#last month as soon as i got off the plane landing in LA i rushed to my hotel then rushed to the studio to watch the screening

[ducktracy]

Storyboard to final comparison for "Too Many Patricks"! This has been one of my favorite episodes to work on to date--especially because we got to work off of the rough boards by the incomparable Aaron Springer!!!! It was definitely an honor to work in tandem with such a figurehead of the SB legacy, and we definitely tried to make sure we were translating the spirit of his humor and drawing style. This episode and sequence especially was really formative in getting me to understand how things move and how the animators will translate our drawings.

[querenciasturniolo]

home ⮕ n.s.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: swearing, she/her pronouns

summary: you’ve been missing your best friend, so you, matt and chris come up with an idea to surprise him

a/n: this is super corny, and poorly written, but i wanted to write something for nick, so sue me

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

requested: no

“I genuinely don’t understand why you won’t just move to LA.”

You laughed and shook your head as you turned on your turn signal, Nick’s voice coming through the speaker. It had been three months since you’d last seen him, and you missed him like crazy. There wasn’t a day that went by when the triplets were in Boston full time that you didn’t see him. Them living in LA half the time sucked, to say the least. Nick was always subtle about telling you he missed you, but you knew he missed you as much as you missed him.

“Because I have a job, you dork. I can’t just drop everything and move to the other side of the country.” You teased, Nick grumbling a backhanded comment that you couldn’t quite understand over the phone. You scoffed as you pulled into your driveway and turned your car off. “When are you guys coming back to Boston?” You asked, disconnecting your phone from your car and stepping out as you pressed your phone to your ear.

“Not soon enough. We have a shit ton of meetings coming up, so it’ll be awhile before we can even think about traveling. How’s work been going for you?”

The rest of your conversation consisted of a million different things, each topic making you think about dropping everything and going to LA, even though you knew Nick was joking. Not seeing him everyday like you used to was the worst, and when you got off of the phone with him, you had an idea. You opened your messages and created a group chat with Matt and Chris.

how much do i have to beg you two to help me surprise nick ?

It felt like it took ages for either of them to respond, but Matt finally replied.

Surprise him how?

You explained your plan to them, telling them how you wanted to book a flight to LA and surprise Nick, especially since you hadn’t seen the three of them in so long. Chris sent a couple thumbs up emojis, while Matt replied and said to let him know when your flight got in so they could pick you up from the airport.

The days leading up to your flight, you kept in constant contact with Matt and Chris, making sure that you were all on the same page, and making sure Nick had no idea what you were planning.

Your flight was long and tiring, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting antsy. You were so excited to finally see all of them, but especially Nick.

Matt and Chris told you that Nick had plans with Madi for most of the day, and wouldn’t be home until later, so your afternoon landing would give you enough time to set up what you had planned. The moment your plane landed, you rushed to get your bag and get to where Matt and Chris were, facetiming Chris immediately.

“Hey, where are you guys?” You asked, Chris flipping the camera to show you what exit gate they were parked at.

“I can’t fucking pronounce that, but that’s where we are.” He said, an amused scoff leaving your lips as you walked out of the gate and looked around, finally spotting the minivan and running over. Chris and Matt got out of the car and practically yanked your bag and carry-on out of your hands to throw into the trunk. The moment they were done, they wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug, all of the air leaving your lungs.

“I’m glad that you guys missed me too, but I can’t breathe.” You said, dramatically straining your voice as they let go.

“We just love you, dude. Accept it already.” Chris said, you rolled your eyes and opened the back door.

“We need content for our Wednesday video, do you mind?” Matt asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You said, Matt nodding to himself as Chris immediately pulled the vlog camera from his bag and turned it on. It took him a few minutes to get the camera to focus, swearing under his breath as he finally lifted the camera to be facing all three of you. You were always surprised at how comfortable they were behind the camera, while you constantly felt awkward any time you were involved in one of their vlogs.

“So, as some of you guys know, Y/n has been one of our best friends for a while. We haven’t seen her in forever, and we all decided that we’d surprise Nick while he’s out with Madi for the day.” Chris said, Matt immediately pulled out of the parking spot and headed towards the exit.

You waved at the camera and gestured behind you to the trunk. “I brought some decorations and gifts for him as well, and Matt and Chris are gonna help me decorate his room.”

Chris flipped the camera on Matt. “Do you have anything to say?” Matt glanced over before looking back at the road.

“Well, Nick has always said that he doesn’t get overly excited about things, but I feel like when he realizes Y/n is in LA for the week, we’ll see if that’s true or not.” He said, you and Chris laughing as he shut the camera off and put it away.

The drive back to their house was filled with the three of you catching up about what’s been going on the last few months in LA and Boston, and when you got back to their house, the three of you rushed up the stairs with your bags and the camera. It took less than an hour to hang the streamers and put the gifts in the bag, the three of you laughing and fucking around the entire time, talking to each other and the camera.

“Nick says he’s about to be home.” Matt said, replying to Nick’s text as you jumped from the desk chair.

“Fuck, where do I go, what do I do?” You said, your heart racing as Chris laughed and shook his head.

“Just stand in the bathroom, we’ll set up the camera. He’ll be confused as hell to see us in his room with a bunch of decorations, and then you can walk out.” He said, you nodding your head as Matt put the camera across from Nick’s door and hit record. You waited until you heard the door open from downstairs and Nick shouted that he was home before you rushed to the bathroom, Chris and Matt making themselves look casual as you waited impatiently.

Time seemed to slow down as Nick ascended the stairs, each step taken making you grow more and more antsy. The door to his bedroom opened and his footsteps paused.

“What the fuck.” He said, a grin growing on your face. You could see Matt looking up from his phone, not looking casual at all. His eyes flickered to you for a split second before meeting Nick’s eyes again. He’s always been awful at being subtle, but it was one of his charming attributes.

“Do you not like your surprise?” Matt asked. You heard Nick scoff and drop something on his desk before walking further into the room.

“This is ridiculous. You guys are acting like I was overseas; I was just hanging out with Madi for a few hours.” He said, his voice monotone as you finally stepped out of the doorway and leaned against the wall, waiting for him to turn and notice you.

“Look around, Nick, I’m sure you’ll find something.” Chris said, Nick frowned and turned his head, his eyes finally meeting yours. He paused for a moment, his reaction time slowed before his face lit up and he rushed towards you. You laughed the moment he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, your legs kicking out behind you as you hugged him back.

“Holy shit! What are you doing here?! When did you get here?! When did you plan this?! What are you fucking doing here?!” He rambled, your laugh uncontrollable as he finally put you down and just stared at you, completely bewildered and shocked. You saw Chris out of the corner of your eye grabbing the camera and zooming in on the two of you.

“I missed you, you dork. A week ago I booked the flight, requested work off, and Matt and Chris helped me decorate your room and set up the surprise.” You said, Nick’s jaw hitting the floor. He looked over, seeing Chris holding up the camera.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Nick said, a laugh leaving his lips as he shook his head and looked back at you. “You’re helping me edit this video since you exposed me.” He said. You scoffed and shrugged your shoulders.

You didn’t mind being put to work, even if it just meant you laying on Nick’s bed and talking to him while he edited. He was like your home in a person, you’d never thought you’d meet someone you felt completely comfortable with no matter how strange you acted at times. Neither of you had ever been overly affectionate, physically or emotionally, but you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him what was on your mind.

“This is so fucking weird to say, but I’m so glad I met you.” You said, Chris and Matt aweing behind the camera.

Nick snorted and shook his head. “That’s not weird at all, I’m fucking awesome.” He said, the tone of his voice joking. “I’m glad I met you, too, you loser.” He said. You awed dramatically, pulling him into a ridiculous hug.

“I knew you loved me, you big lug!” You teased, Nick groaning and trying to shove you off of him, Matt and Chris cackling behind the camera.

You knew you’d have to head back to Boston at the end of the week, but for now, you were glad you were home.

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 18

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRR AU

Warnings: Language, crude talk, and the usual bad writing.

I had planned from the beginning to end this series after the next chapter and an epilogue, but call me crazy, I love it too much. So while this part of the story will end, I still plan to update with one-shots or stories from time to time. If you’re just done with it, let me know.

Also, this chapter felt a little off to me, so I apologize if it's terrible, but I think I ended on a good note.

Thanks @burnsoslow for prereading.and usage of your girl, who finally got to make her debut.

---------------------------------

"Damn it, Riley! Pick up!" Liam grumbled as he lowered the cell phone from his ear and tossed it in the seat beside him. The royal jet had been in the air for a little over four hours already, and he'd grown frustrated at getting her voice mail each time. Surely, she was home by now. 

Even though it was the middle of the night in Las Vegas, it was worth interrupting her. He had tried unsuccessfully to contact Riley since he packed his bags earlier and hastily headed for the airstrip. By this point, there must have been a dozen or so messages left on her phone without so much as a hint she'd gotten them. 

While time wasn't an issue -- he'd get to Las Vegas one way or the other -- it was the desperation to hear from his new wife and tell her he knew precisely why she left. 

And that he loved her.

Tilting his head back against the headrest, he swiveled side-to-side in his luxury chair while tightly clutching his freshly poured scotch. The security footage he watched earlier that morning replayed in his mind again. There were no doubts about what it showed: Madeleine confronted Riley outside their quarters just minutes after leaving the ball. Without sound, however, no one could ascertain specifically what was said among the two women. It was clear though,  Riley was not a willing participant in that conversation. When they saw the disk held up in the Countess' hands, and the look of sheer horror on his pussycat's face, that told Liam all he needed to know. This was a blackmail situation, plain and simple, that included assault; those flowers he found scattered on the ground when he returned to his quarters last night all made sense now. This act was deliberate and treasonous, and Liam would ensure his ex-fiancee paid handsomely for it. 

After they viewed the footage several more times, the Royal Guard was immediately summoned to Krona to find Madeleine and take her into custody. Liam knew it was a long shot whether his guards could pull that sting off, but he was working with what he had at the moment.

Despite whatever happened next, there was one thing the King was confident of: He was prepared to give up his entire Kingdom to get his girl back. Returning to Cordonia without her was not an option.

Shaking his tumbler of partially melted ice cubes, Liam leaned forward and steadily poured another bottle of scotch into his glass. As soon as he sat back and raised the fresh beverage to his lips, he was startled by the ringing of his cell phone. In a rush to answer, he hastily set the drink aside and snatched his phone up from where he tossed it earlier. 

"Hello! Love?" He answered, hopeful it was her.

"Hey, little brother. Love you too ... Say, do you know if the palace has a Spanish tickler or a breast ripper? Asking for a friend."

Liam furrowed his brows in confusion before rising from his seat, plopping a knee down on its cushioned bottom, and glancing to the back of the plane. "Leo? Why are you calling me? We're on the same damn plane. I'm looking right at you."

"Nevermind that. Listen, I figured out a way to take care of Madeleine once and for all. Behold ..." Leo held up a leather-bound book and waved it over his head while Liam squinted from the front of the plane to get a better look. "... The King Constantine Guide To Fucking Torture In The 21st Century; Father gave it to me after my investiture ceremony. The way I see it, there really is no other option here than to tie her to a tree in front of the palace, invite the public to watch for a modest fee, and do some cool shit with iron rods and spikes. I got dibs on the knee-splitter, though."

"Leo ..." Liam began to warn his brother how ridiculous that plan was before stopping himself and staring off into the distance for a moment in thought. "Wait ... is there anything about flaying in that book?"

"Hell yeah there is! And if you're interested in thumbscrews, my buddy, Pete, has a trunk full of them. He uses them for ass play, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind letting us borrow them to split Maddie's thumbs in half." Leo let out a maniacal laugh.

Liam chuckled, despite the peculiarity of the conversation. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm not interested -- to the contrary, actually. And while I appreciate your help in seeing that Madeleine is brought to justice, I think we better stick to more lawful means."

"Boo, you whore!" The line went dead with a click. 

Liam held the phone away from his ear, watching Leo sink down into his chair in a huff. "Really?" He called back in agitation. Met with the silent treatment and a middle finger from his disgruntled brother, Liam rolled his eyes, then slumped back down into his seat. Maybe he'd try to call Riley again.

-------------

The phone on Riley's nightstand buzzed again. She knew it was another call from Liam, and while she felt remorseful for ignoring all of his calls and texts, she couldn't bring herself to look at or answer them quite yet. The sooner all ties between them were broken, she believed, the quicker he could forget all about her and the mess she made of everything. 

But even her willpower was slipping. Riley slid her hand out from under the pillow and reached over to pick up her phone. Holding it to her chest, she contemplated for a second just reading his texts and returning his calls, but Madeleine had warned to end all contact with him. Obviously, she was curious about what he had to say, but it was too risky. I'm so sorry, Liam. 

Hitting the power button on her cell, the light on the device faded to black before she tossed it in the nightstand drawer.

Early the next morning, Riley's eyes flickered open to the sound of a banging on her front door, followed by the incessant ringing of her doorbell. Feeling exhausted from a lack of sleep, mainly because of crying and unable to think about anything other than how she hurt Liam, Riley decided to ignore it. She just wanted to be left alone, and eventually, they'd give up and leave, right?

Except they didn't.

Annoyed, she let out a sigh and then eased herself up out of bed; the pain in her back was still a problem. Tossing a robe over her body, she slowly made her way down the stairs of her townhome -- each step excruciating -- until she finally made it to the door.

Twisting the lock, she opened the entry door, before letting out a sudden gasp at the tearful person standing on the other side. 

"Oh my God, Riley! Y-You're alive! You're really alive!"

"Alyssa?" Riley's best friend from New York pulled her into a relieved hug, nearly sobbing at that point. "What're you doing here?"

"I thought something terrible happened to you, but now that I can see you're still among the living ..." she sniffled before pulling back and narrowing her blazing blue eyes at her friend. "Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you ever since you texted me that you were boarding a plane in Cordonia, and that something serious happened involving Tyler. You promised me you'd call as soon as you landed--"

"I know. I'm so sorry. It was late ..."

 " -- and you didn't. Then I worried, even more, when you didn't answer any of my calls back. I had to book the first red-eye flight here to make sure you were all right." Finished with her rant, a huffing Alyssa's jaw immediately clenched. "Now, what did that shithead ex of yours do? I'll kill him if he hurt you, Ri. I might be small, but I'm scrappy like an alleycat. You know I'll claw his eyes out."

Riley let out a light chuckle; Alyssa was always overprotective of her and had a clever way with words, but quickly, that chuckle faded into a teary frown. "Oh, Lyss," she whimpered as her face fell into her hands.

Alyssa quickly wrapped her arms around Riley and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Aww, Riley. Sweetie, it's going to be okay," she soothed. 

Stepping inside, Alyssa kicked the door shut and led them both over to the sofa. Sensing Riley was in pain -- and not just emotional -- she helped lower her troubled best friend onto the couch. "I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

The best friends had remained in contact over the last several weeks. It was Alyssa's frantic morning phone call over a month ago that alerted Riley to the news coverage of her impromptu marriage to Liam, having saw it on the news. 

And while Alyssa was aware of everything about Cordonia and Liam, and how Riley fit into all that from their prior conversations, she listened intently while it was revealed to her the details of the incident with Madeleine and the video her ex-husband gave to the Countess.  

Grabbing a tissue from the end table, Alyssa handed it to Riley. "So this cow confronted you with that disgusting video and basically blackmailed you into leaving, or she would release it to the press?" Riley nodded somberly.."Ugh, I want this treasonous bitch thrown in the dungeon, subjected to live-streamed daily anal fistings with giant Hulk gloves ... And Tyler, I want to break every bone in his rotten body, one at a time. And I want to leave him there afterwards, dripping just enough water on his lips, so he doesn't die of dehydration, screaming in agony for the weeks it will take to die of starvation."

 Riley's face scrunched up. "God, Alyssa."

Alyssa shrugged. "What? I don't care; it's what they deserve for hurting you. Did you at least tell Liam what happened?"

This time, Riley shook her head. "No. Madeleine warned me if I told him, she would release the video, and then the council would likely force him to step down. I won't allow him to lose everything for someone like me." 

Irritated, Alyssa pressed a palm to her forehead. "Why are you like this?"

"Like, what?" Riley asked in exasperation.

"That whole, 'someone like me,' part. He wanted to stay married to you. He made you the queen of his country. You've said he couldn't keep his goddamn hands off you for two seconds. And more importantly, you told me you have never felt more loved in your life, than you do when you're with him. The fact that you still question your worthiness to him blows my mind." 

Alyssa reached for Riley's shaky hand, able to tell by the tears sliding down her cheeks and the soft whimpers that she'd touched on something. "You're his pussycat, Riley. Liam already lost everything when you left him. Tell me you know that."

Riley wiped at her face., her voice stifled, "I just wanted to protect him."

"I know." Alyssa smiled softly. "But you needed to give him the chance to decide what he wanted. You made it for him because you know he'd choose you, regardless if he lost everything else; that's how much he loves you, Ri. You can't protect someone who loves you by hurting them. Besides, he's the King; he can simply execute the council if he wants to -- Liam’s not going anywhere."

"You just HAD to add that last part in, didn't you?" Riley laughed, feeling a sense of ease as her mood lightened. It felt good to talk to someone who could help her make sense of everything and realize she hadn’t exactly made the best call by leaving and not telling Liam what happened. "But what do I do about this video? What if Madeleine releases it to the public?"

"Yeah, a video of a married woman having sex with her husband -- Oh, the shame!" she retorted. "Look, you'll be famous on Pornhub for a few weeks, and it'll fizzle out. I know that doesn't make it all better, but you have a lot of people who love you ... we'll be there for you if that happens. Besides, it's Gonzo Dick; I doubt anyone will wanna watch anyway."

Riley snorted out at the nickname she gave her ex-husband. "Stop making me laugh." 

Alyssa cracked a grin. "Nah. If I can make you laugh at that asshole's expense and his crooked dick, then it's worth it."

"Well,” she breathed, “ I suppose I should get dressed and call Liam. Tell him what happened, and hopefully, he'll … forgive .." her voice trailed off at tasting an increasing collection of bile in her throat and a familiar rumble in her stomach. 

“What’s wrong?”

Riley frowned. "Damn it, why do I keep getting sick?"  

After rushing to the bathroom with Alyssa's help, Riley came out moments later, flushed and perspiring. Alyssa, who waited outside the door to make sure she was all right, eyed her friend with grave concern. "Ri, are you sure you don't have a concussion? You said that Madeleine caused you to fall, and you complained you’ve been getting sick a lot. Is there any chance you hit your head too?"

Riley considered for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think so. I mean, it all happened so fast I don't really remember, but my head doesn't hurt."

"OH NO! You have memory loss too, on top of the vomiting and a hurt back? Riley, you need to go to the hospital now. This is serious."

"Alyssa, I'm fine. I don't need to go to the hospital," Riley dismissed and hobbled past her friend toward the kitchen. "You always worry too much."

Alyssa followed behind her, brows bumped together in a scowl. "Because you're a stubborn ass who never listens, that's why. You need to get checked out," she insisted. Riley paid no attention as made her way to the fridge; that reaction only served to piss Alyssa off. "You can ignore me all you want, but you know as well as I do, I'll just keep annoying the hell out of you until you do it … I'll sing every Dave Matthews song ever written -- On repeat." 

Riley shut the fridge door and turned at the threat, giving her a dismayed glare. "You wouldn't." 

Alyssa tilted her chin. "You know damn well I would. I have... so much to say, so much to say, so much --"

"Please stop! I'm going."

---------

At Valley Hospital and Medical Center, Drake sat slumped down in the waiting room of the E.R;  a thawed ice pack covered his crotch. His increasingly irritated self caught sight of a nurse escorting yet another patient back for examination. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Tired of waiting, he cast the ice pack aside and marched straddle-legged to the triage desk where a beefy nurse with a scowl sat filing her nails. "How much longer is this gonna take?" He demanded bitterly.

The nurse remained focused on her nails and answered in a careless fashion. "You'll get called back when it's your turn, Mr. Walker."

"My turn? MY TURN? I've been here for 15 fucking hours waiting for my turn. I've watched one person after the next walk right in, get treated, and leave. Whose ass do I actually have to lick to get treatment around here?"

Unimpressed with his theatrics, she folded her arms on the desk and looked up at Drake with a glower. "Look. You got kicked in the wang by a hooker. Shit happens. It's not the end of the world. Go home, have a beer, and a good laugh. You'll live." She resumed her filing.

Drake ran both hands through his rumpled hair, letting out a sardonic laugh. "I cannot fucking believe you just said that to me. I suffer trauma on my transplanted dick, and the greatest healthcare minds in the world tell me to have a beer and laugh about it?" his voice shrieked.

The nurse blew on her nails. "That's what I said."

That snarky remark sent him even further over the edge. A red-faced Drake pounded two white-knuckled fists on the desk and leaned down into her space. "Now you listen here, lady. I demand to be seen right now, or so help me, I'll tear this whole goddamn place apart brick-by-fucking-brick! Do you understand me?"

Having none of that, the nurse, who was several inches taller than a startled Drake expected, sprung for her chair and loomed over him menacingly. Drake flinched when she rammed the nail file at him and threatened, "Now, you listen.You can either sit your ass down, or I will sit you down. Do you understand me?"

He didn't understand. He would never understand.

A security guard who heard the commotion casually approached the agitated pair and placed a firm hold on Drake's elbow. "Do we have a problem here, Betty Lou?"

She shook her head, sizing Drake up. "No, just some whiny-ass Karen griping about his dick."

---------------

Several moments later, Alyssa and Riley exited an Uber and wandered into the waiting area, making their way up to the triage line -- or what they thought was a line. It was actually Drake still standing there, continuing to protest his case to anyone who would listen and demanding to speak to someone in charge.

While Riley dug through her purse to retrieve her health insurance card, Alyssa couldn't help but be taken in by the fiery debacle taking place in front of them. She inched a little closer, unable to help herself; it was good drama and sucked her right in. 

