#but never before has she opened an album w three songs that are all in my top 5 for that album | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asterlark · 3 years ago

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ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm-#i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

Note

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #sensuality #soft sherlock #soft john #Anonymous

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cherrycheridarling · 4 years ago

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'someday maybe' | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: one swear? fluff and angst? kisses

summary: you're so close to finishing your second album when your manager pushes the deadline, your ex tom helps you write the final track.

{listen to someday by michael bublè and meghan trainor (if you want)}

wc: 2.1k

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey,"

"Yes, yes. I know. You are not being a very helpful manager right now, Noelle." you spoke to your phone as you paced around the living room, "Okay. I'll get working on it. Bye." you huffed and threw your phone against the couch.

Your album was due to be released in two months and you needed one more song to tie it all together. Your manager, Noelle, was pushing you to finish the song so she could start the promo of the album.

You were incredibly grateful for your career, but the pressure weighed down on you everyday. Never ending.

With a final groan you picked up your acoustic guitar and sat on the couch. Picking at the strings, trying to find a melody. You hit record on your voice memo app before strumming away.

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey, we can be in love once more. 'Till then I won't give my love away. Darling, I'm forever only yours." you sang softly.

You and Tom had a joyous relationship. A love that only ever existed in movies and fairytales. The type of love story that gets told for generations and onwards. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Your breakup was calm, serene and clean. A mutual agreement as if your whole relationship had been a business deal. There were no loose ends or jealous passive aggressive remarks made. Just maturity and respect for one another.

Your pinky still held the promise ring he gave you. A token of appreciation. A reassurance that he'd always be there for you. And he lived up to his word.

Tom walked in and sat across from you, startling you, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Whatcha writing?"

"Need a final song for the album. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just get better inspiration here, with all the memories, you know?" you timidly looked back down at the guitar.

Tom nodded, "No need to apologize. We gave you a spare key for a reason."

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling the words from your lips, "That was when we were together."

You could hear the awkward silence start to fill the room before he spoke again, "Still our best friend, Y/L/N."

The pain that crossed your features was instant. Being addressed by your last name felt like a stab to the gut. Especially by Tom.

You nodded before playing again, "Can I help you write it?" Tom asked as he sat next to you.

"Dancer, gymnast, actor and now songwriter. How many hidden talents have you got, Holland?" you teased making him laugh.

He shrugged with a smile, "It's kind of like writing a poem, right?"

You pondered on his analogy before slowly nodding, "Yeah, it kind of is. Give it a go."

You began playing the melody and he listened intently for a few moments before singing, "I love seeing you happy. I miss seeing that smile. It's been such a long time. A– Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. I can't do it." he shook his head aggressively with a loud laugh as you stopped playing.

"No!" you quickly protested, "That was amazing! Don't leave me hanging, c'mon." you nudged him with your shoulder before strumming again.

"Alright, alright." he ran his hands down his face, "And although I don't have you, I know now that I need to?" he paused and gave you a skeptical look before you nodded again, "Somehow make you mine. Mmm."

"Oh, okay. He's giving ad-libs and all. Get it." you nodded as he laughed.

You were so engrossed on Tom actually writing a song with you that you didn't focus on the lyrics he was singing.

"And I won't lie, it's hard seeing you with him 'cause I know he can't hold you like I can." his mood seemed to drop by a thousand as the words left his lips.

"When can we meet this boyfriend of yours?" Harrison flicked your forehead from across the booth.

You, Harrison, Tom and Tuwaine were all sat in the local pub. Pints of beer in front of each of you as loud music and chatting filled your ears.

You shrugged, "He's picking me up, so possibly tonight."

Tuwaine's eyes lit up, "Fina-fucking-lly. I swear you've kept him hidden for years."

"We've only been together for three months, T." you laughed lightly with the group of boys.

And they met him. It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but an introduction nonetheless.

"Boys, this is Kai. Kai this is Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine." you gestured to the parties as they all shook hands and gave polite greetings.

"So," Harrison started, "What do you do for a living, Kai?"

Kai cleared his throat, "I'm a Senior Resident at Kingston Hospital. Working towards being Head of Pediatrics."

Tuwaine and Harrison both nodded, impressed by his profession. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared at Kai with cold eyes.

"Do you have any siblings, Kai? Any psycho ex-girlfriends? Any wacky cousins?" Tuwaine joked making everyone laugh. "'Cause Y/N has a lot of wacky cousins."

"We could be in love once more,"

"Hey!" you gasped with a laugh.

Kai pulled you closer to him as he laughed, "No, no wacky cousins or psycho exes, but I do have an older sister and a younger brother."

This game of ask and answer continued on for a few more minutes. Tom didn't say a word, just sipped his beer and burned holes into Kai with his eyes. If looks could kill, Kai would be six feet under.

Kai was a sweetheart, but you two ended ages ago. His work got too much for him and your job had you touring and travelling every second.

You picked up after him with the chorus before diving into your own verse, "I remember that love song. I sang every word wrong, but you didn't mind, no, no."

"I love the things you do. It's how you do the things you love. Well it's not a love song, not a love song. I love the way you get me, but correct me if I'm wrong. This is not a love song, not a love song!" Tom belted the 'Austin & Ally' song from the top of his lungs.

"Your turn!" he pointed the pretend mic in your direction.

You laughed, not knowing any of the lyrics, but still wanting to participate, "I love that you not a licket! And you own a watch and chicken! We got a car!" you sang with full confidence, making Tom burst with laughter.

"Yes! Sing it, darling!" he cheered you on, "Absolutely butchering the lyrics, but sing it!"

"Being stuck inside a car. If it's not a doe, don't kiss it! I can't hear a missing, when there's a shoe inside the ceiling! If you really need to fart, you can lunch on a pig farm! Love song! Love song!" you couldn't even hear the song in the background, your voice overpowering it.

Tom was hunched over from laughing before he came back up and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "You are one hundred percent ridiculous and I love it."

You brought yourself back to reality and sang again, "And I'll admit that I miss you, but only if you do. 'Cause you know that I'm shy. And I can't lie, it's hard seeing you with her. 'Cause I know she can't love you like I can."

Tom's eyes met yours as the words fell from your gentle lips. His mouth was slightly agape as you continued to strum.

"You are absolute rubbish. Imagine coming in eighth. Embarassing." you laughed as you crushed Harrison in a game of Mario Kart.

He shoved you with his shoulder, "You're such a try ha—"

"—It's always the same, Tom! How can I trust you? You follow gorgeous models on Instagram and expect me to trust you?" Nadia's voice cut Harrison's words off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, his expression matching yours.

"Those women that I follow have been my friends for ages. Who I follow on a stupid app shouldn't effect how much you trust me."

You paused the game, cutting off the theme song, "How long have they been fighting like this?"

Harrison sighed, a long groan following, "A few weeks. I think it started when she saw that he liked your Instagram picture?"

You stammered, "M-my post? She got mad about my post?"

Harrison nodded before opening his mouth to speak, but Nadia cut him off again, "And she practically lives here! How do you think it makes me feel seeing my boyfriend play house with a superstar?!"

"Aw, a superstar? I'm flattered." you joked making Harrison stifle a laugh.

"I've been friends with Y/N since we were in nappies!"

"I can't be with you if you're going to be friends with her."

Your laughter abruptly died at her words. Harrison stiffened beside you.

"Y-you can't be serious. You can't make me choose between you and her."

"Why? Because you're gonna choose her?" you could hear her voice crack.

"I-" Tom couldn't make out a sentence for a few moments, "Yeah. I'm gonna choose her."

Your heart fell from it's place, stopping at your feet. Harrison brought a hand to his mouth, "H-he chose you. He chose you!" he whisper shouted before you shushed him.

"Of course. I don't know why I expected anything different. I think I'll be going now." Nadia's footsteps approached the living room.

You and Harrison scrambled to look as if you weren't eavesdropping on their argument/breakup.

Tom followed close behind her, "I'm sorry. I really am."

She nodded, hand on the doorknob, "I know. Goodbye." she stepped out of the house, slamming the front door shut in the process.

Tom let out a breath of relief before turning to you and Harrison who were staring at the Mario Kart home screen with the infamous tune playing.

"You guys are terrible actors."

"'Till then I won't give my love away,"

"I'm forever only yours." the both of you finished the song in unison.

There was a moment of silence before you reached over and ended the voice recording.

"T-that was really good. You can change what I wrote, I know it isn't as good as anything you would've written, but I tried. And it was actually pretty fun and I never knew how difficult songwriting was un—"

"—Kiss me." you cut Tom's rambling off.

His eyes grew wide, "W-wha—"

"—Kiss me, Holland."

He swallowed, a small smile stretching on his lips, "Thank God."

And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Interlocking like missing puzzle pieces. Moving in sync like waves in the ocean. Soft and sweet, but filled with passion. You could feel his smile against your lips causing you to grin.

His hand came up to pull your face closer into his. Caressing your jaw, fingertips playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. His other hand holding your hip in a tight grip. Pressing the pads of his digits into your flesh, scared that you might slip through his fingers again.

One of your hands was pressed flat against his chest. Steadying yourself, the heat of the kiss threatening to throw you off of your axis. Your other hand tangled itself into Tom's curls. Pulling and tugging lightly causing small groans to fall from Tom's lips. Your fingernails scratching his scalp. Pulling him impossibly closer to you.

"I want my ten pounds." Harrison's voice snapped you and Tom out of your make out session.

Him and Tuwaine stood in the doorway, shit eating grins on their faces.

Tuwaine laughed before placing a ten pound note in Harrison's palm, "You guys couldn't have waited until next month to get back together?"

"You two were betting on us?" Tom laughed at his mates who nodded.

You shook your head with a smile, "Absolute idiots, all of you."

Harrison let out a happy sigh and pocketed the money, "Today was a good day. Had a sick ass shoot. Got ten pounds. And my best friends are finally together again." he waltzed into the kitchen with Tuwaine, leaving you and Tom alone again.

Tom's shy expression met your gleeful one before he spoke, "Someday came a lot sooner than expected, huh?" he chuckled.

You nodded with a laugh, "It certainly did and I am not complaining."

He sent you a wide grin before cupping your face and connecting your lips to his again.

"Darling, I'm forever only yours."

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x osterfield!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland headcanon #tom holland series #tom holland fic

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fayewoods-2 · 1 year ago

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Well theyre all really good tbh One of my favourites is Vampires Will Never Hurt You (from the album I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love which is generally shortened to 'Bullets'), it was the first song I listened to from the Bullets album, and I wasnt really sure about it at first but I love the concept, and the bit thats like 'Someone call the doctor, and someone call the nurse! And someone buy me roses, and someone burn the church.... we're hanging out with corpses and driving endless hearse and someone save my soull *insert mostly incoherent screaming about saving souls*' which just sounds so cool. Its kinda post hardcore ig? Another favourite would have to be Famous Last Words which just goes SO hard and its crazy tbh. Gerard Way wrote it about his brother (Mikey) wanting to leave the band, and its (nearly) the closing track of The Black Parade (their most famous album and the reason theyre known as 'emo'). It has a music video too and everythings LITERALLY ON FIRE (also at the time Gerard was afraid of fire) and its literally insane. I love the opening most, but also the bridge which goes 'And I see you lying next to me... with words I thought I'd never speak, awake and unafraid... asleep or dead?' and You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prisons was one of the first tracks I listened to in Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, and its kinda weird tbh (have i spoken about this before to you? I think i have-) and I love the concept and also the second verse, and how the second verse just seems SO deranged and then SO desperate, and then how it goes from kinda like calm to fucking screaming is AMAZING Summertime is amazing too, although arguably Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys is like the worst album (I love it. First mcr CD I got, and first MCR album I listened to). its kinda like a love song ig? and I relate to parts too. (also theres 2 comics stemmed from the album and I LOVE them so much). My fav part would be the part in the second verse that goes like 'Terrified of what I'd be, as a kid from what Ive seen, every single day when people try to put the pieces back together, just to smash them down... turn my headphones up real loud... I dont think I need them now... cos you stop the noise and-' which kinda just connects to me ig. I want someone who makes it so i dont need my headphones... also Tomorrows Money from the technically fanmade album known as Conventional Weapons, which has 10 tracks put into 5 singles titled 'number one' and so on. At the start its kinda like screaming (but not really?), which I cant entirely understand but uh yeah its like 'Fell in love with a vampire... touch(?) up for the empire... fell in love with the brushfire baby, you gonna take it from here? I'm gonna take it from you...' and yeah its AMAZING All The Angels is fun too, one of the calmest and most depressing (not as much as Cancer (the song) tho), my fave part is 'She went alone... and went to the emergency... and parked her car in the dark... they told her please... he's only got but minutes more... you might just say goodbye' and it just hits HARD even tho its technically just like a live demo thing for the 10th anniversary of The Black Parade. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W is great too, its one of the calmest from Danger Days, and its about tricking your child into a bunker when a nuclear war starts. Dark meaning, I know. Also Foundations of Decay, their most recent track, from when they got back together in like 2020. Its amazing. People call it the hardest song mcr have ever done, and its crazy. It starts out all staticy like, and then its just INSANE!!! my fav part would be in the second verse, technically prechorus where its like 'But its much to late, you're in the race, so we'll press... and press till you cant take it any more!!!' And uh yeah, thats my fav from each album plus a few more which I had to do

I'm not fully okay I think Im being overstimulated by all these fucking noises and they wont stop and im tired and Im out for 5 more hours, one more hour of this then 1 and a half of being in a concert band and then half an hour break (less probably) and then some dumb thing my stupid self volunteered for where I have to answer questions and lead activities related to this hellhole (as in where i am irl thats leading to all this fucking overstimulation) and I cant even fucking get peace and quiet cos I'm coughing too fucking much and I hate this i hate this i hate this why the fuck wont everyone shut up stupid people stupid paper stupid machines stupid air conditioner stupid cough

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shotosprincess · 4 years ago

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♡ dating the bnha boys — hcs

｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

➪ shoto todoroki

pls you’ve prolly been terrified of him for a while prior bc of how ?? talented ?? the mf is ??

but mans prolly saved you at some point and there was this lingering stare you two shared before he left you at recovery girls’ office; were you reading too far into things ?

spoiler alert: you weren’t.

anYWAYS-

he’s the kind of boyfriend to tenderly brush your hair for you and attempt to learn how to tie and braid your hair up in cute ,, simple designs !!

he’d always be ready with little things you’re constantly forgetting; extra snacks,, water,, a fully charged portable charger ,, trust me when i say that man is pREPARED- after all ,, he needs to be ready with everything to take care of his little sweetheart ,, does he not ?

