#but i wanted to keep this one relatively short. oh also obviously all about eve and the women would top this list if anon hadnt mentioned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anotherstudtouse · 6 months ago

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Holiday Reunion

Summary: Your step-sister, Angela, doesn’t like the girl you brought over for the holidays.

Warnings: SMUT, sex between step-siblings, jealousy, sex with a fake cum-filled strap-on, cheating (well not really) (things aren’t exclusive with the girlfriend), breeding kink, choking, long story short it’s filthy and I’m fairly new to posting my writings so I’m not entirely sure what all needs a warning and what doesn’t yet

Being Angela’s step-sister is a relatively new situation, one the two of you are still having trouble accepting six months into it. It’s not that you dislike each other — Well, she might dislike you, but you certainly don’t dislike her.

In fact, you like her a little too much.

How could you not, though, right? Effortlessly funny, quick-witted, and gorgeous, Angela is a joy just to be around. The first few weeks you’d known her — the weeks leading up to the wedding between her father and your mother — had been more than enough have you infatuated with her, and for a while you two got along amazingly. Sometimes, in your rare moments alone together, it almost felt as though Angela felt the same way you did.

The night of the wedding, however, changed everything, and unfortunately you were too drunk that night to remember what happened. You’ve tried to apologize more than once, and even though Angela’s always told you that you have nothing to be sorry for, it still feels so tense every time you’re in a room together. Six months in, you’ve decided to just count yourself lucky you’re adults and don’t have to live with each other, or else things might’ve gotten far too awkward.

Like tonight. Tonight, you’re at your mom’s house — Well, you suppose it’s Angela’s dad’s house, too. It’s the few days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve and both your mother and Angela’s father have separately convinced the two of you to stay from Christmas Eve until January 2nd. You’d figured this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce your girlfriend of two months to your mom as well as have someone around to distract you from the tension between Angela and yourself. Even though things aren’t serious between you two and you weren’t even exclusive yet, she’d agreed. It had been, in your head, a wonderful idea!

But now you’re here, sitting on the living room sofa, playing some ‘get to know you’ game that Angela’s father had proposed where you pull a card with a question about yourself and people in the room try to answer it for you, and Angela, who’s already been not only friendly but also somewhat touchy (a lingering hug as she greeted you at the beginning of the night, two hands brushing against your shoulders and arms as she stepped into your space and slipped your jacket off, a hand on your forearm as she laughed at a stupid joke you told – not that you’re keeping track or anything) toward you tonight, has answered every question about yourself correctly. She knows your favorite color, your deepest fear, your dreams for the future, the weirdest dream you’ve ever had — Things you’d casually mentioned in the past that you never would’ve expected her to actually have been paying attention to.

Even worse, she corrects Theresa, your girlfriend, when the poor girl gets anything about you wrong. You don’t hold it against Theresa at all — you’ve only been dating for two months, after all — but it feels like Angela does. You’ve never seen your step-sister like this — smug, competitive — and she’s never made so much eye contact with you before, usually looking at anything other than you.

Oh, god. It’s your turn again.

Leaning forward, you draw a card from the deck with your free hand, your other hand grasping Theresa’s in reassurance. You can tell she feels bad that she doesn’t know you as well as Angela obviously thinks she should.

“Do I ever want to have children?” You read off the card.

Theresa perks up, and you glance anxiously at Angela before your eyes finally land on your girlfriend beside you. “Oh, we’ve talked about this one! No, you don’t.”

“She’s right,�� your mom agrees, sending Theresa an encouraging smile. “I came to terms with having no grandchildren a long time ago.” Angela’s father gives a little chuckle at that, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

“Yeah, you do,” Angela interjects, eyes on you. Her eyes have been on you all night. “You told me you do. At your mom’s and my dad’s wedding.”

You freeze, blinking, the tips of your ears beginning to feel especially warm. You don’t remember that. You must’ve told her that while you were drunk. You don’t tell anyone that; it’s not a serious goal of yours, more of a… well, more of a kink. You want to be bred. It’s not exactly something you tell everyone, or even a girlfriend of only two months. You told Angela that?

You can see in her eyes that that’s exactly what she means, too. It’s as if time has stopped for a moment, Angela’s words hanging in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. She doesn’t look disgusted with the information, but that must be why things changed so drastically after that night. What the hell happened?

A laugh that you hope doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel escapes you, and you shrug. “I mean, I thought maybe I could change my mind for the right person, but honestly, probably not.” You shoot a playful glance toward your mom. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

As everyone chuckles and moves on, you exhale a relieved sigh, sending a reassuring smile Theresa’s way. Weirdness averted.

You can’t get rid of the feeling deep in your gut, though, that Angela knows. She knows how you feel about her, feelings you’ve been trying to push down for months only for them to resurface all at once as your eyes meet hers again. She takes a sip of her drink, throat bobbing as she swallows, and she never breaks eye contact once.

“Uh, it’s, um— It’s getting kind of late, and we woke up early this morning, so Theresa and I are gonna head to bed if that’s okay.” You’re already standing when your mom and Angela’s dad excuse you, and though Theresa furrow her brows at you, she doesn’t say anything about the sudden stutter.

As you begin to lead your girlfriend toward the stairs, you hear Angela speak up again behind you. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Something about the way she says it makes your throat go dry.

——

The digital alarm clock beside the bed in this guest room reads 1:44am. You blink slowly, eyelids still heavy from sleep. You’ve already kicked the blanket off yourself, leaving it pooled mostly on top of Theresa. It’s too hot in here. You’d be lying if you said that’s the reason you’re having so much trouble sleeping, though; the heat is a symptom of something that’s not going to be cured as long as you stay in this bed.

Quietly, you slip out of bed. You contemplate for a moment putting on some pants but the walk down the hallway to the bathroom isn’t very far and everyone’s asleep — Your tank top and underwear will do. Keeping your eyes on your girlfriend in an effort to make sure she doesn’t stir, you exit the room as silently as possible and make your way to the unoccupied bathroom.

In your hurry to get inside, you close the door a little too loudly. You only spare a second to cringe inwardly before you’re leaning back against the sink, recalling every interaction you’ve had with your step-sister tonight. The looks, the touches, the words – They’re seared into your brain. Maybe you’re reading too much into things but it’s driving you crazy and you need relief now. One hand gripping the sink, your other hand descends from your abdomen to the waistband of your underwear.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You’ve moved on – You have a girlfriend in bed just down the hall, and here you are, about to touch yourself to thoughts of your step-sister. You should go back to bed. You need to go back to bed.

That’s the last thought you have before your fingers dip underneath your waistband to slip between already slick folds. The feeling has you biting your lip in an effort to keep yourself from moaning, and your eyes flutter shut to replace images of this bathroom with prettier images of Angela on her knees. Your breathing is getting heavier now, fingers rubbing tight circles around your swollen clit, and god it’s good, it’s so good, it’s—

The sound of the door that you’d stupidly forgotten to lock creaking open has your eyes snapping open in shock and embarrassment, and as you make eye contact for what feels like the thousandth time tonight with Angela, you freeze. She’s in a pair of obscenely short pajama shorts and a t-shirt and seems just as surprised to see you. You can see the realization slowly dawning on her as her gaze travels lower and lower, finally stopping on the hand still between your thighs.

Fuck.

Mortified, you begin to pull your hand out of your underwear when Angela’s shoots out to grasp your wrist, effectively halting your movements. Her eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and your heart is pounding in your chest.

“Is this for her?” Her voice comes out hushed. It would’ve been difficult to hear her if she hadn’t just stepped into your personal space. You part your lips to try to lie but she doesn’t give you time to. “It isn’t, is it? If it were, you’d still be in your room.”

Her grip on your wrist is tight, and the way she’s speaking to and looking at you tells you she already has you figured out; she’s just waiting for you to say it. You lick your lips, eyes darting down to Angela’s then back to her eyes – those dark, beautiful, intense eyes.

“… No,” you finally respond. As you speak, Angela releases her hold on your wrist only to slip her hand underneath your waistband, covering your hand with her own and causing you to suck in a shaky breath.

She steps closer, eyes flitting between yours as if searching for something in them. “Who’s it for, then?” Her fingers press into yours, forcing more pressure against your throbbing clit. You suppress a whine; Angela’s eyes light up at the muffled sound.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You need to go back to your room and forget any of this ever happened. You shouldn’t be doing this. She’s your step-sister.

Fuck it.

“You.” Your voice is raw with need. You need Angela, and you’re certain that even if she can’t hear it in your voice, she can see it in your eyes, she can feel it in the way your hips push slightly into your joined hands. You barely get that single syllable out before she’s crashing her lips into yours, her free hand snaking up to tangle in your hair while her hand in your pants tugs your hand out and sets it on the edge of the sink.

You kiss her back with just as much urgency. Her hand tugs the bottom of your tank top up over your breasts before groping one until your nipple is hardening underneath her palm. You gasp at the feeling, and Angela takes that opportunity to slip her tongue past your parted lips. As your back arches into her hand, she breaks the kiss, panting. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night,” she husks before beginning a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. She doesn’t have to specify in order for you to know she’s talking about the wedding night. “I know you don’t remember – You kissed me.” She’s kissing her way down your neck now, stopping to nip at your pulse point, both hands on your breasts now. “I kissed you back. Hell, I almost fucked you right then and there when you told me you wanted to know how it felt for me to cum inside you.” She pinches your nipples between her fingers, pulling a whimper from your throat. “You said you didn’t even care if it were possible for me to get you pregnant. You’d still take it.” She pulls away just long enough to pull your tank top off and toss it to the ground somewhere before she’s on you again, kissing her way down your chest. “But you were so drunk, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how your mom had just married my dad.”

The pieces are all falling into place now. You hadn’t been reading too much into anything; Angela needs you just as much as you need her, and it doesn’t matter anymore what obstacles are in your way. She’s going to take you, and you’re going to let her.

“Seeing you with her was too much.” She wraps her lips around your nipple and you groan, your knuckles turning white as you grip the edge of the sink. “You’re mine, not hers.” As she pulls away, she adds, “Now turn around.”

Obediently, you turn to face the sink, making eye contact with Angela’s reflection in the mirror. “Good girl,” she praises, pressing into you from behind. It’s only then that you feel something hard pressing against your cunt, and as she tugs your underwear to the side with one hand and pulls down her shorts with the other, she leans into you, slowly lining up her strap-on with your soaking wet entrance.

“Oh god,” you moan, pressing back into Angela. She pushes inside you slowly, giving you time to adjust to the thickness of it as she buries herself inside you inch by inch. “Please, Angela – More.”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Angela groans, pushing deeper and deeper until she’s buried completely inside you. “And so fucking wet – Fuck yes, take it all.” Slowly, she pulls out before thrusting inside you again – hard. The slow pace she sets doesn’t last long before she’s picking up speed, slamming her hips into yours and causing your own hips to slam into the sink over and over.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your whimpers and moans, and as your eyes flutter shut, Angela tugs your head back by the hair until you’re looking at her in the mirror again. “Eyes open, baby. I don’t want you to miss a single second of me taking what’s mine. Got it?”

You nod, watching your breasts bounce from the force of Angela’s thrusts, watching as Angela’s hand leaves your hair to wrap around your throat instead while she digs her nails into your hip with her other hand. “I’m yours – I’m all yours. I always have been,” you moan, desperation evident in the tone of your voice.

Angela groans, her strap covered in your juices as she practically pounds you into the sink. Your moans grow louder until your step-sister covers your mouth with her hand. “Be quiet – Unless you want your girlfriend to come looking for you only to find you cumming on your step-sister’s cock.”

The whine that escapes you is muffled, your walls squeezing around Angela’s strap. Your hand reaches up to rest on the back of Angela’s head, pulling face into your neck. As she kisses your neck, your hand curls into a fist around her hair, tugging it slightly and causing Angela to groan into your neck. You never want this to end, but you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm as you hear Angela moaning as she begins to suck a mark onto your neck.

“I’ve been so fucking pent up all day,” Angela groans, breathless. “I’m gonna do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” She’s slamming into you now, hard and fast, her strap deeper inside you than anyone’s ever been before. “I’m gonna breed you and you’re gonna take it.”

You’re pretty sure she’s just saying that to push you closer to the edge, but when her hips slam one last time into you before stilling, you actually feel her flooding you with cum. With the realization that she’s wearing a strap-on filled with fake cum just so she can cum inside you, you’re pushed over the edge yourself, your walls squeezing and spasming around Angela’s cock. You tug on her hair harder, pulling a deep groan from Angela’s throat as she slowly fucks her cum into you.

“You’re mine now,” she moans, her pace slowing more and more as the two of you come down from your highs. She takes her hand off your mouth, both hands now gripping your hips.

With a breathless laugh, you make eye contact with her in the mirror, your hand releasing its hold on her hair and lowering to rest on top of her hand on your hip. “I think you’ve made that clear.”

#angela giarratana x reader #angela giarratana smut

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

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attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction.

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.”

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind.

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own.

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day.

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired.

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.”

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?”

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.”

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps?

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far.

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents.

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?”

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?”

“What?”

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?”

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—”

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie.

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?”

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector.

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern.

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.”

“You got it,” Hector said.

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization.

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success.

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage.

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid.

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice.

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun.

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere.

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings.

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed.

Nothing she wasn’t used to though.

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.”

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown.

“So, did you need something?”

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.”

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it.

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?”

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room.

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine.

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest.

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost.

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead.

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—”

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.”

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?”

“I prefer to be standing.”

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?”

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?”

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...”

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.”

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.”

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did.

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?”

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?”

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts.

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?”

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing.

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure.

Back to the fucking drawing board.

(next part here)

#who's ready for attempt 38 n' 39?#and did i honestly start another ficlet series when i already have so many ongoing?#WACK!#also wtf; why is this 2k words...?#my words.

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mercurysnitch · 4 years ago

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Mother Mercury Part 4: So Take A Chance With Me, Let Me Romance With You

Summary: Important steps are taken in multiple relationships. More of Eve and Mel’s family life is revealed.

A/N: Yes, this fic is still alive! (Just...) After a very long hiatus during which I got a job, lived through one lockdown only to be plunged into a second one which still isn’t over nearly four months later, and utterly lost all inspiration for a while, I’ve finally finished this part (and persuaded myself to stop editing it). Yet again I’ve had to extend the part count, this part was supposed to run to the end of filming but I realised it was getting quite long enough as it was, so I split it into two. The next part’s maybe halfway done, so lord knows when that’ll be published, but hopefully soonish.

I’m not entirely sure about a couple of sections of this, but if I don’t publish it now I never will, and I really want to get to writing part 6 as soon as possible, so here you go. I’m also quite excited about finally sharing a couple of bits of Eve’s backstory that I haven’t been able to talk about yet because they were spoilers for this chapter.

A quick reminder if you’ve forgotten since the last chapter: this fic is based on the idea of Freddie having had a biological daughter via accidentally knocking up a woman while under the influence at a party. (If you’re just joining us, it’s mostly explained in part 3). If you don’t like that idea, move along now. Also, shoutout to @i-lay-my-life-before-queen, whose various Freddie fics were a big inspiration for this story.

Warnings: Discussion of age gap relationships, kids, Eve and her fam are meant to have cats but I forgot to write them in so they might have other pets next part, I have no idea what the word count is but it ain’t short

*******************************************************************************************The secret knowledge that there was a Mercury grandchild in their midst seemed to give the Bo Rhap cast a lift over the following weeks. This proved surprisingly useful, as those weeks were marked by a deterioration in working conditions on the set. The director, who'd seemed frequently out of sorts almost from the start of shooting, kept disappearing for longer and longer stretches, and when he was around the atmosphere was increasingly tense. Everyone tried to get on with their jobs, but the tension was utterly pervasive.

