#but it’s quite think & dry & curly so it’s not always that easy

[thebeautifulfantastic]

i really want to be one of those beautiful girls who always have impeccable hair and natural-looking makeup but the truth is most days i truly don’t have the desire to put anything more than the bare minimum into my appearances

[moralesluvr]

ENTANGLED | Ⅴ.

♡ pairings: miles morales x spider!fem!ohara!reader (reader is also black coded!) ♡ summary: being spider-girl isn't very easy, especially when your number one partner in crime happens to be your one of your best friend's boyfriend...who you might've hooked up with once? ♡ warnings: language, mentions of sex, blood & mentions of death...just strap in! ♡ READ THIS: there is some writing in this part, so be sure to pay attention to that as IT IS CRUCIAL FOR THE PLOT. so scroll instead of swiping through! also, a new character is added! ♡ series taglist form ♡

you turn off your phone, furious at your former-friend. the tension between the two of you is growing for a reason that you can't quite but your finger on, but you think it's only because miles truly does care about gwen, yet, you thought he would at least try to salvage the thinning friendship between the two of you. although that doesn't really matter now, you suppose, so you continue your packing as you hear a knock sounding from outside of your door. hands still folding up one of your shirts, you holler at the guest to come in. it's your father. he opens the door, and crosses his arms at you as you turn around to meet his eyes. "mija, are you ready?" you fold your last article of clothing and zip your bag closed, nodding at your dad silently, who gives you a frown when he realizes that your cheeks are glistening with tears. you're overwhelmed, about everything. your situation with miles & gwen, leaving home for a month, trying to hide your secret...it's a lot for you too handle. he doesn't do it often, but you feel miguel pull you into a tight hug, chin resting on your head as he whispered encouraging words to you in spanish. but, things must go on, and this mission has to be carried out, so you grab your things and give your room a hard last glance before following your dad, who placed a tiny watch on your wrist. it was discreet, made with careful consideration and perfection as not to cause you harm or unwanted attention. it looked like a normal watch, clock ticking against your skin, but it would stop you from glitching and could help you keep in touch with your main folks, that being your dad and jessica. your goodbyes were said and your kisses and hugs were exchanged before you were blasted into earth1610, your eyes screwed shut and nerves jolting as you held in a breath, until you felt yourself standing on a sidewalk. you peeled your eyes open to find the sight of new york, warm air hitting you as you sighed deeply, pulling out your phone.

when you finally arrive at simone's doorstep, your breath has left your lungs and your shoulders are worn from carrying all your bags. you knock on the dark wood in front of you with a weak fist, attempting to catch your breath when the door flings open. it's almost surreal seeing her. when you had to visit earth1610 a couple years back, tagging along with your dad, you met her and her family when your dad easily became friends with hers. you were both way older now but your friendship remained the same, and the smile that stretched on your face was a symbol that you both hadn't missed a beat. she throws herself onto you with a smile, "i actually might holler! i missed you!" you hug her back, bags rolling off of your shoulders, but you don't care. you're so engulfed in her sweet presence that you don't realize when someone comes walking out of the front door. he's tall, with extremely neat locs and a pair of glasses that sit steady on the edge of his nose. clad in a white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, your eyes dart to simone's brother, adrian, who shoots you a perfectly white smile. no more braces??? you found that your mouth went dry as he waved to you. he was just a year older than you, and last time you saw him, he had short curly hair with braces and always had a pair on vans on his feet, which were now switched for a pair of jordan's. you swallowed your spit. this stay was going to be hard...but something about it didn't bother you. maybe you could finally put you and miles past you.

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @clearskiiiess // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @mookiebut // @urmotherswhor3 // @cumbermovels // @asmobeuses // @yanghees // @popeheywardssecretgf // @mxspiderman2099 // @scryarchives // @rksses // @mmst4rz //

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @ilyless // @milesmolasses // @laylasbunbunny // @all444miles // @thecoloredpages // @bl00dsuccker // @adoremvney // @anikaluv // @qtdenks

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae // @luci1fer // @art-598

[skell3]

RP Muse: Michael Shelley

Up next is a character I see a -lot- of variation on. Michael is my 'baby' muse... in that he's particularly soft, easy to bully, and a bit clumsy.

Michael's about a year or two before The Great Twisting, roughly. It's a bit difficult to determine timelines (and admittedly, how I've written him has been in that weird time crossover bit I mentioned in Jon's post, so it's all wibbly-wobbly at best.)

Once again, info below the cut and I'll do my best to write him out.

Michael Shelley stands at about 6'1" and has a fairly thin frame, almost slightly underfed though he's quite healthy. He has a couple of freckles and a slight gap in his front teeth he's very self-conscious about. His long blond hair is more wavy than curly, but still holds a couple of ringlets on its own just after a shower and drying it all out. He usually keeps it down if only to hide behind some of it, though when he's very busy working, he will pull it back with a colourful scrunchie.

Michael's eyes are heterochromatic, meaning he has two colours in them. They look fairly blue at first until you look toward the pupils, which blend into almost an aqua-green. He gets a little self-conscious about those, too, and doesn't like to make eye-contact often.

The clothes he really enjoys wearing tend to be vibrant in colour, like a bright yellow jumper or something multicoloured and fun. Michael also really likes floral patterns, so his favourite jumper is an oversize soft lavender with stitched in flowers and a bee making a path around the lower hem of it. It's so long he likes to wear a belt over it and just some fitted jeans, though occasionally oversize also means his hands disappear and he has to be careful with that at work. He was gifted a multicoloured scarf, striped with blue, yellow, and purple bands.

Home life is a little uneasy- Michael has a roommate who isn't particularly nice to him, but they pay the rent on time and usually leave him alone when he is actually home (so long as they don't have guests over). He usually sticks to his room anyway, which has a cool lava lamp, a tv/vcr combo so he can watch movies, a couple of brightly-coloured bean bag chairs, and a lot of blankets and pillows for his bed. There's a lot of posters and pictures and things on his walls, which help make it look a little more home-y for him despite the abrasive environment it's in.

Growing up, Michael was the unfortunate middle child that got a little bit of love early on and then was mostly left to fend for himself when his younger siblings were born. Always having been a quieter child anyway, he picked up on doing things by himself, and doing his best to stay out of trouble (because punishments were particularly harsh). This has made Michael relatively mousey as a person, especially working under Gertrude, but he's a people-pleaser and doesn't think too highly of himself so he does his best to do his job and not cause problems. Because Gertrude also has looked out for him more than once, this makes him particularly loyal and it isn't often that he questions her.

At work, Michael is really good at organizing, cleaning up the office and maintaining files as to Gertrude's specifications. If there isn't anyone in the office, he tugs on headphones and ends up listening to ABBA, Queen, The Beatles, etc.. Very occasionally, someone will walk in on him grooving and the moment he notices, he stops and flusters hard, settling back in to things with the music a lot lower and no dancing. (Honestly, he's so very Lonely-coded, working alone is sometimes the best times for him, though he also doesn't exactly enjoy being alone)

In the timeline I've been writing him in, Michael's BFF at work is the young Elias Bouchard, who works in artefact storage but comes by to bother Michael or avoid work. Otherwise, a lot of the folks who work upstairs tend to pick on Michael about stuff, and he primarily sticks to interacting with only the Archives group. This timeline we also have overlapping with Eric Delano being there, and Michael has a crush (but knows it's never going to happen), and it makes for a lot of flustered moments.

So yeah, this poor baby, so awkward. Hits his head on things a lot (like when he's hiding in a closet to escape Feelings). Eventually he'll get a little bit more spine, but by then it'll be probably 'just the right time' for Gertrude to take him on his last little business trip. He's great for soft scenes, but also awkward tension and maybe a bit of dramatics and anxiety.

[musette22]

Local museum volunteer Chris explaining all the items and history facts to teacher Sebastian and his 20 kids on a school trip or to single dad Sebastian and his twins (one who is really into it and ask a lot of "but why?" And the other one who just sticks his fingers up his nose and yawns lmao)

Okay so I was just on a walk and I started thinking about this ask again (I am so so so sorry for how long it took me to reply to this, I suck wow) because I couldn’t get that new pic of Seb looking like a literal DILF out of my head, but I couldn’t remember the specifics so what came out is slightly different from what you suggested but not much – hope you still like it (I personally screamed into my fist multiples times while thinking about this – I’m furious at how cute this little scenario is, thank you so so much for this!)

Disclaimer: I literally wrote this just now so it’s unbeta’d and probably riddled with nonsense, but I hope you guys like nonetheless!  <3

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

“Hi, guys! Welcome to the Concord Museum. My name is Chris and I’ll be your guide this afternoon.”

Chris eyes the little family – a father and two young kids – standing in front of him in the entrance hall of the bite-sized museum, then makes a show of looking around the otherwise empty hall. “Seems like it’s a quiet one today, so you’ll have me all to yourself!”

The father smiles, his sparkling, blue-grey eyes crinkling in the corners in a way that Chris shouldn’t be thinking of as ‘adorable’, but does nonetheless.

“Fantastic,” the man says warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Chris. This is Margot,” – he gestures to the girl of about eight standing next to him – “and this little guy here is David,” he adds, lightly bouncing the three or four-year-old, curly haired boy on his hip. David gives Chris a wide eyed look before promptly burying his face in his father’s neck. “He’s a little shy,” the dad says fondly.

“That’s fine,” Chris tells them. With a smile, he ducks his head to try and catch David’s eye. “You’re not the only one, kiddo. I’m a little shy myself sometimes, you know.”  

“I’m not shy,” Margot pipes up.

“No,” her dad agrees with a chuckle, “you certainly are not.”

Chris turns his eyes back to their father’s face. “And your name..?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man says, “I’m Sebastian.” He holds out his hand for Chris to shake, warm and dry with long, elegant fingers that fit nicely against Chris’s own, studier ones.

Sebastian, Chris thinks. Perfect name for a perfect guy. The term ‘DILF’ flashes unbidden through Chris’s mind – wildly inappropriate, given the circumstances, but oh so accurate. Sebastian has a sweet, charming smile, incredible bone structure, and dark, wavy hair, swept up in a quiff-like style that manages to make him look both sophisticated and a little boyish at the same time. There’s a hint of grey at his temples as well as in his beard that has Chris placing him at maybe two or three years older than himself.

“New York?” Chris guesses, as he reluctantly lets go of Sebastian’s hand.

“That’s right,” Sebastian nods. “Well, formerly, anyway. We just moved to the area, actually.”

“Oh, really? What brought you all the way out here?”

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair; a nervous habit, perhaps. “Oh, um. My ex-wife got a job in Boston last year, and I didn’t want to be too far from her and the kids, so I decided to follow suit. Only moved down here last month. This is my first full weekend with these guys at my new place, so I thought I’d take them out to do something cultural, learn a little about the local history, y’know?”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of that here,” Chris assures him. “In fact,” he adds sheepishly, “that’s kinda all we've got.”

Sebastian laughs, causing Chris’s brain to glitch, which is probably why the next thing that comes out of his mouth is – “Divorce, huh? I’m sorry, that must’ve been tough.”

When Sebastian doesn’t answer straight away, Chris wants to kick himself for running his big, stupid mouth. As usual. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes hastily. “That’s none of my business. Just tryin’ to make small talk, but I always seem to forget I’m really bad at that. Just forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sebastian assures him, flashing Chris a quick smile. “Thank you. These things are never easy, but it’s better this way, you know?”

“They’re not fighting or anything,” Margot chimes in again, from a few feet below. “Mommy and daddy only got divorced because mommy’s a girl and daddy likes boys better than girls. Right, daddy?"

Well. Chris tries not to be too obvious about glancing at Sebastian’s face to see his reaction to that bombshell his daughter just dropped, but he’s not sure how well he manages.

Sebastian closes his eyes for a moment as if praying for strength. “That's right, sweetheart,” he says with a grimace. “But I'm sure Chris doesn't need to hear about all that."

Chris begs to differ – he’s actually extremely interested in hearing about all this, but before he has a chance to say anything in reply, Margot squares her jaw and crosses her football jersey-clad arms.

“Why not?” she asks defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Some girls just like girls and some boys like boys, it’s totally normal. It’s not prola- probu –" She sighs in frustration, looking up at her dad, who’s watching her with something like pride on his handsome face.

“Problematic?”

“Yeah,” Margot concurs, “not probametic.”  

Chris hums in agreement. “It’s not, you’re absolutely right. I’ll tell you what,” he tells her conspiratorially, “I happen to like boys better, too.”

Margot’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You do?”

“I do.”

Suddenly, Margot’s little face lights up, her shrewd eyes flitting to her dad’s face for a second, then back to Chris. “Do you like my dad?”

“Margot,” Sebastian cuts in, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “That’s enough, honey.” When he tuns back to Chris to give him an apologetic look, Chris can’t help but notice the slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. She’s gotten it into her head that she needs to find me the perfect man ASAP, or I’ll waste away or something.”

Chris laughs, throwing back his head in genuine mirth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he assures them, then claps his hands together to change the precarious subject. “So, who’s ready to learn a little bit about what living in Concord was like over a hundred years ago?”

******

Chris always enjoys volunteering at the museum – it’s nice to give something back to the community that’s been his home for his entire life, and to chat to visitors from all over who have come to visit the land of Little Women, among other things – but what Chris likes best is when he gets to show kids around the place. Some of them need to be won over (after all, a dusty old museum isn’t quite as exciting as a trip to Disney World), but others are instantly captivated by the strange objects and old-timey atmosphere – Sebastian’s kids, fortunately, seem to fall in the latter category.

There’s one room in particular that’s an invariably a favorite with kids – the one that houses the old children’s toys. Trains, dolls and dollhouses, most of them made from wood, all arranged in a colorful parade, with a few screens set up in front of the glass display cases on which kids can watch animations of the toys being used. To Chris’s delight, Margot and David are both immediately taken with the display, David pressing his nose against the glass while Margot fires off question after question that Chris answers patiently and to the best of his ability.

“You sure know a lot about them,” Sebastian remarks, not without a hint of admiration, once Chris has finished explaining the mechanics of the miniature train set.

“Ah.” Chris rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m something of a toy enthusiast myself. I’ve actually got a carpentry workshop – that’s my real job,” he explains. “I’m just a volunteer here – and I dabble in some toy making sometimes, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding. I used to want to be a toy maker when I was a kid, you know,” he says wistfully. “Probably just saw Pinocchio one too many times, but it just seemed like the best job in the world to me, at the time.”

“It kinda is,” Chris grins at Sebastian, getting lost in his dancing grey eyes for a moment. “So what did you end up doing for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a journalist. I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s enriching, challenging. But there’s just something about working with your hands, creating something tangible, something useful…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Chris nods. He bites his lip, hesitating for just a moment before deciding to bite the bullet. “Hey, I don’t know if you guys have plans after this, but my shift ends in a few minutes. I live pretty close, maybe a ten minute drive – if you want, I could show you my workshop? Maybe the kids can try out some of the things I’ve been working on, see if they’re actually any fun to play with?”

There’s an excited collective gasp from the kids, both of them immediately turning big, hopeful eyes on their father. “Oh, daddy,” Margot pleads, tugging on his sleeve. “Can we go see the workshop, pleaaase?”  

Chris tries to ignore the way his stomach drops when Sebastian visibly hesitates.

“I don’t know, guys.” Sebastian looks back at Chris. “I don't want to intrude. It’s almost dinner time on a Saturday. I’m sure you’ve got plans, maybe with your partner..?”

Oh, Chris thinks, chest expanding with hope. He shakes his head. “No partner,” he says, holding Sebastian’s gaze. “Just a dog.”

“A dog?” Margot squeals. “Oh my god, daddy, he’s got a dog. We have to go.”

Sebastian chuckles, rolling his eyes. "They've been hounding me about a dog for months, excuse the pun. I want one too, but I'm just not sure I'm home enough.”

Chris nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it can be tricky if you work full-time, but there’s usually a solution for this kind of thing, in my experience.”

“What’s your dog’s name?” Margot interrupts, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“He’s called Dodger,” Chris tells her, unable to keep the pride out of his voice as he talks about his beloved, four legged-rescue.

From Sebastian’s other side, a small voice suddenly joins in. “Like the one from Oliver?” asks David. His big, brown eyes are wide as he stares up at Chris.

“That’s right,” Chris confirms, dropping to his haunches to level the playing field a little. “Exactly like the one from Oliver. You like that movie, huh?”

David nods, looping one arm around one of his dad’s long legs while clearly fighting the urge to hide behind him completely. “It’s my favorite,” he mutters, then quickly sticks his thumb in his mouth to signal the end of the conversation.

“Really?” Chris asks, beaming at him. “It’s my favorite, too!”

David actually smiles at that, doing an excited little wiggle on the spot. “Daddy, can we go see Dodger, please?” he asks his dad, not bothering to remove his thumb from his mouth.

From his spot on the floor, Chris looks up Sebastian too, probably looking just as hopeful as the kids are – maybe even more so.

Smiling, Sebastian shakes his head. “Sure, buddy,” he laughs, ruffling David’s hair. “How could I resist all these cute little faces, huh?”

There’s a chorus of cheers from the kids that gives Chris a much-needed moment to recover from the euphoria of hearing Sebastian call him cute. Well, sort of.

“Alright,” Chris says, getting to his feet again. “I’ll just go grab my things. Meet you guys in the parking lot?”

“Sounds good.”

Chris nods and is about to head in the direction of the staff room, when Sebastian halts him with a hand on his arm. Chris stops in his tracks, swallowing as he tears his gaze away from Sebastian’s elegant hand on his bicep, back to his face.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says, giving him a look from under his eyelashes that can only be described as coy. “I really appreciate this, you know.”

Holding Sebastian’s gaze, Chris lifts a hand to cover Sebastian’s with his own, giving it a quick squeeze. “It’s my pleasure,” he replies honestly. “Trust me.”

Smiling, Sebastian bites his lip, no doubt noticing the way Chris’s eyes flicker down to his mouth when he does. “I do.”

Chris’s foolishly romantic heart can’t help but skip a beat.

“See,” Margot says suddenly from beside them, breaking the moment and sounding awfully smug about it, too. “Not prolametic at all.”

Chris barks out a laugh while Sebastian covers his eyes with his hand. “Whatever you do, never have kids.”  

“Oh, I dunno,” Chris chuckles, giving Margot a wink and David’s hair a quick ruffle. “I kinda like yours.”

Sebastian clears his throat. “Alright, guys. Let’s go find your jackets and we’ll go see what Chris has in store for us, huh?”

[angryschnauzer]

Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

 Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

 You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

 The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

 “Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

 “Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

 You glanced at the clock;

 “Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

 You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

 “You got any Chilli left?”

 “Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

 He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

 “No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

 “Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

 You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

 “Hey, you want a free muffin?”