ONLY TWO POINTS IN AND IM ALREADY CRYING BC I LOVE HIM SM BYE BYE BYE

at some point he’d find you sitting on the roof by yourself late at night,, only to stay with you and let you fall asleep on his chest as he drapes a blanket over you and heats it up a lil with his quirk

OKAY YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THAT MAN WOULDNT HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU AT ALL TIMES AND WOULD SOMETIMES EVEN GET LOWKEYHIGHKEY KINDA SAD WHEN YOU DONT LET HIM

prolly bc he just wants to prove to you that he can be useful

pls just let the man know he’s useful and important he never shows it directly but he needs the reassurance—

he’d give you a warm massage w his quirk whenever you’re in pain :”)

HIDES AND PROTECTS YOU FROM MINETA BC HE KNOWS DAMN WELL WHAT THAT LITTLE SHIT FANTASIZES ABOUT

loves heating//cooling things for you ,, like instant noodles or ice packs !!

surprises you w jewelry that have his initials on them !!

GIVES THE BEST CUDDLES I SWEAR

would hold an umbrella for u while you loop your arm into his as the two of you walk home through the light rain :”)

cries into your chest sometimes after youve fallen asleep bc it’s late nights like these when he reflects on just how lucky of a guy he is to have you— it’s hard for him to articulate it directly ,, but when he does fully open up to you ab it ,, you end up crying too .

WOULD 110% MAKE THE TWO OF YOU YOUR OWN PERSONAL LIL ICE RINK AND TEACH YOU HOW TO SKATE // DO FUN FIGURE SKATING DUOS WITH YOU

➪ katsuki bakugou

prolly got with you initially bc of a dare ( and he nEVER passes up a dare ) ,, but eventually those feelings started to become real and honestly ? it kinda scared the shit outta him . he didn’t know why ,, but for some reason he didnt actually want to leave .

OKAY LARA JEAN AND PETER MF KAVINSKY TYPE BEAT ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ HIT US WITH THE FAKE RELATIONSHIP TO REAL RELATIONSHIP TROPE YESYESYES

teasingly-mean nicknames = his love language . enough said .

AGGRESSIVE !! KISSES !! ALL !! THE DAMN !! TIME !!

makes you wear his hoodie whenever you show even the sLIGHTEST hint at being cold

he just rly wants to see you in his clothes

he’s so clueless on how to do this whole boyfriend thing ,, but he’s definitely trying bc it’s for you :”)

watches and tries so desperately to copy all the cute couples in the movies you guys watch together

“ roses...do you want roses ? “ “ what ? “ “ the guy in the movie gave her roses...do you want roses too ? “

but at the end of the day you just appreciate him for who he is and that’s more than enough for you :”)

PLS DENKI AND KIRI ARE CONSTANTLY SHOCKED AT HOW MUCH HE’S TRYING FOR YOU

will take any and every opportunity to show off his strength and quirk to you <3

now we all know this man gets jealous hella easily ,, and its no different w relationships :”) he’d constantly make it a point to hold you extra close to him in public ,, show you off on social media and call you by a nickname//petname whenever possible just to reiterate to ppl the fact that you’re his and he’s yours

WOULD LET YOU SIT ON HIS LAP AND DO HIS EYELINER AT 2AM PURELY BC YOU GOT BORED

pls i could rly see myself doing that i wont lie

honestly sometimes he forgets himself and his temper gets a little out of hand ,, but the second he sees his feral reflection in your fearful eyes,, he pulls you to his chest and apologizes profusely :”))

➪ denki kaminari

MF PROLLY GOT WITH YOU BC OF A RIGGED GAME OF SPIN THE BOTTLE AT MINA’S PLACE I CANNOT SEE ANYTH HAPPENING OTHERWISE

one tiny kiss turned into two ,, which turned into three ,, and before you knew it ,, the both of you were spilling out the pent up feelings you had for one another all this time—

mina never shuts up ab it ,, she’s so proud of her matchmaking skills

when the power goes out during a storm ,, he holds onto you tight and plays w your hair as he uses his quirk to turn things back on ,,, “ shhh it’s ok,, i’m here “

will do anything and everything to make you smile <3

he has a lil album in his camera roll with all his favourite pictures of you ,, which is practically just all of them tbh ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

HE LOVES SHOWING YOU OFF IN THE MOST WHOLESOME WAY POSSIBLE !!

super energetic n bubbly but at the end of your dates he passes out right away in your arms

you make sure to wrap him up in blankets and give him an overload of kisses after he’s rly asleep though

will work embarrassingly hard to win you stuffed animals at the fair !! it doesn’t always work ,, but it’s cute nontheless <3

some of the staff and children at the fairs get pissed off but oh well ,,, what you do for love

pls he prolly makes you lil bento boxes for lunch every now and then ( ESPECIALLY DURING EXAM WEEK ) w tiny notes and designs taped on them

constantly calls you “ shawty “ lowkey un ironically and dice rolls in ur direction whenever he sees you ,,, you just end up laughing and playfully punching him

I JUST KNOW HE DOES THE F BOY LIP BITE FACE CONSTANTLY

ITS AN ADDICTION FOR HIM I SWEAR

SUPER CLINGY BUT IN THE CUTEST WAY AAAA

LIL STICKY NOTE LOVE LETTERS FROM HIM IN YOUR LOCKER EVERY !! MF !! DAY !!!

you both agreed that at home cozy netflix dates w microwave popcorn and fuzzy blankets >>> movie theatre dates

110% made a playlist for you at some point when he crushed on you from afar and shared it w you after you started dating

he made a collaborative playlist for yall AND multiple playlists of songs that remind him of you afterwards

pls i just kNOW this man’s love language is making playlists

theyre prolly all categorized by mood or smth too w the cutest covers ever pls

➪ ejirou kirishima

you initially met him bc he was hella upset and alone this one time and you were the only one to notice and be there for him bc he ran away from everyone else to hide the “ uNmanLy “ tears :”))

takes you w him on his lil gym visits ,, hypes you up with every little thing u accomplish !!

constantly teasing bakugou with how he’s able to pull you and how lucky he is to have you

bakugou gets hella annoyed most of the time and just blasts him away-

idk bro i just feel like kiri prolly calls you “ adorable “ alot i wont lie-

LOVES HAND HOLDING,, takes any opportunity to hold ur hand and trace lil casual patterns across your knuckles w his thumb

sometimes he’ll even draw lil hearts on your hand

play fighting but sometimes the two of you get too carried away and he actually loses half of the time-

LATE NIGHT GAME NIGHTS WITH HIM AND THE BAKUSQUAD,, he loves being on the team against you so he can get all competitive

OK HEAR ME OUT;;;; DANCE BATTLES W HIM AS YOUR PARTNER AGAINST RANDOM PPL AT PARTIES

mans gets hella insecure ab himself sometimes ,, so he loves doing lil things for you !! opening a can ,, pulling the blanket over you ,, zipping up your jacket <33

STOP WAIT THATS SO CUTE BYE I WANT THAT

lets you dye his hair—THATS HOW MUCH HE TRUSTS YOU BYE

pls yall prolly aggressively play wii sports and just dance against one another on a regular basis;; it’s literally your thing and you cannot tell me otherwise ahjdjfj

pls i just KNOW this man’s an overly passionate wii player

will wrap his arms around your waist and hug u from behind as you make breakfast

WOULD WEAR MATCHING EARRINGS W YOU IF ITS FOR YOU

slow dances in the living room at midnight w you !!

eventually as you spent more time together ,,, you were able to change his idea of “ manliness “ ,, and he was able to realize that manliness is not equivalent to stoicism and that expressing ur feelings is still totally manly and totally valid !! <33

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waybrights · 3 years ago

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the long awaited (not rlly ahdbajd) lore post about how the band's dynamic and relationships fluctuate throughout the eight (?) years the fic follows!!!

(so, i realise that in the show, they're 13 in 2019/20 but i kinda forgot abt that when i was making this au so the band starts blowing up in 2013 when, canonically they would've been like 5 so i accidentally aged them all up and now they're 20)

2013 - they're 13 and very close to falling apart as a group. the only thing keeping them together is the fact that they wouldn't rlly have anyone else to go to. the leader is clearly sasha and the other two kinda do what she says. ofc anne argues w her a lot, because she's fed up with the way her and marcy are treated and how all their ideas are chucked out the window. eventually, i think sasha crosses a line (maybe smth like in the show, she keeps anne out instead of letting her go home to her bday party) and anne decides that it's time for them to go their separate ways.

however, they get thrown into fame and suddenly there is no chance of them breaking up the band and going their separate ways. so they're practically forced to stay together and have to pretend to get along for the public. ofc sash and anne rlly don't like it, but they try. though, it usually ends up in arguments or snide remarks that get under the other's skin and marcy having to come between them and settle it. leading to even more strain on their friendship.

2014 - somehow, it's got worse. anne and sasha weren't on talking terms for half the year due to a falling out over costumes that got a bit heated. marcy was constantly flitting between the two, trying desperately to make amends because people were starting to notice the tension when they did interviews. ofc they tried to keep up the 'we're besties' thing, but even that was quickly falling apart. it doesn't help that the entire time, sasha has been trying to control everything the band does from songs, to how they stand on stage.

both of them kept asking for the band to break up, w sasha saying she would rather go solo than perform w anne, but the idea got shot down p early on due to them being one of the biggest teen bands in the world, so they kinda just, force themselves to make up. and it's awkward for a while, but at least they aren't arguing over every single thing and marcy doesn't have to chose who she's going to hang out w that day. but then that all goes down the drain when sasha has a major falling out w their manager (hop pop) over smth p trivial but ofc it ends up blowing up and everyone ends up taking sides creating a split between both the band and the bts team.

2015 - i think this is when they reach their breaking point and the band goes on an unexplained 'hiatus' for a year, all their concerts get cancelled and they don't produce any music and it seems none of the girls are w eachother (via social media). they go through an unofficial break up. it had actually been initiated by marcy because she simply couldn't deal w the stress of trying to hold the band together anymore and decided it was a good idea for them to split (it also helped that she was closest to the head of their label so she managed to convince him to let them go)

the three hardly talk during their break, i think they're all angry at eachother (marcy w both of them and anne and sasha w each other) so they just decided to steer clear of having to talk to them. during this time sasha does release a solo album and it actually gets quite big because its very obviously her own thoughts and feelings and everyone can tell she worked hard on it, but (and sasha also admits it) it feels like its not as good as it could've been if she was w the other two.

and i feel like that's kinda what spurs her to maybe start getting her act together! like obviously she doesn't 'change' but i think she accepts that marcy and anne are their own people and know what they want. so she ends up trying to get them back together, and it doesn't actually take the other two much convincing (they missed being together a lot more than they care to admit)

2016 - slowly, they're starting to grow closer again. they start hanging out a trio, even when they're alone. anne and sasha hardly argue and they actually think abt each other's ideas. marcy is a lot more relaxed because they don't have to mediate every convo the group has and she doesn't have to worry abt the other two saying something too serious to the other.

ofc they still fight, but they aren't as often and certainly not as messy. they wouldn't consider each other best friends, but they are friends again. i like to think they're both closer to marcy than each other, but they're getting somehwere.

however, no actual apologies were ever said (mainly from sasha ngl) and although anne and marcy like to pretend they're over it, they would still be slightly upset abt it.

2017 - this is the year of sasha's Character Development (TM) according to marcy. idk yet what makes her realise (maybe someone asking her why she's always so distant and awful to the other two, or maybe a question abt why they split up), but it's this year that it clicks for her that she's not been a great friend. so she definitely spends a long time trying to grow and work to fix her mistakes.

i feel like it's around this time she would also kinda step down from her role as the 'leader' of the band, now officially giving all three of them the same amount of control about what they make and how they do it (although, they still don't have much because of the label, but anne and marcy now have more than they did). so now they're all on equal ground and are making amends. she also stops trying to take control of eveything, esp things that are out of her hands (like where they tour and what interviews they do)

not that there aren't still arguments, there are but they never get to the point that they don't talk to each other. there is a pretty big argument between sasha and marcy, but it gets resolved quite fast!

2018 - 2019 - honestly, everything seems to be going smoothly for them. sasha and anne are growing closer (and they're both trying to ignore that weird feeling they get in their stomachs when they get too close in rehearsals/concerts), all three of them are hanging out almost all the time, if one of them is around the other two are close by.

i think they also start opening up to each other around this time, not that they didn't before, but with the amount of problems they had, it wasn't exactly easy to talk abt super personal stuff. but they start, and i think it was anne that started it, she's always been the most open w her emotions and it just increases the closer they get. she also manages to get both marcy and sasha to open up a bit!

2020 - by this time, i think they pretty much consider each other best friends again (well, more for sasha and anne, but they haven't exactly realised they like each other yet. marcy has though and they're tired of the pining at this point).

and i dont want to say anything else because this is where the fic pics up!!! it was super fun trying to work all this stuff out sbsbbssh, it isn't all like 100% set in stone, some stuff is liable to change but pls feel free to ask any questions!!! thank u all for reading this far and i hope u enjoyed some sats au lore <3

#i literally think one person asked for this but here you go!!!!!#anyway this is super long and took me multiple hours so i do hope you all enjoy hdujahdkhdlad #sasha and the sharps au #amphibia #sasha waybright #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #marie.txt

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harrylilies · 4 years ago

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The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

#harrylilies #I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING #The Royal Series #my babies #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fake au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fluff series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff fanfic #harry styles au

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

390 notes · View notes

bubblesuga · 4 years ago

Text

Special-Tea

Summary: Yoongi’s always been a coffee man. When stuck at the studio in the early hours of the morning, he craves caffeine. The only problem with that is there’s no coffee shops open at three in the morning. So, he finds himself at the next best thing, a 24 hour tea shop where he finds you.

Warnings: cussing, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving)

W/C: 4,798

It’s too early for this.

Or maybe it’s too late.

Yoongi isn’t sure. In fact, he’s pretty sure his clock stopped working three hours ago. Unless the last few minutes have felt like hours, then Yoongi was on the verge of tearing every piece of equipment from the wall and smashing it into a million pieces.

Yoongi’s been working on this album for far too long. His fingers are cramped from continuously playing the same three notes over and over just hoping and praying that something will come to him. He’s confused more than anything. Before he had no problem spitting out 2 or 3 songs in a day, recording demos and having the studio ready to record for the other members the following day.

Lately, however, he’s lucky if he can even get a concept for a song down. It’s like his mind has been clouded over with writers block and he’s not getting anywhere. Like someone sucked his ability to compose music right from his brain with a straw.

He tosses the pen he had been anxiously tapping on the desk into his bag, along with his notebook, and he stands abruptly.

Scoffing at his phone, he glares at the black 4:37 on the screen while the elevator in the BigHit offices slides downward. There’s no coffee shops open yet, there has to be something though. He just needs caffeine, though he could really go for an iced americano with-

“Special-tea...?” He raises an eyebrow at his phone, Google holding up options for the nearest place selling caffeinated beverages. Rolling his eyes, he begins the short journey to the one 24 hour shop within a five mile radius.

What kind of a name is ‘Special-tea’? Who sat in an office and thought, ‘ah you know what? Let’s name a tea shop but make it punny.’

“Stupid.” He grumbles to himself. He’s well aware that he’s far too tired to be having human interaction right now but he needs to get some progress done. At this point he’ll take a ghost of a song.

Stepping into the tea shop, he’s overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. Undeniably strong, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts before stepping all the way in. As the door chimes, he hears a gasp and a patter of foot steps.

