#take a little guy. push him off the deep end. give him smudged eyeliner and a new hairdo. make him feral. ta da.

[asgardian--angels]

end of time simm!master🤝red flags era ed teach

[babysubinnie]

tale as old as time // kim sunoo

🥚 pairing :: kim sunoo x reader 🥚 genre :: prince!sunoo, princess!reader, fluff 🥚 summary :: the prince of the south didn’t have a good reputation at all, well to you at least. you’ve met him a few times but never actually spoke to him so why did you hate him? little did you know, he had eyes on you.

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being alone in the castle every single day is something that i loved. people had asked me many times, why? well you try being left alone in a castle to do whatever you wanted. ever since i was a child, i would be constantly looked over, but the minute i turned 18, the security lowered. 

“you’re meeting with prince jay today.” when my mom walked into the room smiling like no one’s business. prince jay was the most disobedient prince out of all of the enhypen boys. i’ll be honest, jay was stunning. everything about him was absolutely gorgeous but he was also the biggest player there ever was.

but prince sunoo? the prince of the south? he was supposed to be the sweetest boy alive but i hated him regardless. i didn’t know why i hated him i just genuinely thought that he was an asshole. he thought he was better than every single royal. he was a second born royal but that didn’t stop him. he may have been good looking and a lot of people wanted to be with him, but i sure as hell didn’t. 

“wow. a prince that’s part of enhypen. what a shock.” i scoffed picking up my eyeliner, to fix the smudge that she caused when she walked in. she rolled her eyes then sat down next to me, telling me to look at her. i laughed shaking my head before picking up my phone. 

“can you just act like a princess just for once? the boys that make up enhypen are one of the most prestigious princes in the world.” she started ranting about how amazing these boys were. i laughed in disbelief because of how she was explaining these guys. they weren’t anything like what the parents thought. at all. well everyone except for sunghoon and jungwon.

out of the seven princes of enhypen, jungwon and sunghoon were the most tolerable. they would always hang out with me at all the parties. we would always make fun of the princesses that would walk in and glare at me for not being the right princess. yeah sure, i didn’t act like a princess but when i did, i could.

“whatever.” i stood up and walked over to the closet to pick my dress up for the ball that was being held for sunghoon’s 19th birthday. there wasn’t a theme towards the party, but it wasn’t something that he wanted apparently. 

“are you coming with us today y/n?” my mom stood up and walked over to me smiling and i laughed shaking my head before telling her that jungwon was going to take me to the party. when i finished getting ready, i saw that jungwon was standing behind me looking at me through my mirror. 

“holy shit. you look absolutely stunning.” he laughed then walked towards me sitting on my bed before smiling. i rolled my eyes and stood up to walk over to him picking up my heels. i sat down next to jungwon, putting my heels on. once i did, we walked out of my room, and he smiled at me. 

“yes your highness?” i laughed rolling my eyes pulling him towards the car. he stopped me, giving me a look that told me that he wanted to tell me something but he was still hesitant to say it.

“are you sure you want to go? you know what today is right?” he chuckled leaning against the car door, tilting his head to make sure that i wasn’t lying. i kind of was lying when i was going to tell him that i wanted to go. of course i didn’t want to go. tonight, i would be formally introduced to jay. well sunoo. 

i met jay and sunoo before because i was friends with jungwon and sunghoon but being introduced to them formally? yeah that’s never happened before. my parents wanted me to get married to sunoo, but used jay as a cover because they knew those two were friends. they thought i wouldn’t know but they had been talking to sunoo’s parents at every single party without fail, but never with jay’s parents.

“of course i know what’s today. if i didn’t know what today was i wouldn’t be freaking out no?” i rolled my eyes pushing him into the car before following him after a second of breathing.

“sunoo’s nice when he wants to be but he can also be the biggest bitch in the world.” jungwon laughed while scrolling through his phone and i laughed placing my head onto his shoulder doing the same thing as he was. i mean i knew that sunoo could be sassy when he wanted to be but he can also be the sweetest boy in the world and i knew that. all the princess friends i had (which is very limited), they all said the same thing. he isn’t nice to any princess that he meets.

“i know jungwon. i’ll be okay.” i rolled my eyes looking up at jungwon before putting my head back down onto his shoulder.

when we arrived, jungwon got out first, then held his hand out for me to take when i got out of the car. he laughed when i was struggling to pick up my dress. i took his hand and we walked up the stairs into the building where sunghoon looked like he was about to explode because of the people he had to constantly greet. we walked in and waved to him and his eyes lit up. we greet both of his parents, then turned to look at sunghoon. 

“happy birthday prince sunghoon.” we both smiled at him then as we walked past him, we told him that he’s got this and not to worry. as we were walking past him, i noticed the enhypen boys were looking over at us so i told jungwon to go over to them. he rolled his eyes saying that he didn’t want to leave me but i told him i was fine before walking over to my parents.

“about time you got here.” they rolled their eyes before we walked over to sunoo’s parents. i shook my head at them while they told me to behave before we kept walking. i glanced at jungwon and his eyes widened. i didn’t know whether to run or actually see how this turns out.

when his parents called him over, he rolled his eyes before walking over to the five of us. he was walking over when he took a double take when he realized it was me instead of the other princesses that his parents wanted him to be with. 

“this is prince sunoo.” my dad introduced him and i curtsied while he bowed then we looked up at the same time. when i met his eyes, he smiled sweetly and i froze. i knew why everyone was in love with him.

“it’s very nice to meet you, your highness.” he held out his hand, so i placed my hand into his, and he kissed the top of my hand before smiling a second time. i don’t know what happened but i was screwed now. a few minutes later after talking about what was going to happen in the future with the two of us. they were talking about marriage and i didn’t like him. right? both our parents left to talk about marriage plans when i turned away from sunoo to walk out to the balcony. i knew he followed me because i heard the balcony door shut behind me. as i looked out into the distance, the breeze hit my arms before i shivered. 

“y/n, i know you don’t like me.” he laughed when he was walking over to me then stopped when he stood next to me. when he realized that i shivered, a white and turquoise tunic went around my shoulders. i turned to look at him, that goddamn smile. 

“did i make it that obvious your highness?” i scoffed grabbing one side of the tunic to take it off but he grabbed both sides of the tunic pulling me towards him. he laughed nodding while moving his arms around my waist.

“don’t look at me like that.” 

“why not?” he pouted then smirked in a sweet way that made me just want to melt into his arms. i was already falling for him faster than i thought. 

“it doesn’t matter. it’s sunghoon’s night. not our-” i started but when i realized what i had said, it was too late. i already labeled the two of us as an item. i was already in too deep and now i was officially screwed.

“our night? when will our night be then your highness?” he smiled chasing after me when i started walking off with his tunic still around my shoulders. i walked back into the ballroom trying to avoid all eye contact, but it wasn’t working. sunoo kept following me around the rest of the night asking me when our night will be. thankfully, the party had ended after many princesses from other kingdom’s had come up to ask me why sunoo was so nice to me while ignoring them. 

“i look forward to our night in the spotlight your highness.” 

one wink later, we never left each other’s side ever since that night. i guess i didn’t hate him as much as i thought.

[theyscreamjade]

Sugar Cookies

Isn’t it strange how Christmas..just seems to be the best time of the year? I hope you guys are prepared, you’re in for a treat.

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You softly sat on the bed within the home you shared with your fiancé Shoto Todoroki. You lifted your foot as it crossed over your lap while slipping your heel on. You and Shoto were invited to a family dinner within the Todoroki household which hardly ever ends right. Since the discovery of Touya and everything, it’s been tense inside the house.

“Shoto? I’ve seen you get dressed faster to see Izuku.” You commented while looking at the red and white-haired individual casually sitting on the ottoman inside the room. You sighed at his silent glare towards you before walking to him, your hand touching his warm chin. “We won’t be there for long okay?” You suggested with a soft smile. His cyan and grey eyes looked into yours before giving you a soft smile back.

You knew how to make him melt like butter with your words. It’s amazing how the once rebellious teen is going to a husband to a wonderful person like you. “I’d hate to be late, so please get ready.” You instructed before walking out of the room to retrieve the dish you were asked (more like demanded) to make.

Since Fuyumi was cooking the majority of the meal, She and Natsuo insisted you make the desserts especially after you made such a delicious apple pie for thanksgiving. Natsuo loves peppermint and Fuyumi loves chocolate, you decide to make three different dessert dishes for them. Chocolate truffles for Fuyumi, White Chocolate peppermint bars for Natsuo, and lastly Christmas sugar cookies. The other two were completed already and the cookies were sat out to cool when you decided to shower and get dressed.

Your fingers grazed the cool cookies before smiling softly, putting your apron on. You wore a Santa clause dress that Fuyumi brought for you last year. Though it swayed with every move you made, it was a bit short. It was an off-shoulder Santa dress. You decided to play it safe and wear stockings so nothing would be exposed during the small gathering.

You picked up the frosting bag of green frosting while you began to decorate the cookies shaped like trees. You focused intensely while each tree was painted to perfection. Afterward, you switched bags to the red ones and began to paint little balls on the tree to represent ornaments.

You were so focused, you didn’t see your dressed future husband who was staring at you in silence. He admired the amount of effort you’d put into his crazy and dysfunctional family even though..he couldn’t focus on that.

He was staring at your outfit. From your thigh-high heeled boots to the sexy dress you were wearing. From the way you always made yourself look gorgeous with your makeup to the scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating to him. Once he fixed his toe, he walked to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His suddenness made you jump as frosting squirts on your hand.

“Oh! You startled me..” you said softly, laughing it off a bit before reaching for the dishcloth that was sitting on the counter.

Your hand was suddenly pulled back as Shoto’s tongue grazed your hand. His tongue became slightly green from the sweet frosting until he touched the tip of your finger, sucking it without hesitation. His other hand that sat at your waist touched your stomach softly while your body heat increased.

“S-S-Shoto?” You began to say as he pulled you closer to his warm and cool body while his face rubbed against your neck before kissing it.

“I want you..” he whispered, his voice deep enough to send chills through your body. “W-What about...What about the dinner?” You asked, trying to hold your moans back from his soft nips and sucks on your neck. He didn’t respond to your question but instead spun you around to face him. Your lips connected almost instantly as his body pinned you against the counter in the kitchen right beside the fridge.

The sweet taste of the frosting swirled within your mouths while his hands gripped your dress, holding it as if he wanted to snatch it off your body. Your lips moved in sync as his obvious bulge began to rub against you, demanding to be freed. The kiss was broken, leaving you panting for air as he scooped you up and snatched you away.

Lord knows what went through his supposed mind of his, you were plopped on the dining room table. Before you could even question him, his lips connected with yours within the beautiful room. It was a large glass table with gorgeous white chairs. The admirable part of the room was the large windows that surround the room, often reflecting the sunlight or moonlight inside the house. It was such a gorgeous sight and Shoto simply adored seeing you in the beautiful sunlight at dawn.

Your heels clicked on the glass as Shoto’s head ducked down while he snatched his shirt off. The lust between you two was overwhelming and overpowered your thoughts. Your hand was like a magnet and gripped his silky hair when his tongue grazed your eager core.

There was no way you weren’t wet by his demand of wanting you and including the intense, breathtaking make out session. Your once red lipstick was smudged, your hair was a bit wild but who could see you now?

“Shoto!” You cried out, the tingling orgasm slamming against your imaginary knot, begging for a release while your boyfriend was eating you like the meal you were supposed to be having at this moment. Your head snatched back while your chest rose and fell quickly. The top of your dress was at your shoulders, and your now ripped bra hung off the side of the table.

Your bottom lip was snatched between your teeth while you struggled to keep yourself together. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Shoto! I’m go-Fuck!” You cried out, sending him a warning as you came to your blissful release. Once he was satisfied, Shoto’s hand snatched you to the edge of the table. You found yourself in a doggy-style position while Shoto held your right leg in his hands. This mere position could send chills down anyone’s spine. He had full control and you are going to feel him everywhere inside you.

He slowly slides inside you, earning a soft grunt from his lips while your mouth opened from his entrance. He paused and smirked, looking down at you. “Looks like you’ve been getting tighter, Baby..” he said softly, applying that he still had a few of him not inside you quite yet. Your right leg was soon lifted and you have spun back around on your back. His hands touched your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside you.

Your hands touched his lower abs while your toes curled in your boots. You prayed he wouldn’t get into the god-forbidden position on this glass table. His hands leaned to your sides while he began to move, slamming deep inside you. Your right hand gripped one of the arms behind it, moaning out in pleasure while a puddle began to form on the table. Unsure to what released this horny man this time, but came you blame him?

You’re a walking masterpiece and he’s willing to admire and love you as much as possible. Each deep thrust sent waves of pleasure through your mind while he slammed all of him inside you. Your moans couldn’t be kept in even if you tried, well..until they increase to screams.

God must’ve missed your prayers before your legs were suddenly opened wider and he slammed himself into your cervix, making your eyes roll back. “D-Don't stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You screamed out before switching back to crying out his name and moans. He was damn near swimming inside you along with the puddle as perfect evidence. Your nails dug into his arm while the knot tightened again along with your walls, gripping him tightly.

Your mascara and eyeliner were now messed up from sweat that coated your face while your lover coated your neck with new hickeys you’d have to cover. “Shoto! OH FUCK!” You screamed out before your release came again, coating your lover in your warm mess. His hands formed fists while he continued to slam inside you, harder than before at a quicker pace. He was nearing his climax as the ding of the doorbell was missed. He grunted loudly as he released himself inside you as the doorbell ring again along with a loud banging.

“Shoto?! Y/N?! You home!?” Natsuo asked from behind the door while you two tried to come down. Then the lock clicked and the alarm beeped, signaling that it was disarmed and someone had the lock. You mentally slapped yourself, remembering that you have Fuyumi a key to the house when you and Shoto had to travel for a mission. She was in charge of watching the house and feeding your pet turtle.

“I smell peppermint bark! They’ve gotta be in here!” Natsuo said, taking his shoes off as he made his way to the kitchen. “Ohh! They even made sugar cookies! This looks delicious!” He continued, admiring the sweets while Fuyumi became worried.

“Y/N?! Shoto?! You guys home?!” She called out, walking around as she pulled the door to the dining room open. You two turned your head to them, now dressed again with a photo album in your hands as if you two were going down memory lane of your relationship.

“Fuyumi! Wait, it’s that late?! I’m so sorry!” You said, rushing over to the older woman. “I hope we’re not too late, Shoto reminded me that we should take another Christmas photo this year you lied, perfectly as Shoto stood up.

“It’s okay! We were just worried, that’s all! Touya hadn’t shown up yet and just wanted to see if you needed help or something.” She offered as you smiled. “Could you help me finish the cookies and we’ll go together? How about that?” You offered while the two of you walked into the kitchen again.

“Shoto, I think you should call a repairman,” Natsuo said, pointing towards the puddle in the middle of the table. “It looks like you’ve got a leak somewhere.” The older brother recommended, earning a nod in agreement.

“I’ll make sure to get that settled later tonight.”

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates-Pt 19

“Marinetteeee, tomorrow is Christmas! Don’t you want to be back in the apartment so we can decorate and drink hot cocoa and exchange presents and-“

“And risk flying back to make this Christmas even more miserable than it already is? I don’t think so Adrien.”

She bopped his nose as she skirted past him to drop a plate of pastries off at the nearest table. Hopping off the counter, Adrien slipped a croissant into his mouth, ignoring the side glances from the other workers.

“C’mon Mari, you’ve been working in the bakery for a week now, I’m sure these nice people can handle it without your guidance.”

Marinette picked up the closest rag, wiping down the counter as she hummed away, ignoring Adrien’s pleas.

“Josephine, Sydney, help a guy out.”

Both girls shook their heads as they continued filling orders for the stream of customers rushing the store.

“Marinette,” Adrien reached out, grabbing both of her hands from the rag, forcing her to look at him. “As your roommate and best friend, please listen to me when I say, you need to go back home.”

“I am home Adrien, but if you wish to leave so bad, why don’t you?”

He knew she was just trying to be stubborn, but one look at her glassy eyes and dark circles and he found himself caving.

“Fine, keep working for now. We’ll talk later.”

She didn’t respond as she pulled her hands back, returning to the chaos of the bakery. With a sigh, Adrien shoved his hands deep into his pockets, exiting the building. Two sets of expecting eyes targeted him before the door had even completely shut.

“Well Adrikins, anything?”

He shook his head, his head falling in defeat.

“That’s it, if I have to drag her kicking and screaming I will. I cannot allow her to wallow here anymore.”

Chloe began toward the door, but was stopped by a firm grip on her shoulder.

“Let me try after her shift Chloe, the last thing we want is to upset her further.”

Chloe huffed as she shrugged Damian’s hand off, nodding in agreement. The three took one last look at her floating through the bakery windows before they set off, determined to finally bring her home. . . . . . .  . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Marinette was just finishing wiping down the last table when she heard the light bells from the entrance. Two arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close into a solid chest.

“Let me guess, it’s your turn to try and convince me to fly back tonight.”

“How did you guess?”

She shook her head as she turned into his hug, her head resting right where she could hear his heartbeat tearing through his shirt.

“Chloe came down this morning at 4 am when I was starting the morning rounds, Adrien came midday during the rush, and now here you are right as I’m closing up for the night.”

“You know they're just concerned for you. You’re torturing yourself staying in Paris, pining over the what-ifs.”

She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne as it burned her through her nose.

“Maybe I deserve it, maybe they’re not torturing themselves enough, I mean, we’re all partially responsible and they don’t even seem to be in grief anymore. They’re over their deaths too soon and I’m worried if I leave, I will be too.”

Damian pulled back, one hand reaching up to push back a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Marinette, Chloe can’t stand near the bakery for more than five minutes before breaking down because she considers it the place she feels the most connected to your parents. Adrien can’t even look at Hôtel de Ville because that’s where he came out and your parents were the only one’s there to stand behind him. They’re still grieving and being in Paris is hurting them more than helping them.”

“Then leave. As much as I don’t want them to, tell them to go. If it’s that painful for them.”

Damian tried to bite his tongue as he counted backwards from ten. He really didn’t want to yell at her, but he could finally see how impossible she was being. He really had thought that the blondes were just exaggerating, but standing here now, he was beginning to rethink shutting down Chloe’s idea so soon.

“Marinette, you can still grieve if you leave Paris, you won’t forget them, I promise. Besides, tomorrow is Christmas, don’t you all have a tradition that takes place in Metropolis?”

“They can do it without me. I’m not leaving my parent’s alone on Christmas, I refuse to.”

“But-”

“No,” her tone dropped ten degrees as her eyes hardened. “There are no buts in this situation. They’re my parents and I refuse to leave them until after Christmas has ended. I’ll go back a week before semester starts with or without you.”

It was silent for a brief moment as he weighed his options, debating if this was the battle he wanted to fight.

“Fine, I won’t argue with you. But exactly a week before semester starts, I’m booking a flight for all of us, including you,”

Her smile was grim, but her slight nod was the only thing he needed for the time. Releasing her from his hug, he shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing a grin to his face.

“So what else needs to be done around here so that I can enjoy Christmas Eve with my soulmate?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Marinette rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she walked the frozen streets early Christmas morning. Her thermos bumped against her leg as she trudged forward, the warmth giving her the extra push she needed.

As she turned the corner, the first gravestone came into sight. She took a deep breath before cutting across the grass, her eyes glued to the ground the whole time. Her feet knew the way, she had been everyday the past week.

A dark gray patch caught her attention as she slowly raised her eyes to meet three other sets. Her heart felt as though a dagger had been pushed completely through it, melting all the ice that had built up the past few days.