Catching a glimpse of Drake’s sour face, she cocked her head introspectively; there was something oddly familiar about the man in the denim shirt going off. Alyssa tapped her chin. Where have I seen him before?  

Before long, the realization set in, and her eyes snapped wide open. She nudged Riley with an elbow and leaned over, whispering, "Hey, isn't that the guy from the news who had the penis transplant? It looks just like him."

Knowing precisely who that was by the description, Riley popped her head up to look. She hadn't known Drake well, only that he was Liam's best friend, and after having spent time together on the plane ride to Cordonia with him, that her maid-of-honor had given him several venereal diseases. "Drake?" she called out.

While Alyssa zoned in on his groin, curious as to what was in there, Drake broke away from the dispute and turned his focus toward the familiar-sounding voice. She was a connection to home and a long-sought-after friendly face. "Riley? Liam's insta-bride, Riley?" 

She let out a light chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's how you would know me ... What are you doing at the hospital? Is your body rejecting the ..." Her embarrassed gaze dropped lower with a gulp. " ... thing?"

"No!" he barked. "I just got attacked by that ... uh, someone."

"You got attacked?" Shocked, Riley placed a hand over her chest. "Why would someone attack you? Are you okay?"

Feeling incensed by the memory, Drake shook his head and muttered. "It's a long story ... What about you? What are you doing here? Thought you were in Cordonia with Liam?"

She inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils and forced a smile. "It's a long story too."

Drake peeked over his shoulder at Nurse Ratchet, giving him a gimlet-eyed stare from behind her computer screen. He groused and turned to face Riley again. "I've got time."

----------------

Nearly 12 hours after takeoff, the royal jet touched down in sunny Las Vegas, an hour ahead of schedule. Liam and Leo stepped off the plane and strolled across the tarmac to the awaiting vehicle, where a smiling man held the rear passenger door open.

"Bastien," Liam greeted as he approached. "Good to see you again."

"Your Majesty." He bowed. "Likewise ... I have the rental car you requested, and the Queen's address is already programmed into the GPS. Should take no more than 30 minutes to get there."

"Perfect,” he replied, clapping Bastien’s shoulder.“Thanks for having everything ready to go."

Liam had contacted the head guard -- who was still jailed for non-support -- and gained him a day-long pass to provide security detail. Bastien was also to stay in contact with his guards to oversee the capture and detainment of Madeleine.

Bastien took their bags, and the brothers hopped into the back of the Escalade. Once they pulled away from the airport, the directions led the group west. The head guard glanced briefly in the rearview mirror as he drove on. “I want to thank you for giving me a second chance. It’s nice to be out of that place, even if just for the day.”

Liam smiled back. “Not a problem, good man. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more for the job than you … though I’m not sure why. Anyway, do you have any updates on the Madeleine situation?”

“Yes, sir. I contacted my colleagues again just before you arrived. Countess Madeleine was taken by surprise when our guards arrived at her family estate in Krona. Once in custody, she was immediately transported to Valtoria for detention, exactly as you requested.”

"That's terrific news ... Wait ...Did you say, Valtoria?" Liam asked with puzzlement in his tone. 

"Yes, sir. As you requested." 

"Man, please tell me Mads tried to fight them off, and they had to use the taser on her," Leo insisted as he held his crossed fingers in the air. "A billy club ... a rubber hose ... something."

"There may have been a brief verbal exchange and some threats, but the Countess promised if they permitted access to her computer to send a quick email, she would go with them peacefully and without further protest. There didn't seem to be any harm in doing so, and she followed through with her word. Sorry to break it to you, Prince Leo, but no tasers were harmed in her capture."

"Well, fiddle shit." Leo glanced over at his brother --who was still scratching his head -- in disappointment. "If only I'd been able to get that shock collar on her while I was engaged to her, you wouldn't be in this mess right now. She just squirmed too much. I’m sorry I let you down, little brother."

"It's fine, Leo; it's not the first time,”  Liam said dryly before turning his head away from Leo to face the front again. "Can we get back to Madeleine being taken to Valtoria? I never requested that. An accused of the Crown is always placed in the palace dungeon. There aren't even cells in Valtoria to hold her in. What am I missing here?"

Approaching a stoplight, Bastien lightly pressed the brakes, then met Liam’s gaze in the mirror. “The orders I was given to pass along to the guards from you earlier were clear in your text: Once she’s taken into custody, she is to be sent to Valtoria and placed in the cage with the monkey until further notice. That’s what they --”

“Mongo! They put her in the cage with Mongo?” Liam exploded before pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no point in asking how that message got mixed up. “Goddamn it, Leo! Why are you, you, sometimes?” He ran a swift hand down his face and turned to glare at his brother. “Do you realize they consider that cruel and unusual punishment? Did you ever stop to consider how much shit I'm going to hear over this if this gets out?" He let out a sharp breath and threw his hands in the air."How? How did you do it?"

"It's simple pimple, Liam. When you went to the bathroom, I grabbed your phone," he replied bluntly with a shrug. "And according to page 24 of Father's torture book: It's not considered cruel and unusual punishment, as long as she has food, water, and clean shelter -- which she does. Or ... if she's housed with a member of the royal family -- which she is. Mongo is the heir to the throne, so we've got that covered too. So just relax, little bro; Leo’s got it all taken care of for you."

Liam dropped his chin to his chest, then let out a weary breath. “Bastien, call the guards and have them move her to the palace at once.” 

As Bastien placed the call, Liam shifted in his seat so that he was staring out the window. He put a palm over his mouth to conceal the curved lips that formed a devilish grin, trying to contain the unbearable urge to bust out laughing. Oh, Maddie ... I hope you and Mongo had one hell of a time together.

----------------

Back at the hospital, Riley situated herself on the gurney while a nurse prepared to check her vitals and ask general health questions. 

In the next bay over, separated by a thin sliding curtain, Drake was finally attended to after Riley reluctantly, but willfully, played up her celebrity status. Once she threatened to have the hospital shut down -- which she doubted was even possible on her end -- the proverbial red carpet was rolled out for both of them; she was still a queen, afterall. 

Steps were then taken to ensure they both received the royal treatment, so to speak. That wasn’t typically how Riley preferred to handle situations; she hated big fusses over her. But in the end, she did help one of Liam’s oldest friends finally get the medical attention he needed, so it was worth trying. 

The blood pressure cuff on Riley’s arm squeezed tighter just as one of the doctors stepped inside and slid the curtain all the way closed. His cheerful greeting drew Riley's fixed gaze away from the changing numbers on the monitor beside her bed, and she smiled up at him.

The doctor was tall and thin, with thick spectacles perched near the tip of his nose. He gave a brief nod to Alyssa, who was sitting in a chair at Riley’s bedside, rubbing her shoulder. Scanning the patient chart, he spoke without looking up, "Queen Riley, it says here you suffered a fall?"

"I'm just Riley,  please," she requested.

The doctor looked up from the paperwork and nodded with an understanding smile. "Of course." 

After the initial exam concluded, Alyssa remained behind after the doctor ordered x-rays and transport had wheeled Riley down to radiology. 

Bouncing her crossed leg as she scrolled through her phone, Alyssa tried to bide her time until Riley returned. An air conditioning vent overhead that she didn’t realize drowned out so much noise around her, suddenly flipped off. Able to catch the conversation on the other side of the curtain better, she listened with a broken heart as Drake reluctantly described to an attending, the worst days of his life. Alyssa shuddered as he recalled the moment his penis fell off, rolled across the bed, and dropped onto Ethan Ramsey’s leather shoe during an exam. “That poor man. I just want to hug him,” she muttered.

Her little ears perked when the doctor mentioned he was “going to have a look at it.” In her curious mind, there were no doubts that she was too. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take a peek at the first transplant of its kind; no way was she going to miss out on that. 

Alyssa slid to the edge of her seat and raised her hand to up to the curtain, easing a tiny portion of it aside. Her blue eyes crinkled with frustration at a nurse who was blocking her view. “Move your ass,” she whispered to herself.

Unable to get a good view, she gave up that spot and eyed the other opening in the curtain at the far end of the room. Sliding off her chair to a crouching position on the floor, Alyssa crab-walked as fast as she could without falling off balance until she made it to the other side. Crooking a stealthy finger along the seam of the curtain, she hoped and prayed Drake’s genital exam wasn’t through yet. What her eyes saw on that gurney when she pulled the fabric aside caused her heart to jolt out of her chest. 

Alyssa cupped a hand over her gaping mouth before stepping back and letting the curtain fall loosely shut again.  Dropping her hand limply at her side, staring blankly at nothing, she mouthed, “Oh. My. God.”

----------------

Down in the radiology department, Riley sat patiently in her wheelchair, waiting for the tech to return to take the x-rays. Enjoying the lighter feeling of having an empty bladder again, she let out a contented sigh; she was about to bust earlier. That mandatory urine sample couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. 

Left alone to ruminate in her thoughts, Riley wondered about those phone calls she ignored last night from Liam. The regret she felt over her actions the last 26 hours continued to mount up. And it took a heart-to-heart with her best friend to really put things into perspective. Her decisions weren’t the best course to take, even if they were done with the most loving of intentions. 

There was a lot to make up to Liam, and she only hoped that it wasn’t too late. Could he even forgive her for all of it?

She wished he was there with her right now. If she knew him the way she thought she did, he’d be standing around telling inappropriate jokes to make her laugh or embarrass her with his silly antics. It was like Liam could be two different people sometimes: Kingly and stoic around everyone else, but the second it was just him alone with her, he was such a big kid. Somehow, she could bring out his true self; the one where he felt comfortable enough to be silly and playful. And as much as she tried to play them off, those little pet names he gave her -- she chuckled to herself as they popped into her head -- were funny. What the hell even was a knucklehead mcspazzatron? 

“Miss Brooks” Riley shook herself of her thoughts as the x-ray tech returned and made her way over. “I apologize that took so long.”

Riley smiled up at her. “No need to apologize… Are you ready for me now?”

“Not exactly,” she teased in such a cheery tone, Riley slightly lowered her eyelids, holding her gaze. “You most likely won’t be getting x-rays today, sweetie.” She held a fisted hand out to Riley and opened her palm to reveal the small object inside. “You’re pregnant.”

--------------------

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[writingsfromhome]

Nuclear Family I

A/N: As requested (accidentally deleted the ask soz) a Dad!Harry where you visit him with your daughter and you live together as a family even though the reality is far from it. But for the sake of your kid you put up with it. The next part gets better promise!

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

--------

“Charlie don’t get too far,” I call out to my three year old. She gives me a disappointed look but I return one of my own and she drags her feet back to me.

Sometimes it felt like it had always been just me and Charlotte and other times it was hard to believe it would be almost four years since I’d had her. The moment she was born-two weeks early-on a rainy August day, I knew I made the right choice to keep her.

“When are we getting on the airplane?” my daughter pouts. She reminded me so much of her father with her bold eyes framed by her lowered brows. I remember when I held her for the first time in my arms and she blinked up at me, her big eyes were a dewy field reflecting her father. It was then that it hit me that no matter where he and I were on earth-we were still somehow connected. And since I was still in love with him then, it hurt. But I learned soon to pour my love into Charlotte and focus on raising her the best I could.

“We’ll be boarding soon." I pick her up and hold her on my knees to keep her from running off again. This was my first time travelling with her-her father generally came down to LA a few times a year to visit her so we never had the need to make the trip. This time, for her fourth birthday, we’d decided to go to London and stay there for the month. And since I was my own boss, I could take my work anywhere.

“I want to see daddy,” Charlie whines.

"We will babe,” I try to soothe her.

“Daddy” was Harry Styles, the Harry Styles. We met through a friend over six years ago when he was in LA. Up until meeting him, it felt like I was living a grey version of my life. Our chemistry was explosive and our connection instant--colouring my world a vibrant hue. We were in love-so in love I moved to London a few months later to be with him and it was going perfectly until I got pregnant. We agreed to keep the baby-it was a no brainer, but as the months went by and the reality sunk in, our relationship took a hit. Suddenly we were arguing about insignificant things, Harry stayed out late with friends or in the studio and wasn’t as supportive as he should have been, and I wasn’t happy. When I brought up the separation Harry looked almost relieved-which hurt. When I brought up moving back to LA he was enraged, but after a few days he agreed. Now, our Charlie saw him a few times a year when he lived in LA and she would stay with him. Our interactions were limited to picking her up and as I’d heard it Harry had a steady girlfriend for the past year. Despite all that, I still loved him. What we had was unlike anything I’d felt, seen, or read about before. I knew he'd felt it too, the music he released spoke the words he never said. But the ugliness of the last few months of our relationship always kept me from remaining wistful. Harry didn’t want commitement. He only had room in his heart for our daughter and I was fine with that.

We were staying around the corner from Harry’s at an air bnb for convenience. Ever since having Charlotte, I hadn’t been outside of the US so this was exciting yet daunting. The idea of seeing London again, all my old friends, and Harry gave me a rush of mixed emotions.

The landing and locating of our luggage had a few bumps and a minor tantrum but our taxi takes us to the flat where we are met with the hostess.

“There’s been a terrible mistake,” she wrings her hands as we stand in the heat of the summer afternoon.

“What kind of mistake?” My heart drops and there’s a tugging on my dress. Charlotte demands to be picked up.

“We accidentally booked another couple to the flat.” The woman responds.

“What?” If I wasn’t this tired, I would be shouting. “How can you make a mistake like that? I booked this well in advance!”

“I understand,” the woman says. “Your booking must have been accidentally cancelled and I-the couple is fine with sharing the flat-”

“I have a small child with me as you can see,” I cut her off not going into detail why our privacy was extremely important. “I’m not living with two strangers when I secured the place for all of August. This is bullshit,” I spit out, forgetting Charlie could hear me. This trip was not going how it should be. “I’m contacting air bnb and-”

My rant is cut short when my phone vibrates. Harry.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Daddy!” Charlotte yells into my ear. I hush her with a glance and try to listen to what Harry was saying.

“-landed? I was trying to reach you where are you?”

I sigh and give the woman a dirty look. “We’ve just arrived at the bnb and apparently there’s been a ‘mistake’ and it’s double booked so now I don’t know where-”

“Shit, stay with me,” comes Harry's steady voice.

“I couldn’t,” comes my own, slightly less steady voice. Staying with Harry would be bad for me. It would only stir old emotions back up and make it harder to leave once again. I just knew it.

“I’m right around the corner Y/N. Just stay until you find another place at least.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I agree and order an Uber, giving the woman a piece of my mind before I go.

Charlotte had fallen asleep on my shoulder in the midst of all of it so I struggle with the child, our luggage, and my phone when I reach Harry's.

“I’ll be right down,” he says. My stomach is suddenly doing sommersaults and I can barely feel my legs. I saw Harry near Christmas! Why was I suddenly so nervous?

“Hey,” Harry enters the lobby in a black shirt and jeans and his glasses sit atop his mess of hair. “You look lovely Y/N, but that’s nothing new.”

Harry's grin is like a crack in the ice surrounding us and I give him a quick hug hello.

“Let me get that.” He grabs the luggage and we wait for the elevator again.

“She fell asleep,” Harry brushes our daughter’s hands and she shifts on my shoulder.

“She’s been doing that since the ride,” I say. “I think jet lag is already doing her in.”

Harry smiles at her and the tenderness in his gaze holds me captive. It was a while since I saw Harry look like that.

Harry gets the luggage onto the lift and I follow him in. The mirrored interior reflects the glimpses he takes of me but I stay staring forward, not wanting to give in.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?” I ask Harry when we enter his flat. “That we’re staying with you.”

“About that,” Harry scratches his nose. “I’m sure she’ll understand. We should talk though…about the trip.”

“Of course, let me just put Charlotte to bed.” Harry points out the spare room and I can tell Charlie will like it here with the amount of stuffed animals Harry's decorated the bed with. She was spoiled.

“So you can stay as long as you want here,” Harry begins. “Or if you want to find someplace else I understand. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

He holds my gaze as he talks and I nod along. It was all very proper and polite, almost as if we’d never had anything more than a friendly relationship.

“What’s your schedule like?” I ask. “I know we already figured things out but if I’m staying for a few days here will I be in the way of anything?”

“I’m filming in a few days, I took a lot of time off the next couple weeks for Charlie but that’s it. Then I'm in the studio after that." Harry scratches the back of his head. “Just make yourself at home don’t worry what I’ve got to do.”

“I don’t want to get in the way. I know we didn’t plan for this,” I flush. Harry reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

“I want you to feel comfortable, love...”

I’m suddenly 21 and Harry and I are on one of our first dates at a bar. He holds onto my hand and tells me he really likes me. He asks me if we wanted to take our relationship past the dating stage. I’m giddy and drunk on love and kiss him yes.

“Mom?” A small voice calls out.

“Yes!” I jump up and shake the memories off, rushing to the spare room. Charlotte sits up in bed with a frown on her grumpy face. “I’m right here babe.” I scoop her up and she holds onto me, already holding a stuffed koala in the other hand.

“So you’ve met Mr. Blake.” Harry walks into the room and points to the koala.

And just like that Charlotte is jumping into her dad’s arms and bubbling with laughter, explaining how his real name is Oreo. My heart squeezes watching the two interact. Charlie is more awake than before the plane ride as she continues with her endless chatter. Harey is wide-eyed and drinking in everything she says. She says something funny and he throws his head back laughing, kissing the side of her head while she giggles. Seeing them two made my heart full.

“Momma I’m hungry,” Charlie says abruptly.

“You must be,” I look at the time. “It’s been a while since we ate.”

“Let’s have an early dinner out,” Harry suggests.

“That’s not necessary-” I try to say but Charlie cuts me off with a big cheer and soon Harry joins in and he’s off with her riding his back with her hands clasped tightly around his neck. I would never win with those two together so I find my wallet and join them.

“I didn’t realise how much I needed this,” Harry says on our walk to the restaurant. It was a ten minute walk Harry wanted to take, reassuring me that we wouldn't be bothered. Charlotte holds her dad’s hand and stares in wonder at the new city around her. “I can’t believe you-she-Charlie hasn’t ever been down here.”

“She was so excited to finally see where her Dad lives,” I laugh at the image of her bouncing off the walls in happiness.

“I think the weirdest thing for me is that my baby has an American accent,” Harry comments.

“I never thought about that!” I laugh. “At least she won’t be saying things like crisps and the loo!”

“Oi that’s offensive,” Harry jokes. “My english is just as good as yours mate!”

“Now you sound Australian!” I tease.

Harry laughs and bumps his shoulder into mine.

“Australia has kangaroos,” Charlotte comments randomly.

“We’ve got a clever one,” Harry winks at me. “They’ve got massive spiders too.” Harry says to our daughter but little does he know she actively picked up spiders.

Charlie starts jumping like a kangaroo and soon Harry picks her up and sits her on his shoulder where she shouts to anybody who listens that she was on top of the world.

“I always tell people she’s got that energy from her dad,” I tell Harry quietly. There a shine to his eyes as he looks to Charlie and she looks down at him and shouts it louder.

“My mum and dad were thinking of coming around this weekend to see her,” Hadry suddenly says.

“That would be nice for her. To see her family,” I say.

“I mean you’d be there too?” Harry says.

“Oh, right.” My mouth dries at the thought of having to see his family. They were a great bunch but the way Harry and I ended things so abruptly was an uncomfortable reminder. “I’ll try to make it.”

“Charlie can have some sort of a normal family dinner,” Harry jokes.

“Both parents and grandparents? That would make her trip actually.” I say with a little bit of sadness. Charlotte wouldn’t grow up with both parents like Harry and I had the privlege of and that hurt me thinking about it.

“I wish she could have that all the time,” Harry sighs. He glances over at me as he says it and there’s something unspoken. But Charlie grabs a fistful of his hair and he has to get her down in her drunken power.

The restaurant is cozy and Charlie talks a mile a minute with the attention of both her parents. Every so often when she says something ridiculous or something related to an old inside joke from years past, Harry will glance over at me with a smile. It’s a secret language between us, and I swear I even feel his hand brush my own but I chalk it up to accidents. Harry had a girlfriend, he had no business doing that with me.

It gets more confusing later that night. Harry had plans to go out at 8 and Charlie falls asleep by half past 7. Being in LA time, I stay snuggled in the couch, watching a random movie Harry recommended. My eyes drift shut halfway but I’m awoken by a bang. My eyes squint in the dark as my hand feels for my phone. 1:47AM the bright display reads.

“Sorry,” comes a voice. The lights flick on and Harry stands dishevelled in the clothes he went out in. “I was trying to keep quiet I di'know you were sleeping!”

He was drunk-whispering which meant his voice was only slightly lower than normal. He stumbles towards me and falls onto the sofa, yanking his shoes off with a great deal of effort.

“Were you sleeping?” He asks me up close.

“I guess so,” I respond. “Did you have a good time?”

A part of me feels awash with sadness, the dull and familiar ache settling into my chest. Another part of me is angry at myself for still being in love with a man who could not love me the same way.

“It would have been nice if you came,” Harry reaches out and twists a strand of my hair. “Are you naturally a brunette?”

“I am,” I say gently. “You should drink water before bed.”

“No-no don’t start taking care of me!” Harry puts a pillow on his lap. “I’m supposed to be taking care of my girls. But I’m doing a shite job I guess.”

He stifles his laugh. I try to stifle the pang in my chest when he says 'my girls’ because it meant nothing more than just words. I couldn’t afford to read into these things. But when Harry switches the pillow to my lap and lays his head down, all self-control gets chucked out he door.

“It’s been so long since we talked,” Harry tries to whisper again. He reaches out to touch my hair again, his fingers lingering on my face before lowering to his side again.

“You came to LA a lot,” in my statement is also an accusation. He never came in to my apartment or asked me to go out.

“You never invited me in,” Harry says quietly.

“Surely I did?” I tell him.

“No,” his reply is almost a sigh. I realise maybe I didn’t make it so explicit.

“My mistake,” I admit. “But you know you were always welcomes.” I trace the bridge of his nose.