“Welcome to Special-tea! How are you doing today?”

The voice is loud, echoing off of the various shelves scattered around the shop with loose tea for sale. He whips his head towards the register, spotting you.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He didn’t realize how sore his voice was from attempting to record backing vocals earlier in the day, but it came out gruff and quiet. A stark contrast to the bubbly barista in front of him, her nose dusted in flour and a messy apron protecting her clothes. Well, attempting at least, because Yoongi has to hold back a smile when he notices hand prints of flour on your backside.

“What can I get you this morning?” you question, leaning over the counter and causing Yoongi to blush when he notices the way you’re smiling. When you meet his eyes, Yoongi can tell you recognize him. For a moment he feels the need to brace himself, but soon realizes you’re calm.

Yoongi returns a smile, haphazardly running his fingers through his hair. “Dumb question, but do you guys sell coffee?”

“Coffee? No, but we do sell black earl grey. I’m told that’s a close comparison as far as bitterness goes,” You explain, turning to the shelf behind you and pulling out a bag of tea, “you’re welcome to smell it if you like.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward and sniffing the bag. He backs away quickly and watches you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, “It’s not exactly a new tea drinker’s type of tea.”

“I’m not really a new tea drinker,” he grumbles, wiping his nose, “I’m a tea drinker only in times of desperation.”

She smiles again, “What causes said desperation?”

Yoongi rolls his neck, “I’m trying to write another song. Get the ball rolling to finishing up an album.”

“BE, right? I’ve heard good things about the process,” you say softly, surprising Yoongi by your admission to being a fan, “I figured it would be finished already?”

His eyes stay trained on you as you turn back to the shelves, rummaging through various boxes of tea. It takes him a moment to realize what your question was, so he sucks in a breath, “Ah, yeah. It’s nearly there, we just need one more track because one of them got trashed.”

Why is he revealing so much to a stranger? Namjoon is going to kill him.

“Trashed? Why’s that?”

“We realized the song itself didn’t follow any of the messages we wanted to put out there.”

Damn it, Yoongi. Stop talking.

You finally stop rummaging and pull out a bag of tea without showing Yoongi. He tries to catch a glimpse but instead watches as you boil more water and begin steeping the tea.

“What kind of message did it have?” You ask, leaning backward against the counter and crossing your arms. Having expected a follow up question, Yoongi swiftly dismisses it, “What kind of tea are you making?”

“The kind you drink.” You smirk.

He lowers his gaze at you, “It’s kind of your job to tell the customer what they’re getting.”

You laugh, “Alright. Jasmine green tea. It’s subtle enough that it won’t get your coffee loving tongue in a twist, and has enough caffeine to keep you up to finish whatever you’re working on.”

Yoongi is happy with this response, taking the time to lean away from the counter and gaze around the shop. It’s small, something he’s definitely not used to from coffee shops. The earthy smells from earlier have dwindled down to a nice summery scent, lavender filling his nose the closer he got to the register.

As much as he tried to keep his eyes away from the cute girl behind the counter, he couldn’t help but turn back and watch you as you organize various things. Something about the way your hair slips from the messy bun it’s in and your charismatic way of helping him while also providing a sense of normalcy drew him in in a way he has never experienced before.

“Order up, Suga.”

He shakes his head from his gaze, walking back up to the counter and pulling out his wallet.

“On me,” you say, “besides... don’t want to make you pay for something you may not like.”

Yoongi nods, murmuring a small ‘thank you’ and bringing the cup up to his mouth.

Without missing a beat, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a 10000 won bill, stuffing it in the tip jar. He gives you a small smile, thanking you again as he turns towards the door.

“Wait!” you call, “What do you think?”

Yoongi raises his hand up just before he walks out of the door, “It’s delicious!”

The smile on your face was worth Yoongi’s little white lie.

~*~*~

“Alright, this is great! We’ll record tomorrow, yeah?” Seokjin speaks for the entire group as Yoongi plays them the demo of the song he was finally able to right. There were a few jabs here and there about the auto tune Yoongi likes to utilize, but other than that it was well received.

The only person he could think was you, though, because if he hadn’t have tasted that tea he would have never thought of writing what he did.

“How did you manage to spit out something like this in a night?” Jungkook teases, patting Yoongi’s shoulder softly.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi chuckles, clicking sound files around and creating a copy of his demo.

Jungkook grins, “Who’s the girl that made you think of that?”

“No girl,” he defends, “a good writer doesn’t need actual experiences. All from the imagination, young Jungkookie.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case at all.”

Yoongi shushes him, saving his project one more time before deciding to kick everyone out and lock the studio.

Of course they’re going to find out eventually what happened. Especially since Park Jimin follows Yoongi to the elevator. Once they’re the only ones inside, Jimin turns to his Hyung, “Tell me about the girl.”

Yoongi, knowing that no one else could read him better than Jimin, sighs in defeat. “She’s gorgeous. Her nose had flour on it, her hair was messy, and she was everything that I’m not used to. She has a smirk- god the way she smiles- it just makes me melt for her.”

Jimin seems pleased with this answer, “and you’re going to see her now?”

“Yep.”

The bell above his head is a welcoming sound. This time you’re not waiting in the back. Instead, you’re counting money at the register as he enters. This time you wore a purple apron, and it’s clean compared to a couple of days ago. You still haven’t looked up, so Yoongi walks slowly up to the counter and taps his fingers twice.

“Ah- Yoongi! Good evening, what can I get you started today?”

“The same as last time, please.” Yoongi grins, watching you carefully as you nod at him and turn on your heel and kick on the kettle. The way the straps of the apron tie right above the curve of your back has Yoongi’s mind beginning to wander. It’s been years since he even thought of looking at a woman like this in person, but for some reason when it comes to you he just can’t stop.

“So,” you break the silence, “how did that song writing go?”

“Oh,” his cheeks are a rosy pink, “it went well. I showed the other members the demo and we’re recording it tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.” You grin, pouring the water over the tea bags. Yoongi thanks you quietly and pulls out his wallet once more. You shake your head, “Nope. Your last tip was enough to cover your next 3 drinks.”

Yoongi nods, “Oh okay.” but then ignores you, slipping another 10000 won bill into the tip jar. Just as you’re about to open your mouth in protest, Yoongi sends you a wink and salutes on his way out before he closes the door behind him.

~*~*~

Your alarm is too loud.

It’s like a banshee screeching in your ear, like a baby crying, like a rooster crowing. You groaned loudly at the sound and threw your hand on top of it, rolling out of bed to drag yourself to the shower.

It’s been a few weeks since Yoongi became a regular to your work. The initial star struck feeling you got when you were around him had dwindled away, and now you feel you can call him a friend.

Your routine was as follows: Yoongi enters the shop, you make him his drink, and he stays and distracts you for a while. Much against everything you stand for, you drop everything to talk to him. It causes you to have to move much faster than usual on your prep work but you didn’t mind, because you loved seeing the way Yoongi would laugh at your jokes.

You feel like you know the man beyond the idol. The person who hides under the shadow of a stoic demeanor is bright. The way you perceived him prior to actually knowing him was wrong. He is, without a single doubt in your mind, the most interesting man on the planet.

When you arrived at work, your evening worker is already willing to go.

“I counted the safe and there’s some money missing. If Summer asks, it wasn’t me.” Flora says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Okay,” you raise an eyebrow, walking towards the back, “any orders?”

“Uh, yeah!” you hear her call, “chocolate covered strawberries for 6!”

“Awesome-- thank you!” You call back just as the door dings and Flora exits the store. You take a moment to walk through the kitchen to make sure everything is set up and then you pull your apron over your head.

The doorbell dings and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face.

“What’ll it be today, Mr. Min?” You still stand in the back, glancing in the mirror to make sure you look your best.

“Honey butter croissant,” he yells back, “how did you know it was me?”

When you’re happy with your look, you finally walk to the front and smile, “So we’re changing it up today, are you okay? You sick or something?”

“I just wanted something new,” Yoongi looks different today. He’s dressed in a cream cardigan and black jeans, the usual rose tint to his cheeks is a bit stronger today.

“Okay, I’ll have to bake some new ones. It’ll take about 20 minutes if you’re willing to wait.” You explain, with an unsure smile.

Yoongi looks around for a moment, “Ugh, I guess I can wait.”

“Awesome,” you speak, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

As you walk towards the back, Yoongi listens carefully to you humming along to a song that’s been stuck in your head for days. You pull out a couple of fresh croissants and prep a baking sheet. Sticking it into the oven, you brush the flour from your hands onto your apron and walk back to the front.

Yoongi jumps up from his phone when he notices you standing in front of him. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, the freckles across your nose easing him into a sense of comfort. “Do you plan on telling me why you kept ordering a drink you hate?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Now why on Earth would you think that I hate it?”

“Welp,” you laugh, “you’re usually my only customer at night, and every morning I would check the outside garbage to see if it needed to be changed, yet the only thing I would find is a full cup of tea, with your name on it.”

For a moment, Yoongi was silent. He stumbles over his thoughts in an attempt to come up with some type of excuse. Something to hide why he had been coming here all this time. Yet, he couldn’t. So instead he looks up from his chair and smirks, “How else was I supposed to talk to the pretty girl at the tea shop?”

You swallow, your mind racing a million miles a second. Before you have the chance to respond, he stands. His body is close, and he smells so good. His cologne is expensive, herbal and earthy, and it makes you want to bury your nose into his neck and inhale. His eyes, the usual dark brown has turned into honey, drawing you in and keeping you there.

“You could have asked me on a date, we could have gone from there.” You shrug, feeling Yoongi’s calloused hand gently push away a stray hair behind your ear. He doesn’t move it afterwards, though, instead his thumb finds home on your cheekbone, stroking gently. His face has shifted, and he laughs. Almost bitterly, causing your heart to sink.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in the types of dates I get. You see,” his other hand slithers around your waist, “we get long walks in the park but we have to wear a mask and a hat. We get picnics by streams late enough at night that we know no one will be around. Sometimes we can slip away to another country where we pray that no one recognizes us, but with my schedule that thought is laughable at best.”

“What if I like long walks in the park with masks and late night picnics?” You breath, the look in your eyes stirring Yoongi’s heart.

“Then I guess we’d have to give it a shot, wouldn’t we?” He whispers. Your eyes flutter from his eyes to his lips, silently begging him to close the gap. You could sense his hesitancy, though. It blossoms from his chest and heats up his entire body but for some reason he’s frozen, completely still. He’s fighting, urging himself to lean forward and kiss you but he can’t move.

Good news for him, though, because you take a moment to lean up and press your lips against his softly. It’s gentle, easing him into the feeling of you so close to him. His lips taste of mint chocolate, causing you to smile into the kiss. It takes a moment, and for a second you’re hoping that you didn’t read the situation wrong until finally, he kisses back. It’s eager, introducing his tongue to yours and grinning idly into the kiss.

You allow him to back you up against the counter, boxing you in and surrounding you completely. His hands move down and pull your hips close to his, feeling the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“We’re entering dangerous territory here, baby.” Yoongi speaks, pulling away just a little bit. His eyes stay closed and his breath is hot on your face.

“How so?” You whisper, afraid of the answer but also intrigued. He doesn’t respond, instead capturing your lips and breaking the kiss repeatedly. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders and he smiles at the knowledge that you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

A groan fills the air when you finally buck your hips towards him. In a feverish attempt to feel more, you wrap your legs around his waist and hang from his shoulders. Just as you’re about to slip your hand between your bodies, the timer on the oven blares through the building, shattering the small walls you built around the two of you.

“Fuck--” you gently pull away, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Quickly, you slip off the counter and rush to the oven. You pull out the croissants and douse them in honey butter from the fridge. You watch the butter melt for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

Did that just happen? Did that actually hap-

When you walk back out, Yoongi’s hands are clasped behind his back. He mutters a small thank you as you hand him the plate. He rips off a corner of the pastry, and pops it into his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence. One-- two-- then he speaks.

“It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I work hard on them.”

~*~*~

“And you just left her?!”

Oh god. Yoongi has never seen Jimin so angry before. The small man can yell louder than ever imagined, and Yoongi would be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared.

A mere 30 hours ago, Yoongi had his tongue buried in your mouth and he was the happiest man on the planet. Then it changed quickly once he realized what exactly this could entail. Even though he wanted nothing more than to bend you over the dough table and take you roughly while you scream his name, he couldn’t help but over think.

Standing in Jimin’s living room, he expected to be comforted and given some nice advice from his friend. Instead he’s learning that he pulled a bad move.

“You’re supposed to be giving me advice, not yelling at me!” Yoongi yells back, gesturing his hands wildly. Even though he’s scared, he can’t help but defend himself to a certain extent.

“Hyung, I thought you’d have enough intelligence not to kiss her and run!”

Yoongi groans and drops onto the couch, his face falling into his hands, “The things I was feeling scared me.”

“Oh my god, go to the tea shop!”

~*~*~

Yoongi spots a customer at the register. He opens the door quietly, the break of dawn just behind the mountains. This was different to Yoongi’s usual time and you know that, your eyes going wide in surprise while you finish ringing up the last customer.

Once Yoongi hears the heels clack against the tile and the door open, he rounds the shelf and walks up to you.

“I’m sorry I left so quickly yesterday. I just- I got scared. I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation but after thinking over it I realized that I really need you to kiss me again,” Yoongi speaks fast, quicker than you’ve heard him before and it takes a moment for the words to settle in your mind, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You breathe out a laugh, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his again. This time it’s slow and soft, different but Yoongi loves every second of it. The minute you kiss him, you taste coffee. You hold back another laugh, pulling away with mock hurt, “You cheated.”

Yoongi brows furrow, “I don’t follow.”

“You drink coffee and then come try to sweep tea shop girl off her feet? Cheater!” You tease, putting your hand on your chest as though you’re in pain.

Yoongi grins, “You’re crazy. I would never drink coffee, not when I can taste you. You’re probably going to have to kiss me to make sure.”

You gnaw your lip, leaning upward and pressing a kiss to him again. He giggles against your lips, a sound that you will never get sick of. You pull away much to both of your dismay, “Let me take you back to my apartment. It’s small but it’s big enough for the two of us.”

He agrees instantly.

Yoongi waits in the car while your relief shows up and you clean up. He taps his feet against the pedals anxiously, the thought of what could happen exciting him. You have clouded his mind for a weeks now and as you skip out of the building and hop into Yoongi’s passenger seat, he can’t wait to get his hands on you.

He follows your directions, his hand resting on your thigh as he tries not to speed. When he pulls into the parking lot, you lead him up the stairs to your apartment.

Nervously, you toss your bag onto the couch, “It’s not much. . . but it works for me.”

Yoongi grins, “It’s quaint. Cute.” He reaches forward and wraps his arms around you in a back hug. You welcome it, craning your neck to kiss him.

“I need a shower. Join me?”

Yoongi nods, “Yes please.”

There’s a thumb in your chest louder than you’ve ever felt before. This is actually happening. Min Yoongi, is being lead to your bathroom and you’re about to shower with him.

