#in my defence i bought it like ten years ago

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

got my new tees today so here's a silly little photoshoot of me in my silly little arctic monkeys tees collection + tlsp tote 🐒

[theemporium]

[3.5k] married life has perks that you hadn't ever imagined. and it came with duties you never considered to exist in a totally fake, accidental marriage with a three time world champion who was not what he seemed.

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As stupid as it sounded considering he had messaged his confirmation, you hadn’t actually expected Max to show up. At most, you expected the question for your address was just going to be him sending the McDonald’s to you with a note saying ‘just this once’.

So when someone knocked on the door a little past ten o’clock, you really weren’t expecting to find Max standing on the other side with a bright smile on his face and two bags full of groceries in his hands. 

You stood there, dumbfounded and blinking at the world champion in front of you. “You were serious.” 

His brows furrowed together slightly like you were the one being out of character. “Yeah, I was,” he said, waiting a few moments before he continued. “So, are you going to let me in or—”

“Oh, yeah!” You flashed him a shy smile as you stepped to the side, pulling the door open a little wider as he stepped into your apartment. You made a brief, noncommittal noise and muttered something about a kitchen in the direction you waved your hand, but Max walked in the right direction almost like he owned the place. 

Like he knew his way around your apartment with ease. 

The thought shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did.

You glanced down at your attire with a frown, your cheeks burning at your chosen outfit but, in your defence, you really hadn’t expected Max—or anyone—to come over tonight. The shirt was an old one of your father’s you had stolen from his closet many years ago, the pyjama bottoms were from a Christmas set your family had got a couple of years ago and your hair was pushed back from your face in some messy hair-do that probably wasn’t the most flattering.

And definitely not the outfit you would have chosen if you knew Max was coming over. 

But you pushed down the urge to grab a hoodie or a blanket or anything else to cover yourself up, and instead made your way towards the kitchen. 

There was something oddly domestic about the sight: Max standing by the counters, emptying the contents of the bags as he murmured away to himself like he was accounting for what he actually bought. He was dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie (a Red Bull one, unsurprisingly). His hair was messy, dishevelled even, like he hadn’t bothered to put any product in it today. 

You decided you preferred it much better like that.

“Are you okay with quesadillas?” 

You blinked, looking at Max with raised brows. “You can make quesadillas?” 

Max glanced at you over his shoulder, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “You say that like it’s a hard dish to make.” 

“I still burn toast,” you admitted with a shrug. “So anything that isn’t charred is impressive to me.”

Max snorted, almost like he thought you were joking. It was embarrassing that you weren’t, and almost impressive itself that you had managed to stay alive this long by yourself after you moved out of your mother’s house.

“Yes, I can make quesadillas,”  he said, finally answering your question as he began to move through the kitchen like he belonged. “It won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes at most.” 

“I may starve to death by then,” you whined, a playful tint to your words as you pulled yourself to sit up on the empty counter space on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. “McDonald’s would have been faster. And I would have eaten by now.”

Max turned to glare at you, his eyes narrowed. “You hadn’t eaten all day. I wasn’t going to let your first proper meal be McDonald’s.”

“And you said you wanted to be husband of the year,” you murmured, returning the glare and you could see his lips twitching upwards. “Plus, I was too busy to even attempt to cook for myself!” 

“Too busy to eat?” He questioned, not quite convinced. 

“I got wrapped up in my work,” you admitted, feeling your face burn as he watched you closely. You waited for him to get the same look on his face—the one your brothers’ or your mother always gave you—that screamed ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. But it never came. 

Much to your surprise—something Max had been doing consistently over the last few weeks—he looked intrigued, interested, fascinated. 

“What work was it?”

You told yourself it was a throwaway comment. That he was just being polite. 

“Are you trying to stall the fact you don’t actually know how to make quesadillas?” You teased, head tilted slightly to the side as Max smirked in response. 

“I can multitask,” he assured you. “I can listen and cook.”

“Max Verstappen? Being the listener instead of having people listen to him?” You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Now, that is just unheard of.”

Max rolled his eyes, though you didn’t see the fond action. 

“Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough to listen to,” he stated simply as he began to work, collecting the vegetables he had chosen and taking them to sink to wash. 

You watched him closely. “And I am?”

“Always,” he said, flashing you a smile over his shoulder before his focus returned to the food.

Despite his offer, you changed the conversation to something that was…well, more of a two way conversation rather than you talking about yourself and your work uninterrupted. Though, you pushed down that kernel of something warm and fuzzy and kept it hidden safe, even if his words were just a polite offer covered in sweet words. 

Around forty minutes later, you sat beside the boy on the counter as you both happily ate your quesadillas, a bright smile on your face as he began to retell some old story about him and Charles back in the karting days. Once you had both finished, you took his empty plate and waved away his offer to wash the dishes as you assured him you had a dishwasher that did the job just fine. 

Your back was turned to him as you loaded all the dishes into the dishwasher, not seeing the way his eyes drifted to some papers hidden under a pile of magazines. 

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“These drawings.” 

You froze for a moment before you turned around, finding Max spreading a few sheets across the counter. Your body burned in realisation when you noted they were some of your more recent designs, the ones that didn’t fit the pretty box your professors and teachers wanted, the ones that you liked to just draw for yourself in between projects.

“Those are nothing,” you waved him off, resisting the urge to rush over and snatch them from his hands like a mad woman. “Just silly, little—”

“They are amazing,” Max interrupted, the sincerity in his voice knocking the rest of the words from your throat. “Like, insanely good.” 

You put your focus back on cleaning up, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted—almost pleasantly—at his words. You felt like you were moving in a trance as you cleaned down the counters and turned the dishwasher on before you made your way towards Max. 

His focus was still on the sketches, his eyes scanning every little detail like it was important for him to memorise it all. You don’t think anyone outside of your teachers had ever looked at your work with such…focus.

“They really are nothing,” you said to Max as you stood beside him, fingers tracing over the drawings like they were gentle strokes of a pencil. “Just some fun on the side.” 

“Charles mentioned you went to school for this. Fashion, no?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together like he tried to remember the sliver of information he learnt about you years ago.

“Fashion designing and business management,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I love it, I do. It’s just…” 

His attention focused fully on you. “Just what?” 

“Constricting, I guess,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. You turned to look at him, expecting judgement but there was nothing but understanding in his eyes. “I know in the long run these classes will help be but sometimes I just…”

“Want to do what you want?” Max finished, a small smile gracing his lips and it looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks. “I get the feeling.” 

“One too many team orders ignored?” You questioned, your voice light and teasing and you were glad when he laughed in response. 

“Something like that.” 

A few moments passed with neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t silent, it never was in Monaco. There was still plenty of noise outside: cars revving, people laughing and cheering, the distant sound of music playing from some party who knows how many streets away. It was never quiet in Monaco, but there was something comforting about the blanket of outside noise when you were in your apartment with Max. 

“Come with me.” 

He had blurted the words out so suddenly that it took you a few seconds to realise what he said, what he was asking. You blinked once, then twice and still your brain was confused. 

“Come with you where?” 

He paused before his cheeks burned a light pink colour, like he realised he hadn’t given much explanation or context before he blurted the words out. He cleared his throat, his shoulders looking a little tense as he tried again.

“Come with me to the FIA ceremony,” he said and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he was nervous. Max Verstappen—three time world champion—looked nervous. “I mean, you’re my wife and…stuff.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And I want you there.”

Your lips parted in surprise, taking a few moments before the shock washed away and the questions started. “I—don’t you already have someone as your plus one?”

He looked a little embarrassed when he shook his head. “I honestly planned to go alone.” 

Your heart lurched a little at the idea. “Don’t you have to tell them in advance?” 

“I’d say a few days is enough,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips once again as realisation dawned on you.

“Oh my god.”

Max frowned a little. “What—”

“I only have a few days to find something to wear!” You hissed, your eyes widening as Max let out a loud, boisterous laugh. You slapped his arm, a wave of panic washing over you. “Max, this is serious! I have nothing!”

Max tried to fight his laughter. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to wear—”

“Yes, it is a big deal! It’s the official ceremony! I am the world champion’s date!” You said, looking at him like he had grown another head. “Oh my god, I am going to have to go shopping tomorrow.”

Max’s nose wrinkled. “Please tell me husband duties end at quesadillas and don’t extend to shopping trips.”

...

...

“When you said to come visit you in Monaco before heading home for the holidays, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

The curtain pulled back enough for you to poke your head out and glare at the blond sitting on the purple velvet futon. However, Logan just stared back at you with an absolutely bored expression on his face.

“You said you didn’t mind what we did,” you argued back.

“That was before we knew we would be sucked into dress shopping,” Oscar muttered under his breath, his focus on his phone screen. However, Logan quickly nudged his ribs with the point of his elbow and the Aussie let out a hiss as he snapped his head up. “What? We are, like, the two worst people you could have brought with you.”

“And it’s not fair Arthur got out of it,” Logan added with a pout.

“Who else could I have asked?” You retorted, looking between both boys with an expectant look. “Plus, I want to spend some time with my best friends before Christmas.” 

“I know you are only saying best friends to butter us up but I have to say it’s working for me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, ignoring the way Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Charles likes his fashion,” Oscar supplied lamely before frowning. “But not…good fashion.”

“Understatement of the century,” you snorted before pulling the curtain shut again and surveying the pile of dresses you had dragged into the dressing room less than an hour ago. This had been your fourth shop of the day and you still hadn’t found anything to wear for the FIA ceremony. “I don’t think he would have taken so kindly to me asking him which dress he thinks Max would think I look the hottest in.”

“And we would?” Oscar grumbled.

“Is he still pissed?” Logan asked, ignoring the Aussie before you poked your head out and took even longer to get through the dresses. “I thought he was playing nice at the dinner with Pascale.”

“He did,” you confirmed with a nod, even though they couldn’t see you as you frowned at the orange dress you had just slipped on. Definitely not the right shade. “But he has also been forwarding me divorce lawyers and articles on American Marriage Laws.” 

“Yikes,” the blond muttered. “He really hates the idea of you being married to Max.”

“He is an overprotective brother, he always has been.” You sighed as you glanced at yourself before shaking your head, moving onto the next dress which was an odd shade of moss green. “I think a part of him just blames himself for not stopping everything back in Vegas, so he feels the need to fix the mess now.” 

“Do you wish someone had stopped you?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

You paused, unsure how to answer. 

“It’s not like you could have stopped her, grandpa, you were in bed before the sun had even set,” Logan snorted, breaking the few seconds of silence as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

“And where were you?” Oscar retorted. “If you were up, why did you not stop her?”

“I was busy myself.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business, Piastri.” 

“Out making your own mistakes?” 

“Excuse you—”

“God, maybe it was a mistake to bring the two of you,” you commented as the curtain was pulled open again, and you stood in the entryway of the dressing room. You looked at them, your hands on your hips and a grin on your face. “If I had to guess, I would have said the two of you got married in Vegas with the way you bicker.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “As if I would marry him.”

“Uh, people would love to marry me,” Logan frowned before his attention shifted to your dress, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yeah no, puke green looks good on no one. Next!”

...

...

“Holy shit.” 

With the FIA Ceremony being held in Baku, it meant that you and Max had to fly his jet out to Azerbaijan the day before. You hadn’t even thought about the logistics of the trip until after you had bought the dress and Max had sent you confirmation that Christian had managed to book an extra room at the hotel so you didn’t have to share with him. 

It was incredibly stupid for you to be so nervous about the whole event when it wasn’t even about you. Yet, Max looked the splitting image of calmness as he sat across from you in the plane, tapping away on his phone as he played some stupid game Lando had got him addicted to.

His nerves remained calm once you landed, his hand on the small of your back as he led you towards the car that was designated with taking you to the hotel. He was a gentleman all throughout dinner as he kept one arm around the back of your chair as he indulged in small talk with Christian and Checo. He even walked you to your hotel room door—though it was next door to his—and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and walked towards his room before you could even say anything. 

Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to step in front of hundreds of cameras with his new wife.

You, however, were two steps away from shitting yourself. 

You had practically clung onto Oscar the next day, needing a sense of normalcy before you had to start getting ready. Though, in an annoyingly predictable turn of events, even Oscar wasn’t fazed by the upcoming ceremony and the award he was about to collect himself. If anything, he found your freakout to be highly entertaining before the boring trophy ceremony began. 

You had paced up and down the hotel room more times than you could count as you rushed around, desperately trying to look as put together and elegant as a last minute invite could. Your heart had been in your throat in the minutes leading up to Max knocking on the door. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look so sure of himself. 

Max stood on the other side of the door—a sight that made your heartbeat pathetically fast as the memory of him showing up the other night at your apartment came to mind—with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a suit, his hair styled to perfection, and yet there was a flush on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. 

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You teased, though you tried to cover up your own doubt as you glanced down at the floor-length red dress you had finally picked after dragging Oscar and Logan to seven different stores around Monaco. 

“Good,” he breathed out, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance as he took you in. “Definitely good.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “You aren’t mad that it’s Ferrari red?”

“You could have chosen any colour and I’d still consider myself lucky that you’re standing next to me,” Max admitted, something sounding in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before you could ponder for too long, the boy cleared his throat and quickly offered the bouquet to you. “I know a boring awards ceremony isn’t exactly an ideal first date but….here.”

You took the bouquet with a wide smile, leaning down to smell the flowers appreciatively before stepping back into the room to place them on your bedside table. “Thank you, Max, they are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said it so quietly that you almost swore you made it up. 

You turned back to him, mouth open and ready to say something before you paused as you took him in, blinking in surprise. 

Max frowned. “What?” 

“Is that the same suit you wore last year?” 

Max glanced down at himself before shrugging. “Yeah, and the year before that. And the year before that. And—”

You blanched. “You wear the same suit every year?” 

“I don’t see why I need to get a new one every year,” Max argued back, clearing his throat a little. 

“Max, you’re a three-time world champion. You are going to collect your third world championship,” you continued as you walked back towards where he was standing. “You should be wearing something special to commemorate the day.”

“I won the championship weeks ago though,” he said, his brows furrowed together like he didn’t understand your point. “What���s the big deal about collecting a trophy?” 

“You made history this season,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as though you were trying to size him up, trying to understand him. “You should be wearing something more special than a suit you’ve worn years in a row.” 

Max nodded like he understood what you meant but his lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Next championship, you can design my suit then.”

You blinked once. And then again. 

“You would wear something I designed?” You asked, almost wincing at how soft your voice sounded when you spoke.

“Of course I would,” he said before he offered his arm for you to take. “You have a year, so you’ll have plenty of time to work on a good suit. One appropriate for a four-time world champion.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And you’re so sure you’ll win next season?” 

“Oh, I know it, baby,” Max grinned back at you, and something about the way he smiled made him look so young and mischievous. “Maybe you can make one of your own designs for yourself as well. We could be matching.” 

“Maybe,” you said with a smile, letting the hotel door close behind you as you tried to pretend like your heart wasn’t thundering in your chest at his implication of doing this again.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 372,947 others

yourusername 3x world champion and great personal carrier. would 10/10 recommend this verstappen guy

view all 21,930 comments

maxverstappen1 the stairs were steep, you would have decked it

oscarpiastri you would have

yourusername i take my thank you back

user SHE WAS HIS DATE KWEBFKBEFJWEF

user omg this keeps getting better

user it's like a fanfic irl

user the tiktok povs could never

landonorris you are so-

yourusername what did i do now?

landonorris you told me you picked the papaya dress

yourusername i said that so you would shut up

landonorris your wife is bullying me maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 good

user i can't believe this is real

user THE FACT SHE POSTED HIM WITH THE TROPHY TOO

user has anyone checked on charles?

arthur_leclerc he is currently breathing into a paper bag

user ARTHUR-

charles_leclerc i'm glad your loyalties still remain with ferrari

yourusername well it is RED bull so...

charles_leclerc i am blocking you

redbullracing our favourite wag!

charles_leclerc i am blocking you too

.

[writersdare]

Two Gummy Worms | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke was determined to take Y/N on a night drive. Some things, though, didn't want to go according to his perfect plan.

Warning: friends to lovers, fluff, mentioning of food

Word Count: 1 503

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: Honestly I enjoyed writing it so much, it gave me some sense of comfort, and I really hope you'll feel it as well once you read it ♡ Also, yes, I am obsessed with Luke's blue eyes, you can't take it from me...

A calm evening was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Y/N lazily got up from a couch and wandered into the hall, feeling tiredness with her whole body. Someone celebrated Fridays with friends in local bars, Y/N, though, preferred to spent it quietly that time. Watching a silly show on Netflix, she’s been wrapping herself up in an old blanket, which was given by her friend Luke few years ago. Maybe – only maybe – it was fair to correct that the poor blanket was actually stolen from him, however, in Y/N’s defence, Luke didn’t use it much anyway, so the girl only borrowed something he never needed. 

Possibly, the stolen blanket made the guy to come over uninvited; in any case, once Y/N opened the door, she saw the friend on the threshold of her apartment.

“Let’s go,” without a proper greeting, Luke grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her out of the house.

“Where?” the girl stumbled, trying her best to stay where she was. Y/N was in her PJs, the hair was carelessly tide up in something close to a ponytail — the look that simply screamed “I’m staying in today”.

“For a drive. I’ll bring you back in few hours,” he promised, sounding both calm and determined.

“I warned you hours ago that I’m not going!” Y/N outraged, ignoring the fact that her friend drove all the way out there. The girl made it clear in her message that even though his adventitious idea sounded nice, she simply did not have any powers left for the trip. The tiredness was the size of the passing week, which fell on her shoulders sharply once Y/N entered home that evening.  

“It’s just few hours!” he whined and suddenly lifted the friend from the ground to bring her to the car himself. It was almost ten o’clock in the evening, and Y/N was getting cold. 

“Gosh, wait! Let me get changed at least,” the girl rolled the eyes, smiling a bit and still trying to set herself free. 

“Five minutes,” Luke warned, and once he put her on the ground, Y/N hurried up inside. She hoped to shut the door in his face, however, the guy foresaw it well, so he managed to slip through the door quicker. A wide smile appeared on his face. 

Even though the whole idea of going somewhere so late didn’t really excite Y/N, once she was in the car, checking all the snacks Luke bought them for the little trip, the girl thought that, perhaps, it was a nice distraction from her exhaustion for an hour or so. 

“You didn’t need to change, you looked pretty earlier, too,” Luke spoke up, glancing at Y/N who was chewing gummy worms and time to time placing few in his mouth as well.  

“That’s sudden,” the girl chuckled, trying to ignore a quick shutter of her heart. The girl fancied her friend for quite some time, but it was not as scary as dangerous to reveal her feelings. Y/N didn’t want to ruin their friendship. “Be honest, you just wanted me to get sick. I was freezing cold, by the way!”

“Well, if you didn’t hesitate for so long, you would be in the car a while ago, enjoying my company and food.”

“Thank you for mentioning food, I’d put it on the first place, though,” Y/N laughed shortly, looking at the window. Even though it was late, the lights were illuminating the road, and quite soon she started to see untouched fields, passing by. “Also, I wasn’t hesitant, I told you right away I wasn’t going.”

“Here you are with an urge to reply on everything,” Luke rolled his eyes jokingly and glanced at Y/N again. He liked how cozy and comfortable she looked at that moment. It was actually rather precious to know that a person he cared about so much trusted him, fully.

“You are the same,” the girl reminded and, giggling, put another gummy worm, a blue one, in his mouth. “Suits your eyes.”

The musician chuckled, barely being able to chew the marmalade.

“A worm?”

“Yeah,” Y/N laughed back and smiled vividly. “I like your eyes,” she mumbled and looked away, feeling too overwhelmed. If only he could be hers, and she could be his…

“So, we have a problem,” Luke announced, when about thirty minutes were left from the final destination. The guy was planning to show Y/N a sunflower field, but GPS suddenly stopped working properly. However, the guy was sure he remembered the way there so didn’t worry too much. Until…

Y/N turned her head towards a friend and frowned a little.

