#i know so many bartenders who were inspired by this film

[aortaargent]

a collection of the times Tom Cruise as his character Brian Flanagan (Cocktail) appeared in Bartender (manga)

#she's so me #staring at his posters at home while mulling over life decisions #his tackiest most adorable ridiculous role #i know so many bartenders who were inspired by this film #like actually a ridiculous number so adding this scene to the manga was very accurate #tom cruise #bartender manga

[softyoongiionly]

Not Even a Mouse

Summary:  The week before Christmas, you are tasked with delivering some paperwork to your father’s former business partner in order to secure your ownership of their legendary toy store. However, things don’t go as planned and a sudden blizzard keeps you cooped up inside the tiniest town you’ve ever seen, Snow Falls. You keep telling yourself that it’s the weather that’s keeping you here, but after a visit to Min’s Mini Mart, you aren’t so sure anymore…

Title: Not Even a Mouse

Pairing: Single Dad! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Romance, FLUFF, Smut (18+ only please)

Warnings: explicit smut (penetration, love bites), language, mild angst, mentions of blood, really bad weather, mentions of bad parenting/abandonment (not Yoongi), swearing, brief mention of cancer, nightmares and anxiety

Word Count: 14.7k

Special thanks to: @bulletproofbirdy​ @gldnrecs​ for always being around and keeping me sane, and also for your incredible minds and contributions to the plot. I love you lots. To @yoonia​ @randombtsprincessa​ and @yeoldontknow​ thank you for hyping me up and being the cutest ever! I love you!

Author’s Note: This story is written for the Christmas in July project hosted by the INCREDIBLE @kookdiaries @kithtaehyung and @xiaokoo​! I am apart of the Hoeliday Well Spent theme, and I’m so excited for the amazing fics that are coming out! This fic is loosely inspired by the film, Christmas Inheritance. I hope you enjoy :D

“All commercial flights out of the northeastern region are delayed until further notice. Our expert team here at TXT613 is predicting that the winter storm will move into the surrounding cities of Candy Cane Lane, Sleighbells, Chestnut and, Snow Falls at around 6:30pm. This system of storms is gaining traction as we speak and is expected to bring about catastrophic snow fall in the regions on our screen. We advise those who are living or lodging in these cities to have the necessary supplies and prepare for a potential loss of power.”  

You’re leaning on your elbows, helplessly watching the screen. The bar you are sitting in his bustling with activity, but no one seems to pay much attention to the disturbing content playing through the speakers.

“Excuse me?” You call softly to the bartender, “How long do these things normally last?”

He cocks his head for a moment before glancing behind him at the screen, “The weather? Oh well-“ He chuckles as he sets a glass onto the countertop, “-if their predictions are correct, you’re looking at a delay of at least a few days, maybe even a week…”

Your eyes widen, “A week? But I’m supposed to be on a flight tomorrow morning…”

The bartender chuckles again, quite endeared by your whining, “Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen…” He glances at the insignia on your passport case, “…you’re here to meet with Mayor Sweetree, right?”

You continue to pout before narrowing your eyes in confusion, “How did you know?”

He smirks, “Small town. And uh-“ He points to your passport, “I recognize the logo, the fact that we have a famous toy inventor as our mayor is kind of this town’s only claim to fame.”

Marvin Sweetree was a long-time friend of your fathers. He helped start your father’s toy business, Sweet and Company, and invented many of the brand’s best-selling items. Marvin parted ways to settle down in a smaller city with his family, but still kept some of his share in the company. Recently, your father has decided to retire and pass along the business to you, with Marvin requesting that you meet with him in person to discuss a potential sale or future partnership. Your meeting was to take place this morning, but the mayor cancelled due to him needing to prep for the storm.

“He and I were supposed to meet at a place called The Snowman?” You question, not entirely sure if you remembered the name correctly, “But he sent me an email saying that he wouldn’t be able to meet for me until after the storm...”

You can hear your voice beginning to trail off as the stress of the situation you are now in is taking over. There was not enough in your carry-on suitcase for a week long trip in a town you were wholeheartedly unfamiliar with. Something about being trapped also caused the bitter flavor of anxiety to crawl slowly up your throat.

What the hell were you going to do?

Luckily, the bartender seems to notice your discomfort, and extends his hand your way.

“Hey-“ He calls, pulling you from the swell of panic, “I don’t believe I introduced myself…my name is Yeonjun.”

Still visibly uneasy, you shake his hand, “Y/N. Nice to meet you…”

Yeonjun flashes a wry smile, his black hair falling into his face momentarily before he speaks again, “So you’re not all alone in the middle of nowhere anymore huh? You now know the charming bartender who just so happens to be born and raised in Snow Falls.”

His comments put you at ease despite the fact that his confidence makes you roll your eyes a bit.

“Can the charming and incredibly humble bartender point me in the direction of somewhere to stay then? Since we’ve become friends so quickly?” You inquire, trying to ignore how charming he really was.

Yeonjun chuckles again, pleased that he was able to interest you, “I can. The Icicle Inn is just down the street; if you leave the bar and hang a left, you can’t miss it. If you need anything else- food, toiletries, novelty snow globes…” He elaborates, pointing a finger to his left, “I recommend Min’s Mini Mart. The owner, Yoongi, is a really nice guy and knows this town almost as well as I do.”

As he’s talking to you, you’re writing some of the info down in your phone and making a mental note of what you have in your suitcase.

“Got it.” You look up and shoot a genuine smile his way, “Thank you so much. I’ll definitely have to stop by- I only brought enough stuff to last me a few days.”

He nods with a bit of sympathy on his face, “I’m sorry you’re stranded. The conditions should clear up by the end of the week, so I wouldn’t worry about being put out for too long. But-“ His expression grows slightly serious, “-this storm is going to be brutal, so just make sure you’re indoors by tonight, ok? I don’t want to hear that we lost another tourist to the Yeti…”

Your eyes widen momentarily before Yeonjun starts laughing, waving his hand in dismissively.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” He laughs still, the volume increasing when you throw a stray toothpick his way, “…we banished him years ago.”

“I think your charm is starting to wear off.” You grumble, trying to stifle a smile at his infectious laughter.

“You admitting that I had any in the first place is good enough for me. I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to talking with strangers.”

A lone patron takes a seat on the stool beside you, looking at Yeonjun expectedly.

“Be right with you sir.” He smiles before taking a bit of a receipt paper and scribbling his info onto it, “Here’s my number- text me if you need anything. I live upstairs with my old man, if the Inn doesn’t work out, you’re free to crash on the couch.”

Placing your fingers on the thin material, you smirk fondly at the kind stranger behind the counter, “As long as the Inn isn’t haunted or housing bedbugs- I should be out of your hair. But seriously, thank you so much. I’ll be sure to leave a sterling review for-“ You lean over to catch a glance at the sign again, you hadn’t even bothered to read it when you came in earlier, “Blizzards and Billards…”

Yeonjun chuckles, “Oh you won’t find us on Yelp, my dad doesn’t believe in it. But please stop by before you head out though, yeah?”

You laugh, nodding a bit before scooting off of the stool, “I will. Thank you again.”

He gives you a half-hearted salute, keeping that same brilliant smile as turns to assist the man at the bar.

Your cheeks are a little hot as you navigate towards the front door; it’s been a while since anyone has sent any charm your way. You weren’t entirely sure if he was flirting with you, but he was handsome and made you feel visible, which is something you’re not used to.

Part of the reason you so desperately wanted to take over your father’s business is because of your current job. You work as an editor for a high-profile children’s book publisher, and although the job started out being everything you could have hoped for, you quickly realized that the company was only interested in turning a profit.

After one incredibly upsetting meeting, you had taken a taxi to your father’s office downtown and burst into his office with tears streaming down your face. It was on this day that he decided that you were the perfect person to take over his beloved business. He believed that you understood the true meaning behind the brand, and would never allow greed to stand in the way of the company’s mission.

Securing your coat around your body, you grit your teeth and face the bitter cold that awaits you. The main street of Snow Falls is beautiful. The entirety of the road is lined with various shops and offices that all seem to stack neatly upon one another, each of their rooftops blanketed with snow. The people of Snow Falls go about their business, unbothered by the impending storm.

Making your way to the Inn, you pass a young couple who lean into one another in an effort to shield themselves from the cold. They laugh as a particularly aggressive gust of wind whips through the town square, only causing them to huddle closer.

You won’t lie, the sight of them is bittersweet. Sweet, because of the love wafting through the winter air. Bitter, because you are left longing for it.

As promised, the Icicle Inn is hard to miss. It stands a few stories high with both fake and real icicles adorning the edges of its roof. The exterior is held together by a rich mahogany with white paneling running parallel and perpendicular. It looks like an old Tudor style home with an inviting wooden sign that reads:

The Icicle Inn est. 1899

Luckily for you, the Inn has plenty of vacancies and the owner was nice enough to through in a ‘shitty weather’ discount as they had aptly described it. Once you make it up to your room, you unpack your things to get an idea of what you needed from the store. You have enough clothes to last you for the next few days. You would worry about stopping by a local boutique if things got worse, but for now you figured you could mix and match with what you have. After going through your suitcase, your main issue seemed to be your lack of food and your lack of a proper blanket.

You wanted to buy a big fluffy one at the airport, but it had totally slipped your mind. In addition to your comfort items, you figured you might as well pick up some full-sized toiletry items just in case.

Min’s Mini Mart had been on the corner of the cross streets that lead to the bar and the Inn. You remember passing it on your way here, so it’s quite easy to retrace those steps to the storefront.

A shiny red sign with neat white letters hangs above the automatic doors, the outer edges of it caked in snow. You have to tighten your coat against another burst of wind as the doors slide open. Thankfully, the inside of the store is toasty and inviting, much like the other establishments in Snow Falls.

The typical fluorescent lights are nowhere to be found in Min’s Mini Mart, and neither are the loud signs which normally jump out at you the moment you walk in. Instead, you are met with warm lightening and hand written signs that neatly label different aisles and products. The store seems to be a one stop shop for groceries and necessities with a little bakery called Haneul’s tucked away in the corner.

You can’t see anyone in the store just yet, but the low hum of music coming from the speakers lets you know that it’s open for business. Making your way down the first aisle, you see some new snacks that are definitely enticing, but as you reach out for a bag of chips, there is a pitter-pattering that seems to sneak up behind you.

“Hello! Welcome to Min’sminimart-” A little voice seems to slur behind you,  “How can we help you today?”

Turning around, you are slightly confused when you aren’t immediately met with the figure this voice belongs to. You have to direct your eyes much closer to the linoleum to find the identity of your greeter. 

A boy, no more than six years of age, is smiling up at you with an eager disposition. With fluffy black hair and puffy little cheeks that rival cupid themself, he adjusts the tiny red sweater vest that adorns his torso and says, “Can I help you find anything, ma’am? We are having a big sale today!” 

Through the onslaught of adoration, you are a little concerned that this small child is running this store himself, but when you see that his name tag reads “Haneul” (instead of Yoongi) you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Maybe he’s the owner’s son?

“ Oh hi! I’m looking for some snacks to last me through the storm, do you have any favorites?” You inquire, trying to stifle the massive smile threatening your lips.

Haneul lights up, nodding eagerly, “Yeah! C’mon, I’ll show you!”

His little shoes create a musical against the flooring as he scampers off in front of you.

Picking up your pace, you do your best to keep up with him as he rounds the corner at the end of the household items aisle. Haneul comes to an abrupt stop in front of a series of chip bags before looking earnestly in your direction, “Do you like spicy?”

You almost giggle at the intensity of his tone, but you want to show him you take him seriously, “I love spicy.”

His gums peek out from his top lip, his satisfied grin stretching wide across his tiny face, “Me too! Appa never lets me have these ones though because they say-“ He narrows his eyes a bit as he drags his finger across the words, “ ex-treme spice-“ You bite your lip in admiration as he sounds the words out, “He says they are too spicy for me, but since you’re bigger than me- you’ll be ok.”

“Is your appa around here somewhere?” You inquire, still somewhat concerned that he is all alone.

As he is shoving several bags of spicy chips into your shopping basket he nods, “He’s in the back room counting things. He always counts things before a storm, cause sometimes things go missing.”

Silently, you breathe a sigh of relief that he is not, in fact, running the store himself, “Oh that’s a good idea. I’m sure you and your appa work really hard at keeping the store stocked up.”

He nods as he tucks two more bags of spicy chips into your already full basket, and you let him because how the heck are you supposed to tell this kid, no?

“Mhm…” He hums thoughtfully, “Our store got really messy after the last storm. Appa had to spend a long time cleaning it, but he wouldn’t let me help him because of the glass everywhere.”

“The glass?” Your eyes widen a bit as he grabs a hold of a packet of jawbreakers. “Were the windows broken?”

“You can eat these for a long time, so I think they will be good for the storm.” He explains, rather business-like. And again, you are in no position to question his judgement, “Yeah- people came into the store when Appa and I weren’t here and took some stuff without paying.”

Oh goodness.

“I’m so sorry.” You sympathize, “At least nobody got hurt right?”

He looks up at you with a grin, “Oh no! It’s okay, Appa said they were just hungry. He says that sometimes people can’t pay for the things they need, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need them still. So he wasn’t upset or hurt, he was just happy they got some food.”

This interaction is proving to be extremely heartwarming. The fact that this little boy seems to have so much insight into the world around him was truly impressive. Speaking with him has lifted your mood considerably, you almost forget that you are stranded in an unfamiliar place.

“Your appa sounds like a really nice man.” Your voice carries just above the background music whilst Haneul adds another piece of candy to your basket, “And he’s definitely right about people getting what they need, that’s very important.”

“He’s SO nice…” He confirms, his expression animated, “Unless he stubs his toe, then he says a lot of bad words. But he never says them to me, so it’s ok.”

You find yourself resisting the urge to coo at the small boy in front of you, but it’s growing more and more difficult. He leads you out of the snack aisle and just as you are about to respond, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from behind a black curtain.

“Appa! We have a customer!” Haneul chirps, taking off towards the sound.

“Be right out, adeul!” A much deeper voice responds, with a bit of raspiness on the end of it, “Is it Mrs. Acres? Just give her the bread that we wrapped up this morning, ok? Appa left it on the counter…”

Haneul snickers, “It’s a different Mrs. I don’t know her name yet, she is new…”

His observation makes you giggle, but it makes perfect sense in a town like this. You imagine that most people are on a first name basis.

With a bit more shuffling, you finally see a man emerge from the storage room. Something immediately shifts in your chest, your heart going a little wonky as you take in the sight before you. He is a spitting image of his son, with the exception of his black hair being combed down the nape of his neck and resting just above his soft brows. His lips are pink and pout naturally below his button nose, and his eyes are the same shade as Haneul’s but slightly darkened with his own experiences.

He's dressed casually, a pair of dark-washed denim jeans with a red flannel tucked in to the waistband. His black work boots clunk against the linoleum whilst he tries to get a good look at his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the light.

“Appa, see? She’s new. I helped her find snacks for the storm.” Haneul points proudly to the shopping basket causing his father to chuckle, his expression decorated with adoration. But when he finally looks up to meet your eyes, his expression shifts rather quickly to something else.

“Oh, hello-“ He grins, straightening up a bit, and nodding to the basket “I see you met our employee of the month…”

You have to be subtle when you respond to ensure that your voice doesn’t crack under your nerves. It would be a crime to deny how unbelievably attractive this man is…

“Employee of the month huh? You never mentioned that…” You chide, smiling at Haneul who seems to shrink into his father’s side, a shy giggle leaving his mouth, “I sure did. He was very helpful, I can see why he’s your best employee.”

The man’s grin seems to broaden, his hand patting Haneul gently on the back, “He definitely makes me step my game up, that’s for sure.” He wipes his free hand on the front of his shirt before extending it towards you, his fingers long and rather elegant looking, “I’m Yoongi by the way, thank you for coming in. Did you just move to town?”

That pesky heart of yours stutters beneath your sternum as you shake his hand, “Y/N,” You smile, “No actually, I was here on business, but all flights out are cancelled due to the storm. I’m over at the Icicle Inn right now.”

Yoongi frowns as he releases your hand, “I’m really sorry to hear that. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your holiday. The flights usually resume schedule in a few days, so I’m sure you’ll be able to get home in no time.”

There is something about the way he speaks that compels you to believe him. Being a complete stranger, Yoongi shouldn’t be comforting, but his soft smile and even softer words soothe you.

“I hope you’re right-“ You smile, “I only brought enough stuff to last me a day or two.”

“You have the chips now!” Haneul pipes up proudly, “At least you won’t be hungry.”

His little voice makes your smile widen as you lift up your basket, “All thanks to you, Mr. Employee of the Month.”

He giggles shyly before turning to rub his face on his father’s shirt. Yoongi smirks, fondness blooming in his brown eyes. He scans over your basket, chuckling to himself when he notices the contents.

“You made some great choices, Han-ah.” He admires, not wanting to discredit his son’s decision to fill your basket up with chips and candy, “Can you go to the bakery and make sure all of the dough is rising? Appa has to get it in the oven soon…”

Haneul lights up at his assignment and nods eagerly, “Ok! Should I take pictures to show you like last time?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch and he retrieves his phone from his pocket, “That’s a good idea. Just make sure you have clean hands ok? We don’t want any Haneul cooties in the bread…”

The little boy narrows his eyes, “I don’t have cooties! You said they were all gone this morning.”

Yoongi nods earnestly, glancing over at you, “I did. They go away every time you wash up, remember? You have to wash up often so they don’t build up.”

Haneul groans, “Daaad. Don’t talk about this in front of strangers. Now Mrs. Y/N is going to think I’m gross.”

His logic makes you giggle, “I don’t think your gross at all! Everyone has to make sure they wash their cooties off.”

Haneul looks amazed, his little eyes scanning over your clean dress, “Even you?”

You nod, trying to keep a straight face, “Even me.”

He turns to his father, still slightly shaken by the news you’ve just delivered as he holds out his palm, “I promise to wash my hands.” He vows as he cocks his head, “Should I wash your phone too? Do phones get cooties?”

Yoongi shakes his head vehemently, “No, we don’t need to wash it. My phone would break if you put it in water, just make sure you clean your hands and dry them really good ok? Then come show me the pictures you took.”

Haneul is pleased with his answer, offering him a sweet smile before turning to you, “I’ll be right back ok? Don’t leave until I can tell you goodbye, it’s one of my jobs.”

And how could you refuse? Grinning, you offer a thumbs up and vow, “I’ll wait for you by the door, I wanna see those pictures too.”

Yoongi watches with an open mouthed grin whilst Haneul scampers happily towards the bakery. Shaking his head, he turns back to you and gestures to your basket, “I can take this from you. I’m sure you didn’t come in to buy 5 bags of spicy chips and uh-“ He cocks his head, his gums peaking out just like Haneul’s did as he chuckles, “-did he put jawbreakers in here?”

His grin makes your cheeks hot, the close proximity of him beginning to affect you.

“He did. He said I could eat them for a long time, so they would be good in a storm.”

Yoongi’s laughter increases a bit, settling the basket into the crook of his arm, “Aish, that kid. He’s too much.” His eyes meet yours now, and there seems to be something moving in the air between you, “If he asks, let’s just tell him I had the snacks delivered to your room, yeah?”

You’re mirroring his grin now as you reply, “Sounds like a plan. Although, to his credit- I do love spicy chips and jawbreakers. I just don’t think they are going to keep me very warm.”

He shakes his head, the remnants of a smile still on his lips, “I appreciate you entertaining him. He gets pretty nervous during storms so I’m sure meeting somebody new was a good distraction.”

You frown, “I can imagine. I’ve heard these storms get pretty brutal out here- Also, visiting your store has been the highlight of my trip so far. I would take hanging out with that kid over stuffy board meetings any day.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up with curiosity, “You came here for one of those meetings? Snow Falls isn’t usually the place for that sort of thing, unless you’re with a developer or something…”

The tone in his voice shifts at the end of his sentence, leaning towards something that resembles judgement. For some reason, you’re eager to reassure him that you aren’t some corporate vampire coming to rob Snow Falls of it’s small-town charm.

“No, I’m not. My job back home is in communications, but I’m supposed to take over my father’s business soon. That’s why I’m here actually- Mayor Sweetree is his former partner and he’s asked to meet with me to discuss the transfer.” You explain, your voice a bit wobbly with nerves.

Yoongi defrosts immediately, his supple lips now curving towards another smile, “The toy business, right? That’s where you’re taking over?”

Your body warms up at the thought of his approval, “Yeah!” You say a bit too loudly before nervously adjusting your volume, “That’s exactly where I’m taking over.”

He hears the increase in your voice, and chuckles warmly in response, his heightened ability to catch on to other people’s emotions allows him to sense a bit of nervousness coming from you, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why.

He only knows that he feels the same way.

“That’s really cool. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.” His warm expression hits you in the middle of the sternum, your mind swimming with different ways to keep him smiling, “I’m sorry you couldn’t have done this meeting by video, the mayor is a little-“ His features scrunch as he tries to find the right word, “-superstitious.”

You nod, your lips unable to stay in a straight line, “So I’ve heard. But honestly, it’s alright. I could use the adventure; my job has kept me from being able to travel anywhere interesting for far too long. It was unexpected but, I can’t complain…”

Yoongi smirks, “Neither can I.”

The way his voice seems to deepen does a number on you. It’s not clear whether or not he intended to flirt with you, and you’re doing everything you can to convince yourself that you are overthinking what he just said. Thankfully, Haneul interrupts your internal crisis,

“Appa! Uncle Kookie is calling…should I answer it?”

Yoongi makes sure you have everything you need before sending you on your way with a hefty discount and, assures you that if you need anything, he was around.

After you leave the store, you do your best to get his smile out of your head. Your week was already full of variables as it is, you really couldn’t afford to throw in another one.  

Still, it’s a difficult task. You don’t think you’ve ever felt a spark with a stranger before, but it was very possible that you had mistaken small town hospitality for flirting.  

He was really cute though.  

The first night of the storm hits like a ton of frozen bricks. The angry blanket of snow washes over the tiny town of Snow Falls like it held a grudge, and it made the Icicle Inn creak and groan all night. The next morning you spoke with your dad to inform him of all of the madness that had ensued over the last 24 hours.  

He administered a heavy dose of worry, expressing his doubts that you would make it back home before Christmas. Of course, you did your best to reassure him, making promises that you would be checking your travel app any chance you got to look for updates.  

The bit of positivity you had offered was quickly squashed when you received a call from the front desk informing you that one of the main pipes had frozen over, which would mean that the water was shut off until further notice.  

Wonderful.  

Slumping back against your pillows, you decide that you could probably manage without water for a little while, but when the TV shuts off- you decide that you’ve had enough.  

You call the front desk back and ask them if it was safe to go outside, they inform you that it was and recommended a coffee place just down the street.  

Bundling up in your thickest coat, you make your way down the icy road towards the quaint little building situated right beside Yoongi’s store. Even through all of the chaos, your mind can’t help but wander back to him.  

Attraction is annoying like that.  

On your way there, you decide to text Yeonjun to see if he has any alternative suggestions; you couldn’t hardly stay at an Inn without running water or electricity for your entire trip.  

You: So... 

You: The Inn lost power and water for the foreseeable future 

You: that couch of yours is sounding really good right about now 

He responds moments later. 

Yeonjun: RIP 

Yeonjun: I should have warned you about that, the Inn is hooked up to it’s own generator that usually takes a shit during blizzards 

Yeonjun: You’re welcome anytime, my old man drives trucks so he probably won’t be home until next week 

You don’t think it’s a great idea. But you aren’t sure what choice you’re going to have. You’d rather sleep on a strangers couch than go without your phone for more than 24 hours.  

Modernity is a curse.  

You: I’m going to get some caffeine in me and get back to you.  

You: I’m worried my technology-obsessed brain is making all of the decisions for me.  

Yeonjun: lol fair enough 

Yeonjun: just give me about an hour before you come by, I don’t want you to see all of my dad’s takeout boxes 

Yeonjun: or my dad’s clothes everywhere 

Yeonjun: He’s really messy 

You snort as you see his messages come through, quickly typing your reply before shoving your phone in your coat pocket. 

You: I’m sure HE is 

The coffee shop is adorable, much like the rest of the town, the smell of espresso immediately calming your nerves. 

No matter what city you’re in, walking into a coffee shop always makes you feel at home. There is something consistent about them, something you find extremely comforting. 

And speaking of comforting... 

“Appa, can I have EXTRA whipped cream this time? They don’t ever put enough.” A familiar little voice inquires behind you. 

You hear the same chuckle that made you smile the day prior, as another familiar voice answers him. 

“They put plenty, son. You just don’t eat it in time, I told you that the hot chocolate melts it.”  

“But can we just ask- pleaaaase? I will ask for a spoon too so I can eat it...” 

You hear Yoongi’s grin in his reply as you wonder whether or not to turn around,  

“We can ask.” He concedes, “But remember to be polite about it. These people work very hard, and they keep your Appa alive...” 

Haneul giggles, “No they don’t- your blood and guts keep you alive, that’s what you told me last week.” 

“Appa is different.” Yoongi explains matter of factly, “He runs on iced Americanos.”  

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you near the counter. 

“We should go to Dr. Namjoon then, maybe he can write you a precipitation...” 

You expect Yoongi to chuckle again at his mispronunciation, but he doesn’t. 

And instead he says, “Very good word, adeul. But that is the word for rainfall, remember? The word you’re thinking of is prescription.” 

“PreSCRIPTion...” Haneul tries out the word on his lips. 

“Good job. They sound similar huh?” 

“Yeah-”He sighs hopelessly, and you are honestly contemplating how one single child could be so adorable, “Appa, do you think that Mrs. Y/N will come back to our store? She was really nice...” 

Yoongi bites his lip at the thought of you. Truth be told, he was kind of wondering the same thing... 

Before he’s able to answer, you peek behind your shoulder to see if Haneul will catch a glimpse of you.  

And he most certainly does.  

“Mrs. Y/N!”  

He and Yoongi are both dressed in matching Christmas sweaters. Both of them are knitted together with royal blue wool and decorated with white snowflakes, and they are entirely too cute to handle. 

“Mr. Employee of the Month, how are you?” You bow your head slightly causing him to giggle, tugging Yoongi eagerly. 

“I’m fine thank you, and you?” He rushes out, rather rehearsed, “Did you finish all of your snacks? We have more at the store if you need them. We’re closed today...but I’m sure Appa can break in for you.”  

Yoongi laughs softly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. 

“I haven’t finished all of them yet actually, you helped me out so well that I probably won’t have to go back for a little while.” You assure him, “Good morning, Yoongi.” 

He nods toward you, a small and rather shy smile on his lips, “Morning. How was your first night?” 

“Well-” You start to answer him but you’re next in line, “One sec. Hi, good morning can I get a-” Your eyes scanning the menu, “-a large vanilla latte please? With an extra shot?” 

The barista nods as they punch your order into the computer, “Will that be all?” 

Yoongi cuts in, “And can we also get a kids hot chocolate with- EXTRA...” He winks down at Haneul, “whipped cream and a large, iced Americano.” 

He’s already pulling out his wallet before you even realize what’s happening, “Good morning Charley, did you and the folks make it through last night ok?” 

“Yoongi-” You protest but he ignores you playfully and hands a $20 to the barista. 

“Y/N-” He counters innocently. 

“It was ok, Yoongi, thanks.” They answer him, “Dad fell asleep with all the candles on, but thankfully we only use the self-extinguishing ones now.”  

Yoongi chuckles, “That’s probably for the best, I’m glad everyone’s doing ok. Keep the change yeah? Tell your folks I said hi...” 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” They smile, throwing the change into the tip jar, “I’ll call your name when it’s ready.” 

You're still looking at him in disbelief, “Thank you, Yoongi-” You complain as the three of you move off to the side. 

“Appa, why is everyone calling you Yoongi? I thought only grandma and grandpa called you that...” Haneul chimes in, rather confused. 

“Yoongi is my name, just like Haneul is your name. Everyone else but you calls me Yoongi.” He explains patiently. 

“Nu huh, not everyone. Uncle Kookie calls you hyung...” 

“That’s very true, but hyung is just a term of respect because I’m older than him. You’ve heard him call me Yoongi-hyung right?” 

Haneul’s eyes light up, “Oh yeah, that’s true. It’s so weird that you have a name.” He glances at you, seemingly remembering your presence, “Do you like our matching sweaters? Appa made them with the ladies from the bingo nights, aren’t they pretty?” 

You’re smiling at the small boy beside you, loving the way that he hops from one point to another.  

