#anyway do you guys see now what i meant by claire that’s barely a skirt. she goes clubbing with that. diva

[hsslilly-blog]

⭐️🦢 claire season; 100 days to her birthday!

here's claire in some of my favourite myscene outfits. i love playing dress up with her… swan princess barbie princess lab princess<3

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 25

(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal life of an underground boxer.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: WE’RE SO CLOSE TO THE EEEEEND BBY. Don’t hate me. :) ALSO DO NOT FORGET TO LIKE, REBLOG, LEAVE FEEDBACK. XO

Melody’s phone screen was shattered. She had had just one too many moscatos and a little too much fun, and her eyes were hazy Friday night as she stepped out of the cab that she had taken home on.

The car pulled away from the sidewalk and Melody immediately unbuckled the straps of her heels. The chilly pavement soothed her aching feet. She clasped her shoes together in one hand and hurried into the warmth of her building, up the flight to her apartment, and through the door.

It was dark as she dropped the heels beside the entrance. Bea would probably be sleeping by that time anyway, but she wasn’t even home. She had been avoiding Melody ever since the incident with the police, furious that it hadn’t knocked any sense into her. Now, the only light came from the lamp in Melody’s studio, and it barely reached beyond the couch in the living room.

Melody padded into the apartment, yanking her arms from the confines of her jacket and slinging it over the arm of the sofa. She pulled her broken phone from a pocket and tried once again to coax it to life.

“Left your door unlocked again.”

Melody dropped her already mangled phone as she spun around, colliding with the side table behind her.

“Jesus, Harry,” she breathed out, pressing a hand to her chest to slow her heart.

“Weren’ answerin’ my calls,” he said. He was sitting in the chair at her desk, his body straight and rigid.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I ruined my phone.” She squatted down to pick the device back up, and when she returned her attention to Harry, she saw the shadow of a bruise blossoming over the side of his chin and a cut at the corner of his brow, caked over with dried blood. “Are you okay? Did you win?”

“Usually do.” Harry lowered his eyes to the desk, his jaw working. Melody didn’t like that. It was a tell of his agitation.

“What’s wrong?”

And just like that, it was like she’d set off a fuse. Harry snapped to his feet, tearing something from atop the desk and rounding on her.

“What the fuck is this, Mel?” he seethed. His proximity alarmed her. His chest was mere inches from hers, his eyes livid as he stared down at her, and in his hand was the notebook in which she’d written her unfinished story.

Melody floundered. She felt like she was underwater. She took a step back and found herself against the back of the sofa.

“Harry,” she began, but she didn’t know where to go, what to say. Her voice died in her throat. How could she explain this to him without making it seem as horrible as it really was? She didn’t think she could.

“What?” he snapped. He wanted an answer, and a good one. He wanted her to make him see things differently than he was viewing them himself.

“I messed up,” she whispered. “I know I did and I just—“

“What were yeh gonna do? Turn this in for a fuckin’ class? Try to get it published?”

“No, I couldn’t do that.”

“But yeh were gonna when yeh started, weren’ yeh?”

Melody closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. She and Harry had never fought like this before. The most they had done was snap at each other, small arguments, but those usually cooled off almost immediately. There was no indication of cooling off this time. She could feel the anger rising in Harry like trapped steam.

She opened her eyes, trying to think of some way to calm him down. Sometimes when he was upset she could breathe a few words to relax his muscles, stroke her fingers over a clenched fist, and that’s all it would take. But this was not one of those times. His anger was directed at her.

“Remembered everythin’, didn’ yeh? Got a scene of fake me gettin’ my finger broken. Wha’s his name? Holden? Yeh’ve got words that my mum said to me, too—direct quotes, actually.”

Melody felt like she was exposed, and she could only imagine how Harry felt. Those were only her words, but they spelled out his life. Her mind raced with everything that she had written. She wished that the alcohol she’d consumed hadn’t worn off.

As if he could pick up on her thoughts, he went on. “Slipped in scenes of us too, right? Claire? Got our Christmas, got my birthday. Notice yeh left out the best parts, yeah?"

Harry whipped the notebook across the studio when he realized that she wasn’t going to give him the answers he needed. It slammed into the painting of an eye that was leaned up against the wall and then crashed to the floor in a flurry of pages.

“I am not some character for your goddamn book!” he shouted.

Melody flinched at the raise of his voice. She felt tears brewing. She didn’t like being yelled at, but she felt like she deserved it.

“I know, Harry,” she whispered. She shook her head, at her herself more than anything. “I know, I just—”

“Yeh know what?” Harry said. "I don’ wanna hear it.” Melody watched his fingers twitch at his sides. “I don’ care.” He took a wide step back, blinked at her, and then turned toward the door.

“Harry,” Melody breathed, pushing away from the couch. “Where are you going?” She couldn’t let this be the end of their conversation. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if they didn’t try to sort things out.

“‘M goin’ home.”

“Can we talk about this before—“

“No!” Harry yelled, spinning around to look at her. “Gave yeh a chance to explain and yeh couldn’. I told yeh things I’ve never told anyone, Melody. I let yeh in like yeh wanted me to and I trusted yeh and yeh made me into a fuckin’ case study or somethin’. So turn it in. Get the fuckin’ ‘A’ yeh want. Or get it published. Use my name, too. Use Colton’s. I don’ give a shit. Hope it’s worth it.”