“Are you going to keep holding the dramatic pause or will just tell me?” she smiled, though, not even thinking there could be something serious.  

“Yeah, well,” Luke hesitated and glanced at a dashboard of the car. He still couldn’t believe what he saw. “Apparently, I forgot to refuel and noticed only now…”

“You are joking,” Y/N raised up in a seat to check it herself. “How could you forget?”

“I don’t know!” Luke outraged, slowing down the speed of the car. “I was in a hurry cause I wanted to make a good surprise for you!”

“Well, it is a good surprise after all, Luke!” Y/N giggled, not being mad for some reason. “Let me find the closest gas station,” she mumbled and opened her phone to check a map. The girl didn’t hear how her friend mumbled quietly “go for it”, as he already knew that GPS stopped working twenty minutes ago.

“Okay, so… we’re in the middle of nowhere,” she announced dramatically, zooming in and out on the map. “It doesn’t work. How much gas is left? Maybe we should go back,” Y/N sighed, once Luke stopped the car on the side of the road. He was upset. “Hey, that’s alright,” the girl smiled and unfastened her seat belt to sit sideways to the windshield, facing the musician. The girl gently placed her palms on his cheeks and nodded. “I’m not mad, it’s still a fun trip. After all, it wouldn’t be us if it didn’t end up like this, don’t you think?” she chuckled kindly.

Luke hurried up to cover her palms with his, being scared she’d break the touch too soon.

“We still can stay here for some time? Before going back?” he suggested carefully.

Y/N nodded, feeling the pulsation of her heartbeat almost in a throat. If only she could kiss him, and he could kiss her…

“Y/N,” Luke spoke up, and the voice was hoarse. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I guess there is something I needed to tell you,” he started, immediately regretting it, though. How was he supposed to tell her that? Was it a bad timing? It probably was. There was no where to go, and if… if Y/N didn’t feel the same way it’d be hell awkward. He really didn’t think it through…

“Again?”

“What?”

“You need to tell me something else? I thought we’re done with surprises,” she giggled, fooling around a bit, as Y/N could see how anxious Luke started to look all of a sudden.

“Oh, no, that’s the main surprise, I guess,” the guy chuckled and looked down only for a moment. The fear took him over, though, and he rested his palms on the knees, so Y/N pulled away from him. “No, actually, forget about it.”

“No.”

Luke looked up at the friend, being surprised.

“What do you mean “no"?…”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I waited for too long to allow you to step back once again,” Y/N shook her head, getting annoyed. Why was he so uncertain sometimes? She was sitting there, next to him, worrying that her heart would break the chest, and he couldn’t say few simple words?… “Would you finally acknowledge my feelings for you if I kiss you right now? You’re so bad at taking hints! How can you keep doubting if I feel the same way you do?”

“How do you– How do you know?…” Luke mumbled, staring at Y/N. The guy couldn’t hide his terror. So she knew? All that time?!

“Honestly, it seems like it’s only you who is blind here,” the girl smiled sadly and looked down, feeling ridiculous.

Another second, though, she felt Luke’s hand on the chin. He carefully lifted her face so the girl could look at him before he covered Y/N’s lips with his. The kiss was tender and gentle, slowly changing into a more passionate one. They both just couldn’t believe it took them that long to confess. And honestly, who knew how long it’d have still taken if Y/N had kept silence. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, touching her forehead with his.

“You already did,” the girl whispered back and, smiling, pressed the lips against his in another kiss.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl, @yukichan67

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @calmfolklore & @kaleidoscopeminds –

Moodboard ♡

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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[albdodaze]

blooming. y.itadori

‘ew, ew, ew!’ (chapter one)

A/N: this is my first ever time posting on tumblr so this is weird but yeah pop off i guess. have in mind that english isn’t my first language!!

warnings: slight cursing

context: IN WHICH kami gojo, younger sister of certain powerful jujutsu sorcerer, meets an idiot who makes cold barrier around her heart melt.

The warm wind in Sendai blew the tall girl's white hair gently away. In her hand was the bubble tea she had recently bought and sipped every now and then, trying to cool down on this warm day, still unable to get used to such a sudden change in weather. Her other hand clenched tightly on the handles of the paper bags with clothes inside. The girl looked like she had been pulled straight out of the movies. Tall and slim, her eyes were covered by dark Channel glasses and pink gloss glistened on her lips. Her perfect skin glowed from the lanterns, and the highlighter on her cheeks only made it better. Her almost white skin was brought to life by the blush that settled on her nose and cheeks.

The girl walked proudly through the streets of Sendai, ignoring all the stares that were cast in her direction. Every now and then she would stop by a blooming tree, lit by the lanterns they had not long ago switched on, admiring how their pink blooms moved gently in the wind, dancing to the rhythm of the swish. As she stood beneath the cherry blossom tree, her phone beeped, signalling that someone was calling her. The white haired girl quickly pulled her phone out of her purse with the hand in which she held her bubble tea. As soon as the device was next to her ear, the girl rested her head against her shoulder, supporting her phone that way, and started walking again.

"Hello?" She asked, even though she knew who was calling and what for.

"Hurry up, we have to go to Megumi," she heard the voice of her older brother, who was most likely already waiting at the place where they were supposed to meet.

"What, why?" The girl furrowed her eyebrows but quickened her step, nervous that something had happened to her friend.

"Higher-ups got involved into this whole cursed object missing situation," he muttered, not very happy with the situation that was now happening.

"Oh, my God," the white-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Can I stay alone?"

"Absolutely not! Are you crazy, Kami! You don't stay alone at evening in a town full of complete creeps, I'm not going to be picking up your body later, cut in piece-"

"Mhm, I get it! I'm coming, hang up," she rolled her eyes once again and moved the phone away from her ear, tucking it into the small bag that hung from her shoulder.

Kami cursed quietly under her breath, unhappy with the situation. She didn't understand why her brother wouldn't let her stay alone, after all, she would have done just fine on her own. It wasn't like she was 11 years old and she wasn't a helpless little girl. And even if she was, she would still be able to handle herself just fine. After all, she was a jujutsu sorcerer! She fought curses on a daily basis, why wouldn't she be able to handle some pervert.

Kami arrived at the cafe in five minutes, seeing her brother from afar, who was hard to miss as he dominated everyone else with his height. When the man saw his little sister in the crowd, he walked up to her with three big steps, took her hand and started pulling her in the opposite direction.

"Gojo, bloody hell, I may be tall, but you still outweigh me by 20 centimetres and have bloody long legs. Your one step is my two, slow down a bit or I'll fall!" She complained to her brother, trying to hold her bubble tea in place so that nothing would spill out of it. "I totally get that you're full of yourself and all, but could you listen to me for once and slow down!" She groaned. "If you spill my bubble tea, I will personally kick your ass and make you buy it for me whole month!”

“Will you shut up already?”

"No!"

••••••••••

Kami walked slowly behind her brother, sipping her bubble tea, when she saw two figures in the distance. One of them was definitely Megumi, and the girl smiled at the sight of her friend. The other one was a pink haired boy, who was shirtless at which Kami raised an eyebrow.

'High school students really are built differently these days' she thought when she saw the abs drawn on the boy's chest.

The two of them seemed to have completely don't notice siblings, who stood behind Megumi and watched the scene.

"What's the situation?" Gojo finally spoke up, and Megumi turned towards him, puzzled.

"Gojo-sensei! Kami! Why are you here?" He asked the siblings, and Gojo raised his hand and smiled gently.

"Hey. We weren't planning on coming, but—man, you're roughed up. I should show the second-years," Gojo said, pulling out his phone, with which he started taking pictures of a battered Megumi, blinding him with flesh.

Kami pursed her lips and looked at the other boy, who looked very confused, and she snickered softly under her breath, getting his attention. As soon as she caught him staring at her, she winked at him and smirked, making the boy's cheeks go a gentle red.

"The higher-ups wouldn't shut up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing," Gojo continued. "So we stopped by while doing some sightseeing." He said, doing something on his phone. "So, did you find it?"

"Um..." the pink haired boy spoke up, raising his hand. " Sorry, but I ate it."

"For real?"

"For real," replied Megumi and the boy together.

"Ew? Absolutely disgusting. Horrendous! What the fuck were you thinking while doing it! Ew, ew, ew!" Kami said, sticking her tongue out and pretending to have a gag reflex.

Gojo muttered something under his breath and walked over to the boy, looking at him carefully. Then he laughed softly.

"Damn, it really did combine with you. That's hilarious. Anything off with your body?"

"Not particularly."

"Can you swap out with Sukuna?"

'There's no way he can do it.'

"Sukuna?"

"The curse you ate," Kami spoke up, pulling away from her bubble tea.

"Oh... Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Then give us ten seconds," Gojo said and began to stretch gently. "Once ten seconds are up, come back to us."

"But..."

"Don't worry, I'm the strongest."

"Uh, I think he meant that he doesn't want to be beaten up but whatever," Kami muttered under her breath.

"Megumi, hold on to this. Kami, don't you dare touch it," he pointed at the girl, who raised her hands in defence and moved next to Megumi.

"What's this?" Asked Megumi.

"Kikufuku from Kikusuian. It's Sendai's specialty, and it's super good. I recommend the zunda and cream flavour. It's not a souvenir. I'm going to eat it on the bullet train home."

"Behind you!" Shouted Megumi as Gojo continued to talk about what he had bought, followed by Sukuna appearing in the body of the boy who had eaten his finger.

Suddenly, Sukuna's face appeared in front of Megumi and Kami's faces, and Gojo was sitting on top of him.

Kami pursed her lips and pulled out a bag of Kikufuku from Megumi, who didn't even notice it, being too scared of Sukuna. Kami pulled out one treat and started munching on it, watching the situation that was happening in front of her.

'This is indeed interesting.'

[fangirlyah]

✦kind queen of narnia - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a new prophecy for the narnia’s kingdom. a new member joining the kings and queens. but...who is it? 

warnings: cursing

word count: 3,597

a/n: mi first edmund one shot, i’m so happy! 

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

narnia, what a place. 

anyone from england would look at y/n and the pevensie brothers in horror if they were told about this beautiful world full of fairytale creatures and landscapes. 

they would probably be frightened if they were told that all narnians were preparing to face the telmarines; it would be their second battle in defence of their beloved lands. 

they would also worry if they were told that there were prophecies dictating the fate of the teenagers. 

the pevensies had been in narnia for a long time. they had grown up and reached adulthood there while time in england had barely passed. their first visit to the dream place had been when edmund was just ten years old and as the prophecy dictated he had betrayed his brother and sisters and then recomposed himself to follow the right path as a faithful ruler of narnia and become king edmund, the just. 

when edmund was twenty years old in the narnian world, a gryphon passed over him and dropped a neatly rolled papyrus. 

when his time on this earth comes to an end

a damsel with the purity of water and the sweetness of honey will get her start 

if you listen well, attachment will flourish 

if you listen badly, there will be pain 

she is made to avoid pain in all

she is made to bring back peace 

that doesn't even rhyme, he thought, and it doesn't make sense either. 

even though the prophecy that had just arrived at his whereabouts was revealed to his brother and sisters, none of them understood, what girl was it talking about? 

everything took on colour, when a thin figure collapsed against lucy at the train station. 

"oh no! i'm so sorry, sweetheart" a girl of about sixteen years of age, apologized sincerely to the little girl who had been moved abruptly by the teenage girl's body. "i thought i was missing my train and i got terribly scared" the y/h/c outlined a sweet smile.

"there is no reason to apologise, we all make mistakes...my name is lucy and these are my brothers and my sister" the little girl stretched out her hand to shake it with y/n’s, while the other pointed behind her to three teenagers in uniform. 

a pretty girl with striking eyes introduced herself as susan, while another slim blond boy said his name was peter. the third was immersed in his search for the train's arrival time, so he did not notice the conversation in front of him, the signs on the station walls  seemed to be more interesting. "he is edmund...sorry he is half a fool" as he heard his name, the raven-haired boy looked up to meet a beautiful and delicate girl laughing at the comment his sister had made. 

"my name is y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you" her gaze travelled through each member of the family leaving them with a smile; when it was edmund's turn her smile did not come down even though the one he showed her was hasty and if she had not been paying attention she would have missed it. 

"where were you about to leave in such a hurry?" peter asked as the five of them move away due to some guards passing at full speed by their side, being all cornered against the wall the best decision they made was to take a seat, side by side, on a bench. 

"my parents live in the countryside of england, and because of my school I haven't seen them for a long time so I didn't want to miss my train" y/n explained feeling the look of all the them. 

"we were on our way there too! we must visit professor kirke, we haven't seen him for a long time" 

that was their first meeting, the first meeting of many. y/n and the pevensies developed the closest and most faithful friendship in the world. they spent all their holidays enjoying the countryside together and when school resumed, they took several trains and walked several blocks just to see each other almost every week. 

and although their meetings were frequent edmund did not always seem pleased by her presence. the months passed and although y/n began to develop a crush on the freckle boy he seemed to ignore her every move. even when she bought his favourite sweets to share with everyone or when she would sneak a compliment on his attire on some special occasion. y/n was good at hiding her feelings so only susan knew and she hoped it would stay that way. 

it was not until the five of them were waiting for their train to leave for their respective boarding school that the action began. 

the train they were to board disappeared and with it the whole station around them, leaving lucy, peter, edmund, susan and y/n standing on a paradise beach. 

the brothers began to walk towards the white sand, leaving the cave where they had landed, followed by a shocked y/n 

"where are we?” when lucy heard y/n's voice she looked at her sister with a smile and then started to run, getting rid of their school uniforms. 

"come on, y/n!" peter shouted as he dipped his feet into the clear water.  

she did not resist and followed her friends, leaving a few clothes to play in the water. 

edmund saw her laughing, with her wet hair, in the sun and remembered how in love he was with the girl he ignored so much. 

"what is it?" asked peter as he saw his brother stop having fun; edmund couldn't admit that the sight of y/n had knocked him out so he had to improvise.

"where do you suppose that we are? 

"it's pretty obvious, isn't it? we are in narnia” by this time, the girls had stopped their water fight and were paying attention to the boys. 

"well...i don't remember any ruins in narnia”

"narnia?! you must be joking?!" y/n exclaimed. 

"yes, narnia" peter said, looking at her as if nothing was happening. 

"but...narnia...the narnia you told me as a story from when you were children?"

"they are not stories..."

with that, the brothers began to tour the meadows where, 1300 years ago, cair paravel was located. where now only ruins remained of what had been their home. 

the surprise of y/n was not erased and even less so when they found the prophecy that dictated their destiny. 

"edmund! this was the prophecy that appeared to you” susan was right but edmund did not want y/n to know that for some magical reason the prophecy had come to HIS hands. 

"what? a prophecy about me?" y/n posed her body next to peter who had the paper in his hands. 

"no one enters narnia without a purpose" the little pevensie sister explained.

"there is no way i can be this girl! i have no talent, i am not so-" 

peter interrupted her by placing his hands on the girl's thin shoulders. 

"you may think so, but narnia and its magic is more powerful than ourselves and our supposed abilities" 

edmund had to swallow hard not to go and take the girl from his brother's arms. he had no right to take her away. edmund did not know how to approach her so their contact was minimal, to the misfortune of both of them. 

those days continued peacefully and then chaos erupted throughout the kingdom. 

aslan disappeared and newcomer caspian caused maximum tension. 

although the pevensie, caspian, and trumpkin had taken it upon themselves to make her aware of what was going on around her, she was still afraid. she had many people trusting her actions and that they would return the peace. 

she had always been a leader and narnia was no exception. y/n was equal to peter and caspian in decision making as she was cunning and quick in making decisions but when it came to attacking came her weakness. there was no feeling inside her body that would leave her conscience clear if she killed or injured any human or creature. 

although edmund kept his countenance neutral when it came to her, his heart melted whenever she mentioned her lack of courage to hold a weapon and go on the attack. 

"y/n, you coming?" caspian turned on his axis before leaving for the battle on the castle of miraz. 

"i can help with maps, plans and strategies but with this...i can't, sorry”  

edmund had heard several creatures criticize the girl's lack of courage to confront a hand-to-hand fight; and he could not help but think that he maybe was disappointed by her attitude too.

"why is she here if she can't even pick up a weapon, of any kind, without shaking?" the freckled boy would adjust his armor before going into battle. 

"don't be mean, edmund. she is too good to go out and kill someone" his older sister tried to talk some sense into him, especially because before edmund entered the room where susan was, y/n had retired just a few seconds before but susan knew that she was not far enough not to hear their conversation; and hear the boy who she liked talk so badly about her would not be a nice moment.

"or she's too much of a coward" was a fact, y/n was listening to the whole conversation, as she felt her heart breaking.  

"if she bothers you so much that she doesn't fight, show her. you are the best at using the sword in combat in all of narnia" 

"I won't" at the end of the day he wasn't so brave after all. 

now it was y/n who ignored him. whether in meetings or in their free time, she did not even give him a glance and he noticed. because edmund was very attentive to what she was doing or not doing, so it was not difficult for him to see her practicing with prince caspian her fighting, on the beach, more than one afternoon while he went for his walks.

it hurt him but he knew that her distancing was his fault.  

caspian did not question the reason for the girl's drastic change, he only offered to help her and she accepted. 

they spent hours covered in sweat and sand but she did not seem to mind, she wanted to prove a point to edmund and herself. her days were divided into training, alone or with others, and creating plans and strategies. her rest was almost non-existent and her tired figure was beginning to show. her breakfasts were short and quick like any other meal of the day. she ate with her head down and conversed with anyone but edmund. 

one cool night edmund tried to sleep in his large room but the sound of a sword moving and colliding with a shield prevented him from doing so. from the high window it was impossible for him to decipher where it came from but he assumed that it meant no danger as none of the guards seemed alert; but he still descended in search of the owner of the sound. 

when he entered the courtyard below his room he saw her. covered in sweat and with her sword in her hand as she moved abruptly against an armament tied to a tree. edmund found y/n’s invention very ingenious and was even more surprised to see her move almost perfectly, it seemed almost natural to her.  

"what are you doing here at this hour?" after minutes of watching her from a few meters away, the younger pevensie brother approached. 

"I could ask you the same thing" y/n did not even move her eyes, she just approached the tree to accommodate the armor tied with leather. 

"I was trying to sleep but an unbearable noise woke me up, Ijust wanted to know who was causing it...now I know" 

“I didn't know it was so annoying" edmund still couldn't see her face.'' I'll stop now..." 

gently, despite being preparing to go out and kill men and creatures, she put her sword in its compartment hanging from her hip, and then dried her face with a wet piece of cloth.

"why are you doing this anyway?" 

"some people don't believe me strong enough to fulfill the prophecy...they think I'm a coward" y/n looked into his eyes for the first time and edmund understood what she meant. 

"you should stop. you look exhausted, besides I didn't-" 

"keep it to yourself..." already when she had passed the freckle boy's body petrified in the garden, y/n continue "and it seems that it is never enough, so yes. if I need to keep practicing"  

edmund knew that she was absolutely right. before she started her daily combat lessons, she gave everything she had from what she could. she had taken risks and was adapting to being the future queen of a place, which until a while ago, was completely unknown for her. 

y/n would not admit it but that night she cried like never before. she did not know exactly if it was tiredness, confusion, sadness or that she was heartbroken. but whatever the right choice was, that night she fainted in a tearful dream without managing to take off her sweaty clothes. 

the next morning she appeared at breakfast as if nothing had happened. clean and unpolluted in a freshly washed and ironed dress that accentuated every attribute she had. lucy had heard her crying and was dying to ask what was so terrifying that made her cry like that, but seeing her serious countenance when y/n saw her brother sitting at the table, despite her young age, lucy easily put it together. 

after preventing jadis, the white witch, return to narnia. caspian and his allies had no choice but to confront the troops of miraz in front of the altozano. meanwhile, lucy and susan were leaving in search of aslan. y/n did not go with them. she remained at the site of the battle.

when everyone was out ready to fight, so was she. edmund had seen her keep medical supplies anywhere in the armour she found space with the intention of helping any wounded being she might encounter. he felt extremely guilty; she did not want to be there and should not have been. she could have quietly stayed in the shelter ready to help anyone who came looking for a hand but he had pressed her with words he did not even feel. 

to gain time the camp became a personal battle between peter and miraz. both begin to fight to the death. both armies gathered around the stone platform where the two men were fighting hand to hand. edmund looked at y/n who was standing next to a centaur with her perfectly placed weaponry; her serious countenance hid any doubt or fear that her brain was processing. 

although the elder pevensie managed to have a dying miraz in front of him, peter did not kill him.