Yoongi doesn’t waste much time once the door is shut behind you. He latches his lips onto your neck, tugging at the hem of your shirt and easing it over your head.

“I want to make sure you want this as much as I do.” Yoongi says breathlessly as he catches a glimpse of your bare chest. You don’t respond verbally, but you look him directly in the eye as you slip your pants and panties off in one swoop.

You stand in the shower, turning on the water and peaking your head behind the curtain, “What’s taking you so long?”

Yoongi moves fast as he tears off his own clothing, and you close the curtain so you don’t spot his body too quickly. Building suspense for yourself, you wet your hair under the warm water and feel your muscles relax after your long day of work. Although your eyes are closed, your ears are trained on Yoongi. He steps behind you, continuing his assault on your neck.

You sigh happily, but everything changes the minute Yoongi opens his mouth.

“Spread your legs, baby. I’ll hold you up.”

Instantly you feel your cunt clenching around nothing (unfortunately). You immediately allow Yoongi to guide your leg to the edge of the tub. He slides a finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness all while his lips trail kisses across your chest.

Finally you allow yourself to open your eyes, gasping at the image in front of you. Yoongi’s body is as rosy as his cheeks, his knees on the bottom of the floor and his face level with your heat.

“Ah, now you open your eyes.” He smirks, and doesn’t give you much warning as he licks a long stripe from your heat to your clit. You instantly moan, tossing your head back and bracing yourself against the wall of the shower.

He moves ruthlessly, consuming you like a starved man. The feeling of him against you doesn’t compare to the imagine in front of you. His fingers reach between your folds and pump in and out of you while he continues to nip and suck mercilessly at your clit. He looks up at you through his lashes, and you swear you feel him smirk against you as he speeds up his thrusts and sucks as hard as he can.

“You look so good like this,” you moan, “your tongue feels so good.”

Yoongi pulls away to let out a groan, “Fuck.” His chest is heaving and he reaches a hand down to squeeze his shaft for a moment of relief, then he stands.

“Think you can hold your leg up for a moment, baby?” Yoongi instructs, laying a kiss on your forehead as you spot his hand pumping himself a few more times. You nod silently, allowing yourself to relish in his glistening skin as he runs the head of his cock over your slit. You appreciate his concern, and you know he’s going to take care of you after he’s finished ruining you. You couldn’t be more excited as Yoongi’s cock continues to slip over you.

For a moment you feel him enter, both of you gasping at the contact but just as quickly as he enters, he slips out.

“No,” you shake your head, “please no teasing. Fuck me.”

Yoongi gives you a devilish grin, his hand holding up your thigh once again as he finally begins to push into you. He takes pleasure in the way that your lips part with every inch that he pushes in. Yoongi was proud of his size, and your reaction further fuels his ego. Finally, he bottoms out and you’re rewarded with being filled to the hilt with nothing but Yoongi.

He moans your name in your air after you adjust to his size, beginning to thrust faster. “So... tight. Fuck.” He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, relishing in the feeling of your nails scratching into his back. He can’t bare to leave your cunt for more than a few seconds, because the way you clench tightly around him was the closest thing to Heaven on Earth that he’s ever experienced. Every one of his thrusts is meant with a rewarding moan from you, your juices coating his cock more and more and fueling his pleasure.

“Ah,” you moan, “Yoongi. So good.” Your brain was absolute mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“So good at taking my cock,” he laughs breathlessly, “I can’t believe how well you’re doing.”

You surrender yourself completely to Yoongi at his words, his encouragement pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close.”

“Good girl, cum for me. Cream on my cock.” Yoongi praises, kissing your lips tenderly as you feel yourself clench tightly around him. White hot electric shocks rush through your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He breaks the kiss with a bite to your bottom lip, “Take my cum. Take it- fuck fuck-” Yoongi’s cut off by his orgasm taking over, and you open just in time to see his jaw drop as he rides out both of your orgasms with increasingly slow thrusts until finally, he slips out, the feeling of his release dripping down your thighs.

He rests his forehead against yours, suddenly hyper aware of the water dripping down your bodies.

You lower your legs onto the floor, Yoongi holding you up while you struggle to regain your balance. The two of you giggle, sharing kisses for a moment as you both work off the pleasure.

You reach behind Yoongi, squeezing shampoo into your hands and massaging it through your scalp as Yoongi takes your soap across your body. It’s such a simple move, but even though you’ve already had sex he still is taking the time to take care of you. It’s endearing, and it fills you with hope for something more with Yoongi.

As you both finish the shower, you step out of the bath tub and reach for a towel.

“Oh, by the way, Yoongi?” You say as he runs a brush through your hair. You bite your lip to hold back a giggle as he stops, “Yes baby?”

“I still tasted coffee.”

Yoongi laughs, “God damn it.”

#midway through this i lost everything and had to start over lmao #that was a fun journey but bc i could actually sit and write i wanted to get something out for y'all #ty for reading!!#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x you smut #suga x reader #suga x you

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years ago

Text

Winter Memories pt. 2

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,156k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + fluff)

A/N: I am back with part two!! Let me know if you liked it! Sorry it took me so long! There will be some lines in norwegian again, the translations will be below in italics.

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural add yourself to my tag list :)

Tagging who showed interest for a second part: @sugwinter @vinylvintage @fosterchild-3203 @littlemisscare-all @ultrabithc

Part 1

A year passed after that weekend. December arrived and Y/N got ready to spend another weekend at Anna's cottage.

As she packed her bags, she couldn't stop thinking about Axl, the mysterious redhead she had met the year before. He never left her mind, not even for a day.

But finding him would be impossible, so she ignored her heart's pleas that begged her to go to the United States to look for him. Her best chance was to hope he was in the cottage.

During the flight to the mountains, anxiety washed over her body. It was the longest two hours of her life. Her stomach was full of butterflies, as the memories of that night filled her mind.

Taking a taxi she asked the driver three times to go faster, ignoring the fact that the track was slippery with snow.

As soon as she reached the cottage she strode toward the front door, hoping to see him already waiting for her. But he wasn’t there.

After asking Anna she was sure, he wouldn’t come. His name wasn’t on the schedule list, nor had been since that weekend in December.

Han må ha gått videre med livet sitt, og du fortsetter å tenke på ham. She thought to herself.

He must have gone on with his life and you silly keep thinking about him.

Y/N tried to stick to her routine schedule, but spending twenty minutes on a bus to go skiing seemed too tiring. So she spent the entire Friday in her room, reading and whining about her life.

The next morning she woke up late and walked slowly down the steps. She had decided to have breakfast and go back to the airport, catch a flight to Oslo and try to forget all of that. Staying at the cottage brought too many memories to her mind.

“God morgen, Anna” She said calmly.

"Good morning, Anna."

“God morgen Y/N" The lady replied smiling.

"Good morning, Y/N."

Looking at all the breakfast options, she just couldn't feel hungry, so she took a big mug of coffee and sat at a table, sighing when she realized she had sat at the same table he was at the previous year.

After a few minutes, Anna came over, pulling the chair across from her to sit down.

"Hva skjer, Y/N?" The lady asked, touching the younger woman’s hand on top of the table.

"What's going on Y/N?"

“Det er ingenting, Anna, du trenger ikke å bekymre deg.” She gave a weak smile.

"It's nothing, Anna, you don't have to worry."

"Det er ikke gutten?"

"It's that boy, isn't it?"

Y/N looked out the window, avoiding the lady's gaze.

"Han så veldig trist ut dagen han reiste."

"He looked really sad the day he left."

She looked at the lady, seeing compassion in her eyes.

“Ikke bekymre deg, Anna. Jeg klarer meg. ” She smiled, trying to look convincing.

"Don't worry, Anna, I'll be fine."

----

During the next two years, she improved. She focused on work and was able to be distracted from her own thoughts.

She had a few boyfriends during that time, but she couldn't help comparing them to the redhead, and given his color and brilliance, all the others became gray and opaque.

During the nights, his face appeared in her dreams, they were always together and happy and she hated waking up every day and knowing that it would never go beyond that, a dream.

Sometimes she could even go a week without thinking about him, but then something simple reminded her again. Like when she wore the sweater she was wearing that night.

She felt stupid, it was ridiculous to feel that way after so long, especially for someone she only met for a weekend. But every time a rock song played on the radio, she remembered him.

He had said he worked with rock and she always wondered what he meant by that. Was he a band manager? Or was he a member of one of the bands that had already crossed her ears? She would never know and maybe it was for the best.

"Y/N!"

The sound of her name made her look up from the papers she was signing.

It was Hanna. She had moved from the United States to Norway the previous year, working in the office's accounting. The two became close very fast and today they were best friends.

"Hanna..." She looked up smiling.

“Guns n Roses will be playing here in June!! I can't believe it, I thought I would never see them live again! ” She gave little leaps of joy.

"Hmm that’s great, I'm happy for you," Y/N said, smiling at the girl one more time before going back to work. She didn't listen to much music so going to concerts and festivals was not quite her style.

"Come with me?" She crouched down in front of the table.

"Oh I don't know, you know I don't like these crowded places."

"Please. I don't want to go alone. ” She made puppy eyes, staring at Y/N.

"Do not look at me like that!" She pointed her index finger, but Hanna was persistent. "Ah, fine, I'll go with you!" She gave in.

"Yess!!" Hanna celebrated as she stood up doing a victory dance.

Y/N started laughing, making the girl stop.

"What's it?"

She pointed with the pen. Looking back, Hanna saw her boss shaking his head as he looked in her direction.

"Shit!" She scratched the back of her neck, sitting on the chair in front of Y/N’s table. "Do you think he's going to fire me?"

"No ... but he'll think twice before inviting you to the Christmas party this year." She giggled a little.

"Thank God..." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What day will the concert be?" Y/N asked, going back to signing papers.

“June 10th. I'm going to buy tickets today after work, I'll bring yours tomorrow.”

Hanna looked like a child when she was happy, which always relaxed Y/N's serious mood.

"All right." She prolonged the first word, writing the day on a post-it note.

---

June 10th arrived and Hanna made sure they arrived two hours ahead to get a spot close to the stage.

Wearing denim shorts and a black T-shirt, she accompanied Hanna across the field until she reached the edge of the stage. At least she would be able to see the show up close.

The hot afternoon sun went down and a cool breeze came with the night, but Y/N's irritation didn’t fade away. The band was almost an hour late for the concert and every few minutes someone was bumping into her, making her wish she had stayed at home.

The stage lights came on and a guy with black curly hair came on stage, playing a riff that sounded wonderful to her ears.

Kanskje jeg vil glede meg over denne konserten. She thought to herself

Maybe I’ll enjoy this concert.

Soon the rest of the band members appeared and she became convinced that it would be a good show. That's until the vocalist entered the stage.

He was wearing tight white shorts and a leather jacket, his hair in a red bandana and her heart missed a beat.

Her mouth was slightly open and she put her hand on her chest, to make sure her heart was still beating.

It was him. Axl. The guy from the cottage.

He funnily ran and danced around the stage and his voice sounded so different from what she remembered. But there was no doubt, it was him.

"What's it?" Hanna screamed near her ear when she saw that her friend was not moving.

"It's him!"

"Who?"

"The guy from the cottage!"

She had told Hanna about the event, although she had never mentioned his name.

"Axl Rose??" Hanna's eyes widened, looking from Y/N to Axl and to Y/N again. "Holy shit!"

For the rest of the concert, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off of him anymore. But he hadn't noticed her. They were on the side and he spent more time in the center.

But then the guitar solo started and the same guy from the beginning took over from Axl, who started to leave the stage.

He was smiling, laughing at something and then his eyes shifted to the right and he saw her. The smile disappeared completely from his face and stopped walking.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before he walked over to the edge, making the fans next to Y/N scream out of control.

"Good to see you." He smiled, lowering himself in front of her.

She nodded, smiling, not being able to form words.

Fans around her started trying to push her to get closer to him, the screams making it impossible for her to understand what he had said.

He could tell by her face that she didn't understand, pointing sideways with his thumb and making a sign with his fingers that meant later.

"Backstage later." He spoke again and she could read his lips, finally managing to assimilate the information.

She nodded quickly, giving him a thumbs up.

After the solo, the band played a few more songs before finishing. At every chance he got, Axl came over to her, singing while looking into her eyes, making a huge smile come over her lips.

When the show was over she pulled Hanna by the hand, heading backstage. Where a security guard at the entrance made her stop.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, Axl is waiting for me." She said with a small smile.

"Identification, please."

"She showed him the concert ticket."

"This is the common ticket, I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t pass."

"Wait! Y/N? ” A man in a red button-down shirt appeared behind the security guard. "Are you Y/N?"

She nodded.

"Let her in, Axl wants to talk to her."

"What about this one?" He pointed to Hanna.

"She’s with me!" Y/N said, taking her friend's hand.

"Let her in too."

The security guard made room, letting the two pass.

"Come, this way." He started walking down several corridors. "I'm Doug Goldstein, by the way." He turned for half a second offering them a small smile.

"We're here," he said after almost a minute of walking.

Opening the door there was a spacious room with several couches, all the members of the band were there, except him. There were other women in the room, some on the lap of the band members.

"They are groupies." Hanna whispered in Y/N's ear.

"What is it?"

"They like rockstars, travel with bands and sleep with them."

Y/N nodded, understanding what she meant. "Lucky for them, they are very cute."

"Aren’t they?" She laughed softly.

"Hey, I saw you two at the gig!" A tall, blond guy said getting closer.

"Oh my God, Duff McKagan noticed me during the gig!" Hanna said, putting her hand on her forehead as if she was going to pass out.

Duff laughed.

"And you are?" He offered his hand for them to shake.

"My goodness!!" She gave a little squeak. "I'm Hanna and this is Y/N." She shook his hand. "I shook Duff McKagan's hand!!" She looked at Y/N. "Do you believe? Me?" Hanna pointed to herself.

Y/N and Duff laughed.

"Is she always that excited?" He asked as he shook Y/N's hand.

"She is a huge fan." She said laughing.

"I am! I am! I even have a T-shirt signed by Slash. I paid

200 bucks on it.” She said the last part with a little remorse for the money spent.

"We can get you another one, I can ask the guys to sign it for you." He smiled a little and Hanna smiled, nodding quickly.

“So you are the famous Y/N! Axl has talked about you for years! ”

Before she could answer she heard his voice saying her name.

Looking to the side, Axl was standing in the hall, wearing only his shorts while a towel was slung over his shoulder.

Det forblir varmt. She thought.

He’s still hot.

He nodded, indicating that she should follow him, so she did.

After a few steps, Axl stopped, opening a door that had his name written on it, and letting her in first. As soon as he closed the door, her lips were glued to his.

Their kiss was hot as summer rain and urgent as if they only had a few seconds to do it. Her hands touched his face, bringing him closer, while his hands infiltrated in her hair, gently pulling the strands at the top of her neck.

A small moan left her lips and he smiled during the kiss, pulling away just long enough to say, "God, how I missed that sound."

He moved his hands to her waist, starting to walk farther into the room, taking her with him.

"Axl." She sighed his name when their lips parted.