“You guys, what is this?”

She felt the tears well up as they confirmed what she had already guessed.

“We couldn’t do Friendsmas without you, so we brought it to you,” Adrien smiled brightly as he waved over the blanket filled with all their favorite snacks and games, a small pile of presents sat neatly on the edge between her parent’s gravestones.

“But I didn’t get you guys anything I-”

She choked on her words as Chloe slammed into her, swallowing the girl in a hug.

“The best gift is you being here with us today.”

Marinette met Damian's eyes, his smile sending her heart into a frenzy.

Chloe pulled back, wiping her eyes in the process, careful not to smudge her mascara in the process.

“Anyways, let’s get to it you guys. I love you all, but I’m not standing in this cold all day.”

Marinette settled into the blanket, leaning into Damian’s side as Chloe began to pop open containers across the ground.

“Thank you for this,” her voice was low as she pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

“I have the slightest idea what you mean, this was a group effort.”

She smiled as he leaned forward to grab a plate for her, her eyes watching his every movement. As he sat back, his eyes narrowed at her stare.

“Are you staring at me Miss Dupen-Chang? Is there something I can help you with?”

She shook her head giving him a light shove as she accepted the plate from his hand.

“It’s nothing at all, just glad I get to spend this day with you, all of you.”

She flashed a grateful smile to her roommates, the tears still sitting in her eyeline. But these tears were no longer sad, no, she finally knew what she could do. Paris was too painful to give her the healing she truly needed, but maybe, just maybe Metropolis wasn’t.

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul-blog @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg @smolplantmum @clumsy-owl-4178 @books-and-left-behind-journals @joejoejodee @iloontjeboontje @maybemanymuffins @zalladane @mysupporthyperfixations @tomandjerrydatingsim @naimena @redeemingmygloryintopurgatory @thornalchemist23 @goddessofthewestwind @thehufflepuffranger-blog  @aestheticnpoetic @more-or-less-human-i-guess @parish-vita @kitsunebell @catthhay @kking13 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @sapphirewilliams5095 @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @jabalem @k-poplunardreams @lordsmeldingtonthethird @purplesundaze

[ofnifflersandkings]

Purls of Wisdom

Character: Klaus Hargreeves

A/n: This is probably ooc as hell but goddamnit does this man just need a HUG okay??? i based it off this gif (that i poorly made, please be gentle I couldn’t find another one to use.)

•

You bursted through Klaus’ bedroom door, phone still in hand and coat already halfway off your shoulders, barely able to keep the breath in your lungs. “What’s wrong! Are you alright?”

Klaus only gave you a big smile when he saw you, waving as you blinked at the predicament he’d gotten himself into.

“I’ve decided to take up knitting!”

It was almost cartoonish really, his yarn had coiled itself around almost every inch of Klaus’ skinny frame. He held the one needle limply in his outstretched hand, dramatically wiggling it about to try and loosen his sorry excuse of a cast.

“Call me at the early hours of the morning for this?” You asked, shoving off your coat and leaning one knee onto his bed, taking a piece of blue yarn into your hands. “I thought it was something important.”

You tried to find the end of the yarn, but it was twisted and knotted in so many different directions you’d probably have an easier time getting Klaus to flush his pills down the drain.

Klaus dramatically huffed, throwing down his knitting needles and pouting like a child. “Am I not always important to you, (Y/n)?” He flicked a stray lump of yarn off his shoulder. “Well you can kiss your Christmas sweater goodbye.”

That got a laugh out of you, leaning back to observe the damage. “I think I have to cut you out, you’re pretty wound up in there”

He giggled at such an obnoxious volume you had to smack his shoulder and shush him. “Certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” He whispered, leaning forward to gently knock his forehead on yours. “You know, this is almost just like that one time with this guy in Milwaukee-“

“Hush!” You interrupted, raising your hand with a sigh, “I definitely do notneed an insight into your sex life…again.”

“Are you sure? I’ve had some real whoppers since I last saw you!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “Can’t hear you, walking away now!”

“Don’t leave me here!”

You gave him a glare, “I have to get scissors, dweeb.” You rolled your eyes when he enthusiastically gave you a thumbs up, promptly closing his bedroom door.

For as sporadic as the Hargreeves siblings were, the evenings time in the large mansion were always eerily quiet, you could wander about without running into anyone. You tried not to think about the reasoning behind it, knowing it would only upset you. Klaus had lamented about him and his siblings cruel upbringings, but it still never failed to make a knot form in the base of your tummy when you really gave it attention.

You shook your head and quickly slipped into the kitchen, scanning the cabinets till you found where they kept all the utensils.

When you pushed open his door, Klaus had just lit a cigarette and was leaning his head out of his window in a poor attempt to hide the smell from you.

You exhaled loudly and he jumped, opening his mouth to explain himself, but you gave him no time. You had the cigarette out of his hand and out onto the alley sidewalk at record speed.

“I told you that would happen if I caught you.”

He grumbled, flopping back onto his bed. “That was my last one too...”

You couldn’t stop your eye roll, picking up a piece of blue string and promptly cutting it in two, noticing Klaus constantly readjusting his place on the bed. “Sit still, if I snip you it’ll be your own fault.”

“Yes, Mom.” He droned, using the same tone he always used when he called you that, knowing it drove you nuts.

But you wouldn’t let him get under your skin, instead focusing on freeing him from his restraints.

“Wanna tell me what’s really going on?” You asked, finally pulling the last of the yarn off of him and into the little wastebasket by his bed, choosing to ignore the many small zip bags filling it.

“What do you mean? Picking up a granny hobby is how I always cope with the passing of a dearly departed family member…also just picking up grannies in general, honestly whatever shows up first.”

You stopped your snipping for a moment to tip his chin up with your hand, knowing it was harder for him to lie when you made him meet your gaze. “I’m being serious, Klaus.”

He took a deep inhale, and you could see how glassy his eyes looked. Not even his smudged eyeliner could hide his dark circles, he must’ve not been sleeping well again.

Klaus had always hated admitting how important the people around him were, he’d rather act like he was unaffected by everything than allow any kind of opportunity for him to get hurt.

You had always been the person he went to when he wanted to feel listened to, to feel like more than just some washed up junkie who wasn’t good for anything.

No matter how many times he relapsed, how many drunken phone calls as he slurred for you to pick him up or sit with him when he was going through withdrawals, you always showed up.

None of his siblings understood how you could have the patience you do with Klaus. They clearly cared about him, but none of them could boast being able to put up with him for anywhere near as long as you could.

You had this way of understanding him even in his most dazed states, considering you were always the one there when he was at the very worst of it, you really had no choice but to learn.

But you did it, and happily. You’d rather him be blackout drunk on your couch or calling you no matter the hour than somewhere on the street doing god knows what with god knows who.

Klaus lifted his head and looked at you again, knowing you’d be able to tell when he lied and call out any bullshit he’d try to use to cover up why he really phoned, you were just weird like that.

“Just wanted to see you is all. Things are usually easier when you’re around.”

You sighed, losing the battle of trying to remain cross with him. You gave him one last look over and placed your hands on his shoulders to give them a squeeze, reminding you he was there. “Guess I can’t scold at you for that, now can I?” You asked, slowly brushing back the small curls at the top of his head.

You turned and made yourself cozy on the small bed, holding your arms out and gesturing him to sit next to you.

He complied, snuggly fitting himself into your side as he watched you recoil what was left of the yarn and pick up his knitting needles.

“You really wanna learn?” You asked, your tone gentle and soft in a way that always made him feel at ease.

Klaus had leaned his head onto your shoulder, giving you an enthusiastic nod.

You smiled, looping the yarn around your fingers and creating a small slip knot. “This...was your first mistake.”

He chuckled, taking a deep inhale of your familiar scent, the closest thing he could conjure when he wanted to feel at home. “Maybe watching a video would’ve helped.”

You scoffed. “Nonsense, you don’t need videos when you have a knitting master right here.”

He reached his hand up to tap your nose. “Don’t tempt me, I might start calling you grandma too,” Klaus left your side only to stretch and yawn dramatically. “God knows I need the family influence.”

You laughed, finishing your cast and giving him small pointers along the way. “See? You just gotta keep it loose or it’s gonna get stuck on your needle.”

Klaus only gave you a low hum for a response, his eyes growing heavy at the sound of your voice and the soft methodical clicks on the needles as you progressed his knitting. You knew he wasn’t paying attention, but he’d stop fidgeting and his breathing was more even now so you really didn’t mind.

You turned your shoulder to see him drifting off, knowing that once his highs came down he was borderline catatonic. Instead you freed one hand to card your fingers through his hair again, and gave the tip of his nose a light tap.

“Tell you what, how about I make you a Christmas sweater instead?”

He smiled, eyes still closed as he snuggled into you. “Can it be ugly?”

“As tacky as you want.”

“Perfect.”

•

[Bonus!]

“By the way…” Klaus lifted his head from your shoulder, the deeply out of place and serious expression on his face was enough for you to stop stitching.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

He was silent for a beat, making your worry grow tenfold.

“Dweeb?”

You scoffed, pushing him off your body so you could go to stand. “That’s it, delete my number, never contact me again.”

He cackled, a deep kind of laugh that came from his belly, grabbing onto your waist and pulling you back into his side with a quick kiss to the top of your head. “You love me too much to leave!”

[kirishwima]

Could you please write about RFA + V&Saeran reacting to MC playing otome games? I don't know if you ever wrote something like that before. Thank u ♥️

as a big fan of otome games i’m obligated to answer this OwO

Since you haven’t specified any pronouns, I’ll be using they/them for MC!

YOOSUNG:

* “MC, do you like playing games?” he asks one day whilst on a call with MC, the glee in his voice palpable.

* He’s so happy when MC replies with a shy yes! He’s about to ask them is they play LOLOL when MC cuts him off with a rush. “I-it’s probably not the kind of games you play though!”

* He’s a little baffled by that, but MC is quick to change the topic to Yoosung’s beloved LOLOL, and he’s sufficiently distracted to let the matter slide in the meantime.

* It’s only after he and MC meet at the party, only after they start dating and spending much more time together that he understands just what kind of a gamer MC really is.

* “MC! Stop paying attention to your fake boyfriend and come hug me! Me! Flesh and bone, right here!” he groans, patting at his chest and belly with a big sad pout-and really, MC you heartless fiend, how can you ignore those big puppy eyes in favor of an online hottie on your laptop?!

* He’s not nearly as upset over MC’s choice of games as one would think-so long as he receives sufficient amounts of kisses and cuddles, and reassurances that he’s their one and only true boyfriend, he’s good! He’ll even watch MC as they game on their phone whilst they rest their head on his chest.

* “Oh, MC, go with that guy! He looks um-” he blushes, wondering how to phrase his next words-how can he say that that dude with the choker full of spikes and smudged eyeliner looks hot?! “he looks...promising?”

* Oho? *MC will remember that.*

ZEN:

* He never really noticed what exactly it was MC was playing-he saw them giggling at their phone or laptop from time to time and found it cute, sometimes he’d see the background of a game but he’d pay no mind to it-if it was something MC wanted to share with him, they would after all!

* Well, one day he was sitting besides them as they played on their laptop, going over his lines when MC laughed and tugged at his shirt, nodding over to their screen. 

* “Zenny, look at this-doesn’t this guy look a lot like Jumin?”

* Zen raised a brow and looked at the screen-and he was floored. The man at the screen was a well-drawn, hyper-realistic man that really did look oddly similar to that Trustfund prick-and what was that? There was a dialogue bubble at the side of him that wrote ‘For you, my love, I’d buy the moon and all the stars.”

* “MC-are you not satisfied with me...?” he trembled as he uttered the words, his eyes fixated to the man on the screen-and he suddenly had a deep desire to punch Jumin the next time he saw him (doesn’t he always feel that way tho orz)

* It took a lot of explaining from MC to show him that yes, this is just a game, and no, this isn’t real-yes they’re super happy with Zen and don’t need any compensation from a virtual boyfriend, these are just fun games to play, same as Yoosung with his LOLOL.

* Eventually Zen eases into the idea, though not entirely-and if he catches MC playing any game like that, he’ll always urge them to go for the character that most resembles himself lmao

JAEHEE:

* She really doesn’t see the appeal-and doesn’t really have much of a reaction when MC tells her of their hobby. 

*She’s interested to learn of what MC enjoys in their free time, and she’s content to spend some time lounging around on the couch with them, her watching Zen’s musical whilst MC plays on their phone or laptop, and she’ll occasionally look to MC’s screen, offer commentary on the characters, but that’s pretty much it

* Until one day....MC discovers a Zen dating fan game.

* They figure Jaehee will be thrilled to see this, that she’ll want to play this right away! So they waste no time in showing it to them-the plot is fairly good and the art is great, so they know it’s a promising game...

* ...but Jaehee doesn’t seem all that interested. She shakes her head when MC offers her their phone, pushing it back to MC.

* “Thank you, but I’ve already seen this game before-playing as Zen’s lover feels weird, more so when he’s a dear friend. If you’d like to play it you’re free to do so though....” she lowered her head at that last bit, biting her lip. 

* With a bit of coaxing and a chin tilt so she’d look MC in the eye, Jaehee admitted her fear. “W-what if after playing this game you fall in love with Zen?! Of course I had no such fear with all the other games you play, they’re fake, but this is real and it’s Zen and-”

* MC had to kiss Jaehee to shush her, the phone all but forgotten, the game still gleaming on the screen. 

* “Let’s never play that game, ok? Neither of us has any use for it. I love you, and only you” MC whispered on Jaehee’s lips-and that was all the confirmation Jaehee needed.

* Zen couldn’t stop sneezing that night, poor dude lmao

JUMIN:

* “So....MC you enjoy playing as someone else’s significant other?”    “I mean...kind of but not really?”    “I see.”

* The conversation was as awkward as you can imagine-MC had been giggling at something a character had said while playing on their phone, and Jumin asked what they were laughing about, so they answered honestly-and that’s how they ended up here, sitting across each other, MC’s phone in the middle of the two on the dining table, the rich-dude-character still shining on the screen, his brooding expression perfectly matching Jumin’s.

* “Is there anything you feel is lacking from our relationship, that these games provide instead?” Jumin asked, nodding down to MC’s phone.

* “No! No, not at all-Jumin, these are just games, and these are simply characters. I enjoy playing the games, and I like seeing well-written characters, but that’s as far as my exchange with them goes. You-you’re here. You’re with me, and we’re together. I love you, and no game can change this or take that away.”

* This is getting too meta for me lmao

* “I see” Jumin said at last-the words sounded cold, but his lips betrayed a small smile as he stood up, coming around to kneel in front of MC, taking their hands in his. “Thank you for being honest with me, MC.”

* And that was that. Or so MC thought.

* Barely a week after this conversation, a notification popped up on MC’s phone. ‘New Otome Game, Exclusive-Corporate Heir Professes His Love?!’

* Curious MC cilcked on the suspicious link, assuming it’d be a prank from Seven or something of the sort-but hoo boy, it sure wasn’t.

* No, instead it was a full-blown, million-dollar-budget otome game; featuring Jumin Han himself, with his own voice, and a lot of cameos by Elizabeth the 3d-even the MC was built-in the game, designed to look exactly like...well, like MC.

* Jealousy, meet Jumin Han, the man that created an entire freaking game for his fiance to play, which he updates weekly so they’ll focus on him and only him lmao

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

* “Dude, you’re playing The Arcana?! Do Julian’s route, he’s one kinky motherf-mmf!”

* Seven’s words were cut short as MC put a hand over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. “Babe!” they screamed, “spoilers! I’m still on the prologue!”

* He plays any and all games, and otome are no exceptions lol, it just has to be good enough to catch Seven’s eye.

* He’ll often recommend games to MC, or lay in bed with them and play on their phone, choosing bad dialogue options on purpose to mess with them lol

* You’d think he’d make them an otome game featuring himself since they love them so much-and he might, but he’s a little too self-conscious for that lol, so he’d end up making it more of a meme than anything. He might add in a deep profound love confession unlocked through a series of tests though, just to see if MC would go through the trouble of achieving it~

* And they would-it’d take a lot of trial and error but they’d reach a point in Seven’s game where there’d be a blank screen and his own voice, simply telling MC how much he loves them, how he’d do anything to see their smile and how their every action brightens up his day. It’s short and simple, but enough to make MC’s heart melt, and make them run to Seven’s desk to jump in his arms and kiss him.

* Also he’s a total sucker for blushy innocent characters that can’t reckon danger if it were to punch them in the face, wAnna guess whY?

* also if u havent go play the arcana its p darn good

V/JIHYUN:

* He finds MC’s obsession with otome games to be pretty darn cute?! The way they giggle at some of the dialogue or point out their favorite and explain why they like that character to V is so endearing, and he’s always eagerly listening to their explanations-he’ll even play with them from time to time.

* He won’t really play otome games on his own, but he’ll sit with MC on his lap, his head resting on their shoulder as he helps them pick dialogue options (the best, cutest option, always-this man can’t be mean even to a fictional character, never)

* His favorite seem to be the overly sarcastic, blunt characters that seem to want nothing to do with the main character-MC questioned him about it once, asking him if he’s a masochist or something, but he gave them such an innocent look they just dropped the subject without much thought.

* One night MC was too busy playing otome games as V sat on the couch besides them, gently nudging their thigh with his for even a glimpse of their attention-but MC kept mumbling ‘not now babe’, focusing on their game and the moving dialogue.

* V pouted, prodding his lip as he leaned close to MC. “Baby, do you prefer these characters over me...?”

* Listen. Listen V does NOT get into these cutesy moods often so if he does you are LEGALLY OBLIGED TO DROP EVERYHTING YOU’RE GOING AND GIVE HIM ALL YOUR ATTENTION and that’s exactly what MC did, otome games be damned.

* V=Victorious

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

* He’s so confused???!

* “Wait so the point of the game is to...date the characters?! All of them?!”

* MC nodded, a mischievous grin on their lips. “Sound familiar?” they asked, knowing full well that was how Ray once lured them to Mint Eye-a story as old as time now, now that he’s on his path to recovery, now that the two are happy together.

* Saeran grumbled under his breath, a blush spreading on his cheek. “It’s not like I really knew what these games were at the time...I just took a look at your search history, saw a lot of that ‘otome’ or whatever and made up a rouse based off of it. I didn’t know you’re that invested in them!”

* MC laughed at his obvious confusion, how he looked to MC’s screen, a desktop folder full of otome games open on their screen and glaring back at them. He pouted, furrowing his brow.

* “Wait but-you’re not like-you like me right?”

* MC rolled their eyes. He was slowly getting over his insecurities, sure, but there was still a long way to go.

* They leaned in close and kissed him, a quick peck on the lips before they leaned back, looking to their computer screen. “I could delete all these if it’d make you feel better. I love you. Only you.” they shrugged.

* Saeran’s reddened face was adorable, the way his breath hitched in his throat, his hands trembing as he came to rest his fingers over MC’s wrist. 

* “N-no it’s-it’s okay, I trust you. I um-I love you too.”

* He’s not a fan of otome games, especially not with the connnotations they have for him, but well, if his beloved likes them...he doesn’t mind building a proper game for them.

-send me a mystic messenger headcanon for character reactions-

[addictofsupernatural]

The Southsider (pt. 11)

Sweet Pea x reader

Chapter Summary: The next big step in y/n's life has different chain reactions.