“I know,” Harry says with a boyish smile. “I was slightly nervous when we were on your terf. I didn’t ask either-you’re right.”

Involuntarily I brush my fingers through Harry's hair. Instantly, his body relaxes with a sigh as he closes his eyes. So I remove my hand immediately and nudge him.

“I should go to bed,” I wait for him to clumsily get up. We walk to the stairs together where Harry wishes me goodnight. He leans foward and misses my forehead by an inch, kissing my eyebrow instead.

“Night,” I back away into the spare where Charlotte sleeps, rubbing my eyebrow. In bed, I try to sort through my feelings. My eyes land on the sleeping body next to me and I pull her into me. She was all I needed, I try to remind myself. I was only here for her. Harry and I were never getting together again.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Dance Party | Dream SMP

Requested? No but I did 

Warnings? None? It’s long as hell 

Summary: You have a dance party with your best friends in the dream smp, with a little bit of revealed feelings at the end 

Word Count: 2,773 (It’s so long but so worth it i promise) 

Spring break was finally here and you and the boys had something big planned. It was your first meet-up with most of them and you were beyond excited. You, Quackity, Karl, Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Dream, George, Bad, Ranboo, and Sapnap were all renting a place out for the week in California.

You had been planning it for months, rounding up the money, getting the details set, and now finally traveling to Cali. You guys didn’t have any specific plans for the week, just wanting to spend quality time together but you were excited nonetheless. 

Your dad offers to drive you to the airport, still weary that you were spending your spring break, hundreds of miles from home with boys you had never really met before. You promised him it’d be fine though, you had already met up with Ranboo, Dream, Sap, and Karl which gave your dad enough to let you go. 

The plane ride thankfully wasn’t super long, and it was a straight flight to California. You also had a plan to meet up with some of the boys at the airport so you could head over to the Airbnb together. Your nerves were beyond anything you had felt before, a mix between excitement, anxiety, and content. You just wanted to finally be with your friends. 

“Dream!!” you yell over facetime when you land. “Please tell me you’re in LAX right now.” 

You had just landed, turning your phone off airplane mode to see that Karl, Ranboo, Sap, and Dream had landed in LA. You grabbed all of your stuff, instantly pulling up Dream’s number and facetiming him as you made your way off the plane. 

“We all are!” Dream exclaims panning the camera around to show the rest of the boys. “Hurry up you’re late!” 

You giggle loudly as you make your way to baggage claim and where the rest of the boys are. When you get there and see the boys, there’s so much excitement coursing through you, you can’t even contain it anymore. 

“(y/n)!!” Karl yells seeing your first. 

He books it in your direction, and you start to run towards him as well. You both collide halfway to each other, falling to the ground in a mess of limbs and loud laughs. You’re definite the rest of the airport goers are staring at you like you’re crazy but you couldn’t care less. You finally stand up, Karl pulling you into a bone-crushing hug and you’re smiling so wide your face is going to break. 

“I want one!” Dream whines and you turn in Karl’s arms. 

You squeal loudly, moving from Karl to rush into Dream’s arms. The tall boy wraps you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground ever so slightly. 

You then turn to Sap, your heart racing erratically. You had only met him once or twice but over a million facetime calls, late-night text conversations, and those two meetings, your heart had settled on him. 

His smile is wide and bright when you face him and you rush into his arms, wondering in the back of your mind if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. You tuck your head under his chin as he squeezes you tight and your smile is radiating. 

You then greet Ranboo in a similar fashion, the tall giant giving you the best hugs you’ve had in years, practically lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You couldn’t help but feel the best you had in years though. You were so grateful to be around your found family again. 

After exchanging long-awaited greetings, you grab your luggage and the five of you head out to the Airbnb. The entire time you five catch up on life, upcoming projects, what you wanted to do while you were in LA everything. 

“When is the British Dream Team and everyone else getting here?” you ask as you pull up to the Airbnb. 

“I think Bad and Quackity are already here?” Karl says. 

“The rest of the boys should be here tonight,” Dream chimes in. 

Your heart is racing once more as you all climb out of the car and make your way inside of your home for the next week. As promised, Bad and Alex are inside, and you can hear them the minutes you step through the door. 

“Language!” Bad yells out and Alex’s signature laugh can be heard throughout the place. 

“We’re here!” Ranboo calls and the two emerge from the living room. 

“Guys!!” Alex greets. 

You make your way to him first, squeezing him tight and stepping back, in shock that you had never met him before. You head for Bad next, the older boy offering a quick hug and a shy smile. It was the first time you had ever met the two but you felt right at home anyway. 

As everyone gets settled, rooms are arranged, and dinner gets decided you suddenly get a phone call from Tommy. 

“Mister Tommyinnit!!” you greet and Tommy rolls his eyes but smiles. 

“Hey bitch! We’re headed to the hotel!!” Before you can respond, the phone is pulled out of Tommy’s hands and you’re faced with a smiling Tubbo. 

“Hi (y/n)!! I can’t wait to see you!!” you giggle at the younger boy, Tubbo always acting as a younger brother to you. 

“Get here soon! Dinner will be ready!!” 

As the seven of you wait for your British companions, you relax in the living room, getting to know Alex and Bad more and getting reacquainted in person with the rest of your best friends. Just as food arrives, you’re all swarming the kitchen, grabbing plates, silverware, food, the works when you hear the doorbell ring. 

“Got it!” you call dropping your stuff to head to the door. 

When you swing it open you can’t help the excited scream that leaves your lips. There in front of you was the British dream team, the boys you were beyond excited to meet for the very first time. Wilbur stands at the front, an excited smile wide across his lips and you tackle him in a hug. He catches you with ease, lifting you up into the air as you squeal loudly. 

You break away from Wilbur just as the rest of the boys have come to see what all the commotion was about. Wilbur walks through the door first, considering you were now pulling George into a tight hug, pushing your face into the taller boy’s chest. 

Everyone finally makes it inside, and before you know it you’re being tackled by Tommy, a loud laugh bursting from the two of you. You hug the younger boy tightly, love filling your heart for the kid who was like a younger brother to you. You look up during the hug to see Tubbo pouting, making you pull him in too, now hugging both boys who were hilariously taller than you. 

Sap stands at the kitchen doorway, a soft smile gracing his lips as he watches you finally meet Tommy and Tubbo. You had been talking about meeting the younger boys for ages, the two kids stealing their way into your heart and you had talked endlessly about how you had always wanted little brothers and how you’d do anything for the pair. 

Sap’s heart does a backflip as you look up at him, beaming wide as you’re finally able to meet all of your best friends. He knows how much this means to you, making his heartbeat fast at the mere thought of your happiness. 

As you pull away, your heart is soaring being around your best friends. Your little found family meant everything to you and to have them all in one place with you meant the world. For a moment you think about how in a week it would all end but you pushed the thought away quickly, knowing you had plenty of time to enjoy. 

The just-arrived boys throw their stuff in their assigned rooms, and finally, you all start to grab dinner. You had practically ordered enough to feed an army but once the boys grabbed their portions you realized it was the smart move. 

As you sit and eat, surrounded by your best friends the vibe was beyond immaculate. You had great food, your best friends, and this was going to last a week? Nothing could get better. 

It had been 2 days of adventures, memories, and storytelling between you and the boys. You guys had been going nonstop since you had gotten to California and while you loved every second you needed a slight break. 

On day 3, most of the boys were still out, some were relaxing in their shared rooms, and some went back and forth. You had decided to sleep in before relaxing in the living room for a bit. Your music played on shuffle through speakers set up in the room. 

You had skipped through a million songs, unable to settle on anything specific when it hits you. You head straight for your throwback playlist, hitting shuffle on the almost 200 songs. 

The first song pops up and you gasp in excitement. About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove starts blasting through the speakers and you can’t help but get up and start to dance. 

“There’s a mountain between us! But there's one thing I'm sure of!” you scream sing dancing around the room. 

“That I know how I feel about you!” 

You whip around to see Karl standing in the doorway of the living room, big smiles and wild eyes directed towards you. You giggle as he runs into the room and the two of you start to dance and sing along to the iconic Miranda Cosgrove song. 

“What the-, “ Wilbur asks emerging from his room. 

He spots you and Karl dancing around the room and you beckon him to come join you. The second the song hits his ears, Wilbur’s grinning and joining you and Karl in your obnoxious activity. 

As the song ends, Karl is immediate to want to continue your fun. 

“Dance party!” he declares. 

Quackity, Bad, Sap, and Dream book it out of their rooms excited to join the chaos, and you instantly grab Sap, a strange confidence coming over you, pulling him towards you so you can dance together. 

The next song comes on and all of you start to get hyped all over again, the throwback playlist working its magic once again.

Your head becomes dizzy as the proximity of you and Sap hits you like a train. His hands trail your waist, his eyes making their way over you before landing on your eyes. You slip your hands around his neck, trying to find that first boost of confidence again as he starts to sing the words. 

“You spin my head right round, right round!” Sap yells pulling you close and swaying with you. 

Sap didn’t know how either of you got into this situation but he’d keep you in his arms for the rest of the night if he could. He pulls you even closer, as you sing the next lyrics, your eyes trained on each other’s.

“When you go down, when you go down down!” you echo the next lyric back to him and Sap smirks at you as you dance with him. 

“Language!!” Bad yells as the lyrics dawn on him and you’re all left laughing. 

You turn back to Sap, your breath stolen the minute your eyes land on his beautiful green ones and you wish you could close the distance between you two. 

“(y/n)!” Dream calls as the song launches into its second verse. You turn towards him and he holds his hand out to you. 

You giggle, extending a hand and Dream pulls you towards him as you two start to dance together. You two make your way around the room, your dancing massively exaggerated but out of the corner of your eye you see Sap glaring at the older boy. 

The song keeps going, the seven of you officially popping off together. Just as the song is reaching its end, Tubbo, Tommy, Ranboo, and George finally emerge. 

“Were we all poppin off?” George asks and Dream nods. 

Your music keeps playing, another excellent throwback starts up and this time you and Ranboo are the ones screaming in excitement. 

“Guys, you are about to watch me embarrass myself.” 

The boys tilt their heads to the side in clear confusion but you don’t give them time as Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore is blaring through the speakers and the rap begins to play. 

“Get 'em, what it is, what it does, what it is, what it isn't, Looking for a better way to get up out of bed, Instead of getting on the Internet, And checking a new hit me, get up,” You rap the words flawlessly, a result of too much time in 2012. 

The boys hype you up as you continue to sing, Ranboo coming over to dance next to you. When the chorus hits you all jump around, screaming out the words. 

“Okay, my turn,” Ranboo says as the second verse starts. 

“Now, can I kick it? Thank you, Yeah, I'm so damn grateful, I grew up really wanting gold fronts,” He starts to rap with ease and your jaw drops looking at the younger boy. 

“Pop off!!!” Dream and George yell in unison and you laugh loudly before joining Ranboo. 

The two of you scream the verse together, pointing and dancing together as you do so. As you hit the peak of the bridge, you and Ranboo are practically screaming the lyrics, dancing around like idiots in the living room but you had never felt better in your life. 

The music and dancing continue, Wilbur requesting Love Story by Taylor Swift kicking off another round of giggles and loud singing especially from him, Karl, and Alex. 

Just as Hey There Delilah starts to play and the boys have another round of energy you can’t handle, you slip into the kitchen for half a second to grab something to drink. However, what you don’t notice is someone following behind. 

“They’re crazy,” Sap says from behind you, startling you slightly. 

“They’re the best though,” you tell him an unbelievably wide grin set on your lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.” 

“Without you,” you continue carefully and Sap’s eyes snap to yours. 

You look up at him, peering through your eyelashes and Sap keeps your stare. Something quiet passes between you two, and before either of you can say anything, Tommy comes bursting into the room. 

“(y/n)!! Come on I wanna sing with you!!” 

Tommy runs into the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you out with him. You cast a quick glance back at Sap, an apologetic look on your face before turning and joining the rest of the boys once more. 

Sap’s head drops the minute you leave the room, wishing he had just admitted his feelings and gotten it over with. As he sits in the kitchen, kicking himself for not making a move, his mind races with an idea and suddenly he’s propelled out of the kitchen. 

“Can I see your phone?” Sap asks when the song ends and you break away from Tommy. 

You hand over your phone, watching as he scrolls through your playlist before deciding on a song. His smile widens when he hits play before handing your phone back to you. 

“Oh, her eyes, her eyes, Make the stars look like they're not shinin',” Sap begins and he takes your hand making you look at him. 

You smile watching one of your best friends singing, dancing around the room with him. But, as he continues your heart stops realizing what he’s saying. 

“And when you smile, The whole world stops and stares for a while, 'Cause girl, you're amazing, Just the way you are.” 

Sap pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist and you stare up at him in shock. He smiles wide at you and your heart has definitely stopped beating at this point. 

The song ends, and you’re breathless looking up at Sap. He smiles wides at you and you’re certain you’re reflecting it. 

His other arm wraps around your waist, dipping you back and before you know it his lips are on yours in a show-stopping kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer and when you break away, the boys cheer, making you laugh and push your face into his chest. 

“Finally,” Sap whispers and you giggle, unbelievable happiness radiating through you. 

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (chapter one)

A/N - Hi guys! So I made a post about this a few days ago but I decided, since I finally remembered the fucking password to this blog, that I’d rework some of the writing and plot points in Smoke and Roses, and republish it! I really hope you enjoy more this time round! 

Fic Summary: Holland Van-Ness is a PR manager. At only twenty three years old, she is smart, sharp and straight edge; and the best in the business at what she does. But when she gets involved with the reckless Motley Crue, her life changes forever.

DISCLAIMER:: I would like start by saying I do not condone any of the actions portrayed by any member of Motley Crue, any member of their crew, or any OC. This work is fictitious, and is in no way meant to glamorise drug or alcohol abuse. ‘Smoke and Roses’ is based on the events of Netflix’s ‘The Dirt’, and the autobiography of the same name, and follows the both of them closely, and will include details regarding the aforementioned abuse that may be triggering to some readers. The timeline in this fic also differs slightly from real life and The Dirt. With all that being said, proceed with caution, and enjoy!

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Holland.

In her grogginess, she seriously considered rolling back over and ignoring it, but just when she thought it was done, it started to ring again; long, and loud, and tearing her back from the comfort of sleep.

Holland groaned. She rolled begrudgingly out of bed and made her way across her bedroom, where her phone was hung upon the wall opposite her bed by the window. Whoever was calling her better have had a damn good reason to be bothering her at nine AM, and on a Saturday of all days.

“Hello?” She said tiredly into the receiver, running a hand back through her dark blonde hair to push it back from her face, “Holland Van-Ness speaking.”

“Ahh, Holly,” a voice, irritatingly cheerful for the time of day, greeted her on the other end. “It’s Doc Mghee.”

Well, that certainly peaked her interest, and Holland was suddenly wide awake. Though she had known Doc for years, he rarely called for a chat, which could only mean one thing; he had a job for her. “Doc, good to hear from you,” she responded warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It had been a year or so since Holland had last spoken to the infamous manager. He had been a close friend of her Father’s before he passed away, and had been the one to help her break into the music industry when she was a mere eighteen years old. That had been five years ago; and Holland was eternally grateful. She owed a massive amount of her success to Doc. “Tell me,” he said, “how soon are you able to get to LA?”

Holland raised an eyebrow at the question even though Doc couldn’t see her. “Doc, if I’m going to make a trip to LA, I should know what it’s about.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m getting to it. I’ve found you a band.”

“Oh yeah?” Holland had expected that, of course. She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached over to her dresser to fish for a notebook and pen. “And… what band might this be?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Doc chuckled again, and Holland didn’t like the way he seemed to be deliberately avoiding answering her question. “But just hear me out, alright? I think this might be just the challenge you’ve been looking for.”

Holland felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Part of her thought she knew exactly who had had in mind, and he was right; she didn’t like it. “...Go on,” she pressed him after a moment.

Doc chuckled for a third time. He sounded unmistakably nervous. “Motley Crue.”

For a moment, Holland was silent as she digested this information, and then she laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Holly-”

“Are you crazy? Doc, you seriously want me to fly all the way out to LA to be their PR manager? That’s career suicide!” 

“Holly,” he went on pleadingly, “these boys need help. If anyone can sort out their shit-show of a public image, it’s you. They’re on the verge of real success here, but my God, their image has got to be fixed. They need you, Holly. Just come to one show. If you think they’re beyond help, I’ll pay for your flight back. But just give them a chance. These kids need some sense talking into them and they don’t listen to me.”

“Kids?” Holland scoffed. “They’re not kids, they’re grown ass men!”

“Look, the choice is yours,” Doc sighed heavily, “can I expect to meet you at the airport or not?”

“Dammit Doc…” she groaned loudly, making it very clear to him exactly how she felt. “Fine. I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Holland heard Doc cheer. “Holland Van-Ness, you are a star!”

The line went dead as Doc hung up. That time, it was Holland’s turn to sigh. She’d heard stories about Motley Crue that were rivalled only by her nightmares. In the six months since they’d debuted, they’d singlehandedly caused more problems than any other band Holland had managed, and she had had to put up with some serious shit. From their very first gig, Holland had decided they were trouble, and she had sworn to herself that she was not going to get involved with them or any other band like them. Apparently, that was not a promise she was going to be keeping.

Holland padded sleepily into the bathroom, where she lingered for a moment to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair. She paused by the sink to take a good luck at her reflection. She looked a damn sight better than she had done five minutes ago, but there was an emotion in her eyes that Holland didn’t immediately recognize. She realised after a moment, that it was fear. 

She drew in a shaky breath. When she told Doc working with Motley was career suicide, she hadn’t been joking, and that thought scared her more than anything. If she didn’t have her job, what did she have?

She rushed back into her bedroom where she dressed quickly and threw a few essentials into a small suitcase. Anything else she needed, or had forgotten, she supposed she could buy once she landed in LA. Holland had worked with a menagerie of bands; from small, local acts to headlining musicians. She had helped all of them maintain a fairly respectable public image. But now, in the cab on her way to the airport to meet Motley freakin’ Crue, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was completely out of her depth.

She made her way through customs fairly quickly and within the hour, found herself in a less than comfortable aisle seat on a four hour flight from Miami to LA. That sinking feeling remade its home in her stomach as the plane started its ascension, and Holland found herself gripping the arm rest, so tightly her knuckles strained white against her skin. She was at least comforted by the thought that when she inevitably wanted to return home, she wouldn’t have to pay for the flight.

As the plane made its way through the sky towards LA, Holland tried to catch up on the sleep that Doc had so cruelly taken from her but it was nearly impossible over the roar of the engines and her own feelings of anxiety, and so eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to watching the clouds whizz by the window. Before she knew it, LA was upon her, and she found Doc waiting for her by the luggage claim.

When she saw her old family friend, all her frustration momentarily drained away and she embraced him in a tight, if not brief, hug. “It’s good to see you, Holly,” he told her with a smile.

“And you!” She said. She looked anxiously over his shoulder, expecting to see the band stroll through the duty free stores towards them. “They’re not joining us?” She asked him.

“Relax,” Doc assured her quickly, “they’re not here. I thought you’d want to get some brunch and get settled in first.”

Holland smiled weakly, reassured. “That sounds great.”

She collected her suitcase and allowed Doc to carry it out to the cab for her. She could have carried it herself given that it wasn’t too heavy, but she was exhausted after her busy morning, and was secretly grateful for his help. When they got into the back of the cab, Doc looked as though he was going to start with some pleasantries, but when he turned to Holland and saw the look on her face, he knew she was ready to talk business. He could tell she had a lot of questions, and motioned for her to start.

“Alright,” she said, folding her hands casually on her lap, “first and foremost, where am I going to be staying? You didn’t mention a hotel or anything in your phone call.”

Doc grimaced and didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. “Once again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “you’re not going to like it.”

Holland’s face fell a mile. “Doc…” she deadpanned, “tell me I’m not going to be staying with them.” She looked at him intently but Doc said nothing, which only confirmed her fears. “Are you serious, Doc?” She asked him furiously, “working with them is going to be bad enough!”

“The money’s not bad,” he reminded her, hoping to diffuse the situation but she only scoffed.

“Yet clearly not good enough to buy me a hotel room,” she scowled. “Why the hell do I have to stay with them?”

“Holly, these boys aren’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before,” Doc told her. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder with them than you have with any other band. You’re going to need them to trust you, Holly. And this is the way to do that.” He gave her a look that Holly recognized and understood almost instantly. It was the same pleading look her Father used when he wanted her to cooperate.

Even so, she groaned loudly. “Alright, fine,” she relented. “I’ll stay with them.” She sighed, turning to look out of the window to avoid seeing the triumphant grin on Doc’s face. “So, what are they like?”

“They’re…” Doc trailed off. He glanced out of his own window, as though the street passing by would inspire him. “They’re a handful,” he settled on eventually, “self centered. Arrogant. But, they’re talented as Hell, and I think they’ve got it in them to be good kids. They just need a little push in the right direction.”

Holland hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. A beeping sound came from Doc’s pocket. He sighed, pulling out the small pager. A scowl passed over his face.

“Aw, crap,” he mumbled, “sorry, Holly. We might have to put that brunch on hold.” He slipped the pager back into his pocket and fed another address to the cab driver, different to the one he had initially given.

“Why?” Holland frowned, “what’s happened?”

“What’s happened is you’re about to start your job a couple hours early,” he said grimly, “there’s been a fight.”

Holland found herself rolling her eyes. “Of course there has,” she grumbled, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. When working with Motley Crue, she should have expected nothing less.

[harringtonstudios]

vegas run. (II)

plot: it’s the annual las vegas run. let’s see what kinda trouble you get into this year!

A/N: the fun allllmost begins. hope yall like <3. everyone say thank you ellie for forcing me to update ily! & i’m so so so grateful for all the messages i received, you guys make me so happy

masterlist! part I.