“Did he?” You look to Yoongi, who immediately straightens up, growing rather shy now that the attention is on him, “They are beautiful! He did such a job with them. Are they new?” 

Haneul nods, his smile widening, “Yeah! He makes us new ones every year, but this one is my favorite because it’s blue- our favorite color.” 

Yoongi is watching the two of you, his heart filling up with something that he has never felt before.  

Something that he feels the need to dismiss rather quickly.  

You gasp, “Your favorite color is blue? Mine too! It’s the best color huh?” 

Haneul tugs Yoongi’s hand excitedly, “It is?!? Appa you should make her a sweater too, so she can match with us.” 

Yoongi’s lips part and you shift slightly at the weight of Haneul’s suggestion. He’s too young to understand what he’s said, and thankfully the barista is calling Yoongi’s name before either of you have to address it. 

The three of you sit a nearby table, your conversation shifting to slightly less complicated topics.  

“How are you liking the Icicle Inn? Haneul and I have only ever been there for events and stuff, are the rooms nice?” 

Yoongi asks over the rim of his Americano, not even flinching at either the taste or the temperature. 

“It’s really nice but the power and the water went out last night. The front desk called me this morning to tell me that they weren’t sure when they were going to get it back on.” 

Yoongi frowns, suddenly looking very concerned, “Really? They don’t have even have an ETA for the maintenance team?” 

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your discomfort all over again, “They said they would call with an update as soon as they can. But they offered me a refund for the remainder of my stay, so that can’t be a good sign.” 

Haneul is distracted by his drink but when he opens up his lid, he looks expectantly up at Yoongi, “Excuse me, Appa?” 

If this kid was any cuter, you would probably implode. 

“Yes?” Yoongi murmurs softly, patting his back. 

“Did you get me a spoon?” 

“Oh! Yeah, let me go grab one for you, son. One second...”Yoongi slips out of his seat and rushes over to the bar top before coming back with the utensil in hand, handing it over to a very happy Haneul, “Here you go.” 

“Thank you!” He smiles, whipped cream on his nose. 

Yoongi chuckles, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off, “You’re welcome, Rudolph.” 

As he takes his seat, Yoongi looks a little nervous again, his eyes flitting towards Haneul who is now fully engrossed in his mission to eat all of the whipped cream out of his cup. 

“I’m really sorry you’re in such a rough situation. I wish I was better at predicting the weather but-” His hand finds its way to the back of his neck, “Haneul and I normally make stew on the first day of winter storms, you’re more than welcome to come over and take a shower and charge your phone if you need to.” 

“Oh- Yoongi, you’re really nice but I wouldn’t want to impose...” 

“Wait no! Can you come please? Appa- can she? I finally show someone the dollhouse you made for me!” Haneul pipes up yet again, destroying any sense of logic you have left in you. 

Yoongi just raises a brow, fighting the smile that’s threatening to take over his lips, “She is welcome to come over, if she wants to. It would be our pleasure.” 

He knows that you are declining for the sake of politeness, but he’s still nervous of rejection.  

He would be lying if he said he was only inviting you over to be kind, he had his own reasons for wanting to spend more time with you.  

Even if it was a little risky... 

“If it’s not any trouble-” You begin, shooting a pointed glance at Yoongi, “-then I would love to come over.” 

“Yay!” 

Yoongi and Haneul walk you back to the Icicle Inn so that you can collect some of your things before the three of you hop into Yoongi’s black pickup truck and drive down the main road towards their home.  

When you finally arrive, the sight of the brick cottage tucked away against the snowy trees makes your heart flutter around in your chest. It was picturesque, resembling something out of every Hallmark movie ever, and you’re suddenly forgetting that you’re stranded in this town in the first place.  

For the first bit of the evening, Haneul gives you the grand tour, whilst Yoongi begins to prepare the ingredients for dinner. Even though Haneul is reluctant to do so, Yoongi eventually convinces him to let you have some alone time to shower. 

The hot water against your skin did more than the latte had, and for the first time in 48 hours, you started to feel like a person again.  

Dinner was incredible. Haneul had been bragging about Yoongi all night, explaining to you that his dad could do anything in the whole world, which of course led to Yoongi overflowing with modesty.  

The weather worsening outside, leads Yoongi to explain that he probably wouldn’t be able to take you back until the morning. He profusely apologizes for his lack of foresight, but you’d be kidding yourself if you said you weren’t happy to spend more time with them.  

During the cleanup after the meal, you insisted on sharing the duties with Yoongi. It’s at this time, you learn a bit more about the little family that had already begun to steal your heart,  

“Is it just you two?” You breach the topic casually, not wanting to be too invasive. 

Yoongi nods, “Just us. My family comes out here often, most of them live over in Chestnut.” 

Smiling, you focus on rinsing off one of the wooden spoons he hands you, before inching towards your next question. The lack of ring on Yoongi’s left hand did not escape you. The observation had been lingering on your mind for quite some time, “That’s great that everyone lives close. Does his mom live there too?” 

Yoongi smirks to himself, knowing very well where this conversation was headed. 

He’s had to have it many times. 

“I’m not sure actually, I haven’t seen her since Haneul was born.” Before you’re able to ask any follow-up questions he adds, “We were young. She took off as soon as they discharged her from the hospital. And before you ask, yes I’m ok and no, I don’t ever plan on reaching out to her; I will leave that up to him, when he’s ready.” 

He has a bit of humor in his voice, so you’re really hoping you didn’t offend him, but the anxiety in you compels you to say something anyway, “I didn’t mean to pry-” 

“You didn’t...” He smiles, handing you a soapy bowl, “...and that’s why I told you.” 

You feel relieved, returning his smile as you take the bowl from him, “He’s an incredible kid. You’ve done an amazing job with him.” 

Yoongi’s heart fills with pride, but he brushes you off, keeping humility at the front of his mind, “He’s done an amazing job with me. I’m not sure where I would have ended up without him.”  

And he leaves it at that, and so do you.  

But the silence that falls over you isn’t uncomfortable, none of what has happened between you is. 

After he makes sure you have everything you need on the couch, Yoongi gestures towards his bedroom, “I’m just in there if you need anything. Again, I’m really sorry about tonight. I promise you the couch is really comfortable though, I’m still paying it off...” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck again. 

“It’s totally fine. I’m actually relieved to stay somewhere with electricity...” You murmur, laughing lightly, “Honestly, thank you. You have been so-” You wrack your brain for the right word, but your attraction to him gets in the way, “-good.” 

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Good?” 

You clear your throat, “Yes, good. You’ve been good. Actually, you’ve been great, good and great. G and G.” 

He snickers, a little of judgement in his eyes, “G and G. Is that a slang term where you’re from?” 

“Nope...” You want to smack yourself for how silly you sound, “I just made it up right now. Cute, right?” 

He cocks his head, and with a smirk he says, “Very cute.”  

And he really doesn’t sound like he’s talking about the same thing anymore... 

“Goodnight.” You wave as he turns around to head towards his room. 

“Goodnight.” He calls softly, still smirking a bit to himself as he shuts the door.  

Good grief.  

G and G. 

Yoongi hadn’t been wrong about the couch, it was incredibly comfortable. After he went to bed, you immediately fell into a deep sleep, relishing in the way the cushions encompass your entire body.  

You are awoken far too soon however, to the sound of hiccupping coming from Yoongi’s room. Groggily, you wipe your eyes as you try to assess the source of the sound.  

It’s then you notice Yoongi’s bedroom door open, the light from his bedside lamp flooding the space. You can vaguely make out the fact that he is sitting up with something cradled in his arms, and when the hiccupping resumes, your heart sinks as you realize what’s happening. 

“Ap-Appa! It was really scary, the monsters were chasing me and- and – and I couldn’t- I couldn’t get a-way! My feet weren’t mo-moving a-at all!” Haneul is crying, sobbing actually as he clings desperately to his father’s shirt. His little face is stained with tears and tucked into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.  

“Sh sh sh, it’s ok. Appa is right here hm? You’re safe here, it was just a bad dream.” Yoongi’s raspy voice is soothing even to you as his large hand rubs gentle circles on Haneul’s back, “Can we take a deep breath just like Appa does when he gets scared? Do you remember how?” 

“N-No...” Haneul is overwhelmed again and starts sobbing, “I don’t want Appa to be scared!” 

“Hey hey—Appa isn’t scared right now. This is just how Appa breathes when he gets scared, ready? I’m going to show you....” Yoongi leans him back just a bit, keeping his motions slow, “Appa takes a deep breath like this...” He takes in a breath through his nose, keeping his eyes on his son, before blowing cool air through his pursed lips over Haneul’s heated face, “In through our noses and out through our mouths, can you try one with me?” 

Haneul nods, tiny hands gripping his dad’s shoulders like a life raft. 

The two of them breathe together and when Haneul puffs out a clumsy breath onto Yoongi’s face, he finally loosens up and giggles. 

“Good boy-” Yoongi chuckles, patting his back, “Can you try one more?” 

Haneul nods again, repeating the same steps with his dad until he visibly relaxes in his arms, his tiny body exhausted from all of the adrenaline. 

“Are you feeling a little better?” Yoongi murmurs softly, his thumb brushing away more of his tears. 

“Y-yeah...” Haneul mumbles, still gripping his t-shirt, “Thank you, Appa.” 

Yoongi smiles with all of the adoration one person could possess, “You’re welcome, love. Let’s get you cleaned up really quick ok?” He leans in to kiss the top of his head before reaching for the tissue box on his nightstand. Clumping up a few of them, he holds them up at Haneul’s nose before telling him to blow into the wadded tissue.   

He sets that aside before gathering one or two more and wiping the rest of his tears, “There we go, there’s my handsome son...do you want some water?”  

When Haneul nods, Yoongi reaches for the blue water bottle he had filled up for him before bed and hands it to over.  

After a few big gulps Haneul murmurs, “Can I sleep in here with you? I’m too scared to go back yet...” 

And of course Yoongi says yes, because if you thought you were powerless against Haneul, you were wrong.  

No one could ever compete with Yoongi on that one.  

You tuck back into the couch, not wanting them to know you had woken up.  

And as you’re drifting off to sleep, you can hear two voices coming from the bedroom, each of them so alike and so different at the same time. 

“I love you Appa.” 

“And Appa loves you.” 

Boy, you were in trouble. 

The next few days almost don’t feel real to you. Yoongi drives you back to the Inn the following morning, only to find out that everything was still down. After some discussion, Yoongi reassures you that you would be absolutely welcome to stay at his place until the airports reopen.  

And honestly, you aren’t really in any position to deny him...for multiple reasons.  

The weather worsens, but your time in Snow Falls certainly does not. Yoongi and Haneul ensure that you are properly entertained and properly fed. You seem to nestle into their routine quite easily, and it almost feels like you’ve done this all before.  

Like you’ve never been anywhere else.  

It’s scary but, maybe it’s possible that something is in the air, like maybe Christmas miracles are a thing.  

You and Yoongi fell into a bad habit of flirting when Haneul goes to bed, but it never progresses anywhere. However, you’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t notice how much you felt towards this man already.  

There was something between you, but you just couldn’t get a hold of it. Every time it would pass you by, it was as if you were too afraid to grasp at it.  

It was too real.  

When the three of you get back from the mini mart, roughly six days from the start of your trip, Yoongi snorts as he sees a foreign object parked in front of his house. 

It’s a black Cadillac with tinted windows and incredibly out of place in Yoongi’s quaint little driveway. 

“Who’s car is that?”  

“Appa! Uncle Kookie’s car is here!” Haneul answers for him, now bouncing in the middle seat with excitement, “Is he here for a surprise?” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I guess so.” He replies before addressing your question, “My brother does this a lot- I should have given you a heads up.” 

Haneul is practically climbing over you as Yoongi puts the car in park, causing you to laugh even as his father reprimands him.  

“Ah ah- say excuse me please.”  

“Excuse me!!!” Haneul laughs as he takes off running towards the front door. He yanks it open, eyes scanning the room for his favorite intruder as you and Yoongi trail behind him. 

“Uncle Kookie? Are you here?!” He yells into the living room. 

A beat of silence passes before a voice that is falsely deepened rings out from the behind the kitchen wall, “Uhhh excuse me? What are you doing in my house?! I don’t remember inviting anyone over...” 

This pleases Haneul beyond belief, his little giggle echoing off of the walls, “Nu huh! This is mine and Appa’s house! You are OUR company! Uncle Kookie- I know it's you! 

“Cookie?! I am not a Cookie! I am a human person, good sir! And who is this Appa you speak of?” The voice sounds affronted, “He sounds smelly...” 

Haneul is doubled over in laughter, his cheeks the color of cherry tomatoes as he stumbles eagerly towards the voice, “No, my Uncle Kookie is a PERSON-” He emphasizes through his laughter, “I just call him Uncle Kookie because of his name! Come out so I can check if you are him!” 

The voice falters for a moment, “This uh- this Uncle Kookie of yours, is he pretty cool?” 

Haneul nods with enthusiasm, “He’s so cool! He has a fast car and pictures all over his arms, and he’s SUPER strong-” 

“Hmmm-” The voice muses, “He sounds VERY cool. It’s almost like he’s cooler than your Appa, huh?” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and Haneul immediately flashes a worried look towards his father. 

“Well only a liiiiitttle bit.”  

Yoongi and you snicker at Haneul’s honesty, loving how guilty he looks as he says it. 

From around the kitchen corner, the voice booms, “That’s my boy!” He cheers before a man finally shows up at the end of the walk-way, “GET OVER HERE, SPIDERMAN!”  

“MR. STARK!” Haneul screeches as he takes off running towards his Uncle. When the man bends over to catch him in his arms, you finally get a good look at him.  

He is slightly taller than Yoongi and dressed in all black. His winter flannel is hung over the back of the couch which explains why he’s stood in the house in just a tank top. You can see that both of his muscular arms are covered in a series of intricate tattoos and that his right eyebrow is adorned with a piercing. Silver hangs from his ears and neck, and his giant doc martens pair well with the sound of Haneul’s little feet dancing across the wood.  

He wraps around his uncle like a spider monkey, arms and legs securing themselves as best as they can on his torso.  

“How is my favorite nephew???” Jungkook’s mouth is fixed in a wide grin as he hugs him as tight as he can, standing up with his nephew still attached. 

“Good!” Haneul giggles as the two of them get closer to where you and Yoongi are stood, “I missed you. How did you get here through all of the snow?” 

“Becaaaause I missed my nephew and-” He glances toward Yoongi, “my brother, and-” He pauses as his eyes fall on you. He turns to whisper loudly in Haneul’s ear, “Who is that lady with your Appa?” 

Haneul is laughing yet again at his uncle’s antics, “That’s Mrs. Y/N. She’s our new friend, she got stuck here cause of the snow...” 

Jungkook smirks, his eyes finding his older brother’s, “A friend huh?” He speaks at a normal volume before doing the same loud whisper into Hanuel’s ear, “Is she nice?” 

Haneul giggles as he nods once more, “She’s really nice, I think Appa likes her too…”

“Alright-“ Yoongi cuts in smoothly, causing his younger brother to snicker mischievously, “You didn’t tell me you were coming, I would have told you to wait. Did you drive here????”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you- and no I didn’t drive here-“ He says matter of factly, despite the fact that his car is literally sitting out front, “I flew here, didn’t I?” He asks Haneul, “In my War Machine Mark!”

Haneul laughs for the millionth time, clinging to him as he nods exuberantly, “Yeah! Appa, Uncle Kookie only brings his car as a cover up, or else Thanos will find him…”

Jungkook winks at Yoongi, “Yeah hyung, we’ve told you this a hundred times. Haven’t we?” He asks Haneul, who nods through his laughter before pointing at Jungkook’s face, “Y/N, this is my Uncle Kookie I was telling you about! I told you he’d be here for Christmas, he never misses it!”

Affectionately, Haneul places his hands on both of Jungkook’s cheeks and smushes his face together, snickering as his uncle’s features become slightly deformed. With a smushed face, Jungkook extends a hand towards you,

“Nice to meet you,” He says, his words slightly muffled my Haneul’s affection, “I’d say that I’ve heard so much about you, but my hyung here never tells me anything.”

You giggle, leaning forward to shake his hand firmly before releasing it, “Well I’ve definitely heard a lot about you. It’s nice to put a face to the famous Uncle Kookie.”

Jungkook smiles now and its far sweeter than anything you’ve seen from him so far, “Was that you huh? Were you bragging about me?”

Haneul is cuddled into him now, a small grin on his face, “Mhm.”

Jungkook flashes a look towards Yoongi, something wordless moving between them before he shifts Haneul onto his hip.

“So what’s for dinner, hyung? All of that flying has me STARVING…” He sings dramatically, smirking as Haneul laughs yet again.

It’s one of his favorite sounds.

Originally, Yoongi had planned to order takeout from a local restaurant, hoping to get it in before the storm picked up again.

But Jungkook showing up resurrected his desire to make another homecooked meal, wanting nothing more than to ensure that his younger brother was well-fed.

You knew that Jungkook arriving was special to Haneul, but you didn’t quite understand the significance until you overheard a conversation between the two of them on the way back from the restroom.

“Uncle Kookie- can I see your scar again?”

From around the corner of the hallway, you see Jungkook adjust his shirt to show off what Haneul asked for.

“It’s looking better!” He cheers with a smile, “Did the stuff Appa and I made for you work?”

You hear Jungkook chuckle, “Yeah it did. It’s fading a lot huh? I put on that stuff every day…”

“Whoa- that’s so cool.” The little boy muses, “That means you’re not sick anymore right?”

Your heart sinks.

“That’s right. All of the doctors took out all of the sickness last year, remember? Now I just have to go back for check-ups to make sure it doesn’t grow back.”

“It won’t right?” Haneul immediately sounds worried.

“Nahhhh of course not.” He chuckles, “I’m IronMan, remember? I’ll always be around…that’s why I kicked it’s butt so hard the first time.”

Haneul sighs, “I think I hate cancer more than Thanos.”

Jungkook pulls him in for a hug then, allowing him to settle on his chest before murmuring, “Me too, spiderman.”

Yoongi’s family has been through so much, you think, and you’ve barely even scratched the surface.

And although you didn’t know Jungkook, you’re very happy to hear that he’s better; you couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for him.

The two of them don’t remain still for very long and just before dinner, they break out into an all-out NERF war that Yoongi has to squash once they nearly break one of his vases.

He also reassures you that Haneul doesn’t own any NERF guns, and that he only allows him to play with them when Jungkook is around.

He’s not a huge fan of toys like that.

You offer to help Yoongi with the dishes after dinner, so that Jungkook can watch a movie with Haneul, which he explains will have them both falling asleep within a half hour.  

And as you take your place beside him, the smell of the sudsy water reminds you of the many nights you spent alone in your apartment. Your coffee table rarely ever clear because it was always haphazardly decorated with meeting notes and projects you had no passion for. Loneliness had been a constant friend since you moved downtown. The scent of the mild dishsoap brings you right back to all of those evenings spent wondering what it would be like to have a partner washing the cutlery beside you.

What would it be like to share the small space of a studio kitchen with another person, to feel their presence, to bump into them accidentally, to have them wrap their arms around you, staining your shirt with dishwater…

It was a niche daydream, you’ll admit. But the sound of Yoongi dragging the sponge across the ceramic of the plate feels like home.

He feels like home.

“So what’s the verdict?” Yoongi murmurs beside you with a slight quirk to his lips, “Did you like everything?”

He’s obviously referring to the steak and steamed vegetables he had presented to you earlier, but the question coming in the midst of your train of thought makes you want to spill your guts to him.

“It was amazing, as usual.” You compliment, “If you ever decide to branch out in the restaurant industry, the top chefs are gonna be in a lot of trouble…”

He snorts and shakes his head, but his cheeks turn the color of compliments, “You’re too much. The method I used was new, but I saw Chef Baek do this on his recent special, and I figured I’d try it out.”

You grin, “Chef Baek would be very proud.” His cheeks darken as he passes you a soapy bowl your way, “I can’t remember the last time I ate so well- aside from coming here the other day. My attempts at cooking never really panned out…” You trail off before turning to Yoongi, who is already looking at you with utter disgust, despite the growing smile on his lips, “…get it?”

He rolls his eyes, nudging you playfully with his elbow, “Just because I’m a dad, does not mean I appreciate dad jokes. Even if that one was kinda good.”

“Kinda?!” You whine whilst minding your volume; There are two sleeping boys in the next room.

Yoongi snickers, “Yeah kinda. You’re lucky that I even gave you that rating. When my older brother Jin tells them, I usually just leave the room.”

“Your sense of humor needs to be refined, Min Yoongi. Dad jokes are a work of art…”

He finds it ironic that you would describe art and not recognize the masterpiece that is your face, but he continues to keep the mood light. If he uttered every single thing he thought about you, you’d think he was out of his mind.

To be fair, he kinda felt like he was…

“Art is subjective.” He counters, “But if they make you laugh, then I can’t really hate them too much.”

Something about his response makes your stomach turn the same way it has been all week. The same way it turns every time he subtly makes you feel like he might be reciprocating the rapidly developing feelings inside your heart.

“No? Why is that?” You press for the first time, still attempting to remain casual.

Yoongi’s scrubbing slows down, “Because I like your laugh.”

You mirror him in a way, allowing your focus to slowly unfurl from the sink, lips parting as the two of you face each other.

“My laugh?” You breathe, “Why?”

Yoongi wets his lips subconsciously, not trying to intensify the moment but the way your mouth parts, makes him thirst for something he’s never tasted.

“It’s cute.”

Swallowing, you wonder if the urge you’re feeling to lean closer to him is going to end well. But you struggle to find the will to resist any longer.

Your heart increases slightly, your lips now on a mission separate from the logical side of you. Yoongi’s lips seem to be on the same trajectory, the faucet running carelessly in the background as he desperately wishes his hands weren’t covered in soap.

In your clouded decision to give in to all of the desires that have been slowly brewing over the past week, you make the crucial mistake of forgetting that you are rinsing off a large kitchen knife.

The sound of metal clanking against the bottom of the sink causes both you and Yoongi to jump, and before you realize it, you can feel a stinging sensation across the tip of your left index finger. Yoongi catches the sight of blood immediately, his parental instincts taking over.

“Oh shit-“ He mutters as he springs into action, “Are you ok? Let me help- we need to run your finger under the water, I have a first aid kit in the drawer by the oven.”

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to, your lips still very focused on their original plan, but given that Yoongi seems a little frazzled, you decide to look over to assess the issue.

Eyes widening, you finally spot the red liquid oozing out of the small cut on your index finger.

“Oh wow, I didn’t even feel that-“ You muse, somewhat concerned at your ability to be distracted, “Shit, I’m getting blood all over your sink, I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi’s face wrinkles in disbelief, “Are you seriously apologizing to me for bleeding?”

You laugh at his expression, “I’m just saying it looks like a crime scene in here, I don’t even think the cut is that big.”

He shakes his head, “It probably isn’t, cuts like this have a tendency to bleed a lot.” Through his explanation, you are faced with the task of handling the feeling of his long fingers gently securing themselves around your wrist.  His touch scatters electricity across the surface of your skin, the grip he employs incredibly delicate, just like the rest of him.

“Is that ok?” He murmurs, eyes focused entirely on the task at hand.

You curse yourself for the intrusion, wishing desperately that he was touching you for an entirely different reason.

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt-“ You assure him, “I don’t think I would have noticed if I hadn’t heard the knife fall…”

The corner of his mouth turns up a bit, “Me neither.”

You see him swallow then, his lips moving uncomfortably around the dryness in his mouth. He reaches out to turn the tap off before grabbing a clean dish towel from beneath the sink.

“Here- wrap this around your hand while I grab the first aid kit.”

Wordlessly, you nod and do exactly as he instructed but your eyes stay on him all the while, watching with adoration as he fusses around the kitchen.

“Do you have a first aid kit in every room?” You tease, remembering quite well that you saw one in the bathroom the other day.

“In most rooms yes. You’ve met my son,” He points out, chuckling to himself, “And now you’ve met my younger brother- between the two of them, I go through a lot of band aids.”

He’s guided you over to the fridge now, his hands gently undoing the little white box before searching through its contents. His reasoning makes you giggle, which only broadens the grin on his lips.

“There it is again-“ He points out the sound, his eyes flickering up towards your face momentarily before pulling out the Neosporin.

The comment makes your heartbeat level up, your toes wiggling in the confines of your shoes as your body tries to work out all of the feelings inside of it.

Silence settles over the two of you for the moment, with the only sound coming from Yoongi unscrewing the cap on the tube. The wind is whistling rather violently outside of the house, but it does nothing to distract you from fixating on the movements of his fingers. With a tiny glob of Neosporin, he moves over the small laceration and begins dabbing some over the length of it. You can hardly feel it, his touch featherlight and nearly shaking beneath the weight of his precision. And yet, just like the everything about him, you are captivated.

Yoongi’s doing his best to focus on tending to your wound, but he can feel your eyes on him. They are resting somewhere between the tip of his nose and his bottom lip, and he is worried that if he looks up, he’s going to abandon his current mission.

So he settles for a snarky comment, as usual.

“This is a lot harder with you staring at me-“ He chuckles uneasily, his cheeks returning to that same shade of pink.

And this time, you smirk, enjoying how quickly you can fluster him, “I believe in you.” You retort, “Looking at you makes it hurt less…”

His teeth and gums are out now, his smile fully formed but his eyes are far from meeting yours, “I thought you said it didn’t hurt.”

You bite your lip, “The adrenaline is wearing off.”

He shakes his head, his teeth now mirroring your own as they find his bottom lip, “That’s not exactly what I was hoping for.”

Your brows raise, your heartbeat finding its way up your throat once more, “No? What were you hoping for?”

Yoongi’s chest rises with the depth of his breath, his fingertips smoothing over the top of the band-aid that now adorns the circumference of your finger.  

Finally, he looks up at you, mouth parted with the instability in his breath. There is something hidden inside his pupils, something that has been trapped for a long time, something you want to release…

“I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing anymore.”

You lick your lips, which causes Yoongi’s eyes to immediately find them, the desire for you nearly unbearable.

“I think we are-“ With your response, you allow your fingers to curl around one of his. And as you summon all the bravery within you, you whisper, “-but just to be sure, you were talking about kissing me right?”

Yoongi can feel the rasp in your voice as it travels down to the base of his stomach, his body flushing hot with desire as he watches the movement of your hand. It’s just his finger your gripping, but he is overcome with the thought of it being another part of him.

He nods, not trusting the ability to speak at the moment, lips slowly beginning to chase yours, before he hesitates.

“Do you- do you want me to kiss you?” He whispers, eyes leaving yours to find your lips instead.

Your palm cups the outside of his cheek, which is incredibly warm to the touch, your pinky resting near the corner of his mouth. Without responding, you brush the tip of your pinky over his top lip, marveling at just how soft he is, and repeating the same motion on the bottom lip too.

Yoongi’s breath rushes between your pinky and ring finger, and after holding each other’s gaze once more, you finally give in and kiss him.

And his mouth is nearly dried out with anxiety, but this is easily remedied by your eager tongue as it peeks just under his top lip. You can feel the grip he has on your waist, tender but deliberate, just like the rest of him. The kiss is messy, the two of you entirely out of practice and consumed with desire, but even as you bump noses, you couldn’t find the will to care.

You want him, all of him, in every way there is to want.

Yoongi’s hands are getting braver as he presses his hips against yours, the feeling of your body doing a number on his self control.

Still tucking into your mouth, he presses the tips of his fingers just above your ass, as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. The couplet of sensations elicits the tiniest sound from the back of your throat, but it’s enough to drive him crazy.

“Fuck-“ He grunts hungrily, and without thinking, he pushes you up against the refrigerator. The sound of the magnets falling to the floor feels much more like an avalanche, the whole world stopping in the wrong way, the two of you rendered frozen.

Disconnected from the kiss, Yoongi rushes over to peek around the corner of the kitchen, to assess the damage.

“Who’s there?” Jungkook’s sleepy voice grumbles, his nerf gun pointed in the air, eyes half open as he grips Haneul against his chest.

“Just us- we dropped something in the kitchen. Go back to sleep…” You hear Yoongi assure him, and thankfully Jungkook accepts his answer, mumbling something incoherent before his head falls back against the cushions.

Slowly, he turns back to you with a look of disbelief, “I literally have no words…”

And you’re giggling now, with your hand over your mouth, trying your best to keep quiet but really struggling when he starts to chuckle along with you.

