#BEFORE ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING. i know cutie marks are like. your passion or something i just like to use them as like

[dispotatorulzz]

What do we think of Gabriel pony with a ouroboros esc cutie mark symbolizing his obsession with revenge only ends up destroying him further and the sort of he keeps being remade. the cycle of like rebirth but it's just him not staying dead/being brought back fueled by the thing that keeps getting him killed

[sleepysnk]

i just had to do it after all the talk, thank you to my friends on discord who helped me with ideas! <3 i hope you all enjoy!

Dilf Sugar Daddy Headcanons

Characters: Jean Kirstein

Warnings: NSFW

Jean Kirstein:

- SFW:

- it was actually pretty funny how you and Jean first met, you worked at a coffee shop to make some extra cash and he came into the shop in a huge rush.

- he ended up becoming a regular at the coffee shop and you could remember his order like the back of your hand, not to mention, Jean found you to be one of the most attractive baristas he had ever seen; he was a huge charmer.

- he ended up giving you his number and the rest is history.

- he almost spat out his drink when he found out you were 21.

- Jean offered to become your sugar daddy after he heard you talking about the debt you owe to your college and how your rent was starting to become an issue, he was a businessman, he made too much money, why not spend it on a cutie like you?

- Jean got you anything you wanted, he had no issues getting what you needed. you want something from Gucci? you got it. you want to go out to the fanciest restaurant in town? you got it; he spoiled you whenever he could.

- he has the nicest cars, he'd pick you up in something new everytime he came. it always astonished you.

- he looks so fucking sexy in suits, whenever the two of you go out people always stop and stare at how great the two of you look. he buys you the nicest outfits to wear out with him, you're his sugar baby, you deserve the absolute best.

- Jean would for sure cook for you! i see him inviting you over to have a special dinner, plus his house is so nice. it's in this fancy gated suburb and you always like coming there to spend time with him.

- HE TAKES YOU ON SOME AMAZING VACATIONS. he has a private jet 😩😩😩😩😩.

- he takes you out shopping every weekend, it's literally his favorite thing to do.

- he literally is the hot neighbor that has cookouts every weekend and all the fucking moms try to get with him. HE IS SO FINE AND ALL OF THEM ARE FERAL FOR HIM.

- now about a few months into your agreement, Jean revealed something to you that was very personal.

- Jean told you he had two kids, his wife had actually left him and the kids to be with some man, and he took care of them.

- of course you weren't pissed, it takes a lot of balls to get up and support your kids without another parental figure. you respected Jean after that and you told him kids weren't a problem, it didn't impact your agreement one bit.

- HIS KIDS LOVE YOU SO MUCH. their favorite thing is when you come over, Jean loves to see their happy faces whenever you come by.

- Jean is a sweetheart, okay?

- about six or 7 months into your agreement, Jean began to fall for you. at first, he thought he only liked you for sex or having someone around, but he later realized how much he thought about you. he would always have a smile on his face whenever he saw you, he genuinely liked you, and he wanted something more.

- his biggest fear was rejection, what if you were uncomfortable? sure, he was older than you by about five years, but feelings weren't exactly apart of the agreement.

- he decided one night to tell you after he cooked a meal for you both, he spilled out everything he had kept in and it was all a shock to you.

- but to his surprise, you smiled, you told him how you had been feeling the same way and you wouldn't mind having something more. he was a sweet guy and you loved everything about him.

- Jean promised to take care of you, he told you that he'd never make you feel like you weren't enough for him. he was very reassuring about all of it and he didn't care about what anyone else had to say, you were everything to him. he wanted to be with you.

- he is such a romantic <3 you wouldn't be disappointed.

- NSFW:

- oh boy.. oh boy.. sex? with Jean? DILF JEAN? oh lord..

- now let me clarify, Jean never forced you into having sex with him. it kind of just.. happened? one day you both came back from a date and the tension between you broke, the sex you had that night was so good and it was so hot.

- after that you two decided to bring sex into it, of course, Jean would never do anything without your permission.

- the sex with Jean is so hot and passionate, he is packing, when he fucked you for the first time you swore your brain turned to jelly. you could barely form sentences.

- Jean would so buy a car just to fuck you in it, the amount of times you two have had a quick fuck in his car, or the times you have gave him road head are so big. you two are so nasty with each other and all you crave is Jean.

- he loves when you sit on him and ride him, he favorite thing is to see your face all scrunched up as his cock presses into you. he loves to hold your hips and bounce you on him, he thinks it's so fucking hot.

- sometimes you'll show up to his job to give him a quickie or to have a quick fuck, he loves to bend you over his desk and smack your ass.

- when you fuck at his house he has to cover your mouth because of his kids, he doesn't want them to wake up and sometimes you're too loud. if he's feeling cocky he'll edge you, or if you wake the kids up, he'll totally stop and make YOU put them to bed.

- "shh.. if you keep moaning like that you aren't gonna cum tonight."

- he loves to breed you, he loves the idea of you being pregnant with his kids. he wants to make you a mom so bad.

- when Jean began to catch feelings for you, he got really possessive. whenever you mentioned another guy, Jean would deadass get so fucking annoyed he would fuck you rough. THE DIRTY TALK IS THE BEST PART, YOU'D BE PUTTY IN HIS HANDS WHEN HE DOES IT.

- "keep talking about other guys.. i'll fuck you so good you wouldn't be able to fuck anyone else without thinking of my cock buried inside of you."

- he'd mark you up, he would leave hickies or marks on your skin to let people know you're his.

- Jean would finger you in the car if he was feeling really horny, especially if you were wearing something that gives easy access. he'd deadass spread your legs apart while driving, put two fingers in, and keep focus like nothing happened.

- OVERSTIM TO THE MAX 😩

- whenever you two fuck, he'd get up and not even five minutes later you'd get a notification saying "You have received $7000"

- ride his fucking thigh or cockwarm him, it is fucking hot and he'd leave you an absolute mess.

- he buys expensive lingerie for you to wear for him, he thinks it's really hot, and he'd be the one ripping it off later.

- if you're a girl, he eats pussy like a fucking God. you wouldn't be disappointed at all.

- fucks you anywhere and everywhere, the counter, his bed, the car, his office, on his desk at work, the couch, EVERYWHERE.

- has made you squirt

- Jean has a lot of experience under his belt, sex with him is just so different compared to sex with those lame college guys. he is a man that knows how to take care of you, he'll make sure your needs are fulfilled and he'd never leave you unsatisfied.

- his after care is amazing, he'll take a shower and massage anywhere he was rough. sometimes he'll kiss your body before you fall asleep to let you know that he loves the way you are.

- morning sex.. i said what i said.

- I WANT TO BANG JEAN BYE.

[yondzone]

Jibaku Shounen Hanako kun relationship headcanons

Hanako, Nene, Kou, Teru, Aoi

Warning : none

↰             𓂃              ⌲                    ⌂.

𝕾𝖔𝖋𝖙 𝕵𝖎𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖓 𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖐𝖔-𝖐𝖚𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 🛐

𝕳𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖐𝖔

At first Hanako-kun wouldn’t stop flirting with you, he will tease you every day in hope that one day you’ll give him you heart

He know that is flirting makes you uncomfortable but he likes the way you blush so much that he will really do anything so he could see this face of yours everyday

Probably call you "darling" or "cutie pie"

He's not afraid of showing how he feels about you in public and keep screaming his love for you without shame

He is extremely needy and jealous by the way-

Here is our touchy and affectionate boy, he like no i mean he love hugging, cuddling, kisses or anything that means he is touching you (he needs love ok)

When you are the one this time who start things like taking is hand or telling him some kind of compliment, he will be the one to blush like a madman.

"you are handsome " 

Whole face red like a tomato he would hide his head in your hairs out of shyness.

𝖞𝖆𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖔 𝖓𝖊𝖓𝖊

Yashiro in a relationship would be extremely shy (afterall she his finally dating yay)

She won’t be the one to make the first move a the beggining of the relationship.

She is lowkey  scared at how you woul react to her being clingy, but when she feel comfortable enough with you, she his gonna tell you how much she likes you everyday.

She call you at time you less expect it lie 3am because she found out a scary story that she absolutely want to share with you if you disliked scary story before you will now be obligated to like them because you’ll hear about them quite a lot.

Gardening date!! it may not sound romantic like this but be sure that you will come to love them just hanging in the garden laughing together, what to you need more than her smile? I mean she is just so cute.

She blush so much when you hold her hand its adorable, she loves hugging and kissing but she is too ashamed to admit it.

She aslo like when you come from behind her and hug her like there is no tomorrow (she will also not admit it by the way)

Yashiro love holding your pinkie!

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖔 𝖐𝖔𝖚

Minamoto is a super Jealous type bofriend (almost stifling sometimes)

 He will protect you with all his migth and mark you as his own clearly so that everyone can see and never forgot who you belongs too 

He is extremly worried and feel anxiety about you leaving him one day so he his carrying so that you too see how much he loves and care for you.

At first they were some difficulties with the relationship because he would be too direct and would easily hurt your feelings but he got better

When he gets comfortable he would tease you on a daily basis (but not as much as hanako)

He will call you ‘senpai’ to tease you bu im not talking about the cheerful ‘senpai!’ im talking about a ‘s-e-n-p-a-i’ to seduce you but he his a child so its difficult to be serious sometimes.

He love calling you "sweet" (a contrast from his delinquent reputation)

He may look rude to other people but trust me the face he make when you smile at him will holding his hand (or both) is so adorable that it could kill anyone on the spot.

Also, he found a hobby of cooking with you.

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖚

When you first started dating him is popularity was kinda bothersome and if you are an introvert you can be sure that the heinous gaze of the girl in crush with him was enough to make you anxious.

He is perfect to cool you down when you are being anxious or stressed about something he is just so composed that it’s almost unbelievable.

Don’t even try to hide something from him, he’ll find out what you are trying to hide from im in no time.

Don't like t when you give him compliment that much he prefer to give them, If you try to look down on yourself, his kind self will be no more, that will make him immediately angry, to him you are perfect and you shouldn't look down on his favourite person (after his sibling), you.

Now that you have a big place in his heart you can be sure he’ll do anything for ya

Kinda force you to do any homework you may have he takes school and your future very seriously.

He won’t say it because he fell ashamed about it but he truly love giving you piggyback ride

He does not like to use nicknames like sweetheart or love he just prefer to naturally call your name it makes him feel some sort of close proximity.

He started learning how to cook just to please you but won’t give you anything until he can make the perfect bento box for you

His eyes are automatically looking for you in a crowd and his passion is watching you when he is sitting in class watching you study, sleep or when having fun with your friend.

𝖆𝖐𝖆𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖔𝖎

At first she seemed oh so very kind and loving and the you discovered her true personality and when she told you that she just wanted people to loves her and asked you if you hated her now that you know about her true self while crying you really fell, literally, on your knees crying.

This sweetheart was in reality feeling so alone in the world and sad, fearful of her true self all those thing hidden being her sweet mask, in fact this permitted your bond to grow stronger.

Accepting each other the way they are and in your relationship you are both trying to liberate yourself.

Now making her express her real emotions and making her fears disappear became one of your top priority

You are the first person she feel like she can fully trust now that you gave her your acceptance

Sometimes her romanticism can be a little too overbearing and if you want to just have a calm and simple date it'll be difficult because she really want everything to be perfect.

At some point she started believing that she is still alive is because of you, you made her, she is alive for real now, hiding nothing in your presence.

So if it mean making you happy she’ll probably do anything.

On her way to school she loves picking one single flowers and giving it to you every morning.

Cant keep her hands from you hairs, in class she probably be seated behind you, listening to the class while braiding your hair and putting some leaves in your hair.

So that even when you are home you will think about her when you are trying to remove the leaves and undo the knot.

[blog4snape]

What if I Meant it? (2)

Pairing: (young) Severus Snape (M) x Reader (F) 

Genre: Fluff with some soft angst

Rating: Citrus (very safe for work)

Summary: A follow-up from the previous chapter. After Severus leaves your classroom, you notice he left his book behind.

Warnings: *spoilers* invasion of privacy

Word Count: 1.7K

Date Written: 9/10/2020

~~~~

June 18th, 1978

After Severus left your classroom in a huff, you sighed, turning your gaze over to the indentation he had left in the pit. He had forgotten his book. You pulled yourself up from your chair and crossed the room to the fortress of pillows, gingerly picking up the discarded item. The book opened naturally to an outlined message, the words smudged from constant touch. Several pages were folded into the shape of a heart with notes written hastily into the inner margins. Curious, you squinted your eyes trying to read the blotched and scribbled writing in the inner corner of the book. Your face flushed, immediately snapping the book shut and holding it farther away from you.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you stared down at the cover of his book. It was an outdated divination book, one he must have gotten from a secondhand book shop for next to nothing. ‘But then again,’ you thought to yourself, ‘all of divination is quite outdated.” You scratched your scalp. 

In your syllabus and throughout the first week of classes, you had expressed that there was no need for any of your students to buy the books. You didn’t require any of your students to purchase divination books, as most of the lessons you taught were hands-on anyway and the books were frankly full of rubbish. Tracing a finger over the worn-out cover, you smiled softly to yourself. Severus was an excellent listener--it couldn’t have been a mishearing--he must have taken an interest in the subject to go out of his way to purchase a divination book. 

‘Or in you.’ The words floated in your head, reminding you of the notes you had just seen scratched into the book still in your hands. 

You sighed, laying in the pit. It was still warm from where Severus had been resting, and you caught a hint of the scent of pine and lavender that would tend to cling to him. You opened the book once more, flipping through the notes he had written.

“That dunderhead Potter wasn’t paying attention to the lesson on Ichthyomancy. He got slapped by the fish we were working with today-”

You laughed, remembering the giant trout that smacked James Potter’s face last week when he decided to mess with it during your lesson after your instruction not to. “You deserved it, Potter,” you laughed, causing other students to follow your footsteps. You said it then and you’d say it again now. 

“-It was pretty great, even the professor laughed at him. She has a cute laugh.” 

As your eyes traveled further down the page, seeing what Severus thought of your laugh made it halt in your throat. Your cheeks burned as you continued to read the comments he wrote. The majority of all of the writing was about divination class- most of them were notes he had written from the lectures. You allowed yourself to have a new teacher’s proud grin, seeing that he was getting a lot out of your lessons. But as you kept turning pages, you found yourself appearing in the margins more and more. Not all of the words were about you, but many of them mentioned you in some way or another. 

‘I told her I had taken quite a liking to ferns. The next week she waved me over after class with a huge smile on her face. She looked so excited. She gave me a tiny fern plant whose sparse fronds had yet to unfurl.’ 

Next to the note was a small doodle of a baby fern. You grinned, it was the cutest drawing you’ve ever seen.

‘She tutored me after class today. She told me to “keep up the good work” and hugged me afterward.’

You nodded, glad to help your students feel more confident in their abilities and glad that Severus Snape was one of them.

‘She baked us biscuits because we all got high marks on the test last week. They tasted good.’

You smiled, happy to know your students liked your gifts. For every test they aced, you would give your students biscuits as a reward. You figured the upperclassmen deserved a treat every now and then, as they’re usually stressing about the OWLs and their NEWT classes.

‘She has pretty eyes.’

Your smile faded. You had to read that line again. You adjusted the book in your hands, moving one hand to your temple. Were you reading that right? 

‘She held me while I cried. It was all I’ve ever wanted. I want her to hold me again.’

‘She doesn’t want to tell me about who she saw that night. But, she didn’t ask me about the werewolf. So I guess I’ll stop asking her. For now.’ 

That night a boggart was in your classroom. You bit your index nail, images of your boggart pressing into your mind. With all that had been happening lately, you didn’t even realize he had stopped asking you but you instantly felt gratitude blossom in your chest. You read the past two notes again, feeling regret at the way you handled the situation. You wished you had been harsher. Any other teacher wouldn’t have given in to his demands. But he wasn’t just your student--he was your old friend.  

‘Her hands are soft.’

Was he just your friend? Your heart thumped, wondering if he only thought of you as his friend, also.

‘I like her plants. She’s got a bunch all over the classroom. Whenever I ask her about one, she gets so excited and tells me all she can about it. I already knew most of it, but I haven’t the heart to interrupt her. I like when she gets passionate about something, and the way she rambles about plants is cute.’

The note was surrounded by small drawings of the plants around your classroom. You stroked the ink outlines of the leaves with an appreciative grin. He was rather talented.

‘She’s so cute when she’s setting something on fire.’

Despite the flush on your cheeks, you chuckled a bit. Divination allowed you to set a lot of things on fire, and sometimes you seemed just a bit too eager. ‘So are you,’ you murmured, thinking of Severus’ passion for learning.

‘She smiled at me today and told me something. I was too focused on her mouth to remember what she said.’ 

You absentmindedly stroked your lips. You took a moment to swear at yourself- urging yourself to stop reading this book, to stop reading Severus’ private feelings, and to stop feeling your own feelings, but you just kept going. 

‘She named one of her plants, “Snargs.” I don’t know why, because it wasn’t even a Snargaluff, but it made me chuckle anyway.’

You smiled at the mention of your plant. Next to the note was a drawing of Snargs, your forever-flowering cactus with the name ‘Snargs’ written in a curly font above the plant. You looked up, seeing Snargs sitting on the high windowsill with his petals dancing in the soft summer breeze. You blew a kiss to him, placing his weekly watering schedule at the back of your mind as you kept reading.

‘She gave me a gift last Christmas. It was a new bag for my books. I saw her staring at the holes in my old bag the month before. The box didn’t have a sender, but I knew it was her. I could smell her perfume on it and it was her handwriting on the note inside.’

Embarrassed, you scratched the inside of your arm. You tried to be sneaky about your gift but it was certainly difficult getting anything past someone as observant as Severus. The two of you didn’t participate in the holiday’s secret santa event, but you could tell he desperately needed a new bag. His previous bag looked a century old, full of holes and nearly falling apart at the seams. His materials constantly fell out of his bag, and you had grown sorrowful every time he had to backtrack with downfallen eyes and a red face to retrieve his dropped items. You knew he didn’t want your pity, and you were afraid if you gave the bag to him in person he’d reject it, so you decided to be as anonymous as possible. You were glad he decided to use it anyway despite knowing where it came from in the end. Smiling, you wondered if he’d accept the gift if it came from anyone else.

Then, for the next few pages shaped like a heart, he had written your name in the margin in his best calligraphy, with pulsing hearts, twinkling stars, blossoming flowers, swimming fish, and tiny sketches of tarot cards. You stared, mesmerized at his magicked art, caressing the moving lines with your fingers. He wrote your names together in a heart, side by side with his. You couldn’t help the smile bubbling onto your curious face as you slowly took in every addition, fiddling with the corner of the dog-eared pages that had been shaped into a heart. You flipped the page, confused--there were tiny hearts drawn around an inky black mass. The mass was a jumble of rough sketch-lines, but they started to move. Your breath caught in your throat as the lines scribbled down on the paper formed an image of you, turning around and smiling. Nothing but astounding brightness was in your features, a direct contrast to the next notes he had written down. 

‘I wonder if she feels the same as I do. She has to, right?’

You just couldn’t answer that question right now. You bit your lip, glancing up at the door as if Severus could burst in at any moment. You sighed, thinking about him as your eyes dropped back to the writing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroked the next horrible words beneath your finger, feeling his self-doubt emanating from the paper.

‘But who could ever like someone like me?’

The next note was a long paragraph, but whatever words you could see were smudged and crossed out. Ink had been spilled on top of the page, the black streaks marring the yellowed pages. The corner of the page was brandished with scorch marks. 

~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading!  These “one-shots” (lol) are from a series called Afterimages of You. Here’s the masterlist for all of the one shots I have posted in the series. a big ol thank you to @thats-mrs-snape-to-you​  @bush-viper-cutie​ and @littl-prince​ for helping me, i love you guys!!

[sakuric]

study dates -> akaashi keiji

synopsis!the love you felt for keiji was growing bigger and bigger, suffocating you more and more each day, but you still didn't let yourself confess. all it took was rejection to finally word how you feel about him.

pairing!keiji akaashi x gn!reader

genre!fluff

warnings!slight cursing

wc!1886

gen taglist! @graykageyama @elixhirs @soranihimawari @admiringlove @softieynnie

a/n!hello babes :3 this is a short? not rly drabble dedicated to my dear sam @admiringlove , and every akaashi stan reading !! this wasn't proof read, but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

you were in love. in love with a boy whose presence made your heart skip a beat. in love with a boy whose hands are gorgeous, but he hides them everytime someone, who isn’t you, around him. he's a boy you've been in love with for a long time now, yet you can't gather the courage to let yourself tell him.

"hello, y/n. are you ready to study?" akaashi asked, sitting down opposite of you at the table. you were doing your study session in the library, as you do every week. although bokuto, akaashi's friend, once joked that you two go out on study "dates", but neither of you found it funny. and it made you worry, why akaashi didn't find it funny. of course, he doesn't usually laugh at bokuto's jokes, and he usually answers with a snarky remark, but he stayed quiet that time.

"l/n?" akaashi waved a hand in front of your face, causing you to flinch out of your daydream. "oh, uh, yes i'm ready." you smiled softly, opening your biology book, but akaashi noticed something wrong.

"you sure? we can skip today if you want."

"oh, no, akaashi, it's okay. i'm okay." you gave him a soft smile before continuing to read. "so what i'm thinking is-"

"what i'm thinking..." akaashi interrupted, a hand slid across the table to close your book, his deep emerald eyes gazing back at your own. you gulped, swallowing any sign of anxiety that could be visible. but it didn't help, akaashi knew you well, and he knew how fidgety you get when you’re anxious for something, so when he saw you anxiously play with your nails while waiting for him, he knew something was up. "is that we can continue this later. do you want to go out with me, y/n?"

as the words left his mouth, your body stiffened, your breath came to a halt for just a moment, and your palms started sweating heavily. "like- like on a date...?"

"yes, y/n, like on a date." akaashi let out a laugh, mumbling "cutie" before sitting back in his chair. "i'll let you think about it, and if you say yes, i'll see you tomorrow at eight pm, by the crooked tree in the campus park, deal?"

"deal."

—

the next evening came faster than expected. and you weren’t really confident with your choice to go on the date akaashi suggested. what did you have to wear? did you have to bring anything? was it a friendly date? the answers to these questions were too unknown to you, but nonetheless, you couldn’t disappoint your best friend, right?

“i was thinking you forgot about the date.” akaashi’s voice ringed in your ear, your body shifting immediately towards the origin of the sound. your eyes scanned his body; a university hoodie, a pair of black, skinny jeans, and his beloved converse shoes. you swooned over how he dressed, for the study sessions he’d wear a beige button up with a sweater-vest on top and some formal, checkered pants. but for afterschool chats and hanging out, he dressed nearly opposite.

“are you alright? why are you not saying anything…”

“you.. look nice.” you mumbled, stepping closer to him, in hopes that your anxiety will calm and let you speak the words you wished to say.

“thank you, y/n. you look nice too.” he smiled softly, his emerald orbs scanning your face for any discomfort. akaashi was good - he was good at identifying different emotions of people, even if there was the slightest change in a person's body language, he could already identify why and what they felt. he was also good for you, and you knew if he’d reject you, he’d try his best to continue being friends without it being awkward for you.

“akaashi, why did you ask me to come here?”

“i wanted to tell you something.” keiji extended his hand towards you, waiting for you to grasp it. he loved when you held his hands, and you’d do it quite often. akaashi never let anyone hold or look at his hands for too long, and he had opened up about how he’s insecure about his hands, their shape and form. that time, you comforted him by planting a small kiss on each of his fingers, saying his hands were perfect the way they were. you intertwined your fingers with his and started walking.

you wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you, what was on his mind this exact moment. you sometimes wished to be able to read people’s minds, just so you could figure out what goes on in that pretty head of his. and maybe, for your own good, what he thinks about you. these emotions flooded your mind like a flood after a rainstorm, and akaashi noticed. he stopped in his tracks, covered your eyes and mumbled ‘were almost here’ as he stood behind you. you two walked for a while, akaashi mumbling a few words into your hair as he led you further. your mind started racing with a million thoughts an hour as you wondered where he had taken you.

“okay we’re here,” keiji announced, removing his hands from your eyes. you turned around to see him smiling softly at you, as he stood in front of the object he wished to show you. you tried to get a look at it, but akaashi forbid you from it. “remember when you showed me that flower, in our biology textbook?” you nodded your head, anticipating what the boy had planned.

“i did some research and i found out that the flower is right next to our main campus,” akaashi moved so you could finally see what he brought you here for. and then you saw it… the bright lilac flower staring back at you. a laugh mixed gasp left your lips as you walked closer to the delicate flower, your fingers carefully tracing the petals. “and i also found out that it was planted here on exactly your birthday. so i think i’d like to call it the y/n flower.” you giggled and turned to him with a smile painted on your face. as your arms embraced keiji in a warm hug, you mumbled a small ‘thank you’ against his warm skin.

—

a week had passed and akaashi wasn’t seen, to you at least. you saw him in the halls and tried to catch up to him, but he’d walk away without letting you even say hello. you’ve had enough. what did you even do wrong? you two just hung out later after the date, he gave you a book he really liked and said there was something special in it for you- wait. the book… you haven't opened it yet, and maybe the important thing was why he was ignoring you.

as soon as the class bell rang you ran out of the school building and jogged across your campus. thankfully, it was your last class of the day, so you didn't need to rush. except you did, you wanted to fix this, you wanted to find out what went wrong.

you attempted to unlock and open the door to your dorm, but the door seemed to give you a middle finger and decide to not unlock. fuck it’s the wrong key, you thought and clumsily fumbled with the multiple keys you had. as if the day hadn't been horrible already, you dropped the keys.

“fuck!” you exclaimed, feeling tears prick your eyes. you quickly grabbed -hopefully- the right key and unlocked the door. you had never gotten in your dormitory as fast as you did now. without taking any notice, you quickly speed-walked to your bookshelf.

The picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde. was the name of the book Akaashi Keiji gave you. it was one of your favourite books when you had read it in highschool, yet you haven't picked up a copy of it ever since. you flipped over to the page where a small blue sticky note marked. you opened it to find a highlighted quote, and another sticky note writing something underneath it.

“You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” y/n, have i not been obvious enough? I have tried to show you that I love you. maybe my cheeks weren't a bright enough shade of crimson when you kissed each pad of my finger on both my hands, maybe i didn't use my body language enough. Bokuto says that for a genius I am truly stupid. and I cannot help but agree. i hope, that instead of study sessions, we could go on real study dates, as a couple. but i’ll ask you this later. I love you, l/n y/n. please tell me you do too.

that was it. that was enough to make you realise what you had done and why he was ignoring you. you hadn’t told him.

—

“hey, y/n.” spoke akaashi, seeing you the next day after your date. you smiled softly at him and greeted him with a hug.

“hi, keiji. are we going to study today?” you asked, tightening your grasp on the straps of your black backpack. you noticed how akaashi’s hands twitched, he was going to hug you, or maybe hold your hand, but he restrained himself.

“i.. uh.. i have to go, y/n. see you around.”

—

he had expected you to open the book as soon as you got home, and didn't think about the fact that you wanted to give all your time and attention to it. it didn't make sense. it didn't make sense how all this time you expected to be rejected by akaashi when you’d confess (which you thought about never doing), but you unknowingly rejected him.

once again, your body worked faster than your brain could register and you were right out the door, on your way to akaashi’s dorm.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” keiji asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, signifying that he was confused. he was wearing that gray university hoodie of his and some black sweatpants, and you swore you had never wanted to embrace someone in a hug as much as you did now.

without even saying anything, you embraced his lips in a passionate kiss. akaashi’s mind raced with multiple thoughts, but nonetheless his warm hands travelled to the groove of your waist. you two made out with the open door for about two minutes until either of you realised it was even open. akaashi thanked the gods that no one saw and that bokuto wasn't over at that time, because he would've made funny remarks, that neither you or akaashi would've found funny.

“i love you too, akaashi keiji. i’ve always loved you.” you smiled after you two caught your breath. “i read the highlighted page, and i’m sorry that it took me so long. we could've avoided the whole… ignoring that went on if i had opened it sooner and i- i love you, akaashi.”

“i know you do, y/n. i love you too.” akaashi smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “how about a study date at the library?”

© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.

[tenderedsouls]

            *     hi friends  !  i'm  kofi  , twenty3 , and i prefer either she / her or they / them pronouns  !  i've been looking for a cute town rp to join , and i'm so glad i came across irving . i'm graduating from college this semester  (  finally  !  ) , so excuse me if i'm a little scatterbrained at times  !  i just know that i'll eventually bring more muses to the group , but i figured that one was enough for my plate right now  (  and i'm ridiculously picky and will spend hours making up my mind  )  .  that being said , jinhyuk is a brand new muse straight out of the box , so please forgive me if he strays from his intro  !  i can't wait to read about everyone's muses , and i especially can't wait to build connections with everyone ! 

            *     ahn hyo seop , cis man + he / him | you know jinhyuk shin , right ? they're twenty five , and they've lived in irving for , like , their whole life ? well , their spotify wrapped says they've listened to swear to god by blackbear like , a million times this year which makes sense 'cause they've got that whole warm aroma of cedar and patchouli lingering on his skin , a bedside journal filled with nonsensical writings , and boisterous laughter followed by reddened cheeks thing going on . i just checked and their birthday is december 10th, so they're a sagittarius , which is unsurprising , all things considered .

001.  DOSSIER  .

           name  :  shin  jin  hyuk  .  nicknames  :  jin  ,  primarily  .  only  called  jinnie  by  his  mother  .  date  of  birth  :  december  10th,  1995  .  zodiac  :  sagittarius  .  birthplace  :  irving  ,  north  carolina  (  raised  on  orion  avenue  )  .  orientation  :  bisexual  ,  biromantic  .  residence  :  irving  ,  north  carolina  (  port  apartments  )  .  occupation  :  accountant  for  kahlo’s  café  and  graduate  student  .  height  :  188cm  (  6′2″  )  .  mother  :  shin  aera  (  adoptive  ;  high  school  mandarin  teacher  )  .  father  :  shin  hangyeol  (  adoptive  ;  emergency  medicine  nurse  )  .  positives  :  benevolent  ,  educated  ,  independent  ,  liberal  ,  passionate  ,  and  romantic  .  neutral  :  moralistic  ,  boyish  ,  mellow  ,  private  ,  restrained  ,  and  unaggressive  .  negative  :  hesitant  ,  timid  ,  cautious  ,  boisterous  ,  clumsy  ,  and  gullible  .  likes  :  iced  americano  ,  ballpoint  pens  ,  roasted  carrots  ,  rainy  days  ,  a  too  warm  apartment  ,  lazy  sundays  ,  sugar  donuts  ,  bubble  tea  ,  and  cancelled  lectures  .  dislikes  :  essay  word  minimums  ,  too  hot  summers  ,  too  loud  music  ,  fireworks  ,  black  coffee  ,  his  sensitivity  ,  and  itchy  sweaters  .  dressing  style  :  best  described  as  lazy  yet  stylish  .  consists  primarily  of  shackets  ,  sweatshirts  ,  denim  jeans  ,  and  ankle  cropped  dress  pants  .  as  someone  constantly  on  his  feet  ,  he  has  a  few  trusty  sneakers  that  get  him  across  campus  .  it  is  rare  to  see  him  in  track  /  sweatsuits  as  he  can  be  self - conscious  about  his  appearance  .  markings  :  a  scar  on  his  left  elbow  from  falling  through  a  fence  at  eight  years  old  and  a  faded  scar  on  his  eyebrow  from  running  into  a  tree  branch  at  ten  years  old  .

002  .  BACKSTORY  .

            it’s  december  of  1995  when  jinhyuk  is  born  to  parents  who  don’t  want  him  or  have  the  funds  to  raise  him  .  for  the  better  part  of  six  months  ,  he  is  raised  in  a  local  orphanage  until  he’s  nearly  a  year  old  ,  and  is  adopted  by  shin  aera  and  her  husband  ,  hangyeol  .  the  couple  are  in  their  early  thirties  at  the  time  of  jinhyuk’s  adoption  ,  and  he  has  never  made  the  effort  to  look  for  his  ‘birth’  parents  ,  even  though  aera  and  hangyeol  have  asked  if  he  would  like  to  .  the  couple  raise  their  son  in  a  relatively  normal  and  peaceful  household  on  orion  avenue  ,  and  despite  not  having  siblings  ,  jinhyuk  grows  up  to  be  a  warm  yet  tenderhearted  person  .  

            growing  up  ,  jinhyuk  is  a  boy  who  wears  his  heart  on  his  sleeve  .  it’s  relatively  tough  for  him  to  make  friends  during  his  early  adolescent  years  as  he  grows  a  little  too  fast  for  his  body  to  catch  up  with  ,  and  finds  himself  tripping  over  his  feet  when  hanging  out  with  other  kids  .  on  top  of  that  ,  due  to  his  asthma  ,  it’s  hard  for  him  to  keep  up  with  the  other  kids  of  irving  as  they  explore  the  places  where  he’s  not  supposed  to  be  ,  often  needing  to  stop  for  puffs  from  his  inhaler  .  eventually  ,  jinhyuk  gives  up  on  trying  to  be  an  adventurous  child  ,  and  instead  finds  solace  in  making  friends  who  are  more  interested  in  books  ,  writing  ,  video  games  ,  and  anything  that  doesn’t  involve  getting  his  sneakers  stuck  in  the  mud  .  

            it’s  during  his  high  school  years  when  jinhyuk  finally  grows  into  his  own  .  a  handsome  boy  with  wide  eyes  ,  jinhyuk  has  found  a  niche  of  people  that  he’s  comfortable  with  and  even  finds  love  for  the  first  time  when  he’s  sixteen  .  the  new  love  is  almost  overwhelming  for  jinhyuk  as  he  had  never  experienced  such  a  love  before  .  it  lasts  for  a  little  over  a  year  and  a  half  ,  and  it’s  a  love  that  jinhyuk  has  been  unable  to  forget  .  eventually  ,  jinhyuk  graduates  from  irving’s  local  high  school  and  moves  away  to  attend  college  in  ‘  the  big  city  ’  .  jinhyuk  obtains  his  bachelor’s  degree in  economics  ,  and  moves  back  home  following  graduation  .  he  takes  a  gap  year  ,  and  during  that  time  he  takes  on  the  position  of  accountant  for  kahlo’s  café  .

            since  then  ,  jinhyuk  has  been  working  job  and  living  with  his  persian  cat  named  duri  .  he  primarily  works  from  home  as  his  job  isn’t  necessarily  one  that’s  needed  in  house  ,  so  he  spends  a  lot  of  time  exploring  new  hobbies  and  half  finishing  books  that  remain  placed  all  around  his  apartment  .  he  has  far  too  many  plants  that  are  in  need  of  water  ,  and  gets  annoyed  when  the  tourists  come  to  town  because  the  beach  is  too  crowded  and  cutie  pie’s  never  has  available  seating  .

003  .  PERSONALITY  .

           as  an  adult  ,  jinhyuk  is  someone  who  tries  not  to  step  on  toes  and  stays  in  his  own  lane  .  he’s  not  someone  who  invokes  arguments  and  he  doesn’t  really  diffuse  them  either  ,  so  you  could  say  that  he’s  a  neutral  party  in  most  situations  .  he  could  be  considered  as  something  of  a  romantic  as  well  as  a  hopeless  romantic  ,  but  he  doesn’t  necessarily  look  for  love  as  he  believes  that  if  he’s  meant  to  fall  in  love  again  then  it  will  happen  when  the  time  is  right  .  jinhyuk  is  soft  spoken  and  he  can  be  relatively  sociable  when  he  wants  to  be  .  sometimes  ,  if  provoked  enough  ,  he  can  be  a  little  snippy  or  rude  ,  but  it’s  a  rare  chance  that  he  is  unless  he  truly  doesn’t  get  along  with  someone  .

            he  likes  early  morning  walks  as  they  allow  him  the  chance  to  think  without  much  disturbance  ,  and  finds  comfort  with  being  by  himself  .  believes  in  taking  himself  on  ‘dates’  and  eats  too  much  pasta  to  be  considered  as  anything  other  than  a  6′2″  piece  of  rigatoni  .  

004  .  CONNECTIONS  .

i  am  open  to  fulfilling  anything  that  you’re  looking  for  ,  and  i’m  also  open  to  working  based  on  chemistry  !

a  best  friend  would  be  nice  🥺  or  i’ll  cry

his  !  first  !  love  !  jinhyuk  experienced  literally  every  first  with  this  person  (  first  kiss  ,  first  time  ,  first  everything  )  and  he  hasn’t  really  gotten  over  them  despite  their  relationship  happening  in  high  school  .

he’s  not  much  of  a  hookup  person  ,  but  that’s  not  to  say  that  it’s  impossible  for  him  to  have  one  or  two  .

platonic  soulmates  !  borderline  best  friends  ,  but  also  teetering  over  the  line  of  being  confidants  .

someone  who  flirts  with  him  but  he’s  absolutely  oblivious  to  it  .  this  could  be  done  either  romantically  or  platonically  .

perhaps  someone  he  has  a  crush  on  ?  he  doesn’t  voice  his  crush  on  them  because  it’s  a  new  feeling  of  love  all  over  again  ,  and  he  doesn’t  make  the  effort  to  even  tell  friends  about  it  .

anyone  else  who  works  at  kahlo’s  pls  raise  your  hand  🥺  and  may  they  be  worK  FRIENDS  I’M  BEGGING  

i’m  sure  i’ll  add  more  ,  but  this  is  what  i  have  for  now  !  it’s  nearly  2am  and  i  didn’t  eat  dinner  so  ..  embarrassing  luv  .

[cherryyjjk]

my knight in shining armor [2]

originally posted by armywithbangtan

summary: the school bad boy has taken a liking to flirting and asking you out during school, even after rejecting him. what’ll happen when someone else uses force?

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst / fluff / skool luv affair! au / bad boy! au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: harrassment

A/N: i’m sososo sad this one got deleted tOO and like asldkalksdj i just wanna share my writing is that so hard !! that’s it i’m writing on google docs or smth

Taehyung was confused about a lot of things. He was confused about the math homework, why his alarm didn’t go off this morning, how to not get mad at his teachers, but recently and most importantly: you. He was confused about you and your entire persona. You were the cutest freshman, and person, he had ever met. Your loud laughter always brought a smile to his face and he had made it his goal to make you laugh more. He looked at you a lot, and he knew you would stare at him too. Whenever he flirted with you, you would avoid his eyes and blush, embarrassed out of your mind. But then, a few seconds later, you would reject him.

Am I doing something wrong? Maybe I’ve misread her intentions. He wondered to himself while walking to class. He had always been late to school. That is, until you showed up. With your dazzling smile, (e/c) eyes that sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about. The skip in your step when you saw him. He was dazed in and out of class, but the teacher wouldn’t reprimand him. Though he was only a sophomore, he was still pretty strong and being the “bad boy” made you known for your scary nature.

The bell rang and Taehyung was the first one out of the class, desperate to find you. He didn’t even bring a backpack to school, so he was light on his feet.

“Hey Taehyung! Where are you going?” A familiar voice said behind him. Taehyung looked behind him to find Jimin running up to him while his other five friends walking leisurely in their direction.

“I’m going to find (Y/N),” he responded, looking at his friend like it was obvious. He hadn’t been able to see you this morning and it was already taking a toll on his mood.

His friend group laughed and Namjoon, one of the juniors in the group, asked, “Taehyung, that girl doesn’t want you. Why don’t you find someone else?”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, and frowned. He didn’t think his friends would understand. He knew his group of friends had a bad history in relationships, how they were marked as the player bad boys. But he knew them better, they were good people. Albeit, a bit emotionally unavailable.

Taehyung tried his best to come up with and explanation but trying to stay respectful, he just responded, “Hyungs, you wouldn’t understand.”

He walked away from his friends to a particular tree outside, away from the lunch tables and everyone else. You two would usually talk there, without anyone interrupting or anything. It was bliss. Taehyung turned the corner, already feeling a bit happier about the situation.

“Hey, Y/N, I—” Taehyung started, only to find that there was no one under the tree. He paused, confused about where you could be.

Where could she be? He wondered, looking around but only getting more frustrated. Maybe she had ditched me?.

Dejected, Taehyung stuffed his hands into his pant pockets and hunched his shoulders.

I mean, it’s me. A bad boy, no one cares about me other than for fame. Y/N doesn’t care for me, like I do her.

Taehyung turned around and lifted his foot to walk away when—

SMASH

Taehyung froze in his tracks. His eyes widened and he slowly looked up. On the next floor, he could see through a window a girl with her back facing him. He knew that figure anywhere. It was you.

You looked like you were shielding yourself from something, probably whatever made that crash sound. But what was scarier to Taehyung was who he could see. A guy slowly approaching you.

Taehyung started to get mad. Whoever this guy was, he had no right to be near his—

His..his what? His girlfriend? No, she isn’t my girlfriend. I told myself that I shouldn’t get involved with her anymore. Taehyung scolded himself, trying to tear his eyes away from the scene. He closed his eyes and tried breathing deeply to calm his nerves.

He heard another sound, like something hitting glass and steeled himself not to look up. Taehyung knew if he did, he would storm into that class and it wouldn’t be pretty. Getting increasingly frustrated, Taehyung lost all his resolve and looked up to see you looking uncomfortable under the other guy’s glare and his hand trapping you. You whimpered and turned your head to the side and Taehyung caught a glimpse of a red mark. It was a cut from the glass and it looked painful.

Taehyung only saw red. He started running through the field and pushed at least a dozen people out of the way. But he didn’t care. All he could see was you, and your cut, and the way you looked scared.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard it. Your scream. But you weren’t just screaming for help. You screamed his name.

“Taehyung!”

If even possible, he ran faster, almost tripping over his own two feet before he was outside the classroom door. He tried to yank the door open but it wouldn’t budge. He kicked it a few times before ramming the side of his body through and it finally gave way. He was panting and his hands were balled up into fists. In the room, Chin-hwa was still staring at Y/N but seemed annoyed at the interruption. His two friends had been trying to hold the door down to stop Taehyung from getting through and were now rolled on the floor. The two guys were looking up to Taehyung’s furious face and if looks could kill, they’re both be six feet underground.

“T-Taehyung,” You whispered, a little afraid after looking at his face. You tried moving towards him but your wrist was still trapped in Chin-hwa’s and the other was crushed by his body. Chin-hwa felt you moving and smirked before pushing you against the window again, resulting you groaning in pain. Taehyung walked over to the both of you and grabbed Chin-hwa’s arm.

“Huh, what do you—” Chin-hwa started before his body was ripped from Y/N’s side, falling onto nearby desks. He grunted in pain, before hastily getting up.

“What the—? Who do you think you are? Huh?!” He yelled, holding his head from the pain while his two friends were shaking behind him.

“My name is Kim Taehyung,” Taehyung spat, turning his head to face the junior and his fists becoming white from how strong he was holding them.

The three bullies all paled in fear. Though they were all older, the bad boy group called Bangtan Sonyeondan, or BTS, was well-known in the school to be the strongest and scariest boys. If you angered one, you would anger them all, and that would definitely not be pretty. The bullies, still shaking, shoved each other and ran out of the classroom as fast as they could. When Taehyung knew they had left, he turned around to face you.

He didn’t say anything and his face became expressionless, all he did was hold out a hand for you to take. Still shocked from everything, you slowly placed your hand in his. He slowly guided you forward and sat you down on a desk before letting go of your hand. He then turned them to see the fading red marks from Chin-hwa’s fingers and slowly rubbed them. Eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned, he then padded his finger to the cut on your left cheek. His finger burned on the cut and you hissed in pain, causing him to retract his hand from your face and loosing some warmth. Taehyung continued to help you and slowly the silence became awkward.

“Y-you came..” You said, surprised by how quiet your voice had gotten. You cast your eyes on your feet, feeling small under his gaze.

Maybe this is where he leaves.. You wondered and shut your eyes tight to stop the tears from escaping.

Taehyung gently smiled and took your chin into his hand and lifted your head slightly, making you open your eyes. You were looking at him with those beautiful (e/c) eyes but you had a frown on your face. Taehyung couldn’t understand why you looked so sad.

Did you not want me here? You called me, right? He thought to himself.

“Of course I did, Y/N. I saw you through the window and then heard your scream. I swear if that Chin-hwa ever even looks at you again, I’ll—“ He stopped in his tracks when he realized you had put your arms around him and were pushing your face into his chest.

He instantly wrapped his arms around your figure and held you there. You were crying and shaking like a leaf. It broke Taehyung’s heart. After calming down, you parted from his warm body but still clutching his shirt for comfort. You looked away for a moment.

“I-I didn’t think you cared about me. I was so s-scared when he came onto me but I tried being strong! Like you always told me to be,” You said, starting out a little shaky but gaining confidence with every word, “And he was so close. I-I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe you returned my feelings..? And would come..”

“Y/N.”

“O-Oh, no. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N.”

“I-I should shut up now. It was wishful thinking that maybe you liked me back.”

“Y/N.”

“I-I’ll get g-going. Don’t worry! I won’t tell a-anyone and w-we never have to see each other again.”

“Y/N!” Taehyung scolded, still holding you in his arms.

He wiped away the stray tears that had passed your eyes. He lowered his hands from your arms and interlocked them with your hands and lightly brushed over your knuckles in comfort. He lifted his face and kissed your forehead.

“Not only are you the cutest person ever but also the most oblivious. Huh?”

“W-What? Taehyung, I’m so confused.”

“I like you, cutie.” He smirked, though there was a hint of blush on his cheeks.

You’re eyes widened and your frown broke into a smile. You yelled out in glee before wrapping your arms around his neck. Not expecting the sudden embrace, Taehyung fell backwards onto the floor but safely secured you in his arms before hitting the ground. He groaned in pain and looked at you to see you still smiling into his neck.

“Oh god, Y/N. You’re going to be the death of me.”

The both of you laughed and stayed there hugging for a while. Until you heard the school bell ring. You immediately got up and started panicking about being late to class. Taehyung watched you in amusement before guiding you away from the broken glass, handing you your backpack and grabbing your hand. The two of you walked down the main hallway when everyone that were passing by stopped to stare. People started to whisper and you put your head down from all the attention. Taehyuung looked at you once before smirking and tugging you towards him. He wrapped an arm around you and kept walking like nothing happened while you were blushing like crazy. He saw his friends around a few lockers and winked at them while some had their mouths open and others laughing and shaking their heads. The rest of the school day was basically just that.

The last bell rang and for the first time, you were the one rushing out of class with all the other students. You tried to get by through the crowd but you were tossed around. Out of nowhere, you were gently moved into someone’s arms and the sea of people suddenly parted. You looked up to see Taehyung holding you and walking you to the first entrance of the school before he stopped right outside the gates. He paused before taking both of your hands into his and turning to face you. He looked straight at you with a serious expression, confusing and scaring you for a moment, before his mouth turned into a boxy-smile that you loved.

“Well cutie, I guess we have to say goodbye.”

“Ahh, you don’t have to call me cutie all the time you know.”

“Oh yeah? Then how is anyone gonna know that we like each other, hmm?”

“B-Because! We’re now a couple..And that means you’re mine!”

Taehyung smirked, he was enjoying the newly shown confidence you were talking in. He wasn’t used to you being so straightforward, but he liked it. And he liked you.

“Oh yeah, cutie? Well, too bad. You’re mine so I can call you cutie.”

You smiled and stepped forward so your feet were touching. You looked up/down at his confused expression before kissing his cheek. It was Taehying’s time for his face to turn red. His eyes widened and he stuttered from the kiss, speechless. You giggled and took the chance to squeeze his hand before letting go.

“Bye, Taehyung.”

“B-Bye, Y/N.”

He waved at you while you walked away and was instantly approached by his group of friends. They patted him on the back and congratulated him for winning the girl’s heart. He laughed with his friends before looking fondly into the distance at your retreating figure, wondering what was in store in the future. But as long as he was with you, and you were with him, he didn’t have to worry.

© 2021 by cherryyjjk ;; all writings and other content on this blog are my intellectual property. you may not reuse, reprint, translate, repost, steal, or any other type of stealing of my works.

[angelic-holland]

Dirty Shirley // th x fem!reader

request by @barnes-parker :  hey! can i request for a tom holland x reader? reader is part of the mcu cast, and they all went out to eat dinner after filming for endgame. reader just turned legal age (is it 18?) so they drank afterwards, to celebrate her legality. since it’s her first time drinking she went a bit overboard but tom took care of her. fluff pls!

Summary: Basically above ^ 

Okay so I made the reader Scott Lang’s daughter (Cassie) shoutout to the actress who played her in the movie but for the sake of the one shot the reader will be playing her :), reader is turning 21, so she’s a little bit closer to Tom’s age and that is the legal drinking age in the US where they filmed Endgame I also just recently celebrated my birthday and got way too drunk so I made it a little more fluffy than the reader just getting sick from drinking bc those memories yoinks

Warnings: drinking

Word count: 2.5k

“You know what we should do?” Paul asks.

“What?” You laugh as you, Evangeline and him had just wrapped on your small scene at the end of the movie.

“Celebrate! You turned 21 the other day! And didn’t tell us! We can all go out to dinner if you want,” Paul says as you all walk towards your trailers.

“What do you mean by all of us? Like the three of us?”

“Well Tom, Jacob, Chadwick, a few other people are here filming so we can see if they want to come with?” Paul asks, coming to a stop at his trailer.

“Oh, I mean, we don’t have to, that’s, I don’t want to bother them.”

“I’ll see who’s interested,” Paul says, entering his trailer and leaving you and Evangeline to walk towards your own.

“You know, if he was smarter he’d know you have a little crush on Tom.”

You felt yourself blush and stutter, “pssh, no,I, I hardly know him, we’ve met like three times.”

‘Yeah but he’s pretty charming isn’t he?”

“Ugh, I just, don’t want them to feel like they’re forced to come celebrate with me when they don’t know me like at all, you know?”

“But, no matter the size of your role in the movie, you’re still here, you’re still a member of the cast.” “I guess.”

“Just, let’s see what Paul can do okay?”

You nod as you come to a stop at her trailer, she hugs you and you walk the rest of the way to your trailer. You’ve only been here for a few days, just two small scenes to film, it’s been a really great experience so far though.

You decide to wear something really nice, a pretty A-line black dress, the edges adorned with lace. You fix up your hair, curl it a little, keeping the makeup they put on you for the scenes, much better than anything you could do yourself.

You hear a knock on the door as you’re getting your purse together. You open it and are greeted by Paul and Evangeline who both had changed into nice formal clothes.

“You look beautiful birthday girl,” Evangeline says, hugging you.

“Okay, so I was able to get us a spot at a really nice restaurant downtown, our reservation’s in like thirty minutes,” Paul says as you all walk out of the trailer lot towards the parking lot.

“How’d you manage that?” “Pulled a few strings,” he says with a shrug.

“Were you able to uh, invite anyone else?”

He frowns and you know you’re about to be disappointed, no matter how unreasonable it was for all these famous actors to drop everything to hang out with you on your birthday.

“I’m sorry, they’re all pretty busy, but hey, I think we’re a pretty fun bunch,” Paul says, swinging his arm around your shoulder as they reach his car.

****

Paul gives his name at the restaurant and the hostess leads you to the back of the restaurant, towards a private room.

“Wait, what’s the private room for?” You ask, turned towards Paul and Evangeline as the hostess pushes the door open.

“SURPRISE!” you hear a group of people shout and you turnaround, eyes widening as you take in the group of people sitting around the large table.

“Paul, Evangeline, I thought you said, said nobody could make it,” you stutter, blushing a little as they guide you to sit down at the head of the table.

“Yeah well, we lied.”

You shake your head, hoping you’re not blushing too hard as you look around the table, filled with people you’ve met in person before, Tom, Scarlett, Chris Evans, Don, Brie, a few people you’ve never met in person but have wanted to, Jacob, Chadwick, Mark. You were in awe of how they all showed up to your little party.

“I, uhm, thank you guys, for coming, this is uh, pretty cool,” you laugh.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to celebrate someone’s 21st birthday,” Tom speaks up, he’s sitting on one side of you, Evangeline on the other.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, quickly looking away because you know if you look for much longer you could get lost in his smile or his eyes and you don’t want to be any more awkward than you already are.

****

You all had a fun dinner, everyone talking amongst themselves, talking to you, you telling different stories about your time on set and auditioning and joking about the Russo Brothers.

You had thanked everyone, a few of them staying back, saying they wanted to buy you a few drinks for your 21st if you wanted to, which you happily agreed to. You’ve never really drunk before, other than a few sips of your parents wine at dinner or parties. You were sitting at the bar with Tom and Jacob, Evangeline sitting a few seats down, she told you as you were all leaving the private room that she’d be there to take you back to your trailer but she’d let you spend some time with ‘those two cuties’ before you left.

“So, you said you did musical theater before, right?” Jacob asks as you wait for your drinks.

“Yeah, I was in a few shows on Broadway before auditioning for Endgame. I’ve been doing theatre all my life and I thought that acting on TV or in movies might be a fun change of pace.”

“What did you do on Broadway?” Tom asks as the bartender sets down your drinks, Tom called them ‘dirty shirleys’, explaining they were basically just Shirley Temples with vodka. He preferred beer but this was his guilty pleasure drink.

“Uh, I was in a few ensemble casts before I got cast as Wendla in Spring Awakening.”

“Wait, did you play her in 2015?”

“Yes?”

“Holy shit, I saw you, I went to see Spring Awakening then, I stood outside the cast doors like a dork and got pictures with everyone.”

“Sorry, I totally don’t remember you,” you laugh, people did that after every single show and you never remembered their faces.

“No, that’s totally fine I’m sure I was a total nerd but that was such a good show, you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” you blush, taking a sip of your drink. It was really fruity, tasted almost exactly like a Shirley Temple, a little bit of a kick which had to be the vodka.

“So how do you like acting in movies compared to acting in theatre?” Jacob asks.

“I mean, I know you guys probably love doing movies and acting in front of a camera but, gonna be honest, I like theatre more. Maybe because I like the pressure of having to do it perfectly in front of a live audience, I don’t get multiple takes and editing to make everything look perfect. In theatre, that’s on you.”

“Yeah, I mean the process can be so long though, I don’t know, I guess I’m basing it off of my experience with Billy Elliot but that was ages ago and most of it was dance training,” Tom adds.

“Yeah, I mean, the rehearsal process can be lengthy, more so for shows like that that requires a deep knowledge of dance especially ballet and aero, whereas with shows I’ve been in, there’s dancing but it’s mainly typical musical theatre dancing. We’d have rehearsal eight hours a day, every single day a week, 7 days a week for a few months, and then we’d have our show. So I guess it just depends on the show you do, if you’re touring, stuff like that.”

“Sounds like you’re very passionate about theatre.”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve been doing it since I was a little kid, can’t remember a time before I was in a singing lesson or dance class after school.”

The conversation and drinks flow throughout the night, you start to feel a little more comfortable, only getting tense when Tom’s hand touched your shoulder when you made him laugh, leaning in, full body shaking with laughter.

“We should probably head back,” Jacob pipes up and you all agree.

“Mind if we get a ride with you? Ours ditched us,” Tom asks as Evangeline stands up.

“Of course, I’ll go grab the car,” she says, nodding at you.

You stand up, stumbling almost immediately. Tom helps by holding you up, a hand against your waist, the other wrapping around your shoulder.

“That was fun,” you giggle as you all walk towards the exit.

“I think you’re a little drunk,” Jacob laughs as he opens the back door to the car for you.

“Maybe, just a little,” you say as Tom helps you into the car, leaning over you to buckle your seatbelt.

You can’t help but stare at his chest, the very top of it peeking out of his partially unbuttoned shirt. You feel yourself blush as he sits down besides you.

“You okay back there?” Evangeline asks and you nod, rubbing your eyes.

You don’t realize you’re resting your head on Tom’s shoulder until you are parked back at the lot and Evangeline is calling your name.

You sit up, your head spinning a little, “hello.”

“Hi,” Tom laughs, helping you out of the car.

“I think?”

“Yes? What do you think?” He asks as he walks you to your trailer, his hand a warm presence on your waist.

“I think I’m just a little bit drunk,” you giggle.

“I think you’re a little bit more than a little drunk,” Evangeline says, opening your door.

“It was, nice to meet you Jacob,” you say, reaching out your hand to shake his.

He laughs as you fumble for it, eventually shaking it.

Tom helps you into your trailer, sitting you down on your bed as Evangeline gets you some water.

“Wanna know a secret?” you giggle.

“Y/N,” Evangeline says, sitting next to you and you blink, looking between her and Tom.

“Yes?”

“Have some water,” she says, helping you take a few sips.

“It was nice to talk to you, get to know you,” Tom says, backing out of your trailer.

“Oh, yes, you too,” you giggle, waving at him.

“See you around,” he says, so casually as he leaves.

“Did you hear that? He’s gonna see me around.”

“Alright drunky, time to go to bed and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue.”

You gasp and stare at Evangeline with wide eyes, “that can happen?”

“Yes,” she laughs, shaking her head, “just gotta get you a bucket, make sure you sleep on your side in case you need to throw up.”

**** You wake up the next morning with a raging headache, Evangeline nowhere in sit but a note on your bedside table.

I stayed for a while but you were sound asleep, I checked in a few times during the night but you seemed fine, glad you had a good time with the cast and Tom last night.

Your eyes widened, Tom, what did you say to him? What happened? You remember his hand on your waist, warm and comforting, his laugh, him telling you he’d see you around. You roll over, rubbing your eyes. You’re still wearing your dress from last night so you begrudgingly get up and stumble a little towards your suitcase, pulling out a random t-shirt and sleep shorts, planning on sleeping in, you weren’t going to be called again until the editors have seen the footage of your scene and determine if it was okay for the final cut.

You are situated in your clothes, about to flop back down in your bed when you hear a knock on your trailer door. Figuring it’s Evangeline checking up on you, you make your way over, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you fling the door open.

Your eyes widen and cheeks flush when you see who it really is. Tom, who still managed to look hot in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Hi,” you say, staring at the bag in his hand.

“Hi, I uh, I remember the first time I got really drunk, didn’t know how to make myself feel better the next day, had the worst hangover, so I figured I’d get you some supplies, help combat it for ya.”

“Oh, uh, thanks? Come in, come in,” you say, stepping aside so he make his way inside.

“My mum taught me one of the best tricks, coconut water. It tastes gross, whatever, but it’s got tons of potassium which you lose when you drink lots of alcohol and it’s not full of preservatives and artificial stuff like sports drinks so even though you could drink those to help, it’s better to drink this,” he says, pulling out the coconut water and placing it on your counter.

“And of course, aspirin, never Tylenol, don’t know why, you just shouldn’t take it,” he says with a shrug, placing a bottle of aspirin next to the coconut water.

“Did you just have all this lying around?”

“Nah just took a quick trip to the drugstore.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, rubbing your arm, confused as to why he cared so much.

“I know, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, “here, take some aspirin with the coconut water,” he opens both and hands them to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble before taking the aspirin.

He laughs at your scrunched up face after you take a sip of the coconut water.

“Yeah it tastes a little weird, I like to pretend I’m on an island on vacation when I drink it, makes it taste a little better.”

You close your eyes, pretending you’re laying on a beach somewhere, a real coconut in your hand. You take another sip, it’s not as bad.

“Kinda works,” you say, placing the drink down and leaning against the counter.

“You should also get some rest, are you slotted to film today?”

“No, gotta wait for the go ahead from the editor’s to either leave or do a few more takes of the scene.”

“Good, good, so get some rest.”

Fuck it, you were going to shoot your shot. Now or never, you’d be gone in the next few weeks anyways.

“Are you filming today?”

“Nah, same as you, we’re in a holding pattern I guess.”

“Guess so,” you shrug.

“Something else, uh, that helps hangovers.”

“What?” You ask, your breathing picking up.

“Uhm, nothing, it’s stupid.”

“No, come on, tell me.”

“Just. sometimes cuddling with someone, makes you feel safe, feel better.”

“Is that an elaborate excuse to cuddle?”

“What? Pssh, no,” Tom says, looking between you and your bed.

“I mean, we both should rest, so, why not do it together?”

“Really?”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” you laugh, taking his hand in yours.

You get comfy, both a little too hot to pull the blankets over you so you lie on top of them. You lie your head on his chest, his arm resting over your shoulder.

You both quickly fell asleep, hoping to sleep off the achy feeling and your headaches.

**** Evangeline and Paul go to check on you a little later, she knocks on your door and there’s no answer so she lets herself in.

She stops when she sees you and Tom curled up on your bed, sound asleep. She closes the door gently and turns to Paul, “you owe me 10 bucks.”

[zweiginator]

My Sweet Lord--Uni!Brian x Reader

Summary: You and Brian meet by chance on a fall afternoon and become close friends. But as the seasons change and the flowers of spring begin to bloom--your relationship with him does the same. 

Word Count: 13k+ (oh my god i truly cannot be concise.. anyways stream my sweet lord by george harrison)

Warnings: slooooow burn, friends to lovers, Brian being a shy, smart cutie, unprotected sex, oral, dirty talking

October 1972

If Brian counted every step he had taken to the campus library and converted it into energy, he was sure the force would be strong enough to take him out of this world. This cruel, cruel world that was forcing him to study for a physics test that his professor insisted was the week after a gig he and the band had been preparing for for months--not that his pudgy, almost-elderly instructor would ever know--or suspect--that Brian was in a band. That was one thing he was trying to change about himself; the fact that he was Brian. He wasn’t Freddie. And he surely wasn’t Roger, who had kicked Brian out of their own flat four times that week, his curls soaked through with the same acid-rain that rolled down the streets as he pounded on the door, which Roger held shut with his booted foot as his one night stand whose-name-he’d-never-remember pushed her skirt up her legs and gave her interim lover a kiss, stained red. He’d mastered the awkward wave, one that expressed a sort-of hello-goodbye hybrid, Brian’s eyebrows furrowed in a sorrowful quasi-frown that he hoped would soften the blow when Roger inevitably failed to call her back.

“How do you do that?” Brian asked Roger as he shook his umbrella off, the material crinkling as trembling rain rolled off the sides, onto the wooden floors.

“Hey!” Roger wiped his hands down his bare chest, covered in a perpetual blanket of leftover kisses, healing into purple-pink marks that ran up the expanse of his tanned skin. He took another bite of a biscuit he was eating and shook his head at his best friend. “Don’t get fucking water all over the floor. This?” He pointed at the shitty floor beneath them; there wasn’t a step that didn’t produce an eerie creak that always made Brian’s heartbeat skip against his narrow chest as he attempted to get water in the wee hours of the morning. “This is real wood. When we sell this shithole, I don’t wanna be fined for ruining the floor.”

“Oh shut up.” Brian rolled his eyes and hung the umbrella on the coat rack by the door as  Roger lit a cigarette that dangled between his pillowy lips. “How do I do what? Shag random girls?” He asked, puffing at his cigarette, pulling it out of his mouth for a bit to let out a suppressed yawn. “It’s a bit exhausting.”

Brian believed him; his eyes were sunken in so much he would look dead if he weren’t so tan from the blistering sun that beat through his skin--all of their skin--as they packed and unpacked equipment from pub to pub all across London, all summer long. “I just--I wonder if I’m doing something wrong? I mean I don’t look like you, but I’d like to think I have a redeemable personality.” Brian complained, taking a biscuit from the crumpled paper bag on the counter.

“Don’t eat my fuckin’ biscuits.” Roger swatted Brian’s hand away as he took another drag, puffing the heavy, stale cigarette smoke into Brian’s nose, which was a rosy hue from the same nipping wind that mussed Brian’s hair into a coiled nest upon his head. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Brian. You’re just--” He shoved the bag of snacks into Brian’s hands and tapped some peppered ashes from his cigarette. “Shy. A bit awkward, but you do have a nice personality. And--” He paused. “You’re-- physically attractive. I--” He swirled the butt of his cigarette in a foggy glass ashtray, extinguishing the smoldering glow. “That’s all I’ll say. Don’t repeat those words to anybody.”

Brian chuckled and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, which remained soft, a severe contrast with his fingertips that were cracked and calloused from years and years of plucking ridged guitar strings. “Wow, thanks Rog.” He said it facetiously, knowing Roger didn’t appreciate sappy confessions from his best friend. Roger pulled his silk robe over his chest and gave Brian a tight-lipped smile.

“You’ll find a girl someday. Just like I’m sure I’ll settle down eventually.” He shuddered, padding to his room--a place Roger rarely stayed; otherwise it would be scattered with clothes and cigarette butts and the odd token from his girl-of-the-week, begging for his undying attention.

“Don’t be presumptuous.” Brian peeked around the corner in the kitchen, sending a smile to the shorter blond as he shut his bedroom door, swatting his hand at him before promptly flipping him off. “Charming.” He rolled his eyes,  biting into a semi-stale cookie, leaning his elbows on the granite of the counter, resting his sullen cheeks in his palms as he listened to the bay of the wind, watching the yellow lights flicker--whether that was a consequence of the wind or the unpaid rent bill shoved under a candle, he didn’t know.

__

Now, Brian was certain he would fail his physics test--which he reminded himself was in just two days, as he rested his head on the table, his ear pressed against the hollow, airy wood of the table. The tall chair he was sitting on was the same material, and there wasn’t a cushion, so he shuffled around every few seconds in a desperate attempt to find a comfortable position that soon proved impossible. Everything was muffled against his ear; the sounds of his peers punching irresolute numbers into their calculators, sipping lukewarm coffees hidden between their legs, behind sat-up textbooks. Brian was exhausted, and lying his head on the table--although scratchy against his soft skin--made his eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as his eyes fell, closed as his lips parted, shallow breaths fanning over his book so the dog-eared pages skimmed and flitted upon the next.

He wasn’t usually the type to fall asleep in class; in fact, he had become reliant on coffees saturated with grainy sugar to keep himself from doing just that. But something about the hollow, dreamy reverberation of flipped pages and tapping pencils had him softly snoring, his hair fanned over the table, where small dribbles of drool pooled at the corner of Brian’s mouth. The pen he was holding loosely between his fingers soon fell against the tabletop as his head fell to one side, nuzzling into the fleece of his powder blue hoodie which had sleeves that were much too short; his wrists were covered in goosebumps.

You sat at the table next to Brian’s, a small cart stacked with nonfiction books only slightly obscuring your--and your friends’--views of him, this massively tall, eternally sleepy boy you’d seen many, many times that week. It was nearing midterms, so everyone was scrambling to cram for the massive number of exams they were going to have--making pacts with buddies that they would study together, as if the collectivist, group setting would increase productivity instead of annulling it completely. But this boy was always by himself, his hands shoved into the pockets of whatever jacket adorned his willowy frame, his bony wrists jutting out from beneath his deeply tanned skin. He burrowed himself in a nest of crumpled notes and dully sharpened pencils, yawning into his fist as he scribbled so passionately you were convinced he couldn’t be writing anything pertaining to schoolwork.

Brian was a sort of enigma at university; nobody knew much about him, but they were endlessly fascinated by the shrouded nebula of the unknown that seemed to hover above his cloud of frizzy waves. Nobody had seen him speak to anybody but the occasional professor, hushed by their desk after class ended and the majority of the snooping peers had left to attend to their social lives. So everyone perked up in their seats when three men--two of them excessively rowdy for a school library--strode into the building, tall heeled boots clicking against the tiled floors enough to make the librarians scowl, shaking their heads uniformly as wire-rimmed glasses were pushed up their noses.

“Christ.” Freddie did a scowl of his own as he looked around the expansive library, taking in the grandeur of the old architecture. “This place is gorgeous; too bad its a fucking bore to be here.” He added, quite loudly. Deaky shoved his shoulder and shook his head, gesturing to the multitude of students who were now just pretending to study--they were all watching the men intently, aching for something to gossip about, anything substantial enough to act as an excuse to finally rest their weary eyes from reading their stacks of books which all seemed to belie one another.

“Shut up.” Deaky didn’t look at Freddie when he said this; he was looking for Brian, and was becoming frustrated when he couldn’t spot his head of curls amongst the sea of pupils focused their way.

Roger and Freddie loved the attention, and they winked and smirked at the majority of their audience, including you, as you held your pen between your teeth, fishing your keys from your tattered bag. Roger liked what he saw, so he pulled a chair out, sitting down leisurely while you paid no mind to the doe-eyed blond. He was cute, but you weren’t looking for a relationship; it was just too difficult with the amount you were juggling--plus you had silently swore off guys in a drunken rage a few months back and you weren’t ready to go back on your words just yet. You could tell your friends were intrigued by Roger’s beachy waves and sun kissed cheeks, his wide blue eyes that were covered in a thin film of innocence that most girls saw right through.

“You girls seen a tall lad around here? Big curly brown hair? No other redeeming qualities?” Roger scooted his chair closer to the table as you capped your pen, tilting your chin to motion to the probable culprit--although you’d never seen him speak to anyone, and would be surprised that these three very self-assured, very flamboyant guys would be anybody he would associate with.

Roger turned his head and scoffed when he saw his roommate knocked out on the table, his signature curls veiling his sharp, angelic features. His hands were splayed on the table in front of his book, and it was then that you noticed his nails were painted an opaque white, chipped just along the edges.

“That would be him. Good eye--what’s your name?” He acted nonchalant, furrowing his messy eyebrows as he pulled a smoke from the pack in his back pocket, his other hand fumbling, in search of his metal lighter.

“Y/N.” You smiled at him sweetly as you found your key ring, hidden beneath an array of old receipts and hoarded trinkets that had no place being there.

“Roger.” He held his hand out, flashing his teeth, semi-crooked and just a smidge yellow from incessant smoking. Without another word he pushed his chair back so it fit neatly, tucked into the table.

“Sleepy head,” Freddie poked Brian’s head with the pencil that had fallen from his grasp. Brian groaned softly, adjusting his position so his head moved away from the strange sharpness that pierced his scalp. “Wake up Brian. You’re making a fool of yourself.” He whispered into his ear.

“Fuck off, Freddie.” Brian turned his head to the opposite side, so he faced where you were sitting, watching the interaction curiously, like a few other surrounding tables were, halting their procrastinated studies to try and decode the campus mystery that was Brian May. You noticed how effortlessly attractive he was, even with his face mostly obscured by curled tendrils of hair that tickled against his angular nose, fell over his sharp cheekbones. His eyelashes were thick, and they laid across the very tops of his cheeks; his mouth hung open enough for you to notice how plump and peachy his lips looked underneath the yellowed lights that glowed throughout the building.

Roger moved to the other side of the table and pinched Brian’s nose, squatting down as Brian’s eyes snapped open, his pupils dilating and constricting like his stomach was, pumping with anxiety as he sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes with a ringed finger.

“I can’t believe you told us we had to postpone a meeting with fucking EMI records so you could study.” Roger used air quotes around the last word, slapping the back of Brian’s head harshly, which emitted a few gasps from the tables around you.

Brian grabbed Roger’s wrist, pushing his hand down onto the table quietly, his hazel eyes a warning to his friend. “Roger!” He whisper-yelled, looking around the library. He shot a few glances to their spectators, one that screamed: I’m sorry for disrupting your studies I wouldn’t usually be like this--

“I’m allowed to be pissed; they probably won’t think we’re fucking serious about the offer since you’re moping around in libraries taking fucking afternoon naps!” He was whispering too now, and Brian sighed in relief when he noticed more and more of their audience returning their attention to their books, the cracking of the glue along the spines like a depressant to Brian’s sympathetic nervous system.

“I was studying; I fell asleep because you’ve decided to shag a new girl every night, so I can’t exactly get anything done at home, now can I?” Brian gathered his physics book, shoving his pencil on the last page he was on before he closed it carefully, pushing it into his bag behind portfolios of various lab reports and unmarked quizzes.

“Whatever, Brian.” Roger knew he had been loud the past couple of nights, and he felt a tinge of pride on his part as Brian fed into his ego unintentionally. Deaky just stacked the rest of Brian’s papers strewn about the table and handed them to him without a word. Freddie was absurdly quiet too, mouthing apologies to a few angered students who had probably developed headaches from Roger’s screeching.

“Just don’t get me banned from this place, okay?” Brian straightened his stack of papers and clasped them together with a metal clip, pushing it into his bag expertly.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just go.” Roger kneed Brian in the ass as he got up, and you noticed how he seemed to tower above the rest of the posse, his shoes and hair and incredibly lengthy legs just adding to his stature that would have been quite imposing if not for Brian’s lanky body and eyes that were laden in kindness and warm honey, framed by straight eyebrows that gave him an easygoing, impossibly handsome charm.

“The record company is just a few blocks east. We have plenty of time.” Deaky said, following behind Roger and Brian and next to Freddie, his breath fanning on their shoulders which grazed lightly against one another.

“Deaky, keep your mouth shut. We all know we would have missed the appointment if we hadn’t come here to drag Brian’s skinny ass out of his nap.” Roger shoved his hands in his pockets and shivered as he pushed open the heavy door of the library, it was teetering on the cusp of fall and winter and all four boys snuggled into their thin jackets; they never could dress for the weather.

You had to go too; your psychology class was beginning in twenty minutes and you were already running a bit late since you were admiring the cryptic boy whose name you still hadn’t gleaned. As you stood up and adjusted your necklace that you had flipped over your neck, you saw his own psychology book--more torn and loved than your own--tucked away under the table, sitting on the empty chair next to where he had been sitting.

You took it and weighed your options: you could attempt to find him and end up lost, with the very expensive textbook of a complete stranger--or you could find him, by some odd bout of coincidence or fate, and brush fingertips with him, then never speak to him again, most likely. Neither of those options were favorable, but by the scarlet blush that you had never seen him without, you reckoned he was an anxious person, and was probably already deliberating about where he could have possibly left his book. You tucked it under your arm and sighed, fixing your hair in the glare of a window that sat next to the entrance, the window pane covered in coffee rings and devoid of any paint.

You understood why the group of guys had shivered so severely when they opened the door; a drafty gust of wind made your breath become choked, shoved down your throat. But you saw his messy head of curls being blown about in the wind, the cold air reddening the tip of his nose as the foursome leaned against the side of a pub, a long-haired brunette cupping his hands around Roger’s cigarette to light it despite the wind’s vindictive attempts to keep it unlit. The other two men hugged their arms to their bodies and huddled into each other, chatting annoyedly, pulling open the door when passersby wanted to enter, in an attempt to feel the drafty heat. You quickly crossed the street, holding your coat over your body and his textbook over your chest as your bag thumped against your thighs.

“Hey!” You waved as you reached the edge of the sidewalk, where rain was sloshing in a deep divot in the street, a makeshift bay. Your boots kept your feet from getting wet, but the bottoms of your jeans were soaked and cold against your ankles as you held the book in front of you. “You--you left this on your seat.” You reached forward, watching Brian’s eyes light up as his arm extended towards yours. But your heel caught on the edge of the pavement, making you fall forward as a car weaved past you, soaking your jeans completely with rain that had to be just on the cusp of freezing. Your sweater, chunky and cable knit, did nothing to barricade the water from seeping through, and you stood up quickly, your hair stuck to your shoulders as Brian took the book that had somehow avoided the majority of the splash.

“Shit! Are you okay?” The black-haired one took your hand, helping you stabilize your balance. You attempted to rub some mud off of your knees, but it just worsened the stain, so you gave up, huffing as you checked your watch--which you realized wasn’t on your wrist.

“Fuck! What time is it?” You were already running late, and your professor for your literature class already had an odd vendetta against you.

“Ten ‘til one.” The longer-haired, lighter brunette said, giving you tight-lipped smile and offered to hold your wet coat.

“Shit.” You would be late even if you weren’t completely and utterly unpresentable.

Brian was monumentally guilty; it was, technically, his fault that you were in this predicament. If he hadn’t been so stupid and remembered to pick his book back up, you wouldn’t be in front of him, soaked to the bone and distraught, one side of your hair frizzed from humidity, the other side slicked down by a curtain of water.

“Do you have class soon?” Brian touched your shoulder apprehensively, but his grip was still strong as he tucked you under his arm and helped you walk under the awning outside of the pub.

“Yeah.” Your face was burning at the close proximity; his face was a few inches away from your own, squished near the wall so the door wouldn’t hit you two. You felt sweaty; cold yet burning to the touch. He braced a hand against the exposed brick of the building pushing closer to you as a couple brushed past, trying to get into the bar.

“Oh--I’m sorry.” He turned around so his back was against the wall and he was standing next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get so--close.” He scratched the back of his neck. “What class do you have? Maybe we can still make it?”

“Renaissance Lit. It’s in about twenty minutes, so I doubt we can make it.” You lowered your eyes to meet his, noticing how they were sparkling, honey specks alternated with the faintest greens that made it impossible to look away. His hair blew over his face as he faced you; his hands large and delicate, gesturing down the block but you couldn’t focus on his words.

“Professor Thompson?” He inquired, wiping his nose discreetly with his rolled-up sleeve. “We better get moving then, he’s quite the stickler.” Brian turned away from you and then quickly pivoted back, holding his hand out towards yours. “I’m Brian, by the way.” He smiled easily, his lips a bitten peach color as his teeth tugged at the skin.

“Y/N.” You clasped your hand in his, which was much bigger, and much warmer than yours--which might have been why your touch lingered, your pinky rubbing against his own, adorned with a silver ring. “We?” You inquired, letting go of Brian’s hand, which was heavy but comfortable to hold.

“You have to get changed--I mean--I was going to offer you some of my clothes from my flat--” He spat out quickly, averting his gaze to his feet as Roger stomped his cigarette out with the toe of his boot. “If that’s not too much. Or too soon. Forget I asked?” It was charming how shy he was; you liked how his eyebrows made him look so tentative and innocent; and you liked even more how his personality mirrored the same thing--pure intentions.

“Are you sure?” You asked. “That would be great, I mean my flat is a ways away. If you’re not too busy or anything.” You stumbled over your words, your hands finding his wrists and running a thumb over the protruding knob of the bone there.

Brian stiffened, then grinned lazily. “Oh, don’t worry about it--I kinda owe you one since--”

Roger cut him off, his hands gesturing wildly, his pack of cigarettes clasped tightly in a calloused hand. “Brian. EMI records. Two o’clock.” He shoved the pack into his jacket pocket and shivered dramatically, his fingertips pressing white prints over the darkened skin of his shoulders.

“I promise I’ll meet you there. I’ll run and everything, Roger. Don’t even worry about it.” Brian stepped forward and clasped his hands down onto Roger’s shoulders, pushing his hair back, away from his forehead.

“Brian, if you’re late I’ll fucking kill you!” Roger yelled after him, his middle finger held up prominently and uncaringly as a group of miserable schoolchildren passed, their fur-lined hoods pulled snug over their heads.

“EMI records?” You began to walk faster, trying to keep up with Brian’s massive strides. His jaw was tensed as he looked at the checkerboard of taxis that were lined, parked along the streets.

“Yeah--” He looked down at you, slowing down a bit as he guiltily realized you were struggling to keep up. “Those guys and I are in a band. Just record deal drama. Trying to get signed before the end of the year is proving to be very difficult--and time-consuming.” He chuckled and looked at his feet, covered in white clogs, the heels only adding to his already massive height. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready to give up university, you know?” Brian didn’t know why he was dumping his inner drama to you--a beautiful girl who he had met mere minutes before--but it felt as natural as the blush that was seeping over him whenever he looked at your face.

“I mean, tell me about your band; is it something you’d want to pursue?” You didn’t want to pry, but he seemed comfortable with talking to you. Plus, you were on your way to his flat, so it felt necessary to break the ice a bit. Brian and you turned the corner, and he pulled you close to him as he saw a teenage couple walking towards you, a dazed look in their eyes which were focused anywhere but the sidewalk ahead of them.

“Sorry if that was too close--didn’t want you to run into them.” He ducked his head under an oddly low balcony, his hand ghosting over the small of your back. You noticed him pulling his arm away, his fist hovering over your body as if he were forcing it away but a magnet was stabilizing it there, confused.

“You’re fine, Brian. No need to apologize. Tell me about your band; I’m curious.” You stepped over a puddle and looked up at him.

“Oh--I--I guess I don’t know where to start.” He reached the glass door of his apartment building, ushering you inside. He pulled his hood down and shook some water from his hair, smiling at you as he strode towards the elevator, which looked crooked and unsafe. He must have sensed your fear, as he huffed and leaned against the wall as he pressed the button for his floor. “It looks a lot more intimidating than it is. Trust me, I know it looks sketchy; it took months for Roger and Freddie to convince me to use it.” A dull ding sounded, and the doors opened, two young boys stepping out, giving you a questioning look. “She’s a new friend.” He explained, gesturing to you as you stepped inside the lift. Brian was severely blushing now; his neck was painted scarlet.

“Brian, it was about time you got a friend.” One of the boys commented, chewing loudly on a stale piece of peppermint gum.

“For real! I thought guitarists were supposed to get all the p--” The other began, but Brian stopped him nervously.

“Okay! Watch the language! Go play your rugby or something.” He shooed them away playfully as the doors closed. You smiled to yourself, assessing the mud caked into your jeans, your soaked boots and your shirt which was seemingly more water than fabric. Your hair was matted and tangled but Brian still couldn’t meet your eye for more than a few seconds before his nerves fizzled and bubbled to the point that he couldn’t possibly look anymore.

“So you’re the guitarist?” You continued. Of course, it made sense; he just had that feeling about him. His calloused fingers, long and agile and bony, painted white were a sort of symbol.

“Yes, I am. The blond, Roger, is our drummer. Freddie is the singer, he’s the quite flamboyant one; and Deaky--John--is the bassist. His last name is Deacon if you wondered where the name came from.” He spoke quickly, and it seemed like he wanted the attention off of himself as much as possible.

But you wanted more. “How long have you been playing?” You watched Brian’s fingers fumble with his keys; he had a keychain of a guitar and a globe on the keyring, and the faint sound of the plastic and metal clinking together permeated the empty corridor.

He entered the key and turned, letting you in first. The floor was scattered with velvet shirts and satin pants and vice versa; socks piled around a laundry basket that remained empty despite the mess of dirty clothes. “Jesus Christ,” He bent down, frantically pushing the clothes into his arms and throwing them into the broken basket. “Roger is the messiest person I swear--”

“Oh, it’s fine.” You traced your finger along the marble of his counter before sitting down on a red leather stool sat nearby. “Can’t say mine is much better with so much going on.”

He nodded, looking up from the stained button-up he was inspecting. “And I’ve been playing for--” He paused. “Over fifteen years I’d say. Not sure quite exactly when I started, but music has always been an escape.” He held the laundry basket to his hip, leading you to his bedroom in the corner of the flat. “It’s just so hard to choose music when it’s so scary. Who knows if we’ll ever be anything but a group of English boys trying to be rockstars?” He set the basket in the doorway of what you assumed to be Roger’s room, before he opened the door to his own room. His was neat and tidy, save for some trousers scattered about the wooden floor. An orderly stack of school books sat at the edge of his desk, and he added his forgotten psychology book to the collection, slumping his shoulders so his school bag slid from his body.

You slumped down on his bed, sighing. “Can I take off my shoes?” You pointed to your soaked boots and he nodded, pushing open the doors of his closet. You noticed a cherry-wooden guitar leaning against his desk, the leather strap swinging from the air escaping from the vents. “I don’t know you much, but I’d say go for it.”

He sat down on the bed next to you, his knee touching your own. He extended a ringed pinky towards you and rose a dark eyebrow. “I promise I will, then.”

__

December 1972

“This is my friend, Brian.” You gestured to the lanky boy to your left, who waved awkwardly to your two friends, his hand gripping the neck of his guitar. Beads of sweat poured down the front of his face and over his nose. His lips were bitten from bouts of severe concentration onstage, and his pupils were dilated, his breaths labored and heavy in his throbbing chest.

Queen had scored a major gig at the Marquee Club in London--a nightclub that would allow them to perform to more than a group of sleazy drunks and their bartenders. It had taken some convincing, but you had gotten permission from Brian to invite some of your friends--his peers--to the venue. His lip was truly bitten purple and bloody from the anxiety simmering throughout his body; his hands trembled uncontrollably over the fretboard for the entirety of the concert. But to you--and the rest of the crowd--Brian looked at ease, in his element; it felt right for these few dozen strangers to label the mysterious Brian May as a guitarist--a shy, tall, incredibly handsome guitarist who was stumbling over his carefully chosen words. His eyes were able to follow your own much longer now; within the couple of months you two had known each other, quiet study sessions with amateur conversations had mutated into quasi-cuddling on his couch, resting your head in Brian’s lap as he dropped salted popcorn into your awaiting mouth.

It was you who he felt most comfortable with, which was why Brian pulled you into him by your waist as he mingled with little-known peers; nameless friends-of-friends who held lagers in their hands as they complimented Brian’s band. That was the girls mostly; the guys gifted Brian with backhanded compliments while they glared at his painted fingernails and the glittery makeup you had swiped over his puffy eyelids hours before.

“You taught yourself the guitar?” A random girl asked flirtatiously as she twirled an artificial blond curl around her finger.

Brian scratched the back of his neck as he lifted his half-drunk beer to his lips. His arm tightened around your waist; you were like a security blanket to him in unwanted social situations. “Yeah--more or less. My dad helped me get started but I guess--I just got really into it.”

She nodded enthusiastically, leaning into Brian as he set his drink down carefully on a cardboard coaster. “I can tell you’re into it--” She batted her eyes and looked at her hands coyly, stirring her mixed drink. “You’re so focused when you’re playing.”

You felt your face growing hot as Brian’s fingers played with the loops on your jeans, his thumbs fingering the denim fabric nervously. You felt jealous, even though you and Brian were nothing more than friends--close friends. You pushed Brian’s hair back from his forehead and plucked a fallen eyelash from his upper cheek as the girl continued to talk. Before leaning back to your original position, you whispered into Brian’s ear: “Christ, she can’t take a hint.”

He swatted your knee playfully and grinned at you widely, his teeth a brighter white than usual. “God, I know.” He mouthed, taking another swig of his beer.

A shorter guy, who was a bit chubby with side swept dirty blond hair came up to the girl and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, whispering a secret of his own into her reddened ears. You and Brian assumed he was her boyfriend by the guilty look that adorned her features as she met eyes with him. “What’s up with the painted nails?” He gestured to Brian’s hand, which grasped his drink loosely.

“Wha’ do you mean?” Brian slurred; he had a few drinks in him and you could tell he was getting tipsy by the way his eyes were hooded over, his mouth tangled into a relaxed smile.

“It’s a bit--nevermind.” He pushed his girlfriend’s hair behind her shoulders, his arms hugged over her chest.

“A bit?” Brian urged, his thumbs digging into your hips. It was weird--seeing him angry. You’d known him for only a few months, but were surprised you’d never really seen him lose his temper--not when a taxi cut him off while he was driving, or when Roger had ruined a good amount of his clothes in the wash. He always heaved out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms--then let it go. But by the harsh grip he had on you, the tensing of his jaw as he rolled his darkened chocolate eyes--you could tell he was pissed. “A bit what?”

The guy smirked, realizing he had drawn a reaction from Brian. “Gay? Girly? Weird? Want me to continue?” His girlfriend tilted her head back and looked at him, disapprovingly.

“I don’t see anything wrong with being any of those things.” He tilted his head back and swigged the rest of his drink, slamming the glass down onto the mahogany bar. “Have a nice night.” He smiled tightly, pulling you flush into his side. “What a fucking dick.” He sneered, grabbing his guitar from backstage. He gave Deaky a small wave and gestured to you; John nodded, setting his drink down to give you both a double thumbs-up.

“Are you okay, Brian?” You brushed some hair over his collarbones and he nodded, biting his lip as he slipped your coat over your shoulders.

“Yeah--just pissed.” He opened the heavy door and braced himself for the cold, zipping his coat up entirely to cover his numbed nose and cheeks. “Hold on! Stop, missy.” He held his hand out and pushed a hand down on your shoulder, making you stop in your tracks. “Let me zip you up.” He bent his knees a smidge to reach you and pulled your zipper up quickly. You saw his eyes crinkle, fine patches of skin folding like thin paper as he smiled genuinely, drunkenness evident in his eyes and his sunken stature.

“I’m starving.” You commented, watching his eyebrows furrow; it was impossible to understand you with your mouth firmly covered by layers of thick wools and fleeces.

“Hmm?” He turned the corner with you, his guitar thumping against his leg as he strolled down the streets with you, his head turned perpetually to watch your eyes, fleeting over his face. You watched each other reciprocally like mirror images of one another; consistent, never missing a beat.

Yanking the covering over your mouth, you repeated yourself. “I’m hungry. Aren’t you? I swear I’ve never seen you eat that much you’re like a little birdy. Or maybe a robot. Is that why you’re so good at the guitar--and everything?” You teased him, holding onto his free arm tightly.

“You caught me, Y/N. Damn; how will I ever keep this secret?” He widened his eyes and tightened his grip on his guitar as his fingers began to slip, somehow sheathed in sweat despite the rest of his body shielded with goosebumps, his teeth softly chattering. “You’re hungry?” He asked in a robotic voice, poking your sides almost mechanically. “I can whip up something for you. I’d take you out but--” He gestured to himself. “I’m positively broke. Oh shit.”

You laughed at the random turns in his talking, the way his body leaned to one side, weighed down dramatically by his guitar, hung over his willowy arm. “What’s the problem, Bri?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and stopped at a fork in the sidewalk; the left would take you to his flat, the right to yours. “Gig night.”

“Oh, right. Shit, I still can’t believe it’s every damn time.” You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets. “You’d think he’d get tired of meaningless sex at some point.”

“Right?” Brian tilted his head back dramatically. “I’ve been convincing him for awhile that what he’s doing is not normal. And he’s so--loud.” He shuddered as you approached your apartment building; it was in a nicer part of London, but it was a little smaller and more remote, which Brian favored astronomically. There were many days that he forgot your flat wasn’t really his home, but just a temporary abode where he’d rather be than there. He slept at your flat more often than not; you had offered to make him a bed on the couch after seeing his bloodshot, sleepy eyes and wide yawns many mornings as he strolled into the library to study with you. But he would never admit to you how he’d over exaggerated Roger’s shagging statistics; he had once stayed an entire week and then some at your flat, telling you Roger had met a girl he had “real chemistry” with. But of course that wasn’t true. And Brian felt bad about it, but not that bad; he enjoyed making you toast in the mornings and brushing your teeth together over your porcelain sink, your hair messy from deep, comfortable sleep.

“Maybe you’re both robots--but he’s just programmed to be ultra-flirty and fuck random girls and annoy the shit out of you.” You joked, pulling your keys from your pocket. Your landlord gave Brian a familiar nod as you both walked in, stomping packed snow off the bottom of your shoes.

“Wouldn’t even be surprised if he were a robot. Sometimes that boy has no emotions. He’s ruthless with some of those girls!” Brian held the door open for an older couple as you ran to the stairwell. “I bet I’ll beat you on the lift.” He hovered his thumb over the button, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“I bet you wouldn’t. That thing has no business being called a lift.” You opened the door to the stairs, counting down from three before you both frantically tried to outrun the other--although all Brian could do was cross his fingers and shake his leg and pray. You won of course, panting heavily as you stood in front of the opening elevator doors, which Brian stumbled out of, almost tripping over his feet as he held a finger up at you.

“Two seconds.” He said. “I basically won.”

“Two? That was at least four. Maybe five.”

“Don’t be hyperbolic.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as you opened your door. “We’ll call it a tie.”

“I can leave you out here to sleep on my rug, you know that right?” You pointed to the shaggy rug at your door, small and covered in scuffs from your shoes.

“Who would make you world-famous toast in the morning?” He walked in behind you, shrugging his coat off lazily. “Couldn’t be you.”

“What’s special about putting pre-sliced bread into a toaster?” You mirrored his actions.

“It’s all in the techniques!” He gave you jazz hands, kicking his shoes off, watching them tumble on their sides as yours did too.

The next morning, Brian awoke twenty minutes before you did. His legs hung over the end of your tattered leather couch, his back sticky from sweat as he shook his arms to gain his sacred circulation back. He wiggled his fingers and pulled his favorite blanket of yours from his body; it was an ivory fleece blanket that was impossibly soft against his skin and smelled like you, and only you. Stretching his arms, he stood up and padded to the kitchen, cursing silently as he almost dropped your toaster, stored in a lower cabinet near the floor. He toasted some bread for you and added strawberry jam carefully, spreading it as evenly as possible with a concentration only akin to the type he had while playing guitar.

“G’morning.” You rubbed your eyes in attempts to adjust to the harsh overhead lights in the kitchen.

“For your troubles.” He slid you the plate with the toast on it, leaning on his elbows as he awaited your feedback.

You smiled almost timidly, taking a bite of the toast as Brian leaned forward, watching your reaction intently. Nodding, you pointed to the carefully made breakfast, one that Brian was embarrassed to admit took him almost twenty minutes to get just right. “How do you do that? It’s so good!”

“What did I say, Y/N?” He stole the piece from you, taking a bite large enough to transfer globs of jam onto his cheeks, peppered with fallen crumbs. His hair fell over his face, his eyes sleepy and crinkled as his cheeks lifted in the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

January 1973

Brian stumbled into the library just three and a half minutes after he had promised he would meet you, but he felt guilty enough to shrug his shoulders at you, mouthing a pouty “sorry” to you from across the room, shaking the freshly fallen snow from his shoes. He rubbed his hands together hastily as he walked towards where you were sitting, in a corner table, guarded by bookshelves on either side. It was early enough that the usual crowd of overworked, overstressed students was still asleep, or using the early hour as an excuse to put off their studying, for now.

“Sorry I’m late--” Brian set his bag on the table pulling the zippers down. He shoved his nimble fingers through his messy, unwashed locks. “Shit. I forgot my psychology book.”

“You mean the book for the one test we got together to study for?” You held a finger up, pulling the book in question from your bag, his favorite pen shoved in the middle as a makeshift bookmark. He began to talk, but you answered his impending question. “You left it at my place last night. And what did I tell you?” You scolded, withholding the book from him, eyebrows raised.

“I know! I should have put it back in my bag. Truly a mistake. I would say it won’t happen again but we know how forgetful I am.” He scooted his chair closer to your own and opened his book, licking the tip of his finger swiftly before turning to the page you were on.

“Oh, I know. I still don’t know how you forgot your underwear there last week.” You shoved his shoulder and he choked on his coffee, clasping a hand tightly upon his throat, the deep burning of the hot syrupy concoction making his eyes close tightly.

“Fuck.” He coughed loudly, embarrassed. “I did?”

“Somehow.” You looked at him through your eyelashes, admiring the smallest dimple, creviced in his cheeks, a cradle for his most beautiful, most genuine smiles.

Brian watched your lips move, your tone assured as you traced your pencil over the words you read aloud to him. He watched you bite the skin of your bottom lip as your expression grew more questioning, your eyes searching into his for an answer. He realized he spaced out for a minute. “Come again? I’m sorry. I’m—I can’t believe I forgot my underwear at your flat.”

“I washed them for you.” You turned the page, relishing in the way he reddened at your words, his eyes averting to concentrate falsely on the material in front of him. In all honesty, both of you were more than prepared for the exam coming up; you and Brian studied excessively just to spend the time together—your pinkies touching apprehensively as you turned pages and shared banter with each other.  

“That makes it worse.” Brian answered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled his lip between his teeth, running a thumb over his protruding collarbones.

“You don’t want me touching your underwear?” You kicked his foot from under the table and he reciprocated, stepping on your boot slightly as his shoulder bumped into yours.

“Not in that—not really. Not when it’s like that.” Shaking his head, he offered you some of his coffee, which you drank gingerly, savoring the bitter taste of an unsweetened latte and something so specifically Brian.

You slammed your book shut, sighing as you made eye contact with an influx of students rushing into the ambient warmth of the library. “Wanna get out of here? I can’t study this for another second.” You traced the raised orange letters on the cover, glossy and smooth against your fingers.

“Thank God.” Brian nodded and closed his own book too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more confident about a test in my life.”

“Okay, we get it. You’re smart. Don’t have to rub it in.” You grabbed his latte from his hands and took a swig as Brian shoved miscellaneous papers into his leather bag.

“Oh shut up.” He slung it over his shoulder, checking his watch quickly. Still watching the tiny metal extensions ticking away against his wrist, he sighed. “My classes are all pretty easy this semester. Since I’ll probably drop out.”

“What?” You grabbed his wrist as he stood up, his chair harshly screeching against the floor. “What do you mean you’re dropping out?”

“I mean—“

“You got it? Brian, you got it?!” You ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek; it was the first time you had ever given him a kiss of any sort but it felt natural in the situation, and Brian’s beaming glow of a smile told you he didn’t mind the gesture, no matter how affectionate it was for two close friends.

“We got it. We’re gonna have our first record out in the summer.” He fiddled with the rings on his hands, rolling them with his thumb as his arm slung around your shoulder.

“Brian—I’m so proud of you!” You felt an overwhelming pride that flushed over your face and lifted your cheeks as you watched a smile choked in his throat bubble, overflow upon his face in a sweet grin, his as eyes easygoing as the boy himself.

“I just—my parents are gonna be livid.” Brian linked his pinky with yours; both of your hands held onto his, his arm still draped over your shoulder. And it didn’t seem odd to look so longingly into each other’s eyes, lost in the sea of honey that had hypnotized you and induced you in a permanent state of hope that maybe, maybe he felt how you two were inching closer and closer to a plateau—one that teetered over friendship and into something so much more.

February 1973

“Brian, it seems like we haven’t seen you in ages; what’s new with you?” Freddie hoisted himself onto the counter in Brian and Roger’s shared apartment, his legs swinging against the hollow column that supported the sturdy tabletop.

Deaky swung the refrigerator open, squinting to focus his sleepy eyes on the food inside that was definitely there past expiration. His hair was strewn about his head in every direction— except for down. “Ever since you got your little lady you’ve ditched us completely.”

“Yeah.” Roger agreed, shoving open a drawer as Brian reached into a taller cupboard in search of a clean plate. The knobby handle of the drawer pushed into Brian’s stomach and he winced, pushing Roger out of the way some. “You’re whipped by that little girlfriend of yours.”

“Y/N?” Brian set the last clean plate down, cringing at the hollow scraping of porcelain against the raw table. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He watched as Deaky cranked the heat of the stove up in utter concentration. “Don’t turn the heat up all the way—“

“Who cares, Brian? Very funny, “she’s not my girlfriend” “ Roger mocked Brian’s bashful tone, batting his eyelashes as he pouted bodaciously. “Is she a good shag? I can’t believe you’re finally getting laid!”

Brian took a bite of his toast, jutting his chin forward so his plate caught the shower of crumbs that fell. “Well the thing is, Roger—is that she is not my girlfriend. So I wouldn’t know.”

“So—let me get this straightened out.” Freddie held a finger up, his voice squeaky from a rather rambunctious concert a few nights before. “You’ve stayed at her flat for weeks on end, basically, and haven’t—done anything? Nothing?”

“Not a kiss? Maybe a cheeky touch?” Deaky added, setting a questionable carton of eggs next to Freddie.

“What do you do?” Roger looked a convincing fusion of disgusted and disappointed.

“Hang out. Talk. Study.. I don’t understand the big deal.” Brian rubbed his eyes and finished off his toast, focusing his attention on washing the sticky jam from the side of his plate. He felt belittled and stupid, his hands engulfed in scalding water, the metal rings only conducting the heat so it seeped and manifested over his skin, prickling like the tears stinging his eyes. There was something about that raspberry residue caked onto his plate that reminded him of you—your lipstick, your shared breakfasts and coffees snuck into the corner of the library on Saturday mornings, your books almost like a shield to barricade how obvious it was you two were in love—an excuse to stay in each other’s presence, so close together for so many hours.

“You’re in deep.” Roger commented, his tone almost worried. “You love her, don’t you?”

Freddie gasped dramatically, jumping down from the counter. Brian remained silent, scrubbing his plate with perfect deliberation, in attempts to ignore something he had known since fall. Freddie squeezed Brian’s shoulder, pulling a pronounced curl among a mass of loose waves. “Earth to Brian.” He waved a hand in front of his sullen face. “Blink once for yes, twice for no. Are you in love with Y/N?”

“I’ve never been in love. I don’t know what it feels like.” Brian thought that was a good principle for avoidance, and he finally gave up cleaning his plate; his hands were rubbed raw, a fleshy red from the steaming water.

“You know, Brian.” Deaky comforted, much gentler than the other two men. “You know when you are.”

“I guess I am. I don’t know--maybe.” He slumped against the counter, opting to sit on the ground to assess this seemingly otherworldly situation. He’d never been in love, never had the hopes of being in a relationship. He’d spent his high school and adolescent years convincing himself he was bound to bigger things than girls and love and marriage and children; he told himself he didn’t want it. But the hopeless romantic in him feathered into everything he did; he daydreamed about meeting his love in aisles of the run-down grocery store he went to in west London. He dreamt about writing ballads for her and humming tunes in her ear while the two of them slow danced, hand-in-hand, beneath a sliver of the silver moon.

“Why are you sad about it? Is she with someone--I don’t get it.” Roger glanced over at Freddie, who shrugged unknowingly.

“I don’t think she feels the same way--I don’t know. I just know my luck with love; I doubt it will be different this time around.”

Roger shook his head and dug his pointer finger into Brian’s bony sternum where a layered necklace sat, cold against the skin. “No. We’re not doing this self-pity shit, Brian. What did I say a while back? You’re attractive, Brian. You’re a lot sweeter to girls than I am. You’re smart. Girls dig that shit. That’s the thing--you’re the long-term type. I’m the short-term type. And I’m fine with that. You need to be fine with yourself because you’ll never get a girl if you’re sulking around believing you can’t do it.”

“Wow!” Freddie clasped a hand over his chest. “I’ve never heard you be so..sweet, Roger.”

Deaky agreed silently, and Brian tilted his head back against the counter, listening to the pipes of the sink rattle and cry and squeak and he wished he were somewhere else entirely, a molecule of water spilling into trillions of others that looked exactly the same so he could just disappear, and conform.

March 1973

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Brian deliberated over his physics book, reading the same poorly-worded, contradictory sentence over and over. “None of this really makes any sense. When did I become stupid?” He hung his head and pushed his book away, crossing his arms over his chest which was only barely covered by an ivory button-up. Ever since Queen was signed to EMI, you--among many other girls--had noticed Brian’s confidence blooming and growing almost exponentially. The reserved boy in the back of the lecture hall who hid himself in oversized jumpers now wore his shirt only halfway on, and tight pants that only emphasized the lank of his slim legs. His hair was messier, but it only added to his charm, like the three golden necklaces layered upon his collarbones. His timidness and isolation from the university life had once deemed him weird and awkward--but now he was just mysterious, sexy even.  You had caught many girls ogling at him from across the library, biting their cherry lips and blushing when Brian met their yearning gaze.

“Why are you even studying? You’re dropping out after this semester.” You asked, genuinely unable to see the point. You watched the muscles in Brian’s forearm ripple as he scribbled notes into a lab notebook.

“Exactly.” He added. “After this semester. I still have a ways to go. Fuck, this makes no sense though; maybe I’ll save myself the trouble and drop out now.”

You scoffed. “And leave me alone to fend for myself for the rest of the semester? Disgusting and shameful.” You said, facetiously.

“Leave you?” He scrunched his eyebrows together. “I’d never. I’m too far gone now.”

His tone was quieter: anxious and apprehensive; his hands played with the charms laid upon his collarbones. There was an obvious shift as soon as you noticed Brian’s adams apple bobbing, his hand hovering over your own as he leaned forward, his breath warm and minty, ghosting over your lips, taunting you. You admired the faint freckling of his aquiline nose, pointed and angular and beautifully masculine. His plump bottom lip, protruding and so fucking kissable.

“Too far gone? What is that supposed to mean?” You scooted forward, running your thumb over his necklace. Brian stiffened, savoring the rarity that was having your hands on his body, no matter how indirectly, no matter that it meant nothing--seemingly.

“You’re always going to be a part of my life--I hope.” His eyes flitted upwards, watching your reaction. Your lips parted as you rested an arm over his shoulder, running your fingers down the expanse of the nape of his neck. He sighed contentedly, his hand finding your knee, tracing arbitrary shapes upon the bump, covered by your jeans.

“I could say the same.” You wanted to say more--so much more--but you didn’t know what this was, where this was going. You didn’t know what was too much, what he wanted to hear, what would hurt him or lead him on. It didn’t take long for you to label what you felt for Brian--your supposed “friend”--as love. Because it was truly impossible to be around him--his stupid grins and corny jokes and wild intelligence and everything about him--without wanting to see and hear and talk to him forever and ever. You had spent weeks on end together, sleeping with a paper-thin wall between you, but one that felt thick and impervious and massively giant--a barrier between you that was physical and tangible. But you’d both felt an emotional barrier separating the both of you for months. How Brian had begun to stay over less frequently although you knew Brian was playing more gigs. But you didn’t attend all of them like you used to, because seeing Brian onstage and in his element and completely himself--you couldn’t help but become more enamored by him with each passing lick of his guitar. And seeing the gaggle of groupies try and take him home was making you unyieldingly jealous.

“I lo--” Brian began to speak, but you barely heard him over the desperate pounding of your heart, and a younger peer batting her eyes at Brian, asking him if he was using the chair next to him.

The tension was arresting, a rubber band hooked over your finger and his own, stretched to the brink of snapping--and it would surely hurt one of you--but then, maybe it wouldn’t. You hoped it wouldn’t.

April 1973

Brian sat, hunched over a rather thick packet of papers full of graphics, pictures and equations for velocity and all sorts of things he knew he should have memorized by now--but his mind had no hierarchy now. He used to put school at the forefront of everything; he spent weeks revising for physics tests, convincing himself through something akin to self-torture that if he spent enough time studying and mastering he would soon learn to find passion in it. And he did have a passion for science--but it wasn’t as raw, as all-defining as his love for music. He had gradually lost interest in his studies as Queen picked up venues and fans and groupies--and now he had spent the past few weeks of the semester daydreaming. About performing, recording, growing famous. But mostly, they involved you. Performing with you in the front row, recording songs about you, coming home to you after a long and strenuous tour. It was all he thought about--dreams. Mere possibilities that you and him could be together--but just maybe. Just possibly.

He was wearing a pinstripe suit, one that elongated his body, his legs specifically. Silver necklaces hung loosely from his deeply tanned neck as he leaned forward, the eraser of his dull pencil salty against his lips. His hair was messy from hours of touching and playing with the tendrils of curls falling over his face. He had a photoshoot--the first real Queen photoshoot--right after his physics exam, and Roger convinced him to wear the suit to class. And while he admitted to becoming more daring with his attire as you grew his once minimal confidence, wearing a full on striped suit to an exam felt excessive.

“Well first of all,” Roger spooned some cereal into his mouth, cringing at its staleness he had hoped the milk would have subdued. “You’re gonna be late if you’re not dressed for it during the exam. So you have to wear it anyway. Might as well have fun with it!”

“I don’t--” Brian began.

“But! Also,” Freddie widened his eyes, sipping some chamomile tea, supposedly to calm his nerves. “We three were talking… and it’s time.” He paused dramatically, and then continued, sensing Brian’s uneasiness. “--To tell Y/N how you feel.”

“You still haven’t told her about the tour, have you?” Roger almost scolded him, and brian shook his head timidly.

“No. But I haven’t seen her much lately. We’re both so busy--with exams.” Brian explained.

“You always study for exams together though.” Deaky said. Of course, Brian had dwelled over the fact that he and you hadn’t really hung out or studied or had a sleepover in weeks on end. Your calls had gotten briefer, confessions simmering at the tip of your tongues. Opening your mouths would only release everything you both were thinking, and it just never felt like the right time.

“I know.”

So sitting, squished uncomfortably into his tiny desk in the back corner of the lecture hall, Brian gave only half an attempt for the last few questions, bubbling in the first answers that seemed plausible--not that he had the slightest clue. He had decided--in the minute elapsed between finishing the test and finally turning it in--that today was the day he was going to tell you the feelings he had been suppressing since the leaves were crisp and shades of browned ochres were all that Brian’s sweet eyes could see.

Brian didn’t pay much attention during the photoshoot; he just tilted his head when the photographers said so, lifting his chin and trying his hardest not to blink. All he could imagine while he posed and tilted for the allotted two hours was your reaction; would you laugh or cry? Would you feel the same way? Or would you say you hadn’t talked to him because you were endlessly tired of boring old Brian May? Had you fallen in love with another guy? Was that why you had invited him over less and less as winter morphed into spring?

He thought and dwelled ceaselessly as he buzzed up to your flat, holding two blood red roses behind his back, careful to not prick his fingertips with the hidden thorns. It felt like a metaphor for your and his relationship--walking on eggshells around each other until you both were at the edge, just trying to avoid the pain of rejection. But Brian needed to know; the lust for love had, for once, surpassed the worry of you not loving him back.

“Who is it?” You raced to your intercom, confused.

“Me.” Brian replied. “Brian. I need to talk to you.” He ran his fingers over the glossy stems of the roses as you buzzed him up.

You heart felt choked in your throat, your nervous system overly-aroused as your fingers trembled, opening the door quicker than you ever had before. Brian stood abashedly at the door, his long fingers choked around two lone roses. You had never seen him look so handsome before; his hair was frizzy and his curls uneven; he was wearing a pinstriped suit you had only seen buried in the depths of his closet once before. His adams apple bobbed anxiously as he extended his arms, offering you the wilting flowers. His lips parted, a warm peach tone, as you took them.

“I’ve missed you.” He admitted, stepping into your flat. He loosened his tie, wiggling the uneven knot he had spent twenty minutes tying that morning. “Where have you been?”

“Here.” You answered. “Always here.”

You were wearing an oversized  t-shirt and some fleece pajama bottoms, your hair unwashed and even more untamed. You yawned into your hand and led Brian to the couch, almost feeling grand relief at finally having him back there, where you thought he belonged, with you. Brian couldn’t believe how blind he was to ever believe he wasn’t in love with you; seeing you like this--natural--was all the confirmation he needed to know he was doing the right thing.

“Come here.” You sat up on your knees, and then knelt behind him, where he sat on the couch. “What’s bothering you?” You pressed your thumbs into the aching muscles of his shoulders, loving how soft and hot his skin was. His head rolled back and he groaned, just loud enough that you could perceive it and he could be embarrassed by it.

But, he didn’t mention it. “I--” His leg started to bounce up and down and he didn’t feel control over his mind--and definitely not over his body. This was the time. This was right. “I love you.”

You stopped kneading his shoulders between your fingers, slinging your arms over his shoulders as you sat on your feet. “You--what?” You heard him--how could you not--but you wanted to hear it again, wanted to know he felt it enough to admit it twice.

“I’m in love with you. I want you.” He whispered it this time, less confident. But you tilted his head to the side, your fingertips resting against the jaw you had so often wanted to pepper with sweet kisses until he drowned in them.

“God, I feel the same way.” You stroked the thumb of your other hand over his cheekbone, admiring the structure of his face, so angelic, so perfect. “You’re so perfect.” You said it aloud this time, touching the curve of his lip. “Perfect for me. I love you too.” You pulled his face forward, molding your lips with his, sighing into the kiss, which was searing and fueled by months of restless pining and lust. His lips parted and he moaned; it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard--innocent and purely Brian. You slipped your tongue into his mouth easily, massaging his as your hands tangled into his hair, yanking at the roots softly. His arms snaked around your waist carefully, pulling you into his lap fluidly.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” He whimpered against your lips as you ran your fingers over his scalp, reveling in his desperate cries. “I need you.” He rocked his hips slowly as you grabbed his face a second time, running your tongue over his bottom lip as his hands fell over the curve of your ass, squeezing just enough for you to slip a moan into his heavy, escaped breath.

“I want to make you feel good, Brian.” You tilted his head back, looking at him through your lashes as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat, suckling on his pulse point as you realized how he writhed beneath you when you did. You were deliberate, dragging your teeth smoothly along his protruding collarbones where his necklaces laid, sucking marks into the tanned skin and moving inwards with softer kisses, until you reached where his collarbones met.

“God, it feels so good--” He whined, his hips rocking forward, enough for you to feel his hardening cock against your core. “I want more.” He pushed down on your shoulders so you were flush against his cock, rocking back and forth as you kissed down his sternum, pulling at his tie to loosen it.

“You want more?” You teased, pulling him forward by the silk around his neck. You captured his lips in another kiss, one that was more loving but impossibly desperate and longing.

He nodded as you pulled the buttons to the shirt beneath his suit jacket, unfastening them teasingly to reveal his chest, splotched with a crimson blush. You ran your hands over the ridged, prominent bones in his chest, over his ribs and his toned stomach, down to the dark patch of hair that led you straight to the button of his trousers. His cock was incredibly prominent--long and hard--against the taut fabric, and you ran your palm over it, watching his mouth fall open in disbelief at having you finally, finally touching him.

“Lie down.” You commanded, watching him hurry to oblige. He was too tall to fit his legs onto the couch, so his feet hung off, his legs spread as wide as possible on the narrow width as you knelt between them, falling forward to kiss his sternum, licking down the valleys and crevices of his chest and pressing hot kisses along the skin, before you finally reached the waistband of his pants, your breath fanning over his begging cock.

“Oh god--I’ve never--You don’t have to.” He gasped as you palmed him more; he felt pulses of precum oozing from him, wet over his pants.

“You’ve never been sucked off?” You questioned, popping open the button. Your fingers pulled his zipper down quickly. “Can I be your first? I want to. I want your cock in my mouth.” You assured him.

“Fuck--yes--only if you want.” He nodded, letting out a heavy sigh as you released his aching cock from his briefs.

Your eyes widened as you held him in your hand; he was very well endowed--thick and long and throbbing with veins along the shaft. “Jesus, Brian.” You licked your palm--both of them--and started to stroke him with both of your hands, running your fingers along the veins of his underside until you reached the tip, his hips bucking forward as you touched his most sensitive area. “You’re so big.” You scooted back on your knees, resting between his legs as your mouth ghosted over him.

“Wh--what?” He was too high on the sensation--on the anticipation-- to understand what you were saying.

“Your cock is big, Brian. Fuck.” You watched him intently as you spit over the tip, watching it pool at his slit and then dribble down the sides. Brian had never felt like this--so loved and wanted--in his entire life. And feeling your spit that was mixed with his own spilling down his shaft was making him keen for more.

“God--Fuck.” He rested on his wobbly elbows, his stomach tensing as you pressed a kiss to his tip, your hands jerking him off lazily as you watched his eyes flutter shut.

“No, Brian. I wanna see you. Watch me make you feel good.” You directed, finally sucking on his tip, hollowing your cheeks to give him suction.

“Fuuuck.” He moaned loudly, his eyes hooded and lips bitten as he watched you suck on his cock, your tongue massaging a sensitive patch of skin on the underside of his head. His fists were clasped at his sides, his nails digging into sweaty palms.

“Baby, guide my head. Let me show you how much I love you.” You licked a thick stripe up his shaft and smirked as you watched him shudder in pleasure, before your lips began to wrap around his thick cock once again, bobbing your head up and down. His fingers threaded in your hair and pushed some tendrils away from your face, intent on watching you leftover mascara stream down your face. He whimpered and writhed beneath you, his hips thrusting into your mouth lazily as spit and precum spilled from your mouth.

“Holy shit--Fuck.” He gasped, watching the mess you were making on his cock. You were humming around him as you swirled and flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty precum oozing from him. You took him as much as you possibly could down your throat, your eyes averted upwards to watch him as you gagged on his dick just slightly. His head fell back as his tip hit the back of your throat and he let out the deepest, most pornographic moan you never thought you’d hear from him. You pulled off of him, your mouth tight around him, watching strings of your spit break as you let his cock out of your mouth with a satisfying pop. Brian’s breaths were labored and heavy as you stroked his cock slowly, lubing it up with your spit.

“You dirty boy.” You spit more into your hand and massaged it into the velvety skin of his dick. “You like it sloppy, don’t you? Who would’ve thought?” You teased, moving down to suck on his tip more, your hands still jerking him off, your grip tight.

He nodded, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck--I love your mouth on my cock.”

You’d never heard him say anything suggestive, so hearing him say something so vulgar--so hot--made more wetness pool in your panties. You clasped a hand on his thigh as he began to fuck into your mouth slowly, one of his hands falling from your hair and over your hand on his leg. You dragged your tongue up his cock and rubbed his tip against your lips, watching his lips part and breathy moans escape as you did so. “So, so handsome.” You praised. “God, you’re perfect.”

He whined, so desperate that he pushed your head down just slightly--not that he didn’t feel bad about it. “Fuck, I’m so-sorry.” He gasped as your tongue swirled around him, warm and wet. “I didn’t mean to push--”

“I love you Brian--but shut up.” You continued your ministrations on his eager cock, moaning and humming around him, watching his pupils dilate and his eyes roll back as you licked and sucked his most sensitive areas, pulling him into a haze of pure euphoria.

“Oh--God. I love you so much. Fuck-I’m gonna cum..” He grabbed your hair desperately and tensed his stomach, trying to fend off his orgasm. “No--no. I wanna--I wanna be inside you. Can I please--”

You took him from your mouth and pulled him into a kiss, hot and unrelenting. This time, Brian took control, sitting up and pulling you into him so you straddled him, his lips tracing down your neck and over your collarbones--just like you did to him. He pushed your hair behind your shoulders and pressed passion-fueled kisses to your throat and upon your shoulders, thumbing the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, do whatever you want to me--” You interrupted him before he could even answer, pulling his face into yours as he lifted your shirt over your body, wrapping his arm around your waist to flip you over so he hovered on top of you.

“Oh my--God.” He admired your breasts, groping and massaging them in his hands before he kissed the sensitive skin, running his tongue over the marks he made before it swirled around your nipple, making your back arch.

“Fuck--” You tangled your hands in his hair and pushed his mouth closer to your body, gasping as his fingers pulled the drawstring of your pants downwards, before he yanked them down, pushing your underwear aside.

His fingers rubbed gently around your entrance, his thumb stroking your aching clit as he felt your wetness with the pads of his fingertips. “So pretty. I’m gonna stretch you out with my fingers, okay?”  He waited for your approval and you gave it to him, in the form of a soft nod. He sucked his middle finger into his mouth, despite how incredibly wet you were for him already. His tongue swirled around the digit and you whimpered, writhing on the couch as he delved it into your pussy, hooking it to rub against your sensitive walls.

You gripped onto his wrist as he pumped his finger and and out of your hole, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “More, Brian. Fuck I want another one.” You urged, and he rubbed your clit in soft circles, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours as he pushed his ring finger into you as well, moving them in unison, moderately fast, but slow enough so you felt yourself on the cusp of an orgasm.

“So tight, fuck you think you can take my cock?” He nibbled at your earlobe and groaned into your ear as your walls clenched at his words, so straightforward, so unlike the sweet Brian you had known before, the one who was shy about leaving his underwear at your flat, the one who made you breakfast and blushed when his hand brushed against yours. You ran your hands down his back which was still covered by his button-up, which was halfway hung off his shoulders. Hickies covered the soft skin of his collarbones and extended over his neck; his hair tickled your own neck as he kissed you deeply and forcefully. His fingers pushed deeper inside of you and you pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, dragging your nails down his back as he curled his fingers again and again.

“Give it to me, Brian. Fuck--I need you inside me.” You had never felt more needy in your life; you had been starved of a touch this passionate and lustful in your life. You’d never felt a love this profound--one that was all-consuming, the licking tendrils of a fire engulfing your body into a flaming abyss you couldn’t seem to get out of, even if you tried. But you didn’t want out; you wanted more. He quickly lined himself up with your entrance, running his tip along your pussy, from your throbbing clit to your entrance and back up again, until you were hanging onto his neck, your nails scratching down as your legs shook.

“Brian--” You arched into his touch, how his fingers danced over your stomach and over your breasts, his lips attached to your jaw so his moans tickled against the shell of your ear. He rocked himself against your bare pussy, wanton moans escaping his bruised lips as he felt himself throbbing, every ridge of him being caressed by your sensitive core. He hitched your legs over his waist, one of his arms extended, straight next to your head as he pushed his tip into you, the veins in his arm pulsing in tune with his racing heartbeat. You pulled at the curls at the base of his neck and groaned at the dull burning inside of you; he was so thick.

“Are you okay, baby? God, you’re a fucking angel.” He rested on his elbows, still inside of you.

“It--hurts.” You whined, gripping onto his shoulders desperately.

“Want me to pull out? I don’t--” He began.

“No--more. Just go slow.” You sighed and dug your nails deeper into his skin as he pushed in further. “Ohh fuck. You’re already so deep.”

Brian tilted your head so the tips of your noses were touching, colder than the rest of your bodies. He kissed the corner of your mouth and whimpered, his hips stuttering as he pushed in even further. “Fuuuck-God you’re so tight. Taking me so well, my love.” He stroked your hair and wiped a tear from your eye with his thumb.

“Fuck, Brian. Go deeper--I want you all the way.” You urged him with a small nod, his forehead sweaty against yours.

He gasped and moaned as he became sheathed inside of you completely, your walls fluttering around him tightly, without him even moving. He moaned and whined into your mouth as he began to rock his hips back, pulling out of you slightly before fucking back into you, more easily than the first time. He grunted against your neck as he left soft kisses at your sweet spot, his thumbs rubbing against your scalp as he fucked you slow and deep. “You feel so good--fuck you’re so good, taking me all the way.” He cooed into your neck, one of his hands trailing down, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in assured circles, bringing his head up to watch your eyes flutter shut as you moaned almost innocently at the sensation.

“You’re fucking me so good, Brian--God--I want your cum.” You pulled his lips to yours and bit softly at his bottom lip, stroking your tongue over his as he picked up speed, his fingers still rubbing at your clit as his other one stroked your cheek.

“You want me--to cum inside of you?” He asked, making sure. “Fuck--wanna cum so deep inside.” He whined and went even faster, angling his hips to fuck into you at a new angle.

“Oh--fuck. Come on, baby. I know you’re so close.” You pulled at his necklaces, rolling your head back as his thumb pressed harder against your clit. “Give me your cum--please.” Your eyebrows knitted together as the couch squeaked beneath you, your wanton moans echoing off the tiled floors.

“Angel--so fucking pretty. I’m so close-” He trailed kisses down your chest and sucked on your nipple, pressing an open-mouthed kiss over the bud as he began to lose his rhythm, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“My perfect boy--God, I love you. Love seeing you so desperate to cum.” You egged him on, and he wrapped the hand that was caressing your cheek around your throat, pressing gently against it, causing you to clench harshly around his cock.

“Oh my God--I’m,” His cock slipped out of you and he shoved it back into you, snapping his hips forward, his hand around your throat as his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. He came in spurts, hot and deep inside you, groaning in a way that was much more primal than before. You arched into him as you came too, coating his cock with your wetness and his own cum. “Fuck--that feels so good.” He cried as your hand grasped over the one still around your throat, gripping his fingers as you came down from your high.

He pulled out easily, catching the excess cum with his hand in a manner that was anything but graceful. You rested on your elbows as he got up to wash his hands and grab a towel, which he rubbed you down with, pressing firm kisses over your hip bones as he did.

“I love you--I don’t know what to say now, other than that.” Brian giggled, a wide grin adorning his face; his hair messier than you had ever seen it, his lips red and thoroughly kissed like his neck and collarbones.

“I love you too Brian--I can’t believe we went this long without each other.” You laughed. “God, we’re clueless.”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “I guess--good things come to those who wait?” Brian paused. “That seemed a lot more poetic in my head.”

“No need to be poetic after you just fucked me, Brian. Always the intellectual you are.” You booped his nose and pecked his lips softly, pulling your shirt off the floor as he slipped his briefs back on silently.

“I think we should be together.” Brian held a pinky out, scooping up yours with the long digit. “I don’t quite know how it’ll end up, but a pretty girl once told me to go for it.” He linked your fingers together and sealed the promise with a drowsy smile.

__

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[allysartstuff]

[Kofi] [Picarto] [Commission Info]

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Some may already know I retconned RariPants a little. Digital Art > Drawings > Movies & TV"> I didn’t include Fancy here as this whole thing was big enough already, might make a different post with just him. All the kids cutie marks are the same, just didn't want to draw them.

Rarity

Rarity’s first marriage to Fancy Pants wasn’t as smooth as she hoped. Before, they were on friendly terms and got along well. However, that all changed after a drunken night out in which Rarity became pregnant. Initially, he wanted Rarity to have an abortion descreetly and even offered her money to do so. Rarity, after long talks with her family and friends, decided she had enough emotional and financial support to raise her baby and told Fancy it was his decision if he wanted to be involved or not. Fancy decided he did want to be involved but, unbeknownst to Rarity, planned to woo her so that would marry him and not ‘live in shame’ (Fancy was older than Rarity, had some pretty old fashioned views and liked younger mares anyway). Luckily for him, his plan worked and Rarity fell pretty dang hard for his charm and gentleman ways and they married roughly a year after their first son was born, then called Chic Magnifique.

For the first few years, everything was good. Rarity moved to Canterlot where Fancy and Rarity raised Chic together and eventually decided to have another baby, Ace Dandy. But things started to gradually change. Fancy started staying out later and later, leaving Rarity to raise two very rambunctious boys on her own while working on her three shops from home. When she asked for help (like, y’know raise your fucking kids and no it’s not babysitting, dammit Fancy), his idea was to vigorously train them as perfect little elites. When Rarity saw the negative effects this had on the boys, she blew her top, resulting in many massive arguments. During this time, Rarity finally saw Fancy for who he really was and left him, returning to Ponyville with her sons.

Fleur de Lis

Many years before Rarity met Fancy, Fleur was Fancy’s secret personal bodyguard. A native of Prance and a former secret agent, she came to work for Fancy by chance. Often, Fleur would act like a typical trophy wife who would over fawn and simper over Fancy while on the lookout for anyone who could harm him. She is full capable of kicking anyone’s ass and had saved his butt on a few occasions. The pair became really good friends and the two fell in love and married. However, things began to de-escalate when Fancy wanted her to be his trophy wife for real. After only a year of marriage, Fleur noped out of that relationship and quietly moved to Ponyville, becoming a private Prench teacher while ignoring the Canterlot gossip surrounding her.

A few years later Rarity and Fleur have a chance meeting and, after getting over the awkwardness of the whole ‘holy shit, it’s my ex-husband’s ex-wife, oh fuck’ thing, they begin an understanding friendship and reguarly have tea together. They soon develop real, honest feelings for each other, especially when Fleur got on so well with Chuck and Ace. With the boys’ very eager blessing, Rarity and Fleur marry and have their own child, Opal, via Twilight’s IVF spell. Fancy was not a happy bunny when he found this out.

Chuck Lindsneigh (formerly Chic Magnifique)

A ecentric pony who doesn’t know the volume of his own voice, Chuck is passionate and anything but subtle. He loves nothing more than to go on rousing adventures, fly his plane (which he crashes a lot) and return lost/stolen artifacts to the indegious races of Equestria and beyond. He has a very strong sense of wrong and right and will not rest until it is right again. Despite having a savant-like intelligence in planes, archaeology and ancient pony societies, Chuck has difficulty understanding basic visual communication so he often fails to understand other feelings (eg, why his brother continues to keep in touch with their father) and can be easily lied to (eg, he has fallen for many a scam by Jammie Dodger). This is due to him being autistic, which wasn’t diagnosed until he was an adult, something Rarity feels terribly guilty for. May have an on/off no strings attached relationship with Orin every time he winds up in Manehatten. Hates Fancy Pants and often deliberately sends him bills to places he’s damaged by his plane crashing.

Ace Dandy

Ace lives up to his name as a hoofball superstar, the sport introduced to him by his grandfather Hondo Flanks, as a way to cope with his parent’s divorce. Although smaller than Chuck, he is easily physically stronger and incredibly fast, having both played for Ponyville and Canterlot teams. He takes his celebrity status and image very seriously, taking care of his appearance but also showing endless kindness by donating endlessly to charities and signing every autograph asked from him. As good as his intentions are, this stems from an underlying need to be perfect. His elite training from Fancy and his parents divorce resulted in severe issues. He’d sooner ram his head in a wall than get one thing wrong and little Ace blamed himself for the divorce, despite Rarity’s insistence than it wasn’t his fault. Because of this, Ace accepts his father back in his life when Fancy returns, much to Chuck’s disgust. They have an ok father son relationship but Ace stresses when Fancy makes a minor passing comment or action that something’s not to his liking. Basically, this boy is 50% muscle, 50% anxiety. Ace lives with his long-term boyfriend Bramble at Grand-Pear’s old house. The two are very sugary sweet and don’t know the meaning of PDA. But what Ace loves most about Bramble is his down to earth nature and it never fails to put him at ease (also, he has a cute butt).

Opal

Opal is Rarity’s third and final bab and Fleur’s only biological child. The youngest sib at seventeen, Opal get’s really excited at the most boring things imaginable. She looooves rocks and often believes she was born the wrong species (Opal has a deep admiration for Earth Ponies). As a child, Opal loved going with Rarity on her gem expeditions, although she was more interested in the rock around the glittering gems. She is completely obsessed with Maud Pie and Maud, a little amused and touched by Opal’s eagerness, took it upon herself to become her mentor (Opal fainted on the spot when she was told this). Opal is also autistic (diagnosed as a child and Rarity and Fleur recognised the signs), like Chuck, and will info-dump the hell out of you about rocks. She struggles with reading other’s facial expressions but otherwise is a happy wee soul. Most of the time. Opal was blessed with both her mothers’ beauty which attracted the attention of many teenage colts but they soon dumped her when they realised she would never shut up about rocks. This would plummet her confidence for a while until a meddling little Hullabaloo set her up with his mortified brother Lucky Bug. Now the two can enjoy talking about rocks, bugs and do any cute smooshy teen romance stuff to their hearts’ content.  

Extras;

Bramble does not like Fancy one bit, but Ace begs him to be nice when Fancy visits as Bram is known to saying exactly what he thinks.

Chuck loves his family (besides he-who-shall-not-be-named) and pops in every now and again, announcing his return by slamming the door open and yelling, “What-ho!”

Fleur taught all of the kids Prench which they are all fluent in (although Chuck’s accent is atrocious).

When Rarity and Fleur became engaged, Chuck and Ace asked her if they could call her ‘Maman’. She cried ugly tears of joy at that.

Chuck and Ace adore their little half sister and would probably stomp on all of her ex-boyfriends if given the chance.

Opal was born via emergency c-section. Fleur will tell anyone who would listen that her c-section scar is her favourite of all her scars.

Ace is willing to model any new line of clothes Rarity makes.

-

My Little Pony, Rarity and Flaur de Lis (c) Hasbro

Chuck Lindsneigh, Ace Dandy and Opal (c) me

[writing-for-amusement]

Commission for Confidence, 4

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Okay, so the end of this chapter is admittedly a little choppy, but if I had included more, it would have been probably unnecessarily long (especially since I’ve kinda developed a pattern for myself with length of chapters). I’m so glad that people seem to be enjoying my work!! I’m thinking of posting some other stuff sometime soon, so I don’t burnout on this story, but idk yet. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, please give me feedback, I crave it.

I feel like I should mention that I try to be as neutral with looks as possible. Even if you have darker skin, you still blush, even if it might not be visible. Hence why I often refer to it as “heat rushing to your face” or whatever, but I try to not mention how red it makes Y/N look. If anyone has advice on how to do it better, please let me know!

Also, if you want to be in the taglist, just let me know!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @scatterbrainedgenius, @jordyns-library, @wildfirecracker

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: mental illness (depression and anxiety), brief mention of deceased loved one, insecurity, lots of awkwardness, awkward “flirting” (??), Peter being a cutie pie as always

Peter helped you gather your things and waited patiently as you gave a bright thank you to the owner, Morgana. Then, he was holding the door open to you with a bright smile.

“So,” you prompted as you both started towards the subway.

“So,” he echoed, sending you a playful grin.

“We talked so much about me,” you pointed out, “so why don’t you tell me more about you? If I may be so bold, I’d like to become actual friends with you, instead of just minor acquaintances.”

Peter turned to face you, walking sideways, and was beaming so bright you thought you’d need sunglasses. “Really??? I feel the same way!”

You blushed slightly, looking at the ground for a brief moment. “I’m glad,” you admitted in a murmur.

Soon, the two of you were entering the subway, intent on getting back to Queens before the amount of people traveling got worse.

“So,” Peter began, letting you take a seat as he stood in front of you in the rather crowded car, “I’m trying to think of what medium to capture you in.”

You blinked in surprise.

“I mean, there is a raw beauty to just charcoal or regular pencil, but you are so vibrant and gorgeous, I want to do something more.”

Peter was staring out the window in thought as the heat filled your cheeks, neck, and chest. You bit your lip to try and stop the squeal or giggle of happiness from leaking out (you couldn’t tell what it would be, so you kept your mouth shut). You found yourself looking up at Peter, noticing how he himself would make a great model for any type of art.

Brown eyes suddenly looked at yours and you were thankful that the subway was coming to the next stop. It gave you an excuse to look away, his curious gaze making you feel tingles up your spine. As a tired mother entered with two small children in tow, you and another passenger quickly got up and let them take your seats.

Now, you were standing almost chest to chest with Peter Parker. You awkwardly tried to shuffle around him, so that you were standing next to him, but another passenger quickly took that spot. That left you right there, closer to Peter than you thought you’d ever get.

“Hi,” he blushed down at you.

“H-hello,” you stuttered. “So, you were saying?”

Your weak attempt at saving face actually worked, and Peter began to talk you through the pros and cons of other mediums of art. You found yourself to be incredibly intrigued by the way that Peter spoke.

He spoke so passionately that you could basically see the different aspects of each medium before your eyes. You could see brushes of acrylic paint, or the subtle blurring of watercolors, as he went into greater detail than you almost thought possible.

“Of course, photography will always hold a place in my heart, but sometimes you can’t capture the same emotions as you could with actually making the art yourself. The best part of photography, though, is when you—”

Peter was cut off as the subway car jerked and you fell into him in shock. You had never been particularly graceful, but at least this time it wasn’t your fault. You expected to knock him over; he was a fit man, but you knew you had some heft to you, especially with that violent of a jerk. Something like that would make you, or really anyone, knock over even the largest of men, you were certain of it.

To your surprise, Peter caught you easily, not even moving his feet as he was clutching you to his body. His hand was like comforting and warm candle fire on your waist, slowly heating your muscles. Beautiful brown eyes regarded you with concern.

“Are you okay, Y/N? That was quite the jerk. They’re normally not that bad.”

You nodded sheepishly, removing your hand from where it was splayed on his firm chest. You cleared your throat and took a slight step back, nearly regretting it as the warmth seeped out of your waist slowly.

“Thanks, Peter,” you smiled, albeit a little nervously. “I definitely would have fallen over if you weren’t there.”

"Well,” Peter began, smirking at you, “I can tell you that I’ll be here to catch you, anytime you need it.”

You giggled, covering your smile with your hand. “Then I hope you’re around a lot, because I’m the clumsiest person around,” you told him, realizing as soon as it left your mouth that it was incredibly flirty, at least for you.

Peter was looking at you with a look you couldn’t decipher, but his mouth was grinning. “Hey, I won’t complain about that.”

The heat rushed through your body and you looked at the floor, trying to calm your stampeding heart. Your throat felt a little dry, not expecting his response. You looked up and saw a skinny little thing staring at you with contempt, and your heart crashed to the ground.

Your brain quickly clouded over with negative thoughts. Of course, she’s staring, you’d never fit in with a guy like Peter. Look at him, he’s gorgeous and fit. And you are definitely not. She thinks you’re crazy for flirting with him. And you are crazy for flirting with him. He’d never go for a girl like you, you’re not his type.

Now wait just a minute, you interrupted the hissing whisper, how do I know what his type is? You can’t just assume someone’s type, you know.

Doesn’t matter, the hiss replied easily, anything as big and jiggly as you are is never anyone’s type. You should know that by now.

You ended up heaving a sigh, the hissing getting louder and louder in your head. It was blocking out every positive thought you’d ever had about yourself, pointing out the jiggle in your thighs, the fat of your stomach, the stretch marks that decorated your skin. It pointed out how your laugh was too loud, your smile too big, your fingers too fat, your cheeks unnecessarily full. The clouds became a storm, torrential rains freezing your body, turning your blood into the slowest river in the world.

“Hey,” a shining light of a voice broke through the storm, making you look up at Peter. “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand brushing your arm.

The tingles that his touch brought started to drop-kick the clouds from the forefront of your mind. Peter was looking at you in a way you couldn’t quite tell, but it was like he could tell you were upset about yourself, like he would tear the world to pieces to make you feel better. It made your heart crack, fighting to escape your chest and screech to the world that you were beautiful and worthy.

Because that’s how his gaze made you feel.

You suddenly brightened, the clouds on the far horizons of your mind as they always were, but they were done storming and flooding. “Yeah, Peter, I’m alright,” you told him sincerely, a small but genuine smile on your lips.

Peter’s molten brown eyes assessed you critically, making your body warm and thaw from that freezing storm. After a few more moments, and the subway car nearing your stop, Peter seemed content with your answer. He gave you the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

The car came to a stop and Peter gestured for you to get off the car. As you fought the crowd of people entering, Peter hooked his pinky in yours in order to stay together. It made your stupid heart flutter up to your throat, but you managed to swallow it back down.

The two of you broke through the crowds and Peter unhooked his pinky from yours. The loud pounding of your heart began to quiet as you and Peter made your way out of the subway; the “fresh” air of the outside (as fresh as it could get, of course) helped clear your mind a bit and you relaxed ever so slightly.

Peter started leading the way to his apartment, which was in the same direction as yours. “The place is kinda a mess,” he informed you as you walked next to him, “but it’s not too bad. Mostly just a couple of unfinished works running around.”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” you told him, stepping farther into the sidewalk as a crowd of people walking the opposite direction tried to take over the small space.

“I grew up in Queens,” Peter stated, and when you looked at him, he was scowling slightly, “but lately, all these crowds have been even more rude than usual.”

You chuckled lightly and shrugged your shoulders. “You grew up in Queens, huh? So, you were here when Spider-Man became a thing, yeah?”

If you didn’t know any better, Peter’s shoulders tensed as he waited for the streetlight to change. Then, an almost nervous chuckle flitted over to your ears.

“Yeah, I remember. I saw him swinging around in that cheap ass suit one day after school. How embarrassing for him.” Peter’s ears turned a light pink color.

You hummed in thought slightly, glancing at him as he glanced at you. “I liked that first suit, actually,” you admitted. “I mean, obviously it wasn’t as effective as his following ones, but I’ve always admired homemade creations. It was creative in its design, at least I always thought so from the YouTube videos I’d seen.”

“For real?” Peter asked as you began to cross the street.

“Yeah.”

You were surprised when Peter began to laugh, pulling you into him by your shoulders as you walked. Your heart plummeted as he appeared to laugh at you.

“I’m glad someone liked it!” Peter then said, removing his arm and grinning at you. Your heart slowly began to clamber back up to its new home in your throat. “Especially someone with such good taste as you!”

Your heart raced to your throat like a mountain goat on the hunt for the sweetest grass at the top of the mountain. With your heart came a rush of blood and warmth.

God, you really needed to get it together. You didn’t know how you were supposed to survive around such a sweet man, with such a bright personality.

Eventually, you and Peter made it to his apartment building, which was closer to the subway than your own. He kept you entertained for the short walk, regaling amusing stories from high school and college. You learned of his best friend and now roommate, Ned Leeds, rather early on in the conversation. And you learned that he absolutely adored his Aunt May.

Peter opened the door for you, and you thanked him with a dramatic bow of your upper body, your nerves tingling happily as he laughed and copied your gesture. He introduced you to the doorman (making you realize that this was a really nice building) before pressing the button to call the elevator.

“Geez, this is a nice building,” you remarked as you stepped into the elevator. “The elevator in my building has been out for like three months.”

Peter chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, well, I haven’t told you about my full-time job yet.”

“I didn’t know a building this nice existed in Queens,” you muttered to yourself, though you were exaggerating just a little.

“I work for Stark Industries,” Peter stated, making your head snap over to him. “I-I started an internship when I was in high school,” he explained nervously, shuffling his feet. “And through college, I worked there too. And now I have a full job with Mrs. Potts-Stark.”

You tilted your head in thought, thoroughly impressed. “Wow, I knew you were smart, but damn, you’re a full-blown genius!”

Peter’s blush crept up the back of his neck and he shifted again, obviously sheepish. He muttered out a shy, “Thanks,” along with a sweet smile. “The great thing about my job, is that it actually leaves a lot of time for my creative endeavors. Mrs. Potts-Stark makes sure of it, actually; she’s very big on preventing burnout.”

“Stark Industries, man, they’re prestigious! I’ve always admired Mrs. Potts-Stark,” you continued as the elevator opened and you both walked out. “She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever read about. She’s so strong, too. And not to mention Tony Stark. I always knew that he wasn’t as selfish as the media made him out to be; I once did research on Howard Stark, and honestly, Tony Stark, before and after developing weapons, makes so much psychological sense. Some people only point out his faults, like his ego or oversight. They say this like it makes him a bad man. I say that he was a great man, with his faults.”

Peter was staring at you, his jaw slightly agape, and there seemed to be tears in his eyes. Concerned, you stepped forward and tilted your head to look into his eyes.

“Peter? Are you okay?” you asked gently.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, closing his jaw. Slowly, a smile made its way to his cheeks. “I, um, I was very close with, with Mr. Stark. Sometimes, it’s hard to hear people talk about him like he was this perfect human, or like he was the worst man ever. But, just, hearing you talk about him like that? It means a lot. Y/N, it—it makes me so happy.”

Your hand twitched as you ached to wipe the happy tear from his cheek. You kept it down, instead pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to him. Peter took it from you and glanced between it and you before chuckling wetly.

“You owning a handkerchief is so on-brand,” he chuckled as he wiped his tears quickly. Quite unfairly, it almost looked like he’d never been crying at all.

You chuckled nervously and shifted your weight back and forth. “Sometimes, it makes life a lot easier.” As he tried to hand it back to you, you held up your hands and waved them a bit for added emphasis. “No, no, it’s okay. You keep it. I have… I have more at home,” you ended in a shy whisper, almost not wanting to say it aloud at all because you’d been made fun of before.

“How many?” Peter asked, no trace of malice in his voice. “Enough to be a proper damsel in distress?” This time, he grinned at you before turning to get to his apartment.

“I’m not a damsel,” you scoffed playfully. “Nor am I proper. I’m in distress at lot, but it’s mostly internal,” you chuckled. You waited behind Peter as he unlocked his apartment door (it was painted a dark red, and you quite liked it).

“I’ll have to introduce you to Pepper sometime,” Peter said as he let you inside. “I think you’d both get along really well.”

It was then that it really sunk in for you. You were about to go into the apartment of a man that you met just a few hours ago. While you were fairly certain Peter wasn’t a serial killer, you were worried about what this evening would bring. With your awkwardness, you thought it to be quite possible that the sweet and passionate Peter would kick you out.

[animekath]

A Shy Mess

Kieran Duffy X Reader

Hellooo guys, Kat is back!

This story was the commissioned by the sweet @captainalbertwesker; who inspired me to open up a commission to begin with so thank you sooo much! You deserve all the love! ^ 3 ^ If you would like to check my commissions, I will link it -Here!-

I love this boy so much, he deserves all the love and hugs for working so hard for the gang, even if it’s taking care of horses! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, cuties!

Sorry for spelling and grammar!

Words: 2604

Warning:  Spoilers, Fluff, Confession, dirty talk, Drinking, riding, creampie, caught, Poor pup

Enjoy!

Being tied to a tree was not so fun for Kieran.

The sun was beating down on him, which made his throat beg for a drink and his stomach rumble for food, but no one batted an eye when he weakly begged. Anything would have been excellent for him, even if it was mouldy bread, he didn’t care. His stomach sank when he thought...He didn’t want to die this way.

“Idiot...” He muttered.

The sun lowered, going to sleep behind the trees. Kieran’s head sank low, his legs weak to hold himself up any longer if this continues. ‘I’m done for.’ He thought in his head as he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take over soon but his stomach turned in pain. “Nnh...”

But he heard the gentlest voice ever speak.

“Here...” His head was tilted up and felt something drip on his lips...Water..! Kieran’s mouth opened to take as much water in as possible, his throat screaming for applause for the person. He let out a shaken breath as he opened his eyes, seeing two beautiful eyes shine back at him. He has seen you around camp, but you never got close enough to say hi or even see a good look at your face. Oh, you were magnificent. You were like an angel being sent down to help this pointless man. “Eat this...It’s not much, but it’s something.” You said in a hushed tone as you put the bread close to his lips for him to eat. Kieran guessed that you are doing this without anyone knowing, which worried him if you got caught.

Kieran took it like a hungry animal, letting out a groan at the rich taste. It was bland, but to him, it was like a kings meal. “Mm...Th-Thank you, Ma’am.” He said, his voice sounding hoarse. “I own you, R-Really...” You just smiled at him, his heart swelling. “Wh...What is your name..?” He asked.

“_____, _____ _____. Arthur said your name is Kieran Duffy. Well, he called you an O’driscoll first.” You said, your eyes softened.

“I’m not an O’driscoll..” He whined, slightly lowering his head. “I rode around with them for a few months, I-I mainly took care of the horses. No one believes in me.”

“...I do.” Kieran raised his head to look at you again, seeing you smile. “I believe in you, Duffy...I think you were at the wrong place at the wrong time; we have all done that. I’m sorry you rode with them, and now you’re in this mess.” You cupped his cheek, Kieran leaning into your gentle touch. He hasn’t been touched like this in so long that he would remember every second of your touch. “Dutch is going to talk to you tomorrow...Please. Tell him the truth, and they might let you go...”

“But...I-If I do, then the O’driscolls will kill me.” He replied.

“...Then join us.” You shrugged. “It'll be nice to have a new face in the camp.” You then raised your head when you heard talking. “I have to go, but remember what I said, okay? I don’t want you hurt...” You pulled your hand away, Kieran already missing the warm touch. “We’ll see each other again. Goodnight, Duffy.” You smiled and walked off before anyone saw you.

Kieran’s eyes watched you leave until you were out of sight; his body felt limp as he sighs. “Goodnight, Miss _____...”

When the sun came up, and Dutch came forth with two of his members, he caved in...Well, he caved in when they pulled down his pants and said they were going to cut his balls off.

Kieran saw you face brighten when he returned with the three members, having no idea why his chest was beating his ribs, but it made him happy. Even though most of the members ignored him or threatened him, he mainly talks to you and a woman called Mary-Beth. You two were friends, and he understood why since you were both the same; Kind hearted and sweet but his eyes remained on you.

Everything about you made him smile; your laugh, your kindness, your passion for nature and loved when your eyes brightened when you talked about something you liked. His heart beats so many times for Kieran to realise that he had feelings for you, which he didn’t know if it was good or bad.

Kieran loved the feeling when you were around and brightened his day when everyone around him was sour towards him. But it was terrible because he felt like he didn’t deserve you. He was an Ex-O’driscoll and had done nothing in his life, just feeling like pointless trash. You were beautiful, funny, smart and had a heart of gold while Kieran was...Well, Kieran. Everyone in camp was better than him, including Bill, even if he was crazy.

It got worse when he thought about you in unconventional ways. It sparked when he was watching you cleaning peoples clothes, your chest and stomach soaked, which made your breasts glistened in the sun. Kieran’s mind flashed with images of you; naked, moaning, begging for him, his pants getting tighter with each second. He had to go to the forest to jack himself off, holding back from crying your name for everyone to hear.

It also made his heart sink when other men flirted with you like Javier, Bill and Micah. It seemed even Dutch had a thing for you even though he had Molly, but you turned each man down kindly. If they didn’t back away, Arthur would swoop in to be the hero. Kieran realised Arthur treated you like a sister more than anything. Arthur was not the best with him, but out of every man in camp, he was the kindest.

“Going fishing?”

Kieran raised his head to see you, your eyes full of kindness and interest. Besides horses, he loved fishing. It made him leave the camp for a while and be alone, liking his own company out of everyone besides you. That is why he was taken back when you wanted to join, happily accepting for you to join though. Kieran helped you on his horse as they start to ride, his body tingled when your arms wrapped around him. Fuck, he was trying so hard not to get excited.

What made Kieran laugh about fishing with you was that you were not the best. You would pout when the fish got loose from your hook and swear under your breath when the throw was awful. “Here, I’ll help you.” He went behind you, his hands on top of yours and showed you how to swing it. Kieran bit his lip, looking down your shoulder and neck which showed skin, wanting to lick the sweat off it or bite down to leave marks, so people knew you were his.

“What’s poking me?”

"N-Nothing, That’s my fishing rod..!”

Sadly the happiness didn't last long; they moved twice, Sean got killed, and Jack got kidnapped. Kieran noticed that you looked worried for Jack's safety. He was only a kid for crying out loud; no one deserved it. Kieran felt like it was his fault; He let the men pass and took Jack, apologising for every day to Abigail for what he did.

You told him it wasn't his fault; he didn't know, you would have done the same. Kieran pulled you into a hug, wanting to comfort you in this hard time. His heart jumped in his throat when you hugged back, gently rubbing his head.

'Just tell her how you feel, damn it!' He screamed in his head.

A few days later, luck was on their side when Dutch, Arthur and John brought Jack back. You picked Jack up and kissed all over his face when everyone stopped hogging him. "Don't scare us like that again, Jack."

"I won't Auntie _____." Jack giggled as he held onto you. The sight made Kieran smile, like how you get along with children so well.

Everyone celebrated and cheered, drinking until the sun came up. Even Karen was nudging Kieran to drink. He was surprised she was the first to relax around Him since last month she kept threatening to kill him in his sleep. His eyes glanced at you, seeing you were dancing with Uncle. It was terrible since he was flat out drunk, but you both seem to be having fun anyway.

Maybe it was the drinks or what but he wanted to admit to you how he felt. It was too long to him and just wanted to get the air cleared. After the dance with Uncle, he walked over. "_-_____. Can...Can I talk to you for a second?" He asked.

You smiled up at him. "Of course, Kieran. What's wrong?" You asked. After a few silent seconds, he nervously took your hand and led you inside, too embarrassed to tell you in front of everyone. He thought Arthur's room would be the quietest. "You okay?" You asked.

"_____, I..." He swallowed the lump in his throat, his face heating up while his hands started to sweat. Shit... "I...I just..."

"..." You got closer when he couldn't speak, Kieran got taken back when you have gotten closer that his back hit the door. "Kieran." You muttered, cupping his cheek to pull him into a sweet kiss. His heart stopped in his chest when your lips met, loving how soft they were. "I know..."

"K-Know, what?" He shuttered, his nails digging into the door.

"That you like me...I like you too." You giggled. "I'm surprised you didn't notice. I am always around you; I give you your meals and always wash your clothes. I just...Love the smell of you." Your cheeks felt hot when you continued. "I don't like fishing, but I like it when you're teaching me, especially when your hands are on me..." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning in to whisper into his ear. "I know that wasn't a fishing rod poking me...I'm flattered. I held myself in place so that I wouldn't grind up against you."

His face went beet red at your words, his Adam's-apple bobbing along his neck. “_____, I...Fuck...” Fuck it..! He cupped your cheek and brought you in for another kiss, his arm holding your body close. “Mmm...” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, just wanting you and you alone. He felt you run your fingers through his hair, which made his hat fall, the kiss deepen. Kieran was now pressed against you, already feeling the hard-on against your dress.

“Mmm...Let’s take it to the bed. You can’t walk out like this.” You smiled playfully, grabbing his neckerchief to drag him along.

“O-On Arthur's bed?” Kieran shuttered, not wanting Arthur walking in and kicking his ass.

“Yes? A bit exciting, right?” You pushed him on to the bed, then unstrapped your dress, sliding it off your shoulders. Kieran watched, biting his lip when he saw more of your skin. You took your garments off, now bare for him but covered your lower area. He moved his body up, sitting on the bed as his hands ran along your thighs, placing kisses on your stomach. “Kieran.” You muttered, running your fingers through his hair. You moved his body entirely onto the bed, taking off his clothing to get him naked with you. “Mmm...You are excited.” You hummed, your palm rubbing up against his throbbing cock.

“Hah, sorry. I just really...Don’t deserve this.” He breathed out, his hands tracing up to your hips, shivering on how smooth you felt under his touch. “You deserve a man like Arthur...He is a perfect man compared to M-Me.”

“Kieran...I don’t want Arthur. I want you...” You leaned down to give him a kiss, feeling his hard cock brushing against your ass. “You are the man I want...The cute and kind-hearted man who looks at me with pure love every day and who makes me laugh...That is the man I want.” You muttered, raising your hips to brush his red, hot tip against your pussy, hearing the man groan underneath you. “Mmm...Just enjoy it, sweety. Just take me in.” You breathed out before lowering yourself, both of you moaning when his cock slipped inside. He may not be thick but won by how long he was, whimpering when he hits your womb. “S-Shit...Kieran..”

“Ah-! F-Fuck, you’re so-” Kieran gasped, gripping your hips more as your walls squeezed his cock. “You feel so good...Oh god, Y-You’re throbbing so much.” He muttered, looking up at you with pure lust in his eyes. “Please ride me...” You placed your hands on his chest and started to move your hips, raising and lowering yourself onto his throbbing core. “Nnh-Fuck, _____...” He heard your wet lewd when he slipped inside, again and again, wetting his cock, which became easier for you to move. “Ah...I’m so F-Fucking lucky.”

“S-So am I...Mmm, you feel so good.” You moaned out, continuing to move your hips which made your ass slap against Kieran’s small thighs. “Nnn...I love how deep you are. Hah, Do you want to come inside me?” You gasped when his cock throbbed, a small smile on your lips by the action. “Does that excite you?” Kieran bit his lip and blushed when you continued, bucking his hips up to go deeper. You leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “Do you ah-Want your cum inside me? F-Fill me up until I’m gushing with your cum...Maybe breed me..?”

“Y-You’re killing me, _____.” He whimpered when you purred in his ear, moving your hips down to go in deeper. Oh, it did excite him. He wanted to paint your walls with his load. The pregnancy was the tip of the cake, making his mind foggy. “O-Oh please, can...Hah, Can I cum inside you?” He begged, pecking your neck before you pulled away, your hips slapping against him which made him cry out. “F-Fuuuck, your P-Pussy is so good..!” He choked.

“F-Fuck, Kieran...You can.” Your hand ran down to rub your clit, watching the man underneath you become putty. “Ah..!” You cried when he slammed you down, hitting your womb so rough. “F-Fuck..!”

“_____, I...I-I can’t. Ngh-Anymore and I-I’ll come. Fuck, it’s so good..!” He slurred, closing his eyes as he just wanted to feel the lustful bliss. “I want to cum in your womb and G-Get you breeding my kids, fuck..! Hah! Come, come, come! I want to feel your walls squeeze me..!” And you were, your stomach burning and your walls milking him for his climax. “_____, _____..! F-Fuck!” He cried out as he finally came, thrusting you down for his cum to fill you up.

“Nnh!” You cried out; your body shook at the pleasuring climax. “Kieran...Fuck.” You rested on his chest, panting to calm your beating heart. His hands ran along your back to ease you, whimpering when his cock softened and slipped out of you, his cum leaking out. “Fuck..I...I-I didn’t know you were so vocal.” You giggled, playing with his chest hair.

“That...That is what you do to me.” He weakly smiled as he held you close, pecking your lips. “Never leave my side...P-Please.” He muttered, his eyes softened as he looked over your face.

You kissed him again and smiled. “I won’t, sweety...” You didn’t want this to end...But the door burst open.

“What in the goddamn hell is this!?

Oh shit, it’s Arthur!

THE END! 

[snowy-charm]

A Treatise on Charm, Snowy

(TL;DR warning: This post is kinda long. The quick version is that I’m gonna make music now! Next post will be one of said musics. The rest of this post goes over the story of why I’m doing it. Also I use a meme twice and link some rad music three times.)

The year: 2017. October. I was given the name “Snowy Charm” as a fun pony name to facilitate a secret santa exchange online. Even though I’d been a fan of these little horses since ~2012 I’d never delved into the world of having one to call my own. I was more than satisfied bearing witness to the growing cast of canon characters - and of course my hot and heavy courting with the cast of Fallout: Equestria. (Side note to anyone who may be reading this: FoE is pretty dope, but it is also the essence of grimdark. Read at your own risk!)

Suddenly at odds with this new OC acquisition, I quickly came up with a fast and loose backstory! He was a crystal pony from the wintery crystal kingdom (”Snowy”) and was probably an artificer or craftsman of some kind (”Charm”). I joked that the reason behind my name is that I live in a snowy climate (read: the tropics) and I was quite charming (the jury is still out on that one). 

The following year was my first ever convention: BronyCon 2018! An artist friend of mine graciously designed my OC with little to no input on my part and came up with a design that I instantly fell in love with.

(Pictured here subtly in front of a rack-mounted EQ I have never used, but is appropriate for an upcoming revelation.)

Isn’t he ADORABLE?! I will forever wear that badge because it is awesome. The cutie mark has been redone a little since then, and no other artist has remembered his beard yet, but I digress; this story isn’t actually about him.

Of course, BronyCon was a blast! This became my impetus to be more than simply an observer in the fandom, but to be present and belonging with others through our communal enjoyment of My Little Pony. My friends, in general, had a disinterest of the show - which, you know what? That’s fair. I don’t particularly care for Game of Thrones, Desperate Housewives, or the DCU, and it would be hard for me to feign a genuine interest in the developments thereof - but as of BronyCon I was able to play on an even field with others who shared my same passion for these candy colored equines!

Now, another thing to note of me, which will be important in a moment: I’m slightly musical. Not amazingly talented or anything, just.. slightly musical. I was REALLY into marching band (and won the John Philip Sousa award my senior year!!), but stopped refining my craft during college and onwards. Turns out playing a $5000 instrument puts a damper on your ability to own one. (Here’s a second video, and a third; I freakin love marimba.) I picked up the Ukulele for the the occasional “BUT YOU LIKE TO MAKE MUSIC” urges, but more or less ignored actually honing my abilities.

But now that I found myself surrounded by the magic of friendship combined with the magic of ponies, I wanted to CREATE. I suddenly realized that Snowy Charm was to be a MUSIC PONE. I would make FANDOM HITS that nopony had ever HEARD BEFORE (or after - I didn’t/don’t expect to be horse famous [or really even horse known (triple parenthetical asides are super cool, by the way)]).

Aaaaand promptly realized I had the better part of a decade’s worth of rust hanging onto my high-school-level skills. Not to mention that I still didn’t own the only thing I was good at playing.

F

“Okay, okay, it’s fine. Don’t hyperventilate, self. We’ll just make this into a project about growth in music instead.” 

- Me to myself circa the realization I can only really play a single instrument, and not even well.

I decided to make the project about my journey in the music field instead of pumping out dope jams. The goal was to lay out where I was musically and pick a song each week. I’d then practice that song all week and post a recording of my warbly self performing it by week’s end. Pick up a new instrument here, learn a new software there. Maybe I’d do originals now and again, but likely I’d just scream into the void and wait for it to call me back.

Of course, the dope jams would (hopefully) come, but as Jake says:

Long story short on that one: I didn’t.

Be it procrastination or a busy schedule, I can’t really defend my past self’s choice at this point. I made all the social media accounts and sturdied myself to make the first bellow into the abyss --- but then silence rung out. (Of note, I got my twitter anniversary notice today, so it has been exactly a year from my first tentative steps.)

Flash forward a couple months - October once more. My little festive community starts up again! More fun names are given out and lore starts being woven together about these new OCs! The stories start coming quick: There’s a stallion who HATES CRANBERRIES and one who makes bomb smoothies! A diamond dog who wants to celebrate Hearth’s Warming but is the target of seemingly the entire diamond dog population’s scorn! There’s a whole school filled with students, teachers, and a will-they-won’t-they janitor/counselor combo! Snowy now owns a potion shop specializing in musical applications, not to mention somehow he’s now the ambassador to those diamond dogs! But then, unexpectedly, on the day she was supposed to return from the hospital, my mother passed away.

I had recently lost my job and moved into my folk’s home out of town. Unemployed, isolated from friends, and yeeted into the throes of grief; I did all I really could: I picked up my dumb noise stick and sang about life, love, death, and colorful talking horses.

I made my first honest-to-goodness song - Drink In - during that period. It’s about that on-again-off-again pair I introduced earlier, but it was also about my grief and healing. I’ll share some of the lyrics here that, after I wrote them, spoke to me as if I didn’t pen them my damn self:

Take a deep breath Exhale regret Drink in sunsets The best is what’s left

It may not hit you the same way as it did me, music is often subjective, but it was an imperative reminder to let go of the stress I was compounding inside of me. I needed to hear that message badly - and put a pin in that, I’ll loop back to it in a moment.

I started working to better my craft again. I helped mix/master the album that my little festive family put together. I borrowed a bass guitar from a friend and started learning a little. I even got employed to do live mixing at the church I attend! Little by little I was getting better. 

But let’s fast forward again, shall we? This time to August of this year, BronyCon 2019! One of the best times I’ve ever had, but that’s not the point (maybe I’ll go into it in a later post?). I came home invigorated and ready to face the world again after being exhausted for almost five months straight. I felt free from burdens and there was something on my mind that hadn’t been there for a long time: I was ready to CREATE. 

If you were at the con, or if you’ve been on twitter recently, this next refrain may strike you as familiar:

(Patch done by @sew-adorkable)

I knew I had to make a song about it, but I had to make it good enough to be heard by folk. It had to be perfect before I could release it and have guitars and electronic music stuff and all the bells and/or whistles. I have a launchpad, unused, from last year - so I plugged it in with Ableton Live so I could make them funky horse beatz (with a z of course, because that’s 20% cooler).

Aaaaand promptly realized I was way out of my depth. 

I’ve recorded live performances (and myself) with Reaper and Audition before, and I feel like I know at least some of the basics with them. I can put a vocal into compression, mix the instruments okay together, do some EQing, etc. But I was now adrift trying to get the computer to make sounds that I wasn’t able to do myself.

I couldn’t figure out how to put anything other than the default synth into reaper and I opened Ableton because that’s better for electronic music I hear and I want to learn how to do that and they don’t even have a timeline and use clips and what are clips and how do you make them and what are samples and how do you get them and how do I even record a voice in this thing and there’s not a TIMELINE and when you stop the noise the session isn’t stopped and the launchpad won’t work and I went back to reaper and they have a drum sampler and how do you get a sample and how do you install things and is this my personal hell and I understand this is a run on sentence - I was frustrated and I quit.

Remember the pin I told you to put in earlier? Refresh that into memory, here’s where it’s relevant.

About two weeks after this whole debacle I was listening to shuffle all on my phone and Drink In happened to come on. I remembered how the completely unintentional message of my own song really struck me a year prior. This stupid song about a pair of pony OCs with terribly played ukulele and shitty bargain bin percussion recorded with a mic not suited to record anything except vocals... and despite all that, despite all of the technical barriers that were in the way, despite clipping during recording ukulele and hearing the distortion every time I listen to the track, it helped me restore tranquility when my inner world was naught but a maelstrom of grief and tumult. 

...I guess it didn’t have to be perfect to reach folks. Who knew?

And that right there is the moral I’m learning today. I struggle with it a lot, but there’s a problem with perfection: allow yourself only to produce perfection and you’ll produce nothing. I mean it’s a well known quote, right? Nobody’s perfect. 

So, I apologize in advance to all people with ears, but it is now my intention to bring (hopefully) pleasant noises to the grandiose cacophony that is the internet. They won’t be perfect, but I’ll work on it.

Anyway, come to TrotCon.

(Art by Witchtaunter, Flitterfel, and Mentita Kirby)

P.S. Holy bananas you actually read this monster of a post? Give yourself a pat on the back! Future posts likely won’t be as herculean of a read, but no promises. Next time I’ll actually upload “Drink In” so you can hear this song I’ve referenced so much - and then I’ll talk about where I’m at mechanically and the goals I have by doing this whole thing. Oh, and don’t expect all the neat art to happen every post! I went a little YCH/commission crazy after I got back from BronyCon, but I’m also not made out money so it won’t last forever. I don’t expect really anybody to read a huge post ostensibly about someone’s OC, and even the lifetime of this project I expect less or equal to about 10 people, but I hope you find a sense of belonging and participation here! Hello to all 10 of you!

See y’all next time!

[timeagainreviews]

The Doctor needs a medic!

Clarification: I did a little research after my article last week. That "sister," line from Arachnids was still getting to me. As an American living in the UK, I was unaware of the fact that head nurses were still called sisters, despite them no longer being nuns. So it turns out that the Doctor wasn’t implying she used to be a female, but rather than she was using sexist outdated language. Cool… cool. Can’t decide which is worse. I mean, she is a bit old. Perhaps she’s a bit old fashioned as well. I’d keep an eye on her if she starts reading the Daily Mail.

We’re now at the halfway point of the series. Five episodes in, and I would say this one was, if nothing else, fairly solid. "The Tsuranga Conundrum" may be one of my favourite episodes of the series thus far, and it’s a bottle episode! However, while Chris Chibnall wrote the episode, the alien threat in it was actually devised by writer Tim Price, so it was a bit of a group effort. It would appear, however, that the real antagonist of this story… is time.

In an odd way, the opening shot of the episode had me thinking of the previous "Arachnids in the UK," with its giant landfill. I almost wondered if they weren’t actually rooting around underground Sheffield. Instead we’re on a planet called "Seffilun 27," in what the Doctor refers to as a "junk galaxy." The planet seems to be covered in junk as far as the eye can see. I was reminded a bit of House from "The Doctor’s Wife," with all of the junk from discarded TARDISes lying around. The Doctor has Team TARDIS sweeping for junk she can use for unspecified Doctory stuff. Instead of finding the desired gadget, Graham discovers a sonic mine that lands them all in the hospital.

The hospital is your typical Doctor Who style futuristic building, all white and sleek. It’s what you’d expect, but there’s a bit more than meets the eye. The Doctor is the last to wake up and feels pretty awful. You can already tell it’s going to be a handicap for her throughout the episode. I was reminded of regeneration episodes where the Doctor is "still cooking," and has to deal with a bit of pain. Nothing really comes from the pain other than a bit of added suspense, which is all fine and good. This is not the only handicap the Doctor will face throughout the episode.

The two attending medics are Astos and Mabli. Both are young, attractive, and seem very capable at their jobs. The Doctor discovers from Astos, the head medic, that they have spent the last four days on a medical ship called the Tsuranga (as opposed to a hospital) on its way to a space station called Resus 1. This causes the Doctor to panic. She’s left her TARDIS behind on a junk planet, where people scavenge, and she’s "only just got it back!" However, Astos reminds her that the ship needs to reach it’s destination for the health and wellbeing of the ship’s passengers. It’s a reasonable argument and the Doctor can’t deny it.

