japan#aph spain#aph prussia#aph canada#aph norway#aph denmark#aph sweden#aph finland#aph iceland#long post#i will be taking criticism at this time
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