Mel had even noticed a growing nervousness in the relative isolation of the costume department. Her boss Barbara tried to reassure her, but even she was worried. "We can't keep on like this, the ADs can't do it all themselves. Apparently Singer says he's been taking care of his mother, but I don't think anyone believes him." "Surely he has to be sacked?" Mel suggested. "I hope so" Barbara agreed. "Hopefully the producers can make the studio see sense and replace him before too long. I don't think anyone can take much more of this."

Privately Mel wondered whether Roger and Brian might be able to help. They were executive producers after all. Then again, would the studio listen if they raised concerns about the director? Mel suspected not, in normal circumstances. But she got the feeling plenty of people on the set would be voicing similar complaints before long. Perhaps Roger and Brian leading the charge would be enough to convince the studio take action. Mel only hoped something would be done sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, Mel and Ben could at least take comfort in each other. They’d quickly reached the point of spending nearly every night together, and now, after only a little over a month, Ben was wondering whether it was too soon for the ‘relationship’ conversation. He didn’t think it was, really, and he very much wanted to take the next step with Mel, small though it might be, but he was still plagued by nagging doubt about the age gap between them.

Ben tried very hard to keep his mind on work while he was on set, but the combination of a light day and an impending date that would be a very good opportunity for that important conversation had left him very preoccupied. He managed to get through the few takes he had to shoot without incident, but he knew the rest of the band could tell something was up even before he took the first possible opportunity to escape to his trailer during the break. He was hoping to be able to brood in peace, but that idea went out the window when he bumped into Roger en route. Normally this would have been a welcome coincidence, but today Ben was not in the mood. Not that Roger noticed.

“Ben! Just the man I was looking for. Just wanted to see how you’re going with the preparation for that next performance scene coming up. It’s a pretty straightforward song, but there’s a couple of…” The older man trailed off when he noticed his portrayer wasn’t listening. “Earth to Ben? You still here?” Ben started at the sound of his name. ‘Wha-? Oh, sorry, spaced out for a minute there.” Roger chuckled. “Yeah, just a bit.” There was silence as Ben realised they’d arrived at his trailer. “D’you wanna come in, chat in the warmth?” he offered. “Thanks” Roger replied, following through the door. The second Ben closed it Roger rounded on him.

“Right, what’s going on?” “What?” Ben was confused. “Something’s bothering you” Roger explained. Suddenly he softened slightly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but talking about it might help.” Ben hesitated. He did want to spill his guts about his dilemma, but he wasn’t sure Roger was the best choice of confidant. So he stalled. “How can you tell?” “That you’re worrying? You were obviously miles away before, you weren’t actually hiding it” Roger explained. Ben was suddenly ashamed. “Sorry.” “It’s fine” Roger assured him. “So, what’s on your mind? Is it that prick of a director? I can talk to-” “No, no, it’s not work” Ben said unthinkingly. His eyes widened when he realised what he’d just said. “Oh shit.” He’d really done it now: Roger suddenly looked very interested, and perhaps a touch… was that really concern in his eyes?

“Not work…” Roger echoed wonderingly. “Love life then?” He smiled as he saw a flicker of alarm cross Ben’s face. “Ah, definitely love life.” “If… if I tell you will you keep it secret?” Ben asked nervously, eyes wide with worry. “Of course” Roger assured him. “Now, spill. It’ll help, truly.” Ben sighed. “Well, alright then.”

“The thing is, well, me and Mel are… going out, I suppose” he explained. Roger smiled triumphantly. “I knew it, I knew there was something-”“It’s been a month now” Ben went on, ignoring Roger’s crowing. “And I want to be official, but I just… I’m not sure.” Roger was puzzled. “Why not?” “Because of the age gap” Ben clarified. “I’m worried it’s too much. She’s only 21, and I’m… nearly 27 really, and I just… I don’t know.”

Roger stared at him. “That’s not actually much of a gap, you know.” “Well it feels like one” Ben countered grumpily. “I’m sure it does” Roger soothed. “But why does it bother you so much?” Ben looked at Roger as if he was mystified at the older man’s lack of understanding.“An older man with a younger woman’s supposed to be bad, isn’t it?” “You’re asking the wrong bloke, mate” Roger chuckled. Ben suddenly looked horrified. “Oh lord, I forgot, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine, I know what you meant” Roger assured him. “I used to hear it a lot, when I started seeing Debbie. She was only 25, you know, and I was nearly 40.” “That… 21 and 27 seems like nothing next to that” Ben mused. “It’s not nothing” Roger assured him. “But it seems like more of a gap because she’s so young.” “More of a gap?” Ben questioned. Roger nodded. “Look, if you heard about a 27-year-old woman and her 33-year-old boyfriend the age difference would hardly register, would it?” “I s’pose not” Ben agreed.

“But you know why people get worked up about young women and older men? They worry the men are taking advantage of their younger immature partners who won't fight them because they don't know any better.” Suddenly Roger peered seriously at Ben. “Now, does Mel seem like a girl who’s easily led into doing things?” “No” Ben declared. “I’m not sure anyone could ever force her to do something if she didn’t want to do it.” Roger grinned. “Thought so.” “I’d never try to, either” Ben added defiantly. “Of course not” Roger agreed. “So, you know there’s no… unhealthy power dynamic, shall we say, and she's not overly immature, is she?” Ben grinned. “Definitely not. She’s a lot more mature than I was at 21. Maybe even more than I am now…” “Women mature earlier” Roger replied, nodding sagely. “Anyway, there’s clearly nothing wrong there, so why not take things further?” “But people might say-” Ben protested. “Oh, bugger that” Roger interrupted. “People say a lot of things, most of them absolute rubbish, there’s no point listening to any of them.” Ben knew, in his heart, Roger spoke the truth.

“Look Ben, you’re not wrong to think about these things, but I know you’re not the sort of man to try and push a woman around” Roger pointed out. “And I’ve seen you and Mel together, you…” Suddenly his voice softened, and he looked at Ben fondly. “You’ve got something special there. I think. If I were you, I wouldn't want to give that up so easily” Ben smiled, significantly reassured. “Thanks Roger.”

That very evening Ben and Mel had dinner at his flat, and a very important conversation. Mel was absolutely thrilled to officially be Ben’s girlfriend, and shared almost none of his concerns about the age gap. Much to Ben’s relief, she was happy to take things slowly from hereon in, though she was a little surprised at his request.

“It’s not you” he assured her. “I just… my last relationship I was with her for nine years, and we only broke up at the start of this year, I wasn’t looking for this to happen again so soon. But…” “I know” Mel said softly. “Neither was I.” There was a slightly awkward pause as they reflected on the unexpected events of the last few months.

“Can I- Can I ask what happened?” Mel asked hesitantly. “I mean, nine years…” “It’s ok” Ben reassured her. “We were teenagers when we got together” he explained. “Kids really. It was good for a while, but we just sort of… grew in different directions. Too different, in the end.”

“Well that’s…” Mel wasn’t quite sure what to say. She almost felt bad for even asking, but Ben assured her it was only human to be curious about these things. Even so, a distinct awkwardness had settled in the air, but fortunately Mel was soon able to change the subject.

“As we’re… official… now, how would you feel about meeting my family?” Ben was surprised. “Isn’t it a bit soon for that?” “Maybe,” Mel shrugged. “But we’ve got the Thanksgiving break coming up, and we always have a big family supper then, it’d be nice if you were there.” Ben was still uncertain. “As long as you think I won’t be intruding, or anything…” “You won’t” Mel assured him. “Besides, you’ve already met my mum, it’s not like you’re a total stranger.” “I s’pose not” Ben agreed, grinning.

He paused, suddenly thoughtful. “Why do you mark Thanksgiving, though? It’s not a British holiday.” “No” Mel agreed. “Have you heard of a guy called Joe Fanelli?” she asked. Ben nodded. “He was one of the ones who lived with Freddie, wasn’t he? The… chef, or something.” “Well, he was American” Mel explained. “He introduced the others to the tradition, and then Jim and my mum sort of kept it up.” Mel’s expression rapidly grew sad. “Joe died of AIDS too, only months after Freddie” she said softly. “The first year they decided to do a dinner to commemorate him… it was around Freddie’s anniversary too, it was always a time they wanted to be together.”

“I’d forgotten about that anniversary” Ben commented. “It’s Gwil’s birthday too, we might be busy that day…” “Poor Gwil” Mel joked. “Mum should be alright though, Vi’ll make sure she’s with her.” “Vi?” Ben echoed. “Mum’s wife” Mel explained. Ben looked shocked. “Wife?” Mel smiled mischievously. “Did you really expect Freddie Mercury to produce a straight child?” she quipped. Ben couldn’t help grinning; she had a point. His smile vanished when he noticed how Mel was looking at him, almost pleading with her eyes.

“Will you come then?” she asked softly. “To Thanksgiving supper?” “Of course” Ben told her, smiling reassuringly. Suddenly his expression shifted to a look of near-panic. Mel was instantly concerned. “What’s wrong?” “You’re not expecting to meet my family any time soon, are you?” he questioned. Mel shrugged. “Not if you don’t want me to. I mean, of course I want to, but I’m happy to wait if you’re not ready.” Ben exhaled in relief. “Oh good.” Mel suddenly glared at him. “I do want to introduce you to them at some point” he hurriedly clarified. “But I'm not ready to just yet, and I don't think they are either." "You don't think they're ready to meet me yet?" Mel questioned. "Why?" Ben sighed.

“It’s just… my ex, I was with her for so long, they all thought I was gonna marry her” he explained. “They really wanted me to marry her, actually. My parents absolutely loved her, I think they're still getting over the fact that she's not going to be their daughter-in-law.” “So you think they might not be entirely ready to hear you’ve found someone new” Mel suggested. Ben nodded. “I actually haven’t even told them about you yet.”

Mel grinned. "Should I be worried?" Ben shook his head. "No, no, they'll be fine" he assured her. "I just… this is still pretty new, y'know, I don't want my mum getting overexcited about us too early." Mel nodded. "That's understandable. I mean, I hope this lasts, but it has only been a month. And I know you've just agreed to meet my family, but I think Mum's planning to get you all round for tea at some point, so you'd be meeting them sooner or later anyway.” "I suppose.” Ben agreed. Suddenly he smiled softly. “By the way, I hope this lasts too."

Later, having finished dinner with much less serious chatter, Ben and Mel agreed that, happy though they were, it would be best to continue keeping their relationship quiet for the time being. This was exactly the kind of news that would travel extremely fast on the set, and Mel had absolutely no desire to find out what her bosses would say if they knew she was in a relationship with one of the stars of the movie. Ben was almost certain it wouldn't actually be an issue, but he knew if word did get out he wouldn't be the one bearing the brunt of any consequences. And he wouldn't put it past Singer to be an asshole about normally inconsequential things like on-set relationships.

Both Ben and Mel wondered whether their buoyant moods and satisfied smiles would give them away at work the next day. Fortunately, the attention of the rest of the band was diverted by the twin distractions of yet more unpleasantness from the director, and another set visitor.

Rami had assured Eve she would be welcome to stop by any time, but since her first fateful visit a month ago she simply hadn’t been able to find the time for another, until now. Naturally, Rami was thrilled to see her. “Eve! You made it!” She could see his grin from a mile away as she approached the wardrobe van. She trotted over eagerly, but when she got close enough to see his outfit she stopped in her tracks.

Rami was wearing the moustache today, and a short wig. For a moment, Eve thought she was seeing things. She’d known there was a resemblance, of course, but this was like looking into a time warp. “Are you alright?” Rami’s concerned voice cut through her reverie, breaking the spell. Eve suddenly realised she was getting teary. “I’m fine, I just… I never realised how much you look like him, with the moustache and all” she said, rather awed. Rami was confused. “But… you’ve seen me in costume before?” he questioned. “The glam rock days were before my time though” Eve explained. “But the 80s look… that’s the Papa I knew.” Understanding suddenly dawned on Rami’s face. “Oh of course. I, uh… Sorry?” “Don’t be” Eve assured him. “You’re doing nothing wrong.” Rami’s expression suddenly grew more thoughtful. “I just hope I can do him proud.” Eve smiled. “Oh, you will.”

Eve was quickly sent back to Rami’s trailer to see the rest of the band. She wasn’t terribly surprised to see her daughter there too, sitting apparently very comfortably on Ben’s lap. Mel was of course pleased to see her mother, though she couldn’t quite shake the feeling she and Ben were on the brink of being revealed to the rest of the band. Perhaps she shouldn’t have sat in his lap, but then nobody else had batted an eyelid at their apparent cosiness. At any rate her mother had shot her a wry glance when she noticed where her daughter was sitting, but said nothing. Maybe we'll get away with it this time, Mel thought to herself.

The band all greeted Eve warmly when she arrived, and they were soon chatting happily about all the happenings she’d missed on-set, good and bad. Mel wasn’t surprised to see her mother grow incensed at the way the director had been behaving in recent weeks. “All that and they still haven’t sacked him?” she exclaimed. “He’s on thin ice now” Rami assured her. “One more disappearance’ll probably get him fired.” “We live in hope” Joe quipped. “This is a good movie, but boy am I glad it’s nearly Thanksgiving, I am so ready for a break.” Eve smiled. “Looking forward to the holiday, then?” Joe nodded. "So much."

Still smiling, she turned to her daughter. “The little ones are so excited about the big dinner this weekend, they’ve been missing their big sister.” “I’ve been missing them too” Mel told her. “I’ve just been so busy lately… it’s been too long since I’ve been home.” Suddenly Mel noticed the rest of the group eyeing her curiously, apparently unsure whether to speak. Eventually, Ben cleared his throat, breaking the sudden silence.

“Ah, the little ones?” he asked casually, not wanting to sound too interested in Mel’s personal life in front of the others. “My other kids” Eve explained. “They’re a lot younger than her, so she’s always been the big one and they’re the little ones.” There was a sudden outbreak of nods of understanding, before Rami spoke up. “So, how old are they?” “Well, my son just turned eight and my other daughter is three” Eve told him, her face alight with affection.

“That is little” Gwilym commented sympathetically. “Yeah, but she’s very sweet” Mel assured him. “Most of the time” Eve quipped. Meanwhile, Joe was smiling slightly. “Eight’s a cool age though, I bet your son’s getting into sports and stuff now” he said, half-questioningly. “Yeah, he’s becoming a big football fan lately” Eve agreed, grinning though she sounded almost regretful. "I’ve never been that interested in it, actually, but my wife’s football-mad, so she’s pretty happy."

A slight ripple of shock went through the group at Eve’s reference to a wife, apart from Ben, who desperately hoped his lack of surprise at this revelation wasn’t too conspicuous. Eve herself was simply amused at the effect of her words. “You know, I honestly forgot that you lot didn’t know about Vi” she commented. “It’s fine” Gwilym assured her. “We just weren’t expecting it is all.” Eve grinned. “Given who my father was it shouldn’t have been that surprising” she quipped, to general murmurs of agreement. “But never mind that now.”

She paused, turning towards Rami. “I’m guessing all the Americans are going home for Thanksgiving?” Rami nodded. “Yeah, why?” Eve smiled. “I was going to say that if anyone was feeling lonely over the break, they’d be most welcome to spend it with us” she said kindly. “But I suppose everyone’s accounted for already.” “Pretty much” Rami confirmed. “Ah well, I’ll have to have you all round for tea some other time” Eve declared ruefully. Mel surreptitiously flashed Ben a look that quite clearly said 'I told you so.' The others merely smiled. “That’s very kind of you” Gwilym commented. “Perhaps we could make it a celebration, when the film wraps.” The others nodded, murmuring enthusiastically. “Good idea” Eve agreed.

“In the meantime, if any of you have any questions or anything, do feel free to ask” she added. “I have one” Joe said, rather uncertainly. “Do you know John Deacon at all?”

Both Eve and Mel instantly cracked near-identical knowing grins. Joe stared at them suspiciously. “What?” “We know him very well” Mel told him calmly, evidently enjoying Joe’s confusion.

“He and Veronica are practically my other parents” Eve explained. “When Papa died he sort of entrusted me to them. Well, to John, mostly.” “Entrusted?” Joe questioned. “He knew I needed a father figure, and he gave John the job” Eve clarified. “John and Veronica raised me just as much as Mum and Papa.”

Suddenly Eve smiled mischievously. “And then I repaid them by having a baby at 16 who they also practically raised.”

Joe grinned as understanding finally dawned. “That’s how Luke knows you, isn’t it?” he asked Mel, who smiled fondly. “Yeah, I sort of grew up with him and Cameron” she explained. Joe nodded as he turned back to Eve, uncharacteristically nervous.“Could I… could we, I mean…?” “Talk about Uncle John?” Eve suggested. “Of course. Let’s have lunch some time so we can chat properly, it could be a very long conversation.” Joe grinned with relief he hadn’t been shot down. “Thank you” he said simply, before his jaw suddenly dropped as the full details of Eve's response finally registered.

“Wait, ‘Uncle John’?” “I told you, we’re very close” Eve explained, with a slight laugh at Joe’s surprised expression. “Now, does anyone else have any other questions while I’m here?”

There was a pause while the rest of the cast considered the offer, before Lucy cautiously spoke up. “D’you have anything to do with Mary Austin, ever?” “Not anymore” Eve said darkly.

“So you did once?” Lucy questioned. “She used to visit a lot, when I was a kid” Eve clarified. “Looking back I think Papa probably wanted us to be close, but I’m not sure she ever did.” Lucy was surprised. "She wasn't… did you get on with her, at least?" "Oh, she was perfectly nice to me when Papa was around" Eve said airily. "And, I mean, I was a child, I took everything at face value then. But after Papa died, and I got a bit older, I started to realise a bit more about what she'd been up to, even back then."

"What she'd been up to?" Lucy echoed. "I think she always sort of resented me" Eve explained. "Obviously she knew none of this was my fault, but I think I still reminded her of all the things she would never have with Papa, …everything she'd thought they'd have together, before he realised the truth."

Lucy was taken aback. “That’s… actually quite sad, really” she said thoughtfully. “I just wonder, you know, I’ve heard such different things… some people say she was just very devoted to Freddie, but then often she’s painted as quite selfish, happily using the connection to her own advantage.”

Eve nodded. “Oh yes, she’s definitely not the devoted angel some people seem to portray her as.” Lucy merely nodded, but Rami was honestly a bit shocked. “She’s not?” he questioned. “But I always thought they loved each other very deeply?” “Oh they did, very much” Eve confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t capable of getting nasty to other people.”

“Can I ask how nasty?” Lucy said gently. “I’m sorry if that’s a bit forward of me, it’s just I’ve heard a few rumours about things she did after Freddie died, but no-one seems to know exactly what went on…” “It’s fine dear, I don’t mind” Eve reassured her. “Don’t share this around, but she tried very hard to challenge Papa’s will.”

The others were baffled. “Why would she do that, though?” Gwilym asked. “Because Papa left a lot of his estate to me” Eve said simply. “And she felt she was owed a bigger share than she was given.” “Owed?” Lucy echoed. “For everything she’d lived through with him” Eve clarified. “This is just my opinion, of course, but in hindsight I think some part of her always blamed Papa for things not working out between them. Even so, she was happy enough being the most important woman in his life, until I came along and knocked her down a spot. So in her view he owed it to her to give her something to make up for her suffering.” Eve’s voice was laced with contempt.

Lucy’s curiosity, meanwhile, was thoroughly piqued. “When you say she felt owed something…was she after something in particular?” she asked Eve. “She wanted the house” Eve revealed. “I was only eleven, so I couldn’t actually own it for several years, but Papa and Miami had set up a trust to hold everything until I came of age. At any rate Papa’s wishes were very clear, but Mary claimed that Papa had told her she would get the house and I would get the money, or something.”

Eve suddenly smirked. “Needless to say, Miami knew it was utter rubbish” she explained. “So then she tried to say he’d wanted her to live in the house until I inherited it, because she had a 'proper family' or something but that didn’t work either.” Suddenly Eve sighed. “Eventually she started threatening to challenge the will in court” she said sadly. “My mum never liked Mary much, actually, but I don't think I fully understood why until she did that.”

“So what happened?” Lucy asked, utterly intrigued. “It never went to court” Eve revealed. “Mary had absolutely no proof of anything being wrong with the will, no lawyer would touch it." "And the house?" Rami asked. Eve grinned. "Is mine to this day."

The band, Allen, and Lucy exchanged amazed looks. Meanwhile, Mel cracked a Cheshire Cat grin, knowing what they were all thinking. “So that means… you're the mysterious 'Lady of Garden Lodge' Rami marvelled.

Eve looked so baffled at this he immediately felt the need to explain. "I read a bunch of articles for research, some of the more recent ones talk about the situation with the house now, the bits they've heard at least." Eve nodded in understanding. "I know dear, I'm just surprised you'd heard any of that stuff."

Rami shrugged. “Oh, you know, I wanted to read all I could, it’s all useful.” Eve snorted. “I doubt the bits from the tabloids were terribly helpful.” “Not so much” Rami conceded. “But it’s still… I don’t know, I found it interesting seeing how they tended to present him, how it changed over the years.” At that Eve smiled mischievously. “Yes, I know. What fascinates me is the fact none of them have ever quite managed to put all the pieces together and guess who I actually am.”

“Surely that’s a good thing though, if you can stay anonymous and live a normal life” Gwilym pointed out. “It is” Eve agreed. “But it means I’m always wondering whether today’s the day someone gets a photo of me, or sees something, and works it all out. And any time I see Papa in the tabloids again I have to look, just to see if they’ve finally got the real story this time.” The others were rather taken aback at this. They’d never really considered what it would be like to live with a secret like Eve’s.

“I hate to say this,” Rami said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable, “but if this movie does as well as they’re hoping, it might mean…” He trailed off, unsure how to word what he wanted to say. “It might mean what?” Eve asked urgently. “It might mean more interest in Freddie, from the public” Rami explained. “Which would also mean-” “More interest from the tabloids” Eve completed. “I realise that’s a possibility” she assured him. “And I’ve got contingency plans set up if need be. If the secret does get out, I’ll be alright.”

Rami was reassured, but he also realised he’d never really considered the broader implications of making a movie to put Queen back in the public consciousness. Of course, the movie could still flop, it wasn’t even finished shooting yet, but deep down he really did think it could do well once it was completed. And he was beginning to wonder, if it was a hit, just how much it would affect everyone’s lives.

The next day marked the final day of shooting before the break. That evening, Ben stayed over at Mel’s to celebrate. But she had some slightly unexpected news.

“Mum told me to tell you Luke and Cameron Deacon are coming to supper tomorrow” she announced over dinner. “Okay” Ben replied uncertainly. “Should I be worried?” he joked. “No, no, they just want to get to know you” Mel assured him. Ben smiled gratefully before growing thoughtful.

“So it’s just your family and them tomorrow, no other guests I should know about?” Mel nodded. “Yeah, just them. All the Deacons have a standing invitation, but the rest of the kids are all busy, and Uncle John’s never in a social mood in late November…” Ben hoped he didn’t look too relieved at this news. “Oh, of course not.” Suddenly Mel smiled knowingly. “You will get to meet him eventually” she told Ben. “But I don’t think we’re at that point just yet.” “There’s no rush” Ben assured her.

The following day was largely spent relaxing at Mel's place, both Ben and Mel luxuriating in not needing to be anywhere for a change. Ben rather liked Mel’s house. He always enjoyed coming downstairs of a morning, padding into the kitchen, and being able to look out into the garden over his first coffee of the day, and that morning was no exception.

He'd gotten as far as sitting at the dining table with his cereal, looking over the living room and trying to ignore the fluffy white cat staring at him from the next chair, when Mel joined him. She smiled when she spotted the cat.

"I see you've got company already." "I think Mab'd rather I wasn't here, honestly" Ben commented. "No, no, she likes you a lot" Mel assured him. "She's just… trying to work you out." Ben smiled slightly. "Does she like me as much as her human does?" he joked. Mel grinned. "Almost" she quipped. "But I think her human likes you juuust a bit more."

Their banter was suddenly interrupted by loud purring emanating from beneath the table. Strangely, Mab hadn't moved from her prime perch. Mel, totally unphased, reached under the table to pat the sleek black cat rubbing himself on her legs. "Morning Jupiter" she said cheerfully. But Jupiter withdrew from her hand almost immediately, leaping onto the chair at the end of the table, directly opposite Ben. "Not in a parting mood today" Mel commented. Ben smiled. "Ah well, at least he's happy to look at me now." "He's come a long way" Mel agreed.

Jupiter had taken a while to warm up to Ben. The first time the blond stayed over he'd taken one look at the strange new person and fled upstairs, remaining in his bed in the study on the top floor of the house until Ben finally left the next morning. It had taken another two visits before he would finally choose to stay in the lounge room while Ben and Mel were watching the telly together. Even now he tended to keep his distance, though he would happily greet the couple if they arrived home together.

After breakfast the day wandered on in a lazy, unhurried sort of way. However, as the afternoon drew on Ben was increasingly aware of the time, keen to make a good impression by not being late to supper. Mel, though, wasn't phased. "We don't have far to go, it's only round the corner" she reassured Ben. “I know” he told her. “I’m just being nervous and paranoid, I’ll be fine.”

As he started to busy himself getting ready for the evening a thought occurred to him. "Say, why are you so close to your mum's? Is that just coincidence or-?" "It's not coincidence" Mel told him. "This used to be my gran's house, she left it to me when she died." "Your gran’s house?” Ben echoed.

Mel nodded. “She and Mum lived with Freddie for a few years, but after he got sick and the paparazzi started hanging around, they had to move out” she explained. “But Freddie wanted them close by so it would be easy for him to see Mum as much as possible in the time he had left, so he bought this place for them.” Ben’s jaw dropped.

“I knew he was generous, but a house?” he marvelled. Mel grinned. “Yeah. But he and Miami arranged it so it was his money, but the house was in Gran’s name.” Ben looked baffled. “Less conspicuous that way” Mel added hurriedly. “Wouldn’t raise as many awkward questions if people found out.” Ben nodded, considering the recent revelations.

“She renovated it a bit, later on” Mel reminisced. Ben nodded. “I noticed.” The first time he visited he'd realised the open plan kitchen and living room must have been the product of a later redesign of the old row house.

“I think once Mum took over the big house, after I came along, she realised she wanted her own space, set up the way she wanted” Mel mused. “She was always happy to have me round though.” She smiled. “I just about moved in when I did my A-levels. Lavender was born that year, I was a bit desperate for some peace and quiet.” "So the spare room used to be yours, then?" Ben asked. "No, I had the room up the top" Mel explained. "So I could stay separate from the other goings-on in the house while I was studying."

By the time they were ready to go Ben had managed to calm most of his nerves. But as they began the short walk to Eve’s house a worrying thought occurred to him. “Hey love, I’m about to meet your family but you’ve said nothing about your dad all week” he pointed out, trying to sound casual. Mel looked him over curiously. “My father,” she said pointedly, "won’t be there tonight, if that’s what you’re wondering."

Ben was slightly surprised at this. Though he'd never asked, he got the impression Eve had split up with Mel's father many years ago. However, he knew so little about Mel's family that he wasn't at all clear on the kind of relationship she and Eve might have with her father.

“He won’t?” he asked curiously. “He’s not in our lives any more” Mel clarified. “He left Mum when I was only a baby which could've been fine, but then he fucked off to New York when I was eight and I’ve hardly seen him since.” “That’s really shit” Ben sympathised. Mel shrugged. “True, but he was barely around even before he left, I mean, he left for uni when I was only a year old” she explained. “It didn’t make much difference to me, really.”

Ben was still considering the implications of this when Mel’s irritated voice cut through his thoughts. “Look, can we talk about something else, I really don't want to think about my father tonight." Ben smiled apologetically. "Of course. I'm sorry I brought him up now." Mel smiled reassuringly. "It's okay" she told Ben. "You couldn't have known what you were wading into."

At this point Ben was mildly surprised to find they were almost at the threshold of Garden Lodge. “It’ll be fine, you’ll be a hit” Mel said encouragingly, spotting his nervous expression. Ben wasn’t so sure, but there was nothing to be done about that now. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Eve beamed when she let the happy couple in. “Welcome to the manor” she joked. Mel immediately started asking about her younger siblings, but Ben stared around, trying not to be too overawed by the period splendour surrounding him. It was… well, it was definitely fancy, but still stylish, rather than ostentatious.

He was shaken from his reverie by a nudge from his smirking girlfriend. “Nice, isn’t it?” “Yeah, it’s… I was expecting it to be a bit, you know… but it’s very, um, elegant” he agreed. Eve smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

She led the guests through the house to the main sitting room, where the rest of the family was waiting. Ben had barely registered the three figures standing by an antique sofa when a little girl with long sandy hair came barrelling towards Mel.

“Mellie!” she cried happily, only to stop short when she noticed Ben. “Who’s dat?” she asked, suddenly uncertain. Mel immediately swooped down to pick her up. “Lavvie, darling, it’s alright, this is my friend Ben” she explained, settling the child against her chest. “This is Lavender” she added quietly to Ben. “She’s a bit shy with new people.” “Hello Lavender” Ben said gently. Lavender smiled shyly at him, but quickly turned away, burying her head in Mel’s shoulder.

Meanwhile Ben’s attention was quickly drawn by Eve clearing her throat. He looked up to find her standing next to a tallish woman with a friendly face and fine golden-brown hair cropped short, who was accompanied by a dark-haired boy who was evidently at the awkward in-between 'older kid' stage, not quite on the threshold of adolescence just yet, but clearly no longer a little kid either.

“This is my wife, Violet, and our son, Jamie” Eve introduced. Ben smiled as he shook Violet’s hand. “Pleasure.” “It’s lovely to finally meet you” Violet said warmly. “I’ve heard plenty about you.” “All good things” Mel assured him, noting his worried expression. “I’m glad” Ben joked, moving over to shake Jamie's hand.

Jamie shook politely while regarding Ben with curiosity. "D'you like football?" he asked. "I do" Ben told him. Jamie smiled. "Who's your team, then?" "West Ham" Ben replied. "Oh, they're rubbish" Jamie declared, clearly dissatisfied with Ben's answer. Mel smiled apologetically at her boyfriend, who merely gave her hand a quick squeeze to assure her he was fine as he continued the conversation.

He did feel slightly out of place, not having much experience with kids, but Jamie was quite chatty, and clearly enjoying the attention. At any rate the time passed very quickly, and it wasn't long before the doorbell rang again and Eve was leading the two youngest Deacon children into the sitting room.

Ben was slightly nervous when they were introduced, knowing Mel considered them both her big brothers. He'd already met Luke, of course, albeit briefly, and he wasn't sure he'd made a particularly good first impression that day. Luke, though, greeted him warmly, and it was soon clear that Cameron was just as friendly and welcoming. Nonetheless, Ben couldn't quite shake the impression they were here in large part to scrutinise the new boyfriend, though they were evidently quite happy to socialise with the rest of the family too.

It wasn't long before Violet ducked off to check on the food, which was Eve's cue to start leading everyone to the dining room. Luke took the opportunity to chat to Ben alone while the others were preoccupied.

"You know, I was a bit surprised when I heard you'd be here" he said casually. "You were?" Ben questioned. "Didn't think you two were that serious" Luke clarified. "I asked Joe about you and Mel, actually, that day I saw him, and he didn't even think you were a thing… yet." Ben raised an eyebrow. "Yet?"

"Joe's words, not mine" Luke told him, shrugging. "Well, he wasn't wrong" Ben commented. "We went on our first date the night before you visited." Luke grinned. "Did Joe know about that?" Ben shook his head. "No, and he still doesn't, actually." "Well don't worry, I wouldn't dream of exposing you both like that" Luke assured him.

Luke took a breath. "Look, I'm not here to do the whole overprotective big brother bit, you know." "You're not?" Ben echoed, surprised. "No" Luke confirmed. "Mel's a big girl, she can handle herself. And you must know she's quite capable of destroying you all by herself if you are stupid enough to hurt her." "I… suppose I do know that" Ben said thoughtfully.

Luke smiled slightly. "I think you're smarter than that, though" he said. "So I just wanted to say, it seems like Mel sees a proper future with you, a-" "So do I" Ben admitted, cutting Luke off. "We haven't been together long, I know, but I can already see it." Luke's smile grew at Ben's confession. "Good. I hope it works out, truly."

Ben was relieved that Luke seemed to like him, but he didn't have time to dwell on their conversation as he was soon finding his place at the enormous mahogany dining table. Naturally he went to sit next to Mel, which meant he found himself down one end, next to Violet at the head of the table. Luke was sitting opposite, a move Ben was quite sure wasn't a coincidence, with Cameron next to him. Ben felt slightly awkward sitting opposite the Deacons, but fortunately the conversation flowed easily.

Cameron was very curious about film-making in general, and Ben’s career in particular. “So, what else’ve you done? Anything I might have seen?” he asked cheerfully. “You do look a bit familiar, actually.” Ben suppressed a groan at the inevitable appearance of his least favourite question, knowing Cameron meant no harm.

“Um, I was in X-men Apocalypse?” he suggested. Cameron shook his head. “Haven’t got around to watching it yet” he explained. Ben smiled reassuringly. “Well, I’ve been in a few things, but that was the biggest, so if you haven’t seen it…” “There’s one thing he probably has seen” Mel piped up, smiling mischievously. Ben wasn’t quite following. “Yeah?”

“He was on EastEnders for a while” she told Cameron and Luke. “Omigod, really?” Cameron gabbled exicitedly. Ben let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I was… I played Peter Beale.” Cameron was very excited at this revelation, which served only to make Ben feel even more disappointed.

Mel patted his hand reassuringly. “He means well, darling” she murmured. “I know” Ben sighed. “I just wish that bloody soap wasn’t the only thing people knew me from, it just makes them think of me as 'the hot one'.” “Everyone who matters knows you're much more than that, darling" Mel assured him. "Besides, with a bit of luck they’ll all know you as Roger soon."

Fortunately the others soon started chatting about their own work, and the rest of the dinner passed quite enjoyably. The grownups were all very welcoming to Ben, and Jamie chattered away about football, school and all his other current interests, clearly enjoying having a few big boys around for a change. Lavender too had warmed up in the presence of more familiar adults, gabbling happily to whoever would listen.

In seemingly almost no time at all, the dessert dishes were being cleared away and the adults were apparently gearing up to leave the table. "What's going on?" Ben whispered to Mel. "Next tradition" she explained. "The littlies need to get to bed soon, but they want to join in with this first." Ben suddenly realised everyone else was leaving the room. "Where are we-?" "The music room" Mel told him. "Just… follow my lead, yeah?"

Ben nodded his assent as she led him away from the dining room to one of the smaller rooms towards the back of the house. Its' main feature was a gleaming, full-sized grand piano. "Was that… his?" Ben asked, in an undertone. "Yep, it was Papa's" Mel confirmed cheerfully. "He taught Mum on it, and then she taught me, when I was little." “Wow” Ben marvelled. His reverie was soon interrupted by Eve coming to stand by the piano stool, just as Mel led him to sit on cushions on the floor, next to Luke.

Eve smiled at the assembled company. “Alright Jamie, Lavender, it’s nearly bedtime, but you’ve got time for one song each. Which ones do you want today?” “One, doo, free, four!” Lavender cried, clapping her hands with glee. Eve agreed easily, but Ben was utterly baffled at what was going on until Mel retrieved a guitar from a corner behind the piano, and handed it to Luke, who tuned it up and began picking out the cords to ‘All Together Now’ from Yellow Submarine. And then Mel started to sing, and Ben was utterly amazed.

She sounded a fair bit like Freddie, undoubtedly, but she clearly had her own sound too. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a better singer. She looked at him once she finished, and he absolutely beamed at her.

“We started her on the Beatles recently” Mel explained quietly. “She’s been obsessed with that song ever since.” “You didn’t tell me you could sing!” Ben marvelled. Mel smiled. “You never asked, darling.” Mel started to explain that singing together was something she’d always done with her mum, and it was their little tradition to sing together at Thanksgiving in Freddie’s memory, but she was called up to the piano before she could finish.

Jamie had asked for something called ‘Leeroy Brown’, a title Ben thought sounded vaguely familiar, though he didn’t think he knew the song. Violet got up too, to sit with Eve at the piano, and when Eve started to play Ben was shocked to hear the couple harmonising in the choruses behind Mel’s wonderful voice. He didn’t recognise the song, as it turned out, but it was a fun honky-tonk sort of song, and he picked up the singalong chorus quickly enough. Though he did feel slightly embarrassed at his lack of prowess in the midst of so many excellent musicians.

When the song finished he had to resist the impulse to applaud. But all too soon all eyes were on him. “Ben, you’re the newbie” Eve said kindly. “Any requests, before the junior choir has to retire for the evening?” Ben blushed slightly.

“Uhh… could you play something by Queen?” “Most of the back catalogue, actually” Eve quipped, smiling. “But let’s see, what sounds good with just the piano… ooh, I know. You ready?” she asked Mel. “When you are” Mel confirmed. “Alright. Ben, I think you might know this one actually” Eve told him.

There was a slight pause before she started plunking out a very familiar repeating note. Ben smiled in recognition just as Mel came in with “She keeps her Moet et Chandon,…” Again, Eve and Violet harmonised on backing vocals when appropriate. Ben found himself fighting the urge to bounce his leg in time with the beat, one he’d been playing quite a lot recently. And he couldn't quite stop himself singing along with the chorus.

When he wasn't joining in, he was watching Mel intently, and very much enjoying himself. She seemed very comfortable in front of an audience, and Ben was struck by how much her stage manner, as it were, reminded him of the videos he'd been watching of Freddie performing in the early glam rock days. Not in a deliberate way, there was just something about the way she moved, the cheeky faces she made while singing, that very distinctly resembled Freddie's particular brand of showmanship.

All too soon, the song was over. Mel returned to a grinning Ben as Violet declared it was bedtime for the children. Jamie immediately protested that he should be allowed to stay awake longer as he was so much older than Lavender.

"That was amazing!" Ben gushed. Mel smiled bashfully."Oh, thanks darling." "No, really, you're amazing" Ben insisted. "And your whole family is… Well, your mum I sort of expected I suppose, but Violet can sing too?" He was deeply impressed, but Mel seemed unfazed. "That's actually how they met" she said quietly. "Mum joined a choir, and when she went to rehearsal Violet was there, and, well… you know." "That's quite cute, actually" Ben commented. "So d'you perform ever? Outside the music room, I mean."

"I want to be in musical theatre" Mel revealed. "But I haven't gotten any of the auditions I've had since I finished drama school." Ben's jaw dropped. "Drama school? I thought you did costume design." Mel grinned. "Oh, I did a couple of electives, that was enough for the assistant job, apparently."

"Clearly" Ben quipped. "But anyway, that's really awesome you've been to drama school, why didn't I know that?" "We've never really talked about school and stuff" Mel pointed out, shrugging. "No, I s'pose we haven't" Ben agreed.

Their conversation was interrupted by Violet's announcement that Lavender was going to bed, Jamie's protest having successfully won him one more hour with the grown-ups. Mel soon ducked off to help tuck in her little sister while the others drifted back to the dining room for hot drinks and biscuits. Ben felt rather uncertain without Mel next to him, but the Deacons and Jamie kept him chatting until she reappeared, grinning.

"I think Lavender likes you" she told him. "She asked when we'd be coming round again, if it'd be soon." Ben smiled. "Well, that's two down" he joked. "Oh, I think you're pretty popular with the brother" Luke observed. "He loves having the big boys around, I think he feels a little bit outnumbered as the only boy sometimes" Mel explained. "And you like football, so you're definitely alright in his book." Ben grinned. "Perhaps we'd better come back soon, then."

"We might not have time for the next few weeks, there's some big shooting days coming up" Mel mused. "And a big night, don't forget you'll need time for that" Luke chimed in. Ben was utterly confused, but Mel just smiled.

"Oh yeah, the Christmas party." Luke nodded. "Yeah, you're both 'very welcome' apparently, which means Mum's definitely expecting you to turn up." He rolled his eyes, though he was smiling slightly. "I think Dad's actually hoping to meet you, too" he told Ben, who was rather taken aback. "John Deacon wants to meet me?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah. He was always a little bit curious about all of you blokes playing Queen, actually, but he's especially interested now that he knows his beloved Mel's been shagging the one playing Roger." He smirked at Mel, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Very delicately put, Luke, if you're not careful you'll get the guest blushing." Indeed, Ben was now stood next to Mel looking extremely sheepish. Luke simply grinned. "Me? Indelicate? Never" he teased. "You're never living that one down, you know."

Turning to Ben, he let his teasing expression drop. "Seriously though, we'd love to have you to the party, if you're not busy" he said kindly. "I'll do my best" Ben assured him.

The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly, and by the time the guests started to leave, having seen Jamie to bed and toasted Freddie several times, Ben felt as though he'd been very much welcomed into the fold. At the very least he'd made a good first impression with all the ones he hadn't met before. Later on, snuggled up in Mel's bed, he reflected on the events of the night. "Well, I think that went quite well" he declared. "They loved you" Mel assured him. Ben smiled. "I liked them too, you know." "I thought you would" Mel told him happily.

"One thing though, love" Ben said, content but still slightly curious. "What's this Christmas party we're invited to?" "Oh, it's just the Deacon family party" Mel explained. "Auntie Veronica and Uncle John have all the kids round for drinks and finger food a couple of weekends before Christmas, and we're always invited too."

Ben was confused. "Why do they get together before Christmas though? Don't they all go home for Christmas dinner?" "Not every year" Mel explained. "I mean, Luke and Cam do, but the rest have partners and kids. In-laws to visit and all that. Having the party means they can all get together and see each other every Christmas even if fitting in a visit home on Christmas Day turns out to be too much of a faff." "Makes sense" Ben mused.

"So, should I go to this party with you?" Mel nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, dear. John and Veronica are lovely, they'll be so pleased to meet you." Ben smiled. "I'll put it in my calendar then."

That night, Ben had a few things on his mind. The Queen movie wasn't even finished and it was already changing his life. It had brought him to his wonderful, amazingly talented girlfriend, and his equally awesome new friends. And now he was going to meet John Deacon. John Deacon actually wanted to meet him, who'd have thought that would ever happen?

Sure, he sometimes had to remind himself not to think about the fact that he was shagging Freddie Mercury's granddaughter, but at the very least he was pretty sure he hadn't incurred Freddie's wrath, so far. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he might in some small way have gotten Freddie's blessing.

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

A/N 2: Just in case anyone’s confused, the middle song that Mel sang is Bad, Bad Leroy Brown, by Jim Croce. Which was of course (part of) the inspiration for Bring Back That Leroy Brown (written after Jim Croce died in a plane crash, iirc). Also, yes, John Deacon will be appearing in the next part.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x oc #bohemian rhapsody fic #bohemian rhapsody imagine #joe mazzello x reader #gwilym lee #rami malek #freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury fic #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody movie

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @Ohfreckle!

Happy holidays, ohfreckle! I hope you enjoy! <3

Read on AO3

******

Fingertips

In hindsight, Alec should probably have known better than to bother trying to patrol on the Solstice. It's a holdover from his parents' era, when relations with the Downworld were much more tense, as well as a mark of a generally suspicious mindset that he's trying very hard to move the Institute away from. Yes, the Seelies get up to all kinds of nonsense on the Solstice; yes, there will probably be a few confused Mundanes talking about the odd goings-on in Central Park the next day, and all of Manhattan will smell like juniper and sage for the next week if it's anything like it has been the past few years, but there never actually seem to be any serious problems that the Seelies aren't perfectly capable of dealing with amongst themselves. It's a night of revelry, of spectacle, but it's not usually a night of mischief. Hell, the wolves usually get up to way more trouble on New Year's Eve, and he doesn't bother trying to keep an eye on them. The whole thing with the Seelies and the Solstice, the level of inherent suspicion that he still finds himself unlearning — it's ridiculous. It's archaic. It's pointless.

It's never bitten him in the ass this badly before, though.

"You're going to be fine," Magnus reassures him, his hands glowing as he runs them over Alec's neck and shoulders, trying to diagnose whatever the hell it is the Seelie knight Alec had stopped from drunkenly trying to bring the Balto statue to life had then hit him with. He's kneeling on the floor, between Alec's legs; Alec is perched on the edge of the couch, still in his patrol gear, mostly, and trying very hard not to get city grime and miscellaneous splashes of Seelie-related mess all over the furniture. "I can already tell that much. This doesn't feel malicious at all."

Ostensibly, he's conducting a thorough and careful inspection, to make sure Alec isn't about to start growing extra limbs, walking through walls, glowing in the dark, or Raziel only knows what else. He mostly seems amused, though, at the fact that whatever the spell had been, it had also involved getting Alec absolutely covered in glitter — though that may actually have just been a side effect of trying to physically restrain the Seelie in question.

"I know," Alec grumbles, fighting the urge to pout. Really, he's not sure what he's got to complain about; "I need to go find Magnus and make sure whatever this was isn't going to kill me, since the guy who did it isn't coherent enough to reliably tell me himself" had proven to be an absolutely flawless excuse to call off his patrol early, and it's not like he's upset about getting home sooner than he'd thought he would and therefore getting to spend that much extra time with Magnus. It just feels slightly less than dignified to have to be inspected for the side effects of drunken Seelie magic like he’s fresh out of the Shadowhunter Academy, that's all. Plus, the glitter is itchy, and he can feel it all over him, a fine, gritty, uncomfortable layer. It's making him feel hot, and he shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable.

"I'm beginning to doubt that he really did anything to you at all, actually," Magnus muses, running his hands over Alec's abdomen now. "That is, he certainly blasted you with magic, but I'm not sure it actually had any effect. He may have thought you were also a Seelie, and tried to do something that doesn't actually work on mortals, or..." He trails off, a little crease appearing in his brow, and Alec looks down to see that while his hands have stilled, the magic around them seems to be pulsing. "No, all right, there's definitely something."

Alec shoves his sleeves up to his elbows, idly scratching at his forearms. The longer he sits here, the hotter and itchier and less comfortable he seems to feel, which is a little strange; one of the wonderful things about living with the High Warlock of Brooklyn is that the climate control is always perfect. The loft keeps itself perfectly adjusted to the preferences of its inhabitants, except right now, Alec can feel sweat starting to gather at the small of his back. He frowns.

"There's something, all right," he says. "I feel..."

Magnus glances up at him and must find something alarming in his face, because he immediately lowers his hands, the glow of his magic fading away. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Alec says at first, then changes his mind. "It's hot. I feel —"

But he finds that he can’t get out the rest of the sentence. It's as if he can't quite focus, his thoughts wanting to do anything possible except go in a straight line. He grimaces slightly, and then frowns more deeply when Magnus' hands come up to cup his face, one thumb brushing over his cheekbones. Magnus' touch is cooling, but almost uncomfortably so, the feeling like a shock to his system.

"You don't feel hot to me," Magnus says, half to himself, "so the effect isn't physical, whatever it is — though of course that doesn't mean it can't be physically damaging... Do you feel anything else? Dizzy? Numb?"

"Not numb," Alec says. On the contrary, there's a bit of a tingling sensation in his extremities, now that he stops to think about it. "Itchy, though — can you get right of the damn glitter?"

Magnus nods, then snaps. There's a beat, and then he frowns and snaps again. He doesn't bother doing it a third time, though he does reach out to try and physically brush the glitter away, which isn't any more effective than trying to remove it with magic had been.

"Ah," he says. Then, suddenly, his eyes narrow. "You said you felt hot? Itchy? Are you confused — are you having trouble focusing?"

"Yes," Alec says. "I’m — do you know what it is, then?"

"I might," Magnus mutters, his hands glowing blue with magic again. "I think I was looking in the wrong — ah."

Alec shifts, squints, shivers a little. "Ah?"

Not meeting his eyes, Magnus curses, his hands flaring even more brightly blue as he sweeps them in broad strokes all around Alec's body. "It may not have been malicious, but it is dangerous," he says. "I was right, too, when I said he must have mistaken you for another Seelie — but I was wrong in saying that that must have made the magic less effective. It did the opposite."

"It's worse?" Alec says. "It — made it worse?"

"Yes," Magnus says tightly, and then all at once the magic seems to burst outward from his hands and sweep through Alec's entire body, every cell lighting up with the bite of cold, where normally Magnus' magic feels quite warm to him. "Oh, damn it, sometimes I hate being right."

"Magnus, please just tell me what's wrong," Alec begs, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment. "I need to — should I go back to the Institute? Should I go try to track down the Seelie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing will be wrong if we handle this quickly," Magnus says. "Luckily, I think we've caught it in plenty of time — it's a good thing you came straight here. But it is a bit of a nasty piece of work, so we have to take it seriously. I hate messing with Seelie magic," he mutters as an aside, wrinkly his nose. "So messy."

"Magnus."

"Sorry," Magnus says, exhaling sharply through his nose. "It's just a little — well. To put it bluntly, Alexander, it's a sex spell."

"Oh," Alec says, a little blankly. Then, slowly, the thought filters through his mind properly, and he starts to get mad. "It — so he roofied me?"

"That's one way to look at it, yes," Magnus says, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment and pinching the bridge of his nose. He's clearly frustrated, but strangely, Alec feels remarkably calmer now that he knows that — however unintentionally — a Seelie sprayed him with sex glitter. It makes everything make just a little bit more sense, from the way his skin still feels hot and stretched thin over his frame to the way he feels his eyes going a little heavy-lidded. And it definitely explains the way his throat goes dry when he looks at Magnus, though that one's not exactly out of the ordinary.

"Is it going to wear off?" Alec asks, his voice slurring slightly. The longer he sits here, the more intense everything seems to feel, and either he's crazy, or it's accelerating, each passing moment speeding faster and faster towards — something. He doesn’t quite know what, but given the nature of the spell, he can obviously guess.

Magnus frowns again, but opens his eyes, his hands dropping to move in slow, sweeping arcs around Alec's body once again. "It should," he says a little dubiously, and then immediately swears again. "Unless all the ways you're different from a Seelie mean that the effects won't fade like they should."

Alec frowns. That, obviously, does not sound good. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I can’t really be certain," Magnus says, but his tone is grim enough that Alec knows the caveat probably isn't worth much. "But if I'm understanding the impact this is having on you correctly, it's not going to just — go away the way it should. For a Seelie, this is just a harmless little party drug. But Seelie drugs are complicated; angel blood and demon blood combined allows for some complex physiological effects. But you, Alexander—" He laughs, short and sharp. "You only have half the puzzle pieces. You don't have demon blood, so instead of fading in a couple of hours, we can either give the magic what it wants, or..."

He doesn't say exactly what, but the way he trails off is more than enough. Alec doesn't exactly like to talk about the possibility of Magnus being hurt or dying, either; he more than understands not actually wanting to say the words.

"Well—" he says, trying to keep his own voice relatively even. "Well, then what does it — what does it want? What do we need to give it?"

Magnus grimaces a little. "It's a sex spell, remember?"

"Oh!" Alec replies, taken aback. The relief is so immediate and overwhelming that he doesn't even stop to think, at first, about why Magnus would still sound so upset if the solution is that simple. "Oh, well then that's — that's easy, isn't it?"

"Easy," Magnus says. He sounds bitter, Alec realizes with shock, and unhappy, and clearly Alec is missing something very key, here, because he can't fathom what it is that would suddenly make the idea of having sex with him make Magnus sound like that. His immediate thought is that he must have done something wrong, and anxiety snakes through him in an instant, but — Magnus hasn't moved away from him, hasn't tried to put any distance between them. He has to try and keep himself from jumping to conclusions, has to —

"Do you not want to?" he blurts, and then immediately winces, even before he has a chance to take in Magnus' look of blank shock.

There's a moment of silence before either of them manages to say anything after that, and then when Magnus does manage to say something, his voice actually cracks on his surprise.

"What — Alec, it's not about whether I want to," he says, very much with the air of someone who has been shocked into blunt honesty. "I'm not the one who's being held at metaphorical gunpoint. The problem is whether or not you want to — or not even that, it's whether or not you have the option of saying no, even if you do want to."

Another pause, as Alec's mouth drops open and he tries for several long seconds to formulate an answer that's even slightly intelligible. "But it's you," he says eventually. He feels a little stupid saying it, and his voice is bewildered even to his own ears. "I mean — how long have we been having sex? Why is this different?"

"Because you don't have the ability to say no!" Magnus says, his voice close to boiling over with a potent mixture of worry and frustration. "Whether or not you would doesn't matter in this case as much as the fact that you can't. I know that you wouldn't. I believe you. But I don't like that you couldn't. I don’t like that some — some Seelie whose name I’ll never know took that away from you, however unintentionally."

Alec frowns a little, squints at the intense, unreadable look on Magnus' face, and reaches over a little hesitantly to clasp his hand. "Look," he says, keeping his voice as level and clear as possible, though his mind feels anything but. "I'm not sure I can really have this conversation right now. I mean, I'm — it's all a little—" He gestures wildly with the hand that's not holding Magnus', trying his best to convey the way it feels like he's trying to think through syrup, slow and sticky and sweet. "But I — I understand that you're not huge on the circumstances. I'm pretty sure I understand why? But maybe we can... you know, when I'm less..."

He gestures again, and Magnus reaches up to snatch his hand out of the air before he can get very animated.

"'I'm too impaired to even have this conversation, so we should just go ahead and have sex and talk about it later' is not the watertight argument you probably think it is," he says dryly. Then he sighs, slow and audibly frustrated, and squeezes both of Alec's hands where he's brought them to settle in his lap. "But, unfortunately, in this situation, I think you might be right. It's not like I can just sit around a few hours and wait for you to sober up..."

Magnus still doesn't sound entirely comfortable, so Alec tries his best to be cautious and respectful when he leans in to kiss him, just a gentle brush of lips. "I'm sorry," he says, the thought clearer and more sobering than any he's had in a while. "I don't want to put you in a position like this."

"It's all right, Alexander," Magnus says softly, squeezing his hands again. "It's not as though it’s your fault, and... well, to your own point, it's not as though this isn't how the night would have ended anyway, more likely than not. We just have a few additional wrinkles to work through with the situation that we weren't expecting."

"Right," Alec breathes. "Wrinkles."

When he leans in to kiss Magnus again, it's significantly less cautious, though he does still pull away after just a few seconds, not really giving Magnus an opportunity to respond in kind. He leans back just enough to tempt Magnus forward, and the gambit works: Magnus shifts from being on his knees on the floor to crawling up into Alec's lap with sinuous grace, his eyes glittering. By the time he's got one knee on either side of Alec's hips, Alec is breathing hard, his chest heaving at nothing more than the teasing press of Magnus' legs through the double layer of their pants and the slight, reluctant quirk of his mouth.

"Magnus," he says, or rather, croaks; his chest feels tight, his heart pounding in his throat. Magnus smiles at him with only a hint of reluctance remaining, arms wrapping around him, hands scratching and catching in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I'm sure it's starting to get a little uncomfortable for you," he murmurs, his eyes flickering down from Alec's eyes to his lips to the hollow of his throat. "Seelie drugs are just as dangerous for me as they are for you — you don't have demon blood, I don't have angel blood... So I don't have any personal experience, but I've certainly known those who were more than willing to take the risk. I've heard stories."

For all that he's on edge and humming with arousal, Alec hasn't actually taken much time, to this point, to realize the impact of the drug on him physically, other than how hot and sensitive he still feels. It takes only one brief, gentle roll of Magnus' hips, though, for him to realize that those lesser sensations have just been there to distract him. Magnus presses their cocks together, even through multiple layers of fabric, and Alec gasps out loud, the sound shockingly sudden and inescapable in the otherwise-quiet loft.

"That's what I thought," Magnus hums, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. Then, without any sort of warning, he ducks down to nip at Alec's jaw, his earlobe, his throat, trailing little kisses and bites inexorably downward until he finally reaches the point where Alec's neck connects with his shoulder. There, he bites down with significantly more force, licks over the bite with warm, wet flashes of tongue, and then sucks, just hard enough to really entice but not quite hard enough to satisfy the pulsing need that's settling low in Alec's abdomen.

"Raziel," he hisses under his breath, his hands fluttering uselessly up and down Magnus' sides. Magnus bites him again, and he curses even louder, his voice breaking in the middle of the word: "Fuck. Magnus, I don't know if I can—"

"No teasing tonight?" Magnus says, pulling back just far enough to look Alec in the eyes again. He takes the opportunity offered by this slightly greater distance to start working at Alec's clothes, pushing his jacket down off his shoulders and slipping his arms from the sleeves, and then working his hands up under the t-shirt underneath until he can strip it quickly off over Alec's head. "Now that's a crying shame."

"Tease me on nights when it doesn't have life-or-death consequences," Alec breathes, just before pulling Magnus toward him by looping his arms around his neck and kissing him soundly, nipping at his lower lip in retaliation for the bruise that will no doubt bloom under his collar by the morning.

"Oh, you're not that close to the edge, I think," Magnus says as they pull apart. His voice is still even, but his breathing is certainly not, Alec notes with satisfaction; he starts working on his own shirt as he talks, though his eyes never leave Alec. "You've got several hours yet before you'd really start to feel the ill effects, and even then you'd have a few hours more before it got truly dangerous."

"I’m not so sure about taking that chance," Alec replies, reaching out to help him with the buttons down the front of his silky blue top. “Better safe than sorry.”

Magnus hums dismissively, but he flings his shirt aside to join Alec’s and then places his hands just over Alec’s ribs, starting a steady trail downwards that’s totally counter to the aloofness he’s trying to portray. He fingers the button on Alec’s jeans, gaze flicking up so that their eyes lock, and then he pauses a moment, his hands stiling again.

“You’re sure?” he says, quietly. His eyes flicker over Alec’s face.

“Of course I’m sure,” Alec replies, feeling almost unbearably fond. He feels like the sentiment might need a little proof, though — just in case — so he leans down, catching Magnus’ face between his hands and kissing him and kissing him until absolutely every thought has gone out of his own head. When he surfaces again, his pants are gone, or at least shoved far enough down his thighs that they’re out of the way, and Magnus has one hand curled loosely around the base of his cock.

Alec makes an almost wounded little noise when Magnus’ hand flexes, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly and then loosening again. Magnus responds with his own wordless noise: a considering hum accompanied by another little squeeze.

“You really are feeling it, though, aren’t you?” he asks, his tone wondering. Alec doesn’t bother answering, or even nodding; he just keens a little, presses his hips up into Magnus’ touch, and throws his head back, his eyes fluttering shut.

It’s over remarkably quickly after that — perhaps unsurprising, given how worked up Alec is, how hot and close and sensitive everything feels. Magnus barely gets a few good strokes in before Alec is choking on his own breath, his whole body gone taut with need; if not for the chemical influence, the amount of time it takes for him to double over, pressing his face into the crook of Magnus’ neck, and come all over his hands would be positively embarrassing.

There’s a long pause in the aftermath, the silence broken only by their heavy breathing. Alec’s eyes are almost entirely shut, so he feels more than sees the familiar little flicking motion that Magnus uses to get rid of the come, but his eyes struggle open when Magnus says “Oh!”, a soft sound of surprise. When Alec looks down, he sees the Seelie glitter fading off of his skin, disappearing in patches until, in mere moments, it’s as though it was never even there at all.

“Well,” he says after a moment, turning his arm this way and that to make sure that all of the glitter is truly gone. “That was easy, after all that.”

Magnus hums an assent, grabbing Alec’s other hand to flip it around and run his fingers over it himself, likewise checking for any remaining traces of glitter and, based on the way he nods and then squeezes Alec’s hand in his own, finding none. “I’m still not exactly thrilled that you got blasted by Seelie sex magic without your consent, but… yes. It certainly seems to be gone now.”

Alec smiles at him, leaning down for a light peck on the lips. “It wasn’t exactly how I was expecting my night to go, but it also didn’t turn out to be the end of the world,” he says, squeezing Magnus’ hand right back. “I love you. I knew you’d figure out what it was, and figure out how to fix it. I trusted you. And, hey — it worked out pretty well, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I guess you did get your happy ending.”

“Mmm,” Alec agrees, then narrows his eyes a little, his voice dropping into a slightly lower register. “And the night’s not exactly over yet.”

“Alexander,” Magnus replies, dropping Alec’s hand so that he can link his arms behind Alec’s neck instead, his eyes glittering. “Whatever could you mean?”

“Let’s go to bed,” Alec murmurs. “No offense to the Seelies, but I don’t really need anything extra for a night with you.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Magnus replies, and as Magnus draws him up and towards the bedroom, Alec finds it’s easy enough to forget the hot, itchy feeling of glitter on his skin and replace it with the feeling of Magnus’ touch instead.

#Ohfreckle #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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blurglesmurfklaine · 5 years ago

Text

Christmas Eve With You (Let It Snow)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve in Lima Ohio, and Kurt has a lot to do: find the perfect gift for his dad, make a life changing decision, and--after an unexpected turn of events--escort pop star Blaine Anderson around town. You know, the usual...Based off of Netflix's Let It Snow

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa to you all!! I personally celebrate Christmas and it's my favorite holiday and I've never written a Christmas Rom-Com AU so I decided last minute to write one lol. Relatively short, part one today, part two to come hopefully before the New Year!

Read on AO3

***

Congratulations!

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. With an acceptance rate of less than 4%, NYADA is one of the top tier schools for those wishing to perfect their

Kurt tore his eyes away from the page and slowly drew in a deep breath. He didn’t need to keep reading. He had practically memorized the damn thing in the first hour he opened the envelope. He began folding up the acceptance letter for what must have been the hundredth time and opened his desk drawer, tucking the letter underneath some old papers where his dad would never find it.

He pulled on his coat and any other winter wear necessary to make the freezing train ride to the swap meet bearable.

He would probably come home later and read the letter just one more time, scouring it to see if it had the answer he needed, but right now he had an elf to find.

***

“I’m looking for a Townhouse Moments Christmas Elf number forty-three.” Kurt explained to the man at the swap meet while this year’s crappy pop Christmas song played on in the background. “I ordered it online ahead of time, but they gave me number forty-two.”

The vendor simply looked at him with an almost bored (and definitely condescending) expression. “Listen, kid. You and every other collector out here are looking for this guy, and I don’t have him. You’re not gonna find it. Not on Christmas Eve.”

Kurt sighed, the background song seeming even more annoying than usual. Seriously, the swap meet couldn’t find any holiday music better than some lame Blaine Anderson single? “Look, I really need this figurine. My dad’s Christmas kind of depends on it.” He explained desperately.

The vendor shook his head. “Like I said, I can’t help you.”

Kurt angrily huffed and shoved the figurine he’d brought with him back in his pocket. “Merry Christmas,” he muttered under his breath before heading back to the train station.

At least the train had a stop near the Lima Bean. There was nothing quite like sitting with a warm cup of coffee in your hands while watching the snow fall down through the frosted windows.

***

Blaine stepped up from the platform onto the train, immediately searching for a seat in an area that wouldn’t be too crowded. He rarely got a chance to walk through the world without being gawked at like some Zoo animal, and he wasn’t about to have that ruined by an overexcited fan.

It’s not that he wasn’t grateful for everything his fans provided him, but sometimes it got to be a bit much and he needed a moment to just… retract from all the pandemonium.

He finally spotted a somewhat secluded area and headed towards it. Before he could make it, though, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out from behind him.

Blaine sighed before reluctantly turning around to face a boy, probably around his age, with pale skin and a nose slightly pinked by the cold they both just entered from.

The boy looked slightly startled, as if he had just realized who Blaine was, but remained calm.

“Look,” Blaine started. “I really don’t feel like taking any pictures right now.”

The boy pursed his lips and glared at Blaine. He then extended his hand out and Blaine looked down to see he was just returning his phone that must have fallen out of his coat pocket.

“You dropped this,” the stranger said with a bit of sting in his voice as he shoved the phone back into Blaine’s grasp.

“Oh,” Blaine replied lamely. “Sorry, I—“

Mystery boy scoffed and held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t bother.” He muttered, then turned around to find a seat.

Fair enough, Blaine thought.

Just as Blaine was about to head back to find a seat of his own, the boy whipped around, apparently not quite done with him yet. “And by the way,” he began. “You don’t even know anything about me. I don’t care for your trashy pop music, I’m not one of your Blaineiacs who swoons at just the mention of your name, and I’m definitely not the type of person who would just throw myself at someone just because they’re famous.”

“I never said—“

Once again, Blaine was cut off, but not by the (admittedly attractive) boy. The train suddenly jerked forward and the momentum sent the strange boy flying backwards into Blaine’s unsteady arms.

Blaine felt his breath hitch, caught off guard by the suddenness of it all. He looked down and caught the boy’s gaze, realizing he had some of the clearest crystal blue eyes Blaine had ever seen. Awesome. The universe throws a super cute guy into your arms and it’s someone who thinks you’re a complete asshole.

As soon as it happened, it was over. Before either of them knew it, the train was on its way, steady enough so that the pale boy had the balance necessary to shoot himself out of Blaine’s arms like a repelling magnet.

His face flushed bright red and he gaped at Blaine for a moment. “I–That wasn’t—that was the train,” he said in a huff before whipping around and heading to his seat on the other side of the train car.

Blaine followed him with his eyes the entire time.

***

Not even ten minutes into the ride, Kurt felt the train slowly come crawling to a stop. “No,” he pleaded under his breath. “Please, no, we’re so close to the Lima Bean,” he whined.

But sure enough, the conductor’s voice came over the intercom and loudly announced that the train would be stalled indeterminately due to the recent snowfall.

Kurt sighed and looked longingly out the window towards the Lima Bean. This was ridiculous, he could see the rooftop to his favorite coffee shop just over the snow-covered hill. There was no reason he couldn’t make it there without incident.

He drew in a steadying breath before standing up and heading towards the doors. Unfortunately, before he could completely escape the defective cab, another figure came up in front of him and unintentionally blocked his path.

It so happened to be none other than the Blaine Anderson. Of course it was Blaine. Of course it was the idiot celebrity who thought everything revolved around him.

“You headed to that coffee shop, too?” Blaine asked without turning back to look at Kurt, using his clover hand to block out the morning sun as he stared off into the distance.

Anderson only kept trucking on forward as Kurt followed his lead—coincidentally, of course.

“I’m not following you,” he felt compelled to say. “I also just want a decent cup of coffee.”

Blaine gave him a charmingly warm smile and hopped off the platform into the soft snow. “Of course. Then, I suppose, you wouldn’t mind keeping me company.”

Kurt followed his lead and hopped off the train, beginning to trudge through the snow after Blaine—again, completely by chance that they were headed in the same direction.

“Fine. Just know that this is completely coincidental!”

“Deal.”

***

“Deal,” Blaine said. “So, uh, do I get your name? I mean, it’s only fair since you already know mine.”

“Yeah, because everybody knows your name, right?”

“I–no-! That’s not what I meant…”

The pale boy narrowed his eyes slightly at him and looked him up and down like he was deciding whether or not to trust him. “Kurt,” he finally answered. “Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine extended his hand out and Kurt stared at it for a second before taking it. “Blaine Anderson—because I’m not going to assume anybody knows my name anymore.” Blaine noticed the corner of Kurt’s mouth twitch up, barely noticeable. “Nice to meet you, Kurt.”

They walked on for a few moments in silence before Kurt spoke up again. “Why did you even take the train into town?” He asked.

Blaine shrugged. “I wanted to get away from the tour bus for a while. It felt real being in there. Surrounded by real people.”

Kurt chortled. “If the train made you feel real, the Lima Bean is gonna blow your mind.”

***

Kurt and Blaine stood in front of the long awaited coffee shop, both staring up at the broken and incomplete sign at the top of the building. The worn out block green letters should have obviously spelled out “LIMA BEAN”, but time and weather had taken out the L.

“Say it to yourself,” Kurt instructed Blaine. “Out loud.”

“Ima Bean?” Blaine said questioningly.

“I’m A Bean.” Kurt said dismally. “Because nobody in this town is—or ever will be—anything but a tiny bean in the universe… at least, that’s what we would say growing up.”

“That’s… morbid.”

Kurt simply shrugged before heading in through the doors. “It’s the truth,” he grumbled, remembering the letter burning a hole in his desk drawer and knowing he could never ever let it see the light of day again.

The Lima Bean was empty for the time being, but Kurt knew it would be filled with McKinley high teens in no time.

The couple silently made their way to the counter and Blaine took note of the barista who was… not exactly someone he imagined to be working at a coffee shop, but a job was a job he supposed. The barista had his head down, showcasing his unique haircut (a mohawk) while he began to take their orders.

“Welcome to the Lima Bean,” he sighed before slowly upturning his head. “What can I…” Just as Kurt had expected, Puck’s eyes grew wide upon seeing Blaine. “Get for you today…”

“Uh, Puck.” Kurt started timidly. “This is Blaine… I didn’t expect you to be here, I thought you’d be preparing for your long awaited Christmas Eve Rager?”

Puck pouted. “Uh, yeah… so my parents flight was delayed ‘cause of the snow, and they caught me setting up for the party. Decided I should come to work instead. But!” He held up his index finger and his face lit up. “I convinced Sam to let me have it here! So if you’re free tonight, just come on down to I’m A Bean.”

Kurt stifled a laugh at his friend’s wild antics. “Sure thing, Puck. Though, at this point,” he jerked his head towards Blaine. “I don’t know where this day will take me.”

“Been there… anyways, what’ll it be?”

***

“Order for Kurt!” Puck called out.

It was both their orders, but they’d decided it’d be best if they didn’t use Blaine’s name. It turned out to be a good call considering the fact that a group of Titans and Cheerios walked in as soon as Kurt and Blaine sat down.

Kurt got up and shortly returned with their coffees and pastries.

“Are you going to actually finish all that?” Kurt asked, referring to the small mountain of food Blaine had ordered including a tomato and mozzarella panini, a snowman cookie, a breakfast biscuit, and his medium drip.

“Yeah, I don’t like to waste food. It’s like a charity thing for me.” At Kurt’s unamused look, Blaine rolled his eyes and gave his real explanation. “We uh, didn’t grow up with a lot. It feels kind of wrong to throw out a meal when I remember the days we didn’t get one.”

After a moment of processing, “Oh…” was all Kurt could pathetically offer, suddenly feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

Here he’d been, making assumptions about Blaine when he really didn’t know anything about him. Kind of the way certain football players would do to Kurt.

Okay, so Blaine had kind of come off as a presumptuous dick, but now Kurt realized he himself was making that same mistake.

He watched as Blaine took a bite of the panini and the too full sandwich overflowed with cheese into Blaine’s upper lip. Kurt giggled. “You’ve got a little…” he pointed to his own mouth, trying to point out the stained area on Blaine’s face.

Blaine stuck out his tongue, but completely missed the area. “Did I get it?”

“Not at all,” Kurt laughed again. “But I’ll go grab you some napkins, your royal highness.”

As Kurt was standing up, Blaine opened his mouth to contest before noting the playful look on the other boy’s face.

“And add some more creamer to this bad boy while I’m up,“ He said, gesturing to his half full coffee.

Kurt was nearly to the condiment table when a hauntingly familiar figure blocked his path.

“Where you going off to, fairy boy?”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Azimio,” Kurt scoffed, trying to side step his long time tormentor.

Azimio followed Kurt’s move, leaving him in the same position he was not a moment ago. “Heard my boy Karofsky’s got a boyfriend over at Thurston high now.”

“Good for him.”

“That’s the farthest thing from good, my man. If it weren’t for you turnin him gay, we’d still have a winning offensive line.”

“I really don’t have any time for this,” Kurt lamented.

“Not so tough without your army brother to protect you, huh?”

Kurt opened his mouth to explain that he didn’t need anyone to protect him, but was immediately silenced by Azimio suddenly slapping the cup out of Kurt’s hand. Kurt flinched as lukewarm coffee splattered around him, the majority of it spilling right on his shirt.

“That’s for turning my best friend into a homo.”

“Hey!” Puck called from behind the counter. “Get out of here!”

“I am a paying customer!” Azimio argued.

“Read the sign, dickwad. Right to refuse service to anyone. That includes no good Lima Losers like yourself!”

Azimio rolled his eyes and angrily stormed out of the store.

As Kurt looked down his stained shirt, he could feel Blaine’s horrified stare burning right through his back. “Oh my god, Kurt. Are you okay?”

He turned around to face the other boy, still shaking with rage and that twinge of humiliation he always felt after scenes like this, no matter how hard he tried to push it down.

“You wanted real?” Kurt asked, feeling tears he would never let Azimio and Langanthal see begin to burn behind his eyelids. “How’s this? Only out gay kid in the entire town gets harassed on a daily basis—even publicly, as you just saw—finally gets an out when he gets into his dream school, and can’t even go because his dad is too sick to be left alone!”

Blaine reached out to place a comforting hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt—“

Before Blaine could finish his sentence, Kurt heard the table full of Cheerios become more chatty than usual, and he came to a startling realization. He quickly turned around, scanning the table to see that several of the McKinley High cheerleaders were whispering to each other and pointing at Blaine.

“Shit,” he muttered before facing Blaine again. “Restroom, back window,” he ordered as the head Cheerio stood up from the table and made a beeline towards them.

“What?”

“Just go!” Kurt ordered nudging Blaine in the right direction.

Blaine finally seemed to notice the onlookers and started to quickly walk towards the bathroom as one of the cheerleaders walked right behind Kurt.

He spun around to face her, a fake smile on his face. “Hello, there Satan—Santana!”

“Was that... Blaine Anderson?” She asked brusquely, staring down Kurt and crossing her arms.

Kurt raised his eyebrows before turning his head behind him to check that Blaine had made it to the impromptu escape route. He turned to Santana again and sighed, throwing his hands out in defeat. “Yes,” he said, feigning a trenchant dismay. “You caught me. Blaine Anderson is here, with me, at the I’m A Bean …” Kurt scrunched up his nose and smiled wryly at her. “And if you wait a few more minutes, I’m pretty sure TuPac is going to start a flash mob!”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. As she turned around her perfectly cooked ponytail nearly whipped him right across the face.

He watched her take a seat with the rest of the Cheerios and let out a sigh of relief before heading out to go find Blaine.

***

Blaine writhed and squirmed with all his might, but still wasn’t able to get enough momentum to hoist himself out of the window. He lay on his back, the top half of his body exposed to the bitter cold while the bottom half was stuck in the warmth of the I’m A Bean. The opening wasn’t big enough for him to turn around to get on his stomach. In that position, he could easily reach out for something and just pull himself out.

He he was straining to reach for the window to get some sort of leverage when he heard a giggle. And if he weren’t in the situation he was currently in, he might’ve taken more time to appreciate how beautiful that laugh was.

“Wow,” Kurt chuckled. “I wonder what TMZ would pay for a photo like this.”

“Not enough,” Blaine grunted, struggling for some sort of hand hold. “Now, are you— going to— help me— or not?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and headed over to Blaine.

He laced his arms underneath Blaine’s. “Alright,” Kurt said. “I’m gonna pull on the count of three, so brace yourself. One…”

“Wait, on three or after three?”

“What? Clearly on three, Blaine.”

“Wait, did that count as three?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Kurt tugged and Blaine slid out of the window with ease. The momentum of the pull sent them both toppling backwards—Blaine’s entire body on Kurt—towards the ground.

They hit the frozen ground with an “oof,” and immediately bust out into a fit of laughter.

“That went well.” Kurt giggled.

Still laughing, Blaine turned his body to face Kurt. “Yeah, we’re the epitome of grace.”

They settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence, both warmed by being in the other’s embrace. After a moment, Kurt cleared his throat and shifted backwards,as if he’d just realized the position they’d fallen into. He shuffled to his feet and brushed off some snow from his pants. “So, um, it was so nice—and super random and bizarre—to meet you,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “But I have to go. I have… things to do.”

Kurt headed off in the direction of his next destination, but not without Blaine following close behind. “Like what?”

“Like go meet my dad to watch my Jewish best friend play mother Mary in a multicultural holiday play. “

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Fine, don't tell me.”

“Oh, I only wish I were joking… Whatever, I have other things to do. Important things.”

“Like what?” Blaine pried again, hoping it was something he could accompany Kurt to. He was intrigued by him, and wanted to get to know him better.

“Like make the biggest decision of my life!” Kurt finally snapped, whirling around to face him. Blaine wondered for a moment if he had been too intrusive before Kurt deflated, like a cat un-bristling its tail. “I got into NYADA. It’s one of the best schools in the country for musical theatre, but it’s in New York and I can’t go.”

Blaine thought back to the incident that happened moments before he had nearly been discovered, then back to when he first met Kurt. No wonder Kurt was so wary of him.

“Because of your dad.”

Kurt gave a meek nod of confirmation. “He had a heart attack last year that put him in a coma for a few days, and now, he has… cancer… and we don’t know which way it’s going to go… I asked NYADA for a deferral, but they said I would lose my scholarship.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say after that. “Sorry for the huge downer,” Kurt mumbled. “I just… haven’t said that to anyone yet. Aside from kind of yelling it at you in the I’m A Bean a few minutes ago… Anyways,” he started up again, turning from Blaine and heading off into the snow covered terrain. “Merry Christmas, I gotta go.”

Blaine continued to trudge after him. “What, where?”

“I told you, multicultural nativity play.”

Blaine caught up with Kurt and sent him his most charming grin. “Sounds fun.”

***

“A hundred and fifty six piece elf village?” Blaine asked in astonishment as he and Kurt walked through the underpath of some trees.

Kurt let out a dry laugh. It sounded even more ridiculous aloud. “Some people’s dads collect coins, or artisan beer bottles; mine collects elves and their homes… So, what are your plans for the holidays?”

Blaine just gave him a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll probably just stay in the hotel room.”

“Christmas Eve in a hotel room?”

“I travel a lot. I’m used to it.”

“And I’m used to getting harassed by idiot meatheads, that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Blaine barked out a laugh, making Kurt’s stomach flip involuntarily. “I guess, just once�� I’d like to stay in one place for a little while.”

Well, Lima isn't the worst place to spend Christmas Eve, Kurt nearly said before stopping himself and realizing he would look like a total creep if he did. He lightly shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. Head out of the clouds, Hummel. He probably has a girlfriend on the tour bus waiting for him.

“So why does your dad like Christmas so much?” Blaine asked, breaking Kurt out of his thoughts.

“Oh. I think… I think it’s because my mom passed away between Thanksgiving and Christmas.” He took note of the sympathetic look on Blaine’s face before continuing. “So now I think he wants to make Christmas this big and spectacular thing… for me, I guess. I used to love the little figurines when I was little, because I kind of looked like them. My mom decided to start collecting them a few weeks before she died.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Blaine said, adding a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “But that’s pretty sweet of your dad.”

“Yeah… I guess it is.” Kurt smiled warmly. “He’s a great dad.”

The two boys finally reached the peak of the hill. The view overlooked a beautiful wintry scene, complete with frosted evergreen trees and a meadow blanketed in fresh pillowy snow.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

Kurt scoffed. “Snow can hide a lot… it’s like the spanx of weather…” Blaine laughed and another comfortable silence fell between them for a moment. “So, where did you grow up?”

“New York. Queens. Growing up, you had to be tough and my brother was… I, on the other hand, was a little more sensitive… and I think that came off as weakness to the other kids.” Blaine shrugged it off. “But it was okay because I always had music.”

Kurt nodded and smiled understandingly. “I know exactly what you mean. The only thing that keeps me sane around here is the glee club. When I’m not singing, I don’t really feel… whole. It’s like—“

“Like you’re barely even a person.”

Kurt let out a little puff of air in astonishment. “Yeah… kind of exactly like that…” As they tread on, Kurt could hear the sound of ice softly crunching beneath their feet. “So uh, what do your parents think about your job?”

Blaine let out a short laugh that felt just the tiniest bit bitter. “Well, my mom supports me but… My dad doesn’t think performing is a real job. He’s really strict. He wasn’t too happy when I came out to him either, but he got over it… sort of.”

Kurt snapped his head up to look at Blaine, eyes wide as he processed the words he just heard. Came out, as in… “Wait a second, you’re…”

A smile tugged at the corner of Blaine’s lips. “Queer as a three dollar bill.” As soon as it was there, it faded. “But uh, it’s not something I advertise, you know? My dad thinks it’s better—safer, if I don’t.”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, doing his best to push down the butterflies raging in his stomach. “Like a safer career move?” Why would Blaine’s dad care about his career if he didn’t even think it was valid?

Blaine shook his head. “When I was in middle school, before my first album, I went to a Sadie Hawkins dance with a friend; the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys came and beat the crap out of us.”

In an instant, Blaine felt Kurt’s hand on his. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I uh, never pressed charges or anything. Just transferred and never looked back, which made sense at the time, but now I just regret not standing up to them.” Blaine looked right into Kurt’s crystal blue eyes as he came to a stop. “So if you ever get the chance to do what I didn’t, you should take it.”

***

They lumbered on through the snow, finally reaching the peak of a hill with a gentler slope than the last one.

Families stood huddled together while groups of children, wrapped up tighter than the presents under their trees, waddled to sleds and rode down the hill.

Kurt watched a smile crack Blaine’s face and he narrowed his eyes with a light suspicion. “What are you smiling at?”

“We should go sledding.”

“We don’t have a sled..?”

Blaine just picked up his pace to a light jog and headed towards a group of women huddled together. He faced Kurt, but kept up his jog in a backpedal. “Young moms; kind of my bread and butter.”

Kurt huffed out a laugh as he looked on at Blaine introducing himself to the star struck mothers. He offered to take a few selfies with them before shortly returning back to Kurt with—lo and behold—a sled.

A minute later they were at the edge of the slope and Blaine settled himself behind Kurt. Kurt felt his heart racing and if he was being completely honest, he couldn’t tell if it was because of the dropoff or the way Blaine was pressed flush against his back, his arms wrapped snug around Kurt’s waist so that he could take hold of the reins.

Blaine started to scoot the sled forward and Kurt felt his nerves kick in. “Wait!” He cried out.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just… despite living in a snow covered town for eighteen years, I’ve never actually been sledding before.”

Blaine leaned forward and rested his head in the space between Kurt’s head and shoulders. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Kurt had absolutely no reason to believe Blaine—considering the short time they’d known each other—but for some reason, he found that he did. He believed he’d be safe with Blaine because he already felt safe with him. Safe enough to tell him about his mom, safe enough to confide in him about his dilemma with his dad, and now, safe enough to go sledding for the first time.

He nodded and felt himself pressing his cheek closer to Blaine’s. Blaine pushed them forward and off they went, down the gentle curve of the hill.

The air started rushing quicker and quicker against Kurt’s face, until they were riding at an enjoyable speed. Kurt felt Blaine’s arms close in a little tighter around him and he turned his head to smile back at the other boy, who graciously returned it.

The smiles were wiped clean off their faces when they faced forward once more and suddenly came into contact with a bump in the hill that sent Blaine tumbling backwards with an “oof.” Kurt managed to stay on, panic rising as he realized he had no control of the sled.

“Oh no. No no no,” Kurt yelped as he approached the sharp incline of a snow bank, unable to do anything to slow down or avoid the oncoming collision.

The sled went up the ramp and Kurt went flying, landing hard on a cleared path of snow he didn’t even have time to recognize as the road. He heard a harsh noise in the distance while he groaned and tried to gather himself. Kurt finally made it to his feet and the (now much louder and closer) noise finally registered as the revving of an engine from an oncoming car that was coming down way too fast for this weather.

The car seemed impossibly close and Kurt wasn’t sure he’d make it out of the way in time.

Out of nowhere, Blaine came racing across the road and practically tackled Kurt to the safety of the other side of the road.

The curly haired boy lay with his body pressed warmly against Kurt’s for a moment before clearing his throat and rolling off to the side.

Kurt let out a breath (of relief or disbelief, he really couldn’t tell) and watched it wisp away into the cold air. After the initial shock faded, Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, who lay next to him looking just as dazed.

Of all the things he expected to do after a situation like this, feeling a smile start to curl on his lips definitely wasn’t at the top of the list. But Kurt took one look at Blaine’s (horrified) honey colored eyes and couldn’t help but think how ridiculous this whole situation was. Before he could help himself, he exploded into a fit of laughter.

Kurt felt an unfamiliar tingle in his chest—something light and warm, that he maybe only had a memory of. As his laughter grew and he watched a smile spread on Blaine’s lips, the glow spread down through his arms and legs and all the way down to his toes until his entire body felt sunny, despite being surrounded by mounds of snow.

#klaine #glee #wow look at me im writing!#kurt hummel #blaine anderson #merry christmas!#let it snow #fic rec

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wallyaxiom · 8 years ago

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not another walt questionnaire !

Describe the character’s height and build. Is he heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

I’m 5’8” which is probably at the shorter end of the male spectrum. I’m on the smaller side but curvy - like very i got a big, big bum. I used to be tight and toned with a tiny waist but over the last few years i’ve put on some weight so I have a little ‘tummy’ now. I used to hate it but i’ve grown used to it

2. How old is he?

Twenty-one

3. Describe his posture. Does he/she carry himself well or does he/she slouch?

One does not get considered a prince without a regal posture, thank you. I’m not the kind to slouch and besides, if I’m going to be a little short I might as well make up for it by standing upright.

4. How is his health? Is he fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

I try to keep myself in the best shape I can manage. I used to play soccer in high school. As well as skateboard, when I get the chance I like to surf but other than that I don’t do a lot of physical activity since i’m at home with the kids most of the time. I have some spring allergies which leave me a little sniffly if I don’t take my meds.

5. How does he move? Is he clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

I like to consider myself graceful and ‘fluid’ I suppose. When I walk my hips kind of...sway back and forth more so than they should, at least I think so.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does he perceive himself in the mirror?

I’ve been told i’m very pretty individual - attractive. I mean if you ask Oliver he’ll go on and on about how he finds me attractive but he’s my husband so like he kinda has to say all those nice things. I don’t find myself unattractive by any stretch of the imagination, at least not anymore i’ve come to love myself and my flaws, but it’s nothing to brag about. If anything I’m a bit too delicate, hence the attempts at a manly scruff in the past. But I quick that since Oliver prefers me baby faced and i’ve embraced being delicate and dainty.

7. Describe his complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

I’d say I’m of a medium to light complexion; I tend to be fairly tan year round. Skin is smooth and I do my best to keep it free of blemish.

8. Describe his hair: color, texture, style.

My hair is caramel in color and is pretty soft. As far as styles are concerned, i’ve had every style under the sun as of now it’s usually swept off to the side or I wear a hat when i’m too lazy to do anything with it. Oliver likes it when my hair is styled in a quiff but that doesn’t happen often anymore. I went through a whole quiff phase it was interesting to say the least

9. What color are his/her eyes?

A very vibrant light blue - kinda like the sky

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

My cheekbones they’re very defined. I also have three little freckles that I refer to as a little constellation on my face

11. What are his/her chief tension centers?

Definitely the back of my neck down into my shoulders, following down my spine. If you hold yourself like I do tension tends to build there and I honestly could probably do with a nice full body massage once a week to relieve that tension.

12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does he/she have six of the same suit?

Usually I wear like sweats, sweaters, hoodies, leggings, comfy clothes since i’m around the house. I love adidas and I wear a lot of Oliver’s clothes. When I go out though I love dressing up. My wardrobe includes skinny jeans, bright colors, very posh and fashionable. I loooove fashion. (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

13. Do his/her clothes fit well? Does he/she seem comfortable in them?

It depends. If i’m wearing Oliver’s clothes they’re big on me, obviously have you seen our size difference? If they’re mine they’re very, very fitted.

14. Does he/she dress the same on the job as he/she does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?

My job is raising our two kids so.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

Boy shorts. Don’t knock it til you try it.

Speech

1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

My voice is a bit high. Not like girly high but just a light, slightly lilted tone. It gets hoarse easily as well if I’m shouting or… whatnot.

2. How does he/she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does he/she talk easily, or does he/she hesitate?

I used to have a really bad stutter but not anymore. I speak quite loudly the only time I do speak softly is when i’m talking to my kids.

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

I have a valley boy ‘accent’ it’s gone away some but there’s hints of it when I talk, so. Oliver makes fun of it.

4. What language/s does he/she speak, and with how much fluency?

I speak English fluently and took a bit of Spanish and Latin back in high school.

5. Does he/she switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

No. I wish I could break into a thick Irish accent when I got angry but nope.

6. Is he/she a good impromptu speaker, or does he/she have to think about his words?

Unintentionally impromptu, I don’t have a filter sometimes. I try to think about my words before I say them with most anyone.

7. Is he/she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

Eloquent in 75% of situations. The only circumstances in which it would change is in times of high stress or emotion.

Mental and Emotional

1. How intelligent is this character? Is he/she book-smart or street-smart?

Pretty smart, I think. Probably more book smart than streets though.

2. Does he/she think on his feet, or does he/she need time to deliberate?

I’d prefer more time to deliberate. I do act rashly or impulsively depending on the situation.

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is he/she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

As of late? logical and practical with a hidden dreamer. More so Intuitive back in the day. I wanted to be something much more whimsical and fun than a stay at home dad. But that’s just not how life worked out but i’m fine with it.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

Well, I went to public grade school and middle school, a private high school for a year then ended up transferring to public which landed me in Walt and I finished my senior year a semester early because Josh came into our lives. I planned on going to school and being a theatre major...or minor with education as a major. I don’t know. I never really decided since I didn’t have the chance to.

5. What are his/her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he/she interested in learning more about?

For as much as I complain, I’m not terrible at menial task work so that’s fine. I read and comprehend things quickly. I’m good at memorization and can be organized when the job requires it. I want to look more into the arts sides of things.

6. Is he/she an introvert or an extrovert?

Extrovert

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is he/she even-tempered or does he/she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

It depends on the day...I can be quite moody sometimes. I have mood swings a lot actually. But mostly i’m very cheerful,very loving. I like to think i’m laid back. But as a whole I guess I’m pretty high-maintenance. I’m prone to over dramatizing situations and being a ‘brat’. As Oliver puts it. But that’s only with him

8. How does he/she respond to new people or situations? Is he/she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

I love meeting new people, i’m quite the people person

9. Is he/she more likely to act, or to react?

Probably react.

10. Which is his/her default: fight or flight?

depends on the situation mostly flight

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does he/she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

I think I have a good sense of humor except puns I hate puns and yet i’m married to the king of puns, go figure.

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does he/she deal with them?

Yes, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Anxiety, I had an eating disorder about two years ago but I recovered from it. I don’t really deal with my bipolar disorder. I don’t like to think about it - kinda pretend it’s not real but I deal with the other two. I have to

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined him/her as a person?

There’s a lot. Meeting Oliver when I was six, playing the lead in a musical in high school production, the BNL gang and all the abuse I endured during that, not becoming the axiom hire, falling in love with oliver, the coma, the memory loss, meeting my biological parents, getting engaged, having kids and of course getting married.

14. What does he/she fear?

Losing Oliver

15. What are his/her hopes or aspirations?

I’d like to be an actor. It’s been a silly dream of mine since high school. I love performing and making people happy

16. What is something he/she doesn’t want anyone to find out about him/her?

Anything involving my past, whether it’s the BNL gang, the entire Eve situation, my party boy days, I don’t want my in-laws to find out i’m actually really fucking rich as much as I love Georgette i’m afraid they’d think i’m shallow like her oh and my bipolar disorder. No one can find that out.

Relationships

1. Describe this character’s relationship with his/her parents.

Good. I’m a momma’s boy i’ve always been significantly closer to my mother than I have my father. She’s always been more gentle and loving whereas my father was often more harsh and cold. He’s always put me on a pedestal to be this perfect little boy - the perfect Axiom boy and I couldn’t fit that mold not matter how hard he tried. Not to mention he was a bit...homophobic towards my relationship with Oliver at first but we’ve gotten over it all and our relationship is better now. He’s softer. All and all I couldn’t have asked for better parents. Blood or not I love them and they love me.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

Yes, Marjorie Beamer. She’s my biological sister. I didn’t know about her until I was seventeen so I missed a good chunk of her life but I love my sister, I adore her. She’s my best friend.

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom he/she is close? Are there ones he/she can’t stand?

My biological parents I guess? I really don’t know much about their family other than my grandmother. I’m not close at all to the Axioms. Besides Monty, they’ve all kind of disowned me for various reasons.

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom he/she considers part of his family? What are his/her relationships with them?

Silvermist is like a sister to me. Obviously Roger and Olivia Spade. My in-laws are like third parents and when he was alive, Fagin. He meant everything to Oliver and he meant a lot to me as well.

5. Who is/was the character’s best friend? How did they meet?

This is totally cliche but it’s Oliver. We all know how we met by now don’t we?

6. Does he/she have other close friends?

Silvermist & Hallie.

7. Does he/she make friends easily, or does he/she have trouble getting along with people?

It’s really easy for me to make friends, at least I think. I love people and love making them feel loved and welcomed. I’m a people person.

8. Which does he/she consider more important: family or friends?

Friends, I suppose. They’re the people who stick around you by choice, not by force. They have to like something about you. Family is important too.

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has he/she been married more than once?

Happily married.

10. Is he/she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

absolutely not no.

11. Who was his/her first crush? Who is his/her latest?

Oliver Spade and uh Oliver Theodore Ryan Spade. He’s cute shh.

12. What does he/she look for in a romantic partner?

Oh wow, do I really need to answer this? Everything I ever wanted in a partner I found

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does he/she relate to them? If no, does he/she want any?

Yes, two; Joshua and Olivia. They’re my world.

