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supermarvelgirl15 · 3 months ago

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Red in the Face

Summary: Three times Logan gets jealous and one time you do.

Pairing: Logan Howlett × f!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Alcohol tw, implied ✨spicy✨ times

A/N: Of course my writing motivation comes back the week before I go back to college. The infatuation with the meow meow man is worth it though. This one was inspired by Jealous by Nick Jonas!

Main Masterlist

××××××

You’re his.

There was no doubt about that. Everyone knew it, too. Well, nearly everyone, but it didn’t take anyone long for anyone to pick up on it. At least those who had eyes and half a brain.

You were Logan’s girl.

He’d never confess it out loud, but Logan couldn’t stand it when another man looked at you, let alone speak to you. Something in him would just wake up in his chest and spread throughout his entire body when someone’s eyes lingered longer on you than he would like. It was possessive, he knew, but it still felt like an itch he couldn’t wait to scratch.

The funny thing about it though was that every time you never seemed to notice. You were blissfully unaware of whenever someone tried to make a move on you while his neck veins threatened to burst. If he was someone else, he’d probably find it amusing.

You were beautiful, so of course other men would think so also. You were the most beautiful thing Logan had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on, both in his world and this one. It was hard to believe that someone like you could ever be with an asshole like him. So much so, that he often thinks you’d be better off with someone else. He’s told you that in the past, but you refused to hear him out.

Logan trusted you—that was never the problem, ever. You would never do anything to hurt him, not on purpose anyways. For some odd reason, you loved him. He lived for the moments when you whispered those three little words in his ear in the quiet mornings, or in the darkness of the night. He’d never admit how much your sweet affirmations meant to him.

You were the most important thing in his life.

He now watched you from a corner booth while you ordered you both some more drinks from the bar. You tapped your fingers against the counter to a beat of the song that played over the radio as you waited for the bartender, more than likely humming to yourself.

The hair on his arms stood up when a man took a seat at the bar right beside you, though you paid him zero attention. It took the guy a couple tries before you realized he was trying to talk to you, the smile you had faltering. Logan watched you carefully for any sign of discomfort, prepared to jut in if need be. You were usually good at turning guys down, he’d seen you do it before you were even together. Still, he didn’t like someone else looking at you like that. He could feel his neck turning red.

This one seemed no different from the rest, his hand inching towards you while you simultaneously pulled yours away. If he made contact, Logan would be up in a second, ready to rip his throat out. You looked disinterested in whatever the guy was saying to you, occasionally glancing over to see if your drinks were ready. Logan had to bite back the chuckle that bubbled in his throat.

When the bartender finally placed your drinks in front of you, the man stopped you from handing your money over, instead pulling out his own wallet. You raised a brow as you watched him pay for them, a subtle smirk that only Logan could see tugging at the corner of your lips.

The guy then smiled at you, gesturing for you to join him. You smiled as you said something back, raising your drink in the direction of your and Logan’s table. When the man looked to where you were pointing, he made eye contact with Logan, who just smirked and wiggled his fingers as he waved to him. The guy’s eyes widen, muttered something under his breath, and then left altogether.

You still had a smile on your face when you came back with the drinks, settling in on the same side as Logan, his arm automatically draping over the booth behind you. “Got us some free drinks.”

Logan hummed, amused. “Did you now?”

“Oh yeah. If we’re lucky, I could probably score us a couple more rounds,” you joked as you took of sip from your prize.

He knew you were just joking around, but the thought of seeing another guy hit on you tonight made his hands twitch. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

“Do we really have to?”

“They’re literally our only friends. It’s normal to invite friends over for dinner. You used to live with them, Logan.”

Logan scoffed. “There’s a reason why I moved out.” Well, the real reason he moved out was because you asked him to move in with you, but that wouldn’t help his case right now.

You walked out of the kitchen to where he sat in the adjoining living room with a beer in his hand, stopping in front of him, a hand on your hip. “Mhm. Of all things, a dinner with Wade and Al is not going to kill you. If it is, I swear to put a six pack on your grave.” You held up your hand in a scout salute.

He just rolled his eyes as he attempted to take a sip from his beer, but was stopped by you taking it out of his hand to take your own. Logan quirked a brow, now using his freed hand to pull you closer until he could grip onto your waist with both hands.

“We could cancel,” he suggested, looking up at you. He’d always rather spend a night in with you. A night on the couch watching whatever show you were into at the time while you laid on his chest and combed your fingers through his hair sounded heavenly right now. If the night lead into something else, well, he was always happy to oblige.

You sat his beer on the end table before grabbing his face with your hands, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his cheekbones. He turned his face to lightly kiss the inside of your palm, squeezing your hips gently.

“Nice try, Casanova. Just try to play nice, hm?” You kissed Logan’s forehead, earning a groan from him that you’re pretty sure translated to fine. You open your mouth to say something else, but are interrupted by a shave and a haircut knock at the door.

“They’re here.”

Dinner went by more smoothly than Logan thought it was going to. It was mostly filled with Wade and Althea going back and forth with each other, but that wasn’t anything new. There was never a quiet moment when the mouth was around, much to Logan’s protest.

The TV buzzed in the background while you and Wade laughed about whatever in the kitchen. Al and Logan sat on the couch, the former doing her damnedest to convince Logan to move back in so she could kick Wade and his mutt out.

“Now, I have to ask.” Wade lowered his voice, which only made Logan’s ears perk up. He leaned in closer to you, inviting you to lean in as well. Logan didn’t like you being that close to him, even if it was just numb nuts.

“Do the claws,” Wade held up three fingers on each hand with a snikt sound, “come out when he’s, y’know...”

“Jesus Christ.” Logan roughly ran a hand over his face. Even Al seemed to be listening for your answer. Maybe he could convince that TVA lady to send him back.

You just laughed lightly, which only made Logan eager to bury himself alive. That six pack on his grave was starting to sound more tempting. “Well, that’s for me to know, and for you,” you poke Wade’s chest, “to never find out.”

He slapped a hand over his heart. “Oh, sugar bear, you wound me. You know I’d totally be down for a threesome with you and Van Helsing over there. I’ll go to Paris any day of the week.” You snorted out a laugh at the serious look on Wade's face.

Wade was known to flirt with anyone and anything. You and Wade had also known each other for years, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to make a joke about getting into your pants. He never truly meant it, though Logan wouldn’t doubt that he’d actually be down to do a threesome.

Now, Logan was aware of all that. However, that didn’t stop him from busting the beer bottle that was in his hand. The sound caused all three of you to jump, Althea cursing in surprise.

“You did it now, dumbass,” Al said to Wade, scooting further down the couch from Logan.

You shot him a knowing look, one that slightly made him feel bad for his overreaction. “I’ll go grab a towel.”

As soon as you disappeared into the bathroom, Logan’s eyes shot back to Wade, a warning in them. Wade squirmed a little under his glare.

“When are you getting a leash for your guard dog?” Wade called out to you as he grabbed a spoon for protection.

You didn’t miss a beat when you shouted back, “whenever you stop tonguing down yours!”

Logan wanted to go home. At least anywhere that wasn’t here. He couldn’t believe he got roped into doing this.

He actually could believe it though. You had asked him to come. It was one of those stupid mandatory parties that your work threw for their staff every now and then, and you begged him to accompany you. You promised to make it up to him when you got home.

Home was looking better by the second.

You made small talk with your coworkers with Logan always lingering by your side, offering a nod or thin-lipped smile whenever someone acknowledged him. Too bad this was a non-alcoholic party.

Someone called your name, tearing your attention from where you were gorging down on some snacks that were laid out. A huff of laughter escaped Logan’s nose at the sight of your wide eyes and stuffed cheeks as you looked for the source of the voice.

A man Logan recognized as your boss came up to you, a smile plastered on his face as he hugged you. “I was hoping I’d get to talk to you.” He had a cheerful voice that made Logan want to cut his ears off.

You continued to carry on a conversation with your boss, but Logan wasn’t registering anything either of you were saying. He was still stuck on the fact that another man had just hugged you. With him standing right there. What the actual fu—

“Logan.”

Judging by the tone of your voice, that wasn’t the first time you said his name. He blinked a couple times before looking at you. “Paul asked what you did for work.” Logan nearly opened his mouth to ask who the hell you were talking about, but you beat him to it by side glancing your boss.

“Steel.” Logan muttered out the first thing that popped in his head. It wasn’t his best lie, but he was still reveling in the audacity of the man in front of him.

“Oh? Like something in metalworking?” Paul actually seemed intrigued. Logan wanted to knock him out.

“Somethin’ like that.” The side of your foot met Logan’s, reminding him to place nice. He added a fake smile, earning an eye roll from you.

Paul moved on from that, going back to whatever you were talking about before. Logan could tell you were getting annoyed, your patience wearing thin. All you had to do was give him the word, and he’d carry you out of here while flipping Paul off over his shoulder. It was less messy than what he was imagining in his head.

Finally, Paul looked at his watch. “I guess I should go mingle with the others. It was nice getting to talk to—oh! You got something right there.” He reached his hand up to wipe a speck of food off the corner of your mouth.

Logan grabbed his wrist before he could make contact. “Watch it, bub,” he all but growled. Paul attempted to pull his hand away, but Logan only tightened his grip, Paul’s eyes widening in fear.

You grabbed his free hand over his knuckles. “Logan, it’s okay.” He wavered slightly, but still didn’t let go. “James.”

He let go then, staring daggers into your boss’s soul. You apologized to him before dragging Logan out the room. After making sure you were alone, you turned to him with your arms crossed over your chest. “What the hell was that?”

“He shouldn’t be touching you like that.”

“He’s not good with personal space I know, but he was just being friendly.”

“‘Being friendly’ my ass!”

Logan didn’t realize how loud he was until he saw you flinch at his sudden volume. He didn’t like yelling at you, especially over something as stupid as this. You must’ve seen his realization in his face because you grabbed his hand again, stroking your thumb across his knuckles.

A look of understanding crossed your features next. “Are you jealous?” A hint of a smirk pulled at your lips.

When he refused to look at you, you got your answer. “You know I only want you, right?” You were trying to tease him, but when he didn’t say anything, your smirk dropped. “Right, Logan?”

He didn’t know what to say. Logan never doubted you, not once. You weren’t that kind of person. You were kind and sometimes very blunt, but you never lied to him. If anything, he doubted himself. Logan wasn’t worthy of you, not after everything he’s done in his life, not after he’s let down everyone he ever loved. There was someone out there that was better for you. Someone that wasn’t him.

“Hey.” You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t do that. Don’t get stuck in your head.” You tilted his head so your foreheads touched. “Listen to me. I love you. I want to be with you. No one else. Get that through that thick skull of yours because you’re stuck with me no matter what, whether you like it or not.”

Logan swallowed, a weak smile on his lips. “Yes ma’am.” God, he loved you.

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Now that we got that settled,” a mischievous sparkle danced in your eyes, “why don’t we head home?”

He couldn’t get you out of there fast enough.

You and Logan sat in some old country diner that you had been excited to share with him. The atmosphere of the place was somewhat nice. It reminded Logan of some of the places in Canada that he used to frequent.

Your fingers drummed out a rhythm on the back of his hand as you listed off what you thought he would like on the menu. Logan had already decided what he wanted, but he wasn’t about to stop the roll you were on. Besides, he liked the sound of your voice and your touch on his skin.

It was only a few minutes later when the waitress returned with your drinks. She took down your order before she turned to him with a smile. “And what can I get for you, handsome?”

Logan listed out his order to her, offering a polite smile when she took his menu. When he looked back at you, however, your eyes were glued to the back of the waitress’s head as she walked away.

He squeezed your hand. “You good?”

After a moment, you finally looked back at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You forced a smile, squeezing his hand in return. Logan knew that wasn’t true, but he of all people knew not to push it. You’d tell him if you wanted.

Whatever made you upset seemed to pass as you went on to tell him something that your coworker had told you about someone you had been having problems with. Logan listened intently to what you were saying, occasionally getting distracted by the way your face would light up throughout your story. You really were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Your face dropped suddenly, your eyes looking at something past him. Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, turning to see what was bothering you. He was surprised when he saw that it was just the waitress returning with your food.

The waitress came up to your table, setting your meals down in front of each of you. “Enjoy your meals,” she smiled as she touched Logan’s shoulder. He glanced at it then her with a raised brow, to which she just grinned before walking off.

Logan just shook it off, eager to dig into his plate when he looked back up to you. Your face had morphed into a look of pure anger. He’s only ever seen you like that when you’re totally pissed off. Even he would admit you could get a little scary when you got like that, mostly because it was a rare thing. The waitress better be glad that you didn’t have the power to kill someone with just a look.

That was when the pieces slipped together in his mind. Logan couldn’t stop the smirk that stretched across his lips. “You jealous, baby?”

His words immediately brought you out of your murder fantasy. “What? Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” You unwrapped your utensils, taking a bite of your food. “I’m not jealous. Not. At. All.” The way your fork stabbed your meal between each word told him otherwise.

So his hand wouldn’t become a victim of your fork stabbing, Logan dropped it with a chuckle. The rest of your lunch was eaten in silence, broken a few times by the waitress coming by to check on you. Each time you glared at her, but she remained oblivious—or she didn’t care.

Logan paid the girl zero attention, even when he was finally brought the check, ignoring her flirty wave directed at him. He was grabbing the cash out of his wallet when you snatched the receipt out from in front him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You turned the receipt so Logan could see what you were talking about. The waitress’s name and number were written in the corner with a heart. “Am I invisible or something?” That was your last straw.

He threw down enough cash to cover the bill on the table before standing up. “Why don’t we just get out of here, yeah?” Logan offered out his hand. You grumbled under your breath, letting him help you up. He continued to hold onto your hand.

As you crossed the waitress on your way out, she waved at Logan again with a smile. You made a sound of disgust, squeezing his hand tightly. Logan quirked a brow at you. “You sure you’re not jeal—”

You cut him off by kissing him, stopping him in his tracks. Logan’s hand instinctively reached up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing your waist. One of your fingers hooked themselves into his belt loop, pulling him closer to you.

Neither of you are big on PDA, but Logan wasn’t about to complain when you pulled away from him. He watched as you side eyed the waitress, only to find that she was gone. He chuckled at the satisfied look on your face.

“Don’t,” you warned, snaking your hand back into his as you pulled him out of the diner. He doubted that either of you would be coming back here.

Logan laughed lightly, kissing the side of your head as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Yes ma’am.”

He’s yours.

There was no doubt about that.

××××××

#marvel #logan howlett × reader #wolverine × reader #logan howlett fic #wolverine fic #logan howlett #james howlett #james logan howlett #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #kay writes

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zeep-xanflorp · 1 year ago

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ok i'm just gonna ramble ab unmortricken bc i have exactly ZERO COHERENT THOUGHTS AB IT

evil morty backstory - i rlly like that they just made him some random morty who rose above everything after getting sick of rick's abuse. it makes what he did feel even more earned and weighty. i think his motivation is a bit extreme still but i can't rlly blame him.

it's cool seeing infinity beyond the central finite curve. the jetsons inspired bit was v amusing bc i forgot about them lmao. but otherwise it seems absolutely wild west beyond the curve and i LIVE for that.

i also didnt imagine that we'd be seeing him again. i thought the way he left the show was perfect and if they brought him back it would just feel cheap but it DOESNT in this episode i love his appearance.

i rlly like seeing our morty be supportive of rick. he's literally trying everything to cheer him up and it's very important to me.

the prime decoys confuse me. like do they all share a consciousness? is prime just very very good at fucking with ppl that he's made all the decoys communicate w each other?

evil morty outsmarting rick is a great recurring theme in the episode. "filter for probability stasis" YEAH U TELL HIM LITTLE DUDE. we've never seen a morty like that EXCEPT for him and i think it's wonderful.

the exchange between rick and evil morty. "you're such a narcissist" / "literal glass house" / "you think you're better than me?" / "jesus i HOPE SO" SHITTING

i didnt initially like the decoy trap thing being full of loads of other ricks. it made me feel like our rick wasn't very important to this dude and rick just made an enemy of a guy who didn't know he existed. BUT i don't stand by that anymore. the rest of the episode made me change my mind very quickly with.

the omega device. holy fuck this is the worst reveal to come out of this episode. she wasn't just killed, she was ERASED by prime in every reality. like she is GONE gone. that's why we've never seen her, save in flashbacks and memories. she's gone.

and i'm pretty sure it's our rick's fault that he did that. we see his beth and his diane be killed by a bomb, not wiped from reality like slo mobius is later in the episode. so his family was killed BEFORE all the shit with the omega device. ik correlation ≠ causation, but it rlly explains why our rick in particular is so hungry for revenge. if he was the one that made prime kill diane everywhere then he had to be the one to make prime pay for it.

i like how the multiple monitors seems to be prime's signature move. it happens here and in the s6 premiere.

and oh fuck the parallels. "when i invent something it works, it's called being talented" in story train vs "when i make a weapon in works."

oh man the diane head weapon thing. it's interesting that it was programmed to mock rick sexually, but even on our rick who knows it's a trap, it still affects him seeing her face again. "god i missed that face." and then the blank stare when she asks for a kiss. pretty sweet and fucked up.

rick and evil morty having to work together to get their portals working. the contrast between our morty freaking out and evil morty blank staring.

the bit with the portal closing too soon. i know it happened earlier this season and i think it's so funny lmao.

I CANNOT STRESS TO YOU ENOUGH THAT I WAS SO MADE WHEN I WORKED OUT THAT INSTEAD OF YELLING WHILE GOING THROUGH THE CURVE THING IN THE MIDFLE OF THE EP HE WAS SCREAMING "PRIME" THOSE DIABOLICAL LITTLE BASTARDS AT ADULT SWIM.

prime calling rick the Wife Guy. hilarious. raises questions. makes me gnaw on my cell bars.

AND THEN the second incredible reveal of the episode: "Honestly, Wife Guy, I do miss when it was just us. The only two Ricks who actually invented portal travel." WHAT bestie prime bby girl u need to say that again. you guys were the ONLY ones who invented interdimensional travel, every rick's claim to fame. but no they just got the technology from prime who started a boys club of ricks who wanted to leave their lives behind that our rick refused.

but the reference to a time when they were closer, when it was only them - HELLO?? maybe i'm grasping at straws bc i want them to bang but holy shit.

the confirmation of the fan theory that rick based his AI voice on his wife. 10/10.

and then the fight scene. oh gods the fight scene. rick just screaming that he'll kill prime. prime regenerating constantly, looking unscathed as our rick becomes more and more dishevelled. it's too perfect i CANT. but otherwise they both seem pretty evenly matched w all the implants and stuff so without the regeneration i think rick would've had him. oh well.

rick like literally died during the fight.

the cool grandson/shitty grandpa exchange gives me breath. i LOVE how it's a morty that outsmarts prime. it's what he deserves.

prime still trying to be a smartass to evil morty, growing more and more panicked as it goes on bc he doesn't know what to do with the situation and control for once is not in his hands.

"what are u gonna 'aw geez' me to death?"

evil morty not even explaining his plan, just silently dragging in our rick and reviving him. saying "knock yourself out" with the intended double meaning. prime's almost scared expression as rick gets dragged in.

and then our rick has a choice. he can stop evil morty from keeping the weapon plans or he can kill prime. but that's a choice he made already. it's not even a decision. so his other enemy gets away.

the brutal brutal scene at the end when rick is just hitting prime. no tech, no implants, no gadgets. just fists. and rick beats him literally to a pulp as prime screams and laughs at him and taunts him further. it's meant to be sickening. it's meant to be personal. and it accomplishes that perfectly.

they don't even show prime's body in great detail. it's RIGHT in the background but we heard the sounds of the punches, we saw his nose break and his bloody teeth and haemorrhaging eyes and his brains coming out the side of it head and all we can make out is his fucked up swollen and broken face in the background as he sits still attached to the chair, a river of his blood pouring from the room.

but its not triumphant. they made rick's revenge hollow and bittersweet. its over but it destroyed rick in the process. who is he now that he isn't hunting prime? fucking no one.

then "look on down from the bridge" starts playing. we heard this in season 1 in rick potion #9 after morty had to bury a version of himself. he was struggling with the purpose of his life after switching universes. but he deals with it and overcomes it.

i think that scene is rick, for the first time in the entire show, struggling with his nihilistic philosophy. bc yes, he's shown to be an existentialist in the show (the difference being existentialists are "nothing matters but this matters to me" instead of "nothing matters so i don't have to do anything"). he had a drive. he had ppl he cared about. but now he's reached his goal he just feels empty and hollow. everything's meaningless and he's NOT okay with that. he never has been, but he has to grapple with that finally now he doesn't have a distraction. i don't think he can just bounce back and move past what happened.

ppl are saying this episode felt overstuffed and maybe it was but i'm very pleased with it and want to know where it's going.

i feel we still don't know the full story with prime. i'm predicting a flash back episode in the future explaining what the nature of their relationship was like before the bomb incident.

we also know that evil morty has this weapon that could destroy all ricks. so that is just a ticking bomb.

anyway i can't wait for angsty rick.

i actually watched unforgiven for this episode bc i'm a big fan of westerns anyway. the only real parallels i can see is they both have a group of three (two are already partners and the other one is the call to adventure) and an unsatisfying ending. bc that's the nature of westerns. they should NEVER end happily, and if u think so then ur wrong (/nsrs enjoy media how u want).

some things i haven't mentioned but enjoyed nonetheless

the schematics for the omega device is titled <SCHEMATICS BOOGER-AIDS-V2>

the arm/leg swap best in the fight

the comparison between the song at the end playing here and in season one shows with just visuals how the dynamic of beth and jerry's (and beth's) marriage has evolved since then.

everyone freaking out when indiana jones rick shoots and it ricochets off the wall and evil morty just stands expressionless until it hits his forcefield.

morty going to hug rick covered in blood, realising, hesitating, and then doing it later anyway to try and make rick feel better.

evil morty making a point to say that he doesn't want vengeful summers coming after him for omega devicing rick. not vengeful mortys, vengeful SUMMERS.

just evil morty in this whole episode was an absolute delight i need to see him more.

THE TEAR MARKS AFTER RICK EMERGES FROM BEATING PRIME TO DEATH

slo mobius' wife almost going down the same path our rick did only to find someone she loves and focus on that, saving her. makes me wonder if they're gonna try putting rick in a relationship.

this ended up being way longer than it should have. anyway. very pleased. this season is hitting all the marks for me overall.

also don't be too hard on me i didnt edit this 😭

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick n morty #r&m #rnm #rick c 137 #rick c137 #rick #rick and morty spoilers #unmortricken #rick and morty season 7 #rick and morty season 7 spoilers #rick prime #evil morty #prickcest #rick and morty meta

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gingersnappish · 3 years ago

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KYLUX RECS 2020-2021

My Kylux Recs in the last year (Aug, 20 2020 - Aug 20 2021)

SO. MUCH. GOOD. FIC!!! We are really lucky in this fandom to have so much good stuff to read!

Fic is part of the lifeblood of fandom, in my opinion-it shares new ideas and AUs and fleshes out the characters and most of all it inspires and entertains us all and engenders all sorts of feels for the characters-it’s part of what keeps us shipping! So a big ‘thank you’ to all the fic authors out there who work so hard at their craft and are generous enough to share it with all of us!

The following list is by no means comprehensive-there are LOTS and lots more very good fics that have been published in the last year that I haven’t read. I just wanted to offer up a few recs from what I know I enjoyed so far! (I also have more than fits on one list to rec-I’ll try and do another list soon!) As always, I rec based on personal taste, and I highly encourage reading all the tags/warnings on any given work to make sure it’ll be to your taste! -

The Flirtation Of Flowers

DaisyChainz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771553

Words: 5,917

Rating: Teen

Summary:Kylo runs his farm's stall at the Farmer's Market every weekend. He has a new customer, a gorgeous redhead that is curious about the meanings of his bouquets. Kylo doesn't know anything about that, so he makes stuff up to keep the man coming back every week.

My thoughts on the rec: This is the cutest slice of a modern AU kylux-it really nails Kylo’s personality as a (slightly awkward) flirt who is trying his best and just really likes the redhead who keeps coming to buy flowers. Just a sweet little fic all ‘round!

all i have to do is dream

kyluxtrashcompactor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709426/chapters/44373613

Words: 11,456

Rating: Teen

Summary:Armitage Hux has been going to the same bar every Thursday for the last year, nursing a crush on the gorgeous, unobtainable bartender, Kylo Ren. He finally gets up the courage to ask him out, only to find out he has some unusual competition: the memory of a red-haired boy from Kylo's past, who Kylo swears is the soulmate that got away from him.A fill for this SoftKyluxKinks prompt:Anonymous asked: Benarmie with young Ben (around 11 years old) having a huge crush on Armitage (16). Hux finds it adorable but mostly ignores him because he's a kid. Flash forward a few years when Ben is all grown up and Hux is the one with a huge crush.

My thoughts on the rec: This is another really cute young modern AU! I like the idea that Ren has liked Hux forever, but this deals nicely with the age gap and that Hux really wouldn’t notice Ren back until they are both appropriately older. And they make such a cute couple-it’s a great progression from just ‘he’s hot’-like, there is a lot more to them than that in the end!

Homecoming

sigo

(really, read anything by sigo, it’s all my favorite)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150808

Words: 13,450

Rating: Explicit

Summary:“We’re off the next two weeks, you know.”“Yes, I know.” There was emergency construction scheduled to fix cracking asphalt too near a pipe in the center of campus. The buses couldn’t run, and that phenomenon was the only thing that ever cancelled classes. Halloween was dead center in the unplanned time off school, and every bar within a fifteen mile radius would be untenable as the students celebrated. Hux was planning on staying home, catching up on grading. He was rather looking forward to an opportunity to reread his favorite novels. They were already stacked by the couch in preparation.“My family always throws a Halloween party and they got word that I could come this year,” Kylo said, shuffling his feet. He looked almost bashful.“Ren, it’s midnight,” Hux sighed at his infuriating coworker. “Get to it.”“I may have informed my entire family previously that we were dating.”

My thoughts on the rec: One of my all-around fav fics from the last year’s worth of my reading material! It’s got the modern AU vibes down pat without losing their personalities or making them too OOC, it’s got the fake-dating trope done REALLY well, it’s got a wonderful creepy vibe strung delicately throughout for the Halloween haunted setting, it’s got plot and make-outs (and more). Can’t recommend highly enough!

Thaw

thesevioletdelights

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557180/chapters/69982587

Words: 14,316

Rating: Explicit

Summary:They have managed cooperation - efficient cooperation, even - in these past months, which is more than enough. And already nothing short of a miracle for both of them.Still. Ren was a fool to think he could simply run off and keep Hux in the dark.-----When Ren goes missing on a mysterious planet, Hux sets out to find him. He doesn't yet know that he just might find himself.

My thoughts on the rec: This, like all of violet’s fic, is HOT! Like, scorching vibes between them! It’ll draw you in and not let you go ‘til after the boys are ‘done’! And, like all of violet’s fics, the character voices and personalities are also impeccable!

Rocks Break Gifts

elderbwrry

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840237/chapters/62777839

Words: 16,706

Rating: Mature

Summary:The Rebellion has been crushed, a coup affected, and Supreme Leader Ren and his Grand Marshall Hux have settled into a domestic routine as the joint rulers of the Galaxy. Kylo wants nothing more, now, than to make his relationship with Hux official, but he can't seem to rise to Hux's challenge of a satisfactory proposal.Or, the five times Kylo proposes, and the one time Hux says yes.

My thoughts on the rec: Ahhhhh, the premise in this one is great! Like, I don’t wanna spoil the plot reveal at the end, so I can’t say too much, but there is a really good reason throughout the thing that this is a Five Times type fic and it works! It works so well and while we spend the fic ‘with’ Kylo, when we find out what Hux’s deal is, it is so satisfying! I Paint My Dreams

Marlon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685907/chapters/65090566

Words: 26,122

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:Kylo Ren is struggling to make a name for himself in the art world but as the grandson of the great Anakin Skywalker, a legendary pop artist of the 1950s and 60s, the weight of his famous family and his own expectations is a lot to bear.After he’s rejected from a prestigious exhibition because his installations “don’t fit the theme”, Kylo heads to the pub to drink away his disappointment. Later that night as he stumbles home, he’s set upon by some would-be thieves but before they can take what’s left of his money, he’s saved by a strange man with unbelievable Medusa-like powers. The ethereally beautiful man, Armitage Hux, is a visitor from Oweynagat and he has a simple proposition for Kylo - room and board in exchange for making all Kylo’s artistic dreams come true.Sounds easy - what could possibly go wrong?

My thoughts on the rec: Oh goodness, where to start? The Irish Mythology and Fae aspect of this fic is superbly woven throughout the whole thing and the author makes it work really well! Like, this is such a unique and original take on the kylux pair, I love them, especially Fae!Hux in this! And the plot is solid and you get invested really heavily in how they are gonna wind up-at least I did! There’s some beautiful language in this-descriptions and dialogue! And I have a soft spot for Artist!Kylo!

Dating a Monster

mysticmilks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703904/chapters/65139415

Words: 30,401

Rating: Explicit

Summary:Ben Solo was raised to be a demon hunter, as everyone in his family has been before him. He wanted nothing more than to prove that he was worthy to his family. He lied to them and went on an unauthorized mission to catch and kill an elusive incubus. His search led him to Arkanis University, one of the most prestigious schools in the country.He was sure the mission was going to be easy, before he met the cute freshman Armitage Hux. This meeting would change the fate of both of them.

My thoughts on the rec: Add another really good one to the slightly-creepy-kylux subgenre filled with demons and dark powers! This is a great depiction of Kylo as a very determined demon hunter and Hux as a very unique quarry! I love the tension in parts of this too-well crafted! The Green Ribbon

xzombiexkittenx, Lilander (art)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28630845/chapters/70176921

Words: 39,679

Rating: Explicit

Summary:When Ben was fifteen he left the Jedi temple and took extreme measures to prevent the shadowy creature that infiltrated his thoughts from dragging him to the dark side. What he did left him with a great deal of chronic pain and removed his most valuable weapon, but Ben got his stubbornness from every side of the family, even the adopted ones, and he was determined to find and kill the creature.Now Senator Amidala of Naboo, Ben uses his position to make the galaxy a less awful place when he can, but being senator also gave him very useful contacts in his search for the creature. When he met Major Hux of the First Order, Ben thought he could get game-changing information out of him, one way or another, but things rarely go Ben's way and it got complicated much faster than Ben had prepared for. It's never a good idea to mix sex and politics, but Ben takes his fun where he can get it.

My thoughts on the rec: I feel like this is a very original take on ‘Senator Amidala’ Ben, at least from the stuff I’ve read-many props to the author for such a fleshed out universe, filled with likeable, believable OCs, a wonderful plot, great character motivations and voices, and a take on our main man Ben that pulled me in from the get-go! He’s sorta magnetic (in universe and to the reader)! And the sexual tension and sexy bits are very well done! I’m rooting for Ben and Hux in this, on opposites sides though they may be! Comfort Zone

LydiaBSlade

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783797/chapters/65338117

Words: 66,766

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hux is running away. He meets a tall, dark, and somewhat annoying stranger at the airport.

My thoughts on the rec: Travel writing at its best; also kylux fic at it’s best! Young, modern them trying to find their places in the world and finding each other in the process is so cute and almost tenderly done in this! This is a gentle, friendly version of modern Kylo that I fell in love with, right along with Hux! And by the way, I’m not kidding when I say travel writing-the southeast asian setting is vivid and enchanting in it’s rich detail! Outnumbered, Outgunned, Outmanuevered, and Winning

Coriesocks, Ellalba (art)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217253/chapters/69144672

Words: 80,372

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hux’s plans for ridding the First Order of Kylo Ren are ruined when Ren discovers his deception. With no choice but to flee, Hux ends up in the hands of the Resistance. It’s not ideal, but at least he gets a break from Ren. Until he doesn’t.When Ren starts appearing in Hux’s dreams, Hux wonders if the stress of being a spy has taken more of a toll on his sanity than he’d previously thought. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he has to deal with constant pestering from Poe and a mildly inconvenient kidnapping. Of course, it’s Ren who saves him in the end. There’s clearly no getting away from him.

My thoughts on the rec: A really interesting take on something that is both a alternate rewrite of what could have happened instead of TROS and a TROS-fix-it of sorts! Hux is stellar in this, we really get a good look in his head and Coriesocks handles it masterfully! I really liked how their relationship develops gradually in this, it’s Enemies To Lovers at its best! Bloodlines and Brandy

EmperorsVornskr

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989934/chapters/54963601

Words: 130,785

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Sebastian Hux is a native of the Deep South who loathes his origins, and seeks to pull himself from the stifling quagmire, but his bloodlines call him back to the property that has blessed- and plagued- his family for centuries.Unspoken secrets fill his inheritance, skeletons fill every closet, and a monster lurks in the shadows, tied to two bloodlines joined by fate, greed and hatred that has spanned across generations.As Hux learns about his family’s tainted legacy that has now become his burden, he discovers there is more involved than just having to be the curator of property that the locals shun with hushed whispers, that he has inherited more than an estate- he also has a terrible and loathsome horror tied to his very blood.When curious young locals come calling, and Hux’s past tormentors come out of the woodwork to simper and scrabble for a piece of the newly rich, the body count begins to rise, the smell of blood in the old slaughterhouse is getting harder to hide, and Hux realises that he will need to find a better way to pacify the hulking shadow that perches on his roof every night before his hometown’s tiny population is completely decimated.

My thoughts on the rec: This one is EPIC! Like, in length (which it needs every word of for the story that is going on here) and in the great portrayal of Kylo and Hux and their relationship! It’s super original too-not just the plot but the depiction of Kylo as something ‘other’ and the Southern Gothic vibes, and Hux-this is a wonderful take on Hux! He loses none of his edge, in my opinion and yet the reader is ‘with’ him all the way through, rooting for him! The descriptions are killer too-EmperorsVornskr has a felicity of expression that kept me reading (albeit in more than one sitting). Also worth noting that this is a wonderful and carefully handled depiction of trans!Hux, in my admittedly cis opinion. The theme of finding your tribe/your people/and your special someone in this, albeit in sometimes unexpected places is warming! I enjoyed every moment of this fic! Gravity Well

kyluxtrashcompactor

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062495/chapters/29879001

Words: 176,421

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Snoke is gone, but his death has solved nothing between Hux and Kylo Ren. The First Order's trust in their leaders wanes as they vie for power over one another, and if they cannot learn to work together, they may both lose everything they've worked for.Forging that alliance after years at each other's throats will not be as easy as letting the past die, however—they will face subterfuge, enemies in the shadows, treachery, and being stranded on a hostile planet with creatures out of nightmare, barely escaping constant danger with their lives while having only one another to rely on.And that is just the beginning.

My thoughts on the rec: I realize this one is very well known by now, but I’ll rec it again for good reason! It’s quality long-fic! I love how competent Hux is in this surival-style fic, even without the Force to save him! And Kylo is a badass! kyluxtrashcompactor is a master of the slow burn here and we’re even lucky enough to be getting a sequel (although Gravity Well will also stand perfectly on its own). The writing in this will draw you in and not let you go!

----

That’s all for now! I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I did!

#kylux recs #kylux #fic recs #kylux recs 2021 #i enjoyed these fics

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itsagrimm · 3 years ago

Text

Darth Maul one shot.

This picture was an inspiration for it so pls leave some love there.

bury me 6 feet deep for the cheesy ending. I deserve it.

Darth Maul x Y/N gender neutral reader without description of appearance during his reign on Mandalore

Later: Savage Opress x Y/N

Summary: You and the snappy crime boss have been friends for a while. You enjoy each other’s company and spend your free time being good ol' meanies together. Savage joins you in a surprising twist.

CN: talk of bad dates and murder, talk of sex and relationship, alcohol consumption

1700 words

The office was empty except for a table in the middle, a few chairs, and a giant window across the large doors. It was a minimal arrangement, and the inattentive visitor would have considered it bare or tasteless. But the inattentive visitor would see the man behind the table as a threat, a monster, a murderer and not the most beautiful and powerful centre of the room.

"Maul!"

He looked up from his work. Intelligent eyes met Y/N. Instead of an answer he raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Lord Maul."

He nodded. His power always had to be recognized first. Even by you.

"Y/N. What a surprise. I thought you were busy. Sit down."

You bowed to your lord before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Yeah... the date didn't go so well."

Maul leant back and casually put one leg on one of the armchairs.

"Oh really? Do tellwhat the man, who will likely have an unfortunate accident now, did?"

You smiled.

"Oh yeah, accidents can be so surprising. It's always so sad when someone dies. Especially when the concerning man had the audacity to only talk about himself during the date. He did not even ask my name. I don't even know why I went outside for that."

Maul grimaced.

"I don't think one accident to this"- he gesticulated into the air before spitting out-" boy will be enough."

"Yeah. But maybe he is not worth it. It takes a lot of work and effort before someone dies. And I actually have other things to do."

The dark sith lord, criminal master mind and successful general rolled his eyes.

"Your reluctance to make your enemies pay always surprises me. You need to put in the work sometimes. It can feel so satisfying to see your enemies bloody and begging before you."

"I know. You are so right. But right now, I just needed to vent. Do you wanna get out of here?"

He looked at the desk. It was full of holopads, data carts and actual paper.

"Yeah. I am done for now. Let's go."

XXXXXXXX

“Why are you always so extra?”, you tried to compliment Maul who was striding through the palace gardens before you.

He did not even flinch before answering.

“You call this extra? I call this a casual. I have not even tried to impress yet.”

You chuckled.

Maul was wearing dark pants made from silken fabric, an equally dark thin coat with leather armoury shoulder pieces and no shirt therefore showing off his muscular chest and his dathomirian tattoos. He looked good and he walked like a man who knew he looked good.

“Alright. Next to you I feel like an ugly Bantha after my horrible date and little time to change.”

He turned around and checked your outfit.

“Yeah, I can see why you feel that way.”

You gasped.

“Maul! Don’t be mean!”

He smiled.

“Come on, that one was just low hanging fruit. And you know, no one can tease my beautiful and extraordinary friends except me. So this little bad date boy’s life is still hanging on a thin thread.”

“Ok. let’s plan his untimely death tomorrow. I need a drink today.”

“Works for me.”

XXXXXXXXX

The bar was busy. But the Lord of Mandalore and his company got a table at the more private back of the bar, giving you and Maul the chance to observe and gossip.

“Do you see that man over there?”, he pointed at an armoured warrior at a faraway table, “He looks cute. He would definitely be a better date than your last, at least in the looks department.”

You checked the man. He was chatting with a few other Mandalorians. His armour was of a clean blue colour and it was well kept.

“Meh, that armour is a bit too shiny for someone actually using it. And who goes into a bar while wearing a whole set of an antic armour anyway? No, this gives me show off vibes and I don’t like it.”

Maul shrugged before sipping at his martini.

“You will stay single forever, dear Y/N.”

“What is so bad about that? You are single and appear to be doing perfectly fine.”

“I am the Lord of this dominion. I can do what I want anyway and the words >single< or >in a relationship< cannot not really describe my love life.”

“That’s an awfully complicated way to say you get laid.”

He smirked.

“You can say that.”, he rolled the words of his tongue with particular enjoyment, “But unlike you I am not coming into other people’s offices to lament about bad dates.”

“Just drop the date already and pass me the bottle. I don’t want to talk about the mess that is my love life. How is your life going?”

“Embracing the mess can give you strength. Don’t try to detach yourself from the bad but learn to enjoy it.”

“Is that a Sith thing?”

“Partly. I would consider it a sentient thing. We all are constantly confused, emotional and graving for something. Instead of denying that try to give in and enjoy the chaos. Cheers.”

You clinked your glass filled with fine Mandalorian wine against Mauls martini.

“My life…” he continued, “is alright. I think I can enjoy this. It has been a long time since I felt like I belonged somewhere. And it feels nice to have purpose outside of my own calling. It is nice to know that someone might miss me should I choose to leave Mandalore. My brother likes it here, you are a good friend and reigning Mandalore … and others… is a welcome challenge.”

You smiled.

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

For a few moments both of you stayed silent. You did not know what else to say and Maul was lost in some memories he was not willing to share right now. You two had always worked like that, close and chatty yet respectful and discreet.

“My brother…”, Maul started to talk, “My brother would enjoy this. But I can never convince him to come along.”

“Maybe he does not like loud and busy places. He strikes me as the type who gets stressed out by bars instead of enjoying this.”

“No”, Maul looked into his glass searching for words, “I think Savage would enjoy spending time here with us, with you.”

You starred at Maul.

“What do you mean?”

“I think he likes you. And I think he is shy about it.”

You felt your skin getting hotter.

“You like him too!”, Maul called out his eyes nearly sparkling with excitement.

“No!”

“No? I will tell him that!”

“No!”

“You have manoeuvred yourself into a trap.“

“Why are you torturing me? I don’t even know your brother well. He seems nice and-”

“Oh darling, no night brother is niceunless we want or have to.”

Maul, lord of the sith, slayer of jedi, regent of mandalore and matchmaker of his brother’s fate looked at you with an evil delight. Seeing you here, squirming about your feelings and insecurities in regards of his tall and handsome brothers was most likely the after work entertainment he enjoyed the most.

You took a deep breath.

“Ok, my love life is in your hands. I give up. What now, Maul?”

“Your love life was always in my hands.”, He replied patronizingly while starting to type a his personal com.

“Are you sending a com to your brother?”

“No, just sharing a thought with the chancellor. YES of course I am contacting Savage.”

“He will hate it here. I told you. It is loud and busy.”

“Well then then you two better get out of here fast.”

You glared at him.

“You are unsufferable, Maul.”

“And you love me for that.”

You forced a smile.

He basically beamed with delight at your reaction.

“Well, give savage my regards. I got to go.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“I have ruler of mandalore things to do. Much less entertaining things than you and my brother might do tonight.”

“You can’t leave me here. I will die of embarrassment in front of your brother.”

“Then it was nice meeting you. Any wishes for your burial?”

“Maker, you really are-“

“trying to help you embrace the chaos? Yes, I do indeed.”

You were speechless.

The thought of staying and having a kind of forces surprise date with Savage was a good thought but at the same time you felt unprepared and intrusive towards Savage.

“Ah yes, there he is already. Faster than expected.”

Maul waved towards the entrance at the bar.

Savage was standing there.

He was tall and broad as ever. His ocker skin and horns sticking out of the Mandalorian crowd. And his face had the expression of a painfully reserved man.

When he saw Maul, he started moving through the bar.

When he noticed Y/N his expression hardened.

“Good to see you, dear brother. I was a bit careless with my time tonight, so I must leave early. But my dear friend here had a bad day, could use some company and maybe someone to escort them home later, only for safety of course. Would you mind?”

Mauls voice was nonchalant, as if he had no other motives.

But Savage knew his brother too well.

“Is that it, brother?”

“Ah yes, savage! What else do think there is?”

Savage studied Mauls face for a moment before gazing at you like a commander checking a serving soldier for injuries.

“Alright. I will stay.”, he finally said.

#maul being sassy #darth maul #maul #darth maul x y/n #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #darth maul fluff #star wars #star wars the clone wars #mandalore #party in a galaxy far far away #savage opress #savage opress x reader #dathomirian #sw:tcw #swtcw #sith lord

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sswifts · 3 years ago

Text

A Million Little Times

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC Natalia, Steve Rogers x OC Margaret

Summary: Steve is committed to his girlfriend, Margaret, until he meets Natalia and they begin a secret fling. His guilt weighs him down, and when he becomes engaged to Margaret, he knows he has to end it. He reminisces on the six months he spent with Nat as he breaks off their relationship.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Words: 5k

Author’s note: I know I used the names of real characters from the MCU, but it was because I couldn’t think of names on my own and I had decided not to make this a reader insert story. So the OCs are really OCs, not Peggy and Nat :) This story is also directly inspired by illicit affairs with a bit of happiness.

Steve felt different the minute he met her. She was sparkly and bouncy and easily fit right next to him. He liked the way her hips felt in his hands and how her lips vibrated against his neck. He liked her company, to say the least; he couldn’t say the other, bigger L word. He had a heavy, expensive, guilt-ridden diamond ring waiting for him at home. Yet here he was, hood over his head as he walked through the dark streets, while the woman in his bed at home bearing said ring had no clue.

The pavement was wet, and the reflections of yellow streetlights and red brake lights seemed to be leading him to his destination. Although it was difficult to always do this late at night, it was still easier than if his fiancée were awake. His face was flushed, and his lips were swollen by the end of every night and if she were up when he got home, she’d see right through him.

He can’t even quite explain how this started, or why he has continued with it this long. It made him feel terrible – if people knew, he would be the first to hand over a marker to write Adulterer across his forehead. What made it worse was how mercurial he acted by nature; he met her before the engagement even happened and he didn’t have to propose. But he knew that his girl at home expected it, and he did love her, but he felt…more comfortable, more like himself with “the other woman”, as people always say. He liked the thrill and secrecy, he liked that all he had to do was buy her fast-food fries in the middle of the night to make her giggle and squeeze his hand. The engagement, the house, the standard all-American future he had lying ahead of him…it didn’t feel right. The thought of that being the rest of his life only motivated him more to continue to sneak out and be with her.

He entered the alley a few blocks away from where he had parked his car. He saw her silhouette, and then she came towards him, her hair constricted by the matching hood she had up. Her smile and twinkling eyes sent his stomach straight to his throat, and he bet that she could hear his constant swallowing as she grabbed his hands.

“Hi,” she whispered, looking at him one last time before she kissed him. Her hoodie was soft against his palms as he kept her close. When they pulled away, he rubbed his hands up and down her sides, an affectionate gesture to her, but he was really trying to keep his sweaty palms dry.

“Hi,” he mimicked, licking his lips as they looked at each other.

I love you, he thinks. I love you too much for a soon to be married man.

He thinks about when he first met her, under the shining chandeliers of the ballroom and the attached bar.

She sat with her elbows up on the dark wood, her gown probably wrinkling beneath her. He had walked up next to her to order a beer, not even really noticing her until she had greeted him.

“This is like, your fourth time coming over here for a beer. Are you not enjoying the party, or are you just trying to enhance the good time?” it caught Steve off guard how forward she was, not even knowing how to reply right away. Her slender fingers picked up her own drink to sip from it. Gin and tonic, extra lime. He could never forget her drink order now.

“The former,” he said back to her. The bartender placed his beer in front of him, to which Steve raised it in thanks. “The fun doesn’t start until the drinks do,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye with a sly smile that went straight to her belly. She tried not to grin foolishly, swirling her straw around her glass as she looked down at it.

“Is it not worth your time to put on a tux and talk to people you either don’t know or don’t care about on your Saturday night?” she said, her sarcasm fueled by the gin.

Steve laughed, a genuine one, for the first time that night. He didn’t even realize he was staring at her, eyes finally noticing how beautiful she looked with her hair slightly pulled away from her face, but still falling down around her shoulders. Her gown was fitting for the occasion, but she later told him that it sits in the back of her closet for the other 364 days of the year.

“Every time this stupid party rolls around I have to get it dry-cleaned,” she told him, her eyes rolling in the process. “No one seems to notice that I wear the same dress each year. Honestly, I could probably get away with not dry-cleaning it next time, since I put it on only to sit here for the whole night,” she motioned to the bar counter below her as she spoke. Steve laughed again. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Maybe I’ll go along with you on that idea,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll show up in my sweats next time and see if any of these holier-than-thou airheads have the nerve to say something.”

She laughed; her eyes closing as she leaned over the counter. She sipped her drink again even though she knew her blush was increasing as her alcohol intake did. Later, when she left the event through the elevator, the doors were almost closed when a hand poked through them, making her gasp.

The doors reopened, revealing the body the hand was attached to – Steve. She smiled at him, her ears and neck suddenly very hot.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, stepping on and reaching to press the button for his floor, only to find it was already lit. His floor was your floor, her thoughts screamed at her, and she pretended not to notice that he didn’t press a button, only holding her clutch tighter and staring down at her heels.

Her eyes were dry and heavy when she woke up the next morning, not even noticing that she wasn’t in her own hotel room because they all looked the same. She stretched and rolled over, finding Steve.

An hour later, they were both showered and redressed, awkwardly standing in front of each other and delaying their farewells.

“Well, it was nice meeting –”

“Be careful getting home –”

They both stopped, laughing lightly. Steve’s feet shuffled, toeing the carpet. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding at this point. He looked up at her, and she was almost afraid he was a mind reader. Both incredibly and internally nervous, both wondering if the other could sense it.

She walked until she was in front of him, hand trailing down his arm until it met his. She squeezed his fingers as she kissed his cheek, then kissed his lips. Steve was pretty sure his heart finally escaped his chest. She pulled away, looking up at him for just a second before she turned to write on the hotel’s pad of paper sitting on the table behind her.

She ripped the piece off and handed it to him. “Don’t forget me,” she said, a small smile curling on her lips before she was exiting the room all too fast.

Steve looked down at the paper in his shaking hand. Her name and phone number.

Natalia. But she told him to call her Nat.

He was more excited to call her than to go home to the girlfriend he already had.

And then here he was with her, six months and a thousand clandestine meetings later, holding her hands in a creepy alleyway. Steve wanted to give her more than this, she deserved more than this, the equally dirty alleys and secrets, plus the guilt he carried that he knew she was starting to, as well. He was ready to cry, if he was totally honest, because to her, tonight was routine. For him, it was the last time they would see each other.

He proposed to his girlfriend, Margaret, two weeks ago. Nat didn’t know yet; they weren’t always able to meet often, given the circumstances and the amount of lies Steve had to conjure. They need me back at work for something urgent. He uses that one the most, added on with the frustration he faked each time, it made Margaret ask no questions. Sam wants to grab a drink. Coincidentally, the bar Steve frequented with his best friend was open nearly until the time some people set alarms for, so that one didn’t cause many questions either. Steve had even sent her out of town a few times, and that especially made him feel like shit. Telling her not to worry about housework, he’ll make sure to fold the laundry and do the dishes, telling her to treat herself and enjoy alone time. She was over the moon, so touched that her boyfriend gifted her lovely trips for no apparent reason.

“Just ‘cause,” he told her, shrugging his shoulders. “You deserve it. Take some time off. I’ll be there to pick you up at the airport in a week.” She smiled ear to ear and hugged him tightly around his neck. He knew the Devil was laughing at him while he returned her hug, and she was unable to see the self-hatred in his eyes.

Nat was a good person. She wasn’t about to be that girl who hated the girlfriend of the man she was secretly canoodling with for no reason. Steve and Margaret were good together, and Nat knew he cared about her, but she also knew Steve preferred her over the woman he was publicly committed to. Would she feel differently about the situation if she personally knew Margaret? Of course. Nat didn’t condone cheating. But she had also fallen for Steve so quickly that even her morals and girl code couldn’t tear her away from him. On the other hand, every time she was with him, her heart got ripped out and shredded. She hated that he couldn’t come home and fall asleep next to her. She hated that she couldn’t tell anyone about the amazing guy she was seeing.

Nat let her hands rest around Steve’s neck while her fingers lightly scratched through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Where are we going?” she said quietly. Steve pressed his lips together in a thin line before bowing his head to rest his forehead against hers.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

Her hands froze. She had the feeling that she knew what was coming. Her legs already felt like jelly and she pulled back to look at him. She searched his eyes for remorse, a hint, waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, anything.

They had a good run, but their little illicit affair had expired and was sour. Working in the same gigantic building, it was no surprise that they hadn’t met for so long, but after meeting at the bar during that party, they found different ways and excuses to “accidentally” bump into each other. Stolen stares and winks and smiles happened whenever they had a chance; underneath it all, Nat knew what they really represented. In the beginning, all those things created butterflies in her stomach, but seeing him pull out of the parking lot to go home to someone else only reminded her that each of those things was lie after lie after lie. Then he started to reply to her texts slower, called her less, and had more reasons – valid reasons – to be at home with Margaret.

Nat knew she couldn’t keep running this course when she was already out of road; Steve was an addictive drug she had been injecting herself with nonstop, but the needle started to hurt a little more each time, every time he kissed her forehead, hugged her from behind, or left a bouquet of flowers at her apartment door, with a little white card that was always signed the same: I haven’t forgotten you yet, babe. – S.

Every time she read it, the little nod back to her last words in his hotel room, it was just as much a jump in her stomach as it was a kick in her heart. She knew she was an idiot, a complete fool for keeping every bouquet he left at her doorstep. The flowers were brown, shrunken, and crispy to touch, but she knew inevitably one day he would leave her and if she didn’t have the flowers and cards, he wouldn’t exist anymore.

Unbeknownst to her, the scribble of her name and number was still folded in his wallet. Steve unknowingly shared that same feeling of hers; if he didn’t have this tangible memory of when they met, he’d have nothing. He’d walk into his marriage pretending to be a good man. If he was being honest, he needed the reminder of what he did, the reminder that he was human. He wouldn’t call Nat a mistake or a regret, but he knew the six months with her were one of his flaws in one way or another and he needed to remember how much he didn’t deserve Margaret’s affection while they spent the rest of their lives together.

She hadn’t said anything yet, just looking at him, waiting for him to pull the plug.

“I asked Margaret to marry me,” Steve said, his hands still sweaty against her hoodie as he fiddled with it. “and she said yes.”

Nat brought her hands from his neck down to his chest. She looked down at them, wishing she could just disintegrate, completely disappear and not have to deal with this.

“I want to marry her,” Steve continued. “I want to be with her, but she deserves to have all of me with her. She deserves for me to be there for her and be present.”

That’s what marriage is, isn’t it? He was ending whatever it was that they had because he couldn’t have one foot in his marriage and the other walking down alleyways at midnight. He was right, the woman about to be his wife should have a real husband, not a ghost holding a title with an empty meaning.

She finally worked up the energy to step away from him. She couldn’t touch him anymore, not when the wrongness of it had finally set in. He looked at her with sad eyes, but she felt like they weren’t actually meant for her; just the fact that he had to tell her this.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

“Don’t,” Nat replied, her head snapping up to look at him. “Don’t say that. You already said what you actually wanted to, don’t follow it with lies.”

Steve took the step toward her, filling the space she had just put there. “I know it’s hard, kid. But it’s what I have to do. I don’t know if you had been expecting something more out of this, but I can’t leave Margaret. I’m with Margaret, baby.” “Don’t, Steve, just stop! Don’t say her name and call me baby in the same sentence, Steve just don’t!” Nat threw her hands up, her palms toward him to emphasize her words.

“You don’t get to pretend you feel bad with the pet names. If you’re going to be with her, go be with her. But don’t end your affair then think ‘baby’ and ‘kid’ can soften the blow, because it doesn’t. You know exactly what you’re doing, Steve, and you knew exactly how I would react. The last six months have destroyed me, but I would do six hundredmore months if it meant being with you. And I know you know that Steve, you know that damn well, so you don’t get to stand there and say you’re sorry.” Nat was yelling and she knew it was bad because of the late hour and the fact that anyone could come out and see them, but she couldn’t help it. She had wanted to yell those words during months one, two, three, four, and five but didn’t. She knew her heart would get taken out with Steve’s trash eventually, yet his blue eyes would still have ownership over her.

Nat’s face felt hot despite the cool weather the rain had left behind. The tears had begun falling down her face sometime during her speech and her throat was burning. Steve still stood before her but had now fallen silent due to her telling him not to say everything he already had.

“I am sorry, Nat, really.” He said, hands in his pockets. For a 6’0 man, his demeanor had changed so quickly he now resembled a child who’d gotten in trouble.

She shook her head at him, eyes glaring so harshly he thought lasers were going to shoot out of them. “No. No, you’re not, Steve, and I know because I know you love me. You’re even dumber than I thought if you think I didn’t know that. I heard you say it. You thought I was asleep. You sent Margaret on that stupid girl’s trip to the mountains then spent the night at my apartment,” she spat.

Steve’s realization kicked in. He had said it. And he had thought she was asleep. They were lying in her bed and she hadn’t spoken for a while, so he assumed she had drifted off while they were talking. Normally, he might’ve nudged her until she awoke, teasing her and telling her to keep talking with him. Instead, he had just squeezed her a little bit closer and let his lips swipe across her forehead.

“Love you, Nat.” it was barely a whisper. He was out moments after saying it, but Nat had reopened her eyes a smidge, not moving in his grasp but internally registering the phrase. In any other scenario, she might’ve thought it was artificial, like he was trying to appease her or comfort her in the midst of their unforgivable acts. But it was an intimate setting; the two of them in her bed, deep in her apartment, and the silent world made it all seem almost normal. It was like they were any other couple, but it would feel like mere seconds before they woke in the morning and he left to go to his real home.

Of course, he didn’t mention it again, she knew he thought she was asleep. So, as he was heading out the door the next day, she didn’t mention it either, and he smiled at her in a way that had her heart trying to make its getaway, then kissed her quick and soft before he was gone.

Love you. Love you. Love you.

Nat walked back to her kitchen, pouring the remnants of their coffee down the sink, rinsing their breakfast dishes, pushing their chairs in, and sat down on her couch.

Staring at her feet propped on the coffee table, her mind wouldn’t be quiet.

Steve. Me. Love. Steve said he loves me. Do I love Steve? Yes. Should I say it? Hell no.

In the alley, Steve looked at her, real, genuine sadness settling on his face. “Nat, -”

“If you were not only going to say it, but also mean it, then why would you leave me and not her?” Nat questioned. She knew it was harsh, but her tears were still falling, and she wanted so badly to hate him, but she couldn’t.

“You’re only doing what you think is right,” she continued. “You’re staying with her because you already have been for this long. Why is it so crazy that you could instead have your real true love after only six months?” her voice cracked at the end and she choked as a sob bubbled out of her. “You’re picking her because it’s easier. You already told me you loved me yet somehow you’re still too afraid to even admit it.”

Steve couldn’t look at her distraught face anymore. His eyes found a manhole in the alley, watching the water that had settled on top of it. He knew she didn’t deserve the hell he was putting her through. She loves you, you idiot. This little world that had evolved for half a year lived rent free in both of their heads and changed them forever. They spoke a secret language that Margaret would never understand and saw life in colors he’s never seen with Margaret.

You’re engaged. The sane part of his brain reminded him of this, the same part of him that had judged his idiocy for six months. Get out of here.

He looked back up at her, with her red eyes and all. “It’s not that easy, Nat.” he started. Yes, it is. The devil on his shoulder was pushing him towards her but he dismissed it. “It’s already happening. I can’t do this anymore. Even if we did, she would find out and you and me would have to deal with the repercussions. People at work would never see us the same.”

An incredulous look swept across her face. “Do you really think I care more about our coworkers’ opinions than being with you? If that’s really all it is to you, having to face judgement from your colleagues, then that’s the most pathetic thing you’ve said so far.” Her words were far from gentle because she wanted him to feel the pain she felt.

Steve scoffed, hands coming to his hips. “That’s not what I’m saying, Nat. We would be moving towns and finding new jobs before the judgement ever stopped. I’m not putting you through that. It’s best to leave it all behind and forget about it.”

That hurt. Two little words. Forget it. That’s what he was really trying to tell her. He was ready to forget her. The one thing she had told him not to do.

Fresh, hot tears formed. She chewed on the inside of her lip and looked between his eyes. If he had realized the deeper meaning behind his words, he didn’t show it. Nat swallowed hard before speaking for the last time.

“Fine. Forget it, Steve. I can do that. And I wish you good luck on forgetting it, too. But I hope it never stops hurting you,” again, she knew she was being harsh towards someone who she had been tender toward for so long. She knew at heart that Steve was a good man. But no one ever writes books or advice columns on what to do when two good people hurt each other.

Steve raised his head to look at her, and the faint dim of the streetlights hit his eyes. He finally realized his they had also become wet at some point, but he blinked until he couldn’t feel it anymore. If he cried in front of her, he didn’t what he’d do.

Nat wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, which she had already done so many times that it didn’t help anymore because it was dampened with her previous tears and snot. She sniffled, looking at her shoes and trying to even out her breathing. She didn’t raise her head again, keeping it lowered as she turned around to exit the alley.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

He looked up to watch her silhouette get smaller, still seeing her arms raise to wipe her face. He let himself fall backwards, hitting the brick wall behind him and leaning against it for several minutes before walking back to his own car.

He couldn’t sleep. He came home, suddenly noticing how low on energy he was, slowly ridding himself of his jacket and setting his keys on the table. He was surprised to find Margaret still awake; all the lights were off but the tv’s blue image reflected on her body. He wanted to cringe when she came up to him and cradled his face, asking what was wrong.

“I’m just tired, hon. Left the bar with Sam a little early because I didn’t feel well,” he grabbed her wrists in both of his hands, giving her a small smile that he hoped was enough to reassure her. She nodded, concern still showing in her eyes, but gave him a small kiss nonetheless before letting him retreat to the bedroom.

When she followed him a while later, she was asleep almost immediately, but he couldn’t do the same. He stared at the ceiling until his imagination conjured a faint image of Nat’s crying face before it dissipated, and he was only watching the blades of the fan now. Go to sleep, Steve. Forget it and go to sleep.

A few weeks later, he was back to normal routine; a real normal routine, not the one where he kisses his fiancé goodbye, goes to work, then meets up with Nat after. He kissed Margaret goodbye, went to work, came home to Margaret, fell asleep next to Margaret. He followed his exact advice; he forgot all about it.

He came into work one morning to hear some people talking in the lobby about an employee who abruptly quit. The gossip caught his attention just enough that he stopped to ask who it was.

“Natalia. She works on eight, I think,” one colleague said.

“No, no, no, she works on seven. Her desk was next to Sarah’s,” another said.

Steve almost dropped the full travel mug of hot coffee he was holding. He nodded to the group of workers, rushing to catch an elevator before he fainted. He leaned against the elevator wall, letting the information wash over him.

He remembered what he told her the night in the alley. We would have to move towns and find new jobs before the judgement ever stopped. His heart was racing. It turns out she took his advice, instead moving towns and jobs to forget him. Just like he told her to. Idiot. The devil on his shoulder wouldn’t leave him alone. Steve spent the entire workday doing anything but. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. If she had only just quit, she’d still be at her apartment, right? He loathed himself and the thought spiral he went down, but at the end of the day, he texted Margaret that he had a little extra stuff to do, but still left the building and got in his car.

He was going up the steps of Nat’s apartment building two at a time before he even realized it. He made it to her door, landing several quick, loud knocks and listening to the blood in his ears while he waited for her to open it.

No one came to the door. He knocked again. “Nat? It’s Steve. Are you in there?” He was tapping his foot incessantly, waiting and praying for a reply. The devil made fun of him again. As if she’s going to answer now that she knows it’s you.

Steve found himself growing frustrated. He pounded the door with two loud knocks. He finally lost his patience, reaching to jimmy the doorknob, and tumbling slightly into her apartment when he found it unlocked – and empty.

Her wood floors showed evidence of the furniture scraping against them, and there was still some dust and things that showed she hadn’t swept or vacuumed before leaving. Steve’s mouth hung open; his guts were ready to pour out. He made his way into her kitchen, freezing when he looked at her island.

Three bouquets of flowers, if you could even call them that anymore. It was hard to even tell what color they used to be, only appearing now as various shades of brown. Little bits of the petals had broken off and laid on the counter. It was like a crime scene, beginning with who would let flowers wilt this much, let alone keep them when they looked like this, then leave the evidence of several bodies of roses and lilies scattered around this way.

Steve looked next to the bouquets, where three white cards were. The flowers probably envied the cards appearance; they were completely intact with no signs of aging, like someone had continuously made sure not even a corner got bent.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the items in front of him. Nat kept all of his flowers. She kept each card. He used to feel proud of himself for the way he signed each one the same because he knew she would melt for it. Now, seeing those words not once, not twice, but three times only reminded him that he was definitely going to hell. At the same time that he couldn’t believe this was all she left behind, he could believe it. Again, he could only remind himself that she was doing exactly as he said. Seeing this laid out on her counter also reminded him of his own evidence he still carried of her. Slowly, still looking at the cards in front of him, he pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled the hotel paper out, unfolding it and reading the words she had written so long ago that it felt like a different life now. He read her name over and over and over until it started to not look like a name anymore.

Natalia. Natalia. Natalia. But just call me Nat.

Love you. Love you. Love you. It’s best to leave it all behind and forget about it.

Just how he wouldn’t let Nat see him cry, he wasn’t about to cry in her apartment either. He looked up from the paper in his hands, blinking and sniffling while his eyes made their way across her empty former home. He looked back down at the paper, carefully folding it back into the seven-month-old creases, set it next to the cards, then walked out of her apartment and down the stairs, forcing himself to think only of the fiancé waiting for him.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #steve rogers headcanon #taylor swift #tswift #folklore #evermore #my story #my fanfic

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danijimenezv · 4 years ago

Text

His Biggest Fan

Summary: A little rewrite of the vending machine scene from OH1 Ch1. This was inspired by the replay for the Open Heart Book Club.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Jillian Valentine).

Word Count: 2216 words.

A/N: I followed a lot of the game script but also added a little. I merged a few choices because I'm an indecisive little shit that loved both options 😂 And I also hated that Landrat kept Ethan's autograph, so I fixed it. As always, feedback is much appreciated! (please, I crave it)

“Wait! It’s you, isn’t it?”

“What?” Jillian furrowed his eyebrows at the other intern’s exclamation, deeply confused. On the outside, her face was a perfect mask of calm, but on the inside, she started to feel a wave of anxiousness threatening to suffocate her by the thought of being recognized.

“You’re the intern who did the thoracotomy with him this morning?”

“Yeah.” she shook her head, letting out the breath she had been holding, “And he ripped me a new one in front of everyone. It was so unbelievably-”

“Lucky!” Landry exclaimed, earning a puzzled look from her, “Ethan Ramsey actually talked to you! Ugh, this is what I get for getting to work an hour early. If I saw him in person, I’d probably just…”

As much as Jillian admired the man, she really couldn’t understand how Landry could describe her humiliation as a moment of luck. She was many things, proud being one of them, so she only felt indignant about what had happened that morning, nowhere near as happy as Landry.

“It was intimidating.” she shrugged, but raised an eyebrow when Landry froze up, staring wide-eyed in panic, “Landry? You okay?” he pointed past her, and as she turned around, she saw him there, talking to a nurse down the hall, the one and only Doctor Ethan Ramsey, “Crap, he’s coming this way. Hide me.”

“Hide you?! Hide me!” Landry squeaked.

“Jillian, stop.” she ordered herself, gathering her pride and dignity, “What am I doing? I can’t let my first day go like this. Okay, I’m… I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“The man once tore apart the research of the A.M.A.’s president… during the president’s keynote address! Are you sure about this?” Landry gasped.

“Landry, sometimes you just gotta… risk it.” Jillian grinned, “I’m always sure about what I do. It might not be the brightest idea, but at least I’m sure. I’m doing this. Would you let me borrow your copy of his book?”

Landry only nodded, still shocked in place. After taking Landry’s copy of Diagnostic Principles, Jillian marched down the hall toward Doctor Ramsey, who had stopped by an elderly patient’s room. Even from the hall, she could hear the patient hollering.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Barb.” Ramsey said tiredly.

“Forget about it, Doctor Ramsey. I’m busting outta this joint. I’ll tie the bedsheets together and rappel out of the window.” the older woman threatened.

“Don’t wait up on my account. In fact, I might break out of here with you.” for the first time, Jillian saw Ethan smiling, which surprised her and dazzled her in equal parts.

“I mean it! I don’t have my favorite armchair, and I’m bored without my puzzles.”

“And I’m bored of your excuses, Barb. Whine all you want, I’m not going anywhere until you take your medication.”

Ethan muttered to himself as he walked away from the entrance of the room and headed to a vending machine in the hall. He slid a dollar bill into the machine, but just stood there with his arms folded, not selecting anything.

“Hi, Doctor Ramsey.” Jillian approached with the most charming smile she could muster.

He glanced up at her for a split second with bemusement, before looking back at the machine, “Rookie. Back there, were you… hiding from me?”

“No, I don’t hide.” she stated confidently, showing the book, “I was actually hoping you might sign this book.”

“Autographs? Don’t you have work to be doing? Or at least other attendings to irritate?”

“Nope, just you.” she grinned, knowing it would only push his buttons.

“Interns.” he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I should have guessed. Well, if you have something else to say, then say it.”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m your biggest fan.”

Jillian hated to admit that; after all, it irritated her immensely when people said that about her parents or older siblings. She knew idolatry was pointless and frankly annoying, but for some reason, she wanted, needed, Ethan to know just how much she admired him and how much he had played part in the decision of becoming a doctor. She shared the same love, intrigue and aptitude for medicine as her family, but after much research, she knew becoming a doctor, a human one, was her calling. And the formidable Ethan Ramsey had inspired her enough to stand up to her family and choose her own path.

He still didn’t look away from the vending machine, half-listening, “My biggest fan? Is that right?”

“I’ve read all your papers: systemic amyloidosis, Lesch-Nyhan Syndrome, spinocerebellar ataxia…” at that, he turned to look at her directly, and Jillian straightened her posture slightly, refusing to back down, and instead held his sharp blue gaze, “You inspired me to go to medical school.”

“That ataxia paper was my undergrad thesis. That medical journal isn’t even published anymore. You tracked that down?” he seemed impressed.

“I can give you my copy… if you’d like.”

The way her voice had dropped to a sultry tone made it seem like she was offering something far less innocent and far more appealing than a simple copy of one of his papers. He tilted his head, intrigued for a moment, and then turned back to the machine.

“That won’t be necessary.” Ethan cleared his throat, and glanced back at the snacks display, “But I don’t think that’s what you came here to tell me.”

It was Jillian’s time to look intrigued. Over the years, she had perfected the art of hiding her thoughts and concealing her emotions with polite smiles and bored looks. She knew how to play the manipulation game with closed eyes, even if she didn’t do it frequently. But what had thrown her off base was that, somehow, Ethan could see right through her. The way he read her wasn’t something she was used to, and she still wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

“Okay, I also came to assure you that I won’t let you down again.” she conceded.

He didn't even bother to look at her this time, “You can see the future? If so, you’ll make a remarkable physician.”

“Of course not. I just meant–”

“You will let me down again, Rookie. What’s more, you’ll let yourself down. Over and over.” he interrupted her and Jillian looked away, starting to regret even trying to talk to the man, but at last, Doctor Ramsey turned to stare directly at her, his blue eyes connecting with her honey-colored ones, “But what matters is that you get back on your feet each and every time, and push yourself to be better.”

Jillian was rendered speechless. She hadn’t expected him to give motivational and helpful advice, but here he was, proving her he wasn’t just another heartless, arrogant, know-it-all doctor as she had first gathered. Though she took his advice to heart and imprinted it in her brain, she didn’t dare say anything in return. After a few seconds in silence, she noticed how his eyes kept flicking to the chocolate bar in the top corner of the vending machine.

“I was always a salty snacks kind of girl myself, you know, popcorn, chips, that stuff.”

“That’s truly fascinating, but I’m not-”

“I know you’re not getting something for yourself.” Jill interrupted him, “You’re trying to pick something to cheer up Barbara in there, right?”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Just paying attention.” she mused with a soft smile, “You know, I bet I could pick out just the thing.”

“I doubt it. Barbara’s even more stubborn than you. She’s refused to take her pills for two days. But be my guest, it’s a hopeless endeavor.”

He didn’t think she could do it. In fact, he was looking at her like he was expecting her to fail, and not specifically in Barbara’s case. Jillian straightened her back at the challenge and scanned the contents of the vending machine. Her honey-colored eyes glinted in delight as soon as she spotted the hot cocoa. It was, after all, a comforting classic, and one of her personal favorites. Without a second to waste, she pressed the numbers for the chocolate. The machine whirred and the cocoa powder pack plunked out into the tray.

“Hot chocolate?” Doctor Ramsey looked down at her with condescendence, wanting to scoff at her cliché choice.

Jillian filled up a mug with hot water from the machine at the nurses’ station, and stirred in the cocoa. Once she made sure the drink was ready, she handed it to Ethan.

“How exactly is this supposed to-?”

“Come on, Doctor Ramsey, it’s hot chocolate. It’s bound to work, especially if she’s feeling restless and homesick.”

“That’s a big guess you’re taking there.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.” Jillian chastised him, “Look, just give it to her, okay? Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.” he muttered.

“Well, you could always keep trying your way, but you don’t seem to be too successful at that either.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but still took the mug and headed back into Barbara’s room. Jillian rested against the wall for a few minutes while she waited for him to be back. He soon returned with a perplexed look on his face.

“That got her to take the pills. I can’t believe it.” his mouth fell open in shock and he blinked a few times, “So, are you gonna tell me how you worked that one out?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

Because if she had read him right, and she definitely thought she had, Ethan Ramsey was the kind of man who liked being in control of the situation and having answers to everything, down to the minimum detail. Why make it easier for him? She could keep him as frustrated as he made her feel. It was only fair.

“You’re really going to hold out on me?”

“I’m going for an air of mystery.” she flirted, “Is it working?”

“Mildly.”

Despite his best efforts, Ethan couldn’t help the smile that broke out into his face. It was hard not to respond in some way to the joyful expression on her face that made her eyes sparkle and turned her cheeks a lovely shade of soft pink. He caught himself after a few seconds, and looked away to compose the direction of his thoughts.

Jillian hadn’t noticed any of this, too occupied staring at the machine to avoid focusing on the handsome attending in front of her. It was then that she saw there were still 50 cents left over from Ethan’s dollar. She turned and pressed the numbers in the machine, and took the chocolate bar he was previously eyeing from the tray.

“And who is that for?”

“You.” Jillian tossed him the chocolate bar. He grabbed it with ease, but with raised eyebrows and a confused expression on his face, “I saw you kept staring at it earlier. You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes.” He looked down at the chocolate in his hands with surprise, not having expected her to be that considerate with him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jill turned to walk away, “See you around, Doctor Ramsey.”

“Wait.” he stopped her and motioned for the book, “Give it here.”

He took Landry’s copy of Diagnostic Principles and turned to the nurses’ station to look for a pen to sign it. However, Jillian wasn’t the only observant person in the room. With just one look at the condition of the book, Ethan knew it wasn’t hers. He didn’t know her personally, but Jillian looked like the kind of perfectionist who would never highlight or write in a book, the kind of person who would take care of a book as if it was the most valuable possession and have it in perfect condition. That book in his hands had a lot of markers and scribbles, some pages were folded, and part of the cover was peeled off. It definitely didn’t look like her book. So, he signed the first page of the book, but additionally took a post-it from the nurses’ station and scrawled a quick message on it for her, before he returned and tossed the book back to her.

“Now get back to work, Valentine.”

That made her stop in her tracks, her honey-colored eyes wide in shock, “You remembered my name?”

“Just paying attention.” he threw back at her with a smirk before walking off.

Jillian opened the book in curiosity and read Ethan’s inscription on the post-it.

‘For my biggest fan. Don’t let me down. ~Dr. Ethan Ramsey.’

A bright smile lit up her whole face, and she quickly took the post-it and put it in her pocket, before returning to Landry and showing him the book.

“You’re still alive!” he shrieked in surprise, “And… I can’t believe it, you got my copy signed! I absolutely love it.”

Landry charged forward and squeezed Jillian in an awkward hug, causing her to flinch in discomfort and pat his back a couple of times before pulling away.

“Okay, yeah, you’re welcome…” she tried to smile politely and make up an excuse, “Come on. I’m getting paged and, I don’t know about you, but I’m still completely lost…”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst, @missflashgeek, @openheart12, @takeharryandgo, @aestheticartsx, @choicesfanaf, @fireycookie, @the-pale-goddess, @drariellevalentine, @trappedinfanfiction, @tsrookie, @perriewinklenerdie, @genevievemd, @drethanramslay, @openheartthot, @lucy-268, @writinghereandthere, @rookie-ramsey, @missmiimiie, @ramseyandrys, @ruinedbypixels, @queencarb, @lovingramsey, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @ohchoices, @anntoldst0ries, @bluebellot, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @mysticaurathings, @iemcpbchoices, @itsjustamesshonestly, @shanzay44, @lsdw-blog, @liaromancewriter, @heauxplesslydevoted

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey x jillian valentine #oph book club #ethan x oc #ethan ramsey x oc #choices fic #choices fic writers creations #open heart fic #open heart #dani writes

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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 4 years ago

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What’s in a Name?

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader, Dean x reader

WC: 2,135

Summary: Weeks after Michael disappeared with Dean as his vessel, you decide to take some time away from the bunker. Nothing could have prepared you for the talk you have (or the tearful goodbye) when he pays you an unexpected visit.

Square Filled: Midnight Snack

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers if you haven’t seen it. Some angst. Sort of sappy fluff. Revelation of feelings and implied mutual pining. Minor mentions of injuries. Kind of a corny, abrupt ending. Also this gif by @teamfreewillbettertogether (I mean LOOK AT HIM.)

A/N: This is my first submission for #spndeanbingo challenge round 1 hosted by @spndeanbingo Inspired by this 14x01 gif and the end dialogue of 14x09. (I do not claim to own the dialogue from those episodes, I just paraphrased for this fic.) This was supposed to be a drabble but it got away from me. lol

You had just finished a case up north-- nothing big, just a few werewolves preying on teenagers who were exploring the woods on the outskirts of town at night for “something to do.” You had tracked down the last of the pack just in time to save a young girl from becoming an unfortunate midnight snack. After driving her home and observing a tear-filled reunion with her parents, you returned to the motel you’d been staying at.

You were exhausted, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises from the hunt, and you knew you needed some rest. But sleep didn’t come easily these days and, when it did, you often found yourself dreaming of Dean. It kept you up at night knowing he was out there somewhere locked away under Michael’s control, and dreaming about him only seemed to make you miss him more.

It was late, but you decided to venture to the gas station up the street to grab a midnight snack of your own, hoping the cool evening air and a little food might help ease your mind. After cleaning up a little, you slipped out of your room and back into the night.

It had been weeks and there'd still been no sign of Dean or Michael. Sam had been working tirelessly trying to find him, but so far he still hadn’t had any leads. In an effort to help with the search, you packed a bag and set out to connect with some of your old contacts.

...At least that’s what you told Sam.

Truthfully, you had decided to leave because you needed a break from it all. The bunker had begun to feel crowded with all of the new inhabitants from Apocalypse World. Sam, Mary, Cas, and Jack checked on you at all hours of the day because they all seemed to know about the feelings you harbored for Dean. You appreciated their concern, but the lack of alone time and space left you feeling suffocated and on edge.

On top of it all, the bunker somehow also felt eerily empty without your favorite green eyed hunter. Reminders and memories of him seemed to haunt every inch of the place. With how overwhelming everything had become, it was liberating to work a case or two while you took some time to grieve and process everything in peace.

After buying a sandwich, a six pack, and a mini pie, you thanked the cashier and began the short trek back to your motel. Still lost in thought, you had taken a shortcut down an alley when a noise from behind stopped you in your tracks. It was subtle and if you hadn’t recognized it immediately, it might’ve gone unnoticed-- drowned out by the bustle of cars, sirens, and drunken bar-goers still enjoying what was left of their night.

The familiar rustle of angel wings.

Realizing you’d left your angel blade in the duffel bag beside your bed, you tried to remain calm. Cas had no way of knowing where you were and you knew the few angels left in existence were doing all they could to keep heaven running. Grappling with the fear and hope you could feel rising in your chest, you wracked your brain for any other possible explanation for who could be behind you. But even before he spoke, you knew it was him.

“Hello Y/N.”

It wasn’t his voice-- not really. Even so, the sound was oddly comforting after so many weeks without it. If you’d kept your back to him, you might’ve been able to let yourself pretend it really was him. That he had managed to break free from the archangel somehow and track you down.

But it was the way he said your name that let you know who it really was. His voice was hollow. Almost formal.

One thing you’d always loved about Dean--whether he was angry or worried or teasing--was the way he said your name. There was always so much emotion behind it. Always a trace of the unconditional love he gave to everyone he cared about. When he spoke your name, there was always a deeper implication: no matter what he was feeling or what you had done, you knew he would always protect you and have your back. There was never a need for him to say those things outright, because somehow you’d always understood.

But this wasn’t him and those weren’t the feelings you had when your name rolled off of his tongue. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned to face the man behind you.

“Michael.”

The corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. He wore a gray three piece suit, a long coat, and a newsboy style cap. His head was slightly bowed, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. Instead of the relaxed, bow-legged stance you were accustomed to, his posture was stiff and typical of the angels you’d grown familiar with over the years.

“It’s nice to be able to skip the introductions.”

He raised his head and the motion seemed almost robotic. His jade eyes briefly flashed a bright electric blue and the longer you looked at his emotionless face, the more unsettled you began to feel. Everything about him seemed detached and unnatural-- a stark contrast to the man you knew.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? It’s a little...ironic.” His lips stretched into a wry grin, but there was still an emptiness behind it. “That’s what I’ve been traveling all around this world asking people. ‘What do you want?’ Their answers are always the same: Peace. Power. Revenge. Love.”

You exhaled upon hearing the final word--recalling the countless number of fantasies you’d had about Dean confessing something similar to you.

“They say the things they think I expect to hear. Give answers they hope will ensure their survival. It’s all so very...weak. Pathetic. Human. But I will admit free will does keep things marginally interesting...how these ‘wants’ seem to motivate you. To give you a cause to fight for.”

You stood motionless, soaking in every bit of the speech he was delivering. The way he spoke was flat and unhurried. You reminded yourself over and over that it wasn’t him, but as his voice washed over you...the hold he had on you was undeniable.

He took a few steps forward, hands behind his back as he began circling you like a predator stalking its prey.

“He’s still in here, you know.” He tapped a finger on his temple when he circled in front of you again. “Resisting me. Squirming and trying to claw his way out. To get back to all of you.”

“Is there a point to this monologue?” Your voice wavered, sounding feeble instead of assertive.

“I can sense how vulnerable you are in my presence because of this pretty face. Haven’t you ever wondered what it is that Dean wants most?” He began slowly pacing back and forth in front of you. “I know his thoughts. His desires. His reasons for fighting. I know all that you’ve been through together...”

“He wants the same thing we all do. To take out as many of you douchebags as we can until--”

“You are what he wants.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat had gone dry.

“...what?”

“Why do you think he said yes to me? Why do all of you sacrifice yourselves for each other? Again and again...and again.” He paused and met your eyes when you didn’t say anything. “For love. For the fear of having to live without each other. For the ‘family business’ or whatever. Now, Sam? Mary? His angel pal and even the nephilim-- sure, he loves them. He would die for them. But you…well, there aren’t words for how devastated he would be if anything ever happened to you.”

“You’re...lying,” you whispered.

“I’m just a messenger, sweetheart.”

He spun on his heel and held his hands out to his sides, chuckling as he shook his head. You wanted to believe everything he was saying, but you had no reason to. Michael had lied to Dean-- why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

“Why are you telling me any of this? Why bother finding me at all?”

“Because his squirming is like an incessant gnat that simply won’t go away. So, as a small attempt to put his floundering to rest, I decided to pay you a visit. To say the things he never could. To put an end to his doubts...the worry and the fear and the anger that keeps him fighting. To show him there’s no need to resist me any longer. Lucifer is dead and all of you survived.”

“So you’re pretending to care about his well-being now?” you scoffed. “That’s your play?”

“He’s angry with himself for saying ‘yes’--but he wanted to save his brother and the boy. To beat Lucifer and, together, that’s what we did. He’s so worried about his family’s safety but, with my help, you were all spared from Lucifer’s wrath. Now, after everything I’ve told you...do you have any idea what Dean’s greatest fear is? His reason for continuing to resist me?”

As the gears turned and every fiber of your being seemed to have a hunch about what he meant, your mind refused to even consider the possibility. There was no way he could possibly mean--

“You,” Michael sighed impatiently. “You’re the one he’s most attached to. The source of his deepest fear and regret. Because what if something happened to his beloved Y/N? What if he never had the chance to tell you that he loves you? That he’s always been too much of a coward to admit it.”

Feeling like the air had been knocked from your lungs, tears began to well in your eyes at his admission. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, but if there was any way to reach him...you had to try.

“Dean? If you can hear me--”

“Dean’s not home right now. He’s served his purpose and his mission is complete. Now it’s time for mine.”

You knew you should ask what he meant, but right now you couldn’t care less about Michael’s mission. Taking a measured step forward, you gazed into his eyes and hoped he could hear you, no matter how deep he was buried.

“I love you too, Dean. More than you could ever know… And no matter what happens, none of this is your fault.”

Michael scoffed at your attempt before suddenly hunching over to stare at the ground. His expression quickly grew irritated and he shook his head as he rolled his shoulders back.

“So...very...pathetic,” he mumbled angrily.

“...Dean?”

He stood abruptly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as he closed the distance between the two of you. You watched as he curled his lip in disgust and placed two fingers on your forehead. When his pupils flash blue once again, your body went rigid as a warm energy spread from your head to your toes.

As he withdrew his hand, you breathed heavily and rolled your sleeves up to discover the wounds from your hunt had been healed. You glanced back at him with a puzzled expression and let out a small gasp when you noticed how drastically his demeanor had changed.

Instead of blank, dead eyes, you were met with tender emerald ones. He reached a hand out and lightly traced his fingertips along the edge of your jaw.

“Y/N…”

It was nothing more than a whisper; a silent plea for you to hear everything he didn’t have time to say. When the word escaped his lips, he drew his eyebrows together-- all of the raw emotion Michael had kept locked away painted clearly on his face.

You understood completely, hearing it all in the way he said your name.

“I know, Dean. We’re gonna find a way to get you back. Just hold on.”

He cupped your cheek and a sad, longing smile graced his lips when you leaned into his touch. Without warning, his eyes flashed blue once more.

In the blink of an eye he was gone.

Clenching the bag of food and beer in one hand, you wiped away a few stray tears and fished your phone from your pocket. After selecting a number from your favorite contacts, you began jogging toward the motel. The line rang several times before going to voicemail, but you quickly hung up and dialed again.

Arriving at your room, you unlocked the door and began frantically packing your bag. You huffed in frustration when the call went to voicemail again but, on your third attempt, you finally heard Sam’s groggy voice.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Y/N. So, get this--”

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

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drethanramslay · 4 years ago

Text

Perfect (Happy Birthday Bree!!)

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 1500 words

MASTERLIST

Warning: None, this is just a load of fluff

Author’s note: Happy birthday @jamespotterthefirst, the most talented and amazing writer🎂🎂 Hope you have a great day and keep rocking babe❤

I have taken part in @wackydrabbles so the prompt will be in bold

Title inspiration: Perfect by Ed Sheeran

Forgive me if i make any mistakes 🥺

"Happy birthday, doctor!" A cheerful nurse greeted as Ethan stood at the nurses' station, signing charts at a break-neck speed.

"Hrm." He answered absent-mindedly, not even bothering to look up from the file and continued to look down at it as of it were the most interesting case but the fact is that Ethan did not care to celebrate his birthday.

But if Leah were to hear that, she would have him by his balls.

And Ethan wasn't one to go against a woman with a mission. She had said that they would do something in the evening and Ethan was low key looking forward to it, which is quite the growth from a year ago.

According to Ethan, birthdays were irrational. He couldn't figure out the entire hype to celebrate the day which is just a marker that you are one year closer to death. Sure it's a pessimistic way to see it but Ethan never promised to have a positive outlook on life.

No wonder Leah calls me the human equivalent of a robot.

The thought just whispered into his head which had him halting what he was doing and a small smile made its way on his lips.

Just her very name has his face splitting into a wide grin. Her very presence has this flux of endorphins in his system that he feels as if his heart is going to burst or a blush would sear through his cheeks.

She was his Kryptonite. Yes, Leah had taught him that reference when they watched that Super-boy movie.

Coming back to his birthday, Leah had wished him in the morning itself which comprises of affectionate kisses with a side of old man jokes.

Or you could say it was the other way around.

She then proceeded to give him a hand-knitted scarf which she made along with this gold plated bar set which he had been eyeing for a couple of months but never had the chance to buy it.

"I hope you like it?" She had asked in a tiny voice, watching his every expression.

"Leah, you are the best gift I could ever have. You didn't have to go all the way out for me."

And it was true. Leah just wishing him was the only thing that mattered to him. Nothing could compare to it. Just like the shine of glitters can't compare to the radiance of the sun. But Leah just pressed her lips in a soft kiss and said that he deserved the best of everything.

I am so lucky to have a partner like her.

He shut the file and submitted the last chart to the nurse. He lifted his left wrist to check the time and he noticed that there was only an hour of work left before he could head back to their home.

With a sudden burst of motivation, he turned down the hallway to visit his next patient.

It would be an understatement to say that Leah was nervous.

The pressure of this entire evening being perfect weighed down on her like a pile of bricks. She paced in the living room, digging tracks from her walking back and forth so that she could work off the nervous energy settling into the pit of her stomach. The posh, classical music did nothing to calm her racing heart down.

Will he like it? The doubt filtered through her head which had her gulping and smoothening the little black dress which Ethan liked a lot.

Jenner whined, sensing her distress. She trotted towards the stressed intern and nuzzled against her leg, stopping Leah in her tracks.

"Hey, girl... Guess I'm just overthinking huh?" Leah ran her fingers through Jenner's silky ears and scratched behind her ears which earned her a happy bark.

The sound of the door unlocking had the duo looking up. Jenner cocked her head before running to greet her dad. His familiar baritone voice echoed through the hallway leading to the living room. Leah ran her eyes around the apartment, just running a final check to see if anything was out of sight.

She had lit candles all around the house and turned the lights down low, to set the relaxed ambience of the place.

But that wasn't the main event.

She had come home early so that she could cook an entire extravagant meal for him. From butter garlic shrimps and stir fry vegetables as appetizers to Pastelon which is Puerto Rican version of traditional Italian lasagna as the entrée. She had used her grandma's recipe which has been passed down for generations on her Father's side of the family. Last but not the least, she had baked him a coffee cake which was the only flavour he liked.

She had set the table out on the balcony because it was a wonderful weather and nothing beats a candlelit dinner under a starry night.

"Leah?" His voice called out and she turned to face him with an incandescent smile which beautifully complimented against the dancing shadows of the lit candles. She walked towards his open arms and embraced him.

Hugging Ethan was something she thoroughly enjoyed, The way this man was all hard and soft at the same time often blew her mind away. The way his arms would tighten around her waist and the way he would tuck her head under his chin was her personal heaven. His cologne mixed with his manly essence was intoxicating, which blanketed her senses, making her feel safe and at peace.

Placing a soft affectionate kiss on her forehead, they pulled back just enough to see each other's face.

"Hi."

"Hey yourself, E."

"So what is this surprise you have planned for me?"

Leah chuckled, her hands looping around his neck. Her fingers played with the short hairs on his nape as she looked at him adoringly. "Eager are we?"

"If it comes to you? Always." He pecked her lips.

"Good. Go get fresh and meet me at the balcony."

Ethan and Leah were having fun.

They had popped open the champagne bottle which Ethan had stored for a special occasion and poured copious amounts into the sparkly glasses. And the food was amazing.

The way Ethan devoured the food and gave compliments every now and then made Leah smile with pride.

"Sunshine, you have to feed me more Puerto Rican dishes because this is delicious," Ethan said as he sipped on his champagne.

"I am not as good as my dad. He can make so many more yummy dishes than me. He actually hosts a cookout Sunday for the boys working at his security firm. I have only been to a few but they are super fun."

"You have already met my dad so I think it is about time I have to meet yours."

A rosiness settled on her cheeks as she smiled back at him. "Of course. I know he will like you."

Giving a smile which has his eyes glimmering like the stars, they went back to their meal. After a while, with their stomachs full and plates wiped clean, Leah rose from her seat. Ethan shot her a questioning look but she just kissed his cheek.

"I baked a cake for you. Just getting it out so that we can cut it, old man."

Ethan groaned as Leah chuckled. "I am not that old, okay? I'm a millennial!"

"Whatever you say, gramps."

She went indoors to take the cake out of the fridge, where she had placed it after icing it. A sudden thunder resounded throughout the penthouse, which had her raising her eyebrow.

Rain? But the weather forecast said it won't...

She placed the cake on the counter and headed out only to find Ethan standing there, with his eyes closed and enjoying the raindrops washing his face. The water seeped through his black shirt, making it cling to the hard planes of his chest. A small smile played on his lips.

"Ethan? Come in, you will fall sick." She said as she stood at the threshold. To be honest, there was a reservation in her voice because it had been so long since she has seen him so peaceful.

"No, I will be fine. Come, join me." His eyes smoldered as they fell on Leah and it felt as if she was hypnotized by his brilliant blue eyes.

She walked towards him and instantly Ethan settled his hands on her waist. Placing her hands on his chest they just swayed to a rhythm of their own.

"Are we really dancing without music?" She whispered as she looked up at him.

"What can I say sunshine... you make me want to dance even when the music stops."

The cool raindrops fell on her flushed face while Ethan smiled down at her gently.

"I hope you liked your birthday, Ethan."

She wrapped her arms around him and placed her face on his chest, this heartbeat lulling her into her own safe haven.

"I won't forget this. Ever. This was by far the best so thank you, Leah. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

I would have attached pictures but a bitch is lazy 😔✊

Taglist: Tagging separately because that seems so effective

#anushka writes #choices fic writers creations #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #playchoices

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briyourmotherdown · 4 years ago

Text

Give It All For You, Part 1 (Brian May x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 10.45k

Warnings: Strong language (I’m British, it’s to be expected), slight innuendos???, possible historical inaccuracy, ANGST.

Description: You have loved Brian May since the first time you met him. Trouble is, he’s nearly impossible to tie down, and you’ve become cemented in the role of the best friend.

A/N: Okay so I’ve been working on this little mini-series for months. Literally too long. It’s still not even done, BUT I wanted to get the first part out at leAST. Uni and life have made finding creative inspiration a major struggle as of late. I think there will probably be around 3 parts to this?? I’m not quite sure yet, it could be a couple more if I find the motivation. BUT ANYWAY I really hope you enjoy it even though it’s angsty and I can’t write ajdgsdbskjbkdhgs.

Spring, 1977

“C’mon,” you slur, your red dress shimmering in the dim lights of the local pub, “dance with me.”

The bass is heavy in your chest and you feel alcohol coursing through your veins, but you’re only intoxicated by the man in front of you. His eyes glimmer like stars, hooded, sizing you up before shaking his head with a laugh.

“You’re drunk.”

“So are you.” you push yourself further into him in an attempt to push him onto the dancefloor, but more of a reason for you to get closer to him, to feel him.

“But you’re plastered.”

You roll your eyes, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

He rolls his eyes right back, wrapping his arm around your waist to steady you, “Fine, one dance.”

His hazel eyes are hooded, focussed solely on you, and you bask in his gaze. His hands on your body send electric shocks over your skin, and you tell yourself over and over that he doesn’t feel the same; he is only your good friend. That’s all you will ever be to him.

“Is that how you ask a lady to dance?” you tease, cocking a brow.

“You asked me!” Brian laughs, amused, “Alright, m’lady, may I have this dance?”

He holds his hand out to you, dipping his head like a gentleman, and you take a moment to take a mental snapshot before accepting his hand, tugging him into the centre of the pub to dance.

So you both danced, and for that night, just for that night with his hands on your hips, you could almost pretend that he was yours. And as he stared into your eyes, you let yourself fall into that false sense of security of imagined love.

But let’s start from the beginning, from the moment you met on a cold winter’s night in 1972...

“Christ, it’s cold as a witch’s tit in here,”

Your best friend, Freddie, shivers as he hops up and down to warm himself up, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and jaw,

“Why did you want to open up the stall today, of all days? Even that old git Brutus has closed up shop.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, shuffling the secondhand clothes on their hangers, “I need the money, that’s why. I’m about to be homeless if I can’t pay my rent.”

Freddie hums, kicking a stray pebble on the floor, “You know, my friend has a spare room in his flat he’s trying to fill. He needs some extra money too. I’m sure he’d offer you the room for cheap.”

“Which friend?”

“His name is Brian, Brian May.”

“Ah,” you wave your hand in recognition, remembering his name being brought up a few times, “the guitarist one, yeah?”

“That’d be the one! I think you’d like him, actually-”

“Like who?” your other friend and coworker, this one much more blonde, chimes in as he strides into the small stall, very much late. Roger.

“Brian.” Freddie answers.

“Oh yeah, she’d definitely like him.”

You shoot them both a look, “And what makes you say that?”

Roger holds up a fringed kimono up to himself in the mirror, “He’s quiet, reads a lot, likes the stars; basically a total nerd. You’d love him.”

“And he always wears matching socks. It’s bizarre, he literally has a thing about matching socks.” Freddie adds.

You chuckle, “And when will I get to meet this nerd?”

“Well, tonight. We have a gig.”

“Hm,” you pretend to think, “I’ll have to clear a few things from my schedule…”

Roger nudges you with his shoulder, knocking you slightly off balance,

“Alright, alright! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that evening you meet your friends at the pub where they're playing for the night. It’s a dingy dive that you never would usually go, but you’d do anything to support your friends on their journey to success.

You’re dressed up all pretty in your flares and platforms, leaning up against the bar as you wait for Queen’s set to begin. Though the weather outside is freezing, the inside of a pub is always hot, air thick with the scent of ale and sweat, but the moment Queen steps on stage, it’s easy to forget your surroundings. You’d heard Freddie sing, and you’d certainly heard Roger crash about on his drums, but you’d never seen them like this.

They were magnetic. You were all absorbed. Freddie’s outfit caught the light each time he flounced across the stage, but his voice was what captured everyones attention. He was full of passion and power; he owned the audience, he could control everyone with one simple snap of his fingers.

Roger was his usual self, exuding sex-appeal and confidence. Girls fawned over his long blonde locks and plushy lips. The thing about Roger was that he was the total package of beauty and intelligence, that is if you could tie him down.

You’d never met the bassist, John, you think his name was, but he managed to capture your attention in the most unsuspecting way. He was all shyness and modesty, but not radiating an ounce of hesitancy. You can tell, even at first glance, that he would be the perfect fit for Queen. He would bring balance.

That leaves one final member, the oh-so nerdy space loving boy who Freddie and Roger believe you would adore. But he doesn’t look so nerdy when you see him. He’s pure mystery, almost as though he’s surrounded by a navy blue mist, an aura- or something ethereal. He’s breathtaking, is all you can think. Long legs adorned in velvet, dark curls fall in front of his eyes as he looks down at his guitar. He’s focussed, bottom lip jutting out in concentration, but he takes a moment to glance up. That’s when you know you’re done for. He scans the pub, small enough to make out everyone’s face, and his eyes land on yours. It’s fleeting, but you can swear they linger. Maybe that’s just what you want to tell yourself. Suddenly you want to feel his eyes on you all the time. You want to be in his daydreams, in his thoughts, you want to be his muse.

You float through the rest of their set, eyes glued to Brian as he plays expertly. You sway to each song, ignoring your surroundings and focussing solely on the music, and when it’s over, you cheer as loudly as you can.

“I want to have your children, Roger!” you scream, bursting into a fit of giggles as the blonde scans over the room to see the source of the scream, and upon seeing you, chucks up his middle finger with a laugh.

You make your way to the small stage, well, it’s more of a two feet high platform, and open your arms up widely to Freddie.

“You,” you tackle him into a hug, “were fucking incredible! You’ve been hiding this side of yourself from me for how long?”

He blushes, returning to the Freddie you know, “You must have brought it out of me, love,” he turns to the rest of the band, “Y/N, this is John Deacon, isn’t he lovely?”

Freddie gestures to the bassist as he smiles shyly, offering you a wave and a small, “Hello.”

“You were amazing out there, seriously!” you compliment him, and he blushes, though his smile widens.

“Now, darling, this is Brian May!”

Upon hearing his name, Brian looks up from where he is putting away his guitar, standing up straight and brushing his hands off against his trousers.

“Brian, this is Y/N, she hangs around Roger and I sometimes.” Freddie shoots you a playful wink as you roll your eyes.

“Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” you reach a hand out to shake, which you so usually wouldn’t do, and it sends embarrassment right through you. But to your luck, he takes his hand in yours with no hesitation.

“Likewise,” he smiles, still shaking your hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh God.

“All good things I hope?” you realise you’re still holding his hand and let go, letting your hand sit awkwardly at your side.

Jesus, you’re so nervous.

“Mostly.” He winks, and it sends you reeling. His eyes are dangerous, and they travel up and down your figure in a way that sets you alight.

It goes quiet as you stare at each other, Freddie glancing between you two with his eyebrows raised. Though he says nothing about it. Instead, he claps his hands,

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I need a drink!”

1977

The next morning, you suffer through your pounding headache, wanting to just wallow in your loneliness.

Of course, Brian went home with someone else last night, sneaking away through the back door to avoid flashing cameras and prying eyes, leaving you to call yourself a taxi back home, where you cried for an hour before passing out.

It’s not the first time he’s done this, but it still makes you feel pathetic every time.

There’s a knock on your door, and you heave yourself out of bed despite the spinning in your head and the nausea churning in your stomach. Whoever is at the door will just have to deal with your dishevelled appearance.

“Y/N? Jesus, you look like hell.”

Alas, the infamous Roger Taylor stands on your doorstep, mouth agape at your messy hair and leftover smudged makeup.

“I’ll slam this fucking door in your face, Taylor.”

“Hostile,” he laughs, hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve just come to pick you up for lunch, or have you forgotten?”

Feeling like a total ass, you smack your hand to your forehead, “Shit, Rog, I’m so sorry. Come in.”

He follows you into your flat, eyes scanning over the slight mess. He turns to you, concerned; you’re not usually one to let your flat get so messy.

“We don’t have to go, Y/N, we can reschedule, it’s not a problem.”

You scrunch up your face, searching the kitchen for a glass of water and ibuprofen,

“No, no, I want to go, you’ll just have to bear with me.”

“Long night?” He teases, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter to stare at you.

Shooting him a glare, you slide passed him and into your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. Roger follows you, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know, I think you owe me an explanation as to why you forgot about our lunch date, and threatened me.”

Clicking your tongue, you turn to him, “I went to a pub with Brian last night, got plastered, now I’m hungover. Simple as that.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost knowingly, but doesn’t say anything.

“No need to be so sassy with me, I'm only asking.”

You sigh, “I know, I’m sorry,” he smiles, “now get out, I have to piss.”

You slam the door and hear him laugh from the other side, “What a lady!”

“Bugger off!”

Finally feeling human again after cleaning up and getting dressed, you slide a massive pair of dark sunglasses on the bridge of your nose and head out to where Roger parked his car.

“Ready, princess?”

You shoot him a sickly sweet smile, “You act as if being called princess bothers me.”

Roger laughs, starting the engine and getting into gear, “You got me there.”

The drive to your local favourite cafe is short, a totally walkable distance if you didn’t feel like death warmed up. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence until pulling into a parking space, when Roger turns to look at you once again. Your head is pressed against the window, eyes closed beneath your sunglasses, lips slightly parted as you take careful breaths to avoid nausea.

“Christ, love, you really do look like shit,” he chuckles softly, a hint of concern laced in his insult, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

With one look at him, tears well up in your eyes against your will, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. Roger’s eyes widen, and in an instant, you’re pulled into his arms over the console as you begin to cry. He shushes you softly, one hand running up and down your back,

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s going to be alright,” you’re thankful for having such a good friend like Roger, especially when he puts up with your hungover mood swings. However, you must look like an absolute trainwreck with your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, “Let’s go inside and get some food and a cup of tea down you, yeah? Then if you like, you can tell me what’s troubling you.”

You nod, sniffling and wiping away your tears on the back of your hand. Roger jumps out of the car and rushes to the passenger side, where like an angel, he walks you into the cafe with a hand on your back.

You attract a few disparaging stares when you both sit down at a table, a small chuckle slipping past your lips. Roger, now across from you, looks puzzled, “What’re you laughing about, hey?”

“Everyone’s staring.”

He scans the room indiscreetly, a smile taking over his features, “God, they are, aren’t they? Haven’t they ever seen a hungover girl crying before?”

You scoff, “Bugger off, they’re obviously staring at your trainers.”

He gasps, looking underneath the table to examine his sparkly pink converse, “What have you got against my trainers?”

“Me? Nothing. But a bunch of elederly ladies out for lunch might. I’m sure they think your hair is a disgrace too. You should cut your hair like McCartney had it at the start of The Beatles.”

Roger scoffs, pulling out a cigarette, “Yeah right. Been there, done that.”

As Roger lights up a smoke, you look at the menu set out in front of you, deciding on something that won’t aggravate your fragile stomach. Then you proceed to give Roger puppy dog eyes until you persuade him to be the one to go up and order it.

When he’s gone, you take a moment to think over what you and Roger must really look like to some people. Roger, all bleach blonde hair, brightly coloured clothing and a smirk that could make even a nun go mad. And you, puffy eyed, sunglasses indoors, in an oversized button-up shirt that you’d definitely stolen from one of the boys at some point. You both probably were the most exciting things that some of these people had seen in awhile. Something new to gossip about.

A glass of water is set in front of you by the one and only roger, while he sips tenderly at a cup of sweet coffee, “Drink.” he commands.

“But I ordered coffee,” you pout like a child, “You’re kicking me when I’m down here, Rog.”

He rolls his eyes, “Coffee doesn’t help hangovers, love. Drink up.”

You frown but nonetheless begin sipping in silence, tapping your nails against the table as Roger stares at you, “What?”

“Just wondering if you’re going to tell me what got you so upset earlier?”

You let out a sigh, long and weary, fiddling with an opened sugar packet, “Would you believe me if I said that it was just hormones?”

“Not in the slightest.”

You let out a short laugh through your nose, “I just let myself get heartbroken again, that’s all.”

Roger pretends to choke on his coffee, spluttering dramatically and ignoring all the stares that he attracted, “Someone managed to break Y/N’s cold, dead, heart?”

“If you were quiet for a moment you’d notice I’m not laughing.” You roll your eyes at him.

Noticing your demeanour, he quiets down and leans in close to you, “I’m sorry, it’s just that you never let yourself get to the point of being able to be heartbroken,” he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, “you know, you told me about a year ago that love doesn’t exist, and dating is just a trial period until you decide that maybe you can put up with that person for the rest of your life.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, word for word.”

You stay silent, but your top lip twitches into a smile- it does sound like something you’d say.

“Anyway,” Roger continues, “who broke your heart? I’ll rough 'em up a bit.”

“Surely you couldn’t rough up a member of your own band.” You speak under your breath, arms crossed, but Roger hears you.

“I knew it!” He shouts, and you kick him underneath the table, “sorry,” he blushes, “I just knew it. I had a feeling you were in love with Brian.”

Your eyes widen, “I’m not in love with him!”

Roger smirks, “So it is Brian, then?”

Your jaw drops at his trick, “You bloody asshole.”

He sits back in his chair with a smug grin on his face, coffee cup in hand, “So, tell me about it.”

You scoff, “You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?”

“You love me all the same.”

You roll your eyes for the thousandth time, as you always seem to do around Roger. You stare at him, arms crossed in silent defiance and attempt to communicate with your eyes ‘I’m not going to tell you because you were a dick.’

He sighs, uncrossing his arms to place his elbows on the table, “Come on, I’m sorry! Please tell me what happened?”

A server comes over with your breakfast, allowing you to torture Roger for a few moments more as you chew a bite slowly. After you swallow, you finally sigh, “Fine. Ask me what you want to know.”

Roger’s eyes light up, “How long have you loved-” he stops when you gives him the eye, “liked, him?”

“Almost five years.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N.”

“I know! I know. It’s not good. Trust me I’ve tried to get over it.”

“And you’ve never told him how you feel?”

You scoff, “Of course not, that’s suicide.”

“Why?”

You put down your fork, finishing your mouthful of food, “You act like you haven’t seen the way Brian is,”

Roger stays silent, waiting for you to continue, “He’s so…elusive. His shyness and sensitivity make him a real fucking magnet if you haven’t noticed. And he has this thing where he needs to constantly be pining after someone, and it’s just never been me.”

You take a deep breath as your eyes focus on the rim of your glass, “He’s just not interested in me as more than his best friend, and I think that’s okay.”

“Why do you think that’s okay?” Roger asks softly.

“Because if I don’t accept that, then I won’t have Brian in my life at all. And that’s worse than the heartache.”

Roger is silent, looking at you with sad eyes, but they don’t hold an ounce of pity. That’s something you love about him, he never pities you for feeling any sort of way, he’s just there to listen.

“Well fuck, I can see why you got plastered last night.”

You laugh, thankful for him shifting the mood to something more lighthearted.

After lunch, Roger drops you off back at your flat, but not without a comforting pat on the top of your head and a promise to go for a drink soon.

You smile to yourself as you fish your key out from your bag, twisting the lock and stepping inside.

“Y/N.”

You squeal, whipping around to see a lean figure standing up from your sofa, “Bloody fuck- Brian, what are you doing here?”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, partly from being scared half to death, partly because Brian looks so good in a hoodie. He doesn’t often wear cosy clothes anymore since Queen gained more fame. Seeing him looking all soft in a navy blue hoodie makes your heart flutter. It reminds you of the times when you had first met. The both of you snuggled up underneath layers of blankets in his dingy flat when the heating broke (which was often), drinking copious amounts of tea and emptying his kitchen of all his food.

“You gave me a key.” He scratches the back of his neck. Yeah, he knows he’s guilty.

“I would have appreciated it if you’d rung me first.”

Annoyance settles in as you remember last night, when he ditched you at the pub and left you to get a taxi home. If anything, he owes you the fare.

“I did, you didn’t pick up and I got worried.”

“I was out.”

“I can see that now.”

The room falls silent, Brian rocking back and forth on his heels. You cross your arms, waiting for him to speak. To explain himself.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that last night. I was drunk-”

“So was I.”

“I’m-” he stops, sighing, “I’m really, really sorry. I’m a total prick…” he fades off as if he’s lost in thought, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and eyes worried. He looks genuinely troubled, as if he is really upset that he ended up ditching you.

Against your better judgment, you sigh and uncross your arms, voice softening up, “Look, just don’t do it again, okay? It puts me in a really bad spot.”

His eyes brighten at your acceptance, rushing over to give you a hug. You stand stiff as a board when his arms wrap around you, head nestled against your neck. Your pulse races, but you know better than to view this in any other way than just a friendly hug. You wrap your arms around him anyway, closing your eyes and just for a moment, pretending it is otherwise.

“I want to make it up to you,” his voice is muffled against your shoulder, but he doesn’t dare let go, “I packed us a picnic, let’s go to the park. You can feed the ducks.”

You pause, eyes opening and closing as you take breaths. You battle against yourself. Could you manage doing such an activity with Brian? One that feels like a date? Of course you can. Don’t be silly. He’s your best friend, how could you be casting his feelings to the side because of your own?

“Can I feed the pigeons too?”

He laughs, gripping your frame tighter, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then you’re back in his car, a newer one, different from the cheap beat up one he had when you had first met. But still, it’s familiar, the scent of him mixed with leather. A basket and a blanket sits in his backseat, bringing a small smile to your face. This is the side of Brian you cherish the most. The side of him that cares so deeply for his friends. You’re not even sure if you could call it a ‘side’ of him. It’s just the way he is. He doesn’t ever intend to hurt or upset you. Suddenly, you feel guilty for being upset with him. He doesn’t owe you anything, he has every right to go home with other women.

“So, where did you go earlier?” Brian asks, one hand on the wheel as he glances over at you and then back at the road.

“I went out for lunch with Roger,” you smile at his side profile, the way his hair moves against the breeze through his open window, the way his nose hooks ever so slightly, “he nursed my hangover.”

Brian’s lips seem to flick into a frown, but shift back into a smile before you could really register it, “Seems as though I’ve been replaced.”

You roll your eyes, “No one nurses my hangovers as well as you do, Bri, don’t worry.”

You giggle fondly at the memories of the both of you nursing each other through your hangovers, Brian always better at dealing with them than you were. He’d be up bright and early, pop two ibuprofen, down a cup of coffee and be well on his way to recovery. Whereas you’d sleep until noon and be unbelievably moody until eventually someone forced you to do something with your day.

Brain somehow always knew how to pull you out of those moods, though, whether it be bringing you a plate of pancakes and cracking stupid jokes until eventually you had no choice but to laugh, or by sitting with you in silence and pushing a glass of water and painkillers in your direction. He just always seemed to know exactly what you needed in the moment.

“I’d hope not,” he tuts, “otherwise I’d have to find another hobby, and I quite like taking care of you.”

Your breath catches, skin burning, but you play it off with a scoff, “You make me sound like a child.”

He laughs, a bellowing laugh that you always love to hear, “A child? Certainly not. Children swear a hell of a lot less.”

“Fuck off!” you swat his shoulder lightly but can’t help your grin. It feels good to fall back into the rhythm of normalcy with Brian.

The sun is high when you reach the park, the sky a bright blue except for a few sparse clouds. The two of you walk silently to the pond, laying out the blanket on a soft patch of grass.

“I know you already ate,” Brian says as he sits down on the blanket, “but I bought a packet of custard creams because I know you like them.”

The small gesture makes you embarrassingly happy, grinning at him as he passes you the packet, “You can never be too full for biscuits, you know that.”

“Very true,” he smiles at you almost in adoration, you think, “I also got a bag of bird seed because people still feed the ducks bloody bread.”

You hum as you bite into a custard cream, staring into space as you get lost in thought. Spring weather in London is one of your favourites, when the sun shines just enough to warm your skin, but you still have to cosy up a bit. And today, it’s the perfect temperature for a picnic.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” Brian begins, opening up a sandwich for himself and taking a bite, “Since the band doesn’t have to start recording again for a bit, we should all go on a road trip somewhere.”

You look over at him, eyebrows raised, “Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Wales maybe? I just thought a change of scenery might help us all write new songs.”

Nodding your head slowly, your lips twitch up into a smile, “I’d love that. Have you mentioned it to the boys yet?”

“Briefly, and they seemed to like the idea, but no plans have been made.”

You hum, “Well, let’s set the date and they’ll just have to clear their schedules.”

Brian laughs, “Alright, next thursday. We can stay until Monday.”

“Perfect.”

The two of you chat for a while longer, before packing up the basket and walking alongside the pond, throwing bird seed for the ducks and laughing as they all fight for the same pieces.

It feels so idyllic, walking through the park with Brian. It seems to be all couples here today, holding hands or staring at each other with looks of adoration on their faces. It almost makes you feel queasy. Perhaps it’s just eating those custard creams right after eating lunch with Roger. Either way, your stomach twists and leaps with too many indescribable feelings. You wish it would stop.

Brian tips the last bits of bird food out of it’s bag, before scrunching it up and putting it in his pocket. You both watch as the birds eat the remaining seed, before looking up at you for more. Once they realise there’s nothing else for them, they drift gracefully away, to the opposite side of the pond where someone else may feed them some more.

Then you continue your stroll, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your faces and the crisp air in your lungs.

But then Brian looks down at his watch, swearing underneath his breath and turning to face you, “Y/N, I’m so sorry but I’m going to have to cut this short.”

Your eyebrows furrow into a frown, “Is everything alright?”

You both begin to walk in the direction of his car, “Everything’s fine, I just forgot I have to meet someone in an hour.”

Your stomach drops. Brian never usually says ‘someone’. His friends are your friends and you’d always refer to them by name. ‘Someone’ means someone you’ve never met, and almost always it means a girl.

“Oh, okay,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, “that’s totally fine!” you force a wide smile.

He grins back at you as you both get into his car, “I’ll make it up to you, love.”

You return his smile, but deep down you know. He said that earlier, too.

Soon you’re back at your flat, waving goodbye to Brian from your doorstep and letting your smile drop into a frown as he drives away.

The clock reads 4 o’clock when you reach your bedroom, sighing deeply as you get changed into comfier clothes and slump down on your sofa with a cup of tea.

God, it’s so tiring.

The sun is still high outside, your favourite aspect of spring and summertime, the longer days, but tonight you almost wish it was late so that you could fall asleep and not have to think about Brian.

But alas, he swirls around your brain as you stir your tea, looking down into the cup as it whirlpools. You wonder if Brian could be seeing the girl he went home with last night, or someone else. You don’t want to wonder, you’re not even sure if you actually want to know who it is. It would push you into the deep darkness of insecurity, and you’d compare every aspect of yourself to whomever it is.

So instead, you flick the telly on and melt mindlessly into the arms of whatever is on, not even really focussing on it.

Monday morning, you’re at work again, typing up documents all day as you’d usually be doing. The monotony could kill you, and your fingers hurt from the stiff keys of the typewriter. It’s times like these where you feel envious of your best friends’ profession- for the boys of Queen, monotony is never an issue. They can complain about recording studios all they want, but they would never dare to wish for your job, and they know that.

You asked your boss early if you could get Thursday to Monday off, and by some sheer miracle he had agreed, but not without massaging your shoulders in a way that made your skin crawl. It was one of the biggest downsides about working in an office amongst mostly men. While they spent their days barely working, and instead drinking the day away together while playing mini golf in their offices, you worked until your fingers went numb and the back of your neck felt like it was being jabbed with fifty needles. Yet they still believed they were entitled to touching you whenever they liked.

Either way, you had managed to get a few days off to go on a road trip with all of your best friends, and that’s what keeps you going throughout the week. You daydream about exploring castle ruins and walking along the beach with Brian, allowing yourself to dip your toes into the idea of a relationship. While you were confined within four blank office walls, the thought of Brian kept you sane.

He phoned you two days after your picnic, confirming that the boys had all agreed to a road trip and booked a hotel for Thursday afternoon. Things were all going smoothly, even as you packed your bag on Wednesday evening in preparation to set off early the next morning. You float happily around your flat, humming along to your records and planning out outfits for the trip. When you fall into bed that night, you can barely wait for dawn to break.

But as they always say, be careful what you wish for. Because when you step out onto your front steps on Thursday morning, bags in hand and a grin like the sun, you notice not one, but two cars. Brian’s and John’s. Your smile falters, you thought you were all squeezing into Brian’s car?

“Y/N!” Freddie exclaims when he sees you, rushing to help with your bags and put them in the boot of Brian’s car, “God, I’ve missed you, darling!”

You pull him into a tight embrace, “I’ve missed you too. You don’t have time for me anymore with all your wild parties.”

He scoffs, “If only you’d attend them, lovie, then we’d see each other more!”

You roll your eyes playfully and look around at the two cars. The driver’s seat of Brian’s car opens, a small but almost seemingly nervous smile on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he scratches the back of his neck, “how are you?”

You narrow your eyes, and you feel Freddie’s body language stiffen beside you as if he knows something you don’t.

“I’m alright?” You reply as a question, curious to why everyone seems so nervous.

“Good, good,” he nods, inhaling before saying, “You wouldn’t mind sitting in the back seat, would you? Natasha already took the passenger side.”

Your lips part slightly, realisation setting in. He brought a girl.

You turn to Freddie in silent shock, asking with your eyes what the hell is happening? He leans over to whisper quietly, “I offered to take your place and you sit with Rog and John, but Brian was adamant.”

You gulp, turning back to where Brian stands, “Sure, that’s fine.”

He grins, sitting back in the driver’s seat. You turn to Freddie, eyes like a deer in headlights. A five hour drive. With Brian and his possibly girlfriend. He pats your shoulder, giving you another hug before getting into John’s car.

You have no choice but to slip into the backseat, sighing into the leather. The radio is already on, all the windows down to let in the cool early morning air. You glance to the front of the car where a woman sits in the passenger side. You can see her face in the wing mirror, insecurity eating away at you already as you examine her. She’s gorgeous, with thick auburn curls that frame a sharply defined face. You can even see that her eyes are a taunting shade of emerald green.

Clearing your throat. You lean forward and hold your hand out, forcing a smile on your face, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

She turns to glance at you, but not before giving you a once over, sharp lips not so much as twitching into a smile. She takes your hand into a weak handshake, shaking once before letting go and letting her hand rest back into her lap.

“Natasha.” She says bluntly. You glance over to Brian as he drives, waiting for him to react in some sort of way at the way you’ve been greeted, but instead you’re met with his usual kind smile and eyes that gleam with blissful ignorance.

You sniff awkwardly, leaning back into your seat and getting comfortable against the window. You can see Natasha staring at you in the wing mirror, but you try your best to ignore it. It practically sears your skin, making you squirm in your seat. You hated feeling intimidated by people, absolutely despised it, but Natasha was everything you weren’t. She had Brian. And the passenger seat.

The radio fades into one of your favourite songs, one of Brian’s too, The Air That I Breathe by The Hollies. You’d often drive with the windows down, belting out the lyrics and laughing at who could sing the loudest. The memory brings a smile to your face.

“I love this song, can you turn it up-”

“God, I hate this song,” Natasha interrupts, “I didn’t even like it when it came out three years ago.”

Brian looks torn, eyes flickering to you in the rearview mirror. You challenge his gaze, narrowing your eyes ever so slightly to gauge his next move. Your stomach sinks as he drops your gaze in guilt, flicking to the next station.

The smug look on Natasha’s face just adds salt to your wound, her eyes like a snake’s, sly and dangerous. In that moment you decide that your best friend must be an absolute idiot. You also decide that you really, really don’t like Natasha.

Five hours does not go by in a flash, much to your dismay, and you’ve had to listen to Brian gush over Natasha for the majority of the ride. Even when you all stopped halfway to get snacks, Brian came to your side when Natasha went to the bathroom, nudging your shoulder with a dopey smile on his face.

“Isn’t she something?” He asks as you pull a few bags of crisps off of a shelf. You try your best to bite your tongue. After all, as long as Brian is happy, you’re happy.

“She’s definitely something.” You reciprocate his smile, albeit forced.

“I think you and her will be great friends.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. Even if you wanted that, Natasha made it very clear that she did not want anything of the sort. How could Brian be so unaware of the dynamic that took place between you and her? Are men really that thick? You can barely believe it. For someone as intelligent as Brian, he’s being incredibly dense.

But regardless, you nod, “Totally.”

Natasha steps out of the bathroom and makes her way over to where the two of you stand, completely ignoring your presence, “Let’s go to the car.”

She grabs Brian’s arm, and before you can so much as complain, the food Brian had grabbed is dropped in your arms, leaving you alone to pay. Your eyes follow them as they leave, hand in hand as they laugh. They look good together, you can admit that. Two perfect people.

You sigh, turning to glance around the small petrol station shop, shaking your head to yourself and going to pay for yours and Brian’s snacks.

And then the remaining two hours or so blur by as you lean yourself against the window, blocking out the sound of Brian and Natasha’s conversations and simply watching the world pass you by. You try to think of the green grass, the blue morning sky, the yellow sunflower fields that you pass.

Brian’s hand rests on her thigh and he looks at her with something like a sparkle in his eyes. Suddenly you wish you stayed home. Maybe if you’d caught a cold or your boss didn’t give you time off this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like your heart is being torn out of your chest. Maybe then you could have ignored the fact that Brian has got a new woman in his life.

Once you pull into the hotel car park behind the rest of Queen, you nearly jump out of the car, immediately taking your bags out of Brian’s car, “What’s the room situation?” you ask Roger when he steps out of John’s car.

“Don’t get too excited,” Roger winks playfully, “Nah, we have our own rooms, apart from them.” he nods towards Brian.

You lean in to give him a pathetic hug, leaning heavily on his shoulder as you quietly groan, “I don’t even have the energy to tell you to fuck off right now.”

He laughs, gripping your shoulders tightly, “You look like you need a drink. Or a nap.”

“Or both.” you retort.

Brian and Natasha walk up to where you stand, Natasha plastering a fake smile on her face as she greets Roger, “Roger, I didn’t realise that Y/N was your latest fling, how sweet.”

Roger tenses, as do you. Now she’s insulted both of you in one. But just as you’re about to speak your mind, Roger tightly wraps his arms around your shoulder, “Actually, Y/N’s my girl.”

You glance up at him in shock, lips parted and eyes wide. You turn back to Natasha, noticing that Brian is staring at you with a look of shock on his face, maybe betrayal? You’re not sure, but he looks angry. His fist clenches at his side absentmindedly.

And that makes you angry. Even if you were actually dating Roger, what does that have to do with him? So you decide to put a wide smile on your face, lifting your arms to hold Roger’s around your shoulders. You don’t speak, but your actions say it all. You giggle, melting into his embrace. It feels strange, but Roger and you are close enough to know that this is fine.

Freddie and John walk over, looks of confusion on their faces, but decide to stay out of it when they see the looks on Natasha and Brian’s faces.

“You’re seeing each other?” Brian asks incredulously, ignoring Natasha’s presence beside him.

“That’s right,” Roger replies before you can, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Natasha laughs, “It is.”

Roger’s grip tightens around you. You recognise this side of him, the fierce protectiveness he feels over his friends. Roger has been known to get into fights if someone speaks badly about his friends. He simply won’t tolerate it.

His actions are strictly platonic, but he’s not going to let someone speak badly of you. Especially not Natasha, now that he knows about the way you feel about Brian.

“And why is that?” He grits his teeth, and you squeeze his arm gently to communicate that it’s okay. You don’t need his protection, you can manage.

“Well,” Natasha begins, and you glance at Brian’s expression. He stares directly at you, gaze unfaltering. He isn’t even hearing what is being said, “You usually tend to go for much more...visually appealing women.”

Ouch.

You’re not gonna lie, that hit you right in the ego. It’s not as if you had much confidence before anyway.

That’s when Brian breaks his stare to look at Natasha, a dumbfounded look on his face, “What-”

But Roger interrupts, anger prevalent in his tone, “I don’t think you’re one to gauge who’s visually appealing and who isn’t, Natalie.”

You hold back a giggle, albeit a hurt one, trying to hide your pain behind an unbothered smile. But you fear that your body betrays you as you tilt your head down, hands dropping from Roger’s arm to cross over your stomach.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but Freddie intercepts, “Alright! Okay, we should go find what rooms we are in and freshen up. I need a beauty nap.”

You’re thankful for Fred, giving him a discreet nod to which he responds with a wink. You take one last look at your supposed best friend, Brian, not a trace of sympathy for him on your face. How could he not defend his best friend of years from his girlfriend he’s probably only known for a couple weeks at most?

Baffled and dejected, your feet move mindlessly along with Roger as he steers the both of you into the hotel, muttering underneath his breath, “Dick.”

“Who?” you whisper.

“Brian.”

You say nothing. You know it’s true, but it hurts a hell of a lot when your own best friend doesn’t stick up for you.

Roger follows you into your hotel room when you reach it, watching as you flop into the soft white sheets with a long, weary sigh.

Roger sits at the end of your bed, “Natasha’s a right pain in the arse.”

You sit up, hair mussed and eyes tired, “I meant to ask, have you met her before?”

He nods with a wince, “Unfortunately. She’s like that all the time. It’s baffling that Brian hasn’t noticed it yet. The lad’s usually quite level-headed.”

You nod with a hum, staring out of the window behind him. You get most in thought momentarily, thinking about the way Brian was so truly oblivious to the way Natasha acted. He’s almost gotten into bust ups with men at bars who have disrespected you, but it seems to be okay when Natasha does it. Maybe love really is blind. The idea of them in love makes your guts churn.

“Anyway,” Roger starts, standing up, “You should take a nap. I’ll come to wake you up in a couple hours for dinner, alright?”

You smile, “Thanks, Rog. For everything.”

He shoots you a cheeky wink, “Anytime, love.”

So you gladly lay down in the cool white sheets once Roger is out the door, staring up at the ceiling until eventually you let your eyelids flutter closed.

Two hours later, you’re up, bathed, and dressed, fiddling with the hem of your midnight blue dress in the mirror.

Insecurity eats away at you each time your eyes scrutinise yet another perceived flaw. As much as you hate to admit it, Natasha’s words echo around in your mind. She’s right, you're not visually appealing. How could you be, when Brian won’t even look twice at you as more than a friend.

A knock sounds at your door, Roger’s voice coming soon after, “Are you ready, love?”

You snap out of your trance, pushing all the self-hatred aside to open the door. Plastering a wide smile on your face, you take his arm in yours.

He raises a brow.

“I’m not the one who told everyone we were dating,” you lightly pat his arm, “so hold tight, loverboy.”

You meet the group outside by the cars once again, John leaning up against the side of his car and Freddie perched gracefully on the bonnet. Brian and Natasha however, are nowhere to be seen. You frown and ask Freddie where they are.

“Not a clue, my dear. If they aren’t down in five minutes I’m leaving without them.”

As if on queue, the couple in question walk out of the revolving doors. Brian’s face is flushed, Natasha’s smug. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they’re late.

You catch eyes with Brian and watch, hurt, as he looks away bashfully. Your chest pangs, just a bit, as you glance down at your dress for distraction.

Roger squeezes your arm comfortingly, “Do you want to ride with us?”

You shake your head, “Would it be bad if I said I wanted to keep an eye on them?”

He smiles, “Cheeky.”

You force a tight smile.

In all honesty, you aren’t quite sure if you’ll be fine, but when you take another look at Natasha’s smirk, you let your anger be the driving force that pushes you into the back seat of Brian’s car.

Luckily, they seem to behave themselves while you’re in the car. Well, Brian does. Natasha often tries to place her hand on his thigh, but he always pushes it off. You notice that something has changed since the drive earlier, a shift in Brian’s mood. He’s more bashful than ever, staying practically silent with his cheeks seemingly tinged pink permanently.

Eventually, Natasha gives up with a huff, crossing her arms and looking out the window as the radio hums a tune none of you are paying attention to. Brian is looking straight at the road, and you’re watching him as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. The sun is just beginning to set beside him, silhouetting his face like an eclipse. He’s so beautiful, even when you’re annoyed with him, and even when he looks annoyed himself.

He pulls into the car park, killing the engine and turning around to face you in his seat. You furrow your eyebrows as he stares, “What-”

“Nat, could you give us a minute?”

“But-”

“I’ll meet you in the restaurant.”

She stares at him baffled, looking at you and back to him, before rolling her eyes and getting out of the car. She slams the door and beelines to the entrance, leaving the rest of the boys no choice but to follow her. Roger shoots you a concerned look through the window, to which you return a reassuring smile. It does nothing to reassure yourself, though, as Brian’s fiery gaze is pointed directly at you.

The car remains silent as both of you challenge each other to see who will speak first. You stand your ground and hold his glare, crossing your arms in defiance. He speaks up,

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Rog were together?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, so that’s what this is about?

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, turning away from you to look out of the window, “I don’t know, maybe because you’re my best friend and he’s my bandmate?”

“Why does that matter?” You challenge.

He just shakes his head with a spiteful chuckle, dodging the question, “Roger doesn’t date.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just going to leave you for another woman, or worse, he’ll just do it behind your back.”

“And I suppose you’re any better?”

Your words are harsh, and you regret them the minute they came out. Especially when he turns to look at you with a flash of hurt in his eyes. Brian’s had his own share of infidelity, but he’s always felt guilty over it, as if it haunts him. You suddenly feel sick. He confided in you and you’ve just thrown it back at him.

Without another word, he opens his door and steps out, slamming the door behind him. You watch as his figure retreats into the restaurant, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Shit.

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes momentarily. You stand on trembling legs and make your own way into the venue, fingernails digging into your palms.

Everyone is already sitting at the table when you join them, so you take your place in between Roger and John. Both of them look equally concerned, Roger’s eyes flickering to Brian across the table. You dare to glance up to where he’s glaring, fiddling with the tablecloth. His upper lip twitches like it always does when he’s angry, a tick that only you’ve ever noticed about him. His warm hazel eyes seem cold, but you can almost see the flames behind them. He’s pissed. More than pissed.

Roger unwittingly adds fire to the flame when he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Everything alright, love?”

You look at Brian once more, his napkin now clenched in his fist, you turn to Roger to whisper, “I think he’s mad.”

Roger chuckles, “You think? The bloke looks like he wants to castrate me.”

“I think he probably does.” You sigh.

Thankfully, always the life-saver, Freddie begins reenacting a run in he had with a fan in a public toilet the other day, and everyone begins loosening up. Well, except for Brian. He’s pretty much silent throughout dinner. Even when Natasha tries to pat his arm or whisper something in his ear, he keeps the same disgruntled look upon his face. You find yourself becoming angrier with every passing moment.

Who does Brian think he is? How can he let his girlfriend walk all over you, then he insults you, and then he somehow has the right to be angry with you?

It’s bullshit, and you shoot daggers at him over your dessert. You don’t even want it. It’s your favourite and everything.

You turn to John, ever the organised one, “Hey, do you know what we’re doing tomorrow?”

He tilts his chin up and chews on one side of his mouth as he thinks, “I think we planned to visit Conwy Castle.”

You nod, humming, “Cool.”

It’s only the first night, and the trip still has five more days, but you find yourself anxious to return home. Especially in the dim lights of a small Italian restaurant as Brian stares at you with that unforgiving gaze, you wish to be anywhere but.

Brian and Natasha left before everyone else, skipping their coffee and choosing to head back to the hotel. They didn’t so much as question how you’d be getting back. Instead, they left you with the remaining three Queen boys, all of their curious eyes on you.

They want answers, you can see it on their faces. It’s the first moment all of you have had together without Brian and Natasha there and they want to know what the bloody hell is going on.

You shake your head at their silence, taking one final bite of your dessert, “Don’t ask me anything, because I don’t have a fucking clue.”

You huff as you flop back onto the bed. It’s far past sunset, and your hotel room is dim except for the orange glow of the street lights outside your window. Roger, John and Freddie decided to go find some sort of bar to finish the evening, but you asked them to drop you off at the hotel so that you could sleep. Except you couldn’t, your mind wired with so many thoughts of Brian that you couldn’t so much as close your eyes. You decided that staring up at the ceiling wasn’t helping, instead it was making the thoughts worse, so you got out of bed and walked to the balcony and stared out over the sea, letting the cold air of the night nip at your bare skin.

Just as you close your eyes, there’s a knock at the door, echoing through the sound of the waves in the distance. The tiny clock at the side of your bed reads just past midnight as you pad through the dark to get to the door.

You open it a crack, “Who is it?” you ask gently.

“Brian.”

Your pulse jumps slightly as you open the door the rest of the way and take in his appearance. His eyes are tired and sunken, his hair mussed as if he’d been tugging on it. You wonder if it was him who tugged on it, or someone else, but based on the way his head is bowed, you don’t think anything of the sort happened.

“Hi,” you gulp, treading lightly, ashamed of the words you threw at him earlier this evening, yet anger still fizzles within you softly.

“Hi,” he breathes, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “did I wake you?”

“No,” you shake your head, “couldn’t sleep.”

“Neither.”

“Is Natasha awake?”

He pauses, looking at the floor and then back at you, “She’s asleep.”

You nod, quiet after his response. What now?

“Do you...want to come in?”

You step aside after he nods, quietly walking through the doorway and into the dimness of your room, and then out onto the balcony. You follow, mind racing a million miles a minute, watching his back as he leans against the railing.

You join him, staring out at the starry reflection of the moon against the sea, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He turns to look at you, though you don’t return his glance. Instead you bask in his gaze upon your face as the wind flutters through your hair and the moon glitters against your skin.

“It is,” he whispers, his own hair rustled by the wind as he continues to stare at you.

Neither of you speak for a while, just watching the water as it shimmers like diamonds, though you’re both aware of the words unsaid and the words that were. But for a few moments the two of you decided to ignore the rift between you, and instead let the soft silver gleam of the moon heal your aching hearts.

But things must not go unsaid for too long or they will fester, and you’re the first to speak, “Why’d you come see me, Bri?”

He sighs, looking down at his hands, “I came to say sorry. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about Rog, he’s a good guy.”

You stare at him for awhile, “He is a good guy,”

Brian’s eyebrows seem to fall, which causes your own to furrow. You continue, “but did you mean what you said?”

He looks into your eyes and you know instantly that he did. The only reason he’s come to apologise is because he upset you.

“I did.”

Though it angers you, you admire his honesty. You can’t be so frank with him, you’d end up spilling your feelings.

“Is it so unbelievable that someone like Roger would like someone like me?”

It feels odd talking about Rog as if he’s actually your boyfriend, but you’re hurt. Natasha’s earlier words cut like a knife, and hearing Brian think the same would cut like no other.

“That’s not what I meant at all. You’re just…” he trails off and looks back at the sea, shaking his head.

“I’m what?”

“You’re...perfect. You’re too good for someone who will hurt you”

The sound of the wind fills your silence, a sense of confusion and joy fluttering in your stomach. You wish you could tell him that you appreciate his concern, but he’s been the one hurting you all this time. However it’s not his fault, and you remain quiet. He called you perfect.

You search his face for any sign of anything, any twitch of his brow that might give anything away, but he’s stoic as always.

“But you can’t be the one to make that decision for me.” you breathe, choosing to ignore what he said. Perhaps you’re scared of him taking it back, or claiming it was nothing. You want to hold onto the very feelings you feel now, after Brian has called you perfect underneath the moonlight.

“I know.” he sighs, looking down at his hands. You’ve always loved his hands, his long slender fingers that are often adorned with a couple silver rings, usually on his pinky finger. You’d often imagined the way they might feel against your bare skin, but each time you dared to delve into that idea, you quickly shut it down.

The fact that you’ve been lying to Brian about Roger makes you feel wretched, eating away at your insides as you chew on your bottom lip. It feels as though you’re seeing a bit more of Brian’s private thoughts, and he’s only shared them with you because he thinks you’re dating Roger.

The confession is right there on the tip of your tongue, a loud exclamation of truth ready to erupt from inside of you, “Brian-”

“-Y/N” he begins at the same time, and immediately all courage is lost. The boiling truth returns to a simmer, and your racing heart begins to still.

You both chuckle, a sense of normalcy returning for the first time tonight as he scratches the back of his neck, “You first.”

Shaking your head, you give him a small smile, “Not important, you go.”

He nods, taking a breath as if to build his courage back up, turning his body to face you entirely. You do the same, concerned at the sudden seriousness that’s returned to his face. You watch in silence as he takes yet another deep breath, the dread inside of you intensifying.

“I…” he begins, and you want to grab him by the shoulder and shake, tell him to spit it out already because you feel nauseated.

“It’s terrible of me to say this, and I know I have no right whatsoever to do so, but...I don’t want you to date Roger.”

You’re taken aback by his blatant request, baffled at why he is so against the idea of you and Roger being together, “Why not?”

He looks just as irritated as you, all civility that you’d built up just moments before knocked down like a house of cards. It’s as if the idea of you not listening to his request infuriates him, and in return that makes you equally angry.

“I told you before.”

“But we agreed that this isn’t your decision.”

At this point, you aren’t sure why you’re continuing to act as if Roger is your boyfriend. Perhaps you’ve let it go too far and to confess now would damage your dignity. Or maybe you want to see how far Brian is willing to go with his request. Surely he won’t force the two of you apart.

“It’s not my decision, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?!” you raise your voice. This conversation is going in the complete wrong direction, but you can’t seem to stop it, or stop yourself. The two of you are both passionate people always speaking for what they believe in, and in this case you are on opposing sides. Like fire and ice, or darkness and light, the two of you battle against each other.

“Yes! Uncomfortable!”

“Go on then, explain to me why it makes you so uncomfortable.”

“He’s my bandmate-”

“And why does that matter?”

“You’ll be a distraction!”

“I’ve known you all for years, and suddenly now that I’m dating one of you, I’m a distraction? Nice, Brian.”

He goes to speak, but you interrupt, “And what about Natasha, huh? Is she not a distraction? Or is it just me then?”

“She doesn’t come to the studio with us like you do.”

“You were the one who told me that you love when I come to the studio.”

He looks flustered, “I do, but-”

“You’re not making any sense,” you say, exasperated, “what is the big deal about me dating Roger?”

He doesn’t answer, instead staring at you with a burning intensity behind his caramel irises. A siren blares in the distance and a cloud sheathes the moon in a grey cast. It’s as if his answer is in his eyes, but you just can’t catch it. You’re both speaking two different languages.

“I should go,” he says finally.

Muddled thoughts race through your head. You want to say so many things but nothing comes out, your mind a jumbled mess of intertwined wires. Goddamnit, Y/N, say something.

He turns to walk through the hotel room, and you have no choice but to watch his back as he retreats. But then he stops in his tracks, turning to look at you once more. He has hurt written across his face, you can see it even in the darkness.

“Where is Roger, by the way?”

He tilts his head to the side, challenging you to answer him. You stare in silence, no answer on your tongue.

He nods, his own point proven to himself as he goes to turn back around, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

#omg omg omg #here it is #it's taken too long #part 1 #!!!!#brianmayxreader #Brian May #fem!reader #angst #slowburn #fic #queen #i have no excuses #Give It All For You

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waiting-for-motivation · 4 years ago

Text

nothing

summary: (Y/n) is supposed to watch over BB8, but nothing seems to go as planed. When Poe returns from his mission, he is face to face with his anxious crush and a very scratched droid.

pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader, BB8 x Reader

warnings: fluff, bee being a little crackhead

words: 1244

a/n: inspired by me playing battlefront II and accidentally killing BB8 by rolling him over a cliff...

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

"What do you mean Poe likes me? Don't be silly, little bee." The female looks up from her book and raises an eyebrow at the white and orange droid. He tilts his head to the side as if he wants to say: It's obvious he likes you.

Because the droid turned her attention away from her book, (Y/n) sets it aside and leaves the comfort of her bed. The droid follows her, every step she takes. Together they leave her room, greet a few people in the corridors and then enter the canteen.

Before BB8 can go inside, the automatic door closes in the exact moment the droid is in between. A screeching noise scares (Y/n) and as she turns around, the droid she should be watching and taking care off, is in between two heavy metal doors.

Quickly, she runs to him and helps her white and orange friend out of the danger.

"Be more careful, little bee. If Poe sees only one scratch on you, he will literally kill me!" The droid beeps apologetically and follows the female to one of the bars where she gets her food.

On their way to a table, BB8 bumps into a man who empties his hot soup on the droid. (Y/n) sighs, puts down her tablet and kneels in front of her friend. She wipes the soup away with some tissues as best as she can. The man who the soup belonged to, walks away without another word and ignores the chaos.

"That's exactly why I prefer droids", the female sighs and wipes a noodle away that covered one of BB8’s cameras. "There you go, bee."

(Y/n) sits down and starts eating her food while watching the droid talk to everyone around them. Some ignore him while others smile at him and pet his still soupy head.

After some time, BB8 comes back to his friend. He starts beeping.

You know he loves you, right? He says your name when he is sleeping and don't get me started on our missions. It's always like: I can't wait to see (Y/n) when I'm back. She would love this planet. I should ask her if she would like to join me on my next mission.

(Y/n) laughs because she knows that BB8 is only making fun of her. No matter how nice it would be to have Poe Dameron fallen in love with her, it's not reality. She is just the person he comes to, when he needs someone to watch his droid.

After the female put the tablet and dishes away, they leave the canteen.

"Hey, little bee. The last one outside is a loser", she says with a huge grin on her lips and starts running. The droid follows as fast as he can. Because of her advantage, (Y/n) is the one leading but as they reach the exit, the droid rolls past her.

"Hey!" She watches in shock as the droid rolls too fast over the stairs, flies through the air and lands on his head. Unluckily, BB8 loses his head and lays motionless on the stony ground.

He beeps quietly. Loser.

Once again (Y/n) runs to the little droid and puts him together, hoping nothing important is broken. The droid tilts his head from side to side and gives her a happy beep.

"Poe will definitely kill me."

They go back to (Y/n)s room because she needs to fix the scratches on her metal friend. As if on purpose, BB8 hits a few corners from time to time.

Now, they are in her rooms, sitting on the floor. (Y/n)s back is facing the door while the droid is telling her that maybe a few patches will cover up is injuries.

"You don't need patches, bee. You are a droid. The only thing that could save me from my inevitable death is your paint. But the only person owning such is Poe himself."

Silence fills the room. BB8 rolls through the room, looking for something that could help. But actually hitting everything he can see so that Poe might find the courage to talk to you. On his way he gets caught in (Y/n) bedsheets.

"What is that?", a male voice asks and (Y/n) immediately stands up and turns around, facing the pilot Poe Dameron himself.

"Nothing."

"Well, it doesn't look like nothing."

Poe walks to his beloved droid and helps him out of the sheets that smell so heavenly like (Y/n). He stares in shock at the droid with his scratches and even a few patches on his back.

"What happened to you?", he asks the little droid. The pilot kneels down and turns BB8 around so that he can see every little scratch. He is still wearing his flight suit, the arms tied together around his waist. It seems like the pilot didn‘t bother changing his clothes and instead went straight to (Y/n). On other days she would have admired the beauty of Poe Dameron.

"It was my fault. At first, he got caught between a door. Then I wasn't watching him, and he bumped into this idiot who spilled soup over him. On our way outside, I motivated him to chase me, and he hit the ground really hard. I'm so sorry, Poe", the female says with teary eyes and watches as Poe walks to her. He doesn't look angry. There is softness in his brown eyes.

(Y/n) closes her eyes because she fears the next words of the pilot. But instead of screaming at her and cursing, he places both his hands at each side of her face. By the time the female opens her eyes again, she is face to face with the handsome man. He is smiling at her like an idiot who fell in love. And that‘s exactly what he is, truly and utterly in love with the girl in front of him.

"Don‘t worry. He looked worse and I‘m pretty sure this little shit hurt himself on purpose, so I have to talk to you“, the pilot says with a short glance towards his beloved droid. BB8 beeps shyly, rolls back to the bed and hides underneath the blanket on the floor. (Y/n) and Poe laugh. When they lock eyes again, silence fills the room.

"I‘m glad he did it.“ Poe bits his lower lips and lets his gaze wander from the females (e/c) eyes to her lips. Not even he knows how many times he thought about pressing his own lips to her soft ones. In his dreams he takes every chance of kissing (Y/n), but right now he hesitates. "Because today I may have the courage to…“

Poe can‘t finish his sentence because (Y/n) already presses her whole body against his. Her soft lips finally touch his in a sweet kiss. While his hands stay on her cheeks, she lets her hands wander from his chest to his hips and back. Finally, one hand finds it‘s place on his neck.

Their lips move as if they were made for each other. At first (Y/n)s lips feel like the touch of a butterflies wings but then the kiss gets more intimidate and intense. Now and then they part to breathe but the second their lungs are filled with air, their lips hug each other again.

A happy beep from BB8 who finally managed to escape the blanket halfway, interrupts their shared kiss. Both look at the droid with huge smiles on their lips.

"Thanks, buddy.“

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron oneshot #poe dameron fluff #bb8 x reader #bb8 #bb8 fluff #star wars #oscar isaac

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

Text

Marry Me - J. Toews

Song inspiration: Marry Me by Jason Derulo

Warning: swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 2066

Part 2

🎶105 is the number that comes to my head.

When I think of all the years I wanna be with you.

Wake up every morning with you in my bed.

That's precisely what I plan to do. 🎶

Your announcement that you accepted a position in Chicago, found a roommate, and leaving your hometown in the matter of 2 weeks didn’t go over well. You didn’t exactly care because you fell in love with Chicago the moment you stepped foot off the plane for the interview. Your best friend went with you to cover up the real motives and you two hit all the suggestions including the way too fancy for you restaurant. This is where you actually ran head first into him. Your head was down making your way to the restroom and he was turning the corner. You made your apologies and your eyes wandered up to the very tall handsome man who’s suit cost more the entire contents of your suitcase. You were sure of it.

“Sorry, my fault.” His fingers brushed your elbow as you scurried past him. Not even giving him a chance to continue. You could feel the pink in your cheeks before even hitting the door. It was a tell-tale sign how embarrassed you were about the run in. Collecting yourself and returning to your table you were attempting to act like you didn’t just physically run into the most handsome man you’ve set eyes on in real life.

“You good (y/n)?” Your bestie, Savannah, takes a long sip of her drink and takes in your mood change.

“Yup, just embarrassing myself like normal.” You pinch your nose and recount the run in...literally.

“Handsome man? Where?” Savannah pops up a bit from her seat to see if she can put eyes on this man. You were focused getting her to stop that when the server placed the drink on the table you physically jumped.

“From the gentleman over there. He sends his apologies.” The server brought your attention to the room off your best friend’s shoulder where the same man you ran into was standing drink in hand and raised it up towards you. You do the same and the silent squeal coming from Savannah’s mouth was only noticeable to you.

“I swear (y/n), if you don’t go thank that fine fine man I’m gonna for you!” You worked up all the nerve possible and walked towards him.

“Thank you for the drink but I really should be apologizing to you.” His smile was intoxicating.

“Call it even then? I’m Jon, and you are?” He puts out his hand to shake yours. You nervously wipe your palm on your dress and place your hand in his. His grip firm but gentle.

“(Y/N). Are you having a party or something?” You blurt out taking in the room behind him with maybe twenty similarly dressed men loudly joking around.

“Um, something like that. It’s a work thing.” You look down at your hands realizing he hasn’t let go of yours.

“So you are from around here?” You slip your hand out his. Shocked at how large they were.

“No, I work here. You?” His stare into your eyes is intense that you some how babble on about the job interview and possible move. He listens intently. “This may sound forward, but I would love to show you around if you get the job.”

“OH! That’s...wow...uh...how will you know?” You fumble realizing it and bringing your gaze down to your shoes that are kicking at the carpet.

“How about you give me your number and we can start from there?” His phone comes into view at your hand level. You nervously type in your number and name and hand it back.

Jon types away and smiles. “Well, (y/n), I’ll let you get back to your dinner and I’ll talk to you soon.” He reaches out again to pull your attention to his face before retreating to your respective tables.

“Your phone vibrated while you were gone.” Your best friend just looks down at your phone that was face down at the table and then back up to your pink cheeks.

“Yeah. I assumed Jon texted me.” You flip over the phone to find an unknown number.

Jon: Hi, this is Jon. The man you ran into. I’m hoping you respond to this after you finish your dinner.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face the next two weeks. The two of you texted back and forth and he was so excited when you sent him word about the job. He helped you find a roommate. One of his co-worker’s girlfriends. You were slightly concerned about rooming with a stranger but something about how Jon treated you made you trust him.

Jon met you and Savannah at your new place with some of his friends to help move you in. You didn’t have much by Kelly said you didn’t need much.

“We are going to go clean up and will meet you out to celebrate.” Jon side hugged you after finishing getting you settled. You and the girls fall on the couch and start talking.

“So they aren’t all from the US are they?” Savannah finally questions Kelly.

“Nope. Actually most of them aren’t.” Kelly just laughs.

“And what exactly do they do? Savannah continues.

“I was told not to disclose that information.” Kelly pops up and heads to change.

“What does that mean?” Savannah waits to hear Kelly’s door before blurting out.

“I don’t know.” You think Jon will tell you sooner or later.

“And how can the two of you afford this...in CHICAGO?” Savannah has moved to the view which you will admit was not what you were expecting.

“Again, I don’t know.” Kelly emerges as you finish your statement.

“Let’s go ladies!” She claps and you grab your bags and head to her car.

Jon is waiting for you on the sidewalk. You take in the third style you’ve seen him in. Suit, sweats, and now jeans and a button down that hugs him just enough. All makes him look so damn sexy. You shake the thought out of your mind. Savannah snags a pic of you and her before heading inside.

The first night in Chicago was amazing. Deep dish pizza even though Jon just got a salad, a bar for drinks, then back to your place. You hardly even looked at your phone but decided to step out to the patio to text your mom. The door was caught behind you and Jon was standing there.

“Want company?” He asks.

“Sure. Just texting my mom.” You finally look at your phone since before dinner. Your brother’s text notification on the screen

Brother: Why is the captain of the Blackhawks behind you in the snap Savannah sent me?

“OH!” You answer aloud

“Oh?” He questions.

“My brother says the captain of the Blackhawks was behind me in the picture Savannah sent. I didn’t even realize.” You click into snapchat and Jon’s hand stops you.

“So....” He grabs your phone and places it on the table.

“Jon, why did you do that?” You look up at him.

“I’ve got something to tell you.” You seem concerned but his soft expression doesn’t make you less worried.

“Ok, what is it?”

“Kelly told me Savannah asked what I did for a living.” Jon leans against the railing.

“Yeah. Said you wanted to tell me.” You lean about two feet from him.

“And I knew when I met you that you had no idea who I was or any of my coworkers.”

“Should I?” You question looking back at the gathering in your now living space.

“If you watched hockey, maybe.” He chuckles a little. “I am said captain your brother is talking about (y/n).” Jon’s hand covers yours.

“Holy shit!” You blurt out. “How...why...fuck. Sorry.” Jon laughs uncontrollably. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I was terrified what you might think. I like you (y/n). I’m not sure exactly how you feel about me.”

“I like you too. Which is weird because this is only the 2nd time we’ve seen each other.” You look up and Jon has closed the distance. His hand comes up to your face.

“And knowing what I do doesn’t scare you?”

“Why would it?” Your eyebrow raises.

“Some previous women only wanted to date me because of my status.” He admitted.

“Well that’s dumb.” You look into his eyes and he smiles.

“It is. Can I kiss you?” His thumb slides down your cheek. You nod because your heart is beating out of your chest and words were not forming. His lips grace yours and that’s where your relationship started.

That was two years ago and you two didn’t spend much time apart. The first summer you stayed in Chicago and you realized quickly when you met him in Winnipeg that you couldn’t ask him to stay in Chicago with you during summers. You loved seeing him home in his element. You moved in that August and found a job that was more freelance giving you a schedule that could bend around his season.

“I love that I get to wake up every morning to you.” Jon whispers in your ear one morning.

“You mean when you aren’t on the road.” You giggle.

“Yeah, but your face is the first I see on the road too.” His lips ghost yours. “Eventually my career will be over and we will be an old retired married couple.”

“Married couple huh?” You question as his body presses into yours.

“Not rushed, but yes. We will be retired in our 40s bugging the hell out of our kids.” You feel him growing between your bodies as he kisses your skin. The conversation left to explore each other.

🎶 Will forever be enough, so there ain't no need to rush.

But one day, I won't be able to ask you loud enough.

I'll say will you marry me.

I swear that I will mean it.

I'll say will you marry me.

How many girls in the world can make me feel like this?

Baby I don't ever plan to find out.

The more I look, the more I find the reasons why.

You're the love of my life.🎶

Your phone buzzes with a text while facetiming Savannah. Your weekly bestie time.

Jon: Wear the dress you wore the night we met and an Uber will pick you up at 7pm.

You: Okay? Any reason?

Jon: Trust me. Love you.

With that you went to the back of your closet to fish out the dress and got ready.

As promised the Uber was waiting for you when you left your shared condo.

“Where are we going?” You look up from your phone without the driver answering and realize you are heading towards the restaurant you first ran into Jon. He’s standing out front in the same suit he was wearing that night. Opening the door he holds his hand out for you.

“J, what are we doing here?” You eye your handsome boyfriend and he takes your arm in his and escorts you in. “No one is here Jon.” You look around at the normally packed restaurant.

“Well, I wanted to bring you back to the place we met.” He stops at the door where you gave him your number. “This is the place I realized I needed to know more about you.” His expression wasn’t one you’ve seen before.

“Same. I couldn’t stop smiling for two straight weeks.” You admit and he chuckles breathes in deep.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I to shout out it from the root top that you are mine.” He starts then reaches into his pocket. You gasp realizing exactly what was going on. He gets on one knee and holds your hand.

“I love you with my whole being. Would you make the the luckiest man on the world and be my wife?” He pops open the box with one hand to reveal the perfect engagement ring.

“YES!” You shout as he stands and kisses you passionately.

“Cannot wait to make you Mrs. Toews!” He places the ring on your left ring hand and you wipe the tear from his eyes.

“I love you Mr. Toews!” You breathe out as he pulls you in.

#Jonathan Toews fic #marry me one shot #k's one shots #first time writing for him #I kinda liked it #tazer me 19

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beholdme · 4 years ago

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2]

In the following weeks, as he sees Jon a few more times, Gerry's hair fades out and he looks rather more 'forest nymph' than 'American Gothic'.

So it's not much of a shock when the next time Jon catches sight of Gerry striding through the library stacks, his hair has been re-coloured. This time it's a smooth buttery yellow and Jon is struck by how young the warm, bright colour makes him look.

Gerry doesn't feel young though, he feels tired and bored and wrung out, and he wishes he had never agreed to take art commissions.

"It's only the one time!" Gertrude had insisted to a very put upon Gerry, very early in the morning. "And if he puts in a good word for you in his circles, your name will really be on the map in the art world."

Gerry wasn't particularly interested in being put on any maps, or being picked apart by rich, stuck up strangers, but he had agreed to try, mostly because Gertrude had put a lot of effort into making his passion for art an actual career and he felt like he owed her.

(He forgets, frequently, just how much of a commission she takes on the sales of his paintings).

So there he was, striding around the library at 7 am and desperately looking for exactly the right reference book. Unfortunately, it has been out of print for years, and Gerry can't seem to find a copy anywhere that won't cost him half a liver. He has the money now, but he refuses to pay half a month's rent to a second-hand retailer on principle.

Jon watches him skulk around for so long, (apparently forgetting that he is, in fact, a librarian) that Sasha comes out from her desk to ask Gerry if he's looking for something specific. She's wearing her big round glasses today and even indulged herself in her favorite waistcoat to beat the Monday blues.

"Why, yes." At this, Gerry looks directly up at Jon, where he is standing and watching him from the upper balcony level. Jon's face burns, and he ducks out of sight, but not earshot. "I do actually come here to borrow books, not boys." And he smartly feeds her the name of the reference book he has been hunting for almost an hour.

Sasha giggles at his antics, "We do have a copy of that, actually, but it's very popular. There's a waitlist; also it's checked out right now."

Gerry's whole demeanor sags and he sighs in defeat. "Guess I really will just have to order it off the internet, then." He eyes the stacks of books, old and new, looking vaguely betrayed.

"No!" Sasha's exclamation takes everyone a bit aback, being that they are in a library and all. "You know, my mate has this sweet little bookstore, and he loves hunting down rare copies of older books, he might have a copy?" She wrings her hands, eyebrows raised in question.

Gerry beams down at her, causing even stoic Sasha to blush and scurry off to get a piece of paper for the address.

They're already most of the way to the front desk by the time Jon realizes just which bookstore Sasha is busy recommending to the man he is dating , and just who owns that particular establishment.

By the time he manages to get downstairs to try to deflect the situation, Gerry is out the door, nothing left but the faint scent of oil paints and leather from his jacket.

***

Tim Stoker leaves Gerry feeling faintly dazed. By the time he stumbles out of the bookstore and into the tea room, elusive book in hand, he's forgotten everything he has ever known in the face of such intense flirting. And Gerry thought he was bad.

Throughout the whole episode at the library, the walk through Chelsea, and the exchange with Tim, Gerry had never once taken a moment to consider that Sasha's friend with a bookstore and Jon's Martin with a bookstore might be the same person.

He chooses to blame the lack of sleep and general disarray that is his life for the oversight.

Which is how, 9:30 in the morning, having been awake for almost 24 hours and completely finished, Gerry walks up to Martin in his tea room and says, "I'll have whatever is pink and in that jug, please. The biggest you've got."

Martin, of course, recognized him immediately. He would have recognized Jon's gothic childhood boyfriend from his social media stalking alone, but Jon's frantic texting was also a pretty big giveaway.

Martin: Relax, I don't bite clients this early in the morning. He's in safe hands with me.

Jon: HE KNOWS THINGS ABOUT ME. Besides, who's gonna stop him from biting you?

Martin: Whatever he has to tell me can’t possibly be worse than the office gossip I heard about you before we even meet.

Jon: W H A T

Now, here Gerry is before him, and he’s quite pleased with what he sees. Even tired and vaguely dazed, his presence in the little room carries a certain energy that Martin enjoys.

"Right away. Take a seat and I'll call you with it." Martin's voice is sweet, but gentle and firm, in a comforting sort of way. Through Gerry's sleepy haze, the instruction makes perfect sense, although he has neither paid nor offered a call name.

Gerry considers taking a seat on the plush bench that occupies one wall, before deciding that he desperately needs a cigarette, and wandering outside.

Technically he is only supposed to smoke at night when he's painting and needs just the right kind of boost, but he decides to call this one since he's on a painting-based errand when he's supposed to be sleeping.

"Gerry?" He turns toward the sound of his name, to find the barista offering him a large to-go cup of what he assumes is fruit ice tea. He frowns at having his name known (his new, much-preferred name, no less) and then frowns at a blonde, bespectacled man in a tea room attached to a bookstore.

His brain finally takes a moment to function, and he puts all the pieces together in an avalanche.

"Martin?" Far from his usual self-confident tone, the single word comes out in a squeak that would make even a toddler wince.

"Yes?" Martin returns the single word in the same solidly reassuring way, and even offers a happy smile.

"I didn't... I didn't recognize you."

"Would be pretty hard for you, considering this is the first we've ever met." Martin's voice is calming in a way that eases Gerry a bit, teasing and all.

"Thank you. For the tea, I mean." Gerry closes his eyes and desperately begs his shit to pull together for him, just this one time. "It's nice to finally meet you."

His hands are fully occupied with a book, a cup of tea, and a cigarette, but Martin doesn't seem particularly bothered by the lack of a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you too. We're giving Jon a heart attack by doing it without him."

"That is the lawful good," Gerry says, after a long drag of his smoke. "A panicked Jon is a happy Jon, after all. Whatever would he do with himself without a situation to unnecessarily complicate?"

"Yes, the man does seem to thrive on anxiety, doesn't he?" Martin asks warmly, eyes crinkling around a fond smile. "Speaking of, you seem pretty wrecked yourself. Good party, I hope."

Gerry's answering laugh has a razor edge, "Not hardly. This fucking painting I'm working on will be the death of me." Gerry lifts the reference book as proof of trauma and stabs out his cigarette viciously.

"Hmm, sounds like a pain. I hope you typically find art a more enjoyable career?" Martin asks, tilting his head inquisitively. His curly hair moves fetchingly and Gerry catches himself tracking the movement.

"Mostly, yes. Although I keep the bartending gig for variety. You'd be amazed at the sort of inspiration someone can find in the right drunk crowd." Gerry grins, thinking of all the ridiculous things he’d seen walk in and out of the bar in his run there.

"I'd be very interested to see what kind of art you can turn that into. Maybe you'd like to show me sometime?" Martin's words are open and friendly.

Gerry eyes him for a minute, hiding behind a long taste of his drink. He's trying to suss out Martin's motivations, for his kindness and general geniality. The drink is good and it tips Gerry's mood far enough back into cheerfulness that he shrugs off his considerations for the time being.

"You know what," Gerry quips back. "I think I would like to show you sometime. How 'bout tonight."

It's not a question really, with Gerry's typical force of personality behind it, and he leaves the shop with Martin holding an address in his hand and a time to drag Jon over for dinner that evening.

***

Gerry does not make a big deal of Martin coming over. He acts as if any other friend is coming over for dinner.

He tidies, a little. Lights a few candles. Wears pants. The bare minimum really.

He isn't trying to impress anyone, he tells himself sternly.

Except he is, obviously. He doesn't know Martin very well yet, but he does want to keep Jon around, and they are a packaged deal these days. Which he was happy with, truly.

In their limited interaction, Martin had been sweet and put Gerry instantly at ease. He knows, from many years of working a bar, how to spot a dipshit, and feels confident in his assessment of Martin's character.

But, it's his own character that concerns him. People don't always like Gerry past surface interactions. He can be tempestuous and moody, and catching him tired is a pretty bad idea. The combination of artist and mommy issues can be jarring.

He desperately wants those things to not bother Martin though. He wants Martin to like him, and he's not interested in putting on a show to make it happen.

It occurs to Gerry an hour before they're due that he doesn't even remotely know what takeout to order for dinner.

(He knows what Jon will eat, and he obviously knows what he likes, but what about Martin? Why didn't he ask this morning? Why didn't he ask Jon earlier?)

Gerry is just starting to really panic about all the life choices leading up to this moment, when he gets a text from an unknown number, instantly filling him with relief.

Martin: Since you're hosting this time, I'll grab the take-out. Jon says you like Thai, I'll bring that. You got the drinks covered?

Gerry: As long as you drink either coffee, vodka, or water, yes.

Martin: I'm sorry, I subsist only on the blood of virgins.

Gerry: Oh dear. I couldn't tempt you to settle for Earl Grey?

Martin: Hmmm, yes, I'll accept your offerings this time.

***

The first knock comes right on time. Gerry, dressed in his best paint-stained jeans and cherry blossom kimono, opens the door with a flourish.

Martin allows himself to be welcomed in and hands the food off to the dramatic artist, who deposits it on the table where he has already set the tea tray.

"No Jon? Not that I mind quality ‘us’ time, of course."

Martin is busy taking in the rambling studio space and barely spares the attention to respond, although he manages a blush at the flirty tone. "He's, uh, running late. Work stuff. You know Jon."

Gerry smirks at that. "I do indeed. Is it a 'stumble in at 3am' late, or 'we could probably wait to eat' late?"

"Hmmm? Oh, let's wait a bit? If you don't mind." Martin seems equally taken with his painting wall and his book wall and keeps trading his attention between the two. The paintings, being the larger attraction, eventually win, and he meanders over to study them closer.

"Do you keep all the completed paintings around?" His voice is soft and reverent, and Gerry feels a rush of pride for his work.

"For a while. I like to make sure they're in their final forms before I release them into the wild." Martin blinks big brown eyes at him, before grinning and giggling slightly.

"You're very talented. Jon said as much, showed me the pictures, but words and photos are nothing compared to seeing the real thing." Martin really regards his paintings as if they're special, and rather than the prickly feeling of appraisal he feels during gallery nights, it fills Gerry with warmth.

He turns to examine the wall himself. It's filled with an eclectic group at the moment. Large abstracts made by pouring paint and then layering designs over, three-dimensional pieces painted and then embroidered or quilled over in select places, including a particularly wild eye design. Surreal faces and scenes that seem realistic except for the wild subject matter of planets in meadows and chimeras going to battle.

"Is this what comes from your adventures in bartending?" Martin asks Gerry, turning from the wall and towards the slightly taller man.

"That, and my traumatic childhood." Gerry makes sure to laugh at the last, taking the edge off the small confession.

"Obviously." Martin offers.

"Obviously." Gerry accepts.

***

Gerry and Martin drink tea on the floor while they wait for Jon. Gerry gently prods Martin through the story of how he came to open the bookstore. The blonde man even softly confessing that he had to lie on his CV to get the librarian gig at Magnus.

"How old are you? How did you convince them you had a Master's degree?" Gerry is incredulous. Not that he doesn't think Martin could have an advanced degree. But in paranormal research? Gerry hadn't even known that was an option.

"That's the thing! I'm only 29 now . I worked there for five years!" Martin's voice pitches up in disbelief. "I'm still in shock that anyone ever brought it. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know?"

"I do, actually." Gerry shifts slightly, adjusting his balance with the long remembered urge to flee from those desperate times. He fiddles with his teacup to distract himself. He brought this particular set from a pawn shop because the filigree and florals appealed to his love of colour theory. Soft pinks and corals warm against the cool aqua background.

"Jon says you wanted to go to art school when you two were younger."

It's not a question, but merely Martin offering the same space for openness that Gerry had given him.

"I never went. After my A-levels, I had to get away, and I never really stopped moving for long enough to go to uni when I was younger. Now I'm settled and it's not important to me anymore. Besides, no one asks for a copy of my phantom degree when I sell a painting. So I'm happy with how things turned out for the most part." He stops to consider the outline of a possible past for a moment, one where he didn't have to skip college and go ten years without seeing Jon. "Besides, can you imagine a 27-year-old in art school? The young ones would sacrifice me for more creative talent."

Their eyes meet for a moment, and then they laugh easily and move on to different topics, sliding through the easy stages of getting to know each other.

***

Jon does eventually arrive, looking panicked and harried. He de-ages 10 years when he finds them laughing and relaxed instead of tense and awkward.

So, the three of them eat cold Thai take out on the floor of Gerry's loft, leaning against the perfectly good couch. They share the odd intimacy of people who have known each other for very disjointed amounts of time but like each other just the same.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #tma #fic #also on ao3

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