Warning: a bit of NSFW (I put where it starts and ends if you want to skip it)

Word Count: 2677

Chapter 1 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 12

You and Betty had waited for Archie and Veronica to come in his dad's truck. You made a pit stop at the trailer to go get the lingerie, then headed to Betty's house. You and Betty rode in the trunk while Archie and Veronica were inside the truck.

As they dropped the two of you off, they drove off. "They're on their way to go get you an outfit."

"Holy crap, did you guys practice this or something? How are you all so prepared?"

"Because we wanted this day to be special for you." Betty tugged on your hand. "Now let's go, we have makeup to put on."

When she was done you looked in the mirror. You had on dark red lipstick, along with mascara and a small amount of eyeliner. "Okay, I'm here." Veronica said as she walked into the room. "And I brought the perfect outfit."

You slipped into your one piece lingerie, then putting on the black leather crop top with a zipper in the front. You then put on a black skirt. You looked in the mirror. The crop top made the lingerie show, but it looked good with it. Your hair has down, perfectly complementing your face.

You then went downstairs, ignoring Alice's judgments about your outfit. "Your chariot awaits." Veronica said as you stepped onto the back of the truck.

You all got there, and you looked at the bar doors, more nervous than ever. Archie gave you a side hug. "You look good y/n/n. C'mon, let's show Sweet Pea." You smiled at him and walked in with your friends behind you.

Sweet Pea was leaning on the pool table talking to people when he saw the doors open. What he saw was something he wasn't ready for. He stared at you in awe, not knowing how to react. You went up to him and leaned into him, feeling a sense of new found confidence. "Hey baby. You like my outfit?" You asked sweetly.

"Y/n," he breathed out. "You look amazing." He put his hands on your hips as you ran your hands up his chest, standing on your toes to kiss him. He stood down at your lips. "Where's all this coming from?"

You hummed. "Just wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it." You smiled.

He smiled back. "You're perfect." He curled his fingers under your chin, bringing you into a deep kiss.

You chuckled. "I got a little bit of lipstick on you." You ran your thumb over his bottom lip to his the lipstick smudge off. "Sorry."

"Don't be, it only shows everyone how lucky I am." You giggled at his sweet talk. He bit his lip. "So beautiful." He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

You were about to kiss again before you heard a voice calling out your name. "Y/n." Toni said, giving you a look.

You nod your head, tapping Sweet Pea's shoulders. "I gotta go do something, but I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Do what?" He was a little frustrated that you slipped out of his arms.

"You'll see." You said as you looked at him and smiled while you walked off.

Fangs had walked up to Sweet Pea, putting him on the back. He knew what you were going to do. He smirked. "You ready?"

"For what?" He then took notice in the three Northsiders inside the Whyte Wrym. He went up to them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We wouldn't miss y/n's big night." Betty said. "This is very special to her."

Before he could ask anything, Kevin came rushing in. "Hi, sorry I'm a little late. Did I miss it?"

"Nope, she's about to go on." Veronica gave an excited smile.

"What the hell are you all talking about?" Archie simply pointed to the stage.

There you were, looking as gorgeous as ever in Sweet Pea's eyes. Gangsta by Kehlani began to play, and you slowly stripped. When all that was left was your lingerie, you began to dance on the pole beside you. You never lost eye contact with him during the whole dance.

When it was over Jughead stepped onto the stage, putting your mother's jacket over your shoulders. "Let's give it up for y/n, the new serpent!"

Everybody clapped and cheered. You smiled and looked down in bashfulness. You then got off the stage, making your way to Sweet Pea, but being blocked by your friends. "Oh, my God. I am literally obsessed with all of that." Kevin said.

Toni handed you your clothes, and you quickly slipped them back on. Veronica went through her purse, taking out a makeup wipe. "Here you go." You took it with a confused look on you. "You'll have to get rid of that for what comes next. Trust me."

She winked at you, to which you were still confused as to why. Yet you still wiped off the makeup, knowing that she really did mean something. "Well," Fangs said, tapping you on the shoulder. "What comes next is heading your way."

- smut starts -

You turned to see Sweet Pea with a serious face on. "Hey-" he cut you off by grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the bar. "Pea, is something wro-"

He cut you off with a kiss. This time, his hands rummaged your body. As you shifted you felt a tint in his pants brush against your pelvis, causing a moan to escape him. "Pea." You breathed out.

His lips then went down to your neck. "Let's go to my trailer, y/n/n."

"Sweets." You let out a small moan.

"I want this day to be special." He then brought his head back to look at you. "Let me make you feel good."

You only nodded your head, feeling in a daze. He took your hands and walked backwards to his bike, gently smiling at you. He couldn't think of anyone else he would want to be this close to him. You were special. You deserved a special night.

You wrapped your arms around him as you got on the bike, gasping at the feeling from sitting on the seat. You never felt this feeling before. The feeling of wanting someone this badly.

You got to his trailer and went inside. As soon as that door shut, his hands were on you. He slid your jacket off, tossing it on the table and backing you up until your back hit the counter. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, hoisting you up.

He brought his hands to your face, bringing you in for a needy kiss. He placed himself in between your legs, moaning into your mouth as the bulge in his pants rubbed against your core, which also released a small whine from you.

His hands left your cheeks as you pushed off his flannel. You broke the kiss for a second as you lifted his shirt, running your hands down his muscular upper half. As you both hungrily kissed each other, you stripped off your clothing, leaving you in your lingerie and Sweet Pea in unbuckled pants.

"Bed." You managed to say. He picked you up, igniting a giggle from you. You were more than happy to let Sweet Pea see all of you, but at the same time you were nervous. He set you gently down on the bed, begining to remove your lingerie, but was stopped by your hand just before your breasts were going to be uncovered. "Pea, wait."

He immediately sat up. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"No no no baby your perfect." You look away from him, feeling ashamed of your body more than ever for some reason. "It's just, um, this is my first time. So, uh, be gentle, yeah?"

He leaned down to kiss you. "It's my first time too." You then looked at him in the eyes. "We're gonna figure this out together." He put his hands on your waist, rubbing over your sides with his thumbs to sooth you. "Don't worry, I've got you, okay?" You nodded, feeling more loved than you ever felt.

- smut ends -

After your moments of pleasure with Sweet Pea, you and him were snuggled up together, nude and enjoying the warmth of each other. "I wish I could stay with you." You said against his chest.

"Then stay the night, so I won't miss you." He hugged you, and you let out a tired chuckle.

"You know I can't, but I'll miss you too." You looked up at him and brushed his messy hair out of his face.

"I love you." He said quietly, causing you to stop what you were doing.

"What?"

"I love you y/n." There was only silence from you. You needed to process this. He sat up and buried his face into his hands, feeling rejected. "Damnit, I'm sorry. I should have waited longer, or done more things and I-"

You sat up and grabbed his hands, silencing him. "I love you too Sweet Pea." You brought his hands to your face, to which he brought your lips to his. "Please stop doubting yourself, Pea. I think your perfect."

He brought you into his lap, both of you still nude, leaving light kisses along your collarbone. He then looked up at you with innocent eyes. You peacefully smiled and let out a breath. "Let's get you home."

He took you home and kissed you goodnight. You got inside and took a shower, getting ready to go to sleep when FP came inside. "Hey kid, heard you did the serpent dance earlier."

You sat on your air mattress, folding your legs. "Mhm! I just need my tattoo, and I'll be a full blown serpent."

He smiled. "Well, we could get that done right now." He nodded for you to come to the table, where he got out his equipment. "Where do you want it?"

You thought about it. Where was a place that everyone could see it? Where could you proudly show it? You told FP where to put it, and after he was finished you all went to sleep.

The next day you rode to school with Sweet Pea, hiding the back of your hand. You wanted to wait until the right moment. As you got to school you were more cheerful and peppy, which Sweet Pea was loving. He was acting the same way with people, a smile hardly leaving his face. It freaked some people out.

That was until Reggie Mantle caught wind of the happiness between the two. Instead of going to you, he figured he would go to Sweet Pea this time. It was passing period, and you and Fangs were on your way to third period when you both saw Reggie walk up to Sweet Pea.

You were about to walk up to the both of them before Fangs pulled you aside, telling you to listen in as the other two talked. "Hey there Sweet Pea." He patted him on the shoulder.

Sweet Pea wasn't going to let him ruin his day. "Sorry, Mantle, but I don't feel like hearing from you right now. I feel too good right now."

He clasped his shoulder. He was about to leave when Reggie pushed him back. "I heard y/n's a serpent now. That's a shame, I liked her better as a Northsider."

"Too bad she's not." He smirked. "She made her choice, and she did what made her happy."

You smiled, looking at the back of your left hand. You ran your thumb over your tattoo, to which Fangs grabbed your hand and congratulated you. You both hugged and hushed each other a second later to keep listening in.

"Or what she thinks will make you happy. Think about it dude, she's moved out of the bad side of town and got some good friends. She'll stay out of trouble and the spotlight, which seems like what she wants. But she gave that up for you. You really gonna let her do all these things that she don't like just because she knows you want her to?"

The bell rang, and Fangs tugged you to class. You felt bad. That wasn't true at all. You didn't care whether you were on the bad side of town or not, or whether people noticed you. Sweet Pea was right, you did what made you happy.

As the bell rang Reggie left, leaving Sweet Pea in his thoughts. Did he really pressure you into doing all those things? Would you have been happier if you just stayed with your friends and never have talked to him?

This nagged the both of you all third period. When the bell finally rang for fourth period after what seemed like forever, you both headed to your shared class. Sweet Pea got there early, dreading this day.

As you entered the class, Sweet Pea sat up. Instead of going to your row, you went to the row next to yours, Sweet Pea's row. He didn't notice, focusing on what he was about to say. "Can we talk after class-"

You cut him off by kissing him. It was deep and passionate. He was surprised, but kissed back unconsciously. When you pulled back he was gasping for air, flushed with swollen lips.

"Sure." You said casually, hopping into your seat and paying attention to the board. You always knew how to make him feel a little better.

After class you both went by the door after everybody cleared out of the classroom. "What's wrong?" You fiddled with his jacket, a small smile on you.

"So, I was talking with somebody, and-"

"Was that somebody Reggie?" You looked up at him.

He wasn't expecting that. "You know?"

You nodded your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. "Why would you listen to anything he said?" You asked quietly. You didn't want him to feel any worse than he already did.

He shifted in his place, looking away from you. "Because he's right y/n. You're putting what you want on hold for me. You don't deserve that."

"You're what I want. I'm happy with being known as someone from the Southside. I don't care if I'm noticed by people. I feel like I don't deserve you."

He quickly looked at you. "Hey, that's not true. Don't sell yourself short like that! Why would you say that you don't deserve me?"

You let your arms fall beside you. "Because you've had to deal with all my crap this whole time. I'm literally walking baggage, and you're still right next to me to wipe my tears."

He crossed his arms. "Yeah, but I don't care about that stuff, I care about you."

"It's the same way for me!" Sweet Pea didn't look too convinced, and refused to look at you. You gently brought your hand to his cheek, turning his head to look at you. You then showed him the back of your left hand. "This is proof that I'm happy with the choices that I've made for my life."

Sweet Pea stared at the tattoo. "You're an official serpent." He said, more to himself than you. You nodded and smiled. He then looked at you and immediately backed you up against the wall, arm above your head. "I love you." The words came out as a whisper as he stared at your lips.

You puts your hands on his cheeks. "I love you too Sweets, so so much." Your lips then connected, feeling so right together.

As you both kissed, your moment was ruined when Fangs walked by and smacked Sweet Pea on the back. "Keep it in your pants Pea!" He called out, running away.

"Damnit Fangs!"

As you giggled and clung to him, you didn't think about the effects of joining the Serpents, especially not one caused by a person who wasn't associated with them at all. A certain person caught wind of your joining of a new family. This person thought that you were punishing yourself by being miserable. But there you were, a happy sinner. You couldn't stay that way. After all, Hal Cooper punishes sinners.

-------

Tag List:

@madaboutlili @sireennotsiren @elsie2018 @greyfairie @iamaunicorn4704 @wanna-plan-world-domination @whenallsaidanddone @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @live-love-bailar @thecraziestcrayon @cvvlxx @grim-adventures58 @official--fangirl @jesus-jagiya @skeletalwolfcat @theunofficialduke @punkrock-cinnamonroll @rhi-an-onn @amongthewildthingss @apocalypticriot @anahgiedd

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Kintsugi

Reader Request: I’ve gotten a few about where the reader is depressed/self-harms and “Klaus finds out and tries to help the reader” ... “Klaus x reader where the reader suffers from self harm and or depression and Klaus finds out. And since they both suffer from mental health issues he understands and tries to support them.”

A/N: this takes place after Reginald’s death, but in an AU where the apocalypse was stopped.

Warnings: depression, depressive episodes, mental health

Two years. Two years had gone by since Klaus had entered the longest relationship of his life. He’d never expected to get over Dave, but he’d managed to find a solace and acceptance in someone who seemed like a ghost of his past. How he’d managed to run into her during the end of times was beyond him, but now, as he sat in the kitchen of the Academy planning how to celebrate her returning to him and all they had endured together, he was glad they crossed paths again.

“(Y/N),” a young woman groaned to her friend as she straightened her skirt and slipped her arms into a skin-tight crop-top. “You said you’d go to at least one this semester. It’s your last semester in college. You have to!” The woman who was being groaned at shrugged her shoulders and tried to drown out her roommate’s incessant insistence by turning up the volume on her laptop. “That’s not going to make me stop bugging you,” her friend groaned even more loudly. Again, (Y/N) tried to turn her music up as far as it could go, only to have the girl across from her quickly perch herself on the edge of (Y/N)’s bed and scream over the sounds being emitted from (Y/N)’s computer. “YOU KNOW YOU WILL NEVER BE LOUDER THAN ME!” she yelled as (Y/N) closed her laptop.

“Fine,” she laughed while rolling her eyes. It was true that (Y/N) had promised her roommate to go to at least one college party before graduating. She’d wanted to, to at least say she’d had the experience, but was always to timid to arrive at a place she knew no one and more than likely knew she would hate almost everyone there. (Y/N) was a very particular person, and she only liked a few, particular people. She was bullied throughout middle and high school and still clashed with certain people at her college despite never making any effort to interact with any of them--which her roommate said was probably why they didn’t like her. “It’s not my fault they took my introversion and shyness as being bitchy,” she’d remember saying.

“So you’ll come?” she asked in a perky voice while bouncing herself off (Y/N)’s bed and looking her roommate in the eyes.

“I suppose I have no choice,” she said with a faux reluctant tone. Deep down she knew she wanted to go, but even deeper down, she knew she’d regret it. Maybe it was snooty or bitchy of her to assume she was better than everyone who went to those arbitrary and pointless parties, but she was weeks away from graduating and frankly, didn’t give a damn.

The rest of the night had gone as (Y/N) had expected. Nothing was too different from the romanticized dramatics movies portrayed college parties to be, and it served to be a waste of (Y/N)’s time. Growing uninterested in the ridiculous antics being performed, such as the forced “meet cutes” she’d seen repeated time and time again within a single five minute window--ones that she swore girls and guys had purposefully tried to reenact from any movie that has a party scene in it--(Y/N) decided it was time to go. She’d made her way down stairs, away from a billiards table that seemed to be her only solace from the persistent pestering of people, only to find a gathering of people in the kitchen, blocking the nearest exit. Not wanting to have any attention brought to her, or to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, (Y/N) quickly turned to leave, only to be forced back into the kitchen as a swarm of individuals in their late teens and early twenties barreled through the house and toward the source of the most immediate commotion.

“Get out, man!” someone wearing a t-shirt with his frat’s Greek letters plastered on it had shouted at someone hidden from (Y/N)’s view. She was still trying to leave through any other exit in the house, however found herself completely unable to leave the kitchen.

“Just kick his ass out,” another guy yelled while joining the first frat brother in the center of the kitchen. Thinking it was nothing more than a few guys and their rivals threatening one another, (Y/N) continued to attempt and push her way through, desperate to avoid being caught between some stupid fight between fraternities.

“You don’t think I’ve fucking tried?! He’s not listening! He doesn’t give a shit.” She could hear the conversation behind her begin to escalate and felt a few more people shove against her and press her further into the kitchen, closer toward the fight she knew was about to breakout. Realizing she had no other option but to turn around and walk toward her initial exit point, (Y/N) tuned herself into the situation before her. A tall man who appeared to be a few years older than herself, dressed in all black with dark curly hair and what appeared to be smudged eyeliner around his pale eyes, laid sprawled out across the kitchen floor clutching a bottle of vodka in one hand and a fifth of whiskey in the other.

Shit, she thought to herself upon seeing the man and the now three guys surrounding him. They’re not really about to jump this guy for having their alcohol, are they? (Y/N) personally knew one of the guys who had joined the ringleader in closing in on the man who had crashed their party, and she knew he was an entitled brat who would never suffer the consequences of his actions. Meanwhile, the man on the ground looked like he had been suffering the consequences of his actions for years. Two of the three closing in on the essentially passed out drunkard she knew to be ruthless. They’d been put on academic probation so many times for hazing, (Y/N) had lost count, but no punishment came to them due to how much money their families donated to the school.

She didn’t want to help the man; all (Y/N) wanted to do was leave that house and go home to get a good night’s sleep, but that was impossible due to a little someone she would eventually come to learn about named Ben Hargreeves. He came in the form a breeze, a simple gust of cold air in a humid, sweat radiated house that grazed her cheek and lead her eyes in the direction of the helpless man on the ground before her. Maybe then, even though his ability to appear to Klaus was hindered, he was still able to sense a pure heart in the crowd, one that didn’t believe in violence for the sake of violence; one that, like him, never signed up to be in the situation she had found herself in. Ben knew he couldn’t physically connect with the girl that seemed to be looking down at his brother’s situation with fear and pity, but he could make his presence known in other ways, and in that desperate moment to save Klaus from being in the center of a brawl, he did all he could to gain the girl’s attention.

“Back off, dick for brains,” (Y/N) had growled as she stepped into the scene. As soon as she looked into the eyes of the guy who had initiated the fight with the defenseless individual before her, she knew she had defined herself in this equation. She’d gone from a passive observer to a performer in whatever fantastical portrayal of collegiate endeavors these guys were trying to carry out. Standing out in a crowd had always been something (Y/N) avoided. Being noticed for her was worse than having a plague, and she’d never found herself in her current situation before. If they want to make a scene, then I’ll give them a scene, she thought to herself as she planned a defense incase things blew up in her face.

(Y/N) knelt down to help the man to his feet and made sure he could at least hold up some of his weight on his own. As soon as the man’s arm was draped across her shoulders for support, one of the guys (Y/N) had recognized turned to her with disgust on his face and venomous judgment in his voice.

“You would know this piece of shit,” he hissed to gain the appreciation of the people around him.

“I’m just choosing to not be a fucking asshat toward someone I don’t know,” she shouted back over the roar the crowd was beginning to make.

“He stole our liquor,” one of the others protested.

“He stole your liquor?” (Y/N) asked in a condescending voice while rolling her eyes at the boys before her. “You’re about to beat the shit out of some guy in front of all these people for a couple bottles of liquor?” She could tell her ability to deal with the petty bullshit of the people around her was wearing thin when she reached across the man she’d been supporting, slipped her hand around the neck of the whiskey bottle and pulled it into the frat brothers’ line of sight. “Take your fucking liquor!” she sharply stated before hurling the bottle above her head and allowing her arm to bring it down in a distinct swoop, careful to make the side of the bottle come crashing down against the kitchen countertop beside her.

