#the next time he comes over in june i swear if im not on the news for fratricide . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mylostloversbookmarks · 2 years ago

Text

One of these Nights

Chpt 3 of Life In The Fast Lane - A Frankie Morales series.

Characters - Frankie Morales x Reader, Benny Miller.

Summary - You meet Frankie at Benny's house and the three of you hang out when they work on your car, the chemistry between you and Frankie is building and things start to heat up.

Word Count - 7.5K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Fluffy!Frankie, Flirty!Frankie, Confident!Frankie, use of pet names, mentions slight spice but nothing too explicit. Written in reader’s POV.

A/N - I really don't know how I feel about this chapter. Tbh im not 100% happy with it, but I worked on it for ages so thought I would post it anyway! So on this one especially feedback is appreciated I want to hear your thoughts! <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

June 25th, 2016

"I will see you soon, then." You confirmed with him, not caring if you sounded desperate or overeager.

"Tan pronto Cariño" he promises; his voice is deep and gruff but melts over you like warm honey. You find yourself twirling your hair between your index finger and thumb, lost in the moment as you let his words linger on the phone line.

Realising the two of you have gone quiet, save for the breathing on the other end of the phone, neither of you wanting the conversation to end.

"Adiós Frankie," you all but purr into the phone's receiver. The only thought allowing you to end the call is that you are going to be seeing him face-to-face in a little more than an hour.

Throwing your phone onto the bed, As you sit at your dressing table, you take in your familiar surroundings. The late morning sun casts a warm glow into your bedroom, highlighting the cluttered yet cosy atmosphere of the room. The walls are painted a soothing shade of seafoam green and adorned with a few pieces of art that you've collected over the years.

The table in front of you is a vintage piece you scored at a thrift store; its surface is slightly worn from years of use by previous owners, but you thought it added to the piece, so you decided to leave it as it was and not repaint it.

On it sits an array of skincare products, makeup, and jewellery, all neatly arranged in their designated spots. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the lavender candle burning on the table, before reaching for your moisturiser.

As you apply it, you can feel its silky texture melt into your skin, leaving it feeling supple and hydrated. Next comes the sunscreen, a crucial step in your skincare routine, especially in the hot and humid Florida weather. You massage it into your skin, making sure to cover every inch of your face and neck.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand, its sleek design contrasting with the vintage charm of the rest of the room. The minute hand ticks steadily, reminding you that time is running out. You pick up the pace, opening your makeup bag and taking out the products you need.

As you apply your makeup, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. There's something about the repetitive motion of brushing on a light layer of foundation, powder, and blush that calms you.

You admire the way the orangey-pink blush complements your skin tone, making you look more awake and refreshed, hiding the restlessness of last night's failed attempt at sleep. You finish off your makeup with a few swipes of mascara, a quick fill-in of your eyebrows, and a layer of your favourite mango-flavoured lip balm.

You stand up from the vanity and dress quickly in the outfit you thanked your past self for having the sense to lay out the night before. You get dressed while planning out your journey. You figure it's early enough for traffic not to be an issue, so once you finish lacing up your white sneakers, you bring up Google Maps on your phone again and check the route to Benny's house.

It tells you that your destination is only a fifteen-minute drive across town, but you wanted to give yourself a buffer so you weren't late. After all, Benny was giving up his Saturday to fix your truck, and the last thing you want to do is take up more of his time than you already do.

Grabbing your denim jacket and car keys from the hall table, you lock the door behind you and head to your car. Clambering into the driver's seat, you turn the key in the ignition, and the beast roars to life. Ejecting the Eagles greatest hits CD and sliding the Hotel California album into the CD player, you put the car in drive and back out of your driveway.

The familiar tunes fill the car, and you sing along to the lyrics. A few of the songs make you think of Frankie, and you laugh at how big of a crush you have on him. It's become a habit of yours to listen to music while driving, and it always helps you relax and clear your mind.

You decide you really shouldn't show up empty-handed, and you want to give them a small token as a thank you for even just the offer of fixing your car. You have enough time to spare, so you flick the indicator on to turn right into the convenience store and pull into a parking space just in front of the entrance.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and lock the car behind you. The heat hits you like a tonne of bricks, the sun is high in the sky, and there is not a single cloud in sight. You walk towards the store, the pavement feeling hot under your feet through your sneakers.

The entrance door of the convenience store is propped open, and a cool gust of air conditioning hits you as you walk in. The bright fluorescent lights overhead temporarily blind you as your eyes adjust. You head straight to the beer aisle, the cold air from the refrigerators cooling your flushed skin. You run your fingers over the bottles, selecting a crate of ice-cold Budweiser.

As you walk towards the checkout counter, you pass a small display of flowers, sad and wilted from the heat, and a rack of greeting cards. You scan through the cards quickly, your index and middle fingers moving over the cards one by one until you come across one with a drawing of a screw. The pun drawn on the card reads:

"I'd be so (screwed) without you!"

It makes you laugh, and you figure it's the best you're going to get, and given the nature of the DIY job Benny and you assume Frankie are about to embark on, you feel it's fitting.

Heading to the checkout, you greet the cashier with a polite smile, pay your total, and head back out into the blistering heat of the mid-summer afternoon.

Once you are back in the car, you carefully place the beer box on the passenger seat, making sure it's secure, before tossing your bag onto the floor. You rummage through the cluttered glove compartment, searching for a pen.

After a few moments of digging, you finally find one buried underneath a pile of papers. You take a deep breath and write a short note thanking Benny and Frankie for their help, signing it with your name.

"Thank you both so much for being such kind and considerate humans! Sorry about the card; it's the best I could find!"

The rest of the drive itself is uneventful, with only a few cars on the road, and you arrive at the address that Frankie gave you in no time. You turn onto a quiet street lined with tall trees, their leaves rustling in the light breeze. You slow to a crawl, turning the music down so you can see better, scanning the house numbers until you spot the one you're looking for.

As you pull up outside what you believe to be Benny's place, you take a moment to look around. The house is a large, two-story structure, painted a warm shade of yellow, with a well-manicured lawn and a long driveway leading up to the garage. Frankie's truck is parked in the driveway, confirming that you've arrived at the right place.

You take a deep breath, feeling yet another wave of nervousness wash over you. Meeting new people has always been a bit daunting for you, but you remind yourself that Benny is Frankie's friend and that he's doing you a favour. You turn off the car engine and step out, taking a moment to adjust your outfit and smooth down your hair.

You walk up to the front door, feeling a bit awkward as you ring the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing a tall, friendly-looking man in his late thirties. He smiles warmly at you, introducing himself as Benny, and invites you inside.

As you step inside, your eyes are immediately drawn to the tasteful decorations and modern furniture that adorn the interior of the house, which is just as impressive as the outside. Benny leads you to the living room, where Frankie is already waiting for you, a big grin spreading across his face as you enter the room.

He stands up from the couch and closes the distance between you in just two long strides. For a moment, he pauses, as if contemplating what to do next, but the hesitation disappears in an instant.

Frankie opens his arms and pulls you into the warmest, tightest bear hug you have ever received. You feel like he might crush you, but you don't mind at all. You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him back, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his embrace.

The smell of him envelopes your senses—warm vanilla and cinnamon, and the mouthwatering scent of fresh sweat. It was so masculine but so homely and soft at the same time.

"It's good to see you again, Hermosa," he husks into your ear as he releases you from his hold.

You do your best to hide the shiver of pleasure that runs through you at the sound of his deep, gravelly voice.

"It's great to see you too, Frankie." "I can't thank you enough for this, really," you beam at him, feeling relieved that the introductions are over and you can relax a bit.

You don't really know what to do with yourself now that he has released you from his embrace. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room as the two men watch you, one is looking on with friendly curiosity. The other is roaming your figure as if he could devour you where you stand, regardless of who is present.

"That's a really pretty dress," Frankie murmurs, his eyes dark and his expression making your mouth go dry.

It causes a hot flush of blood to rush from your chest up your neck, colour your face deep red, and cause your eyes to drop to the floor. You hear one of them chuckle under their breath, and you're not sure which one it was.

When you look up from the floor, Benny claps a hand on Frankie's shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

"Well, shall we have a look at your car, Y/N?" He suggested it, his lips drawn up into a friendly smile, a thick eyebrow arched in question.

"Yes, that sounds good, but before we do, I've got you guys something." You hesitated. Not wanting it to seem like anything more than what it was—a box of beer. You let out a breathy laugh as you looked on at their raised eyebrows before continuing, "It's nothing really; it's just a small thank you that I don't want getting warm in my car. I'll go grab it, and then we can get started!" You smile at them before making your way out of the living room and down the hall to the front door. Running a hand through your hair, you laugh again as you take in their confused expressions as they both follow you out to the driveway.

"Oh, I should probably move my truck so you can pull into the garage!" Frankie realises this as he notes your car parked on the curb just at the entrance to the driveway.

"Sure, no problem; I'll let you swing her out; you take my spot?" You proposed.

Frankie nods at you with a wide grin stretching across his face and allowing the dimple on his cheek to show. Benny chuckles and shakes his head, amused by your easy banter with each other.

Making your way to your car, unlocking it, and pulling the door open, you're greeted by a wave of heat that has accrued in the small space during the short time you've been in the house. You hop into the driver's seat and cringe internally at the loud roar the engine makes as you turn the key in the ignition.

As you pull onto the long, paved driveway, Benny stands just a foot in front of the moving vehicle. Walking backwards, he waves you forward, and once he is happy with the placement, he holds his hand palm forward, signalling you to stop.

You can't stop the laugh that escapes you when you glance out of the window to see Benny's face pinched up as if he were in pain as he assesses the sounds coming from your car.

You put the car in park, turn the stiff window roller as hard as you can to crack the window a little, and climb out of the driver's seat, standing with your hand still holding onto the door.

"Is it bad that it made that noise before the accident?" You say this to Frankie as he walks up to stand beside you, taking the car door from your hand and gesturing for you to move out of the way so he can close the door for you.

As you make your way to the passenger side of your car, you grab the box of beer, resting it on your hip as you reach over to grab the card. You smile to yourself, feeling grateful for these two men who have come to your rescue. You may have only just met them, but already they feel like old friends. You feel at ease around them, and all of the nerves are beginning to melt away. Walking to meet Benny where he stood at the front of the car, shifting the beer box from your hip and holding it out to him.

"It's just a small thank you for sacrificing your Saturday to fix my dinosaur." You let out a breathy laugh, a little embarrassed at the state your car was in even before the accident. His eyes go wide, and he just stares at you open-mouthed. You begin to worry that you have offended him.

"I, um, I know it's not much, and of course I'm going to pay you! I just wanted...um, I'm sorry if you don't drink alcohol; I didn't think...I could get you something else." You stammer out, anxiety building in your chest.

You look over at Frankie, searching his face for any sign of annoyance or anger, but there is none to be found. He had his hand covering his mouth, trying and failing to hide his laughter as he took in his friend's expression. He quickly gives up and lets out a loud belly laugh.

"No, no, don't worry, I drink alright; I'm just surprised, is all! This is very kind, Y/N; you didn't have to go to all this trouble!" Benny reassures you with a laugh of his own.

Finally regaining control of his face, he drapes an arm around your shoulder loosely, standing side by side with you, watching Frankie try to regain his own composure.

"I haven't seen you that shocked in a long time, Ben." He chuckles breathlessly, placing a large hand on his soft belly.

"Alright, alright, enough laughing at my expense. "I like her fish," he says with a wag of his thick eyebrows.

You go crimson once more and try to hide your face, dropping your eyes to the floor as you giggle. Benny drops his arm from your shoulder as he dodges the bound-up rag Frankie has thrown in his direction.

"Hey! Watch the goods!" Gesturing to the precious cargo that is now safely housed under his left arm "I'll go throw these in the cooler; thanks again, Y/N!" he says gratefully.

He shoots you a goofy smile, and it reminds you of what Frankie had said to you on the phone earlier that morning: "He's like the human version of a golden retriever," and before you have time to stop it, a loud giggle is bursting past your lips.

You threw your hand up to cover the sound, but Frankie was already watching you. He raises an eyebrow, imploring you to explain your outburst.

"Something funny, Hermosa?" He grins at you, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes.

"I was just remembering what you told me about Benny earlier." You chuckle, unconsciously closing the distance between you.

"Ah yes, I must remember to tell him about the tennis balls." He smirks down at you playfully, making you gasp incredulously.

"You wouldn't dare." You feign offence, and he takes it as a challenge.

"Oh, you bet I will." He winks at you, his dimple on full display as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" you whisper through another laugh as you fight the urge to lean into his touch.

"Podra decirte lo mismo cariño," he husks, closing what little distance was left between you, your chests almost touching. The air around you turns to electricity; you can almost feel it sparking brightly as Frankie's gaze lingers on your face, his eyes dropping to your lips.

His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, and this time you don't stop yourself from leaning your face into his warm palm. His eyes are locked on yours, and your brain is screaming for him to kiss you. You have to make a conscious effort not to leap at him.

Just as he leans in towards you, Benny rounds the corner, and you both jump back instinctively, like two kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You glance at Frankie once more, and you're glad to see you aren't the only one looking flustered.

His face is beating red, and he is breathing heavier than before. It makes you grin to see him like this, all boyish charm and chagrin. Benny stops and looks first at you, then at Frankie, and back again, a knowing look spreading across his face.

"Sorry for interrupting the lovebirds, but we've got work to do." He chuckles, smirking at his friend and shooting a wink in your direction. As he walks past the two of you, Frankie nudges him with his shoulder, and the two start into a playful scrap, laughing loudly as you watch on, enjoying their easy banter.

The men return to their earlier assessments of your car, with Benny looking under the hood and Frankie lying on a creeper looking at the underside of the vehicle. You are perched on the side of the massive toolbox Benny had rolled out, filled with an impressive array of sockets and other tools you couldn't name.

You listened as they exchanged words like "injector seals" and "coolant leak," not really having a clue as to what they were talking about but happy to watch them at work. Frankie pushes the creeper out from under the car, the wheels rolling roughly against the cement flooring of the spacious garage.

"Okay, so it looks like it's pretty minor stuff needing repaired underneath. Benny, what's the damage like under the hood?" Frankie inquires as he rubs the dark, slippery grease that has made its way up his forarm on the faded old bandana he has tucked into the beltloop of his tan cargos.

Frankie joins Benny, and after listening and nodding intently to his friends' assessments, the two set to work on taking the parts that need mending or replacing out of the engine bay, speaking in "car and driver" lingo that goes over your head.

You can't help but steal glances at Frankie, his concentration focused on the task at hand, and you feel a flood of heat prickle over your skin at the way the muscles in his broad back flex and ripple under his shirt as he manuvers around the engine.

The sight of him covered in oily grime and the thin sheen of sweat covering any skin that was visible tightened the muscles low in your stomach. Suddenly, he looks up and catches you staring.

You freeze, caught in the act and feeling exposed under his intense gaze. For a moment, you feel embarrassed, but then he breaks into a grin and winks at you, making your heart skip.

"See something you like, Hermosa?" He teases, his voice low and playful. You feel your face flush even deeper as you try to stammer out a response, but no words come out.

Frankie chuckles, and the sound sends shivers tingling down your spine. "Relax, I'm just playing with you," he says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Alright, I think we have everything we need to get this fixed up," Benny announced cheerfully.

"It should only take us a couple of hours," Frankie said confidently, and Benny nodded in agreement.

You stand in front of the pair, feeling a little useless. You don't really know anything about the inner workings of cars, only being able to do the basics like changing a flat tyre or filling up your washer fluid. You had watched as your dad worked on his car when you were younger but never really paid that much attention; usually you were talking his ear off about the latest school project or an album you had found that was new to you but well familiar to him.

"I don't think I'm going to be much help with this. But I can walk down to the store, and I could make sandwiches for lunch if you guys are hungry." You offer meekly, feeling bad for just standing there as they do the dirty work.

"That's really nice of you to offer, but you don't." Frankie begins but is cut off midsentence.

"No, she's right," Benny interjects, grinning at you. "We need our strength for the rest of the job; I might not make it through." He places the back of his hand against his forehead, pretending to faint.

"Really Ben?" Frankie sighs, throwing Benny an exasperated look. "What I was trying to say before I was rudely interrupted is, you don't need to make us lunch; I'm sure we can manage without." He rolls his eyes at his friend while shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Hermosa, this one has no manners." Frankie apologises on Benny's behalf while playfully punching him in the bicep.

"No, honestly, it is the least I can do after you both gave up your Saturday for this heap of shit. I'll be back soon." You laugh along with them, gesturing to your car, which is now in pieces, placed into organised piles along the driveway. You head out of the open garage and sneak a quick look over your shoulder to see that Frankie is watching as you leave. You throw him a shy wave as you exit the driveway.

You can feel the sun beating down on your skin as you make your way down the road, and you can't help but think about Frankie. Your mind is filled with images of him covered in grease, his muscles flexing as he works on your car. You can't believe how attracted you are to him, and you can't shake the feeling that he feels the same way about you. If his flirting is anything to go by.

As you walk, you notice that this is a quiet side of town you rarely visit, and you're quite taken by its lazy charm. The storefronts are all old-fashioned, with large wooden signs hanging above the doors. You pass a few cafes and a bakery, all smelling of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries.

You make your way to the small grocery store at the end of the street and begin to pick out ingredients for sandwiches. As you walk up and down the aisles, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment. The world seems to be moving a little slower here, and it's a nice change of pace from the usual bustle of downtown. You finish up in the store and head back to Benny's with a spring in your step.

You can't quite explain how you're feeling, but it's like Frankie brings you out of yourself without even trying; you don't feel the need to change yourself or try to impress him; after all, he had seen how much of a dorky clutz you could be yesterday, so all hope of a cool and collected facade was well and truly gone.

You make your way back down the drive, the ingredients for lunch in a brown paper bag that you have nestled in the crook of your arm. When you arrive, Benny is still under the hood of your car, and Frankie is leaning his weight on his forearm resting on the propped-up bonnet next to him. They both look up as you approach, and Frankie straightens to take the bag from you.

"Thanks, Hermosa," he says with a smile. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I know," you say with a grin, "but I wanted to."

You watched for a few minutes as they set to work on the car once again, taking in the way they moved around each other. There's an obvious sense of familiarity between them—a closeness that only comes from years of friendship. You can't help but feel a little envious of their bond.

Lunch came together quickly, and you were happy to note that Benny kept his kitchen almost exactly the same way you kept your own at home. The chopping boards rested against the wall beside the cooker, and the knives rested in the knife block beside them.

Bringing the sandwiches out on a wooden chopping board, you set them on the toolbox and head to the back yard to grab three ice-cold beers from the cooler. You crack two open and hand one to Benny and the other to Frankie.

As he takes it from you, his large hand covers yours and lingers there. When you meet his eyes, he is smiling boyishly at you, his eyes crinkling at the sides, making your heart swell.

"Thank you, it looks delicious," he hums cheekily, his dark caramel eyes never leaving yours.

"You're welcome, good-looking," you stammer out breathlessly.

"Damn Y/N, this is a fucking good sandwich," Benny mumbles around a mouthful of deli meat. His cheeks puff out like a chipmonk as he closes his eyes to fully enjoy it.

"Are you gonna eat that or get it pregnant?" You laugh at him, and the loudest laugh bursts from beside you.