Sunday came sooner than you expected. Although your duffel bag was sitting in the backseat of your car, you’re were still anxious, nerves lining the pit of your stomach for some reason you couldn’t quite figure out. Wrapping up with your last customer, you ran over to Sarah, giving her a bear hug. 

“Thanks for taking over,” you mumbled, as she grumbled at the tightness of your grip.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun! Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, pushing you off as the door opened, people strolling in. 

“Me? Stupid, never,” you whispered back as you nodded at the customers before walking out to the curb. Your car was parked in the lot of Luca’s Diner, an easy spot as you walked in to pick up the order you had called in an hour ago.

Hefting the containers the waitress provided you with, you huffed your way to the car, one hand awkwardly opening the backseat. Tossing in all the food, you stepped back, closing your door and wiping your hands. 

Baze had texted you letting you know that they were planning on leaving the house around six, and you had quickly decided to buy them all dinner, knowing that someone had paid for your flight ticket. Happiness was passing the favor along forward and you were doing really well with the newfound success of your shop anyway. 

Driving to the house, you hummed alongside the radio, trying to quiet the buzziness in your stomach. You didn’t know why this trip was weighing so weirdly on your mind. You’d been on so many Vegas runs before, each other more hectic than the last. Running through the memories, a small smile grew on your face.

There was nothing better than getting drunk with some of the people you considered your closest friends. Even if you hadn’t spent a lot of time with them lately, you knew that they would always have your back, regardless. That was the things about the boys and the people they hung out with, loyalty and pure kindness. 

-

Two minutes away from the house it hit you. Every Vegas run so far, you’d been by Baze’s side. You were his best friend, and even though you were tight with everyone else, it’d just been natural for you to hang with him. You’d done the big group activities, ran after Kells when he’d popped a tab of acid and started stripping, but it was Baze’s hotel room you’d fallen asleep in and now things were going to be different. Ellie was going to come along on the trip, and even though you loved her to the core, you realized that you couldn’t just go crash in Baze’s room, not when he’d rather be with his girlfriend. 

Pulling into the driveway, you shut the thoughts up. It was going to be okay, this was a trip you were supposed to enjoy and getting a week break when you’d been working for the past two months straight sounded like heaven, regardless of who you spent it with. 

The door swung open before you could even get out of the car. Dub and Slim ran out, bags in hand as they rushed past you to the car on the side of the road. You waited until their car skirted off before stepping out of your own, pulling open the backseat door. 

Rook was standing on the porch and you called him over, eager to get the food out of your car before the smell started seeping into your seats. 

“Where’re they going?” you asked, handing him the containers. 

“They booked a different flight by accident. Idiots,” he supplied, before walking back to the house and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

-

The food was long gone, empty containers stacked on the countertop. You’d thought about cleaning it up, knowing the house was going to be empty for a week, but then Colson had picked up a garbage bag, and you’d laid back on his couch satisfied, socked feet propped up on his coffee table. 

Your eyes had lingered on him for a couple of seconds, taking in the sight of his tattoos rippling as he sweeped the boxes off the counter. You’d seen him shirtless countless times, but there was something different this time around. You hated your brain for thinking this way, but all the little bees that had been floating around all day suddenly swarmed your stomach as he picked up a bottle, taking a swig. 

His hand ruffled at his matted hair and then he caught your eyes. 

“So you’re just gonna sit there, stare and not help?” he questioned, tone light as he put the bottle down. 

“That’s the plan chief,” you responded, saluting him with two fingers as he laughed and flipped you off. 

You took a breath. This was going to be okay, these bees weren’t going to bother you anymore.

-

You all had made it just in time for the flight, checking in your luggage as the overhead announced that your flight was boarding. Running across the airport was not something you had planned to do and you scoffed as Kells took off, long limbs making up distance quickly. Rook was soon to follow, and then AJ and Baze ran right behind, leaving you and Ellie strolling behind them. 

“It’s okay, they’ll hold the plane for us,” she murmured, knocking a shoulder onto yours and you laughed before humming in agreement, happy that she was going on this crazy-fest with you. It wouldn’t be a Vegas Run without you both. 

Reaching the boarding area, you stopped yourself from laughing at the scene that lay in front of you. There was a long line, wrapping around the seats, and there were your boys, panting slightly at the back. Walking behind them, you went, “Great job guys. Marathon training is definitely working out.”

Colson rolled his eyes at you as Rook glared, wiping his forehead. You mouthed a quick sorry as he turned the other way. 

Moving up in the line took no time, and you smiled at the flight attendant biting her lip as Kells handed her his ticket. It was funny to see him so oblivious to it all as he thanked her, moving on without sparing another glance. 

Collapsing in his seat, he pulled your arm as you passed by, dragging you into his row. 

“What? This isn’t my seat,” you mumbled, checking your ticket to make sure. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s Baze’s, but I thought we’d switch so him and his girl could be together,” he answered, letting go of your arm as you furrowed your brow. 

Turning to sit down, you nodded at his proposition, pulling your seatbelt across. He had the window seat, and you pushed yourself forward a little, peering across him to the view outside. It wasn’t anything nice, just a couple of people milling around in bright orange outfits, but you still found it interesting as the sun started to set. 

It took a few minutes, and then you were being told to prepare for take-off. Colson had his headphones in, and you watched him move to the music, eyes closed as he mouthed the words, lips moving fast. Soon you were in air, and you unbuckled your belt, only to move back into his space. 

The clouds stood still in the darkening sky, and you smiled at the sight of California underneath you, lighting up with orange glows. The flight was only around an hour long, and your fingers tapped at your thighs, not really wanting to use your phone while you were on board. 

“Stop moving so much,” came a muffled voice. 

“Sorry,” you moved back, grimacing a little as Colson’s eyes peered open. He smiled a little at that, before noticing how you were practically at the edge of your seat. Sitting up, he scrubbed a hand over his little beard before going, “We can switch seats if you want?”

“You sure?” you perked up, knowing that watching the sky would be more than enough entertainment for the rest of the flight. 

“Yeah, here move,” he offered, hunching over to get up. The plane was tight enough as it was, and being six four probably didn’t help so you quickly slide over to get into his seat. 

You leaned back into the seat comfortably, eyes trained to the window. It was pitch dark now, the only thing lighting up the wings of the plane were the little blinking lights. There was a nice white noise sound running through the plane, and you closed your eyes for a second. 

Before you knew it, there was a sudden jolt. Reeling from the movement, you lifted your head up, wincing at the slight ache in your neck. The plane seemed to be landing and you blinked your eyes open, trying to move from where you seemed currently stuck. 

Colson’s head was lolled onto your shoulder, right underneath where yours had been. His mouth was hanging open, and you waited for a second, noticing the slope of his nose and the blonde of his eyelashes. There was another little tremor, and you bumped up your shoulder a little before using your hand to shove his head off. 

“Huh, what?” he mumbled out, arm going up to wipe at his mouth. 

“We, uh we landed,” you answered, looking away from him. There was something soft about the way he looked after waking up and this moment wasn’t for you. The bees reared their little ugly heads inside your stomach yet again.

-

 taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyths​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​​ @hnbtx​​  @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​​ @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @whyisgmora​ @oopsiedoopsie23​

[nonstoplover]

some kind of beautiful ~ Tom Holland (song drabble)

my masterlist │my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: tyler ward ft. lindsey stirling ~ some kind of beautiful

words: 3.3K

approximate reading time: about 15 mins

a/n: i listened to this song and got struck by a wave of inspiration lmao i love tyler and lindsey (and oh my gosh that music video o.O), this song is just adorable and i immediately imagined this with my baby Tom so here you go. i hope you enjoy xx

The headlights cast a warm yellow beam on the road ahead of Tom as he drives in complete darkness. Earlier it was probably raining as the asphalt sparkles underneath the ray of light, something that doesn't surprise him anymore. Whenever he's driving north to see his girlfriend, it's almost always like this. In England, rain is something that comes a permanent part of your life, Tom learned that early.

He suppresses a yawn, raising a hand from the steering wheel for a moment to rub his eyes, then changes the song that's playing from the speakers. A familiar tune immediately fills his ears, and his lips curve into a wide smile. It's their song.

His mind fills with memories of her and the previous exhaustion he felt is long gone. It doesn't matter anymore that he just attended a premiere of his newest movie last night. It doesn't matter anymore that he got up early to jump on the first plane and fly home, then got into his car right away and set off towards Liverpool immediately without a single moment to rest.

He just has to see her. He has to tell her that he wants them to move in together. It's all that has been in his mind for the past week or so, and he knows he has to tell her about it before he goes absolutely crazy. He prepared all the most perfect reasons in his mind, so she just can't say no. And it's way more important than something that could be talked about in a text conversation.

Whenever he's away from her - and for some unknown reason, especially this last time - he misses her non-stop. Her scent. Her touch. The glimmer of her eyes whenever she looks at him, and only him. The way her lips curve into a smile. The sound of her angelic laugh in his ears. The taste of her lips against his. The delicate, feather-like touches of her fingers against his skin. How peaceful she looks when she's asleep in his arms. How happy she makes him just by existing.

He remembers clear as day the first time he saw her, three years back in a café in London. Looking at her made the entire world fade out in his eyes and he still can't comprehend how on Earth he got so lucky that the only empty table was right beside hers. He accidentally heard what she and the other girl at the table - her sister she was visiting, as Tom later found out - talked about and apologetically joined in the conversation with his opinion on the matter. Two and a half hours later Tom left for a meeting with her number saved in his phone.

Within fifteen minutes he had already asked her if she'd wanted to meet with him with a bold and cheeky text, which then led to them spending as much time together as possible throughout the following eight days she stayed in London - with Tom's job and (y/n)'s primary reason, being with her sister in the way. Then she went back to Liverpool and took a part of Tom with her.

They kept in touch, texting every waking moment, driving everyone around them mad with the constant typing and smiling at screens. And a month later Tom drove up north for the first time, visiting her for the weekend. He asked her to be his girlfriend. She said yes. And they have been in a long distance relationship ever since. It was hard, but whenever they could see each other, it made it worth it.

And now he's going to take it to the next step - asking her to move to London.

His cheeks are hurting from the wide smile that stays fixed for the entire drive as he now drives down familiar streets, leading to her. He pulls into the first parking spot he catches sight of around her apartment block, stops the engine and rushes out of the car, right towards the front door without even glancing at his watch to see how late it is.

Tom takes the stairs two at a time, not slowing his speed for one second until he's right outside her door. He presses the switch of the doorbell, then leans forward, supporting himself with his palms on his knees to catch his breath. From inside he hears the soft padding of feet growing louder, then the key clattering in the lock and eventually the door opens.

(y/n) gasps as her eyes take in those very familiar soft, brown locks. "Tom?" She lets out in question.

The mentioned boy raises his head and their eyes connect right away without difficulty and the dark brown sea of his irises sparkle with a new excitement.

"Hi," he breathes out, getting lost in her sight and smell and sound. She's wearing a plain tank top and a pair of pastel sweatpants, no makeup covering her natural beauty, her hair up in a messy bun, and Tom just knows that he made the right decision driving here first thing after landing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" (y/n) crosses her arms in front of her chest, suddenly overly aware of the fact that Tom is wearing a suit whilst she's in her comfiest clothes, looking messier than ever. "You were at the premiere in LA just last night!"

"I know," he lets out a chuckle. "I drove here as soon as I landed."

"You what ?!"

"Now are you going to let me in or am I gonna spend the entire night out here in the corridor?"

"Sorry," the girl's eyes widen in realisation and she takes a step to the side to let him in.

Tom waits until the door closes back behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket in the meantime and stretching his arms as (y/n) secures the lock again. Then as soon as she turns back towards him, he grabs her waist with both hands, pulling her flush against his body.

"I missed you," he mumbles, lips almost touching hers.

"I missed you too, crazy," she whispers back, a small smile lighting up her whole face as her arms slowly snake around his shoulders and neck.

Tom wastes no time to dive in, catching her mesmerizing, inviting strawberry coloured lips in a searing kiss. Then another one. And another. He just can't get enough. And when (y/n) finally tries to move out of his touch, placing her palms against his chest to gently push him away, his raspy voice breaks the silence again.

"I know I've already kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please."

As that sweet, heartwarming, angelic giggle leaves her mouth, he goes right back in, continuing to pepper her with kisses, this time not stopping at her lips, instead moving all around her face.

"Stop! Tom, stop!" (y/n) wiggles to escape from the ticklish touch of his lips against her skin, but the muscles in his arm tense and keep her there effortlessly.

A minute later Tom eventually stops and leans back, arms loosening around her torso, but it's not like he already had enough - quite the opposite actually, but he knows she's getting overwhelmed.

"Come on, you big teddy bear, let's get you changed, then I'll give you some food," (y/n) moves a hand behind her back to lace her fingers with his, then makes her way further inside the apartment.

Arriving to the bedroom, she lets go of his hand so he can swiftly go to the bathroom whilst she rummages out the hoodie and the pair of sweatpants he left at her place during one of his stays from her closet, and then when they meet up again, Tom pulls (y/n) in for yet another lingering kiss.

With a playful roll of her eyes (y/n) moves out of his touch again, then helps him undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders before reaching out for the newly found hoodie and handing it to him.

"Get dressed, I'll be in the kitchen," she pecks Tom's cheek before placing the white shirt down on the chair on her way out, trying to leave it as smoothed out as possible.

She swiftly moves around the small kitchen, starting to make a couple sandwiches and a cup of hot tea for Tom - eventually finishing it with his help -, then they sit down on the couch in the living room and she watches him eat. At first she asks him questions about the premiere and he tries to answer, but given that his mouth is almost always filled with food, they soon give up and change the topic so instead of Tom, (y/n) tells about her past two days.

When he finishes eating and places the now empty cup and plate on the coffee table, they are finally able to cuddle, something the both of them have been waiting for ever since Tom has arrived. Their limbs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her body in a way that makes her feel safer than ever. (y/n) clings into the material of the hoodie as if she's afraid this is all just a dream, one that she doesn't want to end. Her face is buried in his chest and his face is buried in her hair and they both feel like a whole again after a long time of not seeing each other.

The sound of two relieved sighs break the comfortable silence of the living room at the exact same time, signaling how they are still in sync. Nothing has changed.

"(y/n)?" Tom speaks up a couple minutes later.

"Yeah?" Her sleepy voice mumbles back.

"I've been thinking," he pauses, trying to shake the sudden nervousness that he can feel sweeping in his veins. "I wanted to talk about something."

"Yeah?" (y/n) asks again, but this time much more awake, and Tom can feel her body tensing up under a millisecond before she moves a bit further from him to be able to look at his face.

"I think... well, you know, it's not like we're rushing into anything, it's been three years already, but... I've been thinking and came to the conclusion that in my opinion you should move to London. To my place."

The last part of his speech comes out so rushed that it sounds like one long word, and as soon as his voice fades out he already feels much calmer and better. The tension in (y/n)'s body loosens immediately, a slowly forming smile breaking the worried expression on her face, but still she doesn't say a word which makes Tom fall back into the nervosity and he opens his mouth to continue.

"You know, actually, I thought about everything. You should quit your job," Tom jabbers before a frown appears on his forehead and he halts to think back to what he's just said. "Okay, that sounded pretty bad, but you've already talked about wanting to quit it and find something else because you don't like it, and so I thought maybe you should find that something in London so we could be together 24/7. Or maybe I can find some job for you to do on the set of my following movies, or whatever you like, really, I just-"

"Shhh," (y/n) raises her hand to press her fingers softly against his lips in order to stop his slur. "If you would just stay quiet for a moment, please."

She watches with a small grin as his eyes widen and he shuts his mouth, nodding and making a motion with his hands as if he's zipping his lips shut.

In the new silence, the girl can finally let her thoughts wander around in her mind, finding pros and cons to his suggestion. And it's not like she hasn't thought about moving to London so many times before. Her sister's there, Tom's there, and even her family lives in Birmingham, so it's not like she would be further away from them either. And she can't deny the fact that in London there are much more job opportunities for her to find, and a much better chance to find something she actually loves and enjoys. Now she just has to say yes.

What are you waiting for?!, the small voice shouts impatiently inside her head.

She takes a deep breath and looks back in the warm brown orbs that are still watching her with the same adoration as they have been the entire night. "Okay," she mumbles.

Tom's body goes rigid, the fingers that have been subconsciously caressing the small of her back freeze in place, pressed into her skin. His eyes widen even more than before, and he gapes like a fish that's out of the water. "Okay?" He breathes back, afraid that he heard something wrong.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it too. It'd be nice to move in with you," she sheepishly answers, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Are you serious?" Tom exclaims - a bit too loud and high pitched to his liking, but he's just unable to contain his sudden excitement.

"Yes, I am."

They beam at each other, feeling overwhelmed with love before (y/n) lets out a giggle, shaking her head lovingly at the boy in front of her. "But you're still crazy for driving such a distance while being so exhausted."

"I might be, but I couldn't bare another moment without you," Tom shrugs and before the girl could exclaim against his cheesiness, he swiftly places his hands on her cheeks, pulling her in for a kiss.

When they both run out of breath, they go back to the previous cuddling position, staring out into the distance at particularly nothing as they discuss the new plan more rationally. Tom feels like his heart might burst from the joy and love he's feeling at the moment, he's sure he's the happiest person on the planet.

"What do you think, how long will it take for you to pack everything up?" Tom tilts his head, glancing down at the (y/h/c) haired girl.

"Uh, great question. I have no idea," (y/n) grunts as her eyes travel around the room, already dreading the amount of time it will take her.

"We can start it tomorrow. I'll help."

"Tomorrow?" She lets out a giggle. "You really want to rush this so much?"

"Of course, I've been dreaming about this for too long now, I just want it to happen like right now."

(y/n) shakes her head before leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his jawline. "We can start tomorrow, if you'd like..."

"Nice," he grins wide.

A minute of silence comes over the flat, both of them deep in their thoughts about the near future before Tom speaks up again.

"I have a couple things to do in London during next week, but on Friday I'll come back and help you finish packing and then we can drive back together. For the last time," he mumbles, dreamily staring off in the distance, possibly seeing his words form an imagined picture in front of his inner eyes. "So, during the week you should continue packing and arrange moving out with the landlord and I'm gonna properly clean my place so it'll be ready for you and your stuff."

(y/n) takes a breath and opens her lips to give some corny answer, but before any sound could leave her, Tom continues phrasing his thoughts.

"And then when you pack everything out, we can go and buy new things together. I mean, you can decorate the whole house any way you'd like to. And then it'll officially be ours..." Tom's voice swiftly trails off as he hears a quiet sniffle.

He leans back a bit, loosening his embrace on (y/n)'s body before placing his fingers under her chin to gently make her look up at him. With almost no resistance he can lift her head and his eyes are suddenly able to take in the teary, glistening pair of (y/e/c) eyes and damp stains on the skin of her cheeks.

"Hey, are you crying?" He whispers, worry filling his mind and heart.

(y/n) sniffles again and another teardrop escapes one of her eyes, rolling down before Tom reaches out with his thumb to stop it midway. "No, I'm impersonating a fountain," she snorts, a small giggle leaving her lips. "Yes, I'm crying, dumbass."

Tom just rolls his eyes at her sarcastic answer before pulling one hand back from her body so he could fish a tissue out of his hoodie's pocket and hand it to her. "And why are you crying?"

"Because what you just described is the exact thing I've been dreaming of since I was a kid," (y/n) admits while gently pressing the material under her eyes to dry them before blowing her nose in a clearly unromantic way that makes both of them let out a short laugh.

"Ahw, darling," Tom smiles at her, pressing a peck on the now dry skin of her cheeks. "I'm glad I can make it happen."

"Me too," she grins.

They stare in each other's eyes with intense adoration, communicating through the sparkling shades and colours.

"But like there's no need to plan everything in our future tonight, let's just cuddle for now and enjoy the moment," (y/n) speaks up after a couple minutes with a chuckle. "Though you can continue planning tomorrow when we'll be packing, if you want."

Tom responds with a chuckle similar in amount of happiness, only a bit lower in tone.

"Okay. I like the sound of that," he answers before snaking his hands securely around his girlfriend's body and standing up with her in his arms.

(y/n) lets out a small squeal, immediately gripping his biceps in hope of some kind of support as if it would help if she was about to fall. Tom makes his way to the small bathroom and places the girl down on her own feet so she can start her night routine. They can barely keep a straight face as they brush their teeth, knowing that it's actually going to be an everyday thing pretty soon now.

When he finishes, Tom leans back against the sink, watching the love of his life with an amused look in his eyes as she effortlessly makes her way around the small room, reaching to the different shelves for all the skincare products she uses. Their eyes meet every once in a while, making (y/n) blush and let out a giggle from the intensity of his eyes.

It eventually doesn't take long until she's ready to sleep as well and Tom moves his arms around her once more, lifting her up in the air. (y/n) instinctively wraps her legs around his lower body, placing the palms of her hands on the back of his neck.

Reaching the bed, Tom pulls the duvet back with one hand then gently places the girl down on the mattress. He climbs in right behind her after the shortest moment and immediately wraps his arms tightly around her.

"Good night, love," he mumbles in her hair, enjoying the feeling of its smell fill his nose and lungs.

"Good night, Tom," she whispers back. "I love you."

She only pauses for a second in-between the two sentences, but by the time the last word leaves her lips, she can already feel Tom's body going limp and his breaths become more steady and rhythmical as he finally let go and drifted off to sleep, exhaustion completely taking over him as soon as he lets it. Being beside her, he subconsciously knows that he can finally let his guard down again.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.  

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

[spideywars]

tell me the world’s alright

chapter four; flux 

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader 

words: 5.6k 

warnings: none 

summary: 

After the blip and everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren’t as safe as you thought. Even under your father’s iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place. 

last chapter 

-

“Have you started packing yet?” Pepper’s voice chimes in your ears as you sit at your desk. You’re working on some paperwork that’s needed at the lab for your co-op job. You look up, blinking towards the door to see her leaning against the frame.

“I leave in two months, I’ve got time.” You shrug her question off and hear Pepper chuckle lightly as you try to focus yourself back into your work. It’s a hint that you wanted to be left alone, but your mom makes her way into the room, settling herself on your bed.

“What?” You ask with the smallest smile across your face. You didn’t push her away, knowing she never did this unless something was really bugging her.

It took Pepper a bit, her eyes scanning along the four walls of the room until they finally landed on you. She looked almost guilty, and you raised a brow at her expression.

“Why don’t you go to your father’s opening night for his tech?”

Her words barely came out of her mouth before you were letting out a loud sigh and shaking your head. You didn’t want to fight, but you thought you made it clear that this was something you didn’t want to be apart of anymore.

“Mom I can’t, I’m sorry. I love dad, but you know he’s showing my design and I don’t need to be near that right now.” It’s been two years and that project still haunts you, and you’d rather forget about the blood, sweat, and tears that the suit caused you while you were sixteen years old.

“Avoiding your past doesn’t fix anything, I can promise you that.” Pepper’s words are solid and she stares at you with intention in her eyes. She has married a man who never takes a step back in life, and she’s probably sat down hundreds of times with Tony, saying the same words.

“I just don’t want to get angry at him again or make him feel like he needs to owe me anything while I’m there.” You shrug, trying to give pathetic excuses after excuses to try and place some kind of sanity inside your mother’s head. “It’s his night, he can tell me all about it when he gets back next week.”

Pepper is still staring at you and radiating the same disappointment with the way her lips were formed into a tight line. But she didn’t retaliate, instead, she got up from your bed and walked over to brush her hand through your hair.

Her nails felt good, scratching at your scalp and grounding you back to earth. It soothed away all the stress that’s been clotting your mind for weeks since you got accepted to a University in LA. It’s been non-stop of thinking about what to pack, who to tell, where to stay.

You did need time off, a little getaway from all the stress before you were back to putting on scrubs daily. Being apart of disease control as your future has its ups and downs, and unfortunately, you had to ditch the idea of being fashionable.

“Think about it a little more, I’m taking a flight tomorrow afternoon.” She steps away, releasing her hold on you and walking out of your room. You watch her as she disappears and allows the door to close.

A loud breath escapes your lips when you’re left in the drowning silence. You have been ignoring the past, dodging any memories that threaten to come back up to the surface of your brain. Being a sixteen-year-old girl madly in love as well as being a genius inventor was something that didn’t mix well with the last name Stark. That’s why it could never work out, your love life and your inventing days.

And that’s why you’re here now, as an eighteen-year-old girl ready to become a doctor to save lives the normal human way instead of becoming something she knew would end in her being six feet under instead.

It’s not like you woke up and changed your mind, god, after that night with Peter you never cried, screamed, and yelled so much in your life. You wanted to start a riot against your father, defile his orders and become his living nightmare. Your blood was boiling for a good month, seeing his face made your hands tighten into fists.

But life went on, you got over Peter and your grudge for Tony and decided that you weren’t going to live life properly if you held onto the past. All that mattered was your future now, and that’s why there are empty boxes littered around your bedroom and ready to get stuffed. You’ve at least gone as far as taking a sharpie to them and titling them either ‘Uni’ or 'storage.’

But it’s funny how your motto is contradicting itself at this very moment. How you’re refusing to go and support your father and his show. Yea, don’t live in the past but your invention was going to be staring you right in the eyes on its display. You just know is going to be on a mannequin just like it was the first time you walked downstairs to see your father working on it and begging for a partnership.

It’ll hurt too much, and the last thing you want is to ruin your father’s big day.

The time struck midnight on your desk, flashing red and illuminating your face. It was time for bed, but something inside you knew you’d be staring up at the ceiling eating yourself alive with thoughts about getting on that damned jet the next day.

-

Knocking awoke you. Your eyes blinked opened and were met with sunlight shining through your curtains. It made you squint and roll over so your back was to it, now feeling the sun-rays hit your back warmly. Your mind was a constant cycle of thoughts the whole night, just like you had predicted. Now, you’re paying for it with the way your lids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds and your limbs stayed glued to your mattress.

The knocking continued, not planning to stop anytime soon. You were almost ready to bury your head between the pillow and the mattress before the door opened. It was Pepper.

“You know, I try to give you your space but when you don’t answer for the tenth knock, I say I’m free to open the door.” Pepper gives you a small smile, walking towards the balcony doors and allowing her hands to swipe open the curtains. Now the light was blinding, even from where your back was turned from it.

You forced yourself up to lean against your headboard, obviously sleeping wasn’t happening now.

Pepper’s body was almost just a silhouette, becoming nothing against the sun that shone towards you. You looked beautiful, all dolled up in new fancy velvet suit and her hair in loose curls. She was ready to go, and you were her last stop before she was off to the airport.

“Yes.” You say, without her even asking. You knew it was coming, the way her arms were folded across her chest and how her eyes widened towards you, begging ever so softly.

“Yes?” Pepper almost stuttered, her arms drop to her sides as she stepped towards you. It almost made you chuckle, how floored she looked. But hey, you really did need this trip. That suit was your last mini hurdle over the past you needed to get over. Maybe after this, you can sprint your way to your best possible future with no setbacks.

“Do you want me to change my mind?” You had to play with her, laughing when her face fell. In response, you just swung your legs onto the floor and jumped up to get ready.

“I-I’ll go tell the driver you’re coming, meet me down there in two minutes okay?” It’s almost like a switch turned on in your mother’s head, her feet moving forward and a smile appearing across her face. She made it halfway across the room before she stopped to place your cheeks into her palms. You were forced to look into her eyes, just for a few seconds to exchange smiles before she pressed a wet lipstick kiss to your cheek before disappearing out of your room.

You never realized how thankful your mom would be, seeing you come with her. Maybe you actually won’t regret this decision.

That feeling won’t come, the doubt, you know that as you pack your bags and grab your coat from the back of the door, rushing down the stairs to meet Pepper who’s standing in the middle of the front hallway. There isn’t any tightness in your chest, no jitters that send a  shockwave through your body. Your steps get closer to the car, then the plane, and then into your seat. No bad feelings, nothing but pride.

It’s those damned emotions, the ones that make you push it all away and bottle them up tight to save yourself nights of tears and days of sorrow. You were so scared of feeling so incredibly in pain again that you became a stranger to your own feelings, it’s almost like you ripped your own heart out so you couldn’t feel a pulse anymore. As if that made you feel like you could live your life better.

You were wrong. That’s clear as day now as you feel the plane lift off the ground. Pepper’s wine sloshes in its glass, her fingers tightening along the neck of it so it doesn’t spill on her expensive clothes. Everything is finally coming into focus now, it’s time to stop running from yourself.

-

Tony is standing in the hallway, glaring down at the ground as someone whispers things lightening fast into his ear. It looks like he’s not listening, and you know he probably isn’t it. His brain is eating up his own thoughts, and the way he’s chewing his lip makes you raise a brow as you and Pepper make your way towards him.

He hears the click of both your heels, now meeting your eyes. It’s almost shocking, to finally see your father somewhere else that isn’t just inside your house. He’s actually at work, being an Avenger. It’s a weird feeling that overcomes you.

“Nice to see you’ve come.” Tony doesn’t sound okay, his eyes are glossed over with something that you can’t quite pin-point. Pepper even catches it and manages to sneak a glance over to you, now concerned.

“Tony…” Pepper starts to speak but Tony lifts his hand to silence her, giving him his famous fake smile before he shoos off the person still attempting to talk to him.

“Why don’t you ladies find your seats. I’ve got you both in the front row, popcorn and drinks waiting. Even some of that cheesy powder stuff you guys like on them…I don’t know what it’s called, one of the tech people got it-”

“Tony.” Pepper interrupts Tony abruptly, and he bows his head in shame. He is one tough cookie but easily softens under the pressure of his own wife.

“It’s the suit.”

“The suit?”

“The suit.”

That makes you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You know those words, you know that tone. It’s an instant flashback to you standing in front of Peter, staring into his eyes with all your hopes and dreams radiating off your body and onto him. The way you told him your suit was going to be his next, your suit was going to be The suit.

“What’s wrong with it?” You don’t know how you manage to speak, but you find your voice enough to spit out a question. You tried to hold it in, this dread and the nervousness that suddenly spiked your whole body into overdrive. You really thought this day was going to be fine, that you weren’t going to regret this decision.

But Tony Stark always has something up his sleeves.

“Nothing serious, it just won’t connect to the automatic system I have set up. It’s for the show, so I want it to come on when I give the tech team the go-ahead but…”

“You need my help?” You finish off your dad’s sentence, even though you didn’t want those words to come out ever again.

Tony looked towards Pepper, seeing how upset and torn she looked. She knew damn well how much you struggled to get over the suit and that life. She was probably beating herself up for even asking you to come.

“No, well…yes? I mean you can just tell me what I need to do internally to the suit and I can do it myself.” You shook your head before he even finished, almost wanting to laugh at his attempt to make you feel better, to save you the memories and heartache. But you knew he knew that this wasn’t something you could just verbally instruct him on. It needed you, your hands, and your brain.

“Where is it?” You ask, already maneuvering past him as you make your way down the hallway. Tony is hot on your heels, and by the sound of the frantic click-clacking behind you, Pepper is too. She’s whispering with clenched teeth into Tony’s ear, words you can’t quite understand from where you’re walking. All you know is she’s not very happy, which is fair.

“Y/N,” Tony speaks as you come to Tony’s dressing room. You can feel his hand brushing your shoulder, just missing inches before you grab at the doorknob and turn it.

When you walk inside, you’re met with Peter Parker staring at you.

You grow numb, hands trembling as you push them into the side of your skirt. It’s like the world stopped, just a minute to stare into his eyes before he quickly had the mask pull over his head. He probably thought it was some stranger, walking in, but you see the mask’s eyes widen so largely you almost thought it was malfunctioning.

“Y/N?” Peter speaks breathlessly through the mask, it now slowly coming off his face and back into the neck of the suit. It’s now just him, his brown eyes that used to make your knees weak now staring back at you once again.

Two years. It’s been two years since you’ve seen Peter Parker in the flesh. You remember seeing him on tv, the suit on full display and making you sick to your stomach. You barely saw him for five seconds before you were changing the channel or turning the tv off. It was pain, pure, raw pain you felt when you saw his face. And now it’s back, but it’s all numb.

He aged well, and two years made him look manly, broader and caused some small beard hairs to grow along his chin. His jawline is sharper, he’s got more thickness to his form. God, he looks amazing.

And suddenly your world is tipped on its head again.

“Hi, Pete.” Your eyes turn down and you gulp awkwardly, not even realizing you said his nickname until it already slipped out.

He was shifting from side to side, his eyes moving along the floor as if the words he was trying to find were scattered across it.

“Y/N…” You could hear the guilt in your father’s tone, the hand on your shoulder and the way the air in the room grew thinner. But you took a deep breath, turning towards Tony who stood in the door frame with Pepper behind him, both with wide eyes and looking defeated.

“I told you, you need me.” Your voice was wobbly, you could feel it falling with each word. Tony could tell, the sorrow that rushed across his face and clouded his eyes. You hated it, you wished you were stronger than this.

You thought you were stronger than this. On the plane, you felt unstoppable, but one look into Peter Parker’s eyes and your walls are crumbling, everything is back to how it was.

“What system are you trying to connect to?” You asked after you cleared your throat and turned away from your parents and their pained glances.

There wasn’t an answer and you allowed them to process everything as you walked towards Peter.

He was looking at you again, those brown eyes scanning your body, reading every part of it. It’s like he was trying to remember the pages of a book he had forgotten about. He was reading the way you walked, the movement of your lips as you talked, the fumble in your voice. You felt exposed.

“I-I’ll go get the manual…” Tony spoke suddenly, making you jump. It made Peter laugh, just the smallest bit with the corners of his lips turning upwards as he stared at you. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Pepper.” You could hear Tony speak, and you didn’t have to look to know he wanted her to come with him. You couldn’t help but laugh too when you could hear them arguing as the door closed.

You wondered what changed your father’s mind about you and Peter being in the same room. To be fair, in two years you both have grown and changed, not just you and Peter but Tony too. You know your dad and the way his thoughts eat at his brain until there is nothing left, he knew how he hurt you and probably wanting to make it up to you by bringing Peter back into your life.

You don’t know how to feel about that. That numbness feeling comes crawling back every time you think too much into it.

“He didn’t tell you I was here, did he?” Peter asked, his voice building a dame to close off the thoughts that tumble harshly throughout your mind. You try to hide your smile, pretending to analyze every inch of the suit with your brows furrowed.

“And he didn’t tell you I was coming, did he?” You responded, making him chuckle and nod. His eyes glistened and glowed so perfectly, it reminded you why you got lost in them so easily when you were younger.

Your hands moved from your sides to the suit, trying to move through the motions as if that would help you stop daydreaming. But this just brought back the last time you ever saw Peter, when you both stood in your bedroom, his hands on your arms and yours cupping his jaw, how smooth it was.

You wondered what it would feel now, how prickly it would feel compared to when he was sixteen.

The dame was breaking.

“Is this okay?” You ask, hovering both your hands along his right shoulder. You refused to close his face in with yours, knowing what happened last time. It was smart, more professional, and Peter simply nodded with a loud gulp sound passing through the air before you decided to press your palms along the suit.

The suit felt how you remembered it, the bumps of the web design, the light reflecting off it. Peter’s body filled it in more than last time, and you could feel the muscle through it easily. You tried to blink passed that, trying to make sure no circuits were disconnected that could’ve caused the problems with tech.

You were an amazing inventor at sixteen, but you didn’t think about what your father would do with the suit business-wise. Everything was mapped out for Peter from bullets to bombs, but not about Bluetooth connection or HDMI and other cables.

“How has the suit been treating you?” You ask, trying to distract him as you timidly grab for his hand to check the movement functions. He flickered his gaze down at the contact but quickly looked back up to stare above your head.

“It’s been good, great actually. Took a good year to get used to healing like that but…” Peter trailed off, and that threw you off your guard enough to make you look up and attempt to meet his eyes. He did eventually, and he smiled pleasantly at you.

“You really did an amazing job, Y/N.” Peter mumbled, moving his hand the smallest bit so it was gripping yours. He gave it a pulse, just the smallest squeeze before you broke apart. You could feel the awkwardness taint the conversation, but the dressing room door opened with a short knock from the outside before Tony walked in.

“Where’s the manual?” You asked, shaking your head when Pepper side-eyed Tony with a chuckle. She looked a lot calmer now, and Tony probably just wanted to calm her nerves and used the manual as a way to get her out.

“Oh, darn I couldn’t find it. Funny how those things happen. But anyways I trust you looked at the suit while I was gone, any thoughts?” You don’t know why, but your cheeks immediately heated up at your father’s words. You could feel Peter shifting awkwardly beside you, obviously not expecting Tony to say that either.

“I did. It’s uhm, fine. Just like I remembered.”

You wanted to slap yourself at that response, but all you could do was hang your head in shame as Tony gave you the tiniest sneer.

“I think you will have to disconnect it from all the other tech you’re showcasing tonight. I designed it so it wouldn’t be able to be hacked into other networks or allow foreign connections to control it in any way.” You distracted everyone with your words, blinking daggers at your father and wiping the smile clear off his face. He was now nodding with his concentrated expression plastered on his face.

“I was afraid you’d say that…” Tony mumbled, but you could already feel your mind urging your body towards the door, to exit from the situation, from Peter. But you were in the middle of the situation, you felt like a zebra cornered by a family of lions. You were defenseless.

“Peter I’m just going to have to nod at you from on the stage and you’ll swing in like that. Watch for me, yeah?” Tony moved away from the door to Peter so he could pat at his shoulder. This gave you a chance to escape, but your feet were glued to the floor.

You almost felt like you were inclined to say something, like there was a missing piece in the air that hung and awaited your voice to fill it in. But you couldn’t turn to look at your father and Peter, or allow your lips to move. All you could do was stare straight ahead, which Pepper noticed and quickly attempted to meet your eyes.

She looked like she felt horrible, the way her lips and eyes turned down and how she clasped her hands in front of her suit. This wasn’t her plans for you, and you could almost see the thoughts swirling dangerously in her mind, the guilt she felt for bringing you here and forcing you to face your demons.

“Good luck.” You spit out a cheesy reply, trying to give closure to this conversation. You felt bad for shoving yourself forward and rushing out on everyone, but once your feet disconnected themselves from the floor, you felt an intense need for air.

Pepper followed, of course, her heels click-clacking faster and faster down the hallway as you made your way towards the back again. You could see the sunlight leaking through the bottom of the exit door backstage, and it called for you.

“Y/N!” Pepper yelled, and she must’ve been calling your name a lot by the way she sounded breathless when she finally caught up with you. Your hand had an iron grip on the doorknob to outside, and you gave her one look over your shoulder before you pushed it opened and allowed the sun to completely blanket your body.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn’t want-I never knew Peter was going to be here.” Pepper was toying with her wedding ring nervously as she paced in front of you. She would move it up and down across her finger, allowing it to roll around her knuckle.

You focused on those movements as an anchor so you wouldn’t lose yourself, knowing if you looked at your mother’s stressed expression your head would explode. All you could really do was lean against the wall, palms pressed to the bricks and eyes cast down to the ring that shined in the light.

“Y/N?” Pepper’s voice was softer now, closer than it was before. This caught you off guard enough to make your eyes move up towards your mother’s eyes, now seeing her still stressed expression with her brows knotted tightly together.

“We can go home, right now if you want.” Pepper’s voice was firm but her eyes shimmered with doubt, you could tell this was something she was only doing for you. But it was too late to run away, your already scarred heart was laid out on the ground and stomped to a bruised mess again. This was a situation where you just needed to pick up the broken pieces and put it all back together again.

You’ll just have to a pathetically put-together mess for your father and crush.

“I’m staying, mom it’s okay.” You gulped roughly as if you were swallowing a pile of rocks. Pepper was still looking at you like you had just been snapped in two, the lipgloss she wore now unseeable on her lips because she was biting them too much from the nerves. This was almost just as hard for her as it was for you.

“Y/N…” Your name got lost in your mother’s voice, her trailing off and lowering her gaze to the ground. It was a minute of silence, just the wind against your ears as you stared off into the sky over Pepper’s shoulder before she finally looked up.

“Okay.” She said, nodding and moving her hands to grab yours. She squeezed at your fingers, holding you in your place for a few seconds before she released you and moved to open the door.

As soon as she did, you could hear the cheers and the lights were dimmed. The show was starting soon, and you used your mom as a beacon of light, zeroing-in on her form as she maneuvered past the bustling crowd of tech people and stage management to get to your seats.

-

You clapped and stood along with the entire arena, everyone cheering as your dad bowed and smiled from ear to ear with his inventions shinning in all their iron glory behind him. Peter was just a few steps behind him, his suit being the star of the night. You could see how confident he felt in it, with the way his shoulders broadened and his chin lifted into the air as people cheered 'Spider-man!’

You couldn’t help the smallest part of your mind that fell towards the thoughts of imagining you on that stage, beside both of them, being cheered on for your work.

What if you didn’t almost kiss Peter that night? What if your father didn’t stay home that night and find his way up the stairs to your room to catch you at just the wrong time? Would you be standing up there with them? Looking just as happy, your cheeks hurting because of how much you’ve been smiling?

That was a lot of questions to ask yourself, and you almost fell back into your chair when Pepper grabbed your shoulder, shaking you the smallest bit to get your attention.

“I’m sorry,” she snapped her hand back and you made sure to smile to reassure her that you were okay. “I need to go backstage to the dressing room to grab your father’s checklist before he startings organizing the clean-up.” She kissed at your cheek before wandering off as the crowd still cheered and clapped.

The lights started to come on and your father and Peter had left the stage. That was everyone’s queue to start filing out. You could’ve walked out with them, just so you could get swallowed up into the crowd and away from the problems that were awaiting you in that damned dressing room. But all you really wanted to do was watch as the sea of people that filled the room disappeared in a matter of minutes.

It was soothing almost, to just be sitting in an empty arena in the front row with no one to come up to you, no one to put on a fake smile to. Your whole life you’ve never really been alone, not like this. It felt refreshing and it gave you a couple of minutes to gather yourself before you had to face everyone.

“Y/N Stark?” Your content smile dropped when you heard an unrecognizable voice from beside you. You reluctantly gave the stranger your attention, plastering on that fake smile you’re so good at, welcoming him to come further towards you.

He was handsome, closer to your father’s age. His hair was slicked back and healthy, eyes soft to match his smile. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, and you could see he worked with your father by how he had a Stark Industries lanyard around his neck and a pin tucked into the right side of the suit.

“Hello?” You didn’t want to sound rude, but you gave him an arched brow as he clasped his hands behind his back and moved to sit next to you. You wondered why he wasn’t helping with the clean-up, or why he wasn’t backstage with anyone else. It’s not like you needed company.

Who knows, maybe you didn’t realize how depressed you really looked sitting alone in an empty arena.

“My name Quinten, Quinten Beck. I apologize for disturbing you it’s just…I wanted to say, your father is a genius making all those amazing suits. It must be interesting to grow up with a father who’s this talented.” He spoke almost like he was in a dream, looking towards the stage longingly. It made your mind wander back to your invention and the what-ifs.

“Yea.” You say bluntly, blinking down towards your feet.

Quinten didn’t say anything, and it was like he was analyzing you with the way he just sat beside you silently and stared at you. Maybe he expected you to elaborate, or say something more than 'yea.’

You felt bad, but you’ve been through a lot today.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You wondered if you could just not reply to him at all this time, maybe that would cause him to give up on this conversation and leave you be. But you couldn’t help but answer, he was only being nice.

“Just a long day, I’m glad you enjoy my father’s work.” You shook your head, trying to wiggle the bad thoughts pooling around your brain like a snake pit as you stood up and gave the man a decent smile.

“Understandable,” Quinten replied, looking at you for a split second in guilt before his eyes widened. He was quickly fishing through his pant pockets, finally grabbing whatever he was looking for and moving it towards you.

It was a business card, Quinten Beck written on the front with an email and phone number. It made you almost want to roll your eyes, now what was this for?

“Just in case you’re ever interested in following in your father’s footsteps, I’d love to work with you. You look like a woman that knows a lot.” Quinten smiles kindly, almost making you want to not rip the card in two.

“Thank you.” You take the card anyways, still showing that prize-winning smile as he laughs nervously when you take his card from his fingers.

You start to leave then, turning on your heels and walking towards the backstage door. But you’re shocked when he grabs at your wrist. It wasn’t anything rough or alarming, but the tender touch was enough to make you jump and retract your arm back.

“Hey, s-sorry just a quick question about that Spider-Man suit…since it was the big invention of the show…I was just wondering if the old Spider-Man suit was used at all?” He asked, now shoving his hands into his pockets because of your distaste.

That was a good question. Questions like that were rehearsed by your younger self inside your room as you paced back and forth or laid flat on your back upon your bed to stare up at the ceiling. You were so excited to get the press swarming you, screaming questions to you. Now you have one lone man standing in front of you looking like he was about to pee himself with the way he couldn’t keep his feet still in one spot, he was that nervous in your presence.

“I-uhm, my father used some of the parts, mostly just fabric samples to catch certain bits of DNA from Spider-Man and the webs to connect the new formulas together. It’s kind of…half and half.” You answered, feeling yourself now become the nervous one as you dodged his stare.

“Alright well…thanks for your time…really, Miss Stark.”

You gave him one short nod before turning back towards the backstage door. Your feet moved fast, and once you got to the door you carelessly tossed the business card into the garbage as you opened it, thinking you were being discreet with the way you shoved your hand into your purse to pretend you were throwing out a receipt.

You didn’t at all notice the glaring man behind you.

- 

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[winterromanov]

Prompt idea: AU meeting Bucky on a flight back to nyc, hitting it off but neither has the guts to ask for #s and regret it, but they run into each other later

pairing: bucky x reader

You’d made it to your terminal with minutes to spare. Your chest is heaving from violently running from one part of LAX to the other, dragging your broken, three-wheeled suitcase lamely behind you. Nevertheless--you make it, passport and boarding pass between your teeth, sweat pooling in the small of your back. You don’t run, you absolutely don’t run, but you make an exception for the two hundred and fifty dollars you’d spent on this flight back to JFK. And the wages you would otherwise miss if you didn’t make it back to New York City tonight.

Relief flooding you, you quickly join the back of the queue heading out onto the plane. You manically check your passport, hoping you’d not managed to drop something on the way over. Because that would just be typical you, wouldn’t it? 

“That is some impeccable timing you’ve got there.”

You look up from your frantic scanning of essential documents and see a man--also travelling alone, by the looks of it, the space between him and the couple in front too wide to be friends or relatives--his grin teasing and light. If you weren’t sweating enough already, the gaze of this man would probably do it. Blue eyes, tired from travel, maybe. Dark hair. Very pretty. Extremely pretty.

You attempt to pull yourself together, throwing him a slightly flustered smile back. The queue moves gradually forwards and you tug your unwieldy suitcase forward, grimacing as it squeaks loudly linoleum. “Let’s say that punctuality is not one of my strong suites.”

The man rubs his eyes in exhaustion. “And let’s say that I’m the exact opposite.”

“You’re one of those people who arrives at departures like seven hours early, huh?”

“Eight.” He smiles, and you notice his hand luggage is a neat little backpack, unlike your ten-year-old faithful monster half-broken at your feet. “Need to leave plenty of time for duty free, you know?”

He’s not holding any paper bags from the expensive cosmetics counters, no cut price bottles of wine, not even any snacks. Not a shopaholic, just anxious. You’re flustered, late, but not unobservant, even of strangers. “I mean, I wouldn’t. As much as the bargain Chanel was calling my name, I did literally just sprint here. I think my sister thinks I’m insane.”

His expression is tongue-in-cheek. “Not just your sister.”

“That’s a brave statement from someone I’ve just met.” You run a hand through your mussed-up hair in an attempt to tame it, not helped by the humid LA heat. Attractive man is talking to you, after all. That doesn’t happen so often. “You always like that?”

“Not always,” he says, but his sentence is cut short as he reaches the front of the queue and hands one of the stewardesses his boarding pass and passport. You jerk your bag off to the side to the second open desk, letting another go through your documents, but by the time you’re finished (as always, the lady seems to scrutinise every pixel in your photograph--your misjudged bangs from three years ago don’t make you look that different, surely) the gentle, teasing man has gone.

-

The air hostess directs you to your seat at the back of the plane and you find you’re in one of the sections to the right, not really looking at the other passengers as you try to find row F. When you eventually find where you’re supposed to remain for the duration of the flight, you blink in surprise.

“Mad girl,” To his credit, the man looks just as surprised at the coincidence as you do, looking away from the phone in his hand. “You sitting here too?”

“Yeah.” You half smile, struggling to stuff your bag in the overhead locker. He clambers out to help but you manage to squeeze it, wedge it in between his backpack and the lady in front’s briefcase. “And for the record, my punctuality aside, I’m not actually insane. Probably more verging along the lines of ridiculously ordinary.”

“I happen to think that ordinary is a myth,” he replies, subtly scanning your figure as you slide into the seat beside him. He has a copy of McEwan’s Atonement on his open tray, dog-eared and yellowed, perhaps borrowed from a friend. “Never met anyone ordinary in my life.”

“You might have to take that back after spending five and a half hours in my company.”

His glance is bemused as he shifts the headphones looped round his neck--you can hear faint conversation, listening to an audiobook or podcast of some sort. “I’m Bucky, by the way. Well. James. But everyone calls me Bucky.”

“(Y/N),” you offer in return, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

-

It’s funny, because not once in the many years you’ve been old and responsible enough to travel alone has anyone engaged in as much conversation with you. For someone clearly so anxious about flying Bucky is open and friendly and funny and you think, maybe this is his coping mechanism. Then again--you can feel something lingering below the surface, something that makes you feel that you’re actually getting on, that you could have met in any place in any town and felt exactly the same. He asks about your family and you ask about his. Apparently he was in LA because his little sister is at film school and crippled by homesickness, so his body in her apartment for a few days made her feel a little less alone, a little less far away. He knows you’re a photographer, spending the last six days taking pictures for a client’s wedding on Venice Beach.

A couple of hours into the flight you begin to scroll through movies on the screens in the back of the seat, discussing the ones you both have or haven’t seen. He likes everything other than films about space--they give him existential horror--and you’re a bit wary around anything scary, so his finger hovers over Paddington 2.

“Surely a film about a well-mannered bear with a British accent can’t cause any problems,” he says, offering one of the headphones he’s plugged in between the seats. He wants you to watch a movie with him. Literally with him. 

Well. You’re not going to say no. You take the ear-bud and pop it in, easing back into your chair, the film entertaining but his bright facial expressions even more so.

-

He tenses as the plane lands, his knuckles white round the arms of his seat. You wonder if it would be cool to splay your hand over his own, squeezing it in an attempt to calm his nerves. But you don’t know him, really. You don’t know him well enough to do that. And you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

So you lay back, close your eyes, feeling just a bit ridiculous as a vacuum opens in your stomach.

-

You’re tempted to ask him for his number as you make your way to the luggage carousel, walking in step with him. Instead you’re both enveloped in silence. Instead of actually, you know, fucking saying anything, you spend so much time trying to consider the words rather than biting the bullet and just doing it. Your lack of punctuality doesn’t just extend to your inability to make it anywhere until the last minute. 

You often don’t say things until it’s too late, too.

“Have you got anyone waiting for you at arrivals?” he asks, pulling a cap from inside his bag over his head. The airport is packed, as usual, and you keep getting thrown around by tourists in sunhats and rushing businessmen. His hands grip round your shoulders to steady you immediately, towering above you.

You like him. You like him you like him you like him.

“Nope,” you reply, and a curious look passes over his face. The luggage carousel is in view and yours comes by but Bucky reaches out first, placing it down next to you. His doesn’t come long after. “What about you?”

“Nah. We could share a cab, if you want?” You usher out in the main entrance where you can see the black 11pm sky, hazy with the artificial orange from the lights in the city. “I never asked. Which part of the city are you from?”

“Queens.”

“Ah,” he grimaces, “I’m Brooklyn. That’s quite the distance.”

“In opposite directions.” You wonder if you visibly sink, melting between the tiles on the floor. “It’s cool, I was going to get the subway anyway.”

“We could go Queens first, I don’t mind--”

There looks to be hundreds of cabs lined up outside along the entrances, people piling in and out and journeying back into the city. You’re stood opposite each other and he’s looking down at you, face conflicted, but you know it’s stupid for him to share a car with you all the way to Queens only to have to spend even longer to get back to his own place.

Just ask him for his number, you fucking moron. This doesn’t have to be the end.

Your mouth opens, the vowels and the consonants on the edge of your tongue but again. Again your words fail to come, trailing behind you like your dumbass suitcase with its missing wheel. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get the train.”

“I...” Bucky starts, and for a moment you think he’s going to be the one who asks. The one who says he doesn’t want this to be the first and only time you meet. But it’s just your luck you meet someone almost as useless about these things as you are. “I guess I’ll see you?”

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “See you.”

He looks over you desperately for a second, wondering if he might touch you. A goodbye squeeze of the shoulder, maybe a hug, but instead he rests his arms at his sides and gives you one last sweet smile before heading into a cab. You wait until his cab disappears before you decide to move. You can’t bring yourself to do so until then.

-

As soon as you get back to your apartment you face plant your pillow and scream into the fabric for at least five minutes.

-

The months pass quickly as they always seem to do and while Bucky stays in the back of your mind--mainly because every other man you meet is nowhere near as attractive as him, physically or otherwise--you don’t let it weigh you down. You know the possibility of ever meeting him again are next-to-nothing, and who the fuck spends their time pining after a man they met once on a plane? You’re often quite pathetic, but not that pathetic.

It’s July when you’re contacted to photograph the wedding of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts out in the country, the weather warm and the sky faultless blue. An old, crumbling manor house serves as the perfect backdrop for the big day, the ceremony itself held in the grassy, wildflower-adorned grounds in front of the porch. You follow around the staff as they prepare in a dusty pink summer dress, snapping some photographs of the exterior before the guests arrive for the vows. Eventually, you trail into the kitchen, hoping to get some pictures of the cake before it is cut and distributed out.

It’s then--it’s then you hear a familiar voice, shouting for the head caterer.

“Hey, I was just checking that--” 

He pauses when his eyes settle on you. You almost drop your incredibly expensive camera into a bowl of flan.

“(Y/N)?” James says, mouth swinging open like a door on a loose hinge, “Jesus. I didn’t...”

“I’m the photographer,” you reply, like it isn’t obvious. You’re just surprised. “I’m Tony and Pepper’s photographer.”

He blinks. “I’m a friend of Tony’s. My God. Fate was really smiling on me today, huh?”

You grin is borderline ridiculous. “I think maybe she was.”

-

He writes his number on his reservation card with Natasha Romanoff’s lipstick. The night is in full swing. Everyone is either drunk or dancing. Mostly both.

“Not letting you go this time, mad girl,” he says, his body coming closer and closer to yours until your barely centimetres apart, your breathes hanging heavy. His number is pressed into your palm. “I think I’ve been hitting my head against my bedroom wall every single day since I got into that darn cab. My landlord is going to be suing me for damages.”

You bite your lip, clutching your camera. “And I’m being a really bad photographer right now.”

“Oh, come on, no-one will notice. I know for a fact Tony’s finished almost a whole bottle of Scotch.” His smile is almost shy. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

“No idea.” You shrug, but your eyes remain focused on his. “I think I mentioned there is absolutely nothing remarkable about me, Bucky.”

“And I think I mentioned that I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t remarkable.” His hand finds yours and you let your fingers relax in his grip, curl round them. “Dance?”

You should be taking pictures. You should be doing your job. But there is a handsome man in front of you with a smile that could make the sun rise and put the whole fucking night sky to shame. There is a man in front of you who you watched leave once already. There is a man in front of you who wants to dance, who wrote down his number in Chanel Rouge Allure, who has spent the last six months with you hidden in his dreams and a dent in his wall as a receipt.

You can’t not dance with him.

my masterlist

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[crowdedimagines]

Vegas - David Dobrik

word count: 1773 an// some of this is told back in footage so just pay attention to context clues.

I can no longer say that I’ve been to Vegas with the vlog squad on one hand. David flipped a coin to see if we would all go to Las Vegas. It landed heads and that’s how I ended up sitting on a plane.

“You’re crazy sometimes, you know that right.” I turn my head slightly to David’s direction.

“What? Who doesn’t love a spontaneous trip to Vegas?” He puts on his smug smile that I’ve grown used to seeing.

I roll my eyes. I did not know when I started dating David that my life would be like this. I won’t admit it to him, but I love how crazy it is.

“I love spontaneity, I didn’t even get to pack a bag though!” I laugh.  

“We’ll just buy clothes there.”

Shortly after that we land and make it to our hotel at the Palms. We got the huge suite that practically takes up an entire floor. We always get this place and trash it.

David films a montage of the room and we head down to the casino. Health loses money quickly. We all decide to go to a club instead. As soon as we get there they give us bottle service for being influencers.

“This place is crazy.” I shout, leaning over to David so he can hear me.

“I know!”

“I’m gonna head out to the dancefloor. Wanna join?” I smirk, knowing that he’s not going to go out and dance. At least without some liquid fuel.

“Maybe later.”

I press a kiss to his cheek and go out and find the part of our group that’s already out here. We dance for a while, until I can’t keep myself up anymore.

“Hey, baby.” David greets.

I set myself down on his lap, taking the drink out of his hand.

“Thirsty?” He asks with a laugh after I finished it for him.

“Very. It’s hot out there.” I nod back to the dancefloor behind me.

I order another drink once a waitress walks by and David does the same. The one drink turns into a second, and then a third, and then David and I stop counting. It’s enough though that I can drag David out to dance with me.

Everything starts to get hazy and I can’t remember much of what’s going on. I remember David. Drinks? Dancing? What else happened?

“Fuck.” I hear a voice groan, successfully waking me up.

I peek my eyes open and regret it immediately. The sun is blinding, the pounding headache is increasing in pain. Fuck. I hate hangovers.

“David?” I groan, looking over to see him blocking the light too. At least he seems to be in just as much pain as I am.

“What happened last night?” My voice is a whisper, talking normally would be too loud.

“I have no fucking clue. We both blacked out?” He asks, turning to look at me.

“Apparently.”

I press my hands against my face to try and relieve any pain from my head. I’m unsuccessful when something foreign and hard presses against my face.

“What the fuck?” I mumble, pull my hand away to look at it. A ring. A sparkly ring that sits on my left hand.

“David.” I say, grabbing his attention.

“Hmm?” He picks his head up slightly from his pillow.

“What the hell is this?” I hold up my hand in his direction.

“Is that-Is that a wedding ring?” He sits up know, both of our hangovers are forgotten now.

He reaches out to inspect my ring closer. In the process I scan his hand only to find a band on his finger as well.

“David.” I point to the ring that’s on his finger.

We both sit in silence for several moments.

“This has to be a joke right?” I ask, laughing without humor.

“I have no clue.”

“Let’s go ask someone. There’s no way that everyone blacked out.”

I flip off the sheet and discover that both of us are completely naked. Lovely, drunk sex. I’m sure that that was a trainwreck.

We step out into the rest of the room. It’s trashed. Clothes, glasses, and food are sprawled all over the place. A surprising addition is the wedding decorations.

“Oh my god.” I point to the signs and paper wedding bells all over the place.

“What the fuck did we do?” David whispers.

Wordlessly, we pull each other in for a long hug. We don’t say anything, we’re just both so confused. How could something like this happen?

“I had my camera last night! I must’ve filmed something.” David and I rush back to our room and find his camera laying haphazardly on the dresser. Right away he plugs it into his laptop and pulls up the footage from last night. It starts with us at the club, progressively us getting more and more hammered.

“I don’t remember anything past this.” I say, “After us dancing, it’s all a blank.”

“Me too.”

We keep watching and it’s mostly the group doing dumb shenanigans. We roam the streets, stumbling over our own feet. The footage cuts again and starts up with David and I talking to the camera.

“Guess what brilliant idea we had?” I ask talking to the camera, it’s evident how drunk I am with how much my words slur.

“We’re getting married!” David yells loudly.

“They didn’t have time to guess.” I lightly slap him on the chest.

“We’re getting married!” David repeats, too excited to care that I wanted it to be a surprise.

“We are.” I agree, I lean in for a sloppy kiss.

The next bit of footage someone else must be filming. The whole group who came to Vegas is standing in a small chapel. David is standing at the end of the aisle, barely able to stand straight.

I can hear Heath muttering so he must be the one filming.

“They are going to be so pissed tomorrow morning.”  Heath says with a loud laugh.

I start walking down the aisle, still wearing my club dress but with the addition of a white vail. Classy. The ceremony is hardy ten words each, but I have a feeling it’s enough to be legally binding.

“We’re married, we’re married!” I cheer skipping back with David, arm in arm.

David dips me again and our group screams with cheers.

After that the screen just goes black.

I turn and look to David so I can see his reaction. Most surprisingly, he has a small smile on his face.

“Are you smiling?” I ask, a small smile growing on my face too.

“Yeah, kinda.” He laughs.

“You think that it’s funny that we blacked out in Vegas and got married?” I ask, laughing lightly as I explain it.

“Yeah, I do actually.” He shuts his laptop and pulls me onto his lap. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.” I run a hand through his hair as he starts his story.

“The ring on your finger-” He takes me hand in his to look at it, “I bought it months ago. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you to be my wife. I didn’t not think this would be how, but lets give this a go.”

“Y/n, I have loved you as long as I have known you. You have so easily become the most important thing in my life. I always want you to be mine. I want to marry you, in front of our families and all of our friends. I want to marry you, completely sober and give you my vows to love you forever. Will you marry me, Y/n? Again?”

I let out a small laugh before nodding.

“Of course, I’ll marry you.” I pull him in for a kiss, “Again.”

We spend the rest of the morning together in each others embrace. Neither of us want to go out and face them, leave our little bubble. David and I are married. I can’t get over it, he’s mine. We may have had a Vegas marriage, but I don’t care.

Finally though, we do leave our room and face the crowd.

“It’s the newlyweds!” Zane yells loudly.

“If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Dobrik.”

We both blush at all of the attention.

“Yeah yeah, we got married last night.” I shrug and sit down at the table with everyone. I grab a bagel and everyone just stares at me, shocked I’m so calm.

“Are you okay?” Erin asks with concern.

“Yeah, David and I love each other. We’re going to get married. Eventually.” David steps forward and wraps his arms around my neck.

“And we’re going to do it right.” David agrees.

David and I discover there’s no point in trying to hide it from the fans. Everyone was posting in on their stories last night. We all decide to head home and leave for the airport. It was a short time spent in Vegas, but it was a good time.

David and I settle into our seats on the plane.

“Well, at least you got your best vlog out of it.” I laugh, twisting my ring around my finger.

“Yeah.” David laughs to agree.

“I can’t believe we’re married.” I grin before pulling David’s hand into mine.

“I’m really glad it happened now actually.”

“Why?”

“Because it takes off all of the pressure for our ceremony with family later. We’ll already be married.” He presses a kiss to my temple.

“Oh my god, you know what this means?” I ask, getting excited.

“What?”

“We can leave the country! You’re my husband! Fuck Trump, he can’t keep you out now.”

David lets out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of several other passengers.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Where do you want to go first now that you have your freedom back?” I ask, running a hand through his hair while he thinks. “Mexico? Costa Rica? Bora Bora?

“Can I bring you home? Like my first home?” He asks, a nervous yet excited smile on his face.

“Slovakia?” I ask, grinning ear to ear while he nods.

“Only if you start speaking Slovak to me.” I tease.

“Oh, god. My wife is so annoying.” David fakes a complaint.

“Something she must have in common with my husband.”

“Oh I’m sure.” He rolls his eyes.

“This whole marriage thing is going to be fun.” I rest my head against David’s shoulder.

“Well that’s good, we’re going to be doing it for the rest of our lives.”

[thosequeenboys]

Put a Little Love on Me (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Summary & A/N: This fic was written for @acdeaky​ for the Secret Santa event, based on her request for a ‘homecoming, friends-to-lovers’ story.’  I selected our lovely lovelorn Joe.  The event was expertly planned and organized by @sohoneyspreadyourwings​ - Sabrina, Darling: so appreciate your clever idea and caring efforts to help us celebrate the holiday season!  And, MANY thanks and props to the amazingly creative – and supportive -- @warriorteam1924​ for providing story and title song ideas!  Happy holidays to you all!  

Warnings:  Here at The Fluff and Angst…

There’s no place like home…Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz was right, you mused, as you pulled your suitcase, clutching your purse through Heathrow Airport with one goal in mind:  curling up in your own warm bed in your tiny apartment and falling into a deep sleep tonight.  A museum fundraising consultant, you just wrapped an exciting gig at Tate Modern, rushing out of your last meeting to get to the airport on time.  Security took forever, and once you grabbed your bags and put on your shoes, you felt panicked upon hearing your flight was boarding--you had to go to the bathroom-and of course, the gate was the last one at the end of a long corridor.

As you glanced at your phone to check the time, you saw a message on your screen from your oldest and dearest childhood friend, Joe, an actor, who was taping a new show in LA.  You and Joe had been through all of life’s benchmarks and vicissitudes together: graduations, career ebbs and flows, romantic ups and downs, friend drama -- and every emotion under the sun.  You socialized with each other’s families and knew them all intimately.  As kids you set up intricate stories playing Pirate Ship and House.  Joe always added humor and mischievousness into the pretend games.  As college students, you travelled cross country.  Joe and you could always pick up where you left off, though these days, you often weren’t in the same place for very long.  It had been months since you had seen each other.  Nevertheless, you trusted each other implicitly.  You knew each other’s phone passcodes.  You served as each other’s emergency contacts. You had exchanged home keys in case of emergencies.  

You glanced at Joe’s message:

CHANGE OF PLANS

CHANGE OF PLANS.  You were dying to stop and read more, but you had two literal streams of urgency to address. You tossed your phone into your bag and moved your uncomfortable self as quickly as you could.  After ducking into a bathroom and accomplishing mission one, you tore out of the doorway and resumed your quick clip, eyeing yellow gate signs in your peripheral vision. 

Upon hearing ‘Final boarding, British Airways Flight 1907 to JFK New York’ you sprinted down the corridor and arrived at the gate panting, lining up behind the last few stragglers.  The agent welcomed you and you smiled, handing him your ticket.  You inched your fingers into your purse to grab your phone as you stepped forward down the boarding plank.

Your heart started to flutter as you read the rest of Joe’s messages:

Taping postponed, long story  

Headed back to NY

Catch up when you get back.  

HOT DATE TONITE!!!

You threw your phone back into your bag.

As you proceeded onto the plane, you felt your heart pounding, as those last three words kept repeating in your brain like an uncontrollable tick. HOT. DATE. TONITE.  As you walked down the aisle, you felt tears well up in your eyes. Sad and jealous feelings were kicked up like the autumn leaves that fluttered skyward when you and Joe jumped into the big pile his dad raked up every Autumn.  The emotions cascading through you overtook any rational thought, but you tried.  Of course he has a date. Why wouldn’t he have a date.  He should have a date….you tried to convince yourself.   But the problem was, you admitted as your vision became blurry through your tears, it wasn’t a date…with you.  It never was.  You didn’t let yourself think about it often, but when your guard was down and the thoughts crept in, you rationalized it was for the best, adding all the usual platitudes: you wouldn’t want to risk ruining the friendship; you probably weren’t the best match for each other anyway; you knew each other too well and would drive each other crazy; your careers were too complicated; it just wouldn’t work.  

With shaky hands, you hoisted your suitcase to the overhead bin and crawled into your window seat on the 777. You wiped your eyes and took a deep breath, which hitched as you fought your emotions. The Captain came on, “Uh…sorry folks, we have a bit of a delay.  Looks like we’re about 15th for take-off.”

The entire plane groaned.  Good thing you had an engaging novel to keep you entertained-and distracted.  You read, but your concentration didn’t last.  You finally let yourself think about the offer presented to you in the middle of your trip-a full-time job at The Getty Museum in LA.  You’d be able to settle down and not have to run from gig to gig-and through airports with a full bladder.   You needed to make the decision in the next few days – a scary, fork-in-the-road decision that would shape your career, your future and your home. You closed your eyes and conjured images of a possible West Coast future: I’d be safe and warm if I was in LA. California Dreamin’… (1)

Your thoughts of LA led to images of Joe who had been living there the last few months.  You retrieved your phone and started to type your response to his texts:

On the plane at Heathrow

Due to land JFK 6:00 EST

Let me know when you’re free so we can catch up

Your finger swayed over the phone keyboard.  You would wish any other friend a fun-and successful-date.  Here you were hesitating. Your conflicting feelings were out in full force.  You decided to don your Big Girl Pants.  Seriously though: you were over adulting at the moment.  You quickly typed the final line.

Have Fun!!

You sent the text and shut off your phone just as the plane turned the corner to the take-off runway and picked up speed, sinking you back into the seat. Feeling drowsy as the plane lifted through the clouds, you let sleep take over. You woke several hours later to a neck ache and a meal.   You ordered a glass of wine and settled in with your book.  

Once the wheels touched down in The Big Apple, on the other coast, you turned on your phone.  A few texts from friends and news updates appeared. Nothing from Joe.   Of course not, he must be on his date, you sighed. Perhaps, finally, your separate lives would prevent you from maintaining the relationship and the easiness - and comfort - you always found with each other. 

Your warm bed feeling more tangible, you got yourself through customs and out to a cab, which whisked you toward home as the skyline’s lights flickered outside your window.  Suddenly out of the corner of your eye, you saw a light beaming in your purse. You pulled out your lit phone and saw the message from Joe:

Wrong date.  Sigh.

Wrong lots of things, but now I realize what’s right.

Welcome home. Talk soon.

Wrong date? What the heck did that mean? Did he mix up the day for his date? What else is wrong?  Did something happen with his show?  And what is right? Thinking about it all made you more tired and emotionally overwrought.  You put your phone away and vowed to keep it away for the rest of the night.

The cab stopped with a sudden halt in front of your apartment building. You paid, gathered your bags and walked slowly toward the wrought iron lantern fixtures that adorned the front door and gave off a welcoming glow.  It was after midnight London time, and your body felt ready to fall into bed, the weighty duvet-covered comforter lulling you to sleep.

You dug into your bag for your keys as climbed the steps.  You opened your front door and saw the small light on your entry foyer table on.  That was strange.   But before your tired brain could slip into worry, you heard a familiar voice bellow ‘Hello, Madam’ in a British accent.   And you breathed.   Your face lit up instantly.  Your body relaxed and felt energized all at once, because you realized:  that voice, in your apartment tonight, unexpected, has always, always been the voice to ground you, warm you, soothe you, entertain you….love you. The voice of home.

Joe emerged through the kitchen, with a wide grin, carrying a wood tray with Hunan Delight take-out containers and a few lit votive candles.  You were entranced, but also a bit perplexed.    

“Um, Hi, uh, wow, this is a pleasant surprise.”  You uttered, truly shocked.

He walked past you a few steps into the living-dining area and put the tray down on the dining table, which he had set with placemats, dishes, cloth napkins, wine glasses and silverware. A low bouquet of freesia and tulips in yellows, pinks and purples dipped gracefully over a small glass vase. A bottle of Moscato was breathing.   After unloading the tray and flashing you a wink, he moved over to the stereo, and you followed him.  He pressed the button and the familiar strains of one of your favorite songs filled the air and Joe, ever the showman, able to emote and entertain in any setting, moved his hands in grand gestures as he sang along…

“Put a little love on me, put a little love on me. When the lights come up and there’s no shadows dancing I look around as my heart is collapsing ‘cause you’re the only one I need…to put a little love on me.” (2)

You sank into a chair watching him sing, enjoying his performance and letting the words sink in.  His playfulness and grandiosity turned serious and a bit sullen as the song progressed, and you could tell he was getting emotional.  By the last chorus, he had trouble getting the words out and he stopped singing. The song ended with Niall’s voice framing the moment.

When the track finished, he stared at you and started to speak:

“So, finally, for once, I ended the date tonight- such a bad date - before we finished our drinks. It was just so wrong. And then, afterwards, I had an entire conversation with myself, quite engaging actually, complete with jokes, historical and pop culture references, and a dollop of self-pity, followed by a kick in the ass – the Uber driver must have thought I was high.   And I realized, I admitted, finally – it’s you I was really having the conversation with. I knew just what you’d say.  And it’s you, I wanted the date with.  It’s always been you.  You’ve always been what’s right.  Always.”

You covered your mouth, feeling tears welling again.  “Oh Joe…..I’m so happy.  I…I can’t believe it,” you said as you stood up.  You felt that time and reality were suspended.  You stopped for a moment and replayed the last few minutes over in your mind, testing reality.  Finally, you spoke:  “I have to admit, when you wrote me you had a hot date, I felt really upset …..i finally admitted that I wanted your date to be me.”

“I’m so glad you felt that way. And, hey, thanks for jinxing my date,” Joe huffed, jokingly.  You both laughed.  “I felt it was time to just be honest.  I worried if you’d feel the same, but…I…felt it was better to know. And, I figured wooing you with your favorite song by your favorite celebrity crush, would hopefully seal the deal.” 

You laughed.  “It most certainly did.”

“It was the perfect song, though, I gotta hand it to that dude,” Joe smirked.  “So…will you…will you…put a little love on me?”

 “A lot of love” You smiled, and then more tears started to drip from your eyes.

“Babe…what’s wrong?” Joe touched your arm with concern.

“It’s good actually…I have this job offer from The Getty and…”

“OhmyGod! That’s fantastic!” Joe leaned into you and gave you a hug.  “Are you interested??”

“I am, but it’s hard to picture my life changing so much. Not travelling.  Leaving my family, my home…it’s a lot of change to imagine. And, that California sun will wrinkle me like a raisin.”  You smirked.

“True on all counts.  It’s an adjustment.  Well, LA’s felt like my second home for a while now….so we can create a new home together on ‘the OTHER coast’…. Home could be the Pennsylvania Turnpike, Indiana’s early morning dew, high up in the hills of California.  Home is just another word for you. (3) Let’s celebrate your new job – and our journey - with some Hunan Delight.” Joe kissed you gently on your cheek and pulled the chair out for you, before taking his own seat.  

You sat and poured the wine.  Raising your glass, you said, “Here’s to us-past us, present us, future us.”

Joe raised his glass and clinked yours, “Here’s to love.” (4)

Song Notes

 1.       California Dreamin’ by The Mamas and The Papas

2.       Put a Little Love on Me, by Niall Horan

3.       You’re my Home, by Billy Joel

4.       Here’s to Us, by Halestorm

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 17

This is my @wackydrabbles​ post for week 87. The prompt is bolded. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Drake and some language.

*I was in a silly mood and this turned into a dumpster fire lol and it feels very rushed but I was trying to meet the word count. There may be a little bit of plot in this.

Word count: 1999

------------------------

Liam sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress; one leg bent upright with the other extended crookedly out in front of him. Half of a bottle of Don Julio dangled loosely from a hand settled on his knee while two shiny gold rings encircled the pinky tip of his other.

In a fit of anger late last night, he searched for and consumed the first bottle of alcohol he came across in the liquor cabinet. He had no intentions of getting hammered or even a little drunk; Liam just needed something to take the edge off the hurt. Not that he for one second believed a word Riley told him before she walked out and boarded a red-eye commercial flight back to the States. 

As Liam pondered her abrupt departure in the early hours of the morning, one thing was for sure: He'd never been in love before, but what he felt for Riley was real -- and reciprocated -- that, "no," she spewed from her mouth when asked if she loved him was a lie.  

But why? That was the question he just couldn't figure out.

Having racked his brain for hours and with the sun finally coloring in the darkness of his chambers, Liam set aside his drink and lifted himself off the ground. Every thought that consumed him for the last several hours was riddled with putting the pieces together of why she actually left and why she felt she couldn't tell him the truth. Nothing made sense, yet ruminating alone in his room until he figured it out wasn't going to solve anything; the only way to get to the bottom of this was to retrace Riley's steps from the time she left the ball to when he made his way up to join her a little later. 

Stumbling to the bathroom -- mostly from exhaustion and perhaps a little drunker than he realized -- Liam stripped off the tuxedo he wore the prior evening and took a quick shower before heading down to the security office.

-----------

Riley's heavily drooping eyelids popped wide open when the plane shook from another vigorous tremor of turbulence. Gripping the armrests on both sides of her seat, she hesitated to peek out the window but was relieved when she saw the billowy waters of the Pacific had transformed into small, mosaic blocks of land covered by a shadow of the nearly setting sun. 

When the aircraft settled again, Riley reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone to check the time, grateful to be landing soon. She planned to go straight home, sink into her bed, and sleep the rest of her life away. Maybe wake up every once in a while to sob again before going back to sleep. Whatever Riley decided to do, she hated Madeleine, she hated Tyler, and she hated telling Liam she didn't love him; the more Riley thought about the stunned look on his face when she said it, the more nauseous her stomach felt.

And the nausea was getting worse.

Riley caught the eye of a nearby stewardess and waved her over; she needed ginger ale, and she needed it fast. 

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I … I need, ginger ale, please." She asked through ragged breaths.

"Let me check and see if we have more." Riley nodded appreciatively.

"Hey. Don't I know you from somewhere?" A relatively large guy in the center seat, whose sweaty arm flab had been lodged in Riley's shoulder since takeoff, asked. Oh shit! Riley cupped a tight hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously; the last thing she wanted was to be recognized. 

Or vomit.

While the stewardess searched the service cart for the requested drink, the gentleman's eyes enlarged. "Wait a minute. Yeah! You're that little gal who married some king, with ..." he snapped his fingers before adding in his thick Texan drawl, "the monkey and hookers and shit. Wow, my fiance wants to have a wedding just like yours." He held his hand out to her. "The names Beaver Calhoun, mayor of Slippery Nip, Texas. I guess you could say we're both royals, huh?"

Riley lowered her hand slightly; she was past the point of ginger ale helping, and this guy was blocking her way out. "Beaver, I need you to move." 

He stroked his chin in thought. "Well, I don't know, Queenie. I'm pretty content with my life there in Slippery Nip, Not really lookin' to uproot."

"No!' Riley's strained voice responded forcefully, "move out of the way--" She tried to fight it, but her head flung forward and everything came out with her last word.

Beaver looked down at his shirt and quirked a brow. "That's gonna leave a stain."

=============

On the second floor of a run-down Motel 6, just off the beaten path in Las Vegas, Drake tossed in the last of his clothes and airline tickets in a duffle bag and zipped it. Stepping over to the window, he pulled aside the tattered curtains to check if the airport's shuttle van had arrived yet. Disappointed, he grumbled to himself, "Where the hell are you? I'm ready to get the fuck out of here." 

The past week had been intense -- well, frankly, the entire month had been nothing short of shit balls. Five weeks ago, Drake landed in Las Vegas for Liam's bachelor party and won big money at the casino, only to have it all pissed away on some old, decrepit hooker who stole his wallet, cell phone, dick health, and what little joy he had in the world. Liam left with a sexy ass wife, and all Drake got was the false claim of fathering triplets and his scowling face on the front cover of the National Enquirer with Dr. Ethan Ramsey detailing the entire sordid journey from pre-surgical rooster rot to the aftercare.

He made a quick $500 for the story, in which he badly needed the money, considering he couldn't leave Vegas until the paternity test results came back. It was enough for his lodging, a couple cans of Beenie-Weenies and a few boxes of pepperoni Hot Pockets; his stomach felt like oil sludge at this point. But as a joke, Leo had sent a box of Ding-Dongs, so it wasn't all bad.

The rotary phone in his room rang out, and he answered the call from the front desk, which let him know transportation had arrived. Drake grabbed his bag, flicked a cockroach off of it, and exited his room into the enclosed hallway.

After stepping onto the elevator and hitting the down button, another person strolled on in a black leather mini-skirt, white see-through halter top, and a pair of fishnet stockings that he'd recognize anywhere.

"You!" He growled at the chain-smoking hooker, backing her up into the corner. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? And I WANT my wallet and cell phone back, now!" He hovered menacingly over the much smaller woman.

"No offense, but I'm not interested in giving them back to you," Pinquee Kittee sneered before reaching into her bra for mace and spraying him directly in the eyes. The rapid burn gave way to her next act of defense when a screaming, blinded Drake was doubled over by a swift karate kick to his newly transplanted organ. "Hiiiiyah!"

Drake cupped himself in anguish, fell to the floor, and slumped over as the elevator doors opened. Pinquee Kittee grabbed his duffle bag and peeked down the hallway to make sure no one was around before making her getaway.

------------------

Just outside of the palace's security office, Liam knocked on the door several times without an answer. It was rare that the King would personally pay a visit. Usually, he would call Bastien and have the head guard look into any issues. With him gone, this just felt like something Liam needed to do in person. 

After several more knocks, Liam reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to let himself inside. The lights were off, with only a few CCTV screens displaying various images of places within and surrounding the palace. Finding the light switch on the wall beside the door, Liam flipped them on, and his mouth fell agape at what he saw.

"What the hell happened in here?" He shouted as his hands shot to his hips, glaring around the room. 

On the floor was a maze of beer cans, whiskey bottles, remnants of silly string, a five-gallon bucket of butter next to a slip-n-slide, a voodoo doll with Liam's face on it, and half-a-dozen guards passed out. 

A furious Liam made his way through, kicking the feet of guardsmen as he stepped along. "Get up! All of you!"

One-by-one, they slowly roused until they realized it was the King in their presence, then they jumped to their feet at attention. 

"Would someone like to explain what the actual fuck happened in here?" Liam wasn't one to swear in front of his staff, but there was no way he could hold back after walking in on this scene. His glowering eyes shifted with expectancy from one man to the next, waiting for an answer, until someone finally called out, "We threw Rogers a going away party for his last night on the job, Your Majesty."

"And you thought having a wild party while you were ON DUTY to protect 400 members of the nobility for a major event was the time to do that?

The guard shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I admit we weren't as attentive as we should have been last night ..." he pointed behind Liam, "but Prince Leo came by and suggested we kick it up a notch."

Liam turned around and caught Leo slithering along the edge of the wall toward the door. "Leo!"

The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, then flickered his eyes and jolted his body as if he were just waking up. Leo looked at Liam, acting surprised to see him. "Liam? Is that you? H-How did I get in here?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Leo."

"What?” Leo shrugged innocently. “You know what I think happened. I must have been sleepwalking again. You know how I get when I watch The Duchess before bed." He cocked his head introspectively at his brother. “And you do look like the Duke from that movie, you handsome devil you?” He grinned impishly.

Liam stared blankly at his older brother for a few seconds, then turned around to face the others gathered around. "Who's in charge here?"

When one of the men raised a hand, the King stepped up to him and explained, "Alright, I need you to pull up security footage from last night. I want to review everything from the moment I stepped outside the ballroom to meet the Queen around 9:30, and where she went after I went back into the ballroom." 

If this were any other day, Liam would have fired every one of them on the spot and sent Leo to Antarctica, but he only had one concern: Finding out what happened to Riley.

As the guard typed in his computer to pull up footage from last night, Leo stepped up to Liam, who was hovering over the guard's shoulder with anticipation. "What's going on?"

Never taking his eyes off the screen, he responded. "Riley went back to Las Vegas last night."

"Wh-Why? What happened?"

Liam let out a breath. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Leo remained silent before giving his little brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and watching with him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as different camera footages were switched to follow Riley walking from the main staircase, through several passages, and finally ending with the corridor outside of his quarters.

"Stop!" Liam leaned in closer as the guard paused the video; his entire body tensed up at what he saw.

"Is that ..." Leo scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Madeleine."

___________

Tags: @burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​  @jessiembruno​ @texaskitten30​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​s @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @charlotteg234​ @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie​ @theroyalheirshadowhunter​ @princessleac1​ @kimmiedoo5​ @graceful-leah​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful​ @thegreentwin​ @gkittylove99​ @neotericthemis​ @pink-diamond13​ @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09​ @gabesmommie1130​ @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801​ @debmcg1106 @lifeaskim @choicesstan650​ @emkay512​ @royalromancer​

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueen​n

Anything with Drake:@tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:   @narrytheworld​​  @queenwalton​  @cordonianprincess​        @zaffrenotes​ @zilch3​  @drrookie​ @sfb123​ @secretaryunpaid​ @masterofbluff​

[the--blackdahlia]

Title: Too Young to Fall in Love 36

Summary: Nikki Sixx was a hard partying musician on the strip. He never expected to fall in love with anyone, until a girl knocked on his dressing room door looking for a ride home and took his breath away. Just like everything else Nikki did; the drugs, the money, the music; Nikki went hard with love. (Y/n) Bass never expected the bassist of Motley Crue to be the one to shake her calm and calculated life up. She had a plan. Graduate school, become an epic producer, and watch from behind the scenes as her brother’s band rose to fame. Nikki and (Y/n) were perfect for each other, too bad her brother, Tommy, didn’t think so.

Series warnings:  Smut (18+ Please), drug use, language, referenced miscarriage, drug overdose, mentioned attempted suicide, out of character moments for everyone in the band, the timeline might be a little screwy but it’s fanfiction! I know nothing of music production and my medical knowledge is really screwy, so it won’t be accurate.

“I can’t believe you already have to go back.” (Y/n) sighed as she watched Nikki pack up his stuff from his hotel room.

“Sorry, label wants us to do some shows and a small tour with the new guy and…” Nikki zipped up his back and let his shoulders fall. “I don’t want to leave you… I want to take you with me… but…”

“I’m thinking about getting transferred back to LA.” (Y/n) told him. “I miss it there.”

NIkki smiled, “only if you think it will make you happy?”

“I think it will.” She sighed. “Because I can see you more than once a month.” She wasn’t sure if he was her boyfriend or not. She didn’t want to scare him by bringing it up.

Nikki walked up to her his hands in his pockets, “My flight doesn’t leave for another couple of hours,” he blushed slightly. “Maybe one more lunch before I go?”

“That sounds good.” She smiled. “My treat.”

“No way sweet girl!” he laughed. “My treat.”

“I don’t think so silly boy.” She smiled brightly. “Wanna just eat at the airport?”

“Ok sweet girl,” he held her hand as they made their way down to the concierge. Nikki checked out and turned in his key. Turning to (Y/n) they made their way to the front and Nikki had a cab hailed for him. “So, you’ll tell me if you’re definitely back in LA for good?” he whispered as he held her close.

“Of course I will.” She told him. “I have a long weekend coming up soon. I might go to LA and look at apartments or something. Well, once I convinced them I need to transfer back that is.”

“You could say you want to convince us to jump ship…” Nikki smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I mean… at this point Elektra and Tom are being difficult.”

“Maybe you should make your own label sometime.” (Y/n) shrugged.

“Huh,” Nikki shrugged that’s an idea. He had never thought of it, but he didn’t think him and the guys were ready to have their own label or anything. They could barely make it through a recording session.

The cab stopped at the side of the airport letting them off. NIkki paid the cab fare and helped (Y/n) out of the cab. Grabbing his bags they walked in and made their way inside towards one of the restaurants.

“So…” he wasn’t sure what to say. “I…” he found himself reaching into his bag and taking out a leather bound journal. “I didn’t have a way to contact you so…” he pushed the journal towards her. “This is everything I thought about while I was in rehab. Some of it good. Some of it dark, mostly because of the withdrawal phase.” he took a deep breath. “I… I want you to know that every day I was there, I was thinking about you.”

“Nikki…” She whispered, touching the journal. “I...this is your personal stuff. Are you sure you want me to read it?”

“I wrote it all for you,” he admitted. “Some songs, some poems… most of them letters.” he took a hard swallow.

“I’ll cherish it.” She said, smiling.

“Just… don’t judge me too hard on some of what I wrote… some of it got dark and… some  of it I was meaning from my heart once that darkness faded.” he couldn’t look at her. His throat felt raw as he tried to hold back his tears.  

“Nikki…” She got up and wrapped her arms around it. “I will never judge you silly boy.” She kissed his head.

NIkki nodded and gave her a teary smile. “(Y/n), I want to take this as slow as we can… I am so scared of messing up and just… I can’t lose you again… I can’t…”

“Nikki,” She brushed back his hair. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Caressing her cheek he brought her in for a kiss, “I feel like I’m dreaming and I’m scared to wake up.”

“I’ll be there when you do.” She smiled. “We better finish up. You’ll miss your flight.” He saw her smile waver a little before she painted it back on.

“Hey,” he brought her back in. “I’ll call you every hour if you need me too,” he whispered. “I’m starting to feel alive again sweet girl… you are breathing life back into me.”  

“I want to  do whatever I can to make you feel better.” She hugged him close. “Think I could squeeze into your carry on? No one would ever know.” She laughed a little.

Nikki laughed, “I wouldn’t be able to keep you a secret,” he held her tight. “I’ll call you when I land in LA?”

“You better.” She laughed.

Nikki gave her one last kiss before boarding the plane. He looked back and gave her a wink and mouthed that he would call her. Walking into the terminal he made his way to his seat in first class and looked out the window. He let the tears fall, his fear of this all begin a dream haunting him.  

(Y/n) closed her eyes. She waited until she saw his plane take off before she went back home.

Alone.

****

“How was New York?” Tommy asked Nikki the next day.

“It was good,” Nikki sat behind the soundboard as John was in the booth trying to sing the lyrics. “I stayed at the Hilton and she had her apartment so we met for lunch and dinner. Kept it vanilla you know?”

“Really? You didn’t bow chicka wow wow?” Tommy asked.

“Look, Tommy…” Nikki sighed. “Last time we were together, I moved way too fast. You were right in your own messed up way.” he sighed and growled. “Hey John just take it from the top and watch out for those high notes man.” Nikki sighed as he ran a hand across his face.

“Hey Nikki, I’d watch out. Sloths have long nails.” Mick grumbled from his seat. Nikki turned to glare at him.

“Was she happy?” Tommy asked. “When I saw her in LA last...she didn’t look like the same person…” Tommy sighed.

“She was happy when I was there,” NIkki pointed at Mick. “And no more nature channel for you! I am not acting like a sloth! I am making sure I don’t fuck this up!”

“I’m sorry about everything,” Tommy sighed. “I wish I could take back what I said to her in the past…”

“Yeah well, all we can do is move on and try to take it slow, not rush and I think we’ll be ok…” Nikki cringed at John’s vocals. “Ok… John take five!” he called into the booth and looked at Tommy and Mick.

“We need Vince back.” Mick told him. “Vanessa finally got through to him, but he’s going down a dark path.”

Nikki just nodded and sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He wasn’t sure what to do but he hoped (Y/n) would move back sooner rather than later.

****

One Month Later

“Nikki, phone.” One of the techs said as Nikki was working in the studio.

“Busy.” Nikki muttered.

“It’s some chick from MCA. (Y/n) Bass.” The tech told him.

NIkki put his bass down and walked out to grab the phone, “(Y/n)? Everything ok?”

“Hey Nik, everything’s fine. I just...I’m on my way to the airport and I was wondering if you could pick me up when I get to LAX. It’ll be a few hours.” (Y/n) told him. “Someone got fired over at MCA LA, and they’re sending me there for the time being. Maybe longer, so I’ll have to go back to New York and pack…”

“Sure what time is your flight landing I’ll make sure to be there.” Nikki smiled as he grabbed a paper and a pen. “Do you know what gate you’ll be coming out of?”

“I’ll be landing there probably about three your time. And it should be gate 21B.” (Y/n) told him. “Sorry it’s so rushed. If you can’t pick me up, I can call Vanessa or something.” Nikki could tell she was stressed or rushed. Probably a combo of both.

“Hey, sweet girl take a breath I’ll be there without a problem ok?” he felt himself smiling at the thought of seeing her. “Am I dropping you off at Athena’s or Vanessa’s?” he was tempted to get her to stay with him in one of the guest rooms. The house they once shared was long gone and he had bought a different home.

“Crap! I forgot to set that up.” She groaned and he could hear the tears in her voice. “I’ll call them when I land and figure something out. I think Athena’s going out of town because Tommy has Angus.”

NIkki cleared his throat and closed his eyes, “You could… you could stay in my guest room… I um, I got a new place and it’s pretty cosy…”

“Are...are you sure?” (Y/n) asked. “I know you said you wanted to take things slow.”

“Only if.. It’s ok with you I know it’s last minute and I’m not sure what Vanessa or Athena would do and I’m going to be recording most of the time…” he found himself rambling. “I just… I mean… I…”

“Nikki, I would love to come stay with you.” (Y/n) said. “If I overstay my welcome, just kick me out.” She laughed a little. “I gotta go. My flights being called. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See you in a few sweet girl,” he muttered before hanging up.

Nikki sighed as he grabbed his jacket and keys, “I’m going to go home and get some things ready before I head to the airport.” he rushed out before the others could question him.

“Airport?” Tommy asked. “Where is he going?” Mick and John just shrugged.

Nikki went home, looking around to see if there was anything he needed from the store. He wanted everything to be perfect for her. He brought fresh flowers and made sure to keep everything clean. Looking at the guest bedroom he changed the sheets and made sure everything was right. He heard the small whine of his dog. He had asked Athena what kind of dog she had, he had found the puppy not long ago. He bent down to scratch his ears.

“Hey boy,” he whispered. “You get to meet a very special friend today.” he made sure to let the puppy loose in the backyard before rushing back to his car and driving to the airport.  

(Y/n)’s flight landed and she came out into the terminal. She was so ready to be done travelling. She had just come back from a business trip in Florida when they told her to not unpack, she had to go to LA for awhile. She didn’t see Nikki when she came out of the gate and was worried something had happened.

She had just taken a step forward when strong arms wrapped around her and hugged her.

“Ah!” She called out.

“Hey Sweet girl,” he said and spun her around. When he let her go he turned her to face him and smiled. “Good thing we aren’t in a grocery store. No carts to have fun in.”

“I still got looks from the manager after that.” She laughed. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” She hugged him, letting her eyes fall closed but woke herself back up.

“Ok, you need a nap,” he said noticing how tired she was.

“I should get to the office.” She yawned. “A nap might be good.”

“Nope no office, nap time,” he laughed as he helped her with her bags and  helped her into his car. "Now, this house is a bit smaller than the one we had but it's still pretty big, " he chuckled as he define down the street towards it.

"You've been to my apartment. Everything's bigger than it." She laughed.

"Yeah," he smiled and pulled to to the house. Helping (Y/N) with her bags he unlocked the door. He didn't have a chance to step inside when barking could be heard and a ball of fur came to the door.  "Ziggy, wait."

"Puppy!" (Y/n) said happily. Ziggy jumper on her, smelling her and giving her kisses. "He looks like Angus!"

"Yeah," Nikki rubbed the back of his neck. "I asked Athena what kind of did she had and I… I remembered you wanted one so I...I got him." He put her things on his couch and grabbed Ziggy. "Rascal."

"I like him." (Y/n) looked full of light. "ready for a nap though." She yawned.

Nikki laughed and grabbed her bags from the couch after placing Ziggy in his pen. He led her to the guest room on the first floor. Opening the door he hoped she would like it, he made sure to keep the room simple and clean. Nothing dark or scary. Placing her things on the bed he turned to her.

“Ok so, bed and then there is a walk in closet and… the bathroom is right through that door.” He placed his hand in his pockets. “My room is upstairs and if you need me you can press on the intercom and I can come down.” he cleared his throat. “I’ll let you get settled and I can make some sandwiches or something or I can order us some food.”  

"You're too good to me." She smiled at him.

“So…” Nikki cringed, he was nervous around her. He felt like she would break if he moved too fast. With a small smiled he backed up and out of the room. “I’ll be in my room if you need me…” he was turning to leave.  

"Hey Nikki?" (Y/n) asked.

“Yeah?” he turned towards her from the staircase.

"Would...do you want to take a nap...with me?" She was sure he'd say no.

“Um… a nap sounds good… I mean if you want me to…”

"Come on." (Y/n) held out her hand to him.

Nikki held her hand as she led him to the bed. Taking off his shoes he pulled down the covers and let her get in first before joining her. “Noones used this bed before. You’re the first.” he sighed. “I um…” he adjusted himself and blushed. “I can set an alarm or do you just want to nap until you feel like waking up?”

"Just nap. No alarm." She yawned. "come here silly boy." She moved to give him space.

Nikki got in and lay on his back. He was never this nervous around her before. But he really wanted to make everything perfect. He closed his eyes expecting her to keep her distance. He bit his cheek to keep from pulling her close to him. Tommy’s words kept echoing in his head, kept haunting him.

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[megalony]

She’ll be alright

Another Roger Taylor imagine that I had an idea for.

@rogertaylorsbitontheside

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Just piss off all of you!" Roger barked, his eyes revealing a burning fire swelling in his pupils as his breathing turned harsh, chest heaving from the depth of each breath passing through his lips. Swatting his hand at his manager and bandmates like they were mere flies Roger turned on his heels and left them stood to gawk in the corridor. Their eyes following his frame as he retreated back into the hospital room before they decided it was best if they did as he requested. Each person knowing better than to get on the wrong side of the drummer especially over topics as close to home like this. Annoyance and anger flowed through Roger's veins as he carefully shut the door behind him, doing his best not to slam it and release some anger, knowing it wouldn't do any good. The emotions that were boiling through the roof died down a little when his eyes landed on his girlfriend, the sight making his heart shatter at knowing he would have to tell her what the band had just told him. The band had been petrified and confused when they all arrived at the airport for their night flight to America only to get a phone call from their drummer who had gone to the hospital. Roger had gotten a call on his way to the airport telling him (Y/n) had been involved in a car crash, and there was no way Roger could go and get on a plane without knowing what was happening or seeing her. He'd turned the car around straight away and gone to find out what was happening, ringing his band to tell them they could either leave without him or wait and catch a new flight with him. Either way, he wouldn't be flying that night, and so the band had gone to comfort him at the hospital. Now Roger was being told that two days behind schedule was enough and that they needed to get on a flight tonight and head off for their tour which had been delayed. By the time they arrived, got rid of jet lag and were ready to rehearse they would have only missed two concerts in total but Miami was not cancelling anymore and so Roger needed to be on that flight. He was given no choice in this matter and so he needed to tell (Y/n) that he couldn't stay no matter how much he wanted to stay with her and make sure she recovered. Roger allowed his eyes to dance over her frame as he sat down on the chair beside the bed which he had slept in all of last night and hadn't moved from except for the bathroom and food. Every cut on her face and exposed arms were committed to memory, the split bottom lip was burning into his eyes and her right hand and left ankle which were both in casts weren't going to be leaving his mind anytime soon. Nor was the knowledge of her three broken ribs she sustained. The person responsible for the accident was lucky they hadn't crossed paths with the drummer yet. "Rog?" Her voice came out scratchy and hoarse like the words had grated on sandpaper before escaping her lips. Reaching out with her good hand (Y/n) took Roger's hand in her own, entangling their fingers together as she willed him to look at her. She knew the expression he held, and it was not a good one which meant something had happened outside with the band. The drummer felt his heart dropping to his stomach when he finally managed to look up at her, swallowing roughly before attempting to tell her. "I, uh... we head for LA tonight. Baby, I'm sorry." (Y/n)'s right hand twitched with the urge to rub at her forehead as a headache was beginning to form until she remembered that there was a cast only allowing her fingers to rest straight instead of bending. Pushing a sigh past her lips she closed her eyes, willing the tears to disappear but they only proceeded to escape past the small gap between her eyelids, jumping free from her lashes. A swell of guilt rattled through her stomach. Roger shouldn't even be here now, he was already meant to be in America and getting ready for their concert. He shouldn't be sat here with her, she shouldn't even be here. If that other car hadn't decided to smash into hers then none of this would be happening and everything would be back on track. And now there was guilt building up in her stomach because she didn't want him to leave. (Y/n) wanted Roger to stay with her because she felt vulnerable and when he left the lonely feeling would swoop in and take over. She had been alone and trapped in the car until her mind blacked everything out to save her from the fear and the pain. When she came back around in the hospital (Y/n) didn't expect to find Roger sat crying at her side, grasping her hand with both of his as he sighed in relief that she was awake. She was expecting to wake up alone in an unfamiliar place, but with Roger there it didn't matter where they were. Now he was going to leave her alone and she was going to wake every day for three months without someone by her side or holding her hand. She would have to struggle up and down the stairs with the bloody cast on her foot, struggle to make a drink and be forced to use her left hand for everything instead. have to deal with the discomfort of broken ribs and wait for the bruises and scrapes to heal without Roger there to lessen the pain for her. "You shouldn't even be here now." (Y/n) mumbled in response, her voice deathly quiet to stop it from breaking. Her hand pulled away from Roger's so she could rub at her forehead, turning away from him to try and stop the tears from being in his line of sight. It felt so stupid to be crying over him going when they had prepared for him to already be gone by now. They had said goodbye two days ago and got into their separate cars to go different ways, they had been ready for the three months apart. Now they had been given an extra day together and they didn't want to separate because (Y/n) was hurt. "You're hurt baby, I couldn't go and not know if you were alright. I shouldn't be leaving you now... I'm so fucking sorry." Getting up from the chair Roger ever so gently climbed onto the bed with her. Laying on his side and wrapping an arm gently over her frame so he didn't hurt her, his head pressing into the crook of her neck. Feeling her hand holding tightly to his arm as if reassuring herself he was actually there and not going to leave just yet. "I don't want you to go." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Brushing the blonde strands of hair from falling into his eyes Roger struggled to catch his breath back. His hand entangling in his hair that was drenched with sweat much like the clothing he was wearing that was clinging uncomfortably to his frame. The jeans he wore hadn't been the best idea as he knew they were going to become stuck to the stool he was sitting on. Leaning down to his right Roger grasped hold of the water bottle sitting patiently on the floor at his side, downing half the bottle in one go to try and recover the energy he had just lost with their rehearsals that were only halfway done. Freddie had commented on more than one occasion this week that Roger's mind had been somewhere else, and each time the drummer ignored him because everyone knew Roger's mind was still back home in London. His focus is on his girlfriend who he rang as often as the minimal breaks they got would allow him so he knew that she was alright. The drummer had left her alone to recover meaning she was on pain medication and was relying on family to help around the house because she was badly injured. There was still anger hidden away in the drummer at how he had been rushed onto that plane to get here. If someone else was in his position he knew they wouldn't want to be dragged away from the person they loved that was hurt. But no one seemed to care about Roger, only about the fact that he wasn't hurt and was deemed fine to go. They needed the band to play and so play they would. "Roger." Turning his head to the right Roger narrowed his eyes, knowing he should be wearing his glasses that would allow him to see who was standing in the wing of the stage beckoning him over. His mind figuring out that it was Miami hollering for him, seeming rather urgent. Pushing himself off the stool Roger winced at feeling his jeans really did stick to the leather seat. Sweat clinging to every inch of his skin making him feel uncomfortable, really needing to get a shower and changed ready for tonight's concert which was only a few hours away from happening. Gulping the last of the water Roger chucked the bottle in a nearby bin before making his way over to Miami. Hands on his hips as he breathed deeply, seeing the boys walking past him to get drinks and have a small break before they went back to rehearsals again. "Yeah?" He breathed through the word, his eyebrows raising as he waited to be informed of what he was needed for. Frowning when Miami's expression seemed to change, dropping as a look of panic flooded onto his features which was never a good sign. "Grace called about five times, she needs you to ring her there's some kind of emergency." Reaching out Miami quickly held onto Roger's arms to steady him when the drummer stumbled on the spot, almost collapsing to his knees at the news that sent his mind reeling. Grace was (Y/n)'s sister and she promised him when he left that she would ring him if anything happened to (Y/n), there was no other reason she would try and get in contact with him. And if she's tried calling more than once it meant that something serious had happened to (Y/n) whilst he wasn't there. "She- why didn't someone tell me?!" His words came out as a gasp for air rather than an angered shout like he wanted it to be. His hands clasping tightly onto Miami's arms to steady himself before pushing himself to start running. Feeling his friend grabbing him again to stop him from falling over, guiding Roger backstage and to where his phone would be. "I don't know, I just found out now." Miami was trying to keep his voice level and stay calm but he didn't know quite how to do that. He had seen how much (Y/n) meant to the drummer and he knew if anything happened to her whilst Roger wasn't there he would be crushed. He would be pushed over the edge by the fact that he was forced to leave her and come here when he didn't want to in the first place. Following Roger closely he waited until the drummer was sat down, his hands fumbling to call Grace before he suffered a panic attack. "Grace, what the hell's going on?" Roger pressed the phone to his ear harshly to make sure he would be able to hear her perfectly clear so he didn't misunderstand anything she was about to tell him. "I've been calling for the past hour and a half Rog-" "No one told me. What's happened?" He didn't have time to apologise for the shitty management that had decided to keep this vital phone call from him because of rehearsals that could be done at any point today. They were supposed to take it easy anyway. The band found that the best thing to do was a rehearsal in the morning, and then do nothing all day and laze around completely. That way their energy wouldn't be wasted and they would be able to power through the concert. "I went round to see (Y/n) earlier but when I got in she was passed out on the floor. I called an ambulance but they've taken her straight into surgery, she's got internal bleeding and it's bad because she was on her own when it happened. She's been in surgery for the past hour." All the air disappeared from Roger's lungs as he closed his eyes, feeling his body growing weak as a trembling set in his bones. He should have been there. If he'd have forced the band to be delayed another week he would have been at home with her. Roger would have seen she wasn't well and taken her to the hospital before she had a chance to collapse and faint from the pain she must have been going through. He would have stopped it from getting worse and she would have been alright if they'd have let him stay. "Where was the bleeding?" He felt like he was falling. As if he was falling through the clouds and there was nothing there to break his fall when he finally came to a stop. "A main blood vessel in her small intestine ruptured... I don't know anymore but I'll ring as soon as they tell me anything I promise." When she hung up the phone simply dropped to the floor as Roger locked eyes with Miami who was near shaking himself from the worry about what had and was going to happen. His eyes widening when Roger suddenly jumped out of the chair before kicking his foot out and launching it across the floor. His hands reaching out for anything and everything, throwing a plate at the far wall, watching it shatter into pieces before throwing a glass at the door. A microphone flew past Brian's face going over his shoulder and just missing his head when he walked out of the dressing room. His eyes widening as he looked at the discarded and now broken microphone laying on the floor before to his friend. A confused and very worried frown on his face as he wondered what the hell had happened in the space of five minutes. "This is all your fucking fault!" Roger screamed pointing to everyone who was now beginning to crowd around him in fear. His chest heaving as he was beginning to feel light headed. They had done this because they dragged him out here when he knew he should have stayed at home. He wanted to be home with the person he loved and they wouldn't let that happen and now he was paying the price for their misjudgement. "You all did this and now she could be dying!" His tone was broken as his words vibrated around the stage, his words coming out as a tortured screech an octave lower than usual. Rushing forward Brian grabbed the box in Roger's hands that he was about to launch their way, both Freddie and Miami running to restrain the drummer by holding his arms behind him against their shoulders. Pulling him a few feet away so he couldn't hurt himself or cause any more damage that would further make the situation worse than it already was. Wrapping his arms around his closest friend Freddie held Roger to his chest, easing him to the floor when Roger broke down in front of them all. His arms pulling to his chest as he screamed, tears flowing freely from his eyes as he moved his hands up to pull at his hair as if trying to loosen the strands from his head. His feet violently tapping against the ground as he willed for his girlfriend to be alright. Roger didn't know what he would do if anything happened to (Y/n) and he was thousands of miles away from her if something happened and he wasn't there he would break into thousands of pieces and no one would be able to help him. She had been left alone in their home because he wasn't there. (Y/n) had been in pain and she had been left on her own to suffer before collapsing from the pain and now she was in the hospital because Roger hadn't been there to stop it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Violent breaths sucked into Roger's lungs and were forced out again as he scrambled to grab the damaged phone from the coffee table it rested upon. His body now wide awake and alert when it had previously been slumped back into the sofa, his eyes burning from the tears that had all dried out in his eyes that felt like they were cracking. The band had been sat with their drummer for the past two hours, each one of them unable to stop themselves from looking to the phone every so many minutes to see if it was going to light up or not. Needing to be told what was happening because they all knew the waiting was sending Roger into a state of despair. After his fit of rage, he lost all the energy he had previously stored up, and no one dared ask him if the concert tonight was still going ahead in fear of getting their heads bitten off. It was an unspoken truth that if things turned south they would need to send him on a flight back to London, but if things turned out alright then just maybe, they could get this concert out of the way and see what he wanted to do next. "Grace?" Roger's voice cracked immediately, the tears forming back in his broken eyes as he tried to work out how to breathe again. His mind reeling as he waited for her to give him the news that would make or break him. "They stopped the bleeding Rog. She's out of surgery now, she'll be alright." Reaching out to his left Roger hit Freddie's chest repeatedly, his own breathing going through the roof as he nodded that everything was alright. Feeling the singer's arms wrapping tightly around him and pulling him into a tight embrace of such relief that they hadn't felt before. "She's gonna be alright."