“Shit!” the man beside her yelled upon hearing the shattering glass and immediately sobering up enough to take off in a sprint out of the house with (Y/N) in tow simply because being shocked into consciousness so quickly kept him from acknowledging every detail about his surroundings; this included the fact that she stood under his arm and, in tern, caused her to be swooped away into the night with him.

Klaus and (Y/N) had spoken off and on for about two weeks or a month after that moment, but eventually, he faded away. It didn’t shock (Y/N) when she stopped hearing from him. He was a stranger and they hadn’t spoken very intimately about themselves--hopes, dreams, fears, life ambitions--rather their conversations were always light and making sure that the other was still alive. Besides that, Klaus seemed like a transient type: a drifter with no real home who preferred it that way. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that they even remembered the other’s presence. Life had progressed and each of their lives turned into various forms of chaotic messes--hers developing in relation to her career and his due to his addiction and then the end of the world--and their minds were too preoccupied with other endeavors besides keeping track on the stranger they’d met by a stroke of luck.

Two years later, when (Y/N) decided to take a relaxing night out by herself at a local bowling alley, she didn’t expect a number of things to happen that night. One, she didn’t expect to have the place shot up by countless masked individuals, and two, she didn’t expect that the man she saved from a beating two years before at some stupid college party would be there to save her life from the hail of bullets. It wasn’t too much longer after that that the pair became closer than before, having instantly remembered the other after their eyes met as they huddled under the main desk, and eventually embarked into a non-labeled monogamous connection with the other.

Klaus had wanted everything to be perfect. He’d shunned himself from true happiness his whole life due to never believing he was worth it, and after Dave, even though he’d lost his first true love, he at least knew he could be valued and wanted in more ways than just a comic relief that no one takes seriously. He didn’t expect to find that in (Y/N), the girl he remembered as brave and feisty for saving his ass four years ago, and he didn’t expect it to overwhelm him so completely in a sense of self-worth and admiration, but when had anything in Klaus’s life been expected? Initially, all those years ago, he’d expected (Y/N) to be brash and feisty and be the type to force herself into situations she deemed herself worthy to be in. He expected her to be bold in knowing her worth and only want to be seen with him for charity, but he was wrong. He grew to understand that she was broken and scared and didn’t know what she was doing half the time. He learned that her impromptu smashing of the whiskey bottle was to put on a show when in reality she just wanted to run the hell away and shrink back into the safety of her apartment. 

Klaus realized about six or seven months after reconnecting with (Y/N) that he loved her, but not for the same reasons that he loved Dave. Dave was strong and believed in justice and truth. He believed that if you had the ability to do something, it was your responsibility to do it. The confidence Dave emitted in his sense of self was alluring to Klaus, mainly because he didn’t have confidence in his own self and was entranced in Dave’s ability to appear so sure of his convictions. 

With (Y/N)...well, it didn’t take Klaus very long to recognize the familiar broken and pained expressions that often crossed her gentle face. He’d seen them all to many times looking back at him in a mirror. She tried to hide it with a cold exterior and an off putting aura, but the empty and calculated look on her face when she was in public was her defense mechanism just as much as drugs was Klaus’s. It wasn’t truly who she was. She was charming and funny and kind. She loved to take baths so hot she started sweat. She loved baking and could make amazing cobblers and pies, but fuck up something as simple as chocolate chip cookies. She could belt out every word of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” but also could match Shaggy word for word in “It Wasn’t Me.” She loved to laugh and smile and was a fool for Klaus’s curly hair whenever he let it grow longer. Above all though, he loved (Y/N) because he could see in her what Dave must have seen in him.

There’s a certain beauty in the damaged, that was both disconcerting and admirable. There’s a fine line between romanticizing the broken hearted and being wholly empathetic to the sonder that overcomes someone who is trusted by those who are damaged. Finding the beauty in (Y/N) to be so immense despite her own ability to see it, was Klaus’s favorite past-time. It was early on in their relationship that he realized (Y/N) made it a point to do at least one thing a day that she knew Klaus would enjoy: speak softly to him, remind him how much she believed in him, make a face or do a dorky dance, have a full on, improvisational, one-sided conversation with Ben, anything. These little things quickly became something Klaus began looking forward to each day.

After a recent depressive episode that led (Y/N) into an empty, apathetic abyss, Klaus made it his mission to do all he could to remind her of the beauty within her rather than allowing her to focus solely on the dark. He’d draw little pictures on sticky notes or on a napkin and slip them in her lunch before she went to work, he’d dance around whatever room they were in and swing her arms with his movements until she agreed to be whisked away--all with a hopeless grin on her face, he’d relay messages from her deceased grandmother that stood over her like a guardian angel, and he’d journal with her, disproving every negative thought she wrote down about six or seven times over just to “make sure the message sank in.”

But today was their two year anniversary of becoming a “together.” Terms like boyfriend and girlfriend seemed arbitrary after a certain age and, despite (Y/N) being seven years younger than Klaus, neither wanted to label one another as that. “Together” was a better fit. It mean that through everything, through the hauntings, the dark nights, and their individual heaping platters of mental baggage they bring to the table, they were in it together. No longer would they suffer alone, so long as the other was alive to shoulder some of the weight.

Klaus sat on the couch in the parlor of the Academy. (Y/N) was resting beside him, leaning against his chest with one of his arms dangled around her and her fingers intertwined with his. “Have I ever told you about Takashima?” Klaus asked softly.

“No,” (Y/N) replied curiously. It wasn’t often that Klaus talked about Vietnam and she knew better than to force it; she’d seen what happened when her mother had forced her grandfather to speak of his experience and didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of a similar situation. Instead, she knew it was best to wait it out and let him bring it up as he feel safe and comfortable to do so.

“Takashima was a guy in my unit,” he said while craning his neck to look down at the woman in his arms. “His family were immigrants from Japan, but he was born in the US in a fucking internment camp. Anyways, he would always talk about art. His mother was an artist and art seemed to be the only thing that grounded him during the long days and longer nights.” (Y/N) curled tighter into Klaus’s side as he tightened his grasp on her fingers. She loved listening to Klaus. His voice was a comforting sound that grounded her in times of anxiety and depression. She loved more than anything when he would just start talking about something and find his thoughts along the way as his sentence dragged him along, which is what she thought was happening.“Anyways, do you want to know my favorite piece of Japanese artwork?” he asked her.

“Tell me,” she sighed gently against his side. At her words, Klaus adjusted himself briefly to an upright position and leaned toward (Y/N) as her head laid in his lap.

“It’s called kintsugi,” he said, doing his best to pronounce the foreign word flawlessly. “Takashima said he had tons of it surrounding him as a kid. Growing up his house was filled with this type of art. Basically, you take something that’s been smashed, shattered, broken, whatever, and meld it together again with this like, gold or silver lacquer. Thinking of the kintsugi kept him going like Dave and I kept each other alive. He kept seeing the war as the break in a pot or vase or whatever, and kept looking at the bright side of things--the gold or silver rivers flowing through the damage.” Klaus paused for a moment and felt his throat constrict. He wasn’t very good in relaying his emotions verbally. He was a physical person whose emotions came out in expressions and movement rather than words, but he was trying. “I hadn’t thought about Takashima or his story about kintsugi in a while, but...well...here,” he said while pulling off one of the thin chained necklaces dangling beneath his shirt and gently clasping it in his hand. Slowly his fingers unfolded around what appeared to (Y/N) to be treated pieces of glass, bound together by shimmering golden veins. “The whole point of kintsugi is to treat the broken parts of the object as part of its history, rather than as a disguise from the fact that it was broken in the first place.”

“Klaus,” (Y/N) tried to say, but upon looking at a single tear tracing down his cheek, she couldn’t fully get the world out.

“We’re both a bit messed up, but, as Takashima would have put it, we’re two parts of a broken whole. You’ve helped me realize I don’t have to hide from who I am or what I can do, and for that I am so grateful; but you try so hard to disguise the true beauty you have.” He gently took the pendent from her hands and fastened the necklace around her neck. “Your heart may feel heavy, (Y/N), it may feel torn to shreds or shattered into hopeless pieces, or maybe it just feels empty, but I know there are streams of gold flowing through you. I can see them everyday in the way you love someone as messed up as me.” Klaus quickly slipped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist and pulled her back down to their resting position on the couch. He could tell (Y/N) was touched due to her inability to respond. She was a verbal lover--she showed her affection and appreciation through words and notes and letters, and rendering her speechless was Klaus’s way of knowing she was more than moved by his gift. “Takashima always said kintsugi was the most beautiful thing in the world, and looking at you, I’d be a damned fool to argue with him.”

Tags: @helena-way07, @multifandom-ramblings, @ne0n-gh0st, @bisexual-with-adhd

[prettyboy-parker]

good boys, bad boys

masterlist

chapter 3: football

words: 2.5k

warnings: none

author’s note: OKAY I JUST REMEMBERED FOOTBALL ISNT IN THE SPRING/SUMMER TIME IM AN IDIOT BUT JUST GO ALONG WITH IT

For Peter, this week has been incredibly boring. The entire school seems to have the itch for summer, you can almost feel it. His teachers are running out of planned material, but they still aren’t allowed to goof off.

At least it’s Friday.

“Are you coming to the football game tonight, Peter?” Steve asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Before Peter has a chance to respond, Sam cuts in.

“You better be, Parker. This is the semi-final.”

Sam Wilson is a junior like them, one of Steve’s best friends and teammate.

He sighs and picks at his mixed fruit cup.

“I wouldn’t miss it. You know that.” He responds, catching a glimpse of Steve’s baby blue eyes.

“Damn straight.” Sam huffs, taking a bite of his almost-soggy pizza.

The boy with fiery red hair and posture like a dancer turns to him.

“We appreciate you attending, Peter. Even if some people,” He shoots a glare at Sam, “Don’t make that clear.”

“Thanks Vis. But really, I love watching you guys play. It’s fun. And I wouldn’t miss the semi-finals for the world.”

Peter doesn’t know much about the senior, only that he plays football and Vis is certainly not an actual name.

Vis gives him a small smile before turning back to his lunch.

“Does anyone want me to take their trash?” Peter offers, standing up off of the plastic bench.

A couple of hands place wrappers onto his tray. He turns and heads to the trash can. On his way there, he sees that Stark and his guys are eating at the table next to it. Taking a deep breath, he pretends to look at the other tables as he approaches the trash can. He successfully gets rid of his trash and tray without interruption. As he walks back to his own table, he can’t help but glance back at their table, meeting the blue-grey eyes on a familiar face.

***

“Why do we even have to pay to get in? At least we show up.” Stephen complains as they stand in line, waiting to pay their admission.

“Come on, it’s only $2. And we’re supporting the school.” Peter tells him, poking him in the bicep.

“Oh, the school. How could I forget.” Stephen scoffs, taking out his wallet a grabbing 2 dollar bills. Peter takes his own crumpled money and tries flattening it out.

“Hello, boys.” Their teacher, Mrs. Harriman, says as they approach the ticket booth.

“Hi, Mrs. Harriman.” They say in unison, holding out their wrinkled bills.

She takes them and stamps their hands with a custom stamp of their school logo.

The atom design is smudged and unclear from the ink, but Peter doesn’t mind.

They walk inside the gates, noticing how the bleachers are already packed.

“Peter!”

Peter’s heart rate increases when he notices Bucky calling and waving to him, surrounded by Stark and his friends.

“Why the fuck is he calling for you?” Stephen hisses, grabbing Peter by the arm and forcing him to make eye contact.

“Um, I-I don’t know.” Peter stammers.

Stephen’s eyes narrow.

“Just, go find Wong and Anne, okay? I’ll find you later.” He says quickly and Stephen drops his arm.

“Fine.” He grumbles, turning to find his friends.

Peter turns back around to face Bucky, only to find him watching intently.

He plasters a smile onto his face and jogs over to where they’re standing against the side of the bleachers.

“Hey, Bucky! Fancy seeing you here.” He chirps, stopping before he runs into the boy. It feels so natural for him to just lean up and kiss him-

Wait, what?

“Have to show some spirit somehow, darlin’,” Bucky says, taking a quick puff of his cigarette.

Peter flushes at the nickname, rocking on his heels nervously.

“You the spirited type, Peter?”

Peter turns slowly to face Tony. For a second, he quiets and analyzes the older boy. Far away, his unwavering smirk gives the impression of constant mischief, but up close you can see the dark circles under his eyes that no high schooler should have.

“What, no introduction?” Peter quips, crossing his arms.

Tony grins.

“I think you know who I am.”

“Sure do.”

“Now are you going to answer the question?”

Peter lets out a giggle.

“I guess you could say I am.” He tells Tony, looking down at his ratty Midtown t-shirt. He’s not wearing much, the shirt paired with running shorts. He seems to always be wearing running shorts, probably because it’s all Aunt May can afford he likes them so much.

Tony makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a hum. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, then stretches out his arm to Peter, raising his eyebrow.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke all that much.” He tells him sheepishly and Tony shrugs as if to say ‘okay, whatever.’

The conversation behind Tony ceases.

“Who’s this?”

A kid with long, greasy black hair steps forward. He has an old, worn jean jacket that’s littered with patches thrown over a plain black t-shirt.

“This is Peter,” Bucky tells him, throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulders.

He feels like he’s going to die.

“Loki.” The kid responds, standing awkwardly.

“He’s the baby of the group,” Pietro says from behind Loki, squeezing the younger’s sides. Loki squirms and swats Pietro’s hands away, the bleach blonde’s shrill laugh heard over the commotion of the game.

Bucky leans down, lips brushing against Peter’s ear to whisper, “He’s a sophomore.”

Peter would be shocked to learn that a sophomore is in Stark’s crew, but he’s too focused on the bubbly feeling that spreads throughout his body at the close contact from Bucky. Jeez, he could even feel the small amount of stubble brushing against his jaw.

“O-oh.” Peter stutters, taking a few steps back. Bucky stops him from walking too far.

“Okay team, let’s go find a place to sit,” Tony says, starting to head to the bleachers. Peter ends up shimmying out of Bucky’s grasp, almost running to keep up with the rest of the group. His short legs can’t carry him that far. They push past throngs of people, finally eyeing an empty spot at the top of one of the bleachers. The group heads up the bleachers, combat boots and Doc Martens loud on the metal. They all sit down, Peter ending up squished between Tony and Bucky.

They both smell like cigarettes and cologne.

The marching band is playing their school Fight Song before the players come onto the field. The cheerleaders are yelling something from the sidelines. Tony notices him watching them and nudges him with his elbow.

“See the chick with the red hair? Heavy eyeliner?” He asks, pointing to the cheerleaders. There’s a girl with long, wavy, red hair in the team’s uniform.

“Yeah,” Peter responds, turning to look at Tony.

“That’s Maximoff’s sister. Slept with her once. Can’t remember it.”

Peter looks away, uncomfortable.

Saving him from anymore conversation, the speakers amplify the voice of the announcer. He goes through the players on the other team, the Oak Ridge Bears. This is met from many boos from the Midtown kids, the students from Oak Ridge’s cheers drowned out. When it’s time to introduce the Midtown players, the crowd loses their shit.

Peter makes sure to cheer extra loud for Steve.

The game is one of the more exciting ones, the team with the lead constantly switching. It’s dark, and while it is summer, there’s a chill in the air. Peter curses himself for leaving Steve’s letterman jacket at his house. He rubs his arms rapidly, seeking some short-lived warmth.

“Sweetheart, do you want my jacket?”

Peter looks at Tony, startled.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’m okay.” He manages to say.

“Please take it. I’m warm.” Tony insists, already starting to shrug off his leather jacket. Before Peter can protest some more, Tony drapes the jacket over his shoulders.

It’s heavy, warm, and smells like smoke and expensive cologne.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter says, slipping his arms into the sleeves.

“Anytime.” Tony grins, then turns his attention back to the game. Peter notices how good his arms look in the tight AC/DC shirt. His muscles are definitely from some sort of manual labor and Peter shudders at the thought of him bending over the hood of a car. His tan skin is covered in thick arm hair and Peter immediately thinks,

Italian. He must be Italian.

Peter forces himself to tear his eyes away from Tony, focusing on the game again.

The rest of the game goes quickly, Midtown eventually gaining the lead in the last 2 minutes. Their team ends up winning, guaranteeing them a spot at finals. They follow the crowd to head to the parking lot.

“Don’t want to lose you!” Tony calls out from ahead of him, reaching backward and grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter can feel his face turn red.

Tony squeezes his hand and Peter squeezes back.

Tony leads him to the parking lot, Peter ending up beside him, swinging their arms gently.

“Um, Tony? I have to go find my ride.” Peter tells him sheepishly as the group approaches their motorcycles.

“Why don’t you come to get milkshakes with us, doll?” Bucky says from behind them.

Peter turns around in surprise, dropping Tony’s hand.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” He says, toying with the end of his sleeves.

“You never intrude. I’ll take you home afterward.”

Bucky smiles and he looks so gentle, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Sure.” Peter finally agrees.

Tony taps him lightly on the shoulder. Peter turns around to see him with a helmet in his hands.

“Don’t want that pretty little head of yours getting hurt.”

Reluctantly, Peter takes the helmet.

“What about you?” He asks while securing it on his head.

“Don’t worry about me,” Tony tells him with a smirk, swinging his leg around his bike.

“Hop on, Pete. All you have to do is hold on to me.”

Peter nervously gets on the bike, wrapping his lanky arms around Tony’s torso.

“Bye, Maximoff. Barton.” Tony waves at the two other guys, starting the bike. Peter jumps at the sudden jerk of motion, squeezing Tony a bit tighter.

“Nothin’ to worry about!” He laughs over the engine and Peter rests his head on his shoulder.

They start driving, the air turning cool. Peter can predict how ridiculous his hair will look. He’s more than nervous to be on a motorcycle.

If Aunt May ever found out about this, she would surely kill him.

They eventually reach Tip Top, a close to run down neighborhood diner. Aunt May says it’s been around since she was little. Tony parks the bike, Bucky right next to him.

“God, I love this jacket on you.” Tony murmurs as he unclips the strap on the helmet. His calloused fingers brush Peter’s smooth cheeks and he almost faints.

“It’s yours, silly.” Peter giggles, playfully swatting Tony on the arm.

“How about we head inside?” Bucky says sharply, stopping Tony from responding. This does little to dampen Tony’s spirits because he grins.

“Drinks on me! Race ya.”

All three of them make a mad dash to the front door, making patrons near them upset. Bucky reaches the door first, most likely due to his long legs, and they all stumble into the restaurant.

“MJ!” Peter squeaks upon seeing who’s the hostess. He totally forgot MJ just landed a job at the diner, taking the closing shifts.

The brunette looks at him, utterly surprised.

“Peter! What are you doing here?” She asks, but her expression reads ‘what are you doing with them?’

“Oh! Tony and Bucky offered to go get milkshakes. We were at the football game.” He tells her, looking up at Tony and biting his lip. He gives him a small smile, throwing his arm around Peter’s waist.

“Could you get us a table for 3?” He asks MJ.

She blinks in surprise, remembering that she’s working. She hastily shuffles through a stack of menus and grabs three.

“Follow me.” She says quickly, guiding them through the almost vacant restaurant. She sits them at a light blue booth, more than a few holes in the plastic seating.

“Thanks, MJ,” Peter tells her once he’s seated next to Tony.

All she does is give him a glare before walking away.

When their waitress comes, an elderly woman named Ruth, Tony orders large vanilla milkshakes for them. When they arrive at the table, Peter immediately eats the cherry off of its stem. Peter notices Bucky watching him intently.

“Can you tie a knot with your mouth, doll?”

Peter immediately flushes, but pretends to act like the comment didn’t phase him.