Melody’s stomach churned at his words. Tears spilled over her lashes and she wiped them away hastily. “Worth what?” she grated out around the strain in her throat.

“This.” Harry gestured between them and then stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of the jacket that he hadn’t bothered taking off. “Whatever the fuck it was.”

She had felt it coming. She knew she had, but the sound of his voice saying the words made bile rise in her throat. Tears poured down her cheeks and she let out a thick sob. “Wait,” she started, stepping toward him, but Harry cut her off again.

“Don’t.” Harry took two steps toward the door and then watched the look of desperation that flitted over Melody’s face. He had never seen her look like that, never seen her so completely vulnerable and scared. He gritted his teeth together and quickly turned away, before his resolve vanished. “‘M done.”

This wasn’t how the night was meant to turn out. Harry had won his match. Melody had delivered her reading, clear and concise, even with her shaky knees. She’d held her own, even without him there to support her, even though she’d wished for him with every single word that she’d spoken. And then she’d celebrated with her classmates and looked forward to telling Harry all about it.

Melody watched blankly as he turned again and yanked the door open. It creaked slowly behind him, but didn’t close completely. She could hear his loud steps down the stairs, the whine of the building’s entrance, and the finality of it slamming shut. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her feet carried her across the room of their own accord. She pressed the door shut, touched her forehead to its surface, and then slid down to her knees with a sob that felt like it could crack her ribs.

***

Melody was all cried out by Monday. Harry hadn’t tried to call her. She had gotten her phone replaced just for that purpose, but she was disappointed. Disappointed enough to miss all of her classes. She had called him once and it had gone straight to voicemail, so she didn’t try again.

By Tuesday, Bea had stopped home. She was only there to grab some more clothes. She was still upset with Melody and she hadn’t expected her to be home, but when she saw the state her roommate was in, she mustered up some sympathy.

“Take a shower and go talk to the guy, then,” Bea muttered from the doorway to Melody’s room. She couldn’t believe she was saying it, was telling her to go looking for Harry when she didn’t think Melody should be around him at all, but the alternative was messy. At the very least, Melody needed some closure.

Then Bea had turned on her heel, packed up her items, and hit the road again.

Melody’s hair was still damp when she left her apartment. She tucked it up into the hood of a sweatshirt and set off across town. There was no point in trying to find Harry at his place. She knew that every Tuesday—and especially this Tuesday—he trained with Sean at the warehouse. She wove the familiar path there and it was still light out when she reached the junction of Hark Street.

She made it inside to the arena before she hesitated. What was she really doing here? What was she going to say? What did she want?

She wanted Harry. That much she knew. She wanted everything they had and that’s what kept her feet moving when she found the ring empty, into the back hallway, to Harry’s door. And then she hesitated again. But this time she didn’t have the chance to sort through her thoughts. The door opened and someone almost collided with her.

“Oh.”

Sean stood before her, his hands poised on the doorframe where he had caught himself. He watched her face shift through a series of expressions, but he remained open-mouthed. And then he cleared his throat and skirted around her without a word.

The open door and empty entry revealed Harry. He stood at the table, his back turned toward her, rising and falling heavily, sweat rolling down his spine. Melody’s pulse spiked. He turned his head to the side when he heard her footstep as she moved forward. He began peeling off his gloves.

Melody let her eyes wander the room, linger on the couch where Harry had kissed her the last time she was there. She licked her lips, tentatively, and then settled her gaze on the space between his shoulder blades.

“Hi,” she muttered.

“What are yeh doin’ here?”

Melody took a deep breath. Wasn’t that what she’d just asked herself? “I wanted to talk to you.” She shoved her restless hands into the pocket of her hoodie.

“Feel like we’ve talked enough,” Harry said. He packed his gloves away in his bag and then rounded the table, shedding his tape into the waste basket on the other side. "Think we’re done talkin’.”

Melody nodded, trying to staunch her tears before they even began to flow. Harry wouldn’t look at her. He had his eyes trained with a focus on the table. “Harry,” she began, fingers lacing and unlacing inside her sweatshirt. "I’m really sorry. I know I fucked up. I—” Her voice broke off. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am.”

“If yeh were sorry yeh wouldn’ have written the shit in the first place, Melody. Yeh’re sorry that I found it."

She wanted to argue. She was sorry she had written it. But she was more sorry that he had read it, wasn’t she? Hadn’t she been planning to get rid of the thing days before he had, never let him find out about it at all? She cleared her thick throat, watching him avoid eye contact.

“The story didn’t start out so close to your life,” she said. "I just got carried away.”

“Why are yeh tellin’ me this?”

“Because you mean more to me than that, Harry. I don’t want anything that means I have to lose you, okay?"

Harry rested his palms flat on the table, dropping his head forward, hair spilling from the loose tie of his bun.

