#i remember promising to revise this but it took me a while to actually get around to it

[miss-psyson]

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this...again

Just a redraw of one of my favorite cuphead comics from the cuphead era

[triviareads]

ARC Review of Fair Rosaline by Natasha Solomons

Summary:

This is a twist on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet from Rosaline's point of view. Rosaline Capulet is on the precipice of being sent away to a nunnery for good, so she decides to take life by the reins while she can. In doing so, she meets Romeo and has a brief affair with him. But when Romeo's true colors are revealed and he turns his wandering eye on her cousin Juliet, Rosaline has no choice but to stop him.

Review:

So all the sex that takes place in this book is when Rosaline is under the age of 18— I thought this was worth putting out there right off the bat. This is also not a historical romance; it's closer to historical fiction, and really well-written historical fiction at that. The descriptions are lush and lyrical, and you really get a fuller sense of the Verona Shakespeare might have imagined (he was very taken with Italy as a setting, but never visited, according to Natasha's author's note).

I loved the characterization of Rosaline. Rosaline's mother has just died, and she's faced with being sent to a nunnery rather than being married off. For a relatively outspoken and forthright teenager (she's fifteen? or sixteen?), it's a difficult situation to accept, so her decision to take these twelve days before she's sent away and throw caution to the wind totally makes sense. I also really liked her relationship with Juliet as well as Tybalt. Natasha humanized both of them, and even if Rosaline/Tybalt as a concept was a little jarring to read, I was on their side.

What was a little more difficult to read was Romeo's characterization: He is written as a sexual predator. Like sure, he's smooth and charming in a way I never quite got into in Shakespeare's original work, but it did come across here (at first at least), but you read the way he behaves with Rosaline and it's textbook predatory behavior: the love bombing, the manipulations, plying her with alcohol before sex, "forbidding" her from seeing family, promising he'll marry her, etc.. I was shocked when Rosaline described him up close as having a few grey hairs, and I was like, how old is this man??

Romeo's sins don't end there either. His trifling with girls is actually a part of a wider, more horrific conspiracy. And Friar Laurence is involved 😬. By the end of the story, a lot of the events are carried out similarly to the original text, with Rosaline watching it all go down, but she's no longer a passive observer.

Overall:

I read Romeo and Juliet in 9th grade and didn't think much of it, but reading Fair Rosaline actually made me revise my stance on a lot of the actions characters in the book took. Now, I'm more inclined to give them some grace because they were teenagers. That too, teenagers facing some very grown-up decisions. Remember, Juliet was going to be betrothed to Count Paris, a much older man, in the original text. No wonder she took the leap with Romeo! Similarly in this book, Rosaline had just lost her mother, and was likely going to be sent to a nunnery for the rest of her life by her father. It actually makes sense she'd meet and sleep with a guy she just met because again, teenagers.

All that being said, it was.... definitely a Choice for Natasha to write Romeo a) as old as he was (we don't know how old he is in the original but he's definitely on the older end of the spectrum here) and b) turn a character that seems fuckboy-ish at worst in the original play into an absolute monster, one who knows exactly what he's doing. It's an interesting interpretation, because it turns a cautionary tale into one with an outright villain and his victims. I'm reserving my judgement on exactly what this sort of interpretation means in the broader context of Romeo and Juliet adaptations as a whole, but by itself, I can't deny it was a pretty great book.

Thank you to Sourcebooks Landmark and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my review.

[weirdsht]

One Chance - orv x reader

a/n: I want to try and learn how to write in more detail so here's me trying it out with a short orv oneshot. pls let me know how i can improve!

Warnings: none i think

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

If there's something missing in the warnings let me know so I can add it

Any form of interaction toward the post is appreciated <333

A Reader's Reader (pt. 2)

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Wary is evident. It’s so obvious that everyone around you is on guard. You can’t really blame them. If you were in their place you would’ve probably run far away from yourself. Like who wouldn’t be cautious of someone who randomly appeared and claimed they know the oldest dream.

“Are you also the oldest dream’s puppet?”

Yoo Jonghyuk already has his hand on the scabbard in his waist. Same thing can be said with Han Sooyung and Kim Dokja. All of them were ready to unsheathe their swords and attack. Even though you can understand the reason behind their actions, it doesn’t make you any less scared.

“No, no, that title is unique to you and only you. Take it as a complement, it takes a lot to be god’s favorite afterall” 

Maybe you should’ve raised  your hands sooner as it made them lessen their guard. Jonghyuk was still growing though. He most probably doesn't know why being the oldest dream’s puppet is a great thing.

“Hmm well believe what you want to believe. Either way when you get past the  final scenario I’ll be waiting for all of you”

“You won’t be joining us in clearing the scenarios? We don’t accept deadweights you know”

Han Sooyung’s words made you sighed. It’s not that you don’t want to help them. You actually want to get them to the last scenario and further beyond immediately but you have to reserve yourself.

‘Everything needs to go smoothly… I can’t let it be like the novel, I can’t do that to them’

“Don’t worry I won’t be deadweight. Hmm how do i explain this? Well let’s just say that after this you won’t see me until we get past the last scenario. I promise I mean no harm though, you’ll understand when you get there, especially the demon king of salvation.”

“Where will you be in the meantime then? How can you be so sure that we won’t meet?”

It took you a while to answer. You don’t know how to answer them without paying the consequences. Anything probably related can’t happen to you directly before the final scenario.

“Let’s just say my situation is a bit unique. Afterall I am the oldest deam’s dearest friend”

Laughing it off is the only thing you can do. Kim Dokja’s Company can’t understand what you're saying. Well it’s not like you can explain anything even if you want to. The best thing you can do is help Dokja by tweaking the library and his copy of TWSA.

As you look up in the sky you can see that your time is running out. You need to go back before he wakes up or he’ll be even more lonely. Still this is a rare chance you can see Kim Dokja, you can’t just let this chance go.

“My time is running out, I have to go back soon…

I just-

Please excuse my improperness but I’ve always wanted to do this”

You feel Dokja tense up as you wrap your hands around him. You were right, no matter what you say or do this current Dokja won’t be able to remember you. It’s better this way though, it will lessen your heartache later on.

The hug is full of warmth. Even though Dokja was sure he hadn't met you before, the hug feels so familiar. As is he felt this particular warmth before.

“This will be troublesome because I need to save probability for later but I don’t think it would hurt to tell you this much. Afterall I love you too much to not give you a bit of assurance hehe”

Dokja confused face turned into shock after the next words you utter out.

“I may not be TLS123 but I hope my small revisions and meddling with the wall can help you

Remember, just do what you think is right, don’t mind the probability too much especially now that you have two modifiers

You may not see or feel me but I’ll be doing everything I can to make everything go your way”

Sorrowful smile, one filled with both sadness and longing. That was the last thing Dokja saw before you disappeared from his embrace. There’s a lot of things Dokja needs to think about. Especially now that the final scenario is right around the corner. Your words left a lot of weight on him. Yet at the same time he feels lighter, as if he can overcome whatevers waiting for him beyond the scenarios.

But he still can’t focus. Even after his companions checked up on him he could only answer with a nod. He needs to prepare a lot of things but you’re the only thing he can think of.

You and that smile of yours that he thinks he's seen before.

[lovely-jily]

almost caught

something for @jilytoberfest! prompt: "if we get caught-" "i'll make it worth your while, i promise."

i wrote this quickly and didn't revise it a ton, but im just excited to contribute for jilytober!!! hope you lovely's like:)

"Okay, James. I'm going to be completely frank here- and I wholeheartedly mean every word when I say this- this is perhaps the stupidest idea you've ever had- and you've had loads of stupid idea's."

"Oh, come on. Try to have some faith in me," James whispered back, opening one of the drawers of the desk. They were in the Ravenclaw Prefect's office. James had suspected that the Prefects were somehow involved with their Quidditch team cheating by using weighted and magic-infused balls. The only evidence he had to back his theory up was a "gut feeling" and the fact that the bludgers seemed to target the other team more often, which Lily chalked up to confirmation bias. While she disagreed with cheating, she figured a better idea was to talk to their Prefects, not snoop through their office.

"Famous last words," Lily rolled her eyes, "I can't believe that I let you drag me into this. If we get caught-"

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise," The boy reassured her as he looked up at Lily, messy dark curls hanging in front of his eyes. He had finished looking in the first drawer and moved to the one below it, quickly searching. Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that, "Besides, we won't get caught. Now, are you going to start searching, or are you going to make me do all the work like usual?"

"Like usual? Excuse me?" Lily said. She was standing in front of him, hands firmly planted on her hips disapprovingly before turning to the cabinets. Besides breaking his collarbone last night in a quidditch game (Which Madam Pomfrey fixed just fine, and if he followed her instructions, he'd be totally healed in days), the year was going swimmingly for James and Lily. She enjoyed working with him as Heads and was seeing real change in him. He was no longer a bully, and in fact, he always shut that sort of thing down.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for."

James just chuckled as he closed the second drawer, kneeling to search the third drawer, "Probably anything quidditch related."

"You've got the wrong person for this," Lily sighed. That was probably true. She knew nothing of sports- both muggle and wizard alike. She turned to the cabinets on the far wall, which was full of books, mostly student records, and smelled musty.

"You know, this would be so much easier if you just agreed to use the cloak with me," James commented as he stood up and brushed off his pants. Lily had grown to like him over the past few months and didn't mind working with him as co-Heads. He was kind, responsible, and enthusiastic enough that almost everyone adored him- even Lily. She was even starting to get butterflies around him, something she never thought could happen.

"I'm never going under that damn cloak with you," Lily said as she took out a book of student records. She dusted it off and then put it back where she found it.

"Never is a strong word," James said as he walked over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and stepped inside, pressing against the back of it to see if any secret openings were on the back wall.

"I know," Lily said, following him and standing behind him, "That's why I said it."

That's when they heard the door handle jiggle, indicating that someone was trying to come in.

Lily, panicking, looked up at James. He quickly grabbed her by her waist and lifted her into the broom closet, quietly slamming the door. One hand was on her waist, the other over her mouth to try and keep her quiet. He gently took it off and put it behind her head. One hand was still on her waist as he tangled his other in her hair.

Fucking hell, he was hot.

Lily's hands were holding tightly at the bottom hem of her skirt. She knew that if she didn't plant them there, they'd undoubtedly find themselves tangled in James's dark locks.

"Maybe you were right about that cloak," Lily whispered as they were both breathing heavily and pressed up against each other. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating. She wasn't sure if that was from fear of getting caught or being so close to James.

James just brought his finger back to her lips and shushed her softly. His breath was softly blowing on her bangs, which caused them to tickle her forehead. All Lily could do was look up at him, remembering what was going on outside the cabinet, hearing the door open. He then anxiously looked out through the crack of the wooden doors, trying to watch whoever she heard come in. Lily tried to ignore the way he was clenching his jaw. She noticed that was a sort of nervous tick of his, something that he did when anxious. One hand was still on her waist, the other resting on her hair on the nape of her neck.

Why was she caring more about James's hands on her than she did at the idea of getting caught?

"Weird, I swore I heard voices," Sabrina Wood, the sixth year Prefect, said.

"So did I," Robert Thomas responded.

James, seeming to spot something above Lily's head, quickly reached his hand up. However, he never got to inspect what he wanted to. Lily heard the sound of his collarbone crack, implying that it was rebroken. While Madam Pomfrey had patched him up just fine, she said he needed to refrain from sudden movements of reaching above his head. Lily now realized this was why.

James leaned forward and grimaced in pain. Still on Lily's neck, his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled at it slightly.

"Fuck," He groaned quietly in Lily's ear, and she felt his hot breath against her ear and neck. Her eyes widened at how attractive that word was coming from his lips, silently cursing herself at the sinful thoughts that flashed in her mind.

The sound of footsteps walking around the office brought Lily back to the current reality. She looked above her see his arm clenched in a fist. He was in a lot of pain.

Wordlessly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at his broken collarbone. She had practised nonverbal spells a number of times, although never this one. She wasn't sure if she'd ever done this one on a human before.

The footsteps were walking towards the wardrobe and she looked at James. He had relaxed his grip on Lily's hair (much to her disappointment) and moved it to her waist. He nodded slightly, giving her permission to try.

She wordlessly performed the healing charm. James gripped at her shirt in response to the painful snap of bone back in place, just as they heard Robert say something about how they needed to get back to their rounds. They heard the two leave and the door close, listening to the charm the Prefects performed to lock the door. Once they determined they were alone, James let out another groan as he brought his hand down from above Lily's head.

"Good girl," He exhaled as he melted into her, and Lily's eyes widened again. That should not make her feel the way it did, but regardless her toes crinkled and she tightened her grip on her wand.

"You alright?" She asked sheepishly, trying to relax. She was feeling bashful and disappointed that they now had to exit the wardrobe.

James, slightly sweaty from the pain, nodded and raised his other arm to what he wanted to look at earlier. He pressed against the wall, and a hidden drawer slightly popped out. He reached his hand in and pulled out a piece of parchment from inside it.

"Lumos," he said, still breathing heavily. The room lit up, and Lily looked at James, light reflecting on his glasses. He was looking so damn good, skin sticky and lips soft. She fought against the image of something else that could make James groan, sweat, and breathe heavily.

They both looked at the parchment, and written in neat handwriting was "For those who forget, use wingardium leviosa to control replaced quaffles."

James looked up at Lily, a victorious smirk on his face, which Lily couldn't help but smile at.

"God damn it," Lily said, annoyed that he was but also influenced by his contagious smile, "You actually were right."

"We did it, Evans," James said excitedly, putting his hands on her face and shaking it with enthusiasm.

Lily laughed, blushing at his hand placement, "For Ravenclaws, they really are thick. That was way too easy to find."

James shrugged and dropped his hands, "I don't really care too much. We'll take this right to McGonagall. She'll sort this whole thing out."

Lily nodded as he opened the wardrobe door, feeling the cooler air hit their skin. She blinked at the sudden brightness as he helped her out.

"I can't believe you could do that spell so well, and wordlessly too! You never fail to astonish me with your brilliance," James ruffled her hair with his empty hand and pocketed the parchment with his other.

Lily, blushing harder, smiled at him, "Says the idiot who rebroke his collarbone."

"True," James just laughed, putting his hand on Lily's back to push her forward. He then put both hands on her shoulder and shook them back and forth as he guided her out of the door of the office and down the corridor, "What would I do without you, Evans? My saviour."

Lily just laughed as she shrugged off his hands, playfully pushing him. She looked up at him, his hands clasped behind his back and glasses peering down at her.

"Probably walk around with a broken collarbone."

"Of course," He looked forward, "I've got a question for you, Miss Evans."

Lily's stomach lurched at that statement, and she bit her lip in anticipation, "Yes?"

He stepped in front of her, stopping her. His hands were still behind his back, and he looked down at her. They were nearly as close as they were in the wardrobe.

"Did you think about kissing me in that wardrobe?"

Shit. Fuck. How did he know??

Her stomach dropped, and while she was taken back from the question, but decided she wasn't too mad about it. So they were doing this now?

Lily, full of panic and anxiety, was determined to remain as calm and collected on the outside as she could. She smirked and tilted her head flirtatiously.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

James smirked back and stepped back to Lily's side as they started to walk again, "Why didn't you?"

"For starters," Lily said, deciding to remain confident, started to lie, "You had a broken bone and seemed to be in a decent amount of pain."

James scoffed sarcastically, "I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't hurt at all."

"Ah, of course, it didn't," Lily looked at her feet as they walked as she remembered the way that he grabbed at her hair and his tone when he whispered "Fuck" in her ear. She got chills again.

They were heading to McGonagall's office. She wasn't sure how James would explain how he obtained the evidence to McGonagall, but she wasn't thinking about that too much at that point. They were talking about kissing, something much more compelling and appealing to Lily.

"Regardless, and back to the more important thing at hand," He smirked at her as he leaned to whisper in her ear, sending chills up Lily's spine, "Perhaps we can get stuck in another wardrobe soon- and don't hold back next time. I still have to make it up to you for nearly getting caught."

[wonlouvre]

hiii i love your writing so much! i wanted to request maybe a junhui + reader barista au >< the plot can be anything i'm just a sucker for fluff aaaa

hope you have a great day <33

you | w. jh.

pairing: barista!junhui x g.n. reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of food (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.2k+

💌: i am currently working from home and finally managed to finish this! thank you so much for requesting anon! i hope you like it:’)

The coffee shop you frequent has a newly hired barista. You assumed that said barista is new because ever since you started taking comfort in their coffees and pastries while studying, this is the first time you’re seeing the tall and handsome man. He’s really handsome, you have to admit and emphasize that. Most especially up close, where you can fully grasp almost every detail of his sharp features; you can tell he’s out of this world. 

“Hi! I’m Junhui,” he happily greets before taking the cap off of the pen he’s holding, “What can I make for you today?”

Junhui. You remember his name and his voice. If you can fall in love with the sound of a voice, it would be his. 

You reciprocate his happiness by answering his question in great delight (pretending you don’t have two final papers due by the end of the week). You notice how Junhui’s smile grows as he gets your order down. Although he really won’t be making your drink as he takes charge of the cashier, you don’t mind. After punching in your payment, he hands you the coaster that would buzz once your order is ready. You thank him and leave a generous amount of tip. 

Not because you’re trying to impress him or give him any special treatment. You just think he deserves it. Actually, everyone in this coffee shop deserves it for how they have given you a place to study comfortably and at the same time a place to have fresh brewed coffees and baked goods. Junhui is now a new addition to the staff that you’re grateful for. 

The first meeting with Junhui was good and you thought you were off for a great start. You thought he would remember your name, your usual order or maybe even your face. But to your dismay, he doesn’t.

At all. 

It’s a little disheartening. Just a little bit. You’re pretty much torn on how you feel about him anyway. For one, you’re used to the regular baristas here greeting you every time you come in. It doesn’t matter what time or day it is. But, how come Junhui doesn’t even glance up at you unless you’re talking to him directly? 

On the other hand, you also don’t know why you have so many high expectations for him. Do you fancy him? Or are you just attracted because he’s handsome? 

Nonetheless, you ignore your disappointment and continue going to the coffee shop like how you always do. What you feel doesn’t matter anyway. What matters at the moment is you getting through the semester without any failing marks so that you can get the stress free vacation you’ve been yearning for.

You can always go to the library, but a warm cup of coffee and a decadent slice of chocolate cake is too good to turn away from. 

“Hi Junhui,” you shyly greet as you stand on the counter with your wallet at hand. 

The coffee shop is quiet right now as it is almost nine in the evening. You haven’t been going during your usual late afternoon study session due to circumstances so you haven’t seen Junhui on his regular shift. But tonight, it seems like he took the night shift. This is the first time you’re seeing him after a while. 

“Hey.” Junhui smiles, his pen ready. “I’ve been excited to see you all day.”

That last sentence makes you blink in confusion. Huh? You look behind you and the rest of your surroundings to check if he’s really talking to you. When it’s just really you that he’s talking to, you silently point a finger to your chest, confirming if it’s really really you that he’s talking to. 

Junhui only laughs. “Yes, you. Now, what can I get for you?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What have you done to the Junhui of this place? Who are you?”

“Y/N, are you going to order or not?”

You gasp in horror (dramatically). “Did you just say my name?”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “You know what, no free cookies for you tonight.”

“No!” You hold a hand out in surrender. “Okay, okay. One cafe latte please.”

That night was both amusing and bewildering. You have no idea where the sudden turn around came over Junhui, but you will take it. 

From then on, Junhui’s smile is a little different and you can see it in his eyes. He still rarely calls your name but when he does, it’s genuine. He still asks for what you’ll be ordering, but it doesn’t bother you anymore. 

“I think scrolling through every Instagram story is not a good idea if you really want to get at least an eighty on that essay.”

In this particular study session, Junhui has kept an eagle eye on you. He’s not taking any excuses from you when he clearly ordered you to not touch your phone in exchange for a free slice of cheesecake. 

You pout when Junhui picks up your mug, pouring the refill he promised when you reached three hundred words. “Can’t I take a break now and have the cake?”

Junhui gives you a “in your wish” look while planting his other hand on his hip. “Nope. Your goal is to finish tonight so all that’s left to do is to review and revise.” 

“Since when did you become so strict,” you grumble and return your attention back to your laptop. 

“Ever since I started giving you free pastries, that’s when,” he replies and takes the chair opposite your side. 

You scowl. “I can always pay. You’re the one that’s declining.”

“I’m not complaining,” Junhui says and picks up one of your notes. 

Junhui admitted later that it was hard for him to approach you differently from how he usually addresses every customer in the coffee shop. Not because he doesn’t like you. Of course not. It was difficult because just like you, he found you cute and even cuter whenever he hears you call his name or whenever he sees your happy smile as you tell him your order (even though he already knows). 

Junhui’s guess is you make him speechless and that he gets stuck with his regular programming as a cashier slash barista catering to the caffeine needs of everyone. As much as he wants to be your Junhui, he can’t help but be blown away by you, your face, voice, presence.

You.

However, when you started to visit the cafe late and during his off, he knew he needed to change and develop your awkward encounters into something else, something intimate and affectionate in the sincerest way possible. That’s how he ended up finally and excitedly calling your name. 

That’s also the beginning of the best relationship you could ever ask for.  

“Shouldn’t you be going back to work?” You ask, confused as to why he’s lounging around. 

“Sweetheart, my shift ended thirty minutes ago.”

Your eyes widen, immediately looking at the time. It’s way past ten and you’re still here. Way past closing hours. Way past Junhui’s shift. You can’t believe you lost track of time. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize and quickly gather your belongings. “I didn’t notice the time.”

“Hey, hey,” Junhui calls and holds your hand to stop. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You pout and zip close your backpack. 

Junhui just gives you his signature grin and waves a hand. “I told you it’s fine.”

“Is that your excuse to keep me to yourself and stare at me all night?”

Junhui giggles. “You got me.”

[arson-404]

Hello! @bubblyani inspired me to make this!

Truth | 01

Warnings: 18+, lime, blood, death, murder, suicide, depression

Fandom: Lucifer

Pronouns used for reader: she/her (reader is also AFAB)

Enjoy, loves. <3

"Please? It'll be so much fun!"

Your friend said, putting an emphasis on 'fun'.

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Fine, but if either of us gets kidnapped at this club, it's not my fault."

"Oh my God, you're so dramatic."

"It's my talent. When are we going? I have work to do today." You asked, fumbling with a shirt that was on the floor of your bedroom.

"Does eleven o'clock work?"

You glanced over to the clock, reading the time.

7 PM.

You'd be done with work at around eight-thirty.

Thinking for a moment, you reluctantly agreed. "Okay. LUX, right?"

"Yay! Yeah, the owner's super hot. And so is one of the bartenders. Maya? Macie? Something with an 'a' and 'm'."

"Gosh, you thirst over everyone."

"You would, too, if you saw them! Which you will. Well, I don't know if the bartender will be there, but—"

You two talked a while, until you had to do your at-home work.

You liked working at home because you didn't really like going out to work for countless hours, but sometimes it was nice to let loose.

Like at this club you were going to go to, which you were kind of nervous about.

Your mind gave you flashbacks of one night when you just turned twenty-one and went to a club with your friends, Hørizon was the name.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

The sounds of booming music made it's way to your ears, your head pounding.

"Five shots of whiskey over here!"

"Um, I- I don't think I ca..." Too drunk, you couldn't even finish your sentence, as you wobbled a bit in your seat.

A minute later, a whiskey shot was in front of you — too drunk and tempted, you grabbed the small glass, gulping it down.

Delilah's friend, Tina, paid for the drinks.

The burning sensation in your throat didn't affect you much after the many shots you took before.

Your head turned to your best friend, Delilah, -which you had just met a few weeks ago at this time-, who was selecting the first contact in her phone to call, since she was a little too drunk to dial a number manually.

"Heeeeeyy, Fionaa, we're at a club." She slurred her words a bit, giggling. You could hear the faint voice from the phone.

"Oh my God, are you drunk?" Delilah only giggled in response, too drunk to make a coherent response. "Okay, I'm assuming you're at that one club you went to last week, right?" "Mmmhm!" "Are you with anyone else?" "Errr... like, my friends."

You could practically feel Delilah's friend pinch her nose. "How many?" "Uhhh... one... two... four..." She paused. "Fourth!" She said, giggling, adding a -th to the word she meant to say.

"Alright. You're lucky you're my... friend."

And then you blacked out, waking up at Delilah's apartment on the couch, others on the floor or sharing the couch with you.

You still remember that awful hangover you had afterwards.

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You chuckled at the memory, stretching a bit. After finishing an essay for your boss, revising and editing it, you glanced at the clock, checking the time.

8:51 PM.

It was definitely past 8:30, but you weren't going until eleven.

You had time to pick out your outfit, relax, and do some housework if you wanted to -which you didn't want to-.

Standing up, leaving the chair you'd been glued to for almost two hours, you sighed, making your way to the closet.

You rummaged through it, and after a little, you found an outfit you liked.

Humming, you put it on your bed, along with your extra wallet (which had less money than your normal wallet, so when you went to the club, you wouldn't lose a bunch of money from being robbed or losing it) and some water to put in Delilah's car to sober up after the club.

You checked your phone before putting it on your charger.

Footsteps padded against the floor as you made your way to the couch to watch some of your favorite show, 'The Good Doctor'.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

'Some' turned into almost three hours.

And now you had eleven minutes to get ready.

You rushed to the bathroom to do your makeup — not like anyone would see it, anyway. But you liked doing your makeup, not because you were insecure, but because you just liked trying new styles.

And you really liked eyeliner.

(Reference picture, I think it's Niki Nihachu, but I'm not sure.)

After you were done, you shoved the makeup into your container in the bathroom, hastily going to your room, fumbling with the clothing to put it on.

After about five minutes, you succeeded, and grabbed your phone from the charger, opening your messaging app up.

You

Hey, you ready?

Seen at 10:57 PM.

Lilah 💖

yep. i'm already headed there.

Seen at 10:57 PM.

You

Don't text while driving.

Seen at 10:57 PM.

And don't respond to this.

Seen at 10:58 PM.

You turned off your phone, putting it in your pocket, grabbing your stuff, your wallet shoved in your other pocket, two bottles of water in the other hand.

A few minutes later, your door opened to reveal your friend in a clubbing outfit, her curly black hair mostly laying on her right shoulder.

She had a see-through black top with another top under it, the same color.

Delilah had a black bag, the actual bag part laying on her right hip, the strap on her left shoulder.

She had a black skirt-shorts with a red and black plaid flannel tied around her waist.

The beautiful woman also had long, black, high heeled boots, going up to under her knees, but short enough to walk.

Her tattoos were slightly visible on the lower thighs.

(What I based her off of. Not sure who this is!)

"If I wasn't planning on making a move on that bartender — if she's there, I would try to date you, oh my God, you're gorgeous." Her lips formed a flirtatious, but platonic joke.

"Oh my gosh, you're definitely prettier, what the hell do you mean?" You smiled, winking.

"Alright, you've convinced me, I'm prettier." She said, shrugging her shoulders. You let out a playful pout, "Damn, I'm so broken."

"Whatever, you'll get over it. Let's go!" She smiled, tugging your arm, taking the water bottles and putting it in her bag so you could lock the door.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

Soon, you both arrived at the fancy, famous club called LUX.

Excitedly, your friend, Delilah, got in line with you, figuratively jumping up and down with joy.

"Oh my God, you'll love it here, Y/n. All of the men, women, and enbys are definitely gonna hit on you, bae."

"Assuming I'd be confident enough to let them approach me."

She rolled her eyes, chuckling.

You both got closer and closer to the doors of the provocative strip club, you both paid your halves when you finally approached the doors.

Stepping into the building, you both smiled. 'This time, I won't drink as much.' You promised yourself.

Oh, how promises break.

Immediately, Delilah went to the bar — partly for the drinks, but mostly because she saw a particular bartender.

Giggling at the absurdity of her actions, you went to a couch, not drunk enough to have confidence to talk to people or dance — not that most of them would remember, considering how many had drinks in their hands.

You fiddled with a silver ring you had bought about a month ago, which laid on your index finger.

"Why, hello! I've never seen you here before! I would remember a face like yours." A velvet voice was heard, oddly close to you.

'Wait, are they talking to me?'

You whipped your head up, mouth parted a little.

There stood a tall, dark haired man with dark eyes, a black suit with a slightly visible white shirt under it, black, shiny shoes on his feet.

You swallowed. "Hello..."

You should've gotten drunk beforehand.

⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣⍣

Hello, everyone! I have no clue how drinking or hangovers work, or strip clubs, since I'm 18, but I hope it's not too far off. 🖤

Sorry it took so long to get to Lucifer, it's more of an introduction to some characters in this chapter.

Also, Delilah is bisexual, and goes by she/they.

The reader is possibly bi-curious, it depends on your view of the reader. <33

Delilah may have a lil' crush on Maze and just thinks Lucifer is hot, haha

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 26.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3800+

A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the last chapter. I know I say it almost every time, but I truly think this is one of my personal favorite top stories. At LEAST in the top 3. Now it is time for me to go through and read it all the way through and revise where I can. I’m so glad you all loved it as much as me and I am happy to say, I am already working on a new series!! And yes, it is a Bucky x Reader. I just can’t seem to stray from them lately. His character is stuck on my brain and I’m not mad. Anyway, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you once again for all your love and support with this one! I loved each and every single comment and thought thrown my way:) Also, BONUS, I will probably write a one-shot explaining the Bumble Bee nickname, since I was never able to work it into this... If not that, maybe a prologue... I don’t know we shall see;) With that being said, enjoy this ending and let me know how your heart feels after!!

Chapter Twenty-Six:

A whole year had passed. Today marked the 1 year of Y/N and Bucky finally coming together after all this time of being friends and making it official as two people who loved each other deeply.

To give you a quick update in the time passed…

Steve and Peggy went on a first date after she came back for a second time and made her move to New York permanent. He had been sweating buckets while getting ready and Y/N and Bucky coached him from the couch as he came in and out of his room trying on multiple outfits for the night. 

Y/N had suggested taking her to some different places around Manhattan, kind of like the scavengers hunt Bucky did for their first date. But instead of knowing the different places, Peggy really hadn’t known the city at all, so it was more so a tour guide kind of date. 

It was a simple and solid plan. However, Steve wasn’t used to the confidence that Peggy tended to give off. Did he admire it and love it? Yes, no doubt. Did it scare him at times, or more so intimidate him? Yes, again. 

So after some light teasing from his little sister, she gave him some tips to impress her best friend, as well as, reassured him she was a sweet girl on the inside. Just someone who has lived in a man's world a little too long and has to put up a front of intimidation. Once you get past that, you have a loyal and kind person to bond with. 

Needless to say, the date went off without a hitch and the two were now celebrating two strong months of dating. 

Becca had finished up college and was already secured in a job as a child psychologist at a new hospital in upstate New York. She was a little further away now, but that didn’t stop her from coming and visiting. It just so happened that her new boyfriend lived down the hall from Y/N. If you know, you know. 

His name was Thor and after some light flirting every other time she came to visit Y/N, she asked him on a date which he accepted. They were on the route of 3 months of dating now. He had joined the friend group to an extent and got along great with the whole crew. 

