#none of that “woman and child starving for your entertainment” shit

[drowxiv]

Interrupting the Duskwight Elezen broadcast to bring you this breaking news update:

I was havin' a sad and decided to return to my roots.

[angel-fics]

Emmett Cullen would never fully understand how truly strong he was. He didn’t when he was a human and he sure as shit didn’t now that he was a vampire. He did, however, understand very well just how fragile certain things were. He knew to be careful with certain things.

He knew to not break the glass samples Esme had of expensive tiling when handing them to her. He knew not to squeeze the screws cupped in his hand as he watched Rosalie work on a new vehicle. Even after many incidents ending in violence, Emmett was very careful with anything that belonged to Alice.

Most importantly, at least lately, he knew to be careful with Bella.

His little sister. Sweet, accepting, hilarious at times. Pregnant, but his brother, with a child that was quite literally feeding off her life force.

Before all of this, he’d been careful with the small brunette, of course. For Edward’s sake. Then eventually, he grew quite fond of the clumsy girl. Bella had a unique sense of humor and a perspective that his family lost long ago. She was a breath of fresh air. And it helped tremendously that her tendency to accidentally hurt herself was endlessly entertaining. He didn’t mind being more careful if it meant having Bella around more.

Jasper on the other hand, was really over-aware of his strength and of Bella delicacy. A touch too cautious, the blond vampire worried that a strong enough breath would blow the young woman over. Not that he wasn’t happy for his adopted brother, but Bella was a polite and courteous stream of never-ending anxiety for Jasper.

His fears proved valid as Bella’s stomach bulged and her face hallowed and her eyes lost their sparkle by the day. She truly looked as though a breath might take her out. In Jasper’s mind, Bella was an ancient and tragic painting who’s beauty was lost to the ages: He saw her mortality differently as her time dwindled down to the due date of the unborn child within her.

As such, the brothers had a hard time being around their sister-in-law. The looming threat of the shapeshifters gave them a good excuse to stay away, but she was never far from their thoughts. The whole situation was depressing, which Emmett had never really experienced and Jasper was all to eager to not have to deal with.

“I’m so thirsty,” Emmett mumbled from his perch. He sat in a tree in the south-east corner of the house, diligently watching the tree-line.

“So is everyone else, shut up and wait your turn,” Edward hissed, slapping another book closed, its information on hybrid children was useless.

“Edward,” Esme chided gently. “You and Alice will be going when Rosalie and your father come home. It’ll be good for her to get away for a moment.”

Alice hummed her appreciation around the headache her gift was causing her.

They all winced as Bella groaned at the baby shifting inside her. Jasper tried his hardest not to pay attention to the wet sucking sound of blood coming up the straw as Bella attempted to calm the child. He felt so useless. It was his job to protect this family and all of its members and yet everyone was starving, and his new sister was slowly but steadily wasting away before his very eyes. Jasper had never grieved a human like this before and she wasn’t even dead. Yet.

“Jazz, you alright man?” He hardly even clocked Emmett’s hulking frame as he joined him from his stance atop the roof.

“She barely joined our family, and all this…” Jasper didn’t finish his sentence but he knew Edward heard the words none of them dared speak aloud.

“All of you need to stop. The baby, and Bella, will be fine. She’s far from the first mother who’s had a complicated pregnancy,” Rosalie warned as she and Carlisle stealthily rejoined the family.

Jasper held his tongue and let himself be washed away in Bella’s relief and happiness to see Rosalie. He loved how positive she was despite everything she was going through. It made him marginally more hopeful.

“And it might help a bit to be a little less glum around her. You don’t think she picks up on it, but she does,” Rosalie added too quickly and quietly for Bella’s human ears to pick up on.

Emmett heaved a big sigh and began dragging Jasper towards where Bella was surrounded by a mountain of blankets and the fast talking space heater named Jacob.

“Hey Bella-bear, what’s shakin’?” Emmett greeted as merrily as he could manage. Bella smiled with blood-stained teeth and the skin sagged a bit spring her mouth, but she seemed happy enough to see them.

“He is, on my bladder,” Bella jokes, gesturing to her distended tummy. They all let out a small chuckle for her efforts and tried not to look at her mottled flesh.

“He? Are you that sure it’s a boy? Maybe it’ll be a little miss?” Jasper adds from the corner he’s standing in.

Bella flushes a pretty, almost healthy pink and cradles her belly lovingly. “Before I knew, I had dreams of a beautiful baby boy, I can’t see him any other way.”

Emmett grinned and clapped his hands together loudly. “I agree, maybe I’ll finally have a version of Edward that’s fun to play with.”

Jacob snickered from his spot at Bella’s side and gently avoided the elbow she threw into his ribs.

“So what? You think Rose will let you toss around Edward Junior? Yeah, right!” Jasper jested, coming forward to sit on the floor near Bella’s feet.

“Certainly not!” Rosalie confirmed, cradling Bella’s small frame away from Emmett.

“Wait. Is that seriously going to be his name? Edward Junior?” Jacob snorted.

Bella blushed with embarrassment and Jasper could practically see smoke coming out of Rosalie’s ears as she glared at Jacob.

“Actually,” Bella began softly, “I was thinking of you too. EJ. Edward Jacob.” She smiled at her stomach and they all knew she was quite attached to the name already.

“Lame.”

All their heads whipped to Emmett who was smirking with humor. No one else looked amused, with Rosalie looking almost murderously at her husband.

“Why give him the names of two wimps when you could use the names of his totally cool uncles. Emmett and Jazz-man? See? It fits so much better,” Emmett reasoned as if talking to a child.

“I’m not naming my son ‘Jazz-man’,” Bella refused. Jasper nodded in agreement form the floor.

“Yes, I concur. Jasper is a fine name for a man without you butchering it.”

Emmett gasped in shock and held a hand to his chest mockingly. “I put so much effort into creating a namesake and this is the thanks I get? For shame, family, for shame.”

Bella giggled lightly at his antics and they all collectively smiled at her good mood. Jasper felt the baby’s happiness at hearing Bella’s laugh and felt his whole being shift into a lighter atmosphere.

He reached out to Bella and silently offered to read the baby. Her eyes gleamed in delight and she nodded eagerly, watching her stomach as if she could somehow see her son.

Her belly was almost as cool as his skin and significantly harder than a normal human’s, but Jasper still felt the hum of life within. He leaned in close so that the boy could hear him, too.

“How does it sound, Edward Jacob? You like it?” Jasper shared a feeling of brief amusement followed by rejection to everyone in the room and they all laughed along with the baby.

“See? He likes Emmett Jasper wayyyy better, Bells!” Emmett exclaimed heartily. The baby was feeling something that felt like laughter and Jasper could almost clearly imagine the cherub cheeked smile that matched Bella’s giggling along.

Bella shook her head while chuckling, the precious sound echoing in the large house.

“It is more modern,” Rosalie conceded to everyone’s surprise. “And the baby seems to like it.”

“He likes hearing Bella laugh,” Jasper corrected, picking up on the baby’s delight.

“And she laughs at you two doing stupid shit. Emmett Jasper is the perfect name for him,” Rosalie argued.

“How about we all just call him EJ and make a schedule? He can be Emmett Jasper every other week?” Esme suggested jokingly.

Emmett shook his head. “Absolutely not. Emmett Jasper or bust!”

He dramatically kneeled at Bella’s feet, clasping her small hand his humongous one. “Please, Bella, if you love your big brothers, you’ll do us the honor of giving your son a much cooler name.”

Emmett threw an arm around Jasper’s shoulder and pouted stupidly at the mahogany-haired girl. Jasper very pointedly does not pout, but he had to admit it himself that it would be nice to have his nephew named after him. He smiled encouragingly at Bella.

Said girl was watching the ceiling with humor, unable to believe the turn her evening took.

Smiling widely enough to dazzle, she agreed, “Fine. Baby Cullen will henceforth be known as EJ, Emmett Jasper.”

can we all agree that if emmett and jasper weren’t so depressed about bella drinking all the blood in the house, they would have convinced her that ej was a great name for a boy but it should stand for emmett jasper not edward jacob.

[no-droids]

Can you describe the exact moment where Mando knew he wanted to fuck the reader?

I think tumblr ate my ask, so (in Bernie Sanders’ voice) I am once again asking if you can describe the moment Mando knew he wanted to fuck the reader and couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

(((Your second ask included another question, so I’ll write for both, ALSO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 OF THE MANDALORIAN YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)))

***

The first moment Mando knew he wanted to fuck you?  Or the moment he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer?

Different moments.  Completely different moments.  Took place weeks, if not months apart from one another, in fact.

If… if he’s being entirely honest, the first one probably isn’t that interesting of a story.  He’s almost certain the thought crossed his mind before you ever said a single word to him.  Actually, now that he’s actively thinking about it, he’s pretty sure he hadn’t even seen your face when he was first struck with the idea.

