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greatbigbellies · 4 years ago

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The @wesoftupinhere oneshot... that turned into a fourshot... but hey it’s content right? Features wholesome preg content, light stuffing, rapid pregnancy, and heavy multiples. Hope you enjoy it!

Kyle lounged in his gamer chair, his full term pregnant belly resting in his lap. He Took a hand off of the mouse to rub small circles in the side of his distended tummy, soothing his little boy inside. Both Kyle and his baby had been restless lately, anxious to meet each other, and Kyle was particularly ready to be done with pregnancy. It wasn’t a bad gig, mind you, lots of food and attention. However, being so heavy and achy all the time was draining. He’d been going for 38 weeks now, and his 5’5” frame was growing weary of growing a baby. Almost there, he thought to himself. He returned his hand to his mouse to keep streaming. He was playing minecraft, half cause he enjoyed it, and half because it got donations. With the baby coming soon, he needed all the money he could get.

He shifted idly in his chair, struggling to get comfortable. “How far along are you?” asked one of his stream viewers. He got this question almost every day. “38 weeks, 3 days! Almost done!” he chirped. “Congrats!” said the viewer over chat. Kyle smiled. “You look so fatherly!” another chimed in. Kyle blushed a little, not sure how to take compliments. “Aww, thanks guys!” he replied.

“Can we see the tummy?” asked one particularly brave viewer. “Ooooh, I dunno guys, it’s kind of hard to move at this size,” he replied. A minute or so passed, Kyle idly harvesting his crops, when a donation rolled in. “Oh! Thanks for the twenty bucks! Wow! Let’s see…” he waited for the bit donation message to scroll by. “If I give you $20 will you show us the baby bump?” it asked. Kyle rolled his eyes and smiled. “You guys drive a hard bargain, but ooookay,” he grunted as he got to his feet, his hefty body trying to weigh him down. He turned to the side and rolled up his shirt to show his smooth, large belly to the facecam. His baby visibly kicked from the inside, much do the delight of the twitch chat.

“Pog!” “Pog baby!” “Pogchamp!” “Pogchamp!” “Pog baby!!” “He’s our little pogchamp!”... his chat exploded. Kyle laughed at the reaction, causing his tummy to bounce slightly. “Hahaha! Yeah, I guess he is our little pogchamp huh?” he said, half genuinely, half ironically. Twitch slang felt weird sometimes, but Kyle had to admit, it got results. He held his belly from below and gave it a little bounce as about $55 in donations rolled in, all saying variations of “pog baby”. Kyle smiled to himself as he heard Tyler come home. “Oop! My lunch is here! BRB!” he said as he paused the stream and put up his “returning soon” screen. He yanked his shirt down over his huge belly and waddled into the kitchen where Tyler sat, groaning and cradling his massive gut.

“Are you okay?” asked Kyle, thinking Tyler just overate again. “Oooohhh… too many burgers…” Tyler moaned. “Why didn’t you wait until you got home to eat?” asked Kyle. “I was gonna… but they smelled so good… and pregnancy cravings won out…” he explained between breaths. “Dude, feel my belly...! It’s so full!” Kyle shrugged. He’d felt Tyler’s tummy a million times over his pregnancy, he didn’t expect this to be any different. He was wrong. “Whoa… dude, how much did you eat?” he asked, prodding his best friend’s massively overstuffed belly. It felt insanely firm, especially on the lower hemisphere. Tyler’s belly was already huge, what with triplets crammed in there, and he had a habit of gorging himself now and again. “For the babies” he’d always say. This felt different though. It was like he was… more pregnant than before…

“Uuuh, just like… two burgers, fries, a side of onion rings, and a large shake… a normal lunch!” said Tyler. Kyle would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t concerned. He compared the firmness of hIs own belly with his friend’s. Both were very full, sure, and had little give, but Tyler’s… his felt downright overfilled. Kyle rolled up his friend’s shirt to inspect the belly. It all looked fine as far as he could tell. More tightly stretched, sure, but no harsh blemishes or warning signs. “Soooo much pressure!...” complained Tyler. “Do you need to go to a doctor?” Tyler shook his head at Kyles question. “Nah dude, I’ll be fine… I just need some tummy rubs and time to digest…” he paused… “Wow, I must have overdone it more than I thought. I swear the burger just kicked…”

Kyle gave his friend a skeptical look. “Where did you get these? Burger King?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, placing both hands on his distended bare belly. “Nah bro… some new place that popped up next door. Nice portions…. I didn’t get the name though…” Kyle smiled at his friend. It’s just like him to order and eat from a place without knowing what it’s called. He glanced at the plain, brown paper bag the food came in, and grabbed his burger to examine the wrapping. “McPreggo? What kind of name is McPreggo?” he asked Tyler, who was zoned out rubbing his belly. “I dunno man… but the babies sure liked it and I did too… maybe too much, ough,” he let out a dainty little belch.

Kyle shrugged. It did smell amazing. He unwrapped his burger, and took a bite. “Oh my god…” he trailed off with a mouth full. “W-what?” asked Tyler. “This… is the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten!” Kyle beamed. This was like eating his favorite food, while sating a craving for a different favorite food, while discovering a NEW favorite food all at once. The patty was grilled to perfection, the bun was fluffy, the veggies were moist and crisp, and whatever that reddish sauce was was simply astonishing.

“I can see why you would overdo it on this food Tyler, THIS… IS… AMAZING!” Tyler smirked at his friend. “And you doubted by tastes…” he said jokingly, patting his overfilled belly. Kyle continued to demolish the burger at a frightening pace. “Dude… I once saw you dip sweet potato fries in cake icing… your tastes are bizarre,” pointed out Kyle between bites. “Eeny, and Meeny wanted the fries and Miney wanted the icing!” Tyler defended himself, referring to his triplets by their nicknames.

Kyle felt the weight of his pregnant tummy tug downward, his sore back reminding him that standing for too long wasn’t a good idea in his state. He waddled over and took a seat between Tyler and the table of food. “Speaking of fries… you didn’t eat them all, did you?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nah man, I specifically left yours alone. They’re in the bag, you gotta try them. They put some garlic salt or something on ‘em,” Uncannily, Kyle found himself craving garlic at the mere mention of it. He took the last bite of his burger, and stuck his arm down the bag to fish out his prize.

Tyler rubbed large circles on the distended sides of his massive belly, soothing both his overfilled stomach and his aching womb. He felt Eeny, Meeny, and Miney all snuggled in his gut… and he could SWEAR he felt three other bodies in there too, but that was impossible. He was just overfed, surely. He turned to watch Kyle basically drink the fries out of the carton. He hadn’t seen his friend put away food like this since his second trimester… dude must’ve been starving. He thought to himself.

Tyler furrowed his brow at the sight of Kyle’s tummy slowly pushing outward, his shirt visibly riding up as he ate. Kyle seemed too enamored with the food to notice. “And you got me onion rings?! God I love you Ty, you know how to treat a guy,” Kyle laughed as he found the second side hidden in the bag. “Y-yeah, no problem…” Tyler trailed off, still focusing on his friend’s tummy. “How are you feeling?” he asked. Kyle crunched on a perfectly seasoned onion ring, “Like I’m in heaven!” he replied, an adorable grin on his face.

Tyler felt his own tummy again, really taking the time to feel it. He felt for where most of the pressure in his belly was coming from. His stomach? Check. His womb? Also check… He felt around, outlining the tiny bodies in his head. 1… 2… 3… his eyes widened. He reached over and felt Kyles belly, a sizable crescent of bare skin showing as his shirt continued to ride up. Kyle was too busy enjoying onion rings to care. They felt each other’s babies all the time, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Tyler concentrated on the movement under Kyle’s skin, feeling where the kicks and rolls where coming from. Kyle’s baby was really active in there… almost too active… “Hey Kyle…?” “Mhmmm?” Kyle finished off the last two onion rings in one bite. Tyler looked at him, and with the most uncharacteristically serious tone he could muster, said “Show me where your little pogchamp is,” Kyle snorted out a giggle. “You were just feeling him! He’s right there!” Kyle guided Tyler’s hand to his lower belly, right below his now exposed navel, where a tiny foot was pressed against his palm.

Tyler nodded. He felt movement stir in his own belly, and squinted in concentration. As if on cue, a stong kick pushed its way up into the top shelf of Kyle’s tummy, distending it. That made Kyle jump a little, “Wow okay… guess he’s up there…” Kyle paused. “Wait that’s not right…” he rolled up his shirt, now much tighter than it was this morning, and placed his hands on the top and bottom of his belly, Tyler’s hands taking up the front. They made eye contact as they both came to the realization that this felt familiar… on Tyler.

“Am I… carrying TRIPLETS?!?!” Kyle yelled in surprise. “I...I think so?” replied Tyler. “And I think I’ve got six… I think… the food…” he stared at the empty brown paper bag in the table. “Nononono… wait that’s not right…” Kyle explored his own expanded belly. His midriff was now undoubtedly larger than before and he felt three distinct bodies inside… “How does that work?” asked Tyler, drumming the top of his own sextuplet belly in thought. Kyle shook his head in bewilderment. “It’ll be okay… we’ll get Sarah, Bree, and Brook on the phone. They do this stuff for a living, they’ll be able to help us!” said Kyle, half to himself in an effort to stay calm. “Yeah! If anyone will understand spontaneous babies, it’ll be them!” said Tyler with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Problem solved!”

Kyle tried to stand up, but found himself stuck to his seat due to the new weight. He tried again, making little progress. “Uh… problem not quite solved,” he looked sheepishly at Tyler. “Will you… help me up?” he asked. Tyler jokingly leaned back, causing his truly massive tummy to stick out just that little bit father. “I dunno bro… I’m like… SUPER pregnant right now,” he grinned, his sextuplets visibly moving in his overburdened belly. Kyle crossed his arms and pouted. “Well I’M super pregnant and super SHORT so I need help,” he replied. Tyler laughed, “Well, you got me there dude, gimme a sec,”

Tyler scooted forward and spread his knees apart to make room for his pendulous belly, then he leaned forward, taking the weight off of his butt and onto his feet, before slowly straightening his legs. He pressed his hands into his lower back to help guide his torso into a vertical position, his mammoth belly sticking out far in front of him. The sudden change of position did not sit well with his cargo, and they roiled around in his overstretched gut. “Oof, guys, come on…” he pleaded with his babies, but they didn’t relent. He took his steps slowly, movement difficult at that size, and approached Kyle. “Alright dude, gimme your hands,” Tyler reached out, his belly reaching almost as far as his arms.

Kyle took his hands and, with a heave and some backwards motion from Tyler, got up to a standing position. “Whooo, okay,” said Kyle breathlessly. “God… how do you do this all the time?” he asked, cradling his triplet heavy belly. Tyler smiled, holding his own tummy in his hands, “Lots of food, lots of sleep, and lots of belly rubs,” Kyle smirked at the wholesomeness that was Tyler, and waddled over to his phone. “Alright… lets hope the girls aren’t busy…”

About an hour later, there was a firm knock at the door, no doubt from Brook. “Door’s unlocked!” called Kyle, resting on the couch, laying lengthwise to take up all three cushions. Tyler sat in the recliner, the footrest put up to support his legs, and his huge belly, which rested between them. The door swung open to reveal Sarah and Brook, Sarah herself sporting a solidly second trimester belly. “Sorry we were so slow, had to meet with a client,” apologized Sarah, patting her tummy for emphasis. “So what’s this about a ‘baby emergency’? If you’re in labor just to go the hospital!” said Brook, reading something on her phone. The two stepped inside, closing the door behind them, and Sarah was the first to see the thoroughly expanded boys.

“Uh, Brook, I think they have the opposite problem,” said Sarah. Brook glanced up from her phone to take in the sight of Tyler carrying six babies. “Oh my god did you go to a buffet?” she asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nope, just McPreggo!” he grinned, showing the cute gap between his teeth. “McWhat-now?” Sarah asked. “Some new restaurant Ty found, we think the food spontaneously fills your womb!” explained Kyle. “In fairness, the food IS amazing and almost worth it,” Tyler interjected. Sarah grimaced a little. She knew Tyler was a foodie, but was it really worth all THIS?

“Where’s Bree?” asked Kyle. “She’s, uh, getting us lunch. We were going to cook, but when we got the call from you we rushed over,” Sarah explained. Kyle nodded, “thanks for that, by the way,” he smiled. Sarah grinned sympathetically back, “so, uh, how many do you guys have now?” she asked. “Kyle’s got three now, and I’ve got six!” Tyler drummed the top shelf of his belly, stirring the occupants inside. “Yikes,” said Brook monotonously to no one in particular, back to looking at her phone.

Sarah looked at the table, covered in McPreggo wrappers and pursed her lips in thought. Maybe the packaging had a clue? She walked over to the dining area and looked over the fry cartons and burger wrappers. She wished Brook would help, but she seemed too busy on her phone. Sarah examined the label on the wrapper and saw tiny font that read “Quantum Noms LLC” in the corner. As she puzzled over what it could mean, Brook put her phone in her pocket and sighed. “Sarah, I love you, but you’re doing it the hard way. I already figured it out,”

Everyone looked at Brook in surprise. “You did?” asked Kyle. “Yeah, dude, I googled ‘McPreggo’ and read like… half a news article. Did you guys forget you could look things up on the internet?” she asked sarcastically. “Yeah, kinda,” shrugged Tyler from his seat. Brook rolled her eyes. “It’s a marketing thing. McPreggo food is designed to taste amazing to pregnant people, so they make food that uses some quantum physics BS to get their customers pregnant with, like, I dunno… copies of babies from the multiverse or some shit. Then they come back, eat more food, get more pregnant, and McPreggo rolls in the profits. It’s all harmless and temporary, you’ll be fine…” Brook trailed off. “...In 24 hours,” Tyler sighed happily and leaned back, causing his torpedo belly to agle up slightly.

“Oh good, so Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Pogchamp are all safe, and we don't have to birth and care for extra babies,” said Tyler. “Problem solved… and now I can eat there again guilt free!” he grinned. “No!” everyone shouted. Tyler pouted, “but… it was so yummy…” Kyle sighed. “Okay… ONE burger every 24 hours… and you don’t get to complain about being too pregnant to do things!” he offered. Tyler laughed, causing his belly to bounce a tad. “Yeah, I’m already there BEFORE the food! Ha!” his mouth curled into a shit eating grin. Then, there was a shuffling at the door.

“Guys…? I need some help!” called Bree. Brook rolled her eyes and went over to the door, Sarah joining the boys in the living area. Brook opened the door and her jaw dropped. Bree stood there, her arms full of fast food bags, and her belly jutting out farther than Tyler’s, bare and sporting a popped belly button. “Thanks! I couldn’t reach the door past my tummy!” Bree slowly waddled past Brook and into the kitchen, garnering stares from everyone else. “I found this new restaurant! It’s really really good! I wasn’t sure what you guys wanted so I bought one of everything, though I might’ve eaten a bunch of it on the way here!” she said, a smile in her voice. “It’s soooo good though, I couldn’t help myself! I went after picking up Mrs. Buck’s twins, and I ate so much, now the twins have a bunch of friends! Isn’t it great!? It’s like a party in my belly!”

Tyler smiled a huge, toothy grin, “one of everything you say?” Sarah shook her head, but caught a whiff of the food and immediately understood why Tyler wanted more. Kyle eyed the pile of food on the table and felt his mouth water. He looked down at his triplet heavy belly… surely one more wouldn’t hurt? Brook, the only non-pregnant person there, grasped the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache building. This was about to get messy.

Bree sat down in the wooden chair next to the table full of food, causing it to creak under her septuplet pregnancy weight. Her tummy stuck out past her knees, and forced her legs apart from its sheer size. She grabbed a double bacon burger and offered it out to Brook. “Come on Brook! I know you’re hungry!” she smiled, genuinely not seeing the problem with her offer. Brook shook her head. “No way. I’m going to have to take on enough brats from all of you, I don’t need to start brewing my own!” she said. Bree shrugged. “More for meeee!” as she was about unwrap the sandwich, Brook stepped forward and snatched it out of her hands. “Are you kidding me? Look at you?! You’ll pop if you eat this!”

Sarah eyed the table of amazing smelling fast food and considered her options… she considered how much Bree must have spent on all of this… considered how awful it would be for this delectable feast to go to waste. “Um… Brook, it’d be a shame if we threw all of this away…” she said meekly. Brook gave an electric glare and threw her hands up in exasperation. “FINE! You all stuff yourselves and get huge with a bunch of quantum babies! I’m not taking any off of your hands when you’re all to big to move!” “Too late,” Tyler chipped in. “Aw, c’mon Tyler! I’m bigger than you! Surely you can still walk?” Bree bubbled. “Well yeah, but I don’t want to…” Tyler eyed the burger in Brook’s hand. “Hey Brook, you eatin’ that or what?”

Brook rolled her eyes and tossed him the burger, eliciting a tongue click and a finger gun from Tyler. Kyle shifted on the couch and slowly stood up, his relatively small frame struggling with just three. He pushed his hands into his lower back, and his shirt rode up all the way, leaving every square inch of pregnant belly on display. He waddled over to the table to see what was left. Sarah quickly joined him, her singleton belly feeling somewhat empty. Brook sat on the now empty couch and gave everyone a scornful look in turn. She knew she was going to have to clean this up.

Kyle tentatively grabbed a mild chicken sandwich while Sarah scooped up the 4 sliders and a side of onions rings. Bree grabbed the spicy chicken sandwich and the last remaining food item, the double jalapeno burger. Kyle and Sarah each sitting on the floor in front of the couch, not wanting to get TOO close to the grumpy Brook, Tyler on his recliner and Bree in her kitchen chair, the crew got to work decimating the McPreggo.

Tyler unwrapped the double bacon burger and started in on it, taking large, heaping bites that required him to chew for a somewhat extended period of time. The lettuce, tomato, bacon, cheese, and patty all tasted so good together, the flavors melded perfectly into the exact thing he was craving in that moment. As far as Tyler was concerned, McPreggo had earned his business. It was hard to argue with food that tasted this good. One hand held the sandwich, and the other rested on the shelf of his belly. As he devoured the sandwich, he felt the skin of his tummy shift under his fingers. Was that kicking? No, he was very familiar with that feeling. This... was growth.

Kyle sat cross legged on the floor, his triplet heavy belly resting on his folded ankles, and began eating the chicken sandwich. The cheese was an unexpected but welcomed touch, and the sauce, whatever it was, went perfect with the breading on the chicken. He polished off the sandwich in record pace, and placed his hands on the sides of his pregnant tummy, feeling it swell up between them. He was about to be pregnant with quadruplets, and wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Next to him, Sarah was in a frenzy. The usually demure and subtle woman was downing sliders in two bites, and eating multiple onion rings in one chomp. This was amazing tasting food, and was totally worth whatever pregnant discomfort awaited her. At least, that’s what she thought before she felt her pants tighten up, and the button pop open on is own. She looked down at herself to see her 24 week singleton belly slowly expand outward in all directions, filling her lap with addition after addition to her womb.

Bree had somehow already completely consumed the spicy chicken sandwich, and was most of the way through the jalapeno burger. She was a strong girl, and big muscles needed a lot of fuel. Big bellies, as it turned out, also needed a lot of fuel, as two more quantum babies filled her womb. With nine babies now roiling around in her belly, even Bree was having a hard time feeling comfortable, and slowly rose to her feet to pace, hoping to stretch her legs. Each footfall was heavy as her gargantuan nonuplet belly swayed in front of her.

Bree waddled over to Tyler, who was back to groaning and rubbing big circles around his tummy. “Whyyyy did I do this? This bellyache and pressure isn’t worth the taste of delicious fooood…” he groaned. His 7 babies rumbled in his belly, resting on the recliner’s footrest. Bree tentatively placed a hand on her friend’s tanker of a tummy, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re really pregnant all right,” she said. “T-thanks Bree. I wasn’t sure there for a sec,” groaned Tyler, all in good humor, of course.

Kyle struggled to unfold his legs under the weight of his tum. He swore he’d never complain about carrying his singleton son after this experience. He ran his hands around the equators of his belly, and leaned back against the couch, considering just staying there and sleeping this off.

Next to him was Sarah, who was in the process of seeing if she could still reach her bellybutton past her quadruplet belly. She could, barely. What she couldn’t do was fit in this shirt and pants anymore. She needed to get home and changed soon, having a big pregnant belly like this just hanging out felt so unprofessional. She moved to get up, but found she was too heavy to get off the floor with any real speed. Was it worth it for those sliders? It was, she decided, but only barely. “We should… urp… get home and… and digest,” said Sarah. “You buys gonna be okay?” she asked. “Mhmmm…” moaned Kyle sleepily. Tyler leaned back into the cushions of the recliner and grinned. “This… yeah, I can vibe with this…”

Bree took her hand off of Tyler’s belly, and waddled over to Sarah, one burning question on her mind. She looked expectantly at her friend as she struggled to get her feet under her. Sensing what was about to be asked, Brooks eyes lit up with exasperation. “On the way home… could we stop… for a snack?”

#not bellies #wholesome kink content #writing #pregnancy #pregnant

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tiredcath · 4 years ago

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Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through.

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

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WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

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BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

Link

Of all the disciples to worship at the altar of Stevie Nicks, none have managed to capture the attention of rock's reigning priestess quite like Harry Styles.

The 26-year old rocker (who this week received three Grammy nominations) is the Gucci-clad poster-boy carrying the torch for a bygone era of music history that the Fleetwood Mac front-woman helped crystallize. Styles recently cited the group's 1977 (and still charting) classic “Dreams” as one of the first songs he learned the words to growing up. Their friendship began in 2015 after the former One Direction member presented his idol with a hand-piped birthday cake after a Fleetwood Mac gig in London. (“Glad she liked carrot cake,” he later said.) The years since have seen the duo's mutual affection blossom into one of pop culture‘s most cherished bondings.

Last year, when Styles inducted Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he proclaimed the 72-year old “everything you’ve ever wanted in a lady, a lover, in a friend.” Nicks has gushed about him in interviews as everything from “the son she never had” to the “love child” of her and bandmate Mick Fleetwood. Styles earned her official seal of approval after covering “The Chain” every night of his first solo tour in support of a record that sounds closer to Crosby, Stills & Nash than anything he released under his prior band.

“Harry could've lost a lot of fans but he didn't. I’m so proud of him because he took a risk and didn’t go the One Direction route," Nicks recently told Vogue over the phone. "He loves One Direction, I love One Direction, and a gazillion other people do too, but Harry didn't wanna go the pop route. He wanted straight-up rock-and-roll circa 1975.”

Nicks has been embracing some of the busiest years of her dual careers as both Fleetwood Mac front-woman and solo sorceress—and doing so in the midst of a global pandemic. Since she last performed with Styles at the Forum for his Fine Line release show in December, she’s released a 24 Karat Gold concert film and “Show Them the Way,” her politically-minded single and first piece of original music in six years. After Miley Cyrus asked for Nicks's blessing before releasing her “Edge of Seventeen”-tinged “Midnight Sky,” the two joined forces for an exhilarating new mash-up titled “Edge of Midnight."

In honor of Styles making history as the magazine’s first solo cover-boy, Nicks caught up with Vogue to answer all our questions about their cosmic connection. Currently beachside with her quarantine bubble in Hawaii, she’s been doing what one would expect Stevie Nicks to be up to during a pandemic: writing new music, dancing around her house to “Watermelon Sugar“ and “casting little spells.” As befitting rock’s foremost storyteller, our intended 30-minute chat turned into a two-hour confessional about her love of Styles, working with Cyrus for the first time, joining Fleetwood Mac, the president-elect Joe Biden, the Met Gala, betta fish funerals, and much more.

Did you get a chance to look through Harry's cover story yet?

Right before I called you I sat here and looked at all the pictures on my new iPad. What can I say? That's my Harry. I think the thing that’s most wonderful about him—and I've told him this and sometimes I think he takes it the wrong way—is that he’s such a kooky guy. He’s the type of person you'd wanna live next door to. He’d look out the window, see you having a hard time planting flowers and rush out asking "Can I help you with those roses?" "Sure but you are Harry Styles, right?" That's who he is.

I really only know him to a certain extent but I have gotten to experience some big moments in his life like when he released his first solo record at the Troubadour. I always think of Tom Petty saying "So you wanna be a rock star or you wanna be a pop star?" It's two completely different things and he really could have gone pop like his friend Zayn [Malik]. I was sorry that Zayn didn't keep going more because I thought he was really good. But he took the pop route, which I think was right for him. Harry could've lost a lot of fans doing rock-and-roll but he didn't. Harry did a long tour with that first record and said “I'm a different person now. I have a full-on rock band and this is what I'm gonna do.” With many of my records I’ll stuff down peoples' throats until they like it and that's exactly what he did. Then he went away and wrote Fine Line, one of my favorite records.

What were your immediate thoughts listening to Fine Line for the first time?

Me and four of my friends sat with Harry in his living room in London and listened to it a few times before it came out. But it wasn't really Fine Line yet. The first time we listened to it nobody really said anything. The second time everyone started to go "I think this song is great but it should be second in the sequence." By the third listen it was five girls screaming "Well Harry really now, I think you need to take these four that are called "Harry Songs" and do this and that—” while he’s sinking in his reclining chair thinking "Are these women ever gonna leave? Thanks for your opinions but oh my god stop already."

What changed when you heard the record in it’s finished form?

This record means a lot to me. When it was all put together I listened and said "Oh my god, The Beatles live." A whole lot of people live in these songs. Fleetwood Mac lives there. I live there. When I listen to "Fine Line” I hear melodies that would've worked on “A Day in the Life.“ It has that same kind of complexity. I think the Beatles would've thought “Here we’ve influenced a young man who took some incredible things from us and made them his own years and years later.”

Earlier this year you posted a message saying that Fine Line is Harry’s Rumours. Can you elaborate on what you meant by that?

When Harry asked me to do "Landslide" with him at the Forum I asked why and he said "Because I want you to be there. You were there for my first night at the Troubadour for the first record.” That night I wrote him a letter that said “This is your Rumours so you have to really respect it and adore it because these kinds of records sometimes don't ever come again.” Fleetwood Mac went on to make many great records but people would bet their life on the fact that Rumours was the one. And this might just be the one for Harry. We were all kind of the same age when we made Rumours. I was 28 and Lindsey was 27. I actually don't even know how old Harry is—he's that timeless to me.

Do you have a personal favorite of his songs?

Every one represents a different thing to me. “Sunflower” is such a great little song. He loves to do crazy videos and one time I called him and said “I have an idea. You're gonna be a bee and the sunflower would be your girlfriend, and you guys would get married and live in a beehive with your little bee children. You’d sing the lyrics “kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor duh duh duh” and show this entire bee relationship.”

What did he think of that pitch?

When I finished the other end of the phone was silent. I said "No really, think about it. It’ll be fantastical like a Francis Ford Coppola movie.” He’s like “Yeah, okay...” (laughs). I also love the "Adore You” video with the little fish because I have my own special relationships with fish.

In what sense?

I always have two betta fish but they have to be separated otherwise they'll kill each other. I stick my finger into their aquarium and the blue one will swim around my hand like a little dolphin. When my fish get old and suddenly die I have funerals for them in my backyard where I play Celine Dion. I have them filmed and everything (laughs). It’s too much but I thankfully haven’t had any recent fish deaths. I haven't even been able to sit down and show Harry the videos of my little fish so when I saw the “Adore You” video I couldn’t believe it.

Why is it important for you to foster these relationships with younger artists like Harry who’ve been so openly influenced by you?

I'm inspired by them. I'm inspired that Miley wants to make music with me. I’m inspired that the Haim girls are my biggest fans—and I theirs. A lot of these kids are making the amazing records I’ve been waiting for them to make. I’m not like other 72-year olds. I listen to current music because I want to be current. When people find out how old I am versus the music I'm listening to they think it doesn't gel at all. I’ve been collecting musical knowledge since I was in the fourth grade listening to the singles my grandfather used to bring home. I listened to Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers until the sixth grade when R&B radio became Top 40. I said goodbye country and hello R&B, so it’s not like I'm ever stuck on one thing. What I love about Harry is that he's very old-school but still modern. And that's kinda like me.

You both also transitioned from massive groups to equally massive solo careers rather seamlessly.

When I decided I wanted to be a solo artist I'd only been in Fleetwood Mac for a few years. I tried to figure out a way to do it gracefully because I didn’t wanna break up the band. I just wanted to sit at my piano and write poetry. After we did a record and a really long tour the band scurried off to different parts of the world while I’d just be home writing songs for a year and a half. What did they care what I did while they were all on vacation? I’ve always said all the way through these two careers I've had: if you're in a band first, never break it up.

I know Beyoncé because I spent a day with Destiny’s Child making the “Bootylicious” video. I owe them a debt of gratitude because that’s the one time I ever got to pretend I played rock-and-roll guitar! But when Beyoncé made the decision to be a solo artist she did not see herself going back to Destiny's Child every couple of years. And that's a perfectly acceptable decision because sometimes that's what people wanna do. I, on the other hand, said why not have the ability to go back to Fleetwood Mac whenever I want? Being a Gemini I get bored really easily, so being able to have those two careers was great.

Do you think One Direction would ever reunite?

I think it's a good idea. For all we know, One Direction is completely broken up forever. But I think those guys are friends and five or ten years down the road they could all go "You know what, wouldn't it be really fun to do a One Direction tour?" Because that's what people do. I wouldn't be surprised if they did reunite at some point just because they can. And because it would just be fun. Harry is the kind of person who would never stomp on that idea. He would never say (imitates posh English accent) "Never! I would never do that again!" Because why not just keep the door open?

Was there any particular detail or passage in Harry’s cover story that stuck out to you?

According to this article he can get in a car with his friend to drive all over Europe then drive back by himself. I stopped driving in 1978 because my driver's license expired and I'd already made a lot of money. I very smartly thought "You know what, if someone even hits you and it's not even your fault but you're a little drunk, you are done. You're finished and the fortune that you've made is gone, so why should you drive anyway?” By then me and Christine were very cloistered, but Harry's able to live a freer life because he's a guy. He's like Mick. He has a free life.

Would you say that you don’t?

I'm only comparing us in the way that Harry goes off to the Bahamas to work on songs then flies back to LA then London then Italy—I can't do that. I can't do that by myself. He's able to do whatever he wants by himself and it's a whole different way of life. Being that Harry is a guy, he's able to be a loner more than I am. As a woman I'm not free to do all that. Even when I was his age I couldn't just get off anywhere I wanted. When we were on the road Christine and I didn't have a clue in the world what the boys did. We went to our rooms with security guys standing outside. It's not like we ever escaped to go club-hopping in downtown Manhattan. We never got to live that life so freedom as Harry knows it is very different than it’s been for me.

Did you ever have any figure in your life who provided some sense of mentorship the way you have to artists like Harry?

I didn't really have anyone. If I had any guiding force at all it probably would've been Christine McVie because she was five years older than me. And five years is five years, you know? Chris was friends with Eric Clapton and knew all the famous musicians in London. She’d married John [McVie] and done a bunch of records with Fleetwood Mac before I came along so she'd been in the music business for a long time. I was breaking up with Lindsey when she was breaking up with John. She was my therapist and my go-to person for just about everything. We had each other to get through that really difficult situation where no one was gonna quit the band. Christine and I kept the whole thing together by telling the three men "You quit because we're not stopping” Thank god I had her, but I think on the other side of that thank god she had me. We really were a force of nature.

I’m curious to what extent fashion plays a role in your and Harry’s relationship. Have you gifted him any accessories that were significant to you?

I actually gave him a ring at the Forum thing. It’s very masculine and has a pink stone in it. I told him it was a pink diamond but it really isn't, it would've cost $5 million. It was mine and I really loved it but I thought "This should be for Harry.” You can see it on his hands in the "Falling" video where he’s playing the piano. If Harry and I were in a band together we’d be trading all kinds of crazy stuff.

How did you come to decide on your all-black stage uniform?

I started getting paid when I joined Fleetwood Mac but up until then I didn't have any money to buy food. All of a sudden we were going on tour so I just packed up my normal clothes. We started eating because there was room service and there I was gaining ten pounds in the middle of the tour. I didn't fit in any of the clothes and I didn't have time to shop so when I got home I said “I can never do this again.” I knew a friend who knew a designer and I told her I needed a uniform because I can't be thinking about what I wanna wear every night. It makes it so much easier since everybody that's in Pittsburgh isn't necessarily gonna be in Philadelphia. Harry's done the same thing with his white pants and pink shirt.

What are your thoughts on him being the first solo male cover in Vogue’s history?

It makes me feel so inspired. I'm extremely jealous he's on the cover of Vogue because I'm seventy-two years old and have wanted to be on the cover my whole life. I’m such a magazine hag, so I’m incredibly jealous of Harry but I'll get over it. As far as all the crazy things he's wearing, you do whatever you have to do to be on the cover of Vogue. I'm very proud of him and I think it's great that there's a man on the cover… but I should've been in the corner off in the distance (laughs). Did you know I've never been to the Met Gala?

We would be honored to have you at the next gala and every one after that. I’m putting this in the article to make sure it’s in the public record.

As Mick Jagger says, "We still have our freedom, but we don't have much time." I would like to be not much older than I am now so I can wear a fantastic outfit and entertain everybody. It's a dream of mine and most of my dreams have come true, but I need to not be ninety when it happens.

Harry and you could perform together.

We wouldn't even have to rehearse. We've got a couple of duets that are really great. We do "Landslide" and “Two Ghosts” together really well. We actually have five or six terrific acoustic numbers that we could do at the drop of a hat.

You hinted earlier this year that there might be a role for Harry in the miniseries based on the stories of Rhiannon. Is there any update there?

This is probably the third-biggest thing I've ever done in my life after Fleetwood Mac and my solo career. There’s a lot to be done in the movie business before I can start riding my horses across the mountains of Wales. I've signed with a movie company—I'm not gonna tell you who—and we just signed a writer. I'm not gonna tell you who that is either but there’s an amazing part for Harry. My favorite character in the series is the only man who goes through all four books. He's a magician who doesn't wanna be king and I think Harry would just be so perfect.

Have you and Harry discussed collaborating on any future music together?

We're open to making music together because we've been very successful when we go onstage just to do one song. I would love to be in a band with Harry but even if I never saw him in person again he’s made a record that breaks my heart in a million places like Fine Line. As far as music goes there's plenty of fun things that he and I could do. We can just reach out to each other and do it. I’m always ready to slip back into those high-heel black suede boots and become my alter ego.

This interview has been edited for clarity and space.

#harry styles #stevie nicks #vogue magazine #251120

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blackberry-gingham · 4 years ago

Text

Mermaid reader x teddy!Beatles part 2!

John and George over here!

Paul

Somehow, Paul makes it home with all his Dad's things without being caught

Truly, it's a miracle

But it's not all thanks to avoiding his dad's wrath that he can't believe he's alive...

Whenever he gets some good, quality alone time, he takes out your scale and just admires it

You were beautiful in the moonlight of course, but somehow this scale alone is even more gorgeous in the light of day

This particular scale has a green and blue iridescence to it, and it's the most lovely thing he's ever seen

He honestly feels like he can see a different hue in it every day if he turns it juuuust right

And of course, it is nice to have on hand

Paul assumed you were just using a turn of phrase when you told him it was "for luck"

But it would seem he was mistaken...

Now he doesn't have many stories to tell, but last week there was a calculous test he absolutely was supposed to fail

And yet... He got a B+

A B+ !!!

That's never happened before, even if he did study

Then there was another time he won a nice lot of cash at billiards...

And the time he found a brand new free bus punch pas on the ground...

His dad sure was pleased at that one

He's even been noticing some improvements in his bass playing, particularly on the few times he tried using the scale as a pick

All these thoughts swirled in Paul's mind as he lays awake in bed

He's been so fortunate lately, and it's all thanks to you and your gift

If only he could just thank you...

He feels like it's the least he owes you

Especially considering he accidentally snagged you on a fishing line for your first meeting...

That's it. He's going to do it!

Paul turns over in his bed with a grin plastered to his face as a plan to sneak out to the lake formulates in his mind

He doesn't get the time to actualize said plan until a few days later however

Not ideal, but manageable

He decides on the same plan as last time: late at night, when no one is around

But it isn't until he's arrived at the pier that he realizes he hasn't considered how he'll get in contact with you

Paul paces back in forth in the dark

What to do, what to do...

First he decides to skip some stones

Hopefully none of them hit you, but perhaps disturbing the water will get your attention

When that doesn't work, he settles for something a little more rudimentary

Paul takes as deep a breath as he can, and yells a long "hello?" across the water

He waits a few moments and assumes it didn't work, so he winds up for a second go

As if on cue, you pop up from below the waves with an agitated look on your face first

"Do you mind? Us normal people are trying to sleep!", You whisper yell

But then, you gasp, upon finally recognizing him

"You again?"

Paul jumps a foot in the air, quite startled by your sudden appearance

But he gets his wits about him soon enough, and he drops to his hands and knees, "Yeah, I've been looking for you!"

You give him a sideways look, but Paul cuts you off before you can pose a question

"Before you get upset! I um, I wanted to say... Thank you! You know, for the scale!"

You look at him as though you haven't a clue what he's talking about, then the memory comes back to you

"Oh, um... Sure?"

"No no, you don't understand! All these wonderful things have happened for me and my family, and I- well, we're a bit bad off, so really I-I can't thank you enough! I thought the least I could do was come back and say it"

Your face softens at that

Not many people would consider giving thanks for a mermaid’s gift, they seem to much rather just enjoy the profit

“Of course, uhm...?”

“Oh, Paul!”

You smile at last and tell him your name out of courtesy

“Wow, that’s a lovely name! It suites a pretty bird like you, if you don’t me saying”

Paul gives you a wink, and you laugh in surprise

You assume it was a one off thing, especially as you part soon after having a short chat, but...

He comes back a few more times on separate nights to meet with you and tell you about the latest goings on

And of course, squeezing in his flirting game here and there

At first you're not sure

After all, you've done this song and dance plenty of times before, and things never seem to work out

But Paul is kind, and charming, and polite...

So many things you've yet to experience from a human

Eventually, Paul starts visiting you from a different point on the edge of the lake in order to spend better time together

It’s in the forest, away from the prying eyes of others

This allows him to visit you at all different hours, which gives him far more freedom to see you often

And before you know it, he brings you little gifts, like offerings, whenever he can spare something nice from his good fortune

“You know, we had our first ever gig last night... They loved us! We already have another one lined up!”

Paul talks excitedly, while you rest and listen on the little blanket he’s set out for you both

“That’s wonderful, Paul! Congratulations”

“Yeah, thanks!”, Paul clears his throat and looks away demurely. “It’s all thanks to you, ya know...”

“Oh I don’t know about that, you’re very tal-!”

“No, really it is... I um, I haven't told you this, but I've been using your scale as a pick for my bass here and there and... there's just something, magical about the sound it makes..."

He braces himself a bit, expecting you to feel indignant, no matter what his explanation

But instead you laugh, amazed to hear that it can do that too

And if course, touched to know that a piece of you was able to be with him for such a big event

So, Paul continues his story, "And I mean, the amount of coincidences that had to happen just for us to get in, let alone get another one lined up is too much for chance...”

He laughs casually, then gives a little stretch before putting his calloused hand over yours

Paul almost expects you to flinch or pull away, but... Nothing happens

No, you continue to look at him, a gentle, blissful smile gracing your face

Taking a little risk, he gently strokes the back of your palm

He speaks again, his voice dropping to a bit of a hush so that only you can hear “Not to mention I wouldn’t even have applied for the place if you wouldn’t have encouraged me to, heh”

"Well... I suppose all that's true...", You lean in a little closer to him, resting your head on his leather clad shoulder

Paul nudges your hair with the tip of his nose, with a playful smile, "Now, if only I could think of a way to thank you..."

You pick your head up and smile mischievously back at him

By now, you've begun to enjoy his cheesy little flirts

You glance from his eyes to his lips and back again, "Hm, I might be able think of something..."

Paul bites his lip and gives a toothy grin, leaning in slowly

Not missing a beat, you meet him halfway, gently closing the gap between you

And you soon decide, it's the best thank you you've ever received...

Well, right next to the one that came after it

Ringo

Ever since that day on the docks, Ringo can’t get you out of his mind

He thought for sure he was dead

In fact, he would’ve been for sure if you hadn’t saved him

He owes you his life

All he wants to do is see you one more time...

There was so much he wanted to say before you swam off

So here he is, alone at the abandoned dock for the third time this week

It’s about noon on a Saturday right now

The sun is warm and bright above while the ocean waves lap peacefully to and fro below

Ringo is still nursing several bruises from the last time, and as much as there’s a risk he’ll take another beating, he’s willing to take his chances

Of course, no sooner has the thought crossed his mind, then do the sounds of three familiar boots stomp up the old wood planks behind him

“Starkey! ‘Aven’t you learned you lesson yet?”

“Yeah, this is our dock!”

The boys taunt and threaten, as they approach Ringo once again

This time, he tries to take a stand

Unfortunately, any words he tries to say are washed out by the sudden rushing of the tide behind him

Then, by the laughing and jeering of the other gang

"Wha's that? Can't 'ear ya!"

Another round of mocking laughter, and suddenly Ringo feels about 2 feet tall

When the boys start to calm down, the leader of the teds gets very serious and sheds his jacket before handing iit to one of the others

" 'old this, don't want to soil it..."

But Ringo can barely hear them over the sound of the water

Is it high tide already?

The leader hardly takes a few steps forward before stopping at the curious sight of a sudden, large shadow

All the boys look up to see a massive, tsunami sized wave arcing up and over the edge of the pier

Just as soon as it arrived, it comes crashing on top of the other teds

Hundreds of pounds of water lay them flat against the wood, and by the time they're able to catch their wits and stand, they turn tail, leaving Ringo all alone

Ringo, who is perfectly unharmed...

The remaining pool of water dribbles off the edge of the pier, providing a little something for Ringo to focus on while he tries to collect his own wits

Just then, a gentle tap comes at his lower back, causing him to whip around

Your eyes are just barely peaking over the ledge when you whisper, "Are you alright?"

A great weight feels lifted off of him, as Ringo turns fully to face you

"Me? Fine! D-did you do that?", He nods over his shoulder, breathless, but excited

You smile and nod, "It's a bit... tiring... But it was worth it"

Know that he's calmed down a bit, you do sound a little out of breath

"Oh... Well, thank you... Really, I mean it!", he pauses, and then, "Say, do you want to rest a minute? Maybe on the shore? I can watch and make sure no one bothers ya!"

You're about to interject, maybe tell him he doesn't have to do that, but there's something about the look on his eyes that tells you he's not offering just to be nice

So instead, you agree, and Ringo meets you shortly amongst the brush and the rocks just a stone's throw from the pier

He takes a seat on a rock, as a wave gracefully deposits you on the sand

You crawl a short distance to a rock of your own and prop yourself up on it, enjoying the time to rest

As you get settled, Ringo can't help but admire you

He's focused on your tail and all the intricate, shimmering scales and fins that adorn it

Of course, you notice his staring, "...Does it bother you?"

Ringo snaps out of his daydream, "Huh? Oh, uh no! Not at all!"

He scratches the back of his head, and ducks down a bit

Even behind his scraggly beard, you can see a little blush

"Sorry... I um, I just think you're pretty..."

You're not sure why, but that makes you blush a bit too

You've been told that a thousand times before by humans, sailors, and mermen alike

But when Ringo says it, there's something more... innocent to it

Like a childhood crush, or a romance that blossoms between two close friends

"Oh... Thank you...", is about all you manage to get out

Ringo runs his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it up a bit, "My name's Ringo, by the way... Er, no, actually it's Ritchie, but me friends call me Ringo"

He holds up his hand and shows you a collection of various and intricate rings as though to justify his statement

They glint and gleam in the sun, all the various metals and gemstones like a kalidascope to your eyes

Ringo notices how transfixed you are, and feels a bit encouraged

Perhaps he hasn't scared you off just yet...

He takes a gamble, "Would you like to see them up close?"

You refocus onto him, "Well... If you wouldn't mind, sure!"

Your tail gives a swish behind you, betraying you and your excitement

Ringo hops up and over to your rock and takes as seat right beside you

The proximity startles you a bit, but he seems so excited to show off his collection to you, that you forget all about it

He splays out his hand for you to see, and you end up holding it in yours while he points to the details of each ring, telling their stories

His hands are rough and callused, with a bit of soft hair coming in around his knuckles

They're a bit bigger then yours still, which you find a little humorous

He's like a puppy that's growing into it's adult body, with his short stature yet large hands and ears and eyes...

Now that you mention it, they're just so blue...

"And this one, I- Uhm, are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry! I just- ahem. You're eyes... They're so pretty"

With your free hand, you gently caress the very edge of his eye socket then give the bridge of his big ol nose a few playful scratches

Ringo's heart leaps in his chest and a gleeful smile slowly spreads throughout his face

See, he's not like John or Paul... They have birds all over them

And what does he get? Teased. Ignored. Sometimes flat made fun of...

So to have such a beautiful woman as you take even a little fancy to him...

He's over joyed

The rings are immediately forgotten, and you tell him a bit more about what you like about him

You like the hair on his face... What is that called?

You like his smile, and the way he laughs...

And yes, you do like his nose, since he asked

Ringo feels like he's floating on a cloud. The genuine affection he's getting from you right now is beyond anything he ever dreamed of

He has to say something...

With a little clearing of the throat, Ringo gathers up how confidence to take oneore chance for the day

"So erm, is there... anyone waiting for you? You know, back there?", You nod towards the infinite sea

You look away, a sad smile tugging at your lips, "No, not really... Why?"

Ringo can feel his heart hammering now, and he takes his chance

"Well I was just wondering..."

He slips one of his precious rings off and hold it out to you

"If maybe you'd like to see each other... M-more often?"

Your eyes light up, and you realize that yes, yes you would like to do that...

He's estatic to hear it, and to seal the deal he slips his ring on your finger

For safe keeping, he says

And before you both part ways for the day, you make sure to give him his first, little kiss

#the beatles #ringo starr x reader #paul mccartney x reader #mermaid!reader #beatles x reader #beatles imagines

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chinatea · 4 years ago

Text

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall.

For my best girl @kmheart <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living.

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro.

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing.

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about.

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below.

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life.

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top.

Nice, Jungkook thinks.

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh.

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his.

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull.

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love.

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy.

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush.

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream.

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers.

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble.

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all.

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them.

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?”

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

#jikook #jikook au #personas au

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themockingcrows · 4 years ago

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Doki Doki Grist Panic! Ch. 2

John/Dave cw: canon typical violence ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/68120641

Being a magical boy was, in essence, a life long gig. If you did well and kept the peace and grew in power, you could be granted freedom from the fate that was chosen for you from the denizens with their aspects. Sometimes. Other times, you could make it all that way and still have your hand forced in unpredictable ways.

The scent of blood ran through Dave’s nose, and with it the feeling of power rushing through his own. The enemy had been a big one, and he’d been very young, new to the mantle. He still didn’t know how to fight with his blade properly, too used to the one handed flailing that constituted practice with his brother on the rooftop. It had been too big, too much to handle alone, at least without unlocking a top tier ability that came with a terrible price. The words of Hephaestus rang through Dave’s ears, guiding his hands to drop the sword and instead focus on the time turners, the mystic assisting devices he bore.

He scratched forwards, backwards, then spun them both at the same time without thinking, feeling the rush of time like a punch to the stomach. He’d nearly vomited, holding onto his bile through sheer spite alone, and landed in the past. Standing behind himself, he waited until the moment was right before rushing forwards, leaping over his own striking form, and landing on the monster’s face. He planted a hand on its warm flesh and sunk his gloved fingers in to secure his grip before turning the timetables again, forcing time to freeze entirely.

The nausea came again, and Dave became acutely aware of his own heartbeat, the understanding of what was happening right then and there. Time was ticking down on his own clock, life but a borrowed timepiece itself, the high price to pay for messing with the flow of time.

Fitting, really.

Dave summoned his sword back to his hand and lifted his hands, striking what looked like a weak spot on the massive beast… and immediately was whipped off as time surged back into its normal flow, slamming back into a wall and sliding down to the ground limply.

Bro was there.

He wasn’t alone, Bro was there. He could hear his voice, but as if through a tunnel before his ears started ringing, and couldn’t lift his head up to reply properly. His sword was still embedded in the creature, but it wasn’t enough to take it down. Bro had his katana. Even if he wasn’t a magical boy any longer, even if he was at risk, he still had his weapon and a lot of power on his side. The monster soon fell in half, sliced as if by a clean saw blade, grist pouring out of it like a pinata up into the air to bounce and begin returning from whence it had come.

That was a hero.

One strike, and that was all it had taken. Bro went to his knee afterwards, clutching at his heart and breathing hard, feeling the pang of the echo of Yaldabaoth once more.

That was really a hero. He’d fought even though that strike had cost him. Even though there was no way to reverse what he’d done, giving his power up to restore the peace in a cataclysmic event. Even though every exertion could be his last, heart weakened by the exchange.

He was a hero, and yet Dave was the magical one now, and he needed to figure out how the fuck to live up to that kind of exchange. Given the feeling earlier during the fight, the sensation of his life altering, Dave was able to glimpse likely how his own life would end someday. ...Would he make it to old age, still? Or would he go young? It would depend on how he fought, and on how things worked out, he supposed.

Dave lost consciousness.

When he woke up it was in a cold sweat in his own bed, tangled in his sheets, chest heavy and face pale. He sat bolt upright and rubbed his face with both hands before slowly creeping out of bed and making his way to his brother’s room, peeking in on him. Waiting. Watching for his broad chest to rise and fall. When it did, proving he was still alive, Dave finally felt like he could breathe.

That dream again. When would he be able to stop having that dream? When he was able to surpass a monster of that level on his own and make it look so easy? Or when he’d spent so much time that every second counted? He’d been careless a few times, had left time frozen for too long at different times to be thorough instead of just slowing it, cementing the use of even more of his own time. How much did he have left? What about Bro, how much did he have left? Could Dave share some of his time with him?

It didn’t work like that, and Dave knew it. But fuck did he wish it did.

Quietly, he went to get a juice from the fridge before padding back to his room and his phone, popping onto discord to scroll the different servers he was in. People in different timezones had posted some prime quality memes and he wanted to stay on top of things, sharing and redistributing from place to place to help choice ones spread easier. He checked his SB&HJ server and was pleased to see that it was absolute chaos.

Dave had changed screens and was starting to read an article someone had linked when his phone buzzed in his hand, alerting him to a new DM.

John.

ectoBiologist: hey, i know it’s early but i saw you logged on so i thought it’d be alright to send this.

ectoBiologist: when i got my copy of sburb there was a key for an extra copy! would you like it?

ectoBiologist: we could play while watching the lets play from space needle, see if we find any secrets before them!

Dave grinned at his phone. Who was he to turn down a free videogame? Especially one he already wanted.

turntechGodhead: yeah man sign me up

turntechGodhead: im sure we can break that thing ten ways from sunday once we pass the character creation screen

ectoBiologist: oh dave, why dream so small? we can break it starting from the character screen.

turntechGodhead: sounds like a challenge

turntechGodhead: first one to find a game breaking glitch wins

Dave chattered with John for a while before eventually falling back to sleep, grateful to find his dreams a little more cheerful. Fanciful even, to the point where even Dirk would no doubt tease him. Simple dreams of a kiss, going somewhere quiet, and exploring a bit further of each other...

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

A videogame was a small price to pay to get to talk to Dave more, John decided. The code was easy enough to get, and while it was a foolish waste of time, it was a foolish waste of time with someone that intrigued him. The internet signals from Earth had been available during his trip here, and while it was majority trite, a video about space and technology had caught his interest, cementing his focus on the lets play channel Space Needle. John set his communicator- No… His cellphone. He set the cellphone down and went to a mirror, staring himself down.

Corruption ate at him, skin a dark gray and eyes far too bright, trails of dark wind caressing his white hair. John existed in a state of flow and movement, drifting from place to place comfortably. It took effort to remember to walk sometimes, but when under cover, he needed to be sure to keep both feet flat on the ground as much as he needed to keep his appearance ‘normal’. Here though, here in his makeshift home, he was free to float as he pleased, and did so to make his way from the mirror to the tanks where the beasts were grown.

Ectobiology was something that took a hell of a lot of grist, as was normal biology. So much grist, so little time. He stroked the front of the tank of a chess piece and bit his lip, wondering if it would be ready to go yet, or if he’d need to rely on the imps much longer. There were always the ogres… but the chess pieces would be his best bet for gathering the grist he needed for his home world.

The wind whipped his hair harder as he thought of home, remembering the deaths, the torrents of destruction, the wave after wave of defeats that had brought his world to its knees. He hadn’t been strong enough to fix everything by himself. But now… now there was a way. A way to bring it all back, maybe even stronger than before, and restore his planet to its rightful state.

He just needed a planet worth of grist to restore his own to the way things were. And, conveniently, here was a planet chock fucking full of it, ripe for the taking. John just needed to reach out and take it.

The boy in red was going to be a nuisance, though, he could already feel it. Someone with the power to not only stop swarms of imps, but to restore grist to its natural place? What a pain! What if there were more of them? This place was just his first stop, he needed seed grist as it were to start his little project. Chess monsters didn’t grow on their own without grist, and the natural grown grist was going slowly. He needed more. Heaps and heaps off it, not the pennies worth he’d been able to scrounge so far.

John needed to think bigger.

A chime from his cellphone made him blink and drift lazily back over, checking it. Ah. New upload from Space Needle. They’d already begun to play SBURB and the first episode was a walkthrough of them messing with the character creation screen from the thumbnail, to create the most amazingly terrible creation to inhabit the game from the get go.

Admirable.

He hoped Dave and he were able to do nearly as much as they were able to do, John was curious to see what Dave would come up with.

...Dave.

Dave was another issue, John realized.

The life on Earth was just most grist for the taking, but this Dave fellow looked interesting. He had an attractive face and long, reedy limbs that he seemed to like hiding beneath baggy clothes, soft looking blonde hair. John wanted to keep looking at him rather than listen to the professor talk about whatever the fuck he assumed was important for Earthlings to learn, but it would have just blown his cover to stand out further.

Someone that attractive, and into the same things he was, was picking at the scab of loneliness in John’s heart. The wound of solitude that he’d borne since his home world fell apart. Could he really destroy the Earth and all its inhabitants when he knew one of them was precious to him?

Perhaps.

Or, better yet, what if he could convince Dave to love him? If he loved him, he could convince him to come with him to his home, to his real world. A better world than this one. They could be together still, and things would go back to normal like they were before, and he could return to his house with all of his things and have someone like Dave on his arm.

A pretty daydream, but a daydream nonetheless.

Drifting once more, phone in hand, John sent a few more messages to Dave while he was offline before dropping the connection and heading towards his tech once again. Imps were worthless. Maybe if there was an ogre as backup…. Yes, that should do it. That should get some of the results he wanted.

Soon enough, he would have this world on its knees. John just hoped he could get Dave into his hand before the point of no return.

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

A few weeks had passed since first meeting John properly, and Dave already couldn’t imagine hanging out with anyone else. They had so much in common, and every other minute Dave was able to spare was spent deep in conversation with him on discord. They’d begun playing SBURB together, and while they weren’t able to find all the glitches and game breaks that the girls over on Space Needle were able to find, they’d been able to find their own brand of shenanigans. Dave had secured John a special weapon from his own guardian that he was able to use in his game, and John was able to find ways to essentially reach from area to area like a glitch warp.

The girls had ripped into SBURB like none other, and it was exciting to watch their numbers to climb with new fans who were enjoying their work as much as Dave and John did. The fandom was growing, and even in Dave’s other servers people were starting to share the memes.

The day that John asked if he wanted to go hang out had been, at first, an immediate ‘yes’ from Dave. ...Till he realized that this was less a hangout and more of a date. Instead of their shooting the shit at and near campus, they met up to watch a movie, instead of fast food they went to a restaurant and John said he’d foot the bill. Dave couldn’t relax properly. Was this okay? Was this really what he thought it was, or was this just a changeup of a hangout formula? If it was a date, was that okay too? Did Dave even have time for a boyfriend?

The idea was appealing… And didn’t he have a right to some kind of happiness for himself? He had to keep his secrets, but surely he could balance it all?

John slipped his warm fingers around Dave’s as they left the restaurant, and soon they were laced together, casual as could be, while Dave struggled to keep a calm face on. Hand. Holding hands. When was the last time he held hands with someone? His face felt like it was burning off, and all he could do to keep calm was keep his facial muscles under control in the form of small grins and darting glances behind his shades as they walked.

They made it all the way back to Dave’s apartment like that before John released his hand and returned his own to his pockets. Dave curled his fingers a few times at his sides before stuffing his hands into his pockets as well, casual as could be.

“Wanna do that again sometime? I had a lot of fun,” John said, grinning at him the same way he smiled at everything he liked a lot.

“Yeah, I would. I had fun too.” Fun was an understatement.

They stood awkwardly together then for a moment, watching the cars pass by on the road out front, Dave unsure if he should invite John up without warning Bro, and John unsure if he should do what he wanted to. In the end, John was the one who acted. He leaned and pressed a kiss to Dave’s cheek before pulling back and taking a few steps backwards.

“I should get going, my dad would be upset if I’m gone too long,” he said.

Still more or less in shock, ears ringing, Dave just nodded.

"Right. Yeah, that’d. That’d be bad. Don’t want a mad dad.”

“Yeah,” John chuckled. “See you later, Dave!” he said, adding a wave as he turned and headed off.

Dave was left on his stoop waving for a good thirty seconds before his brain caught up with what had happened and he dropped his arm, wide eyed. Okay. This was a problem. A good problem? But a problem. He turned and raced his way upstairs to his apartment, rattling his keys before managing to unlock the door and get in, leaning against it once he slammed it shut. He stayed there a few seconds before slowly sliding down to the ground, still wide eyed.

Bro, who was alert and watching everything now that Dave was inside, only lifted a brow.

“Need me to beat his ass? What happened.”

“No, no, just. It was great. Everything was great.”

“Then what’s the problem, you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“I just. ...fuck, man, is this aright?” he finally asked from the floor, looking towards the futon. “Is it okay to have this?”

“Why you askin’ me?” Bro asked, brow raising. “That’s your damn business.”

“Yeah but like. If you were in my position and a guy wanted to go out with you, would you?”

“Bet your ass I would, those boots ain’t gonna knock themselves.”

“Not what I meant,” Dave groaned, rubbing his face before looking down at his hands, wiggling the fingers of the one John had held for so long. It still felt warmer than the other somehow. “Like. ...Is it safe? What if I put him at risk? What if he finds out?”

“Better not find out, and he’s only in as much risk as you put him in,” Bro shrugged. “I dunno man, it’s a sticky situation. There’s no right or wrong answers, only smart or increasingly stupid ones.”

Dave made an uncertain noise from the ground before standing up and dusting his ass off, going to the fridge for more jui-

“We’re out.”

“Oh yeah, I drank the last one. Wanna come with me to the store and help heft shit?”

“Yeah. No heftin’ for you,” Dave said pointedly. “You can drag the granny cart. Just take that stupid plush off of it.”

“Excuse you, Sir Wilmington Squeaks is not goin’ anywhere but on a fine trip to the grocery store,” Bro said, already standing to get the folded up shopping cart with a smuppet strapped aboard the top. “He makes a great lid, keeps stuff from bouncin’ out when it goes up the stairs.”

Though Dave made a face, he was charmed still. This was a normal day, more normal than he'd had for a while. One of, hopefully, many to come. If only peace from outside threats was more constant.

#johndave #john egbert #dave strider #homestuck #my fic

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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BTS365 Prompts.Week 46

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist] [Tag yourself here]

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester. Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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Nov 12th - 18th

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Kim Seokjin - bitter

Kim Seokjin was a model student, as well as both a model and a student. He excelled in everything and was loved by all, the only problem was you. You were always there either ahead, beside, or behind and you didn’t even try. Here he was trying his hardest with his studies and taking care of his appearance, skin, diet, and fitness. Not to mention struggling to get modeling gigs around the school, he would fight tooth and nail and you were rocking up last minute getting calls to join his photo shoots. He couldn’t escape you.

But the fans loved you together, they had started to ship you both bringing up your intertwined paths and he felt guilty for reading some of the fanfictions written about you, both because he hated and loved them. They always painted him as a gentleman that helps and protects you and has swag and you are sweet and attentive.

He wishes that were more like you. When you spill coffee on him in fanfics you help him dry and change maybe sneaking a kiss in the change room. In real life, you just give an ‘oops sorry’ and move on leaving him in a stained shirt.

That is until he wants to check the time but is too lazy to get his phone from his bag so he gets yours off the desk. Your background is a picture of the two of you from your first photoshoot. He feels kind of warm and soft at the thought. When a notification pops up, [Underwear: by JinxReader4life has updated chapter 15] A smile spread across Seokjin’s face as he placed down the phone and went to his bag for his own.

Searching for the fic, he found himself blushing, this was a heavy romance and he was kind of a jerk. He had to stop reading ready for the photoshoot, which funnily enough was an underwear and pajama company. After the pajama shots together laying and sitting on a bed. Jin was soon only wearing boxer briefs and you were in bra’s and underwear.

He was supposed to sit with you on his lap looking kind of sexy when he posed exactly how the fic described and he whispered in your ear the exact line from the fic. “We have to stop meeting like this, someone might think you have a crush on me”

Your cheeks were bright red and you buried your face in his chest, in embarrassment. Maybe he didn’t feel so bitter after all, maybe he enjoyed your unexpected company.

Min Yoongi - almond

It was getting cold, you shivered when your feet touched the bare wooden floors. “Where are my slippers, Holly?”

“Wait, I will get your slippers?” Yoongi laughed getting out of bed and racing around to locate and help you put on your slippers. You scuffed through the house freezing. “Why am I so cold?”

“How big are we today my love?” Yoongi opened his dressing gown and letting you snuggle against his chest.

“Um…” You checked your phone before slipping from his embrace to the cupboard. “Today marks the middle of week nine and today, the baby is the size of this almond”

“Wow you are growing so fast, I remember when you were just a little grain of rice?” He whispered to your belly.

Jung Hoseok - Tongue

“Hey Y/n,” Namjoon called, “someone named Tongue emoji is calling?”

You raced for the phone and snatched it from Namjoon cheeks heating up, “Hello baby, is everything okay?”

The boys were all watching you and you tried to avoid their eye contact “I will let them know, okay bye”

“Who was that?” Seokjin and Taehyung grinned poking your sides with teasing laughter.

“Hoseok says he is going to be five minutes late he is just picking up some things”

They teased you to no end and just as you thought the teasing died down, Hoseok walked in grabbing you by the back of the head and kissing you fiercely. “Ah so that’s why”

“Why what?” Hoseok asked with a smile

“Why you are named tongue emoji in Y/n’s phone” Jimin nodded

“That’s not why Jiminie” Hoseok grinned cheekily and got ready for dance practice.

Kim Namjoon - twister

“Ha ha ha” Heavy panting from Namjoon was all that could be heard in the moment, as beads of sweat rolled slowly down his neck.

“Namjoon you have to loosen up, you aren’t loosing this for us” You shouted “We have to win come on”

“Yeah I get that but you try to put left foot red while you’re bending backward of Jungkook and under Seokjin” He hissed his foot almost slipping as he slid it behind him. “Who’s idea was it to choose the rooms with a game of twister?”

“Come on Namjoon, think of the master bedroom” You laughed, you didn’t really mind what room you got, you just liked to cheer Namjoon on, knowing he preferred the push and encouragement to when you were indecisive or dismissive. He liked to work hard to accomplish things for you.

Park Jimin - chaos

Namjoon dropped Jimin off at day care with a small smile watching him run off to his best friend Taehyung, the two hugged before they shared the dinosaurs amongst the two of them. Namjoon loved nothing more than being a dad, and was glad that when he started back at work he would still receive updates from the Day care centre with pictures and stories of how Jimin’s day was going. Today started the same breakfast and playing with toys and music inside and then it moved to playing outside.

The next picture had Namjoon in stitches it seems Jimin had upturned the massive sunscreen dispenser and he and Taehyung were covered in a thick layer of the uv protecting cream.

Kim Taehyung - never

You were playing a game of never, Taehyung said the dreaded “Never have I ever kissed someone,” putting a finger down himself but getting two other people out. It seems he would risk his own fate to get the others out. He turned to see you with all five fingers up and frowned.

“What do you mean you have never kissed someone?”

“I just, no one really looks at me that way, I am not really the person people want to kiss” You shrugged and he surprised leaning in his lips brushing your softly and as he pulled away he realized.

“Oh I am so sorry, I didn’t even ask?” He pulled you into a hug apologizing and you laughed.

“It was fine, it felt nice thank you for being someone I trust to give me my first kiss” You thanked him.

“That wasn’t a real kiss, people kiss there loved ones like that” Namjoon hissed feeling slightly annoyed he had gotten out.

Taehyung leaned in whispering gently, so close you could taste the sweet wine on his breath, “Can I kiss you again?”

Jeon Jungkook - voices

(I know I have done something like this before but the new RUNBTS ep got me wanting to write a series like this)

Jungkook started playing the latest online mmorpg, meeting some of the best players and slowly becoming the top guild within the game Pillage of Power known by the youth as POP! The guild Castle Bangtan was run by some really smart young man that Jungkook looked up to. His name was Ramon of destruction and he was their brains.

Next was WWH, he was the Cleric a full of bad puns but the best buffer, had really quick protection spells and an odd animal companion. Suga/r was their lazy wizard who had so much skill and yet never used it unless they needed it. HobiHobi was there champion he was a great ranger, he had a sharp shot and rarely ever missed.

Chimmy was a Barbarian and he was always ready to fight, he put in a lot of effort so as not to let the team down. Vante was a Rogue, the most sneaky of the group always sharpening his skills when he could. And that Left Jungkook known as Kookie the Bard he could charm anyone if he tried. They were the top guild but they were being challenged by the rising guild T1 there members Faker, Teddy, Effort, Cuzz, and Canna.

The tournament began everyone who had a guild had the chance to compete to rank in the game and Castle Bangtan was rising quickly up the ranks. The POP! Tournament came down to the last four teams the Semi finals and the finals were to be broadcasted in the large stadium, The other teams were professional gamers in teams and here they were just a group of nobodies from different towns and cities in South Korea.

Jungkook was handed the purple jumpsuit he was to wear during the broadcast, they had their names on the back. He slipped into the suit he had been sized for over email and he grinned. He felt so cool. Stepping out into the waiting room out back he saw a broad shouldered gentleman, “You must be Chimmy the barbarian?”

“No, I am WWH” He laughed his squeaky laugh.

Jungkook looked around and saw a tall figure, his black jumpsuit with the purple trims had the words Ramon of destruction. Trying so hard not to freak out he stood by the refreshments. “Try the lamb skewers, they are nice” a drawl said from the couch.

“Suga” Jungkook said grinning

“Kookie” He gave a soft smile back and shook his hands.

“Don’t get nervous now” Suga sat up and patted the younger boys back, “Chimmy has already drank his weight in water and is in the bathroom again.

“I am back, does anyone else think the legs of the jump suit are super tight, I can barely walk, feels like I am going to bust them”

Jungkook saw the young man and smiled, he knew that voice anywhere this was Chimmy the Barbarian and yet he looked too delicate in person for the part.

4 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Text

Storybrooke Haunted Farms

“Want to be chased through a corn maze? Take a ride in a trailer full of hay in the middle of the woods? Play paintball with zombies? Explore a haunted ghost ship? If this sounds like fun to you, come to Storybrooke Haunted Farms where the fun is cheap and the thrills are terrifying. Open from October 1st - October 31st.”

Emma Swan has been working at Storybrooke Haunted Farms for the past four years, and she’s done everything from work the haunted hayride to chasing paying customers through a corn maze with a fake chainsaw. It’s always been a good way for her to make a little extra cash for the holidays for her son, and it’s most likely the best time she’s ever had working.

That is until her assignment changes and she’s made to work on the pirate ship exhibit with Killian Jones, quite possibly the most obnoxious man alive.

Rating: Teen-ish

A/n: I told myself that I didn't have time to write a Halloween story, but then my brain was like “what if” and I figured I’d do something for @cshalloweek even if this doesn’t really fit a theme. So here we are! I hope you have a spook-tacular time reading 🎃

Found on AO3 | HERE |

Tagging: @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods@idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81

-/-

Laces tighten around Emma’s back, and her breath hitches as her lungs are very literally constricted from the corset that’s being tightened to cinch her waist and push her breasts up several inches higher than they should ever be.

The money may not be worth this.

There’s another tug, and Emma gasps as she leans forward to curl her fingers around the edge of the antique vanity in front of her, her eyes squeezing shut as she imagines herself to be literally anywhere else.

Anywhere.

And she hasn’t even had to put on the skirts or the top or had her hair pinned back so that bobby pins are sticking into the back of her neck to give her a headache.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps before clenching her teeth as yet another lace is tightened, “it’s too tight. I’m not going to be able to breathe.”

“You’ll become accustomed to it. I promise. It’s really not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’re not wearing one, which is complete and utter bullshit by the way.”

Mary Margaret sighs behind Emma as she tugs again, and Emma’s eyes fly open so that she can see her face in the mirror. And her boobs. And an unnaturally tiny waist. This is not normal, and there’s no way that she’s going to become accustomed to it.

“You know I don’t make the decisions on the costumes. That is completely and totally out of my hands.”

“Your mother owns the place.”

“Step,” Mary Margaret corrects. “Step-mother. She owns it.”

“Yeah, but your mom owned it first. It was her brain child, and I feel like you should get some say in what costumes and attractions people get to work in. I wore jeans and a plaid shirt last year, Marg. I’m having to wear a full-on corset and medieval dress this year. How the hell am I supposed to run?”

There’s a final tug, and Emma almost pops out of the corset. “I don’t think you are. I mean, the haunted ship is our newest attraction, and it’s not going to be like the hayride or the corn maze. There’s not a lot of running after people. It’s more like jump scares.”

“But I hate jump scares.”

“You like the money, and you fit into the costumes we ordered. If you really hate it, I’ll see if you can get put on the rotation for the zombie paintball.”

“I would rather walk around this place in nothing but my underwear than be a team member for zombie paintball.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It takes another fifteen minutes for Emma to fully get into the costume. There are layers to it, far too many skirts than should ever be necessary, but it’s apparently some kind of authentic costume for a bar wench that would serve pirates in whatever century is being depicted on the ship. Emma doesn’t know, and she doesn’t really care about historical accuracy. All she cares about is the fact that every night for all of October, she’s going to be putting on fifteen layers of a dress and a corset and having her hair teased to look like it hasn’t been brushed in days. At least her makeup is relatively normal.

If smearing mascara down her cheeks and powdering her face to make her look paler than usual is normal.

At least they’re not doing her hair or her makeup today. Just this dumb costume.

Leaving the trailer where the costumes are kept, Emma makes her way outside as a gust of chilled air moves over her, causing goosebumps to immediately rise on the exposed parts of her skin. At least her legs won’t be cold with all of their layers. The rest of her might just freeze to death, however.

It’s only September right now, but from experience Emma knows just how miserable October nights are when not wrapped up in coats and scarves and the warmest knit cap that Emma owns. With how things are now, she knows that this year is going to be even more miserable.

Sucking it up, Emma kicks her leg forward to give herself more space to move, and she follows the pathway in the woods down to get down to the pier. The leaves have already started to change colors, most of them beginning to fall to the ground, and they crunch underneath her feet as she follows the familiar path. There are men up in the trees setting up rigging and hanging props, and she spots Jeff hooking up the speaker system that plays throughout the grounds for music and in rare cases, emergency announcements. Emma has only heard of children getting separated from their parents in her time here, but she does know that there was once an issue with a chainsaw and someone’s foot.

That’s why everyone has to sign waivers now – employees and customers alike.

Welcome to Storybrooke Haunted Farms: The Scariest Place in Maine.

Emma’s been working here for the past four years. It’s a seasonal job, only half of September for training and costume fittings and the month of October for actual work, but it pays better than being a waitress at Granny’s does all year. It’s a great atmosphere working there, but the tips are not great unless she gets one of the good shifts. She needs more money than she’s getting, and scaring the shit out of people isn’t a bad gig.

Well, it wasn’t when she was hopping up onto a moving trailer full of hay and people and frightening the people who were screaming the loudest as well as those who were quietly shaking in fear. The haunted hayride through the woods is by far the least terrifying attraction that they have here, but it’s definitely the most fun for employees to work. Then again, Emma loved working in the corn mazes where people paid her to chase after them with a chainsaw (fake) or in the set that was made to look like an abandoned hospital wing. Though, in that last one she had to wear one of those awful slutty nurse’s costumes, and heels, and that was difficult to move around in as well.

Not like this costume though.

She keeps having to kick her legs to not trip over the stone pathway as the thatch of trees thins out and the ocean comes into view, salt thickening in the air and the sun shining a little brighter down onto her skin. And there, in all of its glory, is a massive ship with tall white sails that are currently being sliced up and painted to look battered as fake moss is added to the sides of the dark wood. None of this will be noticed in the dark, of course, but Regina is nothing if not excessive in her decorations. Anything to make more money when she doesn’t exactly need it.

At least she never shows up to the actual site. That would be more of a nightmare than any of the attractions.

(It’s also how she’s going to get out of having to wear this costume every day.)

“Emma,” a voice calls out, and she twists around to look at Graham Humbert standing with several planks of wood over his shoulder like that’s not big deal.

“Hey,” she greets, not really stepping closer for fear of getting accidentally knocked out. “What do they have you building today?”

“The bridge to the ship. She’s a beauty, don’t you think? Are you working on her this year?”

“What gave it away?” Emma reaches down to grab at the sides of her skirts, picking them up before letting them fall down with enough power that leaves scatter beneath her. “I don’t exactly know my role yet, but they’ve got me in this costume for it. I wish we could do dress rehearsals in normal clothes.”

His eyes flicker up and down her body, and instinctively, she wants to reach up to cover her chest. However, she knows that will just make her boobs looks bigger, and as nice as Graham is, she’s simply not as interested in dating him as he is with her. He’s more of a friend to her than anything, and he’s a really good influence in Henry’s life. If she were to date him, she’d just fuck things up and make him no longer want to spend time with Henry. That’s what happens every time she gets involved with anyone.

“Authenticity, I believe,” Graham finally says back, his eyes landing on her face. “I think it’ll be a fun attraction to work. I’ll have to come by and check it out once you guys open.”

“Is the Sheriff really supposed to pay to be scared by other people?”

“It’s a fun time. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t come here at least once a year.”

“Well,” Emma starts, already the slightest bit uncomfortable with the way that Graham is swaying closer to her with the wood, “thank you for your contribution that goes toward my son’s Christmas gifts. I’ve got to go to rehearsals now. Make sure that this bridge is steady so I’m not falling into the ocean, okay?”

Graham salutes her before she’s stepping away from him and heading down to the docks, nearly tripping over her dress and the uneven ground. If this continues, she’s going to the costume department and getting a pair of pants to work in. Pants would definitely be better than this.

People are already milling around down here, most of them in tattered pirate costumes with cups of Starbucks in their hand, and while she recognizes a few of them, most are new to her and must not frequent Granny’s too often or only come during Ruby’s shifts at night so that Emma would have never run into them. She recognizes Will Scarlet, though, and she waves to him before turning to take a shaky step up onto the ship where she comes face to face with a man dressed in all black leather with a red vest that’s nearly unbuttoned all the way to his navel.

What in the world?

Emma trips again on a piece of loose board before catching herself and looking up past the dark chest hair and skull and bones silver charms only to a stubble-covered jaw that belongs to a man with some of the bluest eyes that she’s ever seen. He must have gone through makeup today because his eyes are lined with black eyeliner and his hair is messily coiffed, and Emma feels the slightest bit of fire stir in her belly that she immediately tampers down.

Who the hell is that?

“You okay there, lass?”

Emma almost stumbles again at the deep timber of his voice, and she is definitely asking if she can get an alternate costume that includes pants. This is ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” she huffs, brushing her hands against her skirts and turning away from him. “It’s this damn costume. I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear”

“Ha,” Emma scoffs as her eyes roll and her mind immediately decides that she hates this guy. Who is he to try to joke around and compliment her? She doesn’t even know him. “You’re hysterical. Is the abundant amount of cleavage you have showing your choice or the company’s?”

“A combination of both.” He uncrosses his arms and his legs and steps forward so that he’s back in her space. A chill runs down her spine as the ship rocks beneath them. “I’m not particularly modest.”

“I assumed.” “What about you, love?”

“Not your love, and what about me?”

“Is the amount of cleavage your choice?”

Emma curls her hands into fists and turns to look at this obnoxious man who is way too comfortable with her, and the smirk on his lips does nothing to lessen the hatred that’s simmering beneath her skin. “It is obviously not my choice.”

“It’s a pity nothing can be done about that.” He sticks his hand out in front of her, and she almost laughs before she realizes that he’s serious. Begrudgingly, she reaches forward and takes his hand in hers. “Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

“Swan,” he repeats back, his tongue visibly running behind the back of his teeth. Is it possible to hate someone so much within one-hundred and twenty seconds of meeting them? “I like it.”

“Oh, well, if you like it, I guess I’ll have to keep it forever, won’t I?”

Killian winks, and she imagines him having to wear a corset so tight that he can’t breathe too. It’s a weird form of torture, but it’s all she can focus on right now. Obviously the blood can’t reach her brain right now, and there’s only so long she can live like this.

She’s got at least six weeks.

Shit.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, most likely to tell him to go screw himself but in less friendly terms, but then there’s a loud clap from across the deck where David is standing on top of a barrel with a clipboard in hand. He was made to be a detective and a cruise director all at once. Emma doesn’t think that he married Mary Margaret simply so that he could be a part of the Blanchard-Mills Storybrooke Haunted Farms legacy, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of the initial appeal.

Holidays are kind of a big deal in this town, and being in love with them is pretty much a requirement for living here. If they (whoever they are) find out that you don’t buy flowers for Valentine’s Day or candy for Halloween, they have the power to kick you out.

Probably not, but Emma has heard rumors. This is the best place she’s ever lived, and she’s not really a big fan of the thought of having to leave. Henry wouldn’t be either. He’s too in love with Ruby for him to want to leave.

“Okay,” David starts, his voice louder than the sound of a hammer hitting against wood and a saw cutting down the beams for the bridge between the docks and the ship. “So welcome aboard the Storybrooke Haunted Farms team. We’re excited to have you here, whether or not you’re new or have worked for us before, and my wife and I want you all to remember that while we want you to scare the ever-loving shit out of people, we also want you to have fun. But also to be safe. If you haven’t signed a waiver, please see Belle to my right to sign your forms.”

People shuffle across the dock over to Belle, and she begins handing out papers as Emma shifts her weight to one side, trying to put as much distance between she and Killian Jones as possible. He’s got to be one of those obnoxious people who thinks his looks can excuse his actions, and she is not here for that. But she’s also not here for causing issues at work before it even really starts, so she doesn’t want to make it too obvious that she’s moving away from him.

“So, this our newest attraction,” David continues with his arm outstretched to show off the ship, “and you guys are going to be our guinea pigs, so please bear with us on any issues or problems running it. We’re counting on you guys to notice problems and report them, so if you see a way we need to improve, don’t be scared to ask. Only our customers are supposed to be scared around here.”

There’s an awkward laugh that emits from everyone. It’s really a shame that David isn’t a dad yet because he’s already got the jokes down.

“Now, after all of our waivers are signed, Belle and I are going to hand out your roles before we start practice out here. We’ve got two weeks before opening, and while that’s not a lot of time, I know that you’ll all get the hang of things.”

“The Nolans are quite the optimistic bunch, aren’t they?” Killian questions, his breath hot as he leans into her ear. She jumps away, this time visibly putting space between them, and if someone doesn’t smack the smirk off his face before the end of October, Emma is doing it the day she gets her final paycheck.

“How do you know the Nolans?”

“Dave went to the Police Academy with my older brother.”

Great. That means Killian is here as some kind of friend to David, and Emma is going to have to be nice to him. This feels a hell of a lot like when she tells Henry to be nice to his classmates even when half of them are six-year-old devils.

She’s a really good mom, obviously.

“How do you know them, love?”

“Not your love,” Emma repeats as she steps away from him and moves to where Belle and David are handing out paperwork. “And they’re pretty popular in the town. Everyone knows them.”

“Well, I’m new to town, so I guess I’ll have to get used everyone who is popular in town.”

“Okay.”

At that, she tries to dodge out of his way, but that’s a bit difficult when it’s a small area crowded with dozens of people all headed into the same direction, so he’s constantly at her heels. At least he’s not talking any longer, but it’s almost like there’s this overwhelming presence following her around, like he’s peering over her shoulder and waiting for her to slip up or fall into the charms that he very obviously thinks that he has.

“Emma,” David smiles when she walks up to him. The annoyance she’s felt from Killian fades away, if only for fifteen seconds, at the sound of a familiar voice who isn’t going to annoy her or try to flirt with her. “Your costume looks fantastic.”

“You know, that’s what I said, mate, but she didn’t seem to like my compliment too much.”

David’s eyes glance at her before fliting behind her to look at Killian, and from the smile that’s still on his face, Emma can tell that he does, indeed, know Killian Jones.

Of course.

“Do you two know each other?” David asks.

“No,” Emma blurts out.

“We just met a few minutes ago,” Killian explains as he bumps his shoulder into hers like they’re old pals. “I think we might be fast friends, me and Swan.”

Emma can’t hold back her scoff, even when David’s eyes slant at her. “Yeah,” Emma sighs as her hand moves behind her to slap Killian’s back, “fast friends. That’s exactly how I would describe the two of us.”

Her stomach drops, which really doesn’t help anything when the corners of David’s lips turn up and stretch all the way up to his eyes.

“That’s actually perfect.”

“And why’s that?”

-/-

“He has me playing some kind of damsel in distress,” Emma huffs out as she paces back and forth in the kitchen of her apartment, a glass of wine in her hand that she really wishes had more alcohol in it. “I mean, it’s not technically a damsel in distress, but it pretty much is. I have to work with this jackass who thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips with his pirate costume and deep accent and the way that he swaggers across the deck, and the two of us have to act like some kind of old-timey couple on the bow of the ship pretending that we’re in love and having a fight to distract everyone from the people sneaking up behind them before he’s pushing me off the side of the boat.”

“What’s a jackass?” Henry asks her from his seat on the couch in the living room, and Emma immediately reaches her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have said that, kid,” Emma apologizes, flashing him a smile as Ruby snickers from her spot sitting on the counter. “That’s not a word we use. I’m sorry.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders and goes back to watching his Ninja Turtles Show. There’s no reason she should have such a good kid, but the universe obviously decided that she needed some kind of good luck.

By far the best thing ever to happen to her even if the circumstances of her pregnancy sucked.

“Is it really that bad, though?” Emma’s head snaps back over to Ruby to see her tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, I saw this guy when he got into town. He’s apparently moving here and staying at Granny’s until he gets an apartment. He’s not a bad looking guy, Ems. In fact, I would say that he’s attractive. How bad can it be to be paid to flirt with him while he’s wearing all kinds of leather and eyeliner and looking sinful?”

“I am hooked up to a rigging system and get thrown off the side of the boat.”

“Okay, granted, that part is bad, but it’s not all bad. You literally used to have to run for hours a night with a chainsaw to scare people. This is much better.”

“I don’t think you understand how bad this guy is.”

Ruby arches a perfectly manicured brow and tilts her wine glass to her lips. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“I usually don’t.”

Ruby’s eyes look over to Henry, and that’s when Emma knows that she really doesn’t want to hear what Ruby is going to say. “Henry is how old? Six?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re twenty-four, correct?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve had one boyfriend since he was born, right?”

“It’s been more than one.”

Ruby holds up her hand and bends one finger back before pointing that one finger at her chin. “Walsh Osbourne is the only one I can think of. Would you like to enlighten me as to who the others are?”

“I have been on dates with men other than,” Emma makes sure to lower her voice so that Henry can’t hear, “Walsh, but I haven’t introduced any of them to Henry after him. I can’t take the risk that Henry is going to get attached.”

“Which is exactly why you won’t date Graham.”

Emma’s cheeks flame up. She really needs more wine, but she’s working the early shift at Granny’s tomorrow and still has to go to practice tomorrow night. “I don’t want to date Graham. He’s a nice guy, but I’m just not in the mood for dating. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I literally spend most of my day working multiple jobs. When I’m not working, I’m taking care of my kid. That’s what happens when you get knocked up at seventeen and have literally no resources.”

Ruby raises her hands in the air, an apology already on her lips, but then the volume mutes on the television and Henry is moving over to them in the kitchen, his mop of brown hair messily situated on top of his head as he opens up the fridge.

“What are you looking for, kid? I’m pretty sure you ate dinner at Granny’s with Ruby.”

“Yeah, but I’m thirsty, and water just isn’t cutting it.” He turns to smile at her then, and Emma’s heart aches over how much he looks like Neal. Couldn’t he at least have gotten a little bit of her in him? Would that have been too much to ask? “Can I have orange juice?”

“No,” Emma says as she steps over him and grabs the gallon of milk from the shelf and turns around to place it on the kitchen countertop while Ruby hands her a glass from the cabinet. “There’s too much sugar in orange juice for you to have it this late at night.”

“But it’s Friday, Mom.” “And?”

“I don’t have school in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as she pours him a small glass of milk, “I know. You’re spending the day with Mary Margaret and David tomorrow while I’m at work, and I can almost guarantee that one of them will give you all kinds of sugar so that you never go to bed ever again.”

His lips stretch into a smile so large that Emma can see them under the clear plastic glass. “That would be the coolest thing ever. Can I wear my Ninja Turtles costume tomorrow?”

“Now, that, is something I can agree to.”

Henry nods his head and walks back to the couch, and Emma smiles to herself before turning back to look at Ruby who is sipping her wine. Emma wonders if maybe just maybe she’ll have forgotten the conversation they were having, but that’s unlikely.

“Hot pirate dude makes you all tingly inside, and you’re nervous that you’re going to act on it.”

Yep. Ruby isn’t going to let this go.

“That is not true. I am not going to sleep with him.”

“Whatever you say. I think he’d be a good one to bang one out with so you can release some of the tension in your shoulders.”

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“No, you’re not,” Ruby sighs as she gets down from the counter. “You and Henry love me too much to do that. Isn’t that right, kid?”

Henry doesn’t say anything, too furiously blushing at having Ruby talk to him to form words. Poor kid has it bad.

-/-

The morning shift at Granny’s on Saturday is as hectic as ever, none of the tables ever emptying out and nearly every single person being annoyed until they get their coffee, and if Emma didn’t like the tips that came with working one of the busiest times of the week, she’d request another time. One day she’s going to have to find another job, garner some skill set that will actually give her normal pay and normal hours, but she hasn’t exactly figured that out yet.

Thankfully, cost of living in Storybrooke is not high.

Being a waitress still sucks sometimes, though. She has enough of cleaning up after other people at home, and if one more person tells her to smile when she’s cleaning a table where their kid spilled syrup, she will lose it.

And then probably lose her job.

But she does finish work around two with a little bit more cash in her pocket, and that’s all that really matters. That’s also all that matters as she drives her yellow bug across town to Storybrooke Haunted Farms so that she can get into costume and go to practice.

(Mary Margaret agreed to letting Emma buy a costume with pants for some of the nights, and she’s never been so excited over such a little thing.)

The grounds are pretty much empty when she gets there, and it’s weirdly peaceful that way. It’s a beautiful place, almost completely out in nature, and if it wasn’t for the fact that someone is driving around in a golf cart with a pile of fake dead bodied behind them, Emma could forget that this is all one big Halloween event.

Mary Margaret said that she was down by the docks with Henry supervising the continuing construction on their pirate ship, so Emma heads down that way, not bothering to change out of her uniform quite yet. She just tugs her red leather jacket a little more tightly around her as the air gets a little bit cooler the closer she gets to the ocean.

Emma sees Mary Margaret first. She’s sitting in a golf cart, the red one she always drives, but there’s no Henry. If Emma didn’t know that Mary Margaret was one of the most responsible people on the planet, she’d take off running looking for her kid, but there’s no way that Mary Margaret has lost him.

“Hey,” Emma greets as she slides into the seat next to her and catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s text to David, “where’s my kid?”

“Killian is giving him a tour of the ship.”

Emma blanches, and it takes everything in her not to run down to the docks and pull Henry out of there. Why the hell would Mary Margaret pass him off to a stranger?

“You just let my son go hang out with a stranger? That seems safe.”

Mary Margaret looks over to her with a shake of a head. “Killian is not a stranger, Emma. We’ve known him for years. Plus, you know him. He’s your scene partner.”

“I’ve known him for less than a week. I don’t send my six-year-old off with people I’ve known for a week.”

Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, and Emma scoffs before crossing her arms over her chest. What is this guy’s deal?

“Killian is a nice guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but Henry saw him walking around in his pirate costume and lost his mind and begged to go talk to him. Killian played along with it, acting like he really was a pirate, and Henry asked him if he could show him the ship. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“The big deal is that the guy is a flirtatious ass, and he didn’t need to know that I had a kid.”

Mary Margaret’s lips part, but she never gets to say anything. “Mom,” Henry yells out as he runs toward the two of them at what she knows is his fastest speed, “Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“What?” Emma laughs, willing away all of her negative emotions to put a smile on her face as Henry gets closer to her, Killian unfortunately following right behind him. “You’re going to be out of breath if you keep running that fast.”

Henry keeps running until he comes to a skidding stop right in front of the golf cart. His cheeks are red and his chest is heaving, but there’s an undeniable joy in those brown eyes of his. As annoyed as she is that Mary Margaret sent him off with a guy who she doesn’t like, at least he’s happy.

“Mom, I have had the best day. I got to eat pancakes with David and then they let me go up into the treehouse and then I met Killian and he gave me a tour of the pirate ship. Is it true that you get to work with him on it? Really? Do you get to be a pirate? I want to be a pirate! Can I be a pirate for Halloween?”

“Woah,” Emma laughs as she pulls Henry up onto the cart so that he can sit in her lap as she pushes some of his hair back, “slow down and take a deep breath. Not even the Flash goes this fast.”

“I want to be a pirate for Halloween,” Henry says a bit more slowly, his words still coming out the slightest bit stilted, “because pirates wear cool clothes and have swords and get to talk all funny sometimes. And they hunt for buried treasure. Do you think there’s buried treasure here?”

“I – ”

“There might be,” Killian adds in, and Emma is going to bite off her tongue and fill her entire mouth with blood to keep from spewing every word she’s told Henry that he can’t say out at Killian. “I think we’d have to find a treasure map to know for sure.”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, and she quickly turns to the side to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously. What? You don’t get to just gasp like that and then not tell me what’s going on.”

“I will tell you later when we aren’t around so many people, but I have an idea for an activity.”

Emma narrows her eyes, but Mary Margaret doesn’t pay any attention to her, immediately pulling her phone back out and typing something in that Emma can’t see because Mary Margaret turned the brightness down.

“Or,” Henry suggests to Killian, obviously still stuck on this whole treasure map thing, “we could use those things that old men use on the beach to find money.”

“We could, lad, but do you know where we’d get one?”

“Probably from an old man.”

Emma squeezes Henry a little tighter and buries her face in his hair to try to stop laughing. He needs a shower, but that’s going to have to wait until after her practice.

“Henry,” she begins, “why don’t you and Mary Margaret go check out what else is going on around here while I go to practice? I’ll come get you when I’m finished, and then we’ll go to dinner, yeah? I’m thinking grilled cheese.”

His eyes light up with his smile, and Emma’s heart pangs the slightest bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She leans down to kiss his cheek over and over again until he’s a giggling mess. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It takes a few minutes before Mary Margaret and Henry drive off, and then she’s left alone with Killian as he kicks his heel into the ground and digs up a bit of dirt and sand. He’s in his costume today, the same one as before, but this time a long black duster has been added. If it’s anything like her dress, Emma knows that it has to be heavy, but he doesn’t seem to have any problem moving around in it. And she swears that even more buttons are undone on his shirt so that she can see more of his stomach and the hair that seems to go all the way down.

Who even is this guy?

“That’s a nice kid you’ve got there, Swan,” he tells her. She nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, and Emma realizes that she let her defenses down, if only for a moment.

She shouldn’t have.

“I tend to think so, and no, I’m not biased at all.”

Killian flashes a smile, and her stomach flips without her permission. “I think so without any bias. He was so curious about everything. It was great. I think I’ve turned him into a pirate yet.”

Emma’s lips curve up before she remembers who she’s talking to. It’s so easy for her to forget things when someone is gushing about Henry – she likes to think she isn’t a total screw-up when it comes to him – and she doesn’t need to be doing that, especially not around this guy.

“Look,” Emma starts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “thank you for spending time with Henry today. That was really nice of you, but I’m not going to suddenly fall into your arms because you know how to charm a kid. And I don’t want you thinking that I’ll date you if you’re nice to Henry. That’s not how this works, so if you’re using him to get to me, you can stop.”

His brows furrow together, two dark black patches of hair nearly forming into one, and the smile that was on his lips curves downward into a scowl as his shoulders straighten up to make him taller than she knows that he is. “You may not believe me, love, but I had no intention of using your kid to get in your pants. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

And at that, he turns around and walks away, his coat swirling behind him, while Emma is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

-/-

For the next two weeks, Emma splits her time between waitressing, spending time with Henry, doing final run-throughs for Storybrooke Haunted Farms, and very occasionally sleeping. It’s hectic. Honestly, she might be delusional and imagining some of the things that have happened, but she’s going to chalk that up to lack of sleep and extreme physical activity. Her feet probably don’t fit in anything other than her sneakers because they’re so swollen from her standing for about eighteen hours a day.

It’s a lot.

But it’s also her favorite time of the year.

The temperatures have officially dipped to the point where she can wear jeans and a thick sweater every day while sipping on hot chocolate, and all of the leaves have changed colors so that everything just feels like fall. It’s the best time of the year, and Emma will not change her position on that.

Except, well, the fact that working at the Haunted Farm is an actual nightmare for her this year.

(They do, however, have a new kid’s attraction that’s a treasure hunt and not at all scary, and Emma is thankful that Mary Margaret got the idea and executed it so that Henry has somewhere to stay for a little while before Granny picks him up and takes him home to go to sleep.)

It’s going smoothly, relatively speaking. She’s got her routine down, even the part where she falls off the ship and suspends in the air while a speaker plays a splashing sound as fake thunder roars above them, and she’s got all of her scenes with Killian memorized to the point where she doesn’t jump when someone screams anymore….but it’s all like torture.

Emma has always prided herself over not caring too much about people she’s not close to so that she can save that emotional energy for something more important, but something about Killian Jones makes her feel horrible for pretty much being a bitch to him all the time. He is most definitely still this conceited, self-centered, far too flirtatious guy, but he is also the first person to help someone out when they get too freaked out by the jump scares, the guy who will bring people coffee (even her), and he never fails to make Henry smile even though Emma’s pretty sure that she scared Killian more than she has scared any of the people who pay to come to the Haunted Farms.

She hates it.

She hates that he’s probably a good person who wasn’t actually using Henry to get into her pants. That’s not something she’s totally decided on, but she feels a little more guilt every single time he opens his mouth to say something, takes one look at her, and then either turns away or makes some kind of innuendo that causes her cheeks to flame up.

Nothing about Killian Jones makes any sense, and for some reason her mind wants her to care about him.

It’s the law of proximity or something. That has to be it. They’re spending over half of their day together, every day, and it’s some kind of biological reaction to be tricked into wanting to know the other person so that things aren’t awkward.

Emma would honestly rather things just be awkward.

At least right now they’re in the middle of a shift, and there’s not exactly time to make awkward small talk. Instead, she’s sitting on a wooden barrel in the corner waiting for a new set of customers to walk across the bridge so that they can get this show on the road.

Or on the sea. It’s whatever.

The music starts playing over the speakers that are attached to the ship, and Emma slowly stands from the barrel, smoothing out her skirt and rubbing her hands over her arms to try to get the chill bumps to go away. It’s a little past ten o’clock, the sun having set several hours ago, and the only real light is coming from the way that the moon reflects off of the ocean. They’ve got these smoke machines out here to make everything look a little hazier, but it’s really not needed. It’s already hard to see a damn thing.

Killian follows right behind her, his duster hitting against her back, and she’s the slightest bit jealous that he gets to wear a coat. It’s under forty degrees out here right now, the ocean not helping that at all, and Emma is never going to be warm again.

“You ready to do this again?” she asks Killian.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

A chuckle escapes from her without her permission, but she quickly corrects it and gets into position so that she and Killian can begin their fake fight.

Getting paid to fight with an (kind of) asshole? Quite possibly the greatest job she’s ever had.

They start their back and forth as people move closer to them, their eyes wide as they take in the ship from a new perspective, but Emma makes sure that her eyes only stay focused on Killian as he glowers above her with his hands resting on the buckle of his belt.

“But you said you loved me,” Emma screams out, pushing her hands against Killian’s chest.

“I’m a pirate, darling,” he seethes, stepping into her space and dipping his head down so that they are eye-to-eye. “I don’t love, especially when it comes to a bar wench like you. You’re more entertainment than anything else.”

Emma pushes back at him as she steps backward, moving closer and closer to the edge of the ship while Killian crowds her in, still spitting words at her to keep everyone entertained. Emma feels her harness tighten, the technician obviously preparing to fling her off of the ship now, and Emma sucks in a deep breath in preparation.

She is not working this attraction next year.

“It’s a pity that you thought I loved you, truly. I think you would have been nice to keep around.”

Her heart quickens at the sound of Killian’s words, the ones that are the final warning sound before she’s flung off of the ship, and then she’s being pulled back and suspended into the air, the harness tightening around her chest as the fake thunder rolls over the speakers and the audience gasps. They’re about to be scared shitless too. They just don’t know that part yet.

And then there’s a snap.

And Emma’s falling.

It’s quick, really. She doesn’t have time to think or do anything, not that there would be anything for her to do, before every last breath is being shocked out of her as sharp icicles poke around her and everything goes black.

The water is freezing around her, and her lungs are like bricks inside of her, the heaviness of her dress weighing her down, and even though Emma knows that she needs to swim to the surface, the shock of it all is making it a little difficult. She can’t see or breathe or even think, and her legs are simply kicking while her arms are flailing in search of something, anything.

She is not going to drown in the ocean wearing some kind of medieval dress.

She is not going to leave Henry this way.

Henry.

Oh shit. That seems to knock a bit more sense into her, or at least some kind of panic, and her arms are even more frantic as she’s moves through the icy water, just trying to find air.

She needs air.

Suddenly, Emma feels hands on her arms, and there’s actual movement happening, her body feeling it as she moves in what direction she thinks is up, and then for the first time in what feels like hours, she can breathe.

And she can see.

“Swan,” a voice gasps out, and she blinks away the salty water to see Killian’s face directly in front of hers, his hair matted down against his forehead. “Swan? Are you okay? Emma? Emma, are you alright, love?”

“Cold,” she manages to gasp out, and he nods his head in response before they’re moving again.

Emma’s senses are beginning to come back, but her head is still foggy. One moment she’s drowning in the darkness and the next she’s being pulled onto soft sand, her clothes feeling too heavy for her body to hold up. There are so many noises, voices and screams and the damn music still playing over the speakers, and Emma can’t focus on any of it. It’s too much stimuli, too many distractions, and she barely even notices the fact that Killian rips off a few layers of her dress before hoisting her into his arms while murmuring words she can’t quite pick up or understand.

What is happening?

“Emma,” Killian repeats, and all the sudden she looks around and she’s inside of one of the offices near the front of the farms. “Emma, I really need you to look at me, okay?”

She blinks a few more times before turning away from looking at the office to looking at Killian. His eyes are so blue. How is that possible?

“Do you think you can strip out of these clothes yourself? Or do you need help? I can do it or we can wait for Mary Margaret to get here. She’s on her way.”

Those words snap Emma back into reality, and she can feel absolutely…everything. Her lungs are burning, her skin is like ice, and it hurts to breathe right now. She probably hasn’t stopped shivering in hours.

“I need…you’ve got to undo the corset, and then I can do it.”

Killian nods his head before walking around her, his fingers quickly undoing the corset until it’s no longer constricting her chest, and that makes her breathe the slightest bit more easily. When he’s finished, he tells her to undress and change into the clothes that are sitting on the chair in front of her while telling her that he’s going to step into the other room to do the same.

Why does Killian have to do the same?

Oh, right, because he was in the water with her. He pulled her out of it.

Laughter bubbles up within her belly, warming her, while she sheds the last of the wet clothes and picks up a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have Storybrooke Haunted Farms written across them in this awful orange color. But it’s either freeze to death naked or put them on, so she puts them on with still shivering limbs and laughter still escaping her lips.

Her harness broke, and she fell into the freezing cold ocean.

Holy shit.

“Swan?” Killian asks as he steps back into the room wearing the same awful clothing that she’s wearing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did I,” she starts, unable to finish. “Did I…did I…did I fall into the fucking ocean and have to be rescued while working at a fake haunted ship? Is that a real thing that just happened to me?”

“Aye,” he says a bit hesitantly before picking up a blanket and wrapping it around her while his hands rub up and down her shoulders. Holy shit that feels good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Emma laughs, leaning forward to bury her face in Killian’s shoulder. He’s warm. How is he warm? He was in the water too. She knows that she didn’t hallucinate that. It was real. “No, I’m not okay. What even is happening? This is ridiculous, and I’m still not convinced that I’m not going to roll over in bed and wake up to find Henry having poured a bucket of ice down my back or something like that.”

Killian’s chest moves beneath hers, and she feels his hand shift from her arm to her back, quickly moving up and down over the blanket. It feels so good and warm, and she might stay like this forever.

“Is that something the lad would do?”

“No, not at all. He’s too good for that. It’s something I did as a kid, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I hated my foster dad one time, and he refused to turn the heat up to make it warmer in the rest of the house, so I poured a bucket of ice on his bed. I got reassigned to a different house two days later, but let me tell you, it was worth it.”

Killian laughs again, and she feels it underneath her cheek. “That sounds exactly like something you would do. My brother used to pull shit like that, too, to our dad. He was always getting onto me for misbehaving, but then he’d cut holes in the crotch of Dad’s trousers.”

“This the brother that went to the Police Academy with David?”

“One and the same.”

“Where does he live now? Is he moving here too?”

Killian’s hand stills against her back, just for a brief moment, before starting up again as Emma nuzzles her nose a little further into his t-shirt that smells like detergent. Later, Emma knows that she’ll regret holding onto him like this, but right now, all she cares about is the fact that she’s finally starting to feel warm.

“Liam was killed in the line of duty two years ago, so I don’t think he’ll be moving from his plot in Boston.”

Emotion burns in Emma’s throat, weighed down by everything else that’s happened tonight, and someone should probably take her to the hospital for lack of airflow. This can’t be healthy. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

“Don’t be. ‘Tis not your fault. It is why I moved here, though. Believe it or not, it wasn’t to push you off of a ship while people are chased around by zombies wielding paintball guns. It was somewhere with a familiar face without having to move back to England, where I haven’t actually lived since I was a teenager.”

Emma huffs into Killian’s neck before wrapping her arms around his waist and rubbing up and down his back in the same way that he’s doing now. She doesn’t like to think that she needs saving, and she usually doesn’t…but tonight she did, and the least she can do is help to warm him up in the same way that he’s doing to her.

“I moved from Boston too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s where…I met Henry’s dad the summer before my senior year of high school. He was older, cooler, you know? And I found out I was pregnant halfway through that year. It was…” She stops, not really wanting to get into all of it with this man she doesn’t really know as well as not wanting to relieve it for herself. “It wasn’t a good time, pretty much, and I needed someplace new. This town has pretty much been the only thing that’s kept me on my feet.”

“Technically, it knocked you right off of them tonight.”

It’s the perfect time to make a joke. Honestly and truly it is because Emma could already feel herself pulling away and becoming uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading. She doesn’t just tell people about Neal or being in foster homes or any of it, and here she is letting it all out to a man she told herself not to get close to.

It’s also the exact moment that Mary Margaret walks in followed by David, and she and Killian spring apart so that they’re no longer standing together. Mary Margaret worries over the two of them, talking far faster than usual and giving them both jackets and more blankets along with socks, all of them from the merchandising table, before David hands them cups of hot chocolate, which may be the best hot chocolate that Emma has ever had.

That’s saying a lot considering how Emma is with her hot chocolate.

Things are overwhelming and wild as David explains the mechanics behind her harness snapping, and as quickly as David and Mary Margaret come in to check on the two of them, they’re having to leave to go check on the crises that are happening around town, and she’s left sitting in an office, still shivering the slightest bit, wondering where the hell does she go from here.

The answer to that question is apparently nowhere. She and Killian get sent home that night with instructions to come back in the morning for new assignments and to fill out some paperwork over the incident. They’re having to alter the performance that happens down at the ship, apparently, and while Emma expects to simply have her role slightly change, she ends up getting assigned to the hayride path with Killian. It’s a little sad to have to do this halfway through the month, but at least now she can wear jeans and flannel and hide her hair under a terrifying mask instead of having to have it teased every day.

And she won’t be falling into icy cold waters either. That’s definitely a plus.

Killian takes to scaring people on the hayride like a champ. He easily manages to jump up onto the trailer, oftentimes without anyone noticing, before screaming bloody murder and making everyone else do the same. One time, he manages to sit down between two couples without them noticing because they’re too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats, and the way they jump when Killian claps his hands together makes Emma jump off of the trailer and stumble back into the woods so that she can laugh without breaking character.

What she would give to have their faces on camera.

Things…shift in a way once they start working on the hayride instead of the ship. Emma had seen Killian’s good side before, had acknowledged it if even only to herself, but she still rejected it in a way. She didn’t want to see him as anything other than a cocky asshole who was using being nice to Henry to get into her pants, so Emma didn’t let her perception of him change.

Not until now.

Killian’s still a cocky asshole, but Emma’s starting to understand that the innuendos and his flirting might be a defense system. There’s something underneath the smirks and moving eyebrows, and while Emma doesn’t necessarily want to find out what it all is, she wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.

And he really is good with Henry, which Emma actually appreciates.

Apparently, when Killian isn’t scaring people for money, he works at Henry’s school as a receptionist for the front office as some kind of temp job, something no one seemed to deem important enough to tell her. Emma only found out when she called up to check Henry out to take him to a dentist appointment and she heard a familiar voice on the phone.

And now, somehow, he’s sitting across from her on a park picnic table as Henry climbs up and down the playground, his movement only slightly stilted by the giant puffer jacket that Emma has on him. She has no idea how Killian was out here running with only a thin pullover on.

“So, is he still going to be a pirate for Halloween tomorrow, or has that changed now that his mum has gotten pushed off a pirate ship and shunned to the hayride? I guess he could be a scarecrow, but I’m pretty sure six-year-olds aren’t into that.”

“No,” Emma sighs as Killian moves across the monkey bars and Emma braces herself for disaster, “I don’t think he would be. He’s got the pirate costume and still wants to do that. I’ve had to keep him from wearing it around the house so that he doesn’t mess it up before tomorrow.”

Killian raises his brow. “How exactly are you going to take him trick or treating when we have work? Isn’t that something that happens once the sun has set?”

“He’s six. we go in the middle of the afternoon, and then I drop him off to stay with Granny for the night. It’s not the best situation, but it’s what works for us.”

“You’re a good mum, Swan.” Emma feels hear rise in her cheeks, and she reaches up to brush her hair behind her ears. “With a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he jumps down from the playground and runs toward the two of them, his cheeks flushed and hair pushed back off of his forehead, “I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods his head, bright smile on his face, before stepping closer to her and cupping his hands around his mouth up against her ears. “Killian should come trick or treating with us tomorrow, and you can give him some candy to tell him that you like him.”

Emma nearly falls off the bench, and her heart takes off like a freaking rocket. For one, Henry just said that loud enough for everyone in Storybrooke to hear, but mostly, he just said that so that Killian could hear.

But also, why in the world does Henry think that she likes Killian? Where the hell did he get that idea.

Hesitantly, Emma looks over to Killian to see that he’s on his phone, very obviously faking texting someone, and as much as she appreciates it, there’s no getting around the fact that he heard Henry say that she likes him.

Which she doesn’t.

Not at all.

That would be ridiculous. And dumb. And a horrible, horrible idea.

But he is a very pretty man on, like, a vain level, and Emma will admit that she can sometimes be a little bit into vanity. And he is good at banter and flirting and making her laugh and causing a smile to curl onto her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there might be butterflies the flutter around in her stomach, but Emma has very adamantly been chalking that up to the fact that her eating hasn’t been the most healthy lately.

No, she doesn’t like him. That’s not a thing that happens.

Except maybe it is because she does get excited to go to work, possibly a little bit more than usual, and there are times when she purposefully makes sure that she inches a little bit closer to him so that they have to talk.

Oh shit, her six-year-old just had an emotional revelation for her, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Feelings are not her strong suit.

And neither is dating a man who her son is attached to. That’s just…what happens when he leaves? They always leave, and while Henry hasn’t known Killian for that long, she just knows him not showing up anymore would upset him.

But Killian wouldn’t do that, right?

“You know what, Henry,” Emma starts slowly, her voice cracking a little bit, “you have to ask Killian if he wants to come with us, okay? He might be busy.”

“Okay,” Henry whisper-shouts back at her before walking across the table and whisper-shouting into Killian’s ear as well. “Will you come trick or treating with us tomorrow and let my mom give you candy because she likes you?”

Emma groans and lets her head fall to the picnic bench, not caring about the weird stickiness that’s left there. Anything could be better than this.

“Yeah, lad,” Killian chuckles, and Emma peeks up to see Killian winking at her, “I think I can do both of those things.”

Killian shows up at her apartment the next day wearing his full-pirate garb, eyeliner and fake jewelry included, and it goes along perfectly with Henry’s costume as well as the costume she’s wearing. It’s not the bar wench one because that is in a trashcan somewhere, but it is the one that includes pants and these really cool boots and a vest that she’d probably like to wear on days that it’s not Halloween. Emma ignores the fact that they look like a family, especially when at least ten different people comment about how cute they all are, because this is about Henry and his happiness. This isn’t about the battle that’s been happening in her mind for the last thirty-six hours.

There is absolutely no reason for her to be able to have good things like this. She’s a screw up foster kid who has never had anyone love her the way that she thinks she’s supposed to be love, but she has this kid who, even on his worst days, she would do absolutely anything for. He came from such a dark place in her life, one that she didn’t think she could get out of, but here she is in a town that supports the both of them.

With someone who has spent the past hour talking in a strange accent to indulge Henry and make him laugh while they stuff their face with more candy than Emma would usually allow.

Today is a good day.

And it continues that way when she drops Henry off with Granny so that she and Killian can go to work, the two of them changing out of their pirate garb and back into comfortable jeans and flannel with the ridiculous masks that they’ve been changing up every day. It’s one last day, one last night, and Emma can’t wait to share the shit out of some people.

-/-

“Did you see her face?” Killian chuckles as they walk through the woods back to the clearing behind the front office building. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be so terrified by a clown mask.”

“Clowns are creepy. That’s why they make horror films about them.”

“Aye, I know, but you have to admit that the woman’s face was priceless.”

Emma bumps her shoulder into Killian’s, and he looks down at her to smile, the moon reflecting off of half of his face. Those damn butterflies are not moving around in her stomach at the sight of his smile. Nope. Not at all.

“It was,” she admits as a few hundred people come into view, all of the employees over the past month gathering together for the wrap party that Mary Margaret and David throw for everyone full of drinks and junk food and all of the Halloween candy in the world. “That’s what will have to carry me over until next year.”

“Good. You want to grab some pizza and a few beers and go hit the hay?”

“You want to go to sleep?”

“No, Swan,” he laughs as his hand comes up to wrap around her shoulder, “not quite yet. I meant we can go sit in the trailer of the hayride. No one seems to have occupied it.”

Emma’s eyes glance over to where the trailer is parked, and it is, indeed, empty. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

They load up on food and drinks, carefully balancing them in their hands, before walking over to the trailer and easily climbing up onto the trailer, settling down into the middle and placing their plates of food up onto the haybales. She’s probably going to have hay stuck in her clothes and her hair for the next week and a half, but it might almost be worth it.

The pizza and beer are cheap, but after hours of running around, that doesn’t matter to Emma at all. Besides, the conversation is good, Killian telling her about his adventures in interviewing with Leroy to see if he can get a job on his construction crew since that’s apparently what he did back in Boston after he left the Navy earlier than planned due to Liam’s death.

There’s so much that she doesn’t know about him, that she can’t know after only knowing him for a month and a half and only tolerating him for a little less than that, but maybe Henry was right in his assumption that she might just like the guy who pushed her off a ship and almost caused her to accidentally drown.

Something she likes to remind him quite frequently only for him to remind her that it wasn’t his fault and that he did save her.

They can agree to disagree.

(They’re both technically right.)

A sharp wind comes moves through the woods, and a shiver runs down Emma’s spine so that she has to tighten her coat around her a little bit more. She needs a beanie, pretty much desperately, but there’s not a lot she can do about any of that right now. She’s been colder than this before. She’ll last.

And it’s such a nice night with the stars up in the sky and the moon shining overhead, no deadlines or schedules looming over her for at least a few days, and all Emma can do is relax in it, leaning back into Killian’s shoulder and sighing in relief.

He taps his foot against hers then, and Emma ignores it. But then he does it again and again and again until she looks over at him to see him holding a Kit Kar bar in between his fingers.

“What?” Emma groans. “Why are you being so annoying?”

His eyelashes flutter down then, just for a moment, before he’s looking up at her with a soft smile that she’s only seen from him a few times before. “I want to give you this piece of candy.”

“Um, why?”

His eyes roll, and Emma doesn’t know what to think of it because there’s really no reason for him to be so exasperated. “Your son, brilliant lad that he is, told me that if I like you, I should give you some candy. This is me giving you candy.”

Oh.

Emma’s heart stutters. Actually, it probably completely stops. She’s having a hard time knowing exactly what’s going on when her head is a mess, a mix of alcohol and confusing feelings and a little bit of being terrified of making the wrong mood, but Killian most definitely just took dating advice from a six-year-old and told her that he has feelings for her.

She’s really not ready for Henry to start dating if he’s going to be able to do things like this.

With a small, trembling smile on her face, Emma turns around and finds a red Starburst on her plate and reaches over to hand it to Killian, whose smile stretches up to his eyes now. “Okay, but just so you know, this candy is going to come with some stipulations, okay?”

“Like what, Swan?” Killian asks even as the rough pads of his fingers come to cup her cheek, pulling her closer to him so that their mouths are so close that she can’t tell whose breath is whose as it comes out in white puffs of air. “Because if it’s about Henry, he’s already given me a stern talking to about how I’m only allowed to make you happy and not sad like his dad did.”

“Did he really?”

“Aye, love, he did. And I understand that there will be boundaries and limitations and that Henry comes first. I want him to come first, always. I just – ”

Emma doesn’t let him finish before she’s pressing forward and gliding her lips over his and wrapping her arms around his neck in one swift moment. They’re both still at first, and Emma takes in the fact that his cold lips taste like pizza, beer, and chocolate. It’s not the best combination in the world taste-wise, but it is pretty good in general. So is the kiss when Killian starts moving his lips against hers, tugging her closer with his hand and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss, mouths quickly opening and tongues lightly swirling together in a slick, wet slide.

She’s had first kisses before, more than she’d care to admit, and as absolutely magnificent as a lot of them were, Emma doesn’t think her heart has ever felt quite this way – like a mix of happiness and magic and a little bit of Halloween spirit.

It is the best holiday of the year, after all. She can be whoever she wants.

Right now, though, she doesn’t want to be anyone other than Emma Swan or be anywhere other than in this moment.

-/-

They don’t tell Henry that they’re dating for four more months. It’s hard to keep from him, honestly, but Emma knows that it’s for the best. Things could still go wrong, her fears are still valid, and Henry is easy to accept the fact that Killian sometimes spends a little bit more time with them than usual. But still as his mom’s friend.

It’s pretty easy for Henry to accept when Killian makes the transition from friend to boyfriend.

Even easier when he goes from his mom’s boyfriend to his step-father. It makes picking out family costumes for Halloween even easier.

(Emma is ignoring that Henry will eventually grow out of liking doing that.)

Killian gives her a piece of candy every day to make sure that Emma knows that he has feelings for her.

She’s got a pretty good idea.

#Storybrooke haunted farms #cs hallloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan #captain cobra

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romancandlemagazine · 5 years ago

Text

An Interview with Brian Cannon

This is probably a pretty obvious statement to make, but there’s more to music than just the music. Things like melody and chords and all that are fairly important, but there are a thousand other factors that help turn a song, track or album into something more than just a bunch of sound waves smacking into your ear drums.

Record sleeves are one such factor — and not many have created quite as many stone cold classics as Brian Cannon.

As the man behind the infamous Microdot agency, Brian was responsible for looking after the visual side of both Oasis and The Verve, as well as designing covers for bands like Suede, Cast and Inspiral Carpets.

Here’s an interview with him about doing graffiti in Wigan, his trademark ‘in-camera’ style and the logistics of putting a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool…

Maybe an obvious first question – but how did you get into designing record covers? What were you into when you were growing up in Wigan.

I specifically set out to design record sleeves, because I was a fan of punk rock. I was 11 in 1977, when I first got into it all.

Do you remember the first time you saw ‘punk’?

I’m the eldest in my family, so I didn’t have the influence of an older brother – but I did have an older cousin called Tony who was 15 at the time — and when you’re 11, that’s a massive difference. I’d heard about this phenomenon from Tony, and then I saw the Buzzcocks on Top of the Pops — and to actually see it in the flesh — it blew me away.

Why do you think it had such an impact on so many people? Was it because it was so different.

Exactly, it was totally different. At that time, Top of the Pops was your barometer, and glam rock was pretty much all you had — things like Sweet and Mud — long hair, flares, platforms and mad outfits. But then all of a sudden you had these lads who looked like your mates, with short hair and tight pants, making this fast, aggressive music. And I loved it.

How did this lead into doing design?

Me and my mates thought, “We’ve got to get a band together.” So we met up at my mum’s house in Wigan, and I realised instantly that I couldn’t play guitar. I just couldn’t get my head around chords.

But I’d always been good at drawing. My dad was a fantastic illustrator, far better than me, but the opportunities for illustrators in Wigan in the 1940s were zero – so he worked as a coal miner and never did anything with it. But he was very much in favour of me doing drawing, and he always encouraged me.

And with punk, if you looked at the graphics and the visual identity, it felt like it was in reach. I think that was the point of it. Before punk, bands were like creatures from another planet — but with punk, the whole process was demystified – the man in the street could get involved. That was a massive inspiration to me.

So I married my love of the music with my talent for art, and thought that I’d become a sleeve designer instead.

It’s interesting how even in your early teens you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

I remember doing this art foundation course, and the tutor was going around, asking us what we wanted to do when we finished our education. He came to me and I said, “I want to design record sleeves.” But straight away he said, “No, no, no – you can’t be so specific, you need to get a job in graphics and learn your way.”

I was almost derided for it – because not only was I going to do record sleeves, but I was going to go freelance from the get go. I think anyone can do it these days, because you just get a laptop and then you’re a graphic designer all of a sudden. But back then, not only was there no social media and no internet, but the equipment required to do the job of a graphic designer, the forerunner to Photoshop, cost £300,000. It was this machine called Quantel Paintbox.

What was that?

It was a computer, about the size of your house, with less power than your mobile phone. It was way out of my reach — I could hardly afford a paper and pencil.

What did you do then?

This punk style was really stark, with high contrast black and white, degraded imagery, and it just so happened that if you photocopied an image over and over, it went like that. And that was handy, because all I could afford to use was a photocopier.

There was a little print shop at the bottom of Library Street in Wigan, and I’d be in there all day, with a scalpel and a tin of glue, putting these things together in the shop – and that’s how it all started.

How did your first sleeve come about? Was that the Ruthless Rap Assassins one?

Yeah — I did a graffiti mural on the side of a warehouse in 1984, and it was noticed by a guy called Greg Wilson, who was a very influential DJ at that time. He’d thought to himself, I’m going to see this New York style graffiti in London or Manchester or Birmingham at some point, but he couldn’t believe it that he’d seen it in Wigan. He sent word out on the street that he wanted to meet whoever had done it, and I was summoned to his house. We ended up becoming friends and I did this sleeve. And then off it went from there.

What happened next then?

I then met Richard Ashcroft at a party and got chatting, but then The Verve got signed and I didn’t see him for another two years. I ended up bumping into him in a petrol station at six o’ clock in the morning. He said, “Wow, you’re that sleeve guy. We’ve just been signed – do you want the gig?”

So I went to London to have a meeting with Virgin, who The Verve were signed to. Vigin obviously had some big London agency lined up to do this work for The Verve, so they were horrified when Richard Ashcroft said he wanted this unknown student he’d met at a party in Wigan to do the artwork. But they were cool enough to think, “Well, this is what the band wanted.” And then after the first single came about, they were like, “Sorry we doubted you.”

What else were you doing at that time?

On the back of doing the stuff for The Verve, Suede got in touch. And then I met Noel Gallagher. I used to have an office in Manchester on New Mount Street in the same building as the Inspiral Carpets office, and I got chatting to him in the lift about trainers.

What were they?

They were a pair of adidas Indoor Super. I took my mother to Rome for her 60th birthday, and I found these trainers in some tiny backstreet shop.

Wasn’t the Oasis logo based roughly on the adidas logo?

The original was kind of the adidas font – but we binned it, because with the adidas font, the ‘A’ is just like an ‘o’ with a line on the side, so it just looked like ‘oosis’.

I did the logo in ’93, and then their first album came out in ’94. After Oasis it went buck-wild... Ash, Cast, even Atomic Kitten… it was mental.

Was it hard to keep up with it all?

No, because if you think about it, even a busy band back then would only put out three singles and an album out per year – so even if you’ve got five bands a year, that’s only twenty jobs a year. Mind you, it was labour intensive as there was no Photoshop.

I was going to ask you about that. As a lot of your images were done without Photoshop, ‘in camera’, how did you go about getting them? Creating an image like the Oasis Be Here Now cover doesn’t look easy.

This is a very important point to make. Because it was all shot on film – we didn’t have the luxury of looking at the back of the camera and seeing what we’d got. We had no idea what we’d got until we got the photos back from the lab. Imagine putting a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool and realising the photos weren’t exposed correctly.

Before the shoot, there’d be a massive process of research and preparation, so when the day comes, nothing was left to chance.

Were you given free reign with all this?

Yeah, it was a beautiful situation. With both The Verve and Oasis, the record companies just let us get on with it. All they did was pay for the bills. And that was great, because we knew what we were doing.

A lot of the Oasis ones are particularly complicated. What was the hardest one to pull off?

Putting a Rolls Royce in a pool was pretty tough. Finding a pool that someone’s going to let you put a Rolls Royce into was the hardest part. And then we had to find a Rolls Royce that wasn’t worth £50,000 – because Oasis weren’t that rich. It was a scrap Rolls Royce, with no engine in it, but it still cost us £1,000 to hire it. And then we had to get a crane and dangle it in.

How many shots did you take of that one?

That one was ridiculous, because like I said, we didn’t have the luxury of seeing what we’d shot. For that shoot there was something like 30 odd rolls of film, with 36 exposures on each roll – so it was almost a thousand frames of something that’s really just a still life. That’s excessive.

We stayed there that night, and then we got the films processed in London. Then there was the wait, like an expectant father.

How did you work out which was the best one, when you had a thousand pretty much identical photos to look at?

It was like snow blindness. We’d start with the obvious non-starters, and whittle it down and down. It was a very laborious process of elimination, but we didn’t know any other way.

Do you think this real life, ‘in camera’ method of creating these really detailed images helped elevate them a bit?

By that point we could have easily Photoshopped it, but we just did things for real because it was our trademark, and I enjoyed doing things that way. We started doing it that way out of necessity, because we couldn’t afford computers – but even when we could afford them, we still did things the real way as we preferred it.

And it must have been more fun that sitting around staring at a computer.

Yeah – I loved it. Just to see a Rolls Royce in a swimming pool – it looked amazing.

What about the Definitely Maybe cover? Obviously now that’s talked about as being one of the best record covers of all time, but were people saying that when it was released?

No, they weren’t. It’s all very well saying things with the benefit of hindsight. It’s just been voted as one of the top 70 record sleeves of all time – and do you know what? I’m not going to rain on my own parade, because I think it’s a great sleeve — but had that been for a band you’d never heard of, it wouldn’t be in the top 70.

I suppose there’s a lot that’s tied in with that. The memories that come with it and everything else – it’s a full package. What was the story behind the Definitely Maybe cover?

It’s an anti-band shot. That was the idea. There’s a Beatles album called A Collection of Beatles Oldies (but Goldies!), and on the back there’s this shot of them in this dressing room in Japan. And I just loved the fly on the wall nature of it – none of them were looking at the camera. And whilst it looks nothing like Definitely Maybe, that’s where the inspiration came from.

That documentary style?

Precisely. The band are having their picture took, and they’re all watching the telly.

It’s designed to look candid, but what was the reality of it?

It was incredibly staged. It’s too perfect of a composition to just happen. We positioned everyone very carefully. Even the still on the television was specifically chosen – it’s the shot in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly where he’s got him by the face. It was paused on VHS. That’s how meticulous it was.

A lot of your sleeves are photography-based. Was there a particular reason for this?

My favourite record sleeves, with the exceptions of Never Mind the Bollocks, are photographically based. I just think it’s the best way of doing it. And that’s why, in the cases of both The Verve and Oasis, there’s very little intrusion with type or logos.

With The Verve, the logo would be in the shot, and with Oasis, the logo would be in the top corner. We’d spend ages coming up for the idea and staging the shoot, we didn’t want to ruin it by plastering a logo in front of it.

It seemed like there was definite styles for each band you worked with. Your covers for The Verve always had real text in the photo. Was that a faff to do that? Setting the letters on fire on the Storm in Heaven cover looked tough.

Yes, it was. I had the letters made by a steel fabricator in Oldham, and covered them with this cladding that street jugglers use when they’re juggling fire, and then poured paraffin onto it. The only downside was that the letters gave off loads of smoke – and because we were in a cave, it just wouldn’t clear. We were having to wait about half an hour in-between each shot for the smoke to clear.

Where did the idea for that one come from?

I’d never seen letters set on fire and photographed before, but I just thought it’d look good. I do a lot of lecturing at colleges, and I always say, much to the chagrin of the lecturers, that you don’t have to explain everything away. Some things you just do because they look good – there’s no further explanation required.

Very true. Maybe a tough question, especially considering what you’ve just said… but what makes a good record cover?

What makes a good record? You just know, don’t you? There can be a thousand reasons why one might be bad, but I can’t think of one reason why one will be good. There’s no formula to it. It’s down to the individual too – it’s all opinion.

What do you think the purpose of a record cover is? Is it marketing, or is it art?

I don’t think it’s a marketing tool — I’d regard it as a bonus for the fans. I don’t think it sells records. I’ve bought the odd record because of the sleeve, but then again, I’m a sleeve designer.

Were the covers always influenced by the music – or sometimes did you just have an idea you wanted to use on something?

No — that never happened. We were quite vehement about that. Every sleeve was like a bespoke suit, cut for that particular piece of music.

From what I’ve read, you weren’t just some guy in an office sending off designs to the bands – you were involved with the bands a lot more, going on tours and things like that.

I was of the opinion that the more I got my head around what the band were into and how they thought, the better the visuals could be… and hanging around with a rock and roll band is good fun. I toured American with both Oasis and The Verve, but it was mad, because I was the only person on the tour-bus who had nothing to do.

What was it like being around those bands when they suddenly became massive?

It was all a bit weird really. Anybody will tell you this – the best bit of any band is that bit when they just start taking off. The best bits are when it’s still pretty innocent.

Did you have a few people working for you by that point?

Yeah – but it was never massive. At Microdot’s peak, there was five or six of us. In the late 90s we started branching out into all sorts of mad stuff. We were running night-clubs, we were publishing magazines, we were managing bands… at one point there was talk of importing Volkswagen Beetles from Mexico.

A brilliant idea.

I’d gone to Mexico on holiday, and I kept seeing these old Beetles. They were still making them there, and we’d worked out that if we shipped them back to England, and even if we turned them right hand drive, we could still make £2,000 on every one we sold. If we sold 500 of them, we’d make a million quid.

We were all set to go, but Volkswagen head office in Germany had told the Mexicans they couldn’t sell us the cars, as they reckoned it’d harm the Golf market in the UK.

But it would have been mint.

I know. So we then tried the Brazilians as they were making them there too – and this was so Microdot it was untrue. On the street in Shoreditch where we had our studio, there was a little café called Franco’s that was run by a Portuguese family. Now they don’t speak Spanish in Brazil – they speak Portuguese, so I went in to Franco’s one day and I said I’d give the man who worked behind the counter a tenner if he’d come to the office, and speak down the phone to Volkswagen HQ in Sao Paulo. He did it, but it still didn’t happen.

What do you mean by things being, “so Microdot.” Was there a certain attitude there?

Absolutely. The reason why it was like that was because I didn’t have any experience of working in an agency. I had no idea how things should be done — we were just making things up as we were going along.

It was bonkers. When we moved to London, we had enough money from Alan McGee to buy this computer, and to set up a studio in Shoreditch. But in this mad rush to move to London, I’d forgotten that we needed somewhere to live, so me and Matt, the lad who worked with me, had to live in the studio. There was one room, and a toilet, and we lived in there for four months. We had a couch that you could take the cushions off, and we’d take it in turns every night – one of us sleeping on the couch, one of us sleeping on the cushions on the floor.

And we could party hard, because we knew that the only person we had to answer to the following day had been out with us previous night – there was no way Noel Gallagher was going to ring us at nine in the morning, because we’d just left him at seven in the morning. There’d be occasions when a client would turn up, and there’d be somebody asleep on the floor in the studio.

Nowadays you do all sorts of stuff – and amongst various design bits, you’ve been photographing northern soul nights. How did this come about?

That was a massive project for me. It started in 2012, when the renaissance was under way. A friend of mine from Wigan said that I should go along to this club run by these kids who were into northern soul.

I was very aware that when you take photographs of people dancing in dark rooms, they just look like statues at a wedding, but I wanted to get some soul or some atmosphere into the shot, so I thought I’ll use an off-camera flash.

I went to this club-night with my mate John, who was going to be my lighting guy, holding my flash in his hand, at a 45 degree angle to me. But when we get there, his phone rings — his wife was pregnant and her car had got a puncture — so that was my lighting gone. So I just put the light on the stage or on the floor, and worked around that, and the results I got were astonishing, purely by accident – I got these massive long shadows, cast from behind.

I suppose that comes from the same place as your record covers – you’re a fan.

Absolutely. Growing up in Wigan in the 1970s made it kind of inevitable to be a northern soul fan.

Alright, I think I’ve pretty much ran out of questions now. Have you got any wise words or anything to finish this off?

Never give in.

#Interviews #Brian Cannon #Oasis #The Verve

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mbavholidayexchange · 5 years ago

Photo

To @whatcanisayimgay, from @dxlilith

Title: So Your Best Friend Is A Spy

Rating: T

Summary: Not Provided

Ao3 Link: N/A

Content

Whitechapel

Sarah lies on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about absolutely nothing. It was pleasant. For the first time in months, she had no homework, no bad guys to fight, not even a babysitting gig. Her summer was free and open to do whatever she pleased and there was no one to stop her.

Knock-Knock

Well, almost no one. Hovering outside her window in an all black leather outfit was her best friend and fellow vampire Erica Jones. Sarah smiles. Erica had told her just that afternoon that she would be in the city and wouldn’t see her until next week. Sarah runs to the window to let her in.

“I’m going to kill him.” Is the first thing that comes out of Erica’s mouth as she throws a large dufflebag onto the floor.

“What did Benny do now?” Sarah eyes the bag, hoping that wasn’t a snack in there.

“Benny? No not him.”

“Rory?”

“No.”

“Ethan?!”

“Sarah, our lives are so much bigger than those three stooges. And it’s Frederick I’m going to kill.”

“Uhhhh…who’s that?”

“Not important. Do you have a overnight bag? What about that PINK one your dad got you for your 15th birthday?”

“Uh, it’s in my closet.”

“We’re going to Italy to retrieve something because Fredrick is useless and now I have to go into the Vatican and steal it back.”

“The Vatican? As in the holy city the pope lives in? Can vampires even step foot in there? Wait why am I going? Why do you…”

“Sarah.” Erica uses her vampiric speed to close the distance between herself and Sarah. She looms over the shorter girl and puts her hands onto either one of her shoulders. “You’re asking a lot of questions we don’t have time for. Let’s pack up, leave your mom a note. We’re catching a red eye in…” Erica pulls out her cellphone from her jacket and checks the time. “Two hours.”

“Two hours!” Sarah pulls back. “Erica you’re going to have to tell me way more if I’m supposed to go across the globe with you in two hours.”

“Fine.” Erica sighs. She heads directly to Sarah’s closet door and opens it. It takes her all of five seconds to find Sarah’s overnight bag and start packing away some articles of clothing. “Do you remember when I told you that I became a recovery agent for the council?”

“No.”

“Well I did.” Pleased with the selection of clothing, Erica leaves the closet and heads for Sarah’s en-suite bathroom. “And I have to recover something from the Vatican and you’re coming with.”

“Why?” Sarah pops her head into the bathroom as Erica dumps her makeup bag into the overnight bag.

“Because when we were six you said you wanted to go where spaghetti comes from.”

“You remember that?” Sarah almost whispers. The very logical part of her brain which had begun to sound a suspicious amount like Ethan, was telling her to not even humor Erica. Wasn’t them being teenage vampires enough of a fictional plot device as is? But the do anything for Erica part of her brain was already in Rome, shopping for cute clothes and flirting with attractive Italian shoe makers.

“Of course I do.”

Italy

“So recovery agent is just another word for spy?”

“No. Spies infiltrate, get disguises, finesse their way into things and stop megalomaniacs from blowing up the world. Recovery agents recover things. In this case, Vlad’s Amulet.”

“And the amulet is special because?”

“It’s not. It’s just one of those, super ancient, super historically significant things that people and vampires will pay millions for.”

“And it belongs to Anastasia?”

“Her family’s organization yeah.”

“Okay but I feel like you lied to me about going to Milan for lattes and authentic Prada wear.”

“What? I would never lie about lattes and fashion, how could you say such a thing?”

“Because we’re currently creeping through an secret tunnel underneath the Pope’s house!” Sarah practically yells but remembers they’re supposed to remain hidden so it all comes out in a rushed whisper.

“I told you, I had to make a quick stop on the way. This is like, the easiest retrieval I’ve ever done.” Erica stops in her tracks and points above her to a small square door and latch. “ Look, we’re already here. Five minutes and I promise you a super cute purse and matching shoes?”

Sarah is skeptical but says nothing as Erica jumps up through the trapdoor. She hears Erica’s footsteps, then a muffled sound. Soon there’s a scuffle and Sarah is about to jump through herself when Erica’s face appears in the opening.

“Got it.” She produces a necklace and dangles it. It was more like a giant red hunk of ruby delicately laced with gold. “Now for some new shoes.”

London

“When you said we were gonna go to see Big Ben, this isn’t really what I imagined.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot smaller than I thought it’d be.”

Sarah sits on the ledge of the highest chamber of The Elizabeth Tower, the clock face just underneath her. As annoyed as she is with Erica ruining their evening, she was absolutely in love with the shoes she’d gotten her so she tries to focus on admiring them.

Erica is holding up the last of the henchmen by his ankle, searching his pockets for the artifact he was supposed to have. The other seven henchmen were knocked out, sprawled across the ground around her.

“I think I’m gonna eat this guy. He has great skin and hair so he has to be full of vitamins.”

“Ugh, I’ll meet you at The Eye. We’re still doing that right? Or is there another…”

“No, this lead was a dead end. I’m all yours, after this brief snack.” Erica’s eyes turn yellow and her fangs grow out.

“Don’t steal anything from him okay?” Sarah warns before jumping off the ledge.

Budapest

“Now this! This was a great idea.” Sarah sighs as she slips into the lavender milk bath until the water is just under her chin. It was meant as a forgive me for dragging you to more than three retrievals present from Erica.

“I told you. We’ll feel as smooth as silk and smell like sweet dreams.” Erica slips into the tub next to Sarah, the water reaching her collarbone. “Then we can go to the festival and watch the fireworks and have a nice night out.”

“And you promise there’s no retrieval?”

“No retrieval. No intel. It’s radio silence for the Council from me.”

“Then what’s that big vase?” Sarah points to the large stone vase sat behind Erica’s head.

“It’s part of the decor Sarah. Jeez, trust issues much.”

“Erica, it’s literally humming and doesn’t match anything in this room.”

The walls are cream with subtle paintings of lavender plants. The tub, faucets, towel bars, all gold plated and there are small white candles lit everywhere. The vase looked like a kindergartener bowl of concrete with squiggles craved into it.

“Okay so I snagged it while you were getting that facial but pick up isn’t until tomorrow.”

Sarah only grumbles and lowers herself under the sweet water and attempts to wash away her annoyance. She would never admit how much fun she was actually having. She settles for splashing Erica in the face.

Russia

“Wait so that was the Vlad the Impaler amulet?”

“Or so says Anastasia. Don’t really care. Long as she provides me with my next upgrade, I’ll bring it to her.”

“Upgrade?”

“Yeah. She has an ability that allows me to learn vampire powers faster.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” Erica takes Sarah’s hand in hers and with the other, slips it around her waist. She brings the shorter girl towards her and they spin in a circle.

Suddenly Sarah feels dizzy and weightless. Gone are the cobbled streets of Moscow and in their stead are the marble white floors of a grand ballroom. Soft music plays all around them as twinkling candelabras seemingly float along with the notes. Erica is now wearing a black half mask but her yellow eyes shine brightly through. She’s in a glittering dark blue suit with tails and leading Sarah is a slow waltz. Sarah dances along, realizing rather belatedly that she’s in a massive pale grey gown with tiny butterfly accents that tickle her exposed collarbone.

“Erica?”

“It’s a type of glamour.” Erica smiles, her fangs peeking through her dark red lips. “It actually just started to snow.” As if the word snow was the magic one, the ballroom disappears and both girls are in their normal winter wear, just outside a café. It is in fact snowing and Sarah leans into Erica to stay warm.

South Africa

“Most civilized communities of vampires have councils. Anastasia’s just so happens to be a front for an organization that collect and protect vampiric artifacts. And it spans the globe so sometimes, I get several assignments outside of Canada.”

“That didn’t answer my question about sun block.”

“Oh, vampires under the equator do NOT go out before dusk.”

“Even a top recovery agent?”

“Even me.”

“So what do you wanna do while we wait for the sun to go down?”

“This bed is big enough for two.”

“It is.”

“And there’s a do not disturb on the door.”

“Is there?”

“And I may have retrieved the duty free cargo on our way here.” Erica reaches under the bed and pulls out a giant, airport sealed bag filled to the brim with sweets and snacks.

“Gossip Girl or Pretty Little Liars?” Sarah asks, already snuggling into her blankets.

“Grey’s Anatomy.”

New York

The painting measures floor to ceiling and takes up a third of the room. It’s oil on canvas and like the rest of the pieces in the museum, perfectly preserved. The scene is of a battlefield, drenched in blood, blacken sky, a lone figure riding on a black horse with a head impaled on his spear.

“Wait. I thought you already found the amulet.”

“I did.”

“So what’re we doing here?”

“I got some info about there being an even older artifact.”

“And they’re just gonna let you take it?”

“Nope.”

“You’re going to steal it, aren’t you?“

“Already did.” Erica holds up the small figurine. The same figurine that Sarah had been admiring in the Egyptology room three exhibits ago.

“Erica you’re going to get us caught!”

“Am I? Vampires don’t show up on film remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let’s go get some lattes and head to Bryant park.” Erica leans in and takes Sarah’s arm and leads her towards the exit as armed guards and staff run pass them in a panic.

California

“This is the life.” Sarah sighs to herself. She’s wearing 200 spf in a super cute mermaid green two piece under a massive rainbow umbrella. The summer was almost over and while traveling was definitely exciting, traveling with Erica proved to be a little more stressful than she had ever it imagined.

“Sarah, can I ask you something?”

Sarah removes her sunglasses and looks over to her left. Erica wears a blood red monokini, her water soaked hair sticking to her cheeks and neck and the sunlight glistening off every inch of exposed skin. In other words, she was stunning.

“Go ahead.”

“You know I love you, right?”

Sarah sighs again. “Another retrieval?”

“No. I need to know that you know, I love you.”

“I love you too…”

“No, I love you.” In a blink of an eye, Erica is in her personal space. She pulls Sarah up so they’re both sitting up and almost touching noses.

“I…uh….Erica.”

“I know you love me back.” Erica smiles, her fangs flashing. “I can sense your blood whenever we’re together and you’re not mad at me.”

“Umm, I don’t know how I feel about you just dropping this out of the blue.”

“It’s not out of the blue. I’ve been trying to show you how much I love you this entire trip.”

“I mean, I just thought you were dragging me along your missions.”

“That too. But I can’t hold it in anymore. I love you Sarah and I want to be with you forever and sometimes I feel like you care more about Beevis and Butthead than me so I thought if I took you away…”

“I’d realize how much I actually am in love with you?” Sarah smiles.

“Precisely.” Erica smirks. Sarah giggles but notices how intently Erica is still staring at her. She doesn’t need vampire senses to know she’s waiting for an answer and is at the edge of her seat.

Whitechapel

“So that’s where you guys were all summer?”

“You almost sound jealous.” Sarah takes a sip of her french vanilla latte. After two months of running around the globe, she was finally home, catching up with Ethan. They sat across one another in a booth tucked into the corner of their favorite diner.

“Only a little. It’s not like I’ll ever get outta here. Not any time soon anyway.” He takes a sips of his green tea. In lifting his mug, Sarah notices the ring on his pointer finger. It’s a thick silver band with a perfectly round white opal set in the center.

“I didn’t know you did jewelry.”

“Oh? This?” Ethan holds up his hand to give Sarah a better look. “Benny made it. It stops me from having nightmares and allows me to filter my visions, allowing for better control of my powers.”

“That’s really sweet of him.”

“Yeah…um about that.” Ethan fumbles for the words and Sarah is almost certain what he is about to say. “Benny and I are…well, we’re dating.”

“O.M.G! It’s finally official!?”

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean….finally official? Did you think me and Benny were dating before?”

“You guys are practically married so yeah.”

“Sarah.”

Both brunettes turn their heads towards the door. Making her way over to them was Erica. She had an entirely too smug look on her face as her eyes zeroed in on Sarah’s.

“Hey Erica.” Sarah smiles. She stands up, her arms extended for a hug but instead is swept up into Erica’s arms where she is kissed soundly on the mouth. Sarah feels weightless, she does every-time Erica kisses her. She hopes it stays like that for the rest of eternity.

“You guys should probably get a room.” Ethan coughs.

“Jealous?” Ethan turns his head back towards the door where Benny is standing, hand still on the door. “Cause I can totally sweep you off your feet, if that’s what you want.”

Ethan’s face splits into a crooked grin as Benny takes three long strides towards him. Soon he’s standing over him, taking Ethan’s face into his hands and just staring down at him with those dark green eyes that always make Ethan feel like nothing else matters.

“Who are the ones that need the room now?” Erica smirks, Sarah snug against her side.

#mbav #my babysitter's a vampire #mbav holiday exchange #mbavholidayexchange #serica

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drbrianhmay · 6 years ago

Text

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics // Brian May x Reader

Summary: “It’s a job, really.” He shrugged. “Aspiring rockstar doesn’t pay the rent.”

“Yet.” You smiled encouragingly.

He nodded his head toward you. “Yet. In the meantime, I teach first-years to not be afraid of maths. Although I get the impression you’re not a first year?”

You laughed, “Yeah, no. Third year, nursing. This is my final term, actually. I’ve managed to avoid maths up to this point, but apparently I need it to graduate, so here I am, trapped in Stats I.”

Pairing: 1970s!Brian May x Reader (pre/early Queen era)

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Smut (oral sex - fem receiving, riding, unprotected sex, non/under-negotiated but enthusiastic mild D/s), flagrant disrespect of data analysis

Word Count: 7k

Notes: Massive, unending thanks to @sweet-ladyy for beta reading, editing, and enthusiasm! I’m just getting back into writing after years and years, and you’ve been indispensable <333

Reblogs/Feedback appreciated!

Requests: Open

Read on AO3

You glared balefully at the blackboard as you slipped into the front row of the lecture theatre. Statistics I was written across the board in tidy cursive. You sighed as you reached into your bag for a notebook and a pencil, hating the fact that this was a required module for your nursing degree. Maths had never been your strong suit, and thus far you’d managed to avoid it, but here you were in your final semester of your final year, and couldn’t put it off any longer.

You were cursing yourself for not having the foresight to take it in your first year, when you heard the classroom chatter begin to die down, and someone at the front of the room cleared their throat. You glanced up, towards the front of the lecture theatre, and made a small sound of delight at the man in front of you.

He was tall, with long legs clad in black trousers sitting high on his hips, leading to a white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. He had a wild head of dark curls, and what looked like a necklace hidden under his collar. He shot a quick look at you as your eyes raked over him – you blushed and looked back at your notebook. Clearly you hadn’t been as discrete as you’d thought, looking him over.

A small smile danced across his lips as he raised his voice to speak.

“Good afternoon everyone; my name is Brian May, and I am Dr. Rochfort’s teaching assistant for this term. As this is the first class of the term, and as it’s probably the last class of the week for many of you, we thought it would be best if I went over the course outline and expectations, and then would release you all to enjoy a bit of an early weekend.”

A few cheers went up towards the back of the lecture hall, and Brian smiled widely, showing off sharp teeth in a mischievous grin. “Don’t get used to it, folks. This may be a Friday afternoon class, but going forward, Dr. Rochfort will be using every available minute.” Brian turned towards the blackboard, and called over his shoulder, “Now, take out your notebooks and biros while I go over office hours and the class schedule.”

You dutifully took notes for the next little while, noting both Dr. Rochfort’s and Brian’s office hours, as well as the course outline and the dates of upcoming quizzes. After about twenty minutes, Brian stepped away from the board and addressed the class again.

“Any questions? No? Everyone knows which seminar group they’re in, and where and when those will be meet? Excellent.” He clapped his hands together once. “Well, that’s everything for today. I’ll see you all in your seminars next week, and Dr. Rochfort will see you here next Friday. Cheers everyone, have a good weekend!”

You sat back, slowly packing your books back into your bag, to avoid the crush of first-years heading for the door. As you finished and stood, you noticed Brian staying back, leaning against the desk, staring at you. You glanced around, and noticed that nobody was waiting, so you stepped toward him, raising an eyebrow as you spoke.

“Can I help you, Mr. May?”

He flushed slightly, and shook his head, curls bouncing. “Please, call me Brian. And no, I’m sorry. It’s just… have I seen you someplace before?”

You hadn’t recognised him when he first arrived, but over the duration of the class, you’d begun to put it together.

“Mmm, well, I’ve seen you play. Your band, I mean. My flatmate, Patty, is studying chemistry at Imperial College, and we go to shows at the Union fairly regularly. You’re the guitarist, yeah?”

Brian bit his lip slightly and nodded. “Mostly. And I’m working on a doctorate in astrophysics, also at Imperial.”

“So what are you doing here at King’s, then?” You gestured at the room around you. “This seems a bit of a downgrade, for an astrophysicist and aspiring rockstar.”

“It’s a job, really.” He shrugged. “Aspiring rockstar doesn’t pay the rent.”

“Yet.” You smiled encouragingly.

He nodded his head toward you. “Yet. In the meantime, I teach first-years to not be afraid of maths. Although I get the impression you’re not a first year?”

“Trapped?!” Brian stood, pretending at offense. You shook your head.

“I’m unbelievably bad at anything mathematical, you’ll see.” You glanced at your watch. “I really should run – but fair warning, I’ll be making full use of your office hours.”

“I look forward to it.” His tone was warm, but carried an undercurrent of something else. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as you slipped your bag onto your shoulder.

“I.. I should be going. Have a good weekend, Brian.” You fled, cursing your easy embarrassment.

Three Weeks Later

“Good afternoon everyone. Please put away your books and have your pencils ready for the quiz.” Dr. Rochfort strode back and forth in front of the class. “Brian will be collecting them when the time is up, and will have them marked before the end of our class today. Is everybody ready? Good. You have fifteen minutes, time starts now.”

You turned over the quiz that had been set in front of you, and groaned internally. Goddamn statistics. Despite faithfully attending every seminar, and getting help during office hours, nothing seemed to stick in your memory. You clenched your teeth and began the first problem.

Fifteen minutes later, you grudgingly handed it over to Brian as he walked by collecting the quizzes. You could see that he was sending you a concerned look, but you refused to meet his eyes. Bugger statistics anyway – all you had to do was make it through this course, and you’d be done. You took a fortifying breath and sat up straight, ready for the lecture.

Towards the end of the class, Brian walked back in, setting a stack of papers on the edge of the desk, and leaning back beside them. Dr. Rochfort nodded, and continued,

“I think we’ll wrap it up there for this week. Everyone, if you could please form a queue at the front here, and Brian will hand your quizzes back as you leave. Thank you, have a good weekend!” He gathered his things and left the room, as the rest of the class moved to the front of the room to collect their results. Your chest felt heavy, as you knew you’d probably failed. You grabbed your bag and joined the queue, making sure that you were in the middle of the group so that Brian wouldn’t have time to make small talk or try to discuss your grade.

As you reached the front of the queue, he had your quiz waiting, his brow furrowed in concern. “[Y/N],” he began, but you reached out and took the quiz from his hands, effectively cutting off any line of questioning.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and all but ran for the door.

As you stepped into the corridor outside the lecture theatre, you looked at the paper in your hands. As expected, there was a lot of red ink, indicating corrections; what was unexpected, however, was the note clipped to the page, written in Brian’s distinctive script. You peered at it, trying to decipher his writing.

[Y/N],

I hope this isn’t too forward, but it seems like you’re struggling a bit with the concepts here. I know you’ve been stopping by my office with questions, but if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to offer some extra tutorial. Are you stopping by our gig tonight? If you are, please stay after – I’ll buy you a drink, and we can decide a time to get together for studying.

Cheers,

Bri

Well. You had been planning to whine at Patty, and bunk off for the evening, claiming headache; but at this point Brian was well aware of just how poorly you were doing, so there wasn’t much use in being embarrassed about it now. And you did like their music. Mind made up, you headed out to catch the Circle line back to your flat, to get ready for going out tonight.

Later that evening, you were flopped back on Patty’s bed, watching her try on clothes and change her mind about all of them.

“Paaatttyyyyyy,” you whined, getting annoyed at her indecisiveness, “We’re going to be late, come on. Just pick something. We need to leave now.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t care what people think of you.” Her voice was muffled as she pulled another top off and tossed it to the floor.

You huffed, sitting up. “Well excuse me for having more important things to think about than whether my tits are on display.” You reached down and adjusted your bra. Tonight, your tits were on display, and frankly, you thought they looked pretty good.

Patty’s head popped through the collar of a black turtleneck, and she turned around to sigh at you. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You just have this confidence, where you don’t worry about small shit. I’ve got no boobs and no arse – I have to work at looking good.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Oh come off it, you’re a gorgeous little pixie and you know it. You’d look amazing in a paper bag. You’re like Twiggy. Whereas I have too much tits and arse. Do you think I should go on a diet?” You flopped back on the bed again, staring at the ceiling. Patty’s face hovered into view, incredulous.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you actually serious right now? Firstly, NO. Secondly, what on God’s green earth would possess you to say something like that?” She narrowed her eyes at you. “What’s his name? Is he going to be there tonight? Is that why you’re acting all weird?” Patty leapt onto the bed and bounced on her knees beside you. “Are you seriously interested in a guy? Finally?”

You groaned and hid your face behind your hands. “I guess. His name’s Brian. He plays guitar.”

Patty pulled your hands back from your face, giving you a considering stare. “The tall skinny one with the hair, then? Huh. Didn’t think he was your type.” She scrambled off the bed, pulling you upright to standing, casting a critical eye over your outfit – striped top, denim skirt, high boots. You held your arms out to the side and spun around.

“Well, do I pass inspection?”

She nodded. “You look great. He’s going to eat you up.”

You flushed. “We’re not… it’s not like that. He’s the teaching assistant for my stats class, too, so it’s kind of a dodgy idea. It’s just… you know how I’m terrible at maths, right?”

Patty nodded. She’d made the mistake of putting you in charge of the household budget just once, and it ended with the pair of you living on popcorn and orange juice for a week.

“Well, I’ve been getting extra help during his office hours – ”

“Oooh, extra help.”

“Not like that, you wretch. Brian’s kind, and I think it bothers him to see me struggle. I almost failed a quiz this morning, and he said to come talk to him after the show, about some additional tutoring. And I don’t know, maybe it could end up as more? I really like him – he’s smart, and funny, and seems to genuinely care when I talk to him. Sometimes I think he’s flirting with me, so I flirt back a little bit, but it never seems to go anywhere. But like I said, he’s sort of my teacher, so I don’t know if it’s even worth trying.”

You looked pointedly at your watch, and then back to Patty. “And now, Pats, because you can’t pick out a damn shirt, we’re going to be late. Can we go yet?”

“Of course, lovey.” Patty leaned over and gave you a peck on the cheek, then frowned and wiped off the traces of her lipstick. She grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door of the flat. “Let’s go get you a man.”

~~~~~

The band was already warming up when you finally made it to the Union, and a crowd was beginning to form at the stage. You and Patty were good at this, though, and held onto each other while elbowing your way to the front. She nudged you and pointed at the band.

“New band name? New people? Did Brian say anything?”

You nodded. “Yeah, apparently Tim left a little while ago. So now Bri and Roger’ve got their other flatmate, Freddie, singing. Don’t know about the bass player though; I think he’s new since Brian and I last spoke.”

Patty bit her lip and waved as Brian glanced towards you from back near the drums. He smiled and nodded, turning to say something to the bassist, who then lifted his head to take in the pair of you. Patty smiled widely and waved again, causing the bassist to blush and duck his head.

“Take it easy, Pats, it looks like he’s shy.” You knew once she’d set her sights on someone, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable conclusion.

She giggled. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry. We can’t break their bass player, it might bring down your mark in the class.”

Just as you were about to point out that your marks couldn’t get much lower, the house lights went down and a beautiful man with long dark hair stepped to the front of the stage.

“Hello my darlings – we’re so happy you’ve joined us tonight. This one is for all you tarts that we’ve come to know and love!”

And they were off, music screaming through the bar, Freddie’s vocals soaring above everything; and standing in front of you, Brian playing the guitar like it was an extension of his soul. He was captivating, both technically and physically, and you felt arousal curl through your abdomen as you watched his long fingers dance up and down the fretboard.

You didn’t know how long you’d been standing there, staring at Brian’s hands on his guitar, people dancing around you, when you realised that Brian was staring back. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed hard, clenching your legs together as you felt a dampness between your thighs. Brian smirked, then swirled around to stand closer to Roger. You moaned softly, though apparently not softly enough, as Patty poked you in the ribs and laughed. She leaned over to yell in your ear.

“Should I find somewhere else to be tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, pushing her lightly. She leaned into you as the band wrapped up their set, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the bar as the music crashed to an end.

Patty was ordering pints for the both of you, as you leaned against a pillar, watching the crowd to see if you could find Brian in the mass of bodies. You jumped and turned as you felt a hand come to rest on your waist.

“Hello, love.” Brian’s voice was whisky warm as he set his hands low on your hips. “Did you enjoy the show?”

You shivered and stepped closer, tipping your chin up to look into his eyes. He looked incredible tonight, his hair wild and his eyes smudged with kohl. You could feel a blush starting. “What do you think?”

He smiled, squeezing your hips gently, and took a step back to gesture at the men standing behind him. “Would you like to meet the band? This is Roger, Freddie, and our new bassist, John. Gents, this is [Y/N].”

You leaned forward, shaking hands and making introductions with Roger and John. Freddie caught your hand and raised it to his lips, quickly kissing your knuckles and giving your fingers a squeeze as he released you.

“Darling, it’s delightful to finally meet you. Brian’s been saying so many wonderful things, it’s about time we’re able to put a face to the name!”

“Oh, um… thank you? I think?” Your blush darkened as you looked up at Brian, not sure how to respond.

“Well, that’s good to hear. [Y/N] is pretty amazing, despite her issues with maths.” And there was Patty, back with drinks, jumping in to be as embarrassing as possible. You sighed and leaned in to Brian as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close to his side.

“Everyone, this is my flatmate, Patty. Pats, this is Freddie, Roger, John, and Brian.” You gestured to each man in turn, and reached out to take your beer. Patty ignored you, handing one of the pints to John, as he’d reached out to try to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you all. John, was it?” She stepped forward and tucked her hand into his elbow, gently ushering him towards a quiet alcove. John shot a surprised glance back to you, and Roger gave him a thumbs-up.

“Have fun, make good choices!” he called, barely audible across the crowd. He turned back to you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “She has no idea what she’s in for.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Patty’s going to eat him alive, most likely. She can be a touch… hmm, aggressive, I think would be the best word for it.”

Roger shook his head. “You’d be surprised, John can hold his own. Knows what he wants and gets a bit single minded about it. Sort of like our Brian here, too.” He reached out and patted Brian’s shoulder. “With that in mind, I think Fred and I will make our goodbyes. [Y/N], it was nice to meet you.”

Freddie and Roger stepped back into the the crowd, leaving you and Brian alone. He put his mouth to your ear, so he didn’t have to yell.

“Would you like to get out of here?”

You nodded, breathless, and Brian began to walk you to the door, his arm still wrapped over your shoulders, holding you against him. The two of you spilled out the door, gasping at the shock of the cool winter air after the heat of the bar. The sudden silence rang in your ears, and you opened your mouth to speak, ready to break the undercurrent of awkwardness that had arisen.

Instead, Brian spun you around to face him, leaned down, and pressed his lips gently against yours. You inhaled sharply, and when he moved to pull pack, you grasped his arms and tugged him back in.

“It’s good,” you murmured, “just surprised me.”

Brian hummed, and ran his tongue gently against your lips, seeking access. With a soft whimper, you opened for him, sliding your hands up his arms and sinking your fingers into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. He slipped his knee between your thighs and pulled your hips to his, then –

“Oi! Take it off the street, mate!”

You sprang apart, startled, looking back towards the door of the bar, and the man who’d yelled at you. Sheepishly, you raised a hand in acknowledgement, and reached back for Brian, tangling your fingers with his.

“Back to mine?” Brian nodded, and you began walking towards the Queen’s Gate. “I’m just across the park, if you’re okay with a bit of a walk?”

“Of course.” Brian ducked his head guiltily. “It’ll give me a chance to cool down, too.”

“Oh, Brian, no – I want this too. I’m just as into this as you are, okay?”

He smiled widely, showing off his cute pointed teeth. “Okay.” He tightened his grip on your hand as you headed off towards your flat.

For the next twenty five minutes, the two of you chatted easily, exchanging stories about your childhoods, friends, and college days. As you drew closer to your street, your glances became heated, and the silences heavier, as you both began to anticipate what was to come.

You unlocked the door to your flat, but before stepping inside, turned and rested your hand on Brian’s chest. He stopped immediately, a worried look on his face. “Is everything all right?”

“I just want to make sure this won’t affect you, as someone who marks my class work. No favouritism, okay?”

Brian winced. “Ah, I’m more likely to be a bit harsher on you, actually. I’ll try not to be, I promise. I just… I tend to have fairly high expectations of the people I date.”

“Oh, we’re dating now, are we?” you teased, pulling him through the door and locking it behind you. He flushed.

“Well, I had kind of hoped…”

You stepped around him, and onto the stairs leading up to your kitchen. Standing a few steps above him, you turned around and looked him in the eye.

“We’ll figure that out in the morning. Right now, Brian, I need you to take me to bed.”

He groaned lowly, resting his hands on your ass while tilting his head to find your lips with his. Your held on to his upper arm with one hand, while tangling the other in the curls at the back of his neck. He pulled back slightly to nip at your lips, and you gasped into his mouth. Taking advantage of this, he dipped his tongue behind your teeth to deepen the kiss. You broke away, panting.

“Bedroom, follow me. Otherwise we’re going to end up shagging on the step.”

You led the way up the stairs, through the kitchen, and into your bedroom, gesturing Brian through the door and clicking the door shut behind him. A sudden attack of nerves had you asking,

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, squ -”

Brian cut off your rambling with a quick kiss, as he curved into you, pressing your back against the door.

“Just you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, nipping a bruise at the junction of neck and shoulder.

“Jesus…” you breathed, tipping your head to the side. Brian laughed softly.

“Bri will do.” He sank to his knees in front of you, hands moving to your legs, and began to slowly unzip your boots, lifting each of your feet in turn as he slid your boots off and set them aside. Finished, he slid his hands up your thighs, until his fingertips rested just under the hem of your skirt. He tipped his head back and looked up at you, eyes dark and wanting.

“May I?” His hands crept further up. You nodded frantically.

“I need you to use your words, love.”

“Yes, Brian, please! God!” You let out a whimper as you felt his fingers grasp the edge of your panties and pull them down your legs, sliding them over your feet, and tossing them aside. Returning to your thighs, he pushed your skirt up to your hips, then lifted your right knee over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. You gasped as you felt the fingers of his right hand drift gently over your folds, discovering your wetness there. You felt him smile against your thigh, then trail his tongue across as he moved his mouth to your core.

“Brian, oh my god!” You grasped desperately at his curls as he began to eat you out, sliding a finger into your slick cunt while tonguing rhythmically at your clit. You’d been riding a wave of arousal for most of the night, which meant unless Brian pulled back, this was going to be over pretty quick. He nudged a second finger in alongside the first, curling them forward repeatedly. You felt your your thighs start to shake as your walls began to tighten around Brian’s fingers. Digging your fingers tighter into his hair, you braced against the wall and tried to warn him.

“Bri… I’m… oh my god, Bri…” He started to suck on your clit, adding just a hint of teeth, and you felt a wave of white-hot pleasure spread through your body as you tumbled over the edge. “Oh GOD, BRIAN!” You squeezed your eyes shut and came loudly, your cries echoing in the room. As you recovered, you felt Brian gently remove his fingers from inside you, as he slid your leg from his shoulder and stood. You forced your eyes open and blinked at him, cunt spasming as you watched him suck your wetness from his fingers. He noticed that your eyes were open and smirked at you, enjoying the flush that he could see on your cheeks.

“Bed?” He asked, feigning innocence. You nodded, taking shaky steps across the room. You pushed the duvet to the foot of the bed and turned back to see Brian unbuttoning his trousers, his shirt already discarded in a heap on the floor. A large, damp spot was visible on his underwear, revealing his arousal. As he pushed his trousers and pants down over his hips, you gazed hungrily at his cock, long and thick, just on the good side of too much. Brian watched as you pulled your shirt over your head and reached back to unclasp your bra and drop it to the floor, your nipples pebbling in response to the hungry look in his eyes. You popped the button on your skirt, allowing it to slide to the floor as well. Stepping out of the puddle of denim, you sat near the head of the bed and beckoned Brian closer. He crossed the room in a few long strides, crawling up on to the bed and hovering over you, canting his head towards you to capture your lips in a firm kiss, one hand trailing across your ribs to cup your breast.

“All right, love?” he murmured, nibbling at your lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tugged him closer. You smiled into the kiss.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, wrapping one leg around his hips, and using the other to flip you both, so that Brian was on his back and you were sat on his thighs. He blinked up at you, shocked.

“All right, love?” you sassed, teasing. He relaxed into the pillows, bemused.

“I have to say, I did not expect that.” He gestured grandly, “But feel free to continue.”

Smirking, you placed your hands on his chest and began to slowly rock forward, allowing his hard cock to slide between your folds. The two of you groaned in unison at the slick slide, Brian raising his shoulders slightly as he lifted his hands toward your nipples. You pushed him back down.

“Stay,” you gasped out, feeling heat begin to pool in your gut, and knowing that you were on your way to orgasm number two. Brian whined high in his throat, as you grasped his wrists, moving his hands to the bars on the headboard. “No touching unless I say so.”

He nodded quickly, wrapping long fingers around the iron bars. You slid back from his cock, raising up on your knees, moving a few inches forward. You reached one hand down between your legs to hold yourself open, holding Brian’s cock steady with your other hand, as you positioned yourself above him and began to slowly sink down onto his member. The stretch was almost uncomfortable, but so good, and you let out a guttural moan as you bottomed out. You peered down at Brian, who had his head thrown back and a clenched jaw. You raised your hips and slowly slid back down onto him, watching as his mouth dropped open.

“Look at me, Brian. Open your eyes,” you commanded breathlessly, getting into a rhythm of rising and falling on his cock. “Tell me what you want.”

He blinked rapidly up at you, searching for a coherent thought. “Please…” he managed, “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, don’t stop. So fucking good. So tight. Want…” He groaned loudly as you clenched around him on the next upstroke.

“What do you want?”

“Wanna come inside you, fill you up. Wanna claim you oh my GOD!” You’d reached out to tweak his nipples, while circling your hips. Brian bucked up into you as you slammed back down, pulling moans from both of you. You leaned forward to pull his hands from the headboard, bringing them to your chest.

“Touch me, Brian, please.” You gripped the top of the headboard for balance as you continued to ride his cock, the forward tilt of your shoulders allowing your tits to sway above him. He wrapped a hand around your back, and reached up to take a nipple in his mouth. You keened at the sensation, trying not to lose your rhythm. “So good, baby. You’re so good.”

Brian’s mouth tightened at the praise, the light scrape of his teeth causing you to clench hard around him. He whimpered and dropped his head back briefly, before moving to give the same treatment to your other breast. You could feel yourself getting closer, so you leaned down to whisper in his ear,

“Want your come, baby. Need you to fill me up, make me yours.”

With a grunt, Brian grabbed your hips and began pounding up into you. You leaned back, reaching between your legs to rub desperately at your clit. Heat suffused your body, and you scrabbled to clutch at Brian’s hands as your orgasm overtook you, a crash of elation exploding through your body while stars flashed behind your eyes. You felt Brian grip your hips and drive into you a final time, trembling and yelling as your cunt clenched around him, holding him tight as he emptied himself into your body.

You moaned, tipping slowly forward to rest your forehead on his collarbone, the pair of you breathless like you’d just finished a race. As your breathing began to calm, Brian gently lay you down on your side, and slipped from you, a gush of fluid causing you to clench your thighs together. He kissed your cheek and slid from the bed. You made a small moue of disappointment, and he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“Just going to get a flannel, love, I’ll be back in a moment.” You hummed in assent and closed your eyes, floating on happiness and exhaustion. You felt a warm hand reach between your legs as Brian cleaned you up with a damp cloth. You heard him drop it to the floor, and felt him crawl back into the bed beside you, pulling the duvet up as he lay down. You cuddled into his chest, smiling in contentment as he wrapped an arm over your shoulder.

“Should I stay?” he whispered.

You nodded, head still tucked under his chin. “Of course. I’ll make breakfast.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke gradually, body relaxed and slow like honey, as sounds from the street drifted up through the window and pale morning light filtered through the curtains. Brian was snug against you, with his face tucked between your shoulders and an arm thrown over your ribs, his morning wood pressed into your backside. You stretched your legs, feeling Brian shift behind you, moving his hips away. You reached back and gripped his thigh, tugging him closer while spreading your knees slightly in invitation. He laughed softly against your back as he reached down and lifted your leg, sliding easily into you, still slick from last night. You sighed happily, pushing back against him while his hips began a slow thrust.

He reached up to tap at your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth when you opened for him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. “Get ‘em wet, love.”

You swept your tongue over his fingers until they were slick, at which point Brian tugged his hand from your mouth, stretching down to rub his fingers smoothly over your clit, in counterpoint to his thrusts. You relaxed into him, revelling in the leisurely smoulder of lazy morning sex, enjoying the slow build without intention, allowing your orgasm to hit you without warning. You cried out sharply, trembling, and felt Brian still his thrusts behind you as he grunted out his release. You lay together for a few minutes, breathing in time, not speaking – just enjoying the feeling of being so entwined with another person. Eventually, reality came sneaking back, as Brian’s soft cock slipped from your cunt, his seed trickling down your thighs. You grimaced and sat up, looking back over your shoulder to see Brian watching you, his eyes soft and warm below a mass of riotous curls. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth. You returned the expression, reaching back to delicately push his curls out of his face.

“Wash up, then breakfast?” Your question was quiet, not wanting to break the stillness of the morning. Brian nodded, catching your hand with his and kissing your fingertips. You felt a flush rise in your face, and your heart danced in your chest. Clearly Brian’s ‘dating’ idea had some merit. You rose from the bed and opened the door, checking to see if Patty had arrived home during the night, or if you needed to cover up for your run to the bathroom. The flat was otherwise empty, so you dashed out into the hall, calling back to Brian that you��d set some towels out.

You washed up quickly and passed Brian in the hall as you returned to your room to get dressed. Not knowing if he had any plans for the day, you opted for simple corduroy trousers and a t-shirt, which would serve well if you two decided to go out together. You could hear him rattling around in the bathroom as you went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

You heard Brian come up behind you as you peered into the fridge. “Omelette?” you asked, holding pointing at the basket of eggs on the counter. “You eat eggs, yeah?”

“Eggs and dairy, actually. Sometimes fish, depending.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Well, a fish omelette sounds disgusting, so I think this morning is going to be cheese omelette and toast.” You stood and shut the fridge, a container of grated cheese in your hands. You gestured towards the counter, where a loaf of bread and a butter bell sat beside a toaster. “I’ll do the eggs, you handle the toast?”

You and Brian worked easily around each other while making small talk, turning out fluffy omelettes and perfectly browned and buttered toast in record time. The kettle whistled just as you were sliding the last bit of eggs onto a plate, and Brian reached past you for the mugs for tea. You transferred everything to the small kitchen table, sitting down across from Brian and blushing again.

“This is nice.” Brian rested his elbows at the edge of the table and held his mug up just below his chin.

“The breakfast?” You were a bit confused. He laughed.

“Well, having breakfast. Together. It’s nice – we fit well together.” He paused and sat back in his chair, one-handedly cupping the mug to his chest. “I meant what I said last night, you know, about dating. You know, [Y/N], we’ve spent a fair bit of time together over the past few weeks, and you know what I’m referring to. We click. And last night… well, last night was amazing.”

You ducked your head shyly. Considering how incredible last night had been, it was ridiculous to be embarrassed, but you still felt awkward meeting Brian’s eyes.

“Love, are you okay? Did you enjoy it?” Brian’s voice was concerned, and you looked up at him, seeing the apprehension on his face.

“Brian, it was wonderful. You were wonderful,” you reassured him. “Honestly, I have no regrets. I’m just worried about what being together would mean, for school.” You gnawed on your lip, considering. “This is my final term, and you’re technically my teacher for a required class. The conflict of interest is monumental – I could be expelled, you could lose your job. I want to date you, I really do, but…”

“But you won’t.” Brian looked at you, defeated. You nodded.

“I won’t, I just can’t risk it. And I know I have no right to ask this, and I’ll understand if you say no, but I really do like you, and there’s no harm in asking – ”

He cut you off. “Breathe, love. Just ask.”

You took a deep breath. “Wouldyouwaitforme?” you asked in a rush.

“Sorry, come again?”

“Would you be willing to wait? Until end of term? I know it’s a couple of months, and I’m sure there are other girls, but I do really, really like you, Brian, and I agree with you that we fit really well together.” You paused, rallying courage for the last favour. “And, would you still be willing to tutor me, even if we’re not together? If you don’t want to, I understand.”

You realised that your hands were trembling and wrapped them around your tea mug to steady them.

“Yes, absolutely.”

You exhaled sharply, all your nerves disappearing at once as you looked at Brian’s soft smile across the breakfast table. “Really?”

He nodded. “Of course. And, just so you know, there… uh… there aren’t any other girls.” He reached up to scratch at his cheek, a nervous tic you’d noticed before. You raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and he shook his head no.

“Okay, if you say so,” you acquiesced. “I just find it hard to believe that a nerdy dreamboat like yourself isn’t beating them away with a stick.” You laughed as Brian stuck out his tongue at you and gently kicked your shin.

“Anyway, we should finish this and tidy up,” you waved your hands to encompass the remains of breakfast on the table, “and then do some actual studying. I mean, that was what you offered originally, was it not?”

Brian smiled wickedly, leaning forward. “Well, my original plan was to give you an orgasm for every question you got correct, but I suppose that’s going to have to wait.”

You felt dampness between your thighs and clenched your legs together, Brian laughing as you dropped your forehead to the table and groaned. These next few months were going to be hell.

Ten weeks later

You pulled open the door to the pub, blinking owlishly as your eyes struggled to adjust from the bright day to the dim lights inside. You had just finished sitting your stats exam about forty minutes prior, which Brian had not been proctoring – the guys had planned a band practise that afternoon, with a stop at the pub after. You heard someone call out your name, and squinted towards the back of the pub, to see the band, as well as Mary and Patty, all standing in front of a booth, doing a terrible job of hiding the cake behind them.

Touched, you blinked back a couple of tears. You were lucky to know such generous people, even if it looked like none of them could frost a cake properly. You walked toward them, as they stepped aside to reveal a cake which appeared to be more sparkler than pastry, as it sent bits of fire dancing over the tabletop.

You smiled, bemused. “Thank you guys, this is so sweet of you all. I’m just wondering, though, is this safe?” You gestured at the scene before you, where Roger was frantically trying to smother the sparks before they reached the upholstered benches.

“Of course not, darling. But what’s life without a little danger?” Of course that was Freddie, erring on the side of too much over too little. He stepped forward and dropped a quick kiss on your cheek. “Congratulations, we knew you could do it.”

“Aw, thanks Fred. I have to admit, it really felt a bit touch and go there for a while. I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for Brian.” You reached over, pulling Brian to your side and smiling up at him. He smiled down at you, and you felt warmth spread through your chest. As everyone took a seat again, you leaned down to blow out the sparklers and cut the cake. Patty took the knife from your hand, and nodded toward Brian.

“Go sit with your man, he’s been checking the clock since we got here, waiting for you.” She gave you a conspiratorial grin and leaned in closer. “Oh, and I’m spending the weekend with John, so the flat’s all yours until Monday.” She winked and pushed on your hip, making you stumble in Brian’s direction.

He caught you, settling you down on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into rest against him. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, listening to the conversations around you.

“You okay, love?” Brian’s voice held a note of concern.

You nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking of a way to thank you for all your help this term, and remembering back to a conversation we had a few weeks ago.”

He reached for his pint glass. “Oh, which conversation was that?”

You leaned up to whisper in his ear, “The one where you mentioned that you’d like to be tied to the bed while I had my wicked way with you, bringing you to the edge again and again but not letting you come, and then fucking you until you cried.” You sat back, and with a normal volume, asked, “Do you remember that one?”

Brian choked on his drink, setting the glass back down abruptly, then stood, pushing both of you to your feet. Everyone turned to stare at the disruption, Patty beginning to laugh as she realised what must be happening.

“We… have to go... now. We need to not be here. Goodbye everyone; Mary, thank you for the cake. Bye now. Bye!” Brian’s face was red as he made a beeline for the door, dragging you behind him. You laughed, waving to your friends as you stumbled to keep up with his long strides.

“Blimey, what’s up with those two?” you heard Roger ask, as Patty replied,

“Believe me, you don’t want to know!”

~~~~~~~

Tag List: @sweetlygwilym

#brian may #brian x reader #brian may x reader #brian may fanfiction #brian may fic #queen fanfiction #queen fic

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 6 years ago

Text

Tomorrow Never Came PT. 11 (TW)

The year is up - tonight is the night, and you do your best to prepare for what is to come, both on this night and after all of it has died down. But because we can never be happy, a wrench is thrown into the works.

TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE, IMPLICATIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, GENERAL ANGST

You didn’t tell him what day it was. It wouldn’t help him tonight, anyways. He had a gig – ‘a massive one,’ as he had called it, and he was quite sore that you had turned down his invitation to come.

“You never come to any of my good shows,” he complained loudly, his body situated between your legs in front of the couch as you brushed through his hair, helping him decide how to style it for the aforementioned show.

“They’re all good,” you replied absentmindedly, trying to find his part and pursing your lips in concentration. “Besides, what good does a girlfriend at a show do? You’ll get much more attention from the crowd if I’m not there to scare all the groupies off.”

“Fuck that attention. I want you to be there,” he grumbled, leaning his head back so he was looking up at you, making you lose your progress with finding the part in his hair. Frowning a bit at both at your foiled attempt and Roger’s thoroughly upset expression, you caressed his cheek gently and sighed. “Can’t you just ask for the night off?”

Ask off the one night you’d been sent back to this era to fix? “No, sorry bubs,” you answered truthfully, though the word was loaded. But Roger didn’t put 2 and 2 together, so he continued to pout and lifted his head up again to let you continue your magic.

And he hadn’t questioned it again, thank God. He’d simply made sure to see you on his way out, pestering you more than normal while Freddie took a bit longer to get ready.

“Are you going to play loud for me?” you asked as you fixed a stray piece of his hair, marveling at the solid hairstyle you’d chosen for him tonight. “Damn, you look good like this.”

“Thanks, my girlfriend did it for me,” he schmoozed, making you laugh, and his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you onto his lap, laying back a bit against the couch. “Of course I’ll play loud for you. I want you to hear it even if you’re across the city.”

“Wish I could be there,” you murmured, a bit wistful, but gravely aware of the reason you couldn’t be. Tonight was the night. At an ungodly hour of night, your mom would stop in to pick up some materials and be ambushed on the way out. It was your job to stop this ambush. There was a lot resting on this night, and to say you were anxious would be an understatement.

Roger felt the anxiety in the way your hands shook as you traced shapes into his chest, staring off at seemingly nothing, and his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay, babe, really. There’s one at the end of the week, you can just come then. I know work’s been busy.”

God, it made you smile a bit at how ignorant he was right now. He knew it was happening soon, but in his panicking about this gig, he’d forgotten the exact date, and you were so thankful it wasn’t weighing on him anymore. It was nice to not have his worries on top of yours, to have your boyfriend just as whacked out about you saving your mom as you were. It was calming. And he was right – you could just come Friday.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed, raising your head and slowly sitting up as your other roommate walked in, fixing his sleeves.

“Ready, Rog?” an ever-impatient Freddie asked, raising an eyebrow as you climbed up off the couch, stretching before walking over to the entryway while Roger took a bit longer. “We’ve got to be off in a few or we’ll be late for the show. Brian won’t let us hear the end of it.”

“Coming, coming,” Roger grumbled playfully, and the pair of them approached together, but Freddie’s arms extended first, roping you into a big hug as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Unfair. I believe that’s my girlfriend, Fred.”

“Well, she was my roommate first,” Freddie retorted, mussing your hair before putting you at arm’s length. “Scrabble tomorrow night? You’re off, right?”

Roger began to protest, as he’d wanted to take you out, but you talked over your boyfriend with a wide smile and genuine agreeance in your voice. “Absolutely. Don’t think I won’t kick your ass if you try to pull the triple vs. double square thing on me again, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Cheers!” And with that, he was off, leaving you to a disgruntled Roger that still pulled you in for warm, prolonged hug. You didn’t want to leave the security of his arms, almost whining as he pulled back for a moment, but your whine was quickly silenced by his lips pressing against yours, distracting you immediately as you kissed back eagerly, bringing a hand up to his arm and pressing close. Every time he kissed you was like the first time, and a dizzy feeling edged into your brain as he pulled away slowly, kissing your nose.

“Go on now,” you urged quietly, although there was zero conviction in your voice to match the words, and Roger smiled knowingly before giving you one last, quick kiss before heading to the door.

“We’re staying at Bri’s, I’ll be home in the morning to wake you up at the asscrack of dawn!” Giving him a playful warning look, you followed him down the entryway and held the door open for him, leaning your head against it. He paused for a moment as he exited, his captivating blue eyes searching your face for a moment before a wider smile graced his peachy lips.

“Alright. See you tomorrow, bubs.” With that, you started to close the door, watching him the entire time you closed it. And he matched your intensity with the same gaze, the contact not breaking until you finally shut the door, sighing and leaning your forehead against it. You had maybe a few hours to prepare. It was go time now.

Weaving your way through the flat, you gathered a few things – your notebook, a hat, and some sunglasses. Though it was a poor disguise, you couldn’t be too careful about your mom seeing you and throwing all kinds of things extremely off balance in the future. Even though you weren’t going back, you were terrified of what the consequences of her own recognition would be, so you decided to play on the safe side.

Looking behind you and staring at the door for a minute to make sure the boys wouldn’t pop back in, you then made your way into Roger’s room where you knew there was a pocket knife. You’d seen it in Kensington Market and mentioned it once as a joke for protection against your coworker – a day later, he came home with the exact thing, complete with your initials crudely engraved on the handle on one side, and his on the other. RMT.

Entering Roger’s room, you beelined for the desk, opening the top drawer and pulling it out. Flipping it over in your hands, you ran your thumb over the bumpy initialing on the handle, smiling at the sentiment of his own initials on there. It was corny, sure, but the fact that he’d remembered and went out of his way to bring back this gift was a reminder of how devoted Roger was. As much as Freddie tried to pass him off as the ladies man with a short attention span, you knew there were far too many layers to your dirty-blonde boyfriend for that simple of a characterization to ever have merit.

With a quick sigh, you pocketed the knife and turned to his mirror, pulling up your hair into a tight bun before pulling the cap up over it and letting the bun stick out of the back. After that, you quickly slid the sunglasses on and stared at your own reflection, shaded by the lenses of the glasses you’d brought with you from 2018. Now, all there was left to do was wait.

And that was the worst part – sitting out on the street in Roger’s car, just staring at the church. You didn’t know what time it happened. Your uncle never gave you a specific time, just a general idea that it was later at night than she usually came. So, you sat there for hours, distracting yourself only with your notebook and staring at the pocket knife, hoping desperately that you wouldn’t have to use it but dreading the very likely possibility that you would.

And then, there she was. It was hard to tell it was her at first – the streetlights on your block were admittedly running on their last legs, so the dimly lit sidewalks almost concealed the younger version of your mother, confidently approaching the church without a single care in the world. God, if only she knew.

You checked the clock for a brief moment. Damn. You’d been here for almost 3 hours. Sitting up in the driver’s seat, you stretched and observed warily as William and Ted came to greet her on the front steps, ushering her inside. Taking a shaky breath, you realized this was it. You fix this, and everything would be alright again. You could be with Roger, your mother could be safe from those bastards, and life would go on, as fucked as the space-time continuum probably was. Or whatever they’d called it in those bullshit time travel movies. You supposed Roger wouldn’t even know – Christ, you were so far back in time that Back To The Future wasn’t even a fucking thing.

Shit. There she was again, arms full of teaching materials and books. She exited without even a hint of being troubled, turning down the alleyway and marching straight towards her inevitable attack. Shoving the knife in your pocket, you unlocked the car door and crawled out, looking around to see if there were any cars coming before you shut the door quietly and crossed the street. And as you got halfway across, you heard it – the shriek of a helpless woman, quickly muffled by a strong hand.

Adrenaline kicked in as you raced across the other half of the road, blood rushing in your ears so violently that you could barely hear your own voice as you shouted down the dark, incredibly terrifying alleyway. “Hey! Stop it!” The tone of your voice betrayed you, more shaky than anything, and you quietly cursed at yourself for being so out of your element. But right now, there was no time to be scared and back out – this was it.

Sucking in a deep breath, you felt your heart rate spike even more as you started sprinting down the narrow passageway, quickly gaining on the trio. And what you saw was horrific – William, towering over the two of them while Ted had her pinned to the ground, her skirt in the process of being torn to shreds while William had frozen in reaching down to clamp a hand over her mouth. And she looked so terrified, so dazed, like she had no idea what had hit her, probably because she really didn’t – not yet.

They knew they’d been caught in a compromising position, but William and Ted were frozen in place, unsure how they were supposed to talk their way out of this. William was breathing heavily, obviously already riled up over the entire 30 second experience, and Ted was a bit wide-eyed, looking frantic and caged and pathetic as he stared at you. His eyes followed your trembling hand as it dove into your pocket, pulling out the knife and flicking it open. This was not what you’d expected - somehow, you expected it to be less animalistic and more civilized, but all of your expectations were shattered with this horribly indicative display of male entitlement and pure lechery. It was simply horrrific, not a grandiose display of disgusting matter but rather a raw, unfiltered one. Whatever they had to say, they could shove it up their asses.

“Get the fuck off of her. Now.” That was all you had to demand, coupled with a lift of the knife into an offensive stance, ready to go if need be. They were gone in a heartbeat, running off down the alley away from the church, and you realized they were attempting to cover up the fact that it was them. But it was already too late. The look in your mom’s eyes was full of betrayal, of knowledge that her closest friends had planned her degradation/assault. That’s when you realized she was bleeding from the lip, her lower lip busted and bruised, possibly from a slap or a hit from William and his tarnished, false purity ring. “Oh shit, m- you’re bleeding, let me help you.”

Hurrying to her side, you helped her up from where she was still laying, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her across the empty street to your flat building, opting to use the bathroom in the lobby instead of revealing your home base. It was poorly lit, unbelievably grimy, but it looked like she wouldn’t even have noticed if she’d tried. She had the thousand-yard stare, one you’d already seen far too often in 2018, symptoms of PTSD that would go undiagnosed for over 20 years. God, this was your mom right in front of you. Flesh and bone.

Hands shaking, you wetted down a paper towel and started dabbing at her lip, hoping that she couldn’t see how wide your eyes were behind the sunglasses. Even though they hindered your vision quite a bit, you kept them on as you cleaned her up, a deafening silence surrounding the two of you until you’d thrown away the last paper towel. When your back was turned, she finally spoke, her voice ringing out clear as day and making you shiver.

“Thank you so much.” Turning around slowly, you saw that she was now looking directly at you, and you held back a gasp as you saw a bit of life in her eyes again, something you hadn’t seen in so long it almost seemed to be fake. “I don’t know what I would have done if-“

“You’re welcome.” You again sounded so unsure, you wanted to smack yourself, but you cleared your throat and ran a hand over the back of your head, swallowing hard. “Fuck those guys.”

“Yeah.” She paused for a moment, then laughed sadly, letting her gaze drop down for a moment as she leaned back against the sink, wincing a bit at the cold. “Yeah, fuck those guys. I just can’t believe… I don’t know. I think I’m just going to go back to my brother’s flat. I can’t think straight for the life of me.”

“I’ll walk with you,” you offered, shoving your hands in your pocket before giving her a questioning look. There was so much of you in her, it made you feel a bit sick, but you pushed the queasy feeling in your stomach down and watched as she raised an eyebrow, her face of contemplation mirroring your own before she nodded. A sigh of relief left your lips and you opened the door for her, leading her back out to the sidewalk on the other side of the building so she wouldn’t have to see the church again. Not right now.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” she mumbled softly as she started off in the direction of Dan’s apartment, walking side by side with you down the sidewalk and sending you glances every once in a while. The sunglasses seemed to be making her curious, but you ignored the glances in favor of remaining more of a mystery to her. “What’s your name?”

And damn your mind, because for a moment, you slipped. “Y/N.” You immediately tensed, closing your eyes for a second as you mentally slapped yourself, but then you returned to normal, trying not to raise any more alarms for her than she’d already had tonight. “What’s yours?”

“Y/M/N.” Nodding, you kept your gaze straight ahead and let her lead the two of you, fiddling with the buckle on the back of your hat. “I like your name. Y/N. Very pretty.”

“Thank you,” you almost whispered, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, but you forced them to go away, sniffling once and pursing your lips. Not now. Don’t cry in front of her. This is about her, not you. “You know, those guys are a bunch of assholes. I live across the street and they’re seriously the biggest pair of hypocrites I’ve ever seen.”

“A week ago, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that, but now…” she trailed off again, looking up to the sky as if she was forcing some tears to roll back in her head. She probably was, and you sucked in a harsh breath as you realized that there was no way to guarantee she wouldn’t be just as fucked up from this as she was from the last time it’d happened. “I guess I just don’t know who to trust anymore. It’s a scary world.”

“Hey, it’s not all that bad,” you assured, trying to remain positive as you looked over at her, seeing the glistening wetness of her eyes. “Just… don’t be afraid to ask for help about this. Shit like this can really mess you up in the head, and I guess…. I wouldn’t want someone as nice as you all screwed up because two assholes couldn’t keep their hands off.”

She was slowing, indicating that you were nearing the building, and you came to a stop with her in front of a building you’d remembered your uncle mentioning once or twice. Your mom put her hand on the door handle, hesitating a moment before glancing across the street and squinting a bit, then looking back to you. “Do you want to come in? I’m sure my brother would love to meet you.”

“No! No, it’s okay, I, uh…” You trailed off, looking across the street to stall a bit when you saw him. Weston, standing on the other side of the road, leaning up against the bonnet of one of the cars and smoking nonchalantly. It was a dim resemblance in the shitty night light, but it was definitely him, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach as you looked back to your mom, smiling weakly. “It was nice meeting you, but my boyfriend’s probably expecting me. Listen, just, uh… stay safe, alright? The world’s not as bad as those guys make it seem.”

Looking down at her skirt, your mom seemed to weigh both sides of the argument before nodding, still a bit unconvinced but giving you a satisfied enough smile to set your mind at ease. “Well, goodnight, Y/N. Thank you for everything. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agreed, though you knew you’d be avoiding her at all costs. You’d gotten lucky enough not nearly getting killed for being around her this long. It would be suicide to go out of your way to see her any more. “Good night.”

With one last smile and nod, she retreated inside of the building, clutching at the ripped ends of her skirt as she disappeared up the staircase. Watching her until she was out of view, you got a moment of peace before you felt his presence slowly emerge, coming to rest right beside you. “Need a pal to walk back with?” The smell of smoke invaded your nostrils, and you could hear him stomping out the cigarette as you closed your eyes, trying not to blow up on this stupid salt-and-pepper haired man.

“God, I thought I’d get lucky enough to never see your stupid ass again,” you muttered, turning on your heel and huffing a bit as you started to quickly walk back to your flat. You were not in the mood, but Weston very much was, easily catching up and matching your pace as you crossed the street. “Could you seriously just fuck off? I don’t need your lofty opinion of what I choose to do about my future. Tonight has been enough already.”

“It’s never going to work. You and that scruffy drummer.”

“Oh, please enlighten me. I’d love to hear all about how you think I don’t belong here and that I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life with someone I love now that I know I’ve fixed things for my mom,” you spit, so much sarcasm dripping from your words Weston would have been an idiot not to catch even a drop of it. And he did, chuckling while rubbing his 5 o’clock shadow and falling into step with you.

“Are you really going to make me spell it out for you? Don’t go back to him. Leave while you can. He’s not home right now, is he?”

“I’m not answering that,” you replied simply, crossing over another street and getting thoroughly annoyed at the fact that there was no way to shake him. He was persistent, his strides matching yours and locking you into pace that was frustratingly in sync. “I’m not leaving him. Why should I?”

You meant it more as a rhetorical question, but Weston did not take it that way, sighing as he followed you down the last block of walking, your flat building in view. “Because I know exactly how you feel. I was there once.”

“What?” you asked suddenly, so floored that you stopped abruptly. He didn’t anticipate the stop, walking forward a few steps before skidding to a stop and coming back to stand in front of you. “What do you mean you were here once? You were in love with Roger Taylor?”

Weston burst out laughing, moving his hands to his jacket pockets as he shook his head, acting as if the thought was absurd. “God, no. I don’t even know who he is besides the fact that he’s Queen’s drummer. I meant, I’ve been in your position before. In love with someone who I belonged with so much that it was never meant to actually be in a world that was fair.”

“I-“ You were at a loss for words, standing there listless for a moment before slowly starting to advance past him towards your building, barely noticing him trailing you as you muttered, “How could you ever know how I really feel?”

“I don’t,” he replied simply, looking up at the balcony that was roughly in the vicinity of your flat, just outside Roger’s window. “I just see you two up there a lot. Looks a hell of a lot like love. Like true love.”

“It is,” you murmured softly, your heart simultaneously swelling and contracting at the thought of Roger and leaving him. “I love him so much. I could never leave him. Not like this. Never.”

When you reached the building, Weston walked around you to grab the door, holding it open as you passed through like a ghost, not really seeing where you were going but going through the motions – up the stairs, down the hallway, unlock the door, go into your flat. Weston talked the whole way up, the words hardly registering in your ear but drilling into your brain as you pictured Roger, probably having the time of his life at his gig right now. “I had that once with a girl just down the road from here. It was beautiful – she loved me and I loved her, and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here with her, even if I didn’t belong here like that. She was the reason I wanted to stay. But I couldn’t.”

When it got quiet, you sat down on the couch, not really inviting Weston to sit but not protesting when he took the chair adjacent, and you frowned. “Couldn’t what?”

“Couldn’t stay. Not when the universe was doing everything to prevent it. It wasn’t meant to be. I couldn’t keep putting her in danger like that. She deserved so much better.”

“But….” You trailed off, your heart shattering as you remembered all the tiny ways the universe had threatened you and Roger. Nearly getting hit by a car, your run-ins with the creepy coworker, a few close calls with Roger and the train that he’d written off as being a klutz.

There were so many more that popped up as red flags now. A cut from a dropped knife that ended up in stitches, Roger nearly catching on fire after a show, all small things you’d chalked up to insignificant blunders that now painted a bigger picture. The world would really try until the very end to break you two apart or kill one or the other, as long as it ended your bond. That was the end goal – the termination of you and Roger. You didn’t belong here. Weston was right.

“I know, it’s a lot.” Weston’s voice called you back out of your thoughts, a small tear coming to the corner of your eye as you looked up at him, searching his face for any hint that he was joking. Finding nothing but a stony-faced middle aged man, you broke down into crushing sobs, the weight of everything falling on you all at once, shattering your ribcage, piercing your heart. You couldn’t stay.

“I told Roger I’d see him tomorrow, in the morning. I wanted to wake up to him coming home.”

But tomorrow never came.

(a/n: this is not the end! There are a few more parts left, so keep your eyes peeled. Also here’s some tissues if ur upset srry jk i dont have any)

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4 PT. 5 PT. 6 PT. 7 PT. 8 PT. 9 PT. 10 PT. 10.5

taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz@shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast@strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo@rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen@brownhardyho @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy@mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112 @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog @sitonmyhot-seatoflove @siriusly-a-nerd @rockerchic93@darkangel711 @jennyggggrrr @bensrhapsody @xiaoqueencava

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fic #series #time travel #queen #queen fic #queen imagine #angst

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lovelyrocker · 5 years ago

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Love Is Blind Ch. 6

~RPF

~Warning: Minor Blood, Underage Intimacy(Sorta Underage), Underage Alcohol Use

~Characters: Lexi Ackles(OFC), Jared Padalecki

~Pairings: Jared X Lexi

~Word Count: 7,085

Love is Blind Masterlist

<Previous Chapter

The season wrapped a few months later and during that time Lexi was hired as Amy’s assistant. She managed work and college like a pro for someone that wasn’t yet seventeen. When she wasn’t attending her on campus classes she was in Jensen’s trailer for an online class. When she wasn’t doing that she was modeling. And when she wasn't modeling, she was working back and forth between the makeup trailer and on set. Meaning she was spending a lot of time with Jared. Whether she wanted to or not.

It’s not that she didn’t like Jared. That was just the problem, she did. She had developed the cliche school girl crush on her brother’s best friend. How typical 90’s teen drama of her. But, she managed to hide it well. Even though Jared sometimes made her wonder. Like always offering to take her places and pick her up. Staying in when Jensen went out or coming home early to help her with an assignment. Showing up in the makeup trailer on his small breaks just to talk. Finding her during lunch just to check in on her. Leaving gummy bears or sour strips on her counter in the makeup trailer. Putting little good luck notes in her backpack when he knew she was overly nervous and stressed about an exam.

Maybe he was just trying to be like a big brother to her, she thought to herself as she penned her journal. But then again, Jensen never told her she looked breathtakingly beautiful in a party dress like Jared did for that season’s wrap party. Then there was the way he looked at her. She’d caught him several times staring at her a little longer than necessary. The way he sometimes watched her over the book or script her was reading. His eyes subtly following her through out the room no matter what she was doing. Then, when she’d catch him staring he a guilty little boy grin. The same little grin that made her stomach flip and her face flush.

Midway through summer she left Dallas for a week with her brother in Austin. Beginning of June and the heat index was well into the triple digits. Many days were spent with JJ and Danneel by the pool. Except today. Today Jared, Genevieve, Tom and Shep were coming over for an old fashioned southern barbeque.

The day was beautiful as the kids splashed in the shallow end of the pool, Lexi with them keeping a close eye, indulging them in their made up water games.

“Lex, can you make a big jump?!” JJ exclaimed.

Lexi climbed out of the pool and walked across to the deep end. Jared sat back in a lounge chair near Jensen with a beer in hand watching as the kids played. He tried not to stare. He tried not to notice but, he failed. As she walked across dripping wet in her two piece candy skull bikini, he couldn’t help but notice her voluptuous frame and the way her swimsuit hugged every curve perfectly. This girl looked like she was in her twenties. Jared often reminded himself that she was only a teenager. Despite being obvious eye candy for him.

“So,” Jared cleared his throat. “Lexi coming back to Vancouver next month?”

Jensen shrugged, tongs in hand. “I think so. She said she wanted to finish her degree. I told her she was more than welcome to keep living with us.” Placing the utensil down and grabbing his beer. “You okay with that?”

“Absolutely.” Jared tried not to sound too happy about the news. “I’m glad she is serious about finishing college.”

“She did a semester online over summer break so when she starts up in the fall she’ll be even more ahead of her peers.”

“Always the over achiever.” Jared smiled sipping his beer. Well, more like chugging it. “I’ll go grab us a few more.” After a quick bathroom trip Jared walked down the hall hearing laughing and shouting.

“You little butthead!” Lexi mumbled after the door shut.

“Did you just call me kid a butthead?”

“Yes!” She stood still dripping wet. “He pulled my straps loose.” She said holding her top in place.

Jared laughed. “Turn,” He spun her with his hands on her shoulders. Quickly he tied the straps, her bare back causing him to swallow hard.

“Thank you.” She turned back looking up. “Your kid is a perv.”

“Nah, he just has a type.” Jared winked, Lexi’s face growing hot.

“He is three. He should not have a type.”

"Maybe he just likes boobs.” Jared shrugged making his way to the fridge.

“Well, like father, like son.” She ducked under his arm grabbing a bottle of water.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He popped the top of his bottle.

“Not at all. I’m pretty sure his taste in women will change by the time he’s thirteen.”

“Not if he is like his dad.” He looked her up and down.

How much have you had to drink?” She gave a giggle hoping on the counter grabbing the beer from his hand taking a sip.

“Hey!” Jared grabbed the beer. “Give me that.” He placed the beer aside and put his hands on either side of her on the counter. “You are gonna make me look like a bad influence.” Her heart stopped with him being so close. His eyes were glazed over a bit from drinking but were still beautiful. “You okay?” She nodded unable to talk. “You better get outside. The kids are waiting for you.”

“You go be the human jungle gym.”She pushed at his chest jumping down.

“It’s not the same. I’m sure they would rather climb on the pretty one.” He said grabbing her waist from behind giving her sides a tickle.

Fast forward three weeks back in Vancouver the welcome backs and we miss yous took over the first three days back in Canada. After staying up almost all night on the phone with Ellie, Lexi walked into the kitchen scratching her head, messy waves flowing over her shoulders. She yawned reaching for a cup.

“None left.” Jensen said standing from the table.

“Serious?!”

“It’s eleven forty five, Lex.” He looked back at her. “Is that Jared’s shirt?”

“Lexi looked down at the massively oversized long sleeve Cowboys shirt she had on. “I thought this was yours.” She shrugged grabbing the coffee canister and filters. “Want some?”

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” Jared asked walking in.

“It’s never too late for coffee. Besides, without coffee I’d cease to exist.”

“Meaning without it she wouldn’t be the sweetheart we know and love.” Jensen said slipping on his shoes. “She’d be more like Medusa.”

“Exactly. I need it to function, I need it to live!” Lexi comically over exaggerating her expression.

“Geez, it’s like we have a real life Gilmore Girl.” Jared pointed to Lexi looking to Jensen with an amused smile. “It’s so cute!”.

“Yeah, well when you spend twenty four hours with her uncaffeinated, with no chocolate while she is on her period, you won't think she is so cute.” He ruffled her hair as he walked passed her. “I’m going out. Jared, you coming?”

“Nah,” Jared jumped down from the counter. “I’m gonna stay here and catch up on som sleep.” After Jensen left Lexi was pouring a hot cup of fresh coffee when Jared paused behind her. “Is that my shirt?” He reached his long arm from behind her to grab something.

“Oh, uh, I just grabbed from the dryer.”

“Oh.” Jared stood behind her still looking at his shirt draped over her frame. “Well, if you ask me it looks much better on you.” He looked her up and down with a smirk before walking away.

Yeah, this crush thing was gonna be a problem.

Fast forward again, now to after her seventeenth birthday. While all of her friends from high school were struggling through their freshman year at university Lexi was finishing her fourth semester. Not only that but she had a steady job that she absolutely loved working with Amy in make up. Make that two steady jobs. More and more modeling gigs came her way but she did well with prioritizing her schedule.

“You alright?” Jared asked as he walked into the house the three of them shared.

“Yeah just working on a paper...sorta.” Lexi sat in the big black chair next to the fireplace with a throw blanket draped over her. The wind continued gusting outside as the sky turned grey. The snowstorm that was supposed to pass to the north of them had shifted and was heading for them head on.

Jared, arms full of firewood, kicked his heavy boots off at the door and made his way to the fireplace. “I just got off the phone with Jensen.” Jared spoke, kneeling in front of the fire, tossing the wood in. “He and a few other people are gonna stay on the lot overnight because they will be filming so late. They don’t want to drive in the mess and they need to get the shots in tonight.”

Lexi put her books down. “Will they be alright in the storm?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jared nodded. “They have generators and all that jazz up there. They will be fine. He kept going on about me making sure you were okay. He said this is your first snowstorm.” Jared looked back at her, leaning on his knees.

“I’ve been through earthquakes and hurricanes, yes. Blizzard, no.” she giggled.

“It won’t be too bad.” He said, sitting on the floor leaning against the chair. “What are you studying?” He tilted her book up.

“Sociology. And I’m more like half studying and half journaling.” She said as she shifted. “Hey, can I ask you a few questions for my paper?”

“Umm, okay?” Jared looked at her oddly with an upward tilt of his head.

“You don’t have to answer if you don't want to. They are a little personal. If you do, I’ll keep them anonymous.”

“Now I’m worried.” Jared poked fun. “Questions about what?”

“Well, we have to do a paper. On divorce…” She looked up expecting a no.

“Oh, I got you.” He said understanding her hesitation.

“And I was gonna go farther and get more detailed and not be so generic about it.”

“What do you want to know?” Jared offered.

“You know what, never mind.” She shook her head with a lighthearted sigh. “These questions might get kind of personal. I’ll ask someone else.�� She smiled, moving her blanket to stand. “I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything.”

“No,” He said as he grabbed her hand, stopping her from standing. “I really don't mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll go make some good ol’ fashioned cocoa and we can go over your questions.”

“Okay. I’ll set us up to we can stay warm.”

Lexi took the giant couch pillows and several blankets, setting them up by the fire. It was chilly in the house, even despite the fire. The temperature was steadily dropping and the snow had begun to fall. The wind was blowing violently and the wind gusts whistled through the trees. The overcast giving it the appearance it was later than it was out.

“The lights will probably go out at some point.” Jared said, handing Lexi her cup.

“That’s reassuring.” Lexi said sarcastically as she sipped her cocoa. “Wow, this is good!”

“My grandma used to make it when we were kids.” He said, getting comfortable. “So I Was thinking, since you are concerned about the questions being too personal, how about for every question you ask, I get to ask one as well?”

“Alright.” Lexi chuckled as she grabbed her notebook. “Sounds fair.”

“But, we have to be honest.” He added. “I’ll be 100% open as long as you are, too.”

“Okay, deal.” She nodded with a smile and a firm handshake. “First off, how did you meet?”

“On set when she was on the show.”

“I’ll just put at work.”

“My turn.” He said as if thinking hard of a question. “So, have you ever been in a real relationship?”

Lexi looked at him oddly. “Real relationship as in?”

“You know, like not the crush stuff but a real-”

“Oh, yeah!” Lexi said, understanding after a moment. “I have been.”

“Really?! When?”

“Uh, I was fifteen.” She nodded her head with a scratch to her cheek. “So how long were you married?”

“Four years.” He watched as she wrote. “So when you were fifteen, how long did that last?”

“A year.”

“Wow, that’s young to be with the same person for so long.”

“I loved him.” She shrugged.

“Oh, So you’ve been in love?” He asked curious resting his arm on his knee.

“Hey, wasn’t it my question?” She giggled

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He smiled at her.

Lexi cleared her throat and adjusted her notebook. “How long into the relationship did things start to go bad?”

“About a year or so.” He answered honestly.

Lexi wrote in her notebook before looking back at him. “That soon?”

“Hard to believe but yeah.”

“This is my curiosity taking the best of me.” She fiddled with her pen.

“Okay?”

“Why did you really divorce?” Lexi exhaled with a shake of her head with a guilty expression. She knew it was a tough question. “Because I’ve known you two for a long time and you always seemed so in love. Like, make me gag in love. Then next thing I know, you two are done.” She saw his expression change and he shifted a bit. “You know what? I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s okay, really.” He assured, looking up at her. He took a breath and leaned on his elbow on the pillow. “Of course we seemed like nothing was ever wrong. We’re actors, we fake it for a profession.” Lexi grinned at him. “But the truth is, we were never gonna make it together.” He adjusted himself again and turned to her. “See, we moved really fast in our relationship. We went from dating to engaged to married to pregnant in the blink of an eye. After things began to slow down and steady out, we both realized that we were very different people.”

“Well, what was the turning point?” She asked,setting her book down and leaning back against the pillow.

“You’re not writing this down?”

“No, this isn’t going in my paper.”

“Why not?”

"Because, this is personal and right now we are just two friends talking.”

“Fair enough.” He cleared his throat. “The last straw, what really made me realize how far everything had went down hill was when I found out that there was a possibility Shep may not be mine.”

“What?!” She sat back up in shock. “I’m sorry I think I misheard you. ”

“I found out Gen had been sleeping with an old buddy of mine.. After putting it all together in my head, I got a DNA test done.”

“And?” She gave an anxious wave of her hand for him to continue.

“He is mine.” He confirmed with a chuckle before clearing his throat again..“But I could never look at her the same.”

“I can understand why.”

“I filed for divorce the next day.”

“Wow,” She gave a sympathetic chuckle. “The things you learn about a person.” Lexi could see his guilt had never gone away about the situation. “So if she cheated, why do you feel guilty about it?” She asked, catching him off guard.

“I never said-”

“You didn’t have to.” She sat forward pulling her knees up. “I can see it in your eyes, You still feel so guilty about it all. Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe if I had been home more or paid more attention, she wouldn’t have cheated. If I would have been a better husband, she wouldn’t have felt the need to go elsewhere.”

Lexi looked at him of his answer. “Please tell me you don’t really believe that?” She scoffed. “Jared, you were home every weekend, you would spend every spare minute with her and the kids. You would run yourself ragged making sure you gave them all your time and attention. You were so loving toward Gen, so affectionate. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Gen to death, but If she felt like something was wrong or missing in your relationship, she should have womaned up and talked to you, not seek and find validation in another man's bed.”

Jared tilted his head slightly. “I-I never thought of it that way.”

“Maybe you should, instead of beating yourself up for something you didn’t even do.”

“You know what?” He shifted his gaze to her eyes. ”You’re right.”

Jared’s eyes on her made her throat run dry. “Your turn,” She nudged his shoulder playfully, breaking him of his stare.

“Oh, right, um, so you’ve been love?” He cleared his throat. “So what happened with that?”

“He was kind of older.”

“Older?” Jared raised his brow. “How much older?”

“I was fifteen, he was nineteen.”

“Wow, that’s a big age gap. Jensen must not have liked that at all.”

“Nope.”

“So what? He made y’all break up?”

“No, not really. Uh, Jensen noticed he, Chris, that was his name.He had a bad temper and Jensen saw that, so he was big brother about it.” She answered nonchalant but Jared could tell there was more to the story.

“So Jay stepped in before things got out of hand?” Jared questioned.

“Uh...” She began and then sat up straight facing Jared pushing her hair from her face. “Okay, since you were honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. Especially considering the Maury Show DNA reveal.” She looked into his soft features rubbing her knees with her hands, her palms feeling sweaty. “Chris and I were great at first. I fell in love so fast and so hard.” She smiled at the thought. “He was sweet and kind. He treated me like a princess. Then things changed. He began acting weird, obsessive and controlling at times. When he put his hands on me the first time, I made excuses. Then I did it again and again.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “One day, Jensen made me realize I was worth more than what Chris was giving.”

“I’m glad you noticed how amazing you are.” Jared’s voice pulled her back from the memory. Lexi shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just feels colder all of a sudden.” She pulled a blanket up over her lap. “It’s already dark.” The wind outside gusted harder. “Those trees near the patio won’t snap, will they?” She asked with a worried look.

