#honestly. this fill me with a childish kind of glee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

breakyeol · 5 years ago

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how to kiss

drabble

warnings: smut, slutty baek

a/n; I feel like baek is freaky on the low

“What, have you never kissed anyone before?”

There it was. The question you’d been hoping to avoid as long as possible. But it was inevitable, especially in a place like this, surrounded by people wasted out of their damn minds, and playing a childish game of truth or dare. Could you have expected anything less?

A telling grimace twisted your features, your eyes swinging shamefully from the face of the boy who’d asked, that damned Park Chanyeol, to the shocked faces of your other peers, and finally to the floor. “No way,” Minseok scoffed in disbelief, arms crossing firmly over his chest, “it’s not possible.”

Your blatant lack of response had several gasps bouncing around the small circle of people that had formed on the bedroom floor. “Y/n,” Jongin began carefully, “you’re not trying to say that you, a twenty three year old senior in college, have never kissed someone before… are you?”

Actually, that was exactly what you’d hoped to avoid saying.

“Oh you have got to be kidding!”

“I’ll kiss you.”

Silence immediately cut through the commotion, all eyes turning to look at the smirking face of Byun Baekhyun. There was a mischievous glint in his dark eyes as he stared across the circle at you.

“What?” You managed to choke out through your initial shock.

“I’ll kiss you,” he repeated easily, voice sounding confident and steady. Your eyebrows twitched in utter disbelief at his words. Was he making fun of you? By suggesting something as ridiculous as that? He couldn’t be serious… could he?

“Why?”

His grin widened, “why not?”

Because Byun Baekhyun had a reputation. And not a pretty one, at that. He was known around your college campus as the kind of guy that got around. The kind of guy to hop into anyone’s bed if given the slightest opportunity. Whether those rumors were based on facts or pure speculation, you’re not completely sure. Though, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if they were completely true.

But there was something about his offer that you couldn’t deny was tempting. It wasn’t like you had intentionally been saving up your first kiss for your ‘true love’ or some bullshit like that. It just so happened that there’d been no such opportunity presented to you to get this burdensome first kiss over and done with.

“Okay.”

The word escaped you before you could so much as second guess. The shot of straight vodka you’d taken not too long ago was probably to blame for that. He looked pleasantly surprised by your response, eyebrows quirking upwards. Without saying a word, he handed off the bottle of vodka off to Sehun before standing. You swallowed thickly, watching with wide eyes as he made his way over to where you sat on the opposite end of the circle. He dropped slowly onto his knees in front of you.

Up close… he was somehow even more attractive. Everything seemed visible, the hint of brown eyeshadow adorning his eyelids, the light traces of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, the tantalizing strawberry hue on his small –yet plump– naturally pouted lips—

“You sure you can handle it?” He teased at your stunned expression, the tip of his tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth. The almost patronizing tone of his voice set a fire of determination alight in your gut, and you set your features, trying to control the suddenly rapid beating on your heart.

You tried your best to mimic his relaxed expression, lifting a brow while your lips curved upwards into a lazy smirk, “can you?”

You barely even got the question out before his lips connected with yours. Instinctively, your eyes fell shut, brows knitting inwards as you put every ounce of your concentration into not completely fucking up. The last thing you wanted was for someone as experienced as Baekhyun to say that you were a shitty kisser in front of a room full of people. Talk about humiliating.

“Relax.” You almost jumped at the sensation of Baekhyun’s soft murmur against your lips.

“Sorry,” you felt yourself flush in embarrassment, only able to manage a meek apology. But, the tension in your body was alleviated by the sound of his low chuckle. It wasn’t mocking, and you found yourself being silently grateful.

“It’s alright.” He didn’t waste another moment before allowing his warm hand to curl around the back your neck, gently drawing your lips back onto his.

Instead of focusing on not making a fool of yourself, you decided to focus on his lips— how they felt pressed against yours. They were soft. Why hadn’t you thought they’d be soft? God they were so soft. And they were warm… purposeful. The kiss deepened suddenly, his head tilting to the side as his fingers slid through the hairs on the back of your neck. It felt like he was trying to steal the breath out of your lungs. You shuddered as his tongue traced your bottom lip, gently nudging past it to dip into your mouth.

Oh god.

Your mind started feeling abnormally hazy, the oddly delicious flavor of vodka and mint on his tongue suddenly the only thing you wanted to taste for the rest of your life. It wasn’t until you felt the muscle flexing beneath your palm that you realized you’d grabbed hold of one of his thighs, grip tightening every time his lips or tongue or teeth did something particularly exciting. You almost fainted on the spot when he moaned softly into your mouth. If that wasn’t the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard— and holy fuck you’d just made Byun Baekhyun moan.

Pride sprung up within you, and you couldn’t resist doing a little happy dance in your head. In a bout of boldness, you sunk your teeth lightly into his bottom lip and tugged. He groaned deeply, and you peeled your eyes open just enough to watch it bounce back into place when you released it. That spark of glee only intensified when he drew his lips off yours just long enough to ask in a breathless, somehow hoarse voice, “fuck, you sure this is your first kiss?”

A smile tugged the corners of your lips upwards as you murmured in response, “positive.”

“Fuck.”

You would’ve probably would have laughed had he not slammed his lips into your so roughly a part of you worried they might bruise and begun kissing you like his life depended on it. It was fast paced, a little more difficult for you to keep pace with, but you managed, kissing him back with just as much ferocity.

“Shit, you guys gonna get a room already, or what?”

Embarrassment welled up within you upon remembering that you were, in fact, not alone. And that there was a whole room of people just watching you.

Bug you didn’t have much time to overthink that before Baekhyun was suddenly standing, pulling you up with him. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

Honestly, you barely heard the question over the sound of your heart thundering in your ears, but still managed a faint nod nonetheless.

“Are you sure?”

Your thundering heart suddenly faltered, and you focused your eyes onto his. Sincerity and concern sparkled within them. Something warm filled your chest. He wanted to make sure you really wanted to go with him, and weren’t just saying yes in the heat of the moment. Damn. Who would’ve guessed Byun Baekhyun could be so considerate.

A reassuring smile graced your features, and you squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m sure,” you paused before leaning in and whispering, “If you think I’m done with you already… you’d be sadly mistaken.”

The stunned expression on his face drew an amused giggle from his lips.

“Boys,” he suddenly grunted, quickly darkening eyes not leaving your face for so much as a millisecond as he addressed the others in the room, “Don’t wait up for me.”

You experienced more than just your first kiss that night.

#baekhyun #exo smut #exo scenarios #exo baekhyun #exo fluff #baekhyun smut #exo one shot #baekhyun imagine #exo reaction

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spaceorphan18 · 4 years ago

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #22

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Jesse St. James (New York)

Jesse is seated in the back of the plane, right over the wheels. It’s an excessively bumpy ride, made more embarrassing by the fact that he has to share it with a twelfth place glee club. Twelfth! He doesn’t even want to be seen with these people, let alone have to share a two hour plane ride. But he did agree to share directorship over the club with Mr. Schuester. He is, after all, nothing but professional. The second they land, however, he’s getting the hell out of Lima. It is too small for him and his talent. It’s not like they ever listened to him anyway.

A few rows up, he hears the laugh of Rachel Berry. Not helping himself, he leans a little to the left, looking through the spaces in the seats to see her playfully punching Finn Hudson in the arm. Gross. It’s bad enough that their momentary lapse of judgment led to an unwarranted and, frankly, disgusting act of passion, during a performance no less, but the fact that it has seemed to have carried over into their personal lives is childish. Finn is a passing fad, a youthful obsession to obtain because of a lifetime’s worth of societal pressure has told her he is the person she wants. Someday she’ll realize that Finn is nothing more than an awkward man-boy, and that Jesse is the one who will forever be the duet partner of her heart.

“God, can you be any more obvious?” Kurt Hummel is seated in the aisle seat next to him, not looking up from the Vogue magazine he is reading.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jesse says, leaning back into his chair.

“Really?” Kurt asks, putting his magazine down as he raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re completely fine with the fact that Rachel and Finn kissed on stage, and look to be rekindling their classic on-again, off-again romance, while you’re sitting back here, not even an idle watcher in her life?”

Oh, Kurt thinks he’s going to out wit him. Cute. “That kiss -- cost you nationals. It was unprofessional, and honestly, I don’t know why the rest of you, other than the very intense, clearly lesbian Latina, aren’t more upset about it.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m sure it was less about the kiss, and more about the fact that we wrote those songs the night before. I’ll be the first to admit, probably not our best performance. But we still made it here, and it was still an amazing experience.”

“Interesting you should say that,” Jesse says, a smirk on his lips.

Kurt narrows his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“They made it here,” Jesse points out, much to Kurt’s distaste. “You, if I remember watching the Regionals performances carefully, were playing for another team - but, well, that’s kind of your thing, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“The Warblers are esteemed and, while maybe on the traditional side, rather admirable adversaries,” Jesse says. “But gathering from the video, and what Rachel has filled me in on, you guys decided that it would be a smart choice for you and your boyfriend to sing a duet together at a competition? No wonder you didn’t see a problem with Finn and Rachel’s inability to keep your sex lives out of the public eye, cause you decided to put it all on display as well. And how did that work out for you?”

Kurt’s face darkens. “You have no idea…”

“Oh, but I do,” Jesse says, with a head tilt. “The song was bad. Overemotional sentimentality really has no place in competition. And the performance, which yes, I did watch, was out of tune, pitchy, and I’m not sure who decided on those harmonies, but clearly someone didn’t play to your strengths, or they would have known not to give you the lower part. It sounded like cats screeching at each other. Also, didn’t Rachel say that the two of you have just started your relationship? A novice idea to emotionally masturbate during a competition, I get that, but why did you choose a break up song?”

Kurt stares at him in a stony silence for a moment. “Fuck you, Jesse.”

“Hey, I’m just telling it like it is,” Jesse says. Why does everyone get mad at him when all he’s doing is being truthful. He is so misunderstood.

They remain silent the rest of the plane ride.

#s.o. writes things #99 perspectives #hehe hee - i love jesse #and yes i hate candles #season 2 is done - whoo!#four more seasons to go -- headdesk

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autumnleopard · 4 years ago

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Cuddly & Soft

So~ I wrote a thing. It is based on this post here. So it is silly and soft, and involves big cats, Tony being a little shit, Loki being a good boyfriend, some bot-love, and shapeshifting. It very possibly is crack but honestly Idk, it’s just a fun little thing I wrote because I was stuck on another story and was bored.

Anyway, enjoy! Hope you’ll like it!

********

Loki walked into the lab with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll he had gotten for Tony at the coffee shop down the street from Avengers Tower– Tony loved that place and he had been huddled up in his lap for over twenty-four hours now, if it weren't for Loki coming in every once in a while and make him eat or drink something, or take a much needed break, Tony would've collapsed already. Loki didn't particularly like it when Tony pulled these lab binges, but he couldn't exactly lecture him because he was the same, only he huddled up in the library and forgot to eat or sleep as well. So Loki didn't stop Tony, he just made sure that he ate and drank and at least sometimes took a break, and Tony always let himself be convinced, even if rather reluctantly– Loki just had the better arguments.

The lab was filled with loud music blasting from the speakers in the ceiling, some rock song that Loki didn't know, which wasn't exactly a surprise because he hadn't yet let Tony introduce him to Midgardian music in detail. He did enjoy most of what Tony played in his lab though, so that was a start, right?

Anyway, Tony was sitting at one of his workstations, only in jeans and a black tank top, with his weird working goggles on. Loki was sure there was a proper name for them but if Tony had ever told him, he couldn't remember. Loki had to stop and take a deep breath to calm himself because he really loved that look on Tony, and he loved watching him work too, especially when it showed off his fine muscles…

Loki shook his head, that wasn't why he was here, but could he really be blamed? Sometimes he thought Tony did it on purpose because he knew full well what effect it had on Loki. Tony was a very handsome man and Loki wasn't above admitting that his brain momentarily crashed when he saw Tony like that, but he could control himself, most of the times at least.

Never mind.

As Loki got closer to Tony though, he noticed that the man wasn't actually working. His goggles were on his head and he was looking at a screen.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Loki asked, placing the coffee in front of Tony. Now that he got a good look at the screen, he realized that Tony was looking at a picture of… a cat? Okay, a big cat, but still a cat nonetheless.

Tony took a sip from the coffee and sighed happily. "Taking a break?"

"You are?" Loki gasped. "And I didn't have to remind you? Wonders never cease!"

Tony rolled his eyes and smiled up at him. "Very funny." Another sip of coffee. "I hit a dead-end and it frustrated me, so before I throw the whole thing at the wall and make DUM-E's day because he has to use the fire extinguisher, I thought I'd just step away from it for a bit."

"That's not very nice towards DUM-E though, you know how much he loves using the fire extinguisher," Loki pointed out, looking over to the bot who had his claw dropped. "You should make his day, a happy bot is a good bot."

"Sometimes I get the feeling you love DUM-E more than me," Tony mused, grinning up at Loki.

Loki laughed and put the cinnamon roll down on the empty plate that was still on the workstation since he had last come down here. "I don't, don't worry. I just think he deserves more recognition, and appreciation. He's trying his best."

"I appreciate him." Tony pulled Loki down into a soft kiss. "Have I ever told you how much I love it that you treat them as persons and not some emotionless machines? You're the only. You don't call them 'it' either."

"As far as I'm concerned, they have personality, and that justifies treating them thusly."

Tony kissed him again. "Anyway, trust me, DUM-E will get his chance. I often set things on fire."

"That you do, my dear."

Tony rolled his eyes but chuckled. "I love you too, Loki."

Loki chuckled and pressed a kiss to Tony's head. "Anyway, what exactly are you doing now?"

"Looking at pictures of big cats."

"Okay," Loki drawled. "Why?"

Tony smiled softly at the picture of a huge black cat on the screen and there was childish delight in his eyes, like he had just witnessed some kind of wonder.

"I like big cats," he eventually explained. "Like lions and tigers and panthers. They look so cuddly and soft."

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. "Like the ones that'll eat your face off?"

Tony's head whipped around and he stared at Loki. "IT WOULD'VE BEEN OUT OF LOVE!"

Loki backed away a bit and regarded Tony with a calculating, surprised glance. The man's face was soft and he was still smiling, like a little child, and honestly, Loki had never seen him like that. He had seen him inexplicably excited and even giddy, but this was different, Loki just couldn't tell exactly how.

Tony turned back to the screen, switching to a picture of a sleeping big cat, displaying a huge paw that could probably cover Tony's entire face.

"They have big toe beans," he muttered, clearly more to himself than to Loki. "They're like little toe beans, but big."

Okay, Loki could admit that the cat on the screen looked quite beautiful, the sleek black fur with faint spots. But his focus wasn't on the picture, it was on Tony and the sheer childish glow of his face, the soft look in his eyes, and the tiny smile. Loki couldn't exactly understand why Tony looked at a picture of a cat like that, but he found that he liked that look on him.

At least until Tony looked up at him grinning and with a rather mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Loki," he drawled and cocked his head a little. "You're a shapeshifter, aren't you?"

Loki's eyes widened and he raised a hand. "No, don't even think about it, Anthony."

"Aw c'mon! Please!"

"No, I'm not turning into a cat for you."

For a very short moment, Tony pouted, then he got up and backed Loki up against a table, trailing his collarbone with a finger, smiling at him tenderly before he kissed his jaw.

"Please, honey," he whispered against Loki's jaw, his hand resting on Loki's chest.

Loki tried not to react, he wouldn't give in, no nope, he wouldn't– but it was really difficult to resist Tony like this. He loved this, under different circumstances, he really did, but now it was just evil.

"Please, Lokes," Tony drawled. "For me?"

"Why?" Loki managed to ask, but it was in a very breathy tone.

Tony pulled away and Loki wasn't sure if he should be glad or disappointed about it. Some part of him practically screamed at him to not let Tony stop, but it wasn't his brain and so he didn't listen to it.

"Well, the chances of me ever coming face to face with a panther or any big cat are slim," he explained and crossed his arms over his chest. "Plus, I wouldn't risk having my beautiful face eaten off, as you so elegantly put it."

Loki took a deep breath, calming himself and then considered Tony for a moment. The pleading look in his wonderful brown eyes got to Loki, of course it did. Pepper called them 'puppy dog eyes' and now he understood why. How could he possibly resist this? It was already hard to resist Tony when he wasn't looking at him like that, Loki just wished that it was in a different context, a much more fun context– preferably involving him and Tony in bed, or on a couch, naked, but certainly not him turning into a cat to satisfy his boyfriend's curiosity.

On the other hand, seeing the childlike glee on Tony's face would most likely be worth it.

"Fine," he eventually sighed.

Tony squealed in delight and wrapped his arms around Loki, pressing a rather hard kiss to his lips– not that Loki was bothered by the force, mind you.

"You're lucky I love you," Loki mumbled as he straightened his posture and then walked over to the screen to look at the picture of the cat.

Tony chuckled. "I feel incredibly lucky, yes."

Loki rolled his eyes and took a few steps back from the workstation, Tony was eyeing him with curiosity and anticipation. Loki smiled slightly– yeah, it was worth it, that was a very nice look on the man, and so, in a matter of seconds, he shifted into the form of a panther, complete with faint spots and big toe beans and whiskers.

Tony squealed and approached Loki carefully, holding out a hand, even though he knew Loki would never hurt him. Loki lifted a paw and put it on his lover's hand, making a sound that could be interpreted as a happy growl.

"Wow, it's quite heavy," Tony observed, childlike wonder once again shining in his eyes as he inspected the paw. "Ooh, those toe beans!"

Loki rolled his eyes and nudged Tony's hand with his nose, before he lay down and rested his head on the man's thigh, closing his eyes. Tony smiled and started stroking the big cat's head, occasionally scratching him behind the ears.

"You do like this," Tony observed grinning.

As an answer, he received a growl, it didn't sound threatening or warning, actually it sounded quite soft and content. Tony chuckled and continued petting his currently feline boyfriend. The fur was actually quite soft and Tony gushed over the faint spots in it. Everything about this was great and he loved Loki even more now, if that was even possible.

For a long time, they just stayed on the floor of the lab, Tony kneeling and Loki lying in front of him with his head on his thighs. Tony enjoyed stroking the fur, earning growls of approval from Loki, which could be interpreted as purring.

After a while, Loki sat back up and tilted his head, before he raised a paw and put it flat on Tony's face.

Tony frowned. "What are you doing?" he asked, muffled by the panther paw.

Loki growled softly and removed his paw from Tony's face, just to close the distance between Tony and him and run his long, rough tongue over his face. Tony grimaced but also chuckled. It felt funny, a bit gross, but mostly funny.

"Yeah, you're enjoying this way too much for having been so reluctant about shifting," Tony said and scratched Loki under his chin.

Loki growled and lay back down, this time on his side, his head resting in Tony's lap. Tony smiled down at him and kept on petting him tenderly, just like he would caress Loki's skin when they were cuddling, or doing other stuff, y'know. Loki clearly seemed to enjoy it, judging by the soft rumble coming from his throat and his eyes being closed.

Tony knew that they could probably scare the ever-loving fuck out of the other Avengers, but for now he just wanted to enjoy this, his Panther-Loki. Tony loved it when Loki shapeshifted, or did any magic, for that matter. It was still a quite wild, surreal concept for him, the existence of magic and the Norse Gods and all that, but he liked it. Wrong, he liked to have Loki in his life, the endless joy this man brought him every day they were together was something Tony had never experienced before and he loved it, every moment of it.

Suddenly, Loki moved and got back up, Tony looked at him confused. Loki licked his hand and then carefully closed his jaw around it, pulling Tony along with him as he made his way over to the couch Tony had put in the corner of the workshop upon Loki's insistence. Tony smiled and followed willingly.

Loki let go of his hand, making sure he didn't accidentally hurt him with his fangs, and licked it for good measure, before he jumped onto the couch and sprawled out there. Tony chuckled and, from the look Loki was giving him, he knew exactly what was expected of him, so he lay down next to Loki, resting his head on his flank. Loki licked his hair, which made Tony giggle, and then rested his head on the couch, closing his eyes.

Even in the form of a panther, Loki still succeeded in convincing him to take a break, take a nap, which, okay, he kind of needed after being up for over twenty-four hours. And this was nice, weird but nice, he could feel Loki's slow, calm breathing and heartbeat, which he loved listening to under normal circumstances anyway. So Tony closed his eyes as well, turning to lay on his side, and rested a hand on Loki's paw.

It didn't take long for both of them to be asleep. Meanwhile, JARVIS had documented the whole thing, as it was something to keep as a memory, Tony cuddling with a panther on the couch in his workshop.

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

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KICKS (part one)

Roger visits the seediest shop in London in search of a kinky Valentine’s day gift for his girlfriend. He thinks he’s a great lay and he thinks he’s seen it all. He’s also dating one of the sexiest women in the country. It should be a recipe for sexual heaven for Roger, but he soon realises he has a lot to learn, and he keeps coming back to Kicks for more than just the odd ball gag or leather collar!

Warnings: Strong D/s themes later on. STRICTLY 18+. Notes: I said I’d post this in one go, but I lied. I’m gonna post it in parts because I love it. As always, feedback is much appreciated. If you like this, then please, for the love of all that is holy, reblog it (I am begging)! And if you’d like to be tagged, please just send me a message. Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @jennyggggrrr @sarahgurl09 @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy @brianssixpence @hellohellothere12

Valentine’s day was always hectic at Kicks, despite the locals being loathed to admit that they satisfied their fiendish fancies there – even for a few days of the year.

And for you, it meant working overtime to guarantee that the merchandise looked as tantalising as ever. It gave you the chance to let your creativity run wild, but you couldn’t go overboard with latex-clad, strap-on wearing mannequins in the front window. After all, the locals were still prudes.

While you were busy in the stockroom, filling a box of dildos for distribution, the bell above the front door chimed. It was a Wednesday evening. Things were winding down for the day. And you had assumed you’d be undisturbed until closing time.

Evidently not.

Your eyes rolled. “I’ll be through in a minute!”

“No need, take your time!”

When the cardboard box at your feet was brimming with rubber dongs and silicone schlongs, you hauled it up into your arms. But, you instantly bemoaned the decision to pile it so high that your arms buckled and you could barely peer over the top of your haul as you made your way back on to the shop floor. All you could see was a tuft of blonde hair lingering around the section of the store that housed every restraint under the sun.

“Are you alright?” the customer asked, scurrying into view.

You dumped the box on the cash desk and huffed, planting your hands on your hips. “Yep, yep, just fine. Just overextended myself.”

You turned to the customer to see a childish smirk peeking from the corners of his mouth. He was dying to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. After all, he had partied with strippers, witnessed wild drug-fuelled orgies and all kinds of debauchery. But here he was, like a naughty teenager in a sweetshop. Roger had never, ever, been in one of these kinds of shops before.

“Can I help you, handsome?” you pressed.

Roger snapped back to reality with a look of faux seriousness. His hand crept beneath the collar of his half-buttoned shirt to press against the curve between his neck and his shoulder. “Oh, yes. Yes. I’m… I’m looking for something to maybe tie my girlfriend up or something. For Valentine’s day, you know? Show her a good time.”

You found his meek facade quite endearing. Most customers had that look about them, but somehow, you expected more from the gregarious drummer of a rock and roll band. “Well,” you began, flinging out your arms. “You’ve come to the right place.”

Roger responded by diverting his gaze to his feet with an eye-crinkling smile.

You emerged from behind the cash desk and gave Roger’s arm a light slap. “Come on over and I’ll show you some of my wares.”

He trailed behind you like a shy little puppy, fumbling his hands in front of his body. “We haven’t really tried this before so I don’t know…”

“That’s ok,” you said, eyeing the wall of restraints for something to show him. You knew full well that Betsy Bright, darling of the Pirelli Calendar, coupled with Queen’s most desirable member, were destined for dirty escapades in the bedroom – even if they hadn’t got around to it yet. And they had to start somewhere.

“W-what about these? These look nice,” Roger mumbled. He held up a set of heavy-duty leather ankle and wrist cuffs for you to inspect.

“How does your girlfriend feel about all of this?” you asked.

“I don’t really know. Honestly, this was just a whim. I’ve already got her some nice knickers. Fred’s been in a couple of times. Joked that I might find something in here.”

That was a typical man response that you’d probably hear a thousand times throughout the Valentine’s frenzy and the annoyance you felt was palpable. Roger edged the cuffs back on to the display.

“Yeah, those might freak her out,” you remarked. “That’s like gifting a virgin a 14-inch dildo and no lube, and telling them to take it in ten minutes.”

“Noted.”

“Why don’t you start…” you said, trailing your hand over the display until you found what you were looking for. “With these?” You held up a set of satin straps for Roger to gaze at. “Much less intimidating. Really versatile. And they come in all kinds of colours.”

Roger took them and allowed the material to fall through his fingertips. “These are nice,” he said, dipping into the bag of department store goodies that hung from his wrist. When he lifted his hand, a whisper-thin, bottle green g-string dangled from his index finger. “Got any to match this?”

“Betsy Bright’s gonna look fantastic in those,” you said, handing him another set of straps.

He couldn’t meet your gaze and the flush of pink that spread from his chest to his jaw gave away even more of his embarrassment. “I hope so,” he said quietly.

“I can throw in a blindfold and a nice little scarf gag for an extra tenner if you want?”

Roger’s eyes were elsewhere; they darted around his surroundings with a coy curiosity. “That sounds great.”

“Do you want me to ring these up for you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, trailing behind you.

You could feel Roger’s eyes on you as you rang his kinky starter pack through the till and bagged them up for him. Every time you moved, his eyes moved with you. But when you looked up, he quickly looked away, towards the box of dildos beside you. “That’s twenty quid please,” you said, handing him his bag.

He gave you the money from his shaking hand and returned his eyes to the box. Intrigue got the better of him and made him pick up the biggest toy in there. He marvelled at it, turning it in his hand.

“Think you could manage it?” you smirked.

His face reddened again. “Oh, I’m… I’m just… could anyone?”

You nodded slowly with your eyes bulging from your head and a scowl on your lips.

“I’d hate to be the poor woman whose undercarriage gets wrecked by that,” he mused. “How could anyone… Look! I can’t even get my hand around it.”

“Patience and a lot of lube.”

Roger’s mouth hung open as he looked at you again. “Have you? How did you… what?”

You giggled. “No! God no. But it’s possible. I think you’re curious, now though, aren’t you? I reckon you could take that if you really stretched yourself.”

The dildo was dumped back in the box in protest. “No,” he whispered, furiously shaking his head.

“I think you’re more interested than you’re letting on, but that’s alright. I won’t tell.”

“I’ll stick to sticking my dick in things. Rather than having things stuck in me. If that’s alright.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Whatever tickles your pickle!”

“I’m a great lay by the way. I’m just throwing that out there.”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped your lips. “Bet you’ve never found the g-spot.”

Roger leaned on the cash desk, screwing up his beautiful features, eager for you to impart your wisdom. “Sorry, what?”

One week later…

Rounding the corner, the morning sun sparked a blazing path before you. Beautiful, boring shopfronts blurred past you as your speedometer approached 60. Double the speed limit, but opening time was drawing closer by the second.

Never in your time at Kicks had you been late. And you weren’t going to let that happen today.

Turning the throttle, the needle spiked at 70, and then steadily eased as the shop came into view.

When your bike came to a stop opposite the shop, you hesitated for a moment, thanking your lucky stars you decided to don a visor that day. A customer paced back and forth, but you couldn’t see their face from that far away. It was rare to find customers pounding the pavement, waiting for the doors to open. Rarer still when that customer turned out to be Roger Taylor – again.

Whipping off your helmet and crossing the street, you caught Roger’s eye. Stopped in his tracks, he struggled to fight back a broad grin. And the way his eyes strayed.

You didn’t look at him when you slipped your key into the lock. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite customer! How’d Miss Pirelli get on? She like getting tied up?” You pushed the door open and switched on the lights. Roger followed.

“I’m not sure,” he said, scratching at the undersides of his arms as he wandered into the middle of the shop – and tried not to touch anything.

Weaving in and out of the group of catsuit-clad mannequins in the front window, you stopped and narrowed your eyes at Roger. “What do you mean: you’re not sure?” you asked, pulling up the blinds. “Don’t you talk?”

“Sure, as soon as I’ve spaffed my load down her tits and we’re lying there all sweaty and exhausted, I just... just turn to her and ask,” he paused, lowering his voice and pressing his hand to the side of his mouth, “darling did you like those silk ties and how was the little feather duster I tickled your fanny with? Sure!”

You shook your head and wandered over to Roger. “So you don’t do a thorough post-match analysis? How on earth do you communicate? Jesus Christ, Roger!”

“I think she liked it! Ok?”

“So you’re back for that monster cock you saw last week?” you asked with fake glee.

Roger crossed his arms and jutted out his hip. “No, actually.” As quickly as his face clouded over with indignation, it dropped even more into a serious gaze. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

You seemed to understand that this was unusual for Roger and that he wasn’t exactly used to opening up like this. “Coffee?”

He perked up ever so slightly, his arms dropping down by his sides. “Coffee.”

Roger followed you on your way into the back room, but he lingered just at the door and watched you make the coffee.

“I’ve got some chocolate digestives if you want some. You know, in case you need to eat your feelings,” you joked.

“Wouldn’t say no,” he laughed. “I don’t think I’m quite at that point just yet.”

“Right,” you began, thrusting Roger’s coffee into his hand on your road back to the shop floor. “Tell me all of your woes, drummer boy.”

You and Roger hauled yourselves on to stools on opposite sides of the cash desk. He looked down, staring into the cup in his hands. And then he looked up. “Actually I think I will have a biccy, please.”

Without a word, you plucked a single chocolate digestive from the packet and slid it towards him like a seedy bartender. But you kept your finger on it when he tried to take it.

He shot you a frustrated glare.

“A moment on the lips and all that,” you quipped, “I’ll give you this if you tell me what’s bugging you.”

Roger puffed out his cheeks and maintained eye contact with you – he looked like he was begging, but you wouldn’t budge even with his fingers planted on the outer edges of the now melting chocolate biscuit.

“Come on. That layer of chocolate’ll be long gone before you’ve ‘fessed up!”

“This is weird, talking to someone I don’t even know about it.”

You shrugged. “I sell naughty tapes to sweaty old men and rubber dolls to greaseballs with bad breath – and I have to smile about it. Trust me, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s going to happen to me today. Spill the beans.”

Roger tilted his head to the side with a coy smile. He wasn’t sure where to begin or how to verbalise his feelings on the matter. “Ok. So last week went well. I think she liked it. And I think she wants more of that but…” Roger trailed off. His eyes darted in the air as if he was reading from a script he had tried to commit to memory. But he was lost.

“Right, eat that,” you instructed, letting go of the biscuit.

Roger took it, dunked it in his coffee and took a bite. “It’s just,” he began through his mouthful, “it didn’t feel right for me.”

Even if you hadn’t the foggiest idea what Roger meant by that, you still made a good show of pretending that you did, nodding and dishing out an understanding, “Ah, I get you. Takes a bit of getting used to.”

Roger was dunking the other half of his biscuit when he continued. “I just didn’t feel comfortable with it, you know? I like sex. Love sex. But I felt like I’d rather have all of that done to me. And it just gets really tiring when she expects me to… perform... all the time. She wants me to pull her hair and put my hands around her neck… spank her. And I don’t know how to feel about that.” Roger finished pouring his heart out by lifting his biscuit out of his mug. It was sodden and fell apart upon removal, much to Roger’s disdain. “Well, that’s my coffee ruined.” He looked back up at you. “So yeah.”

“Have you tried – I don’t know – telling her this?”

“I did, but she was kind of dismissive about it. She told me it’s no big deal. But I’m intrigued. I want that… but for me.”

“Well, you need to figure out if it’s a crucial part of your relationship. Are you serious with Betsy?”

Roger shrugged. “She’s fun to look at, and she’s always, you know, up for it. But it’d be nice to let go for a bit. I’m not even sure how I’d feel about doling out any of the rougher stuff that she wants to try. Plus she’s a bit of a bimbo, you know?” he added, cupping his hands around a pair of imaginary breasts on his chest. “Not much going on in the brain.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that last bit and just tell you how it is,” you stated. “So. The way I see it is you’ve got two – maybe three – problems here,” you announced, sitting up straight. “Number one: the Venn diagram between your kinks and your girlfriend’s kinks don’t really align. She expects you to be just as savvy and into it as she is, and I’m gonna hazard a guess here, you haven’t been as adventurous as she has. Sound right?”

“Right,” Roger nodded enthusiastically.

“Number two: you’re apprehensive because you’re not as savvy as you thought you were. You’re not comfortable diving into all the debauchery she wants, because you’ve still got much to learn.”

“Yep.”

“And third: I think you’d rather be submissive in bed.”

Roger thought about that final point for a moment. His brow furrowed as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I think I’ve nailed it,” you said.

“I think you have. Maybe.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Roger’s eyes lightened. “I’m going to need to have a long, hard think about that one, aren’t I?”

“You’re damn right you do.”

NEXT PART >>

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen #queen imagine #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fic #roger taylor x you #queen x you #roger taylor fanfic #please validate me

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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years ago

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Doctor Who (2005) Fic - The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Title: The Goldilocks Vacation Conundrum

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Pairing: None

Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yaz Khan, Ryan, Graham

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Banned Together Bingo Prompt: Alien Weatherman

Additional Tags: Crack-ish, Prompt: Alien Weatherman, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Humor, The Doctor does not know how to pick human appropriate vacation spots, Poor Graham keeps falling because of the Doctor’s poor TARDIS parking skills, Post Season 10

Summary: Essentially, a semi-crack-ish fic where the Doctor tries to suggest vacation spots to her companions, and misses the mark. Until she gets it right.

After all, third time is the charm.

Excerpt:

The Doctor swiped through a few more potential vacation spots, this time, Ryan joining them. There were several that caught the eyes of the crew, but each time that Graham asked for the dangers, there was always one.

Tentacle monsters, giant crabs, Multiple-headed monsters, noxious gas, acid-spitting monsters, poisonous fruits, monsters with giant horns, unfriendly natives, evil tyrannical rulers that were wary of tourists. What was with all the monsters, honestly?

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314952

///

The TARDIS fam were sitting on the steps next to the central console waiting for the Doctor to return. She had said she would only be a moment and for them to stay.

“I just need to grab this one thing from a friend, I’ll be back before you know it. No need for you to follow me!” she had said, bouncing around the console as the TARDIS landed on another planet, nearly sending Graham to the floor from the abrupt stop.

“But doc-” Graham had started to protest only for her to already be halfway out the door, coat in one hand, and an extremely long rainbow scarf in the other.

“Five minutes at most. Just wait here!” was all the humans heard before the door swung shut.

Graham sighed. “Well that is not going to happen.”

“Who wants to bet she will get stuck on an adventure?” Ryan had asked, mischievous glint in his eyes.

Yaz barked a laugh. “What kind of a naive idiot do you take me for Ryan? The bet should be the kind of adventure she goes on. My guess is tentacle monster.”

“You’re on, I think it is alien species that wants to conquer the planet.”

“Ohhhh, good one, damn I want to change my bet.”

“No way too late!”

“Graham, what about you?”

“I don’t know about the doctor, but personally, I am going for an adventure to the kitchen. I want tea.” Graham had said, waiving off the groans from the other two. He did press the pedal to get a creamy custard biscuit as he walked by though.

That had been almost four hours ago. In the meantime, Graham had had his tea and biscuits, finished his book, taken a small nap, and wound up back in the console room, playing poker with Yaz and Ryan. The younger two members of the ship had tried to venture out of the ship, only to find they were parked at the top of a very steep cliff with no houses or identifiable signs of civilization in sight. And rather than risking getting lost, had ventured back into the ship.

Graham was chuckling as he won the hand for the fifth time in the row, collecting the candy they were using as betting markers when the Doctor burst into the room, tracking mud throughout the entrance as loud bird screeching followed her. She quickly barricaded the door with the bar she kept next to the door and ventured inside.

“Well fam, sorry for the delay, but I see you kept yourselves entertained.”

“Say doc, have you ever actually run an errand where things didn’t go tits up?” Graham asked as he opened one of the mints from his winnings. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yaz passing some money to Ryan.

“I resent the implications Graham, I will have you know I have had plenty of successful errands where nothing went wrong.”

At the silence from the three humans, she looked up from she was fiddling with the console controls again. “I have!”

Graham scoffed as Yaz made an empathetic noise and Ryan rolled his eyes fondly.

“Sure you have Doctor.” Ryan said as he stood up.

The Doctor’s comeback was interrupted by a piercing cry and the distinct sound of claws (or talons) against wood.

“Whoopsie, looks like we have overstayed our welcome!” The Doctor said before pulling down the lever. The trio of humans just managed to brace themselves before the ship took off, shaking like a teacup during an earthquake.

After a couple more minutes, the wheezing sound faded as the ship managed to land somewhere.

“Hey Doctor, where are we?” Yaz as as she peered into one of the monitors on the console. It was still displaying that odd (but beautiful) circular writing the Doctor had called Gallifreyan, but she could also make out a landscape. It was a flat field, with what looked like medium height grasses (green), under a clear sky (purple, which weird but cool), and a scattering of trees that almost resembled pine trees but had normal leaves.

“Ah, thanks for asking Yaz! Welcome to Brosha, in the Aresa galaxy. I figured I owed you guys a proper vacation, and this place has the best food this side of the Andromeda galaxy made from corn. Well, it is actually eir but tastes very similar to Earth’s corn. Looks similar too!”

The three humans were not looking at her as impressed as she was hoping. Her smiled dimmed a bit. “No?”

Ryan answered. “Doctor, that is really nice of you, but none of us are really big fans of corn. Also you are hiding something from us.”

“No I am not.”

Yaz chuckled. “Yes you are. You have a tell.”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I do not!”

“You do too!”

“I-”

Graham cut off the childish squabbling. Honestly one was an officer of the law, and the other was a two thousand year old alien. It was undignified. “Alright enough. Doc, this sounds nice, but what’s the catch?”

“There are, rarely, every once in a while, stampedes of these huge moose like things. But honestly the chances of that happening while we are there are-”

“Sky high. Doc, we tend to always be around for the once in a blue moon situations. How about elsewhere?” Yaz said gently.

The Doctor pouted, but turned and fiddled with her monitor before brightening.

“Oh, I got one. What about Brakem in the Uccas galaxy? Hot springs filled with healing crystals, soaps and scents from around the universe. Never really rains, two suns, three moons. Gorgeous orange skies.”

“And?” Ryan asked, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Doc, this would be easier if you just mentioned the catch too.” Graham added.

“Average temperatures outside of the resorts are about 40℃.”

No way in hell. Mainly cause it sounded to be about the same temperature. “Next option Doc.”

The Doctor whined but looked at her monitor again. Graham went to sit on the stairs, he had a feeling they’d be there for a while.

“Ok, fine. How about, um, no not that one, ooh that would be, no nevermind, oh! No.” The Doctor muttered as she swiped at her monitor. Yaz went to stand beside her, watching her flick past some amazing landscapes. One in particular caught her eye, and she must have a sound because the Doctor looked at her. “Yaz?”

“What’s that?”

“This one? This is Chebara.” On the screen was a massive lake, extending seemingly to the horizon. The sky was so purple, but so clear she could almost make out stars and other planets in the photo. To one side of the lake she could see a massive hill rising from the ground, clouds covering it from about midway. In the middle of the lake, giant trees that seemed to be floating?

“Are those trees floating?”

“Oh yes, they are Ubal trees, their fruits produce dyes that don’t fade even after a thousand years. Very valuable.” The Doctor explained, glee filling her eyes again.

“Is it safe?” Graham asked. He loved the Doctor, but safety somehow never made it into the woman’s priority list.

“Graham, where is the fun in that?” The Doctor asked, only to be met with a raised eyebrow that would not be swayed. She sighed. “There is a small chance we may encounter the giant alligator-hippos that inhabit the lake.”

“No.”

“But Yaz wants to go!” the Doctor protested.

“Actually Doctor, I think just the photos might be enough. We have had so many adventures, and I would really like a vacation before we head back to the fray.” Yaz said, apologetic.

The Doctor’s shoulders slumped. “Back to the drawing board then.”

By the end, Ryan and Yaz had joined back on the steps with the Doctor standing in front of them.

“Guys come on, I promise, the vacation will be fine, I’m sure the bad things won’t happen, they are all statistically very unlikely.”

Graham stood up and walked to the Doctor, laying a sympathetic hand on her forearm. “Doctor, I am sure you have noticed, but let me point it out again. We are kind of one-in-a-million central here. All I want is someplace to put my feet up, a nice cuppa, maybe a chance to tan.” Graham said. Beside him, Yaz and Ryan nodded in agreement.

The Doctor stood in front of the three humans, arms crossed, and cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. Yaz internally squealed at how adorable this couple thousand year old alien could be.

The Doctor tapped out a distracted pattern on her forearm before brightening. “I know the perfect place!” she said.

And then, without waiting for the companion’s response she went back to the console and pressed a few buttons before pulling the lever.

The TARDIS’s wheezing sound was heard before the ship rattled and transported. Graham, who had been standing on the stairs still fell hard on his butt. Ryan and Yaz managed to stumble forward and brace themselves on the console.

“Ow Doc, a couple more rough landings, and you are going to owe me a new hip!” Graham complained as he rubbed the small of his back. Ryan came to his side, helping his sit up against one of the columns around the console.

“Sorry about that Graham! I just thought of the perfect place for a lovely holiday, and wanted to get us there ASAP!”

Ryan and Yaz exchanged glances before looking at her hesitantly. “So…”

“Where are we?”

If possible, the Doctor’s grin got even wider, her eyes alight with delight. “My lovely fam, welcome to Earth, third planet in the solar system, in the outskirts of the Milky Way galaxy. We are in present day Sheffield, the temperature is a pleasant 23℃, there is a humidity of 65%, and chance of rain is 7%!” The Doctor said as she clapped her hands once in delight. Ryan shook his head at the antics of the Time Lord and began to chuckle.Yaz started to giggle before the Doctor waggled her eyebrows at her, at which point she burst out laughing, using the console edge to keep from falling over. Even Graham had a grin on his face as he continued to rub his back. He used the column to brace himself and got up.

“How long will we be staying then doc?”

The Doctor swayed back and forth on her toes and heels. “Up to you guys. How long do you want to stay?”

“Wait, you are staying too right?” Yaz said, squinting at the Time Lord.

The Doctor brought up her hands in surrender. “I’ve got a whole universe Yaz!”

“And I’ve got a spare room with your name on it. Come on, just stay. I know we don’t have crystal pools or floating trees, but Charlie’s pub down the block serves some of the best falafels in the country.”

The Doctor bit her lip, but looking at the hopeful faces of her companions, she gave a single nod.

“Alright, why not.”

She turned and pressed a couple buttons, dimming the lights of the main area of the TARDIS. “There, she is in hibernation. Let’s go enjoy Sheffield.”

With a cheer from the humans, the Doctor let herself be led outside by her fam. Yaz dragging her by the wrist as Ryan lightly pushed her from the back, with Graham closing the ship doors behind himself.

Sometimes, the best vacation from a life traveling was a little bit of home.

#doctor who #my fic #my writing #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #graham o'brien #ryan sinclair #doctor who fanfic #thirteenth doctor fanfic #bannedtogetherbingo2020 #bannedtogether2020 #prompt: alien weatherman #yasmin khan fanfic #graham o'brien fanfic #ryan sinclair fanfic #let me know what you think!

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betweengenesisfrogs · 6 years ago

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Homestuck is My Favorite Sprite Comic

Yes, you read that right.

Homestuck is my favorite sprite comic.

Those of you who remember the earlier days of the internet are probably looking at this post in disbelief right about now. Others of you might be scratching your heads, not knowing what I’m talking about.

But here’s my pitch: Homestuck is the culmination of an entire genre of internet art, and the tools that make it so powerful are the very tools that made that genre once so reviled.

Homestuck is the greatest and most successful sprite comic of all time.

And honestly, I’ve wanted to talk about that for ages, so let’s do it.

WHAT SPRITE COMICS WERE

Many of my readers are probably too young to remember the era of sprite comics. So: what were sprite comics?

Sprite comics were a genre of webcomics made entirely by taking pixel art from video games – especially character art, called “sprites,” but also backgrounds and other images—and placing them into panels to tell a story. They were near-ubiquitous on the internet in the early 2000s, emerging right as webcomics in general were seeking to establish themselves as an art form.

They were not, shall we say, known for their quality. The low bar to access meant that art skill was not an obstacle to starting one. The folks behind the huge swell of them tended to be young people, kids and early teenagers recreating the plots of their favorite video games with new OCs—not the most advanced writers or artists. They were the early 2000s’ quintessential example of ephemeral, childish art. Unfortunately, they look even worse today—blown-up pixels don’t hold up well when displayed on higher-resolution monitors.

Today, they’re mostly forgotten, remembered only as a weird, strange moment in the youth of the internet. Someone who evoked them today, such as a blogger who compared them to one of the most successful webcomics of all time, would be inviting good-natured teasing at the very least.

It would be unfair to dismiss them entirely, though. In this low-stakes environment, comics where the author could bring more skill—engaging writing, legitimately funny jokes, or especially, a real ability to work with pixel art—really stood out. (Unsurprisingly, these authors tended to skew a bit older.)

The obvious one to mention is Bob and George. Bob and George wasn’t the first sprite comic, but it was the most influential. Conceived initially as Mega Man-themed filler for a hand-drawn comic about superheroes, it quickly became a merging of the two concepts, with the original characters made into Mega Man-style sprites, full of running gags, humorous retellings of the Mega Man games, elaborate storylines about time travel, and robots eating ice cream. It was generally agreed, even among sprite comic haters, that Bob and George was a pretty good comic. Worth mentioning also are 8-Bit Theater, which turned the plot of the first Final Fantasy into a spectacular and hilarious farce, and of course Kid Radd, my second favorite sprite comic. (More on that later.)

But even if you weren’t looking for greatness—there was something just damn fun about them. The passion of sprite comic authors was clear, even if their ideas didn’t always cohere. To this day, I think the sprite comic scene has the same appeal pulp art does—it’s crude and rough, full of garbage to sift through, but every so often, something deeply sincere and bizarre shines through, and the culture of its authors is a fascinating object of study in itself.

Okay, full disclosure: I was one of the people who made a sprite comic. I’ve written about my experiences with that in more depth elsewhere, but yeah, I was on the inside of this scene, rather than a disinterested observer, and from the inside, maybe it’s a lot easier to see the appeal.

Still, let me make this claim: even with all their flaws, sprite comics were doing some incredibly interesting things, and Homestuck is heir to their legacy.

TAKE ME DOWN TO RECOLOR CITY

One of the problems people always had with sprite comics was the sprites themselves. They’re the most repetitive thing in the world. You just keep copying and pasting the same images over and over again, maybe with a few tweaks. That’s not really being an artist, is it? It’s so lazy. Re-drawing things from different angles keeps things dynamic, develops your skill, and makes your work better in general. Right?

I’m mostly in agreement. Certainly I think it’s fair to rag on the Control-Alt-Delete guy, along with other early bad webcomics, for copy-pasting their characters while dropping in new expressions and mass-producing tepid strips. And to be fair, digging through bad sprite comics often felt like an exercise in seeing the same slightly-edited recolors of Mega Man characters over and over again. You got really tired of that same body with its blobby feet and hands.

(It should be noted, though, that there were folks in the sprite comic scene who could pixel art the quills off a porcupine. I salute you, brave pixel art masters of 2006. I hope you all got into your chosen art school.)

All this said, I think the repetitive and simplistic nature of sprite comics was often their biggest strength.

THE POWER OF ABSTRACTION

In his classic work Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud makes an observation about cartooning that has stayed with me to this day.

McCloud notes that simple, abstract drawings, like faces that are only few lines and dots on a page, resonate with us more strongly than more detailed drawings. This is because our minds fill in what’s missing on the page. We ascribe human depth to simple gestures and expressions based on our own emotions and experiences – and this makes us feel closer to these characters as readers. Secretly, simple cartoons can be one of the most powerful forms of storytelling. If you want your readers to fall in love with your characters, draw them simply, and let them fill them in.

Video game sprites work very well in this regard. They have that same simplicity that cartoons do. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a huge part of the success of SNES-era RPGs was simple, almost childlike character sprites drawing people in. I think sprites did the same for sprite comics.

Here’s the weird thing: Bob and George worked. Despite four different characters being variations on the same friggin’ Mega Man sprite in different colors, they immediately began to seem like different people with distinct personalities. For me, George’s befuddled, helpless dismay immediately comes to mind whenever I picture his face, while with Mega Man himself it’s usually a wide-eyed, childlike glee. I would never confuse them. This, despite the fact that the only actual difference between their faces is that George is blonde. It’s pretty clear what happened. The personalities the author established for them through dialogue and storytelling shone through, and my brain did the rest.

Sprites, in short, were a canvas upon which the mind could project any story the author wanted to tell. Even the most minute differences in pixel art came to stand, in the best sprite comics, for wide divergences in personality and ideals, once the reader spent enough time with them to adapt to their style of representation.

Wait a minute, haven’t we seen this somewhere before? Character designs that focus on variations on a theme, with subtle differences that nonetheless render them instantly recognizable?

Oh, right.

Look at what greets us on the very first page of Homestuck. An absurdly simple cartoon boy, abstracted to a ridiculous degree—he doesn’t even have arms!—followed a whole bunch of characters that follow suit. Though many other representations of the characters emerge, these little figures never quite go away, do they? Why is that?

Simple: they’re very easy to manipulate. They’re modular—you can give John arms or not, depending on whether it’s useful. You can put him in a whole variety of poses and save them to a template. You can change out his facial expressions with copy and paste. You can give him a new haircut and call him Jake. It’s all very quick and easy.

Sprite comics proliferated because they were very easy to mass-produce. Andrew Hussie’s original conception of Homestuck was very similar: something he could put out very quickly and easily, where even the most elaborate ideas could rely on existing assets to be sped smoothly along. We all know the result: an incredible production machine, churning out unfathomable amounts of content from 2009-2012. I’d say it was a good call.

But it goes way deeper than that. The modular nature of sprites always suggested a kind of modularity to the sprite comic premise. George and Mega Man were different people, true, but also two variations on a theme. Was there something underlying them that they had in common? Perhaps their similarity says something like: We exist in a world which has a certain set of rules? One of my favorite conceits from Bob and George was that when characters visited the past, they were represented by NES-era Mega Man sprites, while in the present, they were SNES sprites, and in the future, the author used elaborate splicing to render them as 32-bit Mega Man 8 sprites or similar.

Suppose there was a skilled cartoonist thinking about his next big project, who wanted to tell a story centered around this kind of modularity, a narrative that was built out of iterative, swappable pieces by its very design. He might very well create a sprite comic named Homestuck.

Homestuck is a story about a game that creates a hyperflexible mythology for its players, where the villains, challenges, and setting change depending upon what players bring to the experience, yet which all share underlying goals and assumptions. What more perfect opportunity to create a modular story as well? Different groups of kids and trolls have motifs that get swapped around to produce new characters, whether that’s through ectobiology, the Scratch, or the eerie parallels between the kids and trolls’ sessions. And yet each character can be analyzed as an individual.

This is an incredible way to build a huge emotional investment from your readers. Not only does this kind of characterization invite analysis, the abstractions draw readers in to generate their own headcanons and interpretations. A deep commitment to pluralism is at the heart of Hussie’s character design. Then, too, it encourages readers to build their own new designs from these models. Kidswaps, bloodswaps, fantrolls—these have long been the heart of Homestuck’s fandom. And what are bloodswaps if not sprite recolors for a new generation? With the added bonus that now a change in color carries narrative weight, evoking new moods and identities for these characters in ways that early sprite comics could only dream of.

In Hussie’s hands, even the dreaded copy-and-paste takes on heroic depth of meaning. Even when Hussie moves away from sprites to his own loose art style, he continues to remix what we’ve previously see. Indeed, Hussie talks about how he would go out of his way to edit his own art into new images even when it would take more time than drawing something new. Why? Because he wanted to evoke that very feeling of having seen this before—the visual callback to go along with the many conceptual and verbal callbacks that echo throughout Homestuck. This is at the heart of what Doc Scratch (speaking for Hussie) called “circumstantial simultaneity:” we are invited to compare two moments or two characters, to see what they have in common, or how they contrast. Everything in Paradox Space is deeply linked with everything else. And Hussie establishes this in our minds using nothing less than the tool sprite comics were so deeply reviled for: the “lazy” repetition of an image.

(It’s fitting that some of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous images in Homestuck—dream bubble scenery and the like—are the result of Hussie taking things he’s made before and combining them into fantastic dreamscapes.)

But it all started with the hyperflexible, adaptable character images Hussie created at the very beginning of Homestuck.

And if you need more proof that Homestuck is a sprite comic, I think we need look no further than what Hussie, and the rest of the Homestuck community call these images.

We call them sprites.

THE FIRST GENRE-BENDERS

Was Andrew Hussie influenced by sprite comics in the development of Homestuck? It’s hard to say, but as a webcomic artist in the first decade of the 2000s, he was surely aware of them. It’s likely that he quickly realized that his quick, adaptable images served the same purposes as a sprite in a video game or a sprite comic, and chose to call them that.

One purpose I haven’t mentioned up until now: sprites lend themselves very well to animations. In fact, in their original context of video games, that’s exactly what they’re for: frames of art that can be used to show a character running, jumping, posing, moving across a screen. It’s not surprising, then, that sprite comic makers quickly saw the utility in that.

Homestuck was, in fact, not the first webcomic to make Flash animations part of its story. There were experiments with various gifs and such in other comics, but I think sprite comics were among the most successful at becoming the multi-media creations that would come to be known as hypercomics..

Take a look at this animation from Bob and George. It represents a climactic final confrontation against a long-standing villain, using special effects to make everything dramatic, but ultimately, like many a Homestuck animation, leads to kind of a pyscheout. The drama and the humor of the moment are clear, though. This relies in large part on the music—which is taken directly from the game Chrono Trigger. This makes total sense. Interestingly, it also contains voice acting, which is something Homestuck never tried—probably because it would run contrary to its ideals of pluralism. What I find fascinating is that in sprite comics, animations like these served a very similar purpose to Homestuck’s big flashes: elevating a big moment into something larger-than-life. Another good example is this sequence from Crash and Bass. Seriously, it seems like every sprite comic maker wanted to try their hand at Flash animation.

(By the way, it’s a lot harder than it looks!! I envy Hussie his vectorized sprites. Pixel art is a PAIN to work with in the already buggy program that is Flash.)

The result: because of the sprites themselves, sprite comics were among the first works to play around with the border between comics and other media in the way that would come to be thought of as quintessentially Homestuck.

What it also meant was that another genre emerged in parallel with sprite comics: the sprite animation. Frequently these would retell the story of a particular game, offer a spectacular animated battle sequence, parody the source material, or all three. Great examples include this animation for Mega Man Zero, and this frankly preposterous crossover battle sequence. Chris Niosi’s TOME also found its earliest roots as an animation series of this kind. You also found plenty of sprite-based flash games, in which players could manipulate game characters in a way that was totally outside the context of the original works.

The website the vast majority of these games and animations were hosted on?

Newgrounds, best known to Homestuck fans as the website Hussie crashed in 2011 while trying to upload Cascade.

What’s less talked about is that Hussie was friends, or at least on conversational terms with, the owner of the site, hence the idea to host his huge animation there in the first place, and other flashes, like the first Alterniabound, were initially hosted there as well.

It’s hard to believe that Hussie wasn’t at least a little familiar with the Newgrounds scene. I suspect that he largely conceived of Homestuck as part of the world of “Flash animation—” which in 2009 meant the wide variety of things that were hosted on Newgrounds, including sprite animations.

The freedom and fluidity sprite comics had to change into games and animations and back into comics again was one of their most fascinating traits. Homestuck’s commitment to media-bending needs, at this point, no introduction. But what’s less known is that sprite comics were exploring that territory first—that Homestuck, in short, is the kind of thing they wanted to grow up to be.

PUT ME IN THE GAME

I would be a fool not to mention another big thing Homestuck and sprite comics have in common: a character who is literally the author in cartoon form, running around doing goofy things and messing with the story. This was an incredibly common cliché in sprite comics, no doubt because of Bob and George, who did it early on and never looked back. You might have noticed that the animation I linked above concerns a showdown between Bob and George’s author, David Anez—depicted, delightfully, as another Mega Man recolor—and a mysterious alternate author named Helmut—who is like Mega Man plus Sepiroth I think? It’s all very strange. I could ramble for hours about the relationship between Hussie and the alt-author villains of Homestuck and what it all means, but I’m not sure I can nail anything down with certainty for these two. Maybe Bob and George was never quite that metaphysical.

But yes, bringing the author into the story in some form was already a cliché by the time Homestuck started up. Indeed, I think that’s why Hussie’s character refers to it as “a bad idea” to break the fourth wall—he’s recognizing that people will have seen this before, and are already tired of this sort of shit. And then he goes and does it anyway and makes it somehow brilliant, because he’s Andrew Hussie.

Homestuck breathes life into the cliché by taking it in a metaphysical/metafictional direction. I don’t think that was really the motivation for most sprite comic authors, though. Let’s see if we can dig a little deeper.

I think the cliché kept happening because sprite comic authors were writing about a subject that very closely concerned themselves: video games. I’m only kind of joking. The thing about video games is that even though they’re made for everyone, playing through one yourself feels like an intensely personal experience. You develop an emotional relationship to a world, to its characters, that feels distinctly your own. Now, suddenly, thanks to the magic of sprites, you have an opportunity to tell stories about that world for others to read. Of course you’re going to want to put yourself in the story in some form.

When it wasn’t author characters in sprite comics, it was OCs. You know Dr. Wily? Well here’s my own original villain, Dr. Vindictus. You know Mega Man? Here’s my new character, Super Cool Man. He hangs out with Mega Man and they beat the bad guys together. Stuff like that. Most sprite comics retold the story of a game, or multiple games in a big crossover format, with original elements added in. There was quite a lot of “Link and Sonic and Mega Man are all friends with my OC and they hang out at his house.”

What’s interesting, though, is that because these sprite comics were very aware that they were about video games, this was where they sometimes got very meta. It started with humorous observation—hey, isn’t it funny that Link goes around breaking into people’s houses and smashing their pots? But sometimes, it grew into more serious commentary. Is Mega Man trapped in a never-ending cycle, doomed to fight the same fight against the same mad scientist until the end of time? Is it worth it, being a video game hero?

Enter Homestuck. What I’ve been dancing around this whole time is:

Homestuck is a sprite comic…because Homestuck is a video game.

Or more specifically, Homestuck’s a comic about a video game called SBURB, where the lines between the game and the comic about the game blur as characters wrestle with the narratives around them, both those encoded into the game and those encoded into our expectations.

Homestuck presents the fantasy of many a sprite comic maker: I get to go on heroic quests, I get to change the world and become a god. I get to be part of the video game. And then it asks the same question certain sprite comics were beginning to ask:

Is it worth it, to be that hero?

I want to tell you about my second favorite sprite comic, a comic called Kid Radd.

Kid Radd distinguished itself from other sprite comics of the time by being a completely original production. Its sprites looked like they could be from a variety of NES and SNES-era video games, but they were all done from scratch, and the games they purported to represent were all fictional. Kid Radd used animations with original music, and sometimes interactive, clickable games, to tell its story. It also used all sorts of neat programming tricks to make it load faster on the internet of the early 2000s, which was great—unfortunately, these same techniques made it break as web technology evolved, something Homestuck fans in 2019 can definitely relate to. The good news is, fans have maintained a dedicated and reformatted archive where the comics can still be seen and downloaded.

Kid Radd’s premise is that video game characters themselves are conscious and alive—more specifically, their sprites. Sprites developed consciousness as human beings projected personality and identity onto them, remaining aware of their status as video game constructs while also seeking to be something more. The story follows the titular Kid Radd, at first in the context of his own game, commenting on the choices the player controlling him. He must endure every death, every strange decision along the way to save his girlfriend Sheena. Then the story expands into a larger context as Radd, Sheena, and many other video game characters are released onto the internet as data. They try to find their own identities and build a society for themselves, but struggle with the tendency toward violence that games have programmed into them. The story culminates in an honestly moving moment where Radd confronts the all-powerful creators of their reality—human beings.

It’s a very good comic.

The first sprite comic authors wanted to fuse real life with video games. Later sprite comic authors decided to ask: what would that really mean? Would it be painful? Would you suffer? Would you find a way to make your life meaningful all the same? Despite the limitations of sprite comics, these ideas had incredible potential, and in works like Kid Radd, they flourished.

Homestuck is heir to that legacy.

It takes the questions Kid Radd was asking, and asks them in new ways. It tries to understand, on an even deeper level, how the rules of video games shape our own minds and give us ways to understand ourselves.

At its heart, Homestuck is a sprite comic, and it might just be the greatest of them all.

EPILOGUE

I’ve seen a lot of good discussion recently on how Homestuck preserves a certain era of the internet like a time capsule: its culture, its technology, its assumptions, its memes.

I think sprite comics, too, are part of the culture that created Homestuck. Do I think Hussie spent the early 2000s recoloring Mega Man sprites? No, probably not. But what I do know is that sprite comics were part of his world. The first webcomic cartoonists came of age alongside an odd companion, the weird, overly sincere, dorky little sibling that was sprite comics. Like them or hate them, you couldn’t escape them. They were there.

And maybe a certain cartoonist saw a kind of potential in them, in the same way he summoned Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff from the depths of bad gamer culture.

Or maybe he just knew, as some sprite comic authors did, that the time was right for their kind of story.

On a personal level—Homestuck came along right when I needed it.

Around 2009, the bubble that was sprite comics finally burst. People were getting tired of them, or growing out of them, and blown-up sprites no longer looked so good on modern monitors.

I was more than a little heartbroken. I’d enjoyed Bob and George, read my fill of Mega Man generica, and fallen utterly in love with Kid Radd. I’d been working on my own sprite comic for a long time out of a sense that there was huge potential in them that we were only scratching the surface of. I’d dreamed of maybe someday doing something as amazing as the best of them did. But I was watching that world disappear. I had to admit to myself that my work wasn’t going to continue to find an audience. That I could live with. But it was painful to think that the potential I sensed, the feats of storytelling I wanted to see in the world, would never be realized.

And then, in the fall of 2010, a friend linked me to a comic that broke all the rules, that mixed animation, games, music, images and chatlogs. A comic that crafted its own sprites, just as Kid Radd did, and remixed its images into an ever-expanding web of associations and meanings. A comic that took on the idea of living inside a video game with relish and turned it into a gorgeous meditation on escaping the ideas and systems that control us.

That this comic would exist, let alone that it would succeed. That it would become one of the most popular creations of all time, that it would surpass other webcomics and break out into anime conventions and the real world, that it would become such a cultural juggernaut, to the point where it’s impossible to imagine an internet without Homestuck—

I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. It’s the reason I’m still writing essays about Homestuck nearly eight years after I found it.

And it’s why Homestuck will always be my favorite sprite comic.

-Ari

[Notes: The image of the kids came from the ever-useful MSPA Wiki—please support and aid in their efforts to provide a good source of info about Homestuck! They need more support these days than ever.

For more on Homestuck’s place as a continuation of the zeitgeist of early 2000s experimental webcomics, this article by Sam Keeper at Storming the Ivory Tower is excellent and insightful.

Thanks for reading, y’all.]

#homestuck analysis #homestuck #homestuck's influences #hypercomics #understanding homestuck #sprite comics #internet culture

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fallen029 · 5 years ago

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Milkshake

When she set the milkshake down in front of him, Laxus just eyed it for a few long moments before dragging his eyes up to meet the demon's, her blues alight both with glee and almost indignation. A challenge.

"You're going to drink it, Laxus," she ordered in what might have been a dark tone, had she not let out an involuntary giggle between breaths, "and you're going to like it."

He didn't want to like it. Or drink it.

For one thing, there was a massive snowstorm going on, right outside the guildhall doors, and the huge place was absolutely impossible to heat. Impossible. Especially with just the two of them in there. The late hour did little to help either. No, it was fucking freezing in the guild, honestly, and there was no way that he wanted to lower his body temperature even further by slurping down a milkshake.

For two, he just didn't want it. Even if the sun outside was blazing and the temperature boiling, he didn't want a milkshake. At all. He knew why Mirajane thought he did, or at least why she was insistent that he at least take a sip, but he in no way felt this need himself.

For three, it would feel super childish. To drink one. Wouldn't it? The fact that Mirajane had stuck a huge twisty straw, usually reserved for Asuka, right in the middle of the thick mixture did very little to help with this perception.

But still, as he only looked on with apprehension, the barmaid beamed insistently, right into his eyes.

"I am not," he told her simply, "drinking that."

"Oh, but you are, Laxus," she insisted with a nod. "And don't forget to like it."

"Mirajane-"

"It's the only way," she kept up and it was his fault.

The whole thing.

His whole life, sometimes, it felt like.

As he sat there, watching the cherry atop his milkshake sink lower into the frothy concoction, it was hard not to find blame in himself. He knew how Mirajane Strauss was. By which he meant, of course, completely kooky and off her rocker. Why was it then that he found himself opening up to her?

Sigh.

The old man, Gramps, well, he just wasn't feeling too well recently and, with it snowing so much the past few days, Laxus offered to do anything up at the hall for him that he needed. Anything at all. Just so the old man didn't leave his house. And though Gramps griped, Makarov did seem to see the necessity in this.

His only grumbled direction, however, was, "Ask Mirajane."

"Ask her what?" Laxus had questioned back, perhaps a bit dumbly.

"What you need to do," Makarov barked right back. Stifling a bit, he settled back into bed as Laxus stood over it, having forced the man to get right back in it only minutes before. "She's the one who would know. She knows everything about the guildhall."

And she did.

Mirajane enjoyed her job, out there serving drinks and soaking up juicy gossip, but it was hardly the extent of her work. Oh, no. Master Makarov relied on her for much of the behind the sense things and, well, she'd kind of been putting off telling him about a few things, recently. Things that weren't necessarily time-sensitive, but if Laxus was willing to preform some forgery (he was a Dreyar, right; who cared which one) as well as put his complete and utter blind faith in her judgment, then, well, she could knock out some work alright.

She was just lucky, the slayer insisted to himself as his entire day was eaten up by the woman's endless tasks and requests, that the Thunder Legion were out and therefore he was free. Erza had snagged the job he wanted and he'd been planning to sulk around about it for a bit, but, well, this kept him from drinking all day, at least.

Still, she seemed to just go on and on and, before he knew it, the night was upon them and she still had him there, down on his knees, tightening up a pipe in the kitchen area.

"I just worry," Mira was sighing a bit, "about the pipes bursting. I always do. I mean, I always have the exposed ones cover and I do that thing where you drip water, just a bit, you know?"

"No," Laxus grumbled from where he was busy breaking his back for the woman. "I don't."

But she only giggled and there was something about her. That he couldn't admit to himself, not even as he'd spent the entire day doing her needless bidding. Mirajane reminded him that it was doable. All of it. What he was grasping at, sometimes, now. With the guild. She...changed. For as horrific as a catalyst as it was, something made her change and she followed through and now she was this A person who didn't hate everyone and everything and actually seemed pretty high on life most of the time.

And that was before her sister came back, even.

.Though she was for sure an extreme example, Mirajane was a good one to remind him that, hey, no matter what, if you try hard enough, if you don't give into it, into yourself, then you can be better. You will be better.

Good people aren't just born that way; they struggle for it. And Mirajane showed that it was worth it.

Plus...well…

Maybe he was kinda sweet on her.

Maybe just a bit.

"Where is everyone?" he complained as he walked a bit funny, maybe, because his back was killing him as the pair found themselves in the empty guildhall finally.

"It's closing time, silly."

"It's what?" he griped with a glare, but Mirajane only smiled with a giggle.

"It's also coming down really hard outside," she remarked as they could hear it, in the utter silence of the hall. The snow of heavy snow falling on the other side of the thick guildhall doors. Laxus hadn't been in the hall when it was so empty in...in...in a long ass time.

It unnerved him for some reason.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled a bit in reply, uncertain of what else there was to say. IT wasn't as if the two of them were known for striking up conversations together. One or two, here or there, and maybe more than he had with most, but after spending all those hours together, he figured they were all dried up on conversation for the next month. At least.

Boy, was he wrong.

"What were your plans for today then?" she asked as she waltzed across the cool barroom floor, back over to her typical position behind the bar. As she began to extract jewels from the register, she added, "Before I made you help out?"

He could have been super pissy at her, as he'd been pretending the entire afternoon and evening over this little excursion, but…

"I was just gonna drink," he said honestly. "All day."

"Well," she began as, setting the jewels she was counting out down on the counter, the woman turned to grab a pitcher of ale and a mug, "the least I can do is treat you to some right now, huh?"

Laxus should have gone home. Something inside of him told him he should go home. Everything outside of him, especially the worsening conditions beyond the guildhall doors, told him to head home.

"One drink won't hurt," he decided as Mirajane only smiled, not having one herself, he'd never seen her have one herself, but maybe that's why she was a reformed bad person and he was just still learning.

He put it back while the woman busied herself around the bar. While the man had some inkling that closing up the place each night wasn't a pleasurable activity, actually watching the woman move so effortlessly through the laundry list was impressive. Without any prompting from him though, she seemed to note that he'd finished his beer and rushed right over for a refill.

Again, the hesitation was there from the man, but…

"What's one more?" he asked and, for a guy his size, not much, but just enough to loosen the tongue and how did it happen?

How did he get there?

How did he find himself mentioning to Mirajane Strauss something so personal? So deep? So close to the vest? He could blame the alcohol, if he wanted, but the woman hardly had to even prod him, if she did at all, before he found himself just spilling his guts to her.

"We used to go out in the snow," Mira was sighing as she seemed to be a bit more aimless now, just wiping down the bar absently, there, in front of him, "when I was little, with my parents. And, like, we'd pour sap, you know? Over it? And then eat it."

Laxus made a face at her before remarking, "Not a lot to eat, huh? Out in the sticks?"

"We did that for fun, Laxus. It was a fun activity. A treat."

"Sure."

She made something of a face then, maybe, before whatever deprogramming she'd used to never be a normal person again and just a bubbly happy one took over. As the woman looked away, she seemed to think before asking, "Didn't you ever do something special? With your mother, I mean?"

It wasn't a one to one situation, but he did find himself revealing what he did next. Maybe it was because no one had asked about her, his mother, in so long. No one seemed brave enough. He doubted most even knew what ever happened to her. But given Mira's long association with the guild, as well as strong ties with his grandfather, Laxus wasn't too surprised by her bravery. And given the fact that she'd just somehow conned him into free manual labor for an entire day, he figured he should stop being shocked by the woman's charms.

She worked them on every other man in the guild. Why should he feel so special?

Why did he feel so special?

"My mom," he began though it didn't feel like it, really, him talking, "used to make me, like, these really big...milkshakes."

He looked up at the woman then and could see a bit of her skepticism boring through the facade and she seemed to think he was setting up for some lame joke like the other men in the hall. But he wasn't. His eyes were filled with honesty.

"She'd make it so thick and sweet and just…" He coughed then, feeling kind of dumb, honestly, but still added, "I haven't had one since she died."

"What do you mean?"

"A malt. Milkshake. Whatever. I haven't… When I was a kid, I just didn't get one. If I went to the ice cream shop."

"Because it would remind you of her?"

He was just as honest then as he insisted, "Before none would ever taste as good."

And that was a challenge, it seemed like, as Mirajane smiled at him while remarking, "Some people think I make a pretty good one too."

"I mean, you grew up eating literal brown snow, so-"

"Sit," Mira ordered before rushing away, "and wait."

He shouldn't have. He should have called out to her and ended it all, finally, but she was rushing off to the deep freeze, down in the basement, to find some ice cream, and he was just going to sit there. Accepting this. Dealing with this.

Because he was special. And this was special. He and Mirajane were friends, more so than any of the other losers that salivated at her feet and this was the exact kind of ribbing friends put up with.

Only, Mirajane wasn't ribbing. At all. Mirajane was completely serious and when she arrived from the back with a glass filled with delicious sugar and whipped toppping, Laxus had only himself to blame.

Again.

Like always.

"I don't," he told the woman then, "eat cherries."

And that was fine, it seemed, as Mirajane plucked the little red fruit from where it rested atop the fluffy white cream, tossing it back into her own mouth with the same ease he'd downed the drinks.

"They're not," she agreed with an equally antagonizing tone, "for everyone."

"What are we even trying to prove?" he questioned then. "That you make a better milkshake than my dead mother?"

The bluntness had been intended to deflate her sails a bit, but this somehow missed the mark as the white haired woman only shrugged a bit as she replied, "You're the only person who could ever know for certain. If my milkshake is better than the nostalgia-laced trauma of your mother's death, then I can tell people, with certainty, I make the best milkshake."

"You're a fucking psycho, you know that?" He knew it, anyways. He always had. Even if the others never seemed to see it anymore, he knew that buried deep beneath all the things that kept her the perky, innocent barmaid she was today lied the same darkness that he was still battling to subdue. "Certifiable."

"Take," she insisted once more, "a sip."

It was fucking freezing in the bar and, even with his fluffy coat draped over his shoulders, Laxus felt a strange cold shiver travel up his back. Yet there was Mirajane Strauss, in her typical dress, bare arms, no extra padding at all, non too slyly licking the whipped cream off her finger tips, residuals from her cherry taking.

"What happens if you win? Or lose?"

"Well," Mira hummed, "I really don't think your dead mother is gonna pony up a prize if she loses-"

"Goddamn, Mirajane." He wasn't annoyed. Or bothered. Shaken. If anything, just in awe. "You're just gonna really go there tonight, huh?"

"What's a little humor between orphans?" she asked, but this time, her tone was tainted with something different then. A sadness, almost, maybe. But as she looked away, feeling something of the heaviness then, maybe even regretting her own cavalier attitude towards the topic.

But it was then, as she considered this, that Laxus took the plunge. Or at the very least it was in that moment that he braved hypothermia and reached out to grasp the glass. Pulling it closer, he sucked down enough of the icy mixture to send a sharp pain up through his cranium, but was hard to bemoan the action when ti brought a bright smile right back to the barmaid's lips.

"So?" she prompted, eyes alight as a storm raged outside, bringing the heaviest of snow, the deadliest of ice.

He blinked, hard, a heavy weight coming over him momentarily. But when he opened his eyes and found hers there, still, waiting so expectantly, he couldn't linger on the darkness for long. Instead, he only found his voice.

"Nowhere near," he told her simply, "as good as my mother's."

"Shoot." Mira huffed some then, pouting, maybe, but this was never an emotion that she felt for long. Just as quickly she was bubbly once more as she insisted, "Then I'll just have to keep trying."

"Why?" he proposed right back, but Mirajane only titled her head to the side, staring hard at him for once, truly.

"Because we're friends, Laxus," she insisted then. "Aren't we?"

He didn't know.

Or at least he didn't before that very moment.

She was always someone he could tolerate, more than all the other annoying younger kids, when they were teens. And then she kind of became someone he pitied, honestly, but beneath that…

He knew he was stronger than her. A better trained mage. But Mirajane had something inside of her, something far more fearsome than his lacrima, and he liked it best when it was contained.

Well, mostly.

Nowadays, he found her to be more on his level, mentally, than all the others. Not the Thunder Legion, of course, but the rest of them…

Mirajane knew what the apex tasted like. And she also knew what it meant to depart from it. She was the better person he wanted (to a lesser degree, of course) to be one day, hopefully, eventually. She was easy to talk to, given all their commonalities, and he just…

He'd never thought about it before.

What they were to one another.

"Yeah, Mira," he agreed as a grin spread across his own face. Just a light one, hardly even one at all, but he could tell she took notice. "We're friends."

The storm subsided eventually. Just enough for them to escape the hall. As they skid through the streets in opposite directions though, the hours they spent together already becoming distant, a memory, Laxus just hoped that it felt as important to her as it did to him.

Which it seemed to, maybe, as when he found himself at the hall a few days later, coming to join the Thunder Legion at their table, Mirajane seemed to key in on him quickly.

"Here, Laxus!" She bounded over to him a few minutes later with a special drink, just for him. A milkshake, of course. "And look, this straw even loopier, don't you think?"

Laxus felt a heat spread across his body as the barmaid set this before him, some others taking note and glancing over, but Mirajane paid no one any mind. She winked at the man, made some sort of comment implying him getting back to her on the best milkshake he'd ever had, before disappearing once more. Err, well, no, not disappearing. Getting back to work. But Laxus could focus on nothing now other than anything that wasn't the woman, so she might as well have.

"What," Evergreen hissed, at him of all people, under her breath as she feared, no doubt, the man being involved with a Strauss as well, "was that about?"

"Yes, Laxus." Freed seemed most concerned as well. "Why has Mirajane presented you with a-"

"We're," the slayer grumbled through ground teeth, "friends."

"Friends, eh?" Bickslow had no problem with reaching over to snatch at the man's beverage. "Well, me and you are friends too, huh? So what do ya say you slide that on over-"

"Papa!" the seith's babies cried out as he was struck then by a sharp lightning strike, falling out of his chair even, as all his muscles seized. "Papa!"

But after sending a warning glare around at anyone else who might think to tease him over this, Laxus only pulled his drink closer, taking a sip as his eyes slipped shut. He could hear her nearby, Mirajane, giggling with one of the other stupid women in the bar about something, he imagined, was equally as stupid, but it was fine. Just as well.

Savoring the taste in his mouth, Laxus swallowed as he blinked his eyes open lazily once more.

It still wasn't as good.

But, if it meant the woman had to keep trying, well…

Maybe being friends wasn't so bad.

Maybe.

#Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Laxus #Mirajane #Mira #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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winnipegpatty · 6 years ago

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to all the boys i’ve loved before [pt. iii] | s.m.

a/n: ummmm this baby is a little over 3k and has an entire beautiful sappy cutesy fluffy scene that is not in the movie, i love it. i’m so happy with it. pls enjoy i hope you enjoy. send me some feedback if you would, i love hearing from you!

part i. part ii.

I was used to being invisible. But with Shawn by my side, people were looking at me. Talking about me. I could practically feel Gen’s eyes searing into my back as I walked through the cafeteria with Shawn, his hand in my back pocket. And he thought that wouldn’t do the trick. He spun me around to face him, and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t because the people were looking at us, it was because Shawn was looking at me. His eyes were always so intense, and how does he look like he cares so much when this is all for show?

“This is for you,” Shawn whispered into my ear, as he handed me a note. There were little music notes on the paper. My first lyrical note from Shawn Mendes. What an accomplishment. “Good job. I’ll see you in a bit?”

It was weird and almost off putting, being congratulated for doing nothing more than accepting a note, and having an ass pocket for Shawn to stick his hand into. But, I guess that’s where life has me now.

___

A knock on the front door interrupted a serious baking session that I was right in the middle of. And when I say it was an interruption, I mean it was the biggest interruption it possibly could have been. It was a Shawn Mendes sized interruption, and one I wasn’t exactly wanting to deal with currently.

“Hello to you too, Pillsbury Dough Boy.” Shawn muttered to me as he stepped into the house. It was a fair comment, I suppose. I was wearing an apron and was covered in flower. So I wasn’t a master chef, sue me.

“I’m making cupcakes for Sofia’s bake sale,” I replied flatly.

“You know brownies would be so much easier. That’s what my mom always did.”

“Shawn Peter Raul Mendes, what are you doing here?”

Shawn laughed at the name, “What did you not read my note? It wasn’t just an amazingly written lyric ya know? I’m taking you to a party.”

“What? No you aren’t.”

“Uh, yes. I am,” Shawn fought. “First off, Gen’s gonna be there. Second of, parties are in the contract. And you can’t go back on the contract. A deal’s a deal.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “I’m sorry. I can’t go.”

“Can’t go to what?” My dad waltzed into the conversation at the exact wrong moment. He knew I had nothing to do today. Tonight. Or ever, really. “Is that Shawn Mendes?” He looked at Shawn with wide eyes. “Little Shawn Mendes? You’re as tall as me now.”

Shawn laughed, “It’s good to see you Dr. Y/L/N.”

“You can call me Dan.”

“I’m just here to pick up Y/N and take her to a party. The parents will be home, and I will have her home early.” God he’s so good. Too good. He knows exactly how to work parents. What a shocker. “Is it alright if we go?”

“Yes!” Dad practically shouted in glee at the same time as I said, “Noooo.”

“I can’t go, I have to finish these cupcakes. I promised Sof.”

“I think Sof and I can handle some cupcakes, you go have fun with your friends.”

___

“Shawn really, please I don’t want to go.”

Shawn was basically dragging you up the stairs to the house party at this point. And Shawn wasn’t having any of your lame ass excused. “No, Nope. Nope. We’re going. It’s in the contract.”

We stood outside the door for a moment, and I nervously began pulling my hair into my favorite scrunchie before Shawn was grabbing my hands. “What are you doing? Stop.”

He took the scrunchie from me, despite my protest. “Stop, I like your hair down.” And if it were for his dumb stupid kind eyes, you would have fought him on it. “You look pretty, and I’ll prove it to you.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket and quickly took a picture of me before I could ruin it with some silly face.

“Fine, but you can’t lose that. It’s my favorite scrunchie.”

“Deal, now give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Shawn rolled his eyes, “Would you trust me?” Sure. Why not. Why wouldn’t I trust my fake boyfriend who up until a week ago, only spoke to me if forms of apologies for his horrible ex girlfriends behavior.

Shawn took an admittedly cute selfie and made it the background on my phone, pulling out his phone with the picture of me he’d just taken of me as his background. “Now, let’s gooooo.”

I tried one last protest, before he was pulling me into the depths of the party.

Shawn almost immediately left my side to get us drinks. I found myself floating around, awkwardly, hovering over peoples games or conversations, until Gen called out after me.

“Hey Y/N come sit with us,” one of Gen’s friends called.

Figuring this is exactly what the parties were in the contract for, I ventured over at sat.

“So, you and Shawn? Spill the deets.” Gen’s same friend said.

“Well? What do you want to know?” There wasn’t much to know, other than the fact that it was all fake, but that was obviously off limits.

“Well everything, duh.”

“Drop it,” Gen told her friend, “They obviously haven’t done anything because it’s Y/N.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Gen?” I asked quickly.

“It’s pretty simple. I know Shawn. And I know you. And Shawn doesn’t go for people like you. So you really don’t have to pretend, honey. He might have kissed you in the seventh grade, but we all know that meant nothing.” Gen laughed as she stood up to leave, “Would you like a drink? A juice box? Maybe some chocolate milk.”

“I’m good, Shawn’s actually getting me a drink. But thanks for the offer.” I threw my best smug smile at Gen, right as Shawn hopped over the couch.

“Hey babe.”

Gen was leaving now, but Shawn didn’t seem too concerned. I took my drink from his hand and took a sip, smiling up at him. In another world, where Shawn Mendes wasn’t...well Shawn Mendes, he’d actually be the perfect boyfriend. He was so pretty. The curls were irresistible. And he had this perfect mix of charm and class that just made everything about him ideal. But that wasn’t the world I lived in. I lived in the world where Shawn Mendes was hopelessly in love with Gen. No matter how horrible she was.

“Hey let’s take a selfie,” Shawn says.

I leaned in a gently kissed his cheek as he snapped the photo. If anyone ever asked me, I’d deny it, but being with Shawn was comfortably easy. I’d expected to be annoyed constantly by childish behavior. Or maybe that he’d try and push the boundaries we’d set. But...I was wrong. About everything really. It made sense why Gen had liked him, but Shawn liking someone like Gen; that was different.

___

“Where are we going?” I asked as Shawn drove away from the party.

It’d only been an hour since you’d arrived, and there was still at least a solid two hours before Dad would expect Shawn to have me home by. Shawn’s excuse for leaving: “I just can’t handle Gen’s eyes on us anymore. It’s unnerving. And annoying.” I’d been under the impression that Gen’s lingering eyes were the exact reason for our situation to begin with. But it’s not like I wanted to stay at the party, so I’d followed as he pulled me through the house without an argument.

“Just...be quiet.” Shawn huffed.

Folding my arms across my chest, I replied. “Fine, but I’m putting on music at least.”

Fleetwood Mac quickly filled the speakers of Shawn’s Jeep as he rolled down both the front windows and threw his arm out of the window. Not even a few minutes later, Shawn was grunting in frustration as he hit the steering wheel.

“Shawn, what’s wrong?” I asked quietly.

He just shook his head staying silent. I honestly didn’t know how to handle a frustrated Shawn. Especially when I didn’t know what had him in the mood to begin with, so I stayed silent, deciding to hum quietly to the songs instead.

Fifteen minutes later, and Shawn was still driving. He’d still given no clues to where, in fact he hadn’t said a single word since entering the car. But the tension in his shoulders had eased when Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks came on. He smiled at the road, and sang the song under his breath. He didn’t know I was paying attention, but how could I not. A relaxed Shawn was something special to witness, let me tell you.

Ten minutes later, and whatever was on Shawn’s mind upon getting into the Jeep was a distant memory. He was happily, and might I add loudly, singing along to Slow Hands. He’d occasionally throw funny glances my way, and hopefully he couldn’t see the fond look that I know was creeping onto my face. That would just be embarrassing. But how could you not look at this Shawn Mendes and be fond? He was giggly and happy and just being himself? I honestly don’t think I’d ever seen this version of Shawn before, now that I think about it.

“So where you taking us, bub?”

Shawn shot up an eyebrow at the name, but said nothing.

“Geesh, Y/L/N, just let me surprise you, will you?”

You choked out a laugh, trying not to think too hard about Shawn putting together a “surprise” when this was all just supposed to be fake. (For something so fake, it had a way of feeling kind of real.)

A couple minutes later, Shawn pulls his Jeep onto a deserted dirt road, and I’m just now realizing that you’d left the suburbs behind quite some time ago. We’d been driving on somewhat country roads for a while now.

“You’re gonna kill me in the woods, aren’t you?” I deadpanned.

“And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids,” Shawn joked right back. Shawn rolled his eyes at me before continuing, “Seriously though, shut up for like five minutes, and you’ll see.”

Deciding to once again not argue (a novel idea really), I just leaned back and surveyed the surroundings. You know, just incase I had to call the authorities.

But really all there was to look at were trees. Like...lots of trees. And a minute later, Shawn was driving through the woods. On a somewhat paved path. And suddenly, I was very thankful that we’d taken his Jeep to the party, and not my rinky dink car. It most definitely would not have made the drive.

And as if Shawn had timed it perfectly, he came to a stop in a small clearing of the woods as Slow Hands came to a dramatic close.

Shawn turned off the car and reached into the back of his Jeep where he pulled out a thick fleece blanket.

“You just have blankets laying around back there, Mendes?”

“Actually, yes.” Shawn looked directly at me, “My mom always told me to have a blanket in my car incase I got stranded while it was cold.”

I blinked at him for a moment, not expecting a real response. “Valid,” I finally muttered, hoping not to look like the fucking idiot I truly, truly was in this moment. “So what are we doing?”

Shawn hopped out of the Jeep, blanket in hand, and rushed over to my door to help me out of the Jeep. The grass was getting wet under my feet from the dew forming. Shawn’s hand held mine as he guided me further into the clearing, and again, I’m just hit with the this feeling too real. Not fake enough. Not manufactured. This was not in the contract. But pushing the anxieties aside, I could see the moment forming around me. Almost as if I were observing from the outside.

Shawn laid out the blanket on the grass, and layed down, gesturing for me to do the same. Eventually, after standing astonished for a second too long, I followed suite. Close enough to him to feel his body heat radiating out, but not close enough to touch.

“So we’re here because…” I whispered, not wanting to interrupt the quiet atmosphere.

“Because, sometimes you just gotta get away, you know?” Shawn’s face turned to look at me. “You know sometimes I think I like Gen, but then there are days like today when I can’t understand why I bother with her,” his breath fanned over my face, intermingling with my own. “You know she cornered me, in the bathroom of all places.” He turned to look back at the stars. “She just pisses me off so much, Y/N. I wish I could just be like you, ya know?”

I didn’t really mean to laugh, but it came out anyway. “Like me? What do you mean?”

“You’re not afraid of her.”

I scoffed, “Shawn, I’m terrified of her.”

He shook his head, still not looking at me. But I was looking at him, how could I not? “No you aren’t. Like that day she was making fun of your boots. And you didn't even fucking care. You didn’t let it get to you? You told me she had a chemical imbalance,” Shawn giggled softly as his hand came to cover his mouth. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to laugh at something so rude.

“You remember all that?” I asked shyly.

“Yeah, I mean… I couldn’t say anything because we were together. But...those shoes weren’t just cool. I thought they were….you looked hot in them. They worked well on you, yeah?”

“Thank you…” I whispered.

Staring at the stars with Shawn Mendes was surreal. The night was beautiful, the stars were shining, and Shawn’s gravitational pull felt indeniable. Like, I had to be closer to him. I didn’t want to be closer to him, god, no. He’s Gen’s ex boyfriend. And Gen was honestly the last person I should have been making enemies of, and yet… There I was, laying next to Shawn. So close that our pinkies were touching, and if I wasn’t mistaken, Shawn was moments away from wrapping our hands together completely.

But it was fake. It was all supposed to be fake. So why? Why do this?

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with her, honestly?” I blurted out. Apparently lacking complete control over my body in this moment.

“What? I’m not obsessed,” Shawn stuttered.

“She’s your only girlfriend you’ve ever had, eh?” Shawn nodded, “And she’s left you for some other guy, yet you just wanna get back with her? Shawn, if she doesn’t see what you’re worth then she’s not worth the time.”

Shawn scoffed, “You’ve never even had a boyfriend, you can’t really be handing out the advice.”

“I just think you should move on, if she doesn’t want you. That’s her loss.” Okay, that was a little bold for my taste, but I guess bold is what we’re doing tonight.

“You know, for someone so quiet all the time, you sure have a lot of opinions,” Shawn muttered under his breath.

“I think you’re just not used to people being honest with you.”

Shawn laughed again. He rolled over on his side, completely facing me. He rested his head on his arm, propped up and said with a hint of mirth, “You wanna talk about honesty? Be honest, why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend?”

“I guess no one's ever liked my like that,” I shrugged simply. Avoidance was key here.

“Lies. I know for a fact that you were asked to spring formal and you turned it down. That is a verifiable fact. So don’t go denying it. There are no secrets between fake boyfriend and fake girlfriend.”

“Okay, well it’s simple really. Love? Dating? It’s fun to read about. To immerse yourself in a fictional world. To put all your feelings into a character or a storyline. To see something epic take place. To get a happy ending every time, in words or even just in your mind. But people are different. Real life, it’s different. Giving yourself over to someone. Trusting them. Trusting that they won’t hurt you…or leave you. That’s...Shawn, that’s terrifying.”

“Why? Why’s that so scary?”

I turned on my side to mirror Shawn, “Because...the more people you let in. The more people you let have little parts of you. The more people that come into your circle. Into your life...the more than just walk right out.”

“Just...like your mom, right?” Shawn whispered.

It wasn’t supposed to be a sad conversation. I hadn’t meant for it to turn out that way. It was all just teasing Shawn about Gen and yet here I was...pulling out the dead mom card. But it was the truth, it was my truth. When you feel the loss of someone so deeply, it changes you. And it had certainly changed me.

Shawn sighed, “You know, I’m really sorry. I don’t think I ever told you when it happened. That’s not something a kid should ever have to go through.”

“It’s just hard...without her sometimes.”

Shawn smiled sadly. I hated those smiles. The smiles that just shot pity at you. That said “I can’t relate, but I’m here for you”. Or that said “it’ll get better in time”.

“But you know,” Shawn started, “Your mom didn’t just walk out. She loved you, but she didn’t leave you. Not the kind of leaving you’re talking about being afraid of. She’s still always going to be with you. In her heart. In your memories. That’s nothing to be afraid of, Y/N. That’s something to treasure. You hold onto the memories and the stories. That’s how you keep her with you. How she doesn’t leave.”

There wasn’t really a proper response to that. It was more of a thing you thought about, slept on, took home with you. And so I just stared into Shawn’s eyes. Wondering who made him so smart. Who made him so perfect. Who made him so irresistible that it was completely and totally too easy to realize that he was just pretending.

That it was all fake.

tagged: @rosecth @honestlygarbage @peacedolantwins2

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing #my writing #mine #writing

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gotboredwrote · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: The Scheme

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 7.1K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Swearing, references to sex/sexual themes (nothing explicit) Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: SPOILER: I WENT HARDCORE INTO ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES AT THE END #SORRYNOTSORRY

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

[previously…]

“Alright, Fred. What’d you find out?”

“She’s into him! You were right, Roger, you sly dog!”

“Well, Rog, if you are so smart, what do you suppose the next move should be then?” Brian was looking at Roger with a disapproving face, while Freddie was giddy with glee about playing matchmaker.

“A scheme of sorts. We need to arrange it so they can go on an adventure together, and then somehow end up needing to stay together, preferably at his house. They need a push to confess, because honestly if I see another gushy moment between the two of them and they aren’t official, I am going to shove their faces together myself.”

“Amen, Roger, amen.”

Once the three scheming musketeers had made their ways home, a three-way call ensued. Considering the weekend was right around the corner, the boys had very little time to conjure up a plan and put it into action. Freddie wanted to get started right away.

“Aright, darlings. Let’s get started. I think we all know where their evening needs to end up, but we need to figure out-”

“Wait… where does their evening end up?”

“Roger, I may be the stoic one here compared to you and Fred, but even I know what he is referring to.”

“Well, sorry, Brian, for apparently being stupid. You know, I was the one who figured out there were feelings between them, so we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that!”

“Relax, Rog, there is only room in this phone call for one hysterical queen.” Roger and Brian were back to listening to Freddie intently. “Also, I did get the confession out of Y/N, so don’t take that away from me. Anyway, here is what I am thinking. Our two lovebirds have a habit of injuring each other, and not in the fun way. So, we need them to a place where they cannot get hurt. Here’s what I’m thinking – John looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever seen. I’m sure if he was much more open as a person, he would have told us those exact words. Why not send them to a place where the beauty he sees in her will be illuminated further?”

Roger and Brian were looking at Freddie like he was crazy. Nothing was coming to mind as what could do what he wanted to do.

“Are you really not thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Fred, when is anyone in the same headspace you are?”

“Ha ha, funny Roger. But really! I was thinking of reserving them tickets to an aquarium! Our two little friends are both quiet people that love to learn, which can be done at an aquarium, plus aquariums usually have beautiful lighting! And the water will reflect small rays on their skin. Just think – John sees Y/N like that on a day to day basis. He’ll practically be bursting at the seams seeing her glowing and having a great time! We can buy them two all-day admission tickets, an I’ll give them to Y/N saying that this is for all the work and shit that she has had to put up with since she started working with us. I’ll also say that we are taking Saturday off and suggest that she take her best friend, John!”

“Fred, I love the plan. There’s one part of your plan that you haven’t thought out, though. You want their night to end with them staying together. It’s not like you can send them away to an aquarium trip where they’d need to book a hotel room. How exactly do you plan on getting them to one of their houses? It’s not like John wouldn’t drive her home in any situation at any time.”

Brian was right – and Freddie knew it. So did all the boys. John would do anything for you in any situation. If the boys were going to get a confession out of either of you, it was not going to be in a public place. It needed to be in a place where the two of you could be alone and where you felt safe. That basically meant the studio or one of your homes. The boys ruled out the studio because part of the plan was to tell you two that Saturday was a maintenance day for the building and it would not be open. That way the two of you would actually feel like you did not need to do any work. That was a personality trait the two of you shared that you had made note of early on – a workaholic nature shared between the two of you.

“So,” Roger broke the silence, “what are we going to tell them? We can’t freak her or him out by saying that there’s an accident in their neighborhoods and no one can go in or out. We also can’t just bluntly tell them that part of the deal is that they have to spend the night together since we bought the tickets.”

Roger saw the cogs turning in Freddie’s brain. So did Brian.

“Fred, no. You can’t be serious.”

“Fred yes! Think about it, Brian. Why wouldn’t it work? The two of them are practically inseparable already, I mean she told me just now before she left to have John call her when he got home. They were just together, and she wants to talk before they go to bed. It’s amazing to me that they haven’t already had a sleepover. Something tells me that if we told them that as part of the deal, we would like for them to spend the night at one of their houses, just to save them gas money or something, I really think they would consider it!”

Slowly, Brian and Roger began to see what Freddie was envisioning in his head. He really had a point. The two of you really were inseparable, so who is to say that you both were not chomping at the bit to have an excuse to spend the night at each other’s places? The three of them collectively agreed that this was the plan to move forward, and that Brian would make the arrangements to get the tickets first thing tomorrow for Saturday.

Ring… ring… ri-

“John?”

“Hello, love.”

“Freddie actually told you to call. That’s a first.”

“Probably would have called anyway, knowing myself.”

The call only lasted about fifteen minutes, yet you managed to talk about tons of things. Some basic things that you had not had a chance to discuss during the recording sessions, John told you about some new lines that he had to hammer out, you told him about the progress of Roger’s binder, and other small talk. Eventually you brought up the whole playing Brian’s guitar debacle, completely unaware of how that whole situation made John’s skin crawl.

“I had fun playing with you guys today. Even if it was Brian’s instrument.”

“What do you mean by that, love?”

“By what?”

“The ‘even if it was Brian’s instrument’ part. What do you mean?”

John did not have to audibly hear it, but he could tell that your breath hitched in your throat in anticipation of what you were going to say. He wanted you to say that you would have much rather have been playing his bass, standing pressed right up against him instead of Brian. He wanted you to say that the guitar really is not your style, but the bass is. And you did.

“Truly? I would have much rather have helped you play. I thought maybe since you’ve kind of been teaching me that there was… I don’t know, a reason? Besides being close and all.”

John thought his brain repeated itself, but eventually it dawned on him that the words were being spoken in your voice, because he was talking to you. You had said you would have much rather been helping him play. The anger that was still simmering underneath him at Brian completely faded away. That’s why you never moved in closer to Brian – you wanted to be near John. And then the last part of your answer clicked in his head. He said you two were close. No mention of the phrase “best friend.” Not that he hated the term – he was perfectly fine just getting to be around you every single day. But this time you did not use the dreaded phrase. You two were just “close,” and that gave him a glimmer of hope. You snapped him out of his trance with a question.

“Do you think that’ll ever get to happen?”

“Wh-what? Will what happen?”

“Me getting to help you play. I know I’m not good yet, and will never be as good as you, but… if you ever need help playing during a take, I need you to promise me that it’ll be me that you ask. Okay?”

“That’s a promise. If I was with you, I’d shake your pinky, love.”

You giggled at his childish response, but he could not see the dusty pink over your cheeks. He made you so happy, with even the simplest of words and gestures. Even if he did not mean them in the way that you hoped he did, you appreciated them nonetheless. After the promise, a comfortable silence filled the phones, both of you waiting to see if the other had any other last-minute things you wanted to say. A bold thought crossed your head and you debated even saying it, thinking it might be too risky. Screw it, you said.

“Hey, John?”

“Mhm?”

“How would…” You were regretting it. If you were going to say never mind, now was your chance. “How would… you feel about maybe one night having a movie night? Whichever house we choose, we can just stay there one night. Just enjoy each other’s company, share favorite movies. I’m sorry if that would make you uncomfortable or nervous, and just shoot me down if-”

“I would love to, Y/N.”

“Really? Like, you’re not messing with me? Because, John Deacon, I swear if you get my hopes up and then crush me!”

“Do you really think I could ever do that to you?”

He turned the call serious. You did not intend for it to become serious. Your question about having a movie night was, but your response after him saying he would love to was meant to be funny. And John knew that. He wanted to be funny in response, but his want to make sure you knew that he would always be there for you was stronger. He was in love with you, and even if he did not have the courage to drive to your place, stand on your doorstep, and tell you that passionately, he was bound and determined to show it to you in any way he could.

“No, I don’t.”

“Good. Because I can’t and I won’t, love. Even when you leave us for some up and coming American band, I will always be your best friend. I will make you come visit us.”

“You won’t have to make me, John, I’ll always come visit.”

He could hear the sadness in your voice at the prospect of eventually having to leave. You both were thinking all the time about some scheme of your own to find a way to get you to stay. Neither of you came up with anything but the obvious; get him/her to be my boyfriend/girlfriend. Obviously, that was not happening any time soon, not on your own accord. You needed a push. Another wave of silence washed over the phone, but this time the air was a little sad. You broke it again, with the intention of ending things on a happier note. You failed.

-“…thanks for being my best friend, John. I needed someone like you in my life, and I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“…don’t want you to leave, either, love.”

“I’ll let you sleep now, John. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Same time, same place, love. Good night.”

“Night, Johnny.”

Click.

‘Johnny,’ huh? First, she adopted the nickname he reserved for her, and now an endearing pet name? This girl was going to be the death of him, in one of two ways. The first would be by ripping his heart to shreds the day he dropped her off at the airport to go back to the states. He did not refer to it as her home anymore, because of one conversation they had had a while back. She had told him that America no longer felt like home. Being in the studio and spending countless hours working on paperwork while John lightly strummed his bass, or the boys bickering, or all the times you would all go out to eat. That felt like home now. The other way? Well, if he ever worked up the courage to ask you out, there would be many nights where you would make him feel overwhelmed, and he would make sure that you had nights where he would be the death of you. You both had no trouble falling asleep that night, contrary to what you thought would be the case, considering the call ended in such a sad tone. You both laid in bed thinking the same thing, and fell asleep right after.

“God I just need to hear him/her say it. Just please say it. That’ll be enough.”

The next day, everyone gathered in the studio at the normal time, except for Brian. Roger and Freddie played it off by acting like they had no idea why Brian was late. Miami did not really care, since at this point, you all kept him out of your shenanigans because he, well, he asked you to. You and John, meanwhile were actually confused and thought maybe he was sick. It was almost 9:30am by the time that Brian walked through the doors. He did not look disheveled, did not look sick. Nothing seemed off. You and John tilted your heads simultaneously as if to say “what’s the excuse?” Brian picked up on his cue to keep the plan a secret, and answered normally.

“Took a new route to work, thinking it would be faster. Clearly, it wasn’t. I won’t be taking that route again. But I’ve wasted precious time, let’s get cracking, lads!”

No one particularly minded the lazy morning, so Brian’s eagerness to start working earned a groan from each of the band members. All of you were hanging out in the control room when he walked in. Freddie and Miami were sipping on wine and whisky, respectively, and Roger was sprawled out across the coffee table to whatever reason, flipping his drumsticks around in his hands. You and John were sitting on the loveseat across from Roger, you sitting upright while John’s head was in your lap, him lying on his back. You were lightly running your fingers through either the ends of his hair or his short, wispy bangs. Another tell-tale sign to the boys that the two of you are inseparable, and they were beginning to feel that their plan just might go somewhere. Roger and Freddie made their ways into the back, making sure to carry what it was they were holding in the control room, while John turned his head so his right cheek laid lightly against the fabric of the shirt you were wearing against your abdomen. He sighed up at you lightly, giving you a contented smile before forcing himself up from your lap. He had not even made it out of the room into the booth yet and the space where the weight of his head was felt cold and empty. Like you were missing something. You guessed that the sad feelings from the phone call the night before had not fully gone away by the time you woke up. Especially since you felt a thump in your chest when John shut the door to the booth behind him. Your body registered that as him leaving you, even though you could only not see him for three seconds while he stood behind the closed door. You hated that you felt this way about someone that you knew would not be a permanent member of your life. You wanted to find a way to make it work, desperately. As did John. The morning went like any other recording session, a bit of bickering here and there, mostly covered up by the angelic sound that is Queen. Time flew by while you worked and they jammed out, and before you knew it, it was almost 1:00pm and it was time for you all to go to lunch. The five of you decided to go to your normal spot and get your normal order. You were just having a normal conversation when Freddie changed the subject, rather abruptly, you might add.

“Y/N, darling, did you have plans for this upcoming Saturday?”

“Fred… we have work, Saturday. That’s my plan.”

“Oh, did they not tell you yet? Silly people. Work was cancelled on Saturday. It is one of the quarterly maintenance days of the year, and the building requires that no one outside of maintenance is in the building so they have full access. So, that should mean you are free, right? Of course, it does!” He did not even give you a chance to respond, and the gaping face you were making made John chuckle. You nudged him with your elbow lightly, laughing at him laughing at you. Freddie continued after yours and Johns exchange. “Since you are newly freed up, I wanted to offer you a gift.”

“Freddie, I don’t need anything!”

“Nonsense, darling! You have had to put up with quite a bit since you started working with us, and we have taken days off when you were in the studio, so you have earned a break. The lads and I chipped in and bought you two tickets to that massive aquarium a couple blocks away from the studio building!”

You were taking in all the words Freddie was spilling your way, and when he said ‘the lads,’ you assumed that included John. You turned to him and noticed that his eyes were squinted in confusion just like you, and you knew that this had nothing to do with him. Your mind then flashed back to the question Freddie had asked you the night before about your feelings towards John. You were terrified all of a sudden that he had told Brian and Roger, and that fear quickly turned to anger, because you thought you could trust him to keep it a secret. Apparently not.

“Now, darling, you may be wondering why I got you two tickets. Well, I figured you would not want to spend your day alone, so I was going to suggest that you take your best friend Deaky with you! You two could have a lovely afternoon out, and then maybe even go back to his place afterwards for a movie or something!”

Now both you and john were gaping. The thing he suggested doing at the end made you both fear that somehow, he had tapped your phones and listened in on the conversation you two had. It was exactly what you two wanted to do at some point.

”Wow, um… that’s such a coincidence you mention a movie night. We were talking about that last night, on the phone.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea love, plus the tickets are free. Would you want to go to the aquarium with me Saturday?”

“Now hold on, you two.” Roger jumped in, which meant that there was a catch to this little plan the boys had. “You can have the tickets at no cost if you make a promise to us. You clearly want to have a night together, as best friends, so in order for us to give you the tickets willingly, there are two things you have to do for us.” Neither of you particularly liked the way he was looking at you, but you waited to hear what he had to say. “The first is that the movie night you two want to have? Have it after the aquarium and make it a sleepover. Second, John I know you have a polaroid camera. Take a picture of you two in a place where I know I’ll recognize your house. We need proof this sleepover happened. That sound like a deal?”

You and John looked at each other with wide eyes, trying to hide the fact that you both were internally battling two separate ideas in your heads. Both of you were terrified about the prospect of spending the night together, but at the same time, you both desperately wanted it to happen. You gave John a soft smile, and he knew exactly what to say to Roger.

“It’s a deal.”

The three started to make their way to the car, while you went to the bathroom and John waited for you. They had a moment to let it sink in that their plan worked.

“Well. That went better than expected.”

“I told you wankers it would work. They just needed a little push.” Freddie was clearly proud of himself.

“…d’you think that John’ll take a picture of Y/N in any sort of provactive way?”

“ROGER!” Freddie was trying his hardest not to fall to the ground in laughter, while Brian respected your privacy enough to be embarrassed for you.

‘WHAT? It could happen! These two clearly want to shag, so who’s to say it won’t happen?”

Thankfully, the end of Roger’s sentence happened right as the two of you made your way out of the restaurant and you never heard a word they said. Their plan was falling right into place, and all that was left was to get you two to the aquarium.

“Today’s the day… my… what technically is this?” You were thinking aloud as you were getting ready for the Saturday ahead of you. You were trying to figure out what you would technically classify your day with John as. On the surface to anyone getting just the facts, it looks like a date. Hell, it is a date. Except you two did not arrange it – John’s sneaky bandmates did. And now you have a reason to assume Freddie told Brian and Roger about the “confession” you gave him. So, in reality, to you and John, the two that ultimately mattered, today is not a date. To everyone else, it is. Not to mention the fact that you are going to be spending the night at his house. Like that does not scream “date” to an onlooker. Brian bought tickets for the afternoon, so you and John decided to go around 3:00pm. That way you could go back to his house and cook dinner together before putting on a movie. You and him had talked about the dinner privately, not wanting to give the boys any more ammunition as to how seriously you two were taking this day. Your clock read 11:00am. That meant you had about three hours before John would be outside your apartment complex. A number of things ran through your mind. Some things were off of a mental checklist, things like what you wanted to wear for the day and what you needed to bring for the overnight part of your adventure/date. You also made it a point to pick out a couple of your favorite VHS tapes to bring with you. (I did some research and I know that VHS wasn’t a thing until 1976, which is like juuuust after I imagine this story to take place. Bear with me. I also completely screwed up when John wrote YMBF earlier in the story so like timeline? Never heard of her.) Among other things, you were wondering what types of animals this aquarium was going to have, you thought about whether or not you should bring John a gift for letting you stay overnight, and you thought about what his little cottage looked like in person. He had talked about it before, and you had seen it from the outside, but you had never been in it. The house was beautiful and quaint. The first time you saw it, you made a note in your notes that you imagined John was the domestic type. He had already earned a decent amount of money from the first Queen album, and the other lads had clearly used the money on lavish things. John kept his home and put the money away for important things down the road. You really admired it about him, and it might have frankly been one of the first things that attracted you to him. He was not a stupid, impulsive rock star. He was just John Richard Deacon. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, you snapped yourself out of them and picked out an outfit to wear. You settled on one of your favorites that you knew would be comfortable for the entire day. It was a very basic white tee shirt with a breast pocket and cuffed sleeves. It did not hug your figure, but by no means was it baggy. It accentuated all the right parts of you. You also chose your favorite pair of overalls, which were loose fitting and a deep, rich forest green with cuffs at the ankles, as well. They rose up just enough to show your ankles, and they were fitted similar to the shirt – not baggy, but just loose enough to breathe. You also threw on a simple pair of black flip flops. The icing on the cake was making sure that John’s necklace was seated on top of your shirt and not underneath. You had never taken the necklace off, not once. You thought John had not noticed that. He did, every day, in fact. If the bass charm had slipped underneath your shirt without you noticing, he would make a point to look at your neck to see if he could see the chain. He did not mean for it to seem creepy, he just wanted to make sure his best friend was still there for him. Once you had settled on your outfit, you hopped in the shower where your mind continued its rambling from earlier. You were nervous about the day, but were doing a really good job at hiding it, aside from the occasional playing with the necklace out of habit. John, on the other hand, was practically having a full-blown panic attack. He had gotten up bright and early, deciding that his already spotless home needed to be cleaned more. He cleaned and straightened everything that he felt needed to be cleaned and straightened. Once that was done, he made sure that he had tons of options for dinner so you would be happy with whatever you decided to cook. He also made sure to pull out his bin of VHS tapes so you had a bunch to choose from. Then, once he had done all of that, he went through his entire wardrobe figuring out what he was going to wear. He settled on something that he did not know was one of your favorite shirts of his – that white, silky button up that he only buttoned about halfway up. He also chose a pair of dark brown slacks, and a simple pair of tennis shoes. He felt confident in his choice, but was still freaking out on the inside. 12:30pm his clock read at this point. He was just sitting staring at the clock in his bedroom not knowing what else to do before he was to be outside your apartment complex at 2:00pm. He decided to fix himself lunch, and call the boys.

Ring… ring… ring… ring…

“Johnny boy! How’s my darling bassist?”

“Hello, Fred. Could you get Brian and Roger on the phone, too?”

“Of course, give me two moments…”

The waiting was the worst. John really for in his own head in those two minutes.

“Hello, John.”

“’sup, Deaky?”

Now that John had all three of his bandmates on the phone, he practically word-vomited his fears to them without taking a single breath.

“Alright so I’m really freaking out here because I got up really early thinking that the house wasn’t clean enough so I cleaned everything and polished everything and laid out some newer decorations that I had recently bought and hadn’t put out yet and then when that was done I wasn’t sure what else I needed to do so I made a mess of my closet trying to figure out if this was a formal or informal day that we’re having because I don’t know what this really is and then I had to make sure that I had enough options for dinner because she suggested that we cook dinner together when we got back here and I said that sounded good and now I don’t know if she likes what I have or if she has an allergy or if I should’ve bought some American food to make her feel more comfortable and I’m genuinely starting to freak out because I’m in love with her and I don’t want to mess this up and I even bought and put out a candle that she mentioned she loved and brought my bass out in case she wants to hear me play—”

“JOHN!”

John let out a shuttering breath, realizing that he had not paused that entire time.

“Darling. There are a couple things I think we all want to ask you about, but there’s one that stands out particularly. Right towards the end of that… speech… you said something. Repeat it.”

“That I bought a candle she likes?”

“Ugh, John, you’re so hopeless sometimes.” John could practically hear the eye roll that came from Roger’s words.

“No darling, right before that.”

“That I am freaking out because I’m in love with—”

Brian, Roger, and Freddie were all smirking through the phone at John’s reaction to realizing he just confessed.

“Oh. That part. Um, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. I agreed so quickly to this idea because I don’t have the courage to ask her out myself. I kind of hoped she would think of this as a date. But then I remembered that she doesn’t feel the same way as me.”

It took all the strength the three had to not scream into the phone that they knew you felt the same way and that that was the exact reason they were sending you two on this adventure. They wanted to keep it a secret that they knew about John’s feelings for you and your feelings for him. Their goal in all of this is to squeeze a confession out of both of you. They did not want to ruin the feeling that would overtake you both when those words moved past each other’s lips. The three of them had experienced it, and to their knowledge, John had not. They were not about to take it away from him. Freddie chose his next words carefully.

“John. Listen. We have all been on those dates where we are infatuated with the person we are with, and are terrified to put ourselves in that vulnerable state because we don’t know what they’re really thinking. I completely get where you are at the moment, and I’m sure Brian and Roger do, too. And let me say this – even if this doesn’t turn into a quote-on-quote “date,” that doesn’t mean you cannot have the best day of your damn life with her. You’ve said it yourself – she’s your best fucking friend. Enjoy her presence and see where things go. If the moment feels right, let her know what’s going on in your head, and who knows? Maybe you’ll be in for a pleasant surprise. Just have confidence in yourself, John, and just have a good time. You’re not losing her anytime soon, but enjoy her while you can.”

John knew Freddie was right, and he definitely chose his words correctly. John had no idea that you were also in love with him like the three of them did. He felt a lot better after hearing Freddie talk, regardless. He waited a minute to see if Roger or Brian would say anything, and when they did not, John whispered into the phone.

“Thank you, Freddie. That really helped. Sniff…”

“John, Jesus, are you crying now?”

“Roger, be nice, we know how big of a deal this is for John now.”

“I know that, Brian. Sorry, John. Didn’t mean to make it seem like I’m annoyed with you. I’m not. I just forget that some people don’t date as frequently as I do.”

“DATE? YOU GUYS JUST SAID THIS ISN’T A DATE!”

“Dammit Roger!”

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant, John! I just meant that you two are going out together, and even though it’s just as friends. Ah, dammit. Sorry.”

The calm that John had felt left as quick as it came. And now, it was worse. Did the three of them want this to be a date? Did you think this was a date? Was he underdressed? Did you have expectations of him?

“John, darling, I can hear the cogs in your brain turning like mad. Relax, everything is going to be fine.”

“But if I’m not interrupting anything, John, my clock is reading 1:30pm, and you need to be at her flat in 30 minutes, do you not?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you Brian! And… thanks, lads. You’ve helped a lot. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Click.

Little did John know, when he hung up the phone, the other boys stayed on the line.

“Well done, Roger. You almost ruined the surprise for outr poor little Deaky.”

“It isn’t my fault that he is clueless about Y/N’s feelings!”

“Let’s just hope neither of them chicken out. This confession needs to happen, otherwise, Roger will be taking matters into his own hands.”

2:05pm. If it was not John we were talking about here, you would be concerned that he forgot about the day. You were waiting in the air-conditioned lobby of your building when you saw John’s car pull up out front. You took a deep breath and made your way through the doors. John had just exited his car and made eye contact with you while you walked through the front doors of the building. Completely contrary to how he was feeling, John smiled at you toothily and his signature eye wrinkles came out, and you melted on the spot. You really loved his man, and could not wait to go on… whatever this was with him. John noticed you had a bag hung across your back. He ran over and popped his trunk for you to put it in, and he met you there.

“Hi!”

“Hello. You ready to head over?”

“So ready.”

You two hopped in his car, and started the drive to the aquarium. You had about a fifty-minute drive ahead of you guys, so you decided to kill the time by just mindlessly chattering or belting out the songs that came across the radio. Well, it was mainly you that sang – John just sat there contently listening to you. Every once in a while, you would lightly grab his shoulder and urge him to sing with you, and the few times you tried it, it worked. And John’s voice made you feel so warm inside. He had a voice that in your head almost matched Freddie’s, but you were the only one who thought so. You did not care what anyone else thought – you fully felt confident in your choice to think that. Right at 3:00pm, the two of you pulled into the aquarium, and you were amazed at the grandeur of the building. Freddie hit the nail on the head about where to send you guys. You had not even made it into the aquarium and John was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky. John parked the car and you made your way into the building. John handed the admission lady your tickets, and you were free to begin your trek through the massive aquarium. Slowly but surely you made your way through each of the exhibits. Certain exhibits made you clearly more excited than others, and one of them was the shark tank. You adored sharks and was super excited to point out each type to John, showing him what you knew about them. When you turned around to see if John was paying attention, you noticed he was looking a little bit pale in the face.

“You okay, John? You don’t look like you feel good.”

“Wh-what? Oh yeah, ‘m okay…”

“Johnny, I know you. Something’s wrong.”

“Well, if you must know, I’m not the… fondest of sharks.”

“Oh, John, I’m sorry! I kept you in front of them for too long, we can keep going. C’mon!” With that, you laced your hand in his and pulled him toward the next exhibit. John’s heart was already beating roughly because of fear, but now it was beating because of your touch. It sent him through the roof on the inside, but he tried his best to keep his cool on the outside. He did not want to get his hopes up that you grabbed his hand for any reason other than to drag him to the next room, except you got there. And your hand did not move. The rest of the trip at the aquarium, your hand stayed placed inside of his. Eventually, John’s heart rate slowed down, the feeling of your hands interlocked becoming normal. He was seeing how people looked at you both adoringly, and with your hand in his, he was really starting to feel like this was a date. It seemed like the two hours flew by, but before either of you realized it, it was slightly after 5:00pm and it was time for you two to drive home. The two of you still had not let go of each other’s hands, and when you made it to the car, there was a slight bit of hesitation. Neither of you wanted to let go of the other. John walked you around to the passenger seat, opened the door for you, and you two slowly let go of your hands. You plopped down in your seat, and John practically sprinted around to the driver’s side. As soon as both of you were buckled into your seatbelts, chose a radio station, and pulled safely out of the parking lot, John’s hand came to rest facing upward and open on the console in between the two of you. You looked at his face and saw that he looked nervous about the gesture, but calmed him down immensely by placing your hand back in his, right where it belonged. It stayed there for the entirety of the ride. There was still the slightly more intense heart beating shared between the two of you, but about forty minutes into the ride, the lovesick heart rates turned rapid when a certain song came on the radio.

“John… is that…”

“We’re on the radio.”

“You’re on the radio! John, Queen is on the freaking radio!”

“Um…yeah wow…”

You almost broke his hand with how hard you were squeezing it. You began to belt out the words to “Keep Yourself Alive” with an intense enthusiasm. John still did not sing with you, but his smile was from ear to ear hearing you belt out one of their songs with such glee. While you aggressively squeezed his hand, he simply stroked his thumb from side to side on your hand just to let you know that he acknowledged everything you were doing. You both were still feeling a little bit airy from the mini concert you put on with the radio earlier when you pulled in John’s driveway, and you started to feel the nerves that were overtaking John all evening. You had seen his house from this angle before, but you were about to see the inside for the first time. For some reason, you could not help but think something as you walked through the doors.

“I could see myself settling down in a place like this.”

You two had made your ways through the door and you were just taking in the cleanliness and homey feeling it had. You loved it. It made you never want to leave. You were just taking in everything he had in his living room when he noticed you were just standing in the doorway.

“Y/N, love, you do know you can come in, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah… I’m just taking it all in.”

“Do you hate it? We can go to your house if you hate—”

“John, I’m in awe because I love it. It’s a beautiful and quaint house. It honestly is so you.”

John simply smiled in response and shuffled a little bit on his feet. He was feeling the nerves kick in again, and then he started to ramble on about everything planned for the night.

“Well, I have a bunch of different options for dinner, we can cook whatever you fancy. Then after that, I pulled out a bin of all the VHS tapes I have and we can choose one of those to watch. We can just do whatever you want, just… tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

“While I really appreciate that John, there is one thing I would like to do before all of that.”

“Mhm?”

“Could I put my overnight bag where I will be sleeping?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry. Follow me, Y/N.”

John led you up the short flight of steps to the upper level of his house, and nonchalantly opened the door to his room. It did not even register in his head that he brought you to his bedroom until he walked about halfway into the room. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Y/N. I just realized something.”

“What is it, John? You’re as pale as you were in front of the sharks.”

“I… I only have one bed in this house.”

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preux-chevalier · 6 years ago

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Been A Fool For Lesser Things

Well, it’s been a while since the last update, hasn’t it? Canon happenings kind of destroyed several basic foundations of this fic, but on the other hand these dumb idiots are ACTUALLY CANON NOW. So I made it work. Just pretend the fifth Koenig brother is a magical healing fairy so nothing happened to Coulson or Fitz. [Which is canon, right? Silly me.]

If you’d like to refresh yourself on what’s already happened, you can find the whole thing on AO3 here, or on tumblr in part one here and part two here. In this chapter: breakfast, Mack, and utter betrayal.

III. I Forgot How Nice Romance Is

Phil is not a morning person. In his years at S.H.I.E.L.D. he’s had to get used to some ridiculous sleep schedules (including one particularly hellish op in 2003 during which he didn’t get more than three consecutive hours of sleep for two weeks straight) but on his own he tends toward late nights and leisurely mornings. Unfortunately, he is still an active agent, even if he’s not the director anymore, and as such he’s showered, dressed, and staring blearily into the pantry at seven.

It’s honestly pretty bleak. No bread for toast, someone’s eaten the last of the good cereal - almost certainly Daisy - and as much as Jemma loves her oatmeal, he’s never been able to stomach the stuff. There’s plenty of coffee, though. A quick check of the fridge reveals some assorted fruits and vegetables and most of a carton of eggs, so at least he won’t be reduced to mainlining coffee until lunch.

The back of his neck prickles as he starts filling the coffee machine, though there hasn’t been any sound. In the field, this is where he’d start mentally reviewing sightlines, potential cover, and the available options for improvising a weapon. But it’s not an unknown assailant behind him this time. “Good morning,” he says, already knowing what he’ll see when he turns around.

Knowing, however, does not prepare him in the slightest for the sight of Melinda clearly fresh from a post-workout shower, because she’s one of those terrifying people who actually enjoys exercising first thing in the morning. Her ponytail is still faintly damp at the ends. It’s like a tease, the hint of where she’s been - he’s seen her totally soaked before (albeit clothed) more than once, and he knows exactly what it looks like when she pushes wet hair out of her eyes, and water is trailing down her throat, and her clothes don’t cover so much as cling to her-

What was he doing? Oh, breakfast. Right. Fuel for the day. Phil’s good at breakfast.

“Pancakes?” he asks, internally congratulating himself on how normal his voice sounds.

She makes a face. “Not after training. Omelettes instead?”

“Sounds good.”

They move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The whole song and dance is so familiar from safehouses and shared missions over the years that the only noise is the coffee machine dripping away and Melinda’s knife hitting the cutting board. It’s no accident that a plate appears at his side right when the first omelette is ready, and the clink of glasses and cutlery behind him as she sets the table for two has him smiling down at the skillet where she can’t see.

He takes a sip of his waiting coffee as he sits down across from Melinda. It’s perfect, of course. Phil used to wonder how she manages to add exactly the right amount of milk every single time when he’s literally never once seen her make coffee itself correctly, but then he realized he knows how to make her tea despite never drinking it, so maybe it’s just one of those things. If it means he can practically inhale glorious caffeine while he waits for his food to cool off in the morning, he’s not going to complain.

“This is nice,” Melinda says, already halfway through her plate.

Phil pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I sure hope so,” he says slowly. “I’ve made you omelettes hundreds of times. You’d think I’d know how you like them by now.”

“No, I meant…. this. Us. Breakfast together.” Her foot nudges against his under the table. “It’s nice.”

Phil can’t think of a single thing to say. Well, he can, he’s practically the king of the snappy one-liner, but “It’s even better in bed” is way too sleazy, and it’s really not the right time for “I love you” even if it is the loudest thought in his head right now. How does she do this? Thirty years they’ve known each other and he’s still falling over himself at a simple comment from Melinda May like nothing has changed at all since the Academy.

“It is,” he says finally. “We should do it more often.”

“Does that mean you’re finally going to let me do something more complicated than making cereal?”

Phil shudders. “I’m pretty sure that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment,” he points out, laughing when she flicks a piece of egg at him.

They make normal morning small talk - or at least the closest two people who have spent their lives working for S.H.I.E.L.D. can get to normal small talk - over the rest of breakfast. By the time both plates are clean and Phil’s finished his coffee, their feet have ended up tangled together under the table.

It feels, he realizes with a jolt, like a date.

“Coulson?”

They both look up to see Mack coming through the door.

“Fitz wants to see you today. Hand recalibration time.”

“But Yoyo and I just did that a month ago,” Phil protests. It’s not like he minds, exactly, since keeping the giant hunk of metal and electronics attached to his arm working properly is sort of a priority of his. Even so, it’s usually much longer between sessions.

Mack shrugs, grabbing a mug to pour his own coffee. “Don’t ask me,” he says. “I stick to engines and I’m happy that way. Maybe there’s some fancy new gadget he wants to install or something.”

Phil and Melinda exchange a look. Fitz has a habit of tinkering with prosthetic designs as a distraction when he’s frustrated with other projects. Phil really should be worried about spending his time in the lab instead of getting things done, but he can’t help the rush of childish glee. This kind of thing is how he got x-ray hands. It’s like being a real actual superhero.

Melinda’s expression says very clearly that he’s not hiding it well enough and she’s laughing at him on the inside.

“Don’t know what’s wrong with a hand just being a hand,” Mack grumbles, oblivious.

“It was just a hand before you chopped it off,” Phil points out, laughing at the look on his former partner’s face. “Besides, I don’t remember you complaining too much about my gadgets when we got ambushed that time in Denver-”

“Shut up and get your hand fixed, Coulson.”

Melinda bats her eyelashes at him. “Director’s orders, Phil,” she says, all fawning solicitousness. Mack salutes her with his coffee and heads back out to the hallway with his nose already buried in his tablet.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side,” Phil says, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Maybe I just like giving you orders for a change,” she says. Their eyes meet in silent recognition of what happened the last time she had, and for an long moment there is nothing in the world but the two of them and the memory of a kiss. But then her phone buzzes, startling them both, and she sighs in annoyance. “I have to meet with Piper in ten minutes. You should go find Fitz.”

“Maybe by this afternoon I’ll be able to play the piano,” he jokes. “I’ll see you later?”

“I don’t think you’ll want to,” she says. Phil frowns; he always wants to see her. Does she really- “Yoyo’s having a Scream marathon.”

Phil does not flinch. He’s a seasoned S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with decades of experience under his belt; a reaction like that would be deeply unprofessional. Besides, he’s faced real life horrors and lived to tell the tale. A few jumpscares are nothing. Really. He just… prefers other forms of entertainment.

(He thanks his lucky stars every day that Daisy hasn’t caught on yet.)

“A girls’ night it is. Got it.”

She’s been teasing him about this for so long that it’s become completely nonverbal; though the only sound in the room is the clatter of dishes as they clean up after themselves, Phil knows from long experience exactly what she’d say, and it only takes a single glance at her smug expression to confirm that she’s thinking exactly the same thing. Sticking his tongue out would be childish, of course, so he does the mature thing instead and reaches out to tug at the end of her ponytail.

But... he’s promised himself that he won’t touch. Admittedly this hadn’t really been what he’d had in mind at the time, but the principle is the same. Just because he can’t remember the last time he enjoyed breakfast so much doesn’t mean Melinda feels the same way. He never would have dared to pull her ponytail before, so he can’t in good conscience do so now, right?

Man, he feels like a twelve-year-old.

Still, Phil doesn’t like going back on his word, so he turns the movement into pretending to brush something off his shirt and beats a quick exit. Crisis averted.

He doesn’t notice Melinda’s frown as she watches him leave in the reflection of the microwave.

#philinda #agents of shield #been a fool for lesser things #preux fic #listen domestic kitchen philinda is my ultimate weakness #I could write an entire novel based on my ideas about philinda and their relationship with food alone #god knows my list of ideas has a lot of food things #ah well if music be the food of love play on and all that #also that's right phil you dumbass #you're acting weird and it's DEFINITELY too much to hope that the person who knows and loves you most wouldn't fucking notice #wow guys it's almost like actually talking to each other about your feelings is a good idea #fun fact this fic originally came about because they have a very specific type of communication problem #like they know each other so well that they understand what the other's emotional reaction will be to anything #EXCEPT they've also been thinking in friend mode for so long that they kind of bluescreen when it comes to romance between them #which means the only blindspot in their relationship is.... their relationship #bc of course it is #ac dc ac #i would die for melinda may #rachael no #aos

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chainsawbettyloo · 8 years ago

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Title: Together With You, We’ll Relearn the World

Pairing: sidlink

Rating: Everyone

Tags: fluff, sweet, a little bit of sad but not a lot

A/N: Thank you for the request! This was so super cute and I had SO much fun writing it! Hope you like it!

Also posted on my AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there! Prompt requests are still open so send ‘em my way if you got ‘em! Comments, reblogs and kudos are much appreciated, thanks!

Not smiling was proving to be harder than he had originally thought.

Climbing up the steep, grassy incline, the ground slippery underneath his feet, heading towards the small camp they had set up at the base of the hill, Sidon tried to focus on anything other than the small Hylian on his back. This was proving to be a challenge as the slightest glance to his right allowed him a full view of his little Hylian's face, which just strengthened the urge to beam idiotically.

With his chin resting on his shoulder, arms loosely draped around his neck and legs held carefully in the loops of his own arms, Link was currently getting, from him, what he understood to be a ‘piggyback ride’. He wasn’t entirely sure why this positioning was called such a name but it seemed to being in it seemed to be a source of either agitation or embarrassment to Link, who was currently gazing forward with the most adorable look of sullenness that Sidon had ever seen on his already immensely cute face.

The reasoning behind Sidon carefully carrying him back to camp was that, as usual, Link had tried to perform some kind of stunt which involved a wooden shield and a hill, had promptly lost his balance, tried to correct it and twisted his ankle. Said ankle was now swollen to the size of an apple, as well as colored a disconcerting dark purple. His little Hylian had insisted he was alright, tried to walk and fell flat onto his face the moment he had tried to put pressure on the injured foot, resulting in a bruised, swollen cheek.

Amid much protests and complaints, all of which he ignored, Sidon had picked him up, positioning in the ‘piggyback’ position and started towards camp. He honestly didn’t find the situation itself funny, rather he was alarmed at how badly Link had managed to hurt himself and distantly worried if this was a normal thing for him (which lead directly to the thought that he would need to watch his little Hylian more carefully from now on) but the look on Link’s face - it was so utterly adorable that he couldn’t help but to want to grin. He wanted to lean over and kiss his nose, his lips, his forehead and, possibly, tease him a little for doing such a ridiculous thing.

However, he knew that would be ill received. Link wasn’t a child, after all and was obviously not in the same light mood that Sidon was in, so he figured that he should probably wait a little while before he started to gently poke fun at his little Hylian. Maybe after he had gotten that foot taken care of and put some good food in Link’s belly - having a good meal always seemed to cheer him up from a sour mood. And he knew just to dish to make to get his mind off his little incident.

Lost in his thoughts, he was slightly alarmed when Link suddenly gasped, his body jerking back, away from Sidon. They had just reached the top of the hill. Above them was a vast expanse of brilliant blue sky, dotted with deep grey rain clouds, below was an endless sea of green, interspersed with the brown of trees and the glimmering silver of rivers, streams and lakes. A storm had just recently blown through, raining down on the rich, green earth, leaving behind sparkles of fresh water and a delicate smell of pleasant dampness.

Turning his head to look back at Link, he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but abruptly froze. Link was looking at something to his left, his mouth hanging open, his beautiful blue eyes wide open with dazzling wonder. Sidon turned to look in the direction that Link was and, to his delight, found that a perfect rainbow had formed. Standing proudly in the vibrant sky, the colors contrasting against the grey of the clouds, it was the definition of a picturesque moment. Happiness swelled in his chest. Though the situation wasn’t exactly as he would have imagined, he was still so happy to be able to share such a romantic moment with his Link.

“What is it?” Link suddenly asked, his voice breathless with excitement, “Sidon, what is that?”

“Huh?” Sidon replied in surprise. He looked back at Link once more, “You don’t know?”

Link shook his head, a big smile, stretching from ear to ear, on his face, “No, I can’t remember. I feel like I should be able to but I can’t find it in my head. What is it? It’s beautiful!”

The happiness in his chest dimmed a little. That’s right - so much of Link’s memory had been lost after he had awoken from his one hundred year slumber. He hadn’t realized that it had been to this extent; so many details, so many memories and experiences were gone, nonexistent. The agony of losing so much, he couldn’t even imagine. But, he quickly released, the sadness growing in his heart freezing in it’s steps, at least, there were chances for Link to reclaim what he had lost, chances for him to remember and for him to experience everything, afresh and new. And he was allowed to be here with him, experiencing his wonder, his revelations, his epiphanies. He was allowed to stand by him as his eyes grew wide with excitement, delight and enthusiasm as a new thing appeared before him, and could drink it all in, encourage him to keep learning and help him whenever, wherever he could.

In that moment, he knew that there was no greater honor than that and there was nowhere else he would rather be.

“A rainbow.” He replied, finally allowing a smile to spread across his face.

“Rainbow.” Link repeated slowly, as though he were tasting the word on his tongue, his own smile somehow going larger, light filling his adorable face. “How does it work?!”

“I believe it’s light reflecting off water droplets but I’m not certain. Zelda will probably have a better idea of what’s going on than I do. We’ll ask her next time we see her.”

“That’s amazing!” Link joyfully cried, practically jumping up and down in Sidon’s arms, his hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders so he didn’t fall, “Can we get closer?”

“It’s a reflection in the sky,” He informed him gently, “you could keep running towards it and never reach it.”

The information didn’t seem to dampen Link’s spirits in the slightest. Instead, that only seemed to excite him more. Slipping his arms around Sidon’s shoulders, he leaned forward, pushed himself up until he was hanging over one of his shoulders, smiled vibrantly up at him, his blue eyes dancing with glee and asked, “Will it stay there forever?”

“No, it’ll eventually fade as the water evaporates and the light shifts.”

“When will it be back?”

Sidon shook his head, “I don’t know, maybe with the next rainstorm, maybe not. They’re not easily predictable.”

Link fell quiet, his gaze still fixed on the rainbow. Sidon gazed down at him for a few moments, drinking in the innocent, childish expression of joy and wonderment on his face before gently shifting him off his shoulder. Cradling him lovingly in his arms, a little disappointed that he could no longer see his face, he slipped one around his back, the other underneath his knees and said, “Come on. You’ll still be able to see it from camp. We need to get that foot fixed up.”

Link, whose eyes were still on the rainbow, nodded. After squirming around a little to get a better view, he relaxed into Sidon’s arms, his cheek pressing against Sidon’s chest and said, “This makes hurting my foot completely worth it.”

Snorting with laughter, Sidon smiled, leaned down to press a soft kiss on the top of his head before straightening up. He wasn’t so sure he agreed, as they would have been able to see the rainbow even if he hadn’t injured himself but he supposed as long as Link was happy, so was he.

But he really was going to have to keep an eye on his little Hylian. Link was entirely too daring for his own good. If he wanted to keep having discoveries like this, he was going to need to rein it back a little or, at least, Sidon was going to hold his reins just a little more tightly. He, after all, wanted to be able to experience many more moments like this so maybe a little more strictness was in order.

Starting forward again, he began to carefully make his way down the hill. It was a little bit difficult as, at the same time, he was trying not to block Link’s view. He didn’t know how long the rainbow was going to last so he wanted his little Hylian to have as much time being able to see it as possible.

“Sidon.” Link suddenly spoke up, his voice soft.

“Yes?” Sidon replied, cautiously stepping over what looked to be a weak spot in the ground.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

Sidon stopped, looked down to find that Link had torn his eyes away from the rainbow and his gaze was now directed upwards at him. There was a soft, peaceful look of contentment on his face that sent warmth flowing through his chest. Turning his head slightly, he snuggled into his chest and said, “I’ve lost so much...and it’s terrifying to think about that sometimes so,” he turned his head back and smiled vibrantly up at him, “thank you for being patient with me and teaching me what you can.”

Cute. He was so cute. He couldn’t believe how utterly adorable his little Hylian was. Squeezing him tightly to his chest, he pressed a kiss onto his forehead and said, “Of course! Oh, my Link, I’ll be right here with you always, helping you rediscover and learn everything you could possibly want to know! I’m not the best teacher but I’ll do my best! We’ll drive away that fear. Everything you’ve lost, we’ll reclaim.”

Link’s arms looped around his neck. Pulling himself up so that he was nearly vertical, Sidon quickly encased him in his embrace to keep him steady. Lovingly nuzzling the side of his head, he tightened his hold on him, making sure that his injured foot wasn’t in an awkward position. Pushing his face into the curve of his shoulder, Link snuggled into him, placed a soft kiss against the side of his neck and whispered, “Promise?”

Sidon nodded, “There’s nowhere I would rather be, than right here with you, Link.”

He felt Link smile against his skin. There was a little hint of heat, indicating that his little Hylian was probably blushing. Smiling slightly himself, he kissed the tip of his exposed, red tipped ear, which earned him an adorable little giggle, before setting off once again towards their camp. It was true, he didn’t know much outside of Zora’s Domain but that just gave him the chance to learn alongside Link, to experience things, hand and hand, step by step, with him. Together, they would reclaim what Link had lost and he could only hope that much of what they recovered inspired similar reactions in Link, because he was certain that he could see that jubilant glow on his little Hylian’s face a million times over and never, ever tire of it.

#breath of the wild #loz #prince sidon #prince sidon x link #sidlink #mywriting #mystuff #prompts #this was seriously such a cute prompt #and i was so happy writing it

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