“Your kitchen is cursed.” You whisper through your laughter, glancing at the magnets scattered on the floor. Instinctively, you move to collect them, but Yoongi’s suggestion stops you in your tracks.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

He sounds nervous but entirely sure of himself, some of his buried confidence surfacing in the face of his arousal.

He wants you, all of you, in every way there is to want.

You bite your lip, which already misses the feeling of his tongue, “Yeah- we can come back and clean up, or whatever…”

He chuckles, holding out his hand as he flicks the switch on the wall, “Yeah… or whatever.” The kitchen light is reduced to nearly nothing, the only visibility provided by the light from the living room television.

The two of you tiptoe down the hall, careful not to disturb the two sleeping boys cuddled up on the sofa. Yoongi leads you into the darkness of his bedroom, and as he shuts the door his fingers hesitate at the knob.

“Is it ok with you if I lock it? He forgets to knock a lot of the time…” He murmurs, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but dreading the thought of his son wandering into his bedroom.

“Of course-“ You reply, “Do you think he’s gonna wake up?”

The sound of the lock clicking in place is much louder given the meaning behind it, and Yoongi is already making a move to be closer to you as he replies, “No I don’t think so-“ His hands are back on your waist again, “-if he does, Jungkook will help him with whatever he needs.”

And Yoongi feels really selfish as the words leave his lips. He hasn’t had a night away from Haneul since he was born, and even though he is just in the next room, he feels guilty for putting himself first.

“Ok good-“ You whisper, and the palm of your hand is caressing his face now as you giggle softly, “Hi…”

He sighs in relief, still a little frazzled regarding everything that’s transpired over the past thirty minutes, “Hi…”

When you lean in to peck his lips, you’re anticipating that there will be no more interruptions, but Yoongi squashes this dream of yours rather quickly.

“Wait-“ He breathes, trailing off into a bout of snickering when you groan, “Just let me set the mood really quick…”

The feeling of his body detaching itself from you is absolute agony, even though his careful movements towards the candles on his dresser are incredibly endearing.

You come up behind him, watching his shaky hands attempt to light the wicks. He can feel your presence, his heart hammering away in his chest whilst he tries to focus. Thankfully for him, you wait until the candles begin to glow with warmth before deciding to put your hands on him. Dragging your nails lightly through the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck you coax his head to the side to accommodate your desire to kiss on him.  

He swallows, eyes falling shut as you sponge wet kisses along the fault line of his sanity. With his hands lingering in front of him, he surrenders to your motions on his skin, the entirety of him touch-starved; it’s been so long since he’s done anything like this.

Your lips are making the journey up his neck, delighting in the way he seems to shiver beneath you, “I think the mood has been set, don’t you?”

Yoongi lets out the breath he was holding, moving just enough so that he can turn around in your arms. He catches a glimpse at you for the moment, before rushing into another kiss, his lips connecting to yours with the same eagerness he had in the kitchen.

His hands slide underneath your sweater, sighing out at the feeling of your skin, all of it so much better than he could have imagined.

You’re walking him back towards the bed, kissing at his lips all the while, your hands winding their way behind his neck as his own get braver on the small of your back. The back of your knees hit the edge of his mattress, and he has a half a thought to push you onto his bed, before suddenly remembering that he forgot all of the moves he used to pull.  

It’s been so long.  

He is incredibly out of practice, but he wants you so bad and he needs you to know that. 

But he’s forgotten how. 

Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been picking up on his panic. You notice the way his lips falter against yours, the way his tongue seems to lose direction, and the way his hands unstick from your waist... 

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, sealing your question with a kiss. 

Yoongi chuckles, the sound almost unnatural as his hand comes up to rub behind his neck. He licks his lips, wanting to savor the taste of you even while he’s embarrassed.  

“I’m uh-” He looks away for a moment, lips still quirked up in a nervous grin, “I’m alright, it’s just...” 

You cock your head, eyes wide with a type of tenderness he has only ever seen from you.  

God, you’re really fucking beautiful, he thinks.  

It’s unreal.  

Why was he overthinking something so perfect? 

“Do you want to stop?” You check, intertwining your fingers with his before bringing his knuckles to your lips.  

Yoongi wants to cry when you place a kiss to the backs of his fingers. If he were a different man, he would have been leading your mouth all over him, responding in kind, sucking at every inch of you, bending you over the end of his bed... 

But he isn’t. 

He’s Yoongi.  

And all he knows is that he wants the woman, you, standing before him.  

But he hasn’t the faintest idea of where to start. 

Yoongi shakes his head at your question, “It’s been a really long time since I’ve been with anyone.” He admits, still watching the way you brush your lips over his fingers, “I’m really out of practice, to say the least. I think I’m siking myself out a bit.”  

You feel immediate relief, your lips forming around a smile as you kiss his hand gently, “It’s ok- it's been awhile for me too.” Looking up at him, you catch him staring at your mouth again, his expression almost innocent, “Why don’t we start here?” 

Yoongi’s eyes follow every move you make, even as you back away from him and crawl onto the bed. You’re on your knees now, your jeans stretching across your skin uncomfortably, the sensation serving as another reason to rid yourself of them. 

“Stay right there...” You call softly, but Yoongi couldn’t move even if he tried. 

Not yet at least. 

He nods, unsure of what to do with his hands now that they aren’t wrapped around you anymore; it’s just another sign that, that’s where they belong.  

You lock eyes with him, lowering the intensity of your gaze in an effort to ease his nerves, even as your fingers find the hem of your sweater.   

Yoongi’s heart quickly finds itself thrashing against his sternum, his lips parting in awe as you expose yourself to him. You’re in a cherry red bra, the lace doing a slightly poor job of containing your breasts. But he isn’t complaining.  

You’re sliding your hands up your body now, keeping your eyes on him before allowing them to flutter shut as you grip your chest. Making a show of yourself, you push them together and murmur, “You would fit so nicely right here, don’t you think?” 

Yoongi huffs, a light chuckle hanging on the end of it, as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re going to give me heart attack...” The giggle that leaves your lips spurs him on, but before he is able to climb onto the bed with you, you’re stopping him. 

“Wait- I wanna see you now.” You request, batting your lashes at him, and he is starting to recognize just how dangerous you really are.  

Yoongi smirks, “I don’t remember agreeing to put on a show...” 

“Please?” You pout, sitting back on your knees, as you look at him expectantly, “I’ll keep going...” 

His smirk broadens, his hands sort of lingering at his collar, “Are you trying to bribe me?” 

The tone of his voice makes you smile, “Is it working?”  

Yoongi chuckles, the sound heating the surface of your skin, “Unfortunately yeah, think I’d do anything to get me on that bed with you.” 

You’re giggling again, feeling very young all of the sudden, “Well get to it then, I’m getting cold...”

Yoongi bites his lip, keeping his eyes on you as he slowly removes his shirt. Finally seeing the full expanse of his skin, you are leaning forward on your knees a bit, desperate to touch him. His skin looks so soft, his hips flaring out just a bit, his pecks raised slightly to signify his many hours moving boxes in his store.

Just below his collarbone, you see a tiny bit of black script written in Korean, which you assume is for Haneul, and Yoongi immediately confirms your suspicion.

“I got this right before he was born-“ He explains brushing his fingers over it, “It’s held up really well.”

You smile, “It has.”

Yoongi kind of stands there for a moment, looking nervous all over again, before you find your back over to him.

“Hey-“ You whisper, cupping his face, “You’re amazing…ok?”

Yoongi wants to argue with you, feeling insecure at someone seeing him so exposed after so long. But the way your lips tuck in between his own, kill doubt he’s ever had about himself.

At least for the time being.

He’s happy to be kissing you again, and even happier when you say,

“Will you take off my bra for me?”

Clumsily, he removes the garment, throwing it clear across the room in frustration which makes you giggle against his lips.

“It’s stupid-“ He pouts, referring to your bra.

You mirror him as you comb your hands through his hair, “So stupid…”

Moments later, the two of you have finally rid yourself of all of your clothes. Yoongi is hissing between your legs, his latex-covered dick brushing against the thick viscosity of your aching cunt that flutters desperately for him.

“I’m literally throbbing-“ He mumbles into your mouth, as you both continue making out.

You’ve been prolonging it, because you know neither of you will last very long. Your clit is pulsating at the thought of being touched, rubbed, licked, sucked…

Really anything at this point.

And it’s almost torture.

How much you want one another, but how quickly your unification will be.

“Me too-“ You agree, your nails tickling over his back, “I’ve never been this wet for anyone else?”

Yoongi’s eyes darken at that, “No? Are you going to get me wet?” His salacious question is paired with a light thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock pushing against your entrance.

“Mhm…” You mumble, both hands coming up to cup his face, “Will you put it in?”

He groans softly, eyes squeezing shut as he desperately tries to get a hold of himself. He’s nodding, knees fully resting on the mattress as he backs out of your grip.

With a closed fist, he strokes up the length of his dick a few times, his lust-filled gaze zeroing in on you, darker than ever before.

“I’m really not going to last very long- you gotta tell me if you don’t finish for me, ok? I want you to get off so bad…” He grunts, pursing his lips before it turns into a moan as he lines himself up at your pussy.

“I’m not going to either- just tell me when you’re close…” You reach for his hand, preparing for the feeling of him finally filling you up.

For the final time, he stops himself, his gaze flashing with a bit of innocence as he asks, “This won’t be the only time- right?”

He’s checking.

He’s making sure that you plan on sticking around after this winter week from hell is over.

That you’re here for the long haul…

That he isn’t crazy for falling for you so quickly…

And all you offer is a smile, full of promise and full of emotions that you can’t quite articulate just yet, “This won’t be the only time.”

With that, he fills you up. The length of his cock doesn’t reach the depths of you, but the way Yoongi flexes his hips doesn’t compel you to care.

You can see the way your pussy affects him, his lips finding the crook of your neck, sucking and biting in a desperate attempt to keep quiet as he eagerly fucks into you.

“Fuck me.” He whisper hungrily, biting particularly hard when your hips start meeting his, “Pussy’s ‘sso good…”

“Yeah?” You coo softly into his ear, nibbling on the shell of it, “Is it going to make you cum?”

He’s nodding, the sound of his heavy breath catching on the softest of whimpers, knowing full-well that neither of you can make a sound.

“Want you to cum though….” He mumbles drunkenly, one of his hands sliding between your sweaty bodies, “Want to feel you quiver around my cock.”

You have no idea where his mouth is coming from, but you aren’t’ complaining. The fact that your body can make him talk like this only turns you on more.

 “Touch me.” You whisper, spreading your legs even wider, “I’ll cum for you right now…”

His eyes snap towards your own, his pupils nearly taking over his irises, “Yeah?” He hums, the pads of his fingers the pulsing bud at the top of your cunt, “You’ll cum right now for me? All over my dick?”

He’s whispering to you but he’s words feel so loud, and as he starts moving over your clit, you have no choice but to nod as you clamp your hand over your mouth.

He smirks softly, eyes locked onto you as he increases the speed of both his hips and his fingers, “Shhhh- not a sound, ok? Let me see it…”

And Yoongi thinks you put on a better show than any porn star in the business.

He also thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

The way your cunt flutters through your orgasm is too much for him to handle, his body collapsing onto his elbows. He noses your hand away from your mouth once you’re finished, he is looking nervous all over again, like he isn’t ready for what he’s about to feel.

“I’m going to cum so hard—” He whines softly into your mouth, his hips moving unevenly inside of you.

You kiss at his face, offering him a sweet pleasure-induced smile, as your hips begin to meet him half way.

“I want it- can I have it, Yoongi?” You coo, sucking at his bottom lip, “Please?”

And his whole body shudders, his fists curling into the pillows beside you as he sucks at your neck once more, muffling all of the cries that leave his throat against your skin. He empties himself inside of the condom, trembling beneath the weight of his orgasm and, the weakness in his limbs.

He can’t hold himself up any longer, but he slowly rests his body ontop of your own, not wanting to crush you.

Although you’d be glad to bear the weight.

Carding your fingers through his sweaty hair, you gently press kisses against the side of his face, wanting nothing more than to be all over him, even after the two of you had finished.

He’s still shaky, his whole world seemingly turned upside down.

But in the best way.

“Are you alright?” You finally murmur in the silence, kissing his ear

With a low chuckle and muffled chuckle, he responds, “I’m good- good and great actually…”

You grin, feeling overcome with your affection for him, even as you pinch his side.

“G and G… as some people call it.”

“I hate you.” You giggle

But it couldn’t be further from the truth.

This week had changed your life, that much was certain, even if there was so much still in the air.

Yoongi still had a son to worry about, and a business to run.

And you still had business to take over, and a rather fickle mayor to track down.

But you knew that you belonged here.

With Yoongi, with Haneul…

Where the snow falls in Snow Falls.

Even if the world was still so loud, you knew that you’d find a way to quiet it.

And the next morning, lighting up the lock screen on your phone comes from the first part of your new journey.

Email from: Mayor Sweetree

CC: sweetandcompanyY/F/[email protected]

Subject: New Plans and Bad Weather

Body:

Y/N!

So sorry I’ve had to cancel our meeting this week! I’m firmly against doing business during bad weather. Now that the forecast is clearing up, I’d like to get together as soon as possible. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?

Before you agree, I want to know your thoughts on a very important project I’ve been considering for quite some time. Your response will let me know how I should proceed.

What do you think about opening up a new flagship store right here in Snow Falls?

Looking forward to working with you,

Mayor Sweetree  

#yoongi #christmas in july #bangtansorciere #suga #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi one shots #min yoongi fics #yoongi fic rec #yoongi fanfiction #bts one shots #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #dad! yoongi #yoongi cute #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fics #min yoongi

[shapiros]

TASK 06. CHARACTER INFLUENCES.

check under the cut for character analysis / inspo !

01. mia wallace.

so, the first version of blair was intended to be a direct inspiration of mia – it was for a roleplay where all the characters were based off of iconic 90s figures ! as part of mia’s backstory, she was an aspiring actress who never accomplished more than a failed television pilot. otherwise, she’s mysterious and smokes a lot of cigarettes ? i changed some of the storyline for volume a bit, because i was nervous it was too heavy tbh, i wasn’t sure what the vibe was going to be coming into the group and what i could pull off. however, she enjoys novelty and loves corny jokes . . . so i’m sure the inspiration is obvious from there. 

02. audrey horne.

i never finished twin peaks, but i got super close before they took it off netflix lol. but this dale cooper quote : “ you're beautiful, intelligent, desirable. you're everything a man wants in his life. but what you need right now, more than anything else, is a friend. ” makes me cry really, bc that’s exactly how i feel about blair sometimes. also, audrey’s neglected by her parents and acts a little crazy as a result, literally lies all the time, and comes up with a lot of disguises and aliases throughout the story. 

03. michelle burroughs.

this one is funny bc she says like 3 words throughout the movie, but the point is vibes. mainly she’s just hanging with the guys and smokes a lot. i remember a list of characters from this movie ranked by coolness where she was 13/50 and they noted that she spends the film listening to music, getting stoned, and vandalizing statues. gives me a lot of jamie/marty/blair/dean in high school energy. i think it also helps that a lot of dazed and confused’s vibes inspired woodstock itself. 

04. dylan sanders.

a teenage rebel with lackluster grades and a penchant for trouble. they’re twin flames, really, and i think of this quote from madison lee, who said she’s, “always out to prove how tough and independent she is but unable to make it on her own.” that’s a mood. dylan, before joining the angels, had a number of odd jobs and hobbies, like bartender, yoga instructor, field guide, rodeo entertainer, etc, and i liken this to blair’s impetuous nature and frequently changing hobbies and interests. 

05. fleabag.

relentlessly snarky and sassy, always trying to get a joke in. many sexual encounters, though few with meaning. however, once you get past the surface level stuff, i feel like fleabag’s storyline includes a lot of what i’m trying to accomplish with blair, too. she’s fundamentally flawed, prone to bad decisions and acts on impulse, but deep down, she has a good heart and tries to protect people that she cares about . . . even when she often fails. bonus quotes: “sometimes i worry i’d be less of a feminist if i had a bigger chest.” / “don’t make me an optimist, you will ruin my life.” 

06. marla singer.

god, this list is such a red flag, please run away not only from blair, but from me. re: strong willed woman who comes across as totally batshit. i feel like it says a lot that you meet marla at a testicular cancer support group, a disease that she obviously doesn’t have lmao. she just goes there for free coffee, and you know, these are the things blair will do for free shit and i feel like she carries this same unhinged energy. 

07. daisy jones.

i feel like this is self-explanatory without the success...though maybe success is still pending for blair, she has time. but tall girl with a certain measure of star quality who leaves her priveleged and lonely life to try her hand at hollywood, throwing herself into a world of sex and drugs. she’s someone who really wants to have a lot of freedom, but finds herself at a loss from one turn to another, and i think of her turning up to music practice with like a bottle of wine in her hand and an air of unprofessionalism and i feel like it really suits blair. not to mention when i look back at descriptions of how lonely daisy felt growing up and the certain emptiness she felt in her house, i feel like it parallels a lot with blair and even her private desire to prove herself, even if she’s traumatized by failure and scared to admit it. i also remember being really inspired by daisy’s perception of love, the entire “i wish someone had told me that love wasn’t supposed to be torture / i thought love was war / i didn’t know it was supposed to be peace.” i finished the book right around the time i started playing blair and i definitely was inspired by that idea, of blair believing that love is something that makes you heavier instead of lighter. 

08. margot tenenbaum. 

when margot ran away from home and came back with one of her fingers missing and no one knows what happened . . . blair felt that ! she’s also infamously secretive, often sulking, smoking, and ignoring her husband. blair also felt that. her father also consistently points out that she was “adopted,” therefore isolating her and setting her apart from her siblings . . . feeling isolated within your own family is a big blair theme for all of these honestly, as well as characters who are iconically known for smoking cigarettes apparently, but we been knew blair doesn’t smell the best.

other blair inspo: 

quote

hehe

and i oop

yikes

xoxo

honorable mentions/quiz results: tokyo – money heist, eleanor shellstrop – tgp, faye valentine – cowboy bebop, effy stonem – skins, clementine – eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, tyra collette – fnl, maeby funke – arrested development

#volumetask

[kingstylesdaily]

What the 2021 Grammy Awards Will Look Like

Artists including Billie Eilish, BTS, and Taylor Swift will perform in a circle of five stages with masked crew at the center — in a ceremony that first-time showrunner Ben Winston calls “part Grammys, part Abbey Road studio session”

Ben Winston is exhausted. The television producer, who moved from the U.K. to Los Angeles six years ago to start The Late Late Show With James Corden, is a week away from executive-producing his first Grammys telecast. “I literally had two hours of sleep last night,” he tells Rolling Stone via Zoom.

On Sunday, March 7th, the Recording Academy revealed a slate of performing artists for March 14th’s 63rd Annual Grammy Awards that includes Billie Eilish, BTS, Taylor Swift, Cardi B, and Harry Styles. But while those names are on the lineup, Winston knows nothing about live TV is ever set in stone — especially in the time of a pandemic —so he’s been spending his days double- and triple-checking plans, waking up at 4:30 a.m. dry-eyed and restless. He’s worked to make a show “with heart,” he says — one that “doesn’t feel isolated, quiet, or alone.” He also had to take extra steps to ensure the three-and-a-half hour show, which will not take place at the Grammys’ usual home of the Staples Center, is Covid-safe for performers and attendees. Despite all that, he appears remarkably enthusiastic and alert.

Here’s what viewers next Sunday can expect from music’s biggest night, according to Winston: a multi-stage, audience-free show that highlights the year’s creative triumphs, social justice movements, as well as Covid-19’s impact on the arts. Winston hints at several “unbelievably powerful” performances on the slate, adding that the Grammys “absolutely are acknowledging what’s happened” in the country in the last year.

Winston, who in 2018 co-produced Bruno Mars’ well-received live show at the Apollo for CBS, also wanted to highlight independent venues, which are the “lifeblood of this industry” and a launchpad for emerging musicians — so the Grammys will feature guest spots from owners and workers of iconic American venues, including L.A.’s Troubadour and Hotel Café, N.Y.’s Apollo, and Nashville’s Station Inn. “I drive past the Troubadour on my way home from work every night,” Winston says. “It’s a significant thing for me when I look at it all boarded up. I always think, ‘When those boards come down, this will be over.’ That will be the sign. That will be the day where it’s like, ‘We got through this.'” Winston realized from his conversations with venues that many of them put on their last shows on March 14th, 2020, meaning the Grammys will mark the one-year anniversary of the shutdown.

Employees will come on camera to “tell us a little bit about their venue” and present some of the awards. “So, you’ve got, like, a bartender at a beautiful, independent venue — and she’s giving out Album of the Year to these megastars,” he explains. His goal is to acknowledge the people who work tirelessly to keep these stomping grounds afloat and have recently lost their jobs. “Those venues are made up by the bartender and the security guard, the manager, the box office person, and the cleaner at the end of the night.” He hopes to remind people of the importance of supporting local venues again when it’s safe to do so.

Originally, the Grammys were scheduled for January 31st, but organizers announced a move to March right after the new year. Winston says he felt American morale was at a low point in January — between political insurrection, an impeachment trial, and Covid-19 running rampant in Los Angeles — and it “didn’t feel right” to put the show on in the middle of that. The Recording Academy and CBS, which exclusively airs the annual show, both supported his decision to postpone. “I can now do everything that I wanted to do in my best-case scenario for this year,” he says of Sunday’s show.

Sunday’s location is an undisclosed building in Los Angeles, but Winston teases that the new venue is “massive,” “magical,” and “the biggest building I’ve ever been in indoors.” “I don’t want it to look like I’m criticizing Staples, because it’s the most amazing venue,” he emphasizes, sharing that he’s open to bringing the Grammys back to the arena in the future if they ask him to. While he does believe that Staples is a safe place, he says he wanted to go above and beyond to make even the most-skeptical participants feel undoubtedly safe.

A team of Covid safety officers oversaw the production set-up, and artists will enter the stage from different directions to minimize contact. Each artist also has their own backstage area. The space “allowed us to build an entire world,” he says.

The show will involve five stages of the same size and shape, four of which are for performances and one of which is for presenters. Stages are organized in a circle, facing one another, and crew members will work from the middle of the set. “People will perform while the other three or four artists on their stages watch, applaud, and enjoy. As soon as that one finishes, the next one goes, the next one goes, and the next one goes. Every 45 minutes, you change out those stages, and you bring another four megastars into the room,” says Winston, who was partly inspired for the “part-Grammys, part-Abbey Road studio session” setup by British shows he watched as a child, including Jools Holland and TFI Friday.

It’s going to be a “bespoke night of music that I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to repeat,” Winston says. “It’s about taking a camera into a room, and making an amazing musical moment by filming it quite simply and elegantly.” Performances, which started being planned in April 2020, will be a mix of live and pre-recorded — a fully live show would involve too many crew members moving sets and risking close contact — but the whole thing is intended to feel completely live. (Winston challenges viewers to try and guess which sets are pre-recorded; he designed them to be difficult to tell.)

To help plan the sprawling, immersive show, Winston brought in a suite of collaborators including co-executive producer Jesse Collins, who produced The Weeknd’s Super Bowl halftime show; co-executive producer Raj Kapoor, who handled creative direction for various artists on the last seven Grammys and produced Vegas residencies for the likes of the Backstreet Boys and Mariah Carey; producer Fatima Robinson, whose expansive background in creative direction and choreography landed her the Black Eyed Peas’ 2011 halftime show and Kendrick Lamar’s 2016 Grammy performance; producer Misty Buckley, who handled production design for Kacey Musgraves’ 2020 Christmas show; talent executive Patrick Menton from Dick Clark Productions; Corden collaborator Josie Cliff; and Super Bowl halftime, Olympic ceremony, Oscars, and Emmys director Hamish Hamilton, who Winston describes as a “legend” he’s admired since he was 14 years old. (David Wild, who has written for the Grammys since 2001 and became a producer in 2016, is the only person returning to his role.) Winston also points out that artists were heavily involved in designing their own performances.

Rather than have cameras pan over empty seats and an awkwardly small stage, the production team decided to reinvent the visual format with the five-stage setup. The pandemic’s limitations, coupled with the advantages of new faces coming in with fresh perspectives, helped them refrain from thinking in terms of what the Grammys had done before, he said.

For the most part, Covid-19 didn’t force too many changes. It did give Winston a lot of anxiety.

“There’s been so much uncertainty with what you’re allowed to do,” he says. Changing international quarantine rules made him question whether certain performers could fly in, while health guidance keeps fluctuating: “Every time my computer or phone dings, my first instinct is, ‘Oh, God, what’s gone wrong?’ I don’t know if that’s ever been my mentality before.”

While all the performers are confirmed and currently Covid-free, “you never know, one of their girlfriends could have Covid and have to quarantine, it’s all just bonkers,” Winston says. “There’s one artist that may, in the end, not be able to make it here due to rules of the country they’re currently in. There’s one immigration issue that we’ve got left.”

The show does not have replacements on hand if anyone pulls out — it’ll just cut that performance out.

Above all, Winston wants the 2021 Grammys to focus attention off of dire times. “I want people to be able to watch the 2021 Grammys in 2040 and go, ‘Wow, what an amazing show that was,’ and not go, ‘Oh, that was the Covid year, that’s why they had to do that,'” he says. “I think that’s what we could achieve if we get it right on Sunday.”

via RollingStone.com

#kingstylesdaily #Harry Styles #hs: grammys 2021 #March 2021

[tchallasbabymama]

Potential Breakup Fic

Yes, this is inspired by the re-release of the classic “Potential Breakup Song” by legends Aly & AJ. Check out the rest of my Masterlist HERE. Enjoy!

Word count: 2223

CW: Niggas aint shit. Kiana sat on her couch and tried not to cry into her glass of merlot. She took off her heels and got up to unzip her dress and take off her bra since she knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. She checked her phone again and was met with an empty screen. No notifications, no missed calls. She threw her phone down in anger, and was thankful when she noticed the screen didn’t crack.

“I can't believe this nigga.”

She looked at the clock and shook her head. It was 12:07am, and her 25th birthday was officially over without so much as a word from her boyfriend. Just last night he had told her to be ready by 7, and she hadn't heard from him since.

They had been together, on and off, for three years. They met their junior year at Howard, but didn’t hit it off right away. He was too slick for her liking, but over time he eventually weaseled his way into her heart. His smile lit up the whole room and his big brown eyes could seduce anyone just like that. And he did, constantly. T’Challa was a huge flirt, and it was cute when they were still single and just getting to know each other, but even now T’Challa turns his charm on for every pretty face he sees. Kiana had brought it up to him many times, letting him know how disrespected she felt. He would always say the same thing.

“But entle, I’m just being nice. You know I only have eyes for you.”

She did know that once, but that ended about a year and a half ago when she was casually scrolling through twitter on his phone and caught him cheating.

“T’Challa!”

“Yes, my love?”

“What the fuck is this?!”

“Why are you on my phone?!”

“Don't fucking raise your voice at me, I’m not in the wrong here. I saw a funny tweet and started scrolling when YOU got a text from some bitch named Jasmine talking bout ‘I miss you daddy’ and sending you pictures of her pussy. Care to explain?”

He reached for the phone and she pulled it away from him.

“Nah-uh, talk.”

He sighed in exasperation. 

“If you give me the phone I can explain, sithan-”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me, answer the goddamn question. How long, T’Challa?!”

“Just once. Eh, one and a half maybe-”

He was interrupted by a throw pillow to the head.

“How the fuck do you halfway cheat nigga?!”

“She just gave me head the first ti-”

“That’s still cheating!”

“Will you lower your voice? You have neighbors.”

“Fuck! Them! Did you even use a condom?”

“Yes, Kiana I’m not-”

“Stupid? You’re not stupid?” Kiana laughed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“My love, I-”

“Oh now I’m your love? Where the fuck was that energy when you were balls deep in this other bitch?!”

T’Challa stood there dumbstruck. He had never seen Kiana get this angry and didn’t know what to say. He knew he was wrong when he did it, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made him truly regret what he’d done. She had been so busy with school and work that she barely had time for him anymore. He had needs and just so happened to stumble upon someone more than willing to fulfil them. 

He cursed himself for not locking his phone or at the very least, turning it over. 

“How many, T’Challa...” Kiana sniffled.

“I told you, it was only twice-”

“How many women?!”

He froze, not knowing if he should mention Lisa since that was so much earlier in their relationship.

“Oh my god...oh my god...oh my- are you fucking serious?! I-I have to...I have to go get tested, I-”

“Kia-”

“What?!”