 “I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

 The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

 “Have a good evening Detective”

 As he turned he smiled at you;

 “Call me Walter”

 -

 Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

 The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

 “Detective” you greeted him happily

 “Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

 “I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

 He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

 “What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

 “I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

 “Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

 “Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

 As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

 “... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

 He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

 “Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

 “Sure thing”

 Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

 “You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

 “I… I have no idea what that is…”

 “Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

 He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

 “You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

 He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

 “That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

 You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

 “Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

 -

 Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building. 

 Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

 The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

 He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

 “Fuck!”

 He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

 “Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

 Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

 “Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

 “You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

 “I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

 “I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

 Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

 “Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

 “Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

 You tighten your grip around his waist;

 “I wasn’t complaining…”

 There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

 He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

 “Leave those on…”

 You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

 As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

 When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

 “You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

 “You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

 Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

 “I need you inside me”

 “I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

 “I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

 With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

 “Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

 He paused, a smirk on his face;

 “You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

 “NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

 “You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

 “Please… please fuck me…”

 He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

 “Well, as you said please…”

 You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

 You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

 “Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

 Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

 “That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

 At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

 “I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

 Nodding you smiled;

 “That'd be nice”

 -

 A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

 “Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

 Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

 “Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

 You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

 “I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 >>>

[zeldas-cigarrette]

Jealousy. (request)

I was wondering if I could send in a request for a Farah Dowling x female student( legal age of course) this is my first time requesting for her so it’s a bit cliche and simple but would you be able to do a fix where Farah gets jealous of the reader like someone flirts with the reader and Farah gets very riled up and is even cold but she softens at the sight of reader and there’s a lot of sexual and emotional tension and eventually there’s a confrontation and feelings come to light? ♥️

I hope you like it sweetheart:) And I am so so sorry for the long wait !! (It’s probably not quite what you wanted but I tried???)

for @suckerformadamsatan ✨

Alfea was a wonderful new opportunity for a new start and you integrated well in your first couple of months. It had been strange at first, you just found out that you’re a fairy and the next logical step was to bring you to Alfea. Though it was strange for a while, you adapted pretty quickly. Farah Dowling, the Headmistress, mesmerized you from the very beginning. Her whole presence radiated power and even though you thought that she wasn’t very fond of you, you were proven wrong one particular day.

The sun was swallowed by thick layers of grey clouds, which seemed to have a lot of water saved in them. It was almost certain that the whole otherworld; Solaria, wouldn’t have a dry spot in a few hours. You spent your break in the cafeteria, listening to Bloom, Terra and Aisha talk about some big stuff coming up. You were distracted by Farah, who was talking to Saul on the other side of the room. She looked beautiful, flawless. You wanted to get up and kiss her right in front of all the people. But it was inappropriate, highly. Also, she wouldn’t even feel the same and be embarrassed about the whole thing. What you didn’t know was that Farah did take a liking to you. She felt drawn to you and every time you were focusing on your magic in class, she couldn’t take her eyes off of you. It was a strange feeling in the woman’s gut, she had never dared to fall for a student. She swore to compose herself and be careful with her looks.

You fantasized about how her hand would feel on your hips, holding you close. It was top secret, though you always could tell Musa, you didn’t allow yourself to think about her when you spent time with your friend. As hard as it was, you managed to store your thought deep down in your brain, unable to read them for everyone around you.

The room was filled with a hint of thyme. Everybody seemed to be chatting or eating their lunch, so you felt safe to dedicate some of your thoughts to the woman in the corner. Farah’s hair was done up in a way you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around. „What do you think about it?” Aisha’s voice tore you out of your state. You had no clue what she was talking about, so you just stared at her with big eyes. „Y/n, did you even listen?” Terra asked, eating her last piece of potatoes on her plate. „No, I’m sorry could you repeat it maybe?”

„We were thinking about going to the party tonight and we were wondering if you’d join us,” the earth fairy energetically repeated and was expecting a yes. Since you weren’t really much of a party girl, you had to politely decline. Big crowds, loud music; never was your thing, never will be.

The bell rang and a bunch of people made their way to the classrooms. Bloom and Terra didn’t bother to move, while Aisha shoved pieces of apples in her mouth. A tap on your shoulder made you avert your gaze from the leaving students and made you focus on the person who wished for your attention. In front of you appeared a tall guy, brown curly hair. „Can I help you?” you raised an eyebrow. You had never seen him before. „I’m Brian,” he cleared his throat, „I watched you for some time.” His eyes widened when he realized what he’d just said, „I didn’t mean it that way, I just find you entrancing and I wanted to ask if you’d like to go to the party with me tonight.”

You gulped, you hated telling people off. You were sure what you wanted and what you didn’t but sometimes you failed to communicate it correctly. Moments of silence lingered in the air and you felt the stares of the girls on you. It was awkward, to say the least. „I’m sorry…” you forgot his name. „Brian,” he added seeing that his name wasn’t present in your head. „I’m sorry Brian but I don’t really like to party that much so,” you weren’t sure if that was convincing enough. He nodded. Since you wanted to escape this awkward tension as quickly as possible you got up from the chair, gathered your things, and were about to rush out of the cafeteria. Not even halfway through the door, you got held back by a hand on your wrist. It was him again. You internally rolled your eyes but kept a friendly face. „How about we just go for a walk then, in the moonlight?” his voice was soaked with sugar.

If you had been at a loss of words you could’ve stopped him from rambling on. „And I can pick you up at nine and we could also have dinner before.” Slightly, you shook your head before you found the right words, „I think you’re a good guy, but I’m just not into guys you know? So no, I don’t think I’d like to do this.” A sad expression spread on his face but he seemed to acknowledge it. The boy turned around and quickly walked away. It must’ve been awful for him, you thought to yourself. Still, you made your way out of the cafeteria to head for your next class. You saw the last few students in the hallway scurry to their rooms when a hand on your shoulder made you stop immediately. It has to be that Brian guy again.

—♡︎

Farah watched the whole thing happen from her position and she felt her blood boil from the scene that was offered. It took her a long time to figure out what was going on, every time the older fairy saw you; something in her stomach twirled (in a good way). Brian seemed to be persistent although she could see that you clearly didn’t enjoy his presence, Farah felt a hint of jealousy creeping up in her. She wanted to be the one asking you out, holding your hand. She let Saul talk without showing him a hint of interest. When she saw you rushing out of the room, the fairy saw an opportunity.

—♡︎

„God Brian, didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” it was almost anger that filled your voice. As you turned around, you almost choked on your own saliva. Her features weren’t easy to read, you had no idea what she was thinking. The little wrinkles around her eyes were soon gone when she unclenched her jaw. „In my office!” It almost scared you, have you been that rude just now? Nonetheless, you followed her, looking down on your feet. Arriving at her office, the older fairy pulled you inside almost hectic if you hadn’t known better.

Farah had both of her arms braced on her hips, inspecting every little detail of you as if she had never done that before. „What have I done?” you asked shyly not knowing what trouble you now caused. „Actually…” Farah began and hesitated, „nothing?” It was remarkable that not even the headmistress knew what was going on. „So am I allowed to leave?” no doubt you enjoyed her presence but that was awkward. While waiting for an answer, you studied your surroundings. A huge wooden desk stood in the middle of the room, paperwork, pencils, and other things you couldn’t quite make out covered the top. The room was barely agleam, only a thin ray of sun threw a slight light in the room. A few lit scented candles took the job and made the room glow in a crimson-like shade.

„I have to confess something,” Farah’s voice sounded almost as if she was afraid. As if the whole situation wasn’t weird enough, she had to confess something…? Her eyes scanned you for approval before she just went on. The fairy turned around to now face the wall. „Well,” the woman drew in a long breath, „I was jealous?” It sounded like a question. „About what?” that was quicker than you had intended to. Her head quickly jolted in your direction. Silence between the two of you settled again. Realization hit just a couple of seconds after, it was about what happened with Brian. „He was flirting with you and I- I just…” she stuttered. Farah’s features softened when she saw the slight smile tugging on your lips. You walked over to her, thinking about if this was right twice, and took her hands in yours. A delicate smile graced her lips and that was when you knew it was mutual. Farah’s right hand went up to your face to cup your cheek, she pulled your face closer until her lips landed on yours. The kiss was in sync, it felt unreal; like heaven.

What you didn’t know was that Farah had spent nights thinking about you, thinking about what could go wrong. She had scolded herself for having those feelings for a student. At that moment every doubt was forgotten. She had lightly pushed you against her desk, letting her hands roam around on your body. Of all the times you stood close to her you never realized how heavenly she smelt, like a field of lavender.

—♡︎

It didn’t take long until the two of you became inseparable, you spent almost every minute with her (except when you had to be in class). You knew she could easily get jealous. Every time someone talked to you, she had this look on her face that made your heart skip a beat. She was so afraid of losing you to someone younger than her. The little „I love you.”’s before you went to sleep every night, they reassured her that you wouldn’t leave.

[theshadowsong]

Ordinary evening

Yes I wrote something stupid xD My OC Diya is the assistant of Archibald and clearly annoyed of his behavior lol (with a fluffy ending)

I really tried to translate all the names of people and places right, because they differ from the German version. Sorry when something is wrong though

It was a typical ordinary evening in Clairdelune and Archibald was once again celebrating one of his parties. People of the nobility, especially of the Illusionists and the Web gathered, laughed artificially, danced and drank. And none of them wasted even a thought that someone might want to concentrate here.

Wearing a simple purple dress, Diya sat in one of the many side rooms of the mansion, trying to think. Her long hair, lighter on top than underneath, fell silky smooth into her face. Annoyed, she wiped a strand out of her field of vision and immediately regretted it a moment later. As soon as she touched her hair, it was electrified by the cold, dry air of the pole. Even the best illusion couldn‘t change that, her hair had always been very sensitive.

„Ah the little assistant.“ Diya looked up from her notes and groaned inwardly. Standing before her was the director of the Nibelungen. One of the most unpleasant people she had ever met. She tried to ignore the disparaging tone and put on a fake smile.

„What can I do for you?“ She couldn‘t help but sound a little annoyed, especially since the director had been getting on her nerves terribly for quite a while.

„Regarding the request, I assume the Ambassador has already been informed?“

Diya raised an eyebrow, „Your application has only been on file for two days, Director.“

„It is of the utmost importance that...“

„I will present the application to the Ambassador after I read it.“ She interrupted him, conspicuously emphasizing the word „after.“

The man opposite her gasped indignantly.

„I see manners have not been taught to you in any case, cook.“ Dyia looked skeptically at the director. Indeed she had been a cook before becoming Archibald‘s assistant, but she was such a miserable cook that it almost bordered on poisoning. In a way, the ambassador had probably saved her from the arduous life of a servant.

It was also to be expected that the nobility of the Pole was not very enthusiastic about showing a servant a certain amount of respect. Even if she was officially no longer one. In addition, she wasn‘t even from the Pole. Which is also not entirely true, because she was indeed born here. But because of the unequal darker skin tone, the Polians were all pale and light blond, with the sandy brown hair and the green eyes, everybody noticed immediately that she was of a different descent. Her mother came from Al Ondaltus, as a visitor to Pol. From her, she also had her family power, which she hid as well as she could.

Diya could sense and alter the emotions of others, which might not be a popular gift at the Pole. Her father had been a page who died before she was born. Her mother disappeared. But left her in the care of a nasty old woman who liked nothing better than to mend old socks over a bottle of whiskey.

„Are you being molested?“ Archibald‘s blond curly head appeared in the doorway. He was beaming as usual. His gaze lingered on the director, who grimaced.

„You should control your employees better, I already made a request two days ago...“ Archibald‘s bright laughter interrupted him and Diya just hoped for this conversation to end soon. The director of the Nibelungen scowled even more.

„But, but... do you know how many applications and documents come in here every day, I guess you‘ll have to be patient.“ Archibald fluted cheerfully and winked at Diya.

She had nothing to add.

Outraged, the director whirled around and stormed out of the room.

„Well that was interesting.“

„No it wasn‘t.“ Diya‘s headache increased, as it always does when there are too many people in one spot. Too many feelings all at once. Add to that the ever-present sensations of the family spirit she was always aware of. She would have to leave the pole just to escape Farouk‘s confused aura.

„You should really have some fun for once,“ Archibald laughed, eyeing himself over the table of documents, his breath sweet, having already had a drink or two.

„And who’s going to do all your work then?“ Diya gave the ambassador a playfully reproachful look. „Apart from that, neither the alcohol nor the presence of all these people help with my headache.“

Archibald was one of the few who knew about her powers. Diya tried to tune them out as much as possible. Diving into the feelings of others was already very personal, but on the other hand, it wasn‘t equally easy to read everyone. Many hid their true feelings from themselves, others were so open that they practically threw their feelings in her face.

Archibald‘s smile became more tentative, and he straightened up again.

„At least promise me to eat something.“ Out of nowhere, probably having held it in his hand all along, he whipped out a plate of cake.

„Ah? I guess cake counts as a full meal with you guys, huh?“ teased Diya, accepting the plate. „Sure, especially with strawberries.“

They heard some groping footsteps and then a high-pitched, definitely drunk voice of a woman, „Ohh Archi!!? Where are you?“

„Well, I’m being summoned.“ The one addressed raised his hat and gave a deliberately exaggerated bow to his assistant, who just rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of water.

A few hours passed until the people slowly dwindled and Diya‘s headache disappeared. Sighing, she got up, the music had been off for a while, instead the sound of a piano key kept repeating.

Diya walked down a corridor past a small fountain, which she was convinced was an illusion. In the room she entered afterwards, there were several sofas, armchairs and tables. There was also a piano on which a figure was playing the same key, half lying down.

Archibald‘s curls were even more tangled than usual and his face was slightly red.

„Archibald?“

He didn‘t respond at all.

Diya looked at him for a few seconds, then sat down next to him.

„Archibald, look at me.“ gingerly, she lifted his chin and forced him to look her in the face. „Dude how much did you drink?“ reproachfully, she looked at the ambassador, but the addressed one only laughed inanely and tried to stand up. He failed miserably, staggered and almost fell down if Diya had not supported him. Without thinking about whether he might have been too heavy to be carried by his assistant, he leaned his entire weight against her.

„Thisss is... well, not... how late isss it...?“ he slurred, laughing again.

„To late.“ hissed Diya, who had to muster all her concentration not to fall down. With difficulty, she hoisted him onto a sofa, where he plopped down at an odd angle. He was still giggling stupidly to himself. She couldn‘t possibly leave him alone like that.

„You’re really making more work for me than necessary,“ she reprimanded Archibald, settling down on the sofa next to him. Archibald had stopped giggling and looked at her with wide eyes. „Are you mad at me?“

Surprised, she looked at him, sounding seriously concerned. The way he was lying next to her on the sofa, he almost seemed like a child.  „No, of course not.“

Diya was just dog-tired, nevertheless she would wait until Archibald fell asleep. She grabbed a book from the side table and started flipping through it randomly, she was way too tired to concentrate.

After 10 minutes of nursing, she thought he had fallen asleep, but suddenly he put his head on her lap. Irritated, she looked at the ambassador, with his worn clothes, unshaven face and tangled hair, he had more similarities with a bum than with a nobleman. Still, one could not help but find him attractive. Sighing, Diya closed the book and put it aside.

Gently, she placed her hand on his head. She would not find sleep in that position, but Archibald was already blissfully slumbering. Her fingers played with the surprisingly soft curls. A little helplessly, she shook her head.

„Idiot.“ whispered Diya, but could not hide a smile.

[agere-culture-is]

Hi! I recently found out about age regression and I was thinking that it might be great for me to do, since I miss being four, and seven!! One problem; how do I do it without anyone in my family knowing?

(PS: I don't want to use my name when I am a little. Can you help me find some cutesy names? If it helps, I go by they/them and he/him, occasionally using neopronouns... also, I've got very curly short hair that I put in buns sometimes!! ^^)

Hello! I'll do my best to help. As I've said in a past post, I'm relatively new to age regression myself. But, I've begun to figure out some tricks, so I'll gladly share. Just know that these are specified to my position, so it may not work for everyone. Plushies: I still have a bunch stored in my room from when I was a small child, and I still get new ones occasionally. I typically use those when regressed. Same goes for blankets and pillows. You'd be surprised how many things you'd have lying around that are good for regression. Foods: One of my favorite snacks when regressed is fruit snacks. It's an easy excuse because I just consume fruit snacks like crazy anyway. Some other good options are sliced fruit or dry cereal, because I feel those are pretty typical for anyone to eat. Behaviors: When regressed, we tend to do things of our age range. These things can include stuff like thumb sucking/sucking on things, lots of happy flaps, tantrums, etc. etc. For people like me, some of these behaviors might be things that happen in daily life and are therefore excused (e.g, I stim quite a bit and everyone's gotten used to it), but for other people it may not be. If it's not, I recommend just retreating to somewhere you can be alone for extended periods of time, like your room. That's where I tend to stick around when I'm regressed. Activities: Cartoons are very easy to access. It's an easy YouTube search most of the time. There's stuff like Hulu, Netflix, and all those different streaming services as well, but I usually use YouTube so I can have it on my computer in front of me. Coloring is also good, because anyone of any age can color, not just little kids. As for things like pacis and bottles, I'm not sure yet. I'm trying to figure that stuff out. I hope all this stuff has helped, just remember I'm not an expert. If anyone has any other tips, feel free to add! Now, onto the names. I've always loved doing these things, so I've compiled a nice list for you. :) Beau Bun Elliot Emery Lee Milo Ollie Hope those are good! I can totally find more if none of those fit!

[gureishi]

......SE Saeran + warm touch? 👉🏻👈🏻

...SE Saeran you say???

Listen I’m not saying I have a favorite Saeran but I do and it’s him 😭

Thank you for this absolutely DELIGHTFUL request <3

warm touch (SE Saeran)

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The water—steaming, slightly too hot—rushes over your hands and the neat little stack of dishes in the sink, loud enough to drown out the hollow way your heartbeat echoes in your eardrums.

It’s also loud enough to muffle his footsteps—not that it’s difficult to do that in the first place. He’s quiet as a stray cat: afraid to be heard, afraid not to be.

“Hey,” he says, making you jump. The water splashes too high, almost in your face, and you can’t quite catch your breath as you turn to face him. He’s in the doorway, a good distance away—distance, always distance—and there’s a look in his quiet, tired eyes that surprises you. It’s as if he knows it all: the way your head is pounding, the way your poor heart is aching.

“Hi,” you say: breathless. You’re not sure you want him to see your own eyes: weary, red-rimmed. You know he does see, though.

“What happened to you?” he asks—direct, simple. Behind you, the water runs and runs. It’s not loud enough to hide you from him; the boy sees everything.

And he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to know.

“I had a conversation today that was...difficult,” you tell him. And why is it so easy to say these things to him, why is it that the words fall out of your mouth as if against your will?

He shifts, moving fully into the kitchen now. The harsh fluorescent lights somehow flatter him: his hair shines bright against his pale face. It’s almost completely grown out now, red and healthy and curly. You imagine it would feel soft. Just the ends are white, still: fluffy, dry.

“Sorry,” he says. And oh, you think, if anybody else spoke brusquely to you like this you would feel disregarded. But it’s not that way with him. When he says he’s sorry that you’ve had a hard time, he means it. His eyes are bright.

“It’s okay,” you say. “There are some people in my life that can...hurt me, really easily.” You look down; you can’t quite meet his intense gaze. You’re never sure how much to say, how much to expose yourself, how much will burden him.

“I get it,” he says.

And he does, doesn’t he.

You turn to the sink because he’s still watching you and you’ve forgotten what to do with your hands. He moves a little closer, leaning on the counter—he takes up so little space that sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s really there.

“Can I help?” he asks, and your heart flutters. It’s waking up, you think—beating again. You wonder if he knows how little he has to do to restart your heart.

“Help with...the dishes?” You stick your hands under the water again. It burns, a little bit.

“No,” he tells you—and how is it that he’s so firm when he’s quiet, so sure when his hand on the counter beside you reminds you of a wisp of smoke from a chimney in winter? “The other thing.”

“Oh.” You stare at the water till your eyes glaze over. Your heart is awake, all right—it’s filling up your chest and your throat and the very tips of your toes. “I, ah...”

He waits, patient and quiet; you think of a little potted plant, surprisingly study, impossibly fragile. Waiting for water, not knowing if it will come.

“You could...um...”

Let me lay my head in your lap, you think frantically. Kiss my forehead with your cold, chapped lips and tell me I’ll be okay.

“You could come stand beside me,” you tell him. Your desperate, pitiful heart.

“Okay.” He is surprisingly compliant, this quiet, sad-eyed boy. He comes to your side, matches your posture. Shoulder just touching yours. He watches your hands; you watch the water. Rushing, rushing.

“And you could...ah. Never mind.” You hate that you can’t form the words, hate that your skin tingles where it touches his. His hair brushes against the soft skin under your earlobe and for some reason, you want to cry again.

“What?” he asks. His tone is the same as always: restrained, inscrutable. But it’s also different, somehow—as though he, too, is conscious of the way the air between you is melting.

You take a deep breath because if not know, when?

You haven’t washed a single dish. They stare at you, soaked and steaming.

“Could you...put your head on my shoulder?”

You scrunch your eyes shut, sure he will move away from you now, disappearing back into the recesses of this big, dark house. You’ve gone too far this time, you’re certain. His scent fills your whole being: sweet and clean and fresh, like newly mown grass, or just-baked bread.

You sneak a peek at him; he hasn’t moved. His eyes are a little wide and there’s a look you’ve never seen before on his face. You don’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks or the way he seems to have stopped breathing.

“Okay,” he says again, so quiet you can hardly hear. His soft voice blends with the rushing water and you think of the potted plant again, leaves bending hopelessly, longingly, toward the water that’s just out of reach.

And then, the ends of his hair (still a little fried, ticklish) dancing over your cheek, he tilts his head. Cautiously, tenderly, he lowers it onto your shoulder—just as you asked.

Oh, he’s warm: his cheek scalds your shoulder. His head is a little heavy, as though it’s been waiting for a place to rest for a long, long time.

“Thank you,” you whisper, throat dry, head spinning.

You don’t move, and neither does he. The water runs. Time is passing and not passing—it could be the next morning, or the night before, and you wouldn’t know the difference.

Your breathing melts into his; you hear his breaths, so close to your ear, matching the way your shoulder rises and falls. You would be happy, you think wildly, to stay here forever—in the kitchen, with the water running, and his head (solid and real and alive) on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He makes a soft and indistinct noise, almost a hum.

“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 1: 1971

Kane's steadiest relationship through his life was always to the stars

(This fic is 4 chapters, inspired by this fic by @old-no7, approximately 5000 words and written in a 24-hour binge. It'll eventually also be posted to AO3, but I'm sleepy rn, so not right now)

He’d been waiting for that night for two weeks. Marking the days off on a little scrap of paper his brother had written up for him. 14 little boxes to put an X through when he woke up every morning. His brother had been forbidden from partaking in their little ritual until after he finished writing his chemistry test and Kane knew better to stay outside alone. So he waited and he helped his brother study. In later years, when they recollected those weeks, his brother would admit that if anything, even less studying had been done when Kane was insisting to help. He tried to quiz his brother on vocabulary, which might have been helpful if Kane could read the terms or the definitions. Or knew what exactly chemistry was. But his brother appreciated the effort.

Kane had spent almost the entire day of the test in the window of the parlor, kneeling on the itchy red couch. It was a nice enough couch when they had funerals happening, since those were the days Kane had to wear long pants, but the rest of the time, when he was in shorts, the fabric itched his legs, so he didn’t like the couch much. But he put up with it that day. Mother wouldn’t let him move any of the furniture or sit on the windowsill, so he put up with the itch.

Mother said his brother would return when the old grandfather clock rang exactly four times. Kane considered himself a good counter. He could make it as far as twenty without any help, since that was how many fingers and toes he had, but he had trouble remembering what came after. It didn’t matter that day anyway. The grandfather clock never rang more than twelve times (that was all fingers and two toes) and was on eight rings by the time Kane was woken up and told to get ready for the day.

Making sure he counted each and every ring was hard work. By the time he’d counted four and not a single one more, he was almost too sleepy to figure out right away that it meant his brother would be walking up the lane any second. The only way he did figure it out was by seeing the long black coat of his brother blowing gently through the wind at the bottom of the hill. He was off the itchy red couch and out the front door before he even had time to yell to his mother where he was going.

His brother was far more focused on keeping his hat from blowing away in the wind to see Kane coming at him like a bat out of hell. He only just grabbed onto it as Kane captured him in a tight hug around his middle.

“You wrote your test today, right? So tonight we can sleep outside?” Kane asked, already knowing the answers, but just wanting finalised confirmation. His brother blew some curly red strands out of his eyes.

“Yes, Kane, I did do well on my test. Thank you for asking so politely,” he chuckled as he squirmed out of the hug. Kane huffed his annoyance quietly.

“Sorry. We’re still sleeping outside tonight, right?”

“We can head out as soon as we trade my bookbag for the tent inside.”

The next couple minutes were a battle of the brothers as Kane tried to drag his brother up the hill to the house as fast as possible and his brother trying to hold Kane back, just to wind him up for his own amusement. Eventually, even his brother couldn’t hide his excitement for the evening anymore.

It was the first year where their father was letting them go out by themselves. They’d each gotten training to defend themselves against some of the more common beasts of the Valley. Kane was trusted with a hunting knife after proving himself capable enough of getting a good shot in while also understanding the dangers the knife could possess. His brother, being older, had already been taken hunting twice. He didn’t like killing things, but their father was confident that if push came to shove, he could bring himself to kill pretty much anything in the name of keeping Kane safe.

After kissing their mother goodbye for the evening and receiving a final quick quiz on what to do and what not to do when faced with danger from their father, each boy picked up their packs and started on the trail into the woods. Kane had both the food and his sleeping bag slung over his shoulders, and if it had been any other night, he would have probably begun complaining from the weight. Sandwiches had never seemed so heavy before, or maybe his brother was just taking them to a place really far away. They did most of their exploring together, but Kane knew there were some places he’d never been before. Either because they were too far away for his little legs to walk to or because they involved crossing the river and his brother hadn’t been quite tall enough to lift Kane over the water yet. Wet feet was one of their first warnings: if they couldn’t cross the river with dry feet when safe, they wouldn’t be able to make it across if they ever faced danger.

“Are we going to the river?” Kane eventually piped up, hoping to disguise the ache in his shoulders and his feet.

“What?”

“The river. Are we crossing it?”

“Maybe when you’re bigger. Not today.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Somewhere special.”

“How special?”

“Kane, do you ever stop talking?”

By the time they stopped bickering, Kane realized they hadn’t been walking for likely a minute or more. They were in a small clearing of grass and a few rocks scattered around. Surrounded by trees on all sides, but there was still a patch of sky overhead.

“Do you know how to set up the tent by yourself?” His brother asked, shaking Kane from his admirings of their location.

“No, but I can put together the poles,” he offered. He was good at poles. Just wasn’t tall enough to put up the tent with them, but he’d never say so out loud.

“Do that. I want to gather some firewood while it’s still light out. Have your knife on you?” Kane pulled out the hunting knife from the leather case their mother had made and showed it off proudly. “Good. Don’t lose it. I’m not going far, but just in case-”

“Can’t I come with you? I wanna get some firewood too.”

“What for?”

“So I can have my own fire.”

“You can light the big one. We need the tent up before it gets dark. It’ll be faster if we each do one chore.”

Kane nodded and tried his best not to pout. He’d wanted his own fire to play with, but if his brother was letting him set the big one, that would be okay too. Besides, putting up the tent was an important job. Being trusted to assemble the poles properly was more than he usually did on these trips. But with only two of them going, there’d be lots more work for each of them. As his brother set out to find the firewood, Kane decided that not only would he assemble the poles, he’d even find the right place for each of them to slide into the tent fabric. Then all that would have to be done was push it up and stake it down. Easy-peasy.

He was sliding in the last pole when he heard the tell-tale dropping of firewood behind him and jumped up.

“Tent’s ready to be put up,” he explained proudly. His brother lifted an eyebrow uncertainly.

“You sure you’ve got them in the right spots?”

“Yup!”

“Positive?”

“Yes!”

“And if we try to put it up and they’re not?”

“They will be!”

To Kane’s credit, they were, surprisingly, all absolutely correct. The tent went up in no time at all. With an overexcited use of matches and dry wood, the fire was almost faster. By the time the sun was down over the Valley and the night air quietly screeched with the calls of bugs and other assorted beasts, both boys were picking at their ham sandwiches and lying back in the grass to look upwards.

“Tell me a story,” Kane quietly requested, as if he didn’t want to disturb the world around them.

“A story?”

“Yeah, like Father does every year. About the stars.”

“You mean the constellations?” He chuckled a little and pushed some hair out of his face. “Kane, my brain’s so full of chemistry right now, I hardly remembered the way here.”

“C’mon!” It was tradition. A story by the fireside. He wasn’t letting his brother get off that easy with such a lame excuse.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come up with something.” He went quiet for a few moments before lifting one of his arms to the heavens. “You see that star there?”

“Which one?”

“The big one.”

“They’re all big. Father says they’re as big as the sun.”

“Okay, the one that looks bigger because it's the closest.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That one’s me.”

“How come you get to be a star?”

“You’re a star too, Kane. See the reddish-looking one?”

“Right beside the big one?”

“Exactly. Stars are born and they die all the time.”

“Just like people.”

“Right, just like people. When we die, those stars are going to disappear.”

“Are they brothers too?”

“Of course. Stars can be brothers just like people.”

“Do they get along?”

“Most of the time. Sometimes they fight and they don’t look like they’re as close together, but they always make up. Always.”

[maxrev]

Fluffy ask for Jon/Kaidan for you: walking on the beach (or the pier I suppose) while holding hands with their fingers laced together. (sorry, I can't get enough of these two!)

These guys I swear...short prompts don’t exist. They took this and ran with it and Kaidan had another surprise in store. I apologize for any mistakes or if something doesn’t make sense, I was...exhausted and probably overedited it into a mess lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks for the ask ;)

           ___________________________________

Where Palm Trees Sway

It is the heart always that sees, before the head can see - Thomas Carlyle

A breeze blew in off the ocean, warm air against hot skin. Jon was wishing for the cool breezes back home but he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. 

"Doing okay?" 

He looked over, drinking in the sight of Kaidan wearing board shorts and nothing else; his fit, muscular body on display and an easy smile on his lips. While they actually lived on the beach, a bit warmer climate sounded like the perfect get away. A chance to bask in the sun and enjoy each other without the distractions of their friends and city life; even if the city wasn’t terribly large. The small, quiet resort they’d chosen sat in a protected cove of an island with miles of beaches, both busy and peaceful. A few were off the beaten path, providing a calm and restful ambience. 

The ocean waves provided a relaxing accompaniment to their unhurried pace as they meandered down the stretch of sand. This beach, the one with their bungalow, was secluded; a couple of families with young children, a few couples enjoying the solitude as they were and one lone group of teenagers engaged in a mostly quiet game of frisbee. 

They walked near the water where the aqua colored waves rolled lazily onto shore, the crowns of foam drifting softly over their toes. Seagulls floated nearby on currents in air, cawing loudly, sometimes drifting closer inland hoping for a tasty morsel tossed to them. Out at sea floated a handful of colorful sailboats. A picture perfect day, much the same as the brochure still on the table back home. Just as advertised. 

A little way down the strip of sand Jon could see a young mother trying to teach her little boy how to fly a kite and just past the two of them was a single vendor selling drinks, ice cream and shaved ice, the shiny cart shaded by a bright, colorful umbrella. 

"Yeah, I'm good." Kaidan reached for his hand and they continued their walk, comfortable in the peaceful setting, no need to fill the silence with words. He knew Kaidan was just checking on him. 

Before they'd left their bungalow, Kaidan had stared in astonishment when Jon stepped out of the bathroom without a shirt. He'd quickly hidden his surprise, though. For Jon to go out in public without one was a monumental step. 

Of course, it helped having Kaidan by his side offering support. Being on a sparsely populated beach didn’t hurt either. Less people to observe his scars up close, fewer children to terrify. As soon as the latter thought crossed his mind, a kite came crashing down in front of them, the little boy racing towards it frantically as fast as his little legs could go while his mother called out to him. It was as if he never heard her. 

Jon froze as the boy skidded to a stop in the sand, right at their feet, at a loss for what to do. 

Instinctively, he turned to hide his scars, knowing as soon as the boy's eyes landed on them, he'd run back to his mother, frightened and screaming. Leaving his shirt off had been the absolute worst idea he’d ever had. He’d struggled with it over and over and now wished he would have worn one; his usual long sleeved tee. Being hot and sweaty was preferable to the fear snaking up his body, rooting him to the spot. He held his breath, waiting for disaster to strike. 

“Jon...hey, Jon. I’m here; it’s going to be okay.” 

Jon didn’t even hear him. 

The boy gazed at the crashed kite, a lone tear escaping from the corner of his eye to roll down a chubby cheek, smeared with what looked like chocolate. Dark brown curly hair blew free in the breeze. 

The world faded away when the boy gazed up at him with wide brown eyes, full lower lip quivering. Jon was sure any minute he’d begin to wail and the wailing would turn to a howl when he finally saw Jon's scars. 

"M-m-my k-k-kite," he stammered in a tear filled voice. He pointed at their feet, in case they hadn't already noticed. But all Jon noticed was the boy's arm, his kite completely forgotten. The arm aiming at the kite was horribly scarred, all the way up to the elbow. The shimmering big brown eyes locked on Jon’s. How do I talk to a child?

Kaidan moved between the two, sitting on the backs of his legs, toes digging into the sand. He smiled at the child, “Let’s check your kite and see how it looks, okay?” 

The boy sniffled, wiped a hand under his nose, and nodded. His mother caught up to them just then wrapping her arms protectively around his shoulders. Breathless, she apologized, “I’m so sorry he’s bothered you.” To her son, her voice was soft and gentle but firm, “Levi, you can’t run off like that without me, okay? And you shouldn’t bother these nice gentlemen.” 

He twisted, trying to free himself from her protective hold, turning to look up at her, “But my k-k-kite! I h-h-had to c-catch it!” He explained in a tear soaked voice. Levi looked back at Kaidan who held the kite, carefully smoothing it out and untangling the string. It appeared to be intact. “Is it okay? Can I f-fly it again?” 

The epitome of patience as always, Kaidan nodded and smiled, gently reassuring him, “I think it’ll fly again. Here you go.” He handed it over, the chubby hands grasping for it with a look of wonder, tears evaporating as if they’d never been. “Thank you!”  

The boy’s mother smiled at Kaidan, echoing her son, “Yes, thank you so much.” 

She glanced over at Jon with brown eyes the same color as her son’s. Her gaze slid over his scars but without shock or disgust. Before she could turn him away, Levi’s glance landed on them as well. Jon tensed, anticipating the inevitable explosion but to his surprise, it never came. 

Levi stepped closer, reaching out. His mother grasped his hand. “Levi!” she reprimanded, “You can’t touch someone without their permission.” 

Crestfallen, he looked ready to cry again. 

To his surprise, Jon said, “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” By the intake of breath at his side, Kaidan was surprised as well. 

But Levi turned the tables on them all. “We have matching scars! Do you wanna touch mine, too?” 

The matter-of-fact question rattled him so much, he couldn’t manage to answer. Levi deflated...until Kaidan reached for Jon’s hand, snapping him out of his trance. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, right Jon?”

“Uh...sure,” he spoke with more conviction than he felt. 

Reaching out with tentative fingers, ashamed of how badly his hand shook, Jon gently let his fingertips glide over them, losing himself in the touch and feel of someone else’s outward trauma. The scars were marled with raised ridges, thin rivers of pale pink in the sunlight. The boy giggled and Jon snatched his hand away, the spell broken.  

Hand still shaking, he started when a warm hand slid around it and squeezed. Kaidan. 

The boy giggled, "That tickled!" 

Inspired by the courage of the small boy before him, Jon sat in the sand so he could be on the same level. "You wanted to touch mine, too, right?" 

Levi nodded, extending his hand but then pausing and looking up at his mother. Realizing the suggestion may have been too forward, Jon looked up at her. She’d been watching them, her son's earlier tears seemed to have found a home in her eyes. Blinking several times, they glistened with unshed tears. She gave her consent to them both with a nod. 

Levi needed no further urging, touching Jon’s scars. It still took every ounce of strength he possessed not to flinch or pull away when those tiny fingers traced every inch of scarred skin. So far no hysterics and as Levi continued to explore, Jon felt his fears ebb away, like waves going back out to sea. He lost himself in the wonder of the child before him, filled with bravery and the absence of doubt. No thought to how the outside world would view him. Jon hoped those values remained through his whole life. 

"They’re all...ribbly," Levi told him. 

"Ribbly, huh?" At the boy's emphatic nod, he chuckled, "I suppose they are." 

"Levi, we need to go." 

The boy gave a very adult sigh, garnering a chuckle from his mother and Kaidan, before leaving. Following his mother back down the beach, he suddenly turned back to Jon, gave a shy grin and wave, turned back and began to run, tossing a ‘bye’ over his shoulder. Their bodies became smaller until they took a path into the trees and disappeared. 

Still trying to wrap his mind around what had happened, he was startled when Kaidan spoke up, "You okay?"

He stood up and brushed the sand off his legs, using the action to get his emotions under control. "Sure, I'm good."

The words were true. Actually, he felt more than good. Never comfortable around people after the mission which had given him the scars and more than a little terrified of their possible reaction, he found himself a little poleaxed by the whole scene. His present fears put into perspective by the naivete of a child. He was smart enough to know moving forward wouldn't be so easy; he still had quite a few giant hurdles to jump over. But it was a start. Doc Chakwas would likely give him one of her knowing smiles when he relayed the story to her. 