“I’ve never learned. That doesn’t mean my mouth isn’t good for other things, though.” Peter tells him with a wink, then proceeding to take a sip of his shake.

“Like what?” Tony asks.

Peter pretends to mull over the question.

“Talking. Mostly.”

They sit and drink their milkshakes for about 30 minutes, all of them flirting back and forth. Once their glasses are empty, Tony bids his farewells to Bucky and Peter, including letting Peter wear his jacket home.

“Can I walk you up?” Bucky asks when they reach Peter’s apartment complex, helping Peter off of his bike.

“I, uh, I don’t know. My aunt..” Peter trails off, looking down at his worn Converse.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, taking his hand and tilting Peter’s head upwards.

“I get it. Parents don’t like me.” He says sadly, pain in his dusty blue eyes.

“But you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I wish my everyone would see that.” Peter sighs, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Peter.”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Peter nods with parted lips. He stands on his tippy toes and leans in to meet Bucky. His breath is knocked out of him when their lips touch. Peter’s own lips are smooth and soft, while Bucky’s are a bit dry.

He makes a mental note to buy him some Chapstick.

Bucky pulls him in closer by his waist, Peter desperately leaning into the kiss. Bucky’s tongue darts out across Peter’s bottom lip, a silent request of entry. Unsurely, Peter parts his lips a little bit.

He’s not experienced.

Peter’s only kissed two people in his life. First was Janine in 5th grade at the winter dance, which was also the day he decided he definitely didn't like girls.

The second was some kid named Wade in 9th grade, who proceeded to tell him how shit of a kisser he is afterward.

In conclusion, Peter doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

His brain goes fuzzy as Bucky’s tongue slips into his mouth, giving him a taste of tobacco. He’s never really been one to smoke, but tasting it on another guy?

That’s a different story.

Peter groans and grabs Bucky by the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him closer. Bucky’s free hand makes its way up to Peter’s hair, tugging gently.

They eventually run out of air, pulling away ever so slightly. Peter’s lips are swollen and slick, as well as Bucky’s. The older looks down at Peter, eyes blown with lust.

“Goodnight, darlin.”

“Night, Bucky.”

tag list (ask if you want to be added):

@starker-flame @lurafita @sam-christo @337-years-old @thebadthingshappen @twink-peter @the-dark-obsidian-princess @spideravocados @gayfandomsaremything

[broke-n-bitchy]

Wicked Dreams

Part Two Warnings: Drinking, drug use, smoking, cursing  @triplehaitches​ @knightwhosaysnii​ @prettysureimgayxo​ @carmineharry​ The drive to Los Angeles was fucking terrible. I almost ripped my hair out, you try cramping into a single cab truck with four guys and all of your band equipment stuffed in the back. “Land, oh my god! Sweet, sweet land!” I praised as I was the first one to pretty much jump out while it was still rolling. We were stopped at the motel, it was about two hours before getting to our audition. “Oh, fuck off. My driving wasn’t that bad.” Alex responded with a roll of his eyes whilst helping Ryder start grabbing everything from the back. It was terrible. We almost died nearly nine fucking times. He got such bad road rage crossing the state line that I made him pull over so I could drive. “Uh, yeah it was.” Walking over to Sami, I grabbed a cigarette from his pack and quickly lit it. Alex didn’t allow us to smoke in his truck because it was his ‘baby’. I inhaled deeply before exhaling, “So, game plan?” “What do you mean game plan? We put our bags in our rooms, grab some food and go over the song we want to play. And then pray to Satan they pick us.” Ryder said while handing me my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and started walking towards the front door. We spent the next hour getting ready and arguing over which song to play, I eventually won by a game of rock, paper, scissors. I was the master, they couldn’t beat my skills of persuasion. At least that’s what I liked to tell myself. Being where I’m from, what I actually liked to wear was frowned upon so for me, it was mainly plain jeans and tee shirts. But today we were meeting Motley fuckin’ Crue. So of course, I had to look at least a little punk rock. I only glammed myself up for work, and that’s because I was a bartender at Trees in Dallas. The hotter you are, the better the tips. But other than that, I couldn’t give two fucks. Right now, I was having a bit of a dilemma. I gazed at the two outfits I had sprawled across the bed in my room. Hm, lace top with leather pants, or ripped jeans with leather bralette? Ah, the joys of being a lady. “Leather pants, definitely.” I heard a voice and it was my cousin, Sami. I nodded without responding and folded the other clothes, putting them back in my bag. Sitting down and letting out a nervous breath, I took a drink out of my flask with shaking hands. “Hey, I’m nervous too.” Sami shrugged his shoulders while coming to sit down next to me, “But check this out, you have been through so much and you came out of it better than before. Not to mention you’ll have your totally cool and badass of a cousin there to have your back.” I couldn’t help but laugh, it was true. There’s been so much shit in my life that I doubted myself on a daily basis. I knew we were good, I knew I was talented, but another part of me just sat there wondering if it was enough. “Thank you, you are pretty cool. But I will never admit I said that, ever.” I responded with a sarcastic tone before shoving his shoulder, “Alright, now get out. And please change that shirt. There’s a fucking stain on it.” “Yes, mom.” He retorted before getting up and bolting out childishly. After struggling to get my thighs into the leather pants, I yanked them up to my waist and tied the string together. Slipping into my lucky bra, and then pulling the lace top over my head, it barely covered my stomach and normally it made me feel weird but I admit, I looked pretty cute. Sitting down, I slid on my old, dirty and very beat up combat boots. They were being held together with tape, but I didn’t care. They were my mother’s and it may sound stupid, but I felt closer to her when I wore them. And today, I needed all of the comforts I could get. I left my hair down, in its natural state, wavy and a little tangled. After doing my makeup and finishing off with burgundy lipstick, I made sure my eyeliner wasn’t smudged. “Your eyes are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen like I’m looking into two blue deep pools and I’m drowning in them.” My mother used to tell me that, and when I got older and started wearing makeup, they did pop out more.  Taking a few deep breaths, I stepped out of my room and met the guy’s at the front. “Oh my god, Lucy actually has a body under her usual rags.” Alex was joking, but the look I gave him made him stop laughing real quick. “Well, let’s get this done.” I was enthusiastic, I was. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up too soon. - Here we were, at the studio. I finished my cigarette before taking three gulps of Beam that was in my flask before shoving it down in my boot. A man with slicked-back hair and a dimpled grin stepped outside the building along with a tall and lanky fellow beside him. “Hello, you must be the band from Texas, right? I’m Doc, the manager and this is Tom, our producer.” “Please to meet you.” We exchanged handshakes and names all before heading inside, unloading our gear. “We do have equipment here, you guys didn’t have to bring your own.” We all kinda just looked at him. I don’t know about the guys but my guitar was my baby, her name was Stella. She was a dark red Dean Vendetta XMT with Tremolo. My mom got it for me on our last Christmas together. I wouldn’t touch any other guitar. “We don’t mind,” I told him as I followed behind Ryder before stepping into the small room. Whoa, we’ve never been in an actual studio before. And across the room were four men sitting around, talking and laughing. I didn’t know rather introduce ourselves first or start setting up. Apparently, Ryder had the right idea. “Hey, I’m Ryder. I’m the drummer.” Since when was he the talkative one? “What’s up, dude! Me too!” Tommy yelled excitedly while standing up, and instead of a handshake, he honestly pulled him into a hug and I could tell this was a start of a bromance, even if we didn’t get the slot. “These are my bandmates, Nikki, Vince, and Mick,” Tommy told us like we didn’t already know. “Hey, guys. Oh, sorry, this is our guitarist, Lucy.” Ryder said while wrapping an arm around my shoulder to kind of push me forward. I was a little in shock, to say the least. He pinched me and I came back to reality. Tommy immediately gave me a hug too, “Nice to meet ya! How ‘bout I step out and help the rest and introduce myself?” “Oh you don’t-” But before I could finish my sentence he had already jogged out the door. “I’m Vince, and let me guess, your name is Gorgeous,” Vince said while staring me up and down, I seized the moment, too. “Lucy Gorgeous. Nice ring to it.” I said with a dramatic hair flip. He only grinned, “It’s nice to meet you.” My stomach was flipping when Mick stood up to shake my hand. He was my hero, my fucking idol. “Oh my god, you are my favorite musician, I absolutely adore the way you play.” Mick gave me a small but stern looking smile, probably because my hand was still latched to his like a weirdo. “Oh, sorry!” I laughed it off and quickly withdrew my hand. “I appreciate the compliment, thank you. And I’m looking forward to hearing you play.” He said before settling back down with a small grunt. Nikki hadn’t gotten up from his seat or even acknowledge that I was there. He was face deep on a dish, doing a line of coke. “Hi, Nikki. I’m Lucy, the guitarist for my band.” I said while I approached him, holding my hand out. “Oh, hey, sorry.” He eventually looked up and set the dish down to the side, he was silent for a second before reaching forward and shaking my hand, “I hope you play as good as you look.” He told me before letting go. I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. - After getting all set up, we were about ready to play.  I was tuning my strings while my hands keep shaking, I almost dropped my pick. But I knew that once I started playing, I would feel better. Glancing up and tapping my mic for a second before looking at my guys’, then looking forward to the six men that were standing behind the glass waiting. Alex felt the need to pronounce us. “We’re System Insomniac, and this song is called Burn it To The Ground. I hope y’ all enjoy.” (Basing the band’s songs off of song Nickelback and a few other band’s concepts pls don’t judge and just pretend it was during that era because I love the guitar solos and riffs.) They then nodded at me, and I started without hesitation with the beginning. Being followed by Ryder on the drums, then Sami on his bass. It sounded so much better in here, I swear I orgasmed. “Well it’s midnight, damn right, we’re wound up too tight, I’ve got a fistful of whiskey, the bottle just bit me. Ooohhhh! That shit makes me batshit crazy! We got no fear, no doubt, all in balls out! Mmmm, we’re going out tonight! Hey! To kick out every light! Hey! Take anything we want, Drink everything in sight! We’re going till the world stops turning, While we burn it to the ground tonight!” Alex’s deep voice boomed through the entire room, it gave me chills. I continued my playing and just got completely lost in the song before stepping forward to start my solo, and I forgot where I was. I forgot what we were doing, I was just there, killing it on my guitar and feeling every single chord I strung with my pick. I don’t know about my mates, but I think it was the same with them. It wasn’t until I was almost finished with my solo, and Alex kind of pushed me forward to sing the bridge. My voice rang through as loud and clear as I could make it, “Tickin’ like a time bomb, drinkin’ till the night’s gone, Well get your hands off this glass, last call my ass. Weelll, no train, no lock, this train won’t stop. We got no fear, no doubt, all in, balls out!” Alex chimed in and sang the last line of the bridge with me before taking back over where I stepped off to the side to finish off the song with the last part of the chorus. With the ending, Ryder and I finished off the song while Sami nailed the last string on his bass. We stood there breathing kind of uneasily, both from nervousness and how much energy we put into our performance. We stood there in silence before Tommy busted through the door that separated the two parts of the room clapping, “Fuck yeah! That rocked! Finally, a band that doesn’t suck ass dude!” Alex and Tommy high fived. I smiled to myself before pulling my strap off of my shoulders and moving to set her gently into her case. It was ultimately up to Doc and Tom but the band liked us, I overheard remnants of a conversation Doc and Alex were having. I still didn’t know if we got the slot, and to ease my nerves, I tugged my flask from my boot and took a swig from it. I felt a pair of eyes on me, turning around while wiping my chin a little and screwing the cap back on, “Sorry.” I shrugged. It was Nikki. “That stuff will kill ya.” He commented while taking a swig from his Daniels bottle, “But it tastes so good.” He eventually said with a laugh, “Hell, yes it does.” I agreed while heading out the door, Nikki followed behind shortly. “You’re pretty good, for a chick.” He told me while I was in the middle of lighting a cigarette, “The highest of compliments.” I retorted and rolled my eyes. Just because I was a girl, doesn’t mean I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. Music has been everything to me and it always will be. “So, do you think we got the slot?” I asked him, and he was about to answer before a certain blonde appeared beside me with an arm slung around my shoulder, “What the fuck do you think?” “I think that we drove 19 hours straight cramped in a truck, and running on like an hour of sleep, and all the while this was insane, and as much as we love you guys, a simple yes or no would suffice,” I said while taking a drag, glaring at Nikki while he pulled it from my fingers and took a few puffs himself. “He means yes, you guys got the slot.” Nikki told me while staring directly into my eyes, “We leave in two weeks.” I hadn’t responded and accidentally burned myself because I was in complete shock. I had no words. “Ow!” I yelped, and this dark haired fucker was smirking. “Suck a cock,” I mumbled to him before walking out to find the rest of my band. “Feisty, I like you already!” I heard him yell. I didn’t know how to register but this was our fucking moment. 

[mrs-mystica]

Prince Hunt | Chapter 1 [ Virgil ]

Ships : Prinxiety & Roceit

Alternative title : Two Yanderes for One Prince Roman is a popular guy, but he is even more popular than he thinks. Both Virgil and Damian (Deceit) fell for his charms, but they have a peculiar way of showing it. Competition is hard, both will do anything to get Roman's attention. Who will win the heart of Prince Charming?

If you're familiar with the term Yandere, you know how this is gonna go. For the others, please look it up before reading this, so you know to what you’ll be exposed to.

TW : Unsympathetic Virgil, Unsympathetic Deceit, swearings, mentions of sex, violence (physical and psychological), kidnapping, torture, lots of manipulation, abuse

More notes : Deceit's name is Damian in this fic, if we get a name reveal, it will be change, like all my other fics mentionning Deceit.

It is recommended to read both POV, since both provid complimentary informations, but each chapter will be identified, so you can only read either Virgil or Damian (Deceit) POV if you really prefer to. Both versions of each chapter will be released at the same time.

To see Deceit’s POV, click here

Masterlink

Chapter 1  [ Virgil ]

Third Person POV

Mornings are peaceful, and this one is no different. The sun hasn't risen yet, people and animals are still in their dream fantasies. For one person, though, it was more of a nightmare. All eyes are on him, laughters fill the room, hands are trying to reach him, he feels trapped, he can't escape them, he's at their mercy. As they reached him, the young man woke up, screaming until there's no more air in his lungs. Then, he starts to breath loudly, progressively realizing where he was, that it wasn't real, that it was just a dream. The panic he was feeling on the other hand, that was very real. It took him some time to calm down, hyperventilating until exhaustion. And now comes the aftermath, when the dark thoughts slip through. He can never be free, his anxiety following him even in his dream. He's tired, but not just because of lack of sleep. His torment never stops.

The tired man looked at his alarm clock and sighed. He had plenty of time to sleep before his alarm goes off, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to go back into Morpheus' arms even if he tried. It became sort of habit. He lazily got up and exited his door into the dark hall. The whole house was in darkness. He turned up the lights, to see his path, but also to ease his fears of the unseen. He knew that the lights wouldn't wake up anyone. His mother and he had this house for them alone, and she still was working, her night shift hadn't ended yet. So he could be as loud as he wanted. His screams has never been heard. He's not even sure if his mother has picked up on his anxiety yet. They see each other so rarely.

The man arrived at the bathroom and closed the door. Even if he knew he was alone in the house, he wanted to stay cautious. What if...? He splashed some water on his face and then looked at himself in the mirror, thoughtful. Here is Virgil Black, ladies, gentlemen and non-binary pals, he thought to himself. His bangs were now wet, sloppily falling on his forehead. His skin was white, really white. He looked sick, his skin making the dark circles under his eyes shine on his face. They were so deep under his eyes, he thought he could compete with a racoon. He hated his face. There was nothing special about it. He had a regular nose, regular brown eyes... Nothing was standing out, he just looked bland. He sighed again and picked up his eyeliner. Like every other morning, he tried to draw a perfect line under his eyes, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking, his anxiety never giving up. As he looked at himself in the mirror another time, he could only witness how ridiculous he looked. A toddler would've drawn straighter lines. Frustrated, he smudged his eyeliner under his eyes, like he usually does. He thought that like that, it at least covered partially the dark circles under his eyes. It also added to his dark persona. He found out it was the best way to keep the bullies away. If they're scared of you, they won't come close and see that you're the one scared.

As he exited the bathroom, he noted that it was still too early to go to school, but he went anyway. It's not that he can't wait to go there, but if he goes early, he won't come across anyone, and that pleasing his anxiety. After making sure three times that he locked the door behind him, he started walking, slowly. The sun had only now started to rise. He sighed for a third time this morning. His anxiety was controlling his life. Everything he did, he did it to avoid triggering his anxiety. He was avoiding every single aspect of his life. This was just an example. Going to school earlier, taking unpopular courses, leaving class 10 minutes before it ended even if the teacher was still talking, eating alone outside in a secret spot far away... Those were many examples, and why he had no friends. He was starting to think about consulting a professional. If only he had the courage to take his phone and call a therapist...

As he was lost in his thoughts, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He stumbled across a rock. He lost his balance and fell off the sidewalk. He let out a whimper as he scratched his legs, but nothing serious. He wanted to get up, but he soon saw a car coming his way. It was close, very close. The driver was obviously driving above the speed limit. He wouldn't be able to break enough to not hit Virgil, and he knew that. Flee or flight instinct? More like freezing up like a deer blinded by a car light. He closed his eyes, putting his hands in front of him as if it would protect him.

He then felt a weight on him. For a moment, he asked himself if it was it, but then he wondered why it wasn't more painful, considering that it was a car and he was a human. He came back to his senses when he heard the car's honk going away in the distance. He opened his eyes and saw that he was back on the sidewalk, on his back, with a man on him. The man was breathing heavily. Virgil than understood what had happened. The man had saved him. He must've seen him on the other side of the road and rushed to push him out of the way of the car. Still shaken, Virgil couldn't move, he could only examine the man on him. He seemed to be the same age as him, he had a tanned skin, beautiful brown eyes, messy brown hair, probably because he just rushed to save him, but what kept Virgil's attention was his red and white attire. The man was wearing a suit that seemed directly out of a Disney movie. He looked like a prince, a real life prince.

It took the man some time to catch his breath, but when he did, he finally moved from Virgil. He got up and offered to Virgil a hand.

- Hey, are you alright?

Virgil couldn't speak, his tongue didn't seem to want to cooperate. The darkly dressed man took the hand and got up with the help of the mysterious man. The man seemed a little embarrassed by the lack of response. Awkwardly, he tried to dust their clothes.

- Ah man... If I knew I would save someone today, I wouldn't have put my costume on... Hope I'll be able to wash this before the show!... White and dirt don't go well together, haha.

The man laughed nervously as the other man still didn't say anything. Virgil couldn't help but stare at the man. His savior scratched his neck, nervously. He then looked at his watch and realized what time it was.

- Oh shoot, I must hurry... Erm, you don't seem to have really bad injuries, so if you don't need anything... I'll go, okay?

Slowly, Virgil nodded. The man then turned around and started to walk away. But as he did, Virgil finally managed to emit a sound.

- HEY!

The mysterious man turned, looking at him with a confused stare. Virgil took a deep breath and then spoke again.

- Thank you.

His voice was soft and it made the man smile tenderly.

- It was a pleasure, dear!

And then he walked away. This time, Virgil let him go. But there was something different. Something had changed with Virgil. It took him some time to realize that, for once in his life, he wasn't feeling anxious. For a moment, because of that man, it had disappeared. Maybe he didn't need a therapist, maybe there was another way to treat his disorder. He loved the new sensation that had grown in his chest. It was warm, it felt great, but he couldn't say what it was. All he knew was that he needed to get this sensation again, at all cost.