She looked at him with such fierceness that he shrunk under her gaze.

“I-I am sorry, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I was-”

He was stopped by a heavy-handed slap across his cheek that nearly knocked him over.

“Get the fuck out.” She said, barely above a whisper.

Six months later they ran into each other in the grocery store and decided to catch up over a cup of coffee. Kiana had healed and moved on, but T’Challa was still stuck on her. They had spent almost two good years together before he ruined what they had, and he just couldn’t let it go. He loved her, and he was determined to make it work this time.

Or so he really, truly thought before he met Marci...and Tanisha...

T’Challa knew he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he just couldn’t let Kiana go. His dalliances were never serious, just enough to scratch his constant itching. Sometimes they were a one-time thing, but others stuck around if they were good enough and knew how to be discreet. No matter what though, he always came back home to Kiana because despite his trash behavior, he really did love her in his own toxic way.

However, he didn’t love her enough to double check his calendar before leaving work on her birthday, or any day leading up to it. He had forgotten what day it was, and when he told Kiana to be ready at 7 he just meant for a regular date night. 

It had been a long day at the Wakandan Embassy and Kiana’s Prince Charming needed a drink more than anything. He stopped at the first bar he came across that looked halfway decent. T’Challa walked up to the bar and caught the eye of the beautiful barkeep.

“Hiya, what can I do for you?”

T’Challa smiled his panty-dropping smile and she smiled back, revealing her perfect, white teeth. There was nothing he loved more than a pretty smile.

“Well, miss…”

“Tanisha,” she responded while using both arms to mix a shaker full of liquid courage and ice. His eyes avoided her chest, slyly watching in the periphery only. 

“Well, Miss Tanisha, I had a horrible day at work and I am in need of a whiskey on the rocks. Preferably Jack, but truly anything will do.”

“We all have those days honey. Here’s a double on the house,” she said as she slid the drink to him across the bar top with a wink.

T’Challa licked his lips and lifted his glass to her before taking a sip of the warm amber liquid. He let out a sigh and his day seemed to melt away. 

Tanisha kept coming back to check on him and they would chat when the crowd died down. T’Challa was on his third double when she came over with a plate of wings.

“You’re an angel.” He dug into the wings and made a complete mess on his shirt, so he went to the bathroom to try to wash the stain out. On his way back to the bar he noticed a very tall and sweaty man leaning over the bar trying to talk to Tanisha. From what he could see, she wasn’t feeling the conversation, but he kept approaching her anyway. When T’Challa returned to his seat she immediately gravitated towards him. This angered Mr. Tall and Sweaty, who drunkenly attempted to punch T’Challa in the face. T’Challa dodged the lazy punch and knocked him out cold with one hit. Security saw the whole thing go down, and removed Tall and Sweaty from the building once he came to. 

“What you got planned for the night, handsome?”

“Nothing at all, why do you ask?”

“I get off at 9, wanna hang out?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, now here’s a water.”

“Thank you, angel.”

By 10pm he was already halfway inside her, and when his phone started vibrating he was too wrapped up in her to think anything of it. Without looking he quieted the annoying sound and turned the phone off so he could focus on the task at hand.

Two and a half hours later, T’Challa was creeping out of Tanisha’s bed right as Kiana was sliding into hers. She had washed off all her makeup, but she didn’t have the emotional energy to tie up her hair. Normally she would wear one of T’Challa’s t-shirts, but she was too angry with him so she slept in a cute nighty she never wore. She admired herself in the mirror for half a second before bursting into tears and pulling the covers up to her head. She tried to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and she eventually gave herself a headache. How could he miss her birthday?

Kiana got up and threw on her plush maroon robe before she padded to the bathroom to grab some Advil. On the way she noticed her phone getting multiple notifications, the first of which was from her best friend Bebe.

“Have u seen this?! Sis, I’m so sorry. When we slashing his tires? Just 3 tho, this nigga needs to pay $$$.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?”

Kiana clicked the link and saw that it was Bebe’s cousin Darrell’s Instagram Story. Apparently there was a fight at the bar where he was celebrating a coworker’s promotion and he had filmed it for all of Instagram to see. Kayla stared at her phone in shock. There was her aint-shit boyfriend at a goddamn bar on her fucking birthday. She watched him punch a guy in the face on her birthday. At a bar. Without her.

She thought the kicker came when she saw him turn around and flirt with the bartender, but the story after that just about killed her. There he was, leading her out the back door with his hand too far down on her lower back to be simply platonic. Even the caption read “Ooooh someone’s about to get some ‘thank you’ pussy. That damsel in distress pussy hit different!”

Kiana saw red and almost cracked her phone for a second time tonight. 

She grabbed the remaining merlot and downed it before throwing the bottle at the picture of them on the fridge. She watched the glass shatter and cut their faces while the trace bit of deep red wine seeped down the picture like blood. She wanted to trash the whole place, but remembered she would have to clean it later. Kiana started to hyperventilate and felt like she needed to get some air when she heard the lock turn.

“Kiki, what are you doin- are you ok? What happened here?”

Kiana ignored him as she walked towards where she threw her phone, silently pulling up the story and handing it to him. She watched his face go from confused, to shocked, to fearful. No regret, though. 

“Ki-”

“Give me your key.”

“Kiana, please let me-”

“The key. Now,” she said with her voice completely devoid of any emotion.

T’Challa assumed she would be angry and yell or throw things, but this quiet storm terrified him. To him, it felt like she didn’t even care anymore. He was right.

He slowly reached his hand out and she snatched the key ring, removing hers and tossing the rest back to him.

“I’ll have your stuff packed by the morning. It’ll be outside my door by 8am. If it’s still there when I get back from work it’s going in the trash.”

T’Challa couldn’t bear the coldness in her voice. Tears rolled down his face and his knees buckled.

“Kiana, please. I can explain, I didn-”

“I don't give a fuck what you did or didnt do. You know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because it was my birthday, T’Challa. MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY and YOU forgot it. Not only did you forget it, my gift was you fucking some other bitch and leaving me lonely yet again. So no, I don't care if you fucked her or not even though I know your sorry ass did. I know she’s probably not the only one because I saw how easily you slid on in there in that video. You were way too comfortable, so I don't even want to ask you how many because it doesnt fucking matter anymore. Now you can stick your dick in every fine ass Black girl you see without remorse, oh wait...you were already doing that. So fuck you, get out my apartment before I call my brothers.”

“Kiana…”

“5, 4, 3,...” Kiana counted as she dialed her eldest brother Trey’s number, ignoring T'Challa's pathetic excuses. “2, 1… Hey Trey, I’m sorry did I wake you up?...Yeah I have a situat- oh look at that, his bitch ass is leaving-”

“I am sorry, Kiana,” T’Challa said one last time before she slammed the door in his face. He could hear her on the other side of the door explaining the situation to her brother, and when she started to cry it finally hit him. Her wails broke his spirit and more tears fell from his eyes. 

He knew Trey would be over soon to comfort his baby sister and he needed to get the hell out of dodge, so T’Challa left Kiana’s apartment and never came back. Not even for his things, which turned out to be the best thing for Kiana because she and her girls got to burn it all up in Trey’s backyard fire pit and finally release that toxic man from her life.

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #tchalla fic #tchalla x oc #angst #niggas aint shit #aly & aj #potential breakup song

[iwannaban0nym0us]

Women in Star Trek Art

I found this amazing link from this post and couldn’t resist going through and pulling out a few(maybe more than a few) of my favorite pieces. I pulled out my favorites, but I encourage you to check out the rest and find your own!

Rico JR | Nyota Uhura “Star Trek”

“I love the character of Uhura, already since the TV series and this unforgettable kiss with Captain Kirk which is the first interracial kiss on television. That is something important. But I even more adored the interpretation of Zoe Saldana in recent movies. He strength of character and her relationship with Spock was, to me, one of the highlights of JJ Abrams films.”

— Rico JR

Tom Ralston | Guinan “Star Trek: The Next Generation”

“If the recurring character of Guinan appeared in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation you knew you were in for several things. First-off you would be in store for a thought-provoking episode, often with a profoundly moving payoff. Many episodes of TNG accomplished this, but Guinan’s character guaranteed a certain level of emotional engagement, as she allowed us to learn about the deeper issues of the crew of the Enterprise; their fears, desires, hopes and dreams. You would glean insight into the inner narrative of one her fellow shipmates, as she offered them her guidance and wisdom. A Guinan appearance also meant rich costume designs and the possibility of one of her enormous hats. Who doesn’t want to see Whoopi Goldberg in a giant hat?! Guinan’s character is over 600 years old and a refugee of an endangered race scattered across the universe. She has a sixth sense and there is a tonne of mystery surrounding her back story. But despite her elaborate origins, her role on the enterprise is designed upon a simple and age-old trope of the of the bartender / therapist. Yet Guinan transcends any tired cliches through Whoopi Goldberg’s masterful performance in which she exudes kindness, compassion and a good balance of strength and vulnerability. Guinan was supposedly the final character Gene Roddenberry created, and as such, seems appropriately emblematic of the entire franchise — emphasizing kindness, compassion, strength and vulnerability and the willingness to listen and support those around her.”

— Tom Ralston

Alan Fore | Tasha Yar “Star Trek: The Next Generation”

“I’ve always been drawn to Tasha because she was an early example in my life of a strong female character. The glimpses we got of her backstory were so compelling and I’ve always felt there was so much more to the character than we got.”

— Alan Fore

Laz Marquez | Warship Yar “Star Trek: The Next Generation”

“I remember watching “Star Trek: TNG” for the first time & seeing the character of Tasha Yar represent strength and an important role as Chief of Security on the bridge. This was enough to make me immediately enamored with the character and her story. Then, the spectacular episode “Yesterday’s Enterprise” was released and we saw shades to Yar that weren’t truly explored. The character is strong but she’s also driven by doing what’s right, even if it means sacrifice and facing grim circumstances. Her backstory, explored in bits in Season 1, tells the story of a survivor who joined Starfleet to create a better world. While she was on the Enterprise-D, she did just that and helped each of her fellow team members & friends grow as a result.”

— Laz Marquez

Scott Saslow | Rachel Garrett “Star Trek: The Next Generation”

“I chose Rachel Garrett, captain of the Enterprise-C, portrayed by Tricia O'Neil in the classic TNG episode "Yesterday's Enterprise." While we don't get to know a lot about her in those 44 minutes, she proves to be a charismatic and capable leader. When faced with the horrible truth of her situation, she finally decides to take her ship back in time in order to restore the timeline and save billions of lives.”

— Scott Saslow

Jamie Fay | Kathryn Janeway “Star Trek: Voyager”

André Barnett | Seven of Nine “Star Trek: Voyager”

“I grew up with the original Star Trek series, and I was, at first, a little leery of the later series. But, my daughter Christa was a big fan of “The Next Generation” and “Voyager” and we watched them together, and doing so helped me to appreciate the actors, writing, and character development of these new shows. The Seven of Nine character of course was visually stunning and brought with her the drama of the Borg back story, but at the same time, the writing and character development explored the meaning of being human as the Seven of Nine character attempted to regain back her humanity. It was a storyline that was compelling to me and is why I chose to illustrate this female character.”

— André Barnett

Kristin Wilkinson | Seven of Nine “Star Trek: Picard”

“There are many characters in the Star Trek universe that I am fond of and have created fanart of. One character I’ve always loved was Seven of Nine. Watching her journey/story has been one of my favourites. Seeing her over the years accept and try to rediscover her humanity after her rescue from the Borg has been one of my favourite story lines. She’s strong, and, well, cool, but also has a vulnerability. She has always been an outsider, trying to fit in, which is something that is so very relatable.”

— Kristin Wilkinson

Andrea Davies | Raffi Musiker “Star Trek: Picard”

“I have chosen Raffi from the wonderful and almost overwhelming list of choices. My day job is Assistant Head in a special school for teenagers with social, emotional and mental health needs. Many of our kids have challenging and chaotic homelives. Pupils, and often their parents and siblings are fighting circumstance and often addiction. My message is always that our demons, mistakes and bad choices don't have to define us. Raffi is fighting that fight on screen. She shows us that it isn't easy, and most importantly flawed people can still do amazing things. Michelle Hurd gave us an imperfect, but inspiring character. 'The wreckage of a good person' is a line I have adopted. I see that wreckage every day, and know it can be fixed.”

— Andrea Davies

Phil Dunne | Michael Burnham “Star Trek: Discovery”

Jeanne Delage | Tilly “Star Trek: Discovery”

“Tilly is my favorite character from Star trek: Disco because she is highly intelligent but seems just like a normal and flawed person, like you and me. She cares about others, is funny, also silly and dorky. A good friend you can have a great and fun time with. In serious situations, she came up with smart solutions and takes charges when needed. Overall an awesome character wonderfully portrayed by Mary Wiseman.”

— Jeanne Delagenote

#star trek #tos #tng #voy #pic #disco #dis #the original series #the next generation #voyager #picard #discovery #st:tos #st:tng #st:voy #st:pic #st:disco #st #art #fan art #star trek art #star trek fan art #tos fan art #tos art #tng fan art #tng art #voy fan art #voy art #pic fan art #pic art

[cali-holland]

Sacred New Beginnings- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by @stahpppppp​ : Reader is a famous singer and she is friends with Zendaya. Based on Taylor Swift song “Cornelia Street” 🙂 Thank you!

Prompt: You fall in love with Tom on Cornelia Street

Word Count: 3100

Based On: Cornelia Street (and kinda I Think He Knows) by Taylor Swift

Warnings: sexual themes, probably swearing

A/N: Sorry it took so long to post this, I’ve had it finished for agesss

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Come on, just a few drinks.” Zendaya nudged you, encouragingly, and you rolled your eyes at her. “Tom will be there.”

“Like that changes my answer.” You joked, hoping she didn’t catch the blush creeping on your cheeks. She did. “I need to finish writing for my album.”

“The bar will give you inspiration!” She insisted. “You’re coming!”

“Fine.” You huffed, not wanting to deal with her persistent nagging any longer.

She was your best friend, ever since you met at an awards show where the two of you both snuck in food in your bags and shared it with each other. You didn’t live in New York, you were renting a small townhouse in the city, seeking a new environment to finish writing your album. It happened to be that Zendaya was also in the city, filming for Spider-Man for a few weeks. 

While filming the last movie, you’d gone to visit her on set, and that’s where you met- and developed a school girl crush on, Tom Holland. He was dreamy, charming, handsome, and you had completely fallen for him over the course of those couple weeks you were in Georgia. Over the past couple years, you two had kept in contact via social media, but nothing too elaborate or special, and neither of you managed to see each other in person again. Until now, when you’d be seeing him for the first in a couple years and you just hoped it could take your mind off of your album.

You quickly got ready to go to the bar with Zendaya, who was already (because she showed up at your door, demanding you go after you ignored her texts). Once you were finally satisfied with your look for the night, you two left your place on Cornelia Street and got into a taxi, heading to the bar where you’d meet up with Tom and the rest of the cast.

“Do I look okay?” You asked, a hand subconsciously playing with your hair nervously until Zendaya lightly slapped it away.

“You look amazing, and by the way, I know for sure that Tom’s still single.” She said proudly.

“I didn’t even ask.” You replied, shaking your head at her in disbelief as the cab driver came to a stop in front of the bar.

“I’m just saying.” Your best friend shrugged innocently at you. You both shuffled your way out of the cab and hurried inside of the bar. Even though you’d only been outside for a minute, you already regretted not pairing your outfit with a jacket- the chill autumn air wasn’t your friend tonight.

“You all remember Y/N, right?” Zendaya smiled, pulling you up to the crowded table with her. Around the table, you recognized Tom, Jacob, and two others beside Tom- one you believed was Harrison (but you only briefly met him two years ago) and you were pretty sure the other was Tom’s brother, who you had never met.

“How could we forget?” Tom spoke up, smiling brightly at you. 

“Hey, everyone.” You greeted. Zendaya took one of the two open seats at the table, leaving the only open one between her and Tom. She smiled innocently at you. Before you even sat in your chair, you nodded your head back to the bar. “I’m gonna go grab a drink. Anyone want more?” With a chorus of yes’s coming from the group, Tom got up to accompany you over to the bar, insisting he could help you get all the drinks. After you two ordered the next round of drinks, he turned to you to start a conversation.

“How’s the album going?” Tom asked you, and you looked at him surprised, wondering how he knew that you were working on an album- you’d tried to keep it private. Seeing your shock, he explained, “Z said you were here for an album.”

“Oh yeah, came here for inspiration, but I’m slowly starting to lose it.” You sighed, feeling a little defeated. 

“What’s the album about? Is it like- what do they call it, a concept album?” He laughed, hoping he’d gotten the word right, and you nodded.

“I guess the concept I’ve been going for is a letter to love itself.” You said, “I know, it sounds cheesy, but-”

“No, it sounds great. I’m sure it’s going to be a killer album. Your music’s amazing, you’re really talented.” He reassured you as the bartender set the numerous drinks on a small tray in front of the two of you, but neither of you made any effort to move/

“Thank you. I just have two more songs left to write for this album.”

“Do you know what they’re about yet?”

“I have this idea from one of them.” You started and he nodded, encouraging you to continue. You laughed as you tried to think of the words, “It’s kind of a quiet confidence, but still cool and sexy- the feeling of that first feeling of attraction. I just can’t find the right lyrics for it yet.”

“Are lyrics normally hard for you to write?” Tom asked. You could tell that he was genuinely intrigued, even though you were worried you’d started to bore him with album talk. Tom took a sip of his drink as he waited for your response.

“Not really, which is why I’m so frustrated with these two songs.”

“Well,” He paused, “Why don’t you come up with a lyric about me? I mean, you said “that first feeling of attraction”, so-”

“Are you implying that I’m attracted to you?” You laughed, teasingly.

“Are you implying that you’re not?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

“Fine.” You took a moment to look him up and down, your eyes landing on his hand holding onto his beer, before you looked him in the eyes, “I think he knows his hand around a cold glass makes me wanna know that body like it’s mine.”

“Were you two ever going to bring back our drinks?” Zendaya questioned, appearing behind the two of you, making both you and Tom jump back in surprise.

“We were just heading back.” Tom insisted, grabbing the tray of drinks, and you and Zendaya both quickly grabbed a couple glasses because all three of you knew Tom would absolutely not make it back to the table without spilling one of the many drinks. Once settled in back at the table, you quickly got out your phone and wrote down the line you’d said to Tom, feeling like it suited your song well.

After a few hours of laughing, drinking, and just catching up with the whole group, you all decided it was probably best to head out. Harry, Harrison, Jacob, and Zendaya all filled up one cab, and Tom stayed behind with you to catch a second one.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked as you shivered lightly, waiting for an empty taxi. Before you could even reply, he had taken off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Then, you’re going to be cold.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, “I’m not going to have you get frostbite because you gave me your jacket.”

“It’s not even that cold out.” He shook his head at you in disbelief, but rested his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. After a moment, he moved one of his hands to cup your chin and kissed you. It was a little sloppy and drunken, you could easily taste the beer on his lips, but it was still perfect to you. He pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, “We should go.”

“Yeah,” You let out a small sigh, stepping away from him to hail the next taxi.

“Where are you headed?” The driver asked as you two got into the cab. Tom said the name of his hotel, and the cab took off, beginning its journey.

“You know, I’m renting a place on Cornelia Street.” You said casually in the backseat beside Tom. Feeling the strength of the bar’s alcohol (mixed with the overwhelming attraction you felt for Tom), you hoped you weren’t too forward as you said, “You could stay there tonight, if you want to.”

“I’d love to.” Tom smiled. Relieved, you informed the cab driver of your address, telling him to scratch the previous instructions. Tom tentatively reached over to take your hand in his, making you smile at him.

The driver pulled up to your townhouse and you paid him quickly before basically stumbling out of the car with Tom, his hand still tightly holding yours. Once inside, you had barely gotten the front door closed when Tom kissed you, his hand dropping yours to wrap around your waist. It was hungry and passionate, and you never wanted it to end.

“Bedroom?” He mumbled, just barely bringing his lips off yours.

“Third floor.” You laughed lightly as he sighed. “Gotta get some good cardio in.”

“We seem to have a different idea of what good cardio is at this moment.” Tom joked. You kissed him again, before pulling away and grabbing his hand, leading him up to the master bedroom.

The next morning, you woke up with the all too familiar nauseating feeling of a hangover. Groaning, you snuggled deeper into your pillow, taking a moment to realize it was not a pillow and more of a warm, strong, bare chest. Though some details from last night were fuzzy, you definitely remembered bringing Tom home last night. The only thing currently separating you and Tom was the shirt of his you were wearing and his underwear that he was wearing. Listening to the sound of Tom’s steady heartbeat and the light rain outside, you never wanted to leave your bed.

“Good morning.” Tom said quietly. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and his hand played softly with your hair as you shifted up from his chest to look at him.

“Good morning.” You replied, a drowsy smile on your lips.

“Are you hungover?” He asked with a little laugh as you brought a hand up to rub your temples.

“If that’s your way of complimenting my morning after look, it’s a really shitty way and I don’t recommend using that on any of your other hookups.” You joked.

“First of all, your morning after look is beautiful.” Tom stated, placing his free hand on your cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb, “Second of all, it was a question because I’m hungover. And lastly, who said this was a hookup? Do you want this to just be a hookup because I was going to ask you out?”

“You were going to ask me out?” You asked, a timid smile on your face and he nodded.

“I’ve been kicking myself for not doing it sooner.” He took your hand in his and pressed a small kiss to it, “So what do you say, wanna go out with me?”

“Yes,” You leaned over to kiss him. Pulling you away you both let out small laughs, “Morning breath and alcohol breath don’t mix.”

“They definitely don’t.” Tom laughed.

“Let’s get up. I’ll make breakfast.” You slid out of his embrace and the warm bed.

“Stealing my clothes already?” He asked, noticing you wore his shirt. Apparently he didn’t catch you putting it on last night, not like you really remembered that bit either.

“You’re not getting that jacket back anytime soon.” You teased.

“You can have the jacket, but I’ll need the shirt eventually. The media will already be all over me doing the walk of shame, they don’t need the added bonus of me doing shirtless.” He joked, and you ran a hand over his abs, smiling.

