#ronnie all excited to bow

[waugh-bao]

I was just watching a concert (Chile, 2016) and during the introductions, Mick and Ronnie are gesturing for Charlie to get closer as they typically do. Charlie takes several steps forward and bows and then Mick says “Very good Charlie.” He says it into the mic but it isn’t very loud and it isn’t at all sarcastic. It is just this little genuine praise for Charlie putting himself out there just a little bit more than usual. It’s very cute. Mick’s like “my shy friend walked five more feet than he usually does and I’m going to acknowledge and praise that!”

[moonlightisdancing]

Snowed in & Undone/ j.m.k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 4515

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI, a teensie bit of yelling, being trapped(snowed in), soft josh, oral sex (m&f receiving), gagging, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding (lmk if anything’s missed!)

A/N: ‘U.P.’ is the Upper Peninsula in Michigan!

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Your mom is best friends with Karen Kiszka. This caused you to practically grow up with the Kiszka siblings, having weekly Sunday dinner with them after church for years. She had always hoped that you would “fall in love with the curly haired one” and insists that “he’s a nice boy, you’re just being stubborn.” But you couldn’t stand “the curly haired one,” Josh. He’s loud, obnoxious, very full of himself and worst of all a former theater kid. After graduation you had really hoped your mom would drop it. You liked Jake, Veronica and Sam, hell, even Sam’s best friend, Danny, was better to hang out with than Josh. You have made a conscious effort to avoid Josh since graduation, even taking a gap year in the off chance he would go to any real college instead of whatever the hell he was doing. You felt guilty for not liking him, but you had your reasons even if nobody else understood.

“Honey! The boys are going up to the U.P. this weekend for some skiing thing, Mrs. Kiszka said Ronnie’s sick and can’t go. She wants to know if you’ll go so she can change reservations, the pass is already paid for!” You hear your mom shout down the hallway into your room.

You have gone 6 months without seeing Josh, why the fuck would you WILLINGLY do it now? It was tempting though. A weekend getaway with the hot one, Jake? Naturally at the expense of the same weekend being spent with his weird twin brother, the thought of a weekend stowed away with Jake kept you thinking. You’ve always had a thing for Jake, ever since he sat behind you in preschool and complimented the red bow in your hair. He was a heartthrob in highschool, but somehow remained single the whole time. He plays guitar, he’s funny, he’s damn good looking and definitely out of your league. The more you thought about Jake the closer you got to caving in.

“Um… sure! I haven’t really seen Jake since graduation, so it might be fun!” You’ve officially signed yourself up for what could be the best or the worst weekend of your life.

You start packing a bag, with only 1 day’s notice it was a tough time digging through what might not even be clean clothes. You’d only been to the U.P. once when you were little, not even old enough to remember anything other than getting sick in the car from driving for too long. You toss through some clothes until you find ones you think will catch Jake’s eye in the cabin. It’s been instilled in you that red’s his favorite color. You never asked him but why else would he have complimented your bow so many years back? Excitement made it hard to sleep, you watched the clock hit 4:23. You were so tired you wouldn’t have remembered what time you started dozing off if it wasn’t Jake’s birthday. The excitement washes away and you’re finally asleep.

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“HELLOOOO!! WAKE UP!!” You heard someone right in your ear. It didn’t sound like anyone you lived with, and nobody who comes over is that fucking loud but one person, Josh.

“Dude, what the FUCK are you doing in my room?!” You start to open your eyes and turn towards who you presume to be Josh.

“We’re supposed to leave soon… your mom said to come wake you up,” he just stood bedside as if he belonged there, his presence shaking you to the core. He looked different, a good different. Haircut, a little stubble, did he get his eyebrows plucked…?

“Josh, I mean this kindly, get the fuck out of my room. Right. NOW!” You felt a little bad for yelling, but decided he deserved it for intruding.

You hear his footsteps leave your bedroom, Josh grabs your suitcase on the way out to start packing the Suburban. Feeling guilty for what happened, you slowly roll out of bed and get dressed in warm clothes to beat the December chill. You try not to let the situation bother you, this weekend was a spur of the moment and Mrs. Kiszka paid for your entire trip. You would finally get some time away from work and do something fun. Midway down the hall, your mom stops you to give you some money for your trip and a kiss on your cheek.

“I heard you yelling up there… Now you be nice to my future son-in-law, don’t scare him away, that boy will do good for you.” Was she seriously still on this?

“Mom, for the THOUSANDTH time, I hate Josh. Always have. Why can’t you root for maybe… his better half? Jake is so much cooler.” You’ve been begging her for years to drop this narrative, and yet she continues with it.

“Honey, Jake’s too quiet for you, and if I’m not mistaken he has a lady, or maybe I misheard Karen… You know he’s just- he’s an interesting boy that one. Not bad at all, sweet kid, he’s just a little odd, darling. I think Josh’ll grow on you.” She was adamant on you and Josh being together, but she was so wrong.

You head outside and hop into the van behind the passenger seat. You assumed the usual position, Josh driving, Jake passenger, Sam behind Josh. That’s how it had always been when you guys took trips together. Jake was the first one in, he got in the driver seat. Very odd, but no way Josh’s ego would let his 15 year old brother in the front seat. You would have to sit behind him but that’s not worse than next to him. Sam approaches the van, he’s getting into the passenger seat. ‘Not a fucking shot…’ You thought so loudly you were afraid you might have said it. Following behind Sam was Josh, speak of the devil and he will arrive. The devil gets into the seat behind the driver, making this the most unfortunate seating arrangement ever. You didn’t know how long of a car ride this was, but you knew every second spent next to Josh would be insufferable. Worst part was Josh brought an extra bag and instead of placing it between the two of you, he scooched himself into the middle seat and placed his bag on the seat behind Jake.

Halfway through and Josh still hasn’t really spoken to you. Your main source of interaction was little Sammy boy in the front seat, asking him how school was going and if he had any plans for college yet, how Danny was, boring older sister-esque stuff. You didn’t say much to Jake so he could focus on driving, the last thing you wanted was him getting into an accident with ¾ of the Kiszka kids and you, an only child. The Michigan roads weren’t as bad as usual, but still not the greatest with black ice and slushy snow. There was a silence in the van amongst the people, the only thing playing was one of their CD’s Sam put in for you to hear. He had just started making music with his brothers, which was just about the only thing 15 year old Sammy had going on, poor kid. Their music was probably the only bit of Josh you could stand. His voice sounds nice when he sings, so why is it when he speaks you want to tape his mouth shut?

Jake has been driving for who knows how long, looking at the clock would only make it worse. Staring out of the window you start to feel tired, this was uncommon for you but the lack of sleep last night was really doing a number. You start to drift off with the light sound of music humming in the background. You let your head rest against the seat, and slowly fall to the left. You’re so used to the original seating, you didn’t think about whose shoulder you would land on. Sam, right? You’d only done this one other time, and Sam didn’t mind too much until you started drooling and he pushed your head into the window so it had somewhere to lay. But this shoulder felt different then Sam’s, much more broad and definitely had less bone going on. You didn’t care, maybe it was his jacket, all you cared about was getting some damn sleep. You feel a cheek press against the top of your head, and you nuzzle into the feeling of comfort.

“Okay, we’re here guys. Just barely in time to check into our cabins. C’mon sleepyhead.” You feel a hand reach back and shake your knee to wake you up. Your eyes open to Jake staring back, his hand on your knee and Sammy peering over the passenger seat. Suddenly it hits you.

‘If Sam’s up there… who’s shoulder am I- oh my fucking god…’ You felt shivers go down your spine. You realized you had been asleep on Josh’s shoulder this entire time, simultaneously (and unfortunately for you) realizing it was the best nap you’ve ever taken.

‘He smelled nice, he didn’t push me off of him, he’s really warm, NO! Ugh’ You lift your head off of Josh’s shoulder to apologize to him, only to realize he had fallen asleep too. You wondered for a second if he thought the same thing, and you wondered why you felt so much comfort and content on his shoulder if you disliked him as much as you thought.

All four of you get out, grab your bags and head towards the check in area. You hear Jake mention two cabins to the lady at the desk. Your heart thumps faster at the thought of a cabin with Jake, quickly bringing yourself back down remembering Karen probably put the twins together, and the two youngest together. Bunking with Sam isn’t who you were hoping for, but he’s a good kid, the lesser of the two evils. Jake approaches the group with the keys for the cabins.

“Okay, me and Sammy are in 21, Josh and Y/N are in 22, sound good?” Another thought struck so loud you again felt people heard it. ‘No, Jake, it doesn’t sound good. Why would Karen break it up that way, this has to be some sick joke, maybe Ronnie isn’t sick at all and mom put this together.’

“Shall we?” Josh reaches his hand out for yours in a curtsy. All you could think was ‘What a dork…’ Instead you push his hand down, knowing if you grabbed his hand it would be accompanied with a kiss on yours. The group makes their way to their assigned cabins, the snow started picking up and made the 5 minute walk feel like eons. Once you reach the cabins, you wave a sad wave to Jake and Sam as Josh gets the door to your impending doom. He grabs your bag for you and enters the cabin, you follow slowly behind.

“You can pick which room you want.” He says quietly, completely not the Josh you know.

“Josh, are you okay? I’m really sorry for yelling at you this morning. I just- I went to bed late, I was frustrated was all,” you were on the verge of tears trying to make amends with someone you usually didn’t care about hurting. You hate to admit it, but your mom was right, he is a sweet boy. Maybe that’s why you feel so guilty, that and the fact he’s been different towards you since then.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter, it’s fine really.” His voice came out shaky, you knew it wasn’t fine but you didn’t know how to undo the past.

Trying to think of the right words to say, you begin lugging your bag into the direction of the smaller room. You figure it’s the least you can do after being so mean to him.

Each in your own rooms unpacking, you get deep in thought again.

‘Why do I hate him so much? He’s gotta know after 15 fucking years, there’s no way. Why’s he always so nice? Maybe it’s me.’

Your thoughts are interrupted by Josh tapping his knuckles on the door. You turn around to see him timidly standing in the doorway, probably because the last time he entered a room you occupied, he choked back tears.

“What’s up, Josh?” You try to approach him like a stray cat you’re trying to befriend for the first time.

“Jake just called me, him and Sammy are snowed in. I was gonna go help them, but we’re in the same boat, ‘bout halfway up the door…” He places one of his hands on the side of his head awkwardly fidgeting with his curls.

“So, what do you want to do then? I think I saw some board games under the coffee table. Or maybe a movie?” You were trying to make the best of an even more unfortunate circumstance. Not only were you stuck in a cabin with your least favorite Kiszka, but now there was 4ft of snow locking you in the cabin with him.

Josh’s eyes widened in excitement, “Wait, actually? Usually you don’t want… nevermind, I’ll be at the table when you’re done.”

‘Fuck. He definitely knows. I mean how wouldn’t he know. I can’t even talk to him without being a bitch. I wish I could like him. I really do.’ For once you actually feel bad for the consecutive years of poor treatment towards Josh Kiszka on your behalf. You decide it’s time to make amends, become his friend instead of his enemy. Hey, one day you’ll be married to Jake, right? Can’t have your brother-in-law hating your guts.

You try to stall putting your clothes in the dresser, just trying to figure out the right words to make this apology perfect. You have 15 years to make up for, that’s almost your entire lives, although you’d like to think you didn’t start hating him until the 6th grade. You walk out to the living room area, gathering the words and courage up. He made hot cocoa, started the fireplace and already had a game of Monopoly set up. He shuffled one of his playlists that had a mix of a bunch of old people you’d never remember the names to. You were met with his dorky smile as he waved his arms out and wiggled his fingers followed by “Ta-daaaa!” You tried not to blush, the sentiment was touching.

“Josh, before we start the game, can we talk?” You feel tension in the air, your palms growing sweaty.

“Sure, you can sit down y’know, I don’t bite… anymore…” You giggled because as far as you can recall, you don’t think he’s ever bit someone.

“I’ve been thinking lately about how I am with you. I feel bad for avoiding you and always making plans with Jake and Sam when you’re busy. You’re really sweet and fun. Maybe too much fun for me, I think I need to dial it up and we’d be okay. I guess what I’m getting at is I’m sorry, Josh. I’m sorry for always being a bitch.” You feel like you pulled words out of a hat and threw them together.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I try not to take anything personally. I just try to put the energy and positivity into the world that I’d like to get back. I’d hope that in and of itself makes us ‘okay’ not the fact you feel bad. Please, I just want what’ll make you happy.” All you can think is how he captures the essence of the sun perfectly. He radiates warmth and love, you finally realize that it hasn’t been Josh this whole time, it’s been you.

You get up and walk towards Josh, reaching for a hug. He gladly stands up and takes you in his arms. His body against yours feels warm and you’re fully engulfed in his scent as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

“I felt particularly bad when I fell asleep on you and realized I liked it.” You were afraid of ruining the moment, but Josh giggles at your statement.

“I felt particularly bad when I thought about moving your head to stop you from drooling on my shirt, but I wanted you to be comfortable. I was trying to avoid being a Sammy 2.0” You couldn’t even be mad at him after all the shit you’ve put him through.

Josh is still holding you tight in his arms, soaking in the first good interaction you’ve had in an overdue time. Can’t Help Falling in Love comes on shuffle, you hear Josh start humming only making you want to stay there longer. He starts to gently sway with you. You move your arms up from around his shoulders to around his neck as you pull away to look at his face. Taking in all of his features, you realize how gorgeous Josh really is. His coffee eyes sparkle with hints of amber and his light winter complexion paired with his curls gently resting across his forehead. His perfectly sculpted nose sat above his plump, deep colored lips. Had you spent any of these years getting to know him you’re afraid you would have fallen in love. Josh’s been looking at you this entire time and you’d wondered if he was thinking the same things.

“What’s going on in there, gorgeous?” He broke the silence, having you melt in your spot with widened eyes.

“You’re the gorgeous one,” You blushed, feeling it was the wrong thing to say, but remembering he started it first.

Josh’s cheeks grow rosy, “That’s two firsts in one sentence…” you raised your eyebrow at him before he continued “… being called gorgeous, and being complimented by you.”

It’s like his body was calling you, you cradle his face with one of your hands. Rubbing his cheek with your thumb, you start to lean in for a kiss, hoping it’s the right move to make. Josh leans right into you as if this was a familiar occurrence, making it feel as if your lips belong to his. The room around you feels as if it’s spinning, a feeling of ecstasy fills the space around you. He moves one of his hands from your waist to the nape of your neck, tangling your hair between his fingers, he pushes you in gently. You let out the tiniest moan, the feeling of his fingers on your neck sending shivers down your spine. You slowly inch forward forcing Josh backwards toward the couch, you’re yearning for his touch more than you ever thought. He plops down onto the old couch and you fall straddling him making sure your lips never leave his.

You knew what you wanted but you weren’t sure how Josh was feeling. Hesitantly, you pull away from him to ask, “Do you want to do more…?”

Josh looked at you with thin eyes for a second before he realized what he thought you were implying. “Wait like by more do you mean, it.”

You giggled at his terminology. It. “Only if you want to, I’m okay with this, too,” you say reassuringly, you’re afraid maybe you pushed your luck.

Josh doesn’t speak, but the expression on his face says everything. He has a fiery look in his eyes, his cheeks red to the touch. You start kissing him again, feeling him against you through all layers of clothing. Even if this was as far as it got, it was much farther than you ever imagined with either of them.

Josh slides his hand down the small of your back past the waistband of your leggings. He drags his finger tips across your asscheek making you whimper into his mouth. You grind forward on his clothed cock, eager for some sort of relief.

“Josh, please,” you’re begging him to do something at this point, you knew you needed more.

“What do you need?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious, or if he’s really gonna make you ask for it.

“You, I need to feel you.” You barely managed to whine out what you hope he wants to hear.

Josh decides not to waste anymore time. He taps your thighs signaling you to stand up.

“Take those off,” he says pointing to your pants, “and take that off too.” He moves his finger up to point to your shirt.

Josh begins standing up from the couch removing all of his clothing. He’s standing in front of you entirely naked leaving you in your undergarments. You stare at his cock in disbelief of the size. Without hesitation you get down on your knees infront of him, mouth wide open letting him take the reins. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you work your tongue around his tip. He’s so big you’re not confident it’s going to fit in your mouth, let alone other places, but you try to take him entirely. You rest him on your tongue and brace your hands on his thighs, slowly working him down your throat. You drag the fingers from your left hand up his thigh and cup his balls. Josh bucks his hips forward in pleasure, causing you to gag, your eyes filling up with tears. He reaches his free hand to your face and wipes away the tears before removing himself from your mouth.

“I wasn’t done!” You teased him.

“Your eyes are watering, I’m not gonna do that to you.” He said gently before lifting you off the ground.

He holds you close to his body in a sheltering hug as he unclasps your bra. He follows this up with a strange question.

“Heads or tails?” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, because what the hell does that have to do with anything?

“Heads?” You say as you see him reaching for a coin.

He flips the coin and catches it, flipping it onto the back of his hand.

He sucks his teeth, “Sorry baby girl, tails.”

He signals you to the couch, you sit down on it but he flips you over, your breasts touching the back of the couch, knees sinking into the cushions. ‘So this is what he meant…’ you think to yourself.

Josh is standing behind you, you feel his hands on either hip, and his breath at the small of your back. You feel his teeth grab your panties as he pulls them down. Josh is on his knees, staring right at your heat, panties around your thighs. You feel him spread your asscheeks, getting a full view, and then you feel his breath again. He licks a stripe from your clit all the way to your entrance before dipping his tongue into you. You let out a moan at the anticipated relief you’d been searching for. He starts lapping at your clit like his life depends on it, working two digits into your entrance. It feels so good you feel like you might cum before the best part happens.

“Are you ready?” He asks, pulling himself away from you.

You didn’t want him to stop touching you with his tongue, but you wanted him more in a different way. You shake your head yes to him, but deep down you’re nervous if he’ll even fit. Josh lines himself up with your entrance, his hands spreading you wide open for him to see. He places his tip at your entrance before slowly pushing in. He moves his hands to your hips. You’re breathing halts, the sensation sends a fuzzy feeling across your entire body.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“More.” You could barely speak through the high but you still knew what you wanted.

Josh pushes himself deeper until you feel his pelvis touching your ass, he lays across your back, arms around you and plants a kiss between your shoulder blades. He stays there for a second as your slick covers him. As he begins working at a slow pace, he reaches an arm down to toy with your clit. He starts to thrust at a normal pace, working you down to nothing for several minutes.

“Are you close?” He whispers into your ear.

“Uh-huh, are you?” You ask back.

“Yeah, but I want to see that pretty face when you do.” He lays you down on the couch, facing the ceiling as he works his way on top of you.

He wraps your legs around his waist, he shoves his cock back into your dripping pussy, tucking his arms under yours and around your shoulders. He nestles his face into your neck and digs his fingertips into your shoulders. You’re scratching up his back so hard, you’re anticipating open wounds and bloody nails. You feel Josh’s pelvis rubbing against your clit, making you tighten around him again.

“Are you on birth control?” He frantically asks, but you’re assuming for good reason.

“Yeah, IUD.” You respond through sharp breaths, fighting the urge to cum without him.

“Oh, okay, good.” He chuckles a little.

“Josh, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah, me too, c’mon show me what ya got.”

You start to moan through shortened breaths, digging your nails deeper in his back, body twitching under Josh’s, you can feel yourself tighten around him as you reach your climax. Following your release, Josh starts to slow down, taking longer, deeper strokes, pulling you down onto his cock by your shoulders.

“Josh, cum in me.” You never thought those words would ever leave your mouth.

He starts to kiss all over your collar bone between low register moans. He thrusts into you one more time, filling you with his cum, followed with a deep sigh. He immediately pulls out and goes to get something to clean you up with. He comes back with a roll of toilet paper as a temporary fix until you make it to the shower.

“Holy shit man, I can’t believe that just happened.” Josh says while wiping his cum off of you.

“Yeah, me either.” You admit.

Josh helps you sit up on the couch, and he places a kiss on your glowing cheek. You get up to get into the shower, barely able to walk and unable to figure out where to go from here. Do you try to take it further, and let your mom be right about the boy you fought years denying? You decided that was something you could figure out later, right now you just wanted to get cleaned up and watch a movie with Josh. You spend about 20 minutes in the shower before strolling out in a pair of pajamas Josh grabbed for you from your room. He made a makeshift fort and had ELF ready to play with some fresh hot cocoa and popcorn that was just popped. You snuggled up with Josh for your little date night, and let all the future explanations wash away as you fell asleep in the warmth and comfort of his arms.

[hailthegodsong]

OUR LOVE IS BORN

Masterlist

Chapter 6 ~ Bad Day

Content Warnings: Exam stress, mentions of nightmares, descriptions of violence and injury from car accident, flirting, anxiety, anxiety attack, major anxiety, near car accident, reckless driving, dangerous driving, extreme anxiety, panic attack, hyperventilation, unintentional self-harm, blood, crying, disorientation, mentions of car accidents, comfort.

The next five weeks flew by, and before I knew it, we were trudging through the muddy depths of exam weeks.