1375 words

[thranduilsperkybutt]

Gif source:  Vinyl  |  Dean

Imagine spending a lazy morning in bed with Dean, listening to music as he holds you close, up until Sam calls you both for breakfast

--------- Request for anon ---------

It was nearing nine, which was a late wake-up for a hunter, especially when it came to Dean. You didn’t take a second of it for granted, though, the lofty sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Simple Man effectively soothing your soul as the vinyl you gifted Dean last Christmas turned on his record player. It was one of his favorites, a vintage original (Pronounced 'Leh-'nérd 'Skin-'nérd) album you had found in a little record shop in Dallas while on a hunt and had lugged all the way back to Lebanon in your duffel, trying your damnedest to keep Dean from realizing you were toting the present around.

You take a deep, contented breath, breathing in the scent of his chest as his hand draws circles on the small of your back, right beneath where he pushed his oversized AC/DC shirt you wore up your back. Your own fingers were lazy, fiddling with the black of his cotton tee, your eyes barely open as the rhythm of his heart threatens to lull you back to sleep.

“Hey, guys!” Sam bangs on the door twice, shaking you out of your lazy haze, “I’ve got breakfast if you ever wanna’ roll out of bed, ya’ bums!” You can hear the familiar amused and joking tone of Sam’s voice, and you roll your eyes as you listen to his boots fade in the distance.

“You hungry, raccoon eyes?”

“Hey, I can’t help you didn’t give me any time to take off my makeup last night,” you huff, but rub at your sleepy eyes nonetheless, no doubt smudging your dark eyeliner even further. Dean just chuckles beneath you as you shift, rolling off him and stretching as your feet sling over the side of the bed.

“Hey, I can’t help you looked so cute,” Dean shoots back, sending a shiver down your spine at the feeling of his breath along your neck, right where he leaves a kiss as the bed dips from his weight behind you.

“Uh-huh, but now I look like a raccoon,” you purse your lips, squinting accusingly at him.

Grinning wide, he rests his chin on your shoulder, pulling your back to his front with his arms snaking around your waist, “A very cute raccoon.”

You can’t put up you faux annoyance anymore, instead giggling at the scratch of his stubble, “Come on, Sammy’s waiting for us, and I’ve gotta wash off my raccoon eyes.”

“I wonder if Sam made pancakes,” Dean hops off the bed, a hint of boyish excitement in his voice, running his hands through his bed-mussed hair, voice lowering to almost a whisper as he adds, more to himself than you, “I friggin’ love pancakes.”

The day starts as Simple Man ends, vinyl spinning silently until Dean takes the needle off.

[dresupi]

misguided mojito

Darcy Lewis Crack Challenge 2019 |  Day 10: Mistaken Flirtation | 

Ship: Darcy Lewis/Logan |  Prompt: Day 10: Mistaken Flirtation |  Other Tags: Alternating POV, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Wingman Remy LeBeau, Misunderstandings, comedy of errors, Flirting, Bad Flirting, Alcohol |   Word Count: 1399 |  Rated: T | 

Summary:

Mistaken flirtation. Mistaken everything.  There are seriously so many mistaken interchanges that they have to start canceling each other out, right?

AKA: some of the lyrics to ‘Mr. Jones’ by Counting Crows.

Logan

This wasn’t his scene. He definitely shouldn’t be here. This club was full of neon lights and cushy seats. Women who wouldn’t give him a second glance. Men too. Everything and everyone was so polished and shiny.

And here he was, rough and dirty. Messing up the ambiance.

He should go.

Logan took another sip from his drink and started to leave, but Remy’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going, big guy?”

“Home. To be alone. Like it should be. I’m ruining the mood here.”

“Bullshit. You aren’t ruining anything,” Remy seemed so sure of that.

“These aren’t my kind of people,” Logan insisted.

“You fit right in. You’re dressed like me.” Remy gestured between their black t-shirts. Logan’s a crew cut while Remy’s deep V left little to the imagination.

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m leaving.”

“Just give it a chance to work, Logan. This place always works.”

“Maybe I don’t need it to work, Remy. You ever think about that?” Logan jerked his arm away. “Maybe I’m fine being on my own.”

“No just… wait. Look. That girl? That cute one with the curly hair?”

Logan frowned, glancing around. “Where?”

“There. Between six and seven o’clock. Don’t look directly, just… slowly slide your gaze over that way. You can’t miss her.”

Logan did as Remy directed, his gaze centering on a very attractive woman. Dark curly hair. Big eyes. One of which she was winking at him. She was sipping on a drink with mint sprigs and limes. Probably a mojito, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“Should I buy her a drink, do you think?” Logan asked, leaning over towards Remy.

“No. I think you should stare creepily at her until she either calls the cops or maces you.  Yes. Buy her a drink. If she declines, she declines, and I promise you can go home. Just... give it a shot.” Remy was no longer looking at him, but at a rather tall fellow across the room. He towered above the entire crowd with muscles to match. In other words, just Remy’s type. Of course, everyone was Remy’s type, so that wasn’t much of a distinction.

Logan turned around to face the bartender. “Hey, can you send another one of whatever she’s drinking?” he pointed to the woman in question. “The one in the green shirt? With the curls? Put it on my tab.”

“Okay, full disclosure, I didn’t make her first drink, but I’ll call it a mojito,” the bartender said as he reached for the white rum. “If it’s wrong, it’s on me.”

Darcy

Let it be known that Jane and Pepper were idiots when it came to holding their drinks. And lemon drops besides. What was this? Sophomore year in the sorority house?

She sipped at her limey-mint water. It wasn’t a mojito, but apparently, the bartender made a mean virgin-version for the designated drivers. It was fine. It wasn’t rum, but Darcy figured that Pep and Janey could use all the help she could provide in schlepping their drunk asses home. She’d have to go get another one soon. She turned back to the bar, frowning because there was a new bartender on staff. What if his virgin cocktails weren’t any good?

She reached up to absently wipe her eye but stopped halfway there. If she did that, she’d have mascara and eyeliner smudged down her cheek.  Not only had Pepper and Jane dragged her away from a comfy couch and Netflix, but they’d also made her get all made up. Fake eyelashes and everything.

And now that she was paying attention, her left one was itching. Irritating her.

She blinked a couple of times and reached up to ensure the glue was still adhered.

And now it was tugging. She felt her eye twitch on its own.

She sighed and started scanning the bar for Pepper and Jane. She really needed to get out of here and soon. Otherwise, she’d have to go to the bathroom and pull off the eyelash.

A few minutes of scanning turned up both of them across the room at the second bar, where the previous bartender had gone.

They must switch sides on the hour or something, she thought to herself before taking a step in that direction.

She didn’t get far, though. The second she stood up from her chair, a server stopped her and pushed a drink in her hand. “From the guy at the bar… the hot one in the black t-shirt…” the woman said before hightailing it off to parts of the bar unknown.

Darcy turned towards the bar, bringing the glass up to her face to sniff.

Just as she suspected. White Rum.  The new drink slinger didn’t know she was sober for the night. And since the server was gone, she had no choice but to walk up there and give it back.

Sighing, she started towards the bar.

Logan

The cute girl was approaching with her untouched drink. Logan watched as she moved right past him and onto Remy, handing the drink back to him. “Sorry, dude. I’m the designated driver.”

Twenty layers of embarrassment wrapped themselves around Logan like a cocoon. An itchy, irritating cocoon.

First off, she just assumed the drink was from Remy. Never even gave him a second thought. Which was exactly how he told Remy it would be. He wasn’t shiny enough for this place.

“Oh, whoa. Sorry about that…” Remy took the drink and slid it onto the bar. “We can get that fixed for you, but first off, that’s not from me. It’s from my friend.”

He slipped his arm around Logan’s shoulders and tugged him close in a side-hug. “ My friend. Logan.  This is Logan. Logan, meet…” Remy paused, waiting for the woman to share her name.

“Darcy,” she said, blinking as she extended her hand towards Logan.

Darcy

She felt dazed. Dazed because she never saw anyone as stacked or built as this guy was. Well. Not in the same way. She saw lots of dudes with muscles for show.

This guy had muscles for work.

Barely bulging biceps pushed against his t-shirt sleeves. A thick vein ran down his arm and through his forearms. He wasn’t flexing. Wasn’t trying to show off. Geez, he could probably lift her with one arm.

He smelled like beer and Old Spice. No overwhelming cologne that made her nose burn. Logan looked like he hadn’t shaved in two days at least.

She took her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down to get control of herself before attempting to speak again. “Hi. I’m Darcy.”

Muscles grinned slightly. “You said that already. Not that I don’t like hearing it.”

She leaned down to take a sip of her already empty drink, missed the straw and got the lime instead. It was bitter and icy cold. She coughed loudly.

Logan

Even as she spit the lime out onto the ground, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wanted her number. Just as soon as she stopped coughing.

It didn’t take him long to realize that her cough wasn’t ending. And it wasn’t the normal kind either. “Goddamn, you’re choking!” He reached out to pat her back.

Darcy

Goddamn, I’m choking.

Logan

“Do you need the Heimlich?” he asked, his hand still rubbing small circles on her back.

Darcy shook her head. “Water. WATER.”

Logan took her cup and held it out to the bartender. “Water.”

He waffled for a minute but filled up the glass with the sprayer in his hand and Logan handed it back to Darcy.

She drank it, coughed twice more and thanked him, holding her hand out to squeeze his forearm. She squeezed it three times before he could think to say anything.

“You wanna go someplace quieter?”

Darcy

She couldn’t believe he still wanted anything to do with her when she nearly ralphed on his shoes.

“I wish, but I’m kind of looking after my friends. You know. When I’m not choking to death on my drink…” She laughed nervously, and he was still peering at her.

“You got a number?”

“Um… yeah. Yeah. I do.”

“We can set something up another night?” he offered, as she pulled out her phone.

“You’d want to?” she asked, still not believing her luck.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

[bandzrus]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Chapter 7)

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: The year is 1974, after the release of Queen II. You and your three friends have moved from Canada to England to study abroad.  Your life takes a huge turn when you finally decide to take a break from school and visit the local club and you meet the boys of Queen.  And most importantly Roger Meadows Taylor.  

Note: holy crap this chapter took so long to write I’m sorry guys!  I hope it was worth the wait, things get hella crazy.  

Words: 4669

***

                Giggling and sweaty, you let go of Roger’s hand to pick up the receiver of the payphone.  Hearing the familiar clink of change rattle in the box, you dialed your apartment. Fur-coat clad shoulder leaning against the phone booth, you gave the drummer a big, slightly intoxicated grin. They had finished their gig about an hour ago, but of course that meant the party was just getting started.  The dressing room had been full of booze, and all of it was gone by the time you guys left.  Usually you tried to be sober when on the phone with your friends, because you didn’t want them to think getting drunk and partying with Queen was all you were doing.  You were travelling like you’d always wanted, like you’d been fantasizing about your whole life.  

              Patricia finally picked up the phone and you swatted a hand at Roger to keep him quiet.  

              “Hey Patty!”

              “Y/N-“

              “How are things?  I know I didn’t call you guys again yesterday, I PROMISE I haven’t forgotten about you!  You guys know I love you so much, you’re my best friends in the whole world and I never would have gotten to travel if it weren’t for you guys!” you blathered into the receiver.  The booze were definitely bringing out your desperation to appease your friends.  

              “Y/N, I have-“ Patricia tried, but you cut her off again.

              “Patty tell Shar and Heather I love them and I miss them and I wish you could be here with me.  I promise I have the most amazing clothes to give you guys when I get back, you’re going to love them.  Oh the things I’ve seen!  The Eiffel tower, Patty!  The Eiffel tower!”

              Roger was lighting a cigarette and waiting for you to finish on the phone.

              “Y/N!” finally yelled Patricia.  You shut your mouth and pulled your shoulder off the booth.  

              “Mm?” you hummed into the receiver.  Your friend didn’t sound like herself.

              “Your mom has been trying to reach you since yesterday, she doesn’t know where you are.  You haven’t called her?  Did you even tell your family you were travelling with Queen?”

              You cursed internally.  You had stopped calling your family in Vancouver after your first semester abroad. You weren’t doing anything exciting. Sure, you called them on birthdays and holidays, but you were just going to school, you were an adult now.  But Patricia was right – you should have at least called to let your mother know that you weren’t in school anymore, but in the chaos of becoming Roger Taylor’s girlfriend, you had completely forgotten.

              “Y/N you really need to call her, it’s your grandma.”

              “What about my grandma?  Is she sick? What did my mom tell you?” your voice spiked in panic.  You loved your grandmother – all her apple pies, the way her apron was always covered in flour, and how her house smelled like lemon and ginger.  You had spent a lot of summers at her house.

              “She had a heart attached, Y/N.  She passed away.”

              You pulled away from the receiver and put a hand over your mouth.  Eyes pricking with tears, Roger caught them for a brief moment.

              “I need to go home,” was all you said before you hung up.  Your feet felt glued to the ground.  You felt the high you’d been living on since joining Queen leave you in an instant.  Closing your eyes and lifting your head up towards the moon, you willed the tears back. You really didn't want to be a big blubbering mascara and eyeliner running mess in front of Roger again, even if you had a good reason to be.  Sniffling and wiping your nose on the back of your coat sleeve, you let out a shaky breath. Roger dropped the cigarette from his lips and moved to standing in front of you.  Gently, he pushed your hair away from your face.

              “Wha’s the matter?” he asked genuinely.  

              “It’s my grandma, Patricia said she died,” you choked out, doing your best to wipe away a tear and not smudge your makeup.  The blond brought his hand up to encompass yours and helped you wipe the tear.  You pressed your cheek against his palm.  

              “Y/N I’m sorry.”

              “It’s not your fault Rog,” you murmured into his hand, sniffling again. “I chose to come here; to be away from home.”

              “You were close with your gran?” Roger asked.  You nodded.

              “All my best summers were on her farm with Sharon, Patricia, and Heather. She got to hear aaaaallll about Mark, I’m sure she was sick of me by the end of the first week but she just let me talk and talk.  I told her everything, sometimes stuff I didn’t even tell my friends.”  Recalling all those summers made you start crying harder. There was no way your makeup was surviving this now.  Placing his hands on your shoulders, Roger pulled you back from him for a moment. You wiped your running nose with the back of your sleeve again and cried.  

              “You loved your gran, and you need to go home,” he said sincerely.

              “Roger,” you asked quietly, biting back a particularly loud sob.

              “Yeah?”

              “Will you come with me?  I know we’re in the middle of tour and if you can’t I understand I’ll pay for the tickets I just-“ you rambled, but the drummer cut you off.

              “Yes, Y/N, I’ll come.”

              “You’ll-“

              “I said yes.  And I can pay for my own ticket.  We don’t have a gig for four days, we can leave right now,” he said.  And then you really lost it.  The multiple drinks certainly didn’t help you keep your emotions in check as you clung to Roger’s coat, burying your face in his shoulder.

              “Thank you,” you mumbled into the fur.  

                The two of you had hurriedly packed two days’ worth of clothes into a suitcase and gone to the airport.  Roger phoned Freddie, Brian, and John from the airport and explained where the two of you were going, promising he’d be back in time for the next gig.  When Roger had finished with the payphone, he handed it to you.  Your fingers dialed your apartment’s number automatically.  

              “Mrs. Y/L/N?”

              It was Heather on the other end this time.

              “Heather, it’s me,” you said quietly.  

              “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Heather apologized over the line, voice crackly.  She was talking about your grandmother’s passing.

              “I’m going home, please let Shar and Patty know.”

              “I’m so sorry,” repeated Heather.  “I wish you had been here when your mother called.”

              “I’m going to call my mom and let her know I’m coming, let Shar and Patty know that too okay?” you made your friend promise.  “They’re mad at me for not calling.”

              “We’re not mad, Y/N-“

              “Heather, you know I love you guys and me being with Roger and Queen isn’t going to ruin anything between us I promise,” you assured her.  “But I can’t have this conversation with you right now I need to call my mom and go home.”  With that you hung up and wiped another tear from your eye with the back of your hand.  You really couldn’t argue with Sharon, Patricia, and Heather right now about your choices.  Right now you needed to phone home and then get on the plane.  You looked over at Roger who was waiting patiently with your guys’ suitcase.  

              “’S okay,” he comforted you.  Taking a deep but shaky breath you picked up the phone again and dialed home.  Your mother’s voice came statically over the line.

              “Hello?”

              “Mom.”

              “Y/N-“

              “I heard about grandma I’m coming home,” you told her, rubbing your cheek where another tear was making its way down.  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t at the apartment.  But I’m coming home, I’ll see you soon.”  You hung up the phone again and then looked up at Roger.

              “You ready to go?” he asked.

              You nodded.  Reaching his hand out to you, the blond led you to the gate and presented the attendant with your tickets.

              “Just this way Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” the attendant gestured, showing you through a doorway.  You were too busy thinking about going home, how horrible your mother must be feeling, how bad you felt for not calling your grandma just one more time, and how you didn’t think you could bare to go to the funeral to notice the “Mrs. Taylor”. But you’d remember it later and it would send you spiraling in a whole different direction.  Right now you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts and wanting to feel your grandmother’s arms wrap around you one last time.  

                During the flight everything around you seemed to slip away as you recalled your best memories with your grandmother.  You were grasping onto the only thing of her you had.  At some point Roger fell asleep, his golden head resting on your shoulder, yours on top of his.  You thought about her apple pie and how you’d never smell it again.  You hoped that her house would never stop smelling like lemon and ginger even if she wasn’t in it.  You didn’t want to think about that house empty but in a matter of hours you were going to have to face reality.  Closing your eyes to keep more tears from falling and waking Roger, you remembered the time Heather, Patricia, and Sharon had convinced you to call Mark (not yet your boyfriend) and invite him over to your grandmother’s.

 **flashback**

                “You’re a chicken, Y/N!” squealed Sharon, dangling your grandmother’s phone by the cord.

              “I’m not a chicken, Shar!” you protested, hands on your hips, pouting.

              “Then prove it – call him!”

              The redhead dangled the phone in front of you.  Heather and Patricia were behind her, waiting in giddy excitement to see if you’d accept the challenge.

              “Why do I have to do this now?  Can’t we do this when we get home next week?” you asked, stalling for time. Mark had been your crush since eighth grade, and you had been stupid enough to let it slip to your friends that you really wanted to see him in swim trunks.  It was nearing the end of August and one of the best parts about your grandma’s farm was that it had a river running through the back of it which was perfect for cooling off in.  There were days where the four of you girls only left the water to grab a bite to eat before cannon-balling back in.   Today had been one of those days so far, so the four of you were standing in your grandma’s kitchen in your bathing suits, Sharon daring you to take the phone from her.

              “If you don’t call him I will,” she threatened.  

              “Fine!” you gave in, snatching the telephone away.  Putting it to your ear you dialed Mark’s number and was thankful his mother picked up.

              “Hello, Anne speaking.”

              “H-hi Mrs. Brown,” you stuttered, kicking Sharon in the shin when she giggled. “Is Mark home?”

              “He is, may I say who is calling?”

              “It’s Y/N from school,” you answered.  “Y/F/N.”

              “Just a moment honey,” Mrs. Brown said before the sound of her hand covering the receiver could be heard across the wire.  There was a nerve rackingly long pause before a different voice came through.

              “Hullo?”  

              “Mark,” you said, more to prove to your friends that you had him on the line.

              “My mom said you wanted to talk to me?”

              “Yeah I was… um…” you stammered, losing your nerve.  “I was wondering if you wanted to… come hang out with Sharon, Patricia, Heather, and me.”