Wanda and Vis’s boys were growing up faster than light itself and would be about 6 months soon. After Bucky and Y/N’s last time babysitting, they were recruited a few more times since they did so great with them. They may have been thrown for a whirlwind the first time around, but they were a lot easier the next few date nights. 

Nat and Clint had gotten married last month. They were coming back from their belated honeymoon now in Budapest. The wedding was beautiful and everyone being together all at once again, was a joy and it showed just how much the group of friends was growing. Each of them hitting a new and different stage in life. 

Back to the present...

Bucky had planned a one year anniversary date for him and Y/N. One that was bound to be unforgettable. 

Y/N asked if they could keep it simple with just a picnic in the park since it was going to be cold soon in New York, and she wanted to soak up the last bit of summer that was left. 

“Ok, you have everything set for the night?” Steve asked as Bucky buttoned the cuff to his button up. 

“I hope so. I go to pick up Y/N in 10 minutes,” Bucky sighed in nervousness. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it man. You know it’ll all work out how it’s supposed to,” Steve chuckled, coming over and patting his friends shoulder in reassurance. “Plus, you had Peggy and I help you plan this out. No way it could go wrong with our expertise.”

“You say that, but watch me slip up somewhere,” Bucky mumbled, straightening his clothes. 

“You’re putting nerves where they aren’t needed. Stop thinking worst case scenario,” Steve groaned, walking out the bedroom door with Bucky behind. “What would Y/N say about that?”

“That it’s premature and won’t do me any good to think negatively,” he muttered, knowing the exact words to come from the optimist. 

“Exactly. So stop stressing and go with the flow of things. Nothing good is going to come out of you waiting for the worst thing to happen tonight,” Steve shook his head. 

“It’s supposed to be a night to remember. Not a night to dread,” Peggy interrupted as she came to Steve’s side with a little note in hand she saw on the counter in a spot it may have been easily lost. “Here, you may want this though if you do want it to go well.”

“Right, thanks,” Bucky nodded quickly, taking the item. 

“You guys will meet us there right? Everyone else ready too?” Bucky asked.

“Everyone else is ready. You’ll be fine Buck,” Steve laughed again. “You sound like me the night I took this gal out.”

“Is that so?” Peggy smirked, leaning more into Steve’s side as he wrapped an arm around her.

“Yeah, he’s a little worse than I was, but he’s doing something a little bigger than a simple date,” Steve winked to Bucky. The brunette sent him an eyeroll.

Peggy looked down at her watch and gasped. “You need to get going, Bucky. She’ll be expecting you any minute,” Peggy moved to push him out the door with a bouquet of flowers in her hand to give him. 

_______________

Bucky had made it to Y/N’s apartment in perfect timing, but found himself faltering at the door. His whole body was made up of nerves at that moment. He couldn’t seem to shake them no matter what he told himself. 

Lucky for him, all it took was Y/N opening the door and sending him that sweet smile accented with one of her simple little dresses, that made those nerves dissipate. 

“You look great,” he said with a lovestruck school boy and sappy smile. 

“Thanks B,” she blushed, scrunching her shoulders in a bashful way. “Here, come in for a second before we leave,” she motioned him in as he followed. “I need to put on a pair of earrings and I’ll be set.” She stood on her toes giving him a gentle kiss to the lips. 

Before she could walk off, he put the flowers between them and smiled. 

“For you as always,” he winked. 

“And everytime, it makes me happier and happier,” she winked back, giving him a bonus kiss. “I actually bought a new vase since I’m lucky enough to get gifted with them everytime we go on a date. Want to put those in it?” she asked as she started walking to her bathroom.

“Hard not to give a pretty girl flowers every chance you get,” he noted, going into the kitchen where the new vase sat. “That plus, I know you like the greenery.”

“It makes me very happy,” she smiled, coming back in with her hands working to put the last pair of earrings on. “Ok, I’m all ready handsome. Shall we?”

“I would love nothing more,” he smiled back offering his arm. 

“I like this little routine we have,” she giggled as they walked to the door. 

“I can agree,” he nodded, pressing his lips to her temple before they left the building. 

__________________

They started off with a quick stop to Winnie’s shop, as Bucky said he had a gift there for them to pick up. 

Winnie was all dressed up and Bucky’s dad and Becca were also there. 

“Well, you guys look all spiffy,” Y/N noted, walking in the doors where the group was patiently waiting for the couple. Becca and Winnie in dresses and Bucky’s dad, George, in a nice button up like his son. “You're not by chance celebrating an anniversary like us, are you?” Y/N teased still locked into Bucky’s arm. 

“We can celebrate yours a little with you too, can’t we?” Winnie asked, going in for a hug. 

“The more the merrier,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

“No, no. We wouldn’t intrude on your anniversary date,” Becca nodded off. “However, we did want to give you guys a gift before we go off to dinner. We’re meeting Thor to eat soon.”

“Oh, I see. Boyfriend’s meeting the parents?” 

“We’ve already met him and we enjoy him,” Winnie waved off. “Plus, we have Bucky and yours sign of approval, so that goes a long way too.”

“These are the facts,” Bucky agreed. “Uh, Mom, we do have to go to the next stop I have planned though, so…” Bucky said with a raise of his eyebrow in a hinting manner. 

“Right, right! I won’t keep you long I promise!” Winnie rushed to the counter where a book and a picnic basket was sitting. “Ok, here you go, but don’t open that book until after dinner,” she warned Y/N as she handed it off to Bucky for safe keeping. “It has another little gift in it I don’t want to spoil.”

“In that case, I’ll let Bucky hold onto it then. You know I can’t help opening a book if it’s sitting right in front of me,” Y/N chuckled. The rest of the crew laughed with her. 

“Ok, Ma, Dad, Sis,” Bucky waved off redirecting the two to the door. “We’ll see you guys later.”

“Yeah, later!” Becca said with an odd tone. One that showed she knew something, but Y/N didn’t know what. 

______________

They made it to the park where Bucky had the whole nine-yards of a pinterest perfect picnic planned. His mom had packed a light meal, while the rest of the basket held a blanket, wine glasses, and other little decorations to make the set up special. 

“Look at you being oh so the romantic,” Y/N noted once they had set everything out. “This is impressive.”

“I would say I did it all, but Becca helped with the decorations aspect of it,” Bucky chuckled as he set up some of the food. 

The two sat and ate for a little, watching the motions of the park play in front of them as they talked about their day and any other thoughts that came to mind. They were facing straight west, so the sun would be setting right in front of them when the time came. And it was coming soon as they finished up their meal. 

“Ok, present time,” Y/N noted, turning to her purse and pulling out something from it. The gift was wrapped in a little brown wrapping paper with a twine string around it. “Open mine first because I can’t wait to see your reaction.”

Bucky chuckled at her childlike excitement and took the present as he sat up from where he was laying on his side. Carefully not to disrupt her precise wrapping, he undid the bow and peeled away the brown wrap around the box. Taking off the lid, inside sat two little slips of paper that looked like tickets. 

He quirked an eyebrow confused at what they could be, and when he turned them over and looked closer, he saw they were plane tickets. 

“Two tickets to… Rome?” Bucky gasped. “Y/N-”

“I wanted to show you everything I got to experience. Italy, Verona, Venice, and all,” she smiled softly, leaning closer to him. Her eyes never broke away from his face.

“Y/N, this is…” He smiled down at the paper before bringing his eyes up slowly to meet hers. “I would love nothing more than to experience that all through your eyes.”

Y/N blushed hard and the two leaned forward in sync to kiss. 

“I’m glad you like it. But I want you to see it in your own way, I’m just happy to be your tour guide,” she smiled harder. Their noses were practically still touching. 

“Either way, it’ll be an experience I’ll be counting down for,” he said, leaning in for one more kiss. 

When he pulled back he noticed the sun was settling down with the perfect glow. It was now or never…

“Ok, I guess it’s my turn for the gifts,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “It’s actually in the book.” He turned around grabbing the book his mother had handed off to him earlier, and carefully opened the cover. “This one’s long overdue, but it’s one that I’m starting to realize may have been meant for this specific time in our lives anyway.”

Handing over an old letter, she noticed it had changed colors from small stains and wear of when it was originally written. She was confused some by the details of the packaging, but when she saw it was addressed to her on the front, she picked up on what it was. 

The address and her name was that of her childhood home, but what gave away it’s age, was the return address of where Bucky was stationed all those years back when he was in the army. 

“Buck,” she said softly. 

“I wrote it way back when. Shortly after I realized that you were someone I…” He paused trying to find his wording. “Well, when I realized you were the kind of person I would want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Y/N looked up from the letter she was holding ever so delicately in her hand. Scared she would damage the antique writing. 

“You don’t have to read it now, but to sum it up, I never sent it because I knew, at least I thought I knew,” he chuckled under his breath looking down at it. “I could never deserve someone like you. You were always so kind and wise when I was going through my mess of life overseas. You had things of your own that you were working through, and yet you put it aside for me when I felt like I was alone and drowning in a foreign home.” 

He closed his eyes, picturing all the times he wanted to give up. When he wanted to call it quits after the things he saw, the things he did. It killed him on the inside. Mentally, emotionally, he didn’t hold strong like he thought he would be able to. 

“The only thing that kept me sane over there and gave me hope, was receiving letters from you. I know I teased you to begin with, but as time went on, your words, your advice, and your love that you somehow were able to ship overseas to me with just ink on a paper, kept me alive. Kept me from giving up.”

He looked up finally and saw tears in Y/N’s eyes. The look on her face was heartbreaking yet so loving all at once. It showed how she hated hearing just how lost Bucky was, but also showed just how grateful he was there. He was there now and it was partially because of their letters to each other. More than she could ever imagine though. 

She believed she may have played a role, but it was Bucky himself that held strong. He was the one who pushed through in those hardships and made the effort to keep going on. Not her. But to him, she was the angel on his shoulder keeping him from sinking in times where the waves were just too strong to push back on. 

“I wrote out all my feeling and thoughts in that letter. I think it’s like five pages,” he said in a single laugh. “But I never sent it.”

“Why?” was all she breathed out and he moved his hand to wipe the stray tear off her cheek. His hand staying there and running over the bone it had landed on. She leaned into the touch like it would be her last time feeling it. 

“I didn’t deserve you. Hell, I’m still not sure I do, but I’m going to make damn sure that I spend every waking hour of my life, every minute, doing my best to get there.”

There was a pause as she took his hand and moved closer to him, their foreheads pressed to the other. 

“Bucky you deserve everything and more in this world,” she said softly. “Don’t ever think you should have anything less than that.”

“I know, doll. And it’s because of you I realize I can strive for it all,” he sighed, breathing in her presence. 

They stayed like that for a while. Taking in the moment. Taking in the air. Taking in the wholesome and doting atmosphere. 

It wasn’t until the lights started to get low, Bucky realized he would run out of time for his next gift soon. 

“Y/N, I have one more thing to give you,” Bucky sighed, nervously pulling back and grabbing the book again. “Now, I know this is a cheesy way to do this, but I couldn’t think of a better way,” he chuckled lightly. 

He grabbed her hand and helped her stand. The sun now on the horizon giving the perfect golden shine to everything around them. 

When she stood with him, he brought the book in between them. 

“Ok, open it carefully to page 214,” he nodded, handing her the book. 

She sent him a confused look, but followed the directions anyway. Like asked, she gently flipped the books from the beginning before she reached said number. Just as she pulled back page 213, right in the middle of the book, the pages stopped lifting and inside was a little cut out square that held a small ring. One with a beautiful white shining stone in the middle, encrusted by a gold intricate design. 

“Oh, my-” she didn’t even finish the sentence as she looked down a the ring. Her grip on the book tightening as her other hand came up to cover her mouth. 

Bucky let out a small nervous chuckle at the reaction before slowly taking out the ring and bending to one knee. The book still in her hand, she gasped again watching Bucky move down. 

“Y/N Josephine Rogers,” he started with the brightest smile on his face. “I would be nothing but forever grateful if you allowed a guy like me, to have you as my wife.”

She didn’t answer right away as she was clearly in awe and still processing the last 20 seconds of what just happened. The only thing breaking her out of her shock, was the sound of Bucky laughing again.

“Is that a yes, or am I indeed just making a fool of myself?” he said with a scrunch of his nose.

“No! Oh, my God, yes! Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes Bucky!” she jumped up and down before wrapping her arms around his neck and tackling him to the ground. 

He let out an, ‘oof’ sound as he caught them from the fall and held tightly to the ring not to lose it. He was now on his back and she was laying on top of him giggling and squeezing him in excitement. 

“Ok, good. I was worried I might have read the signals you were giving me wrong,” he joked. 

“You’re a dork,” she laughed, pulling and looking at him lovingly before going in for the kiss of all kisses. 

They were quickly pulled away from it when cheers and whistles started going off around them. 

Y/N looked up from where they were laying on top of the other and noticed herds of people they knew coming out from random parts of the park smiling and whooping in elation. 

“Is that-?” she started, once again taken aback. 

“Everyone? Yeah. They were kinda in on it,” Bucky chuckled. “Hey, did you get that last part?” he shouted toward Nat who was coming around a tree with Clint and a professional camera in hand.

“Oh, it was the best picture of them all I’m pretty sure,” she smirked. 

“You little stinker,” Y/N scoffed, pushing off of him to sit up more. “How in the world did you pull this all together?”

Wanda, Vis, and the twins were there. Steve had his arm around Peggy with Sam next to them and Sarah next to Steve. Winnie, George, Becca, and Thor were all there too smiling and laughing. Everyone was there. The whole crew was apart of the moment. 

“It was easy. I told them I was asking the girl of my dreams to marry me, and they asked when and where. Not much convincing on my part,” he answered, offering her his hand as they stood back up. 

“You guys,” Y/N gushed, wrapping her arms around Bucky’s waist, which he gladly wrapped his arm around her. “This is too sweet.”

“Nothing sweeter than you giving Bucky a run for his money with that delayed answer,” Sam teased. 

“Back off, punk,” Bucky rolled his eyes, pulling her closer to him as if any second she’d change her mind. 

“I will say, he did catch me off guard,” Y/N laughed in response. 

“Oh, my sweet girl is getting married! And to the sweetest boy a mom can hope for,” Sarah interrupted, instantly running to her daughter and almost tackling her like she had Bucky. 

“Mom!” Y/N laughed, catching her balance. 

The next 15 minutes went on like that as the sun set behind them, giving off the final glows of the evening. 

Sarah and Winnie blubbering on about how their little boy and little girl were going to be husband and wife. Then of course going on and on in excitement for the wedding details of it all. At that point they pushed them off for George and Becca to handle as they talked with everyone else. 

Wanda and Vis saying how Billy and Tommy would be glad to be a part of the wedding if they needed them to. Nat gave Y/N little details and advice with planning the party and also offering to lend a hand where it was needed since she just got done with her own.

Then Steve and Peggy also congratulate them and express their excitement for all that was to come for the couple, and all the fun double dates they would/ already had been taking apart in. 

Once it got dark, Steve announced to the crew the little celebration they had set up at Roger's home for an after party of the engagement. Everyone agreed they would meet there. 

So as Y/N and Bucky grabbed their things and started walking to the car, Y/N stopped him as he was about to close the car door for her. 

“Hey,” she turned where she was standing on the sidewalk. Bucky just inches from her. 

“Hey,” he responded with a goofy grin. 

“I love you so so much. You know that right?”

“I know Y/N. And I love you so so much too, doll.”

Thank you so much for reading!! Keep an eye out for a possible one-shot/ prologue of this story;)

The Number One Rule (TNOR) Taglist:

@shadowolf993​ @semistablecentenarian​ @hello-i-am-daydreaming​ @jessyballet​  @emmabarnes​ @kmuir1​ @beautifulrare4leafclover​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​  @shawnie--jo​–jojo  @asoftie4bucky​ @katiaw2​ @sheeple​ @sznri​ @bxtchboy69​ @taliarosej00​ @bakugouswh0r3​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @babemendesbarnes​ @jenniereiji​ @taliarosej00​ @loveyou5everr​ @natdrunk​ @im-a-light-child​ @stucky-my-ship​ @fairykimseok​ @alexfms97​ @awkwardnesshabitat​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk​ @valsworldofcreativity​

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Marvel Tags:

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[lizpaige]

[remember that scene of peter and gwen in the closet in TASM2? this is that scene but it's wolfstar and sirius is hiding from filch.]

Remus hated only one thing about being a prefect: rounds. He spent most of the time trying to multitask, reading while walking or reciting his notes in his head. More often than not he would return to the dorm, mind racing with assignments he still had to do and guilt about wasted time when he could have been revising. He also hated catching his friends. When he first became a prefect, his friends took advantage of his shifts, working on new pranks and acheming when they knew they were safe. Since James started dating Lily and Peter started taking his studies more seriously after getting a stern talking to from McGonagall, Sirius would scheme on his own, wrecking havoc that Remus would occasionally catch him doing and look the other way.

He and Sirius were… something. He didn’t know one-hundred percent what they were, but they had certainly crossed beyond friendship. There were lingering touches and secret snogs in alcoves or empty classrooms, furtive touches and whispered promises in the heat of the moment. No one knew about this shift in their friendship and they didn’t talk about it. Well, until recently.

Last week, when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms tucked away in the empty Muggle Studies classroom, Sirius told him, I don’t want to hide anymore. Remus was frozen, confused, speechless. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know what that meant. Before either of them could clarify, they had to make a speedy exit when they heard the door knob jostle and so Remus never got to talk to him about it.

Perhaps Remus had been avoiding a moment alone with Sirius because he was terrified for the end of that conversation. He assumed this meant the end of their arrangement or whatever was going on. Sirius was sick of hiding, so that meant they were done. Sirius could wipe his hands of him and go back to the revolving door of women, who were still trailing after him like lovesick puppies. Remus excelled at avoidance and he would cling to that to avoid the not-quite breakup for as long as possible.

Even so, with exams coming up, they spent less and less time together. Most of Remus’ free time was spent studying and revising and moments alone together were few and far between.

Remus missed him.

He walked down the hall, heading back to the grand staircase when he walked straight into Sirius. He reached out immediately to steady his friend, who broke out into a relieved grin.

“Moony,” he breathed in relief. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Remus echoed, not letting go of him. They were alone in the hall and Merlin, he didn’t even care if they were caught.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and down the hall. His eyes widened and he grabbed Remus’ hand, dragging him off into a broom cupboard. As soon as the door was shut, Sirius pulled out the map and Remus could see Filch heading toward them. Remus cast silencing and notice-me-not charms.

“You’re in trouble,” Remus whispered and couldn’t help a smile.

“Yeah,” Sirius said with an air of duh. “There may have been an accident in the potions lab.”

“Accident?” Remus wasn’t sure why he asked when he knew the answer. Filch’s footsteps lingered in the hall outside the broom cupboard, but he was just pacing back and forth, not getting closer.

“Semantics,” replied Sirius with a wink. He folded the map back up and looked at Remus. The closet was small and cramped. One wrong move and all of the cleaning supplies would tumble off the shelves and cause a mess. They were forced to be pressed against each other and Remus really didn’t mind.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he continued. “Why are you here?”

“I’m on rounds,” Remus explained. “Just finishing up, actually. Before I ran into you.”

They both froze when they heard loud shouting coming from Filch and Slughorn out in the hallway. Even with the silencing charm, it was just a habit to keep quiet when caught in a broom cupboard after a prank. Although they normally had better hiding spots than this.

“This is a broom cupboard, Sirius,” began Remus in a whisper. “This is the most cliched hiding place you could have chosen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t take you to the fucking Paris of hiding places, Remus,” Sirius hissed.

“This is the stupidest hiding place,” Remus continued and Sirius just huffed in annoyance, looking back at the map. “Listen, listen,” he put his hand over Sirius’ and pushed the map down. “I have to talk to you about last week.”

Remus wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in and Sirius’ eyes widened in surprise. He pressed their lips together sweetly, taking his time to hopefully show Sirius how much he missed him. Sirius rested his hands on Remus’ chest, fingertips running along the lining of his robes. He nipped at his lower lip and pulled back, breath shallow.

“You kissed me,” Sirius breathed, eyes scanning Remus’ face in confusion.

“Mm, how was it?” Remus asked with a smile, pushing Sirius’ hair back.

“It felt a little bit rushed,” confessed Sirius with a narrowed gaze.

“I know,” whispered Remus solemnly. “I know, I know.”

“You’ve been distant,” Sirius murmured, leaning forward to peck his lips again. “I thought-”

“No,” he interrupted. “No, I’ve just been busy revising.”

“I don’t want to keep hiding.”

“Yes,” Remus sighed, putting a bit more distance between them. He assumed this meant they were finished. Sirius was finally sick of hiding and found someone he didn’t have to hide with. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

“I’m mad for you, Moony,” Sirius confessed, cheeks reddened and warm. “I don’t want to hide from our friends anymore. I want to tell people. Not everyone, just– Prongs at least.”

Remus blinked. “What?”

“What?” Sirius echoed, brow furrowed.

“You want to… tell Prongs?”

“Yes?” Sirius replied, again with an air of duh.

“Okay,” Remus nodded. “Yeah, you uh– Merlin, that’s not what I thought you were going to say.”

“What did you think I...?”

Remus shook his head. “Can we talk about this when we’re not hiding from Filch in a broom cupboard?” Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Remus grabbed the map from his hands and began to plot an escape, now desperate to continue the conversation elsewhere. “Look, you make it to the stairs here and I’ll distract them, alright?”

He handed him back the map and Sirius gave it a tap, concealing the magic beneath. Remus opened the door and Sirius hurried off down the hall to the large doorway leading to the grand staircase. He turned around just once to toss a wink over his shoulder at Remus who rolled his eyes.

Remus looked up to see Slughorn had gone and just Filch was bumbling around the other end of the hall helplessly. He bit back a smile. He hugged the wall as he slipped further down the hallway. He took out his wand and cast a quick and temporary impediment jinx. Immediately, Filch’s movements slowed down as if he were wading through water or encased in jello. Before he could turn around to see who cast the jinx, Remus was off hurrying down the same way Sirius left, racing up the stairs after him.

[thesupersaiyanprincess]

Hello again! Chapter 2 has finished undergoing it's revision and so here it is :)

Word count: ~1400

Warnings: not much actually, blood, more ooc angry Vegeta, ooc soft!vegeta

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Chapter 2                      

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Darkness. 

Nothing. 

Lost. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard someone calling your name in the distance. “Please, no no no!” The voice sounded familiar. Gravely and deep. “Y/N please! Wake up!” But there was a very big difference to it that you'd never heard before. “No please, you have to be okay!” You could hear pure distress and pain. “My girl, not my precious girl.” 

You began to regain feeling in your body again. Your fingers started to tingle and you felt strong arms wrapped around you, you were being rocked back and forth. You tried to open your eyes, but they were too heavy. You felt like you'd been hit by a bus. The most you could manage was to squint your eyes and scrunch your nose. You felt Vegeta's grip on you loosen ever so slightly as he realized you were alive and you could hear the relief in his voice when he finally spoke. 

“Y/N! You're alive! I'm so sorry Y/N, I'm so sorry!” You managed to open your eyes just a crack, enough to look up and see your Saiyan, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks and pain in his eyes. He really thought he’d lost you and it broke your heart to see him like that. That was until you remembered that he’d been the one choking you out in the first place. 

You scrambled to get away from him as fast as you could, using all the strength you could muster, but he held you in place against him. As you were struggling, you started to become more aware of your surroundings. The walls were crumbling around you, giving you a perfect view of your back garden. The roof was blown to oblivion and the nice wooden flooring was littered with singe marks and blood. It looked like a bomb went off, but you knew it was the aftermath of a saiyan fight. You stopped fighting against his grip as you took in your destroyed home, and your eyes moved back up to Vegeta.

“What is.. What the fuck happened?” You managed to croak barely above a whisper, fear trembling in your voice. Your throat hurt from being manhandled, and it made talking painful. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was hesitant to reply. It looked like he might break down and cry if he spoke.

“I.. It’s.. I don’t know.. I just, something happened today.. I came home straight away and.. I was too late.. And you were.. And he was.. And now the house is destroyed, and you're so hurt. I’m so sorry Y/N.. Can you forgive me?” he finally managed to stutter out. You’d never seen him like this. He was crying and concerned about you. 

It was strange, unnatural even, seeing his face shine by a substance that wasn’t sweat. The sight of your strong Saiyan breaking into pieces around you made your eyes well up with tears. “Fuck you. You hurt me so bad Geeta.. You nearly.. n-nearly..” Your words were falling from your mouth incoherently between sobs. He was holding you tight around your shoulders and chest, and you had your legs hanging off the edge of his lap. He was still rocking slowly back and forth as he stroked your hair gently and whispered apologies and promises against your temple. Seeing Vegeta like this broke your heart almost as much as it scared you.

When you calmed yourself down enough, you asked him again “What happened? Why are you crying? You tried to kill me!” His face took on an expression of guilt as he realized what you meant. He opened his mouth to explain, but you heard another voice speak from behind you. 

“Well, well Geeta.. I didn't think we’d ever get this emotional, let alone over a low class piece of scrap like that.” The voice was the same as the person whose lap you were sitting in, but something was different, no subtle hint of warmth like it always had. You were frozen in place and didn't dare move your head for fear he’d see and decide to hurt you again, whoever or whatever this... this thing was. Because whatever it was it sure as hell was not your Vegeta. Your Vegeta was holding you tighter than he'd ever done before, gripping you to his chest with an almost painful force. You felt his arms cling to you tighter as you heard and felt thudding footsteps approaching the two of you from behind. 

“It's so good to finally be rid of you. All this time, having to deal with your stupid emotions in the back of my mind. You make me sick!” The second Vegeta called out to your Vegeta who held you tighter as the other neared. You felt Vegeta's head rise from your shoulder to look the imposter in the eye.

“You barbaric fool! You need me! How else will you know when to stop?” You felt the words reverberate through his rib cage and into yours as he spoke, with the softest aggression you’d ever heard from the prince of all Saiyans. “You know you need me, you just wont admit it over your stupid Saiyan pride.”

“A Saiyan doesn't need to stop, therefore has no need for feelings.” The imposter snarled back at your Vegeta. As you clung to Vegeta’s chest you began to think “this must be a dream” You couldn't help but think back to the events of the morning, before all this. 

You woke up bright and early before Vegeta and gave him a kiss on his forehead. His tail wrapped itself firmly around your thigh when you tried to climb out of bed. It was so cute that even in his sleep his tail wanted you near. Vegeta loved it when you touched his tail. A Saiyan’s tail is one of the most sensitive parts of their body you know. So as it tightened around you, you stroked the tip of his tail ever so gently so that it would release you, allowing you to go make breakfast. He loved when you woke up early and cooked for him, especially on days when he was going to go train with Goku. His favourite was bacon and eggs with pancakes before training. He always insisted on strawberry jam, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce with his pancakes, so that's what you decided to make.  

You were halfway through stacking Vegeta’s tower of pancakes when he walked into the kitchen, wearing only his boxers while he wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched his back, flexing all his gorgeous muscles as he did so.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” he breathed through a yawn. “You're making my favourite? You're the best!” he said sleepily as he came up behind you to wrap his arms around you.  He pulled you back against his bare chest as he planted soft kisses down your neck, making you squirm against him.

“Knock it off Vegeta, you'll make me knock over your pancakes!” You said playfully as you struggled against him. He finally let you go and you went back to cooking breakfast. You loved mornings like this with Vegeta. It was the only time he was this soft with you, being the one initiating hugs. Any other time of the day and you were lucky if he would even hug you back, but you wouldn't have it any other way, it just made his tenderness all the more special. 

“You! Are weak!” The shout tore you away from the memory as you pressed yourself tighter into Vegeta's chest, tears threatening to fall again. “Without me, you are nothing! You may look and sound the same as me, but power comes from anger, and you left that all with me.” It was then, when you opened your eyes again, that you realized the Vegeta holding you was hurt. Bad. There was blood soaking through his tattered clothing and into yours. There was so much blood you could smell the distinct warm, metallic scent of it. “Without you in here, I can finally reach my full potential, unclouded by your stupid adoration of this low class pig.” 

You felt the air around you crackle with energy. He must have transformed. You couldn’t help but turn and look. Fear squeezed tightly in your chest for the second you saw the other Vegeta. His hair had turned the brightest blue, and a blindingly bright ball of energy was forming in his outstretched hand. “Time for you to go, both of you. So pathetic you don't deserve a goodbye.” 

In an instant you were there, about to be blasted to oblivion by some evil version of your mate, and then you weren't. Your head was spinning and you were confused, your vision started to blur with images of your house and then of the med bay at bulmas and then of Vegeta limp underneath you. The last thing you remember is being laid down in a soft bed, your tail entwined with Vegeta's.

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I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for having 2 chapters in a row ~fade into unconsciousness~ i just didn't know how else to end this chapter 🤷‍♀️ as always comments and reblogs make my heart sing 😁 thank you for reading!

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - 7

I know we are in full Rowaelin month but I thought to give you part 7 as a present...

There is a small library scene in perfect theme with Day 4. (This is not part of Rowaelin month. Just a coincidence)

The chapters are getting less angsty. As I mentioned in a post a few days ago... i Finished the story and it has 10 parts. That was the original plan and I promise a HEA

-------

Rowan had spent the entire day going through all of their albums. Evalin had offered to look after Freyja, but instead he had kept the girl in his arms while sitting on the carpet and and album in front of him.

He had just finished the one about Thomas and now opened the one dedicated to his daughter. They were both still a working in progress as it looked like Aelin would just record the stages in their lives.

“Look, who is this one?” The little girl pointed at the picture and babbled something.

“This is you.” He told her in a loving tone “the most precious thing in our lives with your brother.”

“You did it, Fireheart.” Rowan kissed the head of an exhausted Aelin, while the doctors were busy cleaning and checking on their daughter.

The nurse walked to them with a bundle in her arms and gave it to Aelin “I think your daughter is ready to meet you.” And placed the baby on Aelin’s chest.

Rowan sat at her side, his arms around her shoulder as he drew closer his two women.

“She is like you, Ro.”

He kissed her forehead “I love you both. Madly.”

In another photo he saw Thomas in the hospital bed near her mother, kissing his sister head and the caption read Thomas is officially a big brother and he finally gets to meet his sister. 

“ ‘Mas” babbled Freyja, pointing at the photo.

“Yes, that is your brother.”

Page by page he followed his daughter life and as it happened for Thomas, some moments became familiar all of a sudden.

Looking at photos had been a great idea but with Aelin’s captions had been even better as it was as if someone was actually telling him the story.

He looked at a couple of more albums but then he felt an headache coming and his vision was getting tired as well, so he grabbed Freyja and went to lie down on the sofa, making sure that she was tucked in safely between him and the back of the sofa. Evalin was busy doing chores around the house. He pulled the little girl to his chest and he started humming a tune while his hand caressed her head.

Not long after they were both asleep.

Evalin appeared back in the living room not long after and when she saw the scene in front of her she almost cried. Then she took her phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Aelin Your husband and your daughter are having some quality time together.

*

“How’s the study session going?” A younger Rowan paused beside a table in a university library.

The blonde woman in front of him groaned in exasperation “med school. Of all the degrees I choose from, I went for the worst one.” Her head collapsed heavily on the books in front of her “I want to be a neurosurgeon, I don’t care about the kidneys. Why am I studying this crap?”

Rowan smiled and placed a cup of coffee on the table “you need caffeine.”

Aelin lifted her head “yes, in IV.” She extended her arm and Rowan chuckled “you are the doctor, you will have to perform that on yourself.” He laughed and patted her head “I can tell you the legal repercussions of me performing such a procedure without a licence.”

Aelin grabbed her coffee and drank avidly “smartass.”

“A smartass you love?”

“Keep dreaming, Whitethorn.”

When he woke up again he was not ready for the splitting headache. He tried to sit up but dizziness hit him hard and then a wave of nausea. He jumped off the sofa but crashed on the carpet. Rowan fought to stand up but his body refused to obey “Evalin,” he croaked, grabbing his head in his hands.

A moment later Evalin was at his side “Rowan, are you okay?”

He crashed back down on the carpet and groaned. Evalin slowly helped him to sit back up and she felt panic rise “I should call Aelin.”

“No,” said Rowan in a whisper as he stood shakily and sat at the opposite side of the sofa away from his sleeping daughter. He should not be around the kids. No one should be around him while he was in that state.

And in that instant nausea hit again and he grabbed his stick and slowly dragged himself to the bathroom, collapsed on the floor and emptied the content of his stomach in the toilet.

***

Aelin had just finished surgery when she noticed the worried text from her mother. Rowan was not well.

She changed from the scrubs, paged her second, told him she had a family emergency and that she had to go back home. They all knew her situation and he was understanding. She had finished her surgeries for the day so finishing early was not much of an issue.

She drove home with her heart racing with panic. She knew the complications after a brain injury and she was worried. Her mother had not specified what happened but her tone seemed frantic.

Once in front of the house she parked quickly and once in the house she found it quiet. Her mother was sitting on the sofa reading to Freyja and Thomas was on the carpet playing with his toy cars.

“Where is he?”

Evalin looked up at her “in bed. He was sick, complaining of strong headaches and he said he was tired.”

Aelin dropped her backpack and ran for the bedroom and found him asleep.

She walked to him and sat at his side at the edge on the bed and slowly caressed his head. Her strong, amazing husband looked fragile, tucked in bed and sleeping on his side. The time in the hospital had left his mark and his frame was now thinner. Her hand ran through his hair once again and then deposited a gentle kiss and in that instant his eyes popped open as she chastised herself for it.

“Hi you,”

“Hi,” his voice gruff “you are home.”

“Mum texted me that you were not well.”

He tried to sit up but Aelin kept him down “you need to rest. What are your symptoms?”

Rowan’s head collapsed back on the pillow “headache, dizziness and nausea.”

Aelin’s hand was in his hair again “it’s normal. From one to ten, how bad is the headache?”

“Seven.”

She stood and came back a moment later with a glass of water and a tablet “Just a light dose to help you a bit.”

Rowan took the water and the medicine and once he was done Aelin lay down at his side, snuggling  close to him, her hand on his chest. Rowan’s arms as if on instinct went around her frame but did not hug her tight. He had no energy.

“I dreamt…” he closed his eyes for a second “I dreamt of us in the library. You were complaining about your degree and kidneys,” he told her softly “I brought you coffee.”

Aelin chuckled against his chest. She did remember exactly the day “that was when I started to fall for you.”

“Tell me,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.

“Somehow you had memorised my schedule,” she began her tale “so you would pop up in the library and keep me company studying. You with your laws and me with my crazy med stuff.” She looked up at him and found her husband staring at her “during my anatomy exam you offered to be my skeleton and I revised on you.” She flicked his nose and the gentle flinch of his nose reminded her so much of him, his usual reaction “At the end of a crazy exam you brought me cake and once my session of exams was over you asked me out.”

Rowan gave her a weak smile and she could see the tiredness in his face “you asked me to move in with you on my birthday and my present were the keys to your flat. I moved out of mine the next day and Aedion moved in with Lysandra and took my place.”

“Are we good friends with them?” He asked with interest. So far they had never discussed their friends and he thought it was time to try.

Aelin nodded “Aedion is my cousin. Lys and I were flatmates and she is my best friend.” Her hand brushed his hair once again, the gesture was relaxing and Rowan seemed to enjoy it too, his features much more relaxed “then we have Lorcan and Elide and the six of us kinda form a nice tight group.”

“Do they know about my condition?”

Aelin nodded “I explained to them and the only reason they haven’t visited is because I knew it was going to be too much so I told them to wait.”

“Thank you,” he said softly while his hand brushed her back “I can’t just yet.”

Aelin nodded again and his expression morphed as if he wanted to ask her something but hesitate. His hand moved “can I?” And Aelin knew what he meant. She took his hand and pushed it under her t-shirt and on her tiny baby bump “I don’t know yet if it’s a girl or a boy. I have a check up in two weeks and will see if we can find out the sex.”

His thumb moved gently as if to greet their child with his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said a bit too quietly.

“I should let you rest,” Aelin tried to move but his hand grabbed her writs and pulled her back down against him. He had been enjoying that moment they had shared. His arms went around her frame and pulled her to him. 

“You love to cuddle.”

“Do I?” He told her rising an eyebrow.

“Sometimes when mum takes the kids we do enjoy a lot of naked, adult cuddling.”

Rowan’s heart raced in terror “I am not…” he stopped “I can’t yet.”

“Shh…” said Aelin, placing a gentle finger on his lips “We are not doing anything you do not want to do.” She told him with love.

He pulled her even closer and tucked her head under his chin, and the position felt familiar all of a sudden, her scent enveloping his nostrils. Everything about her felt familiar, the shape of her body against his, her scent, they way she fit perfectly in his arms.

They were in silence for a moment until two small cyclones joined them.

“Dad.” Shouted Thomas quite loudly and Rowan groaned, his head not appreciating the decibels coming from his son.

“Quiet, Tom, dad is not well.”

The little boy zipped his lips and climbed in bed. Freyja padded to her father’s side and extended her arms in a gesture to be picked up. Rowan turned and lifted his daughter in his arms and pushed her under the blankets with Thomas and Aelin joined them a moment later.

“We are keeping company to dad but we need to be quiet. Can we do that?”

Thomas nodded eagerly and Freyja kept sucking on her pacifier. The little girl climbed on her father chest and Rowan rolled on his back to help her curl up properly. Thomas was tucked in at his side and Aelin’s arm reached over and enveloped them.

“Sorry, they really missed you.”

Rowan shook his head “this feels really nice and normal.”

Aelin smiled and brushed Thomas’ hair “believe me on a weekend it is, and if I am not working the four of us love a long morning in bed together.”

He chuckled and loved the image “What about the names?”

Aelin grabbed Freyja’s hand in her and kissed it “Thomas was a character in a sci-fi series that we both love. He is an Admiral and quite amazing. He is actually my fictional husband. Freyja, we took it from a mythology book.”

Rowan laughed “so I have competition.”

“Can you be an admiral?”

“I order you to kiss me, soldier.” Rowan felt a smile tug at his lips and Aelin stared at him with fondness. Then leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Bleah,” said Thomas in protest. Aelin stamped a big kiss on his cheek “feeling better now?” And the boy grinned and climbed down from the bed “lego.” And he ran away.

Aelin sighed “he has a lot of energy.” And now that her son space had been vacated she scooted closer to Rowan and her hand was on the girl’s back on top of Rowan’s.

“I love the kids. It’s been only a few days but I love them madly already.” He whispered looking down at his sleeping daughter. Then back at Aelin and for a brief moment he saw sadness in her eyes. Loving the kids had been easy. His feelings for her were far more complicated. He felt something but could not put a name on it yet.

“With you is…” he paused, searching for the right words. He had caused enough pain already “complicated. There is something, I can feel it, but I don’t know if it’s just the memories or my actual feelings.” His hand ran through his hair “I don’t know how to explain it clearly.”

Aelin kissed his forehead tenderly. For as much as she wanted her husband back, she was not going to rush him. He would need time and she was willing to wait. She had waited at his bedside for so long to have him awake again that she was happy to take even the small acts of affection he was willing to give her.

“I want you to have your husband back, and I am trying…”

“Shhh…” she said to him, a gentle kiss on his lips “I have him back, and I can see more of him coming back everyday. You don’t realise it but he is there.” She patted his chest “My husband is right here in my arms.”

Rowan’s hand grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to him for a fierce kiss. Aelin melted at the contact. The kiss felt like coming home and for a moment it swept away all her fears.

“Does your husband kiss you like that?” The smirk on his face and his playful tone was him and she pulled back, coming up for air. 

“Seems like you remember this part very well.”

“It does help that my wife is stunning.”

Aelin smiled. He had called her his wife. Had he accepted his life? Had he accepted them?

She looked at him in his pine green eyes looking for an answer.

“Yes.”

[melisa-may-taylor72]

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regu­lar guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leices­ter. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposi­tion, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memo­rable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. “We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle��,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

 “Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to con­centrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly after­wards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. “He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

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[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.3k

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm. 

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[cafeinthemoon]

Madara with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🔥

And finally we have the third Grandpa with is s/o doing dangerous things under his nose haha As I said before, each Founder’s part ended up too long so I divided the request in three and I hope the anon who requested it don’t get mad at me because of this XD Anyway, if you want to read what I wrote for Hashirama and Tobirama, you can click on their names 😉

Now let’s go to see Madara’s reaction!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

As you can easily imagine, things are way different when it comes to Madara in such situation

Because unlike his partners who took some time to actually go after you and find out what you’ve been up to, he does it right at the first night

Okay, you use to went out every night for your personal training and that’s not strange at all, but that time he notices little differences in the process

An extra pack of ink tub and scrolls that you decide to put on your bag, a change of clothes (something you never carry with you in normal training sessions), extra medicine, these kind of things

Everything is pointing to two possibilities: whether you’re going to stay out for longer or you’re creating/perfecting a technique, and a complex one

Madara is not only an observant man: he’s curious, and unlike the Senjus the idea of invading your privacy is not enough to stop him from following you that night

It’s how he finds out you’ve been working to create a new jutsu

But you’ve created other jutsu before. Why would you have to hide the process of this one from him?

The only way to find out is to watch you perform it and understand of kind of jutsu you’re creating

At first, he’s content in doing it. He’s interested in your technique, as well as to see how far you can get with it

But at the end of the session, he notices you’re more tired than you usually get after training

The obvious explanation is in the jutsu: it is not finished yet, so the amount of chakra it demands is yet to be defined. But he’s confident that you’ll soon find a way to fix this

He’s careful enough to go back home before you so you don’t notice he was out

When you cross the door, he comes to help you since you’re exhausted. He does the basic stuff to take care of you: runs you a bath, washes your hair, change your clothes, bring you some food and take you to bed

He has done this before after you came back from difficult missions

He also avoids questioning you, so you never get suspicions

And things stay like this for the next days

However, Madara sees that your tiredness is increasing at each night, and contrary to what he thought, you don’t do anything to fix the problem of chakra control

Is it possible that you’re unaware of the problem? No, it can’t be. You’re smarter than this

And because he refuses to see that you are in fact unaware of it, he doesn’t interfere, and your bruises and waste of chakra get worse as time passes

(Still, the jutsu is progressing in its other aspects, so you’re hopeful about completing it in the next days)

One night, he finally acknowledges your failure and decided to intervene

And thank God he does that in time

Now the jutsu is almost complete, you are almost at the final stage of your work and making the final moves, but the possibility of this being your death is real and Madara can’t let this happen while he’s watching

When he leaves his spot and grabs you in his arms, stopping you from completing the hand seals, you are frightened

You weren’t expecting to have company, and once you look in his eyes you understand everything

He has been watching you all this time, and maybe in the previous nights, ready to take action in case things get out of control

But things are under control right now, so why did he do that?, you ask yourself right before passing out with exhaustion

When you wake up, you notice you are back in your room. Each part of your body hurts and the morning light enters through the window. You can’t even think clearly

Only then you realize that the amount of chakra consumed by your jutsu was something abnormal (and that you should have paid more attention to that)

After falling asleep and waking up again, you finally manage to remember what happened that night: you were about to do something really irresponsible, but lucky you, Madara was there and stopped you

You look around and spot him entering the door with some medicine

At the exact moment your looks meet, he leaves the medicine aside and approaches you

He sits by your side and puts his palm on your forehead

“Fortunately, y/n, the fever diminished during the night. It is probably the effect of the treatment I’ve been applying to your bruises”

You don’t reply. You just nod with the energy you got

“Some of them will heal soon. Others are more serious”

How serious?, you want to ask

“Serious enough to keep you on this bed for the next days and not even think of performing any jutsu during this period” he says as if he just read your thoughts

There are many things you want to say, you want to ask, but you sense this is not the time

You two just exchange a look that says everything: you will talk about what happened when you’re recovered

Madara is a practical and organized man when he needs to be

He chooses a good medical ninja to examine you as the first measure and makes sure their instructions are being followed

However he prefers to do everything by himself

Not that you find it bad, though: he knows you better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of you

If you need to leave the bed for a moment (because lying all the day can be tiring too), he takes you out of the room at the right time. If you just want to stay quiet and alone in bed, he leaves you there

He seems to sense any minor discomfort you have and act to diminish it: a massage to cease the tiredness in your muscles, a lotion to the bruises that are still burning, stuff like this

Finally you are fully capable of leaving the bed and the house without help

You’re not getting back to work yet, but now you’re able to have the conversation about the incident

You tell him everything from the start: how the idea of the jutsu came out, your reasons to take it ahead, your measures to protect yourself and why you didn’t give up despite the risk of the technique

You also explain that no, you never noticed the failure responsible for the unbalanced chakra consumption that almost killed you. You only noticed that when you were under the treatment, and were willing to tell this to him

Madara listens to you without interrupting. Indeed, he seems interested in everything you have to tell about this jutsu

At the end of your explanation, you understand why

He says he has been observing your progress with the jutsu since the first night, when he found out about your project, and that he quickly noticed the failure in it

However, he didn’t want to interfere and were hoping that you would fix the failure soon, which you didn’t. And that’s why he stopped you from finishing the technique

Here you see the difference etween being with Madara and being with anyone else: somehow you’re not surprised to know that you’ve been followed, nor angry that he waited to stop you in a crucial point. Instead, you’re willing to know what he has in mind. You never think of the present; it’s always about the future

“Y/n, at first I was just moved by curiosity about your secret project, but the more I learned from it, the more I wanted to know. Now that you revealed the ideology behind it, not only I find this jutsu of yours impressive, but I believe it would be a mistake not to finish it”

You hold your breath. But you almost died because of this jutsu ???

He smiles, guessing your thoughts

“I will help you to fix the failure. And then you will try the jutsu on me”

He states that though he can understand the theory behind the jutsu, there are some details he can only check if he experiences it on himself

You can’t help smiling

Yes, it’s a practical solution for a big problem, but it also points out Madara’s level of self confidence and enthusiasm. The proposal sounds like something only he would do, and this is so funny

Yet it’s your only chance to save your technique and make all your hard work pay off, so you accept it and immediately start to make plans

Of course it will take some days until you can go to the first session because you’re still weak

But once you get better, you will start to work

When the day finally comes, you are nervous, but determined

The first thing Madara asks you is to perform the technique and be prepared, because he will stop it at the moment when the failure shows

He wants to understand where exactly is the problem

You do this a few times until he finds it

You make a pause and he explains the situation. You say you noticed the nature of the failure too, but couldn’t find a counteraction for it

Well, Madara has an idea, and he tells it to you

It involves changing one or two hand seals and alter the way you manage your chakra at same moment

You try again following these instructions. It’s not that easy, but you do your best

And to your joy, it works

You try other times, and soon your body memorizes the procedure

You write down new notes on your scroll and revise them with Madara

At the end of the day, you are tired, but feeling rewarded. You also apologize for not asking for his help before, even though you already told him you wanted to prove your own value by doing everything by yourself

He says you don’t need to apologize now that the jutsu is finally completed, and makes you promise that you will always try your new techniques on him from now on

You laugh hard at this and do your promise

[biaswreckme]

looking for something right | jjk/knj

Summary: When Jungkook needs to find a new apartment with a roommate to share expenses, he thinks that the universe must be either laughing at him or conspiring in his favor. Because when he finally finds an ad that fits his budget, his roommate is the tall and handsome man from the coffee shop.

Pairing: Namjoon/Jungkook

Member: Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi

Length: 3568 words

Genre: smut, fluff

Type of AU: roommates au, university au, coffee shop au (kinda) (yes i used all my favorite tropes and aus in one fic)

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: heavy pining, slightly dom!Namjoon, slightly sub!JK, dry humping, handjob, dirty talking

Project: @thebtswritersclub​ April project with the theme Bloom 🌸

A/N: A huge thanks to my lobely beta-readers @taegularities​​ AND @voiceswithoutlips for help in revising and editing ♥ and also @voiceswithoutlips for the conversation that inspired the smutty scene :3

cross-posted on AO3 too!

Jungkook had seen him around campus before, more specifically in his favorite small coffee shop just outside the university that was much cheaper and actually catered to students’ financial range when it came to prices. He always had a book with him - usually a tome so big Jungkook thought he could do some real damage to someone with it -, reading and taking notes in the margins, which Jungkook thought was an atrocity, but the other boy didn’t seem bothered or apologetic.

He must be an early riser, because he was always there before he arrived, a steaming cup of hot coffee on the table and a bottle of water next to a small open pencil case and sticky notes. He looked too well-put together to be an undergrad, so he assumed he was a grad student. Philosophy maybe? Or something that demanded a constant consumption of large books. And maybe - just maybe - Jungkook shouldn’t have been spending so much on coffee when he could be brewing it at his apartment, but his apartment didn’t have the tall boy - man? - to discreetly look at while having his morning drink.

What his apartment did have was Jimin, his close friend and dance major that moved from Busan at the same time as him. They’d been sharing a place for some time now, but things were about to change. Jungkook knew this had been coming, but the day Jimin came home announcing that he’d been accepted for a scholarship abroad and that he would need to move soon came as a shock. He was extremely happy for him, but they would need to rush the process of moving out and Jungkook finding a new place or roommate.

They opted to let the apartment go, and so Jungkook began his search for a new place to share. He’d looked at listings, visited some places that were out of his budget, and then he found it. It was a small poster at the coffee shop’s cork board from a guy named Namjoon; the place was a block away and it fit perfectly into his budget and what he wanted for the location. It seemed too perfect; there had to be a catch, right? He texted the number - who calls anyone these days anyways? - and arranged to meet him at the coffee shop the next day before classes.

The catch. Oh, there was a catch.

He entered the place as usual, and the only person there was the tall man with a book on the table, steaming drink in his hand. He looked up at Jungkook who froze for a second, nodding his head and going to the counter quickly, barely mumbling his order to the barista trying to not freak out at the eye contact. So he avoided it for the next few minutes, until he heard his name being called out. What? How did he know his name?

“Jungkook?” the man repeated.

“Yes?” he took a deep breath and turned around at the sound of the deep voice.

“I’m Namjoon,” he introduced himself, standing up and motioning for Jungkook to join him at the table. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him. The universe had to be joking. “Nice to meet you.” He reached out to shake Jungkook’s hand.

He was touching him. And he smelled so good. And his voice was so deep. Jungkook felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, sighing at the very sight of Namjoon, whose name he now knew. He nodded in response and looked at the counter, trying to take a break from that smile, pretending he was checking if his order was ready. It was not.

“So, you’re interested in the apartment, right?”

“Ah, yeah… my friend and roommate right now, Jimin, you might have seen him around campus? He’s an amazing contemporary dancer, so he got this incredible and super rare scholarship to go study at this academy... I forgot the name,” he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and stop his rambling - to no avail, “anyway he’s moving too soon and I need to find a new place but everything’s so expensive. Yours fits the budget and is so close to uni and I couldn’t help but check you out, I mean, check it out…” He closed his eyes in embarrassment at the slip up, hearing Namjoon’s soft chuckle.

“Alright. What are you studying? Undergrad or grad school?”

“Media. Photography, film making, this stuff. I’m into it. I mean. Excuse me,” he was saved by the barista calling him, and as soon as he got back to the table, he took a sip, burning his tongue - but at least it stopped him from babbling for a second. “Undergrad still,” he complemented.

“Cool. I’m in grad school for social studies, so I’m a TA, but I also work with music production,” Namjoon began, but upon Jungkook’s raised eyebrows and brown eyes rounding up, he continued. “I wanted to get a better grasp on understanding society, so I can write better lyrics and try to integrate that into the music writing itself, you know?”

Jungkook nodded, fascinated. So he was cute and smart. And captivating. The interview didn’t really seem like one; it was so easy to fall into conversation with Namjoon that he did not notice time passing, and soon enough they were cut short, remembering they still had classes to attend.

“Alright, Jungkook. You don’t seem like a serial killer, so how about you visit the apartment to see if you like it?”

Jungkook choked on the last sip of his drink, and he really wanted to answer that he did not need to see the apartment to know he liked him, but he managed to catch himself before letting it out. He knew what Namjoon was seeing right now: his eyes wide open in shock, maybe even a light blush on his cheeks? His ears certainly felt hot. Dear lord, he needed to get a grip on himself.

“I’m not a serial killer, I promise. I’m a law abiding citizen. When are you free? I have classes the whole day today, but I’m free around lunchtime.” Jungkook wanted to dig a hole and hide right in there. Did he sound too eager?

“The sooner the better, but wait,” Namjoon stopped midway while getting up, looking very serious all of a sudden, “I forgot a very important question that might change my mind.”

Jungkook inhaled deeply, dreading the question that was about to come. Did he seem too forward and let the other man know he was into him? Would that be a deal breaker?

“Can you cook?”

“Ah… yes?” Jungkook was caught by surprise, confusion stamped on his face again. “Yes, I can. The basics at least.”

“Oh great! I can’t cook to save my life and I can’t really afford to live on take out anymore, so… we can work something out with that for sure!” He laughed, those dimples adorning his cheeks appearing again.

Soon Jungkook would learn that not only could Namjoon not cook, but he was actually a disaster and walking hazard in the kitchen. The man didn’t even know to properly hold a cutting knife to chop some vegetables or kimchi for a simple plate of fried rice. They attempted cooking together one time and that was enough for Jungkook. That was his kitchen from now on, Namjoon would be responsible for other chores but he himself would do all the cooking in the kitchen. Namjoon was even forbidden from boiling water on an electric kettle; that was the level of disaster-waiting-to-happen that he was.

The apartment was cozy and filled with books and musical equipment, and soon enough Jungkook’s filming materials were sharing the same space. It warmed his heart to come home in the evenings after class and see how his camera bag would be sitting beside Namjoon’s headphones, or how his black chunky sneakers rested beside the other man’s boots at the entrance. Whenever he put on or took off his shoes - which was almost every single day of the week, mind you - he would get a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He would tilt his head quickly to try and shake the thoughts away, not letting himself hope too much. He had no idea or indication if Namjoon even liked men, and he had no idea why he was even wishing for something more.

He was not exactly sure if he could pinpoint the precise moment in time when his adoration had turned into real infatuation with Namjoon. Maybe it was the fact that the older one was a disaster in the kitchen and always thanked Jungkook, each and every single meal the younger one cooked. Maybe it was the look he sported whenever he was engrossed in a book, glasses almost falling off his nose before a finger would softly push it back up (and Jungkook had found out that he only used his glasses comfortably at home, preferring contacts whenever he was out).

Maybe it was the way he always listened to Jungkook’s ramblings, no matter the topic of interest, from deep art films he had to watch (and Namjoon would actually sit down and watch with him) to the new game he’d been playing. Maybe it was the way he would always wish him a good morning and a good night with that dimpled smile. Maybe it was the way he offered to produce a freaking song to be used as a soundtrack to one of Jungkook’s short films. Maybe it was the way they ended up watching the first snowfall of the season together, side by side, looking out of the living room window. Maybe it was the way Namjoon’s left arm enveloped Jungkook’s shoulders in a soft side hug while they watched the snowflakes drift down and when Jungkook didn’t move, those dimples appeared on his cheeks.

But that was the only physical proximity for a while. The next day Jungkook could barely look at Namjoon and spent the day over at Yoongi’s place. He arrived just in time when Jimin was video calling his boyfriend, and proceeded to freak out about watching the first snow of the season together and it had to mean something, right? He put his arm around him while they stood in front of the window, Jimin, what the hell did it mean?

All the while Yoongi watched him with a cocked head, as if he was thinking hard about something, and then an amused smile shaped his lips. Jungkook thought it must have been because he had never had such a strong reaction for a boy - a man - before, especially one who was his roommate. Was it a brotherly hug? Namjoon hadn’t said anything or done anything else, did it mean he was interested in him or did he see Jungkook as a little brother? He was full of questions and asking them to the wrong people for sure, but he did not want to risk the little he had with Namjoon.

It was winter. The small affectionate moments he had with Namjoon were keeping him going, fueling and warming his heart enough to get through the coldest season. They watched movies together on the couch, huddled up under a blanket with cups of tea warming their hands. Going to the coffee shop in the morning for a cup of coffee before classes. Namjoon waiting for him outside the media building with a cup of hot chocolate in the evenings when he had classes later, walking back to the apartment together. Watching Namjoon work, focused on creating the loop he had been struggling with for a while, nothing seemed to fulfill what he wanted. Namjoon watching him work, editing an experimental short film he filmed for a class group project.

The freezing weeks passed like that, with Jungkook cooking different types of jjigae for them, Namjoon being allowed back in the kitchen mostly to keep him company, telling Jungkook he was hungry and will it take much longer?

He visited Yoongi once a week, calling Jimin together so he could freely talk about his growing fondness for Namjoon and get some advice he was keeping for when he thought the timing was right. Yoongi told him he had to create the right timing and he would actually probably be surprised if he acted on his desires. But Yoongi couldn’t know. He still had no clue about the mystery that was Namjoon’s love life, only that he had never taken anyone to the apartment.

Whether he was even interested in that, Jungkook had no idea, but he also had no courage to ask. Jimin suggested he did what he knew best: work with images. So he had been filming small snippets of their lives, their walks to their coffee shop, comfortable scenes at the apartment when no one else was looking but Jungkook through the camera lenses. Sometimes Namjoon asked to film Jungkook too, or positioned the camera so both of them were caught in the recording.

Winter went and spring came. Just as the flowers were starting to blossom on the street outside their windows, Jungkook was getting ready to show Namjoon the film. As he edited throughout the weeks, he noticed more than once how fondly he would look at the older man, and he could almost swear the gaze was reciprocated when he was not looking, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He made Yoongi promise he could crash at his place for a while in case things got weird and Namjoon kicked him out, to which Yoongi had let out a full laugh, something the boy had never heard before, and merely gave him a Sure, almost as if he was mocking Jungkook.

And so the day came. He chose the perfect song, adjusting his editing to fit the rhythm and lyrics, hoping it would express his love. Yes, he would call it love. He fell in love with the good person that the man was, with all the small quirks and imperfections.

He told Namjoon he had something to show, that he had finally finished his project and wanted to him to see. He waited for Namjoon to come back from his day out nervously, heart racing as he made them some tea while the man showered and got into more comfortable clothes. The video was ready to be played and Jungkook almost gave up, but decided this was the time.

He could not hide his feelings anymore.

And so he pressed play and closed his eyes. He had heard that song over and over again while editing, perfecting each millisecond of the final product. His heart was beating almost as loudly as the song, the sound filling his ears, his fingers clenching the fabric of his oversized black t-shirt, a shaky breath leaving his nose when he heard the final notes.

“Jungkook?”

He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, suddenly finding Namjoon’s face much closer than he was expecting, the man’s eyes staring into his own.

“I love you, too.”

The words had barely registered in his brain - although they had been imprinted on his heart - when Namjoon’s pillowy lips pressed softly against his, one of the man’s hands caressing his cheek, wiping at a tear he did not notice had fallen. He sighed into the kiss, relief perpassing his entire body. He loved him. When it finally clicked for him, his brain finally sent the necessary signals that made his arms go around Namjoon’s neck, his fingers entangling in the man’s hair and pulling him even closer. They moaned almost in synchrony when their tongues touched for the first time, Jungkook’s body almost undulating in a way that made Namjoon tug his hips towards himself, making the younger man sit on his lap.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” the older broke the kiss, staring into Jungkook’s eyes, “been waiting for you,” he murmured against the younger’s lips. As their mouths clashed in an open-mouthed kiss, Namjoon pulled Jungkook’s longer hair, making him bend back so he could have access to the expanse of his neck.

Jungkook moaned when Namjoon’s lips pressed onto his skin, licking and biting and sucking and definitely leaving some marks, and all he could do was clutch the older’s biceps, shifting his hips to try and alleviate some of the pressure that was making his pants tighter. The hand that was not entangled in Jungkook’s dark strands made its way down his body, grabbing a firm buttcheek first, then going to the younger’s hip.

“Wanna ride me?” Namjoon asked low on Jungkook’s ear, biting his lobe after.

“Yes, hyung” the word came out as a whine from Jungkook’s lips, his hips starting to move aided by Namjoon’s firm grip. “Your thighs…” he started, but couldn’t continue when he adjusted his hips just right and his hard erection pressed against one of Namjoon’s thighs.

“Yeah? I’ve seen you looking at them, Kook. So go on, ride my thigh, come on,” he said as he flexed his muscles, his other hand joining the one at Jungkook’s hip, one on each side now to help him move, to watch him fall apart.

Jungkook just closed his eyes and surrendered, his hips moving on their own accord, pressing his cock closer and closer to Namjoon’s, soft whines and pleas tumbling out of his mouth as he lost himself in the movements. It was too much and not enough, his erection pressing just right so his skin glided back and forth on the fabric of his underwear stimulated by the older’s thigh, the couch too small for this - yet he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at the moment. He needed it, and the sense of urgency overtook his body, his movements more frantic as he gripped the older’s hair and kissed him sloppily, letting out his breathy whimper against Namjoon’s lips. He wanted it.

“I’m… I’m close, hyung,” he had to pause to whimper again, a shiver going through his body from how close he was. “I want to touch you, hyung.”

“Touch me, Kook, make me cum with you, hold on just a bit,” Namjoon all but moaned into his lips when one of the younger’s hands reached into his pants.

Namjoon’s cock was heavy and hard and big, yet the skin was so soft in his hand, and Jungkook immediately closed his fist around it, his palm wet from the precum that had already gathered on the bulbous head, aiding his movement. And if Jungkook thought Namjoon’s speaking voice was deep, his mind and ears were certainly not prepared for the low guttural moan leaving those swollen lips, his own hips stuttering, pleasure coursing through his entire body, from the tip of his toes to the ends of his hair, his cock pulsating with release inside his pants as he pressed it against the strong thigh beneath him. He took a second to breathe and enjoy the tingling in his body, but soon noticed his hand had stopped. His gaze met Namjoon’s, his hand moving up and down inside the man’s pants.

“Cum for me, hyung, please,” he begged, wanting to pay attention to that moment of euphoria when it crossed his hyung’s face. And so it did; he watched as Namjoon threw his head back on headrest of the couch, hips raising and fucking into the tight grip around his cock, that heavy moan escaping his lips again as Jungkook felt the thickness of the release coating his hand. But he kept moving, prolonging Namjoon’s pleasure until it became too much and his hand was stopped, a smile stamped on the older man’s face.

There were no words needed for a while, until it seemed to finally click for Jungkook.

“Wait, you said you love me too.”

“I’ve been trying to express it for a while... And your eyes do this cute thing where they widen whenever you think you are caught and should change your gaze, so I noticed you were interested too. Plus Yoongi told me.”

“Wait, what?” He turned his head fast to look at Namjoon again, “You know Yoongi-hyung?”

And so he explained how they’ve known each other for years and how they’ve collaborated in music production before, under the names of RM and Agust D. He’d heard of RM, even heard Yoongi mentioning it more than once, and thinking back, he kept talking about RM more and more after he moved in with Namjoon. Oh. And then he remembered Yoongi’s smirks and head shakes, his certainty that Jungkook would not be turned down.

“You still haven’t said it.”

“I love you, Namjoon-hyung.”

And as Jungkook woke up the next morning, warm and cozy under Namjoon’s blankets, legs entangled and bodies pressed together, he breathed easier, lighter, happier. And he made a mental note to thank Jimin for applying for that scholarship and being so good that he’d gotten it. Maybe he would have met RM at some point, but he didn’t want to think of other possibilities. Living together and falling in love, getting to know each other was perfect for now.

They met in autumn, got closer through the cold days in winter, and their love bloomed in spring.

He could barely wait to see what summer had in storage for them.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

scrubs - 2.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death. if you are not comfortable with these warnings please dni. 

< previous chapter

   - Where are you going? - Miriam rose her head from the work bench as Y/N took her gloves and googles off, disposing of both in the yellow bin. - Y/N, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with the trainees. 

    - I’m going to get dinner. No eating in the lab, remember?

    - Urgh, couldn’t you have gone to dinner when Michael was here? You’re leaving me alone with the trainees ... and the ask so many questions. - she whispered the last part, afraid the trainees would hear her and hit her over the head with their very heavy portfolios. - I’m going next.

    - Hour break, don’t you dare page me. - she pointed her finger menacingly at Miriam before clocking out and heading out for dinner. If they had told her during her sleepless nights spent revising for her least favourite modules the most exciting time of her shifts would be the bland food served by the hospital cafeteria, she would’ve just become a pharmaceutical researcher. Yet again, you need to start at the bottom if you want to get to the top and Y/N was more than ready to climb that moment.

She pressed the button for the lift, leaning against her own hand as she tried to wake herself up. Turns out studying and staying up all night applying for PhD projects and then coming to work at 7AM is not the way to go for energy. Luckily, the black tea she had drank this morning had managed to keep her awake, however the caffeine was starting to slowly leave her system and she still had a few more hours awaiting her. As she was about to fall asleep while waiting for the lift to make it to the lower floors, she heard her name being called out.

      - Y/N? - she looked to her side to see Peter standing next to her. They’ve known each other since freshers and if there was someone who was always wide awake during twenty four hour shifts it was him. He worked currently in the clinical biochemistry laboratory, mostly coming over to visit Y/N whenever they were working on cardiac infection cases together. - I looked at the file you gave me. CRP is actually present but quite low, could be recovery phase from an infection. My guess with abdominal pain would be a UTI. 

     - You reckon it hit recovery phase by itself? 

     - Listen, some pharmacy assistant might’ve given him antibiotics. Who knows but I’d get a urine analysis, do some cultures and see how’s it going but from my point of view, it’s in recovery phase. 

    - You’re a superstar, Peter. - she hugged him just as the lift doors opened. - You’re going up?

    - Yeah, it’s dinner time. I think they’re serving meatballs today. Exciting stuff. - the two stepped onto the lift. - Miriam said Dr. Stan came down today. You’re still giving him hell?

    - I am not giving him hell. He’s just constantly sending samples either mislabelled or misplaced and he expects me to lecture his nursing staff about it. 

    - I don’t know, Y/N. Back at university you spent 2 hours arguing an answer with a lecturer, I just think you like arguing. - he chuckled as the doors opened onto the floor where the cafeteria was. - Or maybe you like arguing with Dr. Stan. 

Before she could complain about the snide comment, Peter took to having a chat with a nurse he was particular sweet on leaving Y/N with her mouth open ready to argue and a finger pointed at him. She rolled her eyes, collecting herself as she released her hair from the ponytail which held it safely high up so her scalp could rest for a few hours before it had to go back up. Walking into the green lit cafeteria, the room was filled with half asleep medical staff digging through the bland food like mindless zombies. She did not blame them, she too sometimes would switch off her brain during breaks but lately all the free time she had was dedicated to applications after applications, despite the fact she kept getting rejections every single day. 

The scientist grabbed a worn out plastic blue tray, getting a batch on weirdly shaped meatballs from the cafeteria lady as well as some odly too yellow noodles. Hey, it is food, her brain told her as she grabbed a diet Pepsi and a slice of apple pie which was the only eatable dessert around. 

     - Didn’t you owe me dinner?

     - You almost made me drop my tray. - she gave the resident doctor a dirty look, gripping tighter onto the tray. - And I’ll be damned if I ever owe you dinner but I do have your blood culture results and we did sort out your weird infection case.

      - It is not my infection case. 

     - Fine, your patient’s infection case. God heavens if any interns knew that you had an infection, that way they wouldn’t fawn over you. - she rolled her eyes at him, setting her tray in the first table she came over. He did the same, placing his tray right in front of hers before sitting in the metal chair with a cocky grin.  - Go away, I’ll send over the report to your office. 

      - Have you not figured it out yet and trying to buy yourself more time? Or are you trying to escape the dinner date you set up with me?

      - That might work on your interns but not on me, Stan. Besides, it is an infection.

       - But there’s no worrying levels CRP besides, what about the abdominal pain? Surely CRP and white blood cells would be off the roof. 

       - Okay, since you probably missed Biochemistry in med school I will explain it to you. The CRP levels are high during initial phases and lower down during resolve. Your patient is probably on recovery phase already. Recovery means it is fixing itself. Do you need me to explain CRP to you?

     - If you pulled that out with any other doctor, you would’ve gotten told off.

     - Other doctors don’t ask me stupid questions. - she pointed her fork at him. - Dr. Mackie never sends the samples in the wrong vials. 

     - What about the blood cultures?

     - Congratulations, Dr. Your patient is not septic. It’s most likely localised but I’d suggest ordering some X-rays if you wanna localise where it actually is. I wash my hands of your troubles. - she shrugged, wrapping her fork in the spaghetti laying on her plate. - Need anything else, Dr. Stan?

      - I remember being promised a dinner date.

      - You should get your ears checked, the only thing I promised you was data and you’re lucky I also gave you a data ana ... - the scientist was interrupted by her pager beeping loudly against her belt. She grumbled, looking down at her belt with a look that would scare  anyone. - Duty calls.

       - How convenient it went off now. 

       - Unlike you, Dr. Stan, I have a team to lead.

       - Sounds complicated, Y/N. You sure you don’t need a babysitter?

She turned around as she was about to leave, raising his middle finger at him before rushing down the hall as her pager beeped uncontrollably. So much for not paging her during dinner time. Someone better be dying, she thought to herself as she slide her card into the door slot to get access. What she came in contact with was not what she was expecting from a laboratory of trained professionals. Miriam was holding one of the trainees head forward whose nose was bleeding all over her worktop bench.

      - Miriam, what the fuck?

      - Don’t look at me. Thomas ... - she squinted at the boy whose head she was holding forward. - Started bleeding when he smelled the knee aspiration.

      - Oh no. - Y/N put some gloves on before walking over to the two. - Okay, Miriam call a code orange. I’ll take Thomas upstairs and get him sorted.

      - It’s so stinky.

      - I know. - Y/N handed them two cotton balls from the jar to her left. - Put  them up your nose.

What would be a day in the laboratory if a newbie didn’t either faint or got nose  bleeds from samples? Definitely not a day in her laboratory. She looked around the busy hospital grounds, trying to find any free, available nurses but they were all overworked. No wonder why, whenever midnight rolled around, people started coming in left and right from club brawls and the grounds were always a nightmare.

      - What you got there, Miss Y/L/N? Is this how you lead your team?

      - Fuck off, Stan. I do not have time to listen to your comments, I need to find a nurse.

      - What happened, kid? - Sebastian looked to the 19 year old medical laboratory assistant holding cotton against his nose. - Lab that bad? Come on, I’ll fix you up.   

      - Thanks. - she mumbled, following the two men into one of the free areas. Thomas sat on the table while Sebastian pulled up a chair to sit in, Y/N remaining up on her feet. 

      - So kid, what happened? Y/N rough you up too much?

      - He got a nosebleed from the smell of a knee fluid from an aspiration. - Y/N replied to him, much to Thomas delight who felt more than embarrassed about the situation he was in. - Is this what you’re doing now, Dr. Stan? Minor cases? Did the chief of medicine finally realised you’re unqualified?

      - No. - he spoke as he pointed out his light at the trainees nose, to look for any specific damage. - One of my patient’s in critical care but it seems to have stabilised for now at least. 

      - Oh ... sorry. What happened to them?

      - Sepsis. - he turned off the lights. - Listen kid, it’s nothing to bad. Just stay sat here and firmly pinch the soft part of your nose, just above your nostrils, for about 15 minutes. Don’t forget to lean forward and breathe through your mouth. Me or one of the nurses will come check on you after to see if it has improved but so far, so good.

     -  I’ll return to the lab. Page me when you’re ready to return, okay? - she gave the young starter a kind smile before pulling the curtains and letting him be. Unfortunately for her, Stan would not let her be. - Keep it.

     - How weak are your staff? How are they gonna react to when they actually see infected body parts?

     - I said keep it. - she crossed her arms, ready to leave and return to the laboratory until she remembered something. She turned around on her heel, passive aggressive smile on her lips as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - Also, Dr. Stan, the infected tissue samples you sent us had the wrong birthdate on them.

     - C’mon Y/N.

     - They’re on hold until you speak with the laboratory manager about them. Good luck.

He opened his mouth to fight with her but she had already gotten into the elevator. The rest of her shift was pretty uneventful with her and a few of her colleagues having to pick up the pace to get everything sorted before they left. Miriam and her fiance left first at 1AM leaving Y/N to count the minutes til 2 AM rolled around. Once the clock read 2AM, like a speeder, she was out of that laboratory and into the elevator before anyone could call her. Walking to her parking spot, the sky was dark, the lot light by harsh yellow barely brightening. As she walked over to the second handed baby blue Fiat 500, she noticed someone hunched over and sat on the top of a black new model Audi, smoke coming out from his cigarette. Normally, she would’ve just avoided it and gotten into her car to go home but the turquoise scrubs were much too familiar at this point.

    - Dr. Stan? - her boots hit the gravel as she stood just a few meters away from him. - Do they not teach you in medical school that smoking increases the chance of lung cancer?

    - Not now, Y/N. - no sarcastic remark? That was a new one. He threw the cigarette butt onto the ground once it was all over, feet rubbing it against the gravel. - Not now.

    - I thought your shift finished at 1:30? Pulling overtime hours? Someone needed your assistance? Death time?

    - My septic patient died. - she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Death was not something she particularly dealt with. Surely, some results were awful, specially in cases of ultra resistant bacteria showing up in the blood but that’s what they were, results. She didn’t see the patient, in all honesty all she would know the patient would be by a barcode number. - Sepsis quickly lead to organ failure. I don’t understand ... she was getting better.

    - Sepsis is unpredictable. You did the best you could do. 

    - And you’d know? All you do is be in the laboratory and do tests. What would you know about it?

    - Okay ... - she put her hands on her hips. - Are you on any antibiotics, prescription pain killers, sedative drugs, statins or any antidepressants?

     - I don’t see the point. 

     - The bar nearby has a discount for hospital staff. It’s only a five minute walk and everyone else is so miserable, you don’t feel bad about being miserable.

     - I’m not going to the bar in my scrubs, Y/N.

     - If you’re okay wearing those ... - she pointed at his scrubs. - Then you are okay wearing them at the bar.

She was right, the bar did look miserable. Not in a miserable way which would require regulation to shut down the place but miserable in a way one would just be at home wallowing in their pity with a pint of beer and right now that was all he needed. He sat in a sticky red booth, in front of her with a pint of beer while she picked a cocktail from the menu.

     - You don’t seem like the type of girl who’d come here.

     - And I’m not but they sell really cheap burgers at lunchtime. - she put her hand under her chin. - Besides, I’ve done this before.

     - When did you convince someone to come to the bar because their patient flat lined?

     - You know Dr. Liam Watts?

     - Surgery residency? I’ve heard about him before. - her lips tensed in a straight line as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - No. You’ve been here with Bucktooth Watts before? 

    - Yeah... even after he clearly needed support after he couldn’t save his first patient, he still decided to take me on a date here.

    - I’m sorry, you dated Bucktooth Watts? - he chuckled, downing whatever was left of his pint, signalling the bartender to bring him another one.

   - This is why we don’t hang out. He’s not bucktoothed. 

   - Sure, sure. I see the appeal, I mean over Christmas at least you have someone to cut the carrots. 

The night went onwards with a bunch of maybe irresponsible drinking. Y/N was two mojitos in and she was already tipsy and giggling like a school girl, not really used to drinking. Sebastian was in the same state as her, trying not to laugh at everything as they stepped outside to grab a taxi. At least both of them were conscious enough to decide not to drive.

   - No, you did not get locked in the vroom cupboard during your residency. - she held her belly as she laughed.

   - I did and my senior doctor did not notice I was gone. I was stuck there for 5 hours.

   - Oh god. - she held herself against the wall. - I always knew you were a clutz. You know, you’re the only doctor who hasn’t told off his nurses about the blood  bottles.  

   - Can I tell you a secret? - he whispered mid laughter. - I am afraid of them.

   - Oh my god. - she held her hand on his shoulder covering her mouth with the other one. - See, this is why I constantly argue with you. You’re soft, doctor.

   - Arguing with you is the best part of my day. You look really hot when you’re telling me off.

   - You look terrible when I tell you off. - the two of them stopped laughing, looking into each other eyes for the first time since they’d been out of the laboratory. Maybe it was the alcohol but at that moment, the best idea to the two of them was to lean towards each other, his hands grasping each side of her waist as they connected the space between them, getting together into a hot long kiss.

[yanderecandystore]

Can we get some content for how the Android darling and Ms. Bright would meet?

In this [🍰🍑🤖] we get a glimpse of what their relationship is like and a lil mention of how things have worked out- But let's see how it played out from the a.is perspective.

Hi boo, I hope you're doing great, I'm very sorry for the long ass waiting- Sadly I may warn y'all that I have gone through many stages while writing this: h 0 r ny, corny, and angsty. This is actually pretty heavy, as I tried pulling some of the loose threads that I left all over Ingrid's posts (I still need to give her an bio ;-; I'm sorry y'all-)

So this is all over the place, since this is a fic I've been writing for a long time.

Also I know jackshit about robotics, and I think this fic shows how much I don't know anything XD

TW: Family issues related to: LGBTQ identity // very angsty // Ingrid is very rude, but she also struggles a lot during this- // socially distant // socially awkward // being misinterpreted/having a hard time socializing //

Tags: angy sad lady // ownership dynamic // this is basically the reader reminiscing about the past (continuing it from where Happy Lies left off) // the reader is low-key a simp at times- // master x servant dynamic, possessive behavior and a lot of yelling // just angsty really, I'm so sorry //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Happy birthday, mistress [Yandere!CEO OC x A.I!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

3,763 words

Whenever you remember your first day of activation, or more accurately your first day of actually being able to be activated for more than five seconds (you can't remember it fully, but you're aware that because of your complex design, you had passed through a lot of prototype phases before you could properly function-), you almost feel an odd sense of nostalgia, maybe due to the fact it was indeed the most important day of your existence as an android.

It was Ms.Bright's nineteenth birthday, when she would be handed the corporation that has been passed down by generations. And not only would she inherit the company, but also a beautifully designed a.i assistant made to help Ms.Bright's every need. You were made to be an easy communication center from Ms.Bright to the employees, as Ms.Bright's had a hard time communicating with people and expressing herself.

At first, she didn't seem to enjoy the idea very much- It was clear that she considered you to be quite annoying and useless. And- Well- It did hurt at first, after all, you were built to help her and be her friend no matter what.

So hearing her be mean towards you was… Very tough at first. Your first day as her assistant wasn't easy, you ended up getting in her way most of the time- And since she also didn't know exactly what she was doing, she got overwhelmed by so many things going down in one single day.

Ingrid has always dreamed of being in power of the company- Actually, now that you know her a little more- You can positively say she was probably just stressed at having to deal with so many responsibilities so suddenly, even if it has been her lifelong wish to inherit the company.

And even if it seems impossible at times, she would still come back strong and find a way to deal with it. That's something you really admire about her.

Your first week on the job was basically just trying to get accustomed and trying to learn everything you needed to do- While also trying to understand Ms.Bright as best as you could. Now… You weren't built to say this- And- And of course you don't think like this anymore, but…. You used to think she was really mean.

Frightening, even.

Now that you're all alone waiting for her to get back from work, you can't help but feel like replaying those moments inside your head.

"{... Replaying recorded conversation n°000050: "My second day at work"...}"

" Oh, what are you doing here?"

" Morning Ms.Bright! I-I was rechecking the files from yesterday and I was trying my best to reorganize them, a-after the incident-"

" The "incident" that you caused yesterday?"

" Well, yes, of course! I wanted to fix things up before you came back, I'm really sorry for being so reckless, I promise I won't do it again, I was just-"

"It 's fine. You don't need to worry about it."

" But… But I thought-"

" The files you had messed with weren't really all that important, and besides I'm sure there are copies all around the place. Sigh, who am I kidding- In reality, I should be the one apologizing for my behavior yesterday."

"...."

" I recognize that I shouldn't have treated you the way that I did, in a sense it's my fault you lost those files in the first place."

" … Well, it's nothing really mistress, I'm the one who should-"

" No, don't even finish it. You shouldn't have to apologize and shouldn't have spent the night wasting your battery on this-"

"...."

".... You know what, do whatever- I sometimes forget that you are… Nevermind, come back to my office as soon as you can."

"{... End of recorded conversation n°000.000.050… }"

You never knew what she was going to say, but you remember not being able to ask her that- As you were afraid of her potentially getting mad at you for asking too many questions. She always seemed so ruthless at times.

You remember the time you went to a family event with her, a family party, where an incident happened and she was absolutely livid. Your relationship with her wasn't so pretty at the time, you don't know why but- Your mistress didn't seem to trust you as much as you wish she did at the time.

"{... Replaying recorded conversation n°000.001.588: "First party ever- And it was very unpleasant" ...}"

" What's the matter with you?! Why can't you follow simple instructions- I told you to stay here and not mess around."

" I'm. So. Sorry. Mistress-"

" Even your vocal module is broken- Who told you to enter that pool in the first place?? You can't tell me you did something so stupid all on your own."

" I. Slipped.-"

" Am I a joke to you? I've said tell me who gave you the order to jump in the goddamn pool while everyone else was inside- Don't you dare start lying to me."

" … One of the. Party guests. Lost something. Inside the water. I tried helping them. But I started to. Malfunction."

" … Sigh, okay. Continue."

" It wasn't. Their fault. I did it. On my own. I was just- Trying. To help."

" By throwing yourself inside a pool when you're well aware of the damage the water can cause to your inner systems?!"

" I'm sorry!"

" You could have- No, you SHOULD have called someone else to help you, I can't believe it- You could have drowned in there and I wouldn't even be aware of that since I was inside the house, [Y/n]!"

" …. But Ms.Bright. I can't drown-"

" Yeah, yeah- I know you-... I know you can't drown."

" … Listen, you could have still gotten yourself hurt okay? You could have permanently damaged your systems, and if I wasn't made aware of what happened, I wouldn't have been able to take you out of the water in time, okay?"

"... Sigh, I just realized how much I have been yelling, everyone is probably scared now that I've made such a scandal. This… Isn't really a new thing to me, I'm accustomed to ruining parties like this. I'll have to apologise later to everyone. [Y/n], please just- When I ask you to stay still, please listen to me. I was worried about you."

"...."

"{... End of recorded conversation n°000.001.588 ...}"

You can't deny it- Whenever she was truly irritated she could make any person next to her feel threatened, though the more you look at your recordings, you feel like she doesn't really want to be feared like this. Respected? Absolutely. Feared? Not ideal, but she takes it anyway.

You have a couple of different recordings here and there, your memories are separated into sections. You have recordings of events in several formats: pictures, videos, texts and audio recordings. Though the one you use the most is audio recordings, since videos take a very big space inside your mind, and pictures need context, otherwise they wouldn't be considered memories, right?

You can't have many memories at a time because most of your mind is supposed to be used to store the company's files, so you do have a couple of memories that you have deleted to make space for the Bright Vision's more secret/personal documents. Since Ingrid took you home yesterday, and said you won't be going to work for the company anymore, then maybe you can find somewhere else to store those files so you can make space for new memories with Ms.Bright.

First, you'll need to recheck some of your own memories to see if they're worth holding onto. There is probably a lot of junk in there that you won't be needing anymore, which can be a bit tedious and take some time, but you clearly have enough time on your hands to do so, considering how she is not home and- Well, you're pretty bored, you already done everything that she asked you to do.

Honestly, she gave such small tasks today, she probably didn't plan to change your work environment so suddenly.

After about an hour of research through your data you have realized that even if you have way too many files, it's kinda hard to delete them. At first you didn't mind the idea of deleting certain stuff, but now it feels a bit sad to erase parts of your memory, you just had so many good times and- And even the bad times are worth remembering, right?

It has been an hour of you just standing there, trying your best to not delete anything important while also revising each recording you have. Most files are a bit out of order, numerically speaking, but you don't mind that too much cause- Well, you can always reorganize them later.

… You never actually do that, but you like to think that one day you will, though.

After so many recordings of conversations, you found one who didn't seem to really belong in your head. You see, you always title every single thing inside your personal archives so that it doesn't get mixed with other files- All of your memories have a specific title so that you can have an idea of which is which.

The thing is- You don't remember this file, the title seems off, and it seems like it's incomplete. Oddly broken. Still, you decided to take a listen and try to remember what happened in this event.

"{... Replaying recorded conversation n°000.068.xxx: "I yell too much" ...}"

"...."

"...."

"...."

This is a very silent audio, there seems to be some background noise happening, but you can't make out what's happening. This audio sounds distorted, edited maybe. Someone tried messing with your memories but they weren't able to completely erase this file.

Maybe they were inexperienced at the time.

"...."

"...."

"...."

You think you heard something, it sounded closer to you- It sounded like someone possibly sitting down next to you. You don't know who it is, or what it is

"...."

".... I'm such a mess. Why am I doing this? Why does this feels so-"

"...."

It seems like someone is speaking, but you're not speaking back. Even in this heavily edited audio, you can still make out what sounds to be a feminine voice.

".... I'm sorry for, well, using you this way. It feels- So, so weird."

"...."

".... I just want… No, I need to vent to you for a while, even if you won't remember what I'm going to say."

This audio gives you an odd sensation. You think you're starting to recognize who this is- But then again, who else could it be, if not Ms.Bright herself?

" I never did this before, with something so- Human like- With something so human looking. I used to record my thoughts on my phone but I thought I would never need to vent with an object before- But here I am! Making a fool of myself…"

"...."

The speaker, who you assume to be Ingrid, seems to be having a lot of trouble speaking, her voice is cracking and her breathing seems uneven. She sounds out of breath, and she takes a lot of pauses to be able to speak her mind.

"...."

".... I have…. Thought about opening myself in this way because- Because I have no one else to listen to it, and I guess I can only blame myself for it. I know I'm difficult, I know I'm rude and I know I come across as a tyrant to everyone else- I- I really don't know what 's wrong with me, okay?!"

" Years, and years, and years of training, of studying, of planning to become the very next owner of this corporation as it's already not only a job but also a very painful family tradition that I felt proud of! That I gave everything that I could to be part of! I remember wanting this so bad, I remember how I used to daydream about this stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid tradition when I was a little kid who just wanted to do more, to be more!"

".… I almost lost all of this. 19 years of my life that were threatened to be thrown in the trash just because I- Because I'm not his son??! Because I- I'm not his only "son" anymore??.... Who said I ever was- Who said I ever was his son…?"

".... I- I know all about the stupid, awful and extremely unnecessary tradition of passing the leadership from father to son, and to this very day- inside the same office all of my predecessors had went through- I still think that tradition is garbage. I always thought I wouldn't make it here, I always thought something would stop me from being the next face of Bright Vision."

".... I can't tell- If I always knew about this- I can't even imagine how I knew this considering the dumb kid that I was, but…"

".... I'm his daughter. I'm Mr.Bright's only daughter, and the only possible heir to this twisted company."

" The people outside think our only focus it's on robotics and technology of all kinds. I wish I could go back to thinking that too, it would have been so much simpler that way."

" After a very long fight about my rights as the heir to this- Company. My father thought it would be wise to move to the countryside. Far away from all of this. And to be fair, I was- So, so mad at him that I thought that him moving away from here and letting me be would be better, but every now and then I- I miss him. I miss him so much…."

"He sent me a birthday present today. After three years of absolute silence he sends me flowers and- And a gift card containing his number… And I- Called him despite everything, and even so to this day he can't even say my name- IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS AFTER HE LEFT ME ALL ALONE WITH THIS CURSED BUSINESS AND HE STILL CAN'T FUCKING. SAY. MY. NAME."

You felt scared at the sudden yelling, even if her voice was progressively getting more aggressive and louder, you still got caught up by the sudden yelling.

".... I'm- A mess- I know that now."

You can't understand what's going on, but it sounds like she started laughing… Or maybe crying? Probably both.

".... I'm just terrible at this. I always was, weren't I? I'm just terrible at these types of interactions- Maybe all of them! I just don't understand how to- How to do it?? I don't know anymore…."

".... That's why I have you, in the first place, isn't it?"

" I had such an awful time expressing myself that they gave me an overpriced doll to do it for me. When I first heard about this three years ago, I- I've felt so fucking pitiful."

" Can you imagine it? The CEO of such a big corporation is so difficult to deal with that she needs an overly glorified doll that can translate her words to the other employees! An a.i created just to help me, an absolute idiot!"

".... I've felt so angry at them- I felt so angry at him for having to build a robot just to be a comfort pet to the stressful work that I would have to do for the rest of my position as owner of Bright Vision Corp, and I was mad at you! You pissed me off to no end, and I- I just couldn't help but be frustrated at you, not for being in my way, but for being an reminder that I'm awful at this-"

"...."

Her sobs stopped her from continuing that sentence.

".... I've treated you so unfairly because of this. I- I made sure that whenever you looked at me you would feel terrified of me because that's the only way I thought I could be respected, that's the only way I thought you would listen to me, and yet you never did…. You weren't built to follow my every order perfectly, you were made to be literally my only friend, after 22 years, here you are- The only person that can get me isn't even an actual person-"

"..... And I forget this…! I forget this every time I look at your eyes, I forget how robotic you are whenever I see you helping others not because you were told to, but just because you thought you could."

"...."

".... I always forget that you're supposed to be just another robot… He really did think about everything when designing you."

".... I always catch myself being awful towards you, being- Being excessively rude, not because of my way of talking but because of my own petty feelings towards you as my assistant… As my friend, as my android, as my-"

"...."

"..... I'm so sorry for being like this, you don't deserve to have someone who is constantly being mean towards you be considered your boss- Your boss, your friend- ...Sigh, even your owner…"

" I'm sorry [Y/n], I'm really, really sorry- But it doesn't matter how many times I say that- I don't know if I can ever make it up to you. Words won't heal any wounds, they never did."

"...."

".... But maybe actions will."

"...."

" I'll stop being so harsh on you, you really don't deserve this- I was feeling weird about using your recording system to vent like this, but now that I think about it I have been using you as a venting mechanism since the day we met……. I'm- I'm so goddamn awful."

"...."

"...."

" "How can someone so in love be so cruel?".... Would you be able to answer me if you were conscious?.... I don't think you would, no one has been able to tell me the right answer yet."

".... I hope I can be better- I will be better."

"...."

" I just need to remember how to delete this file before you wake up- I hope I can do that. End recording."

"{... End of recorded conversation n°000.068.xxx …}

………….

It took you about an hour or so to be able to process what you have just listened to. And even then, you weren't able to fully comprehend what happened.

Ms.Bright- No, Ingrid- Ingrid has used your recording system while you were out, she probably tried deleting the file but because she was inexperienced with your kind of technology, she decided to just edit it and try to make it unlistenable.

It was- Barely audible but you still got to understand some of it.

Did she- Did she forget to completely erase it? Did she forget entirely??? You're not sure.

You don't know why but a sudden wave of- Something- Something feels so odd about this-

You don't know how to respond really. You don't feel mad about her ranting to you, you don't even feel bad about her ranting to you while you weren't aware- You feel bad, but not because of her but because of the emotional turmoil she has been hiding from you.

Should you do something? Should you say something?? How do you even- You don't know how respond to this-

You're programmed to comfort her, yet- This file is already old, and she didn't want you to remember this so maybe it won't be the best idea to bring it up, but what can you do??!

Maybe you just need to rethink this through, maybe you should listen to audio again, and try to figure out what's the best way to help her out when she comes back.

You're honestly baffled at the idea that someone like her had so much to confess to- You probably shouldn't have seen her as an unstoppable goddess in the first place, but then again- Even after hearing her open herself, even after listening to her insecurities- Your opinion of her hasn't changed.

She was holding this for so long, no wonder she always seems on edge.

She 's only human. Yet you never really saw her as just that.

She was always so much larger than you, so much stronger than what your fabricated body was, and she always sounded so much smarter and- And she was just always so… Terrifyingly beautiful to you.

Ingrid Bright was always considered a very good looking individual, but no one ever considered her to be much else because of her way of speaking to others (which may sound rude and occasionally condescending, causing others to avoid her as much as they could), but you always thought she was so much more than that-

It's hard to even explain it really, ever since you met you have started to understand the concept of how beauty and fear can mix together, you find her to be so beautiful, yet her demeanor and stature makes you feel afraid of her for some reason- And even worse than that, the fear she may unconsciously bring you makes her seem more beautiful in your eyes.

You shouldn't think of her as scary or frightening, she is your boss, your master and your owner, there is no reason for why you should feel this way towards her- But then again, there is no reason for you to even feel in the first place, you were just built to do so.

You don't think she means harm to anyone, after getting to know her you realize why her behavior can be misinterpreted as mean and scary- Ms.Bright always had a hard time socializing with others, even her family had a hard time understanding her, so maybe that's why she grew to have such a tough exterior.

As someone that was built to make the communication between CEO and employees easier, you've had to learn to understand her to be able to help others understand her as well, and vice versa. It wasn't easy, and you wouldn't say that you know her completely well- But you feel proud of the work you have done so far, you're her loyal companion but more importantly a friend.

Funny how much you learned not only about her, the employees, or even the business of the company- But also about humans in general in these five years of working for her, it makes you feel more whole when you remember how much you have achieved.

You hope you can somehow help her right now, and to help her from here on out. You decide to wait for her and possibly talk about how she feels and how she deals with said feelings. Hopefully all ends well.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Sorry for the loose ending! I was feeling very tired ;-; but if anyone wants it I could totally make a second chapter with a better ending.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