Time was too scarce for sledding or picnics, and we were forced to watch the beauty of winter from indoors, studying for our exams.

The stress of it all was not helping with my nightmares, and I often found myself lying awake at night, unable to close my eyes and struggling to force out the feeling of asphalt against my cheek as I stared at the wreck of cars before me, thick red oozing from my body.

I thought I lost my leg after catching sight of the volume of blood spilling onto the floor beneath me.

The aching reminder had reappeared too, as I'd picked up my favourite pastime of running, which only worsened my condition, leaving me with discomfort every time I took a step.

Josh and I hadn't been speaking as much as we used to due to our busy schedules, and I began to realise that we only spoke on our drives to and from school.

I hadn't seen Mum for all five weeks. We never spoke after our fight, and the only way I knew she still came home after work was the evidence of a growing wine stash in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Dad and I however, were closer than ever, and prior to my busy study schedule, we spent a lot of time together baking, listening to music, and he occasionally joined me on a run.

Dad was also in a much better headspace, as he was shortly hired by a record company for work. He'd taken up golfing in his free time too, and I knew he'd made some friends doing it.

In essence, I was in a kind of middle space, between happy and miserable. Never quite fulfilled due to the raging thoughts that rampaged through my mind, yet comfortable with the idea that everyone around me was doing well.

It was an oddly warm day that we'd decided to go to the library to study. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny were all keen on the exploring Saginaw for a day, with the guilt free justification that we were studying too.

Dad and Mum were going on a date night too, meaning I could stay out late and not face the wrath of a worried parent.

It was safe to say I was feeling exited.

I slipped on some black jeans, paired with a light grey half zip Ralph Lauren sweater, with a tote bag hanging from my shoulder. Bubbles of excitement boiled in my stomach, as I hadn't spent proper time with any of the boys in a while, and I couldn't wait to laugh with them all.

After checking that my bag had everything I needed one last time, I bounded down the stairs, bidding Dad a cheery goodbye and slipping on my shoes, before making my way across the path to their house.

I had braided my hair into two parts today, and I loved the way they looked draped over my shoulders, with small bows tied to the hair ties at the bottom, and stray hairs falling over my face.

The Kiszka house was chaos when I walked through the open door. Karen was screaming at one of the boys, and in the mess of movement I couldn't tell who. Sam and Jake were arguing over a shirt they both wanted to wear, and I assumed Josh was inside the bathroom that Ronnie was pounding a fist on angrily.

I stood awkwardly by the door, not wanting to intrude as I watched the madness unfold.

"Out of the kitchen right now or I'm burning that God-damned shirt so that neither of you can wear it!" Karens voice boomed through the house, and Sam and Jake came sulking towards my line of sight, still bickering under their breaths.

"And I'm older than you," Jake remarked, but Sam had noticed I was standing there and wandered over to me with a goofy smile on his face.

He threw an arm around my shoulder, "Layla, don't you think this shirt would look much better on me than Jake? I mean, the blue was just made for my beautiful, fair complexion," Sam lifted the denim blue shirt up between us, waving it around with exaggeration.

Jake threw a shooing hand up to Sam, "For fucks sake, just take it Sam, I don't even care," he huffed, before walking up to me and ruffling the hair on my head, sticking his tongue out and blowing a wet raspberry.

I glared at him and flattened my hair back down, "Gross."

He smirked as he sauntered off to his room.

"Josh, I swear to god if you spend one more minute-" Ronnies voice boomed down the hallway, as the click of the door sounded, and Josh walked out, smirking with a cocky hop in his step as he shimmied his shoulders in Ronnies face. After spotting me, his smile widened to his eyes and he make quick pace to reach me.

Danny rounded the corner, offering me a sweet smile which was shortly followed by a yawn, "I don't know how much study I'll be able to get done. I'm exhausted," he said, and I noticed the sleepy droop of his features.

"That's because you guys went to bed like, an hour ago," Josh commented, and I inferred that Danny must have slept over the night before.

Sam clapped and punched his fits outwards as he slipped on the blue shirt, leaving majority of the buttons undone, "Not me! I feel fresh as a daisy."

"You both better go to bed early tonight, I swear to god I can't deal with you keeping me up for two nights in a row," Josh complained sending them both a pointed look.

It took another half hour before all the boys were coordinated and ready, and finally, we piled down the highway towards Saginaw.

I sat in the backseat with Sam and Danny, and spent the ride watching the world pass by through the window, trying to distract myself from the familiar feeling of sitting in the backseat of a car, as the memory of my nightmare last night crept into my mind.

I occasionally caught Josh's eyes in the rear view mirror, but would quickly look away shyly.

Once we'd arrived, the group clambered into the library building, which had an old fashioned style to it. Antique wooden furniture littered the spaces, and rows of shelves were pressed against the walls.

I inhaled the comforting smell of books, and followed after the boys as they claimed a table to study on. I took a seat between Josh and Danny, before taking my laptop, notebooks and textbooks out of my bag to begin studying.

I was positive I got the most work done out of the group, as none of the boys could go longer than fifteen minutes without getting distracted by one another and becoming lost in conversation.

I was particularly deep in researching the metabolic rate of aerobic-based athletes, when someone tugged lightly on my plait. I looked up and realised that everyone had left the table. Books, pens and laptops were scattered over the table in a mess of knowledge, but every seat was empty.

I tossed my head around aimlessly, hoping to spot them all by the bookshelves, but nobody was there, save for an older man who was flipping through a worn, brown book in a leather seat nearby.

Deciding I was too busy with schoolwork to join in their childish games, I turned back to my work and typed notes onto my laptop, highlighting a few things here and there from my papers on the desk.

Another soft pull on my braid had me huffing in frustration, pausing the quick movements of my hands to turn around. Josh's retreating body, which I assumed was attempting to be swift and sneaky made me huff out a laugh, along with the sight of the boys peeking out from behind the bookshelves, clearly over studying and enjoying their time annoying me instead.

I sent a glare their way, and went back to my work, hoping that this time they knew I was serious.

About five minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around angrily.

"I swear to God, Josh-" I whisper-yelled. Yet the face I was met with when I looked up wasn't Josh. And it wasn't any of his brothers either. Instead, the girl I had met on my first day of school stood beside me, a look of shock and regret on her face.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" I rushed out, still trying my best to keep my voice at a minimum in the void silence of the room. "I thought you were someone else, it's great to see you again...Aanya, was it?" I asked, sending her a look of apology.

She smiled warmly, "That's okay, and yes that's me, Layla, right?" she asked and I nodded. "Well I was just coming to ask if you could help explain something for me for the art exam... but if you're busy I totally get that, I don't want to ruin your flow or anything."

"No, no, no, you're totally fine," I said, pulling Josh's chair out from next to me and gesturing for her to sit down. I pulled out my art books and got the documents up on my laptop, "What did you need help with?"

We spent the next ten minutes discussing the art exam, and another ten minutes sketching out ideas as I tried my best to explain to her the concept of constructing form. As we spoke, I realised how nice it was to talk to another girl in our year, seeing as I hadn't made any friends yet, other than the Kiszka's. Her girly comments made me feel giddy and exited, and I realised very quickly how nice of a girl she was.

Both of us zoned out once we had began sketching, becoming intensely involved with the pen on paper, a sense of meditative relaxation and peace washing over me in the silence of the room and my mind. That was, until a pair of hands landed on my shoulders making me jerk upwards and streak a line of lead across the white of my paper. Aanya's head popped up in surprise too.

"When were you gonna introduce us to your friend?" Josh's voice drifted next to my ear.

I turned around and smiled at him, "Oh hey, this is Aanya. Aanya, this is Josh."

Aanya said a quick 'hello' and Josh smiled kindly at her, before all the other boys made their way over, disrupting our silent peace completely. Everyone introduced themselves in a quick flurry of names, that I was sure Aanya would not remember.

"Wow this is great, did you draw it?" Danny asked, picking up Aanya's paper.

"Oh yeah," she quickly snatched it from his hand and placed it facedown on the desk, "It doesn't look to great cause it's not finished yet," she blushed.

His eyebrows furrowed, "No way, that was amazing, you're very talented," he replied softly and Aanya blushed. I glanced at Josh with my eyebrows raised and he looked down at me, still leant on my chair with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Righty then are we gonna get the hell outta here or what?" Sam spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, it's so sad in here I'm getting depressed," Jake commented, running a lazy hand over his face.

I laughed a little but bit my lip, "I just wanted to write a few more notes for my English essay, I promise I wont be long," I said, turning back to my desk and opening up my laptop again. The others moved off huffing, but I could feel Josh's presence behind me still.

He placed his warm hands on my shoulders and began to massage, kneading out the tightness of my muscles, and nearly making me drop my head forward in pleasure.

He leaned down close to my ear, "Don't you think you've worked hard enough for one day?"

I somehow managed to mumble an ‘uh-uh’as I shook my head side to side, struggling to move my fingers across the keyboard.

"C'mon. You overwork yourself too much, lets go buy some cool shit," he gave my shoulders one more releiving squeeze before shaking me to regain my consciousness.

I shook my head to refocus, and sucked in a deep breath, "Okay fine, lets go." The boys all rushed to pack up their things, and I stretched over the back of my chair, hitting a particularly blissful spot on my back.

"Wanna come with us?" I asked Aanya, who had resumed her drawing, "We're gonna go around to some thrift shops I think, just explore the city a bit."

She contemplated it for a moment, her eyes flicking over to the group of guys, catching on Danny, who as if on queue looked up to her stare, before she quickly looked back at me with a blush.

"I don't know..." she trailed off shyly.

I smiled, "I'd love for you to come, please? It would be nice to have another girl around for once." We both laughed and she agreed, packing up with the rest of us and following as we all piled out of the building.

"Sun!" Josh yelled once we had stepped onto the street, his arms reaching up into the air, and head tilted back as if he was having a spiritual cleansing. I laughed, and made my way next to him for the short walk to the first shop we encountered.

It was a small, minimalist style business, with an eerie silence, and the air conditioning on far too cold. They sold trinkets like hair clips, and belt buckles and scarves, but the boys didn't last long in the noise quashing environment, and we were soon back out on the street.

We stopped by a small sandwich vendor for lunch, standing in almost complete silence in the street as we all stuffed our faces with replenishments before setting off again.

The next shop we visited seemed much more promising. It was a small hole in the wall, with an archway entrance. I was immediately met with dim lighting, scarves and other sheets hung and strewn around the ceilings and walls, wrapping around the warm, buzzing lightbulb. The unmistakable voice of Jim Morrison was playing softly through a speaker somewhere, and I could hear some metal chimes tinkle from the wind in the doorway.

The man at the counter lifted his head at our presence, and I admired his curly head of hear and mustache. I wondered if Josh would ever grow a mustache like that.

"Hey guys, can I help you with anything today?" he asked.

"We're just gonna have a browse if that's aright," Jake responded, and the worker nodded, smiling kindly before retuning to whatever task he was working on.

The shop was small, yet we all naturally drifted apart to look at seperate sections, and I soon found myself lost in a rack of clothes, with a pile of jackets, tops and jeans thrown over my forearm.

"What do you think about this one?" Josh asked, and I turned to my left to see him smiling brightly, with a thick red beanie mounded on his head with a few of his little curls peeking out the edges.

I scrunched my nose up, unable to contain a smile, "So cute, Joshy," I reached over and grabbed a chunk of his smily cheek like a grandma. He shook me off playfully, laughing as he slipped the beanie off his head and fitted it onto my own. I posed in front of him, putting on my sharpest model face ironically.

He took a step back with his hands propped on his hips as if to admire his work, "Wow. There is no way this beanie isn't going home with you."

I smiled, "Does it look good?" I asked, wandering over to the small mirror situated in the corner of the shop.

"You look beautiful in it," he said quietly, and I watched in the mirror as he peeked up from behind me, his hand hesitating to touch my arm as it hovered absently beside it. I smiled into the reflection, unable to take my eyes off Josh and wishing he would just reach out and touch me.

"Layla! Do you think this dress would fit me?" I heard Aanya call from the other side of the room. I awkwardly smiled at Josh, slipping the beanie off and placing it back into his hands before making my way over.

After a rough hour in the same shop, we left with a bag of clothes each, smiling like children at our buys, as we made our way down the crowded street.

"I can't believe those boots were in my size. I saved a ton," Aanya remarked, in reference to a pair of white cowboy boots that she was going to spend a hefty amount of money on online.

"I know, you're so lucky you hadn't bought the expensive pair online already," I answered, squinting as we walked towards the bright sun.

"Yeah... I can't wait to see you wear that white dress, you looked like Stevie Nicks reincarnated," she joked.

"Which dress?" Josh asked, shamelessly eavesdropping on our conversation.

"I'll show you later," I said, only hearing how domestic the statement sounded after the words had escaped my lips. I blushed, looking away to the busy road beside us.

I watched in silence as the cars drove by on the street while the others talked beside me. And as if the universe was out to get me, I caught sight of a car which recklessly merged into another cars lane without indication, almost causing an accident.

It was insignificant and unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, so nobody paid it any mind but me. A pit of anxiety began to swirl in my stomach and something inside me tensed. It took everything in me to force the negative thoughts from my mind, trying my hardest to ignore the ache in my thigh.

"Alrighty, next stop!" Sam yelled as he swiftly turned into another shop perched on the corner of the street. Stepping in, I sighed at the sight of vinyl shelves, which reached down into the long, hearty depth of the store. A few others mingled already in the isles, as we excitedly made our way through them.

I found it interesting to watch which genre called to everyone, as Danny was drawn to the folk section, Sam to the jazz, Jake to the rock, Aanya to the alternative.

Josh remained glued to my side, "So, where do you wanna look at first?" he asked.

"Oh, you don't have to follow me," I urged, feeling guilty that I may be keeping him from his own interests.

He smiled, "I want to." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured a hand forward, "Lead the way."

Josh and I exhausted the blues genre within minutes, each with a couple of sleeves tucked under our armpits as we made our way to the next section.

"No way, I've been looking for this everywhere," Josh exclaimed, pulling out a yellow and black vinyl from the shelves.

I wandered over to hm, looking at it curiously, "What is it?" I asked.

"It's this band called Amanaz, this is the only album they ever did called Africa. Some great stuff on here," he said excitedly, slipping it under his arm. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, nodding to the vinyl in my hand.

I held a finger out towards him, indicating he had to wait a moment, as my face contorted grotesquely and I shot out a muffled sneeze into the corner of my arm.

I sniffed and apologised before I lifted it up in front of us, "It's a Lynard Skynard album I've not heard of before. I'm trying to decide if I should risk the buy or not," I pondered. Josh took the vinyl from my hand, flipping to the back and reading contents.

He rose his eyebrows and nodded his head, "Theres a few songs I recognise on here, I say buy it."

I winced, "But I've already got three I wanna buy, and I don't wanna go over my budget. I'll just have to chose one to get rid of," I said bashfully, a bit embarrassed of my very low bank balance.

Josh hummed, "Let me know which ones you end up going for." He then resumed his casual browsing of the store.

In the next ten minutes, I had sneezed about twelve times, and was starting to get very annoyed.

"Are you alright? You're not sick, are you?" Josh asked after I sneezed again as we made our way into an isle that Jake was in, filtering through a rack of vinyl.

"Yeah, no I feel totally fine, it's just my nose, I don't now what's up with it," I said, squeezing my nose with my fingers to try and ease some of the itchiness.

"Hey," Jake said once we were next to him. I returned to looking through the albums, when Jake's obnoxiously loud sneeze gave me a fright.

"My God, do you really need to sneeze so loud?" I asked, looking around to see if anyone heard.

"Sorry," he said bashfully, "The dust in here is really pissing me off."

Josh patted us both on our shoulders, "Hmm Layla, you must be allergic to dust then."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his comment, "What? No I'm not."

"Jakey is though, and you've both been sneezing like lunatics since we got in here," he commented. They both looked at me with a knowing stare and I sniffled.

"That sucks I thought I wasn't allergic to anyth-" I interrupted myself with another sneeze.

"Okay, lets get out of here," Josh stated, dragging us both along with him to the payment counter. I had ended up putting my Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl back, and opted for my original pick of three, paying the polite cashier, before letting Jake do the same. Josh had gone to collect Sam, Danny and Aanya, and returned back moments later with them all, the boys with a pile of at least ten records each.

In fact, the volume of all of their purchases made me begin to wonder how much they must be getting paid at their small gigs.

Once we'd left the store, we all decided that we had had enough for the day and were ready to go home, however, the boys needed to stop by the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner.

I bid goodbye to Aanya, promising to find her on Monday for art class that we apparently had together unknowingly. She smiled shyly at the rest of the boys before leaving, and I didn't miss the pink tinge on Danny's smiley cheeks when she told them she'd see them on Monday too.

We decided to drive the distance to the grocery shops, not wanting to have to carry the bags across Saginaw to where we had parked, and despite the familiarity of having Josh drive me around, I felt a surge of anxiety at the thought of being in the car.

Josh insisted that I sat in the front seat this time, and as I clipped on my seatbelt, I found myself needing to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. My nails picked at one another while everyone got in and buckled up for the ride, and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I had to force myself to look at my hands in fear of seeing a moving vehicle outside and setting off a panic attack.

All I could picture in my mind was the near accident I had witnessed, and my mind morphed the memory to show a horrific scene of a violent accident.

"You alright over there?" Josh asked, and I glanced up at him slightly, unable to form a coherent string of words, as I merely nodded my head and sent him a tight lipped smile. My jaw was tight and my leg bounced in the seat.

I felt terrible, knowing it was close to impossible for Josh to not see that something was wrong, which was completely unfair to him. He had done nothing to make me afraid in the car with him, yet my nerves were firing mercilessly, my mind going haywire.

I felt the ghost of an ache in my thigh, teasing me, like my body was testing its own mental limits. My fingers tightly kneaded into the muscles, desperately trying to reach the bone where the ache stemmed from.

Regrettably, my eyes wandered to the windscreen, where the car piled down a busy road, other vehicles passing our left and I was unable to look away, fixated on the traffic in fear of collision.

The music in the car swelled, and the volume of speech in the car rose, and my heart thrummed in my ears. I missed the days that I could sit in a car without worries, feeling safe enough to relax and enjoy myself.

That part of me had been ruined.

"You coming?" Josh's words broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to find we were already parked in the grocery parking lot. I could see the rest of the group walking into the store.

I must have dissociated for the rest of the ride.

"Yep," I choked out, quickly jumping out of the car and speeding towards the store. I could feel Josh following silently behind me, concern radiating from his body.

I ignored him, keeping my head down and following after the group of boys in the store.

My mind ran through the lists of anxiety and PTSD coping mechanisms I was given by my post trauma therapist in Australia, yet it seemed that all I could focus on was the sensation of being trapped in a flipped car, blood rushing to and out of my head.

"Reckon Mums gonna check the receipt?" Sam asked the group, "We could sneak some snacks in here, I doubt she'd realise," a sly smile playing at his lips. Jake smacked the back of his head.

At some point during the shopping trip, Danny stood beside me, where I had a safety gap between me and the group, feeling overwhelming bouts of anxiety for the car ride home.

He crooked his body down slightly to reach his head closer to my height, "You doin' alright?" he whispered.

I swallowed and nodded, my body conflicting between not wanting to worry anyone, but having no energy to fake my emotions anymore.

He spoke again, caution lacing his words, "Sammy gets... really bad anxiety sometimes," he started, and I turned my head to him slightly, indicating I was listening. "Like, really bad. "

He paused. "I don't know if that's what's going on here, but if you want to talk to someone, or need help, he's definitely the one to go to."

My head swam. Sam has anxiety? He was one of the most relaxed and carefree people I'd ever met.

"Of course we're all here to help, or talk, or whatever you need... but, just keep that in mind," he slipped back to the group silently, and I took a deep breath.

The boys didn't waste much more time shopping, and we were soon seated back inside the car, which now felt stuffy and uncomfortable. Everyone began chatting and Jake stuck his head to the front and leant his forearms on the back of Josh and my seats so that he and Josh could chat.

My eyes were locked on the road ahead of us, and I found myself frequently pressing my foot into the empty space at my feet, when I felt like Josh wasn't breaking quickly enough.

I felt incredibly bad doubting his driving skills, although the thrum of my heart and whizzing in my mind had me absolutely immobilised in fear.

"You alright over there?" someone asked, and I looked over to see Jake looking at me, and Josh sending me short glances, his eyes trained mostly on the road.

"Yes," I said tightly, to both of them, not knowing which had asked the question. "You know, you should really put a seatbelt on," I said to Jake, anxiously watching his positioning between us both.

He smiled, ruffling the hair on top of my head before landing his hand gently on my shoulder, "You sure you're okay? You seem a bit tense."

I swallowed and sent him my most convincing smile, bile rising in my throat each time I took my eyes off the road.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly.

"Holy fuck," Josh spat, and I whipped my head to the road before us.

I braced my hands on the dashboard in front of me, as Josh slammed on his breaks, narrowly avoiding the red pickup truck which had decided to run his red light into the intersection. Jake nearly fell forward into my seat, and I heard Danny and Sam fall into the back of Josh and my seats.