              “Where are you guys?” asked Mark.  You couldn’t tell if he was seriously contemplating your offer or not. Half of you wanted to see him so bad and the other half was hoping he’d shut you down to save you from future embarrassment.  

              “We’re… at my grandma’s… farm.”  Wow that sounded bad.  He was definitely going to say no to you.  Trying to find a way to salvage the conversation, you quickly added in your best Sharon flirting voice “We’ve been swimming and thought you might like to join.”

              Sharon gaped at you.  Usually you weren’t flirty, that was her thing.  Swallowing, you waited anxiously for Mark to say something.

              “Can I bring some friends?” he asked.  

              “Sure, my grandma made lots of apple pie.”

              “Apple pie and swimming on a day like today sounds awesome.  What’s the address?”

              He was actually coming.  Mark was actually coming over.  You were going to see him in swim trunks after all.  Heather, Patricia, and Sharon were waiting with great anticipation to hear what you’d say next.  You gave Mark the address, said “see you soon”, and hung up.  Blushing a deep scarlet the looks on your friends’ faces were worth the embarrassment.  

              “I told you I wasn’t a chicken,” you said.  It had been a day to remember, that was for sure, and it never would have happened without your grandma and her delicious apple pie.

 **end flashback**

                You were thankful that at some point you had fallen asleep during the flight. Roger was gently shaking you awake as people prepared to disembark.

              “We’re hear, Y/N,” he said softly.  Gathering your things, you called a taxi to take you back to your house. It was strange to be back in Vancouver. It smelled different.  The air felt different.  Familiar but unfamiliar at the same time.  You had really started to call England your home, it felt almost wrong to be back.  But you needed to be here.  It wasn’t until you were knocking on your family’s door that you realized you hadn’t told anyone about Roger.  Shit.

                It was your mother who answered the door and despite introducing Roger first probably being the best idea, you hugged your mother instead.

              “Mom I’m so sorry for not calling, and I’m so sorry about Grandma, we came as fast as we could,” you blathered, not wanting her to stop rubbing your back.  Finally your mother pulled you back from herself to examine you.

              “We?” she questioned, lifting an eyebrow at Roger.  A hand flew to your mouth as you apologized a second time.  

              “This is… my boyfriend… Roger,” you introduced slowly, letting your mother look him up and down.  

              “Roger Taylor,” the drummer said, holding out his hand to shake.  Your mom just gave him a look and he shoved his hand back in his pocket.

              “What happened with Mark?” she asked, moving aside to let the two of you in off the doorstep.  Everything inside was exactly how you remembered it.  You’d been gone well over a year, but things at home had stayed the same.

              “I thought you two were still together.  When he flew out to visit you a thought he’d propose.”

              You tried to hide the shudder that racked your whole body.  You did not want to think about what would have happened if Mark had done what your mother thought he would.  

              “He…” you tried to find the words to finish your sentence.  You knew there was no way you would seem like you were in the right with what happened with Mark.  Your friends had made it very clear you were the bad guy in this situation. “The distance wasn’t good for us,” you lied.  You mom gave you a face but kept her mouth shut for the time being.  

              “I’m so sorry for not being home when you called,” you apologized again, hoping to change the topic.  “I’ve been…” at this you looked over your shoulder at Roger who was walking behind you with the suitcase.  “… travelling.”

              “Your friends told me you had gone gallivanting off with some band,” you mother commented in a rude tone.  “I don’t understand why you went to England in the first place, there are plenty of good universities here.”  She waved her hand absently as she led you and Roger into the living room.  Bouquets of flowers were spilling off the table, no doubt as condolences about your grandmother.  

              “I’m not familiar with Canada, but I’m pretty sure they don’t have Oxford,” defended Roger.

              “Rog, stop,” you begged him quietly.  You didn’t want him to give your mother any more reasons to dislike him than you had already given her.  It was then that your father walked in from the kitchen.  

              “Y/N, who’s this?” he asked, coming over to hug you anyway.  You hugged him back, remembered the smell of his aftershave.  He was already wearing his black suit, ready for the funeral.  You heard the thunk of yours and Roger’s suitcase as the drummer put it down to shake your father’s hand.

              “Roger Taylor,” he greeted, putting on his politest smile.  You could see how genuine he was, trying to get your parents to like him (you were sure he wasn’t used to people not liking him), but unfortunately neither of your parents did.  They probably just saw him as the guy who you ditched Mark for. They weren’t entirely wrong.  

              “Haven’t I seen you somewhere on TV?” you father asked, tilting his head and eyeing the drummer up and down.  Roger raised a golden eyebrow and smiled.

              “Top of the Pops maybe?” he answered, phrasing it like a question.

              “A musician, huh Y/N?  I didn’t think that was your scene,” your father commented.  “Then again we all thought you and Mark were going to get married and give us a couple grandkids.”

              “Can we please stop talking about Mark?” you begged both your parents.

              “Well it’s a little hard when we invited him to the funeral.  I thought you’d want him there,” replied your mother. You swallowed.  Shit.  Double shit. The best way this could go was a horribly awkward few hours where all you wanted to do was respect the memory of your grandmother, not think about avoiding your ex.  But you had your doubts that things would go that smoothly. And in front of your entire family too. You had a feeling Mark wouldn’t have let the whole thing go after just a couple of weeks, he would probably start a scene just to spite you and having Roger there was just going to make things worse.  

              “You had better not make a scene,” your mother warned, cutting you off before you could say anything.  “And you both had better of have brought something more respectable to wear.”  At this she gestured at the fur coats and day-old outfits you and Roger were wearing.  

              “We’ll go change now,” you assured her, grabbing the suitcase and trying to leave the conversation.  You loved your parents, but you weren’t thrilled that instead of being there for each other in the wake of your grandmother’s death you were all making passive aggressive jabs at each other.  

              “Not in the same room!” your father yelled after the two of you as you made for your old room.  

              “Dad!” you cried in embarrassment.  The truth was you wanted a moment alone with Roger and changing together was going to be the only way to get it before the funeral was over. Closing the door to your old bedroom, the voices of your parents became muffled.

              “I am so sorry,” you apologized for what felt like the millionth time in the last two days.  

              “Stop apologizing,” Roger said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms comfortingly.  “You got nothing to be sorry for.”

              “My parents aren’t usually like this,” you confessed.  “It’s just because they’ve always like Mark, and because I stopped calling them.  God, it’s like everyone just wants me to be there for them whenever they want!  I’m an adult, I should be able to do what I want now!” you ranted.  “I’m sorry you’re caught up in all of this, you should be back in English with Freddie, Brian, and John.”

              “You wanted me here.”

              You smiled weakly up at the drummer and let out a breath of air.

              “I’m so glad you came, I don’t know if I could handle being here by myself. Everyone feels kind of like a stranger. I really can’t believe I consider you guys like my new family already.  I miss Mary, and Freddie, and John, and Brian.”

              “I think you were always meant to come to England,” mused Roger.

              “I never would have met you if I hadn’t,” you blushed, the two of you sharing a cute moment before you turned the conversation back to that of the funeral. “We should get changed.  With my father dressed up already, we’ll probably be leaving in an hour.”

              The car ride to the church was equally as awkward as the cab ride to Queen’s gig with Mark.  You parents were in the front, meaning you and Roger were squished together in the back. Half of you wanted nothing more than to be crammed up against the blond, but the other knew what your parents must have been thinking.  You had originally been dreading what this funeral meant - that your grandmother was gone and you were never going to see her or talk about boys with her again. But now it had become all about Roger and Mark.  And it was Mark who you saw first when you stepped out of the car, using Roger’s hand for balance.  His eyes were like daggers, stabbing right through the two of you.  You weren’t sure which of you he wanted dead more.

              “Y/N,” he greeted curtly while still in front of your parents.  You were shaking, knowing the shit storm could start at any moment.  You were actually surprised he hadn’t made some snide remark right there and then for your whole family to hear.  Maybe he was waiting until everyone was attentive and quiet inside the chapel to do that.  Gripping Roger’s hand so hard your knuckles were turning white, you still positioned yourself between him and Mark.  The way your mind was going, the two of them were going to end up in fisticuffs before your grandma was in the ground.  You did your best to avoid eye contact with your ex-boyfriend but you could feel his eyes boring a hole through the back of your skull as he followed your family inside the church.  You and Roger were about to sit down when your mother turned around to face the two of you.

              “Y/N, I don’t think he should be here,” she said, gesturing at the drummer. “He’s not part of the family.”

              “I second that,” butted in Mark.  You saw Roger open his mouth to say something but you opened yours first.

              “Mom!  We’re already here, where do you expect him to go?  I want him here!” you exclaimed, feeling betrayed by your own mother.  

              “He should go back to the sleazy English bar you found him in,” shot Mark, clearly enjoying the fact that your mother was on his side.  

              “I’m sure that bar was cleaner then whatever hole you crawled out of,” muttered Roger, brushing his hand over his lips.  

              “Can’t we please just go inside, mom?” you begged.  “Can we please just say goodbye to grandma and do all of this later?”  

              Your mother put her hand on her hip stubbornly.  

              “Y/N, we never should have let you go to England.  Look what you’ve done to yourself.  You left the one good thing that ever happened to you, and a good future. Instead you’re off gallivanting with some…” your mother was struggling to find words strong enough to describe Queen. You could feel tears starting to well up behind your eyes, but they weren’t the tears you were expecting to cry that day, no, they were angry tears.  

              “She’s not an idiot, Mrs. Y/L/N, she’s a grown woman, she can do as she pleases,” defended Roger, squeezing your hand ever so slightly.  “And he’s a twat.”  This was directed at Mark.  You watched your mother and father’s jaws drop to the ground at the drummer’s comment.

              “Well I never!” cried your mother, throwing a hand to her mouth. Mark was rolling up his sleeves.

              “You never should have come here, chum,” he scoffed, running a rough hand through his hair and getting up in Roger’s face.  The blonde didn’t back down, just let go of your hand.  

              “Trust me mate, you don’t want to do that,” he warned.  You could see Roger’s muscles flex underneath the fabric of his black shirt.  You worst nightmares about how this day was going to go were coming true.  

              “Mark, don’t you dare hit him!” you spat, grabbing Roger’s arm.  You were silently begging the blond not to throw the first punch.

              “And why not?  Nobody wants him here.”

              “I do!  He’s become like family to me!”

              “Like family?” it was your mother’s turn to interject.  

              “Yes!  Roger and Queen have treated more like family than you have since I moved to England! They actually support me doing what I want to with my life!” you ranted.  

              “Yes, I’m sure some band is very supportive of you running around with no plans to settle down,” muttered your mother darkly.  

              “They’re not just some band!  They’re Queen!”

              “Queen!  I knew I’d seen you somewhere before, son,” piped your dad.  Roger gave him a quick flash of a smile before training his eyes back on Mark.  The tension in the air outside the chapel was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. You wanted to wake up.  You wished this was all a dream.  But it wasn’t.

              “Famous or not, you have no place being here,” Mark shot at the drummer, taking a threatening step forward towards the two of you.  “Especially after you defiled Y/N.”

              It was like the world stood still for a second or two before your mother erupted.

              “WHAT?” she choked, eyes moving between you, Mark, and Roger in disbelief. “Y/N?”  

              You swallowed.

              “Mark, you asshole!” you screamed, letting go of Roger’s shirt to land the first hit on your ex-boyfriend.

              “So it’s true?” your mother gasped.  

              “Y/N, what’s going on?” questioned your father, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder.  This is not at all how you wanted things to go.  But you should have expected Mark to say something like this.  It was the perfect piece of proof he needed to turn your parents against you completely.  The tears were coming freely now, hot and angry down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. And that’s when Roger’s fist came flying to hit Mark square in the jaw.  For the next few seconds all you could see was a flurry of hands and then red as your boyfriend and ex threw punches.  You saw Mark grab a handful of Roger’s gorgeous blond hair and pull, only to have the drummer’s elbow connect with his ribs.  A crack! sound split the air, and then Mark was sprawling on the grass. Pushing himself off of your ex-boyfriend, Roger rolled up his sleeves and sniffed.  Blood was trickling down from his nose, and his lip was split. Taking a step back, he grabbed your hand in his rough one, rubbing a thumb over yours in reassurance.  Your mother was kneeling down next to Mark, searching for a hanky in her pocket.  

              “Rog,” you breathed, not quite sure how to wrap your head around what had just happened.  

              “Let’s go inside and say goodbye to your gran,” the drummer said huskily, leading you inside the church and leaving your family on the lawn.  

                You and Roger went back to the airport as soon as the funeral was over. There was no way you were going back home to face your parents.  You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to face them again after all that had happened. It was all you could do to cling to Roger the whole plane ride back to Europe.  You were going home for real this time.  Back to the tour, back to the bus, back to Freddie, Brian, John, and Mary. Back to your new family.  

***

Tag List: @fastnfearless  @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess  @anamcg317 @ezrathesupernaturalist @slutforrogertaylorandothers @shirgrande  @imagesofeveryone

[vantemei]

“yoongi would you stop overreacting? i promised you dinner and you're getting dinner."

"no, i'm getting ambushed by this stupid younger brother you're dragging me out to meet!"

one solid glare from seokjin silences the frowning blonde and namjoon snickers, patting yoongi's shoulder sympathetically. "taehyungie's a sweet kid hyung, and you've been jin-hyung's roommate for two years, of course he wants you to meet his precious younger brother."

"i thought they weren't even related?" yoongi huffed. seokjin cast another firm look over his shoulder and yoongi shrugged innocently. "we aren't. we adopted taehyungie when he was eleven. but he's my brother and he always will be."

"oh...sorry hyung." yoongi winces at the clearly sensitive topic but jin just gives a forgiving smile and lights up as they finally approach the cafe where they're supposed to be meeting this apparently universally loved younger kim.

seokjin is the first person inside and he hurriedly tugs yoongi and namjoon after him, eyes scanning the cafe until they come across a figure sitting comfortably at the corner table.

"taehyung!"

the poor kid barely has enough time to stand up before jin is pulling him into a death grip, cooing over how much his 'little taehyungie' has grown.

taehyung whines but smiles as he hugs seokjin just as tight before pulling away to catch his breath and give the other two a blinding smile. 

yoongi is a bit taken back by how big taehyung is. from the way seokjin always cooed about him yoongi was expecting a baby faced fifteen year old. not the attractive, four inch taller, deep voiced college student that stands in front of him with a smile that could challenge jung hoseok to a sunshine-off. but he takes it in stride, noting the kid's slight daegu accent with a bit of warmth as he introduces himself as kim taehyung, 21 year old SNU music and chemistry major.

all in all he seems like a good kid, a bit shy and excitable at times - honestly he's almost as extroverted and happy as yoongi's best friend hoseok - and he's cutesy, pulling out cringe-worthy aegyeo after getting a message and telling seokjin he had band practice. apparently he's the piano player of a classical band with some friends.

seokjin reluctantly agrees to let him leave for practice and fusses about the brunette's cowlick, easily seen in his smooth hair, before letting him slip out of the cafe with a finger heart and 'nice meeting you!' thrown over his shoulder. yoongi admires his exit strategy.

"so what did you think of taehyungie?" seokjin asks once they're back in their apartment, leaning over an arm of the couch as yoongi struggles to pull his skinny jeans up, hopping in place a few times before he sighs in relief and fastens his belt.

"cute kid. he seems pretty shy though, what's with that? and you didn't tell me he was from daegu."

"taehyungie has always been a pretty reserved child-" "he's twenty one" "-ever since i met him. he didn't have a good family before us and he actually didn't talk at all for the first year. one day i found him playing on the old piano in the school music room and that was the first time i ever heard his voice. he was singing a folk song his mother used to sing for him. after that he slowly opened up and started talking. it took a while but i'm proud of how far he's come."

yoongi nods, processing, and he bites his lip. maybe the kid wasn't as two dimensional as he seemed. "you should talk to him about piano some time. he doesn't have many friends and i'm always worried about how he's doing. of course this kid would only start college a year after i've finished." seokjin sighs and yoongi hums. "yeah sure. i wouldn't mind,"

seokjin grins and shoots a flying kiss at yoongi who bats his hand at it, grinning as he double checks for his headphones in his bag, pulling on his black converse.

"good luck at your gig tonight yoongi, give joonie a kiss for me!" yoongi pauses in the doorway and cocks an eyebrow.

"are you telling me to kiss your boyfriend?"

"yup!" 

"gross." 

seokjin's windshield wiper laugh fills the apartment as yoongi shuts the door and takes the stairs two at a time and quickly hops in namjoon's beat up green truck, mentally going over the songs for tonight in his head.

yoongi has been an underground rapper for about two years now and he's pretty proud of the attention he's managed to draw. with namjoon at his side they're doing as many gigs as they can to get as much attention as possible before they announce the small tour they've been planning for the past ten months.

neither yoongi or namjoon talk much on the way there. they have a routine at this point and it takes a while for them to hype themselves up, each having their own routine before they get up on stage and expose themselves to the crowd. 

they're about two hours early which means they're up next after whatever band is playing now. the crowd seems to be loving whoever it is as screams and tremors shake the venue. it's just a warehouse with a stage but there's a bar on one side and the speaker system is no joke, the lights dimmed and the room caste in a hazy glow.

namjoon splits to listen to the recordings of his set list over and over and yoongi heads to the crowd. he likes immersing himself in the mentality of the crowd before going in front of it. it always helps give him an idea of how he wants to preform.

tonight the crowd seems especially passionate, heavily saturating the room and throbbing with energy as they crowd forward. the band playing is good but yoongi isn't really paying attention until he notices the lead singers voice. 

its deep and raspy and probably one of the hottest voices he's ever heard. the music itself is good; higher quality than the venue it's being played in that's for sure, and the lyrics are deep- relatable in the way a generation can share a story despite exempt details. 

yoongi finally looks up at the stage. 

he's in roughly the middle of the crowd so he has a good view of the whole thing. he casts his eyes over the drummer, a guy with bright pink hair that's pushed back with sweat and messy, like hands have been running through it, is pounding into the drums with everything he's got, muscles bulging under the flimsy faded tank not doing much to cover them and large tattooed kanji trailing over one side of his abdomen. 

on the opposite side of the stage is the lead guitarist, throbbing arm muscles trapped in a red leather jacket over a black shirt and tight black pants. his fingers are sliding over the neck of the guitar and his tongue is poking out his lips, brows furrowed in concentration and sweat slicked black hair parted to the side.

finally yoongi's eyes land on center stage, growing wider and wider in shock as he focuses on where the lead singer stands, toned thighs bulging where they're trapped inside the tightest leather pants yoongi has ever seen and arms straining against the black leather jacket that rests over the loose black deep v neck shirt that exposes delicious looking collarbones. 

but that's not what makes yoongi choke on his spit and suddenly question everything he has ever known. it's the fact that this man, this fucking sex god looking, majestic ass, growling, life/sexuality altering being that stands on the stage like he owns it is kim taehyung.

the same kim taehyung he met a little over five hours ago in a cafe who blushed when he introduced himself and looked like he was nothing but soft smiles and pastel sweaters over light blue skinny jeans. kim seojin's innocent younger brother who can't make friends because he's too shy dorky. that kim taehyung.

that kim taehyung is not the person above him right now. 

his eyes are smoky and smudged with eyeliner and are those green contacts? his hair is messy and parted to the side over a red bandanna tied around his forehead. around his neck is a thick black collar with a silver ring on the front and it makes yoongi sweat. he looks like sin on legs as he gives smoldering bedroom eyes to the crowd. 

yoongi finally starts to listen to the lyrics taehyung is growling out with that sinful voice and he bites his tongue.

the words are raw the meaning clear; a fuck you to those who persecute the strange, an anthem to the different, a battle cry for the broken. he listens to it attentively, taking in the people around him; screaming, crying, jumping to the beat and reaching for taehyung as if he's a god and they are but simple creatures falling at his feet, laid raw by the power of his voice and the strength of his words. taehyung reaches back, hand outstretched to his followers, fingers brushing though them as if they were grass, aching for the touch of his sun.

his eyes pass over the crowd and yoongi finds himself locking eyes with unnatural green over warm brown for less than a moment but yoongi feels as if he’s been struck by lightening, his skin burning and the smell of ozone flooding his senses.

taehyung looks even more like a god, hair spiked with sweat, skin slick and glowing like molten gold, lips stretched red and raw around the lyrics, veins bulging beneath the collar as he hits high notes with a practiced grace. his voice is an echoing roar in yoongi's mind, the gravely tones scraping against his walls like nails as he tears down all of yoongi's outer defenses until he feels naked, like a blank page to be filled by the words of man in front of him.

the song ends and taehyung's lips stretch in a smile very different from the boxy grin that resembled sunshine. instead it's a smirk that promises shadows as he bows towards the crowd, panting as he breaks into an easy grin and throws his arm over the guitarist's shoulder, the both of them walking to pull the drummer into a hug before they bow together and stumble off stage, arms thrown around each other for support after the exhausting set.

fifteen minutes later yoongi is standing back stage, getting ready to walk out with namjoon who had spent up until the last five minutes in the backroom tuning out the world and was therefor none the wiser, and all he can think about is the way taehyung looked on stage tonight.

yoongi knows he's definitely going to hell as he walks out on stage, hat pulled low and signature red jacket dragging down to his knees and hopefully covering his half present boner, and has the image of taehyung panting into the microphone cross his mind one more time before he opens his mouth and goes off. 