"you are too much of a coward to take a life, king peter?" miraz, despite being on his knees almost dead, kept on fighting.

"it's not mine to take" 

with that said, the blond man stepped back to give the sword to y/n; who looked at them perplexed. she understood that she must do so to fulfill the prophecy. she had all eyes on her and her trembling hands that took the sword and stood before the wounded man. 

edmund saw tears welling up in her beautiful eyes as she looked down at miraz. y/n placed the tip of the sword on the man's neck with her chest rising and falling violently. 

the freckled boy wanted to run towards her to hug and kiss all her nerves and fears away but he couldn't. 

as the seconds passed and the girl did not move from her place, a laugh was heard in the telmarine’s army and that was the limit.

edmund gently approached the girl and placed his hands on top of the sword taking it out of her hands 

"let go, it's okay" he whispered as, with the help of his hands, he pushed her back to where she was before. 

by that point the tears had already come out of her eyes and at that moment she felt like a real coward. she felt the disappointed looks despite her head being down and the tall stature of edmund in front of her limiting her view. 

"stupid girl, this is not the girl of the prophecy! she is just an idio-" 

when edmund wanted to turn around and finish the work that peter had started, an arrow pierced miraz’s chest and chaos began. 

despite her blurred vision, y/n remained on the battlefield. she had escaped from edmund's side when the war cries were first heard. 

although she did not use her sword she was fast enough to escape the attacks and manage to help those wounded in the meadows. 

the two armies were facing each other in battle and when the narnians were about to lose, lucy found aslan. the lion awakened the narnian trees, allowing them to come to the aid of the narnian army. 

amidst the screams and sounds of colliding swords, aslan called out to the water god, who drowns much of the telmarine army. 

and the war is over.

in the midst of the destruction, everyone begins to celebrate with smiles on their faces despite the large number of narnians lost in battle, there was cause for celebration. 

the pevensies had met aslan and on the seashore, they were enjoying a good chat. 

"where is y/n y/l?" asked aslan curiously "she fulfilled the prophecy perfectly" 

"but she was not who killed miraz, it was caspian who had to see the kingdom free" trumpkin seemed upset and the desire to kick his little figure flourished in edmund. 

"you don't need to kill someone to restore peace and help your people" 

with that said, edmund began to look for her with his eyes...and found her. sitting on a stone, passing a natural ointment on a faun’s arm. 

at that moment the boy understood that y/n should not learn to fight and use weapons to save narnia. with her kindness, intelligence and healing skills it was more than enough. he wanted to tell her. he wanted to tell her what an idiot he had been in wanting to force her to do something she was not even meant to do. 

without saying a word edmund ran off in her direction. 

when y/n saw him quickly approaching her, she stood up from her place and watched him as he arrived and took her arm to walk into the forest. 

"I know what you are going to say and I am sorry..." as soon as the boy slowed down his pace the two faced each other in the middle of the forest lighted by rays of sunshine piercing the tree leaves. they were less than a metre away and yet edmund wanted to be even closer "I know you are disappointed in me, I know you all are... but i could not, ok?! I just could not! I cannot be queen of narnia with this attitude, I did not make it. I did not fulfill the prophecy and now-" 

edmund took his face with both hands and brought it close to him, silencing her hasty and nervous speech; in less than a second both were immersed in a deep kiss that y/n took a few seconds to reciprocate due to her surprise. her hands travelled to his chest covered by the narnian battle uniform as his hands caress her cheeks softly.

the kiss was quick but sweet, as if they were frustrated romantics who had not been able to kiss each other for centuries. 

when the kiss broke both chests went up and down as if they had finished running a marathon, but despite this they could not let go. now edmund's arms were wrapped around her and her arms caressed his neck as they looked at each other. 

"you saved narnia without the need to kill anyone, you earned narnia without using force if not kindness" 

"you're not disappointed?" a slight surprise occupied the boy’s body. 

"all your training and you coming out to fight today, was because of me?" 

"I just...just wanted to be enough for you" y/n was sincere, there was no need to lie. 

"the conversation you heard between susan and me was a mistake, I would never be disappointed in you and you are far, far away from being a coward and you proved that from the minute you set foot in this kingdom" 

she rested her forehead on his as a response. 

"I am so in love with you" he sighed realizing the chill that ran through the girl's body. 

"today is your lucky day king edmund, because i am more in love with you" a small laugh broke out from both of them. 

"impossible" 

with that said, they both joined in another kiss. this time a slow one. they had all the time in the world.

after all they were king and queen of narnia, no one could rush them.

[flyboytracy]

What are your top 5 Scott moments and episodes

Okay so I’m basically gonna choose five moments at random because there’s too many I can’t choose my top five I have like top thirty send help.

In chronological order, one of my favourite Scotty scenes comes from the very beginning of the show! All those years ago, Thunderbirds Are Go had such a mountain ahead of them. They had to reintroduce a very beloved show to a new audience that wouldn’t hesitate to rip it apart on Twitter if they didn’t like it. And one of the ways they did that was to turn one Scott mofo Tracy into the smoothest, most YOLO flyboy and I love every moment that we get to see Scott throw himself out of Thunderbird One into danger. That flyboy can think on his feet and in hindsight, we know that he follows his dad’s advice to throw himself off cliffs because he might be falling, but he’s bought himself another few seconds to find another solution. And in this case he did it with such style I still can’t even and it’s been nearly six years.

My next beloved moment comes from the second half of season one. They banished Papa Tracy to the Oort Cloud so the boys could step out from Jeff’s shadow and heck, does Scott shine. He burns like fire and we get to see the toll it’s taking on him and his family in Recharge. Scott’s got everything on his shoulders at this point in his life. He’s got the weight of International Rescue, plus whatever family business he’s suddenly in charge of and four lil brothers to look after on top of all that. In Recharge we get to see him acknowledge that he misses the dad that he idolised, and that he’d go crazy without International Rescue which is just a HUGE moment for someone like Scott.

But I love that moment so much because Virgil’s in the tent with him. Calm, strong and ever-patient Virgil. Scott’s right hand bro and his best friend for life. He’s right there at Scott’s side to guide him back down to earth as always. It’s very easy for Aries to get fixated on something because we’re too heckin’ stubborn for our own good sometimes, and in Scott’s case it’s trying too hard to live up to their dad’s legacy. Virgil balances out the Aries in Scott so perfectly it honestly makes me cry when I dive too deeply into it lmao.

So before I drown in my feels about Recharge, I’ll move on to my next favourite Scott moment. This one’s from the opening scenes of Up From the Deep part two. I’m such a sucker for moments when characters do Exactly What I Want Them To Do In That Very Moment. So to recap, by the time we get to part two, we’ve already seen Scott’s joy at the TV21 being found. His dad disappeared without a trace and the TV21 wasn’t him, but for a couple of hours, Scott could believe that he had a tiny piece of his dad back and the TV21 would’ve been such an important piece too. Then it literally gets stolen from him by the same dude that brought Thunderbird Two down, destroys Thunderbird 4 and nearly kills Gordon.

I mean, one’s enough to piss an Aries off but to do all that to his family for no good reason? Scott was out for blood and we actually got to see it! It didn’t end well for our reckless, hot-headed flyboy since the Mechanic managed to take Thunderbird One down too, but at the end of part one all I wanted was for Scott to kick his arse and the very next week, THERE SCOTT WAS IN THUNDERBIRD ONE WITH FIRE IN HIS BLOOD AND MURDER ON HIS MIND and I’m just so glad we got to see all those times Scott went up like a volcano in defence of his family.

And in contrast to that glorious moment, my next moment is from Bolt from the Blue. There are so many amazing moments to choose from because FishTank is hilarious in this episode, but it’s the earth and sky moment that makes me wibbly. Virg goes headfirst down the garbage chute like his flyboy brother except it backfires on him and he’s left clinging on for dear life hundreds of feet above the ocean.

What does Virg do? He yells for his big brother and it’s one of my most favourite moments of all time because Scott’s already on his way to come get him, just like big brother always has and always will. We don’t often get to see Scott be a big brother out in the field because the first responder’s usually the one that needs backup so it’s the most precious thing to see him grab Virg and lil bro’s so glad to see him that it makes me feel wibbly. Ten out of ten moment right there.

So we reach my final moment and of course it’s from Firebreak. My numero uno favourite episode anyway and it’s such a good episode for Scott. Firebreak is Thunderbirds Are Go’s last hurrah before the show is over and we have to leave the boys behind. And what a hurrah it is for Scott mofo Tracy. Just compare him to that broken, burning man from Recharge. He’s so calm and patient and so good with those two lil rescue scouts.

And most importantly, we get a Jeff reference just like we did in Recharge except this one is so different. Scott was falling apart in Recharge but he’s the strongest we’ve ever seen him in Firebreak. He’s so proud as he tells those kids he’s just adopted about how he used to practise tying the knots with his dad and that tells us so much about Scotty, and Jeff too, and how much Scott has healed in the time between Recharge and Firebreak. It’s soulfood for me which is why it’s at the top of my list.

Thank you for attending today’s TED talk on my feels about Scott Tracy. Mind how you go.

[earhartsease]

tw child abuse, religious cover up

I can't even convey the amount of disgust and grief and fury and triggeredness that is evoked in me, an abuse survivor, on learning that someone I was vaguely friends with in the Buddhist community I was a part of for half my life was (and possibly is - though the specific incident that's come to light happened 35 years ago) a child abuser - and that people knew and covered it up, and some of them are people I was friends with and looked up to.

When I first heard about this through what's left of my grapevine since I bailed, it was being spun as "oh he probably hooked up with a horny teenager when he was in his 20s and the age of consent was higher blah blah" and lots of people (mainly the white cishet men of course) leapt to the defence of his fine character.

But I know the right people, and I know he's confessed to abusing kids, some of them under ten, though he's apparently trying to backpedal now, and - people found out and the did the Catholic thing, covered it up and moved him elsewhere. Maybe 30 people knew, and nobody came forward about it.

And since then there's been ripples of other people hearing about this, and also making that choice not to come forward about it. I have no idea how many of the people I've loved and respected knew about this.

I can't go into more detail about this. Police are involved, both here and in the US where it happened, and I don't want to compromise the case by giving any specifics. But I am so angry I want to break furniture - and the part of me that bought into their brand of Buddhism and thought I'd found a decent family is falling to pieces even more than when I realised how transphobic they all were.

I'm sorry to write about this (I know it's no fun to read) but it's like there's almost nobody I can talk to about this yet, and it's been damaging me keeping a lid on it.

I will say more once it's more out in the open, which it bloody will be soon.

[falcqns]

an apostles redemption

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Grace Walker)

Chapter Summary:

Warnings: fluff, swearing, family angst, mention of nuclear weapons and firearms, facial injury

A/N: This is a story I’ve started on Wattpad, but Know there are many more August Walker fans on here so I thought I’d post it here too! Hope you enjoy!

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three |

Maleficent Scars 

"There cannot be peace without first great suffering. The greater the suffering, the greater the peace. As mankind is drawn to his self-destruction like a moth to the candle, the so-called defenders of peace – the church, the government, the law – work tirelessly to save humanity from itself. But, by averting disaster, they serve to delay a peace that can only come through an inevitable baptism of fire.

The suffering I bring you is not the beginning of the end. It is the beginning of a greater mutual understanding through common suffering. It is the first step towards the ultimate brotherhood of man. The suffering I bring you is the bridge to ultimate peace.

Today, mankind has been handed the opportunity to escape his destiny, an otherwise inevitable conclusion to a thousand years of intolerance and fear.

I call all rationalists who can stand and join in the struggle against the radical theists, all of which fall beneath a common umbrella of ideology. If we were to continue any further we would reach mythology and Aesop's fables. When do we stop?

Any belief in a spirituality with no other proof, other than the cravings to project one's self over the rational thinking of the others must be eradicated as it does not only halt progression and development of the human mind and reach, but also hinders it.

Here I will emphasize clearly that the judgment upheld against us will be one of human hands, not of a god or other worldly being. Part of the absurd rational is what leads to the obscure justifications, the believers place upon their own disgraceful and belligerent behavior.

Here I will emphasize clearly that the judgment upheld against us will be one of human hands, not of a god or other worldly being. Part of the absurd rational is what leads to the obscure justifications, the believers place upon their own disgraceful and belligerent behavior.

No. The loss of human life cannot and will not be justified. For this is not the taking of human lives. They are merely puppets, hollow shells that were once human beings. Brainwashed by stories and tales of old, their weak minds have been overpowered by the pressure placed on them by other lifeless puppets. And so, the cycle continues."

Those words were all that have echoed through 20 year old Grace Walker's mind as she attempted to fall asleep in the large bed. Less than 24 hours earlier, she had found out that her husband and CIA agent, August Walker, had attempted to eradicate 1/3 of the worlds population, using two nuclear bombs.

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. Everything that her sister Julia and her ex husband Ethan Hunt had told her was right, he was a completely different person. He was not the person she fell in love with.

To her, Auggie was her whole world. He was warm, loving, comforting. He always spoke to her softly, with pure love in his voice. He did everything in his power to ensure her happiness and safety. He had bought them a house in Washington, which had the best security systems he could find. He had taught and trained her in hand to hand combat, and how to use a gun in self defence.  He had built her a vanity in their bathroom, a breakfast booth, and a floor - to - ceiling bookshelf in their living room. He had proposed to her on her birthday, in France, in front of the Eiffel Tower. They had adopted the sweetest dog ever, and American Akita named Kal, together.

To her, that was not the same man who the world was talking about. That was not the man who used the CIA, killed Hunley, and attempted to kill Ethan and her sister Julia.  She felt tears prick her eyes, as Kal cuddled closer to her in the bed. Grace rolled over, and wrapped an arm around him, and finally drifted off to sleep, Kal's hair tickling her cheek.

She was awoken at 3:42 am by the television across the room from her pinging, which alerted her that the front gates had been opened.  She shot up from bed, barely disturbing the large sleeping dog. She raced over to the closet and grabbed the gun that laid in a shoebox, in the locked safe.

' Back to the wall. Finger on the trigger. Small footsteps. Identify your target. Point and shoot.' August's voice echoed in her head. She descended the large staircase that lead into the kitchen. She heard the front door open, and slipped quickly from the kitchen, through the living room, and pressed her back to the wall next to the doorway that led to the entry way of the house.

The door to the living room opened, and Grace immediately cocked her gun, and pointed it at the tall, dark intruder.

"Who are you, and what do you want." Grace said, as she attempted to hide the fear in her voice.

The figure turned around, with their hands in the air. "Angel, it's just me." Grace was shocked to hear Augusts low voice.

She flicked on the light switch next to her head, and stumbled backwards. August was alive, but injured. He had burn tissue on his right side of his face. He also had a average sized scar on his forehead, that was stitched up, but still looked red and angry, like it had been done badly.

Grace dropped the gun, and jumped into his arms, as all thoughts about what he had done barely 48 hours ago left her mind.

"What the hell happened, Auggie?" She whispered into his shoulder. His hand came under her butt, and he lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist. He walked over to the couch, and sat them down. He ran his fingers up and down her spine to calm her down. A few moments later, Grace lifted her head to look at August.

"Why did you do that, August?" August cringed inwardly at the use of his full name, which Grace only used when he was in trouble.

"I thought I was doing the right thing, baby. I realized as I was laying in a cave, hiding from Sloane, that I was on the wrong side. I realized nothing is worth leaving you alone. I realize if you can never forgive me for what I did, but I want to be better. I hope you can at least help me." he said in a truly sorrowful voice.

Grace stood up. "I don't think I can forgive you, at least not right now." She said, standing in front of him. August sat up straighter, and placed a shaking hand on the back of her thigh.

"I understand, baby, I do. I want to be better, but I need your help. Please," He said, a tear streaking down his face, and hitting the burn tissue. He cried out in pain, and Grace immediately looked down.

"Auggie, what is it?" She said, as he tried to wipe the tear, but just causing himself more pain. She noticed his pain, and helped him stand up. She led him into the kitchen and sat him on a bar stool.

Her sister Julia had taught her how to stitch up her own wounds when she was younger, a few months before she married Ethan. Both her sisters Julia and Melissa, as well as their mother wanted her to be a nurse like Julia, but Grace wanted to be an Early Childhood Educator . She had just finished college and was working in a daycare that she loved. But, she knew quite a bit about the medical field.

She brought out the professional first aid kit that bother her and Julia had received from their brother Rick a few years prior, and she always kept it stocked. She fished through it until she found burn ointment, and her stitching equipment. She sterilized her hands and put her gloves on, before turning to August. She put the burn ointment on his burn, and began to take out his badly sewn stitches.

"Jesus, Auggie, who stitched you up?" She asked, as he yelped while she pulled them out.

"I did," He said. "I tried to remember how you do it, but I couldn't remember clearly because of the pain. Are they bad?" He asked.

"I mean, they kept your face together so they're not horrible, but they could be better. I'll have to teach you how to do it properly." She whispered. "How much pain is the right side of your face in, on a scale of one to ten?" She asked, as she attempted to determine wether or not he needed professional burn treatment.

"It only hurts when liquid touches it. I managed to get out of the stream quick, and cleaned the remaining fuel off my face as soon as I could. Do you think it will scar?" He asked, as he gripped his leg.

"It probably will, a little. I don't think it will be bad though. You're still incredibly handsome to me," Grace whispered, attempting to make him smile. As much as she was angry with him, she still loved him, and wanted to protect him. He smiled up at her as she finished off the stitched, and bandaged his forehead.

She looked down at him, and pressed a small kiss to his lips, before she lowered her head to his shoulder. His arms came to rest around her waist.

"I know you're mad at me, but I love you with my whole heart, and will do anything to be better."

Grace lifted her head up, and looked in his eyes. "I know, and I love you too. I'm not as mad I would have been if you had gone through with it, but I'm still mad. I am willing to help you get better, because I know you are capable of getting better. Let's go to bed for now though, I'm sure Kal misses you too."

August stood up and followed her to their shared bedroom, not removing his hand from her waist.

As he laid in bed, with Grace in his arms, and Kal curled up at his feet, he knew he'd do anything to get better.

[hournites]

still turn the switches on, just to see if it’s still gone

Stargirl fic

Warning: Blindness, Anxiety, Panic Attack 

Summary: Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

~.~

Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

Her mother doted over her more, which was weird because before she was found in her own emergency room Beth swore she was trying to pull away. Her dad bought her a bookcase full of her favourite novels in braille, which was very thoughtful. Pat gifted her with Dr. Mcnider’s owl for companionship and defence during missions. Most kids at school seemed to at least try to help her out. There was no use denying the need for extra assistance. Trying to explain that her artificial intelligence sufficed well enough to adapt to a handicapped life thanks to her superheroing pursuits was hard to explain, not to mention dangerous (and owls were strictly prohibited therapy animals in the Blue Valley High handbook—She checked). So Beth often found herself smiling at those who brushed against her arm or told her what time a teacher’s office hours were, even so far as helping her pack her bag.

Unnecessary, maybe. But it was nice.

This was why when she reached into her backpack during lunch on her way from the test accommodations room, her heart dropped to her gut. Beth only felt crumpled papers, her two binders, and her pencil case. Struck with alarm, she called out his name but was met with silence. Awful, sickening silence and a draft from the half-opened window in the staircase.

Her goggles weren’t there.

“Chuck?”