“Do you think anyone’s going to complain about seeing you shirtless?” You leaned up to kiss him again, before separating from him to go make breakfast. 

~~~

“He got my heartbeat skipping down 16th Avenue,” You started to play your guitar as you sang, reading over the lyrics you’d written, “Got that, oh! I mean wanna see what’s under that attitude. Like, I want you, bless my soul, I ain’t-” You paused, hearing the floorboards creaking. Tom was awake from his nap.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He said, coming into the makeshift studio.

“I gotta get this chorus worked out.” You set your guitar to the side, letting Tom come sit beside you on the couch.

“I’ve heard you go over the same five lines for an hour. You need a break.” He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you so that the two of you were lying on the couch cuddling. It was times like these that made you really feel like you were in love with him, but it was all too soon to think like that, right? With the rain pouring down outside, it was serenely peaceful there in his arms.

“I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“It’s alright.” He kissed you reassuringly. He hummed in content, “I never want this to end.”

“What?” You pulled away from him a little. “Who said anything about ending?”

“I just thought- I mean I’m only in New York for a couple more weeks, and you’re going back to LA soon.” Tom explained. You stood up from the couch with furrowed eyebrows.

“So what, when we leave here, you were just going to walk away?” You questioned and Tom jumped up from the couch, defensively.

“No, that’s not what-”

“You said you wanted to date me? But was I just a glorified hookup? A fling? God, you were leading me on!” You accused, feeling disgusted with yourself for distracting yourself with a fling. Tom tried to step towards you but you backed up and turned away, “Just, please, go. I need some time alone.”

You couldn’t bear to look at him as you spoke. You heard him sigh, but leave the room without another word, the floorboard creaking as he left. You held back your scared tears until you heard the front door open and close again. He left, just like you told him to, and yet you didn’t want him to be gone.

After a few minutes of solid crying, you decided you had to leave, too. You couldn’t spend another day on Cornelia Street. As you started to pack a few bags, your phone began to ring, and you groaned, seeing it was Zendaya. You and Tom hadn’t really told that many people, other than Z and the group from the bar- maybe that should’ve been your first sign he wanted it to be a fling. You didn’t know if he’d go to Zendaya, if he’d tell her what happened; after all, it had only been a hour since he left.

Picking up the phone, you decided to act like everything was okay, “Hey Z, what’s up?”

“Tell me you’re still at Cornelia Street.” She said as if it was urgent.

“I’m packing to leave, right now.” You told her, getting the sense that she knew about it all.

“Unpack those bags. You’re not leaving, not now.” She was using her maternal voice, which only came out when you were about to make a bad decision that she didn’t agree with.

“Z, did Tom talk to you?” You asked.

“Yes.” She replied and you sighed.

“Then you know why I have to leave.”

“No, I know why you have to stay.” She insisted, sincerity rich in her voice, “Y/N, it wasn’t just a fling to Tom. Just, hear him out.”

“What-” Before you could get your question all the way out, there was a ring at your doorbell.

“Sounds like someone’s outside. I gotta go.” Zendaya said quickly before hanging up the phone.

You already knew it was Tom on the other side of the door, given by her reaction and the fact that no one’s ever rang the doorbell since you’ve rented that townhouse. Making your way downstairs, you tentatively rested your hand on the doorknob. When you opened the door, Tom stood there nervously on the other side, hair a little wet from the rain earlier with a box of chocolates in his hand.

“Apology chocolates?” He offered with a small smile. You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing, opening the door wider to let him come inside.

“Let’s go to the terrace.” You said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs, just as you had done the first time he entered your townhouse. Once on the roof, you both sat on the patio couch, having a nice view of the New York sunset with a few rain clouds fading away.

“When I said I didn’t want this to end, I meant I didn’t want us to end because Cornelia Street ends.” Tom started, setting aside the chocolates to take your hands in his, “Because I’ll go back to London or wherever I’m filming and you’ll go back to LA or wherever you’re touring. I didn’t want us to be over when we both leave Cornelia Street. This townhouse right here is our safe haven. I’m showing my hand right now, I love you.”

“We’ll make it work long distance because I don’t know what I’ll do if it doesn’t. I love you, too.” You smiled, leaning over on the couch to kiss him. Tom shivered a little into the kiss and you were surprised by how unusually cold his lips were. “Oh my god, you’re freezing.”

“Yeah, the terrace probably wasn’t a good idea.” He laughed.

“C’mon, let’s run a bath then and get you warmed up.” You stood from the couch and grabbed his hand. He picked up the box of chocolates and followed you to the master bathroom. Once you drew the bath, Tom slid in first with the chocolates open on the ledge beside him. Just before you got in, you paused and ran back to the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Tom called after you. You came into the room a moment later with your notebook and a pen.

“I have lyrics. I need to write them.” You said, tapping your forehead with the pen, before sliding into the bath with your back pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“What’s this one about?”

“Cornelia Street”.” You smiled, writing out the chorus.

‘I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends, 

I’d never walk Cornelia Street again,

That’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend,

I’d never walk Cornelia Street again,

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name,

And baby, I’m so terrified of if you ever walk away,

I’d never walk Cornelia Street again,

I’d never walk Cornelia Street again…’

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

[marvelouss-marvel]

Feelings | T.H.

Summary: Tom and Melina have feelings for one another but are lost in expressing this through words. Do actions actually speak louder than words?

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC (who’s black, so you’re welcome ladies)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday but got tied up yesterday with schoolwork. So, I apologize. This is a contribution to the Quarantine Writing Challenge created by @chaneajoyyy​ and @shaekingshitup. Thank you for adding me to my very first writing challenge. Also, I recommend you listen to “Feelings” by Lauv; it’s a masterpiece and the inspiration for this fic.

Is my love too much? Or is it just enough for you, for you? 'Cause it's getting late, would you like to stay? Ah 'Cause I'm bad at reading signs

All evening, Tom had been sneaking glances Melina. The tempered glass on her prevented him from viewing her observations but he knew it had to be either Tumblr or Twitter; both platforms had a tendency of stretching her lips to form that soft smile of hers he’d grown to adore over the last few months. On top of that, she would hold her phone up to his face once in a while to grant Tom the chance of witnessing what made her snort.

Although secretly watching her was simple, Tom found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from skedaddling all over the place like ants running from human feet. He was attempting to gather the courage in revealing his true feelings to her but a second of his mouth opening effected the various “what if” scenarios he created.

His ringtone for Harrison went off, pulling the two best friends out of their silent world. Tom reached for his phone on the small coffee table but paused his actions once he noticed the time. “Uh, Mel?”

“Hmm…?” she hummed. She was quick to retreat back into her personal bubble.

“You do realize it’s 2 in the morning, right?” Tom continued.

“W—” Melina paused her video on Twitter to pull the control center down on her phone. “Crap! I gotta go!” She stood from the couch to begin gathering her scattered belongings.

She was right that she needed to leave… but Tom didn’t want that. Sure, they hardly spoke to one another for the rest of the night after watching the 2-hour long Netflix film but he wanted her company a bit longer. In addition to that, it was too early in the morning for him to be questioning her whereabouts.

A lightbulb went off in his head but it was the idea itself that rapidly pumped the blood to his heart. “You know… you can stay the night?”

Melina scoffed. “Tom, no. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Um, yeah we are. It’s late Mel. And I don’t want you out.”

“I know how you feel, dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She slightly rotated her head to wink his way. The irony of her statement was that she was petite for her age. Most of their friends were five-foot-five and above while Melina was often mistaken for an elementary student trying to fit in with the “big kids.”

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Melina, no. Stay the night.”

“And miss the comfort of my bed? I don’t think so but thank you for the offer Tommy.”

Before Tom knew it, he was taking long strides to the front door and snatching her leather coat off the coat rack before her arm could reach out. Melina only raised one of her perfectly shaped brows she managed to do on her own in response.

“Okay?” she voiced. “What’re you doing?”

In that moment, Tom realized how much of a freak he perceived himself to be. He resembled a robot by shoving the item in her direction for her to take. “Um, I think it’s too late. And, I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night? It’s just I worry about you as your friend this time of the day.”

It took her a moment to respond but once she finally gave him his answer, he subtly released a breath he didn’t remember inhaling.

“You know, if you asked like that in the beginning, I would’ve said yes.” Melina smirked as she slid off her shoes. “You’re weird sometimes.” She left him by himself, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

But I, I wanna do whatever you wanna do If you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line

Even after two years of living in London, Melina continued to struggle in socializing. If she wasn’t lounging around in Tom’s apartment, the best friends were at the hottest club with their group of friends. No bad blood existed between her and the others; it was just the environment they chose to reside in for the evening.

Tom always noticed this quiet side of her. How she seemed to shrink in posture with slumped shoulders, even though she was gorgeous in her club attire. How she practiced her nervous habit of fiddling with her hands when it wasn’t her to turn to talk yet. How she sidled up against Tom every chance she got if people (mainly men) needed to squeeze by in reaching their destination. To tell you the truth, Tom found these adorable and made it a mission to protect her every time they went out.

The group had split a few minutes prior with Melina and Tom making their way to the bar. After constant begging, Melina hit the dance floor. Tom and the others cheered her on for three songs until she grew tired and yearned for some water. Like the unspoken bodyguard he was, Tom followed her.

“That was fun.” She began. “I haven’t danced like that since my family reunion.” She flagged the bartender down with a raised palm. “Excuse me, can I get some water?”

The woman behind the counter nodded with a smile and proceeded to fix the drink. Melina didn’t hesitate to grasp the foggy, clear glass and chug a large amount of the cold liquid down her throat.

Tom chuckled. “And when was that?”

He watched her chocolate eyes shift to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Like July? Of 2018?”

“Aren’t those every year?” he wondered. Last time he remembers having this discussion with Melina, she stated her family met up in the middle of July at one of the local parks every year.

“Yeah but, my parents didn’t go last year and don’t plan on going again this year. I gotta ask my mom again w—”

The sudden pause in the short story encouraged Tom to look up from the bar and into Melina’s eyes. Only, she was looking beyond him with an expression representing discomfort.

“That guy’s been eying me all night. I don’t like it.” she disclosed.

Tom swiveled around in his seat to find the man she was talking to. His eyes were able to pinpoint the stranger instantly searching for another area in sight to claim for straing. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Melina affirmed with a nod of her head. She gazed at the back of her best friends head, praying he wasn’t thinking about making a scene. That’s the last thing she wanted for him. “Hey Tom?”

“Yeah Love?” His eyes were back on her, softer than before when he reversed the role of eying the creeper.

Melina only pursed her lips in embarrassment. After the first club incident where an intoxicated man approached Melina and Tom stepped in to play the role of a protective boyfriend, it had become an unannounced habit to cozy up with one another to ward off the eyes of complete strangers. Still, Melina was anxious in requesting his form of rescuing.

“Come here, Darling.” Tom urged. One of his arms wrapped itself around her waist to twist her body so her back faced him. That same arm also maneuvered her to sit on his lap like a child posing with Santa Claus for a picture.

At this point in their friendship, Melina considered Tom to be her second home. Her immediate family lived thousands of miles away, calling her when they could on Whatsapp and bringing a smile to her face. Tom provided her the same form of comfort just about every day now that her life was here in London.

Realizing this, Melina rested her back against his chest as if he were a pillow. This was temporary but, she couldn’t help but want a little more.

But I feel 'em in my chest A tiny war within But when I pull you closer Girl, I can't explain

Two months had passed but that didn’t stop the two from growing closer in physical contact. Behind closed doors, Tom did more of pulling her into his side when sitting on the couch and for some odd but cute reason, Melina felt the need to straddle his lap when presenting exciting news.

Today was Melina’s hair day and she needed help taking out the box braids she had installed over a month ago. If she took the braids out herself, it would’ve taken longer due to how exhausted she was again from another rough week at work. So, Tom was her next option.

“Sorry if I ripped you away from any plans you had.” She apologized for the fourth time that day.

Tom scoffed. “Darling, how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing? I’m currently on break from work and trust me, I’d rather be here than at my place by myself. Haz went out with the crew and I wasn’t up for that today.” He explained. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

A tiny smile sufficed, which didn’t match the beating of her heart that suddenly felt as if it was trying to crawl out of her chest.

“Putting these in looks hard but taking them out? Different story.” Tom commented.

“You’re telling me. Which is why I have other people do it for me. I knew a girl who installed similar braids herself but… it didn’t really come out right in the back. I think it was her first time.”

“Reminds me of the first time Harry tried giving himself a trim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We ended up giving him a decent buzz cut.”

Her giggle had now become music to Tom’s ears. Whether it be her speaking, crying, or laughing, Tom wanted to record her voice and carry it with him for his travels away from home.

Home. She was now home to him. But how could he reveal that truth to her when his feelings ran deep and he didn’t want to ruin what they had?

He continued to remove her braids in tranquil silence while Melina pulled out her iPad to play a few levels of Homescapes. The further he moved up her head, the more Melina relaxed against his torso by slouching.

The close form of contact affected the temperature of his armpits. Tom was currently stuck on the level of Friendzoning where physical contact with Melina affected how his body responded to her touches. From sweaty armpits to a beating heart, Tom felt powerless in controlling his reactions. And it didn’t help that her head rested above his heart.

It was six-thirty when Tom was pulling the last braid from Melina’s natural hair. She was just shutting her eyes at this point with her iPad turned off and cradled under arms like a student on her way to class. Slumberland grasped her conscious mind once Tom’s fingers began massaging her scalp. Sure, it was dirty but it was necessary her head receive a good kneading from someone aside from herself.

“Feel good, Love?” he whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction. “I need this.”

And I know, and I know that it's on your mind That it's on your mind when I kiss you But I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“I like you. A lot.” Tom panted.

It was the first thing he blurted to Melina as soon as she opened the door to her apartment. He looked as if he’d ran the whole way with his disheveled hair, slightly wet face, and drenched-in-sweat T-shirt he the threw on.

“What?” Melina whispered. Her heart and mind were hoping he meant what he meant.

“I like you a lot. And I mean that as in I have a major crush on you. I have for a while.” He elaborated in between breaths.

Melina ushered him in with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Tommy.”

He stepped over the threshold into the warmth of her apartment. His nose immediately picked up the scent of seasoning for her famous enchilada’s. The ceiling lights were dimmed to create a relaxing vibe. Behind her living space, the tiny dining table was blanketed with a cream table cloth and a vase of flowers stood in the middle of it.

“I just had a good day today, that’s all. I wanted to give myself a bit of a celebration.” She weakly explained. This moment in particular was something she anticipated for the longest but not in the manner of her appearing to set up for a date that wasn’t with Tom. “Um, so you like me?”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved his eyes away from the setting to fully look at her. Her digits were fiddling with one another again and her eyes landed on the space between their feet. Tom rested his hand over hers to lace their fingers. “I just think you’re… beautiful inside and out. You make me happy every time I’m around and… and I just wanted you to know.” He braced himself for the next part. “But, if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine.”

She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?”

He knew what she was doing. Things could get awkward when Tom had these truthful moments with people. She wanted to ease his feelings through jokes. “Darling, c—”

“I’m being serious. Why wouldn’t I feel the same about you, Tom? You’re everything I like in a guy. Fine as hell, sweet, funny, and all in all: a gentleman.”

They were holding direct eye contact now, a smirk resting on Melina’s lips. She was the one who eventually leaned in connect their lips. Eyes closed, Tom’s arm snaked itself around her waist to pull her closer while both of Melina’s arms wrapped around his neck.

He moved away first, resting his forehead against hers. “Is there room for one more person for your celebratory dinner.”

“There’s always room for one when I’m having a good day.” She giggled as he leaned down to peck her lips again.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland #peter parker x oc #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman fic #marvel #marvel fic #penning while black

[alj4890]

And Then I Left You

(Thomas Hunt x OC*Amanda) in a what if series to And Then I Met You

@krsnlove @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms @flyawayboo  @trappedinfanfiction @everythingmarvelsherlockspn @soph-withersx-deactivated202102 @kate-mckenzie​@i-bloody-love-drake-walker. @twinkleallnight​ 

Masterlist. 

 Chapter 2 Girls' Night Out

11 weeks after arriving in Hollywood...

"Something happened." Addison whispered.

Holly looked over her shoulder to make certain no one was near enough to overhear them. "What do you mean?"

"Look at them!" Addison hissed.

The pair she was gesturing to were sitting in director's chairs while debating different actresses that had auditioned for them.

"What do you mean?" Holly whispered.

"They're different." Addison insisted. "Something happened on that trip to Tahoe."

"Yeah." Holly muttered. "Nothing happened to make them get together."

"We have to do something." Addison decided. "She plans on leaving soon! We can't let them lose their spark without acknowledging it in the first place."

"Addy." Holly placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You know I have been one hundred percent behind you in this, but--"

"No!" Addison slapped her hand to Holly's mouth. "Don't you dare finish that sentence! Just keep backing me up. Got it?"

Holly sighed before nodding.

"Good." Addison dropped her hand. "Now follow my lead."

"If we are to go by appearance, then Jessica is the clear choice." Amanda explained. "I had Maxwell send some photos of Elizabeth's portraits so you could see what I am talking about."

Thomas leaned closer to her as he studied the images on her phone. "Their coloring is the same." He stroked his chin while glancing at the headshots of those that had been narrowed down as possibilities. "And I was impressed with with her Tender Nothings performance."

"I was too." Amanda wrinkled her nose at another actress's photo. "This one seemed unable to sound light hearted. Even her tears seemed more angry than sad."

He chuckled softly. "Then that's a definite no on Ms. Frasier. What about Lauren Benefield? What do you think of her for Elizabeth?"

Amanda hesitated. "She is the regency queen of cinema." She picked up the actress's headshot. "Something though was off for me when she read the lines."

"Can you be more specific?" Thomas lifted his gaze to Amanda's face.

She grimaced while trying to find the words. "Her innocence seemed forced."

He slowly nodded. "True. But she has chemistry with Ryan."

"Jessica does too." She countered.

He sat back in his chair. "It seems that only one has stood out to you."

"I'm sorry." Amanda quickly apologized. "Perhaps I shouldn't be part of the casting process. I--"

He took her hand in his and gently squeezed. "I'm glad you are taking such an interest." He smiled at the blush forming on her cheeks. "You having a definite opinion helps me in making a decision."

She lowered her eyes. "If you're sure I'm not making this harder, then I hope Jessica Clark is chosen."

"Then I will have Holly tell her agent." He released her hand while turning around. "Holly? Will you call Chazz and tell him that Jessica got the part."

"Will do." Holly was jerked back by Addison.

"Since it is Friday, I was wondering if we could borrow Amanda." Addison said.

Thomas narrowed his eyes slightly. "Borrow Amanda?"

"Yeah," Addison nudged Holly, "for a girls' night out. I figured she could use a fun night now that the screenplay is finished."

Holly winced at the elbow jarring her ribs again. "We need to do it before she leaves us."

"You're right!" Addison beamed at her partner in crime. "And we need to plan a party!"

"You don't have to do that." Amanda smiled at them. "It isn't as if I will never return. I still have a premiere to attend."

As Addison began to make suggestions for the going away party, Amanda's thoughts became a bit more depressed.

The party would mean she was leaving Thomas.

It didn't matter that he intended to go to Cordonia in six to eight weeks to film on location. She felt like as soon as she stepped on the plane that it would end any chance she might have to be with him.

Who knew how he would react or what he might think once he found out that she had to participate in such an archaic tradition?

Why couldn't I have been born a nobody?

She rubbed her aching head. If she had been born a nobody then she wouldn't have been inspired by her ancestor's story and thus not be sitting next to, in her opinion, the most attractive man she had ever met.

Either way, I wouldn't end up with him.

"Amanda?"

She sat up with a start. "Sorry. Did you say something?"

Addison repeated her invitation. "Please say you'll go. We really want to show you the fun side of Hollywood."

Thomas narrowed his eyes once more. "Are you insinuating that I haven't given her an enjoyable visit?"

"Yep."

Amanda couldn't help but laugh at his incredulous facial expression.

"Don't worry." She said to Thomas, patting his hand. "I've had a wonderful time with you."

His expression softened as he gazed upon her face. "Good. Perhaps tomorrow night we could go see a movie. Maybe dinner?"

Though she knew it was dangerous to go out on a date with him, she decided to accept. It was only her heart she was risking after all. The man could have anyone he wanted. He would never fall--

"I have the perfect outfit for you!" Addison broke into her torturous thoughts. "I'll bring it by when we pick you up!"

"Can't wait." Amanda replied.

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

That evening...

Thomas eyed the stairs as he sat in his living room. His curiosity had piqued when Addison mentioned an outfit.

He also was a little uneasy at the thought of Amanda going clubbing.

His frown firmed at the thought.

What if she meets someone and falls for him? She is already too lovely to be set loose in Hollywood's den of single--

He abruptly stood up when they came downstairs. His eyes widened at what Addison had done to the woman he was already highly attracted to.

She had turned her into a veritable sex symbol.

One that seemed to have stepped right out of my fantasies.

"Well?" Addison smiled at him. "Doesn't she look great?"

His eyes traveled the curves so blatantly displayed.

He audibly swallowed. He thought his surreptitious study of her figure the past few weeks had been thorough. Now he doubted all he had observed before.

Amanda nervously tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear that Addison swore needed to hang down from the messy bun she had fashioned.

"I know this isn't something like I normally wear." She looked down at her body in the royal blue dress that barely met her thighs. "But when in Rome..." She smiled shyly at them all. "Or rather Hollywood."

Addison beamed at her. "Exactly! This dress is a must for the places we are taking you." She cut her eyes to Thomas still stunned speechless. "What do you think, Professor?"

Holly nudged him when he remained silent.

He blinked. "That--it certainly--you..." He closed his eyes to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

"I think that proves how perfect this dress is." Addison pushed Amanda toward the front door. "Let's go ladies. We have much to do and too little time to do it in."

"What time should I expect you home?" Thomas grimaced at sounding like a parent.

"Late." Holly yelled over her shoulder.

Amanda waved goodbye to him before sliding into the limo Addison had rented.

Deciding she hadn't caused Thomas to truly think about what he might be missing out on, Addison hurried back toward the front door giving the excuse she left her phone upstairs.

Thomas stepped back inside with her.

"Found it!" She said while coming back down. "Sorry you can't come with us."

He grunted while shrugging his shoulders.

"But if I am to matchmake Amanda with one of the guys we meet tonight then I can't have you there being grumpy--"

"What?!" His eyes narrowed. "You're going to set Amanda up with someone after pushing me to be with her for the past three months?"

Addison sighed softly. "You clearly don't feel anything for her." She watched his expression darken in angry frustration. "I figured it was time to find her someone who does."

"I-- of course I feel-- can't--" he sputtered. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gestured toward the front door. "You shouldn't keep them waiting."

Smiling brightly over flustering him, she wished him a good night. She peeked one last time at him as she shut the door.

Thomas had never looked so miserable.

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

Sayers Club...

"First stop of the night!" Addison smiled at the bouncer who winked at her as he held the door for her.

"She always brings the bouncers gifts." Holly explained. "Just about every hotspot in Hollywood has security guards adoring her."

"It was the only way to get my name out there once I graduated." Addison added. "Then I didn't feel right stopping it just because I finally received some recognition. It's been going on for years now."

Amanda commended her for her idea.

"Drinks first, I think." Holly announced.

"Something fruity." Addison yelled out over the music.

Amanda nodded. "Fruity sounds good."

Addison and Holly shared a conspiratorial glance before the latter gave their orders to a bartender.

The two had planned on the way to Thomas's home to use this evening to get the truth out of Amanda.

And what better way than to get her just a touch inebriated?

The three made their way through the crowd, pausing here and there to greet those they knew.

Amanda was introduced to many famous celebrities that she had yet to meet during her other ventures with Thomas.

"Let's sit here." Addison gestured to a curved booth directly in the middle of the action.

After a few more cocktails that the nosy pair were making certain had an extra shot of vodka for the duchess, Addison began the interrogation.

"Are you really leaving in a week or two?"

Amanda twirled her straw in her third empty glass. "Yes."

Holly motioned for refills. "So soon?"

"I have to." Amanda mumbled. "I really don't want to." She took the new glass and took a long sip. "But I must."

"Why?" Addison tilted her head. "What's making you leave?"

Amanda hiccupped. "I have stuff to do."

"With your duchy?" Holly prodded.

"No." Amanda hiccupped again.

"Stuff to do with that social season you told us about?" Addison asked.

"Yes." She surprised them by downing the rest of her drink. She shuddered while pressing the back of her hand to her lips. "I really don't want to."

"We'll miss you." Addison told her. She leaned forward to see Amanda's face. "Especially Thomas."

Amanda slumped back in her chair. She began to swirl the ice cubes in her glass with a straw. A bitter smile formed on her lips. "I'll miss all of you."

"Thomas wishes you could stay." Holly added. "He will be a nightmare to work with until we go to Cordonia."

"Why?" Amanda mumbled. "He has everything." Her brow furrowed. "The script. The actors. Costumes."

Addison passed her another cocktail. "He won't have you." She smiled at the surprise on Amanda's face. "You have done wonders for his typical moods, which were mostly grumpy."

The duchess's cheeks turned a bright red, either from shyness or alcohol.

"What do you really think of Thomas?" Holly asked. "Even though we have known him for years, we--"

"Addison. Holly." A handsome actor greeted before looking expectantly at Amanda. "How are we this evening?"

"We're great Vince." Holly rolled her eyes. "How about yourself?"

"Great." He held his hand out. "Vince Carter."

Amanda shook it. "'Manda Brighton." She slurred slightly. "Sorry. 'Manda Bridgerton."

He smiled and sat down at their table.

"She's the author Thomas has been working with." Addison reluctantly explained.

"And leaving town soon." Holly stressed.

"Really?" He leaned toward Amanda. "Any chance there is a character that I am made for?"

Amanda tilted her head while studying him. "Hmm." She shrugged and returned her attention to her drink. "Dunno."

His lips parted at her lack of interest.

"Don't let us keep you." Holly pushed him out of their booth.

"We'll see you around." Addison added, dismissing him with a brief wave.

"Anyway." Holly huffed. "What were talking about?"

"Thomas." Amanda set her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand.

Addison winked at Holly. "That's right! We were wondering your thoughts on him."

"My thoughts?" A wistful smile formed on Amanda's lips. "Have a bunch of those."

"Really?" Holly eagerly leaned forward. "Like what?"

"Everything." Amanda mumbled after thanking the waiter for her refill. "He's temptation."

"He's what now?" Addison's brow furrowed.

"Temptation." She repeated before focusing on her drink. "He makes me want to forget my promises."

"Promises? Who have you promised stuff to?" Holly asked.

"Liam." Amanda blinked. "Doesn't matter. He doesn't feel the same."

"Liam doesn't feel the same about what?" Addison tried to make sense out of what was being revealed.

"Not Liam. Thomas."

"You made Thomas promises?" Holly attempt to clear it up only ended in frustration.

"Not Thomas. Promised Liam." Amanda insisted.

A song came on that caught her attention.

"Oh! Dance! Let's dance!"

"Wait. What does Liam have to do with Thomas?!" Addison yelled out as the bass dropped.

"Timing!" Amanda replied, sliding out of the booth. She disappeared in the crowd before Holly or Addison could stop her.

"What do you think she meant?" Holly yelled.

"I don't know!" Addison's eyes narrowed in concern. "But it certainly made her sad."

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

Many hours later...

Thomas tried to distract himself.

He made an outline for how he wanted filming to go.

And noticed that most of it would require having Amanda on hand.

He decided to watch a movie or two.

And missed having Amanda beside him, sharing bits of movie trivia.

He made dinner.

And found out that cooking for one had definitely lost the appeal it once had.

He took a shower to try and unwind.

And had to make it cold as he thought about her in that dress. Dancing. Smiling. Simply breathing.

He gave up on everything and watched the time go by.

It's ridiculous that I have allowed her to have such an effect on me. No one else can keep my attention, especially when they are not physically here. How will I be when she leaves for Cordonia?

He jumped to his feet when he heard the doorbell ring over and over again.

Opening the door, he found a swaying Amanda and a frustrated Addison.

"What happened?" He demanded.

"Thomas!" Amanda stumbled forward into his arms.

"Is she drunk?" He asked, completely baffled by her condition.

"The drinks were stronger than usual." Addison huffed. "I can't stay to explain. Holly is in the same shape."

Thomas looked over her head to see Holly hanging upside down out of the limo's window.

"Wooooohooooo!" Holly waved. "You're gonna fall in the sky."

Addison rolled her eyes as she stomped back to the car.

"Buh-bye!" Amanda called out.

Addison grunted as she lifted Holly back through the window. Once the limo door shut, the two friends burst into laughter.

"That was an award winning performance." Addison complimented.

"Thank you. If not for your brilliant idea for one of us to pretend to be drunk too so that Thomas couldn't make us help get Amanda to her bedroom, this performance would have never happened."

Addison giggled again. "Hopefully she will let something slip out in front of him about her feelings."

Holly poured them each a glass of champagne. "To drunken confessions."

They tapped glasses and relaxed.

Once the limo disappeared down the driveway, Amanda leaned back in Thomas's arms, nearly falling backwards and dragging him down with her.

"I danced." She proudly told him.

"Did you?" He tried to keep his irritation from showing. He doubted it was her fault for ending up like this. He knew his two friends a little too well. "Why don't you tell me all about it inside?"

"Kay." She slipped out of his arms and hit the wall.

Cursing softly, he held her arm to guide her into his house.

She fell on the couch, laughing as she kicked her feet up in the air, watching her shoes fly off.