14. Does he/she have any rivals or enemies?

Auto motherfucking Axiom.

15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does he/she fall on the Kinsey scale?

Bisexual, probably a 5 on the scale.

16. How does he/she feel about sex? How important is it to him/her?

Oh god I love sex. I didn’t before but now I do. I really, really do. It’s not that important to me but it happens a lot. Trust me I don’t have to worry about the spark ever going out. My husband can’t keep his hands off me, so!

17. What are his/her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

You’re asking a very loaded question and I’m going to leave a bit of mystery to the public and keep it between my husband and I. Let’s just say I can consider myself a fair bit… frisky.

Beliefs

1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does he/she fit type?

I’m a Capricorn so I fit on the seeking stability, calculating, don't show their emotions easily for fear of being vulnerable, quite sensitive with those they care about, though they can be ruthless in business and when going after what they want, stubborn and seeking recognition aspects. The part about no silly impulses though, yeah, they haven’t seen me when I used to get drunk off my ass

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in his/her life?

I’m Spiritual sometimes but religious, not really no. I live by my own philosophy. Obviously in the one year of private school setting I had a fair bit of religion jammed down my throat but when I decided I liked kissing boys as well as girls, well, religion took a detour.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

I’d say definitely. You’ve got to live by your own code or other people are going to define you your whole life. It started at the end of high school when my parents’ (the axioms more likely) reins loosened and I could do more things for myself. Have fun, carry yourself as you want to be seen and try your hardest not to have any regrets.

4. How does he/she regard beliefs that differ from his? Is he/she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

I’m not terribly against people whose beliefs differ but if they are strongly opinionated that my beliefs and ways of handling myself are wrong, I’ll defend myself.

5. What prejudices does he/she hold? Are they irrational or does he/she have a good reason for them?

I try not to. It’s hard sometimes because the environment I was raised in because they believed most people were below them.

Daily Life

1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is he/she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

Comfortable.

2. What is his/her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected him/her?

When I was growing up obviously I was upper class. I had a damn silverspoon in my mouth. However now that I refuse to depend on my parents in any way i’m middle class. Things aren’t perfect, especially with a one person income but Oliver is the hardest working man I know. I just wish...I could help but I don’t miss being rich, i’m content and happy with where I am.

3. Where does he/she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is his/her home his/her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does he/she share it with others?

An apartment with my husband and kids. It’s clean when the kids don’t scatter their toys about or when I don’t feel lazy.

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does he/she spend his/her money on?

Clothes, food and smoothies. Oh and food.

5. What does he/she do for a living? Is he/she good at it? Does he/she enjoy it, or would he/she rather be doing something else?

Basically, i’m a stay at home-mom and house wife. I take care of the kids, the apartment and my husband when he comes home. I mean yeah I would but house-wife is kind of the job i’ll be having for a while since we plan on having a lot of kids. Eventually i’d like to go to college and get a degree in something.

6. What are his/her interests or hobbies? How does he/she spend his/her free time?

Going to see local theatre productions, curling up and reading, hitting up local coffee shops, setting up a fire in the fireplace, playing piano or guitar, surfing, movie marathons, star gazing, baking, stuff like that.

7. What are his/her eating habits? Does he/she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

Oh, i’m a bottomless pit. Eating is my number one hobby. I love food. I don’t skip meals anymore. The only time we ever eat out is on special occasions most of the time I cook or Oliver does. We kind of share that, really. I don’t drink anymore, no. I haven’t since Josh happened. Please does it look like I avoid certain foods? Besides Brussels sprouts they’re evil.

Associations

Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his/her favorite:

1. Color? blue and pink 2. Smell? Strawberries 3. Time of day? Night 4. Season? Summer 5. Book? Pride and Prejudice. My mom made me read it in high school 6. Music? Depends on my mood, right now? Something light— indie-esque. Although I think my favorite kind of music is 90′s music. 7. Place? Next to Oliver 8. Substance? Not anymore, no. 9. Plant? Cactus, they don’t die! 10. Animal? Koala

#watask

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jordblorg · 7 years ago

Text

two months ago, i wrote something i intended to write four months ago

in early march, i did my belated 2017 recap post, mostly (no, let’s be honest: entirely) for my own edification, but then i kept forgetting to post it on here because i live in a house without wifi and when i do have wifi i don’t have my laptop, but i spent the weekend housesitting and so i’ve been aimlessly on my laptop for an hour and i just remembered, oh, hey, that thing! i should do that thing.

so. anyway. 2017:

from 2013 to 2016, i ended each year (or started the new one) with a recap post in some form. there were years where i didn’t feel much like doing it, but i always felt like the act of forcing myself to sit down and reflect, or at the very least remember and record, would be a useful one, if not in the present moment then certainly later. and it’s already proven true: every so often, bored and scrolling my own tumblr to try and see what it tells me about myself, i stumble upon these yearly recaps and remember something about the year that i had forgotten. sometimes it’s a specific event. other times it’s a feeling or something as specific as a food. and on a few occasions it’s been particularly delightful to see a self who has no idea what’s to come -- in 2013, for example, i visited d.c. with a friend. we spent hours walking around the supreme court building, hoping to spot a justice, to no avail -- until the moment we left, at which point we saw clarence thomas from a distance, and mainly just the back of his head. and it was thrilling.

(a year and a half later, i would spend an entire semester working at the supreme court. it was one of the happiest semesters i’ve ever had. on the first snow day of that winter, i talked about the weather with the justice standing in front of me in the cafeteria line.)

so for all these reasons, i wanted, or felt that i should want, to write a brief post recapping my 2017, in words or in photos or in memes, watercolors, you name it. and i never did. and since the new year began, every week or so, i’ve thought to myself, well, hey, this one in particular is kind of an arbitrary deadline, you should still do a lil recap. and i’ve also spent a few evenings reading the super-old entries of bloggers i’ve followed for a few years - not even people i know well personally! - because watching people learn and grow online, if that’s how they should choose to do it, can be fun.

perhaps at the end of 2018 i’ll write a post about this being the year i simultaneously wanted to bloviate endlessly about all of my opinions, and also wanted to take myself off the radar screen completely, where every day i want to quietly delete all of my social media apps from my phone but haven’t as of this writing because of some vague fear that something will happen? that i will want to know about right away? or that if i take my ear away from the ongoing conversation of smart and angry people on my twitter feed, i’ll lose learning opportunities, and then say something i should know better than to say, but not know better, because i deleted my twitter account? i tried to download two apps yesterday that severely curb one’s ability to access other apps, the Bad Apps, on one’s phone, but neither had the functionality i desired unless i paid for premium, which, at that point, can i justify paying to outsource my self-control when reality i feel like i should be able to do that myself? (is this a healthy framing? i don’t think i’m wrong, but i could probably stand to be more generous to myself, except that i don’t want to be generous, i want to have the willpower of teddy roosevelt, he who cured his own asthma basically through sheer force of will, absent all of the historic toxicity and baggage with which he must also be inextricably associated? except i also know better than to frame recovery/health narratives as a matter of willpower?) i’ve lost the thread completely at this point, assuming i was ever holding a thread in the first place?

one time, years ago, an older male relative asked me if i exhaust myself. and oh my god. i do.

anyway. here’s some free association about 2017, the year i keep accidentally thinking it is, after reminding myself that it is not 2016, which is the year in my heart that i believe it to be.

i. the beginning of 2017 feels like it was a hundred thousand years ago, and at this point last year i had no idea that i’d be in alaska and out of my old field completely, and at this point this year everything that happened to me in the first half of the last one feels like a dream.

when i think about the months of january through may, i remember the weeks on end where each day i woke up and felt a void in the center of my stomach where normally the feelings that motivate me go. i had a hard time with basic self-care. on more days than i am comfortable admitting, i would go home at the end of a workday where i’d achieved nothing, sit on the couch in my living room, surf the internet until i fell asleep, and then wake up, only to do it all again. i felt empty and blank, and underneath those thick layers of emptiness and blankness i felt the licking flames of self-hatred and terror, and so there i would sit, watching the hours go by, on my couch.

sometimes i saw my friend nathalia, and we would laugh, and that would take some of the edge off of the tension that was winding its way around my stomach and my throat.

(eventually, i saw a psychiatrist, and started treatment - and medication, which, by the way, please talk to me if you’re reading this and feel some weird internal resistance to taking medication for mental health issues, because i get it and i’ve been there, and your feelings are valid, but oh my god it was absolutely the right decision to start taking medication and i will gladly tell anyone why - but the point is that eventually, i broke down, and my dad got me into an appointment. i have never felt more exhausted than when i was trying to navigate health insurance and the mental healthcare system in this country while mired in a particularly vicious period of anxiety and depression. and yet: i could afford it. and yet: i had a parent to call, who had the time and energy and means to help, who had a friend in D.C. who made a recommendation, who was able to get me an appointment two weeks after i finally broke down to another person on the phone. i cannot imagine how i would’ve gotten through the past year without the many, immense privileges and outside support systems that i so often take for granted. i’m fighting with my own brain every day, still, and yet i am still luckier than i will ever know.)

i can still picture my short walk from the metro stop nearest my office to the building where i worked. my stomach sunk every day.

but there were some good days, too, where i didn’t have to go to the office, or even worse, the capitol, and instead got to go to my favorite building in the city, and do something i knew i was good at. they don’t let you keep the tickets you get when you’re admitted to the supreme court as a member of the press corps, because you have to turn them back in to the security guard once you’re seated, but after my first visit i tried to remember to take pictures. i knew what i was doing, and i felt like it mattered. i got some work linked by a website i admire. on at least one occasion, i wrote a story that included the voice of a source none of the national reporters on the case had chosen to include, and it was an important voice, and i felt pride in the story and in myself. in february, rupsha came and visited me and the rest of her friends on her birthday, and mollie flew into town for the celebration. we got day drunk at a local bar, and successfully begged off a slice of birthday cake from the strangers who were celebrating their own camaraderie at a different table. i found a framing co-op near my neighborhood, and it felt very adult to know how to get to the place where i could get nice things framed. nathalia and i fell in love with an exhibit at the hirschorn about ragnar kjartansson, so we went twice and stayed for hours, and both times it mattered less that i’d spent so many nights and weekends unable to muster the willpower or even desire to leave my apartment, to explore the city where i lived. sometimes, often, i felt afraid. i never went to the monuments at night. the first five months of 2017 proceeded apace.

another shiny moment in the muck: i spent new year’s eve and new year’s day in brooklyn, first at a neighborhood bar and later on a rooftop and eventually in my best friend’s apartment. i made nathalia laugh so hard with a joke about potatoes that she snorted champaign out of her nose. i slept in a tent set up on the kitchen floor, and did almost nothing, but very happily. we had a spontaneous bachelorette lunch at the MoMA. i spent the night of january 2nd curled up on a tiny loveseat in a tiny apartment, with my college roommate and her boyfriend, and the next day i borrowed a blue dress, and the three of us took the bus to city hall and bought flowers on the way, and then we helped another of our old roommates get married. i could write about my memories of this day for a very long time. it was easily one of my happiest memories of the year. after the vows, we went and ate italian food in a near-empty restaurant. after we parted ways, i went to books of wonder, made my way to the bus that would take me back to dupont circle, and read a book bobby gave me for graduation, and cried and cried and cried.

later in january i covered the protest beat at the inauguration, and watched about 50 reporters swarm a single burning trash can, and later one single burning car. i wondered how many other cars were burning in the city for reasons less obviously political. speaking of, i read this poem about four billion times. the things that bothered me at the end of 2016, including but not limited to the privilege of perceived neutrality, continued to bother me well into the new year. they bother me still. on the day in the present that i am writing this, it is international [working] women’s day, according to whoever decides these things.

also in january: after five reporters covered every conceivable angle of the inauguration, i was sent alone to cover the women’s march. i made the front page and i thought the print headline was weird and off-putting. i don’t think back on any part of january with fondness, except for the part where i saw a drunken astronaut give an amazingly concise speech. the president tried, and mostly succeeded, to ban refugees from entering the country. my brother slept over in DFW airport, passing out water bottles and screaming at the top of his lungs. my parents got home, weren’t sure where he’d gone, and then spotted him in the background of the coverage on the TV news. my cousin got her first period at the women’s march.

in february, zach was deciding where to go to college, and we gathered in austin on the flimsy pretense of data-gathering. it rained the whole time. most nights, on my walk home, i’d pass by protests. i went on a handful of unmemorable dates. rupsha’s aforementioned birthday, the best weekend of the month by far. more work.

in march and april: coverage of a new supreme court justice. some watercoloring and some beautiful weather with nathalia, and some time, but nowhere close to enough, with others. three different passover seders, many hours spent listening to aimee mann. the white house press secretary referred to concentration camps as “holocaust centers” and said, out loud, to other educated adults, that hitler “didn’t even sink to the level of using chemical weapons.”

just kidding: four different seders, including the best one, with rupsha, in new jersey. boo wore pink and miles found the afikomen. the anchor stayed in my stomach until the very end, but i saw more live music: overcoats with liz, the wild reeds with nathalia, where we stood right in the front, holding a plate of nachos and singing along.

in may i could see the light at the end of a tunnel and i flew to san francisco and i wanted to stay forever. at brunch, the young couple to our immediate left let us hold their sweet baby while they ate chicken biscuits. we went into a pirate-themed store and the department of imagination and we found a man in a storefront at the alleyway, embroidering at the end of the world. my stomach was hurting but it felt inevitable and fine.

i left my job two weeks early and drove home and didn’t feel better, and my brothers graduated high school. josh spent the week wearing dresses that suited him and walked the stage at graduation in well-fitting black heels.

the summer was a mixed bag. i sat and felt anxious in a workplace in which i felt i was not thriving, and sometimes i went home and had panic attacks. but my roommate was a comical nightmare, and i felt loved and embraced by a community that spread its arms in all directions. i crashed on couches and in beds every night of the last three weeks. i went to museums with my college roommates. we went to clubs and stayed out all night. K, still happily married, prodded me onto a surfboard. we went to lake placid and it was wonderful; we were in brooklyn and it was wonderful; i studied for the LSAT i still thought i would eventually take and stayed out late and it was wonderful. S visited and it was sometimes wonderful, and we had a conversation we had needed to have for a long, long time. by the time he reached the point he’d been avoiding, two days later, we were separated on the phone, and i stood on the street outside of rupsha’s apartment. i took notes and cried.

and then...what? i spent a week in malala, oregon, sleeping outside and flinging myself as far away from everything as i possibly could. i cried again in the airport and i wasn’t sure why. i moved to anchorage, alaska, and gradually fell in love, and maybe a post about this city is coming another day. i wrote a tiny bit about my job. i take two buses to work every day, and two buses home. i decided to run a 5k, and i half-walked half-ran with some regularity, and felt good about my body and also weird about my body. i ran the 5k. i went on more dates. i felt happy and unhappy. i went on a handful of hikes before the snow came down. i slept in a freezing cold and wind-battered tent. i made toddlers laugh and then i learned their names. we threw a birthday party for avril lavigne and watched old meg ryan movies on VHS. i listened to more great music. i made latkes and sufganiyot for hanukkah. one day erin and i came home from the gym one frosty morning only to find everyone standing on the back porch, watching two moose, a mama and a baby, taking a nap in our back yard.

on the last week of the year, i house-sat for a family with two high-energy dogs and one low-energy cat. i took allergy medicine and made good use of the borrowed car. i walked the dogs past streets named after the solar system and i drove the car down the highway and to frozen patches of beach along the coast. i spent new year’s eve in sweatpants at the blue fox. none of us wore any makeup and erin sang three karaoke songs with gusto. the countdown to 2018 took us all by surprise. i started reading more often. that was also very good.

#2017 #year in review #very belated #i'm not even bothering to reread this NOW

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