Her fingers flexed against the line of her inner zipper hard enough to get a paper cut. Her phone was also missing. Her phone had Chuck programmed into its assistance system. Her phone and Chuck. Gone.

Someone stole him while she took her test. Someone who would know she was dependent on him. Someone who knew she was Dr. Mid-Nite. Someone who went to this school.

Shiv? Tigress?

Beth’s mind raced as she jutted out her hand towards the cold railing. It was so silent. Too silent. She needed to hear Chuck’s voice in her ear. That reassurance was the backbone of her strength and confidence and her eyes.

She never had to deal with quiet like this. She’d have her own thoughts probing the back of her mind while she daydreamed or took her tests. She’d have Chuck’s constant chattering and Hootie’s feather rustlings, Yolanda’s giggles, Court’s cheers, Pat’s comforting words. And maybe there’d be that part of herself that mourned what it was like not to need that: True friendship and belonging, the assurance of who and what made up her definition of home.

That chilling loneliness from those days before JSA was miserable in a matter of fact way, but Beth was used to it then, independent and resilient and unknowing anything better.

Abandoned here was reminiscent of that time exemplified. Back when she was loser Beth. Not blind Beth.

She loved JSA, she loved her friends, but sometimes she preferred the crippling isolation that came with that. The safety of before. But she had to remind herself it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t healthy. Whether she had her sight or not, all of Blue Valley was in danger and would be brainwashed now if she hadn’t stepped up to help.

But not like this.

Her breathing grew ragged as she clutched the side of the wall, mind spiralling. She knew Blue Valley High. She knew this school. This was her school, this was her year’s wing and this was the C block stairwell. She had the entire building memorized before she ever needed to.

She couldn’t remember the number of steps. The number locked itself in the haze of her anxiety. It could be twelve or fifteen or sixteen or twenty-six. Or, there could be chocolate milk spilt in the middle for her to slip on and break her neck and Beth wouldn’t even know.  If this was Cindy’s attempt at psychological warfare, it was working. She was immobilized, alone, afraid, and for the first time in too long, completely blind.

“Chuck?”

Why was she still calling out for him like a helpless child? He couldn’t help her. He wasn’t there.

Beth’s fingers shook as she felt along the dirty metal railing. She slid herself down, her back touching the wall. If Cindy was going to ambush her, she’d at least won’t make it too easy.

Two minutes morphed into five, then ten. Beth stayed in a fragile panic with her backpack clutched to her chest. Courtney was going to find her here dead because she was too afraid to walk down a flight of stairs. This was going to be by far the lamest death in JSA history and here she was, suppressing her hand over her mouth, still bawling her eyes out regardless of it.

The door from the bottom creaked open and Beth’s breathing ceased. The footsteps were slower but sounded heavy like the person was going up two at a time. Soon, two hands were on hers and she was throwing her arms around their neck, clinging tightly because she knew who they belonged to.

“Rick!”

“Beth? You weren’t answering your phone, Yolanda sent me out to find you. What happened?”

“Someone stole Chuck.”

He stilled, and she could feel through his thin shirt the way his heart sped against her ear.

“What?” His hand went straight to her hair, stroking it as his voice went harder. “Who the fuck would do that to you?”

She didn’t answer, sure that a handful of possible answers came to his mind.

“Why didn’t you come to find us?” he asked her a lot more softly.

It was hard to explain why Beth was paralyzed.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “They took my phone. I got scared.”

Rick moved her back, pushing her from the edge of the top step. “I’ll carry you.”

“No!”

Rick paused just as the flat of his palms touched the underneath of her knees. He was going to carry her all the way to the cafeteria and everyone in the hall would stop and stare and whisper and Beth never cared about what people thought of her (she already knew—Chuck informed her weekly) but being carried around the school while clinging to Rick Tyler because she got disoriented would be the most mortifying experience of her existence.

The confusion in his voice was evident. And if she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought he felt hurt. “You don’t want me to—?”

Beth turned her head away. Of course, she wanted him to hold her again. Like she hadn’t dreamed of Hourman catching her over and over since that very first week over a year ago. She realized her fondness and interest in Rick’s friendship was less that of strong will and more of a swelling crush. That didn’t make it any less difficult to manage. She took a breath, chest still tight like half of the oxygen in her lungs had been swapped with something more noxious. This was starting to be too much.

The problem with Chuck was that she’d never really accepted being blind.

When her eyesight deteriorated after the accident, Beth had been in such deep denial she smiled and lied to her mother when asked if she felt okay enough to return to school, only to walk right into oncoming traffic. An older man yanked her by the arm of her backpack as two cars flew by fast enough to bring the rush of wind to her face. Rattled, Beth felt into her bag for Chuck, ignoring the swimming black spots in her vision. She’d rub her eyes with her fists too hard when she woke up that morning, she kept telling herself and refused to put Chuck away.

And then, when she had to confess those black spots weren’t going away, that they were only narrowing into her focal points and she tricked up her phone to get Chuck there too...That was it. She told the JSA that she was going blind after her doctor visit confirmed she was going to lose it all. They all burst into tears for her, but Beth didn’t, stuck in an accepting kind of numb.

The darkness snuck up on her like a shadow behind her back. Every blink and she wondered if it was the last one. It dragged on and her world got a little darker with every new day. Anxiety cracked at her spirit and broke her down, and she’d stay awake at night, staring up at her ceiling, practising for the familiarity of it without Chuck. Soon, she wished for it, begging the wait to be over.

Misery would not leave her until it did.

Beth could see in X-ray, infrared and pitch black when nobody else could. She used to tell herself that made her different. That she didn’t have it so bad. She knew everything there was to see, and with Hootie on her shoulder and the blackout bombs she deployed in battle, Chuck levelled the playing field. Maybe even tipped odds of success in her favour.

So really, maybe Beth had been living a disillusioned lie for the last few months.

She couldn’t be Dr. Mid-Nite all the time.

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, pushing a light hand against his chest. It was possible that her voice was trembling, and she didn’t sound all too sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “I need to.”

Rick hesitated. “Beth, you’re shaking. I don’t think—”

“Please, Rick. They can take…” Her hands went to her face, wiping away her hot tears. He was right, she was shaking. “They can take my sight and my security and Chuck. But they can’t make me any less of who I am. I’ve walked down these stairs hundreds of times with sight and blindness. I can do this.” Her voice petered off, and she felt worried again at his silence. “Do you believe me?”

“I’m not the one that needs to believe it, Beth.”

Rick wasn’t the one doubting her. Her insecurities and self-doubt came from within. The words were harsh like a slap to her face, no matter how soft he uttered them. A cold reality check, but coming from his mouth, it was meaningful and not meant in any way to hurt her. Coming from Rick, it was different. And it was true.

He was a lot more clever than he let on.

She stared down where the grips on the bottom of her shoes teetered over the edge of the first step. Rick might’ve not been as close to her anymore but she knew he was hovering. It felt like a cliff or a massive waterfall. Her heart pounded like she was at the ledge of the world. She had to tell her brain to stop imagining those things. It only made it scarier. It’s like she said before. These were stairs. This was her cell block, the wing that led to the locker area. This was her school. It was familiar ground. She bit her lip, reining in the courage before it went away and held out her hand.

“Keep me steady?” Because the world could still turn at her anxiety’s whim. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to let him go. Rick grasped her hand tight.

“How many stairs are there?”

“Twenty-three.”

Beth exhaled. Twenty-three. She could do that. Her other hand went to the railing, and she took her first blind step down. Her stomach swooped like the drop in an elevator. But then her foot hit solid ground.

That was it?

She stepped down again, and it was fine.

It was fine.

“There you go,” Rick encouraged her, squeezing her hand to let her know he was still there. “You don’t need me.”

She actually didn’t. Muscle memory and confidence guided her through, and eventually, on step thirteen, she let go.

When she reached the floor, a rush of pride flooded through her. She was perfectly fine. More than fine, she was great and not crying anymore. Whoever thought stealing Chuck would render her useless was in for a surprise because—

Beth spun around, realizing she had walked right on, pushed the door and made an angry beeline through the mercifully empty hall to get to the cafeteria, leaving Rick behind.

He grabbed her hand again after jogging after her.

“Hey!” he said, with a smile in his tone. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

Beth’s face heated up, mostly because she was acutely aware she was now clinging to his hand, deliberately locking their fingers together. “Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. 

He brushed his thumb against her knuckles. He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s my fault. So who am I killing tonight?”

Beth scoffed. “You won’t kill anybody.”

“I might,” Rick muttered, tugging her quickly to the side, presumably so she wouldn’t step on something. She stumbled a bit, but only ended up bumping into Rick. Beth flushed and reoriented herself.

“Thanks,” she murmured, slowing her pace to be more careful. Then returned to the conversation. “You said you couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “...Well. Whoever the hell thought they could get away with stealing Chuck—”

“Someone stole Chuck?” Yolanda cried over the chattering of everyone else on lunch break.

Her shins hit the bench of the table. Beth put her hands out on the surface to climb in and Courtney immediately ended up at her side. Beth wrinkled her nose as bouncy curls flew into her face.

“Are you okay?”

“She is now,” Rick said, now sitting beside her. He touched her arm. “You are, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answered quietly, indulging in leaning against him because he was using a soft, gentle voice that made her want to hug him forever. “I’m not freaking out anymore.” Beth lifted a reluctant shoulder and wiped at her wet face. “He’s still missing though.”

“It’s Cindy,” Courtney said, narrowing her eyes across the room.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“No, I do,” said Court. “She’s staring at us right now.”

Rick’s warmth was gone in an instant.

“Wait—” Beth called after him just knowing he now had his hourglass. Her hand reached out to empty space.

“I’m knocking the bitch out. Court, let’s go.”

“On it!”

“You’re gonna beat her up in the middle of the caf?” Yolanda hissed at them to sit back down. “You can’t do that!”

But then Yolanda muttered something under her breath.

“What?” Beth asked when the rest went quiet, but she could sense the way all of her friends tensed up.

“She has the goggles Beth,” Court said. “She’s taunting us with them right now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Yolanda said tersely. It was obvious she also was exhausted by Cindy.

“Okay.” Beth stood up. “Bring me over so I don’t trip on a wet brown napkin or something.”

“You want to go over there?!?”

“Yes,” Beth snapped with a hard glare. It probably wasn’t aimed at the right spot but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fierce. “She wanted to scare me? She did. But Cindy has been cruel for so long and I’m not giving her the satisfaction of—” She balled her hands into fists and took a long slow breath to calm down.  She hadn’t realized she was almost yelling.

She released them after a moment and dropped her hands back to her sides. Beth was seething mad, that was for sure, but if she didn’t get her anger in check her plan would be no better than Courtney and Rick’s. “—I’m getting Chuck back so hurry up and get me there before I lose my nerve.”

Nobody said anything.

“Now,” she clipped.

“I—”

They realized she meant business and they all scrambled to catch up with her, realizing she wasn’t going to wait.

The three surrounded her like bodyguards. Her arm linked with Rick’s and Yolanda’s hand was on her back, guiding her to the popular table.

Beth touched her hair briefly and stiffened her spine. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but trusted herself enough to improv once she got there.

When Yolanda removed her hand, Beth knew they were in front of Cindy, Jenny and her other group of mean girls. She let go of Rick, choosing to fold her arms over her chest instead.

“What are you staring at, Beth?” Cindy drawled at her. There was a pause and she tittered. “Oh wait—”

The table straight up laughed.

“Burman!” Rick barked.

Courtney stepped up too, but both Yolanda and Beth blocked her with a warning hand.

“Hey,” Beth said coolly, with an eerie collectedness she didn’t even know she had. “I came to have a chat with you.”

“Oh, she wants to talk? That’s cute.”

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, sailing over the condescension.

“Clearly you’re too naive and didn’t get the hint. I don’t want to talk to you. Get lost.”

Beth leaned in so close, she could hear the clinging of Shiv’s earrings. She felt movement, but she picked up on her intuition and honestly shocked herself by snatching Cindy’s bare wrist.

Cindy went still.

The worst part is that Beth knew what was underneath the soft skin and thousand dollar bangle bracelet. Cindy could so easily eject her knife and blade. She could stab Beth right through if she wanted. She’d done so to her dad in the basement of the tunnels.

But Beth wasn’t afraid.

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re smirking at me like this is the funniest thing you’ve ever done. I don’t need my eyes to know the way you were just leaning against your hand, wearing your Ralph Lauren polo shirt with one of your ridiculous berets and my visual aid dangling off the other hand like some next-season must-have accessory that you want because it’s something you can’t have.”

Beth dug her nails into Cindy’s skin. It’s not like it would scar. She continued, acutely aware of the way so much of the room seemed to have gone silent. If half the school hears her go off on Cindy Burman, maybe a few of the kids too terrified to stand up to anyone bullying them could learn a thing or two as well.

“But let me tell you something, Cindy. You can’t have it. I can’t see without them. I’m blind.”

“I know,” Cindy gritted out through her teeth.

“Yeah, I’m blind,” Beth raised her voice, just a little. “And so are you. Except you and I? We’re nothing alike. I lost my sight because of an accident, but you are blind and ignorant and grossly egocentric. And you did that to yourself. So take my phone out of your purse before I let Rick rip it from you, give me my goggles, and leave me the hell alone.”

Cindy dropped the goggles onto the floor, expecting the lenses to shatter.

They don’t.

~.~

“Rick?”

After Cindy dropped Chuck, Rick took her phone back as Yolanda ripped her a new one about being creepy with her phone theft habit, emboldened by Beth’s speech. The four left the cafeteria after, all wanting to leave, wishing the lunch period to be over with.  

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for holding my hand.”

He stopped walking, so Beth stopped walking. His hand in hers gave a light squeeze. Which was nice, because it meant he hadn’t let go since she put Chuck back on and blinked back at him after a shy glance, so relieved to see the outlines of his face again in any way she’s given.

“Whatever you need.”

She believed him, sure enough. Beth sighed as they walked through the hall. Courtney and Yolanda were behind them, talking about something Beth couldn’t care enough to listen to.

“Then...I need a cane. My dad bought one a while ago but I’ve left it in my room because I didn’t want it.”

“But…” He frowned at her, sounding confused. “You got Chuck back. You don’t need the cane now.”

Beth sighed. “Except, I do. I’m legally blind, Rick.”

“Yeah, but Beth—”

She shrugged her shoulders and bit her lower lip. “It’s true. I need to learn to live as I am. Not what I wish I could be.”

“You are Dr. Mid-Nite.”

“I know that,” she promised softly, patting his arm. “But I’m Beth Chapel, too. I can’t be afraid of being me.”

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Sweets and Name-calls

First, Previous, Ao3

Word count: 1435

Warnings: mugging at knife point (Janus and Virgil still don’t do normal 12 year-old stuff)

"My Pa is going crazy," Virgil said, letting his feet swing against the wall in a steady rhythm while inspecting the bandaids over his fingertips.

"Why that?" Janus asked and struggled with the bag of candy he had stolen from Walmart earlier. He had forgotten his knife at home and the taped-up fingers didn't make it any easier. "And do you have a knife or something like that?"

"Give it," Virgil reached for the bag. He had taken a few of Papa's knives again after he had confiscated them a month ago and cut the bag open with ease. "His crush invited him to a wedding or something."

He bit into a long gummi worm and handed the bag back to Janus who went for one of the lollipops.

"So, now he's like 'But did he mean it in a romantic way or in a just friends way and why did he mention that his parents would think we're dating? Did he mention to them that he was seeing someone and just doesn't want to introduce that person to his family yet?' all day long. It's horrible," Virgil continued. "I feel like I'm watching one of those shitty telenovelas or Wattpad movies and I can't turn it off!"

Janus laughed at him and threw the wrapper of his lollipop off the roof, down to the tracks.

"Mum is marrying my step-dad soon," he said after a beat. "Would be kinda funny if that was the wedding your Pa got invited to, wouldn't it? Then I could meet him without having any idea that I'd met him."

Virgil snorted.

"You'll have to describe the weirdest guests to me after. If it's the same wedding I'm betting all my CDs, bought and downloaded from YouTube, that Pa is among them."

"Nah," Janus shook his head. "You can keep the shit that's not in English. I don't want that."

"Hey! Just because you can't appreciate Scheißverein for the anarchist masterpiece it is doesn't mean it's shit! And what do I get if it's the same wedding and Pa is among the weirdest people?"

"Dunno," Janus moved the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other. "I'm bringing you some of the leftover cake anyway... Five nights you can stay at my house if you fight with your Pa or can't stay at home for some other reason?"

"Until when?"

"Until you've used them up."

"Okay, I'll take it," Virgil agreed and swallowed the last of his worm.

"Say goodbye to your CDs," Janus grinned. "My family is weird as shit and there's no way your Pa can beat them."

"You have no faith," Virgil chastised and sat up to see if anyone had come with the train that had just arrived. "Hey, look! Some rich bastards from uptown! Wonder what they're doing here."

Janus sat up and looked down at the boys Virgil pointed at. They looked about their age, though it was hard to tell from up here, and looked nearly identical if it wasn't for one wearing a ripped green shirt and the other a white one.

Who the hell wore white? It just got dirty and then never really clean again! Well, rich bastards could probably afford that kind of stuff.

"Maybe they're trying to get robbed," he speculated. "Would be a shame to disappoint them, don't you think?"

"Hopefully they actually have something nice on them," Virgil threw up a caramel with one hand and caught it with his mouth.

"Can't find out if we don't try. It's not like we can get in trouble for it. Other than maybe from our parents but they don't need to know."

Virgil hesitated but Janus knew that he was already convinced.

"Okay, let's see," he said and stood up.

They snuck down the fire escape, Virgil let Janus borrow one of his knives and then they tailed the rich boys for a while, listening in on their conversation.

They even talked like rich bastards, Janus realised. He had half expected them to sound like Virgil with his weirdly posh British accent but they were clearly American. Just with rich accents. He wasn't sure how to describe it. They talked like the people in Hollywood and not like normal people.

"Now before someone else hears them," he whispered to Virgil.

They caught up to the boys by the next alleyway and pushed them in, using the surprise to their advantage.

The one Janus had grabbed let out a startled noise.

He tried to swing for Janus' face. There was a lot more strength behind the punch than Janus had expected but it was uncoordinated and sloppy. Easy to doge.

"Oi, stop that!" Virgil hissed, making his voice sound deeper than it actually was.

The rich boy looked over and froze, seeing the knife at his brother's throat who's face was pressed against the filthy concrete.

"What do you want from us?" the one on the floor, with the white shirt, asked.

Janus didn't answer but instead began to search Green-boy's pockets.

Gum, a ten-dollar bill, a rat skull (weird for a rich guy) and a business card with a phone number written on it with blue ink.

"Hey! The skull is mine!" the boy protested. "I just found it yesterday!"

"I don't give a shit," Janus replied. He would have usually left the skull but now he took it just to be petty.

"Ooh," Virgil grinned. "Keys! What do these open, huh, Princey?"

The boy underneath him sputtered. "They are my house keys! You can't have them! You don't even know where we live!"

"Yeah, yeah, Princey," Virgil rolled his eyes. "Calm your tits. I just thought there might be something more interesting to them."

"Stop calling me Princey!"

"Sure, Princey."

At that moment Green-boy noticed something and a wide grin split over his face.

"Police!" he screeched.

Janus looked up to see a man in uniform blocking the way out of the alleyway, a sandwich in hand. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

"They're robbing us!" Princey accused.

"They're rich," Janus said in their defence.

"They're committing a crime!"

The policeman snorted and bit into his sandwich.

"Stealing from rich people isn't a crime! Besides, it's lunchtime. Just get off his back or you might injure him, kid!"

With that he left again and Virgil stood up.

Both Green-boy and Princey were too stunned to react and Janus and Virgil bolted.

They only stopped when they were a block away and between laughing at the rich bastards' faces and being out of breath Janus had to lean against a wall.

"What did you get?" Virgil asked, still snickering.

Janus showed him his new possessions and Virgil showed him the pen, the five dollars, the chocolate bar and the crumpled paper Princey had had with him.