Thomas ran his hands over his face. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. "I ate ice."

"I'm going to fix you something to help your condition." He grumbled. "Stay here."

"Kay."

Once he left the room she struggled to sit up.

"So hot in here." She tried to reach the zipper of her dress, causing herself to roll off the couch.

"Ouch." She mumbled.

She finally found the zipper and got it to go down after four tries. Standing up to let the dress fall off. She searched for something to fan herself.

Then her attention was caught by the pool outside.

Swaying as she walked she managed to open up the patio door and step outside.

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

Thomas returned to the living room and saw that Amanda had not only disappeared, she was somewhere in his house without clothing.

He heard a splash and dashed out the back door.

"Amanda!" He shouted, waiting for her to come up for air.

He quickly pulled his shirt off followed by his pajama pants, then jumped in after her.

She breached the surface right when he went under.

He grabbed her waist when his head appeared before her.

"AAAAHHHH!" She tried to push him away. "Water demon!"

He gave her a slight shake. "It's me."

She moved closer, then grinned. "It's you!"

"What are you doing in the pool?" He demanded.

"Got hot." She slurred, draping her arms around his neck.

"We need to--" he sucked in his breath when her body pressed against his.

Her skin was warm in the cool water.

And there was so much of it.

He briefly closed his eyes. "Did you...did you take off all your clothing."

"Nope." She mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder. "Panties were too hard to get off."

He softly groaned at what he now faced. "Amanda, we need to get you out and dressed."

"Kay." She nuzzled against his neck. "You smell good."

He stilled at her touch, feeling her lips brush his ear as she whispered.

"I danced a lot."

"Did you?" He swallowed. "I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"Wish you were there." She yawned, settling her head once more on his shoulder.

His arms tightened around her.

"I do too." Thomas whispered.

She tried to kiss his cheek, but missed and landed on the spot where his pulse leaped.

He knew he couldn't kiss her in the current state she was in. When they kissed, he wanted her completely coherent and fully participating.

Thomas tried to conjure every image of things that disgusted him as he got them out of the pool. Keeping his eyes averted, he helped her wrap a towel around herself.

She plopped down on a chaise lounge, sighing in contentment.

"Wait here," he commanded. "I'm going to find you some clothes." He wrapped a towel around his waist as he padded his way inside.

She looked around and spotted his t-shirt. Scrambling to her feet she let the towel fall off while pulling his shirt on. She lifted the soft material to her nose and breathed in the scent of his soap and aftershave.

Deciding she was ready for bed, she went inside and laid down on the couch.

Thomas didn't notice she was on the couch and panicked when he stepped back outside. After searching the pool and the rest of his backyard, he hurried back inside, praying she was somewhere in there.

In the midst of yelling her name, he saw her fast asleep in his shirt.

He didn’t bother to temper his groan at what she had put him through this night as he tried to pick her up.

Her eyes popped open and she looped her arms around him.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

He grunted and let her drop back to the couch. "To bed."

Her eyes widened. "Yours?"

"What?" Heat went up the back of his neck at the notion. "No. I'm placing you in your bed then going to mine."

The pout that formed on her lips drew his attention.

"Doesn't sound fun." Her fingers drifted through his damp hair.

"I agree but it is necessary." He focused on her eyes. "Help me get you upstairs."

With a nod, she let him pull her to her feet and half carry her toward the stairs.

"I'm tired." She sagged against him once they reached the top.

"We're almost there."

He nearly cheered when they crossed the threshold of her bedroom.

Jerking back the covers, he gently set her in bed.

She still held onto him, pulling him down with her.

"Much too tempting." She yawned.

"Amanda, I--" Thomas found himself trapped, with her resting her head on his chest and her arm curving around his waist. Her leg lifted and rested across his.

Unable to easily wake her, he gave up this unexpected battle and closed his eyes.

Planning not only an explanation for how she ended up in his shirt but also on leaving before she awakened so as not to cause any embarrassment for her, he decided to allow himself this moment of enjoying the pleasure of having her in his arms while he slept instead of simply dreaming about her.

#and then i left you #thomas hunt x oc #thomas hunt x amanda #choices red carpet diaries #choices the royal romance #rcd thomas hunt #thomas hunt rcd #choices stories you play #and then i met you #choices fanfic

[autolenaphilia]

Mafia: City of Lost Heaven

The original Mafia from 2002 by Illusion Softworks is a weird and fascinating game. It is a third-person shooter somewhat in the vein of the GTA series.

It is set in the 1930s and is about a Mafia family, the Salieris in the fictional city of Lost Heaven. It focuses on the rise of player character Tommy Angelo in the Salieri organization. It is a standard gangster movie plotline, with the Godfather and director Martin Scorcese being referenced often. The character wants the money crime can give him and is successful as a mafioso, but he experiences conflict between the horrible things he must do and his conscience. This contradiction eventually destroys him and the story becomes a tragedy.

This cinematic gangster tragedy is an unusually ambitious story for an action video game at the time, and it isn’t entirely unsuccessful in those. Mainly it is because the 1930s gangster film atmosphere is so fully realized, more than the actual writing. The writing isn’t terrible, Tommy’s story is a coherent tragedy, but it does not quite reach the high level of its gangster movie inspirations.

And it has many of the problems of the genre, except even more so. The game depicts the mafia in quite glorifiying ways. The mafiosos in these guys wear nice suits and fedoras, drive nice cars and get to have cool gunfights with Tommy guns. And yet the story tries to have it the other way too, with the mafia depicted as ruthless violent people and crime leading to a tragic end. Tommy is himself frequently appalled at the things the family wants him to do and ultimately he ends up badly because of his mafioso life. The contradiction is obvious. It is the same trap the gangster films that inspired this game fall into. Gangster films want to show this cool escapist fantasy of gangsters because it is fun, yet both storytelling logic and any moral analysis demands crime leads to tragedy.

The story also has the problem of this opposition between “good” gangsters and “bad” gangsters that doesn’t make much sense. The plot driving the story for basically 4/5 of the game and especially the middle levels is this rivalry between the Salieri and Morello families that eventually becomes an outright war. And in order to have a more easily graspable “heroes and villains” situation, the narrative is clear that the Morellos are the worse mobster family. Don Morello kills people for bumping into his car and tortures people to death. He is presented as a vile and repellent villain from the first. It is the Morello mobsters which you kill for most of the game, and you kill a lot of them, and this somewhat over-the-top villainization is meant to justify that.

And Salieri doesn’t do these kinds of things, he doesn’t deal in drugs either and fights common thugs who mug and sexually assualt women. He is the “good” kind of gangster. Even his collecting of protection money is presented as actually providing some form of protection. It is an implausible idea to say the least, and the game is certainly aware of it. What drives the plot inthe last four levels of the game is that Don Salieri is becoming morally worse after his final victory over Morello, getting more greedy for money and power. Butthe game depicts him as committing ruthless murders even before that point. This inherent evil of the mafia is what drives the actual main storyline: the tragedy of Tommy.

This Salieri vs. Morello plot feels hollow, the game’s attempts to subvert it doesn’t work because it doesn’t feel credible to begin with. The over-the-top villainy of Morello and Salieri’s softer actionsfeel like sentimental nonsense from the very start. “This gangster is good, he protects people from common muggers OwO, but this gangster is bad, he tortures people >:(“. Salieri’s slide into further villainy after Morello’s defeat doesn’t feel credible either. For a subversion like that to work it must have some plausibility to start with, some emotional resonance with the audience, and it just doesn’t.

It makes the game feel like it buys into the glamorization of crime that is often present in the genre more than most actual gangster films do.

Speaking of that, I should mention the sexism of this game. Most gangster films certainly depict a male-dominated culture. In that, the genre reflects the real-life mafia, which is extremely male-dominated and misogynist, and it is arguable how much those films endorse that sexism as opposed to merely depicting it.

And I would argue Mafiafalls into endorsing it, at least in its storytelling. There are only tworeal female characters, and each only appears in one level each. Sarah is an especially outstanding example, for she becomesTommy’s wife. The level in which she appears Tommy rescues her from a sexual assault by some muggers and they have sex and fall in love. This is said to lead to their marriage, and I do literally mean “said” because we never see her again after that level. Tommy mentions her occasionally and his marriage to Sarah and their daughter is by his own admission his most important motivation.

And that is the purpose of women in the story of Mafia: to provide motivation for their husbands. Two other gangsters are similarly driven by their wifes and children to break with the Salieri family’s obligations, in explicit parallels to Tommy’s situation. And it is not just sexist writing, it is ineffective writing too. Tommy’s marriage is meant to be very important to him as a character, and it is problem in the actual story it is never shown. We never get to see Tommy’s and Sarah’s supposedly idyllic family life, only hear Tommy talk about how it is the most important thing for him, which weakens any emotional empathy we might feel with him.

The level with Sarah at least features a bunch of dialogue between Tommy and Sarah and it is nice I suppose, but it is not enough. Sarah is also depicted as a bit of a bimbo or at least extremely naive, as she doesn’t seem to be aware the Salieri’s are well a mafia family, which seems unrealistic considering how closely connected she is with them. (She grew up as the daughter of the bartender in the Salieri’s Bar and works there, a location in which they literally shoot rival gangsters in at one point).

The writer of Mafia, Daniel Vavra would many years later become a gamergater, probably the most prominent developer to sympathize with the movement. And while it is of course a disappointment, it is not entirely unexpected. He was by far not the worst misogynist in video games or anything,

but just looking at Mafia, it is not strange at all that Vavra as a game writer would feel threatened of the very idea of feminist analysis of video games.

I talked about the story far more than I wanted to when I started writing this, and it is actually not the most interesting thing about this game, it is actually the city of Lost Heaven itself, the attempts at realism in the gameplayand the cars.

The city of Lost Heaven is one of the more fully realized cities in video games, and it is clear a lot of effort and thought was put into its design. Even the map of the city which you use to navigate it showed a lot of effort. It has (printed)creases, stains and pen markings drawn on it just like a real map would. The original box(that I owned) came with an actual physical copy of the map, which was very fun to have,although bringing up the map in-game by pressing tab was certainly the more practical option.

It is perhaps not a huge world compared to modern open-world games, but it was huge for 2002 and it is varied in a semi-realistic way. Lost Heaven is divided into various distinct areas just like a real city would. There is an industrial area, a working class housing area (“Hoboken”), a detached housing area for the upper middle class on the outskirts (Oakwood), an area with mansions for the rich (Oak Hill), ethnic ghettos like Chinatown or Little Italy. The basic idea seems to have been is to recreate an American city from the period in miniature.

And the areas have been given a lot of effort to make them appear more tangible. The building models and textures are different of course, but you can also detect a difference in the pedestrians. People in working clothes walk around in the industrial area and the working class area of Hoboken, whereas you can primarily see the nice looking suits and dresses in the richer areas of of town. It clearly took great effort to program and it contributes greatly to the mood. Even the cars seem to vary slightly, with the older and cheaper cars more abundant in the poorer districts, but the difference I think is lesser compared to the pedestrians.

The care with which Lost Heaven was constructed creates this compelling atmosphere. It feels like you are driving around in a 1930s American city. The aesthetics and atmosphere make the gangster story work better than it otherwise would. Lost Heaven simply feels more real than most video game cities do. And this is despite the dated graphics.The textures might oftenbe very grainy, shop signs especially are a blurry mess, but even they were made with some effort.

Let’s talk about the cars too, because they encapsulate this game in both aesthetics and gameplay. The cars are all based on real cars of the period, even if the names are all changed to avoid any claims of trademark infringement. Fords are called “Bolts” and Chrysler Airflows are called “Ulver Airstream” for example. If you know anything about older cars, you can however easily recognize many of them them under the changed names. an early game car is unmistakeably a Ford model T for example. Also some cars are far more common than they should be, like the concept car Pierce Silver Arrow of which only five were built is a common rich man’s car in the game under the name “Silver Fletcher”.

The cars driven by the NPCs are used to show the passage of time in the game, which goes from 1930 to 1938. As the years go by in story, older cars get more uncommon (but don’t disappear entirely) and new models are introduced. Your access to cars in gameplay also improves as you progress in the story. You go from slow, fragile cars like the aforementioned T-ford to fast, powerful and sturdy cars. The effort put into the cars from the research to the NPC programming is another thing that helps create the compelling mood of Mafiaand the city of Lost Heaven.

The cars are a good example of how the game often prioritizes atmosphere and verisimilitude over fun and accessible gameplay. The driving in this game is not a side-thing like it would be in most action games and cars in this game handle fairly realistically for this type of game. It is still arcadey, but far less arcadey than you would expect from a non-driving simulator. And most importantly, cars are period accurate in that they are both slower and more clunky to handle than modern cars.

Damage to the car also has more consequences than you might expect. A crash might damage the engine causing the car to go slower, a bullet rupturing a tyre makes the car far more difficult to handle, a shot to the gas tank will cause the fuel to leak out(fuel is never really a problem in the primary story mode, but it is there as a game mechanic and can be relevant in the free ride mode). The early-game cars are more fragile and vulnerable to crashes and the like, but none (outside a special car in the game’s free ride mode which not available in the regular story) are immune to these problems.

So this game prioritizes realism over player enjoyment, practically the only obvious concession to the player is that you always have automatic gearchanges available, but you can also choose to change gears manually if you want to. It is frankly oftenfrustrating, even the best cars in this game can be difficult to handle.

Car chases in this game are brutally difficult because of this, and the game’s most infamous level is the fifth one where you have to compete in a car race, driving a fairly period-accurate racing car. It has perhaps the best speed and acceleration of all the car’s in this game, but handles terribly. It is perhaps the most difficult level in the game, and even the developers seem to have realized how unfair it is. You could cheat in the original box copy version of the game which I played as a kid and the GOG version has an easy mode for the race.

A lot of the game is actually about this car hierarchy mentioned before. Typically at the beginning of each level you are given a new car by the Salieri’s mechanic Ralphy, and it is usually better than the car he gave you last level (he also teaches you how to steal it, which isn’t that useful in the story mode, but gives you that ability in other game modes). At the end of most levels, you are also given the opportunity to do an optional side-mission for another mechanic, Lucas. If you succeed, Lucas teaches you how to steal a really capable car. Typically the car you can get from Lucas will be better than the ones Ralphy will give you for the next 2 levels at least.

So the clunky car mechanics both give period verisimilitude and a sense of progression throughout the game.

And it does certainly add to the atmosphere and sense of realism. Mafia’s cars feel more real than most video game cars, but they are also oftenfrustrating to use in gameplay.

But Mafia priortizing its verisimilitude over player enjoyment doesn’t stop there. In each level you are given an objective, typically somewhere else in the city than where you start (which is usually Salieri’s bar). And you have to drive from the starting point to where the actual level starts. After the level is over, you have to drive all the way back.

You can’t just speed your way through the city either, because Lost Heaven’s cops will notice you breaking the speed limit or running a red light and fine you. The fine doesn’t actually cost you anything in the story mode, but it takes up time and negates any time you won by speeding. You can run away but the cop cars will follow and try to arrest you (which is a game-over), and if you try to kill them they will shoot back. The police will usually radio in for back-up too, so you will have to evade or kill the cops (including the back-up) to escape, both of which are fairly difficult.

So the best idea is to keep to the speed limit of 40 mph and don’t run any red lights. You can toggle a speed limiter with the F5 button which caps your car’s speed at 40 miles. It adds to the realism the developers are going for, but in order to play the actual level you have to have this bit of tedium with the drive both before and after. It is basicallya commute except with a varying destination.

The developers was probably aware of the tedium on some level. During the first half of the second level you get to play Tommy during his pre-gangster life as a taxi driver. It is literally just driving from point A to B under a time limit, and the customer will get cranky if you crash the car, and getting a speeding ticket is game-over here of course. The customer dialogue is often rude and theydoesn’t even thank you for most of the time. It is super-tedious and clearly intended to get the player to understand why Tommy became a gangster, since this boring dead-end job is his alternative. The problem of course is that a lot of his life as a gangster consists of driving from point a to point b in a similar fashion.

The game’s obsession with verisimilitude also extends beyond the driving to the action. Without being entirely realistic, Tommy is on the flimsier side of shooter game protagonists and can’t take a lot of bullets before dying. It is like in Max Payne, where a point-blank shotgun blast can practically kill the player character in one hit. You can find healing in first aid boxes boxes, but they are rare. Reloading before your magazine is empty also means you lose any bullets left in the magazine.

And unlike Max Payne, there are no quicksaves or manual saves whatsoever. Saves are done automatically at certain checkpoints and you have to re-start at those if you die. This save system makes this game extremely difficult, since you have to sometimes practice entire segments in order to progress. It is a lot of having to memorize where an enemy mobster pops out so you can shoot him before he shoots you.

The combat is certainly well-made and sometimes quite fun. There are like the cars some weak weapons, but overall weapons feel powerful and the environments and set-pieces are often enjoyable. But the action like the rest of the game is frustratingly difficult.

And that is the game, pretty much. You have a tedious drive to have a big spectacular shoot-out that is frustratingly difficult and you have another drive back. Sometimes there is a car chase, but that’s it. There is a stealth level that tries to change up the formula where you break into a villa, but the game is not really built for stealth so it is frustrating and very much not fun. Then there is the side-missions from Lucas on your drive back, usually a timed fetch-quest of some kind. They do add variety and have some interesting story ideas but can be frustrating in their own right.

There is also the free ride game mode, where you get to explore Lost Heaven freely and do whatever you want, although there is not that much to do, except get into car chases/fire fights with cops or random gangsters you can aggro if you want. The oddest game mode is “free ride extreme”, where you get to do various bizarre quests to unlock equally bizarre cars. It is a weird mode, especially for this game, as you have this usually serious aiming-for-realism game letting its hair down and going for outright comedic surrealism.You get to chase down a super-fast npc named Speedy Gonzales, that sort of thing. The mission certainly have surreal imagination to their credit, even if they can be as frustrating as the rest of this game.

So is Mafia a good game? It is hard to say. A lot of my fond memories of this game comes from playing an already old by that point box copy as a teen when I didn’t have access toor had played many other games, so nostalgia plays into my fondness for this game.

Replaying it now, the game’s faults are more apparent. When it comes to story, the game certainly stood out back then, and the tragedy of Tommy Angelo the unwise still broadly works, but its re-telling of gangster movies has not aged that well. Gameplay-wise the game is difficult in a way that feels frustrating rather than fun, and there is a lot of tedious driving from point A to B. Some of the action set-pieces are exciting, but the high difficulty and limited save system essentially means replaying large chunks of them almost to the point of memorization.

There are many other games like the GTA series that have a similar mix of third-person action with driving which have more easily enjoyable gameplay. Mafia seems to care more about making its world believable than any kind of player enjoyment.

And it is probably its world, the city of Lost Heaven that still fascinates about this game. A lot of work and love went into Lost Heaven, and it shows. Lost Heaven is an atmospheric and memorable place. Mafia makes a lot of strange gameplay choices just to make Lost Heaven seem more real, choices that not many other games would have made for good reason, because thatlevel of realism is not that fun.

The result is that this is a game where you play a badass 1930s gangster not just during daring shootouts in mobster wars, but also during his slow drive to and from hisgangster work, and youhas to follow the traffic laws so he isn’t ticketed. It is 1930s Gangster simulator 2002, or an approximation there of.

Mafiaisn’t alwaysa fun game, there is a long stretchesof frustration and tedium here, but it is frequently interesting and a clear labour of love, atmospheric, weirdand fascinating.

#mafia 2002 #my reviews

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: THE PROM

You guys. Remember when just last week week I LOLed at my mom when I told her I had finally watched the lesbian holiday movie (The Happiest Season) and she thought I meant The Prom and I told her (and then you, dear readers!) that it would take me forever to hate watch that. WELL I JUST HATE WATCHED THAT. There is a lot to discuss, you guys. ALSO WIGS.

We begin in “New York City” or the CGI hellscape replication of it. Nothing about this movie is authentic except for maybe NY1′s theater reporter, Frank Dilella at the opening of a fake musical called “Eleanor! The Eleanor Roosevelt Musical!” which is meant to be a hilarious joke (it is not) starring Meryl Streep as Eleanor and James Corden as FDR and JOKE IS ON THEM AND US because why are they in this terrible movie and why the hell am I watching it? Oh right: THE WIGS. YOU GUYS THE WIGS. Meryl, who is truly slumming more in this than any other actor in this garbage also has to endure the very worst wig. SHE DID HAVE AN EVEN WORSE WIG IN MARY POPPINS RETURNS. But here this wig is so very much a bad wig that I struggled for a while wondering if this was going to be a wig within the narrative but no. Sadly, it looks like a castoff from some QVC Liza Minnelli wig collection.

AND EVERYONE LOOKS LIKE THEY ARE DRESSED IN A QVC LIZA MINNELLI NON-HALSTON SEQUIN COLLECTION GHOSTMARE (Liza should probably trademark that tho). I HAVE NEVER SEEN SO MANY SEQUINS OUTSIDE OF DAVID GEST’S GUEST HOUSE. Also, after the fake Eleanor musical opens, Meryl and James retire to “Sardis” or the CGI version of it where they discover that their show got (gasp!) bad reviews. EVERYONE LEAVES IMMEDIATELY except Meryl, James, Andrew Rannells who is another actor/bartender and NICOLE KIDMAN.

SHE IS ALSO WEARING SEQUINS AND HAS A BAD WIG. But we are talking about Nicole Kidman, so the chances of her wearing a bad wig are 110%. I couldn’t honestly tell you what her role is in this other than “another Broadway actress”(?) Her wig is likely the same one that Joanna Lumley wore for 10 seasons as Patsy in Absolutely Fabulous which has in the last decade or so been slowly decaying in a crawlspace somewhere only to reappear on the head of Nicole Kidman in the role of “another Broadway actress” in this movie. Anyway, all these washed up randos decide they need to stop acting and start activist-ing and pin all their hopes on a lesbian in Indiana who wanted to go to the prom and got the whole prom shut down due to smallmindedness. They travel to Indiana in a non-equity Godspell touring bus during which time my husband asked me who designs bus seats and truly: that is a question more profound and interesting than anything you will find in this “film.” But I do have many questions! If these actors have all been on Broadway and Meryl’s character has a few Tonys even, why do they need to bus it to Indiana?!?!

Anyway, over in “Indiana” (all places are actually LA or a set or a CGI hellscape), there is a big community meeting or something which is still all about not having a prom, because the only damn thing that matters in this community is THE PROM. The NYC actors show up and turn the meeting into a musical extravaganza with Meryl and her tragic wig center stage. More questions!! As a theater piece, it would make sense for this whole meeting to suddenly become a musical performance complete with spotlight entrances and sparkle curtains because it is already all fantasy. Ryan Murphy has no interest in creating a more realistic presentation in this new medium and just lets that happen here too? Sure - I guess the actors could have just arrived with all stage cues and crews to make this happen (LOLOL NO THEY COULDN’T) and this is honestly exactly why most stage to screen adaptations rarely work (though to be very fair - I had just about as much interest in seeing this on stage as on TV - negative 1000%). All realism, logic, quality, are not at all what this “movie” is aiming for. JUST SEQUINS! CONSTANT GODDAMNED SEQUINS! 

It should be noted that Kerry Washington plays the conservative PTA mom at the center of canceling prom and bitch got away with the very best wig! Also the big spoiler here is that her daughter is the secret lesbian love of the lesbian she is trying to stop from going to the prom! GASP! Kerry also made really terrible career choices this year between this and Little Fires Everywhere which also involves secret lesbians. 

Also those lesbians have a love song that looks like this - aka that one scene in the loathsome La La Land which was itself completely derivative. There are many (many!) derivative scenes in this movie - a later one on a staircase with Nicole Kidman is a clear nod to that one staircase scene in All That Jazz (RIP ANN REINKING!) This was all done intentionally for us theater nerds but also all the movies it ripped off I also hated so? NO THANK YOU THE PROM. ALSO THE MAIN LESBIAN’S GRANDMOTHER IS PLAYED BY MARY KAY PLACE AND I LOVE MARY KAY PLACE FYI. 

Anyway! The NYC actors start their very ill-advised get-back-the-Prom campaign at......CGI monster truck rally wherein Andrew Rannells wears THIS GODDAMNED COAT. Trying to find any logic or realism in this movie is about as foolhardy as being Andrew Rannells wearing this coat and singing a musical theater song at a CGI monster truck rally in “Indiana.” 

Also! Keegan Michael Key is in this (WHO I LOVE ALWAYS) as the liberal principal who is trying to make prom happen. He also is a HUGE MUSICAL THEATER FAN though that doesn’t actually translate to being gay - it translates to him being obsessed with Meryl Streep who is his favorite stage actress. Sure! It all turns into Keegan Michael Key being a love interest with Meryl Streep which I DID NOT SEE COMING but I would love to watch an actual rom com with the two of them and not whatever this is? THEY HAVE A DATE AT AN APPLEBEES YOU GUYS HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

At said Applebees (or “Applebees” more accurately because I’ve never seen one that sparkles like this), Keegan has a nice ballad which I couldn’t possibly hum for you now where he sings about the escapism of THEATRE and there is a flashback to him seeing Meryl in a musical called “Swallow the Moon” which is a pretty hilarious title and the whole thing looks exactly like another Liza Minnelli fashion show - this time with maybe a circus theme? At any rate, Meryl’s flashback wig is longer and more of a fashion bob but is still very fretful. 

I would like to take this opportunity to say that although I never saw The Prom musical on Broadway, from the pictures I have seen, Beth Leavel’s wig (in the same role as Meryl) is vastly superior in every way, despite the fact that stage wigs are allowed to be different/inferior as they are viewed from further away and not in bitter bitter closeup. 

Meryl looks great in close-up by the way BUT THAT WIG!!! I couldn’t find a good picture of it, but the hair part (if you can call it that?) is a dangerous ravine of mysteries none of which have anything to do with looking like real hair. MERYL HAS MORE OSCARS THAN ANYONE HOW WAS SHE GIVEN THIS WIG?! HOW!!!!!

Anyway, back to the “plot” of this movie, the PTA somehow agree to having a prom and all the kids go around prom-posaling (which is an awful horrible thing that I’m glad I was never part of) and which truly begs the question: if the kids hadn’t prom-posaled (UGH) to begin with, how did word get out that two lesbians were going and how did this prom get derailed in the first place? WHY AM I ASKING ABOUT PLOT HOLES WHEN THIS ENTIRE THING IS A PLOT HOLE?!?!?! So they have the prom, but it’s all an elaborate and cruel ruse and the real prom is at some hotel and the fake prom only for this one sad lesbian is a really depressing affair in the school gym (THIS PART OF THE MOVIE IS LEGIT HORRIBLE AND SAD). So Nicole Kidman, in the very important role of “another Broadway actress” that definitely needed to exist, decides to tell her to just “razzle dazzle ‘em” (WHICH ABSOLUTELY MEANS NOTHING IN THIS CONTEXT) in a very Fosse inspired (AND INCREDIBLY NIGHTMARE INDUCING) and also very confusing number. Also Andrew Rannells convinces a bunch of teenagers in a mall to like gay people! Mazel!

ALSO TRACEY ULLMAN IS IN THIS MOVIE AND NO ONE TOLD ME AND SHE HAS AN AWFUL WIG! So ok - James Corden, who I normally adore, plays a gay character with an American accent and in conclusion, is very miscast in this role. One of the few things Ryan Murphy has done which I actually liked was the revival of Boys in the Band (the play - I have yet to watch the movie!) And the entire cast was gay men playing gay men. Not sure why he then cast James Corden in this role because it’s not like we’re having a shortage of gay men who can sing? A friend of mine rightly pointed out that this character should have been played by Titus Burgess and VERY YES. Anyway, that’s not what happened and anyway, Tracey Ullman plays his mother who he reconnects with and I’m pretty sure the wig she wears was from her own collection from one of her past sketch shows and though I applaud wig recycling, bitch deserved better.

So yes - all these Broadway actor characters inexplicably are still in Indiana just TRYING TO MAKE THE PROM HAPPEN and Meryl, who somehow has both a celebrity ex husband and a Hamptons house (AGAIN WHY DID SHE TAKE A BUS TO INDIANA) uses both to get the main lesbian a forum on TV but she doesn’t take it and instead makes a singer-songwriter YouTube video which everyone on earth simultaneously watched!!! We are supposed to believe that this random video got 8 million views and she decides to use that leverage to make her own inclusive prom. This is a very lovely idea but again: not based in reality so Keegan is all: girl we need $$ to have a prom and somehow she doesn’t immediately make a go-fund me from all those YouTube views she got and instead all these actors throw down their credit cards to fund The Prom which is really horrifying knowing about real events which will totally make all those actors very unemployed (#2020) and YES I KNOW THIS MOVIE IS THE OPPOSITE OF REALITY BUT STILL.

In the end, ALL OF LIZA MINNELLI’S NON-HALSTON SEQUIN COLLECTION QVC FASHIONS get their own damn prom and even Kerry Washington shows up in the most outrageous sequined number after her daughter finally comes out to her and everyone dances it out and life is reaffirmed and Meryl’s wig IS STILL A PILE OF GARBAGE AS IS THIS MOVIE.

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#wigwurq #theprom #netflixtheprom #merylstreep #nicolekidman #jamescorden #keeganmichaelkey #NOTHANKYOU #LIZAMINNELLICOLLECTION

[unmaskinglynz]

I HEARD THE RUMOR OF: STEVE HELPED LYNZ TO JOIN MSI

Many have been the rumors of Lynz's entry into the band, however, it has been herself who has told in various interviews how she joined the ranks of the controversial band.

In April 2017, Lindsey gave a short interview to the monsterecords site.

 Q: When or how did you find what you wanted to do?

L: Well, for art, it was something I always knew. I really didn't think about it. I realized that I wanted to go to art school as I grew up. While I was in school I started playing bass and I got into a band and then the music took over for a long time. Art was always my first love, music was secondary. It's not that I don't love music. Art is my right hand and music is my left. I don't want to be without one, but if I had to make a decision, I'd cut the left.

 Q: How did you chase him?