“I should never have written it. I trashed it. And I want to—"

“‘S not just the fuckin’ story, Melody!” Harry shouted. His hands smacked the table as he whipped his head upward again. He finally looked at her. He watched her jump the same way that she always did when he raised his voice. Her eyes were glazed over. “Yeh’re missin’ the entire goddamn point. I don’ give a single fuck what you want. I don’ trust you."

Melody felt her insides contract in a painful ache. It was almost worse than the “‘M done” that she had been replaying for the past few days. She had spent hours, days, months working toward the trust that she had earned. And she’d destroyed all of it in one go. Just like that. She could’ve been sick right then and there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That’s all I can say. But I still—"

“Don’ worry. Made it this far without yeh,” Harry interrupted, zipping up his bag. He slung the strap over his shoulder and headed toward the door. Melody watched his face shift from fury to passivity. She flinched as he brushed past her, but he paused to whisper in her ear. "Don’ think I need yeh to keep goin’.”

Chapter 26

[greatkinglulu]

Claire de Lune [Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor] One.

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x female!OC

Warnings: none, I think.

Word count: 2529.

A/N: Hey! I know I said I’d post this by the end of December, but I’m the procrastination queen so... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this crap. Please let me know what you think!

And if you enjoy reading while listening to music, here’s a playlist I especially made!

“Hurry up already, Claire!“ A loud yell came from the front of the house, but the girl didn’t really pay any mind to it. It was her father calling, and the man had an obsession for being sharply punctual to any place he had to go. “We’re gonna be late, again!“ Another yell echoed through the length of the house until it reached Claire’s room, once again. She dismissed it.

The petite brunette was in a dilemma: she didn’t know which skirt to pick, and she knew that asking her mother for help would imply the wrong thing; well, not wrong, but not everybody needed to know why she was taking her outfit so serious this time.

You see, in any other mundane occasion, Claire wouldn’t have cared about her skirt, or any other piece of clothing for that matter. She would had put on the first thing she could find in her closet, but that evening she had an impression to make. Little did she know whatever skirt she ended up picking would go pretty much unnoticed…

“Oliver, dear,“ waiting in the living room, resting on the armrest of the armchair her husband was impatiently sitting in, she cupped his left cheek, making him meet her eyes. “relax.“ She smiled. “It’s not like they will be mad at us for being ten minutes late. You know how Claire gets every time she knows we’re having dinner with the Taylors. Just… give her her time to get ready.“ Alexine smiled once again, and kissed her husband’s forehead softly.

“She got that from your side of the family,“ Oliver complained. “all you French people care about are looks!“ He threw his hands in the air for emphasis.

His wife let out a curse he couldn’t understand, and made her way towards Claire’s bedroom.

“My darling Claire de Lune, are you ready?“ She barely opened the door, and waited for her daughter to let her in.

Claire motioned with her head for her mother to sit on her bed while she finished her hair. She was too busy and focused to speak. With a huff and a roll of eyes, she decided that her hair would look better let down, and so she let her curls loose.

“I’m done. Does this look decent enough?“ She stood up from her seat and gestured at herself, unsure. “And do I really have to go? You know it’s not the same anymore… and I get bored, mum.“ She sighed.

“You look stunning, dear.” Her mother stood up too, and stroked her shoulder, reassuringly. “You know it’d be rude if you didn’t go; you have already excused yourself a few times. Now let’s go before I have to kill your father.“ Her mother laughed at her own joke, trying to light up the mood, but it was no use.

After a few minutes, the door was opened, revealing an extremely cheerful, blonde woman. “How good it is to see you all again!” She kissed both adults on their cheeks briefly and engulfed Claire in a bone-crushing hug, as if it was the last time she’d see the girl. “Please, come on in.” She gestured the whole family to get inside.

”Roger!” The nice woman called. “Come down and say hello to our guests! He’ll be here in a minute.” She reassured the young brunette with a huge smile, but that never happened.  

Mrs. Taylor closed the door behind her, complimenting Claire on her outfit while she led both women to the kitchen, at the same time her father disappeared behind the doors to Mr. Taylor’s studio, after he had said hello.

Claire felt her cheeks heating up and she tried to play it cool. “Oh, you already know me. Just trying to keep it casual.” She tried to glue the most confident smile she had on her face, and took a sip of her tea. She put down her cup on the counter and fidgeted with her hands on her lap, and bounced her feet against the floor; Claire couldn’t stay still for too long.

Lost in her own thoughts to make time go by faster, while her mother engaged conversation with Mrs. Taylor, she was startled when the blonde woman slightly touched her wrist. “Dear, Rog is up in his room with the boys. I’m sure they won’t mind you up there with them. Go have fun!”

Claire got up from her stool, the fakest smile spreading on her lips, even if she didn’t mean to, and unsurely made her way towards the staircase. “Sure…” she sighed, and as the sound of both women chatting away became lighter and lighter, she still caught her mother telling Mrs. Taylor how she had actually spent two hours getting ready for this get together, a couple of laughs following. She cursed her mum in her mind and rolled her eyes, while she hopped up the steps to the upper floor.

She was bored to death, hearing “the adults” as they referred to themselves, talking and laughing from downstairs and the boys gossiping from a few doors to her right. Sitting with her legs crossed in the hallway upstairs, waiting for the boys to leave, she sighed and looked at the clock. “Just fifteen more minutes”, Claire Reid thought to herself.