That really isn’t all that uncommon for him, though.  Of course, Mando has never been immune to the charms of women, but as he grew older and in his more recent years, he learned it’s almost always best to just avoid the hassle altogether.  

That doesn’t mean he never thinks about it.

In fact, not having sex surprisingly causes people to think about sex more, if you can believe it.

Not that anyone would ever know it, obviously.  Most people are entirely capable of keeping their thoughts to themselves, but Mando does them two better and keeps his words and his face to himself, too.  Nobody truly knows what’s really going on behind the helmet, and he prefers it that way.  He can think whatever he wants, let any emotion play over his face without once worrying about its potential impact on another person.

Nobody ever knows.  Nobody knows when he’s smiling, when he’s gritting his teeth.  Nobody knows if he’s sleeping, or if he’s just choosing to sit remarkably still.  

Nobody knows how often he looks at you, especially if his head is facing a different direction.  

The beskar offers solace in that regard.  He has many personal qualms with it, but on occasion, there can be.  Benefits.  Specifically, it was incredibly useful the first time he saw you.  That day was one of the rare occasions he remembers being truly grateful for the helmet.

At that point in time, Kuiil had been dead for a few weeks, and realistically, Mando had no real reason for even being there.  He had no real reason for landing the Crest somewhere in the outskirts of his late friend’s abandoned moisture farm.  He could make up some excuse about the blurrgs weirdly getting to him, how Kuiil’s enclosure was likely too well-built to escape from and they’d probably be nearing the point of cannibalism by now.  But realistically, he had no reason.

Secretly though, if anyone ever asked him to cut the shit and just fucking explain himself—give them a legitimate, valid rationality as to why the fuck he bothered wasting the fuel returning to this desolate planet, why he delayed collecting payment on Nevarro in order to visit a barren moisture farm he knew would be empty—Mando could.  He wouldn’t, obviously, but he could.  It was stupid, it was completely fucking illogical, it was absolute fucking nonsense, but there was indeed an underlying motivation attached to his actions that he likely wouldn’t even admit to himself.

He was looking for something.  Or, someone, to be more specific.  Someone like Kuiil.  His good friend’s affinity towards children and his abilities as a versatile mechanic were incredibly useful when he was still alive, and while Mando wasn’t stupid enough to think those things came from the water here on Arvala-7, whatever trace amounts of it there were to be found in the air, he was… well, he was getting a bit desperate.

The kid was a fucking handful, always getting into trouble while he was out trying to hunt down bounties.  It would be irresponsible to take him with Mando, but it was also irresponsible to leave him in the ship by himself.  He couldn’t do both at the same time.  No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t continue to be this child’s caretaker and provider.  It just wasn’t physically possible.

He needed help.  But he had no idea where to look for it.  Kuiil was one of the only people to whom Mando ever extended an offer of partnership, one of the only people he ever trusted to look after his ship and his kid.  So, after a few weeks of unsuccessfully juggling the responsibilities of a single-parent/bounty hunter, Mando figured that if he needed to start somewhere, he should probably start at the very beginning.

He wasn’t expecting much of anything.  When he hid the sleeping kid in the stowaway cot on the ship and silently made his way across Kuiil’s land, he wasn’t expecting much of anything at all.  In fact, he kept inwardly scolding himself for even bothering.  He’d let the blurrgs out of the corral, try not to get immediately eaten by the starving beasts, and then probably just have to figure something else out in regards to the kid.  Sorgan, maybe?  There were some nice, trustworthy people there.  Maybe he could find one who’d entertain an offer of adventure.

If anyone pressed him about it, Mando supposes what he was expecting was an empty house.  Rabid blurrgs enclosed a few hundred feet away, either in the process of dying or already dead.  He even braced himself for the possibility of a dismal, scavenged scrap pile that those Maker-forsaken Jawas would leave behind if they decided to raid Kuiil’s farm while he was gone.

He… he absolutely was not expecting the sound of someone moving things around in the house.  A quiet voice murmuring unintelligibly to itself as pieces of scrap metal clanged carelessly against the floor.

Mando stepped around the corner.  And then he saw you.  Bent over, rummaging around in one of Kuiil’s spare junk bins.

And…

There.

That’s the moment.

That’s when he knew he wanted to fuck you.  Seeing you wave your ass in the air, completely oblivious to his presence as you continued rifling through Kuiil’s things.

Not very interesting, he said before.

The thought struck him a split-second before an immediate flare of anger at your blatant disregard for his friend’s memory.

His third emotion was his blaster in his hand.  That’s—admittedly, not really an emotion, but then maybe somebody should tell him why Mando sure as fuck seemed to feel it often enough.

“None of that shit is yours,” he remembers saying through the modulator, his voice rough from a day or so of disuse.  Your body snapped upright at the first word, hair pulled into a high ponytail and hands black and greasy as they immediately flew up into the air over your head, clutched tight around a few frayed wires.

“Oh shit, I wasn’t—”  You started to spin around, but you froze halfway through the process at the sound of Mando clicking off the safety of his blaster with his thumb.  Based off your positioning relative to one another and the way a sweaty tendril of your hair hung in front of your forehead, he could just barely catch a sliver of your face at this angle, but it was enough to see you try to look at him through the corner of your eye as best you could without lifting or turning your head.  “I was just here taking care of th—”

He wasn’t in the mood, and Kuiil deserved better.  Kuiil deserved better than a lot of fucking things Mando handed to him.  He deserved so much better than what happened to him, but no matter how much Mando wilted under the guilt of being the main reason Kuiil wasn’t here right now telling you to get your fucking hands off his personal belongings himself, he simply couldn’t change the past.  He could, however, right some wrongs right here and now.

“I can see how well you take care of things,” he grunted sharply, cutting you off.  “A good man dies and you think his shit is yours to scavenge?”

The wires immediately dropped from your hands and you whipped around entirely to look at him in the eye, disbelief and shock painting your expression.  “Kuiil is… d-dead?”

He… he wasn’t expecting that.

Okay… any of those things, really.

First, he wasn’t expecting you to be surprised, much less upset by the news.  Second, he wasn’t expecting you to know Kuiil’s name, or third, to move so rapidly and carelessly under a loaded blaster in response to his, in hindsight, incredibly cruel taunt.  Looking back, he wishes he made even a marginally better first impression with you, but as Mando quickly comes to learn, you’re too forgiving.  You never bring it up again.

Fourth, and notably, one of the things he remembers thinking most is how he wasn’t expecting you to well… look the way you did.

You were a young woman in the middle of this arid, fucking Jawa-infested desert and you somehow managed to look well-fed.  Vibrant, even.  Bright eyes, soft features, blinking up at him from under long lashes, plush lips parted and chin beginning to wobble like he just broke your fucking heart.

Pretty.  Grease smudged across your cheek bone, fingernails dirty, hair a complete mess.  Still.  Devastatingly pretty.

Fifth.  Strangely, and perhaps more jarring than anything else—Mando didn’t expect you to stare right into his eyes the very first time you looked at him.  Most people ended up focusing their gaze somewhere near his forehead, maybe even down to his nose on occasion.  You managed to hit him dead-on.  On the very first try.

Sixth.  He faltered.

Mando faltered under your stare, your words, your appearance.  He took way too long in responding.  He remembers watching your hands fall to your side in a shocked sort of dismay, and then he remembers silently holstering his blaster as you all but plopped down on the ground, right where you were, the stricken horror of realization painting your expression a hauntingly empty tabula rasa.

“Oh,” is all you said.

Over the next few hours, Mando learned a few things about you.  Some things you told him, other things he figured out.

Things you told him: You were one of Kuiil’s neighbors.  When you didn’t see him for a few days, you set up base here to keep things running smoothly, feed and take care of the blurrgs while he was gone.  You were waiting for him to come back.

Things he figured out:  You liked animals (even those stubborn overgrown creatures that look like they’re missing the middle-third of their body) and from the immediate softening of your expression upon catching sight of the bleary-eyed kid peeking his head around the doorway at some point, you liked children as well.  You were a moisture farmer like Kuiil, an occupation that required you to be a wide-ranged and skilled mechanic.  You lived alone and managed to stay relatively healthy in such an unwelcome environment, which meant you were hardworking and resourceful.  But the state of your clothing said you needed money.  And the way you looked at him told him you were lonely.

The last one was a shot in the dark, he’ll admit, but Mando has always been observant.  Your house had to have been a reasonable distance from Kuiil’s, just based on the sheer square acreage of his land alone.  Sometimes you tripped over your words, like it’d been just as long for you without speaking as it had been for him.

Admittedly, you were… quietly endearing to him.  In a way.  Soft spoken but sharp, capable yet entirely untested beyond this tiny little rock in the backskirts of the outer rim.  The kid liked you.  He had good instincts, and he smiled a toothy little grin every time you turned your attention to him, clearly finding the little one much easier to talk to than Mando.