“No.” Jared chuckled. “They’ll be fine. How can someone who’s been through hurricanes be this paranoid of a snowstorm?”

“Well, with a hurricane, I don't have to worry about freezing to death. Or an avalanche burying us under one hundred feet of snow.”

The house went dark and Lexi reached a hand out, grabbing Jared’s arm. “It’s okay.” He said, taking her hand. “Remember, I told you the lights would go out?”

She looked over at him. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“No, but I do think it’s kind of cute.” He confessed. “I’ll go get flashlights and candles.”

The sound of movement up the stairs made her pause. “What was that?”

“Probably tree branches rubbing against the house.” Just then there was a thud. “A branch or tree limb fell on the roof.” He quickly assured as he stood up.

“You know 90% of horror movies start out this way.” She told him standing with him. “A big storm, lights go out. Guy leaves girl alone for two minutes then next thing you know she is gutted and hanging from chandelier.”

Jared gave a laugh. “You have an overactive imagination.”

“Or the guy guy gets stabbed at the top of the stairs and falls over the banister to his death.” Jared looked at her intently trying not to laugh. “I’ve seen a few horror flicks, so I know how it works.”

“I’m not gonna get stabbed and you’re not gonna get gutted, You’re just scared. Besides, if there would be a murderer out there I’d handle it.” He shrugged with a playful grin. “Besides, I’ve been in a horror movie or two.”

“Umm, Didn’t you die?!”

“Touche.” He nodded his head. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re not supposed to say that you know!” She shouted as he walked away.

Lexi wrapped herself in a blanket and shivered again at the sounds of the wind outside. When Jared returned, he had more blankets, a few more pillows, and some flashlights and candles. He sat across from her and pulled out a bag of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers.

“What’s all this?” She asked picking up the back of marshmallows.

“I had an idea.” Jared said as he fixed the pillows and blankets for himself. “When I was a kid, my brother and I always went camping. I remember one weekend it poured down all weekend.” He continued as he placed a marshmallow on a roasting stick. “He didn’t want to let me down because he knew how much I wanted to go camping. So he started the fireplace in our living room and we camped out in the house and made s’mores in the fireplace.”

“That sounds really sweet.” She said, taking the marshmallow from him and placing it between the graham crackers.

“I thought it would keep your mind occupied.” He handed her a piece of chocolate.

“So, you think you’ll ever get married again?” Lexi asked, biting into her s’more.

“I don’t know, maybe.” Jared shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it much.” He nibbled his own s’more. “I’ve been on dates and crap but nothing ever went far.”

“How come?”

“Just never clicked with anyone. It’s hard to explain.”

“Actually, I get it. It was like that with Spencer.” She glanced down. “We got along great as friends and we had physical chemistry, but beneath the surface, nothing.”

“So, why did you almost have sex with him?” Jared asked, catching Lexi off guard with his tone.

“I was never going to. I mean, he tried to talk me into it but-” She paused for a minute then looked back at Jared. “He knew it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“When I walked in on y’all, it looked like more than making out.”

“Jealous much?” She poked fun.

“No, I’m not, I just. You know, I don’t remember this being so messy.” Jared said nipping the melted marshmallow from his hand, changing the subject.

“Well, what did you expect? It’s basically melted sugar.” She looked at him and laughed again. “You have it all over your chin.” She pointed. He attempted to wipe it but only made it worse. “Come here.” She said, leaning in.

She wiped the sweetness from his chin and lip letting her thumb linger over his bottom lip a little longer than she needed to. His lips felt so soft, like rose petals. When she realized he was staring at her, his breath shallow, she left her hand fall from his face and her cheeks got warm as she looked away. Jared reached and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What is it?” He asked observing her.

“Nothing.” A quick head shake was all she gave.

“Then why do you look nervous?” He lifted his brow and swallowed hard. “Did I do something?”

“No, no.” She said quickly. “Not at all. I- It’s just me being weird. Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head again and waved her hand dismissing his concern.

“Don’t get all bashful on me now.” He smiled at her with a small playful nudge to her arm.

“I’m not bashful.”

“Then why are your cheeks red?” He smiled and brought a hand to her face and let his thumb caress her cheek. Jared saw her breath hitch at his touch. “I’m sorry.” He let his hand fall. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” His hand rested on top of hers.

“No. Not at all.” SHe looked up finally meeting his eyes. “Opposite actually.”

In that moment, looking into her eyes he knew. He knew that all of the little feeling he had, all the little signs he was picking up on, weren’t in his head. She moved her hand, letting their fingers dance alone each other as she looked at her small hand in his. He lifted his other hand and tilted her head up to meet his gaze, his thumb caressing over her lips.

Without another thought, he leaned in and grazed his lips over hers. She welcomed the gently presser as she leaned into him. Their hearts pounded together in a moment of release that made the world stand still. Jared pushed the kiss farther, parting her lips with his. His tongue grazing her bottom lip. She kissed back making him deepened the kiss even more, sliding his tongue past her lips, tasting her. Satisfying a curiosity he denied he’d wanted.

Lexi’s heart was pounding in her chest, making her feel breathless. His touch was exciting every nerve in her body as he brought his other hand to cup her cheek. Jared’s phone made a loud sound as a weather alert came in, startling the two of them, making them jump apart. Jared grabbed his phone shutting off the alert then turning his attention to Lexi. She had her hands barely touching her lips looking as if in shock.

His mind started racing as the reality of what had just happened began to settle in his mind.“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. “ I-I shouldn’t have done that.” Jared stood.“I’m really sorry.” He walked towards the kitchen.

Lexi quickly got to her feet snapping out of her euphoria. “Jared, wait!”

“I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t-”

“Jared, it’s okay.” She reached to touch his arm. “I didn’t exactly push you away.”

Jared moved from her touch. “Doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The kitchen was dim, illuminating only when flashes of lightning struck around them. Lexi could still make out Jared’s features as he kept her at arm’s length. Jared ran his hands through his hair again as he tried to calm his mind.

“Jared, it’s okay.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“Yeah, well, you should be.”

“Why, because you let yourself do what you’ve been wanting to do? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The sound of shattering glass behind Lexi made her jump as Jared lunged forward, pulling her away from the sound. He spun her around as another crash sounded and ice and snow began beating down against them.

“Are you okay?!” Jared asked, looking at Lexi.

She nodded her head, unsure what had just happened. “Where are you going?!” She shouted after him as he disappeared through the kitchen door.

The sound of window panels sliding shut along the glass area of the kitchen echoed through the house. Lexi jumped as they locked in place. Jared emerged, soaking wet a moment later.

“Are you crazy?! Why did you go out there?!” Lexi shouted at Jared.

“I forgot we had the the window panels here.” Jared said plainly as he wiped the rain and snow from his face.

Lexi grabbed a towel and handed it to him. “Here. I’ll go get the broom.”

Lexi began sweeping up the glass as Jared walked back into the kitchen with a flashlight and another broom. They swept in silence while they cleaned the mess of glass. Neither knew what to say to the other in that moment. Jared kept glancing up at Lexi, pausing here and there as if he were about to start speaking, but he never did. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed her, especially in the intimate way he did, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding when their lips met. It didn’t change the way he felt when he had her so close he could literally taste her. Just the thought of it made his throat run dry and his stomach flutter.

As he swept the last bit into the dustpan, his flashlight caught a small tint of red on the floor. Pointing the flashlight directly at the smear on the floor, he looked at his arms and hands but saw nothing. “Lexi?”

“Yeah?” She asked as she dumped the contents of her dustpan into the trash.

“Did you step on glass or something?” Jared asked, shining his light on her.

“What? No.” She looked at her bare feet.

“Oh my God!” Jared closed the space between them quickly. “You pants are full of blood!”

“What?! Where?!” Lexi looked down and saw a blotch of wet red on her outer thigh.

“Come on.” Jared grabbed her elbow sitting her down in the chair. “Sit, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

She did as she was told and Jared made quick work of getting the first aid kit. Both flashlights were directed to her leg as Jared assessed the wound. He tried to see the area but couldn’t quite get a good look. “Umm, lets get by the fireplace to I have more light.” Jared stood, extending his hand. After she sank on the seat next to the fireplace, Jared was able to see better as he dabbed the area. Noticing how long the cut actually was he grabbed more gauze. “Take off your pants.”

“What?!” She asked almost in panic.

Jared looked up at her and saw her reaction, then chuckled. “To get to the cut better.”

“Oh, right.” She shook her head feeling like an idiot.

Jared saw her wince when she began maneuvering out of her jeans. “Here, Let me help you.” He said, taking the top of her jeans and sliding them down her legs.

“Ouch!” She hissed as he went passed the gash in her leg.

“I’m sorry.” He tossed her ruined pants to the side and began to clean the cut. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but it will hurt for a bit. Looks like you have a shard of glass in there still.” He took a tweezer from the first aid kit and handed a flashlight to Lexi. “Can you hold this just like that?” She took the light and watched him. “This may hurt, so don't hit me.” As he pulled the glass from her leg, she muttered a curse. “Got it.” He stated as he held pressure on her leg.

“Thanks.” She said, looking at him as he made sure there was no more glass in the wound. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Do what?” He asked continuing to clean her cut.

“The first aid stuff.”

“Oh, I have kids remember.” He looked up from where he was kneeling with a small smile.

He finished with the bandage and she stood. “I’m gonna go get some clothes not drenched in blood.”

“Yeah. I should probably get out of these wet clothes myself.” He stood. “Need a hand?”

“Thanks, but I got it.” She smiled walking away.

Jared turned to speak then paused for a moment before he decided to talk. “Lexi?” She stopped at the bottom step and looked his way. “Not to sound like a perv but,” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Are you wearing Pearl Jam panties?”

She looked down at her underwear and smiled. “Yeah. Hot Topic.” She said then continued up the stairs wobbly.

Just down the hall Jared dressed and looked at himself in the mirror for a second. Shaking his head he huffed before walking out. He had never been so confused in his life. He knew the difference between right and wrong but the lines turned blurry when it came to Lexi. Shaking his thoughts once more, he blew out the candles and left the bathroom. When he got downstairs, she was already nestled on the pillows under the big blanket journal in her lap.

“How’s your leg?” He asked, sitting across from her.

“Throbbing, but I’ll live.” She said looking up from her journal.She watched him as he stared at the flames in the fireplace. She could see the thoughts running through his mind, the guilt on his face. “What are you thinking?”

“That you were right.” He avoided looking at her. “That was something I’ve been wanting to do.” He kept his head down with what seemed like shame. “I-I know it’s wrong and I know -”

“Who says it’s wrong? “

“The law.” Jared said bluntly.

“Not in Texas.” She said matter of factly. “I’m legal.”

“No, you aren’t. It’s not the same. Laws like the Romeo and Juliet law only apply if we had an established relationship before one of us turned eighteen. Or if I’m only at a maximum three years older than you and I’m a far cry for both.” Letting his hands fall to his side he let out a defeated sigh. “But knowing that doesn’t change how you make me feel.”

“Well, how do I make you feel?” She asked wanting to know exactly what was going through his mind. Jared looked at her with a smile then stood up. “Where are you going?”

“To make a drink.” His voice faded as he walked away.

“Now?!” She looked towards the darkness where his voice faintly came from. “You need to make yourself a drink now?!”

He reemerged with a glass and a bottle of Gentleman's Jack. “Yes, now.” He began as he poured a bit in the glass. “Because we should not be talking about this.” He took a sip and looked back at her. “But I, for the life of me, can’t -” He paused.

“Can’t what?” She looked at him waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He poured more into the glass and gave a soft chuckle before drinking it again.“You're beautiful.” He blurted out. “You are beautiful and smart. You have your head screwed on tight, you are so well balanced. At seventeen, your future is paved and you did all the work.” He downed a third glass of the amber drink. “You’re kind and sweet. You are amazing with the kids, which is very impressive, by the way.” He pointed a finger, glass still in hand then poured more of the pretty liquid before taking another long sip. “You are determined, and you know what you want and you go for it. You fight for it.” He downed another and made a small noise as he cleared his throat. Lexi was looking at him, confused because she had never seen Jared drink liquor quickly before, yet, he was pouring another.

“Okay! Enough with the liquid courage.” She placed her hand over the glass.

“You are incredible. I cannot get you out of my head. I know I shouldn’t think of you the way I do, but I have no control over it. It’s-It’s everything. The way you walk, the way you talk, your laugh, your smile. The way you do that little hair twirling thing when you’re thinking or concentrating. I have tried so hard to talk myself out of having feelings for you. But it never worked.”

Lexi reached and grabbed the glass from Jared’s hand and threw it back before Jared could protest. “What are you doing?!” He asked, taking the glass from her.

“Okay,” she ran a hand over her face. “So, I wasn’t imagining it all?” She looked up at Jared. “The flirting and the smiles, the- the little smirks and touches? It wasn’t all in my head because of a stupid crush?”

“Guess not.” He looked at her with another little smirk.

“And here I am thinking I’ve read way too many Jane Austen novels.”

“Good to know the feeling’s mutual.” He reached and poured a bit more whiskey into the glass handing it to he.

“You have no idea.” Lexi drank the contents of the glass and looked at Jared. “So. What now?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, taking the glass from her. “We can’t do anything about it. And don’t tell anyone I gave you alcohol.”

Lexi looked down at her hands in her lap and thought for a moment. Her mind was playing out scenario after scenario. “But, what if,” She spoke, taking a deep breath. “What if- what if I said I wanted you to kiss me again?” Although she was hesitant, she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers. “What if I kissed you?” She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, which made it impossible for him to think straight. He felt a rush run through his veins as the scent of honey and vanilla washed over him. Pulling back for a breath, he pressed his forehead to hers. Lifting his gaze he saw the want in her eyes. More than want, a need. Her eyes pulled him in like gravity.

Jared wasn’t aware just how much Lexi wanted him. He didn’t know that the building feelings he felt were just as strong in her. Lexi never took a risk, she never closed her eyes and jumped, but Jared made her want to. And now, with the way Jared’s hand fit into hers, the way he lingered so close, all she wanted was him. So when he grazed his lips over hers again, she let him take over. He kissed her with a passion she’d never felt before as she brought her hand up and tangled it in his chestnut locks.

Jared let his hands wander. He touched her body for the first time, caressing down the curves of her body, gripping her here and there. She leaned back against the pillows, never breaking their kiss, pulling him onto her. Jared easily crawled on top of her and settled between her legs. Lexi could feel the bulge between them growing and she could feel Jared retaining his hips. She lifted her leg and draped it over his hip, giving a little thrust up. Jared broke the kiss with a gasp as he laid his forehead to hers again. He gently caressed her cheek with his fingers, looking down at her.

“We can’t.” His voice slightly graveled. “But, God, I want you.”

Lexi reached up a hand and pushed his hair away from his shimmering eyes. The dim light from the fire making the sparkle like stars in twilight. “It’s okay.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she assured him. “I’m telling you it's okay.”

“You sure?” He was hesitant, thinking about every move.

“I Trust you.”

Jared snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her down more. He brought a hand up to her shirt hem and lifted a bit, sliding his hand under the fabric. His hand, although big, was gentle to the touch as he caressed her skin. Lexi’s skin felt like it was on fire his finger tips lazily dragging along her newly naked skin as he peeled off layer by layer of her clothes. Only breaking their kisses long enough to get articles out of the way. They pulled at one another’s clothing between passionate exchanges with their lips till they were bare, pressed against one another. She felt Jared’s member against her opening.

“You’ll tell me, if, if you want me to stop?”

She didn’t answer. She simply pulled him into another long kiss wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Carefully He lined himself up at her opening feeling himself throb in his own hands. She was soaked to the touch and he’d only kissed her. With a gentle, controlled push he rocked his hips forward. Lexi gripped his shoulders tight, burying her face in the crook of his neck. A cried managed to escape her as He pushed, slow and gentle, not stopping till till he filled her passage completely. She was hot and tight around him. Jared wanted to pull out and slam back in again, but he knew he needed to wait for her body to relax. She was tense, the burning pain of his vast length taking her breath from her. The pain brought tears to her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling. He began to move slowly inside of her and her body tensed again as she let her head fallback onto the pillow, taking a deep breath forcing herself to keep calm.

With his head resting on her shoulder he focused on not rushing. His primal sense wanted to hold her in place and slam into her until he reached his peak. To enjoy having himself buried inside of a beautiful woman. But more than that He wanted to make this moment last as long as he could. He knew this was a fleeting moment that he’d never get again. The only time he would have to put into physical action what he felt, what she made him feel.

The burning of him stretching her easing with each movement. Soon she was able to relax enough to meet the thrusts of his hips. Although relaxed now, she kept a tight hold on Jared. The feeling of being in his arms this way heightened the entire moment. His lips on her as he moaned into her mouth. All she could do was grip his shoulders and pull at his sweat dampened hair. She could feel the hot sensation growing in her abdomen as she wrapped her legs around Jared. His hips moved perfectly to caress her sweet spot with each thrust and grind of his pelvis. He held on to her as if she were his life source. He gripped her hips and legs so tightly as if he was afraid to lose an inch of contact. He pulled at body the harder he buried himself inside her feeling the wetness drip between their legs. Jared’s hips began to stutter as Lexi’s head fell back onto the pillows, breathless. Jared entwined their fingers, sliding her hands upwards, panting and moaning in her ear.

Lexi couldn’t compose herself any longer as her orgasm peaked and Jared bucked his hips harder and harder. She arched her back into him, his hand grasping her hips as he rode out his own wave of pleasure. Pressing his lips to hers tasting her kiss as they came together in an explosion of ecstasy.

Next Chapter>

Tags: @saxxxyjared @xostephanie

#SPNFamily #SPN #supernatural #fanfic #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #lexi ackles #JaredxOFC #OFC #love is blind

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

interlude 1.1 (Branjie) - PinkGrapefruit

A/N - before i say anything i’ve just got to say a massive thank you to Evan (formercongressman) for beta-ing this for me and Alexandria (alexandriabelle1) for pointing out i should probably get one. They’re absolute godsends.

This is a 5 time fic prompted by an anon and tbh i loved writing it so if anyone has anymore they want to send me, i’d love to hear them. As usual, Brooke is ‘him’ and Vanjie is ‘her’ just for clarity of reading and this is my interpretation and in no way supposed to be accurate or anything. Enjoy!

The 5 times Brooke kissed Vanjie to calm her down, and the one-time Vanjie kissed Brooke.

[episode one]

She’s ecstatic and god he can see why. Between the two of them, they collectively slayed the first challenge and she looks on the verge of tears. Her chest glitter is mixing with the sweat from awful studio lighting and her eyebrow might be slipping but she’s just so happy. None of it matters now.

He pauses for a moment to watch her, and he knows that this might not continue but it’s such a beautiful sight and to never see it again would hurt. He vows to commit the contours of her face in this face at this moment to memory, so he can flick back through them like a scrapbook, discerning the good from the bad.

She looks over to him, the twinkle in her eye a congratulation on his success, but more so, a challenge. Like she knows he’s been staring. In truth, he knows she’s been staring too. He’s sure that the producers will make them voice over these moments in sugary anecdotes and play their blossoming whatever like a fiddle for views, but he just can’t bring himself to care. Because she’s so happy.

He takes her challenge, later in the werkroom when it’s quiet and colder and the glitter and the makeup have all washed away. They’re pseudo-alone on their couch in the corner - everyone else crowded at the other end of the room, obscured by tables or out in the smoking area absorbing the fresh air into their clogged pores. She looks at him the same way she did in Untucked, stares with her glistening eyes and starts to cry because ‘I never thought I’d get this far, I don’t know how I’m still here’. He leans in and savours the feeling of her stuttering breaths on his chin, the scent of powder and strong makeup remover that cloud her from his vision. He hyper-focuses on the crease above her lip that looks so good. He knows there are tears rolling freely down her cheeks as he places one hand to steady himself and takes another deep breath of her.

When their lips touch it’s warm and soft and nothing like he’s ever felt before. In an instant he feels like he can see their future, he can watch like a spectator in his own life, and he lets himself melt into her as they become one to fit the contours of the couch and each other. Her breathing instantly calms, because nothing about this kiss is passion or fury or anger. It’s just sweet and reassuring and everything she needs; he’s everything she needs.

[january twenty nineteen]

The trailer just went up and she’s terrified. He heart is pounding and her head is spinning and god she needs everyone to shut up but no one is talking. She’s locked herself in a bathroom stall somewhere in the World of Wonder building where everyone is getting set up to film their Meet the Queens live stream, and honestly she’s just praying no one finds her. She’d gotten about ⅔ through her makeup before the panic overtook her in its entirety, but it’s swallowing her whole and it’s terrifying.

She’s uncertain still as to why this is affecting her the way that it is. It shouldn’t, of course, because she’s done it all before, but this time is just so different. The first time around she had nothing but a legacy to uphold and a quick wit. She came out of it a broken person but damn she learned. She took everything she got from 30 seconds on television and built herself a career out of it. This time, she’s come out of it with solace, dignity, and a fine looking Canadian. She has a life now, pets, and a man who takes her as she is and she loves him for it. Plain and simple, she loves him like she’s never loved another person, and the fear of losing that to the global tours and shows and flashing lights… it scares her.

She hears the door open before she sees his shadow. It looms over the stall door and fragments like shattered glass when it hits the light. She can’t find the stability to talk, though, so her breathing carries on in its brutal staccato, harshly shallow and burning.

He taps quietly on the door, knowing she needs space but just wanting to help her. God knows they’ve been doing this long enough now that he knows just what to do. He momentarily wonders why she didn’t just come to him, but he remembers his own excitement towards the day and knows that she didn’t want to ruin it for him. Briefly forgetting the current situation, it warms his heart to know that she thought of that.

She doesn’t have to speak when she slowly opens the stall. He knows her well enough to be able to tell what’s going on, and she knows he wouldn’t push anyway. Instead, he just pulls her into his arms in a tight hug, tells her he loves her in actions, not words. His nose grazes her fade, breath tickling the stubble. She leans into him willingly, her own nose nuzzling at his chin. He smells like always, like cigarettes and coffee and Fenty lipsticks, and it soothes her soul like menthol and tea.

When their lips meet it’s not for show, for anyone but themselves. Even though they’re in the same environment that’s always exploited them, they take this moment for them. She knows that no matter what happens, they’ve still got this.

[august twenty eighteen]

It’s 3am on a warm and windy night in New York as he walks into the AirBnB they’re sharing for the week. He’s so glad that for once since they’ve returned from Drag Race they can share the same four walls for longer than a night, can let themselves be a couple again. His gig had run long and he’s angry that he’d missed her going to bed but he’s here now. As quietly as he can without waking her, he places the keys on the counter by the door, snakes into the kitchen and pours a glass of water. Sneaking back through to the lounge he rummages for a second in her rucksack to find the Advils she always keeps. He pops two out and places them next to the glass on the table. Contemplating writing himself a note (because he always questions the Advil in the mornings) he remembers that for once, he’s not alone. Tonight there doesn’t have to be a note.

‘Crap’ he mutters to himself as he crosses the wooden floor with a creak. He pauses. Listens.

As he strains though, he can hear soft whimpers coming from their closed room. All attempts at silence are abandoned as he rushed to the door, pushing it open as quietly yet quick as simultaneously possible. He wants so desperately to be imagining things. He knows, quite quickly, that he isn’t.

Brooke moves around the bed. It’s roomy when you consider the size of the apartment but they both knew the second they saw it that they wouldn’t need that much. Not when they sleep like koalas, clinging to each other til morning.

When he realises she’s still asleep he can’t tell if he’s glad or not, but hearing her soft cries in the night breaks him. He just wishes this wasn’t her bren to carry alone. Wishes he could split the anxiety and the panicking and walk up the mountain together. Luckily he’d had the wherewithal to shower and de-drag at the venue and he’s dressed for comfort. All of this is good news to him as he drops the last of his bags at the end of the bed and slowly, carefully, sits on the edge. Swinging his legs on, he leans back so his chest is level with her head and draws her into him. She goes quiet as she burrows into his chest, so small in that moment and, as he presses a long, protective kiss to the top of her head - he promises to never let her go again.

[episode four]

He follows her over in Untucked as she panics to herself. It’s the least he could do, he muses, as she frets over something he feels is trivial. But even less than a fortnight in, he knows not to argue or point it out. He’s all to aware that she’s experiencing this differently to everyone else, he’ll just have to accept that.

The tension is seeping out of her and he can feel it, hot on his skin. Her body has a quiet shake to it as if she’s vibrating softly, but he knows that the sweetness of that imagery is nothing compared to what is happening. He’s seen it before in his friends. In Courtney before her first drag coven show. In Nina the first time they met. He’s seen it in himself before every performance since he was 7. But despite his exposure to it, he hates it on her. The twisted look on her face pains him as she tries to sort what she’s doing and all he can give her is encouragement, full of conviction and maybe the naivety of someone falling in love.

‘Out of the three of them I know you were, I feel like you were given the least harsh critiques’

He’s hoping he said it with enough persuasion that she’ll believe him. She needs to believe him because he can’t keep watching her tear herself apart like this without knowing that he did everything in his power to stop it.

‘Fuck that shit’

Her reply is short but definitive and frankly, he’d be laughing at her bluntness if he didn’t know that it was a defence mechanism. He brushed the blonde hairs from her chin, takes a moment to admire the wig on him and notes that it’s a fantastic look. The orange is, too. The whole thing is something he’ll bring up later.

‘Honestly they gave you like almost no negative critiques… and you were killing it with the dancing’

He feels it necessary to equivocate on his beliefs. He won’t allow her for a second to believe that he’s not 100% supportive and confident in her abilities. She just makes soft humming noises and he can hear ‘Living in America’ booming from the Apple headphones that she’d haphazardly shoved into her ears. It’s at this moment he realises that he’s not going to get anything else out of her and so he just pulls her into his arms, laying a gentle peck at the corner of his mouth, not letting his lipstick mar her cheek. She turns her head and he can see the pain in her eyes as she puckers her lips at him. He leans down and captures them, knowing that when he pulls away his lips will be tacky with gloss and glittering a pleasant gold. It looks good on her but it’s not the most subtle thing.

As the producers call cut on the conversation they weren’t even directing, Brooke smiles to himself. He knows that they’ve just secured her safety, knowingly or not, and he’s just grateful that they will have more time.

[march twenty nineteen]

He’s in the cab back from his gig with Nina when she calls him. It’s late there but not too late in comparison to the pitch black 4 am they can see out of the windows. Their seven-seater taxi feels too crowded, full of sweat and drag queens and he feels like this conversation will need privacy. He knows that even if it does he won’t get any.

She’s drunk in a t-shirt dress and a yellow waist length wig muttering about instagram stories or love and he knows she misses him. It’s evident purely from the fact she’s facetiming him on the break between her sets, in a storage closet. If that wasn’t enough, she’s spilling secrets left right and centre and if he was sober he’d be terrified, but honestly it’s so good to see her face and it feels good to laugh with her again. She holds off on the sobbing til he gets into his own room (although she isn’t shy on imitating him, screeching ‘I have two kitties’ at an ungodly pitch for Brooke’s own waning drunkenness).

When he’s alone though, she begins to cry, it’s hard to make out on the grainy facetime that will never do her face justice for him. They use it too often to truly dislike it, but it’s not a substitute for holding each other on cold nights like these when they’re both too lonely to be alone. If he were to write a list of things he misses, he would list her at the very top, leave a few lines blank, and then write poutine. But even that was hard to miss in Canada, so really she is all he longs for and fuck it hurts. The incomparable yearning he feels burns into his very soul, and he wonders how cruel the world must be to have found him someone so perfect when they’re both required to be everywhere but together all the time.

She brings him back to the present as she tries to blot her running foundation with a receipt she found in her pocket. He wants to reach through the screen and brush them off her soft skin himself. Even though they’ll both be together by the end of the day, it hurts that they’re so far apart now.

They cry together, when he’s taken off his makeup and hung his outfits up nicely on the back of the door. They cry for the naivety they had when he thought they would be okay doing this. Before they’d spent weeks on opposite sides of the country. They knew it would get worse but god they hoped it would get better first because she can’t stand this anymore, and he isn’t far behind her.

Later, when her show’s done and she’s home and it’s almost the afternoon in Canada where he is, he talks her to sleep and maybe in his fantasy he kisses the tears off her cheeks till she calms down. He places a meaningful kiss to her forehead and turns off facetime, knowing that when she wakes up he’ll be next to her.

[march twenty nineteen]

She rolls over to the sound of her alarm going off. It’s almost 3 in the afternoon, which means she has about an hour to get her ass out of bed and pick him up from the airport. She realises she may be cutting it close. In the shower, she uses up the remainders of his favourite shampoo, knows he loves how it smells when he presses his nose deep into the unruly mop of hair she keeps trying to maintain. She puts ice compresses under her eyes as she eats what can only be described as a pseudo-breakfast (because it is neither eaten at the time of breakfast nor does it contain any real breakfast foods, but it does the same job), and she almost forgets to take them off as she leaves the house. The hope is that they removed the last remnants of her crying herself to sleep but frankly, the hangover might have done that too.

The drive is mostly uneventful, although she flips off an unusual amount of drivers in the baking Los Angeles heat. She’s bouncing in the driver’s seat by the time she arrives and she rushes into arrivals with less dignity than she afforded herself going home first because she’s so excited she might burst and her man is coming home.

He’s hard to miss, a 6’3 Canadian ballerina in a crowded airport and his thousand bags help her to spot him almost immediately. She does a quick once over of what she’s wearing as she fiddles with the bandana around her neck, knowing it will make Brooke happy (and also so mad). It takes the very little restraint she posses not to scream when he runs over to her. Suddenly all his bags are on the ground and she’s up in the air, feet dangling, and they’re both crying again because the feeling of each other will never get old.

She’s engulfed in the smell of that one time that he made seafood at 3am and they laid on the street til dawn. The time she pulled him into the Florida ocean when all he wanted to do was get Panda Express and watch TV. The smell of airports and long nights and coffee and menthol and shit red wine and good red wine and everything all at once. He smells like love and he smells like home and she kisses the tear tracks on his face because she fucking can.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #pinkgrapefruit #interlude #concrit welcome #submission #canon compliant #on set fic #s11

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