"Want some shaved ice?" 

Sounded wonderful. His throat was dry from stress and the sun hung high up in the sky since they'd left their bungalow. The air was hot, humid, and wet. "Yeah. Blue raspberry if they have it." 

Kaidan walked to the vendor while Jon waited, not quite ready to endure more scrutiny of his scars. He came back with two paper cups; blue raspberry for Jon, lemon for him. "Here you go." 

Jon took it, spooning out a bite. Cool and refreshing. "Mmmm, perfect." 

Kaidan quipped, "The ice or me?"

Not missing a beat, Jon leaned over and kissed him thoroughly, "Why, you, of course." 

Kaidan looked at him and laughed, "Your lips are already blue." 

"Guess you'll just have to clean them off then." 

"Mmmm, I'd enjoy that." 

Jon took another bite and licked his lips, making sure they were blue. Kaidan nudged his shoulder, causing them both to stumble and nearly drop their paper cups. He felt happy and content even as exhaustion crept over him from the encounter with Levi. A good outcome but he hadn't noticed how on edge he'd been throughout it all. 

"Ready to head back? We’re on island time now. We can nap if we want to." 

It was almost scary how Kaidan could read him so easily now. Sneaking a sideways look, Jon couldn't tell if Kaidan meant he wanted to take one as well, though he didn't look tired. In fact, he looked like he could spend the rest of the day running around the island. It almost wasn't fair...except the nap was calling him and Jon was powerless to resist its pull. 

"Yeah, a nap sounds good." 

He barely remembered his head hitting the pillow. 

Jon awoke to gauzy curtains swaying gently in a warm breeze coming in from the beach. Their bungalow sat close by, the glass doors to the bedroom taking advantage of the beautiful sunsets and warm, westerly zephyrs. Unwilling to move, he remained in bed, content to enjoy the view out the windows. 

But then the bed dipped behind him and he turned to find an even better view; Kaidan must have taken a nap as well. The sleepy-eyed, tousled-hair look was infinitely more appealing then what he’d been looking at outside. 

"Hey, there." His voice was deep and raspy with the remnants of sleep. Jon could get drunk on that voice. 

"Hey. Looks like you napped a bit too." 

"Yeah. Read a bit before I followed you down the same rabbit hole." He stretched with a yawn, Jon admiring the play of muscles as they moved under his golden skin, a tad darker after walking in the sun. "I'm going to take a shower, then thought we could take a walk before dinner." 

"Shower sounds great but what is it with the constant need to walk? Thought we were here to relax," he grumbled. 

"Oh come on, it’ll be a nice evening stroll. Help you work up an appetite.” 

Voice muffled against the pillow, he countered with, “I can think of better ways.” 

“Oh, so can I but we have plans. Ones I can’t change.” 

With a heavy sigh, Jon flopped out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. Not usually the one to instigate sex, he nonetheless tried to take advantage, but Kaidan’s ‘plans’ didn't include shower sex. 

And damned if it didn’t have him more than a little curious about what those plans were.

Freshly showered and dressed island style, which for them meant barefoot and shirtless with cargo shorts, Kaidan walked outside, calling back over his shoulder, "Lets go. We can watch the sun set as we walk." 

Dazzling white sand, warm from a day in the sun, was soft beneath their feet. The fronds of the palm trees swayed gently against a sky turning golden with the glow of the sun, just beginning its descent towards the horizon. 

Kaidan reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together and Jon felt a comfortable peace steal over him for the first time in...well, ever. He gazed at their hands and knew he wouldn’t change his life right now for anything. 

Before leaving the resort area, they stopped to purchase a couple of drinks; colorful, frozen, fruity things with umbrellas in them. They even came in a coconut shell. Jon drank his too fast through the straw, getting a brain freeze for his trouble. 

He stumbled, Kaidan grasping his hand tight and pulling back, trying ot keep him from falling. Jon looked down, surprised to see seashells in the shape of a heart. “Hey, look Kaidan. D’you see this?” 

“A heart made from seashells. Wonder who made it?” 

“I don’t know but someone was creative. I hope the tide doesn’t wash it away.” 

“It would be a shame, wouldn’t it.” 

There was something different in his voice but Jon couldn’t figure out what. Before he had a chance to mull it over, Kaidan pulled him forward. A few meters further and Jon saw a heart drawn in the sand. Surprisingly, it remained untouched by the waves. Inside it had been etched the words - once in a lifetime love. 

“Another heart. Someone went to great lengths to let them know they’re loved.” 

“Yeah, they sure did. Kinda reminds me of our message bottles, you know?” 

Jon gazed at him steadily, “Yeah...I suppose so.” 

Could it be Kaidan? No, there hadn’t been time for him to get away and do all this. 

They strolled at a relaxed, leisurely pace. Kaidan sipped slowly at his frozen drink while Jon had already finished his. 

Out of the blue, he asked, “You ever think about what you want to do with the rest of your life?” 

Jon gazed out over the ocean, watching as the sun began to color the underside of the white clouds floating lazily across sky in pastel hues of blue, pink, lavender and orange. The colors reflected in the ocean, all melding together in the current. He took a moment to think about Kaidan’s question. What did he want to do with the rest of his life? 

“I...I guess I haven’t, really. Have you?” 

“Well, I planned it around a career I thought I’d have the rest of my life. Spent the last thirty plus years focusing on one specific goal. Guess I didn’t really think about or plan beyond it.” 

Jon nodded, “I understand. Same thing for me, I suppose.” 

“Then, just like this,” he snapped his fingers, “it’s all gone. How do you start over? Where do you go and...with who?”

“With...who?” 

“Yeah...with who. I mean, I’ve never had a serious relationship before, guess maybe I’m choosy or...or patient--” Jon snorted and Kaidan bumped him in the shoulder with a quiet chuckle. 

“Patient, huh?” The laughter left his voice, “You are patient, Kaidan. Endlessly so.” Almost embarrassed at what he was admitting, his words were quiet, almost lost in the surf nearby, “ I mean, you have been - you are - with me.” 

Dusk had begun to fall in earnest and Jon wondered why they hadn’t begun to head back for dinner. Kaidan was quiet, not exactly out of the ordinary, but he seemed unusually introspective tonight. 

“I think what I want - something I’ve never truly found - is a deeper relationship with someone I...care about.” 

Jon swore his heart stopped for several seconds before it began beating again. Kaidan...was...he cared about someone? Rattled as his thoughts were, the one his mind latched onto was…’not me.’ 

“You...” his voice cracked on the single syllable and he coughed, tried again, “you care about. So, what you’re trying to say is--”

Kaidan stopped and turned to face him, never letting go of his hand, stopping Jon’s flow of words. He hadn’t noticed they were in a clearing. Tiki torches glowed softly in the dark, the sun finally having tipped over the horizon. 

A canopy had been set up over a single dining table set with plates and glasse. Next to it were covered serving dishes, a bucket full of ice to keep a bottle of champagne cold. Lights were twined around the canopy, adding to the glow of the torches. A radio played music softly. The scene was stunning, beautiful and Jon was thoroughly confused. 

At least, until he saw a heart drawn in the sand in front of the canopy with the words Love for a lifetime. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening, though it became clear rather quickly. 

Kaidan went down on one knee, “Jon, I love you with all my heart. After all the time we’ve been together I’ve realized I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you.” Pulling a ring from the pocket of his shorts, he held it up. “Will you marry me?”

Stunned into silence, he stared at the ring, up at Kaidan, back to the ring. It was incredible: Trimmed in gold on the top and bottom, in the middle was a double row of waves in white. 

Mind crowded with thoughts, he knew Kaidan was getting more anxious with every passing second. Why would this man, so...so perfect, want to spend the rest of his life with...him? He was broken. Oh, he loved Kaidan, had realized it months ago, but never expected he’d want to stay and would just move on the day his endless patience finally ran out. 

But it hadn't and he was still here, right now...waiting on an answer. 

"Hello? Jon?" 

He searched the anxious brown eyes, saw nothing but honesty and love. 

"Yes, Kaidan. I will." 

A song came on and Jon thought the lyrics were perfect: 

I'm diving into the deep end

And I'm not scared, I'm not scared

And I've been way over my head

And I'm not scared, I'm not scared, no **  

** Daughtry - Deep End 

[binniedeactivated]

𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. || y.j🌪

╰─▸🖤 ❝ @[@𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ]

✎𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

 ✎ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭!𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

 ✎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.5k

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒; 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

a/n; 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥!

“I can see you as a doctor, lawyer maybe”. she said while they both walked down the street, their jackets being a safeguard to the fridgid weather. It was never safe walking in the neighborhood they both lived in especially at this time of night but luckily she had taehyun, who knew all kinds of alleyways and shortcuts.

taehyun rolls his eyes while chewing on his sandwich, “amara what I tell you about that shit?”.

she laughs, the brightness of her smile outshining the stars that blanketed over the both of them. “I’m serious tae. you’re smart. you can be someone if you applied yourself”.

“yeah well I don’t want to hear that. you know who you sound like and it pisses me off”.

she sighs as her parted curly hair sifted over the side of her face in the breeze. taehyun was going to say that she sounded just like his parents. well, adopted parents. He hated when anyone called them his parents because, well, they weren’t. And tae hated them. his real parents were locked away in prison for a school of crimes taehyun could recite on his own. Theft, Assault, Arson, Burglary, the list could go on for decades.

she grins playfully pushing him to the side, “stop being so salty. You know I’m just looking out for you”.

“you know I’ll be fine amara. what you need to do is watch out for yourself. I see the way these guys stare at you”.

now she was the one rolling her eyes. “Yeah and you know Sammy will kill them all”. Taehyun sucks his teeth. “Fuck Sammy”.

Sammy was her boyfriend. smooth brown skin, pretty teeth and long hair that he always wore in a high bun—- real cute Hispanic guy. Taehyun never liked him though because of all the shit he caused. He was a real troublemaker and taehyun thought amara only looked past his ways because she thought that was all she could ever get.

taehyun knew she deserved better. Amara was his best friend after all. he knew who she was capable of being.

Approaching her building there was a group of men outside the apartment building she lived in, smoking weed, talking and laughing about some bullshit dice game. one of them being Sammy. Taehyun spotted him even from the distance they were at.

“Speaking of the damn devil”.

Amara slaps him on the shoulder and laughs. “I’ll catch you at school tyun. Make sure you go home!”.

Taehyun kisses her on the cheek and side hugs her with care. “I’ll think about it. Be safe amara. I love you”.

“I will bozo”. she couldn’t help but insult before closing the distance between her and her apartment building. With a blunt between his fingers Sammy spots her, smiling down at her five foot three frame. And he wasn’t the only one sneaking glances of course. Being quite thicker in the thighs and wider in the hips it was normal for guys to look at her.

“hey baby. Who was that?”.

“taehyun”.

He hums, looking at the ground before looking at her, his what was once pink lips blackening from all the weed he smoked. he furrowed a brow.

“you know I don’t like that little son of a bitch”.

“alright Sammy, please. I don’t have time for this shit tonight. He’s my best friend and you know that”.

He clutches her arm tightly, “I said I don’t like his ass. You shouldn’t be hanging out with him”. he orders and she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t sober. she gasps at the sudden pain and try to rip away from his grip but couldn’t due to his strength.

“Sammy get off of me!”.

He grins, “stop being so loud girl. What’s all the fuss about. Don’t you like it when I grab you like this?”.

he stares in her face trying to be sexy but looking more like a drunken pervert. she immediately became uncomfortable and tries to pry herself off of him but he only grips her tighter worsening the pain.

“Sammy stop it! You’re drunk”.

“I don’t want you hanging out with taehyun anymore you understand me?”. His breath reeked of alcohol.

“Get the fuck off me!”.

He finally throws her to the ground as if she were a garbage can herself. If it wasn’t for her protecting her fall with her hands she would’ve been planted face first in the cement. She was angry though, and not to mention she was already freezing.

Getting back up she dusted off her hands and angrily pushed Sammy backwards. “Don’t you put your fucking hands on me!”.

he raises his hand and slaps her good and hard. It was normal, her and him. It was normal for them to fight like that whenever Sammy got like this. And she would combat it the same way each time, punching him in his jaw before storming into the old, torn and piss smelling hallways of her apartment building. Luckily she lived on the third floor so the walk upstairs wasn’t all that bad. Except she always got a whiff of a bunch of weird smells when going up them.

she got to her landing with an aching face and a purring sound behind her. she turns quickly, startled at the sudden noise. Her nerves came to end though when she realized it was just beomgyu feeding some stray cat that always sat at the front of his apartment door. she was going to speak to him until she heard thumping noises above them both and a bunch of loud and erotic moaning.

The both of them glare at each other and laugh.

“beomgyu when are you going to tell your parents that they aren’t on their honeymoon every fucking night?”.

he smiles stroking the head of the grey cat softly. “Hey if eating each other’s pussies keep them off my ass then I’m all for it”.

beomgyu’s parents got divorced when he was really young and left his mother high and dry when he found out she was a full blown lesbian. Leaving beomgyu to be raised by two women since his father wanted nothing to do with him anymore, as if it were his fault. Not that it ever bothered beomgyu though. He never minded especially since his dad was a grade A asshole.

she laughs and starts her way to her own apartment across the hall with the sound of beomgyu trying to bribe the cat to come into his apartment as the background noise. As soon as she twists the brass knob she was pissed. The fact that it was even unlocked could’ve been hazardous. Anyone could’ve came in and robbed the place. She opens the door and shuts it behind herself.

She almost shit herself though when she was immediately greeted by her mother standing in front of her. She didn’t know what her mother had been doing prior to her arrival but she didn’t look good at all.

“Ma? You alright?”. Amara asks trying to catch a clue in the women’s eyes. Except she got nothing but a woozy stare. “Tariq wants us to have privacy tonight. You have to go somewhere else”. She blatantly says out of nowhere. Amara could feel herself clenching her fists,

Tariq was her controlling, manipulative ass stepfather.

“Go somewhere else?!”.

“Yes, just for this one night amara”.

“Ma!! You’re acting like I have other places to stay. Why are you kicking me out because he wants alone time?!”.

“Don’t talk to me like that girl. Like I said, for just this one night. You’re more tha welcomed to get some over night clo—“.

“Fuck that!”. Amara screams and makes her exit right then and there before she did anything she regretted. with her back now against the door she breathes in deep breaths trying calm herself as best as she possibly could.

All the while some boy with sleek black parted hair and specs was watching the episode unravel on his way down the stairs. She grew angry at the curiosity in his eyes.

“What the fuck are you looking at yeonjun?”.

“You need a place to stay mean ass?”. He asks calmly. Living in the same place for so long it was normal for everyone to know everyone. It’s just, yeonjun wasn’t someone she talked to normally.

Normally it would be Taehyun and Summer she talked to most. Summer was another best friend of hers whose dating tyun and just as annoying as him almost if not more. There’s was also heuning kai and occasionally beomgyu.

funny how yeonjun thought she was the most gorgeous girl in the world though.

she sighs trying to remove her own hostility. It wasn’t yeonjun’s fault that her mother was a bitch and to be honest, besides the fact that his dad is in the military and his mom acted a little off sometimes, she knew staying at his place wouldn’t be all that bad.

“yeah, I guess”.

she finally gives in having no choice. yeonjun gestures towards the stairs and brings her up to his apartment. she was happy to finally get a whiff of something good, home cooking made by his mother.

“Mom! Amara is staying tonight!”. He yells before directing her to take her coat off and place it on the coat rack at the door. she felt a little naked in her leggings and sweater she had to admit. but she also thought his apartment was way nicer than anyone else in the building who did absolutely nothing with theirs or just had no taste in good decor.

“I don’t want you getting ideas first off. This is a one night thing”. She declared as soon as she entered his room which had a quirky aesthetic vibe she liked. Records on the wall and lava lamps on his dressers and desk. Sneakers lined up underneath his bed and a pretty overflowing closet.

he held his hands up in surrender and laughs, “I’m not getting ideas trust me. But as you can see I have two beds so— you can sleep on the other one if you want. The sheets are clean”.

“Thank you yeonjun. You invite hoes over often? Mr.Two beds?”. She says plopping on the soft surface.

“no, just you”. He teases leaving amara launching a pillow at him jokingly. “hey! I am not a hoe”. This is just what yeonjun loved about her. She was easy going. Never took jokes that serious and loved to laugh.

“hey I don’t know what you do with your free time”. He jokes again.

“schoolwork thank you very much”.

“Ah, that’s something a hoe would say”.

Amara laughs again, not expecting yeonjun to be as funny as he was. He was also kind of cuter upclose but that didn’t matter. She had Sammy.

“If I’m such a hoe isn’t this the part where we’re supposed to fuck?”.

hearing that sentence was like a punch in the gut to yeonjun, it was something he definitely wasn’t expecting her to say. He jokes back, “what are we waiting for then?”.

oddly enough the room became silent once that statement left his lips. It was an innocent gaze at first but it became heated quickly. she figured after the night she had, what else could go wrong? She needs some type of fix.

And this is what led her slowly crawling over the bed and on the floor in front of yeonjun who was sitting on the bed across from her. she lays her head on his inner thigh gazing up at him with her pretty dark brown eyes. “you’re right...what are we waiting for?”. She repeats, rubbing the bulge poking out of his sweatpants.

He didn’t stop her at all, instead he grabs her hair and bite his lips, staring down at her under his circular frames. “Tsk. These the games we’re playing?”.

she slowly drags down his briefs, “only if you don’t tell anyone”. She wasted no time rolling her lips down his veiny thick length. Yeonjun’s hips twitch at the sudden feeling. The heat of her mouth worked wonders. She bobs her head with care, making sure she was licking and sucking anything she could get to. And already yeonjun was groaning underneath his breath.

she only came up for air and let her slimy tongue wrap around the tip of his dick cleaning it of his precum and sliding her tongue in between the slit naughtily. Yeonjun grunts lowly again clutching the strands of her hair harder,

“god I’m going to have to fuck the shit out of you after this”.

[obae-me]

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin. 

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat? 

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible. 

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots. 

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it. 

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…” 

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.” 

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?” 

“I’m a doctor,” he explained. 

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.” 

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?” 

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind. 

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.” 

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?”  You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was? 

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?” 

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?” 

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.” 

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!” 

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?” 

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name. 

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles. 

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet. 

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city. 

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away. 

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?” 

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…” 

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.”  Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you. 

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.” 

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform. 

“Your brother?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.” 

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot. 

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck. 

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin. 

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.” 