Art: I went to college, and for music: I lied. My roommate bought a drum kit and I had a bass. She went to CBGB’S and boasted that we had a great band. Mindless had their last show there with their former bassist. His manager asked Asshole Dave, the goalie, who could be a good stand-in bassist. He recommended me, so I got a call from his manager, who gave me one of his CDs when he came to my art show. Jamie Hewlit, one of my favorite artists, made the album cover, so I thought about how bad they could be. I had to quickly learn three songs for an audition and I couldn't play bass. So a friend of mine came to show me what a tablature was and taught me. I spent every moment where I was awake to learn. It was a really decisive moment in my life. I learned that if you really work hard and work very hard at something, you will succeed.

I applied to the audition unsure of my abilities, but decided to stick with the position, so I filled a can of film with Bacardi 151. When the ten-second break in the song Tornado came, I ripped matches from my hair and blew fire all over the room. I almost caught Jimmy, the singer, on fire. I got the gig!

 Another thing that she has also told in numerous interviews and that is known to all, is her previous punk band tribute to country singer Dolly Parton, called "Beg Yer Parton" where Lindsey was a bassist.

 Q - When did you join MSI? You had no music experience, did you? I know you said before that you didn't even know what tablature was. How scary was it to jump straight into a touring band?

L: I joined MSI in 2001. Before, I had no formal training but had a bass and played with friends. It was very scary, jumping like that, but more than anything it was exciting. He had never been on a plane before and was suddenly flying to Las Vegas to perform in front of thousands of people. A lot of it was not knowing what I was getting into, but most of all I was hungry for an adventure. I also felt like I had nothing to lose and if I at least failed miserably I would have a great story to tell my friends. I think that was the key, that I didn't care if I failed miserably.

Q: How long did it take you to start getting comfortable playing bass? Was there anything in particular that helped you feel more comfortable with him before?

L: I was in the band on tour constantly for years before taking over the term bass. I will say that although I didn't really know how to play before MSI, when the opportunity presented itself, I made a commitment to learn and practice tomorrow, afternoon and evening. I have never understood the mentality that complicated equals good. My favorite bass lines have always been the simplest and if I had to list all of my favorite songs, none of them contain any crazy bass lines that only Les Claypool can master. In fact, they are probably so simple that I could teach you how to play them in an hour. I'd rather be Dee Dee Ramone than Flea.

Q - Rumor has it that you were ever in a punk band from Dolly Parton, true or false? (If false, I'm totally starting one!)

L: A truth! Beg Yer Parton was the name and it was great fun and very short lived. Did I mention it wrong? We were terrible, I think you should start your own punk rock band Dolly and do the woman justice.

So far everything in order, right? Very inspiring and novel.

The doubt arises when we look at the dates:

 Lindsey allegedly joined MSI in 2001, giving us a 19-year gap between Lynz coming into contact with the band to this day.

But then why does Lucinda Montano (Steve's wife, MSI guitarist) say she has known her for 25 years?

Note that this capture is at least 2 years old from its posting on the lynzuglyliar blog. So what about the rest of the years Lucinda says? Either one must be lying, who will it be?

  Recently on Twitter a woman named Charlsie Astrid made an appearance.

At first she was nothing more than a stranger, but when we investigated her twitter account we realized that she is followed by Lola, Jonathan Rivera (Gerard's friend and collaborator), Anna Milanollo (Lynz's watchdog), Weirdtrufax (the fake account Lynz), Lauren Valencia (recently deceased MCR manager), MSI, Aaron Hoye (Lindsey’s tech and witness to L's alleged infidelity in Russia according to Jessicka Addams), as well as Chantal Claret. Weird, no?

Charlsie defended Lindsey in one of her tweets, which is why several accounts began to question her about whether she was a faithful follower and advocate of MSI and LW.

Charlsie claims to be friends with Lindsey Way since they worked together as bartenders in Brooklyn. Recall that Lynz lived in Brooklyn during her stay in Pratt, which means that she was still in her student stage.

This girl said she was a friend of Lucinda Montano despite knowing Steve's infidelity with Lynz…. But wait a moment, so Steve, Lucinda and Lindsey knew each other long before Lynz's entry to MSI ?? So LW is the one who lied ???

It all sounds very strange. And if Steve was that "friend" who helped Lynz learn the songs for her “audition”? What if Steve really was the one who interceded for her to join the band? Maybe their romance could have happened a couple of years earlier. How comfortable it would be to have your lover in your same band to be with her under the guise of tours and concerts.

what do you think?? true or false?

#lynz way #lynzuglyliar #msi

[amandajoyce118]

Agents Of SHIELD S7E04 “Out Of The Past” Easter Eggs And References

A glitch in LMD Coulson’s system after the EMP knocked him out makes him see in black and white - and the audience experience the episode like a noir film. They’re still in 1955 and the team gets to work with Daniel Sousa a bit more, even though they think his tragic death is inevitable.

As usual: spoilers. Spoilers. Spoilers. 

Spoilers. You get it.

.

.

.

The title card.

As usual, the title card is befitting of the era, but this time, also the theme of the hour. Noir films were most popular in the ‘40s and ‘50s in America, and Coulson’s whole voiceover is very much like the private detective getting ready to start his day - but that’s an obvious nod, no?

July 22, 1955.

This date doesn’t have any significant comic book history that I’m aware of, but it is the day Willem Dafoe was born. He played the Green Goblin in Spider-Man. You’re welcome for that.

First Fallen SHIELD Agent.

Not really an Easter egg, I guess, but this does make it clear that SHIELD was formed out of the SSR not long before July 1955 if they haven’t lost a single agent yet. I tried to catch some of the other names on the wall, just out of curiosity, but didn’t.

Howard Stark.

We all know who Howard is, right? No need for a refresher on that one.

The Hawaiian Themed Bar.

I love that the speakeasy has transitioned into the Crazy Canoe. Why? Because for some reason, maybe because it would become a state in 1959, the US was obsessed with Hawaii in this era. There were so many movies and TV shows well into the ‘60s that filmed there. It’s fitting that Enoch would be bartending in a place with umbrella drinks that pretends to be a tropical paradise when in reality.

Enoch The Operator.

His phone switchboard to connect to the Zephyr? It looks like a lot of the ‘60s spy tech you see in old television shows. That design is on point.

Stark’s Man In LA.

This is Jarvis, right? We’re all in agreement that’s who we thought it would be? Good. Because it’s not, but I feel like everyone would have collectively jumped to that conclusion with me. 

What Outfit Are They With.

Okay, so Sousa wants to know what secret group can afford the tech they have, right? Does he not notice the more simplistic SHIELD logo on the wall in the Zephyr? I guess not - until the end of the episode. It makes me laugh.

May The Empath.

So, May is a character invented for the series. She doesn’t have powers in her few comic book appearances since she was created. There are, however, a lot of empaths with various takes on what that means in the comics. I’m very curious to see how the show handles that. You know, early in the series, Daisy thought she was unfeeling, but May taught her how to channel her feelings into productivity instead. So May feeling everyone else’s feelings, but her own being relatively dulled, is pretty fascinating.

The Hotel Roosevelt.

Haven’t they filmed here before? These hallways and stairs look familiar. Someone tell me if you recognize it.

Coulson’s System Restoration Moment.

This was a nice romantically coded moment, even if Coulson is an LMD now. The first thing he sees in color as his system is fixed isn’t a thing, but May entering the room. Sweet trope.

Sousa Is A Man Out Of Time.

He’s now the Captain America of 1955, you guys. When Steve Rogers sacrifices himself during the tail end of World War II, he becomes an inspiration to the SSR. There’s a sense of “what would Cap do” amongst the agents who want to be heroes. Sousa meeting a sticky end in 1955, as Coulson points out, does a lot to unify the new version of the agency in SHIELD. What then happens to them? Cap wakes up decades later and has to adjust to a new world. Sousa gets to wake up only about two decades later, but same deal. Bonus? They both also get recruited in these new times by the new version of the organization they worked with. And they both left behind Peggy Carter, who loved them, but believed them dead.

Okay, guys, that’s it for this week. I’m sure I missed something - and no, not mentioning Malick doesn’t mean I missed him, just that he’s not an Easter egg if he’s part of the story. 

(Side note: I totally thought that piece of tech was an Obelisk at first when they opened the briefcase, and I was a bit concerned. Anyone else?

Until next time!

#agents of shield #aos season 7 #aos easter eggs #aos spoilers

[evandearest]

Art Deco

Request: Heya hunny bunch! As your requests are still open could you please do a James March x Reader where she stays at the hotel post Liz and Iris’ take over, and she gets along with the other ghosts, which attracts his attention and something kinda blooms from there? Idk if that makes sense? ✨💛 ~@/mavalenovaninagavi

Warnings: maybe language? mentions of alcohol

Notes: ok, so i got kinda carried away with this idea, (and kinda put a little personal twist on it) but i really loved the concept! when the inspiration hits me, i try to use it lol. feedback is really appreciated ♥️

also, you guys can let me know if you want a part two, i’d be willing to make it a mini series :)

Title inspired by “Art Deco” by Lana Del Rey.

Tag List: @evanpeters-petermaximoff @sebastianshoe @mavalenovaninagavi @justanotherahsfan @riotsqrrrrl @ahsx97 @gretaahs @bish-ima-clown​

Main Masterlist

You had always been a fan of the past. You’d always liked to look back at how things used to be, it often helped you have a deeper understanding of yourself. Sometimes, you even felt like you belonged in the past. Like you should’ve been there, but some mess up in time, some warp, per say, had born you into this time.

You never were a fan of the way society was, how toxic and ignorant the new-age social situation was. Looking back at how things used to be, you could almost laugh at how utterly dumb humans were nowadays. You were a fan of a time when things were more extravagant, when people were wiser, and more graceful. The time of when people appreciated just how lucky they were by enjoying it—not posting it on Instagram. Most people nowadays took it for granted, just how much they had. You hated that.

You’d realized many times that there was few people—if any—that shared the same perspective as you. Sometimes, that made you feel disappointed, sad, almost, that no one out there could see things the way you did. You felt that there was absolutely no way you would ever have anyone that would understand your view on the world.

Even though you tended to get along well with everyone, you didn’t have many friends, and it wasn’t necessarily because they didn’t like you—it was just that you couldn’t relate to them. They would never understand where you were coming from, all of them caught up in the modern day affairs that you strayed away from. You just had to accept that.

You’d immediately felt drawn to the hotel. It was like it was calling you, begging you, to enter it’s doors and discover what it had to offer. You were always curious, always ready for adventure, so of course you couldn’t deny the attraction you had to it, couldn’t deny the way gravity seemed to drag you into its embrace.

When you entered, you felt the shift. You felt the way the air changed, to warn you of the dark corners lurking in the proximity. But somehow, despite the warning signals, you couldn’t turn away. You felt calm, comfortable. You felt like it was simply fate that had dragged you into the building, and you didn’t mind. Fate could take the wheel for a change.

Step by step, you had made your way further into the luxurious climate of the “Hotel Cortez”. Your eyes scanned the atmosphere, taking in all of the colors, the style, and the complete authenticity the structure had. You felt excitement bubble within you, for never in your life had you seen something so utterly... perfect. You immediately wondered just how long ago this particular building had been built, knowing no one in your age could’ve had the eyes of someone expressing this style. If you could take a guess, you would say the 1920’s, but you couldn’t be so sure. The whole place screamed the “art deco” style that ravaged the whole 1920’s, the style you so craved to see. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

You’d been greeted with the most unique of faces. Two ladies were standing behind the front desk, and you could tell that this place was their home. Not by the fact that they were behind the desk, but by the sense that they were so comfortable. No normal, everyday person of this age could be comfortable in a place like this. (You being an exception, of course.)

On the right, there was a beautiful woman dressed in extravagant clothing. She was likely someone who knew her way around her own taste, which you admired. She radiated confidence and determination. You could sense it so much so that you could almost feel the emotions yourself, just by being in her presence.

The woman next to her was older, and she seemed tired, in more ways than one. You could see that she was content, but seemed to have an emptiness inside of her. You saw yourself reflected within her, immediately feeling relation and sympathy with the women. You knew how it felt to be out of place, simply not knowing when or where you belong. You felt it more often than not, especially recently.

The ladies seemed to sense your presence, both of them turning to look in your direction. The older woman stared with interest, while the extravagant woman gave you a bright smile. You gave a small smile back, approaching them with soft steps.

“Hello,” the older lady greeted, smiling politely. Your gaze turned to her, your eyes softening at the stress worn woman.

“Hello,” you greeted back, your eyes flicking between the both of them. You noticed their confused stares, and quickly elaborated on your attendance. “I was just stepping in.” Your eyes scanned around you again, glancing at the staircases and the balcony above you. You turned to them again when a thought struck. “Do you happen to have a bar?”

The well-dressed woman smiled, her eyes glimmering with something like excitement. “Yes, I’m the bartender.”

Your eyebrows rose for a moment, the pieces clicking together in your brain. You nodded shortly, acknowledging the information. You hummed in approval, gently swaying on your heels. “I’d love a drink.”

The bartender nodded, gesturing with her arm. “Right this way.” She began to lead you through the lobby. You followed behind her, your eyes peering around in amazement.

Soon enough, you were up on the balcony, which you now knew was the bar. The elegant lady walked behind the counter as you sat down on one of the bar stools.

“The name’s Liz Taylor,” she said, placing her hands on the counter while studying you. “What’ll you have?”

You smiled softly, “Surprise me.” Her eyebrow arched, but she nodded, beginning to make a drink. You could tell she was intrigued.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, by the way,” you introduced yourself as she handed you the drink. You glanced down at it, before raising it to your lips. It looked fruity, but tasted strong. You were surprised at the quality of the drink, and the contrast of the look to the taste. You nodded, licking your lips in satisfaction.

“This is really good,” you said, smiling at her. You were quite impressed, and intrigued, with this “Liz Taylor.”

Liz smiled. “Thank you. I’ve been doing this for many years.”

You arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?” You glanced down at the drink again, before settling your eyes back on Liz, a small smirk forming on your lips. “Well I should have guessed, it certainly shows.”

Liz smiled again, gratefully. She paused a moment, seeming to be thinking about something. She looked back at you. “What’s your passion?”

You began diving into how you currently didn’t have a job, but that you’d been through many. You’re conversation quickly spiraled into almost a whole share of backstories. You learned that Liz had a boyfriend named Tristan, and had worked at the Cortez for many years. You could tell something was a little off about her story, and if you were being honest, her in general. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Amidst your conversation, you were joined by another interesting-looking person. She had sat next to you while smoking a cigarette, and she had also seemed intrigued by you, very interested in why you were here. You learned that her name was Sally.

You’d chatted with Liz and Sally for nearly two hours, when suddenly you felt a shift in the air. You didn’t know what it was, but all the hairs on the back of your neck seemed to stand alert. Someone new had entered the room.

You turned around, craning your neck to scan the bar area. Your eyes quickly fell upon a man. You were shocked into a trance as soon as you had him in your sight. His slick suit, black hair, thin mustache. The cane he held, the way he stood. His charming atmosphere. It seemed as if he had been pulled out of a 1920’s movie, having been the classic 20’s man in the film. If you were any other person, you might not have noticed that, but you were you, and you’d seen plenty of 20’s films. He was definitely a ghost. You settled on. He has to be.

You were so immersed in him that you didn’t even process that he was approaching you. You were shocked out of your thoughts when the man stood directly in front of you, peering down at you with his dark eyes. His eyes pierced into yours so intensely you felt like you were dreaming. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or him, but you suddenly felt very dizzy. He looked away from you only at the sound of Sally’s voice.

“Hello James,” she said, and you didn’t miss the hint of venom in her voice. His eyes shifted to her and he seemed to be bored as soon as his eyes landed on her.

“Sally,” he replied, and you seemed to be frozen at the sound of his voice. His voice. A pure 1920’s accent.

His eyes transferred back to you, before going to Liz behind you. You couldn’t see her, but by the questioning gaze he was giving her, you could tell she got the hint.

“This is {Y/N},” she informed him, “she was just stopping in.” His eyes flicked back to yours before his lips turned upward in a small smirk. The next thing you knew, he was kissing the back of your hand. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as butterflies erupted in your stomach simultaneously.

You knew you should be wary, this man was a complete stranger. But for some reason, you didn’t feel any fear. You felt safe, in fact, safer than you’d felt in a long time. You felt calm.

He pulled his lips back with a smirk before speaking. “Tell me, {Y/N}, what was it that brought you to my hotel?”

His hotel. You didn’t know if you believed in ghosts before, but you definitely did now. The way he said your name made your whole body go warm, to the point that your knees felt like jelly.

You stared up at him with big eyes, not quite being able to find your words. He was too intoxicating; even the strong alcohol in your bloodstream couldn’t compare to him. He simply rendered you speechless.

“I-I... uh,” you stumbled for words, but as he looked down at you almost softly, all your nerves seemed to fade away. You felt the same calm feeling that you’d felt when you first made your way into the hotel. The words seemed to come to you. “I just felt drawn to this place, honestly.”

‘James’, as Sally had called him, arched an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. “That’s interesting,” he spoke clearly, his eyes studying you carefully. “What was it that attracted your attention?”

“James,” Sally suddenly interrupted, making you remember that there were still other people in the room. “Leave the poor girl alone.” She rolled her eyes, annoyance in her voice. Your eyes snapped back to James when you noticed he was still staring at you for an answer; having completely ignored Sally.

“Well, the building’s so beautiful, for one thing,” you said, deciding to ignore Sally too. He smiled at you, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“Isn’t it just extravagant?” He linked your arm with his slightly firm one, and politely walked you over to the balcony. He smiled as he admired the lobby. You smiled too, but you were more focused on admiring him.

“Yes, it has the best style. I’ve always liked the 1920’s.” He looked over at you, and you noticed the slight surprise on his expression. You smirked at that, deciding that you quite liked surprising him.

James looked at you with a sudden seriousness. “I must admit, I’m impressed.” He paused as he watched a smile forming on your lips, one of his own accompanying yours. “There’s not many left out there that still think so.”

“I’m very aware of that, believe me.” You looked down at your hands, your eyebrows furrowing a little in thought. “It’s cost me quite a lot in life.”

Your eyes widened slightly when you felt his hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek. You stared into his eyes shyly as he looked at yours with a sudden certainty.

“And why is that, darling? Who could possibly not be... infatuated by you?” He watched you as you swallowed nervously, a deep breath passing your lips.

“A lot of people aren’t.” You bit your lip as your anxiety spiked at your honest confession. You had no idea why you were telling him this, you just felt very comfortable in a way even you couldn’t explain. You stared at your feet, afraid to meet his eyes.

He let out a sound, reminiscent of a hum, before tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “That’s obscene.” He let out a breathy laugh, rocking on his heels slightly. He looked pretty shocked, which surprised you. “I’ll be honest, {Y/N}, I am a fairly easy specimen to bore.” You giggled softly at that. “However, when I first laid sight on you, chatting with Liz and Iris, it can be assured that I was not bored. Rather, intrigued, by your aura.” You raised your eyebrows, surprise taking over you.

“Really?” You let out breathily, quietly, while looking up at him in disbelief. You seemed to have lost your voice. You really couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening. He was intrigued by me?

He suddenly leaned down, his breath tickling your ear softly, making a chill run down your spine. He breathed out, his lips grazing your ear. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as your breath caught in your throat. You could smell his distinct scent; cigarette smoke, cologne, and some type of alcohol that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Indeed.”

It was only one word, but it had much more of an impact on you. You felt like your knees were about to give out underneath you, like you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

He pulled back slowly, looking down at you with a strange expression. You’d seen it before, and it could only be described as one thing: need.

You let out the breath you were holding slowly, never once breaking eye contact with him. He put a hand out to you, a charming grin taking over his features.

“So, tell me, darling. Since you’ve been apprised your desire of the hotel, would you like to appease my fascination for you?”

#american horror story #ahs #evan peters #kit walker #evandearest #james march #jimmy darling #kai anderson #kyle spencer #rory monahan #james march x reader #james patrick march #james march imagine #ahs hotel #ahs imagine #evan peters x reader #evan peters imagine

[n0-eyedtaissa]

There’s Something In The Woods (Betty Cooper X Jughead Jones)

A/N: This was originally inspired by this blurb request that I received from @hughstheforcelou awhile back, and they encouraged me to expand on this idea, so shout out to them! 

Summary: On a cross-country road trip without a clear destination, both Betty and Jughead are reveling in the romanticism of being with each other on the open road. Things get a little mysterious one night when Betty spies a figure, some strange creature, lurking in the distance. 

This is based off of this song, from this themed playlist, which I highly recommend listening to as you read! 

Word Count: 5,442

Read on AO3 here!

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Scene from a highway in a desert, 1989 (First Draft)

I let the car drift some, eye your uncomfortable pose and profile; the postures of long drives, shifting numb and sore parts when you can no longer sit them.

It was the summer of freedom. Real, true, unabashed freedom…it was all they had ever wanted. There would be no more overbearing mothers or fathers seeking sinners, no reputation to proceed either one of them. No Southside, no boundaries; the King finally relinquished his crown. The day after their high school graduation, Betty and Jughead pack their essentials into duffle bags that get thrown into the trunk of the old Chevelle. The two of them wouldn’t have bothered to attend the ceremonies, but there was no way Cheryl Blossom would let anyone miss her big valedictorian speech. The first day was the most exciting. There was a certain kind of welcomed melancholy that creeped up over their shoulders the farther away they got from Riverdale. It seemed like no matter where they would go, there’d always be a part of them that was tethered to the suburbs. They stop to stretch their legs, to grab a bite to eat and visit some cheap roadside attraction. Betty sits on the hood of the car and poses as Jughead takes pictures with his polaroid camera, her sunglasses are perched on the tip of her nose and it makes something ache deep in his chest. There’s a diner somewhere about an hour away, the two of them electing to skip any more 50’s-themed diners.

“Where you kids headed?” The old blue-haired waitress asks absentmindedly as she scribbles down their lunch orders. 

“Nowhere in particular” Jughead reveals, sending a wry grin at the witty woman. Betty sips silently on her sweet tea and revels in the romanticism of the open road. Oh, to be eighteen and in love…

“How will you know when you get there?” Betty looks at the woman’s plated name tag, Sandra Jean, and smiles warmly up at her. The two of them both have to stop and think about it, how far could they actually run?

Foot on the dash, foot on the dash, x hours or so from some somewhere now, only half aware when I change lanes half accidentally.

Betty’s hair flows golden in the hot wind, insistent upon rolling all the windows down as she sings along to the Alanis songs that Jughead put on one of the many mix cds he made for the trip. He tries to recline as best as possible in the confines of the old car, his skinny knees pulled up near his chest as he rested his sock-covered feet against the dashboard. He pulls out a beat-up copy of Kerouac’s On the Road and Betty chuckles to herself, how apropos. 

“Read to me, Jug” She doesn’t ask, but it’s not quite a demand either. Jughead hates to admit it to himself, but he would probably do whatever Betty told him to do. Oh, to be eighteen and in love. 

“They have worries, they're counting the miles, they're thinking about where to sleep tonight, how much money for gas, the weather, how they'll get there — and all the time they'll get there anyway, you see.” Jughead’s voice is low and even as he reads, squinting his eyes against the bright reflection off the yellow-white paper despite his sunglasses. He thought that maybe this would be his story…he’d get home and sit down at his computer and type epochs about his summer on the road with his true love; the grit of it all, the beautiful and the ugly coming together as he waxes poetic about nights spent creating false identities as they made small talk with whatever resident alcoholics hung out around the dingy bar. They scored cheap drugs from locals and fucked on the itchy sheets of motels that looked straight out of a horror film. He’d tell Betty he loved her with his hand between her legs and then the two of them would pass out cold, having another full day of driving ahead of them. 

The two of them wake up still bleary from the previous night’s activities and stand silently side by side as they brush their teeth in the cold, still bathroom. The economy of love in close quarters, a learned thing. Betty’s legs are pale and long as they poke out from underneath Jughead’s old t-shirt. She brought her own pajamas, but still always said that she liked his clothes better. It’s much later than either one of them had anticipated; Jughead guessed that the exhaustion had finally started to catch up to them. He tried not to be bitter about the setback in his perfectly planned schedule as he splashed cold water onto his oily face, noting the fine bit of stubble on his cheeks and the purple circles deepening under his eyes.

Betty and Jughead get dressed in silence and check out of the sleepy motel, filling up on complimentary cups of burnt coffee and stale muffins. It’s his turn to drive. Betty dozes off,trying to shrink herself small enough to fit comfortably into the stale, cracked leather seats. He drives and she sleeps. She sleeps and he can’t help but sneak a glance at her, taking his eyes off the mostly empty road. The sun is warm and high in the sky, casting dark shadows over Betty’s peaceful face. The car veers over with a sudden jolt and Jughead swears as he grabs at the steering wheel.

But hurtling uncertain into the inferno of forever of here, which it does to me, the desert. It has effect, makes me mark things needlessly.

“Jug, do you see that?” Betty taps a pearl-painted nail against the smudged glass window. It’s hot against her skin as she presses her face closer, needing to get a better look to make sense of what it was exactly that she was seeing. There’s a figure in the distance. Too tall to be human, but there was no animal Betty knew of to be that tall…

“Wh-What?” Jughead mutters, shielding his eyes from the setting sun as he tries to locate whatever Betty saw looming in the sparse trees and shrubs. There’s a layer of kicked-up red dust over all the windows that further obscures his vision and Jughead flicks on the windshield wipes to no avail.  “Shit”

“Right there, don’t you see it?” Betty wants to roll the old window down and smear away the red dirt with her sweaty hands. The detective inside of her is screaming at Jughead to get closer, but the rational, more mature side is telling her to stay as far away as possible. There were no monsters in the real world, she tried to persuade herself, trying to leave behind her adolescent mentality that everything begins and ends in her shitty little hometown. Just as she tries to shove the thoughts away, the figure moves.

It’s dark and it is tall, with a wing-span that unfurls and reaches wider than Betty can spread her freckled arms. She can’t tell if it has feathers or if it’s fur, only that the creature is blanketed in a sort of darkness that makes it easier to camouflage itself. 

Betty blinks and the figure is gone, like it never existed in the first place. “Where am I looking, Betts? You really hyped this thing up” Jughead chuckles. He notices the change in Betty’s demeanor and his expression falters. “What’s wrong?” 

“Never mind, Jug…just keep driving.”

When the old Chevelle rolls through the sparse dried-up patch of forest where Betty fist saw the figure, she thought she might have imagined it; there was no trace of whatever beastly creature she was telling herself that she saw. But when the old yellowed headlights cast their dusty beams through the tree line, she sees it: The red, infernal glow of two large, round eyes.

These words that hiss and makes snake sounds. But it feels holy almost, though I don’t say so.

Betty doesn’t forget the creature for the rest of the day or the one after that. It weighs heavy on her mind and she can’t help but shake the feeling that another encounter with the winged thing would soon ensue. She swallows the bile that was threatening to creep up her throat and washes it down with another shot of the bottom-shelf tequila her boyfriend kept handing over to her. Jughead had left Betty to sit and stew alone in the corner of the bar, watching him as he bent over the pool table in a not-so-friendly competition with some locals who were starting to get rowdy after losing one too many times to someone who was simply passing through town. Jughead felt right at home among the ranks of the old, bitter men who reeks like sour beer and stale smoke. A small, immature part of him wanted to go back to the car and retrieve his well-worn Serpent jacket; show them who really was in charge that night.

Betty’s blue eyes are bloodshot and glazed over as she knocks back the warm dregs of her beer. The bartender was a girl who didn’t look to be much older than either one of them, so she gave Betty a sympathetic smile and a pint on the house as she watched the pool table knowingly. “Good Luck, sister golden-hair” The long haired girl smirks at Betty, retrieving her pack of cigarettes to duck outside behind the bar. Betty follows her, like any good detective would, not willing to lose her only confidant just yet. 

“Excuse me, do you happen to know if there’s a hotel somewhere close by?” Betty asks with her tight-lipped, homegrown smile as she battled her urge to wave away the bartender’s cigarette smoke. “Preferably somewhere with vacancies” She adds quickly and watches as the young bartender rolls her eyes and chuckles. 

“What, your boyfriend’s not doin’ too hot in there anymore?” The girl steps closer into the light and suddenly Betty can see, really see, her face: She’s pretty in a sad kind of way, with stringy ash blonde hair that looked like she cut it herself, sad brown eyes that looked like they’d seen too much too soon, and a small scar by her top lip. Betty can’t help but think of this girl as another version of herself, from a parallel universe a million small towns over. 

“Something like that,” She reveals, the venom palpable in her voice as she thought of Jughead’s dumb idea to stop for drinks, even though he was so insistent on reaching their next destination by nightfall. This was day four of their ten-day trip and they had already called behind on their plan. Jughead waved off the notion a little too quickly, dismissing Betty’s worries with his hand. We’ll just extend the trip, Betts, more time for us before Yale. Betty was already dodging phone calls from her mother, not wanting to deal with her incessant interrogation anymore. She could only dodge Alice for so long, and since Betty had just gotten her college fund money back, she didn’t want to chance her mother having another one of her nuclear meltdowns. 

The bartender raised her eyebrows, “Come on, sister golden hair, let’s get a pot of coffee on for lover-boy…” There’s a certain kind of kinship between the two women as they walk back into the dark and sweaty bar. 

Betty slides the cracked ceramic mug down to Jughead, who was moping as he perched on one of the wood barstools. “You okay?” She asks tentatively, his tipsiness clouding his expression and rendering him harder to read than usual. 

His head hangs low, stringy hair drifting into his eyes. “Only down about two hundred bucks, but other than that? Peachy…” He tosses his hand about with a mix of arrogance and fake nonchalance.