Josh leaned out the window and flipped him off, yelling profanities as the pickup drove away carelessly.

"What the fuck!" Someone yelled.

While the rest of the car complained and cursed, I couldn't manage to tear my eyes from the road before us, where our cars would have collided, had Josh not stopped.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"What a fucking prick."

"I swear to God, it's always the pickup drivers, think they own the whole road."

Jake plopped back into his seat in the back, and I heard the boys click their seatbelts in, clearly shaken from the risk of being in an accident.

"Is everyone alright?" Josh asked, looking through the rear view at the three in the back. I didn't hear their responses. My hearing went fuzzy. I'd been submerged under a body of water.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but we were moving again. The car had gone quiet. Or maybe it hadn't, but I couldn't hear anything.

My stomach churned, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on something in particular, but everything was happening. But nothing was happening too. My nails were digging into the soft flesh of my palm, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the oxygen I'd been depriving them of since the car had stopped.

My jaw was clenched so tight, I could imagine the sound of my teeth as they ground together, crumbling under each others weight and falling lose in my mouth.

I was going to be sick.

Josh was talking to me, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I could see his mouth moving in my peripheral, and he even placed a hand on my thigh at one point. I knew he was trying to get my attention, but I couldn't pull my consciousness from that deep, dark place in my head.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

I glanced down at my stomach, at where I knew a scar lay, sheathed beneath clothing. I looked further to my thigh, where a metal rod sat, invisible under layers of muscle, blood and skin.

I could smell the ghost of blood. My chest rose and fell, yet it felt like the water I'd been submerged under was filling them up slowly.

My breathing shallowed immensely around the time we turned the corner onto our street.

I knew I was about to have a panic attack. I had had them before, but never with so many people around. I was dying to go inside and break down. Alone.

The moment the car stopped in front of my house, I swung the door open, muttering a thanks, and shutting it behind me before speeding up the path to my porch. My breaths came out quick and uncontrolled, and someone grabbed my arm behind me. I couldn't breathe.

I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick all over me and all over Josh and all over the pavement below us.

"Layla, what's going on?" Josh was in front of me, and I couldn't bear the look on his face. My hands landed on my head, tugging at the roots of my hair.

"Nothing, I-" My breath caught in my throat. Panicked, my eyes widened and I tried to take a breath in, but I couldn't. My lungs were full of lead. There wasn't any space left.

My hand shot to my throat, as my lungs begged me for air.

Disorientated and panicked, I stumbled backwards and my back hit something but I didn't feel it as I slid down onto the floor.

I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," Josh spoke, dropping down to my level. He touched my hands, my face, my arms, trying his hardest to comfort me. "What can I do, Layla?"

I couldn't speak. I was going to pass out, my head going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen.

Then Josh was gone, and Sam was in front of me. Pain was radiating from my scalp as I ripped at the roots of my hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" Sam asked, his hands reaching up to my own and removing them from their assault on my hair.

I nodded, "Sa-Sam," I gasped, "I- I can't-"

"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you're finding it hard to breathe?" He asked.

I could smell blood again, and when I looked down at my hands I could see drops of it falling from my palm, crescent moon marks from my nails embedded in them. I nodded in response, feeling bile rise in my throat, the smell of blood clawing out my darkest memories. Memories I would give anything to forget.

"Can you try and take a deep breath out for me?" He asked. I was gasping for air now, trying my hardest to let air into my lungs. Sam watched me intently, "Stop trying to breathe in, you need to make space in your lungs for the air first."

My vision was going blurry with panic. I could only see Sam's face. I could smell blood. I couldn't hear anyone but him. Where had everyone gone? My chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe. My eyes were glued to my hands, blood dipping onto the wooden deck below.

"Layla. Look at me," Sam ordered, his hands on the sides of my face, "Concentrate."

His stern tone brought me back for a moment.

"Breathe out with me," he said, opening his mouth and letting a long deep breath out. I tried to do the same, regaining control of my lungs and huffing out a short breath, only to sharply inhale again, my lungs burning for air.

"Good. Again, just a bit longer this time," he instructed gently, repeating his actions, and as if an elastic band had been released from my windpipe, my shoulders dropped, and a heave of air left my lungs. I gasped in a breath, panting heavily at the function of my lungs, and collapsed forward into him, a sob falling from my lips. He wrapped me up in his arms tightly, and began to rock us back and forth gently on the floor.

"Breathe, that's it, just breathe," he whispered.

My hands shook as I held them close to my body. Taking a clearer look at the world now, I could tell that it was around sunset, and as the sun had set behind the trees, the air had dropped to a cooler chill.

Not much time passed when the pressure in my ears had released and I could hear the sound of both my own and Sam's breaths in the silence of the empty world we sat in.

I lifted my head from his chest, and he released his arm around me. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, smiling sheepishly at him, and muttered a small apology. He only shook his head.

We both sat on the concrete floor, and I untucked my legs to sprawl them out before us, while Sam copied.

"Danny, um... Danny told me you would be able to help," I said quietly, "He said you get anxiety..."

He looked out to the street, as if deep in thought before speaking, "Yeah, it can get pretty bad sometimes."

I placed my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. And thank you, so much for that, I don't- I don't know what I was going to do..." I said aimlessly.

He cleared his throat, and looked over at me, "It's okay," he smiled sweetly. "Did something cause it? Or..."

I sighed. It was my turn to look out at the street now. I could feel him looking at me for an answer, so I merely nodded my head, before letting it drop forward limply, exhausted with everything.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly. As much as I wanted to say no, I was tired of keeping it to myself. I needed to tell someone. The secret was eating me from the inside and I desperately wanted to get it off my chest.

So, I nodded quickly, "Yes please." I glanced over to him, "If you don't mind."

I could have guessed something was up with Layla the moment we got into the car. Her avoidant stares and fiddling hands served as an immediate warning that something was wrong.

Though, once we'd exited the car, she seemed okay again, her anxiety only fluctuating in spurs, rendering me useless in trying to help her.

I began to feel truely worried once we reached the grocery store. Never had I seen her so... absent.

She wasn't speaking, and I could see the tremor in her hands which she had balled into tight fists. It was common for her to tuck her hair behind her ears when she was nervous or anxious too, and I caught her reaching up to brush away hair that wasn't even there from her face.

Every fibre of my being wanted to hold her, help her, calm her. It broke me to see her like that, and all I could do was sit by uselessly and watch.

After the near accident at the intersection, I knew she was going to break. I tried to speak to her, distract her, take her attention away from whatever was going on in her head, yet her mind seemed trapped in a place very far away.

"Layla, what's going on?" I would ask, even going as far as to place my hand on her thigh, shaking gently to catch her attention. But it was to no avail.

"Please, talk to me, are you okay?" I asked. Luckily, the boys had taken notice to Laylas mood, and distracted themselves with talk of the band and upcoming concerts, allowing me to feebly try my hardest to help her without worrying about prying ears.

Frustrated, and trying my absolute hardest to get through to her, I worriedly glanced into the rear view mirror where I made eye contact with Jake, who looked back at me in understanding, having heard my efforts.

Soon, we rounded the corner to our street, and Layla burst from her seat before I had the chance to fully stop the car. I jumped out of my seat and ran after her as she sped down the path to her house. I could hear her heaving breaths from behind her, and my own anxiety increased tenfold.

I took hold of her hand, and she whipped around, eyes red and wide, and her chest was having in panic.

"Layla, what's going on?" I asked worriedly. She looked everywhere but at me, eyes darting to he road and car, and then to the floor. She grabbed the roots of her hair and held tightly, wild strands of it falling around her arms and face.

"Nothing, I-" Her breath caught.

She was having a panic attack. A bad one. I had been around while Sam went through this many times, but never one this bad. She struggled to take in a breath, focusing on inhaling and clearly neglecting a much needed exhale.

One of her hands shot to her throat and she stumbled back into the pillar of her porch steps, hitting her head painfully. Yet she didn't seem to notice, as she slid to the floor, gasping for air.

"Fuck," I whispered, dropping down to my knees before her. I reached out for her, touching her arms and face and, fuck, I didn't know what I was doing. She wasn't breathing and I feared she was going to pass out any moment.

"What can I do, Layla?" I asked frantically, her eyes going cloudy with exhaustion.

I grasped onto her shoulders firmly, "Please just breathe, Layla." But she wasn't listening. Panicked, I turned around to find Jake behind me, but I knew by the helpless look on his face, he wouldn't be much better at helping than I.

Sam lingered with Danny by the car, clearly hesitating to intrude.

"Sam!" I yelled desperately and he stepped in quickly, practically pushing me out of the road, and taking Layla's harsh hands away from her hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" He asked gently.

She nodded, trying to speak through gasps, "Sa-Sam, I- I can't-"

I was torn. My heart aching at the sight of her, broken and fragile. Blood was on her hands, I didn't know how, but there was. And then Sam was waving the group of us off, but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't leave her.

He turned around briefly, "Go, she needs space." Jake took me by the arm and led me to the car where our pile of groceries sat.

We picked them up in silence and walked them over to our house, unlocking the door and entering the warmth of the home. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking up dinner when we unloaded the groceries into the fridge and pantry.

I rushed to one of the living room windows, the one that didn't look into Laylas kitchen, but instead had a view of the front of her house, where I could see the figures of Sam and Layla sat on the pavement.

I sat on the couch and leaned my arms on its back, peering out and watching them. She seemed to have calmed down now, her body still as she looked out to the street apart from her mouth which was moving silently. Sam was doing the same, yet it looked like he was listening to whatever she had to say.

A pang of jealousy shot through me and I hated myself for it. But I couldn't help but wish she would talk to me too.

Jake and Danny saddled up to the couch next to me, and one of them patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, she's alright," Jake said. But we both knew my sour mood surpassed worry for her, as I ached to know the root of her unhappiness.

Don't get me wrong, I felt like I was being torn from head to toe at the idea of her being upset, sad, worried, panicked or afraid. But her apparent inability to fully open up to me was killing me.

I knew she was hiding something. Something from her past. I had seen the scar on her stomach, and the way she frequently rubbed her thigh, wincing in pain. But she would always cover up, and mask her discomfort when she caught me staring, and I hated it.

My insides were screaming for her to open up. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know every inch of her mind, her body, her soul.

And it broke me to know that she didn't trust me enough to do so.

After a painful hour of waiting around with Danny and Jake in the living room, I heard the front door open. All three of our heads whipped at the sound to watch as Sam stepped in with what I could only describe as a look of sympathy. Layla followed behind him timidly, her head cast down, but eyes peeking up around the room.

I stood up from my spot on the couch, desperate to do something. To talk to her. To hold her.

Mom stepped into the room at the sound of the door and smiled brightly when she saw Layla.

"Oh, hello Layla dear, are you joining us for dinner tonight?" she asked, slipping off a pair of oven gloves.

Layla nervously glanced up at Sam, whose eyes caught mine for a beat before he spoke, "Hey Mom, actually, could Layla stay the night? Her parents aren't home and-"

"Of course! I don't have to be the only woman in the house dealing with you lot," she remarked, and Layla smiled.

"Thank you," she said kindly.

Mom walked out of the room and back into the kitchen and the room went quiet.

"Sam, wanna head up and you can show me the new headset you got?" Danny asked, dragging Sam along with him up the stairs, and Jake stood too, scratching the back of his head.

"I've uh, got some stuff to do," he said plainly, walking out of the room, leaving Layla and I standing alone, staring at each other.

In a blink she was in my arms, both of us having rushed to close the space between us. She clung to me tightly, and I breathed in her scent, swaying on the spot. I sighed at the feeling of her in my arms again.

When she pulled away, I took her hands and looked down at the blood on them. Frowning, I narrowed my gaze on the bloody crescent shapes on her palm, where her nails had dug so harshly into her hands that she had broken skin.

"I can help you clean this up... If you'd like," I offered timidly, unsure of how fragile she still was and not wanting to spur on another panic attack.

"Yes please," she whispered.

Once in the bathroom, I wet a rag and wiped off the blood from her hands, including the dried drops that had ran down her forearms. She winced when I accidentally ran the rag across one of the fresh cuts.

"Sorry," I said, pulling back and looking at her.

She sighed deeply, staring at me in silence for a few moments, looking as if she was around to burst.

"I'm so sorry Josh. I don't know what happened I just- I don't know. I can usually handle them better it just- the car and, fuck it was all just a lot, but thank you for being there," she blurted out, her expression close to tears.

I reached a hand up to her face where streak of dried tears marked her cheeks, "Please don't apologise." She nodded.

"Are you okay now? Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, and when she shook her head 'no', I frowned.

"I'm okay now, but.. I kind of want to forget it happened."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," I commented, smirking, and she smiled at me.

"Do you think your mum will let me get away with not having dinner?" she asked and my frown returned.

"Why don't you want dinner?" I asked back.

"I just feel a little sick still. I usually lose my appetite when... that happens."

"Does it happen a lot?" I asked and she looked away, biting her lip gently.

"No, not a lot. But sometimes,” she said quietly, clearly done with this conversation. I guess that was all I was getting out of her tonight then.

"I'll talk to her. But it'd be best if you keep yourself busy while we eat. I don't think she could live with herself if you sat at the table with an empty plate," I told her.

She laughed a little, and then sighed, "I love your mum." A flicker of sadness crossed her face, before she regained her composure again, "I'll take a shower while you all eat then."

Dinner went by quickly, and I practically inhaled my plate to get away from the table as soon as I could. Mom wasn't happy with Laylas absence, but I assured her that it was for the best. I had given Layla some of my pyjamas for her to use for the night, and as soon as I heard the shower turn off, I was dying to see her.

When I cleaned up my dish and left the kitchen, Layla was setting up some sheets and pillows on the couch.

"What are you doing?" I asked her. She had tied her hair up and she stood in some red plaid pants with a green hoodie on top.

My God was she beautiful.

"Getting ready for bed?" She questioned, fluffing up the pillow and seating herself onto the couch atop the duvet cover.

"No, no I can't let you sleep out here. Sleep in my bed, I'll sleep here," I insisted.

"I don't mind," she smiled, slipping under the covers.

I dragged a hand down my face, very unhappy with these sleeping arrangements. "What about the guest room?" I smiled, proud to have solved the issue.

"Your mom told me it was being repainted," she commented.

"Fuck, you're right. Ronnies room?" I tried again.

"I already texted her, she'll be home in about thirty minutes. Don't worry, Josh. I'm fine, really." She gave me a reassuring smile, but I still wasn't happy.

I pursed my lips, "I'll come down here too then."

"What?" She asked, but I was already gone, grabbing a thick yoga mat from my room, and stripping the covers from my bed to bring down with me. Ignoring Layla's protests, I set up a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch, slipping under and getting comfortable.

"Far out, fine. But when you wake up in the morning with a bad back, don't blame me," she commented, and I smiled, glad her witty personality was back.

Jake came in for a glass of water, bidding us both goodnight as he switched off the light.

Cloaked in darkness, I rolled over toward the couch, looking up to where Layla was already looking at me, "Good night, Layla," I whispered.

"Goodnight Josh."

Tag List ~ @wrldabomination @peaceoftheland @asacredthebread @jessiebronze2 @godly-sinsx

[museswithinx]

Random prompt: Ronnie and momma’s boy, Emmett, at any Christmastime in the timeline

The house was mostly empty today as Sidney was off with her adopt-o-cousins and Erin was having a little one-on-one daddy/daughter day with Eric. It was just her and Emmett with a few hours to themselves. It was rare she got her own one-on-one time with her babies so she was always grateful for these days when she could spend a little individual time with each.

“What cha’ reading there, little man?” Ronnie asks upon finding Emmett in the living room by the fire place. As he lifted the book to show her the cover, she smiled at his choice. “Ah, The Grinch. We know quite a few of those, don’t we?” She jokes, earning a little giggle from him. “That’s one of my favorites, you know. You can never go wrong with Dr. Seuss.”

As into the book as he was a moment ago though, he seemed to want her full attention now as he sat up eagerly to hear what plans she had for them today (and he knew she had them). “So the school is having a fun little Christmas fair today with arts and crafts and games and all that. I even heard that Santa might drop by. Would you like to go check it out?” His excitement was all the response she needed as she stood. “Alright. Go get your shoes and coat on. I’ll grab my keys.”

A short drive later, they were at McKinley Elementary. Heading to the gym with her son’s hand in hers, the entire place was decked out for the occasion with different craft and game areas set up throughout. 

“What do you want to do first?” She asks him before he starts tugging her toward one of the craft stations. The sign read “Christmas Candy Pots” and it allowed the kids to paint and decorate a small clay pot and fill it with whatever candy they desired. It was an adorable DIY gift idea. “Oh, how cute!” She exclaims before handing Emmett two pots, one for each of his sisters, and sitting with him at one of the tables set up. “So what are you thinking? Should we do a little reindeer pot for Erin and a snowman for Sidney?” 

As he nodded, Ronnie squeezed out some paint onto a paper plate for him and handed him a brush before doing the same for herself. The first one they worked on together was for Erin which was painted brown before she helped him glue two googly eyes, a red pom pom nose, and some pipe cleaners shaped to be antlers. She let him pick out which candies he wanted to fill it with for his twin sister before they moved onto Sidney’s snowman.

“They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Your sisters will absolutely love these!” She commended him as he proudly showed her the two finished products. “Lets get these all boxed up and wrapped and then we can figure out something for your daddy, yeah?” Getting some boxes and wrapping paper from the station attendant, she helped Emmett wrap each one before she put them in her bag for safe keeping and moved onto the next thing.

For Eric, her son decided he wanted to make him an ornament. More specifically a picture ornament because “daddy loves mommy” and he thought he’d like that best. “He’ll love that,” she agreed as she helped him put together a wreath ornament with red and green pom poms and some ribbon for the bow. For the center, she gave him a picture of her and Eric from their first Christmas together as a married couple to glue on. Once it was dried, she helped him box and wrap that as well.

The next few hours were spent like that. They decorated some sugar cookies together, they played pin the nose on the snowman and reindeer antler toss. He even made a few friends with some of the other kids there while playing a Christmas version of musical chairs. It was all smiles and laughs and there was no greater joy for Ronnie than seeing her children happy.

Ending the day on a high, Ronnie brought him over to meet Santa before they would leave. “Be sure to thank him after,” she told her son before giving him an encouraging pat forward as his turn came to sit on his lap. Emmett was so radiant with happiness as he gave Santa his list and hugged him before they snapped a photo and he received a small gift from the bag at Santa’s side. Smiling as her son returned to her, she took him by the hand again and gave Santa a little wave before they headed out to the car.

“Did you have fun?” She asked him as she got him all buckled in. He confirmed that he did and she smiled at that. Mission accomplished. “Here. You can open this one when we get home.” She told him as she gave him the gift from Santa to hold, which made him even happier if that were possible. 

Making doubly sure he was all strapped in, Ronnie closed the door and climbed into the front to start the car. “When we get home, I’ll make us some hot cocoa and we can finish out the day with a movie. How’s that sound?”

[fluffysmutsmaketheworld]

Touch Starved

Ronald Weasley x Reader

Y/N and Ron just got into a relationship. They haven't shared any physical contact such as hugs or cuddling. Y/N is nervous because she never got much affection as a child. She doesn't know what she's missing until one day.

Alll fluff

"Y/N! I MADE GRYFFINDOR KEEPER!!" Ron screams as he runs up to me. I smile seeing his huge grin. His flaming red hair and his sparkling blue eyes make my heart skip a beat. When he reaches me, he grabs me and pulls me into a hug.

I tense up and slowly put my arms around him. He doesn't seem to notice as he pulls away, still beaming.

"I'll see you later in the common room," He says, walking off. "I need to go write to Mum." I smile at his retreating form.

A weird craving feeling grows in me. His embrace was warm and cozy. His scent had filled my nostrils and made my heart flutter. I had felt safe in his short embrace and I wanted more.

That night in the common room, Ron sat near me on the couch, not quite touching me. His nearness made me yearn to be closer but I'm not sure if it would make him uncomfortable. I study his face as he tells me about the tryouts.

"I wish you could have been there, Y/N, it was amazing." He smiles down at me and I smile softly.

"It sounds amazing, Ronnie." I say. I look around the common room and see that its empty besides him and I. "Hey, uh, Ronnie?" I ask quietly, wringing my hands.

"Yes, Y/N/N?" He cocks his head curiously at me.

"When we hugged earlier-"

"I'm sorry, if it made you uncomfortable. I was just so excited." He apologizes as his smile drops.

"No, no, it didn't. I wasn't expecting it for sure but uh, I wanted to know," I take a deep breathe as my face starts to burn red. "Do you think we could, uhm, hug again? I-if you want to that is." I bow my head, not wanting to see his rejection. I feel his hand lift my face to look into my eyes. His cheeks were as red as his hair.

"Darling, you don't have to ask. I'm your boyfriend and you are my adorable girlfriend. You can have all the hugs you want." He pulls me into another hug, gently. I sigh in content as I wrap my arms around him.

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable." I whisper. He chuckles into my neck.

"Hugging won't make me uncomfortable. I love being hugged and I grew up in a home where hugging is a love language. Have you met my Mum?" He asks, pulling away and pulling me into his lap to cuddle. I rest my head on his shoulder.

"She's a lovely woman, you're lucky to have a Mum like her." I play with his fingers. "My aunt and uncle never hug me and well, you know how Harry is. He's a great brother but not too keen on affection." I explain.

"I never thought about how touch starved you must be, darling." He brushes his lips against my forehead. "I guess that I'll just have to give you a bunch of hugs, cuddles and affection. Maybe, I just won't let go of you ever again." He kisses my nose and I giggle.

"You have quidditch and we have classes. I don't think that's possible, love." I shake my head at his silly notion.

"Well, I guess the teachers will have to deal with it and as for quidditch, you can be on the broom with me." He says, wrapping his arma around my waist, tightly.

"You know I'm scared of heights, Ronnie so that won't work." I snort as a thought crosses my mind. "Can you imagine Snape's reaction if we were cuddling in his class?" Ron thinks about it for a minute and laughs.

"He already hates us so I imagine we would get detention but he would definitely yell at us. 'So, Mr. Weasley, does my class look like a cafe?'" He says the last part slowly and imitates Snape. I giggle and kiss his cheek. His cheeks grow red again and I grin. We sit in silence and rest our heads together. My eyes began to feel heavy and I stiffle a yawn, not wanting to leave his arms.

"Darling, we need to go to sleep." He hums in my ear. I whine and snuggle closer. He chuckles. "I told you that I wasn't letting you go. I'll take you to my dorm and we can cuddle all night. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like a wonderful idea, love." I smile sleepily up at him. Without any warning, he picks me up bridal style and carries me to his dorm. I giggle and put my hands around his neck. When we reach his dorm, he dumps onto his bed and rummages around his trunk. He finally pulls out a long sweater and throws it at me.

"Go change in the bathroom. I'll change here." He says. I grab the sweater and quietly make my way to the bathroom, trying to not wake the other boys. I change quickly and scurry back to his bed. Ron's already changed and in his bed, waiting for me. I slip in beside him and instantly curl up in his side.

"Ron, your Mum would kill you if she knew." Harry whispers from his bed, making us jump.

"Bloody hell, mate. I thought you were sleeping." Ron says.

"No, too much on my mind. I'll tell you tomorrow. Good night, Ron and Y/N. Love you, sis."

"Love you too, Harry." I whisper back. Harry turns over without another word. Ron rolls his eyes. I snuggle into his arms, now addicted to his touch. I feel myself slowly falling asleep.

"Good night, Y/N." Ron says, his arms around my waist and holding me against him.

"Good night, Ronnie." I whisper. I feel him kiss my cheek before I fall asleep in his arms.

I am accepting requests. Please fill up my inbox with ideas.

[samkiszkasfacialhair]

Pass the Torch

Pass the Torch

Pairing: Jake Kiszka and Female Reader

Summary: Jake has a plan to get the Christmas spirit back into his son.

Warnings: Dad!Jake, Christmas, Implications of sex

Word Count: 3.8k

December 20

It was almost 10 pm and just about everyone in your house had gone to sleep. As you closed the door to your youngest daughter’s room, you spied a warm, soft glow coming from underneath your bedroom door. You crept down the hallway and knocked lightly on the door. Within seconds, the door opened just a crack and you were greeted by your husband's nose poking out of the opening. 

You saw the look of instant relief when he saw it was you.

“What?” he whispered with his eyes wide and a smile creeping onto his face. 

“Can I come in?” you whispered back, playfully.

Without saying a word, he smiled, moved back, and opened the door just enough for your body to be able to slide through. 

You closed the door behind you softly, careful not to make any noise. Upon entering, you took a look at the floor of your bedroom, which was covered in wrapping paper, bows, and tape. 

A pile of wrapped gifts was building by your closet doors. Dolls, craft kits, Legos, and clothes were wrapped and piled up for your girls; ages five and seven. Your eleven year old son’s pile consisted of video games, a few records, books, and a new snowboard. 

Jake had been wrapping gifts for the past few nights while you kept the kids distracted with their bedtime routines. Anytime the question “Where’s Dad?” came up, your go-to excuse was that he was working- which wasn’t a complete lie. The kids took it that he was working on music, but in reality, he was working on something else. 

Jake sat back down on your bedroom floor amongst the mess of wrapping paper and bows. You knelt behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder, looking over at all the gifts he had already wrapped, and letting your eyes peek at what was left.

There was only one gift remaining that wasn’t wrapped. 

He grabbed a new roll of wrapping paper, and rolled it out on a clean spot on the floor. He placed your son’s final gift on top of the paper and carefully cut, folded, and taped the paper into place. As he worked, you handed him scissors and tape when he needed them. He whispered little thank yous as you passed him supplies. 

Soon, the gift was wrapped and Jake added a tag with your son’s name on it. Jake’s face was filled with satisfaction as he looked down at it. 

You put the scissors and tape down on the floor next to you and wrapped your arms around Jake’s neck, crossing them over his chest.

“You think he still believes in Santa?” you asked quietly.

“Don’t know. Eleven is a weird age,” he replied, “Josh and I were his age when we found out. We pretended for Sam and Ronnie though.”

He looked down at the wrapped package in front of him and smiled to himself bittersweetly. 

“He’ll definitely know the truth after this,” he added.

Jake was right. Eleven was a weird age for kids at Christmas. Your son was just a bit too old to fully believe in Santa, but still a bit too young to admit he knew the truth. In addition to that, he wouldn’t say anything with two younger sisters in the house. He wouldn’t want to spoil things for them. 

Jake was confident he had figured out the truth though. Jake had mentioned he noticed your son didn’t seem as excited for Christmas as he usually was, and you could see it in him too. He baked cookies with you, helped decorate the tree, and made a list of a few things he wanted. But he was in an awkward spot. He was still your baby but he was in middle school now. You were sure he had conversations at school with friends about whether Santa was real or not. Speaking of school, he didn’t have holiday parties or activities there to get him into the spirit this year. He also had homework on weekends and winter break, which brought him down. And the possibility of knowing the truth about Christmas made the magic and excitement of the holiday fade away a bit. In addition to that, he didn’t have much he wanted this year. The only thing he truly wanted was a new snowboard. 

The usual sparkle that he usually had in his eyes during the holiday season just wasn’t there. And that sparkle in his eyes was something you absolutely loved seeing in your son. It was the same sparkle Jake had in his eyes when he was with you, the kids, or when he was on stage.

But Jake had a plan. Jake was determined to get that sparkle back for him.

About a month ago, Jake had taken him to Guitar Center on an errand. Jake needed to get a replacement pedal for home recording. However, there was something else on his agenda. Something that Jake had kept in the back of his mind for years now. 

Jake had taught your son how to play guitar when he turned four. He played on a beginner acoustic guitar for a few years and once he grew out of that, Jake had passed down one of his acoustics to him. It was good for your son and he loved it, but Jake always toyed around with the idea of getting him a guitar of his own. Possibly an electric one. 

Your son was exactly like Jake in the way he ate, slept, and breathed music. Jake taught him young and even though he was just eleven, you had to admit, he was good. Jake even admitted he was better than he was at his age. And of course he was- he had a great teacher. 

When Jake was home, the two of them would play morning to night in the basement, which Jake converted into a studio and music room. Sometimes when the music from the two of them trailed up the stairs, you couldn’t tell who was playing. You only knew it was Jake for sure when the sounds of an electric guitar played expertly. Jake let your son try playing on his electric guitars, but it was always just a few chords or snippets of songs; and always with supervision. Jake stressed to him that there was a big difference in acoustic and electric playing and he had to prove to him that he was ready to play electric by mastering the acoustic first.

When Jake was away on tour, your son would play his acoustic on his own. He would listen to Jake's old records from his childhood and teen years and try to mimic what he heard. He would watch tutorials online and try his best at the concepts being taught. He was his father’s son- he loved Jimi Hendrix and Cream. When Jake came home, he’d surprise him with something he learned.

When Jake toured in the summer, your son was right in the action. Before shows, he would watch Jake’s tech prep and tune his guitars. During shows, he would sit at the sound board while you sat in seats or backstage with the girls. He rarely watched the show, he spent that time learning the ins and outs of how things worked during live performances.

When he did watch the shows, he would watch from a spot in front of the barricade, right in front of Jake. To which he would often proudly tell the venue security, “That’s my dad,” as if his long hair, bright eyes, and lanyard didn’t give it away. 

Jake knew all about your son's love and dedication for the craft. And he figured at his age, it was just the right time to take that love and dedication to the next step by getting him an electric guitar of his own.

Jake’s only requirement was that it had to be a Gibson. He would tell him “If you want to play a Fender, go to Uncle Sam’s for the day. We are a Gibson household.” He was joking. (No he wasn’t).

So Jake did exactly what he had been thinking about for some time. A few weeks ago, on a Saturday, he took him to Guitar Center and came back a few hours later. That night, before the two of you went to bed, Jake told you everything. 

He said he grabbed the pedal he needed and a few other odds and ends before “casually browsing” some guitars for fun.

He said your son’s eyes were filled with wonder as they went into the showroom area; and that the entire time they were looking around, his eyes kept going back to a specific one.

He pointed to it and told him, “Dad, this is the kind I want one day.”

To which Jake replied “Well, we’re here. Why don’t you try some out so you can be sure that’s the one you want when you’re older,”

Jake said he let him try out a few at the store, giving him a chance to play a few chords and some songs he knew. He tried out a few different body styles and colors, but nothing compared to one. 

It was a completely black Les Paul classic. Jake said it looked like something lit up inside him the second it was placed in his lap. It took Jake back to being with his dad, picking out his first electric guitar. 

For the entire ride home, that was the only one he talked about. Jake asked him what he thought about the other ones he tried out. He said they were okay, but he always managed to turn the conversation back to that black classic. 

Jake went back the next day and bought a starter amp, a rectangular case, and had the guitar customized and ordered. It showed up at the house about two weeks later while the kids were at school. Jake carried it upstairs and hid it in the back of your walk-in closet where it stayed hidden amongst clothes and shoes until the night Jake took it out to wrap it. 

You rubbed up and down Jake’s back a bit and sighed. Maybe the magic of the Christmas your son believed as a child was fading away. But, he was about to get the best gift of his life. Something he could create his own, real life magic with. 

“He’ll know the truth but,” you paused, “he’s gonna love this. You did a good job, Babe.”

“Dad of the year?” he said, turning his head towards you and flashing you a full-toothed smile.

“Dad of the year, guitarist of the year. You just keep racking up these awards don’t you?” You joked.

“Only thing I lost was that God damn cook off.”

“It’s been fifteen years, Jake, get over it!” you joked.

“I’ll get over it when Sam gets over it,” Jake said, lifting himself up off the floor.

“So…never?” you giggled as he extended a hand out to you and pulled you to your feet. He held you close and placed his hands on the small of your back.

‘Never,” he whispered, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

You broke away from him and the two of you started putting all the wrapped gifts back in your closet and cleaning up the remnants of wrapping paper, bows, and tape that littered the floor. 

Jake picked up the long, rectangular shaped present and slid it into the closet, making sure it was all the way in the back and out of sight.

He closed the closet door behind him and was taken aback when he caught sight of you sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him. You looked at him and licked your lips slowly, giving him a “come here” motion with your finger. 

He walked over to you and leaned in front of you, placing his hands on either side of the bed next to you. You grabbed his hand and lifted it off the bed and under your shirt, guiding it over the lace details of a new red lingerie set you had bought recently. 

Jake’s lips left yours to suck in a gasp as your hand led his over the curves of your body. You left a trail of light kisses down his jaw and up to his ear. The softness of your kisses contrasted with the rough facial hair that poked through his skin and caused goosebumps to rise on the surface of his skin.

“Do you want your present now, Daddy?” you whispered into his ear. 

He paused and brought his eyes to meet yours. They were soft, dreamy, and had just a hint of lust lingering in them.

“Have I been a good boy or a naughty boy?” he asked, just above a whisper as his hand ghosted over the area where you wanted him the most.

You giggled and moved yourself back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of you, ready to open his very own Christmas present. 

December 25

You were woken up early Christmas morning to four little feet jumping on the mattress in the space between you and Jake. 

“It’s Christmas! Wake up!” your middle child cheered.

“Santa came! Santa came!” your littlest one shrieked as she sat down on top of you and put her feet on Jake’s back, nudging him lightly with them.

You leaned over, looked at the clock on your bedside table, and sighed.

7:32 A.M.

You rubbed your face and looked up at your daughters, who’s eyes were wild with excitement and joy. You looked over at Jake, who was laying on his stomach with his face smushed into the pillow and his eyes squinting closed, while two little feet pushed into his side repeatedly. 

“Go wake up your brother,” he said in a groggy voice, reaching down to still her feet. 

“Gently!” you added. 

Instantly, the two girls jumped off the bed and landed onto the carpet below them with thuds, one after the other. They giggled as they ran out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them. You heard their footsteps trail down the hallway as you moved closer to Jake. You sat up on one elbow and with your other hand, you gently brushed his hair back and ran your hand over his head and down his back. Jake absolutely loved Christmas but he was not a morning person in the slightest.

His eyes opened back up slowly and a soft smile spread across his face.

“Mmm, Merry Christmas, My Love,” he said in a deep morning voice. 

“Merry Christmas, Jake,” you whispered. 

He lifted his chin and puckered his lips lazily. You leaned into him and gave him a soft kiss. You could feel him smile slightly into it. 

You broke away from his lips and gave his cheeks a few kisses when he stopped you. 

“Shh,” he began, “You hear that?” he whispered, lifting a finger into the air.

“Hear what?” you asked, also whispering.

“Silence,” he said smiling, as he closed his eyes and rested his head on his pillow again.

“Not for long,” you teased  as you got out of bed and tapped his butt to get him up too. 

He groaned and laughed as you pulled him out of bed and pushed him along to get himself together a bit. The two of you threw on warmer clothes, brushed your teeth, and made your way downstairs to see your girls jumping and giggling around the Christmas tree and your son sitting on the couch, calmly eyeing up the gifts under it, waiting for you before they got started.

You and Jake sat down on either side of your son with mugs of coffee in hands, and with your permission, the three of them got started. They passed packages around to each other and took turns opening gifts. The entire house was filled with happiness and joy as the morning went on. The girls screeched and cheered as they opened their new toys. Your son smiled big as he ripped open wrapping paper of things that were clearly the shape of things he had wanted. 

After almost an hour of opening presents, there were only two gifts left. You and Jake knew who they were both for. They were deep at the back of the tree, just where Jake had placed them last night. 

Jake jutted his chin out and asked your son to reach for them. He crawled under the tree and pulled the two gifts out. He grunted a little as he struggled with the size and weight of the boxes. When he crawled back out, he peeked at the tags, and looked up at you and Jake. He squinted one eye and furrowed his eyebrows together, confused. He had already gotten everything he asked for. 

You and Jake shrugged at him and smiled, urging him to go for it.

He turned his eyes to the gifts and started to unwrap the smaller box first, slowly and cautiously. 

You peeked over at Jake who was trying his best to hold back a smile. He gave you a side eye and raised his eyebrows. You knew it was taking everything in him to not jump down onto the floor and rip the paper open himself. 

Your son ripped most of the paper off to expose the packaging. When he saw the cover of the box, he was confused.

“It’s an amp,” he paused, “I think this one’s for Dad,” he said, picking up the discarded paper to look for the tag, thinking he misread it. 

“No, Bud, that one’s for you, your names on the tag,” Jake assured him, pointing at the tag on the floor next to his foot. Your son peeked at the tag that did in fact say his name and he looked back up at Jake. 

“Open the bigger one,” Jake said, putting his mug down on the coffee table as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

Your son pulled the big rectangular package in front of him and sat criss crossed in front of it. He pulled the paper off, revealing a big black case with three silver buckles and a black handle. He moved the last bit of paper to reveal the “Gibson” logo on the top of the case. He looked over at the amp he had just unwrapped and you could see the puzzle pieces fitting together in his brain.

You watched his mouth open slightly as his eyes scanned back and forth over the case, in disbelief of what was most likely inside it. He breathed in a small gasp.

You looked over at Jake who was smiling wide and biting his bottom lip in anticipation. You have never seen him smile that big. Ever.

You could see your son’s hands shaking as he unbuckled the case.

Slowly, he opened up the case, revealing a black Les Paul classic that sat perfectly in soft burgundy velvet padding.

“No way,” he whispered, in complete shock. He blinked his eyes a few times and repeated “NO WAY!” almost shouting when the realization of what was in front of him hit him. 

He grabbed his head and pushed his hair out of his face. He got up on his knees and knelt down to run his fingers along the body of the guitar and up the neck.

“No way. No way. No way.” he repeated with his face inches away from the instrument. He was looking at it in amazement. As if it was the only thing in the entire world that mattered. 

He sat up on his hands and knees and lifted his head to look at Jake. 

“This is mine?!” he asked, praying Jake would give him the answer he wanted.

“All yours,” Jake said matter of factly with a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

“YES!” he screamed. He sat up on his knees and fisted his hands, hitting his thighs with them in excitement. His smile was wide and his eyes were huge. That sparkle that he had lost, was back and brighter than ever. Everything about him at that moment was Jake. 

Instantly, your eyes flooded with tears and your vision got blurry. He was growing up on the outside but he was still your baby on the inside. And he was definitely his dad, inside and out. 

“This is the one I wanted! Look at it, Dad! Look!” he said, pointing to it. 

“Santa always knows, doesn’t he?” Jake asked rhetorically, taking his coffee back in his hand and leaning back on the couch. 

“Can I take it out? Please, please, please? I’ll be so careful!” your son begged. 

Jake looked over at you and raised his eyebrows, silently asking for your approval. 

“Of course, Baby,” you said, “Let Dad help you,”

You sat down on the floor next to your daughters with a pair of scissors and started opening doll boxes for them as Jake and your son set up the guitar. Jake made sure he understood everything that he was doing as he did it, so that he would be able to set it up on his own in the future. 

Jake helped him secure the strap over his shoulder which held the guitar across his hips. The brightest smile was on his face as he looked down at himself. He looked up at you and laughed a little, in disbelief. 

You were looking at a carbon copy of Jake. The stance he had while holding the guitar reminded you exactly of how Jake stood on stage. He was leaning back just a little, with his right knee popped out a bit to support the guitar. He held the guitar expertly, with one hand on the neck and the other ready to strum, with a little black pick in his hand. 

“Okay, go for it,” Jake said.

With the flick of a knob and a strum, the intro riff of, “Purple Haze” blasted through your living room at full volume. 

That “silence,” Jake pointed out just an hour ago, was gone forever. But even though that silence was gone, something else echoed through your home. It was the magic of Christmas, the magic of the music, and the sparkle of it all in your son's eyes. 

Later that day, you were standing around Josh’s kitchen counter, surrounded by family, drinking a glass of wine, and giving Sam advice on how to cope with the terrible two’s when your son reached in between you and Jake to grab a handful of chips from a bowl on the counter. 

“Hey, Dad?” he said, looking up at Jake and popping a chip into his mouth.

“Yeah?” Jake asked, bringing his glass of whiskey to his lips to take a sip.

“Thanks.”

Jake swallowed, looked over at you, and then back down at him, “For what?” 

“You know what,” he smirked, throwing another chip into his mouth and nudging Jake’s side with his elbow. 

Jake smiled at him, threw his arm around his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. He shook him around a little and rested his hand on top of his head. Your son looked up at him with those bright eyes.

“You like it?” Jake asked.

“I love it.”

Author’s Note: I know its a couple months in advance with it being October right now, but I couldn’t help myself with Christmas Dad Jake. I hope you all liked it! Please, please, please give me feedback or tell me your favorite parts in my ask or send any requests! I have a couple Josh ideas I may play around with next! 

Add in: This is the face you saw in your son when he screamed “YES!” after Jake told him the guitar was all his.

[ronweasleysslut]

Happy Birthday Ronnie

Pairing: Roommate!Ron Weasley X F! Reader

Description: As Ron’s nineteenth birthday arrived the work you put in never worked out… until he came home

Warnings: kissing, she/her pronouns

Word count: 1.4k

࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊°

“Happy Birthday to you,” you sang in a sweet loving voice. You walked out of the kitchen holding a cake with a few lit candles on top. “Happy Birthday dear Ronnie. Happy Birthday to you.” His eyes twinkled in the light of the candles as he stared adoringly at you.

Today has been hell. The day of your roommate’s birth was something you had been so excited to celebrate, but it had turned sour really quickly.

The bakery you had ordered an expensive cake from had lost your order then the decorations you had bought got lost in transit. Almost every guest you had invited had previous commitments which you couldn't fault them for. At that point, you had given up on the surprise party in its entirety.

Ron had been at the Burrow all day with his family but you had told him that birthday dinner was on you this year, his mother was not happy but she settled on the night before and into his day.

You had gone to the grocery store to get everything you needed for dinner and the new cake you were now going to have to make.

There wasn't much to spruce the house up with so you settled on cleaning it spotless as an addition to the gift you had gotten him. You slaved away in the kitchen all day making Ron’s cake and the dinner he begged for days prior. All of it was worth every second to watch him walk into the house and see plates of all of his favorite foods and a big white box with a big red bow.

“Happy Birthday Ronnie,” You came out of the kitchen and up to your roommate with arms wide open.

“Y/N thank you. You didn't have to do all of this,” He accepted your hug and held onto you tight for a few seconds. “This is perfect- you are perfect. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Don't get too mushy on me now.” You smiled at the tall ginger as he pulled away from your arms a bit.

You both sat down at your small dining room table and you both ate while you heard all about his birthday. His compliments of the food you had spent so much time on never ceased as he kept putting food into his mouth.

The cake and happy birthday song were next. “Happy birthday to you.” His eyes twinkled in the light of the candles as he stared adoringly at you.

“You are too good for me.”

“Just make your wish. I want you to taste the cake I slaved over,” you booped his nose. He stared at you for a moment before closing his eyes and taking a second before blowing the small flames away from the fluffy frosting.

“What’d you wish for?” You smiled largely at the man sitting next to you.

“If I tell you it won't come true.”

“Fine… Now it's time for your present,” you had a huge grin plastered on your face excited for his reactions to the perfect presents you spent months picking out.

“I'll open it, but I told you not to get me anything,” he scolded you when he realized how big the box actually is.

“Well, you knew that wouldn't happen. Once you open it you'll forget all about that.” You stared in awe as he pulled the bow off the top of the box and lifted the lid to find a satin pouch and a box atop a bed of tissue paper. He went to grab the box first, “Nuh-uh,” you smacked lightly on the top of his hand.

“Ouch.” He yelled dramatically and rubbed his hand.

“Open the bag first.” He rolled his eyes and pulled the strings on the small bag to find a necklace. A silver necklace with a thick chain and a charm on the end, It was a small locket. He opened it and inside was a picture of the two of you and on the other side, it was engraved.

“For always and forever, it'll be us,” he read the engraving out loud and you could see his eyes glossing up as he tried to blink back the tears.

“Do you like it?” you asked quietly, a bit scared of his answer.

“Like it? I’ve never loved a present more in my life. Thank you so much,” he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. You tumbled over your feet and landed in his lap. “That works too I guess,” the both of you laughed as you readjusted onto the seat next to him.

“Save the little box for the end, I know the box is a mess.” He begrudgingly set the small box on the table and pulled up the tissue paper.

“A firebolt twenty? There is no way you got your hands on one of these. They sold out in less than ten minutes! AND they are limited edition. You are the most amazing woman in this entire world. You must have spent a fortune on just these things alone and I don't even know what's in the little box. I don't know if I can accept these y/n.”

“You can and you will. Every sickle was worth it to see how happy you are at this very moment. I mean that. There is no taking them back.” He didn't speak, only stared at the broom and the intricate carvings on the handle. “Now you can open the little box,” you hadn’t been more excited than this moment as you waited for him to grab the box off the table.

He smiled and grabbed the box and opened it to find two rings, the first one was a silver band with engravings all the way around. One for each of his siblings and both of his parents. He was quiet as he looked deeply into the ring. His eyes glossed again as he saw Fred’s engraving. He was filled with emotion that he didn’t know how to articulate. He quietly set the ring back in the box and blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“I hope you like it,” you said, hoping it wasn't insensitive in any way. He extended his arms and pulled you into him. He held onto you tight, not speaking, just silently showing his gratitude for the gift.

When he pulled away you just stared into each other’s eyes, “Y/n I have no words for how happy I have been since I arrived home. I love you so much.” Your bodies kept shifting closer to one another as you thought about the next thing to say.

“I love you too. I'm so glad you enjoyed your gifts. I've spent so much time in that jewelry store on fifth, I might as well work there,” you laughed lightly as you realized how close you and Ron were. You had no complaints, just wished it was more than appreciative affection. You stared into his blue eyes as he did the same and the chemistry felt so right, the same as the day you two met.

The shifting toward each other never stopped until he closed the gap between you in a split-second decision. There was a shock for half a second before you kissed him back. A soft sweet perfect first kiss. It was a perfect moment; it was like a warm Fourth of July when the big show-stopping fireworks burst in the sky.

There came a moment when you both pulled away, the taste of him stuck to your lips. “I guess birthday wishes do come true.” You blushed at his statement.

“That's what you wished for?” Your heart felt like it might explode out of your chest, you had loved Ron since you were a kid running around the Hogwarts campus now after eight years you had finally gotten the kiss you so desperately wanted and it was almost too much to handle.

“I’ve been wishing for that since fourth year, and it was so much better than I had ever imagined it.” You had been smiling since Ron pulled away from you so much so it felt like your face would shatter.

“Well, that isn't something I had expected you to say. You missed something though,” you pointed at the ring box again and he looked at the second ring, it was a silver crown with a red gem in the middle and once again there was an engraving on the inside. You are the part of me I'll always need, my Ronnie.

“You are so perfect. No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Ron weasley taglist: @squishytomatoes @hvgwartss @phildunphyisadilf @anti-zippy-snoot @sourpatchpills @fanfictioniseverything @wh0reforthemarauders @sunshinexhotchner

Moots 💗: @dr4cking @papillon-mechant @weasleytwinscumslut @spicypisceshit @dlmmdl @malfoysgem @bukoffski @enviedear @horrorxweasley @bttycpper @padf00ts-l0ver @sunshinexhotchner @carnationbasement @weaselbrownie @thecastlewitch @phuckinphia @multiqts @shespeaksinsongs @littlemissnoname13 @mellifluousart @banquetwriter @weasleyapologist @ronweasleysgf @saintlike78 @fqlkrore @drayslove @draconisxcaput @nevsluvr @sereinegemini (If would rather me not tag you i completely understand just let me know :) <3)

[izubunn]

Alright everybody today we're losing it over 3 things:

Pastel Jughead

Northside Jughead being adopted by Fred

Jughead & his many lady friends

SO HERE'S THE THING- IM CRYING, JUST, - JUG. JUG ALWAYS WANTING TO WEAR PRETTY PASTEL THINGS BUT HE COULD NEVER BC IT WOULD MAKE FP LOOK BAD, THEN BC he doesn't want to put a burden on fp. From a painfully young age, he knew they weren't well off, so yes, hand me downs would suffice, no worries.

There's also that lingering, possessive fear digging through his hopes, that maybe it won't matter, that people won't care, but-

but then he remembers Kevin getting slammed for wearing lip gloss on the playground, or how Archie stopped writing his songs with glitter pens after some douchebag made fun of him.

Or how Jason loved playing dolls and match dresses with Cheryl until he was stopped. And he's just- there's gentle advisory to hide all of that, and so he does?

But then they grow up, and Riverdale, at least in some places, does too. So when Betty kindly offers him some clothes to try on, offers to teach him how to do make up, Val, Polly and Veronica fast on call, having their little fashion shows, it felt... free.

SO, ns jug and ss sweet pea who met through fangs, whom jug found battered up behind the movie theater and took him home to patch up, and it was infatuation at first sight.

Sweet Pea is bold and confident and makes gold feel lesser and he loves the blush preening, bashful but fervid across Jug's face, illuminating the freckles he's found himself counting more than once, and he says he'd like to see it more often.

So Friday. Jug better be ready.

And so - so Jug IS, invites Sweet Pea to his room until he goes to tame his brother Archie, his sister Cheryl (bc in a perfect world Fred adopted Cheryl ok don't tale that from me) and Papa, " protective cave people. You know."

And sweet pea just watches him, a ball of indigant fluffy bed hair, hopping down the stairs.

" You can't ruin this for me! This guy is so sweet and smart and cool, why aren't we talking about Archie's unrelenting habbit of bringing a new girl over every week. I don't want to shame anyone but its really mean I'm the only one targeted!" And he snorts.

This dork will make such a good boyfriend, yes, he can already see it, boyfriend to husband to maybe possibly father of his children.

But he's not thinking too fast. No.

It's just- Jug is a good boy, starry eyed bright, sea water calming and tranquil, makes you want to drown, and sweet pea would. He doesn't know how something that pure goes hand in hand with all the dark he's wearing. A dark he doesn't even enjoy, by the look on his face.

But then. Then sweet pea sees. Pretty pink clothes, shirts and sweaters and skirts, pastel everything, some on the bed, some on the bean bag, and his insides freeze over. They look awfully close in resemblance with the other ball of pastel, sunlight forrest green that creep him out. And Sweet Pea assumes the worst.

Just- Jug coming back, excited, saying that he actually convinced Fred to let him ride on a motorcycle, but sees the dark on sweet pea 's face, watches fingers casually tear his pretty fabrics apart, then fling it at jug and jug- he's he's so upset, water pooling around his eyes, " w- why?"

" why? Cause you're fucking disgusting. THIS is disgusting," gesturing to the mess and rags of Jug's precious things, sliced by a talented blade, precise, masterful, gleeful. " God, I'm so glad I didn't let you touch me. You've got to be one of the sickest fuckers I've ever met. WHY would you bring me here, knowing I'd find out?"

Lips trembling, shaking like fluttering petals blew by wind, Jug, shame eaten, mortification boiling him from the inside out, " I- I didn't think you'd- you'd care."

There's betrayel, soft but noticeable, because he TRUSTED sweet pea, trusted Fangs' promises of their youthful viewpoints, how they're progressive even with their slightly traditional tracks.

Sweet Pea, floored, scoffs, like Jug is spewing some of the most offensive words he's heard in a lifetime, and shakes his head. " Northsiders are something else. Crazy fuckers, the lot of you. Dont look for me, or that pretty face of yours won't stay pretty for long"

He carries that bravado with him out the door, but as soon as he reaches his truck, Sweet Pea cries, you know he does, because there goes his heart, broke open by another northsider with too much time on their hands and not enough life in their hearts.

Meanwhile, Jug is cleaning his room, sobbing quietly, because the boy he likes hates his pretty clothes and thinks Jug is disgusting.

there's nothing Cheryl does better than revenge.

She watches Jug, shoulder to shoulder with a paired of concerned amber eyes, angry, wrathful, as her baby brother gently packs the clothes into a bag, shoulders trembling as if he's carrying so much weight on them Atlas would bow.

Watches him, head down, little trash bag filled with the same things that nerd was so bright eyed with excitement at just a few months ago, and knocks on Betty's door.

He apologizes, Cheryl knows, because of the loving, fond crease between Betty's brow, when Jug would apologize for seemingly nothing and shed say "why"? With her face alone.

She spots the blankness taking over as she opens that bag, slowly, eyes not changing once her and Cheryl lock eyes.

" Fetch my phone, Archie. This is a Code Red."

So here Jug is, under his fluffy blankets, cuddlin and hugging FP's serpent jacket, hoping a gentle hand would materialize out of thin air and brush through his tangle of curls.

When suddenly, it's yanked, and he makes a sad sound of dejection, upset because he wants to SNUGGLE and forget that he's but a mere goldfish in this bitch of a world but surprise surprise, lady friends.

Lady friends holding hair brushes and cosmetics, clothes of all kinds, all comforting, mischievous storms.

Jug whines, low in his throat, uses the leathers as shield. The bed shifts under multiple weights, but he can recognize them all- the soft, private gentleness Cheryl secures only for him, now more tender than ever through his curls.

Betty's ginger squeezes around his thigh, Val, feline agility, perfect grace snuggling around him.

Ethel's timid but strong pat on his shoulder, accompanied by Ronnie's playful tickle to his sides, sending him in a shriek that he needed. They're all there, all pieces of his heart that he'll never forget. " wh- what are we doing?"

" Revenge, dear hobo. Revenge. You know the best way to get it?"

" ...Success?"

" yes. And the best way to kill?" When he doesn't responded, Cheryl's eyes thunder. " Beauty."

[eileen-crys]

A refined lady with a pure heart

Since I was really proud of the first part of this fic, that's the "safe" one with no upsetting topics whatsoever, I decided to cut it from the whole fic and post it separately for everyone to read! 😊 I really love the fact that we have a little interview with Veronica, and I tried to imagine how it went! I edited the part right after just to give it a nice conclusion.

Original fic's post here

The air was buzzing with excitement and music, people singing all together and cheering at every song, marveling at Steven Tyler's moves and belting out every Aerosmith song.

John and Veronica had found a perfect spot in the audience, right next to Roger, Brian and Chrissie, and John clung at Ronnie's waist throughout the whole concert while also observing Tom Hamilton's moves on the bass. Always studying, no matter what.

It's been a while since Veronica had attended an aftershow party, she's never been really an enthusiast of staying among so many people, between alcohol and debauchery, but she couldn't deny part of her had missed such a dose of lighthearted fun next to her husband. 

They all followed Aerosmith at the Searchy's Penthouse Club for the party and soon the photographers' flashes began exploding as soon as the three members of Queen appeared. Now this was something that took Veronica off guard and she winced at John's side. 

"I'm leaving you guys with the photographers." She whispered in John's ear and kissed his cheek. 

"Sure. Sorry, Vee…" John gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before watching her hide behind a Japanese journalist that he had already seen a couple of times, then attached himself at Roger's side, almost blending in his fluffy fur coat. 

He knew how much Ronnie disliked being photographed at public events and his eyes silently promised her that he'd be back soon. 

The Japanese journalist turned around to see Ronnie standing nervously next to him, and gave her a polite smile, bowing a little. 

"You must be Mrs. Deacon, yes?" He asked kindly with a strong accent, and Veronica nodded shyly, not used to interacting with journalists, but with a spark of pride for John that never left her. There was something weird about being recognised as his wife, a feeling that made her neck tingle and her heart flutter.

"I am. Nice to meet you."

"My pleasure." 

They both stared at John and Roger being interviewed and photographed and the journalist knew he had to wait for his turn to ask some questions. 

"I've heard that it's just like this also in Japan." Veronica said smiling, a bit blinded by the flashes, and the journalist turned again towards her, surprised about her words. 

"We got lots of fan letters from Japan. They were not only special but also warm-hearted, using every device. Drawings, stickers, little gifts... Japanese fans are wonderful!" She beamed, reminiscing how they even received some frog-themed letters and gifts after John had revealed he had a son and they called him "frog", which completely melted Ronnie's heart. She couldn't travel that much while pregnant or with a toddler, but she could feel the love from Japanese fans radiating from the letters.

The journalist seemed to light up at her statement and bowed again. 

"Thank you! We love Queen, yes! I'm so happy to know you like fan letters, in Japan fans put a lot of effort into making them. Can I put your words in the magazine, Mrs. Deacon?" 

Veronica widened her eyes in surprise. He wanted to publish her words in the magazine? She took a moment to think about it, perhaps it wasn't a bad idea and she didn't say anything potentially offensive, after all. 

"Yes, sure! Thank you." She gave him a little bow that made the journalist almost shine with joy.

"Thank you, Mrs. Deacon!" 

Weeks later she'd find out that the kind journalist from Japan had actually published her words, describing her as a "refined lady with a pure heart", which thrilled her to bits. 

But now she went looking for John, as the journalists mixed with the crowd and moved their interest in Aerosmith again…

She spotted him for just a moment and took a couple of glasses of champagne, one for herself and one for her husband, but the moment she turned he must've moved away and it was as if John had disappeared to another planet. 

Ronnie couldn't find him anywhere. 

She took a sip from her own glass and found Brian and Chrissie chatting with other musicians, though they had no idea about Deaky's whereabouts. 

Another sip of champagne, and her glass was empty.

It was even harder to find John in a place like this, where most boys had long hair like him; she had confused at least two guys for Roger already and everyone's head now seemed her husband's. 

"Excuse me…" She patted a shoulder, meeting the gaze of a girl with very heavy makeup and a quite revealing outfit. "Uh, have you seen the bassist of Queen?" 

"Who?"

"Uhh… he's quite tall, long brown hair, long nose. His name is John." She tried to explain, drinking from John's glass now in a weak attempt to wipe away her shyness.

"Look, sweetheart, I know at least twelve Johns like that and probably half of them are here. I'm sorry." The lady slurred a bit, before turning again to the friends she was chatting with.

"Thank you…" Veronica murmured, defeated.

It was then that she felt a hand patting her shoulder, and she snapped her head back to see who it had been. 

Her eyes met John's bright smile, framed by his long auburn hair, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Here you are!" He chirped, "I couldn't find you anymore!"

"I think it's a bit too crowded here... would you like to go for a walk?" He asked after a while, out of the blue, and Ronnie widened her eyes.

"Same, I was getting quite worried... and I drank also the glass for you, sorry." She apologised, her cheeks burning both because of the champagne and embarrassment, but John didn't seem to mind. He finished the champagne in his glass and took her hands, inviting her for a dance.

They swayed along the best Aerosmith's ballads and let themselves go at the more rock songs, having fun despite John had a preference for disco and motown. Just being with his lady, meeting his bandmates and friends, was making the night special.

"What? Where?"

"Out! I feel like walking just with you, what do you think?" He smile from ear to ear, and Veronica felt a bit taken aback, her man always able to surprise her. They were in the middle of a party and he wanted to walk in the streets of London... and she couldn't say no to that proposal, as visiting London at night had become a rare event since they had Robert.

"I think it's a wonderful idea!"

As they walked in the park, among the yellow leaves in the chilling nightof October, they held their hands, humming in unison the songs they had the chance to experience live.

"Hey, Ronnie." He called her in the almost ethereal silence under the streetlights of Putney, as they headed towards their home, where Robert was probably already sleeping in his crib, lulled by Freddie's lullabies and Mary's arms. "I saw you talking with a Japanese journalist, right? Did he bother you?"

Veronica seemed to light up, she almost forgot about that highlight of the evening.

"No, he was really nice! I told him about the sweet letters we always get from Japan and he asked me if he could write my words in the article!" She beamed.

"And?" John squeezed her hand, eager for her to go on while his heart inflated with pride, as much as hers when she saw him talking with the journalists.

"And I said yes, why not?" She scoffed casually before letting out a shy chuckle, bewildered of her own boldness as she gave an actual interview.

"That's so sweet, Ronnie! I can't wait to read the article, then. I love you." He bent down to kiss her softly and she leaned her head on his shoulder. 

"I love you too, John." 

Dedicated to the lovely @sweetiediqi 🥺💖

[waugh-bao]

Ronnie and Mick (trying) to get Charlie out for his introduction (2013)

[chazz-anova]

A Little Bit Of Magic - Chapter 1

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Lady Veronica Rook, a wizard turned rogue bounty hunter and part time thief, is approached by one of the King's men on a stormy night to acquire her services. Little does she know, she's setting off on a quest that will change her forever. (Fantasy!AU)

A/N: LITERALLY I saw one picture and that spawned this entire AU lmao, this has been a fun start and I'm excited for the rest of this little mini-series! I hope you all like as well <3

Dancing candlelight casted amorphous shadows on a bare stone wall. In the center of the room, a firepit blazed; warming the bones of weary travelers who sought refuge from a tempest storm brewing outside the walls of the inn.

Barmaids bustled from table to table, bringing stout ale to rowdy patrons. One such patron sat at the short oak bar, nursing a tankard of beer. In front of the customer stood a barkeep who looked rather piqued. “Veronica, every night you sit here and take up space that could be filled by paying customers. Pray tell, what must I do to squeeze some coin from you?” The woman asked, her sunny blonde hair bobbing as she swept a damp rag over the counter.

Across the bar, Veronica looked up from her stein with a smirk as she replied, “You’d just as likely squeeze coin from me as easily as you’d milk a dragon, Mary May. Is there not a special allowance for a friend who’s saved your life twice over?”

“If I’d known your aid would end up costing me damn near a barrel of ale in the long run, I would have gladly thrown myself into the jaws of death!” Mary professed dramatically, a small smile giving her away.

V rose her tankard high, proclaiming “And what you pay in ale, you make back doubly in entertainment!”

With a sigh- the barmaid stashed the rag she’d been holding under the counter. “Well allow me to take my leave, before your entertainment proves to be too much!” Mary May rolled her eyes as she departed to the back storeroom; Veronica always knew how to work her last nerve.

Now left to her own devices, the woman spun in her seat to analyze the other patrons. She hoped with any luck, she could swindle some coin from someone deep in their cups to secure a room for the night. Unfortunately- saving a friend’s life only afforded you free drinks, not free rooms. Having grown up in the streets of the Kingdom of Hope, Veronica trusted her pickpocketing skills; especially in a tavern such as this.

The Splayed Eagle Inn was run by V’s friend, Mary May, and had been her home for the past few months. All types found themselves in this bar, whether they be well-to-do, working class, or a simple ne’er-do-well. Of course- Veronica liked to think she didn’t fit into any of those categories.

Sitting around the main floor of the inn were a few possible targets, and our girl set to sizing up the first; an older man seated in the corner. He wore the garb of the royal guard. His complexion was that of worn leather, and his eyes scanned the room suspiciously. ‘Not a great mark..’ Veronica thought, shifting her gaze to her next person.

The person in question was not a person at all, but rather a dwarf. The short man guzzled beer from his stein greedily, egged on by two more of his kind. Finishing the drink he slammed down his cup and roared in revelry. ‘Though dwarves love gold and these ones would certainly have some coin, perhaps they are a hair too unmanageable for a robbery.’ Considering this, the woman moved down the list.

Just as Veronica was about to size up her next mark, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde turned, expecting to see Mary May had returned to give her more grief. V was surprised to see an unfamiliar face and she immediately went on the defense, shrugging the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Her words dripped with distrust.

The stranger met her eyes with a look of contempt, and V considered grabbing her dagger in case things became dicey. The woman who’d grabbed her shoulder stepped back now, regarding Veronica coldly with dark eyes. She wore a black fur cape with the hood up, obscuring her features, though her greasy black hair hung in matted locks on her shoulders. She lifted her hood to reveal a ghastly scar across her face. “Yes, mage, I do believe you can help me.” The stranger chuckled.

Hearing her true title, Veronica started visibly, but quickly recovered. ‘How does she know? Certainly this wench is no mage, I sense no magic in her! Is she an assassin from the Guild? Gods, Mary May will kill me if I’ve brought such darkness to her doorstep!’ V’s inner monologue was harried, in contrast to her cool voice as she rebuffed, “Mage? Surely you jest! I am but a humble adventurer.”

Spitting at her feet, the woman scoffed. “Save your lies! I already know of you, Lady Veronica, and of your discharge from the Royal Mages Guild. I come seeking your help in regards to your… new vocation.”

“And what would that be?” V continued to be difficult, her tone hostile. She didn’t like how much this woman knew of her.

“Bounty hunting, of course. Or was it not you that the Royal Guard granted a bounty to just a week ago for bringing in one of the Banshee Queen’s sprites?” At this, Veronica’s mouth drew into a thin line. She knew she’d been got. The ravenette shrugged, “I dare not judge, how else is a rogue witch to make any coin these days?” Though she put on a facade of good cheer, something dangerous lurked in her gaze.

A humorless laugh escaped Ronnie and she lifted her chin defiantly, “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help you, hag?”

Smiling cruelly, she retorted “It is not I who requests your service, but your King and country.”

“Well, his Kingly-ness will simply have to bring is ass down here if he truly wants me help!” V laughed, chalking up the woman’s words to a childish prank.

Suddenly- the stranger closed the short distance between them and the mage felt the tip of a blade threatening to pierce her gut. “I would recommend a modicum of respect for King Dutch. As his bodyguard, I may feel inclined to defend his honor.”

Under her breath, Veronica murmured ancient arcane words and a ball of flames appeared in her spread palm near the woman’s head. “And I may feel inclined to worsen your scar if you do not back away.” She growled the threat, feeling a rush of relief when the King’s bodyguard moved away. She would rather not release a fan of fire in her friend’s bar.

Sheathing her dagger, the woman took a breath. “Let us start over. I am Jess Black, bodyguard and right hand to King Dutch Roosevelt.” She gave a stately bow along with her title.

“Well Lady Black, what would you have of me?” V asked, voice laden with suspicion. Though she preferred to seek her own bounties, a requisition from the King was sure to bring decent coin.

As they began to discuss business, Jess took a seat next to Veronica and spoke vaguely. “Our ruler would have you retrieve a package for him, for a hefty reward.” When the mage said nothing, she continued, “I cannot divulge the details- but you will find what you need in the hamlet of Fall’s End with a cleric named Jerome.”

“Am I expected to go forward with such little information?” She shook her head in disbelief, finally finishing her drink.

“You are expected to do as our ruler bids! I have told you all I know.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed as she probed, “Surely his majesty has sent some sort of incentive, if it is truly he who sent you!”

Jess sighed heavily, producing a leather pouch from the folds of her cape. She set it on the bar with a clink, and V grabbed it immediately. “Gods, there must be nearly forty gold here!” She exclaimed, counting it out quickly.

“Our benefactor has put this forward as a downpayment of sorts, with the promise of more once he’s gotten his package. On the condition that you leave immediately.” Jess asserted with a nod.

The blonde eyed the gold hungrily- knowing she was on hard times. “Well if my kingdom needs me, who am I to resist the call? Though surely ‘immediately’ could mean ‘first thing in the morn’, with his Highness’s mercy?”

Putting a hand on the pouch of gold, the ravenette shook her head. “I must insist on your departure this night, King Roosevelt wishes for no delay in your meeting with Jerome.”

For a moment Veronica’s gaze shifted from Jess back to the pouch of gold, but she relented with a sigh. “It will take me a moment to prepare myself, and I shall make haste.”

Jess gave a rare smile, acquiescing “Your speed is most appreciated.” She turned to the back wall of the bar then, wondering aloud, “Where is the damn barkeep?”

With their conversation over and coin now heavy in her pocket, V slipped behind the bar to the back office where she’d stashed her travel pack.

Mary May’s office was small but tidy, featuring a large desk and business ledger. Sitting there was Mary herself, counting out coin into the safe next to the desk. Next to the safe was Veronica’s beige backpack, which May let her stash in the office during business hours. Hearing her footsteps, the blonde turned away from her safe to face V. “Ah, come to retrieve your loot without buying a room to store it in first? You must have gotten yourself a job.”

A smile crossed Veronica’s features, showing pearly white teeth. “You know me well friend, I must be off immediately unfortunately, so it would appear you’ll save some ale tonight yet!” She crossed the threshold into the room, leaning over the other to grab her sack.

“My, it must be an illustrious one to cause you to abandon a perfectly good night of drinking!” She chuckled.

This made the blonde stop a moment as she considered telling her friend the details. Thinking better of it, she instead said, “Nothing so fancy! I should be back in a week at the latest, try not to miss me too much!” Giving Mary May a chuckle., Before Veronica was fully out the door, she leaned back to say quickly “And be sure to give your worst service to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar!”

V slung her sack across her back, weaving through Mary May’s drunken customers towards the front door. Once she cleared the room, she turned back one last time and saw Jess staring at her as she departed. The look on her face gave her chills.

The heavy door to the Splayed Eagle Inn opened with a prolonged creak, and gave way to a gust of wind that caused the mage to pull her cloak closer around her. She stepped foot into the deluge outside and hustled into the treeline, taking her first steps towards facing an evil she couldn’t begin to imagine.

[sarunohadaki]

Thinking about my self-indulgent luminerik kidfic again and what their kids would be like... (note: under read more is literally almost 1.5k words of rambling)

Liz: She/her. Black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and Octagonian accent. The oldest. Adopted from Octagonia when she was six. (But has Hottish roots.) An ambivert. Very type A personality. (Or just highly competitive and results-driven. Analysing personality tests makes brain hurty.)

Takes a while to warm up to people and def needs to work on her people skills. Does a lot better in a crowd or with older adults. (Maybe she just wants/likes to look mature? Wants to be adult already.)

Favorite weapons are sword, then bow and arrow. Doesn't really know anything about magic. Keeping her fighting skills sharp is just as important as doing well in school! Thus, she's naturally top of her class, too.

I imagine her busting into a meeting in her adventuring gear, excited to show off her newest discovery to her dads. But I can also imagine her rocking a ballgown at a fancy event. (Lots of Jade energy.)

Loves Erik and Mia the most. (El is not sour about that at all. You really can't too much when you factor in that he's the one she goes to for all the comfort-seeking, since Liz wants to look strong in front of Erik.) She looks up to Jade and Hendrik a lot.

Really appeals to the idea of being an older sister, primarily because she likes being someone others can look up to or confide in. Idris doesn't really jibe with that but Lief appreciates it!

Idris: He/him. Black hair, gold eyes, brown skin, Gallopolitan accent. He's a little shit. Adopted from Gallopolis when he was ten, primarily at El's behest. Doesn't really know what he's doing in Dundrasil but he's trying to figure it out.

Good at a mixture of fire spells and knives. Doesn't have a favorite parent— both spoil him an uncomfortable amount, though he confides in Erik the most.

I still have to figure out what his motivation/aspirations are. I feel like he'd be an extrovert! Once you lean into the whole "prince" thing, I think there's a layer of him that really likes living in a castle. ...And another layer that still won't ever get used to it.

Gets into arguments with Liz on the regular, but she only puts up with his shit for so long before refusing to engage with it anymore. (Ideally in a more mature manner than Veronica and Erik.) They'll eventually reach a common ground where Idris acknowledges/respects Liz's strength and she stops treating him like a little kid.

On that note... appreciates people who don't treat him like a child. Favorite person is definitely Sylv! Then, hmmm... Rab or Faris. People who are a little goofy but genuine, you know? A plus if they're strong. So I guess he'd like Ronnie, too.

Lief: He/him -> she/they. Pink hair, blue eyes, slightly tan skin, weirdest conglomeration of dads' accents. The baby!!! Was adopted when they were days old; a carriage on a rainy day was uhh met with some complications.

El spoils this kid so rotten. All he's ever wanted was to have a baby wake him at two in the morning and make him rock it to sleep for three hours straight. There might be sleep deprivation in his eyes, but there's also extreme pleasure in cradling a lil baby in your arms and seeing it grow up into an adult.

I have considered writing... thousands of words of El just reveling in the baby-rearing process and Erik standing off to the side like, "I'm happy you're enjoying this so much babe, you do you."

A little, shy introvert. Looks up to the older siblings a lot, who are both really kind to Lief in return. Lief definitely prefers El the most out of the parents. (I wonder if Liz or Idris would be jealous?)

Prefers magic and books. Finally, we also get a good Mia/Jade/Gemma/Serena/Veronica lover. Lief really likes her female role models! (Of them all, though, I think they'd like Gemma or Serena the most.)

Definitely goes on a gender journey somewhere along the way. I feel like I need more research to get into that but it's there. Lief likes wearing dresses and the dads are very supportive! Liz excitedly lends her some.

There was something about a piano room once but I don't remember the details. I think the plot went that Liz was growing older and wanted to move to a new bedroom, where she discovered there was a room down the hall with a piano in it. Liz ends up getting Lief's bedroom, which is larger, and Lief moves into the piano room. Lief learns how to play piano and really enjoys it.

Last note: Finally we get a kid who feels right at home in fancy garb and has dinner manners! Their accent is Drasilian but also a healthy heaping of a (fucked-up) mixture of El and Erik's accents.

———

I'm considering whether it would be reasonable for Liz to go to speech therapy since I've given her more of a Derk dialect, but I can already imagine El and Erik diving into a deep pro/cons list and concluding she is perfect the way she is and it's not worth possible harm to her self-image...

...But she might end up trying to perfect her dialect anyway, as she wants to be a proper future queen with a fancy Heliodoran accent or something.

At dinner parties, Liz has a lot of fun socializing with guests. She dresses up fancy and schmoozes well.

Idris finds the whole thing sorta annoying — if he has to be there, he might spike the punch bowl or sneak slimes under the tables — but he'll do it for appearances and the rare fun conversation. More often he'll sneak out with his equivalent of Derk and return before curfew at the end of the night.

Lief, too, prefers to read in the corner. But they were raised in this weird fancy shit, so they don't mind acting every now and again if it's for appearances. Eventually, she'll get more confident with it and maybe find a romantic interest or friends to support her.

I struggle to imagine all the kids in a room together getting along, but I think if I wrote it enough the dynamics would start to make sense together. They all have little places where common interests overlap; it's just a matter of finding them.

El's been assigned some of the more maternal features of being a parent, mostly by choice. I feel like of the two men, he's definitely the one who's already overanalyzed what the kids need, and worried that not having a mom is going to result in some sort of emotional deficiency.

Erik scarcely cries as it is, so El shows them that it's okay to express how you're feeling and definitely leads by example. Idris probably finds the whole thing awkward. Liz is really expressive and Lief lands somewhere in the middle.

I have it written somewhere that El cuts his looong hair down to shoulder-length and regrows it again. I think it'd be cute if he and Lief grew their hair out together and El showed them that guys can have long hair, too!

The dads take turns playing tough cop but Erik arguably does a better job because El always carries around guilt/discomfort for having to play the role. I don't think the kids would get a lot of the "go ask your father" situation where they keep getting sent to the other dad when asking for permission to do something. El/Erik both feel comfortable enough to put their foot down when needed, though the bigger decisions require dual consideration before reaching a decision.

My favorite dynamics are: Lief & El, Liz & Erik, and Idris & Erik. I cannot express to you how many times I have imagined El cradling a lil baby and singing it songs and loving it oh so dearly... 😭 If Lief ever got into an argument with El I think it would destroy him. (So naturally that happens at least once. Kids are little shits.)

Thinking about it now, there has to be at least ONE time where Idris and Lief join forces against Liz for one reason or another. Jealousy? Resentment? Wanting to knock the oldest sibling down a peg? I don't really know but I think it's one way Lief and Idris would bond.

Idris and Liz would bond over orphan life together and their thougths about living in a castle. Lief and Liz would have fun trying out pretty clothes.

[worminstuff]

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? pt.2

Dream x oc

dreams got a new infatuation with a new member of L’manburg

no warnings:)yet

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Fin took a deep breath, the smell of baked goods flooding her senses. It was a brisk morning and Nikki had woken finley up to take her to the bakery with her. She wanted company and she really wanted to get to know her new friend.

The night prior, Nikki was excitedly talking to Wilbur about how it was going to be so nice having another girl around, so Wilbur suggested she ask Finley to tag along with her the next morning knowing Fin would be more than happy to do so.

“So you go by Finley only?” Nikki asked the small girl to sit at the table behind her.

“Well I used to. But now Tubbo decided he wanted to call me mags, and I couldn't say no.” Fin traced the lines of the wood table.

“Tubbo is hard to say no to in general. How come you don't like maggie though? I think that's a very cute name.” Nikki turned to face fin.

“Well that's the point. It's too cute, you know? Don't want to seem all soft.” Finley waved her arm as if she was brushing away a fly.

Nikki gave her a sceptical look. Fin was small, wearing black patchwork overalls and green turtleneck shirt with a little duck embroidered under her collar. She wasn't exactly dressed tough.

Before she could reply, “Good morning women!” Tommy strode in, a grin adorning his red cheeks.

“Morning Tommy.” Nikki grumbled back.

“Hello Maggie!” he plopped himself down in a chair across from Finley, she glared. “You know, Maggie is more fitting than Finley I think. It just fits you better. I would still like to know your first name.'' Tommy leaned on the table staring her down.

“I'll be keeping that to myself.” Fin said, earning a snicker from Nikki behind them.

Tommy huffed. “What do you have a tragic backstory with?”

“No, I just don't want you to call me it.” she said frankly.

Tommys brows furrowed. “Then I wont. I just want to know what it is, I'm a curious boy. I'll have you know.”

Finley huffed. “I can't tell you why.” she looked towards her hands on the table. “it’s Magnolia.”

Tommy started a moment, no laugh, no gin, no tease, just staring. Nikki stared at Tommy, a spatula in hand ready to hit him with.

“Thats a beautiful name.”

Both nikki and fins eyes went wide, fins head whipping up to look at him.

“It's very beautiful. Magnolia.” he repeated to himself. “Shame you're not a fan of it, i love it.” there was no trace of a lie in his features, he was being honest.

Tommy turned around momentarily to look at Nikki, “A word of this to the others and i'll burn your house or something.” he turned back to Fin. “I want you to know that I may be rude sometimes, and i'm aware of it, but you're one of us. You're family, and I'm by your side. Im glad you trust me enough to tell me your name, I really do like it by the way. Beautiful flowers magnolias are.” Tommy stood, holding a hand out for her. She stood wearily.

“C'mere flower.” he joked, gesturing her closer. He pulled her into a brotherly hug. A quick one. He let go, waving to both girls as he left the bakery.

Both girls stood shell shocked for a moment.

Fin looked at Nikki, “Does he-”

“No. I’ve never.. Ever seen.. Tommy be that kind.” nikkis eyes were still wide.

“Well.. I think i'm gonna go walk around some. Explore a bit.”

“Of course! It was wonderful hanging out with you, I'd love if you hung out here more. If you'd like of course.” Nikki said, a comforting smile on her face.

Finley nodded, matching her grin,”I will! it’s very nice here. i like it a lot.” then made her way out.

She followed the wooden path down to the docks she went to days prior, listening to the faint swishing of the calm water below the wood her feet walked across.

Once she made it to the end of the longest dock, she pulled a pen and paper from the front pocket of her overalls, sitting on the dock. She placed the paper on her leg, starting a response to the anonymous letter she received last night.

I don't particularly know why I'm doing this, because I'm almost sure Mr. Soot would advise against it, but it's quite exciting i think.

Hello mr letter writer! I'm Fin! You already know what i look like apparently, since you're a stalker and a burglar, so I won't describe myself that way. I don't really know what to tell you.

My favorite color is green, and I really like knives. Not in a crazy serial killer way, I just think they're cool. I like that you told me to look at the moon, cause I really like the moon. And the ocean.

My favorite place so far is the docks.

So far I've met most of the people of L’manburg. Tubbo and nikki are my first friends. Today I met tommy for the second time, and he seems actually very nice. I told him my full name, which only tubbo knew before. Wilbur as well, but I didn't tell Wilbur.

I asked Tubbo who on the smp he was afraid of, and he mentioned this guy's dream. I haven't heard anyone else mention him though, so I wonder how scary he really is. Have you met him? You seem creepy so maybe you hangout with the scary people.

I saw two guys on the way out this morning, one was wearing sunglasses at dusk, which was strange. The other had a cool headband on. I wanted to say hello because they seem cool but Wilbur didn't introduce me to them so i don't want to talk to anyone he'd be angry at me for talking to. I don't feel like rebelling too much just yet, you know?

I hope you have a nice day mr. burglar.

Fin folded the paper in three, and stood to place it in the box at the end of the dock. She wondered how long it would take to see a response. She knew she was going to check the next morning.

This person seemed..strange. Yet she was very intrigued. She just won't be mentioning this to Wilbur any time soon.

~

“It's not an obsession.” Dream huffed to his fiery friend.

“It seems like it. She's all you've been thinking about since you saw her, and you don't even know her name!” Sapnap’s arms flailed above his head.

George snickered behind them. George was sitting on a couch in the room across from them as they argued while sitting at the dining table.

“Dream you are being a bit..strange about her. I mean, what's the deal? She doesn't exactly seem..extraordinary.” he shrugged.

Dream shot him a deathly glare to which George flinched. Yeesh.

“Okay okay i'll take it back” he held his hands up in surrender.

All three of them paused for a moment, and the dream took a deep breath.

“Maybe.. I should ask Wilbur about her.” a devilish grin spread across his face.

Sapnap and George groaned loudly.

“Why the hell would that be a good idea, Dream?” George said.

“Think about it, he thinks he's got a new fighter of some sort. Another soldier. But he also seems like he has some sort of connection with her, he cares. So if he knows i've got an eye out for her, there's no way he'd put her in battle. Who knows what she's capable of so that only benefits us!” Dream stared at Sapnap excitedly.

“You're insane. Absolutely bonkers.” he shook his head standing up abruptly to make his way to his room.

Dreams' shoulders sank. It was sort of a poor excuse, but his mind was set.

“Where are you going?” George asked dream just before he was about to pass through the front door.

“I think you know.”

He at least needed to know her name. At least.

Dream didn't often is it l’manburg when there wasn't some type of damage about to be done, which is why he understood the wide eyes and stiff stance of wilbur as he stepped into what wilbur referred to as his “office” just inside the walls of L’manburg.

“Relax, i'm here to ask some questions. That's all.'' Dream tried to show him he came in peace by attempting to seem as relaxed as possible. Limp shoulders, loose hands.

He reached behind his head, unclipping the clasp holding his mask on. He held it in front of hi a tad, “See, I’ll even take this off Mr. President.”

Wilbur stood only staring. What the hell? He's barely spoken to in dreams, especially like this.

He hummed, “Alright.. What questions do you have for me then?” he hesitantly clasped his hands together in front of himself.

“About the new girl.” Dream tried to hide a grin.

Wilburs eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared. Dream had already hit a nerve.

“Ronny?..” he mumbled. What could Dream want with her? “Not quite sure what you're on about.” he tried to shake it off. Dream wasn't buying it.

“Oh come on. short, “ dream held his hand up around his middle, “freckles, had overalls on. Who is she?” his question sounded more like a statement in a way.

Wilbur sighed, “That would be FInley. She's the sister of an old friend of mine.”

Dream let it simmer for a moment. Finley. That's adorable. Not the first name he said, though.

“If her name is Finley, why'd you say Ronny?” Dream asked, a tilt to his head.

“That's what I call her. She goes by Finley. I call her what her brother always called her. I don't quite see how any of this is your business?” wilbur was starting to get annoyed. What could he want with Fin? Nothing good he was sure.

“I was just curious that's all.” he pulled his mask to his face, clipping the clasp behind his head. A brother. Wilbur knew her brother, why would he be here though?

“She is technically under the jurisdiction of the smp. As “L’manburg” “ he held up his hands in air quotes, “isn't independent quite yet, Mr. Soot.”

Wilbur stayed silent. He figured this was a time that he should stay silent rather than speak his mind.

Dream saluted him with a slight bow of his head as he ducked out of the doorway, leaving without a farewell.

As Dream left L’manburg his head was swimming with thoughts of the small girl. Finley. He wondered if she liked his letter, if she would write back. He didn't know what he'd do if she didn't. Maybe another trip to L’manburg would be made, he thought.

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 10

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 10 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Crystal did not join Queen until November of 1975

There is no attic bedroom at Ridge Farm

Word Count: 6.6k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Before you knew it, it was June, and you were packing your suitcase with the last of the things you were taking home for the summer holidays.

You were absolutely ecstatic to have this year’s exams finished, especially because you’d made very high marks on Carmichael’s final assessment. Brian had done well too, turning around excitedly in his chair when he was handed back his test, waving the paper in your direction with a brilliant smile as he pointed to the percentage marked in red. You’d made a clapping motion in his direction, and he’d mouthed thank you. The gratitude shone in his eyes, and happiness bubbled up inside you at what an improvement you’d helped him to make.

Today, however,  frazzled nerves replaced elation, your insides tumbling and your hands unable to stay steady for very long at a time. Today was the day that you would go with Freddie, Roger, Deacy, and Brian to your home at Ridge Farm. Today was the day that you would join two halves of your life, and having never imagined that they would coincide, you were anxious about how it would go.

The day after the expedition to Zandra Rhodes’ flat, you had called your parents to discuss the notion of Queen coming to stay and to use the studio. Your dad had been thrilled, overjoyed that a real band was coming to use his studio, a studio he’d worked so hard to design and to build and to maintain. Your mum was pleased too— it was a long time since you’d had friends over, and she was happy to finally be meeting the people you now spent the majority of your time with, to put faces to names. Your brother would be home too, but, your mum said, “As he’s not yet got up and it’s two in the afternoon, he gets no say in the matter.” And so it was decided that Queen would be spending the summer of ‘75 at Ridge Farm.

Heather, Veronica, and the often-elsewhere Mary Austin would also be joining the party, and plus two roadies, your number totalled to ten. Roger, as the only one with a car, was taking himself, Heather, Freddie, Mary, and his roadie Chris— though everyone called him Crystal— up to the farm. You, Brian, Deacs, Veronica, and John Harris— another of Queen’s roadies— were to take the train.

It was a quarter past one in the afternoon when you shut your suitcase, tossed on a pair of sunglasses, and bid your other housemates goodbye for the summer. Heather, who was to play the role of navigator for Roger, had gone on ahead to his flat because it would take a little longer to reach Surrey by car than by train. You were headed to the Waterloo Station to meet the others in time for the train’s departure at 13:39 for an estimated arrival at Epsom, Surrey, at 14:23.

When you opened your front door, you were surprised to find none other than Zandra Rhodes with her hand raised to knock.

“Oh, hello!” she said brightly. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Me?” you laughed. “How do you even know where I live?”

She shrugged. “Freddie.”

“Ah.”

“Quite.”

You hesitated. “I’d say come in and have a cup of tea, but I’m actually on my way to the train station,” you winced apologetically.

Zandra waved her hand. “It’s fine. I’m busy myself. And I assume today is the day that the band goes off to the countryside? Freddie mentioned,” she explained.

“Yep, off to write an album!”

“Must be so exciting, all that musician stuff,” Zandra mused, shaking her head. “Anyhow, I’m here to give you this.” She handed you a soft parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tied up with white string. “Go on, open it. You may want to take it with you.”

You looked at her questioningly before setting down your bag so as to free your hands. You pulled at the string and it fell free of the package, which in turn fell open. Inside lay a swath of sparkly black fabric.

Lifting it up from the wrapping paper, you admired what Zandra had turned into a blouse. With a deep v-neck slit, little buttons down the abdomen, a cinched-tie waist and long, cinched sleeves, the blouse was the picture of elegance. It reminded you of the night sky.

“Zandra, it’s beautiful,” you smiled at her. “Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she said. “But, you owe it to yourself to try to impress a certain someone, wearing that top.”

“I haven’t got anyone to—”

“Oh, sure you do!” she exclaimed, such great spirit that it did not cross your mind to contradict her again. “Let me know how it goes when you get back to London, yeah?”

You pressed your lips together. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing ever did.

“Will do,” you said. “And thanks again. Truly, it’s lovely.”

“I know. Have fun!” she waggled her fingers in a wave and looked both ways before striding across the road.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

From Camden you made for Waterloo, and shortly after you arrived, you spotted Brian.

At the familiar sight of gangly limbs paired with a slim figure and a mass of curly hair, standing on the platform with his head bowed over whatever it was he held in his hands, relief spread through you like a warm cup of tea on a cold day. Everything would be okay. This was Deacy and Ronnie and Roadie-John you were bringing to your home. This was Bri— this was your friend you were bringing to your home, not a stranger.

Strangers did not make you feel like this.

Approaching, you found the others close by, chatting and laughing and sharing bags of crisps. Deacy and Ronnie waved at you and John Harris grinned.

Brian looked up when you neared him, and he flashed you a bright little smile, which you couldn’t help but return— his cheeks were rosy and his eyes crinkled, and you would have died for that smile.

Then he raised his Polaroid camera in your direction and clicked the button.

“Brian!” you exclaimed, knowing that there was no way that photo could have turned out well. “Why’d you do that?”

He pulled the photograph from where the camera was spitting it out, shaking it lightly and letting the camera strap hold the camera for him as he shielded his face from the sun with his other hand.

“Candid,” he said happily. “First of many.”

“Not on my watch,” you narrowed your eyes. “Let me see.” You snatched for the photo, but tall and long-limbed as he was, Brian simply extended his arm above his head and held the Polaroid out of your grasp.

His smile was amused when you glared at him for his betrayal, but you weren’t about to give up. You jumped and reached, but he stepped sidelong and shook his head.

“No. You’ll never let me keep it,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a rather petulant pout.

At the idea of him keeping a photograph of you— why? did he think of you?— a tingle ran down your sides, but you quelled all straying thoughts when you remembered that you probably looked terrible in said photograph.

“Bri,” you crossed your arms obstinately, “it’s mine. Give it to me, please.”

He continued to pout, but then sighed. “Fine.” he said, lowering his hand and holding the photograph out to you. You took it slowly, cautious not to let your fingers brush his. “But really, don’t throw it away. You look lovely.”

Before you could hide the blush that rose to your cheeks at his remark, he winked, and turning away, he called out for the other three to smile!, taking the picture before anyone could react.

You pushed your sunglasses up onto your head and squinted at the Polaroid picture in the sunshine.

Your gaze had been directed upwards, toward Brian, your chin was lifted in a manner that looked almost proud, or in the very least confident. Your sunglasses had briefly slipped down your nose at the moment the picture had been taken, and so your eyes could be seen, bright and animated in the warm light of the sunny afternoon, and the hair was blown away from your face— sunlight emphasised the dips and planes of your features. You’d worn a sundress because the weather was for once for it, and it had rustled in the wind, sweeping around your legs; you were painted in elegance.

Brian was right.

You looked lovely.

But perhaps the craftsmanship of the photo played a part as well. Despite being a hastily-snapped candid, the photo was framed perfectly, and the light that illuminated your figure was well-contrasted. It was art, in yet another form; Brian seemed inherently capable of creating art in any and every moment. And he certainly knew how to pick his moments. In photography, at least.

“Y/N!” John called to you, and all the others turned to you expectantly. “Train’s here.”

Sure enough, the clock hanging above the platform matched the departure time printed on your ticket. You hurried over with your bags, which was quite a feat, given you had your messenger bag, your guitar in its case— Brian had encouraged you to bring it— and your suitcase. The others were equally badly off— Deacy carrying his bass, Brian with not one but two guitars, Roadie-John with packed-up amplifiers and cords, and everyone carrying suitcases. Deacy in particular looked strained, having insisted upon carrying some of his wife’s things so that her load would be lessened, but subsequently, his own was significantly worsened. You made quite the group.

You caught up with the others and with a few quick hello’s the five of you shuffled alongside the rest of the crowd toward the train carriages.

Brian was at your side and nudged your elbow. “Guitar looks heavy,” he said.

“Mmm…” you murmured. “Some idiot suggested I bring it along.”

He chuckled warmly, and despite the sunny weather, you longed to move closer to his warmth. “I’d offer to carry it for you, but I’m rather decked out myself.”

You sniffed. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

Just then, a man in a time-worn jacket jostled you, and you stumbled.

“Excuse me,” you muttered. But the man continued to try to push past you, past anyone who stood in his way.

You glanced over at Brian to roll your eyes at the man’s behaviour, but Brian’s face had taken on a peculiarly pinched look. He looked angry.

“Oi, mate,” Brian raised his voice slightly. The man didn’t react. “Hey,” Brian said when you got shoved for the third time. He stepped forward. “Hey, watch it!”

The man whirled around with an equally angry expression, but Brian was taller, and he made that fact quite obvious, leaning down and glowering at the other man. Shoulders stiff and eyes dark, though he had no hands free with which to defend himself should the situation take a violent turn, Brian glared with such scorn at the man who’d run into you that anyone would’ve rightly wilted beneath his gaze.

“Bri,” you said, hoisting your guitar onto your back, “let it go.” Brian didn’t move, though the other man bared his teeth. He stared past you like you didn’t exist. Then the rugged man spat on Brian’s clogs, and Brian lurched forward in fury, his bag and cases landing on the ground.

You were quick to step between the two men, placing your palm firmly against Brian’s chest. That caught his attention— his heartbeat quickened beneath your splayed fingers.

“Let it go,” you repeated.

Brian’s eyes flickered, then met yours. You stared down his intensity, unwilling to back down, though your lungs and their rapid intake of breath were inclined to disagree.

His eyes were melted toffee, and beneath them, you could have melted as well. But then Brian inhaled carefully, and with a gentle touch, pried your fingers off of his chest.

He nodded to you in promise to not antagonise the other man any further, then let go of your hand.

You would have intertwined your fingers with his and held them there, if the crowd hadn’t begun moving again.

And if you’d had the courage.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The train sprinted along the tracks from Waterloo to Epsom, and the journey passed quickly. Your arrival in Surrey was perfectly on time, and this day, the weather in your home county was no less pretty than that of London.

From Epsom Station to Ridge Farm was another half-hour or so, but luckily, your dad owned a minibus and was waiting at the station to pick you and the others up.

“Y/N!” your dad called when he saw you.

“Dad!” you rushed forward and dropped your bags, flinging your arms around him. You hadn’t seen him for months, and had spoken to him only every few weeks; you weren’t going to be embarrassed for being happy to see your dad.

“Missed you, love,” he squeezed you tightly.

“Missed you too.”

Then you stepped back so as to introduce the others.

“So we’ve got exactly half of the band here, and the other half I think we’ll intercept on the way home,” you said. “This is John Deacon, bassist and vocalist—”

John laughed. “No no, I can’t sing, Y/N. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Andrews,” he shook hands with your dad. “This is my beautiful wife Veronica,” he beamed upon introducing her. The two of them were so in love, it was ridiculous.

“Hi!” Ronnie said, hardly taking her big eyes off of Deacy.

“Hello there,” your dad greeted them.

“And this is our second John, who crews and just generally is a great help,” you said as Roadie-John strode forward.

“John Harris. But everyone just calls me Roadie-John, to sorta prevent confusion with Deacy over there,” he jabbed his thumb in Deacy’s direction, and your dad laughed amicably.

“So they call you Deacy, then?” he asked John, John Deacon.

“Yeah, or Deacs, or something like that. Seems to have stuck.”

Your dad laughed again, and you smiled, pleased. It seemed he and Deacy would get along well.

Then Brian caught your eye timidly. He looked a bit lost, like meeting new people wasn’t his strong suit. It probably wasn’t— Brian very much conformed to the initially-shy-and-awkward stereotype of an astrophysicist.

“Oh dear, sorry Bri,” you apologised. “Dad, this is Brian.”

“Hello,” Brian said, extending his hand. Your dad shook it.

“So what do you play, Brian…”

“Brian May, Mr. Andrews.”

“Brian May. What do you play then, Brian May?”

“Oh, I play guitar.”

“Any good?” your dad inquired.

“I—”

“Very good,” you interrupted. “He’s actually been helping me to learn to play,” you said, pride in your voice.

“Has he really?” your dad muttered in an odd tone. “My Y/N’s been having quite the trouble learning.”

“Dad…”

“Really? She’s a natural!” Brian smiled disarmingly, but your dad’s expression was set.

“We’ll see,” your dad responded, and you thought he looked rather standoffish. Brian’s shoulders seemed to droop.

You frowned.

“Uh, sha’ we get going, then?” Roadie-John stepped in.

“Yep, yeah, sounds good!” you patted your dad’s shoulder and he made a noise of agreement. He took your bag for you, and took one from Ronnie as well.

“Thank you. Those things are heavy,” she said.

“I’m not actually a rotten husband,” Deacy added, “I’ve just already got my hands full.”

“No one thinks you’re a rotten husband,” Ronnie pulled her arm around Deacy’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder as you all followed your dad toward parking.

“Well thank goodness for that,” Deacy responded, and Veronica brushed his hair away from his face.

You were so distracted by how Deacy and Ronnie looked at each other, with such unyielding affection and warmth, that you didn’t notice Brian until he was next to you, the sleeve of his cream-coloured jacket brushing your hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, and you slowed your pace, guessing correctly that he wanted to talk apart from the others.

“Hey,” you said back. “What’s up?”

“Um… I don’t… I don’t think…” He stopped, then tried again. “What did I say wrong?” His eyes were soft and pitiful, and he looked so genuinely crushed that you almost threw your arms around him. “To your dad,” he continued. “I think I said something wrong.”

“Brian, what could you possibly have said wrong?”

His curls bobbed as he shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t think your dad’s pleased with me, all the same.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” you said. “He gets like that sometimes, when I introduce my friends. He’s a bit protective of me, I think.”

Brian bit his lip and made no response.

“Cheer up, Bri,” you nudged his side. “You can’t possibly look so sad when you get to spend an entire summer with me.”

“Half. Half a summer,” he corrected you. “D’you think I’ll last that long?”

His grin was brazen and his tongue poked out between his teeth.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re on thin ice, Brian May.”

He only went on smiling.

And you’ll surely melt the rest with that sunny smile of yours.

But no, you had it wrong. He would not melt the ice. He would melt you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The car ride from the station to your home was mostly uneventful, but as you’d predicted, Deacy and your dad got on like a house on fire. Your dad had studied electrical engineering, which John was studying now, and he played many instruments, including bass guitar. The two were currently occupied discussing electric pianos, and the one that your dad owned, which Deacy now wanted to learn to play.

Veronica and Roadie-John spent the journey playing weird road trip games, half of which you’d never even heard of. You resolved they’d made a few of them up on the spot.

You’d stared out the window, watching the landmarks of your childhood pass you by, pointing out a few of them to Brian who sat beside you. He appeared very interested in it all, to understand where it was you’d grown up, and he asked a multitude of questions concerning your school, an ice cream parlour you’d frequented ever since you were little, and finally, about the lush woods that surrounded the wealth of land that was Ridge Farm. You were happy to answer his questions, and to ask your own of him. He told many stories, and he told them well, upon one occasion eliciting so much laughter from you that your dad raised his eyebrows at you in the rearview mirror.

When the minibus finally rolled up the drive to the main house, your mum stood waving, and your family’s dog, Selkie, bounded back and forth with his tail wagging madly.

Then, Roger’s shiny red Alfa Romeo pulled up beside the minibus, just as you were getting out. Music was blaring, and everyone’s hair was thoroughly windblown.

“Did you even remember sunscreen?” Brian called to the passengers, pulling his guitars from the boot of the minibus.

“Nice to see you too, Bri,” Roger responded, giving Heather a hand out of the car.

“No,” said Mary, trying in vain to comb her hair into some semblance of a ponytail, “we definitely forgot sunscreen.” Gingerly, she touched a finger to the tip of her nose, which was looking rather pink, and winced. “Definitely forgot,” she muttered.

“You’re all pasty-pale,” Freddie laughed, fixing his hair.

“Well,” Crystal returned, “aren’t you lucky, Fred?”

“To be honest,” Heather was swaying slightly on the spot, “I’m not feeling too great. You drive too fast for me, I think, Roger.”

He kissed her cheek. “‘Course I don’t! Have a glass of water and you’ll be perfectly lovely again.”

Heather whacked his arm. “Cheeky.”

Your mum approached the scene, smiling with amusement at the various interactions going on around her.

“Mum!” you said, hugging her tightly. “You’re not at the pub?” Your mum ran the local pub— The Plough— and could thus be found there quite often.

“Hello my darling,” she kissed your cheek. “No, I got your brother to cover for me. It’s good to see you.” She pulled back from the embrace and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t call nearly often enough.”

“Sorry,” you winced, crouching down to scratch Selkie behind his big, floppy ears as the golden retriever panted happily, having run to you upon seeing you.

“You’re here now, so no need to be sorry!” She smiled her bright smile, the one that never failed to cheer you up, to comfort you, and you knew that she meant what she said. Your mum always meant what she said. It was both a blessing and a curse.

A whirlwind of introductions followed, and apologies too, because your mum worried she’d forget the names of nine new people as quickly as she’d been told them. Of course, no one minded; there would be plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other. Six weeks, to be exact.

Then there was the matter of accommodation. Your parents had yielded the main house to you all, preferring themselves to retreat to the smaller building farther up on the farm. Frank had his granny flat down the path from the main drive, so that left you, the band, their partners, and the roadies divided amongst six bedrooms.

You had your childhood bedroom, Freddie and Mary took a room, Roger and Heather took another, Deacy and Veronica a third. Meanwhile, Brian, Roadie-John, and Crystal drew straws to see who would be sharing and who would get their own room. In the end, Roadie-John and Crystal drew the shorter two straws and ended up in the bunk-beds of the room that your two brothers Frank and Billy had once shared. Brian had looked much relieved by this turn-out, because, as he told you— “My legs wouldn’t have fit on that bed!”

“Well, good you got the room to yourself,” you’d responded. “Though, you could easily have guilted me into giving up my bed to you.”

Brian had laughed, rather nervously. A blush rose to your face when you’d realised how your remark must have sounded. Deacy had then made the incident twenty times worse by turning to you and saying “Y/N, was that an innuendo? I’m proud of you!”

This had resulted in further blushing on your part, and in Brian stuttering out some weak-reasoned excuse about going to unpack.

“What’s his problem?” Crystal had asked, and Freddie had snorted.

“Think for a second, Chris,” Roadie-John had cuffed the back of his mate’s neck.

“Yeah thanks John, that’s going to help me think, you idiot.”

“You don’t need to think, Crystal,” Roger had shaken his head. “It’s pretty bloody obvious.”

“If it’s so bloody obvious, Rog,” you’d interrupted, crossing your arms, “then would you mind pointing it out to me?”

“Oh, darling,” Mary had said to you, almost pityingly, while Roger had laughed.

“No, Y/N, Roger sha’n’t tell you, and nor shall anybody else,” Freddie had put it plainly. “You’ll be blind a while yet.”

And with that cryptic comment, he had wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders and dragged the others with him to explore the house and grounds.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

When the sky turned orange and all the land below it golden, your dad had tea ready. He loved to cook and had thus created a masterpiece of salads, grilled vegetables, barbecue, homemade bread, and a variety of dips.

Summer was finally setting in, and so, even in the glow of the six o’clock evening, the sun would not set for at least another three hours.

You and the others had spent the afternoon unpacking, and setting up instruments in the studio. You’d managed to keep everyone’s attention for long enough to show them around said studio, but then Freddie had insisted on more “exploring”, and the others had followed excitedly. You’d offered to give them a tour, but Freddie argued that exploring was more fun, and everyone had agreed wholeheartedly. Except Brian. He’d been lost in his thoughts, sitting in a corner, tuning his guitar as though he intended to begin a songwriting session then and there.

Heather had then tried, and failed, to convince you to join in the exploration. Failed on account that you needed an hour or two to yourself— hanging around nine people, plus your family, was really quite draining. And when you’d looked about the sunlit studio fondly before leaving it for your own room, Brian was nowhere to be found.

When teatime rolled around, you had not seen him for several hours, and he remained elusive even as your mum, your dad, the others, and even your brother Frank who’d slept the day away, gathered in the dining room.

“Oh, this looks delicious,” said Roger enthusiastically, eyeing the food piled up on the table.

Murmurs of agreement echoed all around, but your dad frowned. “Where’s that Brian May got to?”

“Sebastian,” your mum chided. “It’s been less than two minutes since you called us all in. He’s probably just upstairs or something.” Your mum turned to you. “Y/N, would you go look? I’ve just got to let Selkie out.”

“Yep, sure.”

You left the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, smilingly taking two at a time, now that your legs were long enough. You’d always tried to take them two at a time when you’d been little, but you’d never managed more than one set at a time before falling over your own feet.

It was quickly obvious that there was no one upstairs.

Poking your head into the kitchen, you announced, “He’s not upstairs, but I’ll just check outside. You might as well start.” Your dad looked to your mum for approval, and she shrugged.

“Bon appetit, then,” he said.

You slipped on some canvas shoes and jogged down the main path and to the end of the drive, where you stopped.

“Where’ve you gone, Bri?”

Your eyes fell to the green by the path, where tufts of grass had been pressed down in the memory of footprints. Beyond the grass, there was mud, and there too were footprints. And they really were footprints— the person who had made them did not seem to have been wearing any shoes. You set off following the trail.

Down the hill, skirting a meadow, and through the sand by the bank of the river, you stepped with your shoes into the footsteps that had been left.

Finally, you caught sight of the owner of the footprints.

He stood knee-deep in the river, his back to you and his face turned to the canopy of the trees about him.

Birds streaked across the sky above, merely silhouettes against the bright colours of the sky, and the air glittered as ordinary dust turned to stardust in the golden light of the sun.

The river babbled in an almost talkative manner, greeting you— hellohello slosh rush hellohello— and the creatures in the wood had realised your presence, pausing in their activities no matter how careful you made your footing upon the ground. Brian had not realised anything.

A thrush knocked a seedpod against the base of a tree, and other birds twittered merrily in the branches above. The trees whispered their secrets, rustling and passing their leaves along one another’s boughs like notes, and the grass shone in glory green, dotted white flowers conjuring an aura of magic.

You crept along the edge of the clearing by the river, careful not to let Brian notice you. You wanted to notice him first.

His face was expressive— his parted lips, the soft line of his chin in contrast to the sharpness of his wide hazel eyes. His hands hovered by his sides, slim fingers and wrists, the already lightly-tanned skin of his arms showing where he had pushed up his sleeves. His curls were tossed by the breeze and he stared up to the sky with reckless abandon, as though his entire existence hung upon the breath of starlight that would steal across the sky this night and every night after, as though he would give up anything, everything, to be a star as well.

And you understood that he would, because you would too. Without thought, without a single hesitation. Oh, to be a star.

Brian spun around, the water protesting with splashes about his calves, his shoulders tensed and his eyes now wider than ever.

Oh, you’d said that out loud.

“Y/N,” he said, relaxing almost instantly as he recognised you through the rays of sun that streaked across the clearing. “Yes, I’d like to be a star. What a vantage point that would be. I wonder what I might see differently from up there.”

“Everything,” you said. “You’d see everything differently.” You stared up at the sky, the waning crescent of the moon faintly visible in the glow of evening. But Brian was still looking at you; you could feel it. Your skin prickled.

“Would you come with me?” he asked. When you returned your gaze to him, his smile was gentle.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t need me out there, Spaceman. You know it so well.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but it’s lonely out in space.”

You shook your head. “You’d be a star. You wouldn’t think of loneliness. You wouldn’t think at all.”

“Well, while I still have my thoughts, I think that would be preferable to have someone there with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. In an instant you realised that you had been wrong; you didn’t want to be a star, you wanted to feel how starlight looked— ethereal and inspiring, yet powerful. And the closest you’d ever been to feeling how starlight looked was when Brian looked at you.

“You’d give it all up?” you said, and still he gazed at you.“Really you would?”

He hesitated, then said, “Some days, yes. Others, no.”

“Today?” you asked.

There was that gentle smile again. “No,” he exhaled softly, as though he had been holding his breath. “Not today.”

You smiled. “Then hurry up and come back inside. Tea’s waiting, and my dad’s an excellent cook. If you want to get on his good side, then compliment his food.”

“Do you think it’s still possible for me to get on his good side?” Brian began to wade back to the riverbank. “He seemed rather to have made up his mind, this afternoon.”

You held out your hand to Brian as he approached, planting your feet firmly in the sand. “Careful. The rocks are slippery,” you told him. “And no, I think there’s still hope. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Oh, he’s not bad, it’s just—” Brian had not heeded your warning and pitched forward. You grasped his hand just before he fell, and he smiled at you gratefully. His fingers were warm where they curled around your own. “It’s just me. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Brian,” you guided him around a particularly mossy rock, “why on Earth does this bother you so much? I’ve never heard you talk like this,” you said honestly.

He finally made it to the riverbank, and the sand dusted his toes, his cuffed trousers dripping water, soaked through because he hadn’t folded them up far enough. “Clearly, you haven’t spent enough time with me. Not to worry, though. Soon to be remedied.”

“Brian.”

He huffed. “Because it’s you, Y/N,” he said, and your heart rose to your throat. “I don’t usually care who doesn’t like me, but they’re your family and you’re my friend.”

Your heart sank.

Once, your insides had warmed when he’d called you his friend, but now things were different. You wanted more from him than just that, and you could admit as much to yourself, even if you couldn’t admit it to anybody else.

But his hand still rested in yours.

Take what you can get. It’s all you’ll ever have.

Your hand curled more tightly around his long, dainty fingers.

He glanced at you, and you realised that you had not said anything for a while. You’d been walking through the wood for minutes and you had not spoken a word, only held his hand, as though you had a right to. You didn’t though, did you?

You pulled your hand from his, and it felt like a severance when he let go.

“Shoes,” you murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You’re not wearing any shoes,” you laughed at the silliness of it.

He looked down at his bare feet and laughed too. “No, I’m not.”

“Why on Earth not?”

“Why on Earth should I?”

“Why not on Earth should you not?”

“Why not on Earth should I not not wear shoes?”

You stopped walking. “You’re absurd.”

He grinned. “And you’re an angel.”

“Oh, so I’m that far gone, am I?”

“Not as far as me.”

“It’s lonely out in space,” you repeated his words from earlier.

“You know,” Brian began as the two of you crested the final hill that led up to the house. “Think I’ll stay around.”

The breeze rustled his curls, and his eyes were bright, his profile illuminated by the sun. A small smile rested on the curve of his lips, and you couldn’t believe that he was real.

You were breathless; he took your breath away.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Tea was not the awkward affair you had expected, with your dad and Brian skirting around each other. It was instead talkative and homely, like the nine extra people at your table had always been a part of your family. It was a shame your brother Billy had decided to stay abroad with his mates this summer; he would have loved all this.

The table itself was taking the meal quite well— it held up, despite the great amount of food and plates and cutlery and glasses and bowls and napkins and trays piled atop its oakwood surface.

It was quite an arrangement, thirteen people around the same dining table, and chairs had been fetched from all over the house, from stools to desk chairs. Perhaps the feeling of closeness amongst you all had been achieved through literal closeness, seeing as the dining table was not meant for more than eight people, and certainly not for thirteen. Knees and elbows knocked, and you had the fortune to be seated next to Bri, whose hand or thigh bumped yours quite often as he reached for something or picked up his knife and fork. He apologised frequently, and every time he apologised and you assured him that it was fine, your stares grew longer and his eyes grew softer.

You could have gazed at him forever. And spoken to him forever, too.

The occupants of the table both roared with laughter and listened attentively as stories both utterly silly and quite serious were shared. There were tales from childhood; tales of Queen from before your time, when they were known as Smile; tales you already knew; tales you had experienced as they had happened, including the recent story of how Roger had plotted and executed his master plan of locking you and Brian in the kitchen. You laughed harder than anyone at that story, because in hindsight, it just seemed so silly, so ridiculous, how angry you and Brian had both been, not at each other, but at being locked into the kitchen with one another. Brian had been sure to describe— in detail— the look on your face when you’d realised that Roger, John, and Freddie had left you in the kitchen, to your own devices.

Your face ached from smiling, and your stomach hurt from laughing, and it was the best pain in the entire world. You wanted to feel like this forever, both young and old at once, young in spirit but wisened by nostalgia and an already great wealth of memories.

And with every glance you stole at Brian, to gauge his reaction to a particular story, or indeed, to nothing in particular at all, you were closer to reaching over and taking his hand in yours again, sliding your hand over the smooth skin of his wrist and palm, and along his slim fingers.

But you didn’t do it. His hands were not yours to hold.

When tea was finished, yawns began to make appearances between words, because it was good and well eleven o’clock at night. You all helped to clear the table and stow leftovers into the fridge, the chatter never ceasing as you communed between the dining room and kitchen. Your dad even broke into song at one point— he’d probably had a little too much to drink— and Roger joined in without hesitation, which led to Heather’s participation, and Ronnie’s, and Deacy’s, and yours, until the entire house was filled with the melodic tune of thirteen people singing ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’. Your dad swung your mum around the kitchen and she laughed as they danced, and you couldn’t remember the last time your parents had been so carefree. Something about the dynamic of the people around you was extraordinary, and irreplaceable.

It was midnight when you had bid your parents, Frank, and the members of your entourage that had the downstairs bedrooms— Freddie and Mary, Roger and Heather, Ronnie and Deacy— a good night.

Upstairs you trudged alongside Roadie-John, Crystal, and Brian, the former two of whom were arguing about who was to sleep in the top bunk, and who was to sleep in the lower bunk.

At the top of the stairs, Crystal and Roadie-John departed to the left.

“Night,” they chorused, and you and Brian responded in kind.

You made for the last set of stairs that led to your attic bedroom, which you’d always favoured because of its view to the open sky, but you stopped on the first step. You had remembered the polaroid Brian had taken of you, and it burned through your pocket.

You turned back.

“Brian—”

“Yes?”

He had turned back too. Eurydice and Orpheus. If they had both been obligated not to turn back. And had turned back all the same.

The words left your lips in a breathless rush, “Your photograph.”

“My photograph?” he wondered aloud.

You descended the step you’d climbed and walked toward him. His eyes trailed you, and your skin felt warm beneath his gaze.

You held the polaroid out to him, and it felt as though you were handing him your soul. “Have it.”

He blinked at you. “But I thought—”

“You thought I hated it? Yeah, I thought so too. But it’s art. Just like everything else you do. And it belongs to you.”

His lips parted and the world was suspended in that moment.

He took the photograph from your hand, but he barely looked at it. He was looking at you— like he was going to do something.

But of course he wouldn’t. You and your overactive imagination.

“Good night, Bri,” you whispered, and swept up the stairs.

There was no reply.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: the sheer amount of love i have received on this fic is just mind-boggling, not to mention incredibly touching. thank you <3

taglist: @melting-obelisks​​ @stardust-killer-queen​​ @hgmercury39​​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​​ @brianmays-hair​​

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

[lollie2479]

Falling for the enemy - Part 1

Reggie Kray x reader

Summary : You were with the Richardsons but you fell for Reggie Kray. You need to chose between your family or the handsome gangster that has your heart. 

Warning : Swearing, violence and mention of blood.

A/n : I recently watched Legend and I love Reggie so much. It wasn’t supposed to be in different parts but I had too much to write so I decided to create a longer story divided in different parts. I already started writing the second part. Hope you like it! 

I’ve been absent lately being too busy with school, work and everything but I missed writing so here I am. I might start writing more often so send requests.

Part 2 Part 3

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Your father was a member of the Richardsons so ever since you were a child, these men were your family. When your father died, Charlie took you under his wing and raised you like you were his own daughter. He taught you how to fight and how to shoot. He needed to make sure that you were able to defend yourself in any situation. Pretty soon, you became the best and nobody could beat you. 

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I won’t hurt you.’’ The blonde man said chuckling while his eyes kept staring at your breasts. You walked slowly towards him, a grin on your face. His eyes locked with yours and before he could say anything else, your fist collided with his jaw sending him to the floor. You smiled and got down on one knee next to him. Your mouth was close to his ear and you whispered to him. “Don’t ever call me pretty girl again.’’ You heard clapping coming from behind you which made you turn around. Charlie was standing there with admiration in his eyes. You were his secret weapon, nobody knew about your existence. You were his best one and he made sure to keep you for himself. “Look at you, he smiled coming closer to you, you are still unbeatable.’’ Before you could respond, one of the members of the gang barged into the room with a bloody face. ‘‘Who did this?’’ Charlie asked already knowing the answer to his question. The man spat the blood he had in his mouth. He only said one word : Kray. 

The next morning, Charlie called a meeting to talk about what they should to about the twin brothers. They were a gang on the other side of the river and since the beginning of time, the Richardsons and the Krays fought each other to get London all to themselves. You never met them but you heard a lot of things about them from the other members. You knew that they ruled the East End where they owned many clubs and that you didn’t want to be on their bad side because they were violent. “We need to do something boss.’’ A man said out loud which brought your attention back to the meeting. Another one spoke up. “Yeah, we need to go to their club and get revenge.’’ You were standing in the corner listening to everything that was happening in front of you. “Maybe it’s time that Y/n gets involve and shows them who the Richardsons are.’’ Charlie immediately turned around, his eyes landing on you. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head. He knew you were ready but he didn’t want to use his best asset just yet because if it didn’t work, he would have revealed you for nothing and you were his best chance at winning against the Krays. He took a puff of his cigarette before throwing it onto the floor and stepping on it. You could read in his face that he didn’t know what to do so you decided not to say anything and to let him decide of your fate. He chose not to send you yet and instead he sent his men which was a bad choice because everyday of the following week they would come back all beaten and bloody. “Don’t you think it’s time? They won’t survive if you keep sending them and soon enough, we’re going to lose.’’ He brought his cigarette close to his mouth. “Don’t you think that I fucking know that Y/n’’ he said while taking a long puff. You stood up angry. You were never going to win if he kept you hidden behind these walls. “Then why don’t you let me take care of it. You always say that you are keeping me as a last resort, well right now, I don’t think that you have any other choice.’’ He took another puff of his cigarette before letting out a small “Fine’’ under his breath. 

You spent the next three days working on a plan. You knew how to get close to the twins since they had no idea that you even existed but you had to find a place where you could meet them without being suspicious. You had your men following them so you could get as much informations about where they would be and what they were doing. You learned that they would be at their casino, Esmeralda’s Barn, on Friday night so you decided that it was your best option. It would be easier for you to blend in and get as close as possible to the Krays. 

It was finally the night of the casino and you were excited to go out even if it was only for business. You put on a red dress that showed some cleavage and that hugged your curves in all the right places. It had a slit on the left that ended in the middle of your thigh making your leg and your shoes visible. You wore red heels that matched your dress and the lipstick you applied to your lips. You tied your hair into a low bun and put on some earrings. You were proud of your appearance. You made sure that everything was in place before going downstairs where everybody was waiting for you. When you got there, you could hear whistling coming from the back. They all had their eyes glued on your figure. Charlie approached you and placed his hand on your back. “You look ravishing Y/n. Now, go on and make us proud.’’ You kissed his cheek and took the arm of the gangster that was driving you to the event.

 When you arrived, he opened your door and gave you a hand to help you step out of the vehicle. You locked your arm around his and made your way inside. “Where are they?’’ The man accompanying you locked his eyes on Reggie Kray and you followed his glare. Your eyes fell on the handsome man that was sitting at a poker table. You had seen pictures of Reg before but they were bad ones that didn’t show his beauty. He was playing with the coins he had in front of him while his other hand went to his slick hair trying to smooth it out perfectly. He was wearing a black suit, a bow tie and a white shirt that was tucked in his pants. His attire fitted his muscular body perfectly. “So, what’s the plan?’’ You turned rapidly towards the man that held your arm close to his. “I,hum, think that,hum,I’’, you lost your words completely when your eyes found Reggie once again. You turned around so you could stop staring at him and focus on the plan. “I’m gonna get close to Reggie and try to gain his trust. During that time, try to find Ron.’’ He nodded and the both of you went into separate directions. He was heading for the bar while you were making your ways towards Reggie Kray. You walked slowly so that he would notice you and he did. His blue eyes fell on you and you could feel your heart beating faster as they watched every move your body made while you were walking. He watched the way your hips swayed at every step you took and how the dress hugged your curves. How the slit would open making your leg apparent. How the hair falling from your bun would bounce and so would your breast. He watched every single detail of you and his eyes kept following you until you were sitting across from him at the table. Even then, Reggie didn’t look away. His stare created a fire inside your chest and you wanted throw yourself at him but you couldn’t. “Don’t think we had the pleasure to meet, right?’’ He lifted his brow trying to figure out if he had seen you somewhere before but he knew that he wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as you. You smiled flirtatiously at him “Y/n’’. He smirked ‘’Reggie.’’ Your eyes dropped to the coins in front of you but you could still feel his eyes on you. When you lifted your head up, he gave you a wink which gave you goosebumps. You stayed and played until you knew that he would follow you if you went anywhere else. “It was nice playing with you all.’’ You smiled while locking eyes with Reggie and stood up. You turned around and started walking towards another table when you felt someone behind you. You turned around quickly which caused Reggie to bump into you. You lost your balance and were ready to fall on the ground but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and preventing your fall. You tried to get yourself steady by placing one hand on his chest and the other one on the shoulder of the arm he still had wrapped around you. He took his free hand and removed the strand of hair that was falling from your bun into your face, gently placing it behind your ear. Your eyes were locked with his and everything around you disappeared. His face was getting closer to yours and it started to be harder to breathe. His nose was now touching yours and before you two could kiss, someone called out for Reggie. His head dropped and a growl escaped his beautiful lips. He turned around facing the man that was standing behind him. “Don’t you fucking see that I’m entertaining the lady.’’ The unknown man looked embarrassed but he had to let the boss know about something important. “It better be fast mate. I have other things to take care of’’ he said looking at you. Reggie turned around, placing his hand on your hips. “Don’t go far because I intend to finish what we started, alright?’’ You lifted yourself on your toes and kissed his cheek. “Promise, I’ll stay close.’’ He chuckled softly before turning around and leaving you alone. 

You tried to find your accomplice in the packed room but there were too many people blocking your view so you decided to walk towards the bar, hoping he was still there. You didn’t find him but instead you found the other half to your handsome twin, Ronnie, staring at you. He looked like Reggie but you could still see the difference between them. Ronnie wore glasses and the way his suit fell on his body wasn’t the same as his brother. His face seemed larger and harder. You knew by looking at him that you shouldn’t get on his bad side because it could get ugly real fast. You sat next to him on a stool and waved at the bartender to bring you a beer. When he laid the cold beverage in front of you, you heard chuckles coming from the man sitting next to you. “How does a pretty lady right like yourself right takes such a manly drink.’’ You rolled your eyes at his comment before taking a sip. The liquid went down you throat and you smiled. You were raised by men around boys only so you often found yourself liking manly things one of them being beer. “I just love it what can I say.’’ You shrugged raising your shoulders before taking another sip. The corner of his lips raised a little in what appeared to be a smile but his face turned hard once again. “What’s your name?’’ he asked scanning your face, trying to find if he had seen you somewhere before but like his twin, he couldn’t find anything. You took another sip. “Don’t think we met, I’m Y/n’’ you told him slightly smiling. “Ronnie.’’ He brought his cigar close to his lips before taking a long breath and slowly releasing the smoke he held in his mouth. “What brings you here?’’ he asked his eyes not leaving your sight. You took yet another sip of your delicious drink. “I heard a lot about this place and thought I shall try it and see for myself.’’ He nodded at your answer. “What to do you think so far?’’ You smiled. “I love it.’’ He raised his glass in front of you and you slightly knocked the two glasses with each other. He liked the answers you had for him. 

Before he could ask you anything else, the door opened violently and Charlie's men barged in. You froze and tried avoiding eye contact with any one of them not wanting your identity to be revealed. You were just starting to get close to the Kray brothers and you had a lot more digging to do before going back to your gang. Ronnie grabbed your wrist with his large hand that swallowed it completely and pulled you close to him bringing you back to reality. Normally, he didn’t like woman and he hated them even more if they were after his brother but something was different with you and he couldn’t figure out why but he liked you. He approached his lips to your ear. “You see the door back there yeah?’’ You looked around trying to find it in all the chaos. When your eyes landed on it, you brought your head close to Ronnie once again and nodded. “It leads to the kitchen and the backstore. On your right, you’ll find another door. You take it yeah and you’re outside. Understood?’’ You nodded once again. “Thank you.’’ He released your wrist and you started making your way towards the door, avoiding anyone that was in your way. You pushed it and sneaked your body into the kitchen. You went to the right as quick as possible so that nobody could see you leaving. You pushed the other door and you were met with the cold air of the night. You brought your arms close to you so that you could try to get yourself warm. Your eyes were searching for a familiar face outside and they landed on Charlie. You ran to him. “What is your fucking problem!? I was handling it!’’ You slapped his cheek in anger. He sent you a death glare. “Yeah, by wanting to fuck them? That’s what you call handling it, Y/n, yeah, that’s not really it.’’ You gasped. What had he heard? You had to pretend that it was for the mission and not because your heart was screaming Reggie’s name. “If i want to get as close as possible to them, I have to do it that way. Otherwise, they won’t trust me and I won’t learn anything to bring them down.’’ He sighed, believing you. “Get into the car, I’m driving you home.’’ You opened the door and sat in the back. The ride was silent which was nice because you didn’t feel like talking. Reggie made his way in your thoughts and you couldn’t think about anything else. You couldn’t let yourself fall for the enemy, you had to fight the urge to be close to him but even with your best efforts, you couldn’t get yourself to forget about him. What the fuck were you going to do...?