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /Part Eighty Sixx/

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Enjoy! sorry the updates aren’t as often like they were before. I’ll try to do better

Warnings: angst, drugs, language, drug induced paranoia 

Taglist:  @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol,  @a-simple-salmon,  @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @vintagebox @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, , @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream,  @broke-n-bitchy​,  @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28​, @lilyhw1, @herbertweeest, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001,  @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier  @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx,  @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @youretheonlyonewhomakesme,  @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 @rocknroll--baby​ @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

Nikki held my hand tightly as we walked through a crowd of photographers. Quickly, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him, my hand darting up to his chest, fingers intertwining with the layered rosaries and the same padlock necklace I had gotten for him years prior.

I heard Nikki mutter a curse word when photographers screamed for pictures and a quick word. Nikki declined but allowed them to take pictures of us. We were at the album release party and there was already a buzz about the music. Mainly because they wanted to see if Mötley could do it without Vince.

We walked inside hand in hand before he quickly let go and put distance between us. I frowned a bit but quickly perked up when Alan Kovac came up to him, "Nikki! Congratulations man." He gives him a quick hug "All the hard work has paid off. C'mon let's celebrate." He's quickly pulled in another direction, I see him glance back at me before he starts talking to Alan and the other suits. The record label, the marketers...those people.

I sigh deeply as I walk over to the open bar. At least I had an excuse to go shopping and get a new dress. I order a vodka soda with lime as I sip and people watch. I didn't know half of these people and I'm sure Nikki felt the same way. I should have just stayed home with Arianna however I wanted to make an effort in supporting him like a good girlfriend should do, or whatever I am to him.

Ever since my date a few weeks ago, Nikki has been extremely distant. I know he wants to talk about it, and I do too but we both don't know how to bring it up. So the best thing we know how to do is ignore it and act like it didn't happen. Therapy was a bust the other day too, we sat in silence for forty five minutes. How much longer can we keep doing this?

I get tired of sipping through the plastic straw and toss it to the side, chugging the rest of it before putting the glass down and ordering another one. The bartender tries to make small talk, I brush him off and leave before walking over to the VIP area where the band is. Cigarette smoke from John and Mick hit my face, I would usually say Tommy too, but he's trying to quit before the baby gets here.

I sit down in the red velvet chair besides Clementine, "That's a pretty dress. Where'd you get it?" I smile at her.

She leans closer to my ear, "I got it at Target."

God bless Clementine for not being like the other wives and girlfriends.

"It's probably the last cute dress I can fit in for the next six months. I've already been gaining weight."

"I think it's just you stress eating and not pregnancy weight." I smirk as she flips me off and playfully hits my shoulder, "What are you drinking?" I point at the red liquid in a martini glass.

"A virgin cosmopolitan." She points at mine, "Vodka soda?"

I nod, "Double the vodka." I glance seeing Nikki come over, he eyes the spot next to me before changing his mind and opts for sitting by Corabi instead. I look at him a moment before looking back at Clementine. Her eyebrows raise in question as I take another long sip.

"Let me just take a guess, he's bitter over your date with Jon?" Clementine questions as I roll my eyes, "He needs to get over it. This was the deal, you both date someone else and decide if it's what you want. It's not that hard to comprehend."

I chuckle at her words, "You would think right? The only time we talk is at the dining table with Arianna and who's doing pick up duty. Other than that, there's no interaction. I even walked around the house in my underwear and one of his shirts and he still wouldn't talk to me."

"Have you tried being the bigger person?"

Well, obviously that would be too easy.

"I don't know why I have to be the bigger person. He's the one that's all cranky about it. I stopped giving him shit for Donna after their second date. He just doesn't like when I play his game better than him, he never has." I express to her as she chuckles.

"God, you two are a match made in hell." Clementine laughs, "Forget about all of that tonight and just have some fun. You're kid free and it's an open bar. What more could you want?" I glance at Nikki as she follows my gaze, "That's beside the point!"

I smile a bit, "I'm fine Clementine. I'm here and I'm having fun."

"You're always just fine, Van."

I glance, "Because I'm fine. I'm good." I look over when Nikki gets up, holding his cell phone to his ear before he disappears into the crowd, "I'm gonna go use the restroom. Maybe get another drink and some food. You hungry?"

Clementine chuckles "Do I even have to answer that?"

I nod, using her knee as a crutch to get up. I squeeze past people before I get to the restrooms, seeing the line and groaning. I eye the men's bathroom for a second, not seeing a single line or a dude walk through the doors. I clear my throat walking past dirty glares and eye rolls as I walk into the bathroom.

"Oh fuck.." I turn around seeing Corabi taking a piss, "I'm sorry John."

He laughs a bit, I hear the noise of his zipper before the flush of the urinal, "It's okay. There's nobody in the stalls." I nod quickly, walking into it. God, men are fucking disgusting. I squat over the toilet doing my business as I hear him wash his hands before repeated sniffing. I hear him mutter a "shit" before more sniffing. I flush the toilet and step out seeing him using his car key to take a bump.

"You want some?"

My mouth runs dry and the angel and devil are arguing on my shoulder, "I didn't know you used." I step over paper towels on the floor and go to wash my hands hearing him sniff again before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just socially. Helps with my anxiety." He responds monotone as he looks at me through the mirror. I see his eyes wander down the backside of me as I reach to dry my hands.

"Does Nikki know?"

"Why? You gonna tell him?" I shake my head and he smiles, "Good girl." He offers the bump to me as I stare at it.

C'mon. Just go ahead. Look out how little that bump is. It won't do anything to you.

I shake my head, "I'm okay John. Thank you though." I step to the door but he steps back and leans against it, "I should get back to-"

"Nikki?" He laughs, "Arent you two fighting right now? He's bitched about you for weeks now."

"John, you don't know what you're talking about. We're just having a disagreement." I stare at him, watching him sniff the white powder again.

Go ahead. Just say yes. You know you want too. C'mon, what's the big worry?

John laughs at me as he shoves his curly strands out of his face, "I guess dating other people is a pretty big disagreement."

"It's what he wanted." I raised my voice, becoming stern as he smiled at me.

"Hey sweetheart. It ain't any of my business." John snorts one last key bump before closing the vial and puts it back in his pocket. He grabs the door and holds it open, "Ladies first..."

My feet stay planted as I stare at him, he raises an eyebrow before closing the bathroom door, "One bump and that's it." Johns lips tug upwards as he pulls out the vial, "And you don't say shit. It stays here in the bathroom or I swear to god I will ruin your fucking life."

He doesn't say anything in return just a simple chortle as he dips the silver key into the vial. I hold a nostril close as I snort it up quickly. The whiz going straight to my head. I feel my heart beat throughout my body and the goosebumps rising on my skin cause me to shiver. I try to rub away the irritation, sneezing repeatedly right after, "Thanks.." I see that he holds out another one I sigh and snort it in the other nostril.

John chuckles as I wipe my face. He opens the door and follows behind me.

I feel Corabi's hand rest on my lower back as he gets us back over to the bands section. I stop walking seeing Donna sitting next to Nikki, her tan legs draped over his knee as she clutches a fruity drink with an umbrella. She's whispering in his ear and he laughs at whatever she said. His hand is placed over her knee, rubbing up and down her bare thigh, fingers pulling on the bottom hem of her skirt.

I glare at them, feeling my wrist being pulled on as my name is being shouted over the music, "What did you say?" I look at Clementine, eyes low and hazy as she stares at me.

"I said...what took you so long!?" She shouts a bit, dragging me over to the booth as I can't take my eyes off of them. Donna leans over and kisses his cheek and jaw as he as the biggest smile plastered on his lips. I feel my chest heaving up and down as I try to find a solid breath of air to suck in. Clementine touched my cheek to bring me back to her and away from the looming panic that was slowly rising.

"Sorry, the bathroom...the-the uh line was really long." I stare confused again as I now hear Donnas high pitched laugh over all the other noise. Why? Why was she here when I'm here? When he held my hand and held me close when we got here?

"And no food?" Clementine laughs. How could she be laughing? Does nobody see what's going on? My eyes widen when Nikki gently grips her throat, his thumb running over her skin back and forth as he kisses her. His eyes stay opened and locked on mine.

"Why's he doing that?!" I shout, startling her as she turns to look at what I'm yelling at.

"Who? Whose doing what?" She asks confused, staring at me concerned, "Vanity? Hey! Look at me!"

I can't rip my eyes away, Nikki smiles at me when she kisses his neck and touches his exposed chest, "Don't you fucking see her kissing him?!?"

"Whose kissing who Vanity?! Jesus Christ are you drunk already?!" She pulls me to the side but I try to fight her, "Vanity! Stop!"

"Nikki!! He-he's just!!-" I try to get it out, but my words are a jumbled, slurred mess.

"....is getting his picture taken with the band?" Clementine says in my ear as she points over to them. Huge smiles on their faces as they hang off of one another laughing and yelling as flashes from cameras go off.

I blink a few times, staring. Nikki sees me and waves at me. I look over to the couch, no one was there, "What?" I say quietly as Clementine grips my arm and drags me out the back doors. I feel relief wash over me as the cold air hits my skin.

"What did you do?" She shoves my shoulders, "What did you do Vanity?!" She shoves me again until I'm leaning against the concrete wall. I feel the world spinning around me, Clem is a distorted mess as she yells "What did you fucking take?!"

"I-I didnt..." I can barely focus on the three of them that were standing in front of me "Oh god..." I mutter as I run my hands through my hair.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" She shouts, "You look sicker than a fucking dog and your eyes won't stay still!"

I rest my hand at the base of my throat, I felt like I was choking on nothing as I try my hardest to focus, "B-blow! I had some blow in the bathroom! A-and I-I think I'm h-having a bad reaction!" I stutter over my words, trying to keep my tears in.

"Yeah?! You fucking think?! God Damnit." Clementine groans as she paces around before grabbing my hand "C'mon-" she tries to pull me back inside.

"No! I can't go inside! Not while he's with her!!"

"What?!" Clementine stares at me, eyes narrowing, "What are you talking about? He's not with anyone-"

"Yes he is!! I saw them!" I flinched, breathing rapidly when Clementine cupped my cheeks, "I-I saw them. And they were kissing and he was looking at me to make sure I was watching!! Why would he do that?!"

"Van-Vanity hey! Hey! Listen to me-" I shook my head as she forced me to look at her, "Nikki is not with anyone. You're just seeing things and none of it is real. It's just your mind making you hallucinate. None of it is real-" She repeated, "Let's go inside and try to relax, alright? We'll get some water and some food."

"None of it is real..." Clementine nodded as I shook under her hands, "Okay..."

*Clementine’s POV*

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!!!

I held onto Vanity's arm, feeling her tremble as we walked back inside. Her jaw muscle was clenching and unclenching repeatedly. I looked down at the crease of her elbow hoping to find a prick mark from a needle but there was none. I guided her back over to our section as she plopped down on the couch, hunched over with her head between her knees.

"Okay. C'mon, you gotta sit up or someone's gonna ask questions." I told her as she leaned back against the cushion, pupils blown with greens and golds lit up around them, "I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna get us some water." Van looked panicked but she quickly nodded.

I glanced at her one last time before walking away, seeing the guys at the bar. Tommy smiled, running up to me and giving me a kiss, "There you are!" He cheered, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Hi baby." I leaned up to kiss his cheek "I'm just getting some water for me and Van.." I tell him, he yells at the bartender to get one water and one Jack and coke, "Tommy..."

"It's too early for her to be drinking water." He whistles loudly and yells for Vanity as loud as he can, "Go bring her over here! She needs to celebrate too instead of moping around." He laughs a bit, "Vanity!!" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

I glance seeing her watching, she slowly gets up...well stumbling up as she comes over, "Jesus, maybe she does need a water..."

"Tommy...she fucked up.." I say in his ear as he looks at me.

"Well yeah! I'm sure she is a little fucked up by the way she's walking." He laughs loudly again and I grow frustrated with him.

I grab his arm and pull him closer to my height, "No Tommy. She fucked up. She snorted some blow and now she's having a bad reaction or trip or whatever the hell it is. She's hallucinating." I tell him over the music as he stares at me for a moment before glancing behind me. I turn around seeing Nikki sitting in a chair laughing.

Tommy walks away from me as he goes over to Vanity, wrapping his arm around her waist and helps her walk straight. He brings her over, blocking Nikki's view as he helps her up onto the barstool. He reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of water and forces it into her hand "Drink it now or I dump it on you." He tells her sternly, I see the gleam of fight in her eyes, but she does what she's asked to do anyways.

Tommy turns back to me, "We need to tell Nikki." I suggest as he stares, before laughing.

"Baby have you gone nuts?! That's gonna be world war three! Just let her relax. She's just having some coke induced paranoia, she'll come down from it in a little bit." I move past him when I see Vanity struggling to keep her head up. I place my hand at the base of her neck and glare at him, "She could be overdosing Tommy."

"She's not foaming out the mouth and she isn't seizing. She's fine. I've seen her snort two eight balls in one night and obviously she lived. She's clean and sober and it's probably a shock to the system." Tommy laughs a bit, taking a sip of his beer as he looks at me, "What?"

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?!"

"Please don't fight over me. I'm sorry..." Vanity slurs as she looks at us, "I just wanted something to make me feel better."

"It's okay, Van. Just try to relax." Tommy sweet talks her as I slap his chest.

"It is not okay! Just sit there and be quiet. And pray to god Nikki doesn't feel like making things up with you."

*Nikki's POV*

My eyes wandered a few seats over seeing Tommy and Clementine laughing with Vanity. An empty pit formed in my gut as i watched them for a moment. I was only avoiding the situation because she was avoiding it too. I rubbed my face before ordering a Jack and coke and a vodka cranberry for Van to break the ice. I pop a piece of gum into my mouth before grabbing the drinks.

I strutted over, seeing Tommy and Clementine bickering about something before they turn to me, staring intently "What?" I glance at them before sitting in the chair next to Van, placing the glass in front of her and resting my forearm against the back of her chair.

"Vans actually done drinking." Clementine announced, "I told her not to eat that shrimp cocktail."

I glanced at her before Van "Are you okay?" I spoke against her ear as she nodded quickly.

"I'm okay. I feel better now. Just got a little woozy is all." I catch a bit of her slurring as I watch her reach for the glass and take a sip, the ice cubes shaking and clinking as she holds the cocktail. I glance down at my watch, we had barely been here for 2 hours.

"Do you wanna go home?" I ask softly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I've talked to enough people and don't mind being home with you." I touch her shoulder and feel her tense up.

She shakes her head, looking at the counter of the bar and not me, "No, it's okay. I promise I'm fine. I guess I just drank too much to fast. I'm good Sixx."

I nod, leaving it at that but I still look at her worried. I notice her hands shaking still as she grips the edge of the bar, "Van, look at me a moment." She quickly glances at me before looking past me, "Please look at me. Just me." My eyes wander behind her seeing Tommy and Clementine looking at me, Clementine nervously chewing on her thumb nail as Tommy had a look of worrisome.

Golden eyes find mine, pupils blown but I don't react as I can see tears in her eyes. She knows that I know and that's enough for me. I put my hand on the side of her cheek, she was flushed and burning up, "Keep it together." I spoke sternly as she quickly nodded at my words.

"I-I I'm sorry.." she stumbled over her words, "I'm so sorry Nikki." My thumb catches the tear that rolls down.

"Just keep it together, okay? Only for a little while longer."

Vanity takes a deep breath in and exhales through her nose, "Okay...I can do that. Then we can go home?"

My lips curl in a smile, fighting back every derogative word I wanted to scream in her face "Yes doll, then we can go home. You sit tight, get some water and relax." I tell the bartender to give her a another water bottle before I glare looking at Clem and Tommy.

I leave Vans side, motioning for the two to come over to me, "What is she on? Is it coke? If that's the case, it's the calmest I've ever seen her than."

"W-what do you mean? She's on something? I had no clue.." Tommy stammers as I give him a look.

"Cut the shit. Is she using again?" I look at Clementine, begging for answers as she shrugged.

"I don't know Nikki. And I don't know what she's on. She wasn't making any sense and she started crying then she was hallucinating. She needs to go home Nikki."

I laughed "Have you fucking lost it? Arianna will still be up. If she's hallucinating here she'll be hallucinating at home." I look over at Van seeing her reaching out for something that's not even there, "Fuck. Just keep her distracted or something. I don't want her ruining anything tonight." I sighed in frustration running my hand over my face as I let out a muttered fuck, "I gotta step outside for a minute. Just keep an eye on her, please."

~Next Morning~

I jolt awake, gasping for a breath as I push and kick my comforter off of me. I wipe the sweat from my forehead before holding my stomach, god I felt like I was gonna hurl. My bedroom door is thrown open, the handle hitting the wall as Arianna and Anarchy come running in.

"Mommy!! I'm going with auntie and uncle Tommy today!" She announces pulling herself onto my bed and sitting on her knees in front of me, "Daddy said she's on her way to get me."

I rub my eyes and smile looking at the bun Nikki put her hair in "Is your backpack ready? And your shoes picked out?"

She nodded feverishly, "Yes! Daddy did it and told me to come wake you up to say bye." I run my hands through my hair before getting up. I notice my rooms in disarray as I pull up a pair of sweats. I help Arianna jump off the bed and she's clinging to my leg as we walk down the hallway and to the stairs. She lets go of me as she sits, sliding down the stairs and laughs up a storm as Anarchy chases her down.

"You ready for the whole day with your favorite person besides me?" Nikki smiles handing over her sneakers. I say good morning to him as I walk to the kitchen but he ignores me.

"The whole day? Does that mean I can bring my toys over?!" I hear Nikki chuckle, "No sweetie. I think you still have plenty of toys over there."

I pour myself a cup of coffee and let Anarchy out at the back door before going to the living room and sitting down, "Daddys right baby. You still have a lot over there."

She pouts a bit, "But they aren't new toys like the ones I have here.."

"Just ask Uncle Tommy for new toys." I shrug and smile at her as her eyes light up.

"Van." Nikki scoffs and rolls his eyes, "Arianna, you're fine with the toys you have there and the toys you have here. You aren't getting anything new."

Arianna huffs before she stands in front of the tv watching cartoons, "You hungry V? I can cook you something. She already ate."

I nod, looking at him "I'm starving. Can you make French toast? What are we doing today since she's going over to Clems?"

I stare when he narrows his eyes at me, "I'm staying home and so are you." He says sternly as my eyebrows pull together, "Don't need you in public till the news and frenzy dies down about your behavior."

I tilt my head to the side, "My behavior?" I say confused as I hear a car horn.

"Wait till she's out of the house, yeah?" Nikki rolls his eyes at me and I frown at his attitude. He helps Arianna with her jacket and hands over her backpack, "See you later bug." He bends down and kisses her forehead before he leaves to the kitchen.

"Is daddy mad?" Arianna questions curiously as we walk to the front door.

"What? No, no, daddy's not mad. You know he's just grumpy in the mornings." I bend down to fix her laces, "I'll see you later okay? Be good and we can go to blockbuster tonight." She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. I open the car door for her and help her get up and wait till she buckled. I feel Clementine looking at me and I glance, "Good morning."