Time seemed to pass even slower just to annoy her. Thank God they left, eventually.

She waited a few more minutes after they were gone, and getting up from her spot, she straightened her skirt before approaching the door rather cautiously. It was slightly opened, but she knocked softly a few times anyway. Her older friend raised up his eyes from the comic he was reading, “Hey.”, he greeted, half smile on his face.

“May I come in?”, her voice had come softer than she intended, and she huffed to herself in annoyance for that.

“Sure,” Roger patted a spot on his bed next to him, beckoning Claire to sit. “take a sit.”

“Thanks, I thought I was gonna die out of boredom.”, she rolled her eyes dramatically and he chuckled at her comment. That made Claire feel slightly proud, she had made Roger laugh.

“C'mon, it’s not that bad!”, he cheered.

“You say that because you have friends. What were you all talking about anyway?”, she was half genuinely curious and half just wanting to know what the fuss was all about when she heard that “Carl had already kissed Chrissie, on the lips!”

He just glanced at her and pursed his lips.

“I heard about the kiss. And I’m not stupid, Roger.” Claire crossed her arms above her chest and turned herself to face Roger. She didn’t like it when her friend underestimated her, just because he was three years older.

“Fine. Carl was talking about how he kissed Chrissie after school. It’s not a big deal, though. Just a kiss.”, he didn’t give the matter much thought, and rolled his eyes as a response to his insisting friend. “They didn’t even snog.” He mocked.

Claire lowered her gaze to her hands that were laying on her lap now, and asked, “Have you… Have you had your first kiss yet?” She didn’t even dare to look up.

Roger had lost his interest in his comic, so he set it aside on his desk.

“Well, yeah.” Roger snorted, “‘Course I have. I’m sixteen. It would be lame if I haven’t by now, wouldn’t it?”

Claire just nodded, not being able to say a word, as embarrassment ate her up from the inside.

“Guess I’m lame, then.” Getting up from his bed as soon as she could, Claire was ready to make her way out of his room, when Roger grabbed her arm stopping her.

“Claire, don’t go. Wait!” He was quicker than her and closed the door, not moving from where he was standing now. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?, he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

She took her sit back in defeat. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.” If stares could kill, Roger would have been dead by now.

“Claire, you know I didn’t mean it like that. Is that, you’re thirteen…”, he explained, regretting his words from minutes ago.

“So? I know I’m lame, there’s no need to make me feel bad about it.”

“You’re not lame. I said I didn’t mean it like that. You could never be lame, Claire de Lune,” her head shot up at the mention of her special nickname that Roger had stolen from her mother years ago, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. “I just meant that for Carl.” He made his way back to his bed and sat once again. “It’ll happen when time is right. You’ll be having all the boys drooling because of you and they’ll be dying for a snog with you… and all the other girls will be jealous because you’re the prettiest of them all. You’ll see, Claire.” He patted her thigh affectionately and gave her a reassuring smile.

Claire wished she could throw herself out of the window because she was blushing like crazy. Did he say she was the prettiest girl?

“You’re lying, Rog.” She accused him, giving him a slight punch on his shoulder.

He pretended to be hurt, by both the accusation and the punch. “No, I’m not. I do think you’re really pretty, you silly.” Claire rolled her eyes. “In fact, I’m surprised there’s not a queue of guys right out this door, right this moment just waiting for a kiss.”, he joked.

“They make fun of me at school. They call me names. I don’t think I’ll ever have my first kiss.” The younger girl deflated, sighting sadly.

Roger clenched his fists so tightly, that his knuckles went white. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “What time do you get out of school exactly? I think I have to pay those assholes you have for classmates a visit. They’ll leave you alone for sure.”

“No,” Claire took one of his fists in her hands and he let it relax. “You don’t have to do that. There’s no need, Rog. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. I’m fine, anyway.” She drew patterns on his big hand with her tiny fingers. “I’ll get my first kiss sometime, ‘it’s not a big deal’.” She mocked him.

“Oi!” They laughed. “Let’s make a deal,” Roger proposed and Claire paid full attention. “if you don’t get your first kiss by the time you turn sixteen, I’ll give it to you. I’ll be your first kiss.”

Claire gasped, her eyes going so big, she thought they would fall out of their sockets. “But-”

“Ah, ah,” he interrupted her, raising his finger. “let me finish. You got to tell me if you get it before your birthday though, okay? Do we have a deal?”

Sighting once again to hide a smile, Claire rolled her eyes. “We do.” She thought he was just trying to be nice and that everything would have slipped his mind by the next morning.

—–

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR CLAIRE!” All the members from both the Taylors and the Reids sang in unison. It was a Friday evening when both families decided to have a little get together at the Taylor’s, as usual, and they all had lost track of time when the big clock in the living room struck at midnight, indicating that it was Claire’s sixteenth birthday.

Roger took her hand subtly and led her upstairs.

“Don’t be too long up there gossiping you two! The cake will be ready any minute!” Mrs. Taylor called. Her son just waved her off.

Roger let Claire inside first and closed the door behind him. His room was barely lit by his lamp on his bedside table and the light the moon was casting through the bedroom window.

He walked over her direction, but every step he gave, every step the girl would take back. That was until her back was almost touching the wall.

He cupped her face and caressed her left cheek with him thumb, Claire unconsciously looked down. Roger tilted her chin up with one finger and whispered, “Happy birthday, Claire de Lune.”, Claire shuddered a bit at the mention of her nickname for the first time after so many years. Right after, he closed the small gap between them. Now cupping her face with both hands, feeling her soft, hot lips against his; her perfume making him dizzy. He realized he wanted more. He craved more. But he had to let her go because he had just promised a kiss.

“Cake is ready!” A faint yell came from the kitchen.

Roger let go of Claire reluctantly, after a few seconds of hearing his mum calling them both from downstairs.

Claire opened her wondering, brown eyes startled, trying to get some oxygen back into her lungs, because she had forgotten how to breathe. Her gaze not leaving Roger’s, no matter how embarrassed she was right now.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?“ A smug smile on his face, and Claire could have sworn she had never heard Roger’s voice so husky before, not even in the mornings.

“There’s- You have some lipstick smudged…“ The curly haired girl couldn’t bring herself to answer, but of course that wasn’t so bad. That wasn’t bad at all. That was magnificent. Not that she was gonna tell him so; not that she was gonna tell him anything.

Her friend simply cleaned any red spots from his mouth and around it with the back of his hand, as if he knew too well the procedure. “Still,” He traced Claire’s lips with his thumb, since she too looked a bit… disheveled, trying to fix her lipstick as best as he could. “you haven’t answered my question.” Voice low, almost like a whisper.

“What do you want me to say? No, it wasn’t so bad.“ She just swallowed, and Roger couldn’t control himself so he gave her a little peck. She let a smile spread freely on her face.

“Good. ‘M glad you liked your birthday present from me, love.“ The blond took the brunette’s hand in his, unconsciously.

“Although… there are a few things for you to improve.“ Claire joked.

“Don’t get too cocky now, missy.“ Roger snorted and then both fell into laughter.

“We should get going…“ She trailed off, paranoia fogging her mind, and she knew neither of them wanted to, but they had to.

The two of them made their way down, hand in hand, until they reached the corner of the the staircase, and Claire let go of Roger, bringing both hands to fix her hair even though there wasn’t anything to be fixed. Roger gave her a look at that, and then his gaze glued to his feet; not for too long, he didn’t want neither his nor her parents to get suspicious.

“Dear Lord above! What took you two so long up there?!“ Mrs. Taylor had her hands on her hips and her eyes were swinging back and forth between her son and Claire.

“None of your business.“ Roger answered, getting a piece of cake for Claire, who just gave Mrs. Taylor an apologetic smile, and then got himself a huge chunk of cake.

“Oi! You better watch it, young man!“ She warned her son, not so patient eyes following him.

The blond rolled his eyes, making his way to the living room, subtly squeezing Claire’s back in the process, telling her to join him on the big, green sofa. She did.

Tag list: @drowsyroger, @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg, @rogerandhishair, @deacydeacy, @apinkwhisperscollector, @16wiishes, @i-am-sarah, @lizgarxo, @royalrhaposdy, @70srogertaylor, @lfcbvb, @thelottiebook, @rogerbuttersmyeggroll, @mclfanatic, @stanrogertaylor, @how-many-more-bloody-galileos, @wolverinesbeer, @freddiesstache

[not-impala]

Falling

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Mark Pellino (not really OFC), Nickolas Kyler (OFC), Jolina Davis (OFC), Claire, Ben, Chuck, Charlie Bradbury (mentioned), Crowley

Summary: Reader finds Dean and his new girlfriend, Jolina, to get on her nerves until something changes her mind.

Prompt: I’m sorry that people are so jealous of me… but I can’t help it that I’m popular. -Mean Girls

Word Count: 2k-ish

Warnings: fluffff

AU: i did use Jolina as a character name because she kinda gets hated on and i didn’t want it to be any popular name just for the sake of offending someone. & please bare with me on the little details. I went to a very small high school, so i’m really trying to base all the ‘real-high school’ aspects off of cliches and movies, really. thanks for reading anyway. love you xx

The halls buzzed with students whirling around each other. Bags were pushed and feet were stepped on, but that happened daily, so it never honestly bothered anyone. If someone would have looked at you all from above, you would look like a swarm of bees just trying to find some nectar.

7:05 read your watch. 10 minutes to get to Pellino’s class. Internally, you rolled your eyes.

Mr. Mark Pellino was your Civics teacher. He made everyone want to die right then and there. People can just look at him and sense the Devil in him. He was slim man with a evil smirk. Not to mention, he also just got divorced a few years back. He makes everyone else’s life a living hell because his is one, essentially.

Before you could get to his hell hole, your best friend—Nicholas Kyler—started walking next to you. “Hey loser,” he joked with you. You and Nick had been friends since the first day of freshman year and he was like a big, little brother to you.

“What’s up, dork,” you said back with a chuckle.