He moved away from her a few inches as he stroked her face with his right hand, the left one remaining on her waist, keeping her close.

"Fuck, you haven't changed a thing." He looked at every detail on her face, as if he wanted to memorize it.

"I missed you." She smiled, touching his face.

Axl closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her touch.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea." He opened his eyes, kissing her again.

The kiss grew hotter and when she realized Axl's hands were on the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, breaking and kissing and allowing him to remove the garment.

He let out a small growl in the kiss when she pulled his hair gently and he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh before he propelled her upward.

Y/N intertwined her legs around Axl's waist and he started to move towards a sofa in the living room. He laid her down gently, removing his lips from hers just so that he could make a trail down her neck, slowly going into the valley between her breasts.

She moved her hands to her back, unclasping her bra and allowing Axl to enjoy her nipples. He took one of them to his mouth, sucking lightly by biting the skin while his fingers played with the other, causing a small moan to come out of her lips.

Y/N moved her hand towards Axl's shorts, feeling his already rigid erection over the fabric, making him moan and look her in the eyes. His gaze was filled with lust with a touch of malice, his pupils dilated.

Continuing his kisses to the south, Axl stopped at the waistband of her shorts, unbuttoning the garment and removing it from her body. His fingers caressed her core over her panties, making her gasp.

He slowly removed the last piece of clothing from her body, applying soft kisses to the extension of her leg, until the material was finally free and she was completely exposed to his gaze.

He stood up, removing his white shorts, tossing them on the floor before removing his sneakers in a hurry. He wore no underwear and the sight of his free and throbbing member made Y/N bite her lower lip while she sat down.

Axl climbed onto the couch, kissing her again. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the sofa, his back against the armrest when she climbed on his lap, making him smile mischievously.

Y/N touched his member, running its length a few times before collecting some of her juices with its tip and positioning it at her entrance.

Slowly she started to go down, keeping her gaze fixed on Axl's, she felt him fill her completely, letting a small moan leave her lips with the sensitivity.

She started with her movements, going up and down. Axl's hands found her hips, squeezing them firmly and guiding her movements until she reached a steady rhythm.

"Axl" She moaned his name, throwing her head back and allowing the sensation of pleasure to take over her mind.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moved his lips to her now exposed neck, making her moan even more.

After a few minutes, Axl started to move his hips, meeting her movements, hitting her G-spot with strength and precision, making a loud moan leave her lips.

"Yes, moan for me, baby." He moved his thumb to her lips, allowing her to suck it, and he grunted at the sight.

"Axl ... I’m going to ..." Her breathing was rapid when she uttered the words between moans.

"I know baby. Cum to me. ” He said, moving his right hand to her clit, applying precise movements that made her moan even louder, if that was possible.

A cry with his name filled the room when she reached her peak, rolling her eyes and feeling her legs tremble with the wave of pleasure that spread through her body.

Axl's hands cupped her face, bringing her close to him as they continued to move. He enveloped her in a deep kiss and her hands tugged at his hair, knowing it was his weak spot.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned after a few minutes, parting their lips, but staying close enough that their noses would bump up every few seconds. "I love you." He said looking into her eyes, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"I love you." She whimpered due to sensitivity, she could feel her walls tightening for another orgasm and she scraped his back with greed when a long moan left her lips and she closed her eyes.

“Fuck… Y/N.” It was all that Axl could say before they could both be hit by another orgasm, his jets filling her while her walls tightened his member, their juices mixing inside of her.

Sweaty and out of breath, all that could be heard in the room were their heavy breaths.

She leaned her forehead against his, holding his face with both hands as he hugged her.

"You don't know how much time I spent looking for you." He whispered.

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I hired a guy, but he never found you."

She removed some locks of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I went back to the cottage the following year, but you weren't there."

"Shit, I was on tour." He giggled a little.

"When I was told we were going to play here, I couldn't help but hope that you would come."

"Well, I'm here now." She smiled sweetly, kissing his lips.

“Come to America with me? I don't want to be away from you anymore. ”

She stopped for a few seconds, thinking about his proposal.

"Please." He pleaded in a whisper.

Slowly she started to nod. “Yes, I will go with you! I don't want to be away from you anymore either. ”

The two smiled at each other before engaging in another passionate kiss, glad for finally being together again.

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock imagine #axl rose smut

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musedblues · 4 years ago

Text

Call It Fate Call It Karma

summary: In which your band gets signed to the same label as Queen, and Brian May takes a whole bunch of fun out of your new musical journey.

a/n: Here’s what to know… There’s an age gap! This takes place sometime in the 1980s and reader is in her twenty’s. There are also mentions of sex / sexual situations. (Not 18+ just be aware!) Here’s what’s been dubbed as The Bitchy Bri Fic! Title from this song!

w/c: 10k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everything changed as you’d started to lose hope. And you owed it all to Jim Beach.

It was the afternoon you and your bandmates managed to sneak past the receptionist desk at EMI and present the reel of tape you called you an EP to a bored producer called Watts; Jim Beach was already occupying his office. By then, you’d been to every other record label in the city and were prepared to be kicked out of this one all the same.

But then the producer agreed to listen to your tape. Watts sat with his feet on his desk and a glazed over look in his eye as two of your only three songs played. Jim spoke up from the back of the room when your third and final song started to crackle to life.

“Well, aren’t you going to give them a shot?” He asked, in a warm, gentle tone.

“What are you three called?” Watts asked.

“Loba.” Wilda piped up, picking her nails in place of her guitar.

“It means ‘she wolf’ in Spanish.” Joane pointed out, twisting strands of her pale fringe as she perched on the edge of the bench at your side.

“Can you lot throw together the couple hundred bucks it takes to record, by the end of next week?” The producer asked.

“Yes.” You spoke up, though you weren’t sure how you’d get the money, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Beach! Manage these lady wolves, will you?” Watts dragged his feet back to the floor with a thud.

“Me? I-I well,”

“You’ve got Queen, and who else? No one.” Watts exasperated. “McCartney has half our staff on lockdown this month and Iron Maiden has already gotten our three best workers to quit. You liked this mediocre garage rock well enough to say something…” The producer gathered your tape and tossed it to the manager with kind eyes and a smile under his furrowed brow. “Now everyone leave my office.”

You’d barely processed the life changing news as Jim turned toward you and your band with a grin that just kept growing.

“What do ya say, girls? Wanna make a record?”

///

You worked overtime and Joane got a second odd job to come up with the money to make a real-life record. And in a matter of a couple of months, you had an all new stage show, a new shiny Fender bass, and your very own album.

Well, almost. The record was in the final processes of being pressed. Watts helped put it together with his feet propped on the soundboard he manned. Past his usual cigar, he mumbled suggestions and even some encouragement; as you Wilda and Joane perfected the songs from your EP and threw together a couple more. Joane was praised for tightening her drum kit and bringing back up sticks. Wilda’s method of retuning her prized guitar worked without a hitch. You sang all your worries away with your bass playing in time. It was as easy as ever to work together, and one thousand times more terrifying all the same.

Jim lingered by on days like those, and on nights you’d booked gigs at local pubs and places of the like. On tea breaks, and in storage closets turned green rooms, Jim helped you and the girls make plans for the future. He carried around a pad of paper to jot down every time one of you thought up a new goal or two.

You went on and on about the sounds you heard in your head, and how you dreamed of bringing them to life. Of the words you longed to share with the world, and your favourite old tunes that never failed to inspire and excite.

Wilda dreamed of parties and people and places, the things she’d say on guest appearances and press tours. She dreamed of stages much more grandiose than the rickety old ones you were so familiar with now.

“We’d quite like to be as big as that other band of yours, one day.” Joane quipped, to a smiley Jim Beach. She was always going on about Queen. Bet she never dreamed of being graced with the assistance of her favourite band’s very own manager.

“No worries there.” Jim chuckled. “You ladies are a well-oiled machine compared to those four old bats. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow at the party.” He seemed to raise a brow like an omen but you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

///

Your first ever album had been slowly climbing the charts since it’s release at the start of the week. When your single aired for the first time, Joane parked her old beaten down truck outside of your flat and turned her car’s radio up all the way. You dismissed your neighbour’s pleas for peace and quiet by hopping in your drummers ride and speeding away to EMI, squealing along to your very own song the whole way there.

You met your guitarist outside of the company’s biggest office. Inside, the three of you hurried through a few pages of papers, and scribbled your signatures along odd dotted lines. Just like that, you were signed.

Even though Loba was gifted a bottle of champagne and a couple of snapshots to prove it, the label decided a proper party was in order to welcome you. Apparently, EMI liked to use every excuse they could to make use of their loft and it’s impressive bar top that wrapped around nearly every wall.

So no sooner than you’d shuffled into the head office, you were escorted out and up to the very top floor. The party, Jim said, was already in full swing.

And that’s when you met his other band. Though he never said so outright, you could tell Jim was most excited to introduce you to the only other group he’d had the pleasure of working with till now. Behind poorly placed streamers and the backs of people too busy carrying on conversations to notice you, there was Queen. All lazily huddled together against a spot at the long and winding bar.

When Jim made his presences known, you and the girls stopped in your tracks and traded a few nervous glances.

Freddie Mercury was all of a sudden shifting his weight before the lot of you, casting a sweeping gaze across each of your faces.

“Miami, are these the children you’ve adopted now that we’re all grown up?” Freddie asked, greeting the manager and turning his oxen eyes to your band. His champagne sloshed in the glass he held near his chest as he threw one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Awe, you talk about us?” You jabbed an elbow toward the manager though you couldn’t quite reach where he stood. As his grin only grew, the rest of the band shifted closer.

“Boys, meet the girls.” Jim smiled, introducing you each by name.

But you couldn’t be sure if Roger even heard the manager’s introduction. The blonde floated up to your guitarist like he’d been supernaturally dragged across the room to meet her. Wilda stood before him, trying desperately not to pick at her nails, and smiled. You wanted to laugh, but you wanted to hurl. It was just too much, the way Roger seemed to drool at the simple sight of her, like Pepe Le Pew.

“What are you lovely ladies called, again?” He asked in a voice just as rasped as you’d come to recognize over the radio. Wilda blanched and seemed to go shy all of a sudden, but you weren’t.

“Loba.” You shrugged speaking in the drummer’s direction.

“What?” John asked, stepping closer to the other side of you, standing taller than you expected him to be.

“It means she-wolf.” Joane piped up, reciting her favourite and well-practised line. It always saved her from going too quiet, that fact.

“Uh-huh.” Roger seemed to agree, shifting to stand at Wilda’s side instead of ogling her head on- holding her gaze all the same.

“Better than their almost name. Guess what it was, lads.” Jim raised a brow to Freddie. Oh no. With Joane likely having shut down at the mention of her old idea, and Wilda entirely preoccupied with whispering to Roger, everyone turned to glance at you- Left with no choice but to bury your embarrassment and answer.

“Doin’ Alright.” You admitted through a smile, because if you didn’t laugh, who would? It was your drummer, resident Queen fanatic’s idea, one you talked her out of shortly after joining.

“How bloody un-o-fucking-riginal,” Brain huffed and crossed his long arms over his chest.

You had barely officially met the guy. He loomed near the back of the gathering and stood in silence, till then. And you might have thought he’d only been joking if it wasn’t for the way his stoic expression remained unchanged when your eyes met his for the first ever time.

“Hate to break it to ya, but your name was already sort of taken, too.” You pointed out, giving a weak mocking curtsy at the vague mention of her majesty. Queen’s guitarist’s glare remained.

“Oh, I like this one. Good ear, Miami.” Freddie sauntered over and nudged you away from Brian’s burning gaze. Roger was pointing Wilda out to the balcony, where a rowdy group grew larger every time you glanced out beyond the open glass doors.

“Don’t mind him.” John cocked his head toward the sulking guitarist, and handed you a bubbly drink. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and a midlife crisis, it’s really quite the combination.”

“Poor thing.” You stuck your lip out on your turn in Brian’s direction, as Freddie yanked you toward the balcony, laughing all the while. The wild-haired guitarist watched you leave with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, though you wanted too.

But before the lot of you could spin your separate ways and dance until sunrise, one of the men from the head office stopped in front of everyone with a smile.

“Nice to see you’re all already so well acquainted.” He said, in a sickeningly posh tone. Roger draped an arm across Wilda’s slim shoulders as the rest of you hummed in agreeance.

“So how would you like to tour together, then?” The man grinned. Freddie flourished, making a grand gesture and saying something about how that was the best idea he’d ever heard in his life. Joane turned to you, not even attempting to hide her squeal of excitement. Jim shared a look with John, like a proud father.

“Good. Because that’s what the label wants.” The man nodded and turned to Jim with instructions to phone him to start planning. Freddie swept you away to kick off a night of fun, and when you turned to see if Brian cared at all, he was gone.

///

Your single topped the charts in the US. Jim came into your work, feigned an emergency and gathered the rest of your band to share the good news over a celebratory brunch. You might have won over the yanks, but Queen had stolen the hearts of billions long before you’d written your first tune. So it was naturally decided your band would open for the much more renowned group.

You turned your two weeks notice into your job, and blew your last paycheck on an all-new wardrobe. If you were going to prance around America with the likes of Queen, you had to look the part. Some platforms and a few dazzling dresses found their way into your suitcase a week before it was time to go.

By the time you met up with the other band at the airport, you knew Roger well enough to stick out your tongue as a greeting. He’d come around your flat once, trailing behind Wilda to crash a night out you’d been planning all week. And again to steal her away from your last band meeting. When you, Joane and Wilda sleepily trudged through the waiting gates, he stole your guitarist away for the third time, and you wondered what might become of them.

You were still dazzled by Freddie, charmed by his laugh and stunned when he insisted on sitting next to you on the plane ride over, to share gossip. All of his friends seemed just as taken with the ethereal singer, too. John sprung up from his catnap to go help Freddie find the best snacks the airport had to offer. And while Jim sat going over the schedule with Joane, Brian sat across from you with his arms crossed and his legs a mile apart.

“Are you excited?” You wondered because you really wanted to know if someone who’d done this a time or two was still thrilled by it. But mostly, you wanted to get the lanky guitarist to open up a little. If you were going to spend a whole month and a half near each other, wouldn’t it be nice to get to know the guy a little?

“I’m tired.” Brian nodded, his hazel eyes fluttering toward the windows.

“Lighten up Mr. May. You could have my job. Was just sent to phone Fred’s cats and we haven’t even left home.” A man as gangly as Brian shuffled to sit at your side, adjusting the sunglasses on his head that did little to hide his thinning hair.

“I’m Crystal, that’s Ratty.” The guy pointed across the lounge to another slim, long-haired fellow bent over an open acoustic guitar case.

“We’re everyone’s personal lackeys and will be glad to lend you ladies a hand all the same.”

You thanked the guy with a chuckle and felt charmed enough by his sudden kindness to admit your growing nerves. But then Freddie and John were back, and the plane was ready, and it was time to go on tour.

///

The first week flew by in a flash. You were jarred by the size of every new arena and crowd that filled the seats. You lost yourself entirely to the music that blared from the speakers at your band’s command; but never got used to hearing the songs you once plucked away at in your bedroom, fill stadiums.

Going from entertaining grotty pubs to seas full of people wasn’t something you ever expected to happen. The sound of their collective cheers directed to your band didn’t seem real. All you could do was play on, and sing with your friends until the time came to rush to another green room, catch your breath, and a glimpse of the headlining act.

You usually only saw Queen in passing- in revolving hotel doors or shuffling about the same backstage halls. If you weren’t on stage, your band was hauled off to radio stations for interviews while Queen partied on. And if your band had an afternoon to do as you pleased, Queen was off signing records and privately touring art museums.

But there were the rare occasions your paths crossed for longer than a minute or two. John would always make a point to ask after you, from time to time. He said you and the girls seemed to be handling the road like old champs.

“I’m too busy to be bothered with stage fright.” You laughed, when John asked how you looked so at home in front of the crowds that had started to sing along to the songs you played.

Where most of Queen felt like friends your parents warned against staying out past curfew with, John felt like your older brother; who waited up to sneak you back home with a kind word.

Freddie always invited you to the after parties and nights out, even when he knew Loba was meant to do a photoshoot one city away. And when you failed to show up, the singer would always say he’d missed you. And you believed him, because of the nights he’d sneak in your hotel room to share the last of the liquor that had knocked the rest of his bandmates cold. Freddie went out of his way to include you and the girls more often than not.

But Roger seemed to include himself in your groups circle any chance he could get. He trailed behind Wilda, sure, but he seemed genuinely fond of chatting away with you and Joane all the same. And when your guitarist and Queen’s drummer partook in their weekly game of playing hard to get, you were awarded tiny moments with just Roger.

Like the time everyone crashed before midnight, and the two of you stayed up by the quiet hotel poolside, with an acoustic. It wasn’t long before your goofing around turned into some kind of jam session, and you were writing a song together. Roger insisted you keep it to use, and left the cocktail napkin full of scribbled lyrics tucked between the strings of Wilda’s guitar that you’d been left in charge of.

Then, there was Brian.

He strolled ahead of you off of the riverboat where both of your groups had been invited to enjoy a day off, cruising around somewhere in America’s deep south. You couldn’t help but watch Brian’s figure move as it seemed to tower just over all the people at his side. It was time to head back to the hotel, or at least, time for your freshwater adventure to end. Everyone was glad for the easy-going ride, still tired from the night before.

Maybe that’s why he was so quiet all afternoon. Brian usually was, but there was something more to his silence today. And you didn’t know the guy well enough to figure, or dare ask why. The weather was nice, and Queen was received with reverence every place they went. Brian had no reason to sulk- none you could possibly understand.

A slew of people with cameras and questions flocked to the boat docks as the one and only Freddie led the way, pretending to introduce Crystal as some kind of rockstar in his own right. The roadie ate up the attention as Brian’s pace set your own. You couldn’t move until he did. And while he stalled, cameras flashed and a desperate middle-aged man held a skinny microphone toward the band.

“Brian, how are you finding America?” They asked in a mousy pitch.

“Oh, it’s lovely here, as always.” Brian politely grinned, curling his fists in his jacket pockets, from what you could see.

“How’s touring with another group? Queen usually don’t need the support of an opening act.”

“Right.” Brian seemed to agree in a curiously cynical tone.

“They’re called Loba, and we quite like having them around.” Roger was suddenly shaking your shoulders like an overzealous coach. You chuckled at his antics as Brian dared to glimpse at the commotion.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder to look at you for a moment. It might have been the most exciting part of your whole day, considering how Brian hardly ever looked your way till now. But why did it have to be like that? What did you ever do to the guy?

The best you’d ever gotten from Brian was an empty hum when asked if he cared if you sat in the only open seat at his side, during some dinner. And over that meal, he chattered away with the likes of his band, and even yours. And maybe it was because you became utterly paranoid by his silence to break it with all of the questions you had for the guy. But he never spoke to you. The seat at Brian side seemed a void in his peripheral. And you were growing a bit anxious by the thought of actually being invisible to Brian. So you started speaking up.

When Freddie asked you with help on matching one of his many jackets with a pair of trousers, you’d already made up your mind, but twisted around to ask what Brian thought. His brows upturned in a painfully confused expression as he hesitantly gave his answer to Freddie’s clothing debacle. You got your own answer too, that at least Brian heard a voice coming from the space you existed in.

When both tour buses stopped for gas one random midnight; Roger raced you into the convenience store and distracted you from buying anything in place of dancing to The Cars tune crackling from the overhead speakers. Your spontaneous party was broken up when Brian breezed by with his freshly purchased candy bar in hand.

“We are on a schedule you know?” He glared your way on his turn to leave.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the dance party Bri.” You mused, stopping the guy in his tracks, who turned to look at you in the way he did. “We’ll let you sulk in the corner of our next one, since it would obviously kill you to actually join in the fun.”

But all that got you was a roll of Brian’s hazel eyes and a cackle from Roger. That was the norm. Brian either seemed to pretend you weren’t there, or traded you bone chilling glares like you’d wronged him in a past life. But you’d never known less of a person than you’d known of Brian May, and you were beginning to wonder if going about finding out more was worth it.

///

By the time your next soundcheck came, Queen had nothing better to do than bop about the stadium to wait their turn. You and the girls rushed through your usual set up but decided to change things around for your second to the last song. And while you started to unplug it was decided Joane would have to turn a certain drum fill into a solo while Wilda rushed off stage to retune her only electric guitar to properly close out the show.

Brian overheard, from the place he stood arguing over an amp with Ratty, who’d kindly agreed to stick close by your band during times like now. The roadie shuffled over to take your bass away, while Brian issued a complaint.

“You’re going to retune? Just use a bloody capo and don’t waste everyone’s time.” Brian shifted his weight, furrowing his brow your way. Though you weren’t the guitarist in question, you seemed to be the one and only person Brian felt most comfortable yapping at.

“There’s more than one way to do things, you know?” You pointed.

“Yeah,” Brian shrugged, agreeing with you in a breathtaking turn of events. But then again, not really… “The right way and the wrong way.”

“Christ no wonder you’re divorced.” You shook your head in the guy’s direction. His eyes might have been pretty if they weren’t burning into yours with such disdain. Then you both made a show of storming past each other. You were getting really sick of his attitude, and what it did to yours.

///

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no!” You cried, cradling your bass that had fallen from the stand to the concrete floor below. The neck was ever so slightly cracked and a tuning peg was bent and your heart was near stopping. When you looked up from the ground, you saw Ratty cursing out one of the stadiums impish young stagehands. The kid had blown an amp and sent it smoking, and your guitar flying off the stage in his rush to run from the trouble he’d stirred.

You clutched your one and only instrument to your chest and hurried away for help. Ratty was wrestling the broken amp, Crystal was nowhere to be seen, and John was off phoning home. You recalled the sights of the city from yesterday’s afternoon off. There was a guitar shop across from the Chinese place where you stopped for lunch.

So you raced past Joane and shouted that you’d be back in an hour. The exact amount of time you had until it was time to go on stage.

You ran down the city streets with your bass in your arms like a wounded child. The guitar shop appeared like a beacon.

Inside was blaring a song by Led Zeppelin you might have wanted to sing along too if your heart wasn’t in your throat. There was a mass of teenaged boys crowded the counter. You waited, held your breath and checked the clock as it ticked away at a frightening speed. By the time the boys buying strings and straps shuffled away, you threw your broken baby to the older man behind the counter. He assured you the fix would be a breeze and tried to sell you an overpriced Gibson while you waited. You stood drumming beats on the sales counter and tried not to scream when the clock showed you’d only had ten minutes left to waste. A couple more later, your bass was in your grasp. You threw an extra bit of cash to the guy and ran off in a flurry, praying to make it on time.

You’d never ran so fast, certainly. You didn’t even have time to apologize to a kid on a bike who had to swerve out of your way. You burst through the back doors of the stadium, much to the shock of the doorman. When he shouted at you to take it easy, you ceased running to walk as fast as you could toward the green room.

Brian was the first familiar face to greet you after the nerve-wracking scene.

“So nice of you to finally show up.” He let out a mocking cheer from the place he kicked back on a torn leather sofa. So relaxed in his gloom. Your heart used to ache at the thought of his troubles. At the sight of his far off gaze as his friends joked on around him. When Freddie would drunkenly whisper to you details of Brian’s trying year. But the guitarist’s sneers your way were getting old, and the ache in your heart for him was slowly growing cold.

Freddie spun to greet you, let out a sigh of relief like an anxious mother, reaching out to adjust your shirt collar skewed under the strap of your instrument.

“Well, my guitar had to get fixed one way or the other. And unlike you, your highness, we haven’t got a gaggle of roadies to call upon.” You swatted Freddie away and snapped toward Brian.

“No, but what’s ours is yours. Next time ask for help.” John spoke like a stern father, tossing you a bottle of water and pointing toward the clock on the wall. You had about a minute to run out on stage.

“Let her learn the hard way, Deacy. She seems to like it that way.” Brian rang. You dashed away before you had time to curse him.

“Brian, stop being such a bitch, I mean, my God.” Freddie whined as you stormed off, glad for once that someone else seemed fed up with the guitarist’s sharp tongue, too.

///

When the show was over, John insisted you hop along his band’s tour bus back to the hotel. The other two-thirds of your band were still enjoying the amenities of the afterparty, and you were in the middle of trading bass themed horror stories with Deacy. So he kept on talking as you walked to follow him, settling near the front of the ride as it travelled to your latest hotel.

As Queen shuffled to cross the bleak lot to get to the grandiose lodge, Brian was the last to leave. He shouldered past you with that same old sullen pout. His eyes caught yours for a moment before he took another step, but something about the usual interaction was the final straw for you.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You demanded to know, as Brian’s bandmates disappeared inside the hotel. Brian stalled reluctantly and turned to face you with pursed lips and the smallest shake of his head.

“Look,” He began, as you stood ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was. “I’ve really never meant to be so cross with you. And I’m sorry my temper’s been so easily getting the better of me. I am sorry.” Brian nodded. He looked exhausted, like this was the millionth time he’d had to give a similar speech, but he did so in such a genuine manner- that you could only stand and trade a perplexed gaze to the lanky guitarist.

“It’s… it’s best if we just keep to ourselves, yeah?” Brian concluded, turning away with one final nod. You didn’t get the chance to agree, or disagree, or understand what just happened before Brian was on his way, and you were on your own.

///

After the tour was said and done, a new year was just kicking off. And the label was pushing for another album right out the gate. You and the girls had two months to throw together a collection of new songs, and were struggling for most of the time to do just that.

The song Roger helped you write was the best one you had to offer, and Joane was nearly crippled under the stress of being creatively confined to a certain amount of time. You’d never had such a hard time working together before, and the pressure was building up between each of your bandmates in a way you were afraid of.

When Watts strolled in to take control of the soundboard you’d been fiddling with all morning, you couldn’t help but to warn him against changing any of your settings. You and the girls were finally making some kind of progress, albeit bickering along the way. Poor Jim could only sorrily sigh each time one of you turned and ask for his help. This bit of work was a little outside of the managers league.

And Watts only seemed to egg you on, pressing the few buttons you asked him not to.

“You want to control this soundboard so bad, have at it.” He stood in a huff, “I only strongly suggest you don’t fuck this up.” The producer hissed before slipping out of the door. He smiled a smile that made you queasy, and you nodded knowing full well you were on thin ice.

Jim left you and the girls to fight over tempos and key changes and came back from the studio’s kitchenette with an unexpected announcement.

“Brian is coming.” He said, matter of factly.

“What’d you call him for?” Joane groaned from the floor, where she laid fiddling with her kit.

“Because Queen is the best help I know. But Freddies in Barcelona, John’s with his family, Roger is MIA and Brian is right down the road. You lot have a day left, and I’m running out of helpful ideas. And quite frankly, you girls are in need of a lot of it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but now nothing will get done.” Joane countered. “Not with the way he and y/n square off like old alley cats.”

“He’ll be here in five. Come on lady wolves… Claws up, plugs in.” Jim pointed as he sat back down on the studio sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilda shot into a speech, begging you over and over to keep it cool. The sooner you started, the better. She was right, and you wanted nothing more than to get this record finished. So with a nod, you accepted your fate.

Brian strolled in the studio right on time. His eyes looked desperate for sleep, and his already wild mane seemed even more unkempt. His small smile Jim’s way made you want to reach past the wall Brian put up, and shake his shoulders, and tell him it was okay to be actually happy once in a while.

Maybe it was the time that had passed since the tour. Maybe Brian forgot that he’d cared so little for you, and that’s why his faint grin lingered when his eyes met yours, past the glass of the recording booth. You willed your own weak smile his way, weary of this new civility, but just as tempted to take it in stride.

“Hello, ladies. Let’s see what you’re working with so far, shall we?” Brian leaned in and spoke just to you, it seemed. Maybe it was because you were closest, front and centre before the guy in a little glass box.

You’d felt more vulnerable than ever, under his forest coloured gaze. There was no place to run off and hide. You were right in Brian’s line of sight, right under his thumb, as he pressed a button stopped your band from playing to suggest a few dozen changes.

You knew he was here to help. And Jim looked so hopeful, tapping his foot to the beat in the corner of the room. So even though your throat was going dry as Brian settled his eyes on your bass- you played on. When he stopped you again, your blood began to boil.

“Please tell me you plan on adding a keyboard? A harmonica, something else?” Brian grimaced.

“We only play on the record what we can play on stage as a three-piece.” Joane raised a drumstick to make a point.

“Yeah well, it’s sure sounding that way.” The older and wiser musicians voice crackled through the speaker.

“Fuck you, that sounded good!” You hissed into the mic, wielding your bass like a weapon. That might'a been the best take you’d done all day.

“Yeah, but it didn’t sound great. If I turned my car radio on to that I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Joane, try using your snare on the bridge, instead of the cymbals. Y/n… from the top.” Brian sighed, sitting back in his chair like an exhausted parent.

You sighed too, adjusting your headphones and tossing Wilda a glare, a sign that you couldn’t keep your cool much longer.

You tried harder. But Brian kept stopping you. And every time he did, you couldn’t be stopped from cursing him just a little. If he’d only give you just one chance to find your rhythm, you might’ve made a whole record by now. When you told him as much, he let you play on for almost half a song before he’d stopped you again. When he did, you nearly exploded. But Joane snapped first. She got up from her kit, chucked her headphones, and stormed away. You slung your bass away to follow after her, but Wilda was quicker and raced out of the back to chase Joane down.

That left you with time enough to break out of the glass box and give Brian a few choice words.

“Way to fucking go, drill sergeant.” You gestured toward the guy who was slow to rise from his place before the soundboard.

“It’s not my fault she decided to-”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks for showing up and doing fuck all.”

“I came here to help you, and I could do if you’d stop acting like a damn child.” He pointed a finger your way, and the fire in his gaze sent a chill down your spine for the first time ever. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only stunned by the way he spoke to you. The way he always had. Why did Brian bother showing up here tonight?

“We might be able to take some of your suggestions if you stopped stopping us! Why don’t you just stick to pissing your own band off? You do it so well.”

You’d heard him trade sharper words with Queen. Roger told you that Brian was just working through some things. John said he’d always been like this. You just couldn’t understand why you got the worst of it.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve got more than enough hell to give your own group. You might sound less like the second place winners of your primary school’s talent show if you learned to stop making so many executive decisions.”

“I have a suggestion for you.” You decided, “Why don’t you take all your bleeding suggestions and fu-”

“Yeah, alright, let’s all take a break.” Jim intervened as you let out an exhausted sigh that doubled as a frustrated cry. The manager waved Brian over and the two men started to share a word as you stormed out of the back from fresh air and a clearer mind.

“He’s right you know. We sound like a washed-up wedding band.” Wilda shouted your way as she stayed leaning back against the hood of her car with a cigarette in hand.

“Where is Joane?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Wilda glanced at the empty parking spot where your drummer’s new mustang was earlier today. Great. Just what you needed.

“Right. Let’s forget everything, and finish. We’ll just… get it done.”

And so that’s what you did. Brian was gone when you ventured back in, and his absence left a familiar little ache in your heart. You didn’t like shouting at each other like cross siblings. You’d wanted to be his friend more than anything, at the start of all of this. The stars that might have aligned for that chance were all askew by now.

Jim left you and Wilda to go fetch some takeaway. Then he sat around the small table in the studio and shared dinner and some words of wisdom with the two of you. You thanked your manager for being so kind, and forgiving of your antics thus far. He chuckled and said something about having witnessed and dealt with much worse. Jim stayed a while longer, while you and Wilda worked together, and it was you who had to encourage the guy to go home and get some rest.

He entrusted the key to the place to you and your bandmate and left you to finish up for the evening. And you did, eventually. You and the eager guitarist listened back to the tapes and added in riffs and fills, and even a few of Brian’s suggestions; until well past midnight. But right on time for the label.

You could sleep soundly knowing you’d finished when you were meant to. But your dreams were full of worry that the record still wasn’t good enough.

///

“You did what?” Joane shrieked in the hall of your flat.

“We had to finish, Joane. You never came back, what else were supposed to do?” You yelled back, worry saturating your tone. It was far too early to be having this fight.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” Joane shouted, looking to you with big sad eyes. You rushed to remind her that you were out of time, and she could have shown back up and helped you finish, but she didn’t. And in her typical fashion, the drummer spun on her heels and stormed away, fringe flying far behind her shoulders as she shouted something about never coming back.

The girl had been known to fly off the handle on occasion. There was the time she drove your van away from a sketchy Welsh pub you travelled miles to play in, because Wilda called the drummers shoes ugly. Or the time she nearly chucked her cymbals from your third story flat window. You prayed that this episode was like the others you’d endured as you shut your door and rushed to get ready. It was time to take your record to the head office.

No one was particularly happy to find your three-piece only consisted of two when you showed up with Wilda to present your latest creation. Jim flashed a couple of smiles as the tracks played on, but all you noticed were Wilda’s shrugs. The record was done. But under unexpectedly trying circumstances and lacking a lot of help from your drummer. It wasn’t what you’d envisioned. The label still decided it was good enough, and sent you to fill a couple of talk show slots before the week was up.

You went with your guitarist to a couple of press junkets, and watched as your dazzling friend gave away answers she’d been practising since before you’d played your first gig. The only thing that made her umber eyes glow brighter was the sight of Roger Taylor waiting up after a certain interview. He invited her back to wherever it was he’d run off to, and Wilda had the decency to look toward you with a furrowed brow.

With a sigh, you agreed to handle the rest of the press on your own. Because she deserved to have the fun she’d been wishing for with the capricious drummer.

Four talk shows, three guest appearances, and one very hectic game show later, it was time for your record release. Roger phoned to assure he’d bring Wilda back in the nick of time. But Joane wasn’t answering her phone. You’d hoped after a bit of space that your drummer would come back around. But she wasn’t any place you’d gone to look. You spent until the witching hour driving to the places you knew she might have been and came up short.

When the time came to get ready for the party, half of your time getting ready was spent trying to hide the dark circles under your eyes. Before you left home, you took a couple of shots and prayed tonight wouldn’t crash and burn around you.

///

The mansion belonged to the head of the company, a place he’d invite people to when celebrations were too grandiose to fit in EMI’s loft. You wondered if you were the last to arrive when you opened the massive carved doors to find the stunning home littered with faces most of whom you didn’t recognize. One you did finally emerged from the crowd.

“Thank God you made it, I feared I’d have to put on a show instead.” Freddie chuckled, greeting you with glee. You ruffled the boa around his neck, thanked him for showing up, and wondered where you could find the drinks.

“I’ll take you round back dear, but you’d better hurry. The old important men are tired of waiting.” You could have explained how you’d waited up in hopes that Jonae would phone. And how when the phone did ring, it was Wilda worrying that she’d missed the only flight back home. But you only gave Freddie a sorry smile and spun into the garden. There was a bar in the veranda, where a handsome man made a show of mixing you a drink, making little passes along the way.

The time you thought you were stalling by answering all of the dude’s dumb questions was very soon interrupted. All of a sudden a towering guitarist was casting a shadow over you, and swiftly excusing the man behind the minibar.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up.” Brian rang in a mockingly sweet timbre. And as your stomach fluttered with nerves, you knew time was up. But how could you release a record without the rest of your band?

When you started to argue as much, Brian clamped his fingers around your arm like a vice and yanked you away from the bar and the drink you didn’t even get to try.

“Saving the day again, are you?” You rang dryly, as he towed you away. Brian’s face was set in its usual frown, one you’d become so familiar with that his smile on magazine covers made you look twice. He said nothing as he marched you out of the yard and into the mansion. You figured he’d part ways from you once you passed through the doors, but his grip didn’t loosen on the way down the empty marble hallway.

“Let me go.” You struggled, huffing out the words as you fought his grip and won. Before you had time to storm away, Brian spun to face you.

“Would you grow the fuck up? There is a room full of people depending on you and you’re acting like a fucking child, like always.”

“I’m not a child.” You hissed, curled your fists and glared up at Brian as he loomed over you. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His feet and fiery eye’s pointed to back you into the corner. But you wouldn’t let him get to you. “I’m trying my best it’s just not fucking good enough.”

A bit of a waver passed through your tone, as you targeted the words through your teeth. You watched Brian bend at the knee to look right in your eye, and pretended not to hold your breath.

“No, you aren’t.” Brian pointed a finger right at you and spoke in a low, unnerving rumble. “I’ve seen you at your best and I can guarantee you’re far from it, tonight.” He snarled, glaring you up and down with those dangerous hazel eyes. They raked over the span of your figure before landing on yours once more. “You look a bloody mess.”

“Because I’ve been running around till two in the damn morning, trying to find Joane! And when I couldn’t, I had to finish everything all on my own again. Because Roger took Wilda away and bought her nice pretty shoes and put her in good graces with all the higher-ups, and unlike her, I have to earn that shit myself.” You yelled, the dam holding back your bottled up emotion had crumbled in the overflow. You could feel the threat of tears stinging the backs of your eyes as Brian stood gaping at you in your outburst.

“So now I’ve lost my voice from all the interviews and the lack of sleep and I probably won’t be able to sing on tour to promote this shite album with a single you’ll switch off when it comes on the radio, anyway!”

And before you’d even stopped shouting, it seemed, Brian had his hands on either side of your face, and his lips pressed to yours. Your back was pushed to the wall and it took great effort not to melt down it with the way you were consumed by an all new kind of fire; mixed among the usual. But above it all, you were too shocked to kiss him back. Then you parted from each other, and past his unbuttoned top you watched the rise and fall of Brian’s chest while he caught his breath and stared at you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You asked in a stunned hush. Brian blinked and shook his curls.

“I’m, I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can just kiss me and, I don’t know, that everything is just magically going to be okay?” You wondered in a fluster, knowing there was nothing that could be done about the blush burning your cheeks. After months of frowning every time the two of you passed each other he kisses you?

“No. No I- I’ve always wanted to kiss you and I just thought I knew better than to do it.” Brian held up a hand like he was swearing not to come closer. Talk about some seriously mixed messages.

“What?” You asked in an embarrassingly high squeak.

“I wanted to kiss you before I even knew your name. And it just seemed like the entirely wrong thing to do. So I shut you out, and my ire kept getting the better of me, and that’s not an excuse, just the truth,” Brian sighed, at what seemed like a sudden loss for words as his eyes searched yours.

“Well, you’ve gone and done it now.” You pointed out with the faintest laugh despite everything. Brian shook his head, asking, in a way, to understand what you were on about.

So you shook your head too, and latched onto his loose collar. You yanked Brian closer because you weren’t angry. You were actually feeling fine all of a sudden about everything. Only sure that you had to kiss him again good and proper. It was your first kiss with him, really, as your mouths moved together. Brian’s fingers were wrapped around your arm again, less claw-like than moments ago. And he didn’t seem too keen to break away from pushing you a little closer to the wall, a second time around.

But just as you lost yourself to the feeling of Brian’s frame moulded against your own, your name was hollered from somewhere down the hall. Music grew louder over the speakers that reached out to the sparsely decorated hall. Brian let you go, and you released your latch on his shirt to wipe your lips in a hurry.

But before you could scurry away, you watched Brian watch you prepare to bolt, and couldn’t help the small smile blooming across your face. He smiled, too.

You looked a mess. You were a mess. And you might’ve been one step away from fucking this whole thing up. But for the first time all year, you accepted it.

///

Your second record, somehow, was praised by the label and adored by the steadily growing following you’d gained. The old burnt out hippie man who ran your home town record store stood from his torn leather stool and applauded you, the day you came in to buy the Talking Heads new record.

“You’re really finding your sound, man.” The old hippie grinned. You told him to sit back down and thanked him despite your embarrassment. He asked you to autograph the cash box and gave you a discount on the album you bought.

After your single reached the top five in the charts, you talked Joane back around. It wasn’t easy. You had to promise you’d keep a cooler head, and she did too. She started stopping over every Sunday with a book of songs for you to think up a tune to, and turned the radio up every time one of your hits came on air. You laughed when she danced around your coffee table like it was the first time she was hearing your band name on the lips of a local dj.

Wilda cut all her hair off and wore the shoes Roger bought her everywhere. She talked about him after every breath, but you knew she hadn’t talked to him in months. Queen were busy planning a tour of Europe and trying to save the families that hadn’t already slipped through the cracks at the homes they bought but hardly visited.

You knew because you called Freddie to ask after Brian.

“Why are you asking about Brian?” You could hear the smile in Freddie’s voice, after he’d finished gabbing about the others.

“I want to know how all you boys are, naturally.” You panicked, realizing how lame your excuse was as you spoke it into the receiver. Freddie only hummed after a beat, and let another silence linger before speaking up again.

“I know you both secretly care for each other. Just give him time love, he’ll come around.” Freddie chirped before giving you a sweet farewell and hanging up.

Throughout your ever-changing year, Freddie had been more than kind to you. He’d become your friend. He gave away secrets like a kid at a slumber party. And when Brian came up in his conversation, Freddie always got serious. When the singer told you about the rough year Brian had been through, and the state of his well being, Freddie seemed to look at you with all of the seriousness in the world. Like he was desperate for you to understand. Did he know you were desperate to understand? Did he know Brian kissed you?

You could have phoned Brian. But you were too busy secretly hoping he’d ring you.

///

Your only notable call came from Jim, who gently nudged you to agree to being Queen’s opening act, once again.

“It’s what the fans want, according to the label. It’s what the label wants.” Jim explained, in the soft, kind, way that protected the guy from ever receiving a glare or harsh word from you, or Brian, you realized.

“We’ll do it, if the royal court isn’t up in arms.”

“Freddie said, and I quote, 'Beg her on my behalf and tell her I’ll fly home from Barcelona to do it myself if she even thinks of saying no.’”

So you called your band, packed a bag and showed up to the airport at five in the bloody morning with a smile on your face.

And then you were off. For the first week, a local band had been chosen from each new city, to open for Loba. By the time you, Wilda, and Joane took the stage, each audience of what seemed like billions were more electric than the last. You’d never had more fun, jumping around to the music you’d worked your ass off to create with the girls. You each ran off stage, changed in a flurry and ran back to the sidelines to watch Queen light up the black ink night. And like the last time, that was about the only time you’d see much of them- till one show got delayed when a wicked storm showed no signs of passing.

Roger took Wilda to dinner, and she followed his burning trail after about a minute of pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Joane made a speech about everyone catching up one sleep, before she crashed in your bed with her shoes still on. After unlacing her heavy boots and tossing them aside, you went to find your favourite band of boys gathering in the lobby with plans to go out.

“Now the party can really start.” Crystal grinned, reaching to wrap a strong arm around your neck as he pulled you to follow the gang to the limo in waiting. You broke loose of the roadies hold and shoved him into the back of the car before crouching in yourself.

A couple of girls you’d never met sat on either side of Freddie, and cast their doe eyes to John who scooted over to make room for you. And holding the bassist’s attention was Brian, who had yet to look your way all week. Ah, just like old times. You both had been busy. But you couldn’t stop from wondering if there was something more to it…

Had you upset Brian beyond your wildest dreams, when you kissed? Did he smile at you after it happened in the way people who were so angry did, that their furry appeared in a mask of calm?

Or… did you finally get him to shut up for good? Did he realize how unremarkable you were? That you weren’t even good enough to bicker with any longer? Pushing his buttons was one thing. But you always hated the times you and Brian paired harsh words with those deadly glares. Now that you were getting the silent treatment though, you’d take his arguing with you with a relieved smile.

Freddie pulled you along into a club adorned in sickening green uplighting. The purple-tinted insides held a crowded bar and a dance floor where patrons overflowed toward the restrooms. Some tune by The Velvet Underground was pulsing through the speakers as Freddie spun you around, dancing you both closer to the mass of people doing the same.

You noticed members of your group beginning to lose themselves in the crowd when you decided a drink was in order. The bar was packed, so much so that you nearly couldn’t turn to see who you’d wedged yourself against until you felt him tense up.

Brian kept his eyes on the wall decorated with drink options and dared not move as you shifted to notice him. His hip jabbed into your side, his white knuckles rested on the ledge of the bar brushed against your arm as he drew his hands together.

“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” You asked all of a sudden. If it were up to you, you would have cornered Brian like he’d cornered you, that night. But the tour had been so busy, and this was the closest you’d been since the night he pushed you against the wall… And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, Brian kept his eyes pointed front and said nothing.

“You kissed me first, ya know?” You spoke plainly, desperate for a response.

The barman shoved a tall drink toward Brian’s chest just then, at the same time Freddie reached past a few strangers to yank his guitarist toward the dance floor. As he was pulled away, Brian’s eyes swept over yours, and they were prettier than ever.

///

You’d nearly forgotten all your troubles that weekend, as everyone rushed to make up the cancelled show with two in a row, and one another city away with no time to sleep, not really.

After a montage of screaming crowds, ringing guitars, and squirming in and out of too-tight clothes, a three day break awaited the lot of you at long last. You trekked behind familiar faces down a lime green hotel hall, and dreamed of sleeping until you were good and ready to wake up.

Freddie waved as he twirled into his room, and Roger followed Wilda all the way down the hall. And while you watched your feet move toward your room number a few dozen doors away, you were stopped in your tracks.

You grinned when you recognized the feeling of the fingers around your arm, and the way Brian dragged you in his tow. You didn’t have far to go, just behind the door he was already closing in one swift move…

And in a flash, the door was shut and he was kissing you like how he did before, without a word, all of a sudden. Like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You kissed him right back, like you’d been dreaming of doing since you knew how nice it was.

And then you shoved him away. Because you wanted this, but not like last time.

“You’re not going to leave me in the quiet after tonight are you? I might at least be able to stand the radio silence if I knew what it was all about.” You searched Brian’s face in the dark. All the while, you kept ahold of his shirt sleeves and slowly found your way to his haphazardly made hotel bed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d treated you with all the interest of a passive-aggressive house cat since the day you met. Brian went quiet as you guided him to sit on the mattress, leary to close the space between you until he spoke up again. Though his long fingers fell feather-light against your hips, you only kept yours on his shoulders and held his gaze, silently hoping he’d speak up again.

“Of how desperately I’ve always wanted you.” He whispered while his fingers curled to grip you the slightest bit closer. “There were about one thousand reasons I was afraid of ever kissing you, and they all seemed even scarier after I did.”

Brian let his eyes rake up your figure before meeting your own. His lips were close enough to brush yours now. It made such sense, now. All those looks weren’t really glares. All those bitter words weren’t so malice. The tension that lied between you and Brian was all to do with how badly you’d wanted to be this close all along.

Maybe he was afraid to cross that line, because of all the love he’d so recently lost. Or maybe it was because of how young and dumb you really were. And maybe it was because of something you wouldn’t come to find out for a while, yet. You decided there wasn’t time to worry over why, tonight. That could come later.

“I hope you realise now, there’s nothing to fear.” You wrapped a hand around Brian’s neck and watched his eyes search yours in the dark. Then he nodded, softly bumping his head against yours. He pulled you closer between his legs and kissed you. You pushed him to lay down and started on your mission to show Brian just how fond of him you really were.

“I’m still pissed that we could have been doing this ages ago.” You breathed a laugh as Brian’s teeth grazed your neck.

“Never could handle not getting your way, could you?” He hummed against the skin you’d started to expose.

“I mean it.” You chuckled, tugging at a few of Brian’s highlighted curls. His head lulled until he was looking at you again. Brian stayed perfectly fitted against you while his eyes peered into yours. You recognized the uncertain look on his face, but it was different than before. Softer. Sadder, maybe.

“You really want this?” He asked in a soft timbre.

“Yes.” You nodded, tracing the length of his nose just because. A bit of quiet lingered after your assurance.

“But do you want me?” Brian asked in a hush. His sweet voice saturated in a worry you didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah,” You nodded again, searching his pretty hazel eyes as you placed both of your hands on the sides of his lovely face. “I want you Bri.”

The kiss you shared then was one that meant more than you knew a kiss could. There was something about Brian, a part of him you’d always longed to know. You felt closer than ever to that side of the guitarist now, when he deepened the kiss, and you felt him smile.

///

You woke up with a song in your head. A melody left over from a dream. But instead of rushing to find a pen and paper, you rolled over to covet the warmth of your unexpected company.

Brian draped an arm across your middle and hummed in delight when you nuzzled closer. You stayed like that, perfectly content in the tangled up sheets, watching the patterns of the sun through the window on their slow shift across the room.

“We’re going to have to leave this bed at some point you know?” You sat up a little after dozing off for the third time in a row. Brian stayed happily tucked close to your side. “And someone is more than likely going to figure this out.”

“That’s fine by me.” Brian shrugged, peering up to you from the pillows you leaned against.

“We’re supposed to hate each other.” You reminded through a sleepy chuckle. Brian only grinned and blinked, conjuring up a thought.

“I never hated you. I might always be sorry for picking such fights. I did always want the best for you, I just had a nasty way saying so.” Brian murmured thoughtfully.

He caught your eye once more and the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked to find you were already staring at him, trying to memorize the perfect outline of his profile against the bright sunlight. You inched lower to meet his gaze, and said,

“I think we might’ve finally figured out what’s best for both of us.”

And the way Brian looked at you then sent a chill down your spine that raced back up and shot through your heart in one go.

“S'Just, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” You joked to fight the way your heart was beginning to beat like a drum. Because you weren’t quite brave enough to fall all the way in love yet. But you decided just as quickly that Brian was probably worth falling for.

“I know. And sometimes you’re fucking unbearable.” He countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You noted with a laugh. You had it real bad for this guy. And that kind of scared the shit out of you. How could this have happened so quickly? How had you failed to see it coming? What if it was over no sooner than it began?

“But…” The only thing that broke through your hesitancy was Brian’s long fingers slowly trailing across your jaw. "Do you want me?“ You echoed his statement from the night before, in a hush. You’d only just realized the depth in asking so.

"Yeah.” Brian said, wrapping a lean arm snug around your middle without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

And he said so like he was trying to encapsulate all the things that made you whole and wonderful and unbearable all at once. And even then, you giggled before leaning in for a kiss.

You spent the rest of what was left of that morning doing all the things you’d done the night before. And when you decided to finally get dressed, you and Brian hopped into your clothes while squabbling over what and when to tell your friends.

You hoped you’d get to hear his maddening whinging on for the rest of forever. Because if it ever became too much, at least you’d finally discovered some pretty effective ways to shut each other up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may fanfiction #brian may imagine

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plasticnightmaredoll · 4 years ago

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(art commission by the lovely and talented @curious-menace)

It is a time where I would like to see what my followers think about various concepts I have in mind pertaining to alternate versions of one my fics. It may take some time to write out any alternate versions since I've been busy and stressed out so much lately, but I am very curious as to what others would find intriguing to read.

But first, some backstory so be patient. We'll get to the voting at the end of this post.

I've been having a lot of bad days lately, and my mood has plummeted to a major low. This includes my self-esteem, which has always been in the dumps but is now basically a dumpster fire.

However, I don't want to be entirely cruel to myself. I deserve some sort of happiness, some sort of reprieve, and writing can be a good coping mechanism. I put a lot of my own thoughts, emotions, struggles, opinions, etc. into my works, as they serve as a way for me to get things off my chest. Sometimes, it's just cute and funny stuff, other times angsty but eventually fluffy stuff, and other times it's quite depressing and dark.

One fic, in particular, stands out, and that is the Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, "Volunteer," (trigger warnings: mentions psychological torture and suicide...more about this fic in a bit for those who would rather not read it because of those triggers) which features Arkham Knight Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane, as well as a lady friend for Edward named Sara. It also features Erron Black and Cassie Cage from Mortal Kombat (Cassie is only mentioned in the story a few times).

If you read the blog intro/self-introduction post pinned at the top of my Tumblr, you know very well how I feel about Cassie Cage (particularly in MK11) and the Erron Black x Cassie Cage (BlackCage) pairing. Those negative feelings are mostly due to a very bad experience with a pushy BlackCage fan who just wouldn't relent one bit on their stance and it was emotionally and mentally draining to try and talk to them, including providing counter-arguments.

I've come up with alternate versions for "Volunteer" recently due to the spike in stress, depression, anxiety, and insecurities I've been dealing with as of late. This is where my followers come in!

I would like people to vote on which alternate take on "Volunteer" they would be interested in reading. Now, I can't guarantee when I'd get to it because, as I mentioned already, I've got a lot going on. However, I really want to try and write at least one alternate version of that fic, just to get some insecurities and negative thoughts off my chest.

Now, for those who are wary of reading "Volunteer" because of the trigger warnings, here's my advice: Just read the first chapter, if you want to. Chapter 2 deals directly with the sensitive subject matter, although, you can probably guess what happens anyway just by reading Chapter 1 and if you know anything about Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow...well, he likes to mess with people...mentally. To put it very mildly.

Now it's time for the voting. I have three different scenarios I've come up with that are variations/alternate versions of the current "Volunteer" fic's concept/storyline. I'd like followers to select 1 (one) alternate telling of the fic. I will open anonymous asks again, so if you are shy or just want your vote to remain a secret for some other reason, then that's fine by me. Otherwise, you can reply to this post with your choice.

Edit: if you are turned off by the idea of a Mortal Kombat/Batman Arkhamverse crossover, I get it. I don't read crossover fics myself, and that's usually because the crossovers either make no sense or do make sense but the ideas are poorly executed.

This crossover I'm talking about, though, isn't a full-on crossover of MK and Batman. There's no world-building, no larger plot, and no other characters in MK even appear or are mentioned except Erron Black and Cassie Cage.

If anything, it's more of a Batman Arkhamverse standard AU with Riddler and a female oc, and Erron and Cassie are the only concrete elements of MK brought in. I mean, yes, the other MK characters exist, I guess, but they have no purpose in this crossover I've written, and won't make any appearances.

So, if you had any concerns about the crossover aspect, I hope this clears things up

Choices below the cut!

A) "Don't You Wish"

This version is inspired by a song from Pink, called, "There You Go." In this alternate telling, Erron manages to survive Scarecrow's fear toxin, and escape (most likely because Erron is out of his mind and panicking, thus not a threat, and he has no one to help him, so Scarecrow doesn't give a damn what happens to the dude). The first thing Erron does is go to Sara's place, having already broken up with Cassie after realizing dating her was a mistake, and Sara means more to him than he thought.

Well, it's been several months since Sara basically pushed Erron out of her life for his poor choice in women, and (Arkham Knight) Edward Nigma has proven to be a much better (and, wiser and more sensible -- yes, I know, but he's not a skirt chaser, Guys) friend to Sara. While Erron ran off with a blonde selfie princess, Edward offered genuine comfort and companionship, and now Sara has been in the process of moving on from Erron even further.

Sara humors Erron and lets him tell her -- while sounding terrified, confused, and conflicted beyond belief thanks to the fear toxin -- what happened to him. Now, Sara doesn't know Edward asked Scarecrow to take care of Erron as a means of getting revenge for her. Doesn't matter anyway. She's unsympathetic towards Erron's plight, feeling as if he didn't even give her a chance to confess her feelings towards him, nor did he even seem to notice how she felt; it was like he was too busy with thinking with his privates to realize he had someone in front of him who would have treated him better.

Sara tells Erron -- in a flat, disinterested tone -- that his situation is tragic and all but wtf is she supposed to do? Why not go to his dumb blonde gf? Oh, they broke up? Well, how predictable. And Crane is also a (sort of) friend to Sara, which shocks Erron and leaves him feeling worse than before.

Sara sends Erron on his way, and he wanders off in a daze, unsure of what to do with his life now.

Sara and Edward meet the next day, and they have a pleasant time, obviously moving towards becoming a couple. She chooses not to mention Erron as she is completely severing the cowboy from her life.

B) "I Don't Even Miss You"

This alternate telling is similar to the previous one, but this time it's inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "WTF Do I Know" (Hey, her Plastic Hearts album is actually fantastic!), and Edward is with Sara when Erron arrives at her place in a distressed state. At first, Sara deals with Erron in the hall of her apartment building, unsympathetic to his plight and basically telling him, "I told you so," and "too bad." Erron is getting more and more upset, even angry at Sara's callous tone, and starts to raise his voice, demanding to know why she is being so cold at a time like this?

Edward overhears Erron raising his voice to Sara, giving her a difficult time, and he gets pissed. Edward steps out into the hall and not only mocks Erron in various ways, but demands that he leave immediately, or what Scarecrow did will seem like a trip to Disney Land. Erron has caused Sara -- who is currently moving on and growing closer to Edward -- enough problems and heartache.

Edward reveals he set up Erron, and while Sara is stunned to find this out, she handles it better than expected. Edward said it was his way of getting revenge for her, and he'd do it again if need be. Erron is sent away feeling so much worse, feeling lost, hopeless, and betrayed.

Sara and Edward talk and she admits she's upset that he did something like this without speaking about it to her first. However, he explains that he genuinely did it for her and he doesn't want her to feel pain at the hands of some "idiotic cowman," who doesn't consider the feelings of others and who behaves like a greedy, violent Neanderthal. (And yes, Edward does care for Sara, and he didn't send Scarecrow after Erron out of jealousy -- maybe a little jealousy but it was mostly rage over Erron causing Sara so much emotional pain)

Sara means more to Edward than he can express, and he may not be the best when it comes to emotions, but he does care about her and wants her to be safe.

Sara forgives Edward, understanding that, through his heartfelt but very nervous and shy confession that he is sincere about his feelings for her, and they make amends. She of course tells him to never do something so extreme without consulting her first, though, because what happened to Erron -- while she doesn't care what happens to him in the slightest -- was a bit too much.

C) "Listen When the Devil's Calling"

Another title inspired by a Miley Cyrus song, "Night Crawling," and this alternate telling involves Telltale Riddler and no Scarecrow. Almost a year has passed since Erron went with Cassie and Sara, out of bitterness and heartache, refused to speak or see him. This didn't sit well with him as she was his only friend, and his relationship with Cassie dies within a few months.

He goes looking for Sara, realizing she has moved out of her apartment. It doesn't take him long to find out where she is, and she's with The Riddler, a notorious criminal genius and one of Gotham's elite villains. Erron is worried for Sara and seeks her out.

Turns out, Sara's just fine. This isn't one of those scenarios where the girl is with a guy who just using her and taking advantage of her vulnerability. No, Edward does actually love her and takes good care of her. He finds people like reckless, selfish, and ignorant people like Erron to be a disgrace but also amusing because of how pathetically primitive they are.

Edward also doesn't appreciate how Erron pushed aside a good thing in Sara to pursue a girl who is a social media brat and has more selfies on her phone than brain cells in her, well, brain. It defies all logic to Edward, but he's also not surprised because of how much of a disappointment Erron is as a human being (hey, this is Riddler we're talking about, and he's not one to be sweet and gentle to those he can't stand). Edward doesn't say these things out loud, though, as it's a bit too vulnerable and personal for him to do such a thing with someone he doesn't know or trust.

Sara is upset that Erron has resurfaced and she remembers how heartbroken she was when he went after Cassie Cage. She wants Erron to leave her alone like she asked, so she can move on. She can't trust him anymore, because he's just a skirt chaser in her eyes.

Erron tries to plead his case, tries to apologize to Sara, and expresses how he really feels, but this just distresses her further. Edward steps in and tells Erron he's done enough to Sara, she clearly doesn't want to see him, and he needs to take his leave.

This isn't a request.

Edward pulls Erron aside, telling the cowboy that the only reason he's going to walk away from this alive is that Sara hasn't asked for him to be killed. Should she tell Edward to take care of Erron, well, you all know what Telltale Riddler is like.

And those are the three variations on "Volunteer."

If you could be so kind as to: