#i know people have said he could play a beatle and i totally agree. just like. Which Beatle Though .

[lighthouseas]

finn wolfhard should star in a biopic. don't know who he'd be playing but he's got that vibe you know

[tenderlady]

hi love!! out of curiosity, i didn't know about the lindsay ellis video, how bad is it?

hey, friend!

so, the video itself is here:

in the interest of full disclosure, i haven't actually seen it, so i really can't comment on the quality. my beef is not with lindsay ellis or the work that she's doing--as far as youtubers go, i think she's actually one of the better ones. this video might actually be good! but i haven't watched it, so i, frankly, don't know. my beef is much more with the video essay as a form and what it's doing rather than with lindsay ellis, or this video, specifically.

i'm guessing you're asking because of my tags on this post, which articulates a lot of my issues with the video essay industrial complex lmao, which gets at a lot of my discomfort with them. i used to watch video essays (a lot!), and a lot of my friends still do. like a lot of people, when i got out of grad school, i found i wasn't reading as much anymore, but i still wanted to be stimulated intellectually, and video essays were a good way to do that. but eventually i realized that i wasn't actually Learning Anything lol.

as ismatu gwendolyn says in her piece, "short-form video entertains more than it sticks." this was the place i was finding myself getting into when i was watching video essays a lot, and also the place i see my friends getting into. they are video (and arguably this isn't really short-form since it's over an hour long but i digress), but i find that most people i know don't actually Watch Them the way that you would watch a movie or, say, a lecture in a college class. instead they listen to them as you would listen to a podcast or an audiobook, which is to say While Doing Other Things. some of this is definitely because of the way our current economy is structured (a lot of the people listening to video essays are very busy, i.e., in university or working in a professional desk-type job, or have minimal downtime when not doing those things and have to double dip with their free time, so like things they can use to multi-task), and that is something i totally understand. but if we're looking at these as pedagogical objects (teaching tools from people who are trying to impart knowledge in some kind of way) they're actually not very effective. i respect folks like philosophy tube or contrapoints who include reading lists with their videos, but how many people are actually turning to these original sources? another of gwendolyn's points that i absolutely agree with is that you are engaging with a work in a totally different way by reading it. you have to give a written text your full attention, which is why the backbone of education is still Reading. this full attention forces you to have a deeper engagement with a text than you would while listening to it ambiently, or even just watching it. i get that there are people who can't do this for various reasons, but if actually sitting down with the texts a video essayist is talking about is available to you, you will find a totally different experience, even if those texts are just beatlebooks lol. (additionally, primary video texts--like interview footage of the beatles and yoko--are also hugely informative and different from the interpretive work i'm assuming is happening in lindsay's video)

i actually watched a good chunk of contrapoints' most recent video on desire but ended up dipping around the middle because she brought up anne carson and i realized i could just be reading anne carson lmao. i told a friend about this and he looked at me like i had sprouted an extra head and said "i never really thought about doing that. you're probably the only person i know who's ever done that." i get that like, 5 nerds in usamerica are hardly a representative sample, but that is the kind of behavior i see with video essays: people using them to fill a void of silence while they work/study/play video games/fold laundry rather than engaging with the material critically and learning in a concerted way.

the entertainment aspect is also something that bugs me, but i am a joyless hag, so that may just be me. i have a similar issue with john oliver. folks like oliver and the video essayists are definitely making complex issues more accessible to people who may be unfamiliar, but i don't know if they actually do much in the way of using that opened door to get people anywhere. there's also the issue of video essays being monetized. this isn't to say that Theory(TM) Isn't Monetized (they are published in journals and books, which you often have to buy), but that monetization isn't embedded into the work itself the way it is with video essays. nothing kills the vibe for me like talking about the great works of a philosopher and getting jumpscared by an ad for rocketmortgage or nordvpn halfway through.

like i said: i've watched video essays from time to time. i still do! but sometime in the last like.....4 or 5 years i realized that there were other things i could be doing with my One Wild & Precious Life.

to bring it back to the lindsay ellis video: i had a bunch of irl's (including a fucking ex that i don't talk to anymore!!!!!) send it to me, and i'm sure lindsay does a good job, but i kind of doubt she's going to tell me anything i don't already know lmao. one thing i love about the beatles fandom on here is that (for the most part) we aren't afraid to actually do Real Research Ourselves. the girlies are reading primary sources!!!! i just feel like the lindsay ellis beatle video is Not For Me, but feel free to prove me wrong!

[destinyc1020]

i love tom just as much as the next stan but throwing out his name for paul mccartney is soo wild to me given paul is 5'11 💀 no shade to tom whatsoever but it would be a truly outrageous casting choice for that reason alone, disregarding the fact that they don't look anything alike either! tom doing the fa film makes sense given his dancing background, and there is some similarity looks-wise but doing paul mccartney who is a singer??? he could totally do it but i don't think it would be the right fit....i would love if they cast people who could actually sing to play the beatles otherwise what's the point? like why do a fa biopic and cast someone who couldn't dance? that's why tom is perfect for it. i will say though that i do love that tom is that guy that people throw out though.....box office acting chops king!!!

I agree Anon....

While I love Tom, and I LOVE that people are throwing his name out there (that's a good sign imo 😊), I don't think him doing a Beatles biopic playing THEE Paul McCartney would be the best thing tbh. Honestly? I think they should go w/someone relatively unknown who can sing. Like you said, Tom's height would be all off (look how RIDICULOUS JE looked playing Elvis at 6'5 ROTFL 🤣), and while I think Tom can probably carry a tune, he's NOT a singer. Totally agree w/you on them choosing a singer (or, at least someone who has a SINGING/musical background) for this role.

With regards to looks, I mean...I don't worry about that too much anymore. They used prosthetics on Christian Bale to play Dick Cheney, and Austin doesn't really look like Elvis, but they used prosthetics on his face to make it work as well. I'm not so much worried about the LOOK as I am more so the skillset needed for a Beatles role.

I'm not understanding the Barry Keoghan name being thrown out there either for Ringo tbh lol. 🤣 At least Ringo was SHORT, so Barry fits that description I guess lol. But can Barry sing?? Like, does he carry a tune lol? Barry isn't even English! He's Irish! 🤣 Idk how Brits would feel about that lol, but I guess anyone can fake an accent lol.

Like you said, I agree, Tom would be way better-suited for the FA biopic. At least Tom knows how to dance, and has been tap dancing for YEARS. You want an actor who already has somewhat of a background in dance if you're having them play one of the greatest dancing actors on the big screen. JMHO. I wouldn't think it would be right to settle for anything LESS.

So yea, I know we'll probably be pelted for saying this out loud, but I agree. While I respect a Director's decision, it would just be somewhat odd casting to me ,that's all lol. But hey...

It wasn't a casting announcement lol... So we're good. I'm just glad his name is being thrown around out there. He's in high demand! 😊

[greenwood106-blog]

Darkness Of December 8th

December 8th is a day that represents significant music loss.  Both John Lennon and Darrell "Dimebag" Abbott were murdered on this day in separate years.  Both had significant music impacts in very different ways and on very different groups of people, but the depth of their loss musically is really comparable.

The following is my recollection of the day it happened and my feelings and inspiration from both.

In 1980 I was 12 and hanging out in my room listening to the radio when the DJ said that John Lennon had been shot and killed in from of his place in New York.  I had recently been formally introduced to his music with the Double Fantasy album and was learning his history and contribution to music.  I got up to walk in to my mom's sewing room and told her that John Lennon had been shot and killed.  We were both shocked, but my mom's understanding of his music history was far deeper than mine.

I was floored watching all of the various gatherings and responses to his death and knew that I had to learn more about his music.  While I was much more of a metal head at the time, it was impressive to me all he had done and how he was revered.  I remember when Elvis Presley died and it seemed to me the response was very similar.

As I've gotten older and my music love has expanded, The Beatles music and Lennon's music have become much more relevant and inspirational.  Not to mention Lennon's desire to see peace and equality and how he went about making the issues public.  Whether you agree with his positions or not, the idea that one of the most recognized and regarded celebrities would utilize the fame and constant media attention to do this is impressive.

I won't share any attention for the guy who shot him, but knowing later that the only reason he did it was Lennon was the most famous person accessible to him was even more nauseating.  This pig didn't oppose his music, didn't find his political or human rights positions troubling, he simply chose him as the most famous target he could reach. I'm thankful that the system has denied his release every time it has come up (twelve times total thus far).  His next parole hearing will be in 2023 unless he dies before then.  Rest In Peace John Lennon.

This brings us to 2004.  At 36 I had been playing guitar and was working with a friend of mine to establish better recording practices.  He is a lifelong metal head and has played and recorded for years.  We are both huge fans of the playing of Darrell "Dimebag" Abbott.  His band Pantera changed the heavy metal music sound and his playing technique was incredible.  His brother Vinnie was the drummer both in Pantera and in the band that came after Pantera disbanded, Damageplan.

It was while he was touring with Damageplan in 2004 that they played a show in Columbus, Ohio at the Alrosa Villa.  This venue, as all of them on this tour, was much smaller than he had been playing with Pantera.  I had seen them at what is now called Chase Field on a New Year's Eve show and at an outside venue that had a massive crowd and the largest mosh pit I had ever been next to.  These Damageplan venues were more like nightclubs or maybe the size of an Elk's Lodge Hall.  At the time, these venues had fairly light security and I've stood next to these venues and seen the artists just walk in and out of the side of the venue and be completely accessible. Moments into their set on December 8th, 2004 a mentally disturbed former Marine whose name will also not be mentioned by me ever came through the side door armed, walked right across the stage from stage right to stage left where Darrell was playing, raised the gun and fired five times, hitting him all five times in the head, right in front of his brother.  People tried to stop him or help Darrell, and Jeff "Mayhem" Thompson, head of band security and Alrosa Villa employee Erin Halk were killed trying to stop the dirtbag.  Audience member Nathan Bray was killed for trying to perform CPR on Darrell and Jeff.

Drum tech John "Kat" Brooks and tour manager Chris Paluska were both shot but survived.  Brooks was shot three times trying to stop the maniac.

The police arrived in just a few quick minutes after being called.  Officer James Niggemeyer snuck up on the lunatic who had taken Brooks hostage when he saw the officers in front of the stage.  When he raised the gun up toward Brooks' head, Niggemeyer shot the loser in the head, ending the chaos.

Sitting out at my friend's house late into the night, I received a call that it had been reported on the radio that Darrell had been killed.  We started searching around online, which 18 years ago wasn't nearly as fast and responsive as it is today.  We started to see some possible subtle confirmations, but it wasn't for quite some time before we were able to actually confirm it and we were both devastated.

Darrell's picking, his technique with harmonics and his rhythms were so inspiring for a metal player.  He was also a very open, joyful person and embraced talking with fans and doing instructional videos online and for guitar magazines. I can't imagine seeing a brother murdered in front of you while you were doing what you both lived for, something as innocent as playing music and entertaining fans, but Darrell's brother Vinnie seemed to mourn every day afterwards.  He joined another band called Hellyeah which was a bit of a supergroup of metal musicians and they toured regularly.

In June of 2018, Vinnie died from heart issues.  His heart was forever damaged watching his brother die and from his active drinking and partying lifestyle, which I also attribute to his sadness. December 8th will forever have sad memories for me and many, many other people.  As a guitar and bass guitar teacher, I try to educate people about the amazing techniques and music produced by these two while skipping the pathetic nature of their death.

[inspiteallthedanger]

Have you thought about that moment in Get Back where Paul says ''Good try that, Johnny'', and George says something immediately after to John, addressing him ''John'' pointedly? Like very pointedly. I mean it might have been discussed on Tumblr, but I just rewatched it on Youtube (it's in the beginning of a short video there called ''George's admiring Eric Clapton & Billy Preston'') and that moment always makes me smile and wonder. It's just a tiny second of interraction between the tree of them but a mess of so many possible feelings. It definitely sounds like George is either mocking Paul or in otherwise responding to the fact that Paul said ''JohnnY''. Like he's acknowledging that that petname sounds affectionate and is annoyed by that fact. It's also interesting to me that apparently it DID sound special/affectionate, it wasn't common for people to call John that, if George payed attention to it. It's like.. George's reaction in a way for me confirms Paul's affection which is why the moment makes me smile mostly. But also... they're not teenagers anymore but George is annoyed/jealous? That Paul likes John? That John's ass is kissed by Paul? That they were an annoying petname-calling team like that still? I mean it's kinda hilarious but also like our weird fanfictions are not so far from the truths. Sorry for that long rant over one second of Get Back, what do you think? :D

Hello. This is interesting, isn't it? My following response is assuming that this dialogue is presented in Get Back as it was (more or less) said in real life. Which, we know might not be the case. So, for a start, I’m ignoring the visuals in this. But, anyway, with that aside:

I do totally agree that George's 'John' does seem a pointed moment in response to Paul's ‘Johnny’. And yes! I think Paul's trying to create some sort of short-hand/intimacy with John there too. I think, overall, George is trying to win John over to his way of thinking in his on-going argument with Paul. I think it’s pointed because he’s sort of saying “Oh, no you don’t, Paul. You don’t get to win by pulling on your weird ass relationship with John.”

I’m not sure, entirely, why he’s annoyed. Because I don’t think it’s wildly unusual for Paul to call him Johnny in that context.

I wonder if it’s possible George's annoyed because Paul says it was good. Then sort of pauses and only calls out John as being good, and George takes that to mean Paul thinks George wasn't good? I can’t remember what they’ve just finished playing, so assuming they’ve all just done a song, that could be part of it?

But overall, I think he’s annoyed because he's trying to win the argument that he's been having with Paul since the start of the sessions i.e. how they should go about crafting these songs. So, he's mostly disagreeing with Paul that the take was good.

I do think this is part of George's on-going issues with the whole idea of the project. Specifically, he's talking here about why he can't do what Paul wants him to do: stop and fix each wrong note as they go (by which George thinks Paul thinks he should just automatically know how the song ought to go), or allowing them to play through it and figure it out once they have the overall shape.

I'm not sure if George is just very insecure during these sessions or what, but it's a clear through line from this chat to "You need Clapton for that" where John says, "We need Harrison". And likely why John jokes they should just bring him in when George leaves.

None of the Beatles were good at just jamming - when they tried it, apparently it was often terrible. Paul's dismissive, "That's jazz, man," is meant to say, "So what if Eric does that? Doesn't make him better than us, or what you do." Anyway, I think this is all part of them trying to get John to weigh in on one of their sides. Which is interesting, because by all accounts that isn’t what he ever did. Let alone by this time in their relationship.

Anyway, none of this takes away from anything you’ve put here. I just think it’s more about them more directly fighting for John’s approval/agreement. Which John is resolutely not about to do...

It’s also funny/sad that George thinks that Paul and John still likely have that bond. I mean, they do but the very timid sort of way Paul says ‘Johnny’ sort of suggested that he’s not even sure of his place with John currently. Like, he’s trying to get John engaged and in doing so is excluding George. The dynamics are wild and painful to behold!

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right (Excerpt) || Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Hello fellow boss-babes, it is @ssahotchswife soft hotch saturday again! I’m trying something a little different this week-- I hope y’all don’t mind! This week’s fic is an excerpt from a multichapter I’ve been working on for a couple months. It’s a bit of a slow burn, so this is their first date, roughly a quarter through the fic. 

As I’m sure you all know, your kind words always mean so much to authors, but on this fic in particular I’m looking to hear from you all! I want to know if there’s interest in me posting more chapters of this fic. Please let me know!! 

contains: first date shenanigans, brief, non graphic description of violence, alcohol consumption, aaron hotchner being soft, no gendered pronouns but reader wears a dress

wordcount: 1.5k

It was stupid to be nervous for a date with a man who already had feelings for you. You knew that, yet you still couldn’t tame the anxiety that had settled in the pit of your stomach as you did your makeup. Jess had kept Jack for dinner tonight to give you and Aaron the evening to yourselves, but you almost wished he was here begging you to play legos and superheroes with him. Blocks and make-believe, you were good at. Relationships? Not so much. 

You shook away that train of thought as you pulled a blue dress out of your closet-- a little satin blue number that hit below the knee and had a slit up the thigh. You slipped it over your head and checked yourself in the mirror.

You’re suddenly brought back to a different date night, one that had ended with you crying in the shower because Josh had insisted that the dress you’d picked out was too low cut. You looked down at your forearm as if the bruises from where he had gripped you might have reappeared-- they hadn’t. You can feel your breath catching as the memory of his hand around your throat creeps up from somewhere deep inside you. Aaron’s gentle knock on your door pulled you out of your train of thought. 

“You almost ready, dear?” He called through the door. 

“One sec! I just need shoes,” you said, grabbing a small black purse and slipping on a matching pair of strappy heels. You swung the door open and found him standing in the doorway, looking absolutely delicious in one of his black suits with a blue shirt underneath, no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Fighting against the urge to lick your lips, you fuss with his collar. 

“We match,” you tell him, gesturing to his blue shirt and your blue dress. 

“You look absolutely stunning,” he tells you, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“You don’t think it’s too much? I can change if--” 

“It’s perfect. If you’re comfortable, it’s perfect,” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

“Aaron Hotchner, and you haven’t even bought me dinner yet! I’ll have you know I don’t dare kiss on the first date,” You teased him, and he treated you to one of those smiles where the dimples popped up on both sides of his face.

“Maybe I’m a bad influence on you, then,” he smirked, placing a hand on the small of your back as he led you out the door and to the car. 

You shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just very willing to be influenced.” 

Aaron quirked an eyebrow as he opened the passenger door of his car for you, and you bit your lip as you climbed inside. He took your hand and drove the two of you into downtown Alexandria, Virginia, pulling expertly into a street spot on the cobblestone road in front of Nobu. 

“Sushi?” You asked when Aaron opened your car door. 

“Yeah, I thought you liked sushi. We can find something else if—“ 

“Sushi’s great, Aaron. Stop stressing,” you told him, wrapping your arm around his as the two of you made your way into the restaurant. Aaron had made reservations, of course, so you were swiftly taken to a back corner of the restaurant, tucked away in a private little booth. Aaron ordered a bottle of wine for you to share when the waiter came by to introduce yourself, and he looked at you with a fond smile as soon as the two of you were left alone again.

“What?” You asked after a moment, feeling suddenly insecure under his scrutiny.

“Nothing,” he told you. “I’m just thinking, is all.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Hotchner. Thinking about what?” 

“I’m just really happy to be here with you. I didn’t think I’d ever be brave enough to do this.”

“You’re the bravest man I know.” You tell him, genuinely. 

“That’s what they think, isn’t it? All these people we meet on cases. They see us put on our vests and break down doors and think we’re the bravest people they’ve ever known. They don’t know how scared we really are at all. How brave can I be when it took me this long to tell you how strong my feelings are for you?” 

“Aaron—“ you start, but he suddenly realizes how vulnerable he sounds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“How long?” You asked.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in response.

“How long have you known you had feelings for me?” 

“I figured it out pretty early on. Sometime in between your first day and the day you ran into a house without a vest to save a kid from an unsub.” 

“You were so pissed. I thought for sure you were going to fire me.” 

“I probably should’ve. But that was also the moment that I realized I didn’t want to go back to work if you weren’t going to be there.”

You smiled into your wine glass as you took a sip. “You’ve been very patient.” You remarked. 

“I think you were worth the wait,” he responds with a shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. You smile.

Dinner passes easily, the two of you laughing and smiling and eating and sneaking in a game of footsie just so that a moment didn’t pass where you weren’t touching each other. You settle the tab and Aaron leads you out of the restaurant with the now-familiar weight of his hand on the small of your back anchoring you. 

“I thought we could head down to the boardwalk if you’re not too tired?” He asked as you exited into the street. 

“Lead the way,” you told him, taking his hand in your own as he led you down the sidewalk. You ended up at the edge of the boardwalk, leaning against the rail and watching the sun set over the Potomac. Aaron stood behind you, his arms on either side of you and your back pressed into his chest. You settled into the warmth of him and neither one of you needed to speak, content in the presence of one another as the sun dipped over the horizon. You craned your neck to look at Aaron as the sun disappeared.

“I could stay here forever, but I imagine it’s about time for us to get home.” 

“Unless I can convince you to call out tomorrow, you’re probably right.” He agrees, stepping back to allow you away from the rail.

“Sure, because that wouldn’t be conspicuous at all,” you laughed as the two of you headed back towards the car. With the sun now gone, goosebumps appeared across your arms as a breeze picked up. Aaron slipped his jacket off of and wrapped it around your shoulders in an instant, warning you with a glance the moment you opened your mouth not to protest his chivalry. You didn’t. 

You realize how tired you are the moment you sink into the passenger seat of Aaron’s car, but it’s the kind of tired you feel after a day at the amusement park as a kid— you’re totally spent, but you wouldn’t change a thing and you’d do it all again in an instant. Aaron has a Beatles album playing quietly in the background of your drive and suddenly you’re wishing that he’d never pull the car back into the driveway.

Of course, he does eventually, and the two of you clumsily make your way back into the house. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I had a really great time tonight.” You tell him, handing him back his suit coat. 

“Can I have ten more minutes? I’m not ready for tonight to be over just yet.” He asks of you, his dark eyes shining in the low light, and you’re helpless.

“Of course,” you tell him, and he smiles, pulling his phone out of his pocket and fiddling with it for a moment before setting it on the counter. Some Ella Fitzgerald song is playing. You don’t recognize it, but it doesn’t really matter, because he has one hand wrapped around your waist and the other is holding yours and resting over his heart, and you’re placing your head on his chest as he gently sways you around the kitchen and you realize that everything is perfect. He’s holding you, and you’re safe in his arms, and it’s perfect. Your feet are killing you, and you can barely keep your eyes open, and it’s perfect. You’re picturing a life with him and it’s perfect.

All too soon, the music fades away, and you’re swaying in his arms in the silence, refusing to accept that your evening may truly be over. Aaron kisses your temple and moves to whisper in your ear.

“Good night, sweetheart. Get some rest.” 

You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to meet his lips, one of your hands wrapping around the back of his head while his hand on your back pulled you impossibly closer. 

“Good night, Aaron.” You told him.

“I thought you didn’t kiss on the first date?” He teases you, smiling.

You shrugged. “I’m easily influenced.”

[moon-light-jukebox]

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

--

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.  

--

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

--

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.  

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

--

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.  

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"  

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

--

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​

[shiteatinggrin]

Wrote this quickly without editing it, so sorry if there are any mistakes. I tried to go fast because I didn’t want to miss Training Prompt Tuesday. This is a classic scenario, done a million times, but I wanted to be a part of the club. Jily are in hiding in Godric’s Hollow, and they dancing in the kitchen, ft Baby Harry. Enjoy! @petalstosarah

Word count: 1253

James Potter had been feeling hollow for quite some time. His whole head felt like cotton, and Harry had been crying all night, the poor boy was still teething (more like seething from the screams he let out). This morning he had spilled his coffee on his favourite shirt, burned his eggs, stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed and then again on the kitchen table. Sirius was supposed to come today, but a scrawny owl had come bearing the bad news in a short note: Got a mission tonight. Last minute. Sorry, mate. S. Dumbledore had come some weeks before and had requested to take a look at his invisibility cloak, which he had agreed to without much difficulty, since he had been in a very good mood that day, but now there was no possibility for him to sneak out at night anymore.

Before giving the cloak away, Lily and him had agreed to one night a week each where they could get out calmly, on different nights only since the cloak wasn’t big enough for both of them. One of his happiest moments of the Godric’s Hollow week night was to crawl out of bed at midnight, well after Lily had fallen asleep and not long before she would be woken up by Harry and going oustide by himself to look up at the immensity of the moon, or the stars, or whatever element of nature catcehd his attention that night. It felt like Hogwarts again, hanging out on the grounds, running in the Forbidden Forest and losing the others behind him, rare stolen moments of true freedom. So, maybe sneaking out of his own house on (human) foot was less exciting, and less free, but it was the closest he got to savour liberty again.

His tea was scalding, and he burned his lips. He knew he should have opted for orange juice, he didn’t even like tea in the morning, and apparently it didn’t like him back!

The thing he liked to do the most to pass the time was slowly remodeling their house, working with spells and sometimes Muggle instruments if he was sufficiently bored. They had repainted Harry’s nursery recently and the paint fumes had stayed for a week, so their son slept in their room with them, and sometimes Lily would place him on her chest or his, and they would all sync up their breathing, happily, serenely. The only times that they were completely safe from their nightmares, from the people they had killed, from the thought of suffering the same fate. Now Harry only slept in their room, since he cried a lot less when his parents were by his side, protecting presences.

He was trapped in here, trapped in the house he was trying to better everyday, but still couldn’t compare to what freedom and exaltation had tasted like. He loved his family, and he would have died for them, he would have, but sometimes, the most horrible part of him, the cruelest, meanest part of him wished that he could run away, go and live his life. Of course, he would never do it, never abandon anybody. The faint taste of wishing it was enough, like a buffet for the mind. Everytime he surprised himself daydreaming about it during the day, it felt like the biggest of betrayals, and had to go in the shower to stop himself from crying. One time, he had been nailing a painting to the wall and his vision had blurred after dreaming of a delicious beach, waves licking the sand, and he had almost nailed his thumb to the wall. Even with the help of magic, the bruise took six days to heal.

Sometimes he was afraid Lily could feel it, could feel his restlessness, his wish of going back to battle, going back to his previous life, he was scared she would think he would ever leave her behind. He loved her too much for that, but he didn’t know how to say it anymore. He could play at being himself all day, play at being happy, play at being funny and charming and bubbly, but before going to bed he would be too tired to act, and he knew she could feel the weight of his shoulders dragging towards the floor, the inherent heaviness of the prison they called home.

He wondered how she could bear it, bear being a mother and a wife and so kind and funny and playful. She didn’t need to act, didn’t need to force herself to do anything; she just was. He envied her for that, but he loved her even more for it. Lily was unbelievably strong and this lack of freedom was his own weakness, not hers.

He watched her in the living room watching tv with Harry, laughing at some truly horrible cartoon jokes. He went and sat with them, sat there stewing in his anguish, his intensity, his melancholy, trying to radiate only the love he had for them and to exorcise all of the worst parts of him. She let her head fall on his shoulder and they sat there, in front of the tv, Mama, Dada, Son. A happy little family who loved each other above all else.

When it was time for Harry nap in the afternoon, James announced he was going to try and get some sleep too, since he had had a terrible night. Lily looked up at him from her book and smiled tenderly.

He got up to the sound of music (not the kind that made the hills come alive, but close enough) (Lily had showed him The Sound of Music last Christmas Eve, tucked up in bed at her parents’ house before Harry had been born.) Some Beatles song floated in the air coing from the radio in the kitchen, and it was like waking up and walking into a totally different dream. The house smelled of cookies, which Lily had made to entertain herself (she was a bit of a stress baker) and she was all dressed up, as well as little Harry. She wore a red dress without sleeves that showed off the freckles on her shoulders, a dress that absolutely clashed with her hair, currently up in an elegant bun on the top of her head. Harry had a shirt on that normally came with a tie gifted to him by his Aunt Petunia, but that Lily had let the tie lie in the back of his wardrobe. There was a bit of chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth. Everything felt a little bit like magic.

‘Place your hand in mine,’ said Lily softly, holding out her palm for him. ‘Please, hold my hand.’

She twirled him, and he was still in his pajamas, which consisted of a big long-sleeved grey shirt and plaid bottoms, all mussed up hair and hoarse voice. She looked like a princess, and when she turned, the skirt of the dress swished with her every movement. Little Harry could barely stand, but James took his hands in his and tried to get him not to lose his balance, swaying just lightly enough for it to be considered dancing. Finally, he took him in his arms and placed his other hand on Lily’s waist, slow dancing to upbeat and slow songs alike.

There was a bubble, a bubble of magic, but not the kind of magic he was used to. This was different. This was the only kind of magic the Muggles ever knew, but from his perspective it didn’t look all that bad.

And so they danced.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Roses In A Storm

Part Three: What A Time To Be Alive

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 5,681

Warnings: Talks of alcoholism and recovery, family issues, Red-Skull (hes’s a Nazi, that’s a warning in its own lmao), heights, light angst, talks of self deprecation/hate, explosions, talks of abuse/violence/murder/death, space stuff, I thin that may just be it.

Request: Yes. Many times.

Summary: The end of the journey.

A/N: Welcome to the end of this story! I really hope you liked this fucked up ride. If you want someone to thank for making me writhe this fic, then you best go bother @missmonsters2​ lol! Hope this is what you wanted wifey!

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

That's all it takes.

A few words from Tony Stark and you're on the right path again.

Well...

As right as it can be.

The past few months had been long and gruelling.

There were times, too many than you wanted to admit, where you just wanted to give up. But you never did. And that was largely thanks to Tony and his family.

You would colour or play adventure with Morgan, cook with Pepper and Tony. Helped where you could with Tony and his inventions, but mainly you would just watch him, letting him distract you as he worked away, while you two conversed. You even became a "stand-in Assistant" when Pepper was rushed with mass amounts of work.

Whenever you were craving alcohol, Tony would always say the same thing:

"Sorry, Strange's orders."

"Since when did you take anyone's orders?"

"Since we could get Natasha back."

He was a real bastard, sometimes.

"Have you seen your parents yet?" he had asked, a little over a month into your recovery.

In your silence, Tony knew your answer.

"It's been seven months, Y/N-"

"I know how long it's been," you snapped. You rubbed at your forehead with a frustrated sigh. Trying to fight off the spinning in your head, "I can't see them like this, Tony. They were so proud of me and everything I've done- Did. Everything I did," you clarified, "And If I go to them now. What are they going to see? An alcoholic failure, who quit their job, is now a fucking hitman. And is in love with a woman- who is, apparently, inside of a fucking stone! What are they gonna say to that? Huh?"

"They still love you, Y/N."

You had tears in your eyes as you shook your head. He was right, you knew that, but you still couldn't see them. You knew you wouldn't be able to bear it if they saw you like this.

"Please, Y/N. Go home. See them. Tell them you love them," Tony practically begged you, "Trust me. You only get so long with them. You should know that you've lost people you love, too."

"I know..." you said weakly.

And that was the end of that conversation.

Yeah.

He really was a bastard, sometimes.

But now, five and a half months later, you felt better.

You felt so much better.

And you had finally seen your parents.

For the first time, in a year.

Your interaction with them had been just as Tony had said it would be. They welcomed you with open arms. Telling you how much they loved you. How proud of you they still were. They told you there was no reason for you to apologise.

Fuck Tony Stark and how right he was.

That bastard.

***

You felt like a stranger walking through these halls, but familiar to the surroundings at the same time. Almost like you were walking the halls of your old school.

It was... eerie?

Was that even the best term to use, to describe this feeling? You didn't know. But it felt right.

Agents, visitors, and trainees all the like, regarded you as you walked. All knew of who you were. Most knew what had happened the last time you had been at HQ, from either witnessing it themselves or through the grape-vine.

But it was their own fault when they jumped out of their skin, as you kicked open the door of your destination, as they should have known you hadn't lost your spunk.

"Right! Listen up, motherfuckers!" you yelled, making the people inside the room snapped their attention to you, shock rippling throughout their bodies, as you slammed the door shoot behind you. "I'm coming back to work!"

You could tell Fury was about to say something, from where he sat at the top of the table, in between Tony and Strange. With Maria stood to the side behind her boss. Her eyebrows raised at you, and a small -almost unnoticeable- smile on her face.

"Don't you dare, I'm not done yet!" You pointed at Fury, who leaned back in his seat and regarded you, allowing you to carry on with what you were saying. "I'm coming back, but I have some conditions-!"

"'Conditions'?" he asked.

"Yes. Conditions. Firstly, this is a one-time thing. I'm not taking my job back. I don't work for you. I'm working with you. For. This. Mission. Only. Okay?" No objections. You nodded your head once. "Secondly. I will do as you say, but I have a say on who is involved in this mission. If I don't want them here. They don't get to be. Because if I have to look at Clint's face- Even though I do know that Nat wasn't really his fault. I'm still gonna rip his throat out-"

"Now, Y/N. You have no-"

"Ah- Ah- Ah," You cut Fury off. "I'm still not done yet. Coming off of my second point. Wade gets to be there when I say so."

"Now that's definitely not happening!"

"I agree with Fury, Y/N. That is total insanity," Strange voiced up.

"Well, I guess that's tough tittys for you guys. Because those are my conditions. If you don't like it, then that's your problem."

Fury was about to speak when Tony cut him off.

"Just give 'em what they want. It's not like you were gonna involve anyone else. And so what if this Wade guy joins? It's another pair of hands."

"You don't know him."

"You'd like him," you said.

“Oh, now I want him to join more. If I'd like him, and these guys can't stand him."

"I agree with Stark, no matter how much it pains me," Maria spoke, gaining everyone's attention.

"Maria?" Fury asked almost, shocked, "You know what Wilson is like. You've read his files."

"I have." She nodded. "And although he is unorthodox, as the best way to put it... he gets things done. And if he cares for Y/N as much as he said he does. He will do well in helping us."

"Thank you, Maria!"

"Jesus Christ," Fury sighed.

"Wait," Tony said, "Who is Wade to you?"

You shrugged. "He's my best friend. Well, one of them."

"But I'm your best friend!"

"You're one of them!"

"Are you best friend cheating on me?!"

"Can we not do this here?" you asked him, knowing that when you arrived back at the cabin, you were in for a mass amount of questions, and would be forced to say who your best-best friend was.

You suddenly never wanted to leave the small, closed off, conference room.

"Fine," he huffed.

"Fury?" you asked. Cocky smile on your face. Knowing he was at a crossroads, and one direction was blocked.

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Nick."

"Anyway..." Strange began, "Now that we've got everything settled-"

"I missed the whole meeting?" you pointed out.

"-I should be taking my leave now."

"Yeah, send me home too, Dumbledore," Tony "asked", standing up, too.

"Y/N. I'll be in touch." And with that, he and Tony walked through separate portals.

"Wow. So, I've gotta make my own way home? Nice."

Walking over to the door, you spoke your goodbyes. Pausing, only when you were out of the door to say one last condition, "Oh, and also. I get paid three times of what my yearly salary was."

"For this one mission?"

"Yes. For this journey, as Mr Wizardly would put it."

With his silence, was his agreement.

"Bye!" You took your exit.

***

"Where are we going, now?" you asked, strutting into the office at Tony's cabin. Which had become your "base of operations" so to say. Knoticing that the whole team was there.

Tony, Stephen, Fury, Wade, and Maria. Who usually stayed behind, being everyone's eyes and ears.

This must be an essential part of the mission.

You had spent the last three months under Strange's order. You, Tony, and hell even Fury running around collecting all out the things he needed. Mainly books. Sometimes Wade accompanied you on your missions. Keeping things more than entertaining.

"Space."

"The final frontier," you whispered in a far off voice, the same look in your eyes. Tony, laughing at your overdramatics. "But seriously," you continued, words now sober from their previous humour, "Is this it? Are we going to finish this?"

"With any luck," Tony nodded.

"Our ride will be here soon," Fury informed you.

"Our ride?"

"The walking talking build a bear."

"That would be so cool to have," Wade gushed, gaining some weird looks in return.

"The raccoon?" you asked, but still smiling at your scarred friend.

"I believe his name was 'Rocket'."

"Rocket The Raccoon," you said, "D' ya think he got inspiration from The Beatles song 'Rocky Raccoon'?"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Maria asked not expecting a reply. But she did smile back at you when you threw her one.

Before anyone could say another word, a low rumbling shook the ground slightly, the sound of jets filling the air.

And that was everyone's queue to run out of the cabin, only to see the spaceship you assumed belonged to the raccoon and his crew, floating above the large lake next to Tony's property. The hatch slowly coming down to rest on the docks.

"Hey, losers!" The rough voiced raccoon called out, from the end of the ship, beginning to descend the hatch.

"Is that any way to talk to your friends?!" you called over.

"I don't know you! And yes!"

"Speaking of your friends, where are they?" you asked curiously, once he got close.

"I ditched em at a bar," Rocket shrugged. "They'll be fine. It's my ship anyway."

Everyone laughed at the exchange, soon rushing back inside to grab everything they needed, Tony saying bye to his family, before you all boarded the aircraft.

***

"Oh, yeah. He was in love with death."

Somehow, the conversation had spurred onto the subject of the purple titan, you loathed with your entire being.

"I'm sorry," you began, "What?"

"Thanos. He "killed" half of the universe to impress death," Wade explained.

"Oh! So that's the real reason he did it!" you yelled, beginning your rant, "He made up this whole bullshit story about overpopulation or something. Instead of just saying, "I'm doing this to impress a girl"! Wow. Good to know toxic masculinity exists in space too."

Thankfully the conversation soon changed to the mission back at hand, with small amounts of banter being thrown around, that always followed you guys around.

"Why couldn't you have just teleported us there?" you asked Strange, who was standing in front of you, a little off to the side, in the now space-born ship.

"Because I can only teleport on the same planet that I am on."

You paused, "Makes sense..." And then. "But, we're in space. Should that mean you're able to travel anywhere, then?

"That's not how it works."

"Sound's like bullshit, but okay."

Before Strange could voice his retort, Rocket spoke from the pilot's seat.

"Leave the idiot be. What's the worse that's happening here? You're having a day-trip, boo-hoo."

"Yeah. A "day-trip". To the place where the love of my life threw herself off of a cliff. Sacrificing herself for half of the universe. Great fucking day-trip."

"Okay, yeah. That's less good," he said.

***

The planet was truly beautiful, in a desolate way. Covered wholly in sand, and lakes. Everything taking on a purple hue from the sky and clouds surrounding it. A truly gigantic mountain stood strong before you. You didn't want to admit it, but you were considerably intimidated by the large mass. And to top it all off, there was a permanent solar-eclipsed sun sitting in the sky.

You would have loved experiencing a whole new planet. Even a seemingly empty one.

If you didn't hate this place that is.

Also, the fact that you had to. Climb. The Fucking. Mountain.

If someone would have told you there would be this much exercise involved, you would have convinced Colossus to come, just to carry you up there.

You arrived, panting, at the top of the mountain. Only to be greeted by a creepy floating man, with a red skull for a head.

Fury knew him. Quickly telling you that his name was Red-Skull -surprising- and that he was one of the most notorious Nazis from WWII.

Yep.

You instantly despised him.

He told you each the name of one of your parents, then continued on with an obviously well-rehearsed speech about the Soul Stone, and yada, yada, yada.

Tony brushing past him, saying "We're not interested in what you're selling, shitty evil Ghostrider." With you all trailing after him, smiles on your faces.

And you never heard another pep from the self-proclaimed, "Guardian Of The Stone".

"Well, spank me and call me "daddy"!" Wade called, peering over the ledge of the cliff. "That's a long way down."

You joined him in looking over the edge. Your heart instantly dropping into your stomach.

You couldn't even see the bottom.

You can't imagine how terrified Natasha must have been dangling off of this thing. Only to kick herself off, and into the cloudy abyss.

"Fuck," was all you could breathe.

You only just noticed Tony standing beside you, when he asked FRIDAY to scan the height fo the cliff. Her voice coming out through his suit, so that everyone could hear.

"The cliff's height is approximately three thousand six hundred and ninety point nine hundred and forty-five feet, boss."

"Jesus Christ," you uttered, moving away from the edge, palm resting on your forehead. As thoughts of Natasha falling all that way down filled your mind.

You gave yourself a few moments to breath through your incoming panic attack. Luckily you were unable to see the worried, yet understanding glances everyone was throwing you, behind your closed eyes.

"So... how does this shit work?" you then asked, wanting to hurry with all of this.

You just wanted to get your girl back.

"Y/N," Strange said, beginning to get irritated by you already, "We literally talked about this a few weeks ago."

"Yeah? And I've slept since then," you remarked back.

***

After strang had done whatever the fuck he had done with his magic. You watched in complete awe, as the portal to the Soul World opened up.

But it wasn't any "normal" portal.

The eclipsed sun slowly started to be revealed, only this time if you looked at it, it didn't burn your eyes. You only saw what could be best described as an orange-yellow coloured black hole.

That was the fucking portal.

"Oh." You swallowed, turning to face Strange, "How the hell do we get up there?"

"We already are."

"What-?" you asked confused until you looked over your shoulder at your surroundings. Everything was bare and coated in a warm light, not even an inch of water below your feet. "What the fuck?!"

"Welcome to the soul world."

You were still eternally shocked as Tony began to speak.

"So. So, how does this work?"

"The Soul World only allows "visitation" to the last to be sacrificed. All we need to do is find her, and pull her out."

"Seems simple enough," Wade said, hands on his hips as he looked around, "You think I can get some grub in this place?"

"Don't be an idiot, Wilson," Fury told him, "Now let's go find our girl."

It didn't take long. Only a few minutes of walking until you spotted the structure upfront.

Quickening your pace, you walked up to what seemed to be an open planned coffee shop. Open planned with the outside. And not just any coffee shop. It was the one you and Natasha used to frequent often.

With a red-head, back turned to you, sitting at your usual table.

"Natasha?" you asked voice close to a whisper, the silence surrounding the world you were in amplifying your volume, ensuring she could hear you.

Red-blonde hair swished over shoulder, as Natasha hastily turned to see you.

"Y/N?" she asked you, voice identical to how yours was. The Russian didn't wait for your answer, the chair sloshing through the water, as she sprinted over to you. Throwing herself into your arms.

It was like a dam broke. The moment she touched you, tears poured down your face, like rivers. You held her close to your body, head buried into her soft, wavy hair.

Natasha was sobbing into your shoulder. Hugging you tightly enough for it to hurt.

You finally had her in your arms, just like you had dreamt of for over a year. Ever since you came back.

And yet, all you could think of was how disappointed in yourself you were.

You didn't deserve her. After all of the shit, you had done while she was gone. All of the mercenary jobs, the violence, the drinking and drugs. The hate that settled in your stomach, which caused you to lash out at the world and people who dared to cross you.

Everything.

She deserved so much better.

However, all you could do was pull her closer, and repeat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," into her bright auburn locks.

"What are you sorry for."

"I." You swallowed your tears, looking into Natasha's wet emerald eyes. "I've done awful things while you were gone, Natasha. I became someone awful."

"Hey," Wade said behind you, slightly insulted. Which you ignored.

"I killed people. Some in cold blood. And all because they said bad things about you. I was lost. And you don't deserve that."

Natasha placed her hands on your wet cheeks, yours staying on her waist, knowing what you were about to say.

"You should find someone who deserves to be with you."

"You do deserve me," she begged you to understand, "I don't want anyone else but you! If there's anyone who doesn't deserve the other, it's me."

"Don't say that."

"Then don't say you don't deserve me. I only want you," she repeated, to get it through your head, "Only you. No one else. I don't care what you've done, or who you were while I was gone. You're still you. Right now, you're you. And that's all I want. It's all I need. You."

You sniffled harshly, realising how stupid you were with a shake of your head.

"I love you," you confessed, "I'm so in love with you, Natasha. It's crazy."

"Then let's be crazy together."

That was the last thing either of you said before she helped guide your lips to hers.

Finally sharing your first kiss.

At long last.

There wasn't the stereotypical fireworks that everyone spoke about when your lips met.

Only warmth.

Kissing Natasha didn't feel like an explosion. It felt like coming home after a long day. Being welcomed with the warm glow of a fire, and a spiced drink warming up your chest.

That's what kissing Natasha felt like.

Heaven.

Home.

You pulled back to the sounds of sniffles.

Eyebrows furrowed, you both looked over to the men behind you. Never once moving away from the other.

They were crying.

All of them.

Even Wade was under his mask.

"Are you guys crying?" you asked with a smile.

"No." Tony nodded, telling you that his words were false.

Strange wiped at the wetness under his eyes, while Wade openly sobbed, his shoulders shaking, pulling one of his guns to his chest as a form of comfort. Rocket was even using his tail to wipe at his eyes, turning away from you all.

"Even you fury?"

"I'm not crying," the Director, said with a slight wave in his voice.

"Really? Because I think that you are. Don't you, Natasha?"

The red-head nodded at you in confirmation.

"I'm not." Was all Fury said before he grabbed his eye patch and moved it to cover his leaking eye. "See."

Natasha let out a wet laugh, rushing over to bring Tony and Fury into a shared hug. All of them letting out a few more tears at the reunion.

Her knees splashing in the water as she pulled the still crying fur-ball into her arms.

Then going over to greet Strange with a hug of his own. And finally giving Wade the same treatment.

"I'm Wade," he introduced himself when she pulled back, "I'm Y/N's best, best friend. Because I'm better than the billionaire Sherlock over there."

"Is that so?" she chuckled.

"It absolutely is not!" Tony yelled.

Natasha shook her head with a smile, making her way over to you, and tucking herself into your side. Her head coming to rest on your shoulder, as she watched two of your best friends bicker at who was your "best, best friend".

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," you apologised.

"You came. And that's all that matters."

"C'mon guys," Tony said, his fingers now wiping under his eyes, "Don't make us cry again."

"I didn't stop," Wade informed you all, raising his hand.

You all chuckled at the man.

Before you decided you wanted out. You wanted to take your girl home.

"Right, now how do we get out of here?"

"We already are," Strange told you.

Looking around, you saw that you were now standing on the cliff's ledge, of Vormir. Natasha still nestled under your arm.

"How in the fuck do you do that?"

"I wizard never reveals his tricks," Tony said, "You know that, Y/N."

"The other stones are destroyed," Strange suddenly said, gaining everyone's attention. "We have to destroy the soul stone."

"But that will require a sacrifice," Natasha said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, though you could hear hints of it.

"On it!" Wade yelled, making his way past you, and towards the edge of the cliff.

Only stopping when you fisted your hand into the arm of his suit, then pulling him back.

"No. None of us are dying today."

"But, Y/N. I'm immortal-

"No," you interrupted him, voice hardening as to get your point across. "It's a soul for a soul. You go off that cliff, you come back without a soul. And I'm not letting that happen."

"Then how in the fuck are we supposed to destroy the stone?!" Rocket gruffed.

At your prolonged silence, Tony asked, "What are you thinking?"

"This was built as a shrine for stone right?"

"That's what I've been told. Yes," Strange confirmed.

"You said before- Weeks ago. When we were talking about everything, that the word "tomb" would be better to describe it, than "shrine"."

"Yes..." he said slowly, watching as you pieced everything together.

"Tombs normally hold things."

"Yes."

"Oh my, God," Tony breathed in realisation.

"Rocket? How many explosives do you have on the ship?"

"What are you suggesting?" Natasha asked from where she was still tucked into your side.

"We blow the shrine off of the fucking rock."

"How do you know that will work?"

Not bothering to answer his question, you said, "Nick. Get Danvers down here. Once we blow the shrine to smithereens, she comes along and blasts it with all the power she has." You then turned to face him. "Only an infinity stone can destroy an infinity stone. Ergo, so can it's creations. I mean how do you explain Wanda?"

"Well, this seems to be settled then," Wade stated, "So, let's head back to the ship, call your friend Danvers, and get me some food to eat. Because I'm starving," he finished starting to make his way towards the many, many stairs. To where the ship was waiting for you down below.

"What about the creepy weirdo over here?" Rocket asked, moving his thumb towards Red-Skull.

"I heard my own stories about him... leave him. Nazi fucks like him deserve to rot in hell."

"Here, here!" Wade called, "Now, can we go?"

"But what if we accidentally blow up the planet?" Tony. Asking the sensible questions. And making, one of, your best friends groan at being made to stop his trek for food. "I mean. We don't know how resilient this place is."

"Who the fuck cares." Rocket said. His words meant to be a question. But he just didn't care for an answer.

"Well, I think the planets around would have something to say about that," Fury said.

You looked over your shoulder, as they continued to bicker, and right at Strange. Who stood silently between the two giant pillars. The look in his eye, telling you everything that you needed to know.

This was always what was meant to happen.

No more sacrifices.

Natasha would be the very last one to ever feel what that would be like.

No more would this place be one of death for the greed of power.

No more.

"It won't."

"And how can you be so sure of that?" Fury asked you.

With the hard look in your eyes when you meet his, he knew what you said to be right.

"It won't."

***

The ship was in the air. Facing the planet, you had grown to despise.

Every one of you looking out of the large window, that sat above the controls. Wade, finally munching on his much-needed food.

Well, with all the whining he made on your long way back to the ship, you sure fucking hoped he needed it, with the about of brain cells he killed.

Silently, Rocket moved to hand the detonator up to you. Ready to shoot the planet with all you had, missiles, C-4, and many other explosives with names that were unknown to you, that Rocket had stored away. Even Tony had hooked FRIDAY up to the detonator, his suit waiting outside the ship, and ready to fire.

Form what you knew of Rocket, you could tell he wasn't the type to just give away something destructive like this. So, you understood that what he was doing, showed that he cared.

With a nod to the raccoon in thanks, you moved to give the remote to Natasha.

"Ya like to do the honours?"

"I'd love too." Her smile saying "thank you" for her, as she took it from your grasp.

She never took her eyes off of you as she pressed the button, the small smile still on her face the whole time. That was until the explosions started. Drawing both of you attentions back to the planet.

The shrine lit up like a Christmas tree, it getting bombarded with blast upon blast.

The storm-looking, gas-clouds, that were once above you, that was seemingly attached to the planet, slowly started to morph into what looked to be a tornado of sorts. It only clearing when the bright orange gem, floated up. Being held only by the swaying ribbons of the cloud. Just ready for the taking.

Then at the speed of light, leaving a white trail behind her, as a shooting star would.

Carol Danvers flew in.

And blasted the fuck out of the fucking stone.

As quick as she came. She was off again. Intending to meet you back home.

Finally.

Finally.

All the destruction just stopped.

The cliff. The shrine. And everything about it. Was destroyed.

But, within a blink of an eye, the portal you once thought was a permanently eclipsed sun, sunk in on its self. And it didn't take a genius to know that that wasn't the best thing to be around.

Not even a second later. A bright light shone around the dark centre, it taking on a light blue hue with how light it was. Before it began spreading throughout the shrinking dark core, bursting suddenly. Rays of light firing off all around.

Your eyes widened when they saw this, your instant reaction to when you saw the bright rays speeding towards the ship, was to pull Natasha into your chest. Raising your arm to block the side of her face from the explosion. Her doing the same by bringing your head closer to hers, covering it with her own arm.

If this was your end.

Then you would go together.

The ship shook vigorously. But, luckily, not enough to make you fall onto the hard floor.

People swore at the collision.

Wade crying, "Ah! My taco!" When the shaking had caused him to drop it.

"Fuck your taco. Luckily I reinforced the ship, that blast could have easily killed us if not," Rocket said, offhandedly.

But that was all background noise to you, and everyone else on the spaceship.

Too busy looking out the window.

"Oh my, God," Natasha breathed, at the sight before her.

"It's beautiful." You finished in the same voice. Unable to tear your eyes away from the sky before you. Along with coloured, smokey, gas-clouds, swimming in the open space.

The "sun" was no longer there. And in its wake. Millions upon millions of stars lit up the sky, dancing to a tune you could not hear, but you felt almost as if they were thanking you.

Looking over at Natasha, you saw the many emotions shining in her eyes. Relief, gratitude, freedom, peace. But most of all, you saw pure love.

Unable to hold yourself back, it's not like you would even try to anyway, you pressed your lips against hers, in a celebratory kiss.

Yeah.

You would never get enough of this.

"There must be so many new galaxies out there," Tony said.

"Well, they were always there," Rocket said in his gruff voice, "We can just see them from here now."

"Not just that," Strange spoke.

"What?" The raccoon asked.

"The soul stone has caused so much destruction and death since it was first created," he began, "Now, with its own destruction. It has given life from what it has taken."

"English, Strange."

The wizard sighed at you. "There are more stars in the sky. Ones unknown and unnamed. New planets. Maybe even galaxies. It's safe to assume there's life to go along with them."

"You mean..."

"Yes." He nodded at the raccoon. "You have many more planets to visit."

"Maybe try not to steal from them," you said, "They were only born two minutes ago."

Everyone laughed as your furry little friend flipped you off.

"For all we know," Strange said.

"You couldn't let me just have one joke, could you?"

"Not at all."

***

"So, Strangey-Boy," you gained the man's attention once you were back on solid ground, stopping him from walking too far away. As Natasha ran over to envelop Carol, Maria, and Pepper in a bone-crushing hug, "Is this the end of the journey?"

He took a deep breath, looking around at the green scenery all around. Looking like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. But then again. So did everyone. You sure felt like the weight of the world was finally off of yours.

Nodding, he said, "This one. Yes."

Strange held out a hand for you to shake, his cape flowing behind him.

"It was nice working with you, Y/L/N."

"You too," you said with sincerity, as you shook his offered hand. Surprising the greying man by pulling him in for a hug, only for you to whisper in his ear, "Thank you, you cryptic bastard."

You pulled away from the embrace, his laughs causing a chuckle to be brought out of you.

"Y/N?!"

Looking over, you spotted Natasha there, waiting for you. A bright smile on her face. And Tony not too far behind her, arms wrapped around his wife. The slight twitch of her head, indicating her silent ask, for you to follow her.

"Seriously. Thank you. And thank your mysterious friend, too."

With a nod and a smile from Strange. You were off.

Following Natasha wherever she so wished to go.

Walking towards the start of your new life.

***

(Two years later)

The soft thumping of your heartbeat calmed Natasha into a relaxed state. Head on your chest, hand over your heart, and curled into your side. She couldn't think of a better way to spend a day, than with you.

You had been relaxing in bed for most of the day. Only leaving it when one of you needed the bathroom, or to get food and drinks.

"What are you thinking?" you asked, with your eye's blinking heavily as you watched some TV show play.

Natasha hummed, the hand that was laying on your chest, previously stroking her fingertips on your chest, splayed and rubbed the body under it. She blinked open her eyes, spotting the perfect ring upon her finger. The one you had given her over half a year ago. A smile tugging on her lips at the sight.

"I'm thinking about how lucky I am."

"What?" You smiled, looking down at your beautiful fiance. "For this day off?"

"No. For you, you idiot."

"Oh, wow. Is that any way to speak to your fiance? To the love of your life? Your soulmate?"

"Shut up!" Natasha giggled, slapping at your chest. Which only made you grab her hand, running your thumb over the top of her palm, " I love you so much," she continued. Voice warm and full of adoration, "I can't believe I actually get the chance to spend my life with you. It's all I've ever dreamed of, ever since the day I met you."

The smile on your face turned soft as she spoke, delivering a gentle, loving kiss to her lips, you said, "Gross."

"You're a dick."

"I love you, too."

"As you should, I'm pretty fucking great."

A laugh burst from your chest, thankful for the woman in your arms. Excitement resting in your chest. At the thought of getting to spend the rest of your lives together. Even with everything that happened for you to get to this point, you were thankful. And if it meant it. You would do it over and over again, in a heartbeat. Just to get to this point.

The journey hadn't ended, the day you got back from Vormir. It was only the beginning.

You finally had your soulmate back.

And you were never gonna let her go, again.

***

Roses In A Storm Tag List:

(Crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

@uglipotata72829, @enderman359, @thelastavenger-3000, @blackwidowromonoff

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro

[janegrey9]

how you get the girl

CLEARLY i am on a taylor kick rn, i listened to this song last night and couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here you go!

summary: luke screws up and goes to the wise words of taylor swift for advice.

warnings: cursing

word count: 1406

“I can’t believe you right now.” Julie was mad.

“Believe it!” So was Luke.

“How can you say something like that?” Julie said, her voice thick.

“Because it’s true! It’s not my fault you’re refusing to believe the truth right now.”

“It’s not! It’s not the truth, and even if it was, you don’t get to decide that considering you’ve never even listened to Taylor Swift’s music!”

“I don’t have to listen to it to know it’s bad! I heard Shake It Off and I didn’t need to listen to the rest of it!”

Reggie and Alex had left the room over twenty minutes ago, when the argument had started. They knew better than to stick around when Luke started arguing about music.

“Taylor Swift’s music was crazy important to my childhood! If Dad hadn’t bought me her Speak Now album when I was six, I would have never fallen in love with music! Mom was ready to give up on teaching me piano when I got that album!” Julie yelled. She was on the verge of tears, her eyes burning as she tried to stay somewhat composed and hold them back.

“And Nirvana was important to me! Do you think I would have picked up a guitar without them?” Luke said, gesturing wildly as his emotions grew.

“And that’s great Luke, but I don’t care! I’m not the one saying their music is bad here!” Julie cried out, throwing her hands up. “But you’re not listening to me! I’m telling you that I love Taylor Swift’s music and that it’s important to me and that, objectively, it’s good music! But you are refusing to listen to me! Get off your high horse for five goddamn minutes, Luke! You are not the only person with good taste!” 

And then she stormed out of the studio, leaving Luke alone, Julie’s words ringing in his ears. He knew he had fucked up, it was pretty obvious, but he still didn’t understand how it had escalated to that point. He had been coming back into the studio after hanging out with Reggie, Alex, and Willie on the pier, and the four boys had found Julie dancing around the studio with Flynn, Shake It Off blasting through the stereo. 

Julie and Flynn were scream-singing along to the annoying pop song, decked out in the fanciest dresses Luke had ever seen Julie in. It looked like something a movie star would wear, and it totally took his breath away - in that way only Julie could. When the song had ended and Julie finally noticed the boys standing there, Willie had already left, and Julie had screamed, not expecting to see Luke, Alex, and Reggie there.

“Julie! Julie, stop screaming, for God’s sake, stop!” Flynn had yelled. “What happened?”

Julie took a deep breath, her hand clasped over her heart as if to make it stop beating. “Sorry, Flynn. The boys scared me!” 

“They’re here?” Flynn asked, looking around for any sign of the ghosts.

“Yeah. They’re standing right in front of me. Luke is on the left, Alex is in the middle, and Reggie is on the right.” Julie pointed to each boy in turn.

“Hey guys! What do you think of our dresses? They’re for Junior Prom!” Flynn said, their excitement palpable.

“Looks great!” Reggie said with a thumbs up.

“Yeah, you guys look really good.” Alex agreed. “But, uh, what was that song that was playing?”

“They say we look good.” Julie told Flynn. Flynn smiled at where she assumed the boys were, slightly to the left of where they actually were. “And the song is Shake It Off by Taylor Swift.”

“Oh, yeah, Willie mentioned her. It was a good song.” Alex said, nodding. 

“Yeah, it’s definitely your kind of music, Alex. I love Taylor’s music. She has a song for every occasion.” Julie gushed.

Luke watched this interaction with growing indignation. Julie liked that crap? Genuinely? He couldn’t understand why; it sounded so generic. Nothing like what people used to listen to, and definitely not what he was expecting from Julie of all people.

“What, you listen to that stuff when you’re angry? Sad?” He blurted out.

“Yes? Sometimes? It’s a mood booster. And she has other music. It doesn’t all sound like that.” Julie said, her eyebrows raised slightly at Luke’s words.

“If it sounds even close to that I can’t understand how you could like it.” Luke said firmly.

“I like it because it’s good. Her lyrics are basically gospel at this point.” Julie replied, growing obviously angry. Alex, sensing a coming argument, smiled quickly and apologetically at Julie, grabbed Reggie’s wrist, and poofed out of the studio.

Luke scoffed. “That is not good. Nirvana is good. Rush is good, the Beatles are good. That was pop garbage.”

Flynn was watching the exchange with confusion before they pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. 

“Oh, shit, Jules! I gotta go, the twins’ game starts in ten minutes!” Flynn said, talking about their twin brothers. “Okay. You can leave the dress here again if you want.” Julie offered, giving Flynn a quick hug.

“Yeah, I will. See you later! Bye guys!” Flynn called before leaving the studio. As soon as her friend was gone, Julie wheeled on Luke.

“I can’t believe you right now.”

Which brought them to now. Now, when Julie was mad at Luke for insulting one of her favorite musicians. Okay, maybe he could understand how they got to that point. Now that he was no longer in the heat of the moment, Luke could maybe see how calling music Julie liked “pop garbage” could make her mad. But how to apologize?

“Her lyrics are basically gospel at this point.” Julie had said. Maybe he could turn to some of her music for advice? It was a long shot, but maybe it would show Julie that he really was sorry.

Luke walked over to the stereo where the CD case for the album Julie was just playing was. The cover looked like a polaroid picture of a blonde woman with red lipstick, wearing a shirt with birds on it. On the bottom, it said T.S. 1989. Luke turned over the case to find the song list on the back.

Welcome To New York

Blank Space

Style

Out Of The Woods

All You Had To Do Was Stay

Shake It Off

I Wish You Would

Bad Blood

Wildest Dreams

How You Get The Girl

Luke stopped. How You Get The Girl, huh? That could be exactly what he needed. He pressed play on the stereo, skipping the next three songs after Shake It Off to get to How You Get The Girl and maybe find some ideas on how to win his girl back.

“You stand there like a ghost, shaking from the rain…” The song started, and Luke sat down on the couch and waited for inspiration to strike.

Ten minutes later, Luke had a plan.

Julie was in her room, nursing her pride after Luke had trampled all over it with his words about Taylor Swift’s music. Julie knew she was right, she knew the music was good and her opinion was valid, but she felt kind of bad at how she had yelled at Luke. She was about to get up and try to talk it out with him, when someone knocked on her door. When she opened it, Julie was shocked to see Luke standing there, fidgeting as he waited. She opened the door wider, wordlessly letting him in before going back to sit on her bed.

“I’m sorry.” the words seemed to tumble from his mouth.

“Oh?” Julie said, her mouth quirking up slightly at his apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry I said that about the music you like. I’m sorry I said it was bad.” Julie opened her mouth to say it was okay, that she forgave him, when he kept going. “I listened to more of her music. Specifically, How You Get The Girl.” Luke summoned his acoustic guitar and cleared his throat. 

“I want you for worse or for better,” he started singing. Julie’s eyes widened, understanding filling them. “I would wait for ever and ever. Broke your heart, I’ll put it back together, I would wait for ever and ever.”

Before he could keep going, Julie spoke. “I forgive you. Thank you.” And when she leaned in and kissed Luke, he knew he got the girl.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I’d love for you guys to have Mark Lewisohn on your show just to grill him. As someone who’s experienced workplace bullying and sexual assault, that he would go so far as to paint Klein as “heroic” when he said things like “reluctant virgin” is just so devastating to me. It makes me feel ill. I do NOT want this man to have a say in Beatles history. I love the Beatles. I don’t want that tainted by people who will paint over abuse just to feed their own self importance.

We vehemently agree, Listener!  Thank you for writing in.

Our list of grievances with Mark Lewisohn is long, but in a nutshell we believe his intent is to publicly “redeem” John Lennon and we have seen copious evidence that he will go to whatever lengths he has to in order to do this. 

That includes, but is not limited to: 

Claiming that readers of his Tune In Series may consider Klein the “hero” of the Beatles break-up

Deliberately spreading the demonstrably false lie that John (and Yoko) did not have a significant heroin problem in the late 60s and early 70s (Lewisohn suggests Cold Turkey is just John playing make believe)

Displaying unapologetic favoritism by using glowing terms to portray John and Yoko as the world’s most perfect romance, as opposed to Paul and Linda, whose 29-year marriage he dismisses as “conventional” and motivated by appearances (namely Linda’s pregnancy, even though it was planned) and Green Card needs

Stating that he could tell from watching the infamous “it’s a drag” clip that Paul was kind of sad, but primarily annoyed at how much positive attention John was getting on the day of his murder

Apparently suggesting to an audience of his Power Point Show that Paul maybe stole a leg off Yoko’s bed (the bed she had delivered and built in the Beatles’ recording studio, mind you), a personal “theory” which is based on the fact that Paul later wrote a song called “Three Legs” (you know that song: “My dog, he got three legs, like the bed you inappropriately brought into Abbey Road 2 years ago which I secretly vandalized behind your back because I have nothing better to do, am certainly not busy writing the Beatles Swan Song and don’t have a fucking 7 year old at home or anything”)

This isn’t even to mention Tune In, which could be a whole separate post and episode. Suffice it to say, this book often reads less like a Beatles biography and more like John Lennon Fanfiction to us.

Lewisohn managed to distinguish himself by doing (some) research and unearthing some original documents. That he had some skill in research is not surprising given that he started his career in Beatledom as a researcher for Norman, on his book Shout — which Lewisohn still contends is a good book. Norman, on the other hand has evolved his opinion of his own work and thinks Shout was flawed, so has written a whole biography on Paul to make up for what he sees as the failure of Shout, which is his underestimation of Paul. Unfortunately, Lewisohn does not seem to have made this same journey. He pays lip service to John and Paul being equal, and then spends all of his time and energy trying to prove otherwise. Norman says that he has created a monster in Lewisohn. We take his point.

One of our biggest issues with Lewisohn is that he vigorously promotes himself as an unbiased truth teller, and his calm manner seems to telegraph this. But it is not true. The research that Lewisohn does and the spin that he applies to his findings are all heavily biased. As we mentioned in one of our episodes, he travelled to Gibraltar simply to experience where John and Yoko got married. Yet when Paul calls the May 9th meeting over management the metaphorical cracking of the Liberty Bell, Lewisohn doesn’t even bother to Google it so he can understand the metaphor.

What he chooses to research is also a form of bias. For example, we at AKOM are very interested in Paul’s relationship with Robert Fraser during the Beatle years — since Paul has commented that Fraser was one of the most important, influential people in his life. Paul McCartney was the concept artist behind Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Magical Mystery Tour film, the iconic Apple logo, and he co-designed the covers of the White Album and Abbey Road.  All of these are pretty defining moments in the Beatles’ career.  As Beatles fans, we’d like to know more about Paul’s art education and influences. But we would be shocked if Lewisohn dug into Fraser at all beyond his relationship as John and Yoko’s gallerist/curator (and heroin dealer, but since that isn’t a thing in Lewisohn’s world then maybe he will be ignored).

We think Lewisohn benefits massively from the fact that Beatles authorship was like the Wild West since its inception, when everyone with a connection to the Beatles (plus or minus a personal axe to grind) wrote a book about their experience. It was absolute chaos, with no rules, no checks and balances, uncredited sources, etc. Just an absolute shit show.  What Lewisohn did was bring some order to the chaos with some proper documentation. But again, what he chooses to dig into often reflects bias. And this certainly does not mean that he is intellectually or emotionally equipped to interpret his findings. Doing this takes social intelligence and insight, which is a very different skill. As a creator of myths, he is no better (and no more insightful or original) than many of the others who came before him; he worships John Lennon and freely admits it. He is not even close to being unbiased.  But in this dumpster fire of a fandom he has at least checked some boxes and done some digging.  The fact is, the bar has been so low for so long that Beatles fans don’t even know how to expect or want better.  But WE certainly expect better.  We expect some breakthrough, fresh thinking.  Not just Shout with Receipts.

We think it’s significant that Lewisohn was deeply disliked by George Harrison, who lobbied to get him kicked him off the Anthology project. He was fired from Paul’s fan club magazine, and yet no one seems to think he might hold a grudge about that, too?  Lewisohn so distorted John and Paul’s relationship in Tune In that he believes he is the target of the lyrics in Paul’s song “Early Days.“  And he either thinks that’s flattering or funny, because Lewisohn seems to truly believe he knows John Lennon better than Paul McCartney does.  We find it almost tragic that Paul is so bothered by the way his experience and relationship is being portrayed by authors (perhaps Lewisohn) that he wrote a song about it. In it, he conveys his frustration and heartache about how everything is misconstrued and we find it absolutely outrageous that Lewisohn would not take this to heart.  Perhaps Lewisohn thinks Paul should listen to him for a change? And if he doesn’t like it, then tough, because Lewisohn knows better? We think Lewisohn should do some serious soul-searching about “Early Days” because if one of his main subjects is saying, “you are getting it wrong and it is breaking my heart”….maybe, just maybe, he should listen and rethink things.  Maybe apply a little creativity, out-of-the-box thinking and empathy. This is what his heroes did.

Meanwhile, Jean Jackets are SO BUSY complaining that Paul McCartney doesn’t like Lewisohn because he “tells the truth!” that they fail to notice that Lewisohn has become a mouthpiece for Yoko Ono.  He has already started white-washing John Lennon’s history, promoting John and Yoko as the true and only geniuses versus Paul as the craven, small-minded Lennon disciple who (through no virtue of his own) was born with the ability to write some nice tunes.  Lewisohn’s version of John, on the other hand, is ALWAYS a sexy, visionary genius on the right side of every issue.  He even went out of his way to recently trash Paul’s early 70’s albums, which -in addition to being obnoxious and we believe wrong (since we love them)- is totally outside his purview.

Lastly, to address your original point, Lewisohn’s claim that Klein may be viewed as the “hero” of his Beatles History reveals that he hasn’t shown sufficient empathy or interest in Paul’s experience.  This claim at best ignores and at worst condones the fact that Klein was an abusive monster to one of the two founding members of the Beatles.  As we discussed in Episode 4, Klein was a criminal who bullied Paul in his creative workspace, disrespected Paul in his own office in front of his own employees and actively pitted Lennon against McCartney for years.  It’s hard to imagine ANYONE who inflicted more damage on the Beatles and Lennon/McCartney than Allen Klein.  In addition to the wildly inappropriate “reluctant virgin” nickname, he verbally threatened to “own Paul’s ass” (to which Paul responded “he never got anywhere near my ass”). Klein was so disrespectful to Paul and Linda’s marriage he pitched the idea of procuring “a blonde with big tits” to parade in front of Paul to lure him away from Linda and destroy their relationship.  Let’s also never forget that Klein contributed lyrics to the song “How Do You Sleep.”  Allen Klein literally gave Paul nightmares.  Anyone who so much as pretends to care about Paul’s break-up era depression (including his alcohol abuse, his inability to get out of bed and his terrifying sleep paralysis) would not champion Allen Klein.

Yes, Klein is a human being and therefore has his own POV, same as anyone else.  But a Beatles biographer is beholden to four points of view only: John, Paul, George and Ringo.  And when an outsider is openly hostile to one of the Beatles and damaging long-term to all of the Beatles, it is beyond inappropriate to portray him as a hero.  This type of comment, made publicly to an audience of Beatles fans, invalidates and seeks to erase the real trauma inflicted on Paul McCartney by Allen Klein, and we think Lewisohn should apologize for his comments.

Instead, Lewisohn’s current buddy is Peter Brown, whose book, The Love You Make so offended and angered Paul and Linda that they literally burned their copy (and photographed it burning for good measure).  This information doesn’t appear to bother Lewisohn in the least. Why not?

George referred to Norman’s Shout as “Shit.” But Lewisohn thinks it’s a great book.  Why?

How any Beatles or Paul or even George fans tolerate Lewisohn is baffling to us; we don’t recognize a real human being in his version of Paul, and his version of John is a superhero rather than a man.  We suspect that fans have come to accept the traditional story and at least appreciate some properly-documented facts. 

But as we are constantly trying to demonstrate on our show, just because the story has always been told one way, doesn’t mean it’s right.  Because in the end, Mark Lewisohn has no special insight. He wasn’t there. He is a guy who bought into a narrative during the Shout era, and is cherry picking his findings to support it.You can find a discussion of Lewisohn here

[geeky-marie]

Hi! Can I request a fluffy fic with Dewey Finn and the reader, Horace Green’s art teacher crushing on each other and the kids trying to get them together?? I just think it would be so cute, and the kids would probably be really teasing to Dewey 😋😊

Dewey Finn 

School of Rock Musical 

A/N: Thank you for your request, I really like to write it since I’m an artist so the idea came easily. I hope you will like it and you will ask me to write for you again ! 

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

The kids had a plan, a perfect plan. 

For weeks now, they saw the little dance you and Dewey were dancing, walking in the corridor together, making jokes and failing to properly flirt . For days, they been each at their turn remove briefly of your class by their music teacher under a stupid pretext, because the man wanted to see you a little bit and having a little ray of sunshine to the rest of his day. For hours, they saw both of you smile like idiots, too shy or not confident enough to make the first step. For minutes now, they were looking if Dewey, lost in his thought, would notice that they had stopped playing their instruments.

The idea came for Summer. As the manager of the band, she proposed that she could talk to Dewey about refreshing the School of rock logo and maybe , absolutely, involve Miss Y/L/N in the project. As an Art teacher you were more able to have some kick ass ideas and draw them beautifully. In this manner, you will both have to collaborate on something and have a real chance to talk and come to the point that you should go on a date. 

“ It’s gonna not work” Zack interrupted playing with his mediator. “ Did you hear him speak to her ? He jokes, failing his attempt to ask her out by changing subject and compliment her Art, but never her. She probably doesn't know he daydreams about her. And put them in a project will don’t change that” 

“ Then, we will have to make him compliment her. My mom always became more flirty with my dad after he told her something nice about her look.” Billy replies.

“ I think I have an idea for that “ Summer continu. “ I will go see Mister Finn after class, maybe he will decide to talk to her directly and we will not have to do all these efforts and we...” 

But the voice of Dewey raised for his desk, taking them by surprise, forced them to put the plan in action sooner.  

“ Hey dudes, what’s happening ? Why do you look like you were planning a bad prank ? “ 

“ Well, actually we were telling that our logo was getting old” The little manager quickly answered, turning on her chair to face him. “ People will become tired of seen it, we should change it “ 

“ The logo is fine Summer, and it’s not always good to change a logo people recognize.” Dewey brushes away, getting up to reach his guitar in his support.

“ Yes but we wanted to ask Miss Y/L/N if she had some ideas for refreshing him at least” Zack continu, giving a supporting look at Summer who’s nod of the head. “ She could help us on this” 

Sitting on the corner of his desk, a now soft smile playing on his lips at your mention, Dewey was playing absently the first chords of Here’s come the Sun from The Beatles.

“ That’s a pretty great idea. I will try to talk to her about it before leaving school…” Dewey agreed, continuing to play the song.

“ Mister Finn, did you correct our test ? My mom wait for it and she’s start to be impatient” The voice of Billy ask from the back of the class, shortly after he gave a look to Summer.

“ Shi...No...I didn’t Billy I will do it tonight” He disappointingly confessed, passing a hand on his face. “ I guess I will have to talk to Y/N tomorrow “ 

A concert of exclamation and joyful noise welcome his answers. 

“ It’s Y/N now then ?” Zack tease, a playful smile brightens his little face. 

“ You should ask her out ! “ Alysha shouted. “ And gave her flowers, us girls love flowers !” 

Getting up from the desk, Dewey raise is hand in a calming sign. 

“ Woah woah woah….Yes Zack for me it’s Y/N, and she’s way out of my league guys...Now stop trying to plays cupid and start to rock “ 

But the kids hadn’t finish to interfere with his love life yet. 

You were staying late at school like always,trying to finish a painting, when Summer entered your class. You weren't really surprised to see her there since the young lady had an overbooked agenda and liked to be in many interscholastic activities. 

“ Miss Y/L/N can I talk to you for a minute ? “ She politely asks you, silently appreciating your almost finished painting. 

“ Of course Summer “ You reply, putting down your brush. 

“ With the band, we wanted to refresh our logo and we think of you to do it.” She annonce, looking like always more adult than many women you know.

A strange sensation seemed to arise in your belly at the mention of the famous band of Horace Green. And more particularly their teacher. You finish by understanding that it was a little deception that he hadn’t come himself to ask you to work on that project. Dewey Finn was awesome, and he totally didn’t know. You have a crush on him, his joke, his wonderful smile, his brillante energies and he didn’t know either. And you will certainly not start to think of his strong arms helping you by lifting your heavier box of material, like he did last week. Not with a too bright young lady at your side.     

 “ I’m really flattered you thought about me to do it Summer. Did you guys have some ideas for me ?” You ask, trying to chase the memory of Dewey of your mind. 

“ Actually Mister Finn had made a list of our ideas, but he had the best so far. He’s in his class right now, come with me we will go see him.” She replied, a strange urge on his voice. 

Your heart since to skip a beat. Dewey was still here ? Getting up from your seat, you follow the little girl, trying without her notice that you were secretly putting your clothes in order. Since the class was over, you had changed into a more artistic and simple attire composed of a shirt, jeans and your old pair of Converse. 

“ Try to stay discrete please, he corrects our copies and he tends to make mistakes if we interrupt him, he will tell us when we can talk” Summer whispers loud enough to you to hear when you stop in front of the open door. 

Entering the room, you follow the path of the little girl. There, sitting at his wooden desk, only god can know how much you have thought of him and this damn desk, Dewey was correcting the paper like Summer had mentioned. His brown lock falling on his forehead, a bored expression on his face. 

“ Mister Finn, I will not bother you for long, I just forgot my notepad.” Summer suddenly said, surprising you, what’s happened to the waiting that he talked to us first ? “ Mister Finn, did you notice that Miss Y/L/N was particularly pretty today ? “ 

The initial surprise was now transformed into shock, at what this little miss was playing. Opening your mouth to interfere, you close it when you heard he answer.  

“ Stupid affirmation Summer. Y/N’s always gorgeous, even with paint in his cheeks. I tell you to don’t play cupid, I'm not enough“ Dewey mutterings without even lifting his eyes from the papers.

A warm feeling seems to burst in your chest. Without being able to stop yourself, you protest. 

“ What, of course you are enough ! “ 

In an instant, Dewey was on his feet, his cheeks red of embarrassment.

“ Oh, hey, Y/N !” He too loudly tells, trying to compose himself.

It then hit you too.

“ Wait you think I'm gorgeous ?” The red reaching now your own cheeks. The marvelous student now forgotten. “ I thought I was the one who was not enough...you were only joking and helping, but you never really do a move or something like that…”

Get around his desk, he was now standing in front of you, his hand passing nervously into his hair. 

“ I was kind of scared you rejected me, look at you. Even in jeans and t-shirt you look like an art goddess. And your so talented.Rock band sing song about girls like you “ 

Smiling, you couldn’t resist longer. Putting your hand on his chest, you slowly kiss his lips. It took him a few seconds, the initial shock passed, to respond to your embrasse. Taking your waist on his hand, He proceeded to give you one of these kisses you remember all your life.

Your eyes closed, your mouth still at only a few inches, you couldn't stop smiling. 

“ Yess ! “ A small voice exclaim bursting your quiet bubble. 

Turning on your heels, you discover Summer, her phone in front of her recording. 

“ Summer, did you...Oh god it’s the prank you were conspired in class today !” Dewey realized.

“ Congratulations Mr Finn, Miss Y/L/N See you tomorrow “ The young girl said before running out, his laugh of joy echoing in the corridor. 

Turning on the arms on Dewey, who never makes a move to let you go, you bite your lips. 

“ So…” You start.

“ A drink ? Now…? “ Dewey suggests. 

“ Finally…Yes “ You joke, kissing his lips for the second time. 

----

The next morning, all the class was excited. The video taken by Summer having made the tour. So, when Dewey passed the door, an unusual smile on his lips so early in the morning, they couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“ Hey Mister Finn, you have a really pretty Girlfriend “ 

“ You look happy Mister Finn, did you see your Girlfriend this morning ?” 

“ Did she kiss you before you came in class ? “ 

Laughing, Dewey removed his coat, handling his guitar. 

“ Ok ok guys, Thank you, Yes she kissed me before coming here and she’s beautiful. Today we will learn the opposite of Stick it to the man. Kick ass love songs “  

Two classes away, showing your morning student how to draw the light reflecting in an object, you could suddenly hear Dewey playing, I was made from loving you by KISS. You were, indeed, made for each other.   

@sofabearr @beetlebitchywitch

[supposed2bfunny]

Does it ever feel like no one actually WANTS Murdoc to improve? ik the writing this phase is wack and might not develop the characters in the way we'd want, but I dunno I get the vibe from a lot of people that even if he were to get better and make amends, that that would not be enough from the character. You feel me?

I’m honestly not totally sure what you mean; are you saying that Murdoc’s capacity to improve needs to be set to a higher standard?

Because if so I totally agree. Bad writing aside, I think the fandom is very split. After Désolé, a ton of people responded with wanting to see Murdoc comforted and redeemed STAT cuz it hurt to see him cry.

Others pointed out that okay, Murdoc is sad; and? Has he not been making the rest of his bandmates cry and endangering them for literal years?

His behavior in the most recent video was certainly a sharp turn from what we saw previously in Momentary Bliss. Sure he’s skulking about, looking for attention, and when he realizes that the others have gone off without him, he looks angry for a split second–and here we all brace ourselves for an outlandish Murdoc Faust Niccals-style Tantrum–and he slinks away and cries.

It looks like some fight has been taken out of him, or his confidence to confront his mates has evaporated.

But we have yet to see him actually interact with the rest of the band. Does he still behave like an utter nob to 2D? Who knows? Certainly not us! Probably not the writers either!

I’ll be honest: I don’t know what Murdoc making amends would look like at this point. But I do know that seeing him sad is not enough to count as improvement. We may be witnessing a shift in his behavior patterns, but it’s not any sort of reparation. 

I’d love to see him make efforts. Back when we were in Phase 5, I honestly thought he was going to have his chance at heroic redemption. We all thought 2D was possessed, and I thought Murdoc knew this and was busting out of prison to go save 2D and the rest of the band from evils only he could understand. A sort of redemption to the havoc he wrought on Plastic Beach: him righting the world for the sake of his family.

Instead we got uh…a yak, a spa, some parking tickets…and 2D got a rock. Hm.

So as ever and as I’ve said 10000 times already, my expectations are low. Particularly because I suspect that the writers realize how much times have changed since the early days of writing Gorillaz lore, and that the audeince is not as willing to laugh off abusive behavior as they once were (which is a good thing!), so it might be easier to just gloss over that entire topic and play up laughs instead, play it safe, y’know?

Another thing to consider is that if we lose Murdoc as an anti-hero, we lose any momentum with plot, because Gorillaz has always been hinged upon his ability to get them into danger and bad situations. To redeem Murdoc would be to take away Gorillaz’s main antagonist, their source of plot, content, humor, etc.

Would I like to see a glimpse of an implied redemption anyway? HECK YES. I’d stay turned for more phases that’s just the four of them doing dumb shit together. Like the Beatles cartoon but with Gorillaz?? YES PLEASE. I think that it’s fair for us to wish for such a thing, even if we know that it’s unlikely to happen.

I hope this is what you meant; if I totally missed your point, or if you want to elaborate, please do! I’m super open to discussing all this! :D

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Someone You Loved (Part 3)

Summary: The reader is the daughter of a well known mafia boss in her city and is used to an easy going life. When her father is arrested along with his crew, the reader is forced into a different life full of lies and adversity. Worst of all, her boyfriend of the past year, Dean, is an undercover cop who put her father away. She’s perfectly content with never seeing Dean again but he has a habit of making his way back into her life…

Pairing: Cop!Dean x Mafia!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, harassment

_____

You’d just finished jotting down the last of your math notes when the doorbell rang the next day. You heard your dad answer as you hopped up from your desk and grabbed your purse, quickly out in the hall. Dean was wearing a loose open flannel, smiling at something your dad was saying to him.

“Ready?” asked Dean.

“Mhm,” you said, cocking your head at him in his plain clothes.

“Small department. We don’t have much of a dress code,” he said with a smile.

“Being the boss has its perks,” said your dad.

“It does indeed,” said Dean. “I figured we could grab a bite here in Deer Creek? So I can get you back in time for class.”

“Oh, she can take the classes whenever she wants. She’s already two weeks ahead of the curriculum,” said your dad.

“Dean does have work, dad,” you said. “Come on.”

Dean gave him a smile before you were both piling into Baby, Dean driving for a few minutes before finding the cafe on main street, the two of you seated quickly.

“Your dad looks different. Way less stressed out,” said Dean.

“Being a bum will do that to you,” you said. “I’m trying to figure out ways of getting him out of the house more to be honest.”

“He could get involved with town stuff. These small towns are full of those meetings and boards,” said Dean.

“Maybe. How’s the town council going?” you asked.

“It’s alright. I had a meeting this morning on it. There’s a lot of stupid stuff in my opinion on it but you know, these people don’t have much else to do,” he said.

“You’ve never been afraid of taking charge,” you said.

“I came here so I could get away from that sort of thing,” he said.

“You came to hide,” you said.

“I’m okay with a quiet little life,” he said.

“You really want to live in Hawthorne forever?”

“I wanted a slower pace job. I can do what I’m supposed to and that’s it. They had a spot open and I knew it was close to you,” he said, pursing his lips. “Someone needs to watch your back. You have a knack for finding trouble.”

“I find the trouble? Look who’s talking,” you laughed. He shrugged, thanking the waitress when she brought over your drinks.

“Deer Creek’s a nice place,” he said. “Near the woods and mountains. It’s pretty here.”

“Hawthorne is pretty too. It’s quieter is all,” you said. “It feels like the middle of nowhere.”

“I mean, there’s nothing on the other side of Hawthorne so it kind of is. I’ve heard there’s lots of good hiking and camping around. There’s a big outdoors store here I’ve been told,” he said.

“That sounds fun,” you said. “I should totally get my dad to go hiking.”

“That’s a great idea. He’s looking a little rounder than I remember,” he chuckled.

“He was like that after my mom died too,” you said.

“How’d you snap him out of it?”

“We started to hang out more. Dad was not the mafia boss anymore but just dad, you know? Now that I know what he was really up to, I know he’s a better person than I gave him credit for,” you said.

“He still was a money launderer,” said Dean with a smirk. “But there’s a reason they never tried to get him for anything. I think out of your family only your cousin Mark had like a public intoxication arrest on him and I mean, that was Mark so that’s not surprising.”

“Do you know what happened to all of them?” you asked.

“I think most of them stayed in their new towns where it was safe, started living normal lives. Your cousin Sarah is going to art school in Florida I think,” he said.

“Good for her,” you said.

“It’s probably a blessing in disguise you know. Your family all have normal jobs, no records. They got out before something bad happened,” he said.

“How’s Sam?” you asked. He shrugged. “He still undercover?”

“No. He...he’s actually transferring to the Deer Creek department. He got in a bit of trouble for telling you the truth. But he trusted you,” said Dean.

“I’d like to have a civil conversation with him for once,” you said. “Tell him Gary was a super dick.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” teased Dean. You bit your bottom lip, Dean giving you a smile. “What?”

“Why’d you blow up at the bar that night? I mean, you knew that was Sam playing Gary after all. Couldn’t you have blown your cover?” you asked.

“Yeah. I could only take so much though, even pretend,” he said. You nodded and were both quiet for a few minutes, your salad coming out and a tiny smile on your face as you caught Dean eating one of his own. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t eat rabbit food,” you said.

“I’m trying to,” he said, picking at the meat in his bowl first. “So. You go to school everyday?”

“It’s all online. Aside from a few timed tests on certain days, it’s more go at your own pace. I figure with summer classes, I’ll get a degree in three years instead of four,” you said.

“What about your college classes from high school? You would have gone in with credits,” he said.

“I...totally forgot about those actually,” you said.

“See if they’ll take ‘em. You’re just looking for a degree right? Maybe you can save yourself a semester,” he said.

“I told you about that like, once,” you said.

“I am very good at remembering,” he said, poking at the rest of his salad.

“Excuse me,” you said when your waitress went past. “Can we get a BLT wrap instead of the salad?”

“Sure thing,” she said, taking the bowl away.

“Thanks,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baby steps,” you said.

“Baby steps,” he said.

His new food came out a few minutes later, Dean telling you about the local area as he ate. He’d been there about a week or so. He was staying in the previous police chief’s house on the edge of town. He was a bit miffed that there was no garage with it but he figured he could always add one later on.

He started to talk about Baby, a topic you knew he could on about for hours and hours if left to his own devices. You smiled as he spoke and ate his wrap, Dean loosening up and acting like his old self.

“What’s with the goofy look?” he asked with a chuckle. You shook your head.

“You sound like you again is all,” you said.

“You always did like listening to me talk about Baby,” he said.

“You don’t get between a boy and his first love,” you teased.

“No. You don’t,” he said, twitching his lip up. “You got a little…”

He wiped at the corner of his mouth, your tongue jutting out around yours.

“Still didn’t get it,” he said as he leaned over, wiping off a bit of dressing with a napkin. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said.

“You shaved this morning,” you said. He ran his hand over his jaw, a little hair there but much more like you were used to. “It looks good.”

“I was due for one,” he said. “I got to head back to work but maybe I’ll see you at Breacher’s tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be working,” you said.

“Good. I’ll make sure to swing by then.”

Two Weeks Later

“Are you two sure you ain’t dating?” asked Mel. You smirked behind the bar top as you poured his refill, Dean hiding his smile as he bit into his burger.

“They flirt enough,” said Victor, Dean chuckling and wiping off his mouth. “What do you say chief?”

“It’s complicated,” said Dean.

“Extremely,” you said.

“Eh, it ain’t that complicated,” said Mel.

“Trust us,” you said, wiping down the bar, surprised when Victor stood up. “Just the one drink tonight?”

“Yeah. I ought to go spend some time with my wife,” he said. “Night.”

“Night Vic,” said Dean, Mel raising an eyebrow when he left. “There a story there?”

“They been fighting a lot lately. I keep telling the idiot to spend some time with her,” he said.

“Maybe he’s finally listening,” you said. Mel nodded and knocked back his drink.

“I should take that advice myself. I’ll see you kiddos around,” he said.

“Drive safe, Mel,” you said.

“Do I smell or something?” teased Dean.

“Oh yes. It’s quite horrifying,” you said, giving him a laugh after a moment. “Those two should be at home anyways. It’s getting late.”

“It’s nine,” said Dean.

“Late for them,” you said. You cleaned up their plates and glasses, exiting out of the kitchen area a minute later to see another man sitting next to Dean, a head of longer hair on him.

He gave you a friendly if not weary smile.

“Moose,” you said, tossing down a coaster.

“Chipmunk,” he said. “You look good.”

“I was wondering when I’d see you around. Looking like the fifth beatle there,” you teased. Dean snickered in his seat, Sam whacking him in the back of the head. “What’ll it be, Sammy?”

“Just a pepsi. I’m on duty,” said Sam. “Lunch break actually.”

“Want the kitchen to whip something up for ya?” you asked.

“Is there anything not covered in grease?”

“Pie. They make good pie here,” said Dean. “Can I order my pie now too?”

“Pie for Dean and I’ll get a garden salad for you Sam,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said as you jotted it down. His salad was out fast with the kitchen slowing down, Dean wolfing down his pie the second you had it out. “I guess you really are doing better.”

“Told ya so,” said Dean.

“So...you guys dating again?” asked Sam.

“It’s...a work in progress,” you said.

“We both agreed we should wait a little while, give us time to try and get our heads on straight,” said Dean.

“Is that why you smile at your phone like an idiot when she texts you?” asked Sam.

“Shut up,” said Dean.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Sam, turning to you. “About the Gary thing...I’m sorry for all that stuff.”

“You were just doing your job,” you said, setting his second soda down in front of him. “It’s alright, Moose.”

“Oh I see. I do all the groveling groundwork and Sam gets to reap the rewards,” teased Dean.

“Just a tad different, De,” you said.

“Yeah. De,” said Sam with a big smirk.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” mumbled Dean.

“I thought it was a work in progress. Plus I’m married you idiot,” said Sam.

“Didn’t I tell you he was an annoying little shit?” said Dean.

“He’s a little brother. Kind of in the handbook, Dean,” you said.

“I didn’t hear a correction in there,” said Sam.

“You really are a little shit, Sam,” you said.

“Told ya,” said Dean.

“Still,” said Sam. “You two…”

“Leave it alone, Sammy,” said Dean. He dropped it at that, making some small talk as he waited for another slice of pie to come out. You tended to the rest of the bar, the two of them talking about their days. It reminded you of when they’d talk when you were over Dean’s place. It was always kind of cute to you how they checked in everyday.

“Y/N?” asked Sam. You hummed, giving him a smile. “I asked if you were going hiking with us this weekend.”

“I didn’t know I was invited,” you said. Dean glared at Sam, opening his mouth slowly. “Hey. You two should have your brother time.”

“I was gonna ask later,” said Dean quietly. “You got midterms soon and-“

“And Y/N’s coming with,” said Sam. “Right?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“Don’t bug her, Sammy,” said Dean.

“When are you gonna stop being depressed and tell-“

“Really?” said Dean. He stood up and put down some money, Sam looking to you for help. Dean was gone like that though and Sam closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” mumbled Sam.

“Probably not,” you said. “It’s why it’s a work in progress, Sam.”

“It’s kind of stupid in my opinion. You’re both still into each other. It wasn’t like you broke up because you stopped liking each other,” he said.

“No. What happened was much worse,” you said. “There’s a lot of hurt feelings there.”

“Then why don’t you hate me as much?” said Sam.

“I didn’t love Gary, Sam. Gary was a dick. One that scared me,” you said. “But you weren’t that much worse than a bad night tending bar or the walk home at three in the morning.”

“He never told you, did he,” said Sam.

“Told me what?”

“There were two regulars at your bar. Hank and a younger guy, Teddy. You never noticed that Teddy always came in just after Hank would head out?” asked Sam. You tilted your head back, Sam taking a sip of his drink. “Dean was concerned. He convinced the department to give you a protection detail in the event that you might be able to help with the organization.”

“So you’re telling me that every night I was creeped out walking home by myself, there was a cop nearby watching my back?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam.

“He didn’t tell me that,” you said. “He’s such an idiot sometimes, I swear.”

“There are worse idiots to wind up with,” said Sam.

“Carl, you mind watching the bar for a minute?” you asked, one of the waiters nodding as you skirted around the top and over to the front door. You poked your head outside, Dean leaning over Baby with his head down. “Winchester!”

He popped his head up and spun around as you headed over, Dean looking behind you, his hand on his gun.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No. No. You gonna invite me to go hiking?” you asked.

“What’d Sammy say in there?” he asked, dropping his hand away.

“You’re sweet. Nothing I didn’t know already though,” you said. “So, hiking?”

“I’m not…” said Dean, gnawing on his bottom lip, shifting on his feet. You reached out and grabbed his hands, Dean staring down at them. “You know I shove stuff down. You have a way of dragging it up and making me deal with it and I don’t want to deal with...I want to be your boyfriend again. I do. I want it to be the way it used to be but I know it’s never going to be that way. You’ll never trust me like that again and I’ll never not feel guilty. I just need more time to deal with that, okay? Maybe we go hiking next weekend, just us. I need time to-“

“Don’t assume things about me Dean,” you said, dropping his hands.

“A month ago you hated my guts,” he said. “You’ve spent the past few months hating me.”

“Don’t push me away because you’re afraid of feeling something again, Dean,” you said. “Don’t put words in my mouth either.”

“You said-“

“I said a lot of things and most of it when I didn’t know the full picture,” you said, kicking at the ground. “There’s always more secrets, more I didn’t know, Dean.”

“I told you the truth,” he said.

“Then why am I still finding stuff out like I had a police tail on me every night?” you asked. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the car. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter,” he said.

“Actually, it does. Now I knew I was safe back then. So what else are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Dean.”

He wasn’t quick enough to make his face blank but maybe he wanted it that way, wanted you to know there was something he still wasn’t saying. He quickly turned his gaze hard though.

“You always gotta push, don’t you?” he said. “You push and push and push and push. You’re so fucking annoying sometimes. You can’t just let things be. You gotta dig and ask stupid questions and be the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met in my life. Why do you never, never, shut the fuck up? Please. Just shut up.”

“You know what? Don’t come back to the bar. Ever,” you said as you spun around. “I’m done. We’re done. Fuck you, Dean. Just stay the fuck away from me from now on.”

“How was work?” asked your dad when you came home an hour early. “Feeling alright?”

“I hate that fucking asshole!” you shouted, rubbing your hand over your face. “I should have never...fuck him. Don’t ever answer the door for him again.”

“Y/N-“

“I am done with Dean Winchester. Forever.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you said the next day, storming into Dean’s office as he ate some yogurt.

“Lunch?” he asked.

You slammed the parking ticket down on his desk, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You pay that over at the front desk?” he asked again, looking you up and down. “Are you on something?”

“I am sick and tired of the police harassing me!” you shouted. Dean leaned forward in his chair and took the ticket, glancing at it.

“Nina. Can you come here a minute?” called Dean. You glared as a cop came in, looking at you wearily. “You write a parking ticket this morning?”

“She was double parked.”

“Double parked my ass,” you said.

“Miss. This is a police station,” she said.

“Oh, don’t go there with me honey,” you said.

“There,” said Dean, ripping it in half. “No ticket. Nina, try not to ticket people for being a little over the line.”

“Alright,” she said, staring at you.

“Back off,” you said. She put a hand on her hip and Dean stood up, grabbing your arm. “Hey!”

“I do not need a fist fight in my office,” he said, leading you out a side door and outside. You shrugged away from him, Dean taking a deep breath. “I didn’t put anyone up to it. Don’t go starting fights with cops.”

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone,” you said.

“Yet you’re the one…” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Go back in the station. Now.”

“No! I-“

“Get the fuck inside,” he said, grabbing your arm hard, practically shoving you back through the door. He locked it behind himself, barely giving you more than a quick glance.

But it was enough.

“You’re still protecting me, aren’t you,” you said.

“Yeah well, deal with it. I had a feeling shit would hit the fan and it’s hitting it,” he said, shoving you back towards the cell area. “Lock the door. It’s the only way in or out. Don’t open for anyone but me or Sammy. Call your dad and tell him Alpha Green two. He knows what it means.”

He left the room and you almost locked the door after him, his hand suddenly on it. He was holding something big and bulky out to you.

His thigh holster with the gun in it.

“Put it on. Point and shoot. Make sure the safety’s off. You got sixteen rounds. Don’t use it if you don’t gotta,” he said.

“Dean, what’s-” you got out before he was out the door. You locked it up after him and strapped the thing on your leg, shaking your head as you pulled out your phone.

“Hey, sweetie,” said your dad when he answered.

“Something weird is...I’m with Dean at the police station and he said to tell you Alpha Green two and I have no idea what is going on,” you said, the other end quiet. “Dad?”

“I’m not gonna see you for a long time, kiddo. I gotta go away for awhile. I want you to stick with Dean. He’ll keep you safe. I know you two got your issues but you’ll work them out,” he said.

“What is happening?” you asked.

“Alpha Green two means get out. Dean saw something he didn’t like so I gotta go,” he said.

“He gave me a gun,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to get out too then. They know if they grab you, then they get me,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Remember where I said I met your mom?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“October first. You meet me there at noon if it’s safe. That’s how I’ll know it’s safe to come back,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Do what Dean tells you and for the love of God stay with him,” he said. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said quietly. “Who’s here? That organization?”

“Worse. His brother. I gotta go. I’ll be with Sam. I’ll see you in October, kiddo. Love you,” he said.

“Love you t-” you heard before he hung up. “Too. What the fuck?”

“Y/N,” you heard on the other side of the door, Dean knocking lightly. “Open up. It’s me.”

You carefully undid the door, a backpack tossed in your face along with a police jacket.

“What-”

“No one saw you on the street thankfully. Your dad getting out of here?” he asked. You nodded, Dean glancing around. “I got Baby packed. Sam’ll try to help your dad get out of here as best he can. We gotta get you out of here and now.”

“Am I ever going to know anything real about you?” you asked. He stared at you blankly, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours.

“I kept lying about my job. Not about me,” he said. “I will explain everything later. For now-”

“Let’s get going then.”

“This jacket is nice and warm,” you said, curling up in the thing in Baby’s front seat, Dean humming as he rolled into hour nine of your impromptu road trip. “We gonna stop soon? I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah. We’re almost there,” he said.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said.

“We’re almost there too,” he said. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the window again, trying not to think of what had happened to your dad or where he was. Dean was mum on everything until you were settled he said but you knew wherever it was you were going, you were going to have to lay low.

He pulled up to an old farm house near a field and nestled near some woods, driving down the dirt path for a moment before he put it in park.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Safest place I ever knew,” he said. He opened his door and got out. You followed his lead and stretched out, hearing some clanging going on in a nearby garage. It stopped quickly and a man walked out, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry I didn’t call. Sort of last minute.”

“You must be Y/N,” he said, looking you up and down, giving you a smirk. “He gave you a gun?”

“Who is he?” you asked Dean.

“Y/N, this is my dad, John,” he said. You turned your head a little wide eyed as he stepped over and gave you a big hug.

“Nice to finally meet Dean’s girlfriend in the flesh,” he said.

“Dad, we’re not…” said Dean.

“Oh,” said John. “Was that...okay, now I’m confused.”

“Welcome to the club,” you mumbled.

“We were. We broke it off when you know, her dad and family went into hiding,” said Dean.

“Okay?” said John.

“I didn’t know he was a cop for starters,” you said. His dad raised an eyebrow. “Then there’s all the lying and secrets and sounds like you do that with everybody, hm?”

“I thought you had to go to the bathroom,” said Dean.

“Go up through the back door, past the kitchen, door on the left,” said John.

“Thanks,” you said. You wrapped your jacket around yourself as you jogged up the back steps into the quiet house. The kitchen was sparse and half of it was ripped up. Half the house looked under construction in your opinion.

The bathroom looked like new sheetrock had been put up and needed to be painted but otherwise it looked brand new. You were quick to relieve yourself, voices coming into the house by the time you were exiting.

“He’s an idiot,” said John as he walked past you, going to the kitchen cupboard and pulling out a bottle of liquor.

“Where’s mom?” asked Dean.

“She and Jess went to the movies. Apparently I annoyed them today,” said John, taking a sip.

“Maybe if you finished working on the house they’d be less pissed,” said Dean.

“They got hands. They can pick up a hammer and get to work,” he said.

“Dad.”

“I know. It’s hard to renovate a whole house by yourself is all,” he said.

“Maybe Y/N can help with demo. She’s pretty pissed off lately,” said Dean.

“I can see why,” he said.

“You’re taking her side?”

“Sammy told Jess.”

“Sam and Jess are married. It’s different. He had permission. She was different,” said Dean.

“You still could have told-“

“I fucked up. I don’t need everyone to keep reminding me,” said Dean, dropping a bag by the stairs and going out the front, slamming the door shut after him.

“He probably didn’t need that,” said John.

“Can I have a sip of that?” you asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

“He didn’t,” said John, cracking up beside you a few hours later.

“He sure did,” you said, giggling as you passed the bottle back to him.

“Oh, that kid doesn’t know the first thing about being in a city,” he laughed, taking the last sip. “Shit. I think we’ve been cut off, kiddo.”

“Well you’re both drunk so it’s probably for the best,” said Dean as he stepped out the back door. “Mom and Jess are back. I told them you weren’t up for meeting any more new people today.”

“I think he’s pissed,” you laughed.

“You should have seen his face when he was three and-“

“Alright,” said Dean, leaning down and taking the gun from your holster. “Before you two get into real trouble, inside. Y/N, we got the air mattress in the guest room so get your tush up there.”

“I’m enjoying myself here just fine,” you said.

“Yeah. What are you? The fun police?” joked his dad.

“I’m tired. Please, just go inside for the night and sleep this off,” said Dean. “Both of you.”

“Alright,” said John. “No harm in helping her calm down.”

“I’d rather it have been done sober,” said Dean.

“Yeah, well. You can work on that tomorrow,” said John. “Come on. Better do as told.”

You grumbled as you stood up and went inside, the house quiet. Dean showed you upstairs, his dad staying down and heading down the hall where you assumed the master bedroom was. You trudged past an open room, a girl probably around your age laying on a bed, reading a book.

“Hey,” said Dean, pointing a finger at you. She lifted her head up. “This is Y/N. You know, don’t shoot her if you see her around. Drunk girl, this is Jess. Don’t shoot her if you see her around.”

“Always a joy, Dean,” said Jess. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cop too,” you said.

“I’m a nursing student,” she said. “Or I was I should say.”

“Look. I brought you a friend so you can both hate me together,” said Dean.

“Shortie,” she mumbled, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Asshole,” he said, spinning you around. “Night Jess.”

“Night De,” she said.

“Sam says hey too,” said Dean.

“Just hey?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just hey,” said Dean, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out an envelope. He flicked it over to her, Jess smiling wide as she caught it. “Page three, whoo, Sammy. I thought the boy was innocent but boy was I wrong.”

“Goodnight Dean,” she said with a grin, tearing open the letter.

“Night Jess,” he said, pulling her door shut. “Okay. Let’s get you in bed.”

He showed you down the hall and into a room, nothing inside but two backpacks, a duffel and an air mattress with a blanket on top.

“Okay,” he said as you kicked off your shoes. You plopped down on the mattress, rolling to the left side. “Before you pass out completely on me, this backpack with the red tape on the strap? That’s your bag. If I ever tell you the furnace light is out, that means take the bag and get out of here. I don’t care how but you do it. If the furnace light is broken, that means ditch the bag and just go. You got that?”

“Talking about the furnace is bad. I got it,” you mumbled, tugging the blanket around yourself.

“You can change into something more comfortable,” he said.

“Like what,” you mumbled.

“Hold on,” he said. He went over to a closet and pulled out a box, digging through it a minute before pulling out a few things and tossing them to you. “It’s from when I was about your size. It should fit.”

You stared at him, Dean rolling his eyes.

“This is my grandparents house. It was in somebody else’s name and trust me, it’s safe,” he said.

“So this stuff is from when you were a teenager?”

“Yes. Bathroom is across the hall,” he said, leaving the room for a minute. You changed into the loose shorts and t shirt, smiling at the baseball camp shirt.

The door opened and he popped his head in, another bunch of blankets under his arm.

“Did you go to camp around here?” you asked.

“Yeah. For a summer. Sam and I stayed here. We’re both tired, we’ll talk in the morning,” he said. He took off his boots and jeans, shrugging out of his jacket and taking one of the blankets for himself, leaving the others on your side. He flicked off the light switch and lay down with a sigh, his back turning to you when you crawled under the blankets.

You stared at his stiff shoulders, Dean taking a few deep breaths.

“Thanks for the extra blankets,” you said quietly. He nodded, stilling after a moment.

You turned your own back to him, closing your eyes, already regretting the alcohol in your system.

“Is my dad dead?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Okay,” you whispered, a tiny shudder running through you.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Do you want me to go?”

You didn’t say anything and for a moment, you thought he’d get up and leave. Then you felt him roll behind you, roll closer. You didn’t lift your head as you turned to face him, ducking your chin down and letting yourself bury your face in his chest.

“I know,” he said quietly, placing his arm over your back, holding you close. “I know.”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled, a shudder running through you.

“I got you. That’s all you need to worry about tonight, alright?” he said. “I got you.”

You nodded your head, fisting your hands in his shirt as you willed yourself to get some sleep.

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[mirkwoodshewolf]

We will rock you assistant; Queen x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Hey all, well here I am with yet ANOTHER UPDATE YAAAAAYYYY!!! Okay so in this fic that was requested on my Wattpad, I had made you the reader, Roger’s sister (they asked for either Bri or Rog and I went with our fabulous blondie hehehe). Anyways not really any big warnings except for the FLUFFINESS, but if I had to pick individual warnings I’d say swearing, mentions of P**l Pr***ter, scars (NOT SELF INFLICTED), animal attacks. So enjoy my lovely darlings :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

@waddles03

____________________________________________________

It was 1977, I had finally returned from my 4 year study abroad program that counted towards my shot at a biology major.  And there was an offer saying that if you wanted to complete a 4yr program rather than a full college career that was also an option, so I actually got spend the rest of my secondary school year (years 10-13) down in Queensland, Australia to study in the Zoology program.

I’ll admit it was hard the first year I was there because I had never been that far away from home ever in my life on my own, but I made some really good friends and the professors there were amazing that they became parental figures for us rather than just our teachers.  I got to learn a lot about Zoology and the study of the animals of South America. But it was so good to be home.

Especially now since I get to finally see my big brother after 4 years of not seeing him. And some of you may know him, blonde hair, blue eyes, incredible drummer. Yep I’m talking about the famed Roger Taylor, drummer of Queen.  

When I first told him about the program he at first being the overprotective big brother that he was, refused to let me go.  We fought about it constantly until that’s when our mother made the final decision and allowed me to go because she thought this would be a good experience for me. Especially now since she couldn’t afford another kid going to college at the time.

He was also outnumbered because the rest of the band thought it was also a good thing for me to experience.  Oh yeah, did I not mention that I’m real close with the band? Yeah I’ve known all of them since they formed Queen, but besides my brother, Brian is the one I’ve known the longest.

In fact he was the first to agree that going to Australia for this program would be wonderful to get a full experience background and it would help in future job applications in the future.  Brian’s like a second brother to me so I know that if Roger won’t give into my ways, I can always fall back on Brian to be ‘Brother of the year.’

And Freddie and Deacy were a blessing to have around as well.  Freddie was known to the world by now as the frontman of Queen, but to me he’ll always be known as Freddie, King of the cats and lord of fashion.  He’s always been there to help cheer me up whenever I felt a little blue or after a big fight with my brother, and Deacy was the band’s bass player and mediator if things got chaotic, but whenever it was just the two of us, we got to share an interest of our studies so if he had to do anything regarding to biology I was there to help him as best as I could and he taught me a little bit about electronics and how they worked.

So even though there were tears shed on the last day of spring of 1973, I told the boys I would keep in contact and write every single day and they promised the same thing.  Of course people in Australia knew who Queen were by 1975 when their 4th album ‘A Night at the Opera’ came out.

All my friends couldn’t stop talking about it and some couldn’t stop listening to it, and I was the same way.  But it also helped me out whenever I got homesick and missed them too much.  Just hearing their voices and instruments play brought me back to home and back to them.

And now here I am, standing before the studio where mum said they rehearsed and recorded their albums.  While I was beyond thrilled to finally see the guys again, I was also really nervous.

Cause I mean last time I saw them, sure they were popular but only just through England, Japan and America.  They were still rising stars, now ever since A night at the Opera, they’ve completely exploded to the levels of Elton John, David Bowie, ACDC, the Beatles, and a hell of a lot of other rockstars.  And sometimes egos get in the way or they just forget about who their families are and never talk to them anymore once they’ve hit it big.

I was worried that with as long as I’ve been gone, the four of them probably forgot all about me, or just didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. I stood before the door of the studio about to go in but I stopped and set my bags down.

“Okay, calm down (y/n), you can do this. You’ve known these guys since forever. You gotta make this reunion right.” I then did a practice mock turn and said with the most angelic voice, “Greetings my brothers.” I groaned out.  Pathetic.

I then tried another tactic, a simply grand gesture wave but making my voice all high and strange sounding but that didn’t work.  Then I thought, maybe a simple hide and suddenly appear as they come out.  I managed to find a shrub tree so I grabbed that, set it in front of the door and hid behind it before practicing peeking out and saying oh so casually.

“Oh hey guys, didn’t see you there.” I groaned and muttered to myself, “None of this is going to work.” I sighed heavily. “Maybe just a simple, sincere welcome back. Yeah, yeah that’ll do it. It’s only just the most important reunion of your life, what could go wrong?”

*3rd Person POV*

After waiting for over an hour and a half for Freddie, the remaining three members who had come with their wives all decided that they should return home since this rehearsal didn’t seem important enough for their lead singer.

“All that waiting for nothing.” Exclaimed Roger.

“Well we should’ve expected this, I mean after all since—well you know he and Mary broke up and Paul weaseled himself into his life, he’s been a bit….off.” Brian said.

“I only just wish he hadn’t made such a big deal about coming to rehearsal and then not show up himself.” Stated Deacy.

“He’ll come around love, meanwhile why don’t we all head out for some lunch. Our treat boys since you all have worked so hard.” Offered Veronica, his lovely wife.

“No love we can’t ask that—”

“She’s not asking. We’re offering.” Stated Chrissie, Brian’s wife.

“Thanks darling.” Brian said softly as he softly pecked her cheek.  That was until Dominque, Roger’s wife took a hold of the door and they were all shock to reveal a young teenage girl with bags and suitcases behind her.

“Sup party people I’m back in the hizz-hou—ohh no! God that was so American of me to say, why did I let Zack convince me to talk like that? I’m so sorry that was terrible, can I get a do-over?”

*My POV*

Well I totally fucked that greeting up. Hizz-house? Really? God next time I see that boy I’m gonna strangle him.  I saw my brother with a raven-haired girl standing beside him, in fact Deacy and Brian all had girls by their sides.  Deacy was arm to arm with a beautiful blonde woman while Brian had a brunette.  

All three of my boys looked at me, almost like they were ready to bawl, especially my brother.  I smiled softly and said.

“Hey Rog.” He just stood there.  All was silent then just before I could say anything else, Roger rammed himself into me, picking me up in his arms and spinning me around.

I let out a shriek at first but immediately hugged my brother back as he cheered happily, hugging me as tight as he could all the while kissing all over my face.  After what felt like eternity, he finally set me down but refused to let go of his embrace. Not that I minded anyway, I missed him just as much as he missed me.

“Oh (y/n) I can’t believe it’s you. You’re—you’re actually here. Home at last!”

“I know, 4 years seems like forever.”

“You have no idea lovie, god I’ve missed you like crazy.” He hugged me once again before getting a second look at me, “Ohh look at you. You’ve grown so much. Last I saw you, you were this big.” He gestured playfully as he placed his hand to his waist.  I playfully shoved him and exclaimed.

“I was never that short, you overgrown blonde giant!”

“Don’t you raise your voice at me little Ms. Thumbelina!” The two of us glared at each other for a brief moment before I let out a giggle and hugged my brother one last time saying.

“Oh I’ve missed you so much big bro.”

“And I you little sis.” It was then my attention turned toward Deacy and Brian. I got out of my brother’s arms and slowly walked towards them cautiously.  Okay so the reunion with Rog was an immediate check point, but I guess that’s to be expected because he’s my brother, but what about the two guitar players of Queen.

“Bri, Deacy. Been a long time. I hope you hadn’t forgotten little ol—” but then just like Roger, but instead of one of them coming up to embrace me, both of them did. Sandwiching me between them.  I smiled as I leaned my head against Deacy’s chest and tried to hug both of them with each arm as best as I could.

“Oh love look at you. You truly have grown into a beautiful young woman. Last we saw you, you were just a kid and now just look at you.” Said Deacy.

“Well how about you? Last I saw you your hair was down to here, now you’ve cut it to a true man’s hairstyle.”

“Do you hate it?”

“No this look suits you just fine. Though I can’t say I’ll miss braiding your hair in secret while you sleep.”

“So it was you who was doing that!” he exclaimed.

“Hey Rog goaded me on. He said I couldn’t do it without waking you up.”

“Don’t you drag me into this!” my brother exclaimed.  I playfully stuck my tongue at him when I was pulled away by Brian. He spoke not a word but just smiled lovingly down at me as he placed both of his hands at each side of my head before gently caressing downward around my face till he cupped each side of my jawline.  A common sign of affection he always did with me.

“They weren’t lying. God you’ve really become a woman now.”

“I know, but I also know that like Rog you can’t help but imagine me as that little girl you first met when my brother joined Smile.”

“That I do.” He smiled softly and gingerly kissed my forehead before hugging me close to him.  It wasn’t until a throat cleared and that’s when my attention turned towards the three women standing there.

“Hate to spoil the reunion, but just letting you guys know we’re still here. And we would like to know just who this famed young girl that has our husbands’ wrapped around her finger is.” The blonde spoke up.  There was no trace of malicious or jealousy in her words, but there was a hint of teasing towards the end.

“Sorry. Chrissie, Veronica, Dominque. This young woman is our biggest fan, future zoologist and Roger’s younger sister, (Y/n) Taylor. (Y/n), this is Brian’s wife Chrissie, Dominque, your sister in law and my lovely wife, Veronica.” Deacy said introducing us.

“Ohh so I’m finally meeting the three famed wives of Queen. Each of your husbands have told me a bit about you, I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together when I first saw you.” I spoke as I walked up and stood before them.

“Believe us, the boys have told us all about you, especially Roger.” Said Dominque.

“Oh god I swear if he told you any embarrassing stories about me, forget them they didn’t happen the way he says they did. And he’s responsible for most of them happening.” I shook hands with my sister in law and she smiled down at me and she whispered.

“Don’t worry I had your back in defending your honor.” Before winking at me.  Oh I like her already.

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting the famous (y/n). I especially have been looking forward to this moment for 4 years. The way my husband talked about you I expected to meet a little girl, but you my dear are so grown up.” The brunette Chrissie said.  I smiled and said.

“They all still see me as that little girl, guess it’ll take time for them to see me now.”

“Lovie no matter how big you get you’ll always be my baby sister.” Roger teased as he wrapped his arm around my neck and playfully pinched my cheek.  I whined and shoved him off and that’s when I began looking around.

“Where’s Fred?” at the mention of his name, the guys went either stoic or pissed off.

“C’mon in the studio love, there’s a lot you need to catch up on.” My brother lead me inside the studio while Deacy and Brian grabbed my bags and we all went back into the studio.

It was then I was filled in on everything that had happened.  Apparently now Mary and Freddie broke up with each other and his assistant Paul Prenter had slowly began to move into his life.  Now I vaguely remember meeting Paul a couple of times, but even then I knew there was something about him that I didn’t like.

“Geez, poor Freddie.”

“Paul’s poisoning his mind.” Stated Deacy.

“I wouldn’t doubt that. I mean, even with the couple times I’ve actually met him, I knew I didn’t like him. One look into his eyes and it’s like a Taipan is staring right back at you.”

“Taipan?” asked my brother.

“One of Australia’s most dangerous snakes. One of the boys in my group got bitten by one about a year ago. We never saw it coming; it was wrong place, wrong time.”

“Jesus was he okay?” asked Dominque.

“Yeah, luckily we managed to get him to the hospital where they gave him anti-venom.”

“What’s that?” asked Chrissie.

“They milk venom from the snakes and with the help of some brilliant chemists and scientists, they can create a potent to counteract the venom in the body. If they are given it in time, and it has to be from the same species of snake or spider or whatever venomous creature you’re getting it from. If you use black mamba anti-venom to counteract a rattlesnake venom, it does nothing.”

“Wow, the things science is doing for us nowadays.” Said Veronica.

“Okay so we’ve established the fact that Paul’s a snake, but what can we do to help Freddie?” my brother demanded.  No one spoke up until I said.

“I guess the only thing we can do is just be there for him as much as we can.”  The guys were hesitant but they agreed solemnly. “So what were you guys up to before I got here?”

“Well we were supposed to rehearse at Freddie’s request but of course he decided to not to show up.” Answered Deacy.

“So we were gonna head out and treat the boys to lunch, would you care to join us?” asked Veronica.

“Yes please, if you don’t mind. I’ve been on a plane for over 12hours with only snacks to keep me happy. And don’t get me wrong but plane food can only go so far.”

“Then have no fear sister dear, let’s get that tummy of yours filled with some real meat.” Roger as he poked my stomach making me curl up and push his hand away. It was then Brian spoke up.

“(Y/n), what’s that scarring on your leg?” I looked down and sighed.

“Well let’s just say Cody, the boy who got bit by a snake wasn’t the only one who experienced an animal attack. Mine however was a bit more vicious.”

“What happened? What hurt you and how come you never told me about this? How long ago was it?” Roger began frantically asking questions in a demanding tone.

“Rog relax I lived. Aaron got a bit cocky thinking that just because he was from Texas he could wrangle any pig. So he snuck out away from the school grounds and found a trial leading to a herd of wild feral pigs. Nearly got himself killed had I not been there to save his sorry ass. Thankfully before the pig could tear a main artery, the professor came and fired a gun into the air which scared the boars away. Had to be given over 20 stitches and 4 weeks of bedrest, but at least I didn’t end up with an amputation.”

“Did they call mum and inform her what had happened? How long ago did it happen?”

“It happened 6 months after joining the program, and yes they did. They always inform the parents of anything that happens to the students, and critical injuries or hospital visits are immediately told to the parents.”

“Well why didn’t she call me about it?”

“Weren’t you guys on the American tour around that time?” He shrugged before wrapping his arms around me bringing me close to him.  “Hey, I’m alright. Just hurt like a bitch but I’m okay.” I said softly as I rubbed his forearm.

“I just wish I could’ve been there. I could’ve saved you, helped made you comfortable as you were on bedrest. Kissed your boo-boos away.” I groaned out his name he softly chuckled and said, “still scars or not you’re still every bit the baby sister I know and love. I’ll take you no matter what.” He stroked down my hair and leaned his head on top of mine.  I smiled and nuzzled into his neck until Brian spoke up.

“We’ll try coming here again tomorrow, but for now I say let’s celebrate our best girl’s return with a well-earned English lunch.”  Everyone was in agree so we took my bags, placed them in the trunk of my brother’s car and we all headed out to lunch.

Throughout the entire day, we spent the day at my favorite restaurant and I told them more about the program and how my official diploma would be shipped to me in the next month or so.

The next day it was pretty much like the same thing as yesterday.  I was sitting between Chrissie and Veronica on the couch. Roger and Dominque were sitting together on a chair looking through a boating magazine.  Deacy who was sitting on the other side of Veronica were talking together while Brian sat on the drum risers.  I’ve noticed that for the past hour he’s been softly tapping his foot twice and softly clapping his hands.

“What about this one?” muttered Roger.

“This one is for me.” Dominque spoke.

“I don’t see how you can buy a boat Rog, and most importantly where would you keep it?” I questioned.

“First of all it’s a yacht, totally different. And second down by the docks of course. We’ve got a lake house that we bought about a year ago.”

“How come you always get the good stuff when I go away?”

“Aww don’t worry love, I’ll buy you one soon enough. Till then you can take the basement whenever you come and visit.”

“Roger, don’t you boot your sister down there, it’s not even finished.” Dominque said.

“Thank you Nicky, you’re the best sister I could ever ask for.” I reached out for her hand and she took mine.

“Everyone up on the drum risers.” Brian suddenly stated as he now stood up.  We were a bit confused a bit till Brian emphasized his point once more, “Up on the drum risers.”

“Finally some action!” I moaned out as I sat up and as I walked up Brian said.

“Thank you (y/n), showing some enthusiasm.” As I stood beside him, he wrapped his arm around me and kissed the top of my head as I hugged him around his waist. It was then Deacy spoke up.

“Just (y/n), or all of us?”

“Yes, yes c’mon John. Everyone up, I’m not waiting any longer.” Soon everyone got off their butts and walked up onto the drum risers.  Chrissie stood to my left while Dominique stood to my right.

“Bass?” questioned Deacy as he made the gesture of holding his bass guitar in his hand but Brian told him and even gave him a mock kick to his bum.

“No don’t need it, get up. Well c’mon Rog take your time.”

“Alright. What’s this about?” Roger spoke as he was the last to get up on the stage and that’s when Brian said.

“You remember our last concert? The crowd were singing our songs back to us. I mean it was deafening but—it was wonderful. They’re becoming a part of our show. I want to encourage that so…..I’ve got an idea to involve them a little bit more.” He then began stomping the ground twice before breaking on the third beat. He did that a few times before John sneered with sarcasm.

“Genius.”

“Thank you John.” Brian spoke mockingly.  I just rolled my eyes at their interaction before Brian urged all of us again, “C’mon.” Soon everyone started to stomp along with Bri.  I felt a little out of place and I was just about to slowly back off when Brian spoke again, “That means you too (y/n).”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, now c’mon join the ranks.” My brother then pulled me between him and Deacy and I joined in on the rhythmic stomping.  “Good. Now I want you to clap on the third beat.”  Soon it formed into a STOMP, STOMP CLAP. STOMP, STOMP CLAP.

“Don’t speed up!” My brother claimed but he looked down at me and playfully bopped my nose.  I glared playfully up at him as Brian said.

“Rog keep that time.” We all continued the tempo following my brother’s lead when I heard Brian speak up again after he had turned toward the piano to play a single key, “No Prenter? It’s unusual to see you without your clone?”

“It’s unusual seeing you be so bitchy.” I looked up to see the last Queen member I didn’t see the other day, the front man himself Freddie Mercury.  He looked different as well, much like Deacy his hair was now shorter.

“That’s usually me.” Deacy spoke as he pointed to himself and I playfully bumped into his arm.  Brian turned back around toward us and playfully teased my brother.

“Ahh you’re keeping time Rog, good.” I heard my brother playfully scoff and that’s when Freddie stood beside Bri and asked.

“What’s going on?”

“You’d know if you were on time.” Said my brother as we all ceased our stomping and claps and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.  Freddie turned to look at my brother as he said.

“I’m a performer darling not a Swiss train conductor.” He then turned to Brian and said, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Again.” Deacy spoke bluntly.  Fred turned back towards us and when he finally took notice of me he said.

“And just who is here with us today?”

“If you were here yesterday Freddie, you’d realize it’s me.” His eyes widened and he said.

“No way, (y/n)? Little (y/n) Taylor?” I nodded and grinned at him.  He grinned back at me and stated as he pointed at me, “Afterwards, you and me, outside. We’ve got some things to talk about.” He then turned back to Brian and continued, “Now back to the matter at hand, will you please tell me why you’re not playing any instruments?”

“I wanna give the audience a song that they can perform. Alright? Let them be a part of the band so what can they do?” Brian then resumed stomping and clapping two times before we all resumed and joined him.  Even Freddie joined in at one of the claps.  “Imagine….thousands of people. Doing this in unison, hmm?” Freddie had a processing look in his eyes before finally saying.

“What’s the lyric?” And it was then a new Queen hit was being born.

As the day went on, I walked over to Brian who was at the controls with pieces of paper scattered around him, pencil in head connecting it to his brain trying to get the right lyrics.  I slowly walked up towards him and asked.

“So this is how the great Brian May works his lyrics?” He turned to me and he smiled.

“It’s how we all work. Though you should’ve seen us when we went to Rockfield farm to record a Night at the Opera. Sheet music everywhere.” I chuckled and sat down next to him in the extra chair.  I grabbed one of the lyrics sheets and read the lyrics.

“This is good Brian.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I mean just based off of the rhythm you had going down, made me think about all the sporting events that happened back down in Australia. You think London is fanatic when it comes to football, you clearly haven’t seen the Aussie’s do it, along with rugby. Those fans get insane.”

“I can imagine. But I’m unclear of which order to do some of the lyrics.” I stood up and placed the lyric sheet I had back down and leaned over his shoulder to read what he had so far.

“Why not do it like an evolution type thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean like you’ve got each new stanza starting with man. But why not go in age order. Start with a young boy who once started off in the schoolyard kicking mud around, then the young ambitious young man thinking he was gonna rule the world someday, kinda like what my brother envisioned.”

“Before finally ending it with an old man, after all is said and done all he wants is peace. Love you are brilliant!” he gasped before bringing me into his lap and hugged me tightly.

“What would you guys do without me?”

“Probably have another car song by your brother.”

“Oh don’t even get me started on that.”

“So you agree with me?”

“Yes, infinitely. I was embarrassed at just hearing the song being played by some of my fellow zoologists, mainly the boys who were also car nuts like my brother.”

“Oh I see how it is!” We looked up to see my brother standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.  He walked over to me continuing, “You also think my song’s stupid? Siding with this rotter here?”

“I’m sorry Rog but you’ve got to admit it makes you sound like you’d have sex with a car.”

“At least one Taylor sees the problem with your song.” Brian pipped in.

“You keep out of this!” Roger pointed to Brian.  He then directed his attention to me, he gestured with his finger a ‘come hither’ motion, “You come here.”

“No, no Rog I know that look! Back away from me!” I warned him as I got off of Brian’s lap immediately recognizing the sign of what he was going to do.

“You’ve got nowhere else to go (n/n). Only one way out of here and you gotta get by me to get to it.” I backed myself into a corner as he kept walking toward me.  I quickly looked around before running to the left but he followed and blocked my path.

However what he didn’t expect was for me to go to the right and race out but just before I managed to get out of the door, Roger grabbed me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder.

“Oi yah big goober! Put me down! Roger I’m not kidding I’m not seven years old anymore you can’t do this to me!!”

“Not till you apologize, ready for the helicopter?”

“No! Please Rog anything but tha—HEY!!” As we were now in the middle of the studio, he began to spin me around.  “Stop it! Rog I’m not kidding put me down!”

“Not till you change your mind about my song.”

“Never.”

“Okay then you’re not getting down.” He kept the act up for about 10 minutes till I finally relented and gave my brother what he wanted, even though my opinion didn’t change.  I just wanted to stop the room from spinning and the blood from going to my head.

After helping the boys record the song, I was allowed to go to my first Queen concert in over 4 years.  We were at Madison Square Garden and I was up in the front row in a special center-stage reserved seat that the boys managed to swindle for me.

And getting to see them on a bigger stage with a larger audience and more fans than they did when I last went to a Queen concert at the Rainbow back in ’74 before I left for my program.  They were now full-fledged Rock-gods and I was honored to be apart of their close circle, hell I’m lucky to be related to one of the band members themselves, and a surrogate sister to the other three.

[dermankey]

Lucas and the Vampire - Part 2

         Lucas arrived at Rose’s house promptly at eight fifty-five, the sun having set not too long ago and the moon in the sky. Stepping out of his dark crimson Cadillac, he was dressed in a buttoned down shirt with small green circles of various shades on it and a black pair of dress shorts. He originally thought to wear pants, but the night was much too warm for that.          The house that stood in front of him was just as Rose described it: larger than the other houses on the block and a deep purple with black accents. It gave off the feel of a haunted mansion one would see at an amusement park. Then again, Lucas thought as he walked across the lawn’s pathway and up the stairs, this is the home of a vampire.          The house had a large front porch, but there was not a single thing on it save for the welcome mat in front of the door that read “Welcome to our haunt!”. It made Lucas feel a bit unnerved but also a bit nervous, as the whole setup almost made the house feel abandoned. There was no doorbell, but a brass knocker on the door, which had a smiling styrofoam bat stuck to it. He took hold of it and rapped it three times, making it feel like the whole house was shaking.

         He stood there for a moment, and was quickly put at ease by the sound of incoming footsteps. The door opened, revealing a woman who looked like she had just woken up. She was wearing a Beatles shirt that was very obviously too big for her, nearly reaching her knees. Her hair was short and dark as the night, with her skin looking slightly paler than Rose’s did.          The woman at the door blinked twice. “Who...who’re you?” She asked, yawning mid-sentence.          “Uh, hello, I’m Lucas,” he greeted with a friendly grin. “I’ve come to pick up Rose.”          “...oh, yes! I remember you now!” She exclaimed with a laugh, sounding a lot more awake. Her accent sounded much stronger than Rose’s. “Rose told me about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucas! I’m her cousin Violet. Please do come in.”          The inside of the Bailey home was a lot more inviting than the outside was. In fact, it seemed relatively normal for a home of vampires. The main entrance entered into a living room that had the classic set up of a couch and chair, both leather, and a coffee table. Along the right wall was mostly a staircase, with a single doorway leading to what looked like a den. Across the room was another doorway that led into a kitchen.          “Rose!” Violet called up the stairs, “Come down! Lucas is here to take you out on your date!”          “Be down in a minute!” She called back.            “Well, I wouldn’t call this a date, really,” Lucas laughed awkwardly in response. “It’s just a...more like a night out, than anything else.”          “Same thing, different name,” she gave him a sly smirk. “To-may-to, to-ma-to, as they say.”          Lucas gave a slight nod as a kind gesture. “So, is it just you and Rose in this great big manor of yours?”          “When she visits, yes,” Violet smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. “Usually it’s just me and the occasional guest that stops by. You see, I’ve recently begun renting out some of my unused bedrooms for a bit of cash, as it is not cheap to keep a house this big running. Fortunately, I’ve only had other vampires come in, so I don’t have to worry too much for breakfast for them, but there is still the odd human or werewolf who pops in. In fact, there was this one chap who came here a week ago and stayed here for quite a bit. When he was here, he and Rose had such grand conversations on vampire culture and—.”          “Vi, please do not bore my new friend so quickly,” Rose spoke as she descended the stairs, her voice and clicking of her high heels being heard before being seen. She wore a one-piece dress that was tan in color and decorated in a red floral pattern. While it did flow behind her, the front part of it was removed, revealing her legs that were covered only to the top of her knees. Her brown hair also appeared to be curled slightly, most notably at the bottom of it, and across her shoulder was a silver purse. “Not everyone is so intrigued by our lives as housemaids.”          “Oh, Rose!” Violet made a mock-scowl at her, and turned back to Lucas with a smile. “My apologies if I did bore you. I do tend to ramble on now and again.”          “It’s fine. Happens to the best of us from what I’ve seen,” Lucas assured. “Ready to roll, Rose?”          “Ready, indeed,” the vampire said with a smile. “And might I add you look rather handsome tonight.”          “Oh, uh, thanks,” Lucas blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look nice, too.”          “Oh, this old thing?” She asked playfully, spreading out the flowing part of her dress. “I just put this on when I want to feel pretty.”          Before they left, Violet called Rose back just as they were descending the stairs. From where he was, Lucas could not make out whatever she was telling her, but she seemed somewhat angry at Rose. Despite that, Violet’s expression softened and the two hugged, and Rose quickly rejoined Lucas down to his car.          “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Lucas began as they drove through the residential square, “what did Violet tell you?”          “Playing the nosy game again, are we?” Rose said with a smile. “Well, she just so happened to warn me that the Miller family has a track record of doing terrible, unspeakable things when they are alone with a woman.”          “I would—!” Lucas began defensively, then thought for a moment. “You’re joking, right?”          Rose giggled. “See, now you’re getting it. No, she just told me to be careful out here, that there are bad humans out in the night. Common big sister like stuff.”          Lucas nodded. “That’s nice of her. Are you two close?”          “Close? We practically are sisters,” Rose said with a laugh. “We have been together for as long as I can remember. We haven’t always lived together, mind you, but we have always kept in touch. She is all the family I really have left, and I really care about her.” She turned and looked out the window, the quiet houses replaced with the loud lit up stores as they entered the city.          “Are you...gonna be okay, Rose?” Lucas asked, turning to look at her as they were at a red light.          “Uh? Oh, I’ll be fine. It was years ago, anyways,” she assured him, and her smile quickly came back on. “So what is this hidden gem of a restaurant you hinted at earlier?”          “Just a little place called Pierre’s,” Lucas told her. “It’s a local restaurant, but it’s pretty darn good. And no, before you ask, it’s not French, it’s just the owner’s name. In fact, here it is up on the left.”          The front of the restaurant—which was the only part visible as the rest was embedded in the block—was made of a red-brown wood, with a single line of windows high enough to just make out the heads of the people eating inside. Higher than the windows was the name Pierre’s written in a golden cursive.          Fortunately, there was a parking spot along the side of the road not far from the restaurant, which Lucas quickly took advantage of. Inside the restaurant, square tables filled the majority of the room, with a single row of booths along the left wall. At the very back was a bar that boasted a large wall of drinks, as well as the doors to the bathroom and the kitchen, the latter of which had waiters popping in and out at a constant rate. The whole place was nearly full, with almost every table seated with people dressed both casually and formally, the combined chatter of them nearly drowning out the swing music that was playing.          Lucas walked up to the host at the stand. “Yes, hello. Reservation under ‘Miller.’”          “Yes, right this way,” the host nodded after checking his book, guiding the two to an unoccupied booth. A waitress soon followed after him, asking for their orders on drinks. Lucas ordered a coke, while Rose got a wine.          “Way to be the dutiful designated driver, Lucas,” Rose joked from behind the menu.          Lucas gave a small laugh. “Well, someone’s got to be it. I’m not really a big fan of liquor anyways. Maybe every once in a while, and on special occasions, but usually not when I go out.”          “Is not tonight a special occasion?” Rose asked, leaning over the table slightly, the menu now flat on it. “Or do you get to date beautiful girls every Friday night?”          Lucas’s face flared up as he tried to hide it slightly behind his menu. “Well, um...we were going to continue our conversation we had earlier?”          “Yes, I believe we were,” Rose agreed, rubbing her chin as she laid back on the cushioned seat, “Now let’s see. You asked if vampires still eat normal food, am I correct?” Lucas nodded. “Well, we can, but it does not do much, so we tend not to. Most of our strength and energy comes from drinking blood, and one would not need protein and nutrients when one’s body has stopped being alive. Sometimes, though, if we eat food often enough, we develop the feeling of being hungry again.”          “That’s interesting,” Lucas commented. “So, what about other stuff you like to do besides reading?”          “Other stuff?” She pondered, tapping the tabletop in thought. “I do like—oh, this is sort of embarrassing—but I do like to play video games.”          “Really?” Lucas responded, a smile coming onto his face. “That’s cool. Play anything good recently?”          “Oh, I know! How—!” She began somewhat dramatically, but stopped herself in surprise. “Uh, pardon me?”          “Have you played anything good recently?” He asked again, this time noticeably slower. “Sorry, I just talk fast sometimes. It’s something I’m working to get better at.”          “Okay, um,” Rose started again, seemingly at a loss for words, “I have been playing some of Dragon Quest XI on the Switch.”          “Nice. I haven’t gotten the chance to play that yet, but I want to!” Lucas said. “Never really was into the series before, but it piqued my interest when they put the Hero into Smash Bros.”          “Oh, yes! I have gotten into Smash, too, recently,” Rose replied, a smile growing on her face. “I like to think I play a pretty good Inkling.”          “We should totally get together for some quality Smash time, then!” He declared. “We’ll see how well you do against my Mega Man.”          The waitress soon returned to their table, their drinks in hand. She also got their orders: Lucas a classic reuben with fries, and Rose a New York strip. “As rare and bloody as you are willing to serve it,” Rose added. The waitress gave her an odd look, but nonetheless took the order and went off.          “The less cooked the meat is, the more blood remains inside of it,” Rose explained to Lucas as she sipped her wine. “Plus, it makes the blood taste like steak. That is a thing a vampire with experience only knows.” She winked at him.          “Cool. So, back to what we were talking about—.”          “Hold on there,” Rose stopped him with a raise of her hand. “You got the drink order round. It’s my turn to find out about you.”          Lucas smirked. “Alright then. Ask away! I’m an open book!”          “Ooh, my favorite,” Rose giggled to herself. “Where to start...I believe you said you worked at a comic shop?”          “Yep. Old Maelstrom Comic down on Blizzard Boulevard,” Lucas confirmed proudly. “I’m one of the founders there, actually.”          “Oh?” Rose said in surprise.          “That’s how most people react to that,” Lucas chuckled. “Me and my pal Regina started it up, like, six years ago. We got some pretty big names like Marvel and IDW selling at our place, and we even got some local comics on the shelves. There’s also something of an open mic night Regina started up a couple of weeks ago, which we run alongside some local card and video game tournaments.”          “Sounds like quite the all around comic shop,” Rose commented.          Lucas leaned back in his seat, looking wistful. “Hard to imagine that two kids like me and Reggie fresh outta college could start up a pretty successful comic shop. We even get people from outside Calume at our tournaments sometimes. Oh, yeah! We’re having a Smash Bros. tournament coming up in a couple of weeks. It’s gonna start pretty late, so you should be good to come.”          “I will see if I can be there,” Rose smiled. “Now what else are you into besides your silly comic books and video games?”           Lucas thought for a moment, making an exaggerated thinking expression that got a small laugh out of Rose. “Well,” he began, “I’ve started drawing again after I dropped it a year ago. I’ve gotten a bit rusty from not doing for a while, but it’s been fun being able to just draw whatever pops in my head.”          “An artist, eh?” Rose raised an eyebrow and bit part of her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t happen to have some certain...life drawings, would you?”          Lucas sighed, but smiled. “Yes, Rose,” he whispered to her. “I did draw some nude models. It was a part of my college drawing class.”          “Glad to know I’m dealing with an experienced man, then.”          “And just what is that supposed to mean?”          “Maybe you will find out when you are older,” Rose jokes, smiling as she sipped her wine. “Just know that if you ever need something to draw, you know where to find me.”          Lucas’s cheeks flared up, and before he could say anything the waitress returned with their food. “Are you sure you're okay with your steak being that rare, Miss?” She asked Rose, indicating the large streak of red that revealed itself when she cut open the steak.          “Yes, this is just fine. Thank you,” Rose confirmed with a nod and a smile. The waitress gave her another odd look, this time with a bit of concern, and took off without another word.          Even Lucas was looking at Rose’s meal with a raised eyebrow. “Jeez, it’d be generous to even call that steak cooked.”          “Remember who you are dealing with here,” Rose reminded him as she cut off a small chunk of steak. Instead of putting it in her mouth right away, she stuck her fangs right into it and a small sucking sound could be heard. Slowly, the red faded into pink, and before the pink faded all the way she dislodged her fangs and ate the piece normally. “I tend to not suck all of the juice out so there is still some flavor left over.”          “Huh. Rad,” Lucas chuckled, and began on his sandwich.          “Pffff, ha ha!” Rose barely tried to hold back the laughter. “Lucas Miller, of every human I have ever met, you are by far the most relaxed in response to my vampirism. If I may be so bold to ask, how is that possible?”         “Well,” Lucas paused as he swallowed the bite in his mouth, “you seemed pretty nice when we were first talking, and you didn’t really change your demeanor when you revealed you are a vampire. So I didn’t see any reason to treat you any differently if you weren’t gonna, like, suck my blood out of anything, heh heh.”         Rose did not laugh. “You seemed a bit too trusting there,” Rose replied as she cut off and sucked on another piece of her steak.         Lucas shook his head with closed eyes. “No, no. No offense to you, Rose, but I don’t completely trust you yet. You haven’t done anything to get me to not trust you, but you haven’t earned my full trust. Does that make sense?”          Rose took the steak chunk away from her fangs, any traces of pink completely sucked out of it. She looked up at him with a soft smile. “I understand, Lucas. So, got anything else that is interesting about you?”          The two continued talking over their meal, though discussion was sparse as they focused on their food. When they finished, the waitress returned and presented them with the dessert menu. Lucas passed, but Rose eagerly ordered a strawberry shortcake.          “What was that about vampires and not needing to eat food?” Lucas commented on her enthusiasm for the desert with a smirk.          “Oh, hush,” Rose playfully told him with a wave of her hand. “Shortcakes used to be my favorite desert when I was alive. They are one of the few things I still enjoy having every once in a while.”          “Alright, but now I remember something I wanted to ask you: when were you alive?”          A slight grin came to the vampire’s face. “I’ll tell you, when you trust me, capiche?”          “Fair enough.”          When the waitress returned, she had both Rose’s desert and the check, which Lucas quickly snatched up. When both were done, they headed out and went back in the direction of Rose’s house. “Hold on, turn right here,” Rose spoke up at an intersection, at which her home was usually straight ahead at. “I want to show you something.”          The alternate path took them to the outer edge of the residential area along a straight road. The moon was now visible and high in the sky above all the rooftops, giving a slight illumination to the city. “You can park right along there,” she pointed out to an open spot on the right side of the road.          “The cemetery?” Lucas questioned as he parked his car. “Um, any particular reason for coming here?”          “It’s nothing personal, mind you,” Rose assured him as the two got out. “I just find this to be a quiet place for an evening stroll.”          “Through a graveyard?”          “Well,” Rose asked, “have you ever been to a loud graveyard? Come on, Lucas, don’t you want to trust me?” She stood at the cemetery’s entrance, her hand extended to him.          Lucas gave her a cautious look. “...okay, I’ll trust you.”          He took her hand, and she playfully pulled him across the entrance’s threshold and by her side. There was a premade path in the cemetery, wide enough for two people to walk by in opposite directions. Save for the moonlight, the two walked together in near complete darkness, with Rose’s hands clasped behind her and Lucas’s stuffed in his pockets.          “Were you,” Lucas spoke with great hesitation, “ever...buried in a graveyard?”          “No, but being buried is part of becoming a vampire sometimes,” Rose stated in such a way that he decided to just drop the topic.          Eventually, the graveyard dissipated around them as they entered the next door park. A bench appeared on the path, and the two took a seat, looking up into the night sky that was empty save for the moon and the clouds that were lighter in color than the sky.          Slowly, Rose began nudging herself closer to Lucas’s side, until she was close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him tighten up for a moment in surprise, and she could so clearly smell the blood that flowed right under his skin. Her fangs were already out, part in anticipation and part in routine, and she exhaled with a smile on his neck, sending a shiver through him.          Just as she was about to say something, Lucas quickly started before her. “R-Rose,” he began a bit hesitant, “I just wanted to say I really enjoyed our night together. Probably one of the more enjoyable nights I’ve had this week.” He laughed a bit, and to her surprise she felt his arm slide behind her and around her waist. “You seem like a really cool person, and I’d, and I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe we could do something like this again? Something a bit more casual?”          Rose’s smile was gone from her face, replaced with a look of contemplation. Lucas’s face, on the other hand, had a healthy amount of blush on his cheeks and his mouth was curved in nervousness. Neither of them could see the other’s face as silence filled the air around them, save for the sound of the creatures of the night.          “...Rose?” Lucas asked.          Rose sat up and looked at him. “Lucas, your hand, please.”          He was confused for a moment, then realized. “Oh! Uh, sorry.” He retracted his hand from behind her. “I-I just thought that—.”          In another moment of surprise, Rose took his hand and held her free one over it. She mumbled something that Lucas could not make out, but as she spoke her fingertips glowed purple and a tingly feeling came onto Lucas’s palm. When she let go of his hand, he saw a phone number written onto it, accompanied by a smiley face with fangs. “Just a little something vampires can learn naturally,” Rose explained, “and don’t worry, it comes off with soap and water. Just make sure you get it down first.” She gave him a fanged grin.          A goofy grin came across Lucas’s face alongside his returning blush. “So, um,” he began as he stood up offering his hand to her, “how about something like this on Sunday?”         “Asking a vampire out on a holy day?” Rose sounded appalled, putting her hand to her chest dramatically. “You have quite the nerve, Lucas Miller.”          “I get the feeling you don’t really care,” Lucas replied as the vampire got up and took his hand. “I was never big into religion myself anyways.”          “That makes two of us then,” Rose smiled, and the two walked back the way they came, the air between them now filled with jokes and laughter and their hands together.

         “You can just drop me off,” Rose told him as they pulled up at her cousin’s house. “It’s pretty late for you, isn’t it?”          “Yeah, it is. Jeez, eleven already. Where does the night go?” Lucas sighed with a smile as Rose got out of his car. “Well, see you Sunday, then.”          “Until then,” Rose waved goodbye as Lucas drove off. She walked up to the path to the house and gave a sharp rap on the door with a single knuckle.          “Come in!” Violet called, and Rose did so. Her cousin was seated on the couch, wearing a gray college sweater and black shorts. She was halfway through some slices of toast and had the old widescreen TV turned on to a show with a black cat in a red cape on screen. As Rose closed the door behind her, Violet asked, “So, how was this Lucas tonight? Was he an adequate meal?”          “Actually, I let him live tonight,” Rose told her as she pulled off her high heels with a happy sigh.          “Oooo!” Violet replied with genuine surprise. “Is Rose finally feeling charitable tonight? Or has she finally given into her true desires?”          “Hmph,” Rose smirked, somewhat amused. “Don’t get any ideas, Vi. He merely amused me and nothing more, so I’ll let him live a little longer. I wouldn’t be one to give up O negative so easily.”          “If you say soooo,” Violet teased in a singsong voice.          “And I do,” Rose assured her as she began ascending the stairs. “Maybe if you're lucky, I can bring him here and we can share him.”