"Morning.." she grumbles but cheers up when she says the same thing to Arianna.

"Thanks for taking her. I don't remember us talking about it though?"

"Yeah, you didn't. Nikki asked me."

Why was everyone being so damn short with me?

"Okay...well have fun. Bye Ari." I wave to her as Clem rolls the window up and starts heading down the driveway.

I walk back in the house, leaning against the front door as I smell cinnamon and vanilla coming from the kitchen. I feel jittery as I walk through the house, Nikki has the portable radio on to the rock station in the kitchen. He's moving his head a bit and has his back towards me, I pull myself on the barstool and keep to myself.

"That was Bulls on Parade by Rage Against The Machine and you're listening to KLAZT LA's best rock station. Up next, we're taken it back with a littl Home Sweet Home by Mötley Crüe. Speaking of the Crüe, did anyone else see the article in entertainment today about the antics of Vanity Blackwood last night at their album release party. Chick seems like a real keeper...Not!"

I gasp before Nikki tosses the magazine down on the counter, "You fucking embarssed me last night Vanity."

I stare at the magazine cover. I look fucking plastered as Nikki is trying to keep me standing and the headline reads: The princess takes a tumble as Mötley Crüe heads in the direction of their old antics.

My eyes widen at the shots of me on my knees outside of a limo with both Tommy and Nikki trying to pull me up. I pull up my sweats seeing cuts and bruises on my kneecaps and shins.

"God, Nikki..I-I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say. I-I don't remember any of this."

Mötley Crüe was suppose to be celebrating their album release with new lead singer John Corabi, however they ended up babysitting. Vanity Blackwood (Nikki Sixx's ex and baby mama) had one too many fruity drinks and ended up having to be escorted out (see above). Our office reached out to the bands rep but they had no comment.

Nikki slammed his hand down on the counter, covering the picture of me in the limo with a bright yellow star reading 'censored' between my spread legs, "You're really going to look me in the eye, lie, and tell me you don't remember any of this shit? You humiliated yourself, me, and the band. So who gave you the fucking blow?"

Everything came rushing back, the blow in the bathroom with Corabi, the hallucinations, the vomit outside in the rose bushes when we got home, "I-I went to the bathroom then I needed some air and clem came with me and I started hyperventilating and that's all I remember."

"Vanity." Nikki took a deep breath, "Just tell me what happened. I won't get mad, I just want to know. I was fucking worried sick about you last night, almost took you to the damn hospital."

I pushed the magazine away from me, "I went to the bathroom, then I went outside. I remember I was seeing crap that wasn't there. And I felt sick to my stomach. But I didn't snort anything I swear. I haven't touched anything since New York."

"Vanity! You weren't acting drugged! Or like someone spiked your drink! You were a incoherent mess, you were pale as a ghost and your pupils were as big as the eye of a needle."

The yelling made my head throb as I rubbed my temples to relieve it, "I don't know, Nikki. The last thing I remember is sitting at the bar."

He rolled his eyes, "So I don't know when you're high on coke? You were a babbling mess. Kept saying shit over and over. You're jaw was clenched so god damn tight I thought I was going to have to take you to a dentist! Fuck! Van! You were saying I was with Donna and wouldn't shut the fuck up about it! She wasn't around! Wasn't even fucking invited!" He stepped away from me to go flip the French toast angrily and toss the spatula down after.

"I don't know Nikki..." I spoke in a soft whisper, "I didn't snort, smoke, or shoot anything. Why can't you believe me?" I was already this far down the rabbit hole, why should I stop now?

"Because Van, I know you. Did John give you something because he was acting fucking weird too."

I shook my head looking at him, his eyes were drilling holes in an attempt to get it out of me, "No....I barely talked to him. I congratulated him and that was it."

"Fine." He glares for a moment before looking away, "We'll have to wait a few days before coming out with a statement to clear things up."

"Can't we just wait for it to blow over like everyone else does?"

He scoffed, "Seriously?! You dragged my bands name through the fucking mud!" Nikki shouts before stomping over to the tv and turning it to MTV, "They've been talking about your god damn interview all morning."

"Any thoughts on the album Vanity?"

I rubbed my face as I saw myself almost fall over nothing before grabbing onto the interviewer for stability, "Well, in my honest opinion, the album could be better." I slurred every word, "It's-its not Mötley and it sucks without Vince. Corabi sucks, and the album sucks. It sounds like every band now a days. It's too...too heavy. And! And you know what else!" I pointed my finger at the camera and grabbed ahold of the microphone, "Vince wasn't even fired like Nikki said. I was there that day. Nikki was just bitching like he always does and-"

I felt sick to my stomach when Nikki turned off the tv and threw the remote down, "That's why we need a god damn statement. We'll go with your lie about the spiked drink and call it a day. Got it?"

"It's not a lie.."

"Just don't. Just fucking don't, okay? I know when you are lying and when you're telling the truth. I'm done fucking talking about it."

I stared down at my nails, seeing dried blood around my knuckles. Just say it. Just tell the truth. Just say Corabi gave you the drugs and risk the chance of Nikki kicking him out of the band. I heard Nikki groan when the house phone started ringing.

"What?!" He answers it before rolling his eyes, "It's for you." Nikki glares and hands it to me.

I get up and go with down on the couch, "Hello?"

"Bad time to call huh? It's Jon..." I smiled a bit and peaked over the back of the couch to see Nikki in the kitchen cooking, "I just uh...I saw MTV and-"

"Please, please don't watch it. I was really drunk last night and was acting like a total idiot. That's not how I am and I didn't mean anything I said." I explain, running my hand through my hair, grimacing when I feel it sticking together.

"I figured...they're making you seem like a bad person and I just wanted to make sure you're okay sweetheart." I hear his smile from the other side.

"I'm okay....just dealing with the repercussions. But thank you for checking in. It's really sweet of you."

"You're welcome. But hey..since I have you on the phone. I was hoping maybe we could get together soon? I had a lot of fun last time and I've been thinking about you quite some bit."

I blushed a bit, "Really? Um...yeah, I'd love to see you again. I'm free next weekend."

"That sounds good. Can I pick you up around four?"

My eyes widened, "You wanna pick me up? I can just drive to wherever."

Jon chuckles a bit, "Sixx gonna shoot me or something? Look, I'll take my chances just for you. You'll love what I have planned."

"Okay...yeah you can pick me up. My address is 7904 Palo Verde Court and the code to the gate is 666.."

I smile when Jon laughs, "How clever of him. I'll see you next Saturday Van. Don't listen to the media, it will eat you alive."

I thank him again and say my goodbyes as I put the phone back on the receiver. I go over to the plate Nikki put down as he's already eating, "Will seeing my tits make you feel better?"

"Shut up. Seeing you naked and bent over isn't going to make anything better. I'm pissed Van."

I sigh, "I know. And I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I didn't mean anything I said about the album. I like the album, it's not my favorite but I like it. You know I support everything you create."

"It didn't feel like it." I hear and see the frown and I gently reach over and touch his hand.

"I mean it Nikki. That wasn't me last night and I'm sorry I had you worried." Nikki gave my hand a squeeze before letting go.

"Let's just move past it okay? It already happened and there is no reason for us to argue about it. You said your piece and I said mine. We have time without the kid so let's just relax today." He leaned over and kissed the side of my head, "Love you..”

“I love you too.”

To whom it may concern,

My behavior and antics a few nights ago at the album release party were completely and utterly unacceptable. In no way, shape or form is that how I truly am. I was heavily under the influence and after a trip to the hospital, my blood work had an ungodly amount of Rohypnol in it. So in other words, my drink was ‘roofied’. We are working with the LAPD and the club owners to narrow down the assailant. To the boys, the band, Mötley Crüe, I have never once had any ill feelings towards anything that has been created. I have loved and cherished each album that has been put out by the band. I am extremely apologetic for anyone's feelings in and out of the band I have affected in a negative manor

Best Regards,

Vanity Blackwood

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (i)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 9.3k+ (i am abundantly sorry for how long this is. curl up with a snack, my dudes)

warnings: required: total suspension of disbelief. also: screwed up historical timeline, slight angst, language, innuendo, suggestive moments and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: hi! a day late, but i wanted to respect the ‘out of time’ epilogue which came out yesterday as this is very much inspired by @perriwiinkle​ and her lovely fic. this is my take on a similar theme, only with brian and just three (3) parts. thank you to @deacyblues​ for your beta-ing help on this mini-series; i heart emoji you. anyways, let me know what you think. enjoy! xoxo!

in this chapter: something—be it fate or otherwise—transplants you to a place you do not belong.

it’s raining hard, thunder and lightning battling for dominance in the gray sky. you clutch your textbook to your chest and duck your head against the onslaught, feet nearly slipping on the flat stones of the sidewalk. london weather has always been unpredictable, but you’ve never seen a storm like this, never been caught in one either. it’s too far to make it back to your flat without catching pneumonia and the library feels just as far away so you push forward. the sky turns bright white followed closely by a boom of thunder, and you squeak, picking up your pace. 

across a muddy patch of grass stands union concert hall. it’s likely to be locked on a saturday evening, but it’s worth a shot. you squelch through the mud and run the remaining hundred yards to old brick building. your hands, wet with rain, scrabble against the brass doorknob, which, to your surprise, turns with ease. muttering a prayer of thanks, you wrench the door open as a gust of wind turns the rain sideways. you slip inside, breathing heavy, and fall against the door as it shuts.

silence. blessed silence.

you heave a sigh of relief and run a hand through your drenched hair.

the concert hall is empty, but the lonesome rows of chairs and desolate stage come as no surprise. with fall break around the corner, imperal college is largely devoid of students on the weekends. there’s parties to be had, memories to be made; no one wants to be cooped up on campus. you, however, don’t have that luxury. there’s too much to be done in too tight a span of time.

as the rain pounds the roof and slides down the windows, you take a seat at the back of the hall. the plastic chair creaks underneath your weight, and each time you move a soggy squish echoes about the room. your textbook—creating exhibitions: collaborations in the planning, development, and design of innovative experiences—rests open on your lap. the laminated binding curls as it dampens, but you’re soaked to the bone. there’s no avoiding the damage. if you must, you’ll pay the thirty pounds at the end of the semester to turn your rental into a purchase.

if you think about it, it really is quite sad, the way you’re sitting on your own on a saturday night, highlighter clamped between your teeth, eyes scanning the pages of your textbook with far too much interest. if you think about it, you know you should be out with your friends. this morning rachel had tried to convince you to come out after your shift at the museum, but you’d said no—again. you’ve been given a full ride in the masters of science communication program, and you’ll do nothing to jeopardize the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. rachel insists that a simple evening at a local pub is harmless, and you know she’s right, but your answer is always the same: no. it’s easier that way.

you read for awhile, highlighting the text and annotating the margins of your textbook with the thoughts or questions that flit through your mind. as you dry, the legs of your jeans turn stiff, and your hair feels frizzy with humidity. not for the first time, you wish you’d remembered the pink umbrella leaning against the coatrack in your flat.

an hour passes, maybe two. with a heavy sigh, you shut your book and meander through the rows of chairs toward the bathroom. the washroom light flickers a muted yellow when you switch it on, an incessant electronic buzz filling the room. crossing to the counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror. you look atrocious: tired bags under your eyes, streaks of mascara on your cheeks, hair unruly, clothes sodden and weighed down on your body. you’d laugh if it wasn’t so damn depressing. you look like a madwoman, like some sort of victorian nightmare. in an effort to clean yourself up, you splash cold water on your face and scrub the makeup away until your cheeks hurt. you wet your hair, run your fingers through the tangles, and attempt to dry yourself under the hand dryer. 

it’s still raining outside. there’s a single skylight in the bathroom, and when you look up, it’s a funny sensation, watching the rain slam against the window but never hit your face. you smile faintly; there’s just something about being inside when it rains. it’s similar to a warm hug or a—

a crack of lightning breaks you from your reverie. the sound goes straight to your heart, stopping it with the force of its blow. with a gasp, you clamp your hands against your ears, eyes screwed shut, and you’re suddenly six years old again, scared of a simple thunderstorm. white light pours through the skylight, drowning the room in an almost heavenly glow. thunder trips over the heels of the lightning in an effort to make itself known. the thunder is more like a roar, and you swear you can feel the foundation of the building jostle.

then all is quiet. even the sound of the rain on the roof has stopped.

you pull your hands from your ears, breathing heavy, and look around the bathroom. maybe... maybe you should call a cab or an uber. you’d rather not be stuck in the concert hall overnight, and the storm feels eerily close. 

grabbing your bag from the counter, you fumble for your phone in its depths. you come away empty-handed, but you must have left it on your chair alongside your textbook. you pull open the bathroom door and step into a crush of bodies.

your heart stutters in your chest, confusion stealing the air from your lungs.

there’s a crowd of people in the concert hall. it’s hard to move, to breathe, to think. the room is dim, lit only by orange and white lights on the stage. there’s music pounding through the room, and it sounds vaguely familiar, but you’re too stunned and confused to place it. a haze of smoke filters over the heads of onlookers; the air smells like cigarettes and sweat. where had everyone come from? how long had you been in the bathroom? surely not long enough for a band and a crowd and—

a thought strikes you: this is not the union concert hall you were just sat in seeking shelter from a bad storm.

a hand circles your arm, and you startle, head twisting to the left. “you okay, love?” a voice asks. the man is short with warm-toned skin, his hair like a dark halo around his head. he stares at you in earnest, and you’re sure you’ve gone pale.

in lieu of answering, you stumble backwards, back into the bathroom. the subway-tiled walls of moments past have turned a dull green, and the hand dryer has been replaced with a paper-towel dispenser. the linoleum under your shoes is grimy, unwashed and stained. the air is heavy with cigarette smoke thanks to the women lounging around the open stalls, dripping ashes to the floor with a simple flick of the wrist. the scent clings to the inside of your nose, and you blame the tears pricking the corners of your eyes on the smell.

“excuse me,” you mutter, shouldering past a lithe woman with blown-out blonde hair. she gives you a once over, her brow furrowed, before leaving the bathroom.

at the sink, you brace your hands against the edge. the sink feels like cheap plastic, easy enough to rip from the wall. where the sturdy white countertop has gone, you aren’t sure. for the second time in one day, you splash water on your heated face.

“hey. are you okay?”

you look up and meet the doe eyes of a short girl standing behind you. her hair is bobbed at her neck, her eyes lined with a deep purple liner. her appearance is warped by the faded mirror, but you can see the way she’s looking at you, and you don’t blame her. you’re sure you look as crazy as you feel.

you straighten at the sink and shut the water off. “i’m just...” you flounder for a good excuse. your insides feel like mush, and your brain has paused, as if the loading symbol is looping over and over in place of producing any coherent thought. “do you have a phone i could borrow?”

“there’s a payphone around the corner,” she says, her words slow with apprehension. “did something happen out there? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

there’s a pounding in the back of your head, hard and steady, and you rub your temples. “i was studying and then i was here and i don’t really remember the rest.” you pause. “it’s been a long day.”

the girl’s face softens as she smiles. she moves to stand beside you and withdraws a thin tube of lipstick from her clutch. “i know what you mean. i can get pretty bogged down and feel like the time’s flown by and i’ve been asleep the at the wheel, but, god, it’s queen! they started here, you know, in this very concert hall. and now they’re back, just for us! how bloody exciting is that?” as she speaks, her irish accent grows stronger, in tandem with the excitement lighting her face.

you frown, unsure if you’ve heard her correctly. “queen? like... the band queen or queen elizabeth?”

she pauses in her lipstick application. “the band queen, silly. are you really that knackered?” with a grin, she puts the lipstick down and takes your shoulders in her hands. “you’re at a queen concert, love. it’s friday, september first, ninteen-seventy-eight. has been all day, ever since you woke up in your jammies.” she laughs, her blunt bob swaying as tilts her head to the side. “you gonna be fine?”

your first thought: no, absolutely not. 

the only answer you can give, punctuated by a weak smile: “yeah. yeah, i’m gonna be all right. thanks.”

the girl puts her makeup away and gives your shoulder a final squeeze. “i think they’ll be finishing soon, so i’m gonna pop back out so i don’t miss it. try and get some rest, yeah? you look like you could use it.”

she exits the bathroom, a song momentarily pouring through the door, and you find yourself alone in the empty room.

before you can stop yourself, you twist on your heel and lunge for the nearest toilet. you vomit, heaving what little remains in your stomach, until there is nothing left to unearth. dropping back against the stall, you duck your head between your knees. 

this is just a fever dream. maybe you got scared during the storm, hit your head, and passed out on the bathroom floor. there’s no way in hell—no way in hell—this is nineteen-seventy-eight. that’s preposterous. and sure, queen might have gotten their start at imperial college—everyone knows that—but that was eons ago. freddie mercury is dead, john deacon is retired, and brian may and roger taylor are well within their seventies. the girl must be mistaken or strung out or high or all of the above.

or maybe you are. you can’t be sure anymore.

your legs tremble beneath you as you stand. if any good has come of this, it’s that you’re dry now—suspiciously so. despite the pale sheen on your face and layer of sweat on your forehead, it’s as if you were never drenched to begin with. your cream pleated trousers have no wrinkles along the back after you spent all afternoon stuffing and unstuffing boxes on the floor. your navy top is void of the stubborn coffee stain you’d gotten this morning as you rushed into the museum ten minutes late. it’s almost as if the day never happened.

it’s almost as if the day—saturday, september fifth, twenty-twenty—is still forty-two years in the future instead of thirty minutes away from ending.

“all right, we’ve got one more for you lovelies tonight! this one’s new, so keep it a secret ‘till the record comes out, okay?”

you turn at the sound of a familiar voice amplified over a loudspeaker.

freddie mercury.

though you’ve never been a huge queen fan, you’re positive anyone with even a passing knowledge of classic rock could hear his voice and pick it out in a lineup.

heart in your throat, you sling your bag over your shoulder and squeeze out the door. the energy in the hall has heightened tenfold since you last stood in the bathroom doorway. perhaps it’s due to the fact that the concert is rapidly drawing to a close and everyone wants to drink in the last moments before it’s all over.

perhaps it’s simply because it’s queen.

as your eyes slide to the stage, you can’t help but feel a giddiness rise in your chest. your throat goes tight, eyes misty, as you weave through the crowd on auto-pilot. you’re drawn to them; who wouldn’t be? the floor shakes beneath your feet as the music surges around you. he’s magnificent—freddie. he commands the crowd with ease, and you feel at home, relaxed, like you’re watching a friend goof around. seeing him there—whole, well, happy—is nothing short of a miracle.

“aren’t they marvelous?” you turn to see the girl from the bathroom. she holds your bicep tight in her fingers. her smile is radiant, her face glowing with unbridled joy. “i’m glad you made it out for this!”

you nod dumbly, swiveling back to drink in the final moments. matthew at the coffee shop you frequent would kill for something like this. you want to text him, to rub it in his face with a good-natured wink, but he hasn’t been born yet, has he? seeing freddie mercury on stage confirms it.

you’re not in twenty-twenty anymore.

the song draws to a close, and you find yourself smiling despite the uncertainty of your current situation. you can’t help but applaud alongside the rest of the audience. someone shouts “encore” but freddie waves him off with a laugh.

“we just did a fucking encore!” he says.

they take their bows—all four of them—and then disappear backstage. a moment passes before the house lights flicker on, and the crowd begins to disperse. trash litters the floor, and the room doesn’t feel as magical as it did seconds before, but you find it hard to breathe nonetheless. try as you might, you can’t tear your eyes away from the stage.

“oh my god, wasn’t that brilliant?” bathroom-girl practically jumps up and down on her ballet-slippered feet. “i’m anna, in case you were wondering,” she says.

you hesitate. there’s too much going on around you, so many things you’ve only read about or seen in pictures: the fashion, the hair, the fucking band. you feel dizzy—dizzy with fear and excitement. it’s like you’re standing in line for a rollercoaster. you know what’s coming: the slow climb up the first hill, anticipation bubbling in your stomach before the first drop, then the madness of letting yourself plummet at incredible speeds. all you can do is laugh, just like you do on the rollercoaster.

“[y/n],” you say between fits of amusement. “sorry! i don’t know what’s gotten into me!” you press a hand to your mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

anna grins. “that was me when the concert first started.” she bends her head toward yours conspiratorially. “i nearly pissed myself when i saw john deacon walk out for the first time.”

your laughter turns to girlish giggles and holding her forearm is all you can do to keep from falling to the floor. you’re drunk, surely. drunk off what, you can’t say, but you’ve felt like this before.

“hey!” anna’s eyes go wide, and you can see the lightbulb turn on above her head. “i saw where they parked their vans. we could go have a look-see!”

your initial reaction is a resounding no. just the thought of standing mere meters away from queen makes you want to break out into hives. you’re sure to say something stupid and embarrassing or screw up some time-continuum-thing. you’ve seen enough doctor who to know not to mess about with time.

oh god, you must be really fucking crazy if this is what you’re life has come to, deciding what the right or wrong move is based on a children’s television show.

yet there’s still a sliver of your heart holding on to the hope that this is all a dream. you could wake up at any moment, still in the concert hall, yes, but where you belong and a soaked mess from the rainstorm. so, even though you know you shouldn’t, even though your heart of hearts tells you that you’re a girl out of place and far away from home, you nod and let anna drag you toward the a side-exit door.

outside, the air is chilly, but it soothes your hot skin. 

standing outside the concert hall is perhaps more strange than standing in it. you know this spot; you walk behind the building every day. if you follow the winding path toward the dormitories and then veer to the left, you’ll eventually reach your flat—or you would if this were some other time. it’s not a terribly long walk, and most of the time, you find it refreshing. but today, with the sun replaced by the moon and the evening air and anna’s nervous energy, you find yourself a mite too cold. the cold settles in your stomach, not on your body, and you catalog the area. the parking lot has been repaved, all the dips and cracks you know so well gone. the tree which overhangs a dumpster in the corner is but a small sapling, and the dumpster is nowhere to be seen. the cold in your belly spreads to your chest, and, for a moment, you forget what it is anna dragged you here for.

but then her fingers grip your wrist tightly, and you remember: queen.

“look,” she whispers. “there they are.”

you follow her eyeline to the gaggle of men descending a ramp propped beneath a set of double-doors. in the thin veil of darkness you inhabit, it’s hard to make out who is who. brian is unmistakable, what with his gangly arms and legs and tilted shoulders. freddie is easy to pick out, too; he walks with a swagger only he can pull off. everyone else is a jumble of faces obscured by the night and a cloud of cigarette smoke. they’re loud, but not rowdy, and it reminds you somewhat of a group of teenage boys out to make trouble.

“let’s go over.” anna steps forward, but you stop her with a hand on her elbow.

“no, we shouldn’t. i’m sure they’ve got security, and we really can’t just waltz up there. besides, what would we say?” you shake your head. “this is close enough, don’t you think?”

“fuck no!” her exclamation startles you, your eyebrows lifting, and she laughs. “this is likely the only time we’ll be able to meet true rockstar royalty. you can stay back if you want to, but i’m gonna go.”

“go where?”

in unison, you turn with anna on the ball of your foot. your movements are slow, hers hurried, but you both come face to face with roger taylor and you both inhale sharply. 

your first thought is foolish: he looks so young. but of course he does. he’s twenty-nine here, not seventy. half a cigarette hangs out of his mouth, and his blond hair brushes the collar of his jacket as he goes to remove the cigarette and puff a plume of smoke to the side. he wears sunglasses, despite the late hour, and if you weren’t so bloody unsettled, you’d find him attractive.

anna finds her voice first. she points her thumb over her shoulder. “well, we were gonna go and... that is, we thought we might...” she heaves a sigh, and her smile turns angelic. “you put on a great show tonight.”

roger grins, his eyes fixed on anna. “i thought i saw you in the crowd.” his voice is raspy and high and dripping with innuendo. you all know he did not see anna from behind his drum set, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling her lower lip between her teeth and batting her eyelashes. 

“oy, rog, can we get a move on, please?” 

roger frowns and slips between you and anna, his hand firm on her bicep. he shouts in the general direction of the disembodied voice. “don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist, crystal, jesus!” he rolls his eyes and looks back at anna. “sorry, he’s like a damn mother hen. i didn’t catch your name.”

“anna.” she’s breathless, ready to drip to the floor in a puddle of goo. it’s painfully obvious, and roger seems to like that. his hand rubs an untraceable pattern over her shoulder. 

“and your friend?” he doesn’t look at you when he speaks, just jerks his head in your direction.

you should be offended, but really you feel like crying. an overwhelming homesickness builds in your chest. everyone you know, every place you hold so dear, none of it is as it should be. those fleeting magical moments during the concert are quickly wearing off, and you feel yourself slipping back to the panic you’d fought in the bathroom.

“that’s [y/n].”

“would you gals like to join us for some drinks?” this time roger does look at you, his gaze soft but purposeful. he’s daring you to turn him down.

maybe it’s the homesickness. maybe it’s the idea that you can be anything, anyone, here with few personal repercussions. maybe it’s the haughty glint in roger’s eye. whatever it is, it finally gets you talking.

“lead the way,” you say, your eyebrow raised in silent challenge.

roger’s smirk widens, and he tugs anna against his side with an arm around the waist. “gladly.”

the inside of the tour bus is cramped. you suspected it might be so based on the outside, but you didn’t realize just how tight the quarters would truly be. you’re stiff, sat on a stool between two men with long brown hair and equally long faces. there’s a tremor in your leg, and you itch to steal the cigarette out of the man-on-your-left’s mouth and smoke your anxiety away. 

for anna’s part, she seems at ease, and you envy that. she’s wrapped around roger’s arm, pressed against him on the couch, and in that moment you feel a certain flare of hatred toward her. you’d always been jealous of the girls who could so effortlessly flirt and make a move and get what they want. you never had to the confidence to follow suit. sitting as you are near the back of the bus, crammed between two sullen and tired roadies, you’re reminded of secondary school lunches. a rush of discomfort heats the back of your neck, and you shift on the stool. your movement must disturb to the man next to you because he shifts, too. he leans away, twisting his neck to look at you.

“you good?” the smoke that leaves his parted lips circles around your head, stinging your eyes.

“i wish everyone would stop asking me that,” you mutter. it comes out before you can stop it, and when you realize what you’ve said, you sink down further on your stool. your hand comes to squeeze your forehead. “oh god.”

but the man just laughs. “here.” he hands you an unopened beer. it’s cold to the touch, dripping with sweat. “you look like you could use it.”

you lift it slightly in a sign of thanks before popping the tab and taking a swig. it’s cheap, and that surprises you considering it’s queen, but you drink it anyway. 

“so, who picked you up?”

your eyebrow arches, and you look at the man on your left with a mixture of shock and distain. “no one, thank you. i came on my own accord and i’ll leave in the same way.”

out of the corner of your eye, from his place on a low bench in front of you, you think you see brian turn slightly, his curls swaying with the movement. but he doesn’t face you after all, so it must have been your imagination.

“okay, okay!” the man holds his hands up in surrender, mirth etched along the lines in his face. “sorry!”

you resist the urge to huff, cross your arms, and pout like a child. you pull at your beer instead.

the man nudges you with his elbow. “chris taylor, by the way. crystal.” he points to the man on your right. “that’s ratty—pete.”

pete looks tired enough to fall out of his chair. all he can do is raise his eyebrows in greeting and drop his head back against the wall. 

“i’m [y/n].”

crystal mirrors ratty’s movements and stretches his legs out underneath the card-table. “well, i must admit that you might be one of the most level-headed lasses we’ve had in here—and we’ve had plenty of girls grace this bus.”

you aren’t sure if he’s bragging or simply making conversation, so you ignore the comment and say, “i’ve had a... strange day. it’s a lot to take in.” 

you’re not lying. really, it is a lot to take in. the tour bus is hot and sweaty, but conversation is quiet, like a background hum. it’s not what you thought it would be; nothing is.

“didn’t think you’d end up here?”

you shake your head. “absolutely not.”

crystal smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, the truth in your words humorous to you and you alone.

the bus door opens, and a flurry of sound enters the already-cramped space. crystal sits forward; ratty seems to wake up. at once, the energy is higher. you feel your heart begin to pound against your ribcage. 

freddie enters the bus in all his post-concert glory. you’d been a baby when he died, but now you sit at the back of his tour bus, watching as he laughs and jokes and lives. it makes you want to throw up all over again.

he stands in the center of the bus, hands on his hips, surveying the jumble of roadies and groupies and band members. “well?” the corner of your mouth quirks upward at the sound of his voice; you can’t help it. “have we decided where we’re crashing yet?”

“uh, yeah.” john deacon pipes up from his spot at the front of the bus. you hadn’t noticed him all night, but there he stands, leaning against the driver’s seat, a map in hand. “i think we’re gonna—”

“oh hell, we don’t need that!” roger slaps the map out of john’s hands. it crumples between his fingers, and he all but pulls anna onto his lap. she squeals in delight. “we’ve got our own personal tour guide right here. not to mention brian. he’s got to know his way about.”

“don’t forget [y/n], roger!” anna says, ever the good friend.

no, please. please, for the love of god, forget [y/n].

as one, the tour bus turns to look at you. this time bile does rise in the back of your throat. 

sitting in the back of the bus you can handle. crystal is nice, and simply being in the presence of music royalty is sure to be the peak of the rest of your life—whatever that may look like. but having them all look at you, expectantly, waiting for you to giggle or blush or say something, it’s that too much you told crystal about moments earlier. only this time, it’s so much you feel like your head might explode.

even though it feels like decades, only a few seconds have gone by since everyone began waiting for you to make a peep. so when you look at anna and say, “i’m sure you know better than me,” it doesn’t sound awkward. it sounds like a comment shared between friends. you’re thankful for that, at least.

“okay, fine.” anna claps her hands together. “what are you in the mood for, freddie?”

your eyebrow lifts at her familiarity, and beside you, crystal chuckles behind his hand. god, she’s good. you are... decidedly not.

“anything fabulous. we’ve just had a good show, if i do say so myself, and i want to have some fun before we really have to start working.”

“we are working, fred.” it’s the first thing you’ve heard brian say all evening. you can’t see his face from where you’re sitting, so his voice sounds far away. far away but ever so nice to the ears.

freddie waves his hands dismissively. “you know what i mean.”

“there’s a disco club a few blocks from here,” anna offers. “it’s not garishly disco, but it’s fun.”

there’s a pause before freddie says, “it’s late, so it’ll have to do.” he turns to brian with a grin. “do you think we should call ahead?”

twenty minutes and three phone calls later, you’re walking side-by-side with crystal and ratty, hands twitching at your sides, desperately wishing for the comfort of a pair of pockets. if you’d hazard a guess, you’d say there’s about twenty people headed for the club. you know you should feel happy, exuberant at the chance to party with queen in the 70s, but your head hurts. it really, really hurts, and you haven’t the faintest idea where you’ll spent the night. you have no money, no contacts—nothing but the clothes on your back and the half-empty purse thrown over your shoulder.

“[y/n], where are you from?” ratty asks. his questions is harmless enough, but it breaks your underarms out in an uncomfortable sweat. how can you explain that you’re from here, the very here you’re walking on, without also explaining why you have no idea where the disco club is or where the charming flower stand on the corner has gone? 

you settle on something vague, but passable. “not from around here.” the toe of your shoe kicks at a loose pebble, which skips forward, nearing the long strides of brian. 

“on holiday then?”

“something like that, yeah.” you smile to soften the blow of your unsubstantial answers, and it seems to appease.

you chat with the roadies about inconsequential things—roger’s horrible morning breath, the oil crisis and its impact on the upcoming tour, whether or not pigeons lay eggs. it’s small talk, and you ask more questions than give answers, but it relaxes the ache in your shoulders. you have to remind yourself breathe, drink in what you can while you can. you’ll be okay. 

you have to be.

the group rounds the corner like an amoeba, all uneven edges and uncertain direction. though the hour is rapidly closing in on one a.m., the road is filled. a few of the cars closest to the curb honk and frenzied arms reach out windows to wave as queen passes them by. a girl flashes her tits from the sunroof of her car; roger gives her a thumbs up.

“is it always like this?” you ask.

crystal laughs. “this is nothin’, dove. we’ve got this party planned for october in new orleans, and i am honestly a little bit afraid of what might happen.”

the club comes into view, music ebbing through the open front door. climax is written in bright yellow lightbulbs across the marquee, and someone squeezes anna’s shoulder with a laugh. the line waiting to enter is long, roped off in anticipation of your arrival. those in queue push forward as your party begins to enter. freddie signs a few autographs on the back of receipts. brain scrawls across the crest of someone’s hip with a shit-eating grin on his face.

the resounding thought that you shouldn’t be here flickers through your mind and not for the first time. you ignore it as crystal leads you into the club, a hand tucked in the small of your back. his touch is anything but sexual, and it’s a relief. he likely sees you as a lost puppy, out of her depth, and you might have to lean into that come closing time.

“do you want something to drink?” he shouts over the music and laughter and shouting. 

you nod eagerly. “yes, please!”

weaving through horde of dancers, you find a spot at a cocktail table tucked near a back corner. “boogie wonderland” plays over the louder speakers, and it grates against your headache. the disco ball in the center of the room spins and spins and spins, casting sprinkles of white light over the room. you can’t stop watching it, wondering what it would feel like to wrap yourself around the ball and stay there forever. it probably wouldn’t feel very different from how you feel right now, though your legs are planted firmly on the ground.

“lost in thought?”

you turn, expecting to see crystal with your drink, but you’re met with the incredibly tall form of brian may. you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes he’s standing so close. he must notice because he takes a fraction of a step backwards, his smile widening.

your mouth goes dry, but you manage a shaky nod. “yeah, i guess.” you blink and run your eyes over his face. like roger, he’s painfully young. his curls are dark and full, his skin smooth. he’s handsome, ridiculously so, and despite what some may believe, you think he knows it too.

“you’ve been awful quiet tonight.” he leans against the table with ease. the edge, which reaches your chest, seems to dig into his hip, and he adjusts himself to a more comfortable stance. “most girls are chatty.”

“that’s what crystal said.”

brian chuckles under his breath. “yeah, crystal would know.” he glances over his shoulder then looks back at you. “[y/n], right?”

you’re surprised he remembered or overheard or asked someone before walking over. it’s a simple thing, but just hearing your name grounds you. you don’t care who says it; it reminds you that you are, in fact, still human. and it doesn’t hurt that brian’s voice is like butter. it could put anyone at ease.

for the first time that evening, you feel a lightness in your chest as you smirk and meet his gaze. “brian, right?”

at this, he throws his head back to laugh. his reaction brings a blush to your face, and you duck your head, uncertain where your burst of flirty energy has come from. moments ago, you’d been yearning for the comfort of a good bed and solid night’s rest. now, you could stand in this dark corner and look at brian, hear him laugh, until you fall asleep standing.

when he’s calmed, brian looks at you again. there’s a shift in his stare, one you can’t quite place. “what do you do, [y/n]?”

this time, you decide to answer honestly. “i’m a student, most of the time,” you say. “but eventually i’ll be a curator for museums.”

his eyebrows lift. “a curator? that’s bloody brilliant.” 

you shrug. “i like history and photography and design. it’s kind of the perfect blend.” glancing at your empty hands, you fumble for your words then meet his eyes through the underside of your lashes. “a little birdie told me you’re pretty smart yourself.”

he tilts his head in a noncommittal manner, and you swear you can see a tinge of color rise along the top of his exposed chest. “i suppose.”

“what is your specialty again? besides the guitar, of course.”

“astrophysics with a concentration in interplanetary dust.” before you can make a quip about how much interplanetary dust is actually around to study, he leans close. he has to bend at the waist to lower his mouth to the shell of your ear, and when he speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper. “i’m good at other things, too, you know? besides space and the guitar.”

you draw back slightly, enough look into his eyes. his pupils are dark, overpowering the hazel tint of his irises. if you move an inch, your lips will brush his mouth; you stay still, your eyes darting back and forth between his.

you feel utterly ridiculous for a fraction of a second. he’s brian may, first of all, and you are decidedly not worthy of his attentions. but more than that, this isn’t your home, your time. the thought makes you cringe. 

fucking hell, you don’t belong here.

his long fingers skim your waist. the touch is feather-light, a mere whisper, but it pulls you from your thoughts.

“what are you thinking?” he breathes.

“not much.” it’s a half-truth; you can barely focus on your existential crisis with his fingertips working along your skin as they are. he’s brazen enough to dip underneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch the skin of your hip. you bite your tongue. “wondering where you got the nerve to be so cheeky all of a sudden.”

he withdrawals his hand as if he’s been bitten by fire, cheeks gone red as flame. “sorry, sorry,” he stammers. “i just thought that—”

you know you shouldn’t, that it will only lead to trouble, but you do it anyway.

you grab his wrist and squeeze tight. “i’m only joking, brian.” your grip relaxes as you grin. “come dance with me.”

he huffs a sigh of relief, shaking his head. “damn, you really—”

you interrupt him again, your feet moving on their own accord toward the dance floor. there’s this strange desire in you—a desire to forget—and he seems willing enough to be the one to help you lose track of your troubles. “come dance with me.”

“i don’t really know how,” he admits, though his smile is wide, showing off his teeth.

“me neither! we can look like idiots together.”

somewhat reluctantly, brian follows you onto the dance floor. the music is louder here, the song changed to something you don’t recognize. you weren’t lying when you said dancing wasn’t your forte. in primary school, you’d stepped on the toes of every boy in your music class during the week of mandatory dance lessons. things haven’t changed much since then as you promptly land your foot on brian’s seconds into the song.

you gasp and clamp your hands over your mouth in an effort to obscure your laughter. “shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s fine!” he yells, straining to make his voice heard over the thrumming of the music. “the clogs, they’re kinda like a protective shell.”

swaying to the beat, your hands slide along his forearms. “oh yeah? what do they protect you from?” 

“klutzy girls like you.”

looking back on the moment years later, you wonder if that’s when you fell in love with him first, on the dance floor, his gangly body unaccustomed to fluid movement. he makes you laugh with his two left feet, and you forget, like you’d hoped, that you do not belong in his arms. as the music ebbs and flows like the tide, you follow it, swinging, swaying, twirling in whatever way you can. you’re sweaty, and he’s sweaty, but you’re both smiling. at some point, you bump into anna who bumps into roger who bumps into freddie and then it’s some version of disco mosh pit, arms and elbows and feet tangled together. you’re laughing—truly laughing for what feels like the first time in ages—and, if you could, you’d stay in that moment forever.

the music slows. you breathe hard, nodding as anna whispers something in your ear about leaving with roger. you aren’t sure if you’ll see her again, aren’t sure if it matters, but you’re thankful for her nonetheless. hers was the first kind face you met, and for that, you can never repay her.

a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you tight against a lean chest, dipping you side to side as the music trills in the background. he mumbles against the skin of your neck. “rog’s leaving with anna.”

you nod and curl your fingernails around his forearms. “i know.”

“is it too presumptuous of me to ask if you’ll do the same? not leave with him, i mean. leave with me.”

you could say something about his proposal being too forward after only a handful of hours together, but you don’t. you feel dizzy from dancing, dizzy with a sense of freedom. normally, you’d never follow a guy home after just meeting. it’s never been in your nature, despite the times you wished it were. tonight, though, you feel like you can do anything.

and if that means letting brian may take you back to his hotel where he’ll likely screw the daylights out of you, so be it.

you twist slightly in his arms, enough to look up at him. you repeat your words of earlier. there’s no hint of a challenge in your voice this time, only desire. “lead the way.” 

by the time you reach the door of brian’s hotel room, you’re fumbling with what buttons on his shirt are actually buttoned. his lips are pressed against yours, and you can feel his smile on your teeth as you struggle to both kick the door open with your heel and work the last two buttons.

“you know,” you mumble against his mouth. “you’d make it a lot easier for me if you just don’t button any of them. you’re halfway there, anyway.”

“so i’ve been told,” he replies, his own fingers pushing the three buttons of your blouse through the small holes.  

the comment gives you pause. your hands still on the warm skin of his shoulders, and you pull back. his eyelids are heavy, his lips parted and plump. you don’t know what it is about his words that make you stop. maybe it’s the idea of him in a similar situation with another girl. of course, you know you aren’t the first concert-goer he’s dragged home; you aren’t that much of an idiot. still, the thought niggles at the back of your brain.

his hands slide away from your shirt to cup your face, and he bends down to kiss you softly. this kiss is different from the ones he’d given you in the lift—hungry and demanding—and in the hallway—earnest and consuming. he’s gentle, painfully so, and tears spring to your eyes. you’ve never been kissed like this, not so tenderly. it makes your heart stop.

“just you and me, [y/n],” he whispers when he breaks the touch. “just you and me.”

you nod and finish pushing the white shirt off his shoulders. 

he doesn’t fuck you. he truly makes love to you, worshipping your body until you both are spent and sweaty, sheets tangled around your limbs. when he collapses beside you with a soft groan, you feel the overwhelming urge to cry. it’s embarrassing, really. but it’s been such a long day, and you’re tired—tired and happy and warm. you throw your arm over your eyes to keep from showing your emotion. you absolutely refuse to be the girl who cries after having sex with brian may.

you feel the bedsheets rustle as he props himself up on his elbow. his fingernail skims along your collarbone. “you’re so... divine.”

you drop your arm to stare at him, heart thumping in your chest. his eyes flick up to meet yours. he smiles and looks at you as if he’s known you his whole life, not seven hours. there’s nothing you can say that will capture how you feel in this moment, so you simply grab him by the neck and pull him down for a bruising kiss. 

later, when you’re drifting off to sleep, one of his sleep shirts swallowing you, his chest against your back, one leg pushed between both of yours, you wonder if you’ll wake up in the morning and find it was all a dream. it certainly would make for a good story once you make it home to your flat. even so, if it isn’t a dream, the part of you that so desperately yearned for home hours earlier is slipping away. 

you could stay here, like this, if he let you. 

shaking your head, you burrow against him. such silly thoughts. even if you have to stay here, out of place, for the rest of your life, this night was a one-time thing. you must know that. so, you’ll cherish his arms around you while you can and commit everything to memory. 

come morning, you find yourself still in nineteen-seventy-eight and deliciously sore. you’re embarrassed to say you smile at the revelation of both situations.

stretching your arms over your head as your eyes flutter open, you groan with your stretch. after your eyes have adjusted to the bright morning light streaming through the open curtains, you look around the room and find brian sitting at the small table in the middle of the kitchenette. he has the hotel phone cradled against his shoulder and ear and looks delightfully sleep-muddled. you slip from bed, uncertain how you should act.

will he send you away now that the night is gone? you wouldn’t blame him. your fingers twist the hem of his shirt as you sway from foot to foot at the base of the bed.

he looks up and waves you over. a good sign, at least.

bare feet padding against the carpet, you cross to his side, but don’t reach out to smooth the unruly curls on his head as you wish you could. the thought crosses your mind that you are painfully in love with him already, and it doesn’t even phase you. it just makes you laugh to yourself.

“what do you want for breakfast?”

you blink. “sorry?”

“breakfast? what do you want?”

“i don’t really care. anything,” you say with a shrug. at his pointed look, you concede with a roll of your eyes. “fine. a waffle.”

he adds a waffle to the order, thanks the person on the other end, then puts the phone down. he’s quick to grab your waist and pull you to his lap, his lips attaching to a sensitive spot on your neck. you giggle and swat his shoulder.

“i thought you wouldn’t be so keen about me come morning,” you admit, keeping your tone playful as you pull back to brush the hair from his face.

his forehead crinkles. “why wouldn’t i be?”

you shrug. “we barely know each other. plus, i’m [y/n] [y/l/n] and you’re brian may. not exactly an obvious match.”

he’s quiet a moment, eyes searching yours, before he says, “what do you think about plato’s allegory of the cave?”

you choke on a laugh. “i’m sorry?”

“you know, plato’s cave—what do you think about it?”

he’s being serious, something that absolutely stuns you into answering honestly. you settle on his knee, arms twisted around his neck, as you consider your response. “well, i mean, i think it’s a good metaphor.” you pause. “it makes me think of people and their cell phones.”

“cell phones?”

shaking your head, you backtrack. “i mean, just technology in general. when it comes to technology, we never really know what we’re getting, do we, usually until it’s too late. i know it wasn’t his intention, but the cave makes me think of that. the way technology can so easily take control and we’re powerless to stop it.”

your words hang in the air for a long while. then he dips forward and claims your mouth with his. you shuffle in his lap, surprised, a soft oh parting your lips. he kisses you with that same hunger you’d felt in the lift the previous evening. when he draws back, he presses his forehead to yours.

“come with me,” he breathes.

you still completely, hands dropping from his neck to his arms. the clock on the desk in the corner ticks, loud and annoying. “what?”

“come with me.” he draws back to run a hand over the hair framing your face. “on tour. we leave next month.”

“you’re insane, brian.”

he shakes his head. “no, i’m not.” his words are resolute, anything but unsure.

“we’ve only just met and i don’t think you know what—”

“i know what i’m saying, [y/n].” his hands move to hold your face. “come with me. i’m crazy about you. say what you will about the timing, but i don’t care. you’re smart and funny and beautiful and i want to get to know you more, but i’m leaving. i’d kill to have you by my side.”

“brian...”

your head is spinning, your throat gone dry. someone knocks on the door in the hall—room service—but he keeps talking.

“it’s north america first, then europe, then asia. it’s long, i know, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. i couldn’t ask you to leave your studies like that. you can leave any time you want.”

“brian,” you say again, this time more forcefully, yet he continues.

“i just think that... after last night... fuck, i really like you, [y/n], and i’d hate to see some other guy swoop in while i’m gone.”

he stops at last, breathing heavy, his wiry frame practically trembling with anxiety. you smooth your hands down his neck and across his shoulders, smiling softly. and maybe you’re just as crazy as he is because you lean in, kiss his lips, and say, “okay, i’ll come with you.”

you don’t think twice. don’t have to, really.

he grins, his fingers squeezing your thighs. “really?”

you nod. “really. but only so long as we can go to a disco every now and again. i think john would like that.”

he laughs and delves his fingers in your hair, kissing you hard. you forget about the breakfast waiting in the hall. it doesn’t matter.

a month and a half later, you’re stood outside the record company’s london office, thumbing through your hastily-acquired, perhaps-not-totally-legal passport. crystal had gotten it for you. there being no record of your birth, you aren’t sure how he managed it, but you don’t ask any questions.

the last month and a half have been a whirlwind, to say the least.

you’ve been, largely, happy. any chance you get is spent by brian’s side, and he seems just as eager to pass his free hours with you. you were able to snag a job at a corner diner to make some money for basic necessities—a change of clothes, for starters—and anna, also invited on the tour, gave you free reign of her pull-out sofa without asking for an explanation. 

but despite spending more time in brian’s hotel room than anna’s living room, and despite the blissed-out evenings and comfortable mornings and long chats and shared moments of quiet, despite everything that makes you happy here, you still know it’s not right. it’s not where you belong.

so as you’re standing outside the record company, heavy suitcases at your feet, roadies and groupies alike milling about, you can’t help but feel on edge. it’s that same feeling you had the first night you arrived: your heart is in your throat, your chest tight. 

maybe it’s the clothes: the tight, flared jeans, white prairie blouse, chunky tan heels. it’s cute, but it’s not you. not yet, anyway.

maybe it’s the hair: you’d had to get it cut earlier in the month, anna dragging you to a salon after claiming your hair was too dowdy. when you look in the mirror now, you feel like farrah fawcett, and that’s not totally bad, but it’s taken some getting used to.

maybe it’s the lack of technology: you’re so used to your phone being attached to your palm, or your car keys jingling in your purse, or your earbuds falling out of said purse at inopportune times. now, you just have a bag with a book in it and a few pieces of really uncomfortable makeup. 

all of it serves as a reminder that this is not home.

“ready to go?”

you look up from your passport and squint as the sun hits your eyes. brian stands in front of you, and he moves to block the sunlight. you laugh. “you’re like my own personal sunblocker.” 

“it’s a gift and a curse.” dropping a duffle bag, he bends to unzip it and pull out a box wrapped in plain brown paper. “here, i got you something.”

you frown. “brian, that’s not necessary.”

he pushes the box toward you. “just hush and take it.”

with a sigh, you take the box from his hands. over your shoulder, gerry stickells, tour manager, calls for everyone to load the bus with their belongings. the flight to dallas doesn’t leave for several hours, but he likes to be punctual, and the band plus thirty-odd crew and three or four extra girls makes for a hard group to wrangle at once. you don’t envy him his job.

brian leans a little closer, dropping his voice as he watches gerry herd stragglers toward the bus doors. “open it before he comes to shout at us.”

“fine, but you still shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” 

you rip the paper from the box then slide your nail under the edge. pushing back the cardboard folds, you find a camera nestled amongst sleeves of tissue paper. it’s a small camera, the name canon etched along the silver rim. a thin leather strap is curled around the black casing. 

“brian,” you breathe. you meet his eyes, which shine and sparkle and send a thrill to your chest. “this is too much.”

“when we met you said you liked photography. i figured there might be things you’d like to take pictures of while we’re gone.”

cradling the box against your chest, you rise to your toes to press a firm kiss to his mouth. your fingers wind in the hair at the back of his neck, and his hands come to rest on your sides. as has become custom, you feel his smile on your mouth.

“does that mean you like it?” he murmurs. 

drawing back, you nod. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide. “yes, of course! thank you!”

gerry’s voice interrupts brian’s response, and you turn to see him, red in the face, pointing to the running vehicle. “hey, you can do that on the bus! get a move on!”

by the time you find your seat on the bus, the tour is already running behind schedule. gerry blames brian, who only shrugs in apology. there’s a brief speech of general safety and schedule from gerry then one of excitement and giddiness from freddie. then the bus rolls out of the parking lot.

you’re nestled on brian’s lap, his arms around your stomach, a game of scrabble on the table in front of you. to your right, john pulls at a cigarette.

“fred, we haven’t even left the country. i don’t want to be sick of this game before tomorrow.”

freddie sticks his tongue out. he places a letter square down and rubs his hands together. “ha! that’s... sixteen points. deaky, write it down!”

brian shifts to glance over your shoulder. “no, that’s not a word, fred.”

“of course it is!” he points to you. “[y/n], please tell him it’s a word.”

instead, you smile and take a picture of him, consternation on his face, finger pointed in the direction of the camera. he groans and rolls his eyes, dropping back against his chair. brian snuggles you close, his breath ghosting over your neck. 

as the bus heads for the airport and the game of scrabble continues, crystal leaning over your seat to add his two-cents, you lean back and sigh. there’s a warmth in your chest, in your heart, that you haven’t felt in a long time. you intertwine your fingers with brian’s and squeeze his knuckles.

maybe... maybe this where you belong after all.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay​ @grigorlee​ @teenagepeterpan​

[himbo-kuto]

haikyuu characters as jenna marbles videos pt.1

giving my boyfriend a brazilian blowout + MSBY’s reaction 

well... welcome to my brainrot-- LMFAO i don’t know why one day i decided to make this a thing... but HERE IT IS!! AHAHAAH i have a few parts in the making so i hope you’ll all enjoy it! later down the road when multiple parts are posted i’ll put them into a masterlist! these are more loosely based on the videos but trying to keep the energy with who i pair them with!!

ps. thanks for so much love on the aone headcanon 🥺  it rly made me all warm and fuzz on the inside!! i eventually want to make a lil series for him!!

pairing: gn!youtuber x sakusa genre: fluff warnings: time!skip stuff

it would take quite a bit of convincing, since it’s something he’s never done before (neither have you HAHAHA)

but after you told him you saw your friend do it to their boyfriend and how easy it was, he finally gave in

on the lowlow though you wanted to give him a brazilian blowout because you saw him with straight hair one(1) time and you would’ve liked to see it many more times

so now self-inserting your ulterior motives with ideas for video content, you now Needed to make this a thing

he would highkey look annoyed the entire time, but would love it at the same time because he really does enjoy spending time with you since he’s at practice all the time :(

he too puts on gloves even though he’s not touching/doing anything-- always gotta be safe you know???

makes tiny comments how if you owned a salon you would be in violation for not being clean enough

(you may have pulled his hair a bit on that one)

you make sure your application is pristine because any less than that and he would give you an earful

omi holds the end of your shirt when you’re straightening his hair as one of his little displays of affection with you

(your subscribers notice and go WILD because they think it’s so cute)

makes cute little faces as his hair whips past his eyes when you’re blow drying

when you’re finally done and it’s all straightened you just take the time to admire your masterpiece

but you purposefully turned off the monitor so he couldn’t see

so now he’s looking at you all confused

“well???? does it look bad???”

you are honestly at a loss for words because T H I S????? OOOF-- TRYNA HOLD YOURSELF FOR BARKIN AT THIS MAN

“you hate it--”

you immediately shook your head, denying his allegations because you were worlds away from hating it

you ran your fingers over his now straight soft black hair, fluffing it here and there

“to be quite frank, i think you look hot--”

he blushed real hard being caught off guard by your direct comment (as if yall havent been dating for like 2 years) but you continue to ramble on

“NOT THAT YOU DIDN’T LOOK HOT WITH YOUR CURLY HAIR-- you also look hot with your straight hair and--”

you turned the monitor back on and that’s when he finally took a peak at what you were talking about

he took his time to run his fingers across his now smooth locks, getting accustomed to the change-- you may have liked it but it was his hair after all

he would turn his head this way and that, trying to see himself at different angles

but you started to get nervous-- what if he really did hate it and he’s just being nice?

“i actually really like it.. maybe i should do it more often…”

you breathed out a sigh of relief as you nodded in agreement

the both of you purposefully arrived at their practice on the later side of early, knowing everybody would already be there warming up. you did his hair extra nice that morning, combing it up and over putting in as minimal product as possible since sakusa didn’t really like his hair feeling all crunchy. as you got closer to the entrance of the gym, you switched on your tiny vlogging camera, waving to it with a happy smile.

“hello everyone! we’re here at the black jackals practice to see how his teammates are going to react to omi’s new straight hair!”

you turned the camera over to your boyfriend as he gave a small wave. at first he was very camera shy (which was interesting to you considering that he was on the news and tv all the time) and opted out of any of your videos, but over time he learned to grow accustomed to being within your spotlight every so often.

you decided that you were going to walk in first to catch their attention and then have the man of the hour walk in a few beats later. you walked in, camera in hand, waving over to the boys as they noticed someone walk through the door.

“oi! (y/n)-san!” bokuto was the first one to wave you down before noticing your camera.

“are you filming something?” totally forgetting about why you were here without your boyfriend and focusing more on you getting his good side. you nodded your head as you laughed at his crazy antics.

“you could say that.”

“where’s omi-san?” you noticed now hinata running over to you to give you a high five.

“yeah, where is that curly haired guy?” atsumu commented. turning the camera around, you looked right into the lens as you smirked knowingly.

like clockwork, sakusa walks in mask on as usual, acting as if it was just another day. you quickly turned the camera around to the three boys, trying to hold in a laugh as you saw their shocked faces.

“OIIIII OMI-OMI! LOOK AT YER NEW HAIR!” as sakusa reached closer to the group, atsumu attempted to touch it, but he was quick to swat him away.

hinata was just standing there with his little glowing eyes as he began to flatten down his own hair to copy that of his teammate. meanwhile, bokuto let out one of his signature laughs as he slinked an arm around sakusa and patted him on the shoulder.

“it looks good on you sakusa!” he was quick to dust off bokuto’s arm, moving past him silently to put his stuff down on the bench.

“see! i told you they would like it!” they all turned back to you as you made your comment.

“is that why you were filming?” you nodded over to bokuto, now turning around so that all of you were in the frame.

“thank you for giving kiyoomi your support with his new hair!” you waved, leading everyone else to sign off before you turned off the camera.

“i am offering my services to anyone else who would like a brazilian blowout.” bokuto was about to raise his hand, but atsumu was quick to put it back down. a laugh escaped your lips, pulling your bag over your shoulder.

“alright, i’ll take my leave! have a good practice everyone!” you happily waved to them, pulling up your mask before going up to sakusa and giving him a kiss on the cheek (yes, through your mask).

“have a good practice! make sure no other girls snatch you up on your way home.”