"Not bad," Janus said, giving the borrowed knife back. "We were just lucky the cop didn't notice the knives."

"We would've probably gotten better stuff if we hadn't robbed tweens," Virgil frowned. "By the way, you still owe me that cake you promised for the fingerprints."

"You mean we should do that now?"

"We've got money now, don't we?"

--~--

"Damn street rats!" Roman spat and tried to rub the fluid off his face. He wasn't sure if it was pee, alcohol or water but he was pretty sure that it hadn't rained in at least a week.

Remus was frustrated for entirely different reasons. "What do we train for if we can't even defeat two kids, shorter than us?"

He kicked a trash can over and its contents spilt over the floor.

"I just hope Patton will let me borrow one of his sweaters," Roman grumbled, looking down at the giant stain on his shirt.

"How did the dwarf even get you on the ground?" Remus asked.

"He just suddenly jumped onto my back! You would have fallen over too!"

They finally reached the street where Patton's flowershop was and just as they were about to go in Remus froze.

"You've got to be kidding me," he stared at the bakery across from the flower shop, where two eerily familiar boys were sat at a table by the window, each with a big slice of cake in front of them.

The taller one with the weird white spots on his dark skin waved at them with a smirk, before taking a bite of his cake and dramatically playing up how good it was, by rolling his eyes back and licking his lips.

Remus gave him a middle finger and the boy laughed at him.

"Stupid street rats."

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[fanficshiddles]

Caught in his web, Chapter 6

Chloe barely slept that night, she was sore and scared. She’d spent part of it in the shower again, crying.

She was also sure she went a bit delusional, as in the middle of the night she could’ve sworn that Loki entered her room and sat on her bedside, speaking softly to her while stroking her hair in a soothing manner.

‘No need to be scared, pet. I will take care of you.’ Were words that kept ringing her mind, in his voice. But she had been so tired, she couldn’t be sure if that had actually happened or not. And where did he come from? As she was almost certain it hadn’t been from the door, she’d been facing it while she lay in bed but never saw it opening when he suddenly appeared next to her.

In the morning, she was still in bed trying to get some sort of sleep when there was a knock and then the door swung open. To her horror, it was Ethan. She instantly scrambled back on the bed, dragging the blanket up with her.

Ethan smiled at her and closed the door with his foot, because he was carrying a tray.

‘Loki had the maid cook this for you for breakfast. And he wants you to take this, too.’ Ethan said, motioning to a pill that was in a small shots cup next to the plate of food.

‘What is it?’ She asked, her voice sounded small and more vulnerable than yesterday, Ethan noticed.

‘It’s the morning after pill. Loki said you must take it, one way or another. So I suggest you take it yourself, or I will have to force it down you like a dog.’ He said in warning.

Chloe didn’t feel like she had the energy to fight. And she certainly didn’t want that big brute forcing a pill down her throat.

She didn’t look at Ethan as she grabbed the pill and swallowed it quickly. It wasn’t like she wanted to get pregnant anyway. But she certainly hoped that Loki wasn’t going to take her without protection regularly, surely taking the morning after pill often wasn’t a good thing? Hell, she didn’t even want him to take her with protection.

‘Eat up.’ Ethan said and left her to it, with the tray on the bed beside her.

Chloe looked at the tray and part of her wanted to throw it at Ethan. But then, it was more Loki she was angry with. And the food did look delicious. Various fruits with a few different flavours of yogurt and fresh apple juice.

So she decided to tuck in instead of wasting it.

-

‘Did she take it?’ Loki asked Ethan when he entered his room. Loki was just putting on his suit jacket and sorting his tie, the same one he had used to restrain her wrists last night.

‘She did, without any arguments.’ Ethan nodded, waiting by the door.

‘Good. Maybe she will start to see sense today.’ Loki grinned, looking at himself in the mirror.

‘Do you want me to stay here by her door and make sure she doesn’t leave?’ Ethan offered.

‘No need. She’s not a prisoner, she can leave her room and go wherever she wants in the house. Once she has earned my trust, she will be allowed to come and go as she pleases with an escort.

Hopefully by the time her College starts in a few months she will be at that stage.’ Loki put on his leather gloves then followed Ethan out.

Nelson was waiting outside for them, he opened the car door for Loki and Ethan to pile into. Samuel was already in the car, waiting for them.

‘Is he there?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep. He has no clue why you’ve called him in for a chat.’ Samuel confirmed.

‘Excellent. The element of surprise is always the best.’ Loki grinned wickedly.

When they pulled up outside Loki’s building, he felt the usual surge of pride shoot through him. This was all his, as was a lot of the big company buildings in London. But this one, was all his and everyone knew it.

They walked in and it was bustling with energy as always. Workers going about, getting ready to start work for the day. The receptionist greeted him with the usual smile and good morning, Sir and he reciprocated with a wink, making her blush.

He continued on with Ethan and Samuel into the lift, then waited patiently while they headed up to the top floor where his office was. Of course, all the lower floors were a façade for the building. A company that dealt in selling and renting houses and other buildings. Loki quite literally owned a very high percentage of the property market in the city.

When they got into Loki’s office, there was a man waiting there for him.

‘Mr Laufeyson.’ He said nervously, putting his hand out.

‘Good to see you, Mike.’ Loki smiled, shaking his hand firmly after taking off his gloves.

Mike was shaking and Loki could feel that in his hand shake. It happened quite regularly that Loki dealt with people who were scared of him. It always gave him a bit of a rush, actually.

‘You… wanted to see me, Sir?’ Mike said as Loki went around to his side of the desk and took off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair.

‘I did indeed. I wanted to ask why your company is behind on paying its bills?’ Loki asked firmly, sitting down on his leather chair.

Mike looked slightly shocked. ‘I… well, we haven’t been doing as well this year. Money has been a bit tight.’

‘And that is your problem. You are due money for rent, you’re in a contract that stipulates you pay monthly.’

‘I… I thought it was Mr Walsh’s company that rented out the company to me.’ Mike said, he looked over his shoulder and swallowed hard when he noticed that Ethan and Samuel were standing by the door, guarding it.

‘It is. But do you know who has recently bought his company and is now chasing up late payments?’ Loki raised an eyebrow at Mike. Whose face had dropped completely.

‘Yo… Yo… You?’

‘Correct. Now, are you able to pay me my fifteen grand by the end of today?’ Loki tapped his fingers on the desk.

‘Fifteen grand? It’s only ten grand I’m due!’ Mike said in a panic.

‘You’ve been overdue for a long time. And it will keep going up until you either pay me, or I lose my patience with you.’ Loki said calmly, staring him down.

‘There’s no way I will be able to pay that much.’

‘Is that so?’ Loki folded his arms over his chest. ‘Well, you either pay me what I am due or I will need to take something else from you.’

‘I don’t have anything else…’

‘Oh you do.’ Loki stood up and walked around his desk towards him. ‘You own Langfield college.’

Mike’s eyes widened in horror. ‘No. It… it isn’t for sale.’ He tried to sound brave, but it wasn’t working.

‘Well, if you don’t give it to me, then I will have no other option but to take it by force. And believe me, I will get what I want.’ He snarled.

Mike had bought Langfield college over ten years ago. But Loki had his eye on it for a while, for… certain reasons… and now the perfect opportunity had arisen to gain said college.

‘But… what would you want with a college? It’s not like you can earn much money from it. It’s just where people go to learn.’ Mike didn’t understand what someone like Loki would want it for.

‘I know what a college is, Mike.’ He hissed. ‘I have my reasons for wanting it. So are you going to give it to me? And all your debt will be wiped away, just like that. And, because I am a reasonable man, you can have free rent with your company for the next ten years. So as you say, you don’t earn much money from the college so why not concentrate on your company instead? I’d say that’s fair, no?’ Loki leaned back on his desk, awaiting his answer.

Mike sighed and looked down, realising he had no other option. ‘Alright. I’ll give you Langfield college. But I beg you, please don’t take away the fundings for the college.’ Mike thought Loki wanted it just to steal from the students and take all their funding.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh I won’t. On the contrary, I intend to put more money into the college. The amount you’ve been putting in of late is abysmal.’

‘It’s not easy trying to pay the teachers a good sum, for all the work they do. Then there’s materials and not to mention grounds work and the living accommodations.’ Mike said in defence, but Loki didn’t believe him. He had seen the figures, he knew that Mike or someone else was fiddling with them. He was going to find out who it was, and he would make sure whoever it was, was properly seen to.

It was no secret that the college had been struggling the last few years, meaning that parents and students themselves were having to pay more for their loans. Loan repayments were way higher than they used to be, a way for the college to get more money in. But it was working because it was a really good college.

‘Well, I will soon find out just how difficult it is to own one.’ Loki said smugly, shutting him up. ‘I will have my solicitor draw up a contract, I will be in touch when it’s ready for you to come and sign over.’

Loki put his hand out towards him again and Mike hesitated before shaking hands. Sealing the deal.

-

Chloe had spent the morning moping around in the bedroom. She didn’t even try the door to see if it was unlocked, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

She spent some time sitting by the window, looking outside. To her surprise, it didn’t look like she had expected. He lived down a dead-end street that had a mini roundabout, with other fancy but normal houses around. Her window looked out to the house next door, there was a bit of gravel and a garage on the side of Loki’s house, then a huge fence and the next house.

She’d watched two kids playing football in their front garden for a while. Then she saw a girl about her age heading out on her own. It made her wonder if she would ever feel that kind of freedom again or not. Heck, Chloe didn’t even think she would be allowed out of this room alone.

Then her mind wandered to college, that she was supposed to start in just over two months’ time... Langfield college. When she’d went to visit, it was perfect. She had planned to live on site, her parents had been able to pay for most of it then she was going to take out a loan. But now, she had no idea what was going to happen.

She could see part of the road out her window and recognised the fancy ass car coming down the road to the house, she knew that was Loki and his goons returning…

[imagine-loki]

Caught in his web, Chapter 6

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 6 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead.  RATING: M

Chloe barely slept that night, she was sore and scared. She’d spent part of it in the shower again, crying. 

She was also sure she went a bit delusional, as in the middle of the night she could’ve sworn that Loki entered her room and sat on her bedside, speaking softly to her while stroking her hair in a soothing manner.

‘No need to be scared, pet. I will take care of you.’ Were words that kept ringing her mind, in his voice. But she had been so tired, she couldn’t be sure if that had actually happened or not. And where did he come from? As she was almost certain it hadn’t been from the door, she’d been facing it while she lay in bed but never saw it opening when he suddenly appeared next to her.

In the morning, she was still in bed trying to get some sort of sleep when there was a knock and then the door swung open. To her horror, it was Ethan. She instantly scrambled back on the bed, dragging the blanket up with her.

Ethan smiled at her and closed the door with his foot, because he was carrying a tray.

‘Loki had the maid cook this for you for breakfast. And he wants you to take this, too.’ Ethan said, motioning to a pill that was in a small shots cup next to the plate of food.

‘What is it?’ She asked, her voice sounded small and more vulnerable than yesterday, Ethan noticed.

‘It’s the morning after pill. Loki said you must take it, one way or another. So I suggest you take it yourself, or I will have to force it down you like a dog.’ He said in warning.

Chloe didn’t feel like she had the energy to fight. And she certainly didn’t want that big brute forcing a pill down her throat.

She didn’t look at Ethan as she grabbed the pill and swallowed it quickly. It wasn’t like she wanted to get pregnant anyway. But she certainly hoped that Loki wasn’t going to take her without protection regularly, surely taking the morning after pill often wasn’t a good thing? Hell, she didn’t even want him to take her with protection.

‘Eat up.’ Ethan said and left her to it, with the tray on the bed beside her.

Chloe looked at the tray and part of her wanted to throw it at Ethan. But then, it was more Loki she was angry with. And the food did look delicious. Various fruits with a few different flavours of yogurt and fresh apple juice.

So she decided to tuck in instead of wasting it.

-

‘Did she take it?’ Loki asked Ethan when he entered his room. Loki was just putting on his suit jacket and sorting his tie, the same one he had used to restrain her wrists last night.

‘She did, without any arguments.’ Ethan nodded, waiting by the door.

‘Good. Maybe she will start to see sense today.’ Loki grinned, looking at himself in the mirror.

‘Do you want me to stay here by her door and make sure she doesn’t leave?’ Ethan offered.

‘No need. She’s not a prisoner, she can leave her room and go wherever she wants in the house. Once she has earned my trust, she will be allowed to come and go as she pleases with an escort.

Hopefully by the time her College starts in a few months she will be at that stage.’ Loki put on his leather gloves then followed Ethan out.

Nelson was waiting outside for them, he opened the car door for Loki and Ethan to pile into. Samuel was already in the car, waiting for them.

‘Is he there?’ Loki asked.

‘Yep. He has no clue why you’ve called him in for a chat.’ Samuel confirmed.

‘Excellent. The element of surprise is always the best.’ Loki grinned wickedly.

When they pulled up outside Loki’s building, he felt the usual surge of pride shoot through him. This was all his, as was a lot of the big company buildings in London. But this one, was all his and everyone knew it.

They walked in and it was bustling with energy as always. Workers going about, getting ready to start work for the day. The receptionist greeted him with the usual smile and good morning, Sir and he reciprocated with a wink, making her blush.

He continued on with Ethan and Samuel into the lift, then waited patiently while they headed up to the top floor where his office was. Of course, all the lower floors were a façade for the building. A company that dealt in selling and renting houses and other buildings. Loki quite literally owned a very high percentage of the property market in the city.

When they got into Loki’s office, there was a man waiting there for him.

‘Mr Laufeyson.’ He said nervously, putting his hand out.

‘Good to see you, Mike.’ Loki smiled, shaking his hand firmly after taking off his gloves.

Mike was shaking and Loki could feel that in his hand shake. It happened quite regularly that Loki dealt with people who were scared of him. It always gave him a bit of a rush, actually.

‘You… wanted to see me, Sir?’ Mike said as Loki went around to his side of the desk and took off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair.

‘I did indeed. I wanted to ask why your company is behind on paying its bills?’ Loki asked firmly, sitting down on his leather chair.

Mike looked slightly shocked. ‘I… well, we haven’t been doing as well this year. Money has been a bit tight.’

‘And that is your problem. You are due money for rent, you’re in a contract that stipulates you pay monthly.’

‘I… I thought it was Mr Walsh’s company that rented out the company to me.’ Mike said, he looked over his shoulder and swallowed hard when he noticed that Ethan and Samuel were standing by the door, guarding it.

‘It is. But do you know who has recently bought his company and is now chasing up late payments?’ Loki raised an eyebrow at Mike. Whose face had dropped completely.

‘Yo… Yo… You?’

‘Correct. Now, are you able to pay me my fifteen grand by the end of today?’ Loki tapped his fingers on the desk.

‘Fifteen grand? It’s only ten grand I’m due!’ Mike said in a panic.

‘You’ve been overdue for a long time. And it will keep going up until you either pay me, or I lose my patience with you.’ Loki said calmly, staring him down.

‘There’s no way I will be able to pay that much.’

‘Is that so?’ Loki folded his arms over his chest. ‘Well, you either pay me what I am due or I will need to take something else from you.’

‘I don’t have anything else…’

‘Oh you do.’ Loki stood up and walked around his desk towards him. ‘You own Langfield college.’

Mike’s eyes widened in horror. ‘No. It… it isn’t for sale.’ He tried to sound brave, but it wasn’t working.

‘Well, if you don’t give it to me, then I will have no other option but to take it by force. And believe me, I will get what I want.’ He snarled.

Mike had bought Langfield college over ten years ago. But Loki had his eye on it for a while, for… certain reasons… and now the perfect opportunity had arisen to gain said college.

‘But… what would you want with a college? It’s not like you can earn much money from it. It’s just where people go to learn.’ Mike didn’t understand what someone like Loki would want it for.

‘I know what a college is, Mike.’ He hissed. ‘I have my reasons for wanting it. So are you going to give it to me? And all your debt will be wiped away, just like that. And, because I am a reasonable man, you can have free rent with your company for the next ten years. So as you say, you don’t earn much money from the college so why not concentrate on your company instead? I’d say that’s fair, no?’ Loki leaned back on his desk, awaiting his answer.

Mike sighed and looked down, realising he had no other option. ‘Alright. I’ll give you Langfield college. But I beg you, please don’t take away the fundings for the college.’ Mike thought Loki wanted it just to steal from the students and take all their funding.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh I won’t. On the contrary, I intend to put more money into the college. The amount you’ve been putting in of late is abysmal.’

‘It’s not easy trying to pay the teachers a good sum, for all the work they do. Then there’s materials and not to mention grounds work and the living accommodations.’ Mike said in defence, but Loki didn’t believe him. He had seen the figures, he knew that Mike or someone else was fiddling with them. He was going to find out who it was, and he would make sure whoever it was, was properly seen to.

It was no secret that the college had been struggling the last few years, meaning that parents and students themselves were having to pay more for their loans. Loan repayments were way higher than they used to be, a way for the college to get more money in. But it was working because it was a really good college.

‘Well, I will soon find out just how difficult it is to own one.’ Loki said smugly, shutting him up. ‘I will have my solicitor draw up a contract, I will be in touch when it’s ready for you to come and sign over.’

Loki put his hand out towards him again and Mike hesitated before shaking hands. Sealing the deal.

-

Chloe had spent the morning moping around in the bedroom. She didn’t even try the door to see if it was unlocked, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

She spent some time sitting by the window, looking outside. To her surprise, it didn’t look like she had expected. He lived down a dead-end street that had a mini roundabout, with other fancy but normal houses around. Her window looked out to the house next door, there was a bit of gravel and a garage on the side of Loki’s house, then a huge fence and the next house.

She’d watched two kids playing football in their front garden for a while. Then she saw a girl about her age heading out on her own. It made her wonder if she would ever feel that kind of freedom again or not. Heck, Chloe didn’t even think she would be allowed out of this room alone.

Then her mind wandered to college, that she was supposed to start in just over two months’ time… Langfield college. When she’d went to visit, it was perfect. She had planned to live on site, her parents had been able to pay for most of it then she was going to take out a loan. But now, she had no idea what was going to happen.

She could see part of the road out her window and recognised the fancy ass car coming down the road to the house, she knew that was Loki and his goons returning…

[catchester]

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Epiphany 

Authors: @evieplease​​​​ and @catchester​​​​

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Epiphany 

I’m not much of a cook. I mean, I can feed myself but that cordon bleu shit is way out of my wheelhouse. I don’t really have the time or patience for it anyway. Tom beats me like a drum in the cooking stakes, but if there’s one thing I can cook perfectly, it’s a steak. 

I also make wonderful, fat chips—twice cooked so they’re lovely and crispy outside, but fluffy inside. And I’ve mastered a couple of sauces, but creamy pepper is Tom’s favourite, so we’ll be having that.

I’d also bought a little bit of broccoli to ‘show willing’, as my gran used to say. It was an afterthought, but it looks pretty on the plate, so. . .

Normally I’d cook a ribeye but tonight I was going all out and had bought three, fat, juicy sirloin steaks. I was salivating just thinking about them. 

I’d even bought a new dress, a little red dress—a nice companion for my overworked little black dress. I kind of love it. It’s figure hugging, but with a little flirty flare at the hem, and an almost exact match for my crimson Sephora lip stain. Looks great with my boots too. And I know that Tom will appreciate the back view. Just wearing the thing made me want to wiggle my arse for him!

I’d spent much of the day in my workshop, which is just a fancy way of saying the garage I rent near my flat that I store my spares and heavier equipment in. I knew I was pushing things time wise, but I was nervous, okay?

The fresh layer of snow didn't help matters, snarling up traffic and meaning my errand took twice as long as it should have. 

I ended up having to leave my chips boiling while I got ready, and kept darting back to poke them with a knife. I was damn lucky I didn't overcook them and end up with mash, but somehow I didn’t. 

I had just slid into my new dress when the buzzer went, and I scrambled to do the zip up before Tom and Diana reached my front door. 

I didn’t quite make it, and had to greet Diana with my bra strap hanging out. Luckily Tom spotted my predicament and zipped me up the rest of the way, but not before Diana commented on how chilly I must be! But I got a kiss on the back of my neck from Tom, so it’s all good.

My flat might only be two bedrooms, but it was pretty spacious. I’d improved it a lot over the last five years and it was worth a small fortune thanks to London prices. I would never have been able to afford a flat in London if not for my Dad. Growing up, we’d lived in a council house, which Dad bought at a vastly reduced rate back in the 80s when Right to Buy came in. As such, his small mortgage was long paid off, and the prices had skyrocketed over the years, so when all three of his kids had flown the coop, he sold the four bedroom place and bought two flats in the same estate, but different blocks. 

We’d drawn up a contract and when I reached what he’d paid for it, he’d transfer ownership to me, or it would come to me on his death, whichever came first. My brothers would get his larger flat to share between them. Good luck to ‘em! Those boys haven’t agreed on anything but the MCU since they were ten and twelve, and I can just about predict the rows they’ll have deciding to renovate or sell Dad’s place. I plan on sitting back and enjoying the show.

One of my improvements to my place was to knock down the wall between the living room and kitchen. Where the wall used to be I kept a narrow, oblong table that folded out into one that could comfortably seat four. My extra folding chairs were kept in a cupboard. In my defence, they’re very nice folding chairs and I have cushions I can tie on… 

How naff. I’d hang my head in shame, but I know Diana will appreciate the irony.

Thank god I hadn't had time to worry like this earlier, or they’d likely have arrived to find me sloshed again! Speaking of which... 

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, my stomach swooping, suddenly realising I should have picked up an extra bottle of wine! Bollocks! Wait, didn’t I have a nice one Tom bought as a gift a few months ago lurking at the back of a cupboard somewhere? I’d have to get it in the fridge ASAP. 

“I don't have any red wine, I’m afraid, only rosé.” I worried my lip. I’m not really a fan of red wine,  but red meat goes with red wine, and Diana would know that! 

“Oh lovely, I like a nice rosé.” Diana to the rescue! God, I love that woman. She’s so polite. 

I did find the bottle Tom had brought around before. It too was pink, but it was prosecco, not wine. Aah well, maybe that would work better as a dessert wine. Or, with luck, a fizzy celebration wine. I put it in the top of the fridge and opened the cold bottle of rosé. 

“Here you go.” I handed them each a glass, but decided to have a beer myself so the wine would go further. I did decant my bottle contents into a tall glass for a change though because I’m at least attempting to be civilised tonight. 

“You have a lovely home,” Diana said as I sat down on my L-shaped unit. It was a bargain I’d found on freecycle then re-upholstered, but it was a quality piece and looked expensive. 

It’s not that I can’t afford a new sofa, even an expensive one—my business does well and my rent to my Dad is whatever I want to pay him. I pay quite a lot because I want him to get his investment in the flat back quickly, but he wouldn't mind at all if I took a whole year off payments because he trusts me. Plus, he’s semi retired now so all he does is answer the phones and do the books, for which he claims 30% of the profits. He started the business so I don’t begrudge him, and it means he isn't desperate for my rent as his income. 

The real reason I upcycled my sofa is that she had such lovely bones, and I love crafty activities. After the renovations on the flat were done, I’d set about finding pieces I could give new life to. My bed mattress was brand new, but the headboard was second hand and recovered in a print to compliment the aqua and white paint in there. I’d stripped the old varnish off the wood parts and stained it new.

I asked Diana about the exhibition she was going to see and she explained it was actually a workshop where she’d be learning something called blackwork embroidery. I’d gathered from looking around her home that she was quite arty, but I hadn’t realised she enjoyed crafting too. It was nice to know we had something in common and I told her about a couple of my projects in the flat. I even told her the story of stapling my finger to the sofa she was sitting on, the very first time I used an upholstery gun, and she told me about some of her past projects. 

After topping up their glasses, I began preparing the meal, but I could still chat to them as I worked. They wanted their steaks medium, which everyone defines differently but after some probing I determined that they liked it red inside, but not bloody cold, which was my preference too. Okay, maybe I like mine a little bloody, but it went on the skillet only 60 seconds after theirs. 

I served my very fat chips in a sort of jenga tower with the middle bricks missing, being very careful not to wipe my greasy fingers on my red dress,  then the steaks, a very healthy dollop of peppercorn sauce, and the broccoli topped with a knob of butter on the side. 

“You led me to believe you weren’t a very good cook,” Diana gently chided me as we ate. 

“I’m not,” I assured her. “I know how to cook, like, three things really well, this, lasagne, and a cheesecake, which we’re having for desert. Everything else falls somewhere between okay and inedible.” 

“Do not ask her to cook fish,” Tom winked at me conspiratorially.

I laughed. He’d once said something about liking salmon, so I got a recipe and tried to cook it for him. It was all new to me, the only fish Dad or the boys would eat came from the fish and chips shop down the corner. Unfortunately no matter what I did the stuff tasted like dirt! Very fishy dirt! I ended up over seasoning, then overcooking it so much that it dried out and it really was inedible. 

And it still tasted like dirt!

We’d ordered a curry instead. 

“Well, these potatoes are amazing, you must give me the recipe,” Diana told me, smiling warmly at me. 

It wasn't hard, so I explained it to her as we ate. 

As well as complimenting me, Diana ooh’d and ah’d as she ate. Tom just ate steadily as if afraid someone might nick his plate if he slowed down, glancing up at me with a warm appreciative smile now and then, so I think they genuinely liked it. 

Good, Diana would probably not like it if I poisoned her boy. 

Talk of the salmon disaster naturally led onto other food related disasters, and I quickly learned I was in good company. 

“Do you remember when you left some steaks out to defrost?” Tom asked his mum. 

Apparently their neighbour’s cat had neatly chewed away all but the rind of fat while they were in the garden. Then there was the story of a time they’d been visiting a friend, and another friend’s dog had eaten the shepherd’s pie they were to be served! 

The Guinness pie was my favourite story though. It was apparently a steak pie made with Guinness gravy, that Diana loved as a child. It was her father’s recipe, basically the only thing he cooked, and then only once or twice a year, on special occasions. She swore she followed the recipe her father gave her to the letter but it was awful. 

“Turned my stomach, honestly,” she admitted, turning pink even after all these years. 

Tom was grinning. “She served us all first, then she realised she’d forgotten the pot of English mustard and told us to all tuck in. Well we did, and there’s me, my sisters and my dad just looking at each other. We all knew she’d spent all day on this and was really looking forward to it. None of us had the heart to tell her we couldn't eat it. She came back and we all plastered smiles on and told her how wonderful it was, while helping ourselves to carrots.”

“That should have been my first clue,” Diana laughed. “Honestly, you’d have thought this one was allergic to vegetables, given how hard he tried to avoid them, and there he was larding his plate with carrots!”

“Then she took one mouthful and her face just turned grey,” Tom laughed. Diana reached out and playfully smacked his shoulder.

“I still tried it a second and third time, in case I’d made a mistake, although I didn't make the family try it. I thought that perhaps the stout needed to marinate longer, or be cooked at a higher temperature so it burned off, but each attempt was just as inedible as my first bite. My father was adamant that he’d given me the exact recipe he used. I gave up in  the end and concluded that he must have substituted something else for the stout, possibly something like cider. I’ve tried other recipes with cider gravy over the years but never quite managed to replicate the same taste.”

I cleared the plates from the table but everyone wanted a little break before desert, which was fine with me. 

“Has Tom told you about our 12 days gifts?” I asked Diana as I grabbed a box from a kitchen drawer.

Suddenly I had a sort of out of body experience where I was watching myself sit with Tom and his mum, I must be mad for even considering what I was about to do...

“He’s told me all about it,” she grinned. “What a lark! It sounds like you had great fun.”

“We did, but more than that, those gifts, specifically the thought Tom had put into his, had really brought home how much he cares for me.” 

I handed Diana a gift box, about 6 inches by four, and maybe two deep. It wasn't wrapped but I had done it up in a fancy ribbon. Eventually she freed it from it’s ribbon prison and opened the lid. 

There in the middle, nestling among some tissue paper (which was hiding some printer paper because I didn't have enough tissue paper, and I wasn’t using bog paper) sat a ring box. 

“This looks interesting,” she murmured, reaching for the ring box.

I could hardly hear her over the hammering of my heart, and I couldn’t look at Tom. My hands were sweating, and my leg was jittering under the table.

As I got off my chair, my knees were trembling but I managed to move beside Diana’s chair before I collapsed to my knees. I barely made eye contact with Tom, who looked curious. 

“It’s a. . . a ring?” 

I had found an incredible rose gold, tungsten ring with a gorgeous burl wood inlay for Tom. I thought it would look warm and elegant on his left hand. It’s unusual, but once I saw it, I couldn’t even look at any bog standard men’s wedding bands. I hope he likes it. Diana’s finger traced thoughtfully over the design, so I think she liked it.

Diana looked up at me, eyebrows up and questions in her eyes. I shuffled around, less gracefully than I’d like until I was on one knee before her, in the traditional pose of a proposer. 

I desperately wanted to look at Tom to see his reaction but I didn’t dare. I’d lose my bottle, if I did...

I took the ring box from her, but I was shaking so much I had to hold it with both hands. I cleared my throat, and sternly ordered myself not to tear up out of sheer nerves.

“This last year taught me a lot about Tom and our relationship, and I suppose you could say I’d had an epiphany about how much your son has come to mean to me. With that in mind, Diana, I..” My voice cracked and I had to clear it and try again.  “I wonder if you would do me the honour of becoming my Mother-in-Law? 

The next three seconds seemed to last an hour. Diana’s mouth opened in surprise as she stared down at the ring. Not unpleasantly surprised, but, oh god, she also wasn't answering me... 

I shouldn't have done it this way, I shouldn't have brought Diana into this. I’d just thought it was a funny and quirky way to include her, but of course, she couldn't answer for Tom. This was such a stupid idea! 

I saw Diana’s gaze flick in Tom’s direction and still couldn’t look at him. I kept my eyes steady on hers and wished the ground would open up to swallow me whole. Hell, it could take my whole apartment, as long as this nightmare stopped! 

I could feel my eyes pricking with tears of humiliation. I should have got drunk again, then I’d probably be passed out and unable to make a fool of myself. Again. I lifted my chin and grabbed courage with both hands, waiting for the verdict.

Suddenly there was an arm around my shoulder and I realised Tom was kneeling beside me. 

“Please, Mum, say yes!” 

I’ve never felt so much relief as when I heard him say that. I swayed on my knees and my surroundings spun briefly as all the air seemed to rush back into the room.

Diana’s hand moved to her chest, patting it as if she’d had heart palpitations, her eyes twinkling down at me.

“Well I don’t know…” she deliberately drew out her response, the tease! “Don’t you think this is... awfully sudden, dear?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. What was she on about? She looked just exactly like Tom when he was about to spring a horrible pun on me, the same sly little smile lurking about her lips. 

“I’m trying to think what those vows would be... ‘Do you, Rocky, take this woman, Diana, as your Awful Wedded Mother-in-Law? To poke and to prod, to stick her nose in where it isn’t wanted, and to generally make herself a pain in your arse? So help you baby Jesus?’

I grinned. Yep, I definitely wanted her! Tom choked beside me, laughing.

“Diana, that is exactly what I had in mind!” I nodded my head hard, my hair bouncing wildly around my head. “So, um, will you?”

Diana reached down and carefully pulled a strand of hair from my mouth, tenderly tucking it behind my ear, her eyes softened into the exact shade Tom’s get. Her hand cupped my cheek gently.

“Yes Rocky, I’d be delighted to be your Mother-in-Law.” she said softly. I heard Tom’s breath gust out in relief beside me. I knelt up, throwing my arms around her and squeezing hard. “Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. I cleared my throat, because I was not going to cry on Tom’s mum.

Diana put her hands on my arms, gently pushing me away, her eyes going behind me.

“I think there’s someone who wants his turn…”

Before I could even look his way, Tom had pulled me onto his thighs, wrapping his arms around me tightly and hugging me hard. One hand went into my hair and pulled my face up to his. There were tears in his eyes, and a crooked smile on his lips.

“Yes please, Rocky.”

Then he was kissing me fiercely, and by god, I was giving back, my hands clutching his shirt.

“Ahem…” Diana cleared her throat. I pulled away from Tom long enough to glance round at her.

“But you said I could have him!” I grumbled at her, hiding my elated laugh. Her eyes laughed right back at me.

“Yes dear, but not right now, if you please! I believe I was promised cheesecake!”

***

We put Diana in a cab back to Tom’s for the night, hugs and kisses all around. She even pinched my cheek! Tom and I stood, arms around each other’s waists, waving goodbye to her as she drove off 

“What would you have done if she’d said ‘no’?” Tom’s tone was slyly curious as we made our way back up the stairs to my second floor flat. I blanched.

“Died of humiliation?” Even thinking of the possibility gave me cold shivers. But Tom had slid to his knees next to me.

“What would you have done?” I turned my face up to his, wondering if he’d have gone along with his mum. Tom scowled.

“Rocky, you know I love my mum. But I’d have told her to…” Tom stalled out as he considered his words. I cocked my head, waiting.

“I’d have told her to bugger off,” said the very civilised, posh idiot. I gasped, only then realising that I’d been holding my breath. 

“But Rocky,” Tom stopped before the door to my flat and raised my chin to look into my eyes. “That was never going to happen, my love. Because Mum loves me, and she knows I love you. Also,” he grinned, “Mum likes you. And now she finds you very engaging.”

Well shit. My eyes teared up at least as much from the sentiment as from the pun. I stood on my toes and kissed him.

Tom opened my door and ushered me in, turning to close the door behind us. When he turned back, I pushed him against it, holding him there with a hand in the center of  his chest.

My other hand slid down his torso to the waistband of his trousers, flicking the button open and sliding the zip down, ratcheting slowly.

I stared into his eyes, watching them darken from their Caribbean blue to steel, the creases at the corners of his eyes tightening.

“Rocky…” he breathed.

“Shhh…” I replied, slipping my hand into his trousers to grasp him. The posh idiot never wore pants, which was calculated to make me rethink the ‘posh’ part. Somehow, knowing that he was bare behind that zipper made me hard.

When my hand encountered all that hard, silky steel. Practically leaping into my hand, I could feel my pussy clench in sheer anticipation. I wanted that hard cock inside me, like, yesterday! 

Oh wait. It was inside me yesterday!

I wrapped my hand carefully and firmly around his shaft, my thumb extending over his bell end to protect him from any chance zip or harsh denim scraping against that tender, sensitive tip.

I like that cock. I wasn’t going to allow it to be hurt on my watch! Besides, if it was going to be mine for the rest of my natural life, forsaking all others, it was in my best interest to see to its proper care and feeding!

My hand tightened around him, just thinking what I wanted to feed it into. Tom lifted a hand and set it onto the column of my throat. I swallowed, feeling my throat move against his palm.

Tom’s head was tilted down watching me as I blindly explored his cock with my hand, palming his length and running my fingertips up his shaft, all the way to the edge of his foreskin. I ran my finger around the rim, gently pushing it down and freeing the vulnerable, delicate bit of skin right beneath his cock head.

I lifted my forefinger, dipping it into the drop of precome waiting there for me, dropping down and letting my finger glide around the edge of his foreskin on the slick fluid, being sure to slide over the tender skin of his bell. How can something so soft be so hard?

I think of myself as hard, but I’m soft for Tom. Really, the only thing to do is to make him mine. Thank god he said yes. Or…

“Um…”  I cleared my throat as I continued to glide my finger over him. “You did say yes, didn’t you? I mean, you get that having your mum as my mother-in-law actually entails you marrying me, right?” I lifted my eyes and searched his.

The blue of his eyes softened. His nose nuzzled below my ear.

“I do, Rocky. And yes, I will.”

All the air left my body and my fingers clenched on him, one hand on his chest, my nails digging into his skin, the other around his cock.

Tom hissed, and his hips shot forward into my fist, forcing his cock through the tight ring of my fingers.

“God, Rocky…” he groaned, his hands moving into my hair, thumbs on my jaw as he leaned down to kiss me roughly.

I stroked that silky smooth, incredibly hard length against my palm. Tom tore his mouth away, breaking our kiss and breathing hard. I took my opportunity to slip to my knees in front of him.

“Rocky...you don’t have-” He gasped.

“Tom,” I said sharply, “if you finish that sentence with ‘don’t have to suck my cock’, I might do you an injury!”

I squeezed his shaft, just to be clear what part might be injured.

“Right,” Tom gasped, “carry on, then.” He swallowed audibly hard, his hands clenching in my hair.

I grinned cheekily at him. “Don’t mind if I do!”

I dragged my free hand down his torso, firmly pushing his back against the door. I took a quick swipe at him with my tongue from stalk to tip and grinned up at him.

“I do what I want!”

I wrapped my lips around the head and gave a suck, swirling my tongue tip over and around the head.

I felt Tom’s deep throated groan vibrate through his body and onto my tongue. Stopping for a second, I looked up at him, for once with no quip on the tip of my tongue.

“I love you, Tom.”

Tom’s eyes completely dilated and he thrust into my fist, his cockhead pushing between my lips, and suddenly he was coming against my mouth. 

My hand pumped over his cock, squeezing and pulling his climax from him, licking his come from around my lips and working the rest out in hot ropes onto my neck and chest.

Tom made a tortured noise, his hands clenching in my hair and hips thrusting helplessly. I gentled my hand, holding it still and warm over his softening shaft as he panted above me.

“Rocky…”

I tore my eyes away from the sight softening in my hand and looked up.

“You undo me, my love.”

His hands moved to my arms and lifted me to stand, wrapping his arms and body around me like a loving cloak.

I nuzzled my nose into the patch of hair in the center of his chest.

“Love you, Tom,” I murmured into his skin, speaking directly to his thumping heart. The arms around me tightened.

“Come along. I have something for you.”

“I hope it’s a hot flannel!”

Tom snickered and trod across the room into the kitchen, dragging me to the sink and wetting a tea towel. He wiped us both clean, and tossed the towel on the side.

He’d left his tablet on the table. Pulling a chair out, he sat, tugging me down onto his lap. He reached for the tablet.

I was wondering if he planned to treat me to porn, or puppies. I never know with Tom, which is of course, one of the things I love about him. He swiftly swiped through a few screens and brought up a file.

“Here, what do you think?” He pushed the tablet into my hands and set his chin on my shoulder, looking over me at the screen.

My hand flew to my mouth, fingers trembling over it as I stared down at a page of gorgeous, conflict free, diamond engagement rings.

“I didn’t want to choose one without you, and I honestly didn’t know what sort you’d like, since you never wear rings or other jewelry,” Tom murmured.

My hand dropped down to the partridge in a pear tree necklace Tom had given me on the First Day of Christmas. 

“Except your partridge,” he acknowledged. “But I chose that, so I really have no idea what your taste in jewelry is.

I was speechless as Tom slowly scrolled through several pages of rings, all sorts, my eyes filling as it finally dawned on me that Tom had been planning to ask me, or was at least thinking about it, when a teardrop landed on the screen. His arm stole around my waist as he turned his head and kissed my neck.

I sniffled, slightly embarrassed, and let out a watery laugh.

“What’s funny, love?”

I sniffled again. “I got engaged today, and here you are, making me cry.”

Tom chuckled.

“Though it might just be PMS.” 

Tom lifted his head with a great shout of laughter. “Oh darling, with you it’s probably the entire alphabet!” Tom teased.

He brought up another page, this time with rubies and sapphires and such. My breath caught at a dark red, square cut stone with two smaller, smokey coloured square cut stones set on either side, all swirled about in a fanciful gold setting. It was stunning,

I reached out a finger and touched it. The image changed, showing other angles of the ring.

“Ooh, I like that one!” Tom wriggled a bit under me in his enthusiasm. “You like coloured stones? Unusual settings? So much better than boring old diamonds, don’t you think? Bloody marvelous, aren’t they?”

I nodded, my throat tight. I hadn’t even given any thought to a ring for me, yet. 

“Tom, I must tell you though, it’s unlikely that I’ll wear it much. With my job, my hands are in and out of all sorts of muck…”

“That’s alright then.” Tom hugged me. “There are plenty of times that I can’t wear jewelry on my job, too. On stage or filming, and so forth. We’ll just have to work out a routine for taking them off before going to work, and putting them back on when we get home. Think of it as putting on and taking off your shoes, only in reverse!”

My head spun with all the things that we haven’t talked about. Oh my god, I don’t know how to throw a wedding! Budget, guest list, venue, flowers, bridesmaids, grooms men,  catering, open or closed bar, the dress… the list seemed endless and I knew I was probably forgetting a dozen other things. 

“I guess there’s still loads of things to work out before we do this thing, right?”

“We can take as long as we need,” he soothed, sensing my unease. “And if we want, there are people we can hire who take care of the organisation.” 

“Okay,” I took a deep breath and tried to relax. “As long as you don’t expect me to look like some giant, frothy meringue.” 

“Never,” he laughed. “And if you get one of those dresses with a thousand pearly buttons down the back, expect them to get torn off on the wedding night.”

The idea of being torn out of my wedding dress actually turned me on a little. Is that bad? 

“Oh, you like that idea,” Tom purred. 

“It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

“Well I’ll have to practice,” he told me, his face the picture of sincerity. “We’ll start easy, maybe try ripping a robe off, then we’ll graduate to t-shirts and shirt-shirts and before you know it’ I’ll be ready to destroy your wedding dress in my haste to get to you.” 

“Or,” I said, holding a finger up as I presented my counter argument, “You could just destroy me right now and I’ll wear a white string bikini on the wedding day.” 

“Only if I get to wear white speedos.”

“Fine, but you also need a white bow tie.” 

Imagining literally the worst of the worst white trash wedding was kind of fun. 

“And white flip-flops,” Tom added. 

“What about if we want a winter wedding?” I asked. 

“White wet suits,” he answered without missing a beat. “I’ll draw a string bikini on yours in Sharpie marker pen.”

“And I’ll be sure to outline your English countryside. Very much looking forward to shading in your arse crack.”

That was the remark that made us lose it and we laughed until our sides hurt. 

Eventually we calmed down, with just the occasional giggle reemerging as we lay there. 

“Now correct me if I’m wrong,” Tom purred, “but I believe there was some mention of me destroying you?” 

“Well yes. I’d hate for you to be embarrassed on the wedding night because we hadn’t practised.”

I swear I heard him growl as he pounced on me, his smile positively wolfish. 

Oh dear, I had awoken the beast and now I was doing to pay. 

I shivered in anticipation. 

[drowning-in-dennor]

could we get some fluffy 21 for the dennor?

  Okay holy crap this is LONG so if you want the whole thing it’s under the cut

Warning: Extremely sappy, too many changes of perspective and too much poetry

  Maren stares down at the little black box. “I can’t do this. Ouch!” She rubs the back of her head, glaring at Agata. “What the hell was that for?”

  “For being stupid.” Agata glares back. “Of course you can do it.”

  Her hand trembles as she squeezes the box tighter, her knuckles turning white as she does so. “Is it too late to back out of this?”

  “Yes, it is.” Tille smiles encouragingly at Maren, waving her right hand and letting her own wedding ring glint in the light. “You’ve already told her to meet you and you’ve already bought the ring. Everything’s ready, so all you need to do is ask.”

  Feeling queasy just by looking at the box, Maren says, “what if she says no?”

  Sula crosses her arms. “Bullshit. Ever since I was born I’ve been subjected to watching you and my sister moon over each other. You’ve been dating for almost ten years now, there’s no way she’d say no.”

  “But-”

  She claps a hand on Maren’s shoulder, a rare smile on her face. “Just do it,” Sula urges, “you'd be an amazing sister-in-law.”

...

  The first envelope Maren hands to Linnea earns a blush as she reads the poem out loud. 

  “O soft and dainty maiden, from afarI watch you, as amidst the flowers you move,And pluck them, singing.More golden than all gold your tresses are:Never was harp-note like your voice, my love,Your voice sweet-ringing.

  “That’s one of Sappho’s poems, isn’t it?” Linnea carefully slips the card back into the envelope. 

  Maren nods, kissing Linnea on the cheek. “Glad you liked it.”

  Linnea gives her a strange look. “You’re being strangely romantic today.”

  “Aw, it was nothing!” The little box in her pocket suddenly feels glaringly obvious. “Just wanted to show how much I love you.”

  Holding hands, they walk, the sun bright in the sky. They arrive at their destination in no time at all, and Maren pushes the gate open. “Remember this?”

  Looking around the garden, she smiles. “This is where we had our first date, nine years ago. You got me a bouquet of flowers and screamed when you found a wasp inside.”

  “In my defence, I was fourteen and it was unexpected.” Maren, still holding Linnea’s hand, leads her to a bench over patches of violets and little twinflowers, running her fingers over a small carving in the stone. “Look, we even carved our names here.”

  “I’m surprised you remember.” Linnea gazes fondly at the carving, at the amateur work of Maren’s carving knife that promptly broke afterwards. “That’s very thoughtful of-” a small envelope, taped to the armrest of the bench, catches her eye. “What’s this?”

  Thy form is lovely and thine eyes are honeyed,O'er thy face the paleClear light of love lies like a veil.Bidding thee rise,With outstretched hands,Before thee Aphrodite stands. 

  For the second time during the day, Linnea feels her face heating up and leans over to kiss Maren. “You hopeless Sapphic,” she mumbles.

  “Hey, I wouldn’t be in love with you if I weren’t a hopeless Sapphic.” Maren bends down and brushes the twinflowers on the ground with her fingers. She picks a few of them and weaves them into Linnea’s hair, watching as both the lilac petals and golden locks are toyed with by the wind.

  Linnea touches the flowers in her hair absentmindedly. “You know me too well.”

  Her girlfriend pulls another envelope out of her pocket and pulls out the card. “To match your favourite flowers.” She starts to read the poem out loud.

  “With flowers fair adorn thy lustrous hair,Dica, amidst thy locks sweet blossoms twine,With thy soft hands, for so a maiden standsAccepted of the gods, whose eyes divineAre turned away from her--though fair as MayShe waits, but round whose locks no flowers shine.”

  She feels like her face is about to explode. Linnea buries her face in her hands, her heart beating so fast she might as well be a hummingbird. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” Maren gestures towards the centre of the garden, only a few steps away. “Say, do you remember that rosebush? I got in trouble for picking one too many flowers for you.”

  Linnea gets to her feet and approaches the rosebush, running a finger along the soft petals of the roses. An envelope, bordered with gold calligraphy is nestled on top of the bush. She pulls it out, retrieving the card inside and reading its contents.

  Ever since that fateful day twenty years ago,I feel as though I can leave not your side,Imagined, I did, ten years ago,If you would be my one and only bride.So waited, I did, for you to returnMy love so next to me you could stand.And for many more years our love will burnIf you say ‘yes’ as I ask for your hand.

  “I, uh, wrote that one myself. I’m not as good as Sappho, that’s pretty obvious, but I hope you like it.”

  She drops the card and whirls around, suddenly feeling faint. 

  Maren has bent down on one knee and holds out a box. She smiles at Linnea, that same smile she’s seen since she was four. “We’ve been dating for ten years now, and I’ve thought about this for so, so long. I’ve loved you the moment we met and I love you even more now.”

  Linnea rubs her eyes, but can’t stop a few tears from escaping.

  “We’ve fought, we’ve laughed, we’ve done a lot of things together, and I want to do even more with you.” Maren opens the box, revealing a silver engagement ring. “Linnea Norsdottir, will you marry me?”

  She’s sure that if she speaks, she’ll start crying. So Linnea, looking right into Maren’s bright, beautiful smile, nods a definite yes.

...

A/N: The poem that Maren used to propose wasn’t written by Sapphos so it’s kind of shit but oh well it was the best I could doThe rest of the poems are all by Sappho. 

[johnny-and-dora]

be my baby

“Are you okay? You’re spacing out again.” If he didn’t know better, Jake would think she actually sounds concerned. He knows she worries, a lot – he’s seen her stress braiding and shame smoking more times than he would like, and he’s coached her through more than one panic attack that was terrifying for the both of them. He wishes he knew what to do to help. 

He wonders if she ever worries about him.

or, jake absolutely definitely couldn't care less about amy's love life. (mid season 1 pining)

-

It’s not like Jake hates Valentine’s Day.

He has no real reason to – unlike needless turkey murder day, there are no painful childhood memories of his absentee father breaking promises permeating this particular holiday, no having to sample his mom’s burnt cooking, no obligations to be in the holiday spirit. Sure, Jenny Gildenhorn ripped up the valentine’s card he made for her in eighth grade and he cried for like, a week, but his teenage heartbreak isn’t enough to ruin the day completely.

Not there are any particular warm and fuzzy memories he can recall, either - he signs up for the late shift or takes the overtime every year, and he usually spends it drowning out the fact that he’s probably going to die alone with seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He was first to volunteer for this stakeout tonight without a second thought, because usually Valentine’s Day comes and goes as little more than an excuse to bulk buy discount heart shaped candy.

This year, however, is different.

This year, he just so happens to be spending Valentine’s Day with Amy.

Not with Amy, of course – he means, with Amy in the sense that Amy is in his presence, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, anxiously drumming her nails against the dashboard and checking her watch every twenty-two seconds (not that he’s counting). Definitely absolutely not in the sense that he and Amy are dating, because as he’s told Charles several times – that’s straight up insanity.

He does not like Amy – and he definitely doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day. What’s more, he definitely hasn’t spent most of this stakeout with his jaw clenched as Amy complains about how she had to cancel a date with a guy she refuses to tell him anything about. He couldn’t care less about her dating life.

It doesn’t bother him at all.

“The deal was meant to go down twenty minutes ago. Do all perps have to have your time management skills?” She says, scrunching up her face in that cute little way she does whenever she gets frustrated. he’d come back with an epic burn, but he’s slightly too busy thinking about how he doesn’t care about Jenny Gildenhorn and how he doesn’t care about Amy’s love life and also how shiny Amy’s hair is.

“Peralta?”

“What?” He says. She furrows her brow.

“Are you okay? You’re spacing out again.” If he didn’t know better, Jake would think she actually sounds concerned. He knows she worries, a lot – he’s seen her stress braiding and shame smoking more times than he would like, and he’s coached her through more than one panic attack that was terrifying for the both of them. He wishes he knew what to do to help.

He wonders if she ever worries about him.

“Okay dude, now you’re just creeping me out.”

“Sorry. Just thinking.” Jake says, quickly averting his gaze, feeling heat creep up his neck as he clears his throat. He returns to his previous activity of absentmindedly and chaotically drumming at ten and two on the steering wheel. She stares at him for a second before turning her attention back to the old dilapidated building they think is being used as a crack den. So romantic.

He’s been stealing glances at her all evening while he can get them – she’s more fidgety that usual, twisting her grandmothers ring on her finger, tapping her foot, chewing on her tongue. He feels bad that she had to miss her date for this  – but less bad than he’d care to admit.

Okay, so maybe the concept of him maybe liking Amy isn’t straight up insanity. (He’s been staring at her like an idiot for the past four years. It’s not Charles’s greatest solve.) “…So, what’s he like?”

“What?”

“Your date.” He doesn’t know why he asks – maybe to kill time, maybe to keep the conversation going, maybe because he’s just curious. Amy narrows her eyes slightly like she doesn’t trust him genuinely taking an interest in her personal life, which is actually a little hurtful if he overanalyses it too hard.

She’s a friend – he’ll be the first to admit that his minor obsession with his kick-ass job means that he doesn’t have too many of those. There’s even fewer people in his life that stick around, and maybe he finds Amy’s consistency grounding, if he thinks about it in that way. Maybe it’s nice to know that someone has his back.

He’s never sure if she thinks of him in the same way. Jake’s just glad to know her, really, even if she is a dorky loser who’s always correcting his grammar and disapproving of his eating habits. That’s  why he asks, really, because he does care, even if he’s made uncomfortable by it.

“What?” He shrugs, a defensive edge to his voice. “I really wanna know.”

She gives him a weird look before sighing, fiddling with the lid of her coffee cup, biting her lip like she always does when she’s nervous or apprehensive about something.

“He’s…nice.”

“Nice?” He wonders whether that’s all he has to be. She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know. He’s a paediatric nurse and he’s sweet and we’ve been on a few dates and he’s just…nice.”

“That’s…nice.” Jake says, grinning as he mimics the pregnant pauses in her responses. She shoots him Classic Santiago Death Glare #5.

“Shut up!” Amy punches him in the arm and sits back in her seat, folding her arms defensively while he laughs. She tries to hide it by determinedly staring out the window, but he can tell that she’s smiling. He feels weirdly lighter for it.

It hits him that he’s happy – like, actually happy. That there aren’t many places he’d rather be tonight, and he really doesn’t think there’s anyone else he’d rather spend tonight of all nights sitting in a car staring at a crack den with. It’s a thought he’d rather push deep, deep down then act on, because the alternative is a whole world of terrifying possibilities that he is woefully unprepared to explore.

There’s a few beats of silence that make even the low hum of the radio feel far too loud.

“I’m sorry you had to cancel.” The sincerity just kind of spills out of him. He doesn’t like it.

“It’s not your fault, dummy.”

“We could’ve made the night shift do it.” He offers, but she shakes her head.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I was a little relieved.” She says, and he raises an eyebrow. There’s another brief silence while they watch someone walk by on the street outside - long enough for an fleeting intense vision of Amy confessing his undying love for him. Jake swallows thickly, willing his stupid brain to imagine something, anything else.

“I think I’m going to break up with him.” Amy says suddenly, still staring straight ahead, and this is new - for once, he can’t think of anything to say.

She finally looks at him after a pause that’s a second too long, dark eyes all wide and curious.  He inclines his head slightly, trying to ignore the weird way he can suddenly feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest. It’s probably the caffeine.

“…Really? But he’s so…nice.” He says, half joking. She just rolls her eyes.

“It’s just not working out. We never have nights off together so we never see each other and…I don’t know. You know when you just…know?” She’s gesturing vaguely and he probably wouldn’t get what she means if they hadn’t been partners for four years. But they have, and he knows her better than he’d ever have the balls to openly admit, so he nods.

“Yeah. I do.” He says, because he does. Amy lets her hands fall back into her lap and she smiles at him and maybe there’s this tiny little cosmic shift between them, not unlike the one he might have felt on the rooftop last month, or the one when she bought him a coffee and they gossiped about the Sex Crimes Christmas Party in the copy room last week.

It’s nothing, really. But it could be.

“You just know that nothing will ever top our date, because you’ve been secretly lusting after me since-“

“- I will strangle you-“

“- the day we met.” She glares at him, pushing him playfully while he grins.  If he wasn’t sure they were friends before he’s pretty certain now, and it feels good, even if she does spend the large majority of their friendship physically assaulting him every time he teases her.  

As a peace offering, he gives her one of the lint covered sweetheart candies he finds in the pocket of his hoodie, a light pink “be my baby”. She smirks at him and he raises his eyebrows suggestively as she laughs and he has to admit this isn’t the worst Valentine’s Day he’s ever had. It might just make the top ten.

Amy’s confession of undying love for him ends up coming a bit late, because they catch their drug dealer ten minutes later and then other things rudely get in the way like lame pilsner-loving boring boyfriends and dream undercover assignments and defence attorney heartbreakers.

(It’s worth the wait - the next time they spend Valentine’s Day together, there’s wine and rose petals and Die Hard involved. She whispers “I love you” in his ear during a candlelight dinner, and again later when he’s tipsy and fumbling to unzip her dress, and it causes a cosmic shift that’s enough to change his whole universe altogether.)

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Chapter 21

Summary: Five stages of Brian and Roger's relationship.

Notes: This is the second to last chapter of this story and I think I'm going to cry. Gosh, it's been such a long journey and I can barely believe that we are here 50k words later.

Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and giving us kudos. We both appreciate it so much.

I love every single one of you without a shadow of a doubt, and every comment makes me smile like an idiot. So, thank you all! And I hope you enjoy.

The taglist goes as follows: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls, @hersked

Now, on to the chapter! 

i. romance

The thing about never having had a boyfriend before, Brian realises as he fiddles with the flower arrangement in the middle of the table for the fifth time in the last hour, is that he doesn’t know what he is doing ninety per cent of the time. There seem to be thousands of unspoken rules about dating; thousands of expectations, of little things he should be doing, and Brian has no idea what these are. It seems that every time he does something right, five other things go wrong.

That’s precisely why he has set up this date tonight.

Earlier that week he had inadvertently pissed Roger off and was currently in the process of trying to make up for it. Novice that he was, he had made the error of bringing up a girl who was just a friend when he and Roger were on a date. In his defence, he thought that the story he told of Chrissie Mullen was just a fun anecdote, self-deprecating even! He laughed as he spoke about all the things he went through to impress her and how in the end, she wound up only wanting John’s number. Roger had given him the cold shoulder that evening and, confused, he had gone to talk to Freddie about it. The older man had just given him an exasperated look and swatted him on the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine.

It turns out he had broken a cardinal rule: never talk about exes or previous crushes in front of your current partner. Okay, so maybe he should have seen that one coming.

He heard the front door open, and the soft footsteps that he recognised as Roger’s. His boyfriend then rounded the corner and smiled when he saw Brian sitting at the table, laid out all fancy, flowers and candlelight included.

“Wow, I was wrong; it seems romance isn’t dead.” He said wryly, but his voice was full of affection.

Brian beamed, standing up from his chair and walking over to kiss Roger. He wrapped one arm around the shorter man’s waist and pulled him close, pressing their lips together and making the blonde laugh. One thing that had not been hard about their relationship, Brian had discovered, was kissing. Ever since they had shared their first kiss a few months ago, Brian had made it his goal to make up for the months of lost time; Roger had no complaints.

Once he pulled away, the blonde pressed their foreheads together and smiled, “Have I ever told you that you are an amazing kisser?”

Brian scrunched up his nose, “Only every time we kiss.”

Roger threw his head back, laughing at Brian’s comment, then kissing the tip of the older man’s nose before he unwrapped himself from Brian’s embrace and walked towards the table, “What are we having for dinner then?”

“It’s a secret,” Brian said as he walked into the kitchen, then came out holding a tie in his hands, “I want you to taste it without knowing what you’re eating.”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Kinky. I like it.”

The older man just rolled his eyes and walked towards Roger, gently placing the tie over his eyes and fastening it behind his head, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

“Will do,” Roger said, “Also, my safe word, in this case, is ‘fork’ . Or would you prefer if we used the traffic light system?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows under Brian’s fingers.

Brian rolled his eyes, “You are insufferable.”

Roger let out a guffaw as Brian walked into the kitchen once again, getting both of their bowls of Minestrone, and setting one in front of Roger before sitting down.

It’s only now he realises the flaw in his plan when he notices that (a) Roger can’t see the plate or cutlery and (b) since he can’t see them, he wouldn’t be able to get the soup into his mouth without spilling it everywhere. It’s then that the obvious answer comes to mind which would save him the embarrassment of making Roger realise that he had failed in his plan of surprising him with the food.

“Alright, open up.”

“Before I do,” Roger said, holding his hands up, “have you considered what this would look like if Freddie and John were to get home right now?”

Brian could only imagine. “It would look like ten years of guaranteed bullying and teasing,” Brian answered, as he scooped up some of the soup on Roger’s spoon, “Now open up, I really do want you to taste this.”

Roger chuckled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, then dutifully opened his mouth.

ii. accommodation

Roger let himself fall back on the mattress and groaned as the strain of standing up for the better part of the day was finally taken off his back. Recording the vocals for ‘March of the Black Queen ’ had taken a toll on all of them, but especially on Roger who had to spend almost all day screaming his lungs out at Freddie’s command.