“Jug…” Betty chastises, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. 

“Spare me the lecture, Alice, I’m more than aware” Jughead stops short, taking a gulp of the lukewarm coffee. Betty throws up her hands in defense, sitting down next to him with another one of her tight-lipped smiles. She can feel the bitter sting of her fingernails digging into the scarred-up skin of her palms, a nagging feeling.

An immortal unknowing: sacred and ancestral and real and only felt here when the sun falls. Only felt here, now, where the otherworldly haunts of coming dusk descending from immeasurable spaces, to more immeasurable spaces

He shouldn’t have been driving. Betty told him that; told him to have a glass of water, told him to have another cup of coffee, told him to go outside and sober up because he was acting like a real jackass and it was still a long drive to their trip’s destination. Staying at a hotel was a nice thought, but Jughead preferred to gamble their earned money away playing pool, as if he hadn’t been getting his ass handed to him by Sweet Pea for the last two years. 

He said he was fine. 

Then highway was surrounded by thick, dense woods that made it dark, made the trees look like inkblots, dark and obscured, as the old Chevelle rattled along. Betty had her seatbelt on, her long, pale legs extended onto the dashboard, toes leaving half-moons of warmth on the cool glass of the windshield. He seemed fine, he was always fine. Alanis was playing on the radio and Betty hummed along softly. Jughead laughed and tried out his best falsetto, not paying attention to the seemingly barren road up ahead. 

“Jug watch out!” Betty can remember calling out to the boy, going to grab at the steering wheel herself in order to swerve out of the way, to avoid hitting that thing, that same winged creature who’s image had been singed into memory since their last encounter. Inhumanly tall, with big eyes that bore red when the headlights got close enough to bring the figure into view, yet again. It’s not a man — Betty knows that for certain, though some details had gotten a little fuzzy. Wings…it also had wings, long and wide. It was’t a man and it wasn’t an animal wither, so what was it? It was big and it was scary, and judging by the way the creature seemed to have been looming in wait for Betty, it was probably pretty mean. 

The creature’s startled. Blurry vision. The sound of tires squealing. Metal on metal. 

When Betty finally opens her eyes, it’s slow, dazed, like she’s not quite sure if she was awake or dreaming. She’s alone, she knows that for sure, can feel the hollow sting of fear and loneliness as she surveys the damage. There’s a screaming pain in her temple, and when she goes to inspect for damages, she pulls her fingers away from her face to find that they’re covered in sticky, dried crimson. She can feel the blood caked in her hair, can smell the metallic iron mixing with the exhaust fumes that were still billowing up from under the car’s windshield. There’s broken glass in Betty’s thigh as she tries to sit up and she cranes her neck to survey the scene. The windshield is broken, a body-shaped hole in the center that was dripping with old, coagulated blood. The metal of the dashboard is crunched and dented from when the car swerved and careened into one of the big inkblot trees. Every muscle in betty’s body is screaming as she pushes herself up, trying to kick out the glass of the windshield with one of her dirty, blood-stained keds. She army crawls on her elbows through the shards of glass as she gets up and over the dashboard, grunting as she tries to find her footing as she stumbles in the upturned earth. Jughead’s favorite beanie is hanging ominously from a tree branch and there’s smears of blood on the newly turned leaves. 

An ancient, endless desert sprawl; anarchic, forever, interrupted only by this highway running west. Some wound maybe, or a bandage, depending on how you look at it.

He went that way, he had to be. He was looking for help.Betty recites the mantra as she takes off through the forest, the bristles of branches tangled in her hair and getting caught on her tattered and blood-soaked clothing. She’s not sure how she’s still going but she is. Her feet come down hard in the moist dirt; there’s so much adrenaline running through her veins that she can��t even feel the pain in her head anymore. Her breathing is rough and jagged, like she couldn’t get enough air to her longs no matter how hard she tried. But she could see the horizon line now, the world now coming to life with whispers of the sun’s dusty yellow glow. There’s sunlight streaming through the brush and the old trees with gnarled roots like old fingers come to catch Betty in their grasp. When she’s back to the highway, she runs until she sees a cat, trying her best to flag them down with her rapid arm-movements. No one is stopping for you because they think you’re fucking crazy. Betty collects herself, tries to breathe easier and ground herself. Jughead was alive and he was getting help. 

An old truck stops for a moment, concerned, a grey-haired older man reaches his head out of the window to ask if she’s all right. “There’s something in the woods…It got him” Betty sobs, her bottom lip quivering as she wrapped her arms protectively around her torso.

“There’s something in the woods” the man agrees and Betty doesn’t know if he’s trying to play into her decisions or if he knows more than he’s letting on.  

A guide through wider spaces than the baggage of unclaimed except in concrete; a place you might claim one day, some day.You and I, for us, when we get to wherever it is we are going

The man introduces himself to Betty as Maxwell and that was it. Under any other sort of circumstances, Betty liked to think that she would have made a joke to the old man, an attempt to ease the tension. “Now is that your first name or your last name?” She would have said. And it makes Betty laugh, not really laugh, but as much as she could muster up. It’s a dry, humorless sound that comes from the back of her throat and suddenly Betty is feeling raw in every sense of the word. Maxwell offers to take her into town towards the hospital and asserts that it’s “No trouble at all”; Betty’s too shell-shocked  to think twice about the older man’s offer. She doesn’t question his motives, she isn’t building her escape plan as she’s being driven farther and farther away from the scene of the accident. The rust-colored truck pulls up in front of the General Hospital and Betty swiftly realizes that not all people are as sinister as they are in Riverdale. 

Betty lets herself be helped out of the truck, her knees going wobbly and her vision going blurry as she’s guided through the double doors and met with the bright lights that cast a  sickly green glow over the waiting room. She can feel her knees give out as her weight is dropped back into a wheelchair, an older female nurse pushing her into an examination room while barking questions at a helpless looking Maxwell.

“I found her by the side of the road about ten miles from here, she was mutterin’ something about the woods and after takin’ a look at her I assumed there’d been some kinda accident so I offered her a ride to the hospital. Didn’t say a word the whole way here”

Betty can feel someone above her dabbing at her blood-caked hair, she can smell the bitter rubbing alcohol and it makes her nose tickle. “Betty Cooper… I’m, Elizabeth…” She’s lethargic as the nurse shines a thin beamed light in her eyes. She swallows thickly, the sedatives kicking in through the IV that Betty didn’t even know that she had. She pulls at her arm and the nurse comes to swat away her hand. “Riverdale, my boyfriend and I were taking a road trip” Betty trails off and the nurse has to shake her back to consciousness. 

“Was there a young man with her when you found her?” The Nurse throws an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Maxwell and he quietly shakes his head no. “Sweetheart, where’s your boyfriend now?” The nurses was trying to stay calm on behalf of Betty and the clear trauma that she had been through, but there were so many questions she had. First and foremost though, she needed to know if there were any more victims. 

“There was an accident, when I woke up he was gone…that thing, I think it got him”

Single landmark in memorial now, and the landscape that always passes but never passes, does finally.

Betty is confined to the hospital for three days, and the Doctor calls her mother despite all of her protests. Alice is too busy breaking some big story, but she promises to make her way to the nameless little town by the end of the week. There’s a small search party for Jughead, but nothing good comes out of it. There’s no body found at the scene of the accident, nor in the surrounding area. He’s gone and no one has an explanation for it. They think the poor kid must’ve been taken by some sick son of a bitch, and Betty wanted to agree but there was no way for her to explain that the perpetrator wasn’t a who, but a what. She knew what she saw in the woods; she could draw it on paper better than she could explain it with words.

Betty is severely concussed, and it takes five staples in her forehead to put her back together. Despite her bruised ribcage and some bumps and scratches, she’s fairly well-off, and the Nurse tells her that she should be thankful for good samaritans because she could’ve been in much worse shape. There's a part of her that doesn’t want to wait for her mother, she knows that they recovered as much as possible from the scene of the accident, all of hers and Jughead’s things that they packed for their trip. It was funny, how long ago it all seemed. She knows there’s an envelope of money in the pocket of the pair of red shorts that she packed away in duffle bag. There’s two hundred dollars less than she started out with, but Betty was trying not to be angry about that now; she saw no sense in harboring anger from her little spat with Jughead, all she wanted to know was where he was and if he was okay. There was a naive part of Betty that truly thought that Jughead was alive and well, and that any time now he would be waltzing into the sterile hospital room, a burger in his hand and a chip on his shoulder. But there was no way…she saw the wreckage of the car, and the blood, how it dripped from the dark leaves of the inkblot trees and dried in sticky puddles in the rocky dirt. Until there was a body, though, she could hold on to that glimmer of hope, no matter how naive  it was. 

If only she could find a car, Betty could be out of here. She didn’t need Alice, and it was clear that her mother was in no hurry to drop her workload to make the five day drive. The nurse said that by tomorrow, Betty could be cleared to go home, or at least to start making the trek back. Her head aches with every rhythmic beep of the monitors that were all monitoring her vitals, make it obnoxiously apparent that she was alive and it was looking like Jughead wasn’t. A tear runs down her face as Betty reminisces on all the plans they made, how they were going to build a life together that was outside of Riverdale’s soul-crushing confines. 

There’s a business card on the side table with a phone number on it, and suddenly Betty gets an idea. Her fingers are clumsy as she reaches for the corded phone, she dials the numbers and holds the cold plastic up to her ear as she awaits an answer. The line clicks and someone picks up. “Maxwell? Hi, this is Betty Cooper, the uh, girl you saved. I just wanted to really take the time to say thank you in person, do you think you could meet me for breakfast tomorrow?”

The man graciously agrees and says that he knows a place. Betty’s all cleared to go by her doctors; she should wait for her mother to get to the hospital but that could be days from now. She lugs the duffle bags of things salvaged as she walks out of the hospital’s creaky double doors, immediately getting hit with a wave of sticky heat. Maxwell is waiting out front in his rust-colored truck and he hops out of the cab to help Betty with her bags, opening the door to the passenger’s side and make sure she was safe and secured inside. They pull up to a diner with a name that sounds like it could be someone’s grandmother’s, and Maxwell insists that Betty has to try the blueberry pancakes because they’re “the best thing on the whole damn menu”. A teenage waitress with a barbell through her eyebrow takes their order and soon Betty and Maxwell are making friendly, idle conversation. It was true that Betty did want to thank him for picking her up and taking her to the hospital, but there was also some ulterior motives behind it. So when she sets down her sticky fork, Betty gets nervous before lacing her fingers together and taking a deep breath. 

“Do you happen to know of anywhere I could get a cheap car?” She hoped that she wasn’t coming across as rude, or that her appreciation was insincere. She didn’t even know why she thought that the old man would be able to help her out, but she had a feeling. “Before the accident, my boyfriend and I were on a bit of a cross-country road trip and….I think I need to finish it on his behalf. I don’t think I can move on without him unless I finish it and my mom?” Betty blows a puff of air between her teeth, “She’s more concerned with work and it’s clear that she’s in no rush to come and get me, so I need to finish the trip. For me and for Jughead, can you help me?”

Maxwell nods his head and throws a handful of crumpled up bills on the table of the diner. He drives Betty to a small ranch not too far away, and heads towards a covered overhang. Gesturing to Betty, the two get out of the car and move closer to whatever was being concealed under the blue pop-up tarps. There’s a blue Cadillac who’s paint has dulled and oxidized with time, but Betty knows a classic car when she sees one. She gets that familiar itch in the tips of her fingers, wanting nothing more than to pop open the car’s hood and poke around like she used to with her dad at the auto shop. 

“If you can start it, it’s yours” Maxwell says, and the fun suddenly began for Betty as she reached for the toolbox she saw propped up idly. A few hours and some elbow grease and the car is as good as new. Betty did most of the work, but what strength she couldn’t muster up was assisted by Maxwell, who was impressed at the resilience and skillfulness of his new young friend. He refuses to take any of her money, so Betty stashes the crumpled envelope in his toolbox where Maxwell would be sure to find it eventually. He won’t let her start her journey so late in the evening, having been made aware of the horrors that came from her trip, and offers up the sofa bed for her, at least until morning. 

Betty wakes up with a gasp and is immediately panicked when she can’t recognize her surroundings. She sits up with speed that makes her dizzy, and when her hand comes to touch as the sutures in her head, it’s a sobering reminder of what she had been through the last few days. The clock reads 4:30 am and the red neon glow the numbers give off is Betty's only source of light. Quietly, she tiptoes through the expanse of the strange house, picking up her things and packing them away into her bags before grabbing the car keys that sat cold on the granite of the kitchen counter. Inch by inch Betty turns the front door knob until she can slip out of the ranch house silently. Shutting what was left of hers and Jughead’s belongings in the back seat, she starts the car and puts it in reverse. 

The open road felt a little scarier than it did before. Betty white-knuckled the steering wheel with her hands at ten and two as she drove away from Maxwell’s ranch, the diner, and the General Hospital that did so much help for her. She remembers that she’s about ten miles away from where she came out of the woods the night of the accident. She wishes that she remembered where the car was. There was a part of her that wanted to sit out there amongst the wreckage until Jughead or someone else came and found her, but that would be of no use to her. 

She pulls the car off the road and onto the shoulder before she gets out, ruffling away through Jughead’s things to find something for her to leave behind, to memorialize him in some way so that he could never be forgotten about. She finds his dog-eared copy of On The Road and wishes nothing more than to be able to hear his smooth, even voice as he read to her during the times where it was her turn to drive. She opens the book to the first page and scribbles “Jughead Jones wuz here” just like he used to all those years ago. She places the book on top of a moss-covered tree stump and weights it down with a small stack of smooth, flat rocks. 

So I crack my window just so, and almost close my eyes and almost let go of the steering wheel, but don’t. It feels impossible to crash the car while we're in it.

Betty’s eyes are bleary with tears as she drives away from the last place that she ever saw the one person in the world that she would move mountains for. She swiped under her eyes with the backs of her veiny hands and takes a deep breath. Alanis is playing again on the radio and the notion of it is bittersweet at best. 

She continues down the road but something catches her attention. It’s a shadow that she can see looming over her, a few hundred yards ahead there was something perched in the middle of the road. Betty can feel her stomach turn as she takes in the creature’s appearance yet again. It’s inhumanely tall frame, it’s feather-like covering, it’s wings that spread farther than Betty could open her own arms. Its red eyes reflected sinisterly in the headlights, and suddenly Betty knew exactly what she had to do. She thinks about Jughead, and the blood. The body-sized hole in the totaled car’s windshield. His favorite old beanie that was hanging limply from the inkblot trees and their bloodied leaves. 

Betty cracks her knuckles, her breathing even as she goes in through the nose and out through the mouth. When she gets closer to the creature, she notices it perk up, as if it had been waiting for her in order to finish what they had started. Eerily calm, almost stoic in nature, she presses her foot down on the gas pedal, and accelerates. 

#Bughead #bughead imagine #southside archive #bughead au #jughead jones imagine #jughead jones x betty cooper #bughead fic #betty cooper imagine #cryptidcore #betty and jughead meet a cryptid au

[rynhaswritersblock]

tiktok famous (hc) - part three | p.p.

summary: you and peter doing various tiktok trends. y'all know the deal

warnings: ultra chaotic writing (i have nine other drafts forgive me i am a tad bit stressed), cussing as always, and HOPEFULLY GOOD WRITING??? oh and yes as always peter being Babey

+ + +

- HI!!!!!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE TIKTOK HCS!!!!!!!

- i got a few requests/ideas from y'all for more tiktoks so here we are

- tbh since so many new trends are constantly coming out i might just make this a whole ass SERIES but we'll see

- who knows if i can even handle that

- btw:: if i forgot one or there's one you really want me to write you can comment it and i'll try to add it to this!!! if it's too long since posted though i'll add it to my drafts <3

- OKAY TIME FOR CHAOTIC ENERGY

- as mentioned in past versions of this series

- tiktok dances are ADDICTIVE!!!

- and you literally broke a goddamn sweat learning supalonely but we're NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT IT

- and you and peter are hanging out one day

- and as all of these ideas happen

- you get ~inspired~ by the for you page

- you set up the camera, flipping it so that it's facing peter and not you

- the lil shit hasn't even noticed that you got up yet what a poop

- but as soon as the music starts playing he raises his head

- you're doing the supalonely dance like a fucking BOSS

- all while pretending to be looking at yourself in the camera

- you don't let yourself stare at the screen so you don't get distracted

- but

- of course

- peter is nodding his beat to the beat, clapping for you, and when you to the body roll thing on "drinking" he lets out a whoop that makes you wheeze

- when you finish you laugh, letting out a sigh and grabbing your phone

"not gonna lie, you ate that."

"i know."

- you sit back down next to him, heart rate in da Clouds, and start watching the video

- petey boi is just sitting there like a puppy, crooked smile on his face as he watches you

- in a few parts he's even doing the dance with you

- and he looks so in awe

- you can't stop watching it and smiling at the screen

- but then the fucker sits down next to you and is like "you should post that it was really good"

- so you show him it

- his face gets all red bc he's babey

"you were videoing me??"

- OKAY NEXT ONE

- so i think we all know the rosa videos

- for the b99 fans: rosa rosa rosaaaaaaaaaaaa

- she's a QUEEN

- and you constantly quote those things like

- every time there's a silent moment you're just like "you're fucking lying let me see" and the whole team (avengers squad) is like ayo stfu

- one day y'all are just hanging in the commons of headquarters

- we're getting the band back together!

- and you start videoing cause you're bored

- you point the camera at peter

"aye dude come here?"

- everybody groans and peter gives the camera a sassy look, tilting his head

"you're gay? i fuckin-"

"language," steve mutters

"-knew it dude!" you smile, zooming in on the camera

- peter gets a confused look on his face

"wait no i'm bi"

- tony effin SHOOTS UP

- sitting like there's a goddamn board in his back

- and he slowly turns his head in your direction

- eyebrow raised

- you bust out laughing and so does everyone else, including peter

- tony's looking around like "hey what the FUCK is HAPPENING"

"stark, you didn't know?"

"NO??"

- lol we stan bi peter parker

- aight BACK TO THE SHITS AND GIGGLES

- so you and peter are obsessed with that quirky tiktok bartender girl who makes all the drinks

- i forgot her name but she's like

we're gonna do 2 ounces so that's 1, 2, 3, 4! we're gonna give it a nice strain! andddd shake shake shake shake! fun, right?

- yk what i mean

- hi it's editing ryn it's her tiktok is like paradise bartender

- and so one day

- jk one NIGHT

- it's like 2 am

- and you and peter are like

- let's make lemonade. but like. Fake Alcohol Version Because We're Underage

- and so y'all run to the kitchen

- you almost crush and die from slipping on your socks

- the two of you and laughing and giggling as you run and around and get all your materials

"where is the fucking STRAINER"

"bitch idk help me find the lemon flavor packets"

- it takes FAR too long but y'all are finally ready

- you start recording and the two of you are already laughing

"hey guys so today-"

"TODAY" he pushes you to the side "we're gonna be making LEMONADE!"

- the two of you keep laughing as you shove each other trying to be the one in charge

- so basically

- peter gets water all over the counter

- some of the ice flies out when you shake it

- the strainer DOESN'T WORK AND ALL THE STUFF GETS EVERYWHERE

- and the small amount that lands in the cup tastes like whispering lemon

- like hella watered down there's like nothing there

- the lemon is SHY

- and then in the last 10 seconds of the video bucky walks in

- and he's like wtf... wait y'all are making lemonade??

- and the three of you end up making lemonade for real and drinking it while watching infomercials

- at two in the morning

- fun, right?

- those videos are so satisfying NEXT TIKTOK

- thank u ritxal for the idea !!

- so our boi PETE HERE

- is hella addicted to those cool pov videos

- and he gets a really good idea even though it would make him a SIMP

- he ends up deciding FUCK IT I'M MAKING ONE

- MY TIKTOK ACCOUNT IS PRIVATE ANYWAYS

- so he sets up his phone and jumps around to get ~~in the zone~~

- feeling stupid as hell

- he films one of those ones where it's the "from the other side" *noise!!!!!!!!* one's yk where the ppl are like "are you sure you want to __?" and it has the yes and no buttons

- you know

- i hope

- and he puts the text on it and shrugs, posting it

- meanwhile you're home and you get the notification that peter posted a tiktok

- obviously you click on it because

- uh

- because

- and you watch it and gasp because the caption says pov and ur like who tf is this man peter never posts povs

- you watch as peter is looking nervously at the camera and text pops up saying "are you sure you want to give up?"

- he presses yes and you're like oh god oh peter wait is this a sign shit FUCK

- a new text bubble pops up saying "do you want to see her?" and you fucking yeLP

- you're like holy FUCK WAIT WHO IS HER???? WIFE???? DAUGHTER?????? HUH!!!!!!!

- and then he presses yes

- and the screen goes black

- you see urself in the screen

- and you basically DIE

- a wheeze so hard that it hurts flies out of your mouth and you IMMEDIATELY PRESS DUET

- you start filming with your phone facing the ceiling and as the beat drops (or whatever when it's like ahhhh!) you pop onto the screen, smiling

- and you're like RANDOM CONFIDENCE BOOST WHATEVER POST

- and then BACK TO PETER'S PLACE

- HE GETS THE NOTIFICATION AND IS LIKE WHAT

- AND WHEN HE SEES YOU POP ONTO THE SCREEN HE'S LIKE HOLY FUCK

- AND SO HE FACETIMES YOU

- YOU ANSWER OBVI

"y/n what the hell"

"did you like it?"

"maybe"

- okay i wanna do another pov one so here we go

- i'm sure everyone here is acquainted with the "they call me tiago.. i don't know who's margo" ones

-  these are lowkey difficult to write out so i'm just gonna lay it out for you as best i can

- really trying here

- so peter posts the boy's voice part ("no no no... they call me tiago. i don't know who's margo? i just hit this lotto" etc etc etc)

- and when it's like idk who's margo he just holds a stare with the camera in like an InTiMiDaTiNg way

- even though he's babey and a literal puppy it actually like.. works

- and when you see it you're like yes so you post the other part (that people never do lol "her name is margo" etc all the female voicing)

- and you hold the stare too and EVEN LIKE RAISE YOUR EYEBROW SUGGESTIVELY AND GIVE HIM THE LOOK IYKYK

- so BASICALLY

- i'm really trying here i can visualize these tiktoks perfectly but GOD if i don't struggle a bit while writing them

PETER'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but you keep screwing with my plans so i try to intimidate you

Y/N'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but i found you cute so i decide to mess around with your mission

- OH BY THE WAY THE TWO OF YOU LIVE AT AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS AND HE POSTED "YESTERDAY" SO YOU DECIDE TO POST "TODAY" AND WALK OUT OF YOUR ROOM TO WHERE HE WAS IN THE COMMONS RIGHT AFTER YOU POSTED

- can y'all tell how messy my brain is holy shit

- pls forgive me i keep getting random ideas but IT ADDS TO THE CHAOS SO IT'S FINE RIGHT

- OKAY

- BACK AGAIN

- so you post and walk out and as you turn the corner to the commons you can hear the sound play and have to stop a moment to silently scream

- thankfully no one else was in there except for peter (whose back was to you) otherwise you woulda looked INSANE

- you walk up behind him and smile as he laughs slightly and watches it another time, pulling his phone closer to his face to read the caption

"holy shit," he mutters

- he closes his eyes and smiles and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch (🥺)

"you like it?"

- lol

- this kid SHOOTS UP

- HELLO

"oh my god, y/n, what are you doing"

"coming to hang out with you??"

- he sighs as you come and plop down next to him

"what the hell is this"

- he shows you his phone

"a tiktok"

- he smiles and shakes his head (doing that thing where you like look down while doing it and it's so CUTE)

"yeah. i got that."

- NEXT TIKTOK

- alright guess the scenario

- just fucking guess

- i'll wait

- ...

- you'd best BELIEVE that y'all are chilling at headquarters in the commons rn

- where da HELL ELSE

- and

- like LITERALLY EVERY OTHER TIKTOK THAT I WRITE OUT IN THESE

- YOU AND PETE BE CHILLIN

- AND YOU SET UP YOUR PHONE

- god i'm starting to question if i'm capable of writing literally anything else damn

- peter's in the background of course

- and it's this godforsaken audio i'm sure most of you have heard

- you know the one where it's like fast music and then it goes "mm, yeah" and it's usually accompanied with a video of some really pretty girl fake moaning and like rolling her eyes while pushing up her hair??

- well

- all of that

- everything i just said

- is exactly what you do

- and the thing is

- as soon as peter hears the audio he recognizes it

- are we gonna talk about the fact that peter probably spent at least a whole night watching those videos because 1) girls are really pretty and 2) every time he heard it he could vividly imagine you doing it??????? no??? okay

- so he like

- sits up

- does the thing where he rests his forearms on his knees and leans forward, glaring at you through the camera

- and in the background

- if you're paying attention

- peter FLIPS HIS SHIT WHEN YOU DO THE "MM YEAH" PART

- he tHROWS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR LIKE WHAT THE HELL DUDE I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU SIGNS THAT EVEN THOUGH WE'RE NOT A COUPLE AND WE BOTH KNOW YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE OUT OF SPITE,, DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON VIDEO IS ABSOLUTELY OFF LIMITS!!!!!!!

"Y/N!"

- it's still recording and you turn around and laugh, throwing your head back as he jumps up and grabs you by the waist, pulling you in

- the two of you start play fighting just like elio and oliver from cmbyn (but a bit less steamy yk?? more innocent yet still w a bit of tension yeye)

- needless to say you keep that video in a very special place of your heart

- and so does peter like once the two of you stop wrestling you realize that the video had just been looping behind the sound of your laughter and fighting y'all watch it and it loops a few times while the two of you are silent and he finally goes "can you uh. can you send that. to me. ???????"

- next oneeeeeeeeeeeeee

- thank u lilmissquackson for the idea <3

- so in this one you and petey are dating

- and y'all decide to do the put a finger down challenge lol

- but instead of using an audio y'all decide to switch off coming up with ones on the spot

"put a finger down if your boyfriend tackles you every time you're standing near a couch or bed"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend still calls you dude"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend once webbed you to the wall because you wouldn't stand still when he was trying to kiss you"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend used her telepathic powers to keep you out of her room when she was mad at you"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend took TWO YEARS TO ASK YOU OUT"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend started laughing after you told her you liked her"

"put a finger down if you only started laughing because it TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend showed no signs of liking you before you decided to ask her out"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend is the most oblivious boy in the world"

"put a finger down if you're in love with your girlfriend but haven't said 'i love you' yet because you're scared she won't say it back"

- your jaw drops and turn to him

- needless to say you were very glad to have caught your first "i love you"s on camera

- SIDE NOTE you did not post cause after you and peter watched the video back y'all were both like "we don't wanna be THOSE bitches"

- next one woop

- thank u MrsLillianAmbrose for the idea !!

- okay buds

- so here's the thing

- i hate to under-perform

- but i feel like the best way to get the full effect of this tiktok is to watch it and then just roll with me here

- SOOOOO (if u can)

1) open tiktok 2) search @_tharealjohnnyyy_ 3) go to his account (or it might just show up when you search) 4) and scroll to the "ways to cuddle" video 5) it was posted in february 2020 if that helps give u a time reference lol

- OKAY

- I HOPE Y'ALL GOT TO WATCH IT

- I TRIED JUST PUTTING IT IN HERE BUT WATTPAD WOULDN'T LET ME AND I COULDN'T FIND IT ON YOUTUBE (let me know if one of u does!!!)

- if u weren't able to watch it (i'm so sorry) i'm gonna do the best i can to at least make this entertaining

- WOOP

- so if you could see the tiktok that's really all this is

- you and peter doing literally the same thing

- y'all are giggling in between positions and peter struggles to set the camera up every time it falls

- he ends up just webbing it to the ceiling

- and in the end the two of you fall asleep in the reverse OG position with your fingers playing with his hair 🥰🥰

- i hope that was good enough im sorry AH

- next!!

- thank u Mendesmycam for the idea <33

- okay so y'all know that sound

SOMETHING ABOUT YA GORLL

REALLY MAKES MY HEADDDD WANNA TWIRLLLLLLLLLL

- or whatever the lyrics are

- those tiktoks are SO FUNNY

- AND YOU DECIDE TO COPY THEM

- so you grab a chair and sit peter down in the middle of the room and set the camera up

- luckily for you he has a bag of cheez-its in hand that you plan to utilize later

- babey has a confused look on his face as he watches you press play and he shoves some more cheez-its in his mouth

- the music starts playing and you just about bust out laughing as you walk all around him, running your hand across his chest

- his heart is racing he's like AYO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN ON

"y/n what the hell are you-"

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU GIRL

- you practically snap into a weird position

- ur freaking arms are out in front of you and you're on your toes and knees are bent and you're hunched over and it's like

- a very interesting pose

- peter BUSTS OUT LAUGHING

- his eyes are all crinkly as he bends over in the chair

- you just about break but you manage to keep a straight face as you start dancing around weirdly

- needless to say you look like a goddamn CONTORTIONIST

- peter can't stop wheezing

- you make one of your hands in the shape of like the italian man hand this iykyk and fucking SWAN DIVE YOUR FINGERS INTO HIS CHEEZ-IT BAG

- meanwhile peter's STILL DYING

- and you take the cheezits and lean back, sprinkling them all over you (like the popcorn one if you saw that tiktok lmao)

- and the video finally ends and you get to laugh

"y/n what the hell was that"

"i don't know i thought you might enjoy a little entertainment"

- and of course

- that's exactly when no other than SAM WILSON fucking strolls in

- hey how y'all doin'- AHHH (get yo fucking dog bitch! ~it don't bite~ YES IT DO GET YO-)

- sorry got distracted

- and he hears you and his head SPINS ON OVER TO Y'ALL'S DIRECTION

"a little what now?"

- AIGHT GUYS

- LAST ONE

- Y'ALL ARE AT HEADQUARTERS CAUSE WHERE DA HECK ELSE

- this time you're in peter's room though

- and i'd like to imagine this one with the cool led lights because 1) tiktok and 2) i feel like peter would have those in his room

- y'all are just chilling watching hot rod (GREAT MOVIE BTW)

- and

- peter sets up the camera

- not to mention his heart is RACING RN CAUSE HE'S A NERVOUS BEAN

- and he hits record and leans back, letting out a sigh

- you don't even notice his phone literally right there cause you're just enjoying the movie

- a few seconds into the video and petey is like Visibly Freaking Out

- but a funny part plays and you laugh, looking over at him to see if he found it funny too

- he notices you're turning your head so he's like YES I LOOK AT TV HOT ROD MOVIE I AM LOOKING THAT WAY AND WASN'T STARING AT YOU OR THE CAMERA YES THIS IS A FUNNY PART I AM LAUGHING

- and then you look away

- and then he looks at you

- and ever so lightly grabs you by the chin

- and pulls you to him and plants his lips on yours

- finally, dumbass

+ + +

huzzah

i hope u guys enjoyed !!!!!!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland