#not that the grammys matter because they always suck ass | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brianc521 · 4 years

Text

Dress | CEO Peter

You hadn’t totally planned on stopping by the office after your lunch with the designer, but you’re feeling really stressed and need a moment with your man.

“Miss L/n,” Stan, Peter’s office assistant stands abruptly when he sees you exit the elevator.

“Hi Stan.” You smile, starting to walk past him.

“He’s on a call.” Stan blurts, trying to halt you.

“Good for him.” You grin, pushing your way through the heavy glass door that leads to Peter’s office.

“No William it’s not happening.” Peter’s stern CEO voice fills the room, and the latch of the door is what gets him to turn around. His eyes go wide at the sight of you and he rubs a hand over his face.

He’s been pacing the length of his floor to ceiling windows, earpiece in as he runs this call.

“William I need to call you back...No, shred it.” With that he hangs up, looking up at you. “Kitten.” He acknowledges.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” You stand close to the door, suddenly feeling very small. “I just um, I can go, you’re busy.”

His eyes go soft when he notices your demeanor. “Hey,” He reaches out for you, catching your elbow before you can open the door. “Look at me.” He tilts your face up. “I’m never too busy for you, you know that. What’s the matter?”

“I’m stressed out.” You whine, leaning into him.

“What happened? I thought you were meeting with the wedding planner and then the designer?”

“I did, and it’s stressing me out. One’s telling me we need to have our invite list done by tonight, and the others telling me I need to give up cake and cut down on my coffee.”

He grins a little, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer into him. “Why do you need to give up cake? Is this designer trying to get me killed?”

“Because the size of my dress I am is supposedly too big.”

“Says who?” He pulls back, eyebrow raised. “I’d like to speak to this designer.”

“No Peter, it’s okay, it’s just a few months.”

“No fuck that. You aren’t gonna do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll hire a new designer, I’ll come to the consult. I love the way you look right now, I don’t want you to change. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I mean losing weights never a bad thing, but I really love cake.”

Peter pecks your lips, “Then don’t worry about it, we’ll fix it.”

You rest against his chest, cheek pressed against his tie. “You make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do.” He squeezes you tighter. “You make me feel better too.”

You gasp and smack his back when his hands slide down and grab a handful of your butt. He smirks into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You still stressed Kitten?”

“Mhm.” You hum, blushing when he turns you away from the wall of glass that leads to his reception.

He hits a button on his desk that drops dark black blinds down the windows, blocking the view of anyone seeing in.

“Stan.” He says into the intercom.

“Yes sir.”

“Hold my calls, and push my meeting with William back by 15 minutes.”

“Yes sir.” Stan agrees.

With that settled Peter pulls you closer, sitting back in his chair and tugging you to straddle his lap. “How’s my wife doing?” He looks up, lengthy lashes curled up and giving him an innocent boy look.

“M’not your wife yet.”

“To me you are.” He fingers with the diamond on your hand. While holding your left hand with his right, his left hand wanders up your skirt. His rough hand slides up the smooth skin of the inside of your thigh, eyes widening when he doesn’t find any underwear.

“No panties?” His ghostly voice caught in his throat. “Naughty girl Kitten.”

You bite your lip when his index finger rubs at your already wet slit.

“You’re wet Kitten.” He raises an eyebrow. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.”

“Who?” He leans closer.

“You Daddy.” You breathe out, arching into his chest when he inserts his finger.

“Mm,” He nods, pumping slowly. “You’re warm too.”

You suck in your breath, trying to stay quiet, knowing he has workers and clients right outside his door.

“Gonna be good for me Kitten? Gonna stay quiet?”

“Yes.”

“What was that?”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll be good.”

“Good girl.” He kisses under your jaw, sucking your sweet skin into his mouth.

He switches between one and two fingers, keeping you surprised and constantly hiding moans. He can tell you’re getting close, but need just a little help pushing over the edge, so he adjusts. He tucks his elbow in closer, allowing better leverage, pushing in deeper now.

You tug at his hair when his thumb makes contact with your clit. Your legs have started to shake, thighs squeezing tighter against his own.

“Gonna cum Kitten?” His voice audibly deeper, huskier.

“Mhm.”

“What do you say?” He inquires, starting to move his fingers faster.

You’re breathing heavily, the softest whimpers running past your lips. There's a light sheen of sweat on your brow, and his jacket will probably have indents from your grip on his shoulders.

“Can I,” You squeal a bit when touches that one spot deep inside you. “Can I cum?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Daddy can I cum? Please let me cum.” You beg, that feeling running down your spine.

“Cum for Daddy.” He growls, nipping your skin as you freeze, arching into him, holding on for dear life.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Holy fuck.”

He grins, loves to watch you fall apart, make a mess of his fingers.

“Good girl.” He slips his fingers out of you, raising them to his lips and sucking your taste away. “Delicious.”

You roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath as he gloats about his achievement. “My turn?” You ask, palming his dick through his slacks.

“Catch me later.” He taps your ass, signaling you to stand.

“What?” You stare at him.

“I have a meeting Kitten.” He looks at you, and then checking the time quickly.

“But, are you kidding?”

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Yeah, now let me help you.” You whine.

“Kitty.” He hums softly. “If you need me to stay because you’re still stressing then I’ll cancel, but if you want me to stay to return the favor then no. That’s not how this works. It might have started as an eye for an eye, but we’re not like that anymore. I just wanted to make you feel better, I don’t expect anything in return.”

“But I want too.” You pout at him, receiving a kiss on the lips.

“Tonight.” He grips your thighs.

“Okay.”

“I really have to go, I’m already late.” He grins, rubbing his nose back and forth against yours.

“Oh.” You suddenly remember where you are, starting to jump to action.

“No.” He whines this time. Locking his arms around you. “Stay for a minute more Kitty.”

“Peter you’re late.”

“But I’m also the boss.” He looks up at you, blinking slowly. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” You nod. “How can I not be, Peter Mendes is my husband.”

At this he beams, surging up to kiss you fiercely.

His intercom buzzes, making him groan and hide his face in your cleavage. You laugh as he bites at the flesh, ignoring the buzzing.

You reach over. “Yes Stan?”

“Oh,” He responds. “Miss L/n, Mr. Mendes is needed in conference room A and Ella Jones is on line one.”

“Who’s Ella Jones?” Peter looks over.

“That’s my designer.” You sigh.

He presses onto line one in a hurry, setting the call on speaker.

“Mr. Mendes?”

“Miss. Jones.”

“You said to call with the expenses, with what we drew up today I am estimating-”

“Hold on to that Miss. Jones, we’ve decided to work with someone else.”

“Excuse me?” She screeches. “That’s not what we discussed today.”

“Today you discussed my wife’s weight, and caffeine intake? I’m not appreciative of anyone who makes my wife feel insecure, especially those who will be dressing her. With that said, I’ve terminated your employment and wish you the best in the future, but you won’t be making my wife’s dress.”

“Mr.Mend-” With that Peter hangs up, looking up to you with a shrug.

“Problem solved, I’ll call Shawn after my meeting and see if he can send over Tiff’s information. You’ve always liked her style and when she dressed you for the Grammy’s last year you were absolutely divine. I trust her.”

“Who are you?” You stare at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

He stares at you with a confused face. “I don’t understand your question.”

“I walk in here and you’re having a verbal smackdown on the phone, that quickly turns into my soft Petey, that then transforms into a Daddy, back to my Petey for a moment, then wrapping the circle with verbal smackdowns on the phone. You amaze me.”

“I’m glad I amaze you Kitten. I can’t wait to blow your mind tonight at home.” He grins, helping you stand. While he gets ready for his meeting you rearrange yourself he can’t help but smile at what you’ve just said.

“Well Mr. Mendes.” You say as you stand by the door, watching the blinds slowly rise. Peter looks to you, that fire still in his eyes. “I can’t wait to blow you tonight at home.”

His eyes darken and he’s about to respond as you duck out of his office, scurrying to the floor.

“She’s trouble.” He laughs to himself. “Stan?” He pokes his head out of his office. “We’ll be calling her Mrs. Mendes from now on.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes blurb #shawnmendes #shawnmendes imagine #shawnmendes fluff #shawnmendes smut #shawnmendes angst #shawnmendes blurb #peter #peter mendes #petermendes #peter mendes imagine #petermendes imagine #ceo peter #ceo smut

401 notes · View notes

newcaptainofsquad9 · 4 years

Text

So, When Can We Tell The World?~Min Yoongi x black! fem! reader {5}

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Summary: The Grammys have finally arrived and you’re trying to navigate the red carpet yet the interviewers keep asking questions about you and Yoongi. You answer them to the best of your abilities with annoyance, along with confusion, until Yoongi and the boys arrive. The red carpet goes by with ease soon after, until the rumors of you and Yoongi reveal themselves, leaving you in a heap of emotions while leading up to your performance with the man you love.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Idol-Verse, Smut (none in this chapter)

Word Count: 3, 002

Author’s Note: Finally the Grammys chapter! This is where things come to a head guys, I’m so excited for you guys to see where this goes! Also, I’m sure you guys know that the BTS members speak primarily English in this series, but that does not mean they don’t still sing mainly in Korean, so expect stupid ass questions from interviewers so, yeah. Also this is fictional! However some of these people may act in real life is not a reflection of this fic! Anyways, hope you enjoy!

I can’t help but smooth out my golden dress for the umpteenth while the black Mercedes comes I’m in comes to a swift stop in front of the Staples Center. The palm trees always make me giddy, I never really notice Los Angeles until now, it matters a lot. I can’t help and wonder about Yoongi for the third time today(something that got my stylist and manager in a heated mood today). He seemed so timid during our phone call a few nights ago, his energy is usually pretty chill, I tend to be the one to freak out.

“Uh, Y/N?”

I break from my thoughts to turn to my brother Kevin, along with his puzzled stare.

“You ok girl?” my manager Katie asks.

I nod sharply as the photographers start to swarm around the car. They don’t get far as a few men in tuxes step towards the car to help me out.

“Oh, she’s just thinking about someone,” Kevin teases, “her Suga bear-ouch!”

I elbow him in the ribs, his teeth gritting at the discomfort. Good.

“He’ll be all right,” Katie reassures, “you’ll perform with him, but I want to make sure you’re good. Are you ready to get out there?”

The nerves bundle up inside me abruptly, the tux suited men grow closer as I try to breathe in and out to ease my racing pulse.

“Look, don’t worry about Yoongi,” Katie says, “just do a kick ass performance and don’t worry about the nomination, this’ll be helpful for the both of you either way.”

I nod while I smooth down my dress for the final time.

“I still think you guys will win,” Kevin declares, “if you get snubbed again-”

“You won’t do a thing,” I deadpan.

Kevin’s face flares for a moment, yet it disperses as quickly.

“Good luck big head,” he teases.

“Thanks,” I say sheepishly.

“Let’s go then,” Katie giggles.

The tux men open the doors for Katie and I, allowing the camera flashes, the roar of the crowd and buzz of interviewers to have sound all at once. Even the carpet below my wedges scream with a red that can’t help but be noticed. Fans, along with interviewers chant my name, Yoongi’s as well. I only smile, wave and eventually pose for the cameras as they all snap together and a few get a complete 360 shot.

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

I peer pass the barricade that keeps the fans out, pass a heap of camera men and hell of a lot of wires.

The voice who calls me over is none other than Ryan Seacrest in a plain blue suit and blonde hair that’s obviously dyed. I get an uneasy feeling down my spine, I remember how uneasy Yoongi was when we talked the other day. I don’t doubt Seacrest was one of the interviewers who gave him and the guys an obviously awkward and rude time. Katie’s hand on my lower back forces me to jump slightly. There are cameras on me, I need to focus.

“You ok?” she asks, “you see Seacrest right?”

I nod as Seacreast puts on a toothy grin and walks over.

“I see him, he just, well he’s Seacreast,” I say.

Katie giggles.

“I’ll be watching the entire time,” she says, “if it get’s too awkward just look my way and I’ll intervene.”

I mouth a thank you and stroll over to Seacreast, his smile expands once he gets a quick once over of my dress.

“Looking glamorous this evening Y/N,” he gushes, “how are you feeling tonight? you’re nominated for Song of the Year, how do you like your chances?”

I put on my best smile before answering.

“I’m just honored to be nominated,” I say, “just being about to share this experience with Yoong-Suga!”

Seacrest grins, his eyes narrowing at the mention of Yoongi.

“So, you and BTS’s Sugar huh?” he asks, “how close are you both going to be on that stage tonight?”

I hold in my urge to roll my eyes at his blatant mispronunciation. Why is he saying this? How close?

“What do you mean?”

Seacrest chuckles.

“You two aren’t partners?” he asks.

His smile drops, he’s genuinely confused and so am I. I glance over at Katie, who shrugs as well before pulling out her phone.

“Yeah, on the stage we are,” I say, “I hope Suga can tell you more about it when you get a chance to interview him.”

Seacrest nods.

“Thank you Y/N, hope you enjoy the carpet.”

...

The same questions happen throughout each interview:

Do you get nervous when you’re up there with him?

Was Suga the one you were genuinely attracted to first?

How was it like working with one of the BTS members?

Nothing about the song. An album. About the actual music with Yoongi just a false attempt at asking if we’re dating. I try to shut them down as nicely as possible, keeping the conversation on song writing and my performance with Yoongi later. Katie continues to send me weary looks though, playing it off with a tiny grin once I raise a question.

“What is it?” I ask, “do you know why they’ve been asking me those ridiculous questions?”

Katie opens her mouth, then shuts it as she peers around me.

“Ah, Y/N uh-look!” she shouts, “there are the guys!”

As soon as the words left Katie’s mouth the crowd, along with the photographers turned their attention towards the right. They always stick out: Namjoon because of the long mullet he’s been growing out; Taehyung with his curly medium length dark hair and smoldering eyes; Jimin with his honey colored hair; Hoseok and that smile that could heal the world; Jin with his looks that could make anyone stare and Jungkook sporting his confused, yet cute expression. Then there’s Yoongi.

I rarely seen him dressed so formal in person. His hair seems lighter, a more blonde shade under the lights, his tan turtle neck fits him well too, along with his blazer. And the earrings, my God.

“Y/N, focus,” Katie giggles in my ear.

I nod and strut the red carpet, expertly posing for photos while the guys approach my way. Out the corner of my eye I notice Jungkook’s face light up, similar to that of a child’s. I tilt my head over for the photographers, swiftly making eye contact with him, then Jimin and Yoongi. He flashes a short gummy smile and it takes all of my willpower not to sprint over and kiss him. I just want to hug him, I need him, but I can’t go to him. At least not right now. That’ll just add fuel to the already vast wildfire that these interviewers have sparked.

Jungkook taps Namjoon on the shoulder as he nods in my direction. Of course Namjoon’s all dimples as he curves Ryan Seacrest’s attempt at interviewing him and the guys.

“Y/N! Over here!” he calls.

I turn fully towards them to wave and grin.

Namjoon’s still dimples city as he gives me a quick hug and puts up his enclosed fist. Jimin hides a giggle behind his own fist as Yoongi rolls his eyes and Taehyung shakes his head lovingly. I accept the dap wholeheartedly, Namjoon’s smile only grows more.

“How have you been? Excited for tonight?” he asks as he guided me towards the middle of the guys.

“Yeah,” I lie as I get in between Jimin and Jin to smile for the camera.

Jimin places a comforting hand on my shoulder while Jin rests his own on the other.

“You sure?” Jin asks, “you seem a little out of it.”

I only smile and pose with all seven of them.

“Just the interviewers,” I admit, “they’ve been bringing up ridiculous dating rumors between Yoongi and I.”

Jin blinks. Jimin sucks in his breath before gripping my shoulder a little tighter.

“Ah, you know how the American interviewers can be,” Jimin scolds, “you’re around them more than we are.”

He giggles nervously, glancing away from me to wave at the crowd. Ok, weird.

“Y/N!Y/N! Can we get just you and Suga?” one of the photographers asked.

Jin and Jimin skitter from me as Jungkook, Taehyung and Hoseok do the same for Yoongi; they stand a little ways back. Our eyes finally meet for more than a moment and it’s hard. Hard not to blush around him like it’s the first time we saw each other, especially since we aren’t alone with the world watching us.

“Hi,” Yoongi whispers.

“Hi.”

We embrace, his turtle neck cuddly enough to melt in, yet I don’t. The embrace doesn’t last long, he pulls away quickly for the both of us. His hand goes to the small of my back as we both smile then wave to the photographers and fans.

“Y/N! Suga, could I get an interview!” someone shouts, “please!”

Our heads shoot up towards a black woman with medium length hair clutching a microphone. She grins brightly and waves, forcing me to put on a small, strained smile. The hand on the small of my back moves up and down tenderly as Yoongi leans down to whisper.

“You all right?” he asks, “did something happen?”

“I-” I pause to look up at him, concern etched in his face.

This is our night, our chance to maybe win, perform for our fans and just enjoy ourselves. Sure the questions are annoying, but that’s part of the game.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“I’m ok,” I say, “let’s do an interview, yeah?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but I can see underneath that this conversation will be held later. And I’m fine with that. He only nods and holds his arm out, confusing me for a moment.

“I would hold your hand, but you know.” he gestures to the camera flashes that make him grimace.

“Right,” I say.

We approach the interviewer who fixes her hair and motions to the camera man in front of her.

“Tiffany from Access Hollywood here!” she greets, “how are you guys enjoying the carpet so far?”

“It’s been great so far,” Yoongi says before turning his attention to me.

“Yeah, it still seems like a dream being here,” I say.

Tiffany grins.

“The both of you are nominated tonight for your song All The Crown Players, how are you guys feeling about that? Excited?”

Yoongi’s gummy smile returns.

“Of course, I feel like it’s a long time coming,” he says, “I’m glad I get to share this experience with Y/N.”

He looks to me with those eyes, that look as if I’m the most special thing in the world. It’s real no matter how we try to play for the cameras and I feel guilty for not acting on my feelings. It’s for the best though, for the both of us. At least that’s what I thought.

“Y/N?” Tiffany asks.

“I agree,” I say, “I always wondered if I was ever worth of being honored here and here I am. Yoongi being able to stand with me is enough, he’s making this experience so much better.”

Yoongi’s grin widens as he nudges me with his shoulder and hides his grin.

“That’s so wholesome,” Tiffany gushes, “what can we expect from your performance tonight?”

I open my mouth to answer yet close it immediately. Yoongi catches this and goes to answer for me.

“It’s going to be worth the wait,” he says.

I nod sharply as Tiffany smiles.

“Great, well I’ll let you both enjoy the carpet,” she says, “good luck guys.”

“Thank you,” I say as Yoongi bows and waves.

Maybe things will get better before it gets worse.

...

I stay close to Yoongi and the guys as step through the hallways backstage. My anxiety flares once more eyes land on us, camera crew, performers and artists alike gawk. I always seem to forget how popular the guys are. That must be it, right?

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you?” Yoongi whispers, while not breaking his stride with the guys and I, “you’ve been forcing smiles all night.”

I hide my state of anxiety with a false giggle.

“It’s nothing Yoongi,” I lie, “I-I’m nervous about our performance.”

Yoongi smiles, reaches in to take my hand but stops himself. I understand why, considering that we’re still around potential cameras and other American artists.

“Don’t be,” he says, “I’ll be right with you. Is that really it?”

I look up and his stare is intense. His brows furrowed down in a deep set frown that I’d consider adorable even in our given the current circumstances. His deep brown pupils soften as he rubs my arm tenderly.

“Tell me Y/N, please,” he begs, “I just want this to be an amazing night for the both of us.”

My heart sinks at his saddened tone.

“I do too, it’s just-I-I don’t want it to ruin your night,” I say.

Yoongi flashes that gummy smile again.

“Try me.”

Ok, well I did warn him.

“The interviewers, well besides the one we just had, they’ve been very forward to say the least,” I say.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“How so? You do know that they ask us the most bizarre questions too, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, but they’ve been asking a little too much about me and you, nothing of it happens to do with the song or our nomination.”

Yoongi chuckles.

“Let me guess, they asked what it’s like working with the ‘phenomenon known as BTS?’ or how we made a song in English and Korean,” he teases.

“They asked if we were dating Yoongi,” I say.

Yoongi freezes, his face blank as the guys walk on ahead of us.

“See this is why-”

“Y/N, they’re only rumors, right?” he asks, “nothing more?”

I nod, a little confused at Yoongi’s question.

“I guess so,” I say, “God, I told you this would ruin everything.”

Yoongi shakes his head, giving me another gummy smile as he moves to touch the small of my back.

“It didn’t, Y/N. It’s just, what I did might ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?” I ask.

“Yoongi, Y/N?”

Both of our heads snap up to see Namjoon and his deep, perplexed stare. I glance past him to see Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hosoek and Jin giving us weary stares as well.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask, “did something happen?”

Namjoon purses his lips and look’s to Yoongi who shifts uncomfortably as he shoves his hands into the pocket of his blazer.

“It’s nothing Y/N,” he declares, “just a couple of nasty tweets, I guess some of them got into the interviewers heads is all.”

I open my mouth to question him, yet we get interrupted by one of the staff members.

“Y/N, Suga,” he says, “you guys are performing a little earlier than planned. Your stylists are waiting, all the way down the hall to the left.”

My chest tightens at the news. Earlier? We didn’t rehearse for earlier. Yoongi must have saw my panic as he leans in to put a hand around my shoulder and squeeze me gently.

“Got it, thank you,” he says before bowing slightly.

Once the staff member disappeared I breathed in deeply.

“All right, let’s go,” I declare.

Namjoon looks to me then to Yoongi before back to me.

“Y/N, you don’t look too fine,” Namjoon noted.

I bite down on my lip to try and cease the tears, thankfully it works. I’m not sure if Yoongi notices but he holds my hand this time and nods sharply at Namjoon.

“I’ve got her, I promise.”

His reassurance to Namjoon is solid, putting me at ease even though it’s not directed at me.

“Good luck you two, we’ll be cheering for you,” Namjoon says.

I hug him tightly and giggle as Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin and Taehyung join in, engulfing me in a group hug. My anxieties disperse at their praise, along with any doubts I had about Yoongi.

...

Performing with Yoongi made me feel ethereal. His verses and rhymes put a fire under me, made me keep up with him, when I felt overwhelmed Yoongi was there. I didn’t even notice the song stopped as he grinned brightly down at me with sweat pouring down his face while breathing heavy. I can’t help but smile back and stare up at his lips. Yoongi must have noticed and mirrored my movements to get closer. The roar of the crowd forces us to stop however, thank God. We both turn back towards the audience to wave and bow with our warm hands wound together.

“You were amazing,” Yoongi whispers.

“So were you,” I say.

“C’mon.”

I giggle as Yoongi takes my hand and leads me backstage.

“Wow the chemistry you guys carry can’t be replicated,” a staff member says, “no wonder you guys are an item.”

Yoongi goes rigid, I pull away from him.

“N-No I ah, we aren’t dating,” I let out, “you shouldn’t really believe those interviewers.”

The staff member frowns.

“Really? I thought it was official, hm,” he says before disappearing to his duties.

Official?

“Y/N-”

“What did he mean by official Yoongi?” I ask, cutting him off.

Yoongi’s eyes sweep to the floor.

“Y/N I-I fucked up,” Yoongi whispers.

His eyes grew soft again as he bit down on his lip.

“What is it?” I ask, “what the fuck did you do?”

Katie bursts in along with Namjoon.

“You guys did great- Y/N? Yoongi?” Katie asks.

Namjoon gets in between the both of us.

“What happened?”

“Just tell me the truth Yoongi, what. Did you do,” I whisper.

Yoongi purses his lips before he speaks.

“Bighit had to put out an official statement,” he pauses before continuing, “about the both of us.”

My chest pangs as my entire body begins to tremble.

“W-Why would they do that?”

Yoongi swallows hard.

“Because I revealed it on V live, on accident,” he says, “I-I promise I didn’t mean to.”

I only nod and step past Namjoon and Katie, ignoring Yoongi’s pleas. I need some air.

116 notes · View notes

some-mad-lunge · 5 years

Text

What Might Have Been - Malex Fic

Alex leaves Roswell the day after his and Michael’s almost kiss. He comes back for his high school reunion and realizes some things never change, like the way a certain curly haired boy makes him feel. (Malex AU)

This is for @fraudulentzodiacs to make her smile. You are loved darling.

***************************

You can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say? What they should say is don’t go home again. Alex Manes had made that vital mistake, gone home and he regretted it. Why? Because he was sitting in a rented luxury SUV, AC running as he tried to pump himself up enough to get out of the damn car.

He’d had his reasons for wanting to show up his 10 year high school reunion but he couldn’t remember them right now.

Well two reasons actually, only two and he did remember them.

First, to throw a John Hughes style middle finger to the four years of hell he’d had within those walls and the people who’d made it that way.

The second? To lay eyes one more time on the boy that was the only reason those same years were even slightly bearable.

Alex wasn’t usually nostalgic, which was ironic given that he was a songwriter. He was paid large amounts of money to make melodies and prose into art, to make people feel something. It didn’t mean he always saw the beauty in the sunset or in the healing of a broken heart. It didn’t mean he looked backwards at all. He normally avoided it at all costs.

It just happened that his invitation to the reunion had arrived less than 48 hours after his interview with Rolling Stone. He’d been picked, along with nine other songwriters, to be a part of their “Voices Of A Generation” issue. It was a tremendous honour and a validation he’d never known he’d needed until he had it.

It didn’t matter that he had two Grammy’s, countless other awards and chart topping hits. It didn’t matter that he had Beyoncé’s and Taylor Swift’s personal numbers saved in his cell phone. It didn’t matter that he had a house in Malibu and an apartment in Manhattan. It didn’t matter what anyone in Roswell thought about him then or what they thought now, especially not Alex’s father.

No, what mattered was that he'd been chosen by Rolling Stone to represent the voice of the very people who had shunned him back in the day. They had tried to make him hate who he was and had failed miserably in their attempts.

Now they listened to his message, they sang along to his lyrics and that was a fuck you very much he wasn’t going to turn down delivering.

But none of it, not one single bit of it, would have been possible without Michael Guerin.

Alex could still remember it like it was yesterday, Michael’s lips, Michael’s eyes. Warm breath on Alex’s face and the moment of finally before it was gone and the soul crushing love of his life had pulled away before it could even begin. Instead it ended and so did any reason to hang on.

If that hadn’t happened Alex wouldn’t have packed his bags that night. He wouldn't have taken out all his savings, bought a bus ticket and gotten out of New Mexico before anyone knew he was gone. He wouldn’t have sat staring out the window as the dessert went by, not bothering to hide his tears as he wrote “Cosmic Love” in his spiral notebook.

It was a song about a love that you can run from but never leave behind. The kind of love that is everywhere and in everything, that sustains you just as much as it makes you bleed. A love that only two people could understand. The love Alex had always felt for Michael.

The lyrics had flowed out of him in one go, the notes he played the first time at a rest stop under a flickering light at 2:00am.

A song that less than a year later made the gay teenage outcast of Roswell a force to be reckoned with.

If Michael hadn’t taken away Alex’s only reason to stay, he never would have left. Alex felt like he owed Michael somehow for crushing his heart.

It hadn’t been that easy of course, but for once luck had been on Alex’s side. Los Angeles had been the escape he’d always dreamed of. He met people like himself, the outcasts, the freaks and the artists. He’d met boys, and men, unashamed to look him up and down, desire him. He’d been allowed to kiss in coffee shops and hold someone’s hand at the beach. He’d sat in the sand and played his guitar in between shifts at the souvenir kiosk where he’d gotten a job.

He’d been in LA six months when he’d met Jason. Alex strummed his guitar, black polish chipping off his nails, hard cement of the boardwalk under him. Jason, who had a voice like honey, sat beside him out of the blue one day and started singing along. Jason, who instantly became his best friend, and then shortly after became Jason Rast.

Cosmic Love had been Jason’s first single off his debut album, and it changed both of their lives.

Alex Manes might write the voice of a generation but Jason Rast sang it, gave it life. He was the epitome of a rock star with a heart of gold. Fame hadn’t changed him, or their friendship. Or how much he liked to text.

Jason - Have you seen him yet? Did he get fat? I bet he got fat.

Alex - I’m hiding in the parking lot.

Jason - You know you have two Grammy’s right? Fuck those people.

Alex - Why did I want to do this again?

Jason- Do you want me to send a jet to come get you? We could go to Vegas. Adam Levine is there, he always throws a good bender.

Alex - You hate Levine.

Jason - Everyone hates him. It’s like a rule.

Alex - No. I’m going to do this. I can do this.

Jason - MY MAN!

Jason - Let me know if he got fat.

Alex pulled himself out of the car, smoothed the front of his button down shirt. He could have gone full celebrity and worn something designer. That was probably what everyone was expecting of him but it didn’t mean that’s who Alex was. Sure his jeans were probably too expensive by most people’s standards but they made his ass look amazing. He did have to face the unrequited love of his life after all.

He walked through the parking lot filled with cars but void of people. He could hear the music coming from the open gym doors, the muffled voices of his past. The sun was starting to set, casting everything in moody pinks and reds.

For some reason he headed towards the football field. Not that Alex had ever played the sport or even gone to a game unless dragged there. No, he’d spent his time under the bleachers playing his guitar or smoking a cigarette when he should have been in class pretending anyone at home gave a shit about him.

Alex had perfected being moody and pissed about the unfairness of life as a teenager. It had been warranted but it was still a damn cliche.

He finally stopped with his hands in his pockets, took in the spot he’d sat with Maria or Liz, sometimes even Michael, but mostly alone. Just him and his guitar. This place seemed bigger back then, the whole world had.

“Looks exactly the same doesn’t it?” The voice from behind Alex didn’t make him jump, it never had. Instead it slide over him like a caress, heat and smoke, easy to fall into if he wanted. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder.

Time had been good to Michael Guerin. Correction, time had been sucking Michael Guerin’s dick and thanking him for the pleasure. He looked like sex personified, low slung jeans and curls that Alex still wished he had felt against his fingers just one time.

Michael was a little older, a little rougher around the edges but he still made a shiver go up Alex’s spine. It was like being 18 all over again.

“Of all the things I expect to change in this world Roswell isn’t one of them.” Alex smiled through the words. It was Michael and even when breaking Alex’s heart he was still the best thing about this God awful town.

He got a grin back, Michael walking forward so Alex can meet him in the handshake/half hug that seems to be the straight man staple. He felt breath on his cheek for a second so it was worth it.

“I can’t believe you came.” Michael seemed genuinely happy to see Alex, which he had to admit surprised him.

“Me neither.” He’s a liar but no one needs to know that.

“FYI, Isobel has your Rolling Stones cover up on the “Alumni Wall Of Fame.” It’s right next to Marcus Boyle’s USDGC gold medal.”

“USDGC?”

“United States Disc Golf Championship.”

Alex can’t stop the punch of laughter that escapes. Michael always did that to him, made him feel without fear. Alex could laugh or he could cry but it was easy, and it was safe.

“Is the medal in the shape of a frisbee?” Alex can’t help but meet Michael’s eyes, fascinated that they are exactly the same as he remembers them. Exactly like he still dreamed about most nights.

“No, but now that I think about it that is clearly a gross oversight.”

They stand side by side, their snorts of laughter fading into comfortable silence. Their kind of comfortable, with a pop of electricity that snapped between them. Alex would never forget how devastated he’d been when he realized he was the only one that had ever felt it.

He kind of wants to go back in time and give 18 year old Alex a hug. At 28 he’s unsure how to handle this feeling, 10 years ago must have been terrifying. He doesn’t remember it that way. Michael had never scared him, Michael had fascinated him.

“Should we head in?” Alex turned to the gym, as ready as he’d ever be to face the masses, but a hand on his arm stopped him. The fingers are so hot Alex wasn’t sure how he didn’t catch on fire. He had to fight the part of him that just wanted to press those hands to his bare skin and burn alive.

“Or we could hide under the bleachers with the cooler of beer I put there just in case.” Michael’s smile is small, and if Alex has read it right, a little bit unsure. A peace offering? Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t Michael’s fault that he hadn’t felt the way Alex always did.

No, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that Alex had spent most of his life continuously falling for Michael Guerin.

Alex had been so heartbroken he hadn’t realized when he’d run away he wasn’t the only one who had lost something. Michael had been Alex’s ideal, but Alex had been Michael’s friend. One of the choice few. For a moment he was ashamed of himself. But Alex had done what he needed to do for his own survival back then. He shouldn’t regret it now, but seeing Michael’s face, a part of him did. Alex owed him, even if it would probably smash his heart all over again.

“Lead the way cowboy.”

They ducked under metal bars and squeezed through small openings to get to Alex’s favourite hideaway. It was perfectly hidden, right where two sets of bleachers met in a corner. There were two blankets and cooler with a black cowboy hat perched on top. As Michael sat Alex pulled out his phone, took a picture of the initials he’d scrawled in black sharpie back in the day.

AM WAS HERE/QUEER.

There’s other initials now, some with the same message as his. It makes him feel connected to the kids who came after. The ones who hid here just like he had. He wonders if he’d helped anyone feel less alone.

Alex suddenly feels suffocated by Michael’s gaze, like it’s running the length of him in a slow trail. He’s imagining it, he knows he is, but he lets himself.

Finally he sits across from Michael, his legs tucked as comfortably as he can on the blanket left for him. He gladly takes the beer bottle handed his way, sighs after a long sip.

“So Guerin, do anything interesting in the last 10 years?”

And yeah, Michael’s laugh still sends Alex’s stomach into somersaults. Some things just never changed.

*********

They’re three beers in, the initial awkwardness gone. Their legs are spread out in front of them, Alex is mesmerized by the warmth of Michael’s thigh against his calf. It makes him want what he can’t have, but it’s a feeling he’s used to.

Alex is surprised that Michael never left Roswell, never went to university like he planned. He’s cagey on the details so Alex doesn’t push. Guerin doesn’t seem unhappy but he’s also not content. There’s something missing in his life. Alex can tell. They were always the same, the two of them.

They keep it light and easy. Alex shares stories of LA and the lack of glamor. How he enjoys fame without actually being famous enough to be recognized on the street. He’ll be the first to admit his life isn’t as exciting as people think.

Michael catches him up on Roswell and how much everything is basically exactly the same.

“I was sad to find out the museum closed, I thought I would check and see if they had any new displays.” Alex meant it as a joke but he watches something akin to pain flash in Michael’s eyes. Maybe it’s the shadows from the flood lights, or maybe…

“Michael?!” Alex would know that voice anywhere, Isobel Evans on the warpath. The beer had made him loose, or maybe it’s the insanity of the situation but he can’t help himself. He starts to giggle.

Michael shushes him but it’s no use, Alex can hear the click of Isobel’s heels as they come closer. He can’t stop, he just keeps imaging the blonde princess’s face if she discovers them. That is until Michael reaches forward, one hand to the back of Alex neck and the other to cover his giggling mouth.

He freezes, because suddenly he’s overcome with the warmth surrounding him. The fizz in his stomach now a full blown tornado and the sensation of fingers softly digging into his skin. Michael’s eyes are locked with his, and the world just melts away. He doesn’t know if Isobel has left. He doesn’t know if he’s dreaming but he can’t help himself. That was always his problem. His heart has a mind of its own and it’s always said one thing over and over again.

Michael.

He does the most insane and yet natural thing before he can think better of it, and presses his lips to Michael’s palm in a soft kiss. He does it selfishly, for himself. So Alex can say once, just once, that he got to.

Michael’s eyes soften, his hand gone from Alex’s mouth. Instead it palms Alex’s cheek, a calloused thumb ghosting against his mouth. The moan it brings out of him, Alex would be ashamed of it wasn’t the most honest sound he’s ever made.

It’s there, that flash of heat in Michael’s eyes. The one Alex always thought he’d imagined. It’s real this time and it’s everything he remembers.

They meet in the middle, wet and open from the start. Michael’s tongue a direct shock to his dick, already hard and wanting. Alex wants to weep when he finally gets to slide his fingers into that hair, feel the curls catch and release. He tastes like beer and every good memory Alex ever had.

Michael’s hands are greedy and they’re everywhere. Alex feels the imprint of them long after they slide from his shoulders to his waist, a hard tug as they fist into his shirt. Somehow he’s dragged into Michael’s lap, the earth hard on his knees as he grinds down. It makes Alex whimper, he has to lose those lips to gasp for breath and hold on.

Michael’s arms are holding him so tight, a hand sliding up under his shirt, teeth scraping against his neck. It makes his hips move faster, chasing something he can’t even name. They’re rhythm and Michael’s quick movements are going to end him.

Warm lips drag a path to his ear, breath heavy and wanton. “Always knew it would be like this.”

It sends shockwaves through Alex, digs in deep, the reality that he hadn’t been the only one all those years ago. That he isn’t the only one currently drowning now.

“Michael…”

He’s grasped tighter, held fast and whatever he was about to say disappears. They’re lined up perfectly and Alex has never hated denim more in his life. He wants to slow this down, take his time. He wants to imprint everything to memory, horde it for the lonely nights that are sure to follow. Michael won’t let him, maybe he can’t. It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

Alex needs to kiss him again, so he does. They’re too out of breath, too keyed up. They’re just panting into each other’s mouths and lighting the world on fire. It’s all happening so fast, years of feeling focused into right here and right now.

He’s so close, he’s so fucking close to dying and he can’t get their soon enough. Michael bites Alex’s bottom lip, pain and pleasure and everything in between. He forces his gaze to stay on Michael’s face, that fierce look of possession mixed with awe. Every dream Alex ever had paled in comparison to the real thing.

“Come on baby. I’ve waited a decade for this, don’t deny me now.”

That’s all it takes, the demand in Michael’s words and what they really mean. It’s pulled out of Alex, like a gut punch of galaxies, the burn of the sun. He’s not alone, he feels all of it. Michael’s pleasure, his own eternity and bliss, quakes with it in every nerve ending.

Finally he floats back down, weightless and perfect. His arms still wrapped around Michael, his face pressed into soft flannel. He never wants to let go. Hands are still clutched into his skin. Unheard words are whispered into his shoulder. Alex just tries to relearn how to breathe.

It’s fingers on his face that finally has him moving again, their foreheads pressed together.

“What the fuck was that?” Alex kisses it into Michael’s mouth, in awe of how much he still wants him. How much he always has, how much he always will.

Michael pulls back, runs his thumbs over Alex’s cheeks. His eyes are bright and brilliant, his voice clearer than it has any right to be.

“Cosmic Love.”

Alex stills for a second, has to close his own eyes from what it makes him feel. He never thought Michael would know the song was about him. He should of, of course he should have, who else could it have ever been?

“I went looking for you the next day. Searched everywhere. If I could go back...” Michael’s looking at him like he used to, another thing Alex hadn’t imagined after all. “I knew you’d leave Alex, but you were always supposed to take me with you.”

Alex sees it all in Michael's eyes, all the loneliness and pain of the past reflected back at him. So much regret it breaks his heart all over again. Only this time, this time Alex gets to do it right.

“How quickly can you pack?” He means it, God does Alex mean it. Presses his lips all over Michael’s face, soft and sweet. Years of love he finally gets to show, to give to the boy who helped Alex survive. Now the man he still feels every bit of it for.

Michael stops his caresses, something shutters in his eyes and it hurts. Alex feels the world start to cave in. He tries to pull away, because he can’t lose this again. Not after what they just shared, he won’t survive it.

“No, don’t.” Michael holds fast, searches Alex’s face. “I just need to tell you something first. It might...it could change things.”

“It won’t.” Alex knows it couldn’t.

“Alex…”

He runs his fingers through curls, revels in finally being allowed to.

“I promise you, it won’t.”

They’re still pressed together under the bleachers when Alex learns the truth. It should shock him, it should scare him. It doesn’t, not even a little. He just listens and he believes and none of it matters.

It’s Michael and him, it’s them and what they’ve always been. It’s cosmic, and now Alex knows why.

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #fan fiction #shauna's roswell fic #AU #I call this smutty fluff #SMUFF #anyway I hope it makes you smile #roswell fic

234 notes · View notes

jmeddows2 · 5 years

Text

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 1

(present/old) Roger Taylor x Reader

Notes: Sorry for grammar mistakes/ weird sentence structures. English is not my first language but anyways, I gave it a go. Enjoy and feel free to submit requests, feedback etc.

Words: 1363

Part 1:

“....and the Grammy for Best Rock album goes to ‘Purple Thunder‘!“ you couldn‘t believe it as Dave Grohl and Taylor Hawkins from the 'Foo Fighters‘ called out your bands name. It was the 62nd annual Grammys, the 26th January 2020 to be exact and they were held in London. Next to you, your boyfriend Josh pulled you into a big hug, gave you a quick kiss before tears were streaming down your face. Never for once in your life did you dare to think, to accomplish such a great thing. It’s been a huge dream of yours, though it always seemed too far away. After hugging and thanking Dave and Taylor you and your band prepared a little acceptance speech. Everything was so overwhelming, you only managed to get one thing out: 'Thank you to all of our fans, without you we would be nowhere. And I would like to personally thank Queen, who are in the house tonight because of their 50th band anniversary. Wow! You have not only influenced our musical style, but I always looked up to you. You truly are living legends, thank you, have a good night, we love you guys, especially you up there Freddie!' you pointed up to the sky walked off stage.

The rest of the night went by so quickly, too quickly for your liking. Your band was scheduled to take some pictures for the press with your new 'baby', a freaking Grammy. “Babe, there you are, I‘m so, so, so proud of you, I love you so much!”, your boyfriend Josh hugged you very tightly. Yeah he was Josh, Josh Kiszka. You weren’t actually the girl, to have a boyfriend, even had quite the reputation as the press seemed to tear you apart for every little thing you did wrong. Everything you did in general to be exact.

‘Another night filled with Sex, Cocaine and pretty, pretty boys for (Y/N)?’, is what the headlines of the newspapers would say after a crazy night, attached would be pictures that portrayed you partying, snuggled up to a handsome guy or a beautiful girl. It didn’t really bother you. You were young, on the rise of being the next big rock star and a little fun never hurt nobody, right?

That was until you met Josh. You met him about a year ago at the Bunbury Festival, since both of your bands were performing and you have been inseparable ever since. The press even described him as your ‘last resort’ for your crazy escapades, which only made you laugh your ass off. Fuck the press. Fuck them.

Even though your lives as 'rockstars' have been stressful with constant touring and management putting pressure on you to release new music every few months, he was the sweetest boyfriend. Certainly, too good for you, at least that’s what you always thought. Especually, when he surprised you with a bubble bath, or a three course meal after a long day at the studio.

After a few kisses were exchanged he asked you: “you ready to go to the afterparty? Or do I get to you enjoy you all by myself at home?”, he winked as you playfully hit him: “We‘ll see about that, let‘s hit the afterparty. At least just to say that we‘ve been there” you smile as he took your hand and guided you into the location. The bass was pumping rather loudly, but you were glad to find a more quiet lounge in the back. If you weren’t with right now, you’d be on the dancefloor and shitfaced by now, he definitely changed you for the better.

As you two plunged yourselves down on the red, cushioned bench. With a drink in your hand you started to dive into a conversation about touring and what the next few months would be like, because Josh was about to go back on tour in a week. You felt a sadness rush through your body and Josh seemed to notice, he was quick to comfort you by rubbing your back and you leaned into him.

Suddenly you heard two very familiar voices on the table right next to yours. “No Brian, I’ll tell you, it’s going to flop… …we don’t have it in us anymore”

“Would you stop, Rog? Tomorrow’s a new day, you’re all worked up!

Swiping away a few tears you decided to look up and indeed. 'Fucking hell', you thought to yourself. THE Brian May and fucking Roger Taylor. Even though you wanted to run up to them so badly, you decided not to, because you would probably just fangirl way too much and creep them out. Just when you tried to order another drink a voice stopped you.

“Hey!! you‘re (Y/N)!!”, you looked to the table on your right and it was indeed Brian May. And he knew your name. Your mood lightened up and you began to smile like a fool. You stood up and walked over to them, of course with Josh and your hands intertwined. You let go of him to shake Brian‘s hand first, then Roger‘s, so did Josh as you introduced yourselves. “We‘re both huge fans, actually. Your album was brilliant! Especially love how your voice is raspy at times, then again so soft at other times oh and also some quite cool guitar riffs you got there”, Brian continued. Wow. “Let the poor young girl breath, Brian!” Roger chuckled and you could not help but giggle at his words. “We heard your speech earlier and are really flattered that someone as young as you would actually still enjoy our music. After all, we are so old already”, Roger continued. It‘s true, you‘re 21 but so what? “Honestly, you guys are legends, LIVING legends, I could never get tired of your music, you helped me through so much with it.”, you said and it was no lie. Heartbreaks. Fights. Arguments. Parties. Loneliness. Laughing. Crying. No matter the mood: Queen, Freddie in particular was/is always by your side. And now they were sitting right in front of you.

Wow. You took everything in. His beauty. His sparkling blue eyes. His smile. It made you weak. You would dare to say that he has been your celebrity crush since you first discovered Queen. 15 years ago. Roger Taylor. But you had a boyfriend. A sweet, caring, loving boyfriend. You were so drowned in your own thoughts but felt someone squeeze your hand.

“(Y/N), babe? Hey? I‘m going to get us some drinks, yeah?”, Josh asked,you nodded. “So do you guys plan on touring again?” you asked curiously. Even though you‘ve been a fan your whole life long, you never managed to make it to a Queen concert before. It‘s been your biggest dream though. “Yeah, actually, Rog here is about to record some new solo stuff too”, Brian patted Roger‘s back. “That’s so exciting. Can’t wait for it to be released!” you smiled at him. “I also loved your previous solo albums! But let me tell you something, I‘m glad you‘re such a musical genius. Not to be mean or anything, but your acting in those music videos sucked”, you laughed, the alcohol taking over. Roger blushed as those words. “Well, I‘m glad you enjoyed watching them though”, he winked.

“I‘m actually going to record something tomorrow and I‘d like to hear your opinion on it, since you‘re the hottest thing in the industry right now. I mean- your music - you‘re really pretty too- I mean yeah, so if you’re free tomorrow, the offer‘s there. I understand if you don‘t want to, I‘m sure you young thing have got better things to do than-“

“I‘d be honored to hear your new music, Mr. Taylor”, you cut him off. “It‘s settled then, let‘s exchange number and I‘ll send you the address and further details?”, he smiled. You exchanged numbers before you called it a night.

Cuddled up to Josh you could not stop thinking about that smile. That damn smile. It seemed like this celebrity crush would turn into a real-life crush. So unrealistic. You finally managed to fall asleep with a smile on your face, excited for what tomorrow would bring.

#roger taylor #Queen #roger taylor x reader #present day roger #present day roger x reader #Brian May #grammys #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #rock band #purple thunder

135 notes · View notes

untilrecently · 5 years

Text

I should really be in bed right about now.

Unfortunately, I know myself. It takes me a really long time to wind down after a bartending shift. I’m so used to being in constant motion and having to multi-task all night that to actually sit down and relax doesn’t feel right for awhile.

Not to mention when I get really tired or haven’t had enough sleep, I get a little overemotional. And when I get overemotional, I get impulsive. And when I get impulsive, there’s no reasoning with me from a logical standpoint. And that said, I’m now a “Humane Hero” donator for the Humane Society of the United States...as of like 30 seconds ago...

In my defense, I feel like there should be a few more barriers before they get to the money information screen. Like at least a short survey along the lines of:

“Have you had less than 5 hours of sleep? Have you worked a 14 hour day? Is there wine in your hand? Did you watch a sad video we posted? Are you sure you want to be a donor even though you’re a broke-ass bitch? Mmk, if you’re sure, money please!”

Whelp. I spend money on dumber shit every month. Go save those animals, Humane Society. I’ll keep slinging drinks and crying at videos you post when I’m done.

Aaaaanyway. I got a couple extra shifts at the hotel bar this week which will greatly help when I have my mouth rearranged next week. It always seems to happen this way that my schedule really ramps up before a surgery. Almost as if subconsciously I want to be as tired and worn out as possible before I get knocked out...huh. (#bestsleepever)

That said, I appreciate the money...but not the idiocy that comes with serving people food and alcohol. Tonight was semi steady and mostly tolerable (thanks to a visit from a friend to make me feel sane!) This was until about the last hour we were open. Then all of a sudden everyone came out of the woodwork and decided they wanted to “turn up” on a fucking Wednesday. Like, I get it. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day. Whether you’re in a relationship or not, this day is fucking obnoxious. I only enjoy the discounts on champagne and the day after sales of chocolate. Otherwise, pretty sure this commercial holiday can suck my nuts.

At one point I had a lonely looking woman drinking red wine at the bar and asking my least favorite question while my coworker was making a fucking long island iced tea. “Ooh, what is THAT?!”

Mmm, get the fuck out of here with that. Unless you’re at a bar where they’re literally making flaming drinks or advertising the fact they make craft cocktails, shut the fuck up about what’s being made. Do you go to McDonald’s and ask the people on the assembly line, “Oooh, what’s THAT?!” Do you watch a janitor mopping the floors with soapy water and go, “OOH, WHAT’S THAT?!”

No! You let them do their fucking job and assume not every fucking part of it is something special that you need to fucking know about. Jesus. I get that in food service it’s slightly different because people always want to see a physical representation of an order. I get that. But fucking what does it matter if you’re not going to order it? Or if it’s just a fucking drink that you somehow don’t know because you’re an idiot? Then you’re basically just asking the monkey “what kind of dance it’s going to do next?”

Like, I DON’T KNOW. WHATEVER THE NICE PEOPLE FLIPPING THE COINS AT ME ASK ME TO DO.

Okay, that rant went a little off the rails. But I meant it! (Dancing monkey tired).

So yeah. People at the bar tonight were a little on the obnoxious side. At one point a very extra white woman waved her arms to get my attention and started ordering drinks. I let her know her server would take care of her order and she started to get abrasive as I tried to walk away. “Oh, NO! WAIT! NO! I mean, YOU can get this stuff for us!”

I wanted to say, “Why yes, yes I could. But I instantly hate you because I’ve been listening to your obnoxious fucking voice over all the other voices in the bar for the last hour. So eat my ass.”

I got bullied into serving a lawyer and his buddies three beers after I’d said the bar was closed. I was immediately chewed out by a guy at the beginning of the night, too because “Do we HAVE to watch the NEWS?! SO DEPRESSING! We don’t need those politics!”

He then proceeded to start a political conversation with the other two men at the bar the second after I changed the channel for him. Adorbs.

Now, I get this complaint all the time. “Ugh, I can’t STAND watching the news.”

Every time I have to bite my tongue. “Ugh, I KNOW. Wanting to know what’s going on in the world around you, UGH. GROSS.”

Or the people that immediately plop down and request a channel change. I’ve said it in the past and I know my smart ass is going to say it again in the future. “You’re welcome to change the channel as much as you want in your room.”

Motherfuckerrrrrrs.

Some guy pulled that the other night and I snapped back, “Well, ALL the other people at the bar are watching the Grammy’s so if you’d like to explain it to them that YOU want to watch hockey…”

That shut him up right quick.

Anyway. I’m going to have to put my nice face on for just a few more nights to get through the rest of this week. The Valentine’s prix fixe dinner is tomorrow night and I’m hopefully not going to have to witness any of it. Our hotel is weird in the way it gets a lot of business but it seems some of the promotional events go south. Last I heard, there were only 15 reservations for the entire night...not great. Not great.

As far as the office job, I had a crazy vivid dream last weekend that I up and quit in a dramatic fashion. While still in the dream, I realized with crushing intensity that I don’t want to be without a job again. Being unemployed sucks and it’s terrifying. I actually woke up scared and have been a much more agreeable employee this week….cuz I like money

Not to mention I went through all this work (and forgery) to apply for this job today and even went in early to use the office amenities to be able to submit it.

I got a rejection within a couple hours. Apparently I didn’t have the right kind of experience and didn’t read the fine print under “office bitch” duties.

Whelp.

Time to keep smiling, be nice, work hard, and bring in baked goods so no one realizes you’re dead inside.

I’m sure I’ll have more glorious stories about a-holes at the bar next week while my mouth is recuperating and I am on a steady diet of soft foods and ice cream. (Read: booze and cold stuff).

Talk next week!

#serverlife #shitshow #clusterfuck #office life #bartender

1 note · View note

daddybugattibieber · 7 years

Text

thread of justin bieber songs

Down to earth

-a bop

-showed emotional depth

-I dead ass cried when he cried in never say never

-daddy issues

-that annoying mafia in the beginning

-woke king!

One less lonely girl

-showed these crusty boys how to take care of girl

-king of representation, used a black girl as the main girl

-went on to be a future racist song so definite mix feelings thought I should add it thought

-the bridge of this song was like no other

One time

-catchy and cute, made me have butterflies idk

-ryan has always been the only unproblematic white around him, ryan was a great influence

-the bridge was also amazing on this song

Baby

-i sung this in shower and I still know the rap

-i thought ludacris was so cool lol

-my bby drake

-jasmine villegas should have been his gf

Stuck in the moment

-my fuckin jam boi

-quality content

-the literary comparisons really made me feel that song

-hella salty he never performed this anywhere

U smile

-this was hyped but the verses were iconic

-definite temptations / mo-town vibes

-modern day my girl

-when he brought boyz 2 men on stage!!!!

Overboard

-best version is with jessica jarrel, the og version

-duets were never heard of in 2010 and he brought it back

-amazing and sensational

-sung this in the car when it rained

-wanted a music video so damn bad

Never let you go

-the video of the Paige, Za and Lil Twist lmfao

-justin bieber was woke for putting a black girl in his music video

-I used to think he was so hot when the wind was blowing on him when he was dancing on the rock

-he came thru and delivered us

Eenie meanie

-I’m a white boy from Canada

-never liked confederate beadles, like ever, that was for the white fans

-Sean Kingston was so popular during this time period

-I thought I was so cool cos I said hoe instead of bad chick

-reggae king! diversity

That should be me

-this never should have been country

-jackson five all the way

-song amazing start to finish

Never say never

-iconic

-history made

-jaden’s rap was too fire for a 12 a year old

-grammys performance was amazing and live

-song is muthafuckin bop

-king of positivity

Born to be somebody

-played at the credits of never say never

-literally a prophecy

Next to you

-is basically justin’s song

-was pissed he kissed that girl

-i wanted to have his children because of his verse

Christmas eve

-I don’t care what y’all say but this should have been the single

-this was the first time I wanted to fuck and succ him dry

-vocals, vibrator, falsetto, yes, he was talking about sex

-freak and kinky, definite roleplay

As long as you love me

-really came through for a bitch

-trademark slurring of words

-la la la la la la la la la

Boyfriend

-literally get wet at the falsetto

-the bridge makes the song and its a sample if you didn’t know

-the last chorus was so good

-na na na na na na na na na yeah man

-king of falsetto!

Die in your arms

-that should be me 2.0

-jackson five vibe

-solid proof he is really that bitch

Fall/ Thought of you

-good feel good songs

-justin was so far up [redacted]’s ass in love

-highkey bitter

-no offense but basically the same song

-catching feelings completes the trilogy

Beauty and the beat

-i hate this song [redacted] is mentioned in this song

-when nicki minaj grinded on justin !!!! body rock

-remember at the bet awards they had that skit “can you handle curves justin” “yes ....... i.......... can”

-wild

Nothing like us

-love the song

-rnbieber birthed

-but just break up already fool

I would

-song was basically rnb, needed a better bass

-bridge should have been longer and it should have been like six i knows rather than just two

-so much potential

Love me like you do

-he spoke french when he ma cherie

-i wanted to fuck so bad

-i thought his dick was so big

-i would have had sex to this song

Maria

-billie jean

-a bop

-lmao i really do think he fucked mariah yeater

-and that one kid that looks like him at the ice cream shop explain that

-king of shade!

Heartbreaker

-the whole goddamn song a masterpiece

-bizzle era was born

-lived for this era

All that matters

-say my name/ aaliyah vibes

-great song

Hold tight

-justin might have a small pepe but he a freak

Recovery

-a bop

-my baby didnt have to apologize to anyone

-lyrics, song 10/10

PYD

-the beat never dropped

-but after this i wanted justin to nut in my pussy so i could drag it across the floor like a snail

Roller coaster

-this song was a smash

-michael jackson all the way

Change me

-THIS SONG WAS EVERYTHING

-adele who? exactly

-ballad bizzle wins everytime

-he is literally an icon, no one was bringing back rnb like this

-bizzle delievered

Confident

-chanceeeeeeelor

-the dance was sexy

-the let me taki to you makes me cringe but i want to hump his leg more

-the pussy stache

-hoe justin!

Alone

-10x better than bad day and all bad

Flatline

-sensational

-a bop

-this literally is the best way to go out the album because you fucking die afterwards

foreign remix

-iconic but he basically said he loved black girls

Playtime

-makes me feel warm

-sexy bizzle

-creative bizzle for editing the music video

-khalil and za were the best friends ever

Lolly

-created netflix and chill

-i would suck dick any time

Time for bed

-STILL WAITING FOR THE COMPLETE SONG

-makes my pussy tingle

-justin proved he has a great stroke game

The intro

-sexy

-i thought he says black girls

-mulit-faceted

OTIS FREESTYLE

-proved everyone he was a rapper

-better than lil twist

-talented revolutionary

Hey girl/ Oh girl

-basically the same song but so good

I’ll be there

-nioce

Future

-love this shit, this bops

Maria im drunk

-love his verse

Bankroll

-u bitter while im counting money

-i love his voice

Why you mad

-his verse is so good

Deja vu

-wish he would get innapropriate in his songs

-im ready to get my panties soaked

I’m the one

-the switch up at the end where he says gyal

-wish he rapped on this

Mark my words

-bizzle rnbieber ballad

Company

-boppy rnb

-he so alone

No sense/ No pressure

-love when he collabs with black people

-i wish justin had black in him

WAUN

-only piano version is stannable

Life is worth living again

-as much shit I give Justin, i really do love him and this right here made me cry and i never thought i be on that fuck shit but justin is literally someone who inspires me and i look up to him alot, he has affected me in ways he will never know so this song really took me there, cos i dont know what I would do with out his bitch ass.

Sorry

-wish there is a reggae version

-black girls should have been dancing in the music video

We are/ Trust

-great rnb songs

-underrated

Home to mama

-wish there was more to the song

-same as love yourself

-the mj inspired hiccup is the only thing good about the song

-cody simpon is a hell no

Juke Jam

- he really hate himself for only singing the chorus

-like i really wish he would actually immerse his ass in a song

all his recent stuff

-bizzle would never do us like that and give us friends, cold water, or let me love you, he really wouldn’t so there’s that

68 notes · View notes

thing-you-do-with-that-thing · 7 years

Text

Feel Again

Characters: Y/N Sanders (reader), Misha Collins, Benjamin Sanders (OMC), Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles,

Pairing: Benjamin x Reader, Misha x Reader

Warnings: Cheating (not Misha), it is flangst nothing too bad.

Word Count: 1300ish

A/N: This is 1 out of my 13 entries for @mamapeterson / @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Fanfiction Challenge where I chose the album “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. The song prompt for this fic is: Gold

Thanks to the amazinly sweet and talented @blacktithe7 for betaing this one for me

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

This life had been all you had ever dreamed about since you were a small child. You had always wanted to be a singer. You wanted to perform in big stadiums with an band behind you and people screaming your name. You had loved watching your idols at the Grammys wearing pretty dresses on TV and dreamed of being there yourself one day. This was your life now. Designers was begging you to wear their products, like some sort of walking commercial. You did it because it was required , not because you enjoyed it. Not anymore atleast.

Everyone around you seemed to want something from you. They never seemed interested in getting to know the girl behind the facade. They never seemed like they really cared about you. They only wanted what your name could get them. You had thought Benjamin had been different, but at it turned out your judgement wasn’t what it used to be. When you had found him in bed with his assistant, all he talked about when you were throwing his clothes out of your shared house, was how this was going to look to the public. He didn’t tell you that he loved or that he had made a mistake. He only cared about losing the star power having you on his arm had provided and what that loss would mean to his career.

He wasn’t willing to let go of what he had gained with you that easily. He was a producer, and you were a platinum recording artist. You had been a power couple ever since you started dating, so he was going to do everything he could to delay your divorce, hoping “you would come to your senses.”

You, on the other hand, just wanted all of this to be over with. You wanted your marriage to be over. Not because you wanted to move on, but because you simply didn’t know who you could trust anymore. That was until your manager had approached you about a small role on the CW show Supernatural. At first you had declined. Acting had never been something you had thought about doing, but after doing a little research, you had decided that maybe a change of scenery, if even only for a few weeks, wouldn’t be the worst of idea.

Actually, it had turned out to be the best decision you had ever made. The set was everything you had been missing in LA. It was warm and homey. Soon one episode turned into more. People cared about each other here, and you loved it. The lead actors knew the names of all of the cast, and everyone treated each other with love and respect. Pranks happened every day, and it didn’t take long for you to be sucked into one of the many shenanigans that happened between the two leads, Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, and the series regular Misha Collins.

You managed to walk through the door at just the wrong time, just to get covered in two gallons of soda meant for Misha, not you. You knew Jared and Jensen had been plotting something, from the way they had been acting all day, but since you also knew Misha was on set you hadn’t been too alert. Whenever he was around, he was usually the two knuckleheads intended target. Which he had also been today, but since he was late as always and you had forgotten your jacket after your last scene, you walked through the door when Misha was supposed too, which proved to be seriously bad luck for you.

You stood there soaked to the bone and sticky as hell, when Jared and Jensen appeared apologizing, but still laughing their asses off. They didn’t treat you like people usually did, like you were a ticket to fame or some conquest to win. To them, you were just the new girl on set, and fair game, even if it had happened by accident.

“Are you okay?” Misha’s voice sounded behind you as you stood frozen to the spot, trying to decide your next move.

“Oh it is so on!” you warned the laughing duo in front of you before grabbing Misha’s hand, dragging him with you off set and towards your trailer.

You didn’t start speaking before the door close behind the two of you, and you instantly started changing your clothes, not giving much thought to Misha being in the room. You were used to changing infront of your band and managers all the time, and to you, Misha wasn’t any different.

“Those two are so getting it,” you promised, still more amused than angry. “You know them a lot better than I do. Do you have any ideas?” You stopped when you turned around to face Misha. You were down to your underwear and Misha’s eyes were nailed to the floor, looking more than a little uncomfortable by the situation.

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself, quickly grabbing a fresh dress from your closet and pulling it on. “Misha, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. I just never give it much thought undressing in front of people anymore.”

“You shouldn’t,” Misha still didn’t look up at you, and his voice were soft, more than accusing or angry.

“Why? Wearing little to no clothing has been part of my image for years. What does it matter if I am in a dressing room or on stage?” you asked truthfully, and finally Misha’s clear blue eyes met yours. You sucked in a breath when they did. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at you like he did in that moment.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that either? Not if it feel like you are only worth anything because you are beautiful. You are. But you are so much more than that. You’ve got an amazing voice. You are a talented song writer, and you are quite the actress. I… I wouldn’t mind getting to know everything about you. If you would let me?” Misha took a step forward and you felt the tears start to press against your eyes.

“Mish… I… I am still married. Benjamin is dragging everything out. I am not ready for another big public thing,” you tried to reason with yourself as well as Misha. Part of you still wasn’t ready to believe he really wanted to get to know you. He wanted something from you just like everyone else did. Supernatural was a successful show, but none of the actors spent a lot of time in the limelight. With you, that would chance for Misha. You knew in your heart that Misha wasn’t the kind of person who cared about the fame, and that what he was saying was true. Still, the little voices in your head told you the adoration and love in his eyes was just him being an amazing actor.

“If you aren’t ready to see anyone, that’s okay. We can hang out as friends. Or we can date in your trailer or mine. I have an apartment…” Misha started before stopping when he saw the accusing look on your face, “Oh no. That wasn’t what I meant.”

Misha sounded horrified and was clearly upset with himself over how his words had appeared to you. “I meant, we could order pizzas and watch a movie together. I kiss you goodnight, and I will leave.” His voice was soft and calm as he tried to make you understand that he really wanted nothing else but to spend time with you. “Y/N, I meant it when I said I wanted to get to know you. I am not after anything other than you here. I like you. We don’t have to be public or have sex for me to want to spend time with you.”

“Misha…” Tears were streaming down your face now. You had no idea what it was that made you believe him, but you did. You let him wrap his arms around you. You clung to him like he was your only lifeline, because at that moment it felt like he was. It felt like he was the one person that could make you feel again. The one person that could make you feel safe and loved for who you were once more.

After a few minutes in the safety of his arms, your tears subsided, and you started to calm down enough to feel happy, happy and wanted enough to be yourself around him. You pulled apart from him just enough to tilt your head to look up at him with a small smile on your lips.

“I’ll date you, Misha Collins. On one condition?” you teased, making Misha smile and gently brush your hair away from your face.

“A condition huh? Name it.”

“Help me get revenge on Moose and Squirrel out there,” you grinned, loving the sound of Misha’s laughter before his lips met yours in a sweet, tender kiss that made your head spin and your knees weaken.

“Deal,” he whispered softly against your lips before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Misha Tag Team

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27 @docharleythegeekqueen @hexparker @feelmyroarrrr @starswirlblitz @thewhisperingfox @d-s-winchester @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @fuckyeahfeysand @mysteriouslyme81 @winchesters-flannels @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @supernatural-jackles @adriellej @dance4angels @jayankles @mouselovesmusic @twistnshoutx @redunicorn10 @atc74 @sandlee44 @gecko9596 @jensen-jarpad @deansleather @phoenixia67 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @aiaranradnay

228 notes · View notes

iamablackwoman · 5 years

Text

The day my black ass laughed...

Simply put, you know that feeling that you get in your gut that something is about to happen, woman’s intuition shit? You’re in too deep and the current is coming and you finna go under under!!! You pleading for dear life like let me get a lifesaver this one time!! Well if you shook your head yes then grab a seat!

Dude stands about 5’9. Comes into the store like a true god. Nicely trimmed beard, timberlands chunky, got the taliband scarf wrapped across his yankee fitted and face like Jesus coming into Jerusalem. Now I normally have a thing for the chocolate brothers, but this Carmel complexioned mocha dipped man came to play!! Everything seemed right. He looked better than his MySpace profile and everything girl!!! He had the Mariah Carey fan on lock, I’m telling you it was a whole commercial. I dead stopped breathing....I am not lying.

Now he told me off the bat on one of our many phone conversations that women be throwing they draws at him on the first night so sis wasn’t trynna get the wham bam!!! We chatted and walked through the mall, ate at Dave and Busters, did a little shopping and flicked it up. Still to this day that was the best first date I ever had. We went our separate ways and once I got home, my life has never been the same since.

I knew there was something about him that attracted me so heavily. Not just his swag and sex appeal. I mean our conversations were lit and perplexed, we had mad shit in common at the time and we just vibed. I was fresh out of a relationship and just lost my first baby in a miscarriage and he was due to be a first time father on the same day my baby would have been born, like wtf how??? He wasn’t with his child’s mother and we literally bonded over talking about our exes and what space we were in. Now that I think about it, it was a really comforting time.

This man was special to me, I hung on to every word, every breath this man had I was right there sucking up the air. We had become really good friends. I learned a lot about him and his life and admired his ability to traject his self into another dimension from his past. He literally reshaped his life and built his self a new one. I never quite understood how he lives his life so assured, so forcefully. Like anything he put his hands on turns to gold like King Midas. I’ve seen this man accomplish so much and be such a great Dad to his kid and couldn’t see any fault in his makeup.

At this point you can assume that the relationship had gotten physical. I mean I honestly I don’t even have to mention that because the relationship was so much more than that. But girl he was so sensual, so soft and gentle with me, he wasn’t trynna prove nothing in his strokes or ram me like a fucking elephant. He was calm, and always on point. The sex was good but always an additive.

We always had our back and forths and misunderstandings because the way he lived his life. We didn’t have the same spiritual beliefs and we got into a lot of controversial topics because of it. This man grew up in the era of NOI and real educated hip hop, I mean the culture hip hop. He gained knowledge through the NGE, and master teachers of that time. Here I am this little Christian girl, seasoned in nothing but regurgitated mumbo jumbo. Always gotta have a word and put my two pieces in, gotta sound intelligent too, besides I gotta save him because that’s what Christian’s do, right?

Years and years and years go by. We separate for a while not too much in contact with one another. In the meantime I get married and he gets engaged and has another baby. Now we never actually dated each other. We always remained friends because our views got too opposing. There was one time when I did want to learn and be taught his ways, I messed up because I loss control of my emotions and got jealous and got caught up in some dumb shit, which cost me. The feeling that you get once a man don’t trust you anymore is super horrible.

My marriage began to fail and took so much out of me mentally and physically that I sought him out. Come to find out he and his fiancé are having trouble as well, go figure! We began to go back to our MySpace days again, talking about our exes. Staying on the phone all late again. Getting chummy and making light of our circumstances. I discovered that deep down inside I really have aligned my heart with this dude. He really listens, he gets me, I mean my core.

So months later, I separate from my husband and I touch base. You know just filling each other in on what’s new and what’s next. I began to fantasize and align my life with his. Trying to figure out what his next moves are and making plans in my head. Not plucking my remedial ass like, homegirl, “yous is married still!” I know I was heading for a divorce and trying to get back on track but I was following the same path.

No matter what person, thing, or place comes into your life, those are additives. You can’t lead YOUR life following someone else’s storyline. I had to really laugh at myself. I was starting to get annoyed and hurt by some of the talks we started having and how he analyzed my current situation and even though it was harsh and nasty, it was truth.

I had to get back on board. I had to discover MY next and now. Like girl wash your face and clean ya place before you get back into that cycle of putting these dudes first. What type of fabric do you like, what are you doing to define yourself? How’s your total health going? What feminine energy did you connect with and sow into. What’s your mother up to, how’s Grammy? Sis, what are you DOINGGGGGAHHH?

I just had to sit back and laugh at my black ass because here I was healing and in the same breath heading toward dangerous territory. Falsifying everything I told myself I would do after leaving my toxic relationship. I ain’t perfect but this single life, this time around, this gonna be my realest mirroring experience yet. It’s just you, it’s just you sis. The only important things in your life are inside of you and if you don’t take care of you, you will become your own worst enemy. Whew, I had to get back on track because I almost died!

1 note · View note

eyez-ff-blog · 7 years

Text

○○ eyez | fifty-one

“You need to hop on Instagram and add to your story in about…10 minutes or so. I already made the announcement on Twitter, so get yourself together for the camera,” Beija could hear Lucas over the phone as she fed Janiya her lunch, and she huffed as she stared down at the paperwork and laptop that sat on the dining room table.

“Gotcha. Email me with those festival details,” She heard the line disconnect before she yawned, rubbing her hand over her hair before she handed Niya the last piece of meat off the plate they shared. “Okay, chew on that while I do this,” Beija huffed before she accessed her Instagram app. She checked her face through the front camera before she tucked some hair behind her ear. She nodded slowly before she licked over her lips slowly. She began to start a new addition to her story. “Hey everybody, B here,” She greeted. “Just wanted to tell you guys about what’s coming up with FBP,” She sent off the first story before starting another. “Dreamville is hosting a festival called The Block Party in March—details will be up in full on the website, along with ticket info,” Once she finished it up, she reloaded her feed to see a couple of the performers she had confirmed posting the logo she had made for the festival’s promotional process. Everything was going per plan and she was grateful for it.

“Mama,” Beija glanced over at Niya as she held her hands up. “I finish,” She mumbled.

“Good girl, you ready for your bath? It’s almost time for the doctor,” Beija stood up and pulled the girl from the high chair.

“Me?” Niya asked with a frown.

“No, baby. The doctor for mama,” Beija chuckled a bit before she kissed the side of the girl’s head. Carrying her towards the guest bathroom.

After getting the girl a bath and doing her hair, the two relocated to the master bedroom before Beija did her own hair before getting dressed in a comfortable outfit. She looked down at her small stomach that was already trying to grow, and she grinned wide as she let out a soft breath.

“Baby! I’m home,” Beija looked over her shoulder before she saw Janiya run from the bed and out of the bedroom altogether.

“Daddy!” She heard Niya squeal, and B chuckled to herself before she slipped on her socks and sneakers. Once Beija had all of her essentials situated, she exited the bedroom and headed down the hallway to the living room where Niya was playing in Jermaine’s hair.

“I’m ready to go. Stop messing daddy’s hair up,” Beija chuckled before the man stood up, holding the girl in his arms.

“She ain’t botherin’ me,” J smirked before Beija led the way back out of the house. “Are we taking my car or yours?” He asked.

“Mine, since the car seat is already in there—I don’t feel like trying to get it in that truck,” Beija said as she pulled her remote out of her purse, unlocking the doors.

“Not my fault that you’re small, short stuff,” Beija sucked her teeth as J passed her to get to the back seat door, smiling softly at the subtle squeeze of her hip ass he passed. She slid into the passenger’s seat and buckled up, waiting on Jermaine to secure Niya in the car seat and get into the driver’s seat. Once he started the car, he opened he garage door before he headed down the road. “You getting a belly already,” He reached over and rubbed her stomach gently. “You feeling alright aside from the morning sickness?” He asked.

“Yeah, and my feet are already killing me. But aside from that I guess I’m fine,” Beija relaxed against the seat as she yawned. “We still gotta get outfits for the Grammy’s too. I need alterations on my dress,” She groaned. “That’s one thing I don’t like about pregnancy; getting fat,” She huffed.

“Girl,” The two laughed softly. “By the time we get to that you’ll only be what…four or so months? You barely grew. I think you’ll be fine for now. But we’ll be having a summer baby, that’ll be dope. Most likely he or she will be a Cancer and I’m fine with that. Two Taurus women in my house is bad enough, so I need a balance,” Jermaine playfully complained.

“Taurus women are the best women, what you mean? You need an earth sign to keep you grounded,” Beija reminded, and he chuckled softly as he nodded. “You’ll be in a world of hurt if we end up with another girl,” She chuckled.

“Look, you know I’m all for a healthy baby regardless, but I need at least one boy,” J shook his head as he pulled up to the stop light, sitting back comfortably in his seat. “So are we all together for The Block Party?” He asked.

“Yep. The website’s been updated, I announced it, and I see everyone’s been posting the picture—we’re on the right track. Now, we just have to worry about designing a proper set list for you, getting the festival grounds mapped out…finding a location…” Beija huffed softly as she continued to scroll through her phone. “And remember we’re going up to Colorado for your birthday, so I need to go shopping for winter coats and such,” She mumbled.

“Superwoman at it again. What are you gonna do when you have to settle down for the baby, huh?” Beija chuckled when she felt Jermaine’s hand smooth over her head.

“I’ll work from the bed! I can still get things done,” She insisted.

The car approached the downtown area and Beija kept an eye out for the medical district as Jermaine drove around and navigated the traffic-infested lanes. Every so often she checked on Niya in the backseat, who was fighting sleep as she always did during car rides. Eventually J reached the proper parking garage, paid the fare and found a parking space. Once the car was parked, Beija got out of the car and helped Niya out before taking her hand and walking with her towards the walkway that connected the hospital to the parking garage.

“Mama. Juice please,” Niya said softly as she tugged on Beija’s hand.

“When we get inside, okay?” Beija bargained before opening the door, heading down the walkway.

It took about 10 minutes of walking to finally reach the proper floor and area of the hospital where Beija’s appointment would be held. Once they reached the waiting room, she handed Jermaine the baby bag before signing in, and she headed back to the seat to see Janiya plopped on her father’s lap, quietly drinking the diluted apple juice that Beija prepared befoe they left home.

“You want me to come in with you or no?” J asked.

“Ah…I think we should be fine, actually. Just stay out here with Niy so she won’t get restless,” Beija yawned softly once she heard the nurse call for her, and she stood up before she headed with the younger woman towards the office.

Her height, weight, blood pressure, and reflexes were taken before she was ushered to a room to wait for the doctor to arrive. As she sat in the room, she looked down at her stomach as she rubbed it slowly, taking slow breaths to try to calm herself down. You’re doing everything you can. Stay calm. You’re doing a good job, her mind continued to cycle through the positive affirmations she had tried to establish for herself. Knowing how things went before with Janiya, Beija wanted to be extra precautions about her physical and mental health. If she was going to go through the trials of birth again, she wanted to do everything she could to make sure that this time she’d emerge strong no matter what the result would be.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cole,” Beija glanced up to see the doctor, and the women smiled at each other before the doctor took a seat in the spare chair. “So since your first trimester ended a little around Christmas we weren’t able to really visit with one another but I’d like to know how you’re doing,” The doctor began.

“Well, everything has been going well so far—I’m sticking to my diet, exercising when I can, and I’m keeping my stress levels as low as I can with everything that’s going on right now,” Beija explained.

“And the sickness?” The doctor began to write her notes as she continued her questioning.

“It’s becoming less and less severe, but it’s still every morning. I’ve been trying some home remedies to keep it down and it’s been helping,” B crossed her legs at her ankles.

“Good, good. Now how are you feeling mentally? Everything okay?”

“I’ve been okay,” Beija said softly before she crossed her arms. “I do my best to keep a positive mindset as the time goes by, but I still have some fears about what could happen. I know it has some to do with my control issues, but aside from that I’ve actually been fine.”

“That’s good. We’ll need a urinary and blood sample so we can run some tests, and we’ll send you the results in two weeks,” The doctor said before she passed Beija the small cup and accompanying wipe. “You can use the bathroom in the hallway. In the meantime, I’ll get the needle set up for you,” Beija nodded before standing up and following the doctor out of the room.

Once Beija entered the bathroom, she went through getting the urinary sample before she cleaned herself up and placed the closed cup into the chute that was within the bathroom. She washed her hands one last time before she left the bathroom, and she was ushered to another room so her blood could be taken. Afterwards, she was able to leave and paid her co-pay for the visit.

“So what’d she say? Everything good?” J asked as Beija approached him, and she nodded.

“Right now everything seems to be fine—I took some tests and the results will be sent to me in two weeks,” Beija stretched her arms over her head as she spoke, yawning a bit. “Can we stop by the store on the way home? I need to get stuff for lunch,” She explained.

“Tacos,” Niya suggested.

“Tacos do sound good,” J agreed.

Beija’s eyes narrowed before she smirked, nodding a bit. “Okay, greedy 1 and greedy 2. We can have tacos for lunch,” She said before grabbing the bag from Jermaine’s arm. “Let’s go though, because I’m actually getting hungry.”

January 28, 2019 – Aspen, Colorado

“What kind of cake mix should we get, boo?” Beija walked slowly through the grocery store as she glanced down at Janiya, who was sitting in the ‘child’s seat’ of the grocery cart. “Remember, what does daddy like?” She asked.

“…Strawberry!” Niya grinned as she pointed at the box of strawberry cake mix.

“You’re right, he does like that huh? Okay, let’s get that,” Beija grabbed the box before she grabbed the cream cheese flavored frosting. She continued down the aisle before approaching the candle display, and she grabbed the blue ‘3’ and ‘4’ candles. “Good Lord, your daddy is getting old,” She mumbled.

“Grampa?” Janiya giggled, and Beija chuckled before she saw Jermaine coming down the aisle. The way he was dressed and the glasses her wore on his face as opposed to his contact lenses only made Beija laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” He chuckled as he sat the bagged vegetables into the cart.

“You, grandpa. You look like an old man,” Beija joked, and Niya giggled as she softly sang the ‘grampa’ chant.

“I feel attacked. This is foolish,” J chuckled softly to himself before he scratched the side of his head. “So I went and got the green beans like you wanted…what else we got?” He glanced down at the cart and inspected the contents.

“I got the steaks, the potatoes…I got the sparkling juice…the cake and icing…I think this is all good for now,” Beija mumbled, and he nodded before they headed towards the front of the store.

After paying for their groceries, J packed up the rental SUV they had as Beija strapped Janiya into her car seat. Once J got Beija into the passenger’s seat, he jogged around to his side and got in before they headed back towards their ‘home’ for the duration of their vacation.

They had been in Aspen for three days now, and Beija was still in complete awe. She had been here only once before for touring, but that was so long ago that everything she saw now still looked and felt like the first time. From the mountains to the tall snow dusted trees, she felt as if she had stepped into a snow globe complete with the scenic winter wonderland. Jermaine insisted he wanted a simple getaway with his family for his birthday, and Beija made sure it went exactly how he wanted it to go. She knew that deep down he’d always be the simplistic guy who treasured quality time with the ones he loved over parties and elegant outings, and even though Beija realized she was the complete opposite, she’d never deny the man she loved a chance just to be with her, their daughter, and their unborn second child. No matter where they may had ended up on the day of his birth she’d be satisfied with her effort, because she knew that she was enough for him.

Her eyes laid upon the large cabins within the private community that lived at the base of the mountains; most celebrities visited the gorgeous neighborhood of homes during vacations and business trips because of how secluded and quiet it was. It was a different world from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and in the winter time it was a sight to see. The views of the the sun rising over the peaks in the mornings and the nights where the stars could twinkle as they were intended were enough to make any person fall in love with the surroundings. The cabin that they were staying in were probably considered to be the ‘smallest’ house on the street it was located, but it fit them perfectly—it was only a tad larger than their North Carolina home, and if functioned just as such.

Jermaine parked the car in the covered driveway, and as soon as he shut off the car, the family hurried to get themselves and the groceries out of the cold and into the house. Beija turned on the heat while Jermaine put the groceries away, and once the kitchen was prepared and ready for her, Beija got to work on dinner for the birthday boy. Throughout the day she could hear the constant sounds of J’s laughter as he received calls from his family and friends along with the sound of the television as it switched between ESPN and whatever kids’ channel that J had found for Niya to watch.

It was about 7:30 in the evening when the family finally sat down to dinner: ribeye steaks (cut up and boneless for Niya), mashed potatoes and green beans. Afterwards, Beija lit the candles on Jermaine’s cake and allowed him to blow them out—no matter how old the man got, B was convinced that he would never divulge what he wished for every year.

Beija gave Janiya a bath and put her to bed before walking towards the master bedroom, seeing Jermaine laying across the bed as he scrolled through his phone. She leaned slowly against the frame of the door as she watched him, taking in the sight before a small smile crossed her face. His hair was all over his head due to the careless way he was laying, the ends of his dreads now reaching his shoulders. His face still held the same features she always knew, and despite his hair being long, he refused to let his beard become too unruly. She could see the print of his full stomach as he laid in his t-shirt and sweats, and as always he had on a pair of socks. She had been around this man almost every day for a little over four years, and she still felt the same. She chuckled softly to herself as she thought about the first time they met; she could even remember the softness of his hands. They were still gentle now.

“You always laughing at me,” She snapped out of her trance as she locked eyes with her husband, and she felt her face flush as she watched the smile spread across his face. “Come here.”

Beija walked over to the bed as Jermaine made space for her, and she climbed in before curling up next to him. She felt his arm drape around her shoulders, and she laid her head against his chest as he relaxed his frame once more. “Did you like your birthday?” She asked, noting his quick nod.

“Yep. Just what I wanted,” J rested his free hand on her stomach, rubbing it slowly as he had done for the longest. “No big crowds, no loud music…just us. I fucks with this,” He mumbled.

“Good…I’m glad,” She smiled a bit as she stared up at the windowed ceiling of their bedroom—she could see nearly every star in the sky from this view. “You’re making me want something similar for mine. Ugh…I’m gonna be 29. I don’t like that number,” She laughed.

“You still look 25 at least. Don’t be scared of getting older. I’m sure not,” J chuckled lowly.

“It’s just weird thinking about it. I just always remember that when you were 29, you met me. Actually you were almost 30,” She explained.

“Damn…when you put it like that,” The two began to laugh. “I’m not worried, though. I’m still gonna be that nigga at 44…54…” He rambled.

“Oh bye, boy. You’re barely in your mid-30’s and you already act like an old man,” Beija laughed softly as she slowly draped her leg over his. “You been crotchety for the longest and it’s only gonna get worse,” She joked.

“You keep me young, though. Keep me hip and happenin’ with the kids,” He said, causing Beija to snort before she laughed obnoxiously. “Mhm. I still know all the memes and shit thanks to you,” He laughed.

“Why are you like this? Please,” Beija’s laughter died down before the room went silent. She looked up at Jermaine and noticed him staring up at the ceiling. She reached up and gently rubbed the side of his face, her eyes fixed upon his face as he glanced over in her direction. He raised his eyebrows in questioning, and she chuckled softly as she continued to stare up at him. “You’re beautiful,” She whispered, and she bit into her lip as she watched him smile.

“You know…I ain’t hear you say that since our wedding day,” He mumbled as he slowly rolled his body over to face her. “I’ve been called many things. Fine…handsome…sexy, even,” He scrunched up his face as Beija giggled. “I mean, I guess. But never beautiful. I never heard that from anyone…then there’s you,” He mumbled. “Why?”

“Why what?” She asked.

“Why do you think that? That I’m beautiful?”

Beija noticed something in Jermaine’s gaze that she hadn’t caught before. He almost seemed uncertain about what her compliment, and she found herself frowning as she ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve always thought that. And it’s not just your looks; of course you know I think you’re attractive. But it’s not just that…it’s what you possess within. Your mind and your heart; that’s what makes you beautiful to me,” She replied.

She watched as he stared down at her in wonder, and he slowly closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. She chuckled softly as she kissed the tip of his nose, smiling a bit as she watched the peaceful and accepting smile spread across his face.

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole ff #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

chickpow · 7 years

Text

Romeo and Juliet

Chickpow here: I found an old disc/floppy disc in my attic containing a lot of very old fanfiction from authors and websites that are either gone or taken down. I am not the author but I would like to share what I’ve found. if you find the author please let me know so I can credit them properly. Thank you and enjoy

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

Romeo and Juliet

Okay, lets get started. First and foremost, I don’t own anything and I am completely broke. But thanks to DBZ there is a story, and thanks to dear old Shakespeare, it is almost original. Now this story is rated NC-17. Get some lemonade, it’s hot. Yaoi, Goten/Trunks, and lots of fluff. Be warned.

Romeo and Juliet

By: Melly-chan

Junior Hopkins High School for boys. The dubbed, Hell on Earth. It is a nice campus, if one cared what a prison looked like. To the students, it is ultimately a joke. All the classes are ride through and even a jock can pass.

Why the school is announced as pristine is beyond me. It sucks. The teachers suck, the classes suck, hell even the students sucked. But who am I to say that, I am one of the students.

One good side that the school possesses, is that Gohan had not attended. It is all I need to spend another year in his shadow. Constantly being sold as the ‘let down’ of the family.

"Chichi is such a nice woman and Gohan is so intelligent. I wonder what went wrong with that youngest though. He is a strange one."

Okay so I never exactly heard anyone say that, but I know they thought it. How could they not? In all truth, I am the strange one. My mother, the kind loving soul who hit people with frying pans. My brother, the nerd who loved

books more than freedom. Goten, myself, the strange one.

I admit, I have done some things in my life that do not constitute my family. Scaling the side of skyscraper being one. Braking into people houses being another. But I didn’t steal anything, I only rearranged the furniture.

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if they had actually liked it better that way. . .

Mother had heard about the ‘great’ school and had signed me up.

"The curriculum will be hard. Maybe that will get you to study more. For one thing, it will keep you out of trouble."

Yeah right.

The only other good part about the lame ass school, is that Trunks shares in my boredom. Bulma had taken mom’s advice and had enrolled him. It they thought that would solve the problem, they forgot one thing, the only reason

we got in trouble in the first place was because we were together.

Solve it, right. Like enrolling us in some lame school is going to beat us into being their little puppets. Some children that they can shape to there will. Mom had been lucky with Gohan, but she would get no such satisfaction out of me. I am my own man.

So here I am, at school. Again. The sky is blue. The grass is green. What more description do you need?

Trig; snoozer. History; tu forte? French; Bonjour un sucer. Who cares.

Theater Arts. Now there’s a class. You could literally fall asleep and maintain that perfect A. The teacher didn’t care, so long as you participate when needed. That is why the class is last period. All the snoozers, like

me, would join just to goof off for the last period of the day before we goofed off at home, or wherever our fancy leads us.

The best part is that Trunks is in my class. We are the clowns you see, we upset the class, speak ‘shocking’ and always get away with it. Who didn’t love us. Plus, out teacher was about the only female on campus. And we are

the hottest guys. Get my connection?

It wasn’t like that really, but she did have some interesting thoughts in her head.

That’s for damn sure.

Today is like all other days. She talks we pretend to listen. And then she hits us, with the killer, the ultimate ki blast, the mother of all shockers.

"We," she meant this class, "are putting on a play. It will be Romeo and Juliet."

"Alright!" Some one yelled. "Your gonna bring in some babes for us to kiss!"

"Wrong. This is an all male school and so this will be an all male production."

"What?!"

I couldn’t have heard her right. She wanted us, a bunch of teenage boys, to perform in the most romantic, tear jerking, dramatic love story of all time, and she wasn’t going to grant us the knowledge of a female role? No! This

was not happening. Men do not kiss men. Men only kiss girls. Is she demented or something?

Why ask, she is.

The classes response ranges like my own.

"Why that one?"

"The school insists on Shakespeare."

"But why that one? Why not Hamlet?"

"They are not going to accept violence in the school. So no wars."

"But Ms. Keene, that is just sick!"

"I don’t want to hear another word. I have already decided. And knowing you, I have already selected the roles. They are posted in the back you can read them on the way out."

With that, the bell rings. I have no intention of checking that list. I do not what to be a part of this play. As far as I am concerned, I would prefer being a stagehand, or even a light person. There was no way they were going

to get me on stage, and in tights no less.

Several boys leer at me on their way out the door. Their expressions ones of amusement and humor. What crawled up their butts?

Trunks enters my line of sight, and I glance over to him. He is relaxed, waiting for the crowd to diminish before he attempts to read his part. He is calm and laid back. I don’t know whether that is because he is confident he

knows what part he is getting, or if it is just the way he feels today.

Only a few scragglier are left behind, and Trunks and I move forward. The list is long, given the size of the class and the number of parts. Near the bottom, I find Trunks’ name. Romeo. No surprise. Then I find my name.

"JULIET??????? You have got to be kidding me!!!!!! I am not going to play some girl! There is now way, you can’t make me!!!"

"Goten, calm down." Ms. Keene says. I pant furiously. How dare she cast ME as the girl. The one that has to kiss. . . . Gulp.

I’m going to to have to kiss Trunks.

The room suddenly starts spinning.

"Goten!" Trunks calls as he grabs my arm, attempting to steady me. I’m going to have to kiss him. . . .

"Goten, It’s not that bad. Your best friends right? Your friendship should be able to pull you through this. Come on, this is nothing."

Nothing she says. I am going to have to kiss my best friend. Several times. On stage. In front of everyone!

Hell no everything is not okay.

How do they expect me to take this? They are going to put me in a dress, stick me on stage and demand that I kiss Trunks. The world is ending. It must be. Since when did the schools come up with such perverted ideas. Making two boys kiss in public like that. What do they expect, a Grammy?

Hello no. Even Steven Spielberg wouldn’t go this far.

My life is hell.

Have I already said that? No? Well then here, I will say it again, my life is hell.

I look at Trunks’s unemotional face. One of his many features that he had inherited from his father. He revealed nothing. Even his eyes showed nothing but a dank emptiness. His reaction was a mystery. Well, he is on the

receiving end. He has to be feeling something. At least he doesn’t have to wear a dress.

"I suggest you boys sleep on it. You will be more comfortable with it in the morning."

Bloody hell, no.

The next day, I feel worse.

"And how is Juliet feeling today? Getting ready for that big smacker?"

"You say one more word to me, punk, and you wont have a smacker, or a life force for that matter."

"Oh, my sweet little kissy pooh." He obviously had heard the recent conversation. "Why not share a kiss? I’m sure ol’ Mr. Hefty would love to let you do a little number on his science desk."

This time, I do hit him. But not hard. Well, not by Saiyan standards.

He doesn’t speak again for a few more weeks.

Theater class is even harder. Ms. Keene hands out our scripts. "Now, I want you to be fully dedicated to these parts." She says. "I know it will be difficult for you, but the play is not that hard. You will get it. Trust me."

Trust her. Ya right, she cast me as the girl.

"Goten, I know this will be exceptionally hard for you, but just know that it is all acting. It is fake. And you have no way out of it."

Kissing noises come from behind me. Satisfaction would be to throw a large ki blast at them and see them wallow in their misery. The bastards.

"Rehearsals will start on Monday. Have a nice weekend."

Bitch. Nice weekend in deed. What weekend do I have to look forward to? Life is hell, this is my hell.

There is no way I am telling my family. Then they would want to come to the play and I’ll be damned if I let them see me in a dress. I was better off saying nothing. If I am lucky, they won’t say anything.

The weekends are always too short, and the week too long. But this time, it feels like it will never end, and for once, I am not happy about that.

Trunks decides to show up early Saturday morning. He’s dressed to spar, and I don’t need to ask. We know.

Mom on the other hand, does not.

"Oh, Trunks. It’s nice to see you. What will you be needing today?"

"I came over to spar with Goten."

"Is that all everyone ever does. Spar? You know, I am getting very tired of hearing that. All you men ever want to do is spar. Can’t you think of any better way to pass your time, like studying."

"I’m sorry Chichi, but we can’t help it. It’s in our blood."

"Oh, just get out of here, the both of you. And you better not come home all bloody again."

"Yes mom."

After living with a Saiyan, and two half Saiyans in her house for so many years, is she still yet to realize that it is our nature to fight. There is nothing we can do about it. It is an impulse.

We land in a clearing, deep inside the forest. We don’t come often to this particular spot, but is has been used several times. All one needs to tell that is to look around. The clearing is wider then it should be, trees that

were pulled up and tossed aside. A memory comes to me, one where Trunks had used a tree as a baseball bat, and my head as the ball.

Sure we could get vicious, but it was all in good fun. Nothing more.

Trunks lands in the center of the clearing, and removes his CC jacket. The coat is mindlessly tossed aside, and Trunks crouches into a fighting stance. I follow his example, and the battle is on.

We fight for hours, neither getting the best of the other. We are equally matched. Trunks lands a blow in my cheek, I feel the skin tear slightly, but I shake it off. He is rewarded with a jab in the stomach. You know, basic,

fun fighting. Nothing too bad.

Afterward, we are bruised and bloodied. So much for mom. I lay on my back and stare up at the trees. The day is slowly fading into night. The blue sky turns red and orange. The stars begin to sparkle.

"What are we going to do?" Trunks asks.

"I don’t know. Prissy Ms. Keene decided we would be perfect for the roles, and it looks like she has her fat heart stuck on it."

"It’s going to be so weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Promise me one thing."

"Ya?"

"It won’t. . . It won’t damage our friendship. You know, we’ll be cool with it."

"No prob."

On Monday, there was a problem.

"We will not be learning the play straight through, we will be learning it sections at a time, and I have already mapped out the schedule. Since we have four weeks to do this play, we will be practicing for an hour every day

after school. That will give us over an hour and a half every day. Now, there are five scenes in Romeo and Juliet. For your benefit, I shall label them. First, there is the party. And yes, this is the kissing scene. We will

be doing this scene the last week before production. Second, the balcony scene. Now I have checked, and it never mentions them kissing, so you get out of it. Unless you annoy me and I change that. Third, the battle and the

honeymoon. No comments there. Fourth, the fake death, and Five, the dramatic end. This week, we will start with the death and end. They are the shortest scenes and I want to get you in the mood. Then the balcony scene, the battle and then, yes, the kissing scene. We will meet on Saturday before opening night for a dress rehearsal. The play will run for a week. Got that cleared up? Good, now I’m tired of talking, start."

God, that woman could talk. She spent most of class period belting out that little monologue.

I am not thrilled about this at all. How the Hell am I suppose to act like a woman? I don’t want to! If things had turned out to my liking, I would be one of the lucky few who were placed in charge of the set. They didn’t have to memorize lines, they didn’t have to wear a dress, they didn’t have to kiss their best friend.

My life is hell.

For a week, I get to play dead. For a week, I get to memorize stupid lines for a role I don’t want. Not to mention that this friggin’ Juliet has about a million lines in these scenes. God, who cares. Do we really need to listen

to this chick talk to herself? Give me a break!

Unfortunately, life did one of its twists. They say that times goes by when you’re having fun. Ya right. Whoever said that needs to be drug into a dark alley and shot. I was most definitely not having fun, but time flew by. It

was like time had decided to get the easy stuff over with, and bring on the parts I could live without.

All too soon, it is week four.

The dreaded week.

The poisoned week.

Monday, was cool, we spent most of our time setting up the props on the stage. No prob. Tuesday, we memorized lines. Wednesday, walk through. Thursday, day off to get fitted. Oh, the agony, I look like a girl in that dress. They even bought a wig! Sure the wig was nice, it looked real, but it was going to be on me! And I was going to be in a dress! With makeup! My life is hell.

Friday, the last day. Tomorrow will be the dress rehearsal, and then, the play. Can I just curl up and die right now?

Today, she decides to act through the scene. Straight through, she says, no breaks.

The kissing is at the end of the scene.

I do well in spite of myself. Maybe acting is my thing, but then, that doesn’t mean I have to like the role.

Trunks is good. He maintains his unemotional façade, untouched by events. Some times, I wish I had that ability. To remain so cool, so calm, so calculated. To not have anything effect me, to be indifferent. You have to

admire that about Trunks. He could look like an emotionless bastard on the outside, but you just know that inside, he is screaming.

"Alright, here we go. The last section. Boys, and Goten, get prepared for the kissing scene."

She really is sick.

I stand in my spot, waiting. I do not want to do this. With everyone around, everyone watching. I do not want to kiss him in front of them. Not in private. . .

Whoa, Hello! Where did that thought come from? God, this stress is getting to me. I just implied kissing my best friend in private. What is wrong with me? Okay, shake it off, here we go.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand,

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Trunks acted.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

And palm to palm I holy palmers’ kiss."

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.

They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake."

"Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take."

Trunks move in closer. His lips right above mine, close.

I laugh. The mood is broken, I know, but I laugh. The boys with the sets had stopped to watch, the extras in the seats, they all laugh. I can not help myself. My face turns red. I bend over, holding my stomach. I laugh.

"ENOUGH!" Ms. Keene bellows. The laughing dies down. "I will not put up with this. You have one day, one day to get this right, and if you laugh again," she points to me, "You will get a drop F."

Talk about initiative, my mom would flip if I failed the class. I had to talk her into it in the first place, now I might lose my freedom of choice, forever. I can not fail the class.

I look over to Trunks, as always, a mask of indifference. He had not laughed.

The theater empties, soon only Trunks and I are left.

"I don’t want to fail." I say.

"I know, I don’t either." He looks at me, "We are going to have to get this right."

"What should we do?"

He sighs, "Practice, I guess."

Practice? He wants to practice kissing me? You have got to be kidding me! Wait, what about that thought I had had earlier, in private. What did that mean? Do I want to kiss him? Do I want him to kiss me? I furrow my eyebrows, thinking.

"Goten."

"Ya?"

"Let’s get out of here. It’s depressing."

I shrug.

We fly above the town. I follow Trunks. When we land we are at the edge of a cliff. The desert is spread out before us, we are alone. Trunks walks to the edge of the cliff and sits, dangling his feet over the edge. I follow.

We sit, silent. Nothing, but the sound of the air, the day.

"We are going to have to do this."

"I know." I say.

Neither of us move, and time stands still. I don’t want to make the first

move.

Trunks looks at me with his emotionless eyes. His jaw is set. He looks into my eyes, and I wander. I have never realized how very blue his eyes are. Dull, yes, emotionless, yes, but strikingly blue. Blue like the sky, when

the rain has cleared and the sun pours through. Blue like a waterfall, that cascades over a cliff and into the murky river. Blue.

How could I not have noticed? His eyes were always there. As far back as my memories go, he was there. I eyes, his hair, his lips.

His lips.

He moves closer, and I am silent. My breath is in my throat, and I wait. His lips touch mine, so slightly. Feather soft, hesitant. I close my eyes.

He kisses me. His lips pressed to mine, almost forcefully. His hand at my neck, pulling me closer.

My blood is rushing. My head is soaring. Electricity is shooting through my veins. I grab his shirt, my knuckles white.

The kiss goes on. His hand on my back, on my neck. His lips on mine.

His mouth opens, his tongue rubs my lips, pleading.

I open.

His tongue enters my mouth, hot and dominating. I melt. Our tongues dance, rubbing, tasting, demanding. So good.

Trunks.

Trunks!

My eyes shoot open and I pull back. I am breathing hard, and so is he. He looks at me, questioning.

His eyes, God, his eyes. The emotionless veil had been lifted, and in his eyes, I see everything. At the forefront, love.

I feel faint. He loves me? When did that happen?!?

"Trunks?"

"Goten. . . I, I wanted to tell you. I did. I know that you are not that way, but please, listen. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I never dated because no girl ever compared to you. You are everything to me. Please, I know you don’t feel the same, but remember, you did kiss me back."

"We. . . we were practicing. . ."

He looks at me. I feel small. What am I to say? He is holding his heart out

in his hands and I, the blubbering idiot, can not think of what to say!

"Trunks. . ."

"This got weird didn’t it?"

I look up, "Huh?"

"We promised it wouldn’t get weird, it did. I’m sorry." His eyes were emotionless again. Trunks stands up, gives me one last look, and flies off. I can not make a sound.

I sit for long hours. Thinking. About the play, our promise, and Trunks. It had felt so good to kiss him. I could melt into a puddle of eternal bliss. I have never felt this way before. I have kissed girls, many. But this was

new. This was like a romance novel. You never think I could possibly be as good as they describe, but this, it is. In so many ways, if not better.

I can still taste him in my mouth. Still feel the aftermath of his kiss. If I try, I can feel his tongue touching mine. Savoring me.

When did I get these feeling? Just days ago, hell just hours ago, I refused to kiss him. I protested, loudly, but now, all I want is his lips on mine.

Romeo. Trunks.

The play. I open my eyes. I will show him tomorrow at rehearsal. A smile spreads across my face. Life is good.

I get there early. The early bird gets the worm, well the early Goten gets his man.

Trunks is late. Fifteen minutes, he is late.

I have already been stuffed and prodded into my dress and wig. Thankfully no makeup today. Where is that boy? If I must suffer through wearing a dress, the least he can do is show up to kiss me.

Half an hour.

"Where is Trunks?" Ms. Keene asks redundantly. Right, like I hadn’t noticed.

"He better get his scrawny ass here soon. . ."

Scrawny? No way Ms. Bitch, his ass is not scrawny.

Where is he?

The back doors fly open, and Trunks enters. Fashionably late.

I nearly faint. He is wearing form fitting black pants, a tight black tank,

and his favorite CC jacket. He looks hot, as usual.

"Well, Romeo finally decides to show up. An excuse maybe?"

Trunks flashes her a grin. "Nope."

His eyes scan the stage, they go right over me. A frown is on his beautiful face.

"Well lets get started." Ms. Keene says. Trunks disappears into the back to get dressed.

Rehearsal starts. It goes smoothly. No mistakes.

Then I enter. Trunks looks at me. Does a double take, and his eyes widen. I guess he didn’t recognize me.

I say my lines.

He speaks, like in a trance. His eyes never leave me. Everyone thinks he is

acting. Pretending to be love struck. But I see his eyes. He is.

He loves me.

I lean forward, and he kisses me. Line, kiss, line kiss. Three kisses. Each

as soul shattering as the last.

The boys chuckle off stage. The play continues.

I die and he holds me in his arms, sorrow in his voice. He cries over me and

for a moment, I fancy the truth. Would he cry over me, if I really died?

Yes.

The play ends, my head is on his chest, in death. He can not fake death, his breathing is fast and obvious.

The curtain closes and I stand up. Trunks follows. I look at his eyes and for a moment, I see a flash. Pain?

"Trunks. . ."

The curtain opens and the rest of the boys climb onto the stage.

"Good, that was actually good. Do it like that next week, and you will all get A’s. Dismissed."

I glance at Trunks before I head into the changing room. It feels good to get out of this ridiculous dress.

Trunks is waiting at the door when I exit. He turns, silent, and walks. I follow. We walk across the city, the long way to his house.

"Trunks."

He turns.

"I need to talk to you. About yesterday."

He flinches and turns away from me.

"I. . . I know I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, really. I didn’t know. I had no

clue. But now. . . now I can see it. I know you love me and. . . I love you

too."

"As a friend right?"

"No."

He turns back to me, his face full of hope.

"I love you Trunks. It took your kiss for me to figure it out. But I do love you, as a boyfriend, a lover, a husband. Whatever you want."

Trunks stairs at me. His breaths are slightly labored, and his lips are parted. I see doubt cross his eyes. I grab his hand and take off for a more secluded area. We end up in the park. Trees surround us. I pull him into my

arms, and kiss him with all my might.

His hands wrap around me and he takes over. His tongue delves into my mouth like it had before. The kiss is deep and intimate. The kiss of lovers. Two star-crossed lovers.

I smirk, maybe the play wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*****

Now, on opening night, I am dead nervous.

I feel like vomiting. My dress feels too tight, my head is dizzy, I am miserable. Trunks comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders.

"Breath, just breath. Everything will be okay. Calm down."

I take his advice and breath. It does help. Trunks wouldn’t lie to me, everything will be okay.

"Hey guys!" Some kid says. "Everyone is here! The play is packed! Hey, Goten, I can even see your family."

WHAT!!!!!!!

I hadn’t told them anything about the play. They couldn’t have known. I stick my head slightly out the curtain and look into the audience. Sure enough, there they are. Mom, Gohan, Videl, Pan, and little Goku, the newest

addition to the family, sitting next to Trunks’s family in the middle of the auditorium.

I start to hyperventilate. I can’t breath. My family is here. They will see me in a dress, as a girl, on stage. Kissing Trunks. Okay, so I had planned to tell them some time, but not so soon! Even Vegita was out there!

"Whoa, Goten, are you okay?" Trunks says.

"Do, I look, okay?" I gasp.

"Well, no. You look like you are hyperventilating. What’s wrong?"

"My family is here!"

"You didn’t want them here?"

"NO!"

Trunks’s face turns red. "Um, well, I, um, well, that is. . ."

"What?"

"I kinda told them."

"YOU WHAT???"

"Shhhhhh." Numerous people call, finger to mouth.

"You invited my family to see me in a dress???"

"It wasn’t like that! The subject kinda came up one time and I mentioned that you had a lead role. They said they wanted to come."

"Did you tell them what the play was?"

"Well, no, I-"

I almost faint. My head swoons and I am on my way to the floor. Trunks catches me, of course, but how could he? He told my family to come, but didn’t mention I was playing the girl?