His throat felt utterly raw, almost like he had swallowed sandpaper, his feet hurt from standing up for so long, and there was an aching pressure at the base of his spine that was driving him crazy.

Seconds later, Brian walked into the room, face planting directly onto the bed beside Roger, and groaning into the quilt. The drummer turned his head to look at his boyfriend, his unruly mop of hair and lovely, lovely, eyes. Brian had turned his head as well and was looking back at Roger. He smiled, little fangs and all, when the younger man turned his head, “Hi.”

Roger gave a small smile, “Hi.”

“You looked beautiful today,” Brian commented as he reached over to brush a lock of hair out of Roger’s face.

“Even when my voice when so high I was about to bust a nut?” He raised his eyes sceptically.

Brian snorts, “Okay, alright, you looked pretty almost all day.”

At that, Roger pretended to be offended, “Asshole. You were supposed to say I looked pretty regardless.”

Brian is now laughing, “Well, I’m not a good liar.”

They both laugh, then keep talking about nothing until their chat turns into a fully-fledged make out session. Roger had at some point climbed on top of Brian, grinding against him and making pretty moans when Brian kissed him just right — running his hands through the tangled mess of Brian's hair, tugging lightly whenever he wanted to take control of the kiss.

It had escalated gradually, and after a while, Brian couldn’t help but notice the hardness in Roger's jeans pressed up against him and the way he wantonly moaned every time the guitarist moved his hands lower. It was equally impossible to ignore the fact that he was rapidly approaching a similar state. He pressed one firm kiss to Roger's mouth and then leaned back on the pillows, trying to think of how to phrase this while catching his breath.

"Can I—" a soft blush crept upon his cheeks, "Rog, can I try something?"

The blonde nodded without hesitation, trusting Brian completely as the guitarist undid the button of Roger’s pants and slowly pulled down the zipper. He watched Brian with interest as he worked to pull down his pants until Roger placed a hand on Brian’s arm, “Are you sure about this?”

“I don’t want to have sex just yet if that’s what you’re asking,” Brian said as he ran his hands down Roger’s thighs, jeans pulled down halfway “, but I do want to make you feel good.”

Roger helped Brian get his pants off, and then made a show of getting rid of his underwear. He fiddled around in his nightstand, handing Brian a small bottle of lube he had bought ‘just in case’. Finally, he got back into his original position, straddling Brian, and resumed kissing him heatedly. The guitarist then surprised them both, using the opportunity to flip them over, leaving Roger underneath him.

Brian pressed their foreheads together, his expression a mixture of desire and nervousness, “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, okay?”

He peppered Roger’s face with kisses as he popped the lid of the bottle open and coated his hand with lube. The smaller man giggled as Brian placed one last kiss between his eyebrows, wondering (not for the first time) what he had done to deserve him, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Roger couldn’t help but let out a gasp once Brian wrapped his hand cautiously around the tip of Roger’s cock, then traced the slit making Roger arch his back. He started slow, making the younger man shudder as he slowly pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist every so often, resulting in soft moans falling from the other man's lips. As his confidence grew, he began to speed up his pace, earning a few whimpers and half-mumbled, half-gasped, mentions of his name, or ' yes, like that, just like that.' It was only when Roger's eyes rolled back in his head, that Brian stopped in his actions.

Roger looked back at him through hooded eyes, "Why'd you stop?"

Brian shrugged, a rare, devilish smile spreading across his face, "I just— felt brave, all of a sudden."

"What do you—" But Roger didn't get to complete the sentence, because Brian scooted backwards and lowered his head, licking Roger's cock from the base to the tip, then sucking on the head. Head thrown back, and shouting Brian's name; Roger came all over the guitarist's shirt. Brian stroked Roger through his orgasm, coaxing, even more, shakey moans out of the drummer.

Roger came back from his high panting and looking down at Brian as if he had hung the moon, "Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"

Brian laughed at Roger's slurred words, then took his soiled shirt off and using it to clean up whatever cum had managed to land on the drummer's thighs and his hands, then throwing it in the general direction of the clothes hamper. "I am 100 percent positive."

Roger opened his arms, beckoning Brian to crawl into them and the guitarist obliged. Placing his head on Roger's chest and nuzzling up to his boyfriend, "Well, if that's what you do on your first time, I'm more than excited to know what you are going to be able to do with a little bit of practice."

Brian chuckled and let his eyes close, only to pry them open a second later when Roger stroked his thumb across his cheek, "Do you want me to return the favour?"

For a second, Brian considered it. After watching Roger's reaction, he found himself very, very interested in experiencing a handjob from his boyfriend himself, but then decided to quit while he was ahead, they had plenty of time for that later. So he shook his head, "Not tonight. Right now I just want to cuddle with you."

Roger cooed for a second at Brian's sleepy tone, then he sat up, "Alright stud, then let me get us ready for bed."

iii. challenge

The dim lighting in the nightclub was barely enough for Roger to make his way across the room without making a fool of himself by tripping or bumping into someone. At the moment, however, he wasn’t thinking about that; all he could think about was the awful text he had received a few moments before and its implications. He thought about the thousand and one horrible scenarios that Deaky’s text forced his mind to imagine.

deacon: come to the bathroom please

deacon: bri needs you

He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and found that Deaky was waiting for him outside the door. He was tapping the screen of his phone anxiously, and when he saw Roger, the bassist grimaced slightly, “He’s inside.”

Roger felt something twist inside his chest at John’s slurred words. He knew he had started drinking before he had turned eighteen, and he knew that he was barely a few years older than the bassist, but the guilt was starting to claw its way up his throat recently. Even more so now that they were gaining popularity with Sheer Heart Attack and John was becoming a habitual drinker.

Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I’ll deal with it. You go, drink some water.”

“ Roger, ” John complained, but the blonde glared at him.

“I mean it, John. Water. Not Tequila, or Vodka, or whatever you like to drink nowadays. Water.”

The look he gave the bassist left no opportunity for arguing and he pushed into the bathroom. The smell of cleaning chemicals and puke wafted into his nose as soon as he stepped in. The air inside the bathroom was much cooler, and the sounds of conversation replaced the music. Roger called out for his boyfriend and walked towards the last stall once Freddie answered.

Once he opened the door, he was met with the image of Brian slumped against the toilet, drunkenly mumbling something to Freddie as the older man cradled the guitarist’s head, trying to keep it upright. Freddie smiled at Roger and then turned to Brian, “Lovie, Rog’s here.”

Brian instantly seemed to brighten, which made Roger’s heart clench even more. He looked up through heavy-lidded eyes and smiled sloppily at Roger, “Heeey.”

Roger kneeled, and Brian instantly slumped forward, burying his face on the drummer’s shoulder, “Hi, baby. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Brian whined, shaking his head slightly, “ ‘wanted to dance… with you.”

Tears filled the drummer's eyes at seeing Brian like this, shame making him feel like he might just throw up, “We’ll— we’ll dance tomorrow, alright? I promise you we will, right now I just really want to get home.”

Brian nodded then, and Roger looked up at Freddie, who was staring at them with slightly unfocused eyes, “Go get Deaky, we are going home.”

“Rog I can—”

“No,” Roger insisted, “we are leaving now. I am not coming back to get you later, and you are not going to call a cab. Go get Deaky and let's leave .”

Getting them all inside the car was a long, arduous, task. As was getting them up the stairs to their little apartment. He made sure that all of them had something to drink once they woke up, and that Brian was wearing his pyjamas correctly and was tucked under the blankets. It was only after everyone was passed out in their beds that Roger wandered out into the kitchen. He could hear the soft snores coming from all of the bedrooms, the creaks and groans of the mattresses as they shifted around, and the mumbling sounds Freddie often made in his sleep.

He leaned on the counter, putting his head in his hands, and finally, finally, letting the tears come. They were silent, rolling down his face and landing in splotches on the counter in front of him, dripping down his chin.

It had been a long time since he had felt that guilty; since he had had to be the responsible one. But seeing his boyfriend three shots away from alcohol poisoning, puking his guts out in the bathroom of some second rate club had stirred something inside him. Memories of all kinds came rushing back to him, plaguing him and making him cry harder until he passed out from exhaustion, head in his hands.

He was awoken early that morning when he heard the door to their room being opened. He lifted his head a little and found Brian staring at him, his head tilted to the side, “What are you doing out here, dove?”

Roger ignored his question, raising his head and turning to fully face him, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve got a killer headache and nausea,” Brian said as he walked over, “but mainly I’m just feeling lonely. I missed you in bed.”

The blonde licked his lips, which were cracked and dry from worrying them, “Sorry, I fell asleep while listening for any trouble around the house.”

Brian looked at the other room, then smiled, “They’ve had worse. They’ll live. I, however, need you tonight.”

Roger looked away, trying to hide the tears that once again filled his eyes, “ ‘m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Brian placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging it a little, “you can make it up by coming back to bed.”

Roger shook his head, “No, I’m sorry ‘bout tonight. It’s my fault.”

Brian stopped rubbing his shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”

“The drinks,” The blond sighed, leaning away from the guitarist’s touch, “the wild party, you drinking until you puked. That wasn’t you until I came into your life. I’m sorry.”

“Roger I—”

“Why’d you change?” Roger asked, “Is it to impress me? Or to please me? Or—”

The older man grabbed his shoulders, turning him around and making the stool Roger was sitting on squeak in protest. Then Brian lowered himself slightly so that they were at the same level, grabbed Roger’s face between his hands, and looked deep into his eyes, “Roger, I hate to say this, but not everything is about you.”

Concern filled Brian’s eyes as he stared at Roger. Roger, who looked like he had been run over by a truck, though Brian was sure he’d only had a pint.

“It’s not. I swear. And yeah, you taught me to drink, but I’m doing it because I want to. Not because you told me to, or because I want to be more like you. So don’t go around feeling guilty about something you shouldn’t be feeling guilty about, and come to bed with me. You should be feeling guilty about not cuddling with me every moment you can, not about me suddenly liking to get drunk every now and then.”

Roger let out a wet laugh, leaning his head into one of Brian’s hand, “I’m sorry.”

“Third and last ‘I’m sorry’ for today, alright love? I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Brian stepped closer then, pressing Roger’s face to his chest and placing a kiss on top of his hair. Roger wrapped his arms around the guitarist’s waist, nuzzling into his ribs.

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens if I ever turn into him ?”

Brian knew that was one of Rogers greatest, most deep-seated fears. “If that, stupidly impossible, thing ever happens,” Brian said, running a hand through the drummer’s hair, “Then I’ll be here to help the real you return.”

iv. sexual exploration

The night of their second anniversary ‘A Day at the Races’ gets released. Roger doesn’t realise this until three hours before their release party when Freddie walks by, a devilish smirk adorning his face, and says, “Brian’s got quite the gift planned for you. What are you giving him?”

Roger nearly passes out, and it must have shown on his face because Freddie starts laughing at the top of his lungs, “You didn’t get him anything?”

Roger’s sure he just turned the colour of the wall behind him, which is pure white, “With everything going on I just...I forgot today was our anniversary.” He smacked his palm over his face, he was so screwed .

He then spent the rest of the night fretting about what to do for their anniversary. By the end of the night when Brian told him that he wanted to go home, he already knew what he was going to do. Thankfully he still had a bottle of Chardonnay stored in the back of their fridge, their car had gasoline, and he still had that perfect stargazing spot pinned in his Waze locations. It wasn’t much, but he was sure that Brian, the hopeless romantic, would be more than happy with his (yes, a little last minute) gift.

That is until they get home.

Brian barely waits until the door is closed to press Roger to the wall and kiss him hungrily. He only interrupts the kiss to suckle at the spot right below Roger’s earlobe. The one he knows drives the drummer up the wall, “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger lets out a soft moan, “What would that be?”

“I want you to top me.” He whispered hotly into his ear.

Rogers blood rushes south almost immediately. He feels himself harden in his pants and can’t help but moan like a teenager. His body feels like it’s been lit on fire at the thought of having proper sex for the first time in more than two years. Then he remembers the reason why he had self-imposed that dry spell and gently pushes Brian away a little.

“Babe, are you sure?” Brian nods quickly, kissing Roger once again, but before he can deepen the kiss, Roger pushes him away once more, “Bri, talk to me, darling. Are you sure you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Yes,” the older man says firmly, “ God, yes, I know. I’ve even practiced getting myself ready.”

“Ready?” For a second Roger’s lust-fogged brain doesn't comprehend what Brian is talking about, then the taller man ghosts his fingers over the curve of Roger’s ass, and that’s the last thing he needs to lose his last remnants of control.

He kisses Brian’s mouth with a newfound fervour, turning and pressing the guitarist to the wall and coaxing small moans out of him every so often, “Brian May, did you really?” He asks, genuine surprise mixing with his teasing.

Brian giggles, which is something Roger has found that he does a lot during sex, blushing for the first time since they started their make-out session, “Why don’t you find out?” He dares, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

The walk to their room is made longer by the fact that they are stripping as they go, barely able to keep their hands off each other. Once they’re on the bed Roger realises two things, the first is that there was already a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the bed and the second is that his boyfriend, amid his excitement, still looks very nervous.

Roger’s gaze softens, and cradles his boyfriend’s face, “If anything, and I do mean anything, makes you uncomfortable you tell me, alright, Brimi?”

Brian smiles, “Yes. I can do that.”

It starts out slow. Roger takes his sweet time kissing down Brian’s throat, leaving hickeys and love bites as he works his way down. He gives Brian’s nipple one experimental flick of his tongue and relishes the whimper that his boyfriend let outs.

“Can I keep going?”

Brian nods, head thrown back in pleasure as Roger sucks at his nipple and rolls it with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands roam Brian’s body, tracing his waist, his belly button, his hips, his thighs and finally his groin. Brian gasps out loud at the first fleeting graze against his cock and Roger starts to tease him like he knows the other man likes. He carefully draws out little gasps and whines as he uses one finger to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, never giving him more friction than a light, teasing, roll of his cockhead with his thumb, or a light stroke. Roger knew that Brian hated when he gave him hand jobs without any lube.

The blonde gave one last kiss to the nipple he was working on, then moved to the next one. Brian groaned, “Please, Rog, stop teasing me.”

The younger man smiled against the hard nub  and looked up at Brian through lustful eyes, “Aren’t you enjoying it, love?”

He ran a finger down his cock and reach down to tease Brian’s balls. The older man keened, arching his back off the bed, “If you don’t fuck me right now, Roger Taylor—”

“What are you going to do?” Roger asked as he ran a finger down Brian’s perineum and ghosted it over his hole, “Beg?”

“ Roger.”

“Alright, alright,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips and leaned over for the lube and a pillow, “I’m still going to take it slow, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

That seemed reasonable enough for Brian, who nodded and instantly stopped squirming. Roger tapped the guitarist’s hips with one finger, signalling him to raise them up. He placed the pillow below him and spread his legs a little wider.

Roger coated his pinky with lube, not wanting to start with anything wider, and teased Brian’s hole by blowing it a little before inserting the first finger. Brian sighed at the sensation, instantly relaxing and throwing his head back a little.

“You really were prepared,” Roger commented, perversely pleased, as he pumped his finger in and out of Brian, making the older man moan.

Roger changed to his index finger after a couple of minutes of teasing Brian with his pinky. Brian was pushing down on his hand, trying to get more friction. Roger kept going at the same punishing pace, slow and teasing, trying to open him up as much as he could before inserting another finger.

Roger then pressed his middle finger in, and Brian keened at the sensation. Head thrown back mouth open in a perfect ‘O’ shape and eyelids fluttering in pleasure his boyfriend looked like the most beautiful thing Roger had ever seen. He leaned down, kissing the tip of Brian’s cock, and giving the member a long lick.

That’s how he opened Brian up, slowly, making sure to get out of him every single glorious sound he could. Scissoring the older man, curling his fingers and giving teasing flicks to his prostate every now and then.

Roger worked in his fourth finger, and the first tear slipped from the corner of Brian’s eye.

That sent Roger flying off the bed, terrified that he had done something wrong and had somehow hurt his boyfriend. Brian lifted his head up, looking at Roger with questioning eyes, tear glimmering slightly in the light of their room, “Roger? Is everything alright?”

Roger took one tentative step forward, “Bri, love, you are crying.”

The guitarist wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, looking embarrassed, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

Roger walked over to the bed, sitting between Brian’s spread legs and started massaging his hips, “Why were you crying?”

“Just forget it,” Brian said, “It’s embarrassing. Come back here and—”

Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips, shutting him up, “Brian if I did something to make you cry, I need to know—it’s really important to me.”

For a moment, Brian looked unsure, eyes flickering all over Roger’s face before sighing, “You didn’t do anything—well obviously you did but it’s just..I’m just really happy. It seems silly, but I feel like I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted and—of course, now I’ve gone and ruined the moment.” He closed his eyes , feeling embarrassed.

“It’s not silly,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s forehead, “and you didn’t ruin anything. If anything you made it better.”

To prove his point, Roger inched his hand downward and stroked Brian’s dick. Making the guitarist moan and buck up into his touch again. Quite possibly more turned on that before, he gave himself a couple hard strokes before reaching over and grabbing a condom. He ripped open the rubber and promptly pulled it down on his cock, then lubed up as much as possible, wanting to make this pleasurable for Brian.

Roger placed himself at Brian’s entrance, not pushing in yet, and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, “Put your arms around me, it’ll make it easier.”

Brian did, without a second thought, and Roger started pushing in slowly. He sank in a little and seeing Brian’s eyes widen he waited a moment for him to adjust before pushing in a little more. It was a good thing, actually,  that he was distracted by gauging Brian’s reactions, otherwise the tight head might have ended things embarrassingly soon. After a couple of minutes, Roger bottomed out, and both of them groaned at the feeling. It was then that Brian hooked his legs around Roger’s waist, pressing his head to the crook of the drummer’s neck and grinding firmly against him, seeking more.

But before Roger started really moving, he pressed a firm kiss to Brian’s head of unruly curls, “I love you Bri. More than anything.”

The night they came a few minutes after they started, too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. Roger was mindful of cleaning them after all was done, making sure that there was no cum or lube on their bodies. And then getting into bed with Brian and snuggling into his chest.

The older man was running a hand through his blonde locks, humming a soft melody, “Rog?”

He hummed in response.

“I might have been a little distracted before, but I love you too. More than anything.”

v. commitment

The morning after their fifth anniversary is glorious.

Sun is shining down from the windows, making Roger’s recently cut hair look like a halo around his face. Brian can hear the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, as well as the chirping of birds, the rustling of the trees and the chefs and maids taking care of their breakfast for them.

One thing was sure, Brian loved touring.

Every once in a while, their management would pamper them, giving them a night of luxury before they had to go back to their hectic schedule. Brian and Roger had asked for this particular night off in advance, and Miami had been more than happy to give them what they wanted.

He had even helped Brian chose the ring which was currently stuffed deep into his side of the closet.

He couldn’t wait for Roger to wake up, for his boyfriend to smile and urge them to go to the pool. Their beautiful pool, with a seaside view, and have something delicious to eat as he declared his undying love for the younger man and ask him to marry him.

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when Roger opened his eyes, or when the younger man scooted closer. He only noticed when Roger cradled his face and gave him an Eskimo kiss.

“Would you marry me?”

Brian blinked twice, thinking he must have misheard him and leaned away, “What?”

“I asked, ‘would you marry me’, Brian Harold May?”

Or that. That could work too. Brian let out a low chuckle, “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing...”

Roger’s eyes lit up, “So, that’s a yes?”

“Only if you let me give you my speech tonight,” Brian mumbled as he pressed closer to Roger, “I worked very hard on memorising it and choosing the perfect spot for asking you.”

“You old sap.”

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but instead of answering, he licks the tip of Roger’s nose which earns him a shrill shriek of protest. They both dissolve into laughter a few seconds later, giggling as Roger comments on how gross Brian can be. Yeah, that marriage proposal was better, Brian thinks later that day as he stumbles over his speech and nearly drops the ring into the sand.

Much better.