“So guess what I heard!” he exclaimed. Oh, no. Although you and Nick weren’t the most popular kids in school, you were well-known. This meant that Nick always had juice from everyone about everyone. Usually it was about stupid relationships, but rumor or not, Nick had to tell you. It never failed, but you loved him all the more for it. It kept up his happy spirits.

Although Nick spilled this stuff to you, you never cared about the rumors. What everyone did was their own decisions, their own life, and their own consequences, but nevertheless, you let him spill his ‘secrets’ to you. “What happened this time?” you asked as you passed by the library, looking into the window. With no surprise, you saw the one and only Sam Winchester with his head buried in the biggest book you’d ever seen.

His eyes lit up as he told you. “So rumor has it that and Peter Jennings and Amanda Fields got back together. Again.” You rolled your eyes outwardly this time. Peter and Amanda were the worst couple in the history of bad couples. They fought daily about little things like why he didn’t get milk instead of a soft drink or why she wore her skirt a few inches above the knee.

“That’s daily news, Nick,” you sighed, “next.”

“Dean Winchester finally asked Jolina Davis out.” Your eyebrows rose at what he said. Really? Dean and Jolina? Yeah, she was on the cheer team and he played a mean soccer game, but the jocks going out with jocks cliché is genuinely starting to get old.

“Jolina and I have been in the same class for the past 4 years and I’m postive she’s dumber than a ton of Patrick Stars,” you deadpanned. “No offense to her, but she most likely begged him to go out with her. He may be a jock, but he’s not stupid.” Nick snorted at your comment, so you looked at him and giggled. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

At this point, you had to shut up because you finally got to Pellino’s class and he was sitting at his desk stapling today’s assignments. You and Nick sat next to each other, thankfully. With that being said, Pellino moved students who were friends for obvious reasons, so you two had to keep your composure for a whole hour.

7:12 read the clock that hung next to the mini-flag above the white board.  That’s when the one and only Joline walked in the room smacking on her gum and hand-and-hand with Dean.  You went from compose to straight up angry and annoyed. Seriously, Dean? You have so many options and you choose someone who has the personality of a brick?

“Y/N, you’re staring and it’s getting weird,” Nick nudged your shoulder and looked at you skeptically.

You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in and turned to look at Nick. “Sorry, just being internally judgemental,” you said with a sigh. You weren’t exactly lying to him. That’s when you noticed Jolina walking up to you and Nick with a pish-posh look on her face. Here comes trouble.

She stood right in front of you and you could smell the perfume she’d drenched herself in this morning. “Y/N, right?” she asked still smacking.

You took a look at Nick beside you and quickly rolled your eyes. Turning back to look at her, you said, “Yep, that’s me.”

She smirked and you automatically knew what she was going to try and do. “Well, Y/N, this is where me and my boyfriend were—”

You quickly cut her off, though. “My boyfriend and I,” you corrected her, “and no, this is where Nick and I sit. Thanks though.” Smiling at her with an innocent face, you waved her off.

She walked off and mumbled to Dean, “I’m sorry that people are so jealous of me… but I can’t help it that I’m popular.” What a self-righteous little…

Just then, the loud ringing stopped your thought. Saved by the bell.

Pellino started handing out the packet and they were thick. This was going to be long ass day.

By the time lunch came around, your body was in terrible need for a nap. But after lunch was your favorite class—writing—and that made the day all the much better. Mr. Chuck, your writing teacher was your favorite. Not only was he a great writer, but he was bright. You felt like God, or someone higher had sent him down into your life to guide you through your life. When you needed advice, you’d go to Mr. Chuck, and he always knew what to say. Whatever he said would happen, happened. It was like a miracle.

Before you could go to writing, though, you had to suffer through lunch. Not that you minded the food all that much, but more so the people. You hated sitting in the cafeteria. It was too open, as if everyone was looking at you.  Of course, you sat with Nick, Claire, and Ben, so that comforted you, but it still was just awkward for you.

You looked over a few tables to see Jolina sitting dangerously close to Dean. He didn’t even look comfortable. Part of you wanted to go over there and carry him as far from her as you possibly could, but you knew that wasn’t your job. You were essentially an outsider to them. You were supposed to just watch and deal just like everyone else.

“Y/N,” Claire called you out of your thoughts. You spun your head to look at Claire and Ben giving you concerning looks. Nick just sat across from you with a smug look on his face. “Are you okay?”

Before you could answer, Nick intruded, “No, she’s been drooling over Dean and shooting Jolina death glares all day long. You could say she’s a little jealous.”

You just rolled your eyes. “I’m judging them both, okay? She’s a fricking plastic Barbie doll and he’s an idiot for even going out with her.” Nick, knowing you the most out of the three, just raised his eyebrows and gave you the “oh, I’m sure” sarcastic look. “What?” you exclaimed back. “I’m serious.”

Ben finally took his turn to talk, “Well, I mean, isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Stupid jocks dating other stupid jocks?”

You groaned at his comment. “That cliché is so stupid.”

“You’re just saying that cause you like him,” Claire winked at you.

Just then, the bell to go to 5th period rang and you could have never been any more grateful.

“I have to head to Mr. Chuck’s, but you all have fun at P.E. with Mr. Michael. Claire, make sure he doesn’t kill you with running,” you laughed at her.

“Oh, you know he always does,” she chuckled.

You walked out of the cafeteria to your locker. Mr. Chuck knew most kids didn’t like bringing books to lunch, so he gives everyone a free grace period before class starts.

You were almost to your locker before someone fell straight on you and you both landed with a thud. Apparently coming face-to-face with the ground was on your to-do list today. You knew it was a guy because they mumbled, “Fuck,” in a deep voice right after.

“Really, Cas, was that necessary.” Damn, no. You’d know that voice from anywhere. Feeling the weight off of your back, you turned on to your back and groaned. Staring right back at you was those enticing green eyes. He held his hand out for you to grab and you gratefully took it.

You hadn’t noticed until now that there were a good bit of people staring, some even laughing. You couldn’t take all these people looking at you. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled to him before quickly walking away with flushed cheeks. Not bothering to grab your book, you almost jogged to Mr. Chuck’s class.As weak as your knees were, it was better than having them all make fun of you.

Once you got there, you sat down and took a deep breath. Thankfully, you still got to class on time. Your prompt of the day was on the board and you surely wasted no time getting to write it.

When you were finishing up your 3rd paragraph, someone knocked on the door, but you hadn’t bothered to look up. Teachers often came in to ask for extra paper or pencils. “Mrs. Y/N,” you heard Mr. Chuck call out. Stopping your writing, you finally looked up to see Dean standing next to your teacher. “Mrs. Bradbury would like to see you.”

In your mind, you were more than confused. Mrs. Bradbury was the drama teacher, but you never took drama, and neither did Dean. Why would she want to see you? More important than anything, though, you were worried about walking alone with Dean. You awkward around him because he landed on you like a pancake.

You put all of your supplies into your school bag and walked out of the door right after Dean. Right as you walked out, he turned to you and said, “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to. Cas and I were joking around and he pushed me and—”

“Dean, stop talking,” you interrupted him. “It’s whatever. I don’t even care.” You were still walking down the hall, arms in your back jean pockets. “Does Mrs. Bradbury even want to talk to me?“

“I know, but I feel bad,” he said with a low voice and his head down, completely ignoring your question. He looked nervous, actually and honestly upset.

“I was never really mad, I just don’t do well when a lot of people are looking at me,” you confessed. He looked up at you with furrowed eyebrows, almost like he was taken aback. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just think that’s stupid,” he said bluntly.

You were shocked at his comment. “So first you ran me over and now you’re telling me my opinions are stupid. Wow, what a great day,” you sarcastically shot back at him. “I’m gonna go back to class.” Turning around, you sighed.

Before you could go anywhere, Dean grabbed your wrist. “No, Y/N that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, then what did you mean, Dean? Yeah, I don’t like when people look at me. I know they’re judging me. Not everyone can be like you and your Barbie girlfriend, okay?” You glared at him.

“We’re not even dating,” he said back.

You were barely listening to what he was saying. “That’s not the point, Dean.” Yanking your wrist from his hold, you started walking back to class. Then you felt a hold on your hips and you were turned around to face Dean. “What are—”

He cut you off with a kiss. For a second, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but you melted into it. It wasn’t rough, but it was hungry, like he needed it.

You pushed him away, though. “What was that for?” you questioned.

“I was saying it’s stupid because people look at you all the time, Y/N. You’re beautiful  and smart and I’ve been wanting to do that for forever,” he said breathing heavily.

“What about Jolina?” you asked. They were dating 20 minutes ago. Literally.

“I broke up with her. I didn’t even like her. I’ve been wanting to ask you out. I’m just too scared you weren’t going to like me back.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and kissed him again. “Oh, trust me, I do.”

“Dean, Y/N,” you heard Principal Crowley yell. He appeared at the end of the hallway. “In my office. Now.”

“Oh shit,” Dean huffed. “Never a happy ending, is it?” You just laughed, not even caring about the consequences with Crowley.

[greatkinglulu]

Claire de Lune [Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor - Snippet]

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x female!OC

Warnings: None, I think. Just fluff by now?

She was bored to death, hearing "the adults" as they referred to themselves, talking and laughing from downstairs and the boys gossiping from a few doors to her right. Sitting with her legs crossed in the hallway upstairs, waiting for the boys to leave, she sighed and looked at the clock. "Just fifteen more minutes", Claire Reid thought to herself.

Time seemed to pass even slower just to annoy her. Thank God they left, eventually.

She waited a few more minutes after they were gone, and getting up from her spot, she straightened her skirt before approaching the door rather cautiously. It was slightly opened, but she knocked softly a few times anyway. Her older friend raised up his eyes from the comic he was reading, "Hey.", he greeted, half smile on his face.

"May I come in?", her voice had come softer than she intended, and she huffed to herself in annoyance for that.

"Sure," Roger patted a spot on his bed next to him, beckoning Claire to sit. "take a sit."

"Thanks, I thought I was gonna die out of boredom.", she rolled her eyes dramatically and he chuckled at her comment. That made Claire feel slightly proud, she had made Roger laugh.

"C'mon, it's not that bad!", he cheered.

"You say that because you have friends. What were you all talking about anyway?", she was half genuinely curious and half just wanting to know what the fuss was all about when she heard that "Carl had already kissed Chrissie, on the lips!"

He just glanced at her and pursed his lips.

"I heard about the kiss. And I'm not stupid, Roger." Claire crossed her arms above her chest and turned herself to face Roger. She didn't like it when her friend underestimated her, just because he was three years older.

"Fine. Carl was talking about how he kissed Chrissie after school. It's not a big deal, though. Just a kiss.", he didn't give the matter much thought, and rolled his eyes as a response to his insisting friend. "They didn't even snog." He mocked.

Claire lowered her gaze to her hands that were laying on her lap now, and asked, "Have you... Have you had your first kiss yet?" She didn't even dare to look up.

Roger had lost his interest in his comic, so he set it aside on his desk.

"Well, yeah." Roger snorted, "'Course I have. I'm sixteen. It would be lame if I haven't, wouldn't it?"

Claire just nodded, not being able to say a word, as embarrassment ate her up from the inside.

"Guess I'm lame, then." Getting up from his bed as soon as she could, Claire was ready to make her way out of his room, when Roger grabbed her arm stopping her.

"Claire, don't go. Wait!" He was quicker than her and closed the door, not moving from where he was standing now. "You haven't had your first kiss yet?, he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

She took her sit back in defeat. "Don't you dare make fun of me." If stares could kill, Roger would have been dead by now.

"Claire, you know I didn't mean it like that. Is that, you're thirteen...", he explained, regretting his words from minutes ago.

"So? I know I'm lame, there's no need to make me feel bad about it."

"You're not lame. I said I didn't mean it like that. You could never be lame, Claire de Lune," her head shot up at the mention of her special nickname, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. "I just meant that for Carl." He made his way back to his bed and sat once again. "It'll happen when time is right. You'll be having all the boys drooling because of you and they'll be dying for a snog with you... and all the other girls will be jealous because you're the prettiest of them all. You'll see, Claire." He patted her thigh affectionately and gave her a reassuring smile.

Claire wished she could throw herself out of the window because she was blushing like crazy. Did he say she was the prettiest girl?

"You're lying, Rog." She accused him, giving him a slight punch on his shoulder.

He pretended to be hurt, by both the accusation and the punch. "No, I'm not. I do think you're really pretty, you silly." Claire rolled her eyes. "In fact, I'm surprised there's not a queue of guys right out this door, right this moment just waiting for a kiss.", he joked.

"They make fun of me at school. They call me names. I don't think I'll ever have my first kiss." The younger girl deflated, sighting sadly.

Roger clenched his fists so tightly, that his knuckles went white. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "What time do you get out of school exactly? I think I have to pay those assholes you have for classmates a visit. They'll leave you alone for sure."

"No," Claire took one of his fists in her hands and he let it relax. "You don't have to do that. There's no need, Rog. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me. I'm fine, anyway." She drew patters on his big hand with her tiny fingers. "I'll get my first kiss sometime, 'it's not a big deal'." She mocked him.

"Oi!" They laughed. "Let's make a deal," Roger proposed and Claire paid full attention. "if you don't get your first kiss by the time you turn sixteen, I'll give it to you. I'll be your first kiss."

Claire gasped, her eyes going so big, she thought they would fall out of their sockets. "But-"

"Ah, ah," he interrupted her, raising his finger. "let me finish. You got to tell me if you get it before your birthday though, okay? Do we have a deal?"

Sighting once again to hide a smile, Claire rolled her eyes. "We do." She thought he was just trying to be nice and that everything would have slipped his mind by the next morning.

-----

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR CLAIRE!" All the members from both the Taylors and the Reids sang in unison. It was a Friday evening when both families decided to have a little get together at the Taylor's, as usual, and they all had lost track of time when the big clock in the living room struck at midnight, indicating that it was Claire's sixteenth birthday.

Roger took her hand subtly and led her upstairs.

"Don't be too long up there gossiping you two! The cake will be ready any minute!" Mrs. Taylor called. Her son just waved her off.

Roger let Claire inside first and closed the door behind him. His room was barely lit by his lamp on his bedside table and the light the moon was casting through the bedroom window.

He walked over her direction, but every step he gave, every step the girl would take back. That was until her back was almost touching the wall.

He cupped her face and caressed her left cheek with him thumb, Claire unconsciously looked down. Roger tilted her chin up with one finger and whispered, "Happy birthday, Claire de Lune.", Claire shuddered a bit at the mention of her nickname for the first time after so many years. Right after, he closed the small gap between them. Now cupping her face with both hands, feeling her soft, hot lips against his; her perfume making him dizzy. He realized he wanted more. He craved more. But he had to let her go because he had just promised a kiss.

"Cake is ready!" A faint yell came from the kitchen.

People who hopefully won't get mad if I tag them: @rogerandhishair @operaticmercury @drowsyroger @deacydeacy @roger-taylor-owns-my-wigg @brokebohemian @wereallkillerqueens @sam-writes @apinkwhisperscollector @16wiishes