[love-for-ever-more]

I wanna feel love: part 4

A Deacury fic

"Freddie I told you I can't" he barked.

"But, why? It isn't a big deal..I think you'll enj-" Freddie's voice was slightly louder than a whisper.

"No. Do not insist. I already told you" he cut him off.

"But, dear, you never come to-"

The sudden slam of the window interrupted Freddie's try to convince him. Greg was furious. He was ready to explode. Freddie took a minute and made the dreaded question. "Greg, are you ashamed of us? Of..me?"

Greg turned his back to Freddie and didn't answer. At least Freddie didn't hear him answer.

After that, everything seemed like a blur. Freddie couldn't remember all from Greg's outburst but he did remember him saying, at some point, that 'he was no one to be proud of' and 'that he behaved like a spoiled child, always seeking for attention'. He may also have called him 'a ridiculous fag' but he wasn't sure about that. The situation seemed so surreal but still, it felt so fucking real.

"Freddie! Freddie, it's ok" John tried to wake him up. John had heard him mumbling and sobbing, the moment he got out of his room ready to go downstairs. He rushed into Freddie's bedroom and saw that his friend was having a nightmare with his head buried deep into his pillow, sobbing and shaking all over. His tears had soaked the pillow.

"Freddie wake up, please!" John spoke a bit louder this time and gave him a small nudge on his shoulder.

He was trying to not let Freddie's state make him nervous cause he had to be the one to calm him down.

"Oh thank God.." he sighed when Freddie eventually heard his voice through his sleep and turned his head to him. "Freddie, it's ok, you're fine" John said quietly, caressing his back above the covers and taking a seat right next to him.

Freddie flickered his eyes slowly, trying to realize what was happening. He was still half asleep when he felt someone near him. Tears were dripping from his eyes as he lifted his head from the pillow and tried to focus his glance at the direction the voice was coming.

"John! Oh John!" he cried and slowly turned over to hug him.

"It's ok Freddie. You're ok now" John whispered, wrapping him in his arms. He caressed the back of his head and found him to be drenched in sweat. "I'm here" he whispered shyly and squeezed him lightly.

Freddie's sobbing eventually stopped since John kept sweet talking to him in his soothing voice and his heart found it's normal rhythm against John's arms' safety. His breath calmed down and he was able to speak a minute later.

"John" he muttered in a croaked yet frail voice "I'm so glad you're here" He was fully awake now, having regained his consciousness but he was still much shaken from that terrible dream. He was hugging John for dear life and he didn't want to let go of him.

Freddie knew that that dream wasn't actually a dream but a reminder of what had happened some days ago in reality and that it came back to haunt him even though he believed that he wouldn't be so much affected by it. Even though it happened more than five days ago. He had thought that, after being  with Greg for five months now, he had got used to the way he would be treated by him. 'How stupid of me, to think something like that?' he thought. 'How could anyone accept such a behavior and be fine with it?'

John was holding him firmly in his arms, trying his best to comfort him, his hands running up and down his back.

"Freddie you're shivering... have you got a fever?" he asked gently.

"Umm I don't know..." he said hardly audible.

"Let me touch your forehead. ok?" John smiled and felt him nod against his shoulder.

He slowly let him off of his arms, still holding him with one of his hands while he gently put his other palm on Freddie's forehead. Freddie slowly closed his eyes as soon as John touched him. His lips curved in a smile watching Freddie relax at his touch. He could hardly resist the urge to kiss Freddie's cheeks. He only let himself rub his thumb tenderly over one of his eyes where his eyeliner had been smudged. It only took this little move to make John's heart beat faster as Freddie took a long and shaky breath.

Freddie felt John's touch light as a feather and cool as an autumn breeze against his hot skin and let himself indulge in this yearning for tenderness.

'Cool down mister...' John thought for himself and retired his hand from Freddie's face, biting his lip as he felt a lump in his throat.

"Mercury is on fire!" he joked as Freddie opened his eyes and smiled at him. "But let's check your temperature for sure before I give you an antipyretic. Is that ok?" he asked.

"Yeah ok" Freddie said quietly and shifted in his place.

"Ok. I'll be back in a minute with the thermometer" John flew out of the room so he could be back really quickly.

Freddie lay down again and covered his body with the blankets up until the top of his head, to block any sign of light. He delved with his hands to find his little friend who used to sleep with. He took Fluffy in his arms and let a deep sigh escape his lips. A sad look appeared on his face again, threatening to claim a permanent stay on it.

John returned shortly after he left, holding a glass of water in one hand and the thermometer along with an extra blanket on the other.

"Any better?" he asked.

Freddie slowly uncovered the one-eighth of his face. "Not really" he sniffled. He stretched his hand out and took the glass from John's hand, emptying it thirstily.

"Thirsty huh?" John whispered and handed him the thermometer. He laid the extra blanket on top of the other two, to keep him warmer.

"103 F" he announced some minutes later watching Freddie pout his lips playfully and flicker his brown puppy eyes twice to him.

He sat next to him and caressed the top of his hand, pouting back.

"You must have gotten the flu..." he mumbled "you dress pretty lightly for such a weather... yesterday it was 28 degrees and you were dressed in a light cashmere jacket..." he sighed, as Freddie didn't answer. "Anyway, did you eat anything last night?" he asked.

"Beer-s and some vodka-s" he chuckled.

John gave him a pinch on his cheek. "Gourmet cuisine?" he chuckled back. "Ok. I'll make you something to eat and then you can take a pill. Does it sound ok?"

"Mm-hmm" Freddie nodded. "It sounds perfect. Thank you Deaky" he said wearily and opened his eyes to watch John. They looked at each other for some time without speaking and John took the opportunity to caress his cheek.

"Everything's gonna be fine Freddie" he said calmly.

Freddie sighed heavily and let a single tear run down from his tired eyes to his face. John didn't break eye contact with him though he almost melts at the fragile Freddie in front of him. He leaned in and gave him a small kiss on his forehead. John felt his heart pound in his chest.. 'Oh God... I wish he knew how much I love him...'  John thought. 'So vulnerable and so frail... and yet a real beast on stage... how difficult to imagine and yet how true!! I wish he knew how much he means to me... how much he makes me feel...'

Freddie kept his glance at John's too, he only closed his eyes when John wiped away his tear with a gentle brush of his finger.

"Trust me...I know it" John tried to sound assuring. "You may not see it right now but I am certain of it, Freddie"

"How do you know it?" Freddie asked.

"I know it because the brightest sun always rises after a huge storm. My dad used to tell me that when I was little. And.. I've never stopped believing it. You will shine brighter than ever. I'm sure of it"

Freddie smiled widely at John, feeling thankful to God for a friend like him. It was a blessing to have people see you in a weak and fragile state and try to make things better for you. To raise your hopes up again and push you to overcome the difficulties.

"Thank you..." he whispered as John made his way to make breakfast. "Umm.. John?"

"Yeah?" he paused near the door.

"What time will you leave today?" he asked.

"Around five in the afternoon"

"And... what time is it now?"

"It's 11:40"

"Ok thanks" he nodded.

"Ok. Stay there and I'll be up in five minutes with your breakfast and with... the guys" he smiled.

"Oh! They're still here?"

"Of course they are. They wouldn't go without making sure you're ok, would they?" he chuckled.

"I thought after yesterday's.. "

"Freddie don't be silly!" John laughed and left the room.

Despite saying that he would stay put, Freddie got up and plodded to the bathroom. He washed his hands and looked himself in the mirror.

"Oh God!" his eyes opened wide in shock. His -any other time- perfectly put on eyeliner was smudged all over his face. Not only under his eyes, but on his cheeks too. He even had a smudge on the side of this neck. "Jesus! What.. how-how didn't I think about it earlier?"

He washed his face, brushed his teeth and his hair, to look somewhat presentable. He had to make himself look at least nice even if he was feeling tired and weak. His skin was hot from the fever and the cool water on his face helped a lot.

When he returned to his room, all of the guys were there. All three boys turned smiling to him as he entered the room.

"Good morning sleeping beauty!" Roger cheered and hugged him.

"Rog.. " Freddie grinned, "if you want to enjoy your time with your little birdie in Newcastle, get away from me and my germs!" he cackled but his weariness was obvious.

"How do you feel Freddie?" Brian asked and patted the bed "Why don't you lie down?"

"Like shit... I feel like I was fucking digging all day yesterday.." Freddie sighed "and the all the week before yesterday... I already hate it" he said and sat by the end of the bed.

"You're gonna feel better tomorrow... " John patted him on the top of his head and handed him his breakfast. "Eat this and then I'll give you a pill to reduce your temperature"

Freddie gladly accepted the dish John gave him. He had made him cheese on toast and he had also toasted two extra slices of brown bread, buttered them and put cherry marmalade on them. His favorite tea was on his nightstand too.

"Johnny!" Freddie exclaimed when he saw the huge amount of food on his dish. John had taken extra care to prepare his breakfast, making a small happy face with the marmalade. "Did you make all of this for me?" he asked.

John nodded silently and gave him a shy smile. "You have to eat well, love" he said and Freddie smiled widely at John, taking a big bite of the toast. "You also have to rest and of course... no going out for a couple of days" he sounded strict.

"Oh! You know what else helps? A nice bath!" Roger added a little too enthusiastically "John could help you take a bath!" he grinned quite satisfied with his idea.

A small blush appeared on John's face but Freddie was absorbed in his breakfast that failed to notice.

"Actually Roger is right" Brian agreed and winked at him who was making signals at them to stop talking. "It will really help you, Freddie. A cool bath will be perfect" he kept on.

"Besides John has like dozens of towels he never uses. They are so soft and fluffy..you will love them!" Roger laughed.

Freddie nodded, taking a sip of his tea and giving the empty dish back to John. "Thank you Deaky" he smiled wearily and laid back in his bed, too exhausted to answer Roger.

"When are you two leaving?" he asked.

"We have to be at the station at 1:00 pm, so I guess we have to leave now." Brian said.

"But I still don't get why you have to be there too. Are you gonna have a threesome or something with that girl or what?"

Roger silently watched Brian struggle to answer as he had turned pink by Freddie's question.

"Um.. we-we are gonna talk to someone to a-arrange a couple of gigs there, too" Brian managed.

"And that's why I asked him to come with me" Roger added.

"Oh.. Nice thought guys!" Freddie smiled.

"So, we're gonna go now"

"Dr.Deacon, please take care of our little patient" Roger smirked and made John blush again.

"Take care Fred!" Brian said and waved goodbye.

"Freddie we love you!" Roger cheered and blew him a kiss. "Wow! He must really be very ill.. He didn't call any of us dear or darling!" Roger laughed and poked Brian at his side, making him jump.

"Shut up Rog! I can still kick your pretty little ass.." Freddie tried to laugh as they walked out of the room. "But.. thanks!"

"Dr.Deacon you have a hard job to do.. you have my sympathy and my love too!" Roger yelled to be clearly heard as they walked down the stairs. They all laughed but Freddie gave him his long and slender finger accompanied by a toothy "fuck off!" too.

Some minutes passed without talking. Freddie had closed his eyes and John started to slowly and quietly tidy his room. It wasn't necessary though, Freddie was doing a good job keeping it clean but it gave John the chance to stay there and keep an eye on him. Earlier, when he woke him up from his sleep it broke his heart to see him crying. He knew that Freddie was sensitive but he had never seen him cry till now.

He was standing in front of the window when he heard Freddie's voice.

"Dr Deacon.." he said, "Should I take the pill now?"

John turned his face to him and chuckled. "I think my favorite patient can have his pill now" he nodded.

"Aww am I your favorite?" Freddie winked and brought himself on his elbows.

"Definitely" John said and reached to the nightstand next to Freddie. "I haven't treated any other though but.. still you would top them all" he bantered.

Freddie thought for a second and then asked again "not even Veronica?"

John froze at the question. He had totally forgotten about Veronica. He was supposed to have brunch with her at her flat, to say goodbye to her.

"Oh God" he muttered.

"What?"

"I was supposed to meet Veronica at her place.."

"Oh John! I'm sorry.." Freddie whispered, "..you forgot because I made you my babysitter... I'm terribly sorry, dear" he frowned a little in discomfort.

"No..no it's ok. Don't worry Freddie. I'll-I'll call her to apologize"

"I'll apologize too" he said and rushed to get up.

"Dr.Deacon insists on you staying in bed" John reminded him calmly, looking him in the eye and lightly put his hand on his chest to prevent him from getting up.

He felt Freddie's shaky and swallow inhalation and suddenly embarrassment took over him for giving him an order. Even if it was as gentle as this one. He lowered his eyes to the spot where he was touching him and bit his lip.

"I'm sorry.." he mumbled and let his hand slip down feeling his fever raise.

Freddie, oblivious to John's uneasiness smiled kindly and shook his head.

"Ok darling, I'll wait here but tell her I'm sorry too. ok?"

"Yeah..sure" he sighed and took a step back from Freddie.

He had been that close to him many times but it seemed like since this morning, things started to get harder for John. What with him taking care of Freddie or what with his last night's confession to Roger and Brian.. John found it really hard to be so close to him and have to contain himself. He slowly walked back to the door.

"Maybe..I can borrow one of these soft towels of yours, once you come back?" Freddie pleaded with an innocent glance.

'Oh God..have mercy..' John's heart screamed. He could already imagine him having his towel wrapped around his angelic body and he was certain he blushed in deep red. Despite living in the same house for almost a year and having seen Freddie in boxers almost daily he still couldn't get used to it. It was too much for him to get used to it.. 'and now it'll be, for crying out loud, my fucking towel wrapped around his waist..' his lips had gone dry already.

"Sure. Yeah.. I'll get you one" he finally said after what seemed to be an hour long. "I'll help you find some clean clothes too, once I come back. Ok?"

Freddie smiled and lay back in his bed.

In spite of saying he would go and call Veronica, John went straight to his room. He opened his drawers and started looking for the fluffiest towel for Freddie. He then went to the bathroom and prepared the shower for Freddie. Then, he returned to his room forgetting completely about Veronica, again.

"Everything's ok?" Freddie asked.

"Yeah" he smiled. "You can have a bath now if you wish, I prepared it for you. I left you a bathrobe there too and I'll find you something to wear when you come back"

"Thank you darling! You're always so kind.." Freddie chanted and happily got out of bed. "Veronica is lucky to have you" he smiled.

He was already feeling better, emotionally at least cause physically he still felt exhausted. But he wasn't sure if he had gotten a cold. Maybe it was his body telling him to slow down everything that made him feel stressed and anxious.

In his attempt to make Freddie feel better, John started changing his bed sheets. Halfway he stopped and lay down on Freddie's bed. His aroma was spread on the covers. The distinctive scent of cherry blossoms was John's favorite, among Freddie's body lotions. He touched his pillow and then he buried his head in it, to take in Freddie's smell as best as he could. He laughed doing so cause he had never done something like that before.. He got up just in time when Freddie entered the room.

"Deakyyy don't bother dear!" he said and reached out to help.

"No no no.." he laughed and caught him gently by his wrists. You sit on the chair for a minute and I'll have it ready for you.. feeling better?" he smiled and his eyes traveled down Freddie's body.  He instinctively gazed at his gorgeous body.. It was emitting a scent that made John's heart pound in his chest.. He timidly removed his hands fromFreddie's wrists as he heard him speak.

"Mmm much better.." Freddie sighed sitting down. "You are so nice to me.. Why are you so nice to me?" he asked quietly.

"Because.." John mumbled " you're my friend and.. and I care for you"

"I've been nothing but a pain in the ass lately..but still, you take care of me" he said, looking at the floor and felt his eyes sting.

"We all have hard times, Freddie. It's only human and it's completely understandable"

"No it isn't...if you knew, you wouldn't think like that Johnny" he sniffled and wiped his eyes in his sleeve.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because...it's... it's complicated" he sighed, defeated and got up. He touched the clean sheets on his bed and took a deep breath. "I can't control it and I can't change it, Deaks" he rested his head in his hands.

"What can't you change?"

"Who.. who I am. I can't change it"

"Why would you ever want to change who you are Freddie?" John asked trying to understand.

"You don't understand Deaky.. you think.. you think you know me but.." the tears he was holding back were now running down his cheeks.

He was burning from fever, he was crying in front of his friend and he was feeling so weak.

"Let it all out, Freddie" John whispered and squatted in front of him. He gently placed his hands on his shoulders "you are not alone.. you can tell me everything.. anytime you want.. I.." he paused, 'I love you' he wanted to say "..I am here for you" he spoke instead and took Freddie's hands in his.

Freddie lifted his head to look at him. It felt so good to hear that. To hear that despite his tantrums and his lately bad-tempered manners, he had people who actually cared about him and not only put up with him..A glimpse of joy dimly appeared in them. He leaned to John, their hands were still entangled together. His cheeks were burning and he felt a bit dizzy. He rested his head on John's crook near his neck.. his lips were lightly touching John's blushing flesh.

"John.." he cooed and felt his fingers caress his hair and brush the back of his neck. Freddie felt safe in there. He closed his eyes, relaxed his breath and the only sound heard was his soft but totally contented purr.

John stayed silent listening to Freddie's low and melodic sound of contentment coming from deep within him, slowly beginning to grow... building slowly with each passing moment. Freddie's calmed heartbeat against his chest in contrast with his own frantic heartbeat that was screaming his love for him.. was soothing.

Pure delight, for having the man who had captured his heart since their very first encounter, nestled down in his arms and heavy sorrow for having him endure so much emotional distress and sadness were battling inside of him.

Silent tears rolled down his eyes, his internal turmoil threatening to reveal itself but John didn't feel scared, anymore. He didn't want to scare Freddie either by expressing his feelings out of the blue and in such a hard time period for him but he felt like he was ready to make some baby steps to confessing his feelings to him. And that was enough for now.