And, he supposed, at the very end of the day, Kuiil apparently liked you.  Kuiil apparently trusted you.  And Mando… Mando very suddenly remembered someone—something else.  Something else Kuiil once trusted, and at that time, Mando sure as fuck didn’t.  He probably couldn’t have distrusted that fucking bounty/nanny droid more, and yet… Mando ultimately trusted Kuiil, and he ended up being completely right.  Mando was wrong, and Kuiil was right.

Weeks after he covered his body in rocks.  Weeks of silent overthinking, of the guilt of his friend’s death weighing heavier on his shoulders than any armor he’s ever worn.  Well.  Mando wasn’t about to start second-guessing him now.

Perhaps, the real question is why you ever agreed to join him when he casually offered.  A chance at adventure, at finally leaving Arvala-7?  The promise of good money, of not having to constantly worry about farming water from the atmosphere just to have a sip of it?  

To this day, he still has no fucking idea.  That’s probably something best to ask you.

Now.  The second question.

When Mando couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He… he feels like there’s something weird about phrasing it like that.  It’s probably better to ask about.  The turning point.  When everything either fell apart or came together, depending on how you want to look at it.  The split-second realization that shit had changed.  The exact moment when Mando knew he was well and truly fucked.

Before he starts, he should probably preface.

Mandalore isn’t known for their fine arts.

Anything creative he did as a foundling that wasn’t also inherently, at its core, strategic, wasn’t rewarded.  Ever.  His people have always been a militaristic people, and art is for peacetime.  Mandos aren’t known for their music, painting, or architecture.  Their specialty is smithing, combat, and depending on the clan, espionage.  Their symphonies are war chants.  Their murals are blood-streaked battlefields.  The last person he really remembers hearing sing, if only just for the love of it, was his father.

Maybe that’s why it originally took him so long to figure out what that fucking sound was.

He was in the pilot’s chair of the Crest, almost asleep at that point.  The door to the cockpit was shut tight, and last he checked, you were entertaining the little one in the hull.  After a few weeks with your company, he had come to expect certain things from you, if not based off the terms of the deal you two struck, then simply based off newly established precedent.

You took good care of the kid and fixed mechanics, yes, but you were also apparently a decent pilot.  You even took to the habit of cleaning the ship whenever Mando was gone.  That was never part of the agreement, but you did it anyways.  You were surprisingly helpful.  Sweet, in that regard.  Not difficult to be around, nor to work with.  And if he was being honest, you were just about the furthest thing from difficult to look at.

But mostly, you were quiet.  In general.  The record for the longest conversation ever occurring between the two of you was still held by your very first introduction.  As a quiet person himself, Mando had grown accustomed to the average individual’s insatiable need to fill the silence for him, talk his ear off out of nervousness, discomfort, or an annoying combination of the two.  In contrast, and like him, you barely said a word unless it was necessary.  It made for a peaceful journey around the galaxy, if ever a silent one.

Even more surprising, you were usually very good about keeping the noise down even with a small child in tow, and excelling where Mando failed (mainly, stopping the tears before they evolved into screeching sobs).  Because of that, the unfamiliar sound he could just barely hear from his place in the ship was that much more intriguing to him.  It was audible through hyperspace, through a metal door, and through sound-absorbent beskar.  So quiet, but loud enough for him to wonder what its source was.

He remembers standing up and slowly walking over to the door, straining his ears and listening to the volume marginally increase, but not by much.  Just to the point where he could finally place it, though it took him far longer than it should’ve even considering the situation.

A gentle melody.  Humming.  Sweetly reverberating throughout the ship despite its deadened acoustics, when Mando didn’t think he’d heard a song in years.

He must’ve stayed like that for a few minutes at least, just standing statuesquely in front of the door leading to the hull.  Either… either you were singing to his son, or you were singing just because you felt like it.  Somehow, each one of those possibilities managed to move him more than the last.

Only it was still too quiet to truly hear.  There were still just too many pieces of metal separating him from you.

So, at that point, he had two choices.

Well, three.  Mando had three choices.  He could always just fuck off and go back to the pilot’s seat, up the noise cancellation setting on his helmet just slightly and try to pass the fuck out, but that wasn’t… realistic.

So he had two viable choices.  Each one came with its own set of problems.

One, he could press a button on the panel and open the door.  Potential problems included the noise it would make while shifting to the side, and the ability for you to catch him eavesdropping if you happened to be standing right under the ladder to the cockpit.  Statistically, the prior was much more plausible.  If it happened, and it was very likely to happen, you’d stop singing and the ship would be silent.  Once again.  Like always.

Two, he could.  He could… take his helmet off.  But—

—But here was the thing about that.  Mando hated doing it.  Even when he had to take it off to eat, he hated doing it.  And not because of the reason most people would probably expect.  It wasn’t because he felt uncomfortable or exposed without it, even when barricaded inside an enclosed space like this by himself.  It wasn’t because he felt guilty about it, either.  Technically, he would probably be violating his oath by removing it unless absolutely unnecessary—eating, for example, or bathing, or about to bleed out and die from a head wound, etc—but Mando probably couldn’t have given less of a shit about the details.  He was always more of a big-picture person.

No, the reason he hated doing it was because… well, because of how much he really fucking loved doing it.

When he was younger, he’d always looked forward to any excuse to breathe fresh air.  He’d drag out his meals for as long as he reasonably could, trying to memorize the way everything looked without a digital interface shielding his eyes.  He used to have absolutely impeccable grooming habits, really taking his time shaving his face and deep cleaning the beskar and filter every single day.

That… that only lasted a few years.

Eventually, it became harder and harder to put the damn thing back on again.  Only, he had to.  This was his life.  After a handful of decades, taking the helmet off became less about savoring the moments without it and more about just prolonging the inevitable.  Making it that much more difficult to accept.  If you knew you were going to starve, would you want a full course buffet in front of you the entire time?  Let the visuals of everything you could never have, the aromas torment you until your very last breath?  The blissful temptation started to eat away at him, until eventually he just grew to dread taking it off altogether.

Eventually, those few moments of relief from the torture of wearing it just became the worst torture of all.

It was easier keeping it on.  Physically, emotionally, whatever.  His body would acclimate to the metal and padding wrapped tight around his skull, and some days he happily forced down the growling in his stomach and skipped meals altogether.  He hated taking it off.  He hated the fresh air.  He slept in the helmet.  When he had to, he scarfed down his food.  He learned how to eat with his eyes closed.

So.  To reiterate, Mando had two choices.

One.  Run the incredibly high risk of you stopping entirely.  

Two.  Do the thing he arguably hated doing more than anything else in this galaxy.

He silently turned and pressed his back against the closed door, sliding down to the ground and weighing his options.  Technically this was a non-problem.  Technically he was just making things difficult for himself.  He could always just say fuck it and mind his own damn business.  He could always just… he could…

He—

He took the helmet off.

He cradled the beskar between his knees and stared down at the visor as it glared judgmentally back up at him, his spine resting against the closed door and listening to your soft humming for as long as you felt like doing it.

And…

There.

That’s the moment Mando knew he was fucked.

That’s the moment the countdown started.  From that point on, it became only a matter when he’d give in, not if.  Before, he could at least pretend everything was fine.  Before, he could at least tell himself with reasonable certainty that while he genuinely liked you as a person, he’d never push your relationship past the point of quiet, yet friendly, business acquaintances.

But that was the moment Mando knew he was full of shit.  That sooner or later, there’d come a point, a shift, when his resolve would eventually snap.  And like his kid and the ship, he’d let himself get taken care of by you, too.

He didn’t know how long it would take, or the catalyst that would set everything off.  It could be anything.  A close brush with death.  A soft, much needed touch.

Fuck, even just a really rough day.

[sweet-star-cookie]

Signs You May Be Watching a Hallmark Movie + Christmas Edition

Hey all, your friendly neighbourhood aroace here who is Tired of This Shit™ and needs to rant. I have been exposed to far too many of these movies for my own good and I am doing this to maintain my sanity, especially given the rampant Christmas season. For those who may not know, a Hallmark Movie or W (Women’s) Network movie is a general term for the generic schlock they call romance movies played on these eponymous channels, targeted towards middle-aged straight women and they are always terrible from a story / character / everything standpoint. These are genuinely some of the most predictable, generic, cookie-cutter pieces of media that I’ve ever seen and I’ve been itching to rip them apart for years so NOW’S THE TIME. If you genuinely enjoy these movies, ironically or not, I promise I’m not trying to take that away from you with this post, but please understand: you deserve better movies than this, even for passive entertainment. They genuinely make me uncomfortable and this post is to tell you why.

I’ve done my best to make this an exhaustive list, but feel free to add more yourself (lord knows I’m not researching it). ALRIGHT HERE WE GO

The Stale White Bread Main Leads - almost exclusively a white female protagonist who cannot be distinguished from any other generic white woman, usually with medium length blonde or brown hair, an hourglass figure and perfect teeth (only has glasses if she’s supposed to look Smart™, but she can take them off at will) She is a:

- Business Woman™ of two flavours: a struggling small business owner (usually a bakery, especially in the Christmas movies) or a high tier executive in a stuffy city job

OR

- hokey small town woman who is randomly prettier than every other person in this town because the rest of them are 50+ or are decidedly “less attractive” than her so it is clear to the audience that they are not supposed to be after the affections of the equally attractive love interest

OR

- journalist / writer who is lacking in Inspiration™ and just needs someone in her life who can give it to her again ~siiiighhhhhh~ OR - an extremely efficient wedding planner who can make everything work for everyone else but *~Can’t Seem To Find Her Own Prince Charming~* ———

- the love interest is a generic white man who cannot be distinguished from any other generic white man, usually with swept back hair, a chiseled jaw and a punchable face (seriously look it up) He is a:

- well-meaning mild-mannered guy who Just Happens To Bump Into the Protagonist at her business or festival because he’s new in town, sometimes in the form of being the Misunderstood Starving Artist Type™ (and if so he is a painter with a fine arts gallery, no exceptions) OR

- Business Man™ stuck in his dead-end office job, but only if the protagonist is not (though sometimes you get the rare Double Business plot and that is a ride of 75% business meetings during the film’s run time) OR - single dad whose previous wife left him / died, making him a lowkey Sad Boy and he has at least one child from the marriage (see the kids section for more on that plot device) OR - the friend of the groom in the wedding movies who always gets with the wedding planner protag at the end The Sidekick - usually a co-worker or a friend of the protag that somehow appears more often than the others - The only POC characters to appear in these movies (if any appear at all) are exclusively the protag’s supportive friend OR - the quirky (and usually old) townsperson who periodically appears to bring the protag and love interest together in a plot thread thinner than my patience - two flavours of sidekick: laid back and chill compared to the nervous protag but gets to say “I told you so” when the leads end up together, OR the impulsive one who pushes the protag to “chase her dreams” with the love interest - “Come on, live a little!” / “You only live once!” - the first time the protag interacts with the love interest, the sidekick swoops in like a fucking peregrine falcon to call them out on it - “OOOOooooooooh who was that guy????? Do you like him????? Ask him out!!!!!!” - sometimes the love interest has a male sidekick and when he does, either he or the love interest are Chads

- sometimes the male sidekick is an inexplicably old co-worker that tells the leads to “fall in love while they still can” (because he didn’t and regrets it) The Parents - one or both are dead for either the protag or the love interest to give the Tragic Backstory™ - this is usually used as a Bonding Moment at around Act 2 of the movie after the protags know each other well enough, but sometimes comes up on the first date for that first bout of ~Awkward Tension~ OR - both parents are alive and old and are exclusively used to tell the protag that they will find The One™

- the protag has a Look about them after they first meet the love interest, and the parents call them out on it immediately (similar to the sidekick) - the father will tell the protag that she is being too stubborn for not pursuing the love interest, and the wife will chime in to say “just like you were” - sometimes the parents are replaced with grandparents, though usually just one and it’s a grandfather for the female protag or grandmother for the male love interest Kids or Cats - either of these are used as plot devices to periodically bring the two leads together in the background without anyone noticing (seriously none of the characters notice that they are there for this purpose until at least halfway through the movie or later) - if there is a cat, that cat must be held in a person’s arms for at least 50% of the shots with the two leads because GET IT THEY BOTH LIKE CATS THEY’RE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER YOU GUYS THE CAT IS THERE IT’S GOTTA BE TRUE - that cat will conveniently get lost at least once, leading to one of the leads finding it and bringing it back to the other, or they search for it together - if both of the leads like cats, the previous girlfriend of the love interest (or boyfriend of the protag) conveniently doesn’t like cats (that’s how you know the love interest is legit -wink wink-) - these cats (or dogs even) will inevitably cause mischief that inconveniences both of the leads, but then they make eye contact, laugh about it, and go “Oh, [pet’s name]” - kids exist to do two things in these movies: 1. “innocently” ask if the protag is gonna get together with the love interest after seeing him once, and often will do things throughout the film to make them see each other more 2. show to the protag whether or not the love interest is “a good guy” by being good with kids* * being good with kids is a prerequisite, because all relationships in these movies HAVE to be the lead up marriage + kids guaranteed The Music - flutes are used for added *~Whimsy~* when the two leads are spending time together - All music to denote awkward situations contains exclusively clarinets and harps (you know the ones) - said music flares up when one or both of the leads says their love out loud when they “weren’t supposed to” - sparkle sound effect when the leads touch hands or give each other The Look™ - bonus points if they do the thing where one of them drops something and they both go to pick it up, only to touch hands “by accident”

Other General Shit

- these movies are peak Straight Energy™

- every character and setting in these movies are impossibly saccharine, to the point where they don’t speak or act like real people (almost like a HALLMARK GREETING CARD HAHAH GET IT)  - central visual themes exist for incredibly flimsy symbolism, anything from butterflies to rainbows (YES RAINBOWS) - bonus points if the child in the movie is interested in this central theme and it somehow connects to the two leads (example: the daughter of the love interest has butterflies on her walls, and the protag just HAPPENS to be baking butterfly shaped cookies in the next scene) - extra Sad Boy points if a dead character in the movie used to love the central theme before they died (it’s usually a mom or grandma for extra Contrived Sincerity™) - every title of these movies contains “Love” or “Heart” in the title, or involves the central theme in the name - if any of these take place during Valentine’s Day HOLD ON TO YOUR HATS because everything I mention here is amped up by 10 in those ones - if families with children is central at all in the plot, you are guaranteed at least one (1) pregnant woman / expecting father in the movie

- the love interest is introduced almost immediately after the protagonist, and you know who the couple will be by the end of this train wreck by about 5 minutes in

- the camera work focuses on the side eye looks that everyone else gives the two leads when they’re in love but Don’t Know It Yet - obligatory walk in a park / sitting on a bench scene, to establish nostalgia or longing or both - “Huh, that’s weird.” (said after a very obvious romantic advancement is shown, OR when the flimsy symbolism just happens to appear somewhere)

- scenes pause frequently when an awkward moment happens, supplemented by the clarinets farting in the soundtrack - any time the two leads are seen together, there is always ONE PERSON who mistakes them for a married couple (usually a concierge at a hotel or an oblivious friend), to which they awkwardly reply with the following:

- “I’m not looking for marriage right now!” / “we’re just friends!” * *fun fact if you want me to rage instantly, use this line anywhere and I will be out for blood - “I’m fine with being single!” followed by a “suuuuure you are” look from the sidekick or parents* *you know what add this one to the “out for blood” list too

- if there is a restaurant scene the entire staff will retroactively try to make the scene more romantic well before the leads have any feelings for each other - the waiter of the restaurant will side eye both of them like “okay lovebirds” - “he’s just a friend, a boy…. friend, a friend who is a boy. Friend boy.” - “Did I just say that out loud?” - the “act natural” scene where the love interest is coming over and the protag spends too much time messing with her clothes, hair and posture before he arrives - The Misunderstanding™ that usually takes place before or during a party and drives a wedge between the leads for a maximum of 5 minutes - the obligatory “I’m sorry” scene after the misunderstanding, consisting of the love interest standing in front of the protag’s house while she stands on her porch with her arms folded. As he explains himself, he slowly walks closer until they meet and he proposes / professes his love to her, then they kiss as the camera zooms out and fades to credits - if they kiss during a festival scene, you’ve got at least a 50% chance of fireworks going off in the background - Flowers. There are always flowers, given or received.

If the movie takes the Business angle: - the “too busy to live life happily” plot is a prerequisite - every business job is automatically an office job with board meetings, and it is always portrayed as a dull or negative experience - the protagonist is assigned to the hokey small town and travels reluctantly from the city

- her reluctance is punctuated by getting stuck behind a tractor or a bad encounter with the townsfolk that would Only Happen Here - she has a previous relationship with a guy in the city who is Very Clearly An Asshole but she takes the entire movie to realize this

- side eye glances from the locals, especially if the protag is in heels / a blazer / a short skirt

- “you’re not from around here, are you?” - the love interest is, at the start, the only friendly person to the protag

- said asshole boyfriend continues to call her about her business duties, until later in the movie when she decides to ignore him / dump him without so much as a warning - there is usually a conflict of interest between business advancement / capitalism and The Passion For The Job™

- “are you really going to give up all we’ve worked for?” (this is the final straw for the protag to dump the asshole) - literally it’s like “fuck you i’m out” -hangs up-

- obligatory scene where the protag ignores her family / relationship opportunities for a business phone call, paralleled by a scene at the end where she ignores the call instead - eventually she decides to stay in the small town and run a farm / bakery / antique shop with the love interest If the movie takes the Wedding angle: - the protag is ALWAYS too distracted by her wedding planning to think about romance for herself, something that the sidekick / parents will point out ad nauseum  - the love interest is ALWAYS the friend or the brother to the groom - there are very rarely bridezillas, usually the protag is insanely good at her job to placate this anyway - there IS, however, the stuck-up mother-in-law who must test the skills of the protag because Reasons - the groom sweats nervously 24/7 (can you blame him really?) - if the bride and groom have any disagreements whatsoever it is always at the cake tasting or the flower / decoration phase - the “everything goes wrong right before the wedding and then it all works out” plot is compulsory - the bride’s dress doesn’t fit, the groom loses the ring, the catering is late, the gang’s all here - the protag has to navigate all friction with the bride, while the love interest does the same with the groom, thus bringing the two leads closer by proxy - whatever relationship issues between the bride and groom resolved by the two leads automatically translates to their own relationship as well - solving this bickering can also lead to a “maybe I was wrong” scene between the two leads directly after if they are fighting at this point too - the bride’s mother or father will give something important to the bride / groom every time, and the protag has to find a way to implement it into the wedding - the protag will always have a “window shopping” scene with the sidekick, and that window will ALWAYS have a wedding dress or ring in it - the day is saved by the love interest coming to the rescue last minute, solidifying the protag’s love for him - during the ceremony, the protag and the love interest have that Knowing Look as the bride and groom are celebrating - if there is a child present at all they will always be the flower girl / ring bearer for the two leads at the end - if the child is a little girl, there is prince / princess imagery all over the damn place - bonus points if the sidekick also hooks up with the only other named character in the entire movie by the end - extra bonus points if the only way you know they hook up is if they give each other a look like “yeah I’d tap that”

BONUS: Signs You May Be Watching a Hallmark Movie - Christmas Edition

- ambiguously placed mistletoe (someone has to kiss that’s just the rules my guys)

- if you don’t hear jingle bells in the entire soundtrack then you’re doing it wrong - either the protag or the love interest are Not in the Christmas Spirit and the other makes them get back into it by the end - “but what about your faaaaaamily” (used when the lead(s) are disillusioned about the holidays, can also lead to Tragic Backstory™) - the “too busy to live life happily” plot is still a prerequisite, but just about the holiday season

- town festivals and Christmas parties - turtleneck sweaters and scarves everywhere, not for the cold weather but for the protag to lift over her face when she’s embarrassed about liking the love interest, and then the sidekick notices and goes “OOOOOOHHHHHH” OR - the protag conveniently leaves the scarf or some other object behind thereby forcing the love interest to return it to her in person - there is always an old man character who either plays Santa at the mall or is an allegory for Santa in relation to the protags

- the leads will go skating, one will be reluctant and one will always fall on their ass immediately - bonus points if they fall on each other, and have a moment of staring into each other’s eyes before they’re like “oh shit” and frantically apologize as they get up - “let me show you how” *~holds hands as the music chimes~*

- if kids are around, the love interest will skate while the protag watches, and him falling on his ass is supposed to convey how he’s an easygoing goofball who can laugh at himself (this is usually used if the protag is the stuffy business woman with a sidekick telling her to lighten up) - obligatory snowball fight followed by hot cocoa scene - the protag and love interest are dressed in red and green respectively for that sweet, sweet Symbolism™ (*~because RED is the colour of PASSION~*) - angel symbolism for a dead parent or a “guardian angel” watching over the protags to make sure they get together by the end - bonus points if either the parents or the sidekick mention this guardian angel multiple times throughout the movie, until the leads kiss and they look lovingly at said symbolism somewhere else in the room at the end - other symbolism in anything from deer to snowflakes (yes really) - the struggling small businesses are almost exclusively bakeries and / or a family business that was owned by one of the leads’ now dead grandmother (insert Grandma’s Famous Cookie Recipe here)

- finding the right Christmas tree or perfect present is used as an allegory for finding The One™

- bonus points if either the protag or love interest awkwardly state the words “how do you know it’s the right one?” in the context of the tree and the other responds with “I’m sure I’ll know, in time” in a different context, and then they look at each other suggestively before the scene ends - house / room decorating montage that features some kind of upbeat Christmas song over it (Jingle Bell Rock, Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, etc.), and always features the two leads who just happened to end up decorating together, usually with a child accompanying them - the two leads get snowed in and are Forced To Spend The Night Together

- there are still always flowers but because Christmas they’re poinsettias every time ——– - honestly if I can recommend anything go watch the murder mysteries that the Hallmark channel has now (YES THEY EXIST) - seriously they still do the stupid romance and will-they-won’t-they with the two investigators, and then one of the hokey townspeople gets shot or poisoned and the sheer tonal whiplash that causes makes it a fucking riot from there - make a drinking game out of these movies if you want to die instantly

[stedes-black-bonnet]

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 32

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: Aiming for once a week updates. Might pick up speed, but won’t decrease. We have a masterlist and a tag list, FYI.

Warnings: swearing?

Abstract: And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear...

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

Roger Taylor sat across from Jim Hutton.

Freddie Mercury sat across from Brian May.

You sat across from John Deacon.

Miami Beach headed the awkward dinner party from Hell. At least that’s how he thought of it. He had better things to do than babysit a table of grown men and one unassuming woman. It was as if he had fallen into the Twilight Zone, and he didn’t like it one bit. He had nothing against you, but he had everything against this group of men. You seemed pleasant, and, sure, you had punched Roger in the face, but who among them hadn’t wished to do just that under certain circumstances? Under numerous circumstances? Miami was certain every single one of them had at least day dreamed about it. These men, though, they worked, day in and out, he was certain, to ruin his life. If they weren’t destroying hotel rooms in exotic countries they were spoiling perfectly decent dinner parties, charging in guns ablaze to tarnish business dinners. They couldn’t do a single thing like normal people. Everything was exaggerated. Everything was vibrant. Everything was terrible. He missed, longed for the days before he had become their manager. It had been simpler times. Nicer times. This had been, by the large, the worst blow out Miami had witnessed among the band since the “I’m in Love with My Car” debacle. This was the most expensive dinner he had ever paid for and the food hadn’t even arrived yet. He was starving. Irritated. Pessimistic. The only saving grace here was he could at least bill them for his time. And boy, was he ever going to hike up the rate.

Roger was moving food across his plate, not really focusing on what he was doing. How was he supposed to eat food with no color? Nothing about it looked appetizing. It smelled good, he supposed. It looked like wet shapes. Lumps. Bumps. He thought he was going to vomit again. He lifted a waste bin by his chair, put it in front of his face, waited, and nothing came up. He placed the bin back down, and looked at his dinner. Jim had made them a couple of steaks and potatoes garnished with shallots and asparagus. Everything was seasoned to perfection and cooked like a professional had slaved over it. And despite that Roger couldn’t even enjoy it, his self torture ran too deep, seeped from every pore, and crashed around his mind like his favorite set of cymbals. He was quite certain he didn’t deserve this meal, lovingly prepared for him by the only person who had cared to chase after him, any more than he deserved Lydia.

He was a mess. A lumpy mess.

“Roger,” Jim said between bites, “Stop acting like a child.”

“I’m not.” He whined.

Jim stared at Roger, who was still pushing food around his plate in some hollow attempt to make it look eaten. “You are.”

Roger rolled his eyes, shoving up the sleeves of his purple bathrobe. The rest of his clothes, covered in pasta sauces, noodles, wine, tears, and his own vomit, had been thrown in the washer by Jim. He wouldn’t serve Roger dinner when he was, as Jim had put it, “smelling like an Italian wake.” Roger had washed his hair, scrubbed his body and cried in the shower for the second time in one day. He was falling apart. Had been. He actually felt somewhat better now. He wasn’t hysterical anymore, at least. That had to count for something?

He felt the bathrobe. Fluffy and safe, like a puppy’s hug. It was still grey to him. He frowned.

“Okay, so the whole point of this is for us to share a meal and for you to fess up. I’m holding you to doing at least one of those.” Jim dipped a piece of steak in an au jus, and accented his speech by pointing his fork at Roger.

Roger took a defiant bite, and stayed pointedly silent. Jim banged a fist on the table.

“Roger Taylor, you’re going to talk to me or I’ll throw you back to the wolves without so much as a whoopsie daisy.”

Miami should have felt like a wolf in his suit; however, having it splattered with pasta sauces and flecks of meat made it difficult for even him to take himself seriously, let alone the band. He was more a sheep acting the part of the wolf. Or a hamster. This wasn’t the power dynamic he was expecting. Roger going ballistic, Y/N swooping in for the punchline. None of it had set this meeting on to the right spinning edge. This top was all akimbo.  

“What exactly do you mean you want her to play on the record?” Miami asked nicely.

“We are going to need other musicians, or one exceptionally skilled musician to play a few horn sections; as far as I last knew, no one in the band can rock a trumpet.” Deacy said, taking a sip of his drink. His grey-green eyes shimmering with some hidden card up his sleeve.

“Roger is kind of a blowhard, though.” Brian said, trying to smile through the thick chaos and confusion. Everything about this meeting was just so precisely arranged: some huge fight and now everything and everyone had to find their footing and it wasn’t equal and it wasn’t fair. If Brian didn’t know better, he would have thought it had all been staged; he wouldn’t ever put something like that past Deacy. He was wily, that one.

Everyone laughed an uncomfortable laugh.

“Deacy,” You said, softly, “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to first, or even what I could play myself.”

“Fair point.” Deacy said. “Y/N, do you want to play on our next record.”

You looked at the men assembled around you.

Freddie gave you a wink and an encouraging nod. That nod said, you’d be a fool to say no.

Brian glared at Freddie, shrugging. He loudly leaned back and rolled his eyes, scoffing. It was as if his opinion didn’t matter at all.

Miami raised his hands as if to say, I have nothing to do with this decision.

“Well, yeah, I do.” You said. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Great. What instruments can you play, just as a formality?” Deacy continued sipping, ignoring Brian.

“Saxophone, piano, trumpet, viola, French horn, and some very limited flute--and I mean very limited it.” You said attempting to not blush.

“That’s quite the list, darling!” Freddie exclaimed.

“Music is my life.” You said simply.

“That’s all very sweet,” Brian said, “And don’t think I don’t like you, Y/N, in saying this, but you can’t just promise someone the chance to play on the record without consulting us all and without having them audition.”

“I’m sure she plays beautifully.” Freddie smiled at Brian.

“I have a say in this band just as much as the rest of you.” Brian said shortly.

“Of course you do.” Deacy said. “You started it, after all, right?”

“Yes.”

“Which means, what? you and Rog get seven votes a piece compared to Freddie and I getting one a each?”

“Okay, this isn’t productive.” Miami cut in. “You all get one vote each; you all know that. Stop this petty shit. Y/N, you’ll audition for us in two days? I’ll send a car for you.”

“Two days?” You asked.

“Yes--what do you have class or something?” “Technically, yes; I do.”

“We will do it in the evening then.” Miami said, closing the subject once and for all. “Now, I believe we have other more pressing matters to discuss concerning this record beyond the machinations of an aspiring musician.” “Yeah,” Brian said, “Mostly how we are evenly divided about the record. And no one is willing to compromise.”

“No one should have to compromise!” Deacy said. “You’re missing my point, yet again, entirely and intentionally.”

“I’m missing nothing.” Brian said.

“Oh because you never miss anything.” Deacy retorted.

“We could fight about something else, maybe? For a break? How about what to order for dessert or the length of my mustache?”

The men silently looked at Freddie. You held back a laugh.

“That fits you all to a Tee, gentlemen.” Miami said. “What? Don’t look surprised. You all never agree on anything. We don’t need to alert the media here. In fact, we’d need to alert them if you ever agreed on anything without some kind of a fight. Now that would be a first page story. Queen Agrees! Lord, we’d sell hundreds of papers.”

“It isn’t much of a story.” Roger said.

“Well, good thing I’m easily entertained.” Jim sighed. “Paint me a picture.”

“Not funny.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Yeah. Feels particularly cruel at this moment.”

“Well, you’d know about particularly cruel, wouldn’t you?”

“I spent the night with Lydia. At the party. I had met her the night before. At some nothing club playing nothing music. But she looked like everything. She was everything. The moment I saw her the entire place changed, and the way my heart beat shifted, and it hasn’t been the same sense. She was everything. From the second she started walking towards me to the moment she licked my hand.”

“She licked your hand?” Jim had a spoon of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth.

“She did. And I felt it shiver and zap through my entire body.”

Jim raised an eyebrow at Roger.

“You heard me. My entire body.” He continued. “I invited her to the party, wasn’t sure if she’d even come. But she did. And I’ve never seen anyone look the way she did. All curves and red satin. My personal Satan. Like she had been made for me and I for her. I sound like an idiot. I hate myself. What’s wrong with me?”

Jim laughed. “No. You sound like a person in love. You don’t sound like an idiot at all. You’re in love. You said it to me yourself; don’t shake your blond head at me, you wanker.”

“Sure.” Roger grimaced. “I couldn’t keep my eyes from her. Or my hands. God maybe they had been made to touch her body. I always thought they had been made to drum. I don’t know anymore. Funny isn’t it? That something on my body could have been made for her? Feeling her was like feeling myself; I knew her already, entirely, completely. Every crest and crown.”

“Don’t forget to eat.” Jim reminded him.

“You know how it is; I get going and can’t stop.” He wiped a tear from his eyes and resumed eating, slowly. “The thing is, I just don’t, I mean…”

“You don’t date monogamously?” Jim offered. “You’re a notorious cad? A bounder? A rascal! A cur? A blackguard.”

“Right, mate.” Roger responded. “Please stop. You’ve made your point.”

“I could go on. Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Rapscallion.”

“Stop.”

“Bastard.”

“Thank you. Going on.” Roger said, trying to redirect the train. “Nothing against it. Or those who do it. I know my limitations; I don’t trust myself to not stray. But with her. I thought for the first time that I could dedicate myself to her and be happy--content and joyous, and pleasured and pleased, and entertained and fascinated forever. Full stop. In a second, maybe two, I knew. I just knew. And everything felt right, secure, and safe.”

“And then you fucked it up?”

“Yes. Well, no. Not yet. You’re jumping ahead.”

“I’m jumping ahead?” Freddie simpered.

“Yes!” Brian said.

“I’m jumping ahead?!”

“Yeah!” Brain said heavily. “Roger isn’t even here.”

“You’re the one who said you could speak for him.” Deacy said.

“You want to make some rhythmic disco record and have our approval?” Brain asked. “You’re out of your head.”

“Yes. In short.” Deacy said. Freddie nodded beside him. “Oh, and I resent your tone whenever you say disco, for the record.”

“How about club music?” Freddie offered, trying to make peace.

“Whatever. Same difference just a horse of a different color.”

Deacy groaned. “Listen we’ve made several records and never all agreed on everything going on in it. Why start now?”

The men laughed.

“Look at it like this, darling.” Freddie offered. “This record is happening. You’ll have tracks. You can do your thing. We intend to do ours. Deacy and I have a united vision. And you can either work with us or against us. We’d rather have it go down easily and work like oil.”

“But we will take whatever we can get.” Deacy said. It sounded like a threat. A final line in the sand. “We’ve started some really compelling tunes, Bri.”

“It isn’t disco trash,” Freddie smiled, “as Roger likes to call it.”

Brain sighed loudly. “I don’t like this. I notice and appreciate Deacy having to compromise before. And I notice his talent has excelled in recent years. So, I’ll just allow it.”

“Allow it?” Deacy said, voice raising.

“Wrong choice of words. Would you prefer roll over and take it?” Brain held is hands up in peace. A light smile played across his face.

“All we are asking is the chance to try something we haven’t yet.” Deacy said, a pleading conciliatory note in his voice. “It’s what Queen has always been about. We explore. We originate.”

“We’re pioneers.” Freddie said. “But with better style.”

“Her style was impeccable. Her movements. Her grace. When we made love in my car—oh your car, now, mate.” Roger smirked at Jim.

“Wait—did you just say ‘made love’?” Jim shrieked incredulously. “Did Roger fucking Taylor just use the expression to make love?”

The men laughed.

“I might have.” Roger admitted.

“Make. Love.” Jim said. “Wow. Well, now I’ve bloody well right heard everything.”

“Okay, okay! come off it!” Roger laughed. This time wiping away tears of joy instead of sorrow. “I took her home and, and…” he paused, thinking. Remembering. “I took her home and everything changed again. It had been a handful of hours and she changed my life again. She changed everything. I was in too deep.”

It was that night again, last night, and Roger closed the door to Lydia’s bedroom. He pushed up against the door with his back, leaning backwards, slowly, seductively. He looked cool, effortless, slick. He stared at her through his sepia-colored glasses, and waited for her to make her move. And boy, did she ever.

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

Tag List: @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @obsessedwithrogertaylor @groupiie-love@partydulce@richiethotzierz@sophierobisonartfoundationblr@psychostarkid@teathymewithben@smittyjaws@just-ladyme@botinstqueen @mydogisthebest@little-welsh-wonder@maxjesty@deakysdiscos@yourealegendroger@marvellouspengwing@molethemollie@deakysgirl@arrowswithwifi@tardisgrump @mikey-sway

[reddieforakiss]

can u pretty please do either a sleepover realization of feels for reddie or just them being adorable and in love at school?? i would love that sm:))

Love the sleep over idea!! also holdin’ onto the school idea for later

We Belong (belong together)

//A Reddie Sleepover Fic (rated T) 

- the boys are 17// content warning for light underage drinking and passionate smoochin

- 3,669 WORDS

( this song will come in handy to get the full feel later on in the fic, so i suggest you listen to it either before, during, or after)

———————————————————————

  It was a Saturday night and Richie Tozier was straightening his room, Eddie  was coming over soon and he wanted the room to look nice (well as nice as a mess like that it could be). Richie and Eddie had sleep overs almost every weekend since they were in sixth grade when Eddies mom decided he was finally old enough to have them. They always planned their sleepovers for Saturdays so they could spend the day together as well as the night, opposed to purely nights after a long day of school on Friday. It always went as following: Eddie came over at 3pm, they talked until in got dark out (god they could talk for hours), walked down to the convenience store around 9pm and headed back to the house to eat their snacks and drink their booze. Paul, a scrawny red head riddled with acne, worked at the store and would let Richie buy beers with his not so convincing fake ID. In exchange Richie would try and “set Paul up” with girls he knew, none of which ever working out to Paul’s disappointment. Some nights he and Eds would do an activity like see a movie, or go to a shitty concert, but it was a rare occasion because both of them would have to save up their allowances for weeks to afford it.

The time was now 2:54pm and Richie heard a knock at the door, he jolted his head up from the electric cords he was fiddling with, a new record player. Richie shoved the rest of the filth under his bed and jogged out of his room to open the door. Right when Eddie was about to knock again, Richie swung the door open and posed in the frame of it, “couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”.  Eddie laughed and rolled his eyes, his pale blue duffle bag slung over his shoulder, “Oh i absolutely could not, I missed by husband”, he smiled up at Richie and stepped inside, Richie blushes stupidly. Richie and Eddie had always flirted as a joke but recently it was starting to make Richie feel,, well he didn’t know how it made him feel but it was just different. Richie shut the front door and  Eddie lead the way back to Richie’s room, throwing his bag on Richie’s bed and flopping down on it. “Parents not home?”, Eddie said, staring up at Richie’s navy blue ceiling. “You know it babe”, Richie laughed and sat on his bed next to Eddie. “So whats the plan tonight?”, Eddie sat up and looked at Richie smiling. “Ah just the usual, but i was thinking we could be a little wild and order Chinese rather than gorging gas station treats”, Richie wiggled his eyebrows and Eddie giggled. “OhhhH fancy!”, he grabbed his bag and placed it on his lap. “Well”, Eddie rummaged through the duffle and pulled out 3 VHS tapes, “I got some new movies from the video rental and i figured we could watch one”. Eddie held up all three chunky cases,  Say Anything, Sixteen Candles, and The Princess Bride,, all romances Richie noticed. “Ew why all the romance Eds, you trynna say something?”, Richie had really hoped he was, Eddie looked flushed but Richie figured it was the lighting. “No, they just happen to be good movies, asshole”, he set them down on the bed between them and pointed to Say Anything, “I really wanna watch that one, Bev says its good. But”, he pointed to The Princess Bride, “I know you like adventure so i grabbed that one too”. “How thoughtful my spaghetti man, but i’m feeling nice so we can watch your lame one”, Richie smiled down at Eddie, he still towered over the boy in their teenage years. “Okay first off its not lame, its romantic. And secondly, im sure you could use some pointers so take notes you fuckin’ anti-romeo.”. Richie laughed and picked up the VHS case and walked over to the small dingy TV that was across from his bed. Eddie got up and held onto Richie’s shirt sleeve, grab me more, “Not yet! I wanna watch it tonight with dinner!”. “Okay fine”, Richie walked back over to the bed and patted beside him, “Lets just chill then”. Eddie walked back over and they laid down next to each other and talked about the week.

As hours passed, their positions changed. At first they laid side by side, Richie’s hand twitching and aching to reach over and grab Eddies, he didn’t know why. Soon Eddie scootched over and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder, Richie’s curly hair like a pillow for him, smells good. When Eddie was close to Richie he always felt safe, like a wave of warmth and calm would wash over him, it made him want to be even closer. When Eddie got the courage to rest his head on Richie’s chest, both their bodies tensed up. Why did they feel like that, why did they feel so starved of touch all of a sudden, why did they crave more. Eddie nuzzled in which warranted a shuttered exhale from the taller boy. Soon Richie’s hands were playing with Eddies hair and tangling his long spidery fingers through it. so soft. Without realizing it, they had both gone silent as conversation faded and focus was directed to touch. This is what close friends do. Close friends make each other feel safe, make each others chests feel warm and arms tense,, right? They had gone about thirty minutes without talking and Richie looked out the window near his bed, it was dark. For Richie, the comfortable silence became an anxious one and he croaked quietly, “H-hey wanna go to the Convenient Mart?”. Eddie looked up at him lazily from his chest with his long eye lashes, his lips looked so soft. what the fuck. Eddie smiled and pushed himself off Richie, stretching, “Mhm! Lets head!”. Eddie bounced off the bed and was already scrambling to get his shoes. Richie was slower but he got up eventually and before they knew it they were out the door. “Remember”, Richie cautioned, “4 bottle limit, and, tonight we are ordering Chinese so no snacks”. “You got it chief!”, Eddie ran ahead giddily and looked back to smile at Richie. “Come on ‘Chee! Wanna make it home soon so we can watch the movie”. Richie grinned and ran to catch up to Eddie. 

At the Mart they both waved hello to Paul and went straight to the back to look at the liquor. Rule was they got two each, which meant they had to choose wisely. Richie always liked the sweet stuff because he would always be a child at heart, while Eddie preferred light Mexican beers. Richie studied the back of each bottle, trying to find one with the highest alcohol content. He knew drinking shouldn’t be just for the buzz of being drunk, but the buzz sure was fun and it helped as an excuse for any weird shit he did. maybe if he got drunk he could try and figure his feelings out about Eddie. The logic was poor but Richie was desperate for answers. He ended up with some hard lemonade and some, probably shitty, raspberry flavored beer. Eddie got two Carona Lights, and they met at the counter to check out. Richie checked out and chatted it up with Paul about his latest encounters while Eddie walked out to use the payphone and call to order the Chinese. Earlier Richie had given Eddie the Brochure for the place so Eddie had folded it and put it in his fanny pack, Eddie stepped into the booth and rang the number. He ordered some noodle dish for himself and orange chicken for Richie, it was his known favorite. Eddie also ordered some potstickers, a large bottle of coke and extra fortune cookies. Eddie was giving the woman on the phone Richie’s home address as Richie stepped out of the store, Eddie held up his finger to silently say “one minute”. When Eddie hung up and walked out of the booth Richie snaked his arm around Eddies to link their elbows and the two began to walk. “How much was the Chinese?’, Richie asked as they came around a corner. “Just 17 dollars, nothin to sweat over”, Eddie shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t being held up by Richie’s grip due to their height difference. “I think i got some cash under my bed we can pay for it with”. “No don’t be silly Rich you know the deal, i pay for entertainment and food, you pay for booze and host”. “I know i know”, Richie sighed lightly when they arrived at his house and he unlocked the front door, “Just wanna be a gentleman for my Eds, thats all”. Richie held the door open for Eddie and let him go in first, making a show of it all, Eddie rolled his eyes and laughed. They brought the bag of booze to Richie’s room and put it on the floor, Richie grabbed the VHS of Say Anything, and cued it up to watch by the time the food arrived. Some dick who had rented it previously had not rewinded the tape which meant Richie had to unwind it, closing his eyes as not to get any spoilers. When the food arrived, Richie was still unwinding the tape so Eddie got the door and tipped the driver. Eddie brought in the takeout bag and plopped down on the floor next to Richie, close enough that it made Richie’s skin prickle. It had gone to the beginning and Richie paused it looking over at the food and grabbing towards it, Eddie slapped his hands away, “Nu-uh Richie let me set this up so you don’t make a big mess like you always do”. Richie made an exaggerated frown, “okay wifey”, he reached over to grab the booze bag and unpack it. Richie fished his pocket opener out of the pocket of his jeans and popped open his hard lemonade and one of Eddies Caronas. Eddie meanwhile was unpacking the food and laying it out as nice as he could in front of them, he had the shimmy the food boxes to nestle them into the carpet. If they spilt it would be a sticky and colorful mess, and Eddie knew he’d have to clean it up if he didn’t want it to be there forever. Richie looked over, “Ohh! Orange chicken! my favorite!!”, Richie leaned over and kissed Eddies shoulder. wait. why did. why did he just do that. They both tensed up but kept talking as to not make it a weird moment, thats just what friends do, they both thought. They scootched back against the side of Richie’s mattress and pressed play, Eddie giddy to see the movie that Bev had continuously raved about. A few minutes in and Richie had already finished his food and more than half the potstickers, Eddie on the other hand was slowly slurping his noodles in between sips of beer. Richie nursed his hard lemonade and rested his head on Eddies shoulder, already feeling his filter fade and a buzz come on. Despite his height, that boy was a lightweight, in fact they both were, Eds being tiny in every way and Richie just being a total bean pole. By the time things were becoming even slightly romantic Eddie was feeling nervous, staring all too often between the screen and Richie’s big mop of hair that lay on his shoulder. Why did he care? He had schoolboy crushes on Richie his whole life yea but, but they were never more than that. He had gotten over him and Richie never had to know, the boy being obviously straight after all. obviously. No one knew Eddie was gay anyways, and he was planning on waiting until college. Richie was just a friend, just a friend who made him feel things, a friend who-. Richie sighed and nuzzled deeper into Eddies shoulder. Shit. Feelings had faded or so he thought and now, god now he felt giddy all over again for his best friend, his straight best friend. Richie was oblivious to Eddies feelings, too focused on his own fidgity body. Eddie was so warm, so nice. Richie didnt know what it meant, he never felt like that before for anyone other than Eddie. Was this how best friendship feels? are you supposed to want to kiss your best friend? i mean moms kiss their little kids and we are like family so,,. Richie tried to justify it any way he could, the real answer right in front of him yet so easily unseen. 

When the infamous boom box scene played, they had both finished off all their drinks and food besides the fortune cookies. Richie sighed as Lloyd held up the boombox, “He shouldnta gone back for her, she’s a biTch.”. “Richie!”, Eddie teasingly yelled and swatted at the boys head which had somehow found itself resting on Eddies lap. Richie turned from the screen looked up at Eddie with furrowed brows, “But Eds he did his very best and she just gave em a pen”. Eddie smiled down sweetly at Richie, drunk on beer and his good looks, “Sometimes people don’t always do the right thing at first Rich, sometimes people get scared”, he pushed Richie’s hair back off of his face. “if i was in love id never be scared, id stay for ever ever”, Richie frowned. “Not all of us can be brave like you Rich”, Eddies heart ached a little when he smiled down at the boy. “Yeh, imma real Romeo. But to be fair i never been in love so i dunno how hard it is”, He fingered at the folds of eddies pajama pants and turned his face inward to face eddies stomach. god slightly drunk Richie is like a baby. “Mm yea its harder when you’re in love”, the melancholy in Eddies voice luckily unheard by Richie. “Eds whats it feel like?”, Richie looked back up at Eddie like a little kid asking to hear a bedtime story. “Well, it”, he started cautiously, “its hard to explain. Love is hard to explain because well we all feel it differently. I think i’ve been in love but im not sure, its hard to know sometimes”, he brushed his hand through Richie’s hair. Richie furrowed his brows again, “Well how does you’re ‘maybe love’ feel?”. Eddie paused for a moment. “It feels good, but aches at the same time. Its this feeling deep inside of you that makes you never want to let go of that person.” thats how Richie felt, fuck. “ Its this little part of your brain that just, just tells you to do things and you don’t know why. Love is feeling safe in someones arms.” i think i love you Eddie “Love is wanting the best in the world for someone. Love is wanting to give every piece of yourself away if it means that it would make that person smile. Love i-”. Richie leaned up and kissed Eddie. Eddie went stiff and his mouth hung open. why did Richie do that. Richie looked scared, Eddie would hate him. “R-Richie, why did you do that”, Eddie wanted to cry as he looked away from Richie. he was so fucking scared, scared it was all a joke, it was always a joke with Richie. Richie sat up quickly and turned away from Eddie, arms wrapping around his own huddled up knees. “Im sorry Eddie”, the shame rang high in his voice, his mind suddenly all too sober.  “Its just, you were describing it and i, i, i”, he was choking back tears, “Ive been so confused lately and i, i didn’t know what these feelings meant and, i think,”. His tone dropped dead serious with fear, ‘Eddie i think i love you”. Eddies tears began to fall now, dripping down his face. “Richie you idiot”, a smile present in his voice, “i love you too. Richie i was describing you”. “Really?”, disbelief yet a song of hope sang in Richies voice. Richie turned around to be surprised with an embrace. They were both crying like dorks. Eddie began to kiss Richie’s tears away, trailing up and down and Richie did the same, both touching each other like they’d always wanted to but were too afraid to admit to until now. Eddie held onto Richie like he was a lifesaver, held onto him like his life depended on it. He never wanted to let go, Richie didn’t either. They calmed and held each other closely like that for a while. 

Richie spoke up, “Hey Eddie”. Eddie looked up with a red, tear stained face. cute. “yeah Rich?”, he smiled weak and warm. “Can i show ya something?”. Eddie nodded and let go of Richie so he could get up. Eddie sat on the ground and saw Richie walk over to the record player and dig around in his giant pile of records looking for the right one. After a while of searching to no avail Eddie giggled, “Need any help there?”, “No no i got it hold your horses,, Ah! Here!”. Richie set the record down, flipped the switch and put the needle at the start of the song he wanted. 

♫♬Many times I tried to tell youMany times I cried aloneAlways I’m surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone♫♬

Eddie got up and walked over to Richie who had turned to him with a smile. He held onto Richie and Richie offered out a hand for Eddie to take, so he took it.

♫♬Don’t want to leave you reallyI’ve invested too much time to give you up that easy♫♬

Eddie nestled his head into Richie’s shoulder and they rocked back and fourth to the beat.

♫♬To the doubts that complicate your mind♫♬

The music picked up and Richie began to spin Eddie around the room, swaying lazily in what could barely be called and dance. His hand was around Eddies waist and Eddies on his shoulder while their other hands remained clasped together.

♫♬We belong to the light, we belong to the thunderWe belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen underWhatever we deny or embrace for worse or for betterWe belong, we belong, we belong together♫♬

They both started to tear up again and held onto one another, their grips tightening in fear of loosing any contact at all. It was all Eddie had ever dreamed of, it was all Richie never knew he needed. 

♫♬Maybe it’s a sign of weakness when I don’t know what to sayMaybe I just wouldn’t know what to do with my strength anywayHave we become a habit? Do we distort the facts?♫♬

Richie danced Eddie down onto his bed and laid him down, looking over a tear stained, smiling and breathless Eddie. 

♫♬Now there’s no looking forwardNow there’s no turning back♫♬

Richie bent down in a buzzed confidence and kissed Eddie, this time with no questioning in his touch. This time he was so fucking sure of what he wanted and Eddie was too.

♫♬When you say We belong to the light, we belong to the thunderWe belong to the sound of the words we’ve both fallen underWhatever we deny or embrace for worse or for betterWe belong, we belong, we belong together♫♬

They kissed more and the music faded out from their ears, minds too focused on one another. The softer kisses turned into a starving passion of touchings and hums. Eddies arms snaked their way around Richie’s neck and pulled him down closer so Richie was on top of him, the contact they had both always needed. Hands were lazily drifting all over, touching and exploring, needing to feel everything and anything the other had to offer. Eddie scooted back so he could be all the way on the bed and Richie got up to walk around his bed and put his glasses on the night stand. He eagerly jumped back into bed which made Eddie giggle and go to kiss him again. Their cheeks were burning and so were their touches, fingers like searing fires on one another’s skin, a welcomed warmth. Eddie licked into Richie’s mouth and Richie obliged granting access, Richie moaned load from this which made Eddie hold onto him tighter. Eddie moved his fingers through Richie’s curly black hair and grabbed it a little too hard, earning an even louder moan from the boy which made Eddie smile into his mouth. Richie grasped at the bottom of Eddies shirt and tried to pull it up, Eddie disconnected and pulled it off. Before he reconnected with Richie he just stared at the boy, flush cheeks and swollen lips, fuck he was beautiful. Eddie moved close again and tried to pull off Richie’s shirt, being surprisingly successful without any of Richie’s help. Their bare chests touched, warm contact that sent an electric shock through their systems. So much more to feel, so soft, so rough, hot touches all over. Richie bent down to kiss and nip at Eddies neck and Eddie purred at the wetness of his mouth. “R-rich”, Eddie struggled out before Richie could move back to his lips, “Hm?” Richie looked up at him. “I think its time for bed”, he kissed Richie’s forehead. “oh, OH, sorry yea too fast”, Richie pulled away. Eddie closed the gap again, “aha no not too fast, just not sober ya know? wanna take in every new moment”. “mmm” Richie kissed Eddies lips lightly, “Makes sense”. Richie grabbed some pillows and dragged them underneath their heads. Eddie nuzzled his face in the crook of Richie’s neck and held onto him like a koala bear, legs wrapped around him and everything. Richie kissed Eddies hair, “I love you”, Eddie smiled up, “I love you too”.