Among the patients on the ship, other than the Doctor and her friends, is Eve Cicero, a famous pilot and general, accompanied by her brother Durkas and android assistant Ronan. There’s also a pregnant man named Yoss (YOSSSSS GAGA! Sorry, had to) who is about to pop. Eve has Ronan manipulating the less experienced Mabli to provide her with adrenaline blockers, all behind both Astos and her brother’s backs. Yoss’ species’ gestation period of about a week, hasn’t given him much time to come to terms with being a father. His anxiety is even further exacerbated by the fact that his pregnancy was the result of a bit of fun at a party. Ryan, who grew up with an absentee father, seems to latch onto this, despite his initial reaction to a pregnant man.

The Doctor can’t turn the vessel around to pick up her TARDIS as it’s locked in on a path, auto-piloted. It only seems to pick up people in distress along the way, acting as a space ambulance. To make matters worse, the ship will be detonated if anyone tampers with it, in case of a hijacking, which seems a bit extreme. Other reasons it may be detonated, would be for quarantine reasons, or if it posed a threat to anyone. Which seems like as good a time as any to introduce our alien threat- Item Seven Alpha Cubed, otherwise known as "Pting." (Probably named after the sound the hull of a ship makes whenever it turns up.)

This marks the second week in a row where the reveal of the baddie has made me react with an "Awww!" Look at that little face! What a little cutie. Sadly, that little cutie just caused the death of Astos, as it caused the escape pod he was inside to evacuate, and detonate. I’m not 100% sure why it actually detonated, even without life support. Is part of a ship’s life support system allotted to the not-exploding of things? Regardless though, the Pting isn’t really hostile like a Dalek is hostile, it just seems a bit hungry! It doesn’t seem to eat organic matter, though it makes a right meal of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver. The cosplayer in me was worried I was going to have to order a whole new piece for a second, but it coughed it right back up! Though it no longer seems to work. Another handicap.

The Pting is a rather resilient little creature. General Cicero had encountered them before as one “massacred” her entire fleet. Their skin is toxic to the touch and unbreakable. It can survive the vacuum of space, and it seems to enjoy eating anything. Think of a mix between a tardigrade, a Gremlin, and Nibbler. The Doctor must stop it from destroying the life support (see: anti-exploding device), and also from alerting the people back on Resus 1 from detonating the ship as well. They also need to keep the little muncher away from the ship’s anti-matter generator, so the heat is on!

One of the things I’ve been paying close attention to this series is whether the companions are utilised properly. The decision to have three over the usual one is something of a self-imposed challenge. Writing for an ensemble is far more difficult than the usual duo. Even classic Doctor Who struggled to balance three companions at times. I mentioned previously Nyssa’s TARDIS naps. Graham gets a nice little moment where he questions Durkas as to why he’s looking into his sister’s medical records. His friendly, yet direct approach was as though he was channelling the Doctor. He seems to be taking her example to heart. Yaz gets put on guard duty with Ronan, protecting the anti-matter generator. And Ryan and Graham both get a bit of screen time as doulas helping Yoss through labour. I had my second "Awww!" moment when Yoss requested other men be there as support. It was cute, shut up.

While Yaz and Ryan were gathering up the people on the ship for an emergency meeting, they have a little heart to heart in a corridor. I couldn’t help but feel like this bit felt tacked on. The ship is in danger, and they stop to talk about how Ryan’s mum died. It stopped the momentum of the episode cold in its tracks. The only reason I can think they added it in at this point, was because they couldn’t think of a better place to put it. They needed to divulge Ryan’s backstory so they could tie it in with Yoss’ fatherhood. This seemed more of a writing choice than a directing choice. It’s fine, really, but not very graceful.

There were some really good Doctor moments in this episode. I loved her claim that she has a doctorate in Lego. It’s funny because in my classic-Who rewatch, I’m currently on "The Edge of Destruction," and the Doctor’s speech about anti-matter reminded me a bit of the First Doctor’s monologue about the formation of galaxies. I will say though, it fell short of some of the better Doctor monologues we’ve had in the past. Regardless, it was nice to see the Doctor nerd out on science and show her passion a little. My only real issue with the Doctor’s characterisation in this episode stems, once again, from her morality.

Chris Chibnall doesn’t seem to know what his Doctor’s stance on guns actually is. It’s not ok to shoot robots or dying spiders, but it’s way okay to shoot the Pting? Yaz and Ronan are both given staser guns to guard the generator. While I am glad to see such an old reference return (as well as the stethoscope!), I’m once again confused by what Chibnall considers an ok time to shoot something. Funnily enough, this episode is exactly how I think the Doctor’s attitude toward guns should be portrayed. Nothing can really kill the Pting, so it’s really tantamount to a Star Trek officer using a stun setting. But the main idea was that the gun was used as a defence, to protect life and because it was the best option. That should always be the Doctor’s attitude toward guns- are they the best option? The best hope? She’s a Doctor of hope, so of course, she always looks for the best option, but she’s not stupid either. In a lot of ways, that’s what she’s done this series when it comes to guns. But it’s in the dialogue where her aims get muddled. I agree with Chibnall. The Doctor should have a disdain for guns. Guns are the end of hope in most cases. But sometimes River shoots the Silence, Leela shoots some guys in a corridor, and the Brigadier holds off an invasion.

With Astos dead, it’s up to Mabli to take control of the situation, which in her case means considering what’s best for her patients. With Yoss in labour, she needs to help him deliver his baby. Wisely, she allows the Doctor to do what she needs to do to save everyone’s lives. With the Pting eating at the ship's systems, they decide they need to find a quicker way to get to Resus 1. They must fly the ship themselves, which will also alert the security protocols, causing it to detonate, but one thing at a time. The Doctor finds a way to bypass the ship’s auto-pilot and has Durkas, an engineer, build a makeshift neural interface with the piloting system. It’s revealed that due to her years of flying with a neural interface, Eve has developed a condition known as "Pilot’s Heart." Due to this, adrenaline has built up in her system. One big jolt could stop her heart and kill her. The Doctor offers to fly the ship, but Eve insists she’s the best woman for the job, despite the dangers involved.

Around this time Ryan and Graham are learning to rise to the occasion as doulas. Yoss is in full labour panic mode, and needs his guys there to cheer him on! Yaz and Ronan have to grapple with the Pting. After stunning it unconscious, Yaz wraps it in a blanket and bends it like Beckham down the corridor. Go Yaz! The Doctor enters the scene looking for the ship’s detonation device. Clearly, a ship in deep space is too far away for missiles, so the bomb must be onboard. It’s a bit contrived that such a device would exist, but the aforementioned reasons are fine. Whatever. Around this time, the sonic screwdriver boots itself back up, and the pieces all come together for the Doctor. The Pting isn’t eating matter, it’s eating energy.

The Doctor and Yaz locate the bomb and move it to an airlock. She speeds up the detonation so that the building energy attracts the Pting, and just before the device explodes, the Pting swallows it whole, with an adorable look of delight on its little face from the warm glow its tummy. Seriously, as Who monsters go, this thing is freaking cute. The Doctor ejects it from the airlock, and that’s two threats taken care of in one go. Two birds, one stone.

The imminent threat of piloting the ship still looms. While hooked into the interface, Eve was able to control the ship, despite the less than ideal conditions. But without any more adrenaline blockers onboard, her heart gives out on her. She dies a hero, but her work is unfinished. Durkas must now rise to the occasion as a Cicero. It’s more of a poetic solution than logical. Being related to a pilot somehow makes you a better candidate to fly the ship than the Doctor herself. But he does a fine enough job as he flies them to safety.

Yoss has his little boy, Avocado, and Ryan and Graham seem like they’re getting along, but Ryan leaves Graham’s fist bump hanging. And I gotta say, what the hell is Ryan’s deal still? I mean, come on man. He’s stopped asking you to call him granddad, but you could at least give the dude a fist bump. It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to think Ryan is being a bit of a dick toward Graham. Perhaps he’s closed off because the men in his life have abandoned him, but this is getting ridiculous. They’ve been through five onscreen adventures, and several offscreen adventures at this point. They’ve been through a lot, to put it lightly. Travelling with the Doctor should be far more of a bonding experience. While it is better to show than tell, Ryan’s standoffishness to Graham is getting old. Graham seems to take it in stride though. You’ve gotta give him credit for that.

Now on Resus 1, Ronan will probably shut down with nobody left to serve. Durkas apologises for not being kinder to him in the past. It’s weird that the Doctor doesn’t offer to take him to some sort of android planet or something. I kind of expected it. Yoss has decided to keep Avocado. Ryan, who was a big part in this decision, helped him come to grips with the idea of being a father by telling him that a father doesn’t need to be perfect, he just needs to be there. The Doctor and her friends are given assurances that they’ll be taken back to the TARDIS after they give their statements. The episode ends with Ronan reciting a kind of litany that Durkas, Yoss, and surprisingly the Doctor all know by heart. All in all, it’s not a bad way to leave the episode. In comparison to last week, there is far more of a feeling of resolution.

As I said, this episode was pretty solid. But one of the things I’m still holding out to see from this series is Jodie’s big "wow," moment. This is in no way me saying she has failed to wow me as the Doctor. I’ve not hidden my total joy over her performance. What I am waiting for is for the fury to come out. Christopher Eccleston spent a good chunk of his series being either sad, bossy, or silly. But when the episode "Dalek," came around, we got to see another side to his Doctor- his scary side! How about with the Tenth Doctor doomed the Family of Blood to an eternity of torture? Or how about when Eleven stared down his companions with intimidating eyes because he could see they were lying to him? I’m still waiting for Thirteen to get scary. We saw it come out in a microscopic amount when she warned Krasko not to threaten her. But I’m still waiting for that moment.

Thus far she’s been a rather friendly and forgiving Doctor. She’s shown more compassion than contempt. I’m waiting for one of the writers to give us a truly morally ambiguous moment of the Doctor. And no, having conflicting morality about guns doesn’t count! I was hoping that this episode would be the one. We would finally get that truly contemptible villain, and we’d get to see her dark side come out. If they’re going to make the brave decision of excluding Daleks and other classic baddies, we deserve a new one of the same calibre. What this episode gave us instead, was a pretty solid base in peril episode. I won’t fault it for not being the big evil monster I was hoping for, because what we got instead was pretty effective.

Again, we’re only halfway in. There’s plenty of time to up the stakes. We need a good dose of danger. I’d like to see some more planet threatening terror. We need more timeline meddling other than one racist pissing in the wind against change. But despite the lack of fear, this episode had one thing going for it above all else. This episode had a lot of heart. It may not have been a heart-stopping thrill ride, but in there were real moments of joy. Having a threat that was so cute was actually a welcome surprise. It wasn’t trying to be a big bad villain. Here’s to hoping that the second half of series eleven amps up the danger factor!

[johnnq]

A Night with Johnny Seo - Extreme Fluff: Reader x Johnny

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: none, but if you’re whether you’re a soft or hard stan, be prepared for cuteness!! 

Summary: You and Johnny go on a date, and after everything seems to go wrong, you both share a night with popcorn, blankets and kisses.

It was a beautiful, clear skied and peaceful evening when you and your date, Johnny Seo stepped into the quaint and intimate restaurant that you had both agreed upon meeting at, a table for two already booked, in the corner where you knew you could at least look at him without wanting to die on the spot from embarrassment.

Going to the front desk and giving the hostess your details, you were very diligently seated you at your reserved table, a small scented candle and a vase of roses already decorating it.

Granted, it was a lovely place to eat, and it was clear you had made an effort by the décor on the table in front of you both. But for a first date, you were beginning to think it gave off the wrong message. It wasn’t as flashy and expensive of a restaurant as you imagined your date liking or ever eating at. You wondered if maybe Johnny would think you weren’t interested in him because you took him to this place of all places. He was part of SM Rookies, training day and night, ready to start his career, and here you were, barely able to afford a meal.

The truth was, you were incredibly interested in him, and had been since the day you met him. In fact, you were so interested in him that it had taken you an astounding 3 months to pluck up the courage to even suggest the idea of a date to him, even if it sounded more like you were asking a friend to go out and have a drink rather than have a sit-down meal and express your feelings.

Johnny wasn’t like other guys. He didn’t give you mixed messages, he didn’t mistreat you, and most of all, in all the time you had known him he hadn’t even looked at a girl the way he looked at you.

———————————————————————————————————– You and him met at a nightclub that you’d been coaxed into attending by your long standing shoulder to cry on and best friend Mark Lee. You were nursing a nasty breakup with your ex-boyfriend and were a blubbering, dishevelled mess even after a month, clutching a bottle of vodka as you sat at a table with Mark wearing a dress you didn’t want to wear, at a place that only reminded you of how many people around you were happy with each other.

“Marky, I know you’re trying to help but I’m not ready to be here after everything. Can we go home please?”

Mark looked at you and sighed, letting you lean on his shoulder and close your eyes.

“No, Y/N. As your best friend, I’m not going to let you go back home and lock yourself away from the world over a guy. He’s not worth it, and never will be.”

You sigh, pouring yourself another glass of vodka to help you get through the night.

“Fineeeee, but once I do go home, you’re coming and you’re gonna watch soppy rom-coms on the couch with me, no arguments.”

Around 11pm, after less than an hour of gulping back glass after glass of vodka, you were about ready to head home and start sleeping off your inevitable hangover. That is, until Johnny came to sit at the table with you and Mark.

  “Oh, hey Johnny. Not the best time?” Mark gestured to Johnny, making it clear that you were sensitive and not quite ready to talk to anyone.

“Oh, uh yeah.. It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”

As you hear his voice, you perk up and jolt to turn to this stranger, your hair in every direction from using Mark as a headrest.

“No Marky, it’s okay. He can stay” You shoot a small but forced smile at them both, assuming the position of using Mark as a headrest, and take another gulp of vodka, swallowing it harshly, sighing.

“Thanks” he says, sitting down next to you both, but not too close as to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m Y/N, by the way, I know my best friend likes to protect me since I’m now a single lady, but I’m not as fragile as he would like to believe.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Johnny.”

“Yeah, I got that from Marky calling you that. How come I’ve never heard about you?”

“Oh, you know.. I like to keep myself to myself.” he smiles and blushes slightly.

———————————————————————————————————– From then on, you got Johnny’s number, and his Instagram, and it went from there really. You hung out once every few days, and got to know each other, and as time went on, you liked him more and more, which led you to ask him on a date, where you were now.

“Y/N, I have to say, I never expected you to ask me on a date of all people.”

“What can I say? Nobody else snapped me up, so I thought - why not?” you laugh jokingly,

“Very funny, but seriously. If I’m being completely honest I’ve liked you for a long time, and I’ve never really gotten the courage to ask you out, so I’m glad you took the plunge and did it first.”

He leaned over, and kissed you on the cheek, blushing just like the day you met him. 

You both pulled out the menus, and looked at the options, scanning the prices - $45 for a steak, $52 for lobster thermador, and many other crazy prices for such small portions. As you sat there watching your night crumble in front of you, you felt your cheeks flush and your hands go clammy. You thought to yourself - What were you thinking? Now you look like an idiot in front of Johnny!?

“These are so pricy Y/N, are you sure you can afford these?” he looks at you in shock. 

“Honestly, if I was to pay for this meal, I dread to think about paying my rent this month. They sure raised the prices since the last time I came here.”

Johnny stood up, smiling and giggling at your joke. He motioned to the waiter to pour a drink, which quickly became 2, then 3, then 4, then 5.. and so on. You spent maybe an hour just talking and laughing.

“Johnny.. I’m really sorry but I can’t afford to eat here. You don’t mind do you? I’d understand if you want to just go h-home and not talk to me ever again”

“Y/N? Let’s get one thing straight right here and right now. I don’t care if you can’t afford to pay for an overpriced meal at a shitty restaurant, we can just go to a store or something and buy some snacks, and go back to my apartment. That sounds way better than a fancy meal to me, you should know me that well by now”

“I mean, yeah.. I just thought if I didn’t go somewhere nice you’d think I wasn’t serious..”

He looked down at you and smiled, leaning down to reach your small 5"1 stature, and whispered into your ears.

“Princess.. I could never think you weren’t serious.” he simply said as he kissed your neck and stood back up, interlocking your hands and walking to the nearest store. ———————————————————————————————————– After arriving back at his place with bags full of drinks and food, you plopped yourself down on his couch waiting for him to come back with the blankets. Realising that you were still in a lace up dress and heels that made you appear decently tall, you let out a small sigh realising that you had nothing to sleep in. You went to the door, knocking on it waiting for Johnny to come and open it. From inside, you could just hear his voice, almost talking to himself. 

“Don’t screw this up, Seo. She’s beautiful, she’s here and she likes you. Just go out there and treat her like a queen”

Hearing this, your lips curl into a very subtle smile, and you wait a few seconds before knocking again. Once you do, you hear him mumble a curse and come to the door. 

“Uh, Y/N. How long have you been out here??”

“Long enough, cutie. I was just wondering if I could borrow a shirt or something to sleep in or wear? I’ll probably be going home soon but I can’t get comfy in this.”

“First, pretend like you never heard me say that, for all that’s holy. Second, yes you most certainly can and thirdly - you aren’t going anywhere this late”

“Johnny, I’m a big girl! I can walk home on my own”

He slides his finger onto your lip and makes a gentle ‘shhh’ sound. “For a girl who’s 5"1, you sure hold your ground. But this once, you’re gonna listen to me and let me take care of you.”

He reached into the closet and pulled out an oversized grey t-shirt, chucking it to you and winking.

“I’ll be out in a sec, princess”

You nodded and blushed even more, gripping the t-shirt and going to his bathroom, undressing from the formal and uncomfortable outfit you had been in, and getting into the t-shirt you had been given. After checking yourself out in the mirror and deciding that you look just okay enough to go out in front of him, you swung the door open to see that Johnny had built the fort, layed out the food and drinks across the floor, and had ‘Love, Simon’ on the TV, ready to be played.

Across his face was a smile unmistakable for anything other than unaltered excitement and joy. Now in a t-shirt and checkered pyjama bottoms, a far cry from his previous outfit of a tuxedo, you couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder how you got so lucky.

“Y/N? Did I do good? It’s okay if you don’t like it, I-I just thought since we’re both kinda tipsy, you wouldn’t mind.”

You walked over to him and got on your tiptoes, reaching up to kiss him on the lips. 

“Johnny, it’s perfect.. You know me too well”

“Well I’d hope so, Y/N, I’ve been trying to figure you out for so long.” You both smiled at each other as he let you lay down in the fort with the remote, as he followed suit, perching himself next to you, as he let you snuggle up onto his chest, his hand running through your hair as you both watched the movie, and ate snacks together, occasionally glancing at each other and sharing a small kiss at one point.

Throughout the movie, he was gentle with you, giving you forehead kisses, playing with your hair and playing with your fingers. He really couldn’t resist showing you the love and affection you had so very much been craving. When the credits began to roll, you both turned to each other and began to kiss, more passionately than any other time that night. You couldn’t resist but grip his face and caress it as he touched your side. 

You began to stand up, and held his hand leading him with you. 

“Y/N, you’re not completely sober, I’m not completely sober either and it’s late.. We’ve got plenty of time for that, but right now is not that time. I’d feel too much like I was taking advantage.”

“You sure? You wouldn’t be, I promise.” you say softly, as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m completely sure princess, I would much prefer just stay here and curl up with you than have a drunken fumble that neither of us would remember. I just wanna hold you tonight” ———————————————————————————————————– After your night together, you were almost completely asleep in the fort as he tiptoed as to not wake you, cleaning up the mess you had both made, and gently picked you up, taking you into the bedroom and tucking you in, tucking an additional pillow under your head for support, and kissing your forehead. You stirred slightly, looking up at you with very slightly opened eyes, and a smile you couldn’t wipe off your face.

“I love you Mr Seo..”

He giggles, holding a hand on your cheek and smiling like a nervous teenager. 

“I love you too, Y/N. Sweet dreams” he whispers as he kisses your forehead once more and leaves the room to let you sleep, grabbing a blanket and taking the couch for the night.

[psychokai1972]

Lucky

Pick a cutie and a song

Based off :“Next To Me” - Imagine Dragons

Kai Parker x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1162

Request:  kai parker + next to me by imagine dragons! loce your writing btw 💖

Warnings: mentions of death, like one curse word, mentions of sex (nothing major though) , FULFF

A/N: I need Kai Parker back.

English is not my native language, but I try to do my best when it comes to grammar. The spelling mistakes just happen because I tend to write too fast on the keyboard.

He was an embarrassment for his family, everyone knew that, he had been the oldest,the more brilliant but yet still the abomination, the one with no magic of his own; but it didn't matter anymore, because he had got what he wanted, what he had desired all his life: to prove them all wrong. The throne was his now and anyone that dare to tell him otherwise had to face the king himself. Most of them kept quiet, because even though he had done  horrible things in his life and he used fear to control their behavior; he still was a good ruler, he taught them much more than what the others before him had.

But there were ones that tried revealing against him, more than Kai had ever thought. And it always ended tragically for those poor bastards that tried to bring the leader down; most of the times they had to go through a gruesome punishment, to remind them who was the boss, to remind them that Malachai Parker had the power; for others their life came to an end by Kai’s hands, a slow and painful ending. Depending on who you asked those were either the luckiest of who dared to cross him or the unluckiest. Very rarely had the leader to go to such far measures as to kill them, it only happened when someone supposed a serious threat to either him, his coven or his love.

Malachai Parker called them coven matters, making it cleat to all that he was the leader, the one that decided.

Despite not being even a witch Y/N had went to some of the coven’s reunions, all by courtesy of her boyfriend and leader of the Gemini Coven. He wanted people to know who she was, to let them know that whoever even directed a hurtful word to her would suffer. And so had it been, because some of them didn't approve of the leader of their own coven playing house with a simple mortal.

And somehow, after all she had went through beside him, after knowing all the horrible and terrifying things he had done, the misery of his past for growing up without his own magic, knowing how fucked up his mind had remained after all those years alone, knowing how much blood he had on his hands; she still was next to him every day, waking up beside his figure on their bed, their shared apartment had her signature every where you looked. She swore to him often that she would not go, that she would stay by his side until her heart stopped beating; he’s answers to that was always saying that he would make her immortal beside him and someday they would rule the whole world together.  She laughed at his crazy ideas, but she could see the brightness in his eyes when he talked about them, she could see the love he had for her, it was endless. Just as hers.

Kai’s fingers traced the line her spine formed against her naked skin before leaving a smooth kiss on the back of her neck. His arm wrapped around her silhouette, his cold rings which he never took off were pressed on her stomach. She smiled brightly, the rays of the sun were bathing their bedroom, an orange like light reflecting in it; turning around in his warming embrace she faced him, his blue eyes now seemed gray, the same eyes she had loved since the beginning. Kai’s hair was messy, pointing in what looked like all directions, she found him cute. Malachai would play mad when she stated that he was cute, reminding her that the leader of the Gemini Coven could not look cute, that he looked fierce.

He could see the sleepiness on her face, but she still looked effortlessly beautiful. Y/N squeezed herself closer to his body, their skin practically becoming just one. “Good morning, Malachai.” She said in a whisper, brushing her lips on his. Kai smiled, fully pressing his lips on hers as a greeting. His toned and bare body hovered over hers, her hands flying to the back of his neck and fingers playing with the hair there. In need of air, Kai broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers. Y/N caressed his back softly feeling the memories of their passionate night that were still plastered on his skin in the form of scratches cause by her nails. She had needed something to hold on to and his back was so appealing to her, but neither she or Kai had acknowledged his marks until they had both reached their climax.

“Someone’s excited.” She chuckled stealing little kisses from him as she felt his hard member touching her inner thigh.

Malachai laughed softly, shaking his head. “It’s the morning darling; besides, it’s normal when I have such a beautiful woman as you are sleeping beside me, naked.” He remarked, squeezing her sides. His hand slowly moved up her body, making sure to feel every inch of her skin under his digits, they reached her features, rubbing her cheeks softly. His eyes were focused on hers, wondering what had he done right in life to deserver her, she was so much more than he ever deserved. “Marry me.” Kai said softly, leaning his head closer to hers.

Her eyebrows frowned, words trying to come out to the surface. “What? Kai... don’t joke wi-”  His calm voice interrupted her words.

“I’m not, marry me Y/N. I-I know I’m not the best. God, if there is someone in the world that deserves hell that’s me, we both know that; but besides it you are still with me, you still wake up in my arms every morning, you haven’t left, I don’t want you to.” Malachai licked his lips, processing the words in his mind before letting them out. “I love you with all my being, I’d do anything for you and I want to have you by my side ‘till the end of times. So, would you Y/N Y/L/N marry me?” Kai closed his eyes, praying that she would accept his proposal.

Her words came right away accompanied with tears and sobs. “Yes, yes! I’ll marry you Kai.” She barely managed to breath out, wrapping her arms around his body. 

A joyful smile made it’s way on Kai’s features, pressing his lips on hers and embracing her in a gentle and loving kiss, their tongues wanting to meet each other. She felt something light fall on her skin, disconnecting their lips she took a look at their surroundings, what she saw amazed her; pearl white feathers were falling gently inside their bedroom as if it was rain or snow. It was breathtaking.

“Look, I know I don’t have a ring but, we'll go together and-” She shushed him, her big eyes connecting his blue ones.

“ I don’t care about a stupid ring, all I care about is you.”  Her little confession making his eyes glossy, he smiled still wondering how had he been so lucky.

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