"Goten! Goten! Come on, come on, wake up. Your okay, everything is okay. Wake up."

I groan. "I’m gonna kill you Trunks." I slur.

"Okay, okay, you can kill me later, but right now you have to wake up. They

play is about to start."

I groan. I don’t want to do this anymore. My life is hell.

I sit in a chair, my head between my knees, trying to compose myself. I didn’t go on until the end of Act 1, but that was the important scene. The scene where I kiss Trunks.

I by time I get myself composed, it is time to go on. I pull my head up, and enter the stage.

I murmur goes up among the crowed. I hear some people commenting on what a pretty girl Juliet is. I hear my family gasp. I hear Vegita laughing.

I hear myself dying.

I deliver my lines perfectly, the way I am suppose to. Get your mind off the crowd and do your job, I tell myself. Easier said then done.

Trunks enters, wearing his tights and tunic. His legs are shown off perfectly and for a moment I feel jealous that all of these people get to see him like this, and not just me.

I hear Vegita laugh again.

The moment has come. The kiss. I can almost hear my mother holding her breath. She knows what is suppose to happen.

We kiss. Once, twice, three times. The kissing scene is over. We lived.

After that, I lost myself in the play. The words envelop me and I can see nothing but Trunks, and me, and the stage. Nothing else matters.

We lay dead at the end, the curtain falls.

Cheers rise up from the audience and I pull myself up off Trunks’ chest. We line up for our bows, and the curtain rises. Everyone is on their feet, cheering. Even my family, Trunks’ family, and Vegita. It was exhilarating,

to be up in front of so many people. To be cheered and loved for the performance. The experience is deafening. I feel alive and excited. All to soon, it is over.

I remove my costume quickly, making sure to get every dab of makeup off.

I exit the auditorium, and mine and Trunks’ family are waiting for us on the corner. Trunks is leaning against the wall, waiting. I give everyone a nervous smile.

"Goten, you did great." Gohan says.

"Ya, uncle Goten, you did real good as a girl, he he he."

"Pan, stop that." Gohan said to his young daughter.

A smirk is on Vegita’s face. But he remains silent.

I feel incredibly nervous. "I hadn’t meant for you to come."

"Why not honey?" Mom says.

"Um, well, I, didn’t really want you to see that."

"Oh, it’s okay honey, you were only acting."

That’s what she thinks. I meant every word.

Talk about your acquired situation. What are you suppose to say when your family has seen you perform as the opposite gender? Have a nice day? See you later? Austa Lavista?

I can not wait to get out of here.

*****

By the end of the week, I finally felt better. With each performance, I felt more comfortable, and the pre-performance jitters disappear by closing night. The crowd response became even more exhilarating. It quickens my heart and swells my head. I did good, and they were open to show it. I didn’t mind so much that they though me a girl, but their response, wow. I feel alive with their praise. It would almost be as good to get the praise

from Trunks.

Or perhaps better.

As it is, the play is over. No more after school practices. No more stolen kisses in front of an audience, no more Ms. Keene getting kinky ideas.

I am going to miss it.

I roll onto my side, a Saturday morning. The sun creeps in through my window, pertaining to the wondrous day. I pull my arm up over my head, not wanting to wake up. My bed is warm, comforting. I can spend the day there.

My door bangs, loud enough to make the wood split and take my ears with it. I roll onto my stomach, not wanting to acknowledge it.

"Goten!" Mom calls. I put my pillow on my head.

"Goten! Get up, it’s a beautiful day, don’t spend it in bed!"

"Goten! Trunks is here to see you."

That got me. I leap out of bed and race to my dresser. Cloths fly, I search for clothes, good clothes, sexy clothes, anything! The banging has stopped. I hear a click behind me, the door opens.

"Mom, I’m-" I blush. It’s Trunks.

His eyes examine me, take me in. I am only wearing boxers. He licks his lips; my blush deepens. He shuts the door behind him, and walks toward me. His eyes flash.

He wraps his arms around me, muscular, strong. His lips reach mine and our eyes close.

I breathe him in. Musk and life. Our tongues touch, a mating dance of their own.

My door bangs again. We pull away from each other quickly, and face the door.

"Goten, get outside. The day is too beautiful to waste." Mom again. Do you think she suspects? Does she know?

Most definitely not, she would faint.

I turn back to my dresser. I still need clothes. I open the drawer and search through the neatly folded stacks. Trunks reaches around me and pulls out his own selection.

He presses himself against my back.

"Wear this." He whispers in my ear. Tingling. His hand is on my bare chest, his mouth at my ear. My pulse quickens, my breath harder.

His tongue is at my ear, kissing, caressing. I shudder and lean my head back. His tongue traces my ear, his mouth nibbles the lobe. My eyes are closed.

He pulls away. My eyes shoot open and I look at him.

"Get dressed."

I get dressed, I hop into my clothes as fast as possible, Trunks stands there, watching. A blush is on my cheeks.

I pull my shoes on and Trunks opens the door.

We fly. We fly out into the forest away from everything. Are we going to spar?

We land in the woods, not our typical fighting grounds. There is no clearing, just trees. Trees all around us, towering above us.

Trunks leaps. He catches me off guard and knocks me over. Only he falls with me. My eyes widen. He is on top of me, pinning me down. His legs are straddling my hips, his hands on my chest.

His eyes are clear, full of love. They burn with intense emotion.

He kisses me. Urgent, needy.

His warmth surrounds me, hot and pulsing. His hands move on me, tracing and touching. I moan into his mouth. He un-tucks my shirt from my pants and slips his hands inside, against my skin.

"Maybe you shouldn’t have dressed at all." His voice is thick and hot. Passionate.

He pulls my shirt up and off. His mouth is on me again, on my chin, my neck, my chest. I loose myself in his touch.

My hands are on his neck, encouraging. His mouth kisses me, his tongue leaves wet trails against my skin. His mouth covers my nipple and I scream out with pleasure, jutting my hips. He smirks, nips, hardening and

caressing. He moves to the other. My pleasure is intense, consuming.

His mouth moves lower, tracing my stomach, circling my navel. I shudder.

His hands are at my hips, at my waistband. My pants are opened and removed, my boxers follow.

I am left naked, and loving it. I am breathing hard, and so is he.

He licks me, I moan. His tongue surrounds me, lapping and consuming. My hands dig into his hair, my hips jerk. He takes me into his mouth and sucks. I cry out and thrust my hips.

His hands go to my hips, holding me down, his pulls back and his tongue is on me, creative and hot. The fire inside of me is building and it consumes me, growing, engulfing. I reef against the ground, consumed by the intensity of the presser growing in my groin. The fire grows, scorching my soul and spreading.

I lose myself.

I spill my seed into his mouth. I cry out.

He swallows as much of my seed as he can, then licks my skin.

I start to descend from my high, my sexual ecstasy. I look into his eyes. Love.

I pull myself up onto my elbows.

"Your still dressed." I smirk.

I pull him into me, kissing him. I can taste myself in his mouth. My hands travel along his back, and down to his tight ass. I squeeze. I break the kiss and move along his skin, his neck, his ear. I undo the top button of his shirt and my mouth moves to the revealed skin. Down, down.

He is on his back, breathing hard. His shirt is open and I pull it off. I kiss him once again. His hips press against mine and I feel his throbbing need. Time to take care of that.

I slip my hand inside his pants and caress his ass.

He moans, his eyes close and he tilts his head back. I open his pants and shove them down his hips. He wiggles, moving his pants lower down his legs. His manhood is pressed against his boxers, aching.

I press my lips against his stomach, just above the waistband, teasing. He groans, clutching my hair, encouraging me to continue. I play with the waistband, just to torture him, before I remove the remainder of his clothes.

He is laying naked before me, glowing in his sweat and need. He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Perfect in every way.

I lower my mouth to his hardness, taking him deep into my throat. Trunks shakes under me, jerking his hips.

I suck for a few minutes before pulling away. He groans at the loss and looks up to me.

I smile softly and lower my mouth to his. We kiss deeply, lovingly.

"Goten, I-"

I cut him off by straddling his hips. His breath catches in his throat and

he looks up to me.

Words are lost, and he enters me. His length fills me, hurting for a moment, but then I am lost in my pleasure, my completion of being joined by my love. We move together, lost in our rhythm. Lost in our pants, cries, and growing exhilaration.

I feel myself building again, climbing the age-old ladder of ecstasy, the fire building inside of me, growing and spreading once more.

With a final thrust of his hips, I am sent over the edge, I cry out. Trunks looses it at the same time, he pushes deep inside of me and empties his seed, he screams.

We collapse, a jumbled heap of limbs, in the aftermath of our love. I feel whole.

*****

At school we are forced to act indifferent, separate, from each other. It is nearly too hard. To act like friends, and nothing more. To be distant and lost in my schoolwork. How am I to survive without screaming to the world

that Trunks belongs to me. Without threatening everyone who gets to close?

I can feel his presence in the school, and it nearly undoes me. To have my love so close and not be able to be near him. To listen to lame ass teachers lecture about history. I can’t wait until school ends, and then maybe Trunks

and I can go out, alone.

Lunch is the only reprieve I can get. We sit in a corner, separate from everyone.

"So what should we do about dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know how my dad is going to react to this. At least your mom is predictable, Chichi will probably faint, but my dad, I don’t know. We are either going to be excepted or beaten."

"I don’t know what to tell you Trunks. He never mentioned his beliefs before."

"Ya, I guess we will just have to tell them, and see. But we can tell your family first."

"Mine? Why not tell your family first, they would probably take it better."

"Well, I want to see your mom’s reaction."

"You already know what will happen. What about your dad?"

"That can wait. Now your family, they are the ones that get emotional about stuff."

"Well your family are cold, ruthless bastards."

"We are also royal."

"Royal pain in the asses."

"You know you like it."

"You know you want it."

"You suck."

"Well, you swallow."

That got him. A blush set on his cheeks. He stands up and grabs my arm, pulling me from my seat. I stumble to get my footing.

He drags me out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. As I am pulled down

the hall, the warning bell rings and students begin to rush to class. But still, Trunks continues.

"Trunks, the bell, we are going to miss class."

No answer, save for a small grunt. We reach the end of the hall and the tardy bell rings. So much for classes.

Trunks pulls a door open and shoves me inside. It’s a janitor’s closet. It is almost large, but narrow. Surely bigger than what they are rumored to be.

He pulls the door closed behind him and locks it from the inside.

"Don’t say things like that unless it is an invite."

With that, he leaps at me, grabbing me around the waist and capturing my lips. His hands are busy at my clothes.

"Trunks. . . school. . ."

"Like I care."

With that, off come our clothes. My back is pressed against the wall and Trunks’ tongue is all over me, tasting, touching. My protests die away, I submit. His mouth covers my throbbing need and I stifle my moans.

His hands roam my skin; I melt. My hands reach his shoulders, pulling. He moves from me, making me gasp at the loss. I look into his eyes.

"We don’t have the time."

He kisses me, and lowers us to the floor. The coldness is against my back. His hand presses my thigh, pulling it up, I move my legs up and around him. Silent, he thrusts into me. I bite my lip.

He moves, faster and faster. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out. The moment is getting closer. I pull his head in for a kiss, we reach our climax. His scream is lost in my mouth.

"Trunks." I pant. Slowly, my head begins to clear.

The doorknob shifts. My head snaps up. A curse is heard through the door and footsteps, walking away. Trunks and I exchange a glance.

We jump to our feet and scramble to our discarded clothes. We pull them on frantically. Trunks finishes first, I hop to the door, pulling my shoe on.

Trunks peaks out the door, then pushes it open. I run past him and down the hall. He locks the door, from the inside, before he follows me.

Minutes later, the janitor arrives with a set of keys.

We decide to tell our families as soon as possible. Basically, that means in as many days as we can dare keep a secret from them.

We settle on Friday, the end of the week and a whole weekend to get use to it.

I can’t tell whether the day came too fast, or not fast enough. On one hand, I want to push the day away, dreading what would happen, people’s reactions. On the other hand, I want to get it over with so I can get back to being

with Trunks. I other words, I am miserable.

Trunks decides to go out on Thursday, just to get our minds off the inevitable. I knock on his door to pick him up, Vegita answers.

"What do you want, brat?"

"Trunks and I are going out."

Oops, bad choice of wording. Vegita doesn’t notice.

He scowls at me, and walks away from the door. I walk in behind him.

A few minutes later, Trunks comes down the stairs, beautiful as always.

We turn and head for the door.

"Trunks! Get over here brat!"

Trunks stops, grimacing, and turns to his father. Taking a deep breath, he walks over to Vegita. He is sitting in his favorite chair, apparently relaxed.

I follow Trunks to his father.

"Now brat, you should know better than to keep a secret from me. Don’t think you can fool me for one instant. But if you are going to do something like that, then don’t forget," he looks at us, "how to mark your mate."

I pale. He knows. How did he figure it out? How long has he known?

He turns away from us, closes his eyes, and begins his meditations. I turn to Trunks, the color is gone from his face and he is just as shocked as I am.

Wordlessly, we leave.

"How. . ."

"I don’t know. I didn’t think dad had figured it out."

"What did he mean, by ‘mark your mate’?"

"I don’t know."

Something in the back of my mind begins to bother me. Something I should now, should remember. But it is out of my reach.

Later that night, as I lay in Trunks’ arms in the moonlight, I remember.

"Gohan."

"What, is he coming?"

"No, I just remembered. After Gohan got married he came home with a mark on

his neck."

"What kind of mark?"

"A bite mark."

"Why would Videl bite him? I mean it is kinda kinky and all, but was is necessary?"

"Your dad mentioned marking your mate, Gohan came home with a bite on his neck. Do you think that could be what your dad meant?"

Trunks looks at me, searching my eyes. He tilts his head, reveling his neck.

I gulp and lower my head to the base of his neck and lick the offered skin.

I bite. My teeth delve into his skin, bringing blood. I shudder. Something inside of me fills, like it was filling the whole of my soul.

Trunks bites my neck as I lick at blood from his wound. We are now life mates.

Friday comes, as it usually does.

I bring my family to Trunks’ house. We decided to tell them together. They sit in their living room, chatting.

I take a deep breath, preparing for what is going to happen.

"Mom, I’m in love." I announce.

"Oh, honey, that’s nice, but is this the place to be telling me?"

"Yes," Trunks interrupts, "because he’s in love with me." He takes my hand, reassuringly.

The room is silent. Then the eruption.

"WHAT?!?!?!"

"But, what, Goten, this can’t be, you can’t be, no! I won’t allow this!" Mom says, she looks faint.

"On Vegitasei it was customary for members of the same genders to mate. And as you can see, it is too late." Vegita pulls Trunks’s collar away from his neck, reveling his bite.

Mom faints. Gohan catches her before she reaches the ground.

Overall, Everything has gone as planned.

Trunks and I leave the commotion of the house. We fly up to the roof and sit, gazing at the stars.

"Goten, I was thinking. By Saiyan tradition, we are life mates. But in human tradition, we are not excepted. But even so, I would like you to be my husband." He pulls two wedding rings out of his pocket and holds them out to

me.

I smile softly. "Trunks, I love you. Of course I will marry you."

"Then, by yonder blessed moon I vow, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-"

"O, swear not by the moon, the’ inconstant moon

That monthly changes in her circled orb.

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

"What shall I swear by?"

"Do not swear at all

Or, it thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I’ll believe thee."

"If my heart’s dear love-"

"I love you."

Fin

#Goten #Trunks #Yaoi #Lost Fanfiction

0 notes