Frankie has beer dribbling down his chin as he doubles over, hands on his knees, one still holding the neck of his beer bottle. You have to resist the urge to lean down and lick it from his chin.

The boys eat lunch quickly, horsing down the sandwitches quicker than you thought possible. You're only through the first half of yours, and they're finishing off the chips you had set out with them.

"That really was delicious; thanks again, Y/N." Frankie purrs from his spot beside you, wiping the whiskers of his moustache as he stands to finish the work on your car. Leaving you giggling.

As the afternoon wears on, you reclaim your seat on the toolbox just outside the garage entrance and lean back against the pannels of the house, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth as the sun beats down on your skin, warming you from the inside out, and the sound of tools clanking against metal and the radio playing 70s classic rock fills the air. It's a familiar and comforting sound, one that reminds you of lazy summer afternoons spent tinkering on cars with your dad.

You blink and open your eyes in confusion as the light dissapears, and you are met with Frankie standing in front of you, blocking the sun's glare, watching you with an intrigued expression.

"That's us all finished up, Hermosa, but would you come with me for a sec?" He asks nervously, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Oh, okay, yeah sure," You smile up at him, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice, not wanting the afternoon to end.

Frankie gestures down the drive, and you fall in step beside him. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his cargo pants, and something in his demeanour has changed; he is less confident, and in all honesty, you think he might be a little anxious.

You take a deep breath and mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation that is about to take place. You were used to this, and it's why you don't date anymore. The "I'm not looking for anything serious", "I'm not ready for a relationship," or, god forbid, the "It's not you, it's me" excuses drained you. You thought you and Frankie had a real connection, and today only solidified that thought, but you must have read it wrong. Deciding that it would save you both the awkwardness of the conversation, you stopped at the driver's door of his car.

"Look, Frankie I think I know what you're going to say, and honestly, it's fine. I had fun hanging out today, and I understand if you don't want to see me again; it's not as if this was a date." You tried to make light of it, but it came out sounding wrong, even sad.

"Oh god, no, no, that's not… I didn't mean." He takes a breath as he tries to search your eyes, only to find them glued to the floor. He places his index finger and thumb under your chin, forcing you to look at him before wetting his lips and continuing

"I'm sorry, Cariño, I didn't think how this would look; I just wanted a bit of privacy, that's all." "Benny's a nosey shit," he laughs low in his chest, his thumb pointing over his shoulder in his friend's direction.

"So you weren't about to tell me "This was fun and all, but"?" You question him in surprise.

"God, no, you think I would throw a chance like this away? Now it's my turn to be offended?" He chokes out, his hand resting over his heart in feigned offence.

"Well, I apologise; I'm not used to dealing with such a gentleman." You giggle, unable to contain the butterflies threatening to brim over.

"I accept your apology, mi señora, and as a token of my own apology, I got you these." He grins down at you. Opening the door of the truck, he reaches over to the passenger seat and retrieves a bouquet of flowers.

Frankie hands them to you, looking a little bashful, as you bring the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent deeply and committing it to your memory. They were stunning: bright yellow sunflowers framed with vibrant blue cornflowers with a foilage you had never seen before intricately woven through.

These were not the sad convenience store flowers you had seen on your journey this morning; these were hand-cut and arranged. He had gone to the trouble of going to an actual florist to get flowers for you. The thoughtfulness of the gesture made you want to cry; you can't remember the last time someone thought this much of you to go out of their way to do something so sweet.

"They are so beautiful, Frankie; no one has ever bought me flowers before, except my dad." This is the sweetest thing; thank you so, so much," you admit, trying your best to control the emotion in your voice.

"I'm glad you like them. I didn't know what flowers you liked, so I picked the sunflowers because they made me think of you." He admitted, shrugging his large shoulders sheepishly, "I also wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me?" He asks, his eyes intently watching you.

"I would like that very much." You beamed up at him, your nose falling back to the flowers once more. They smelled sweet and earthy at the same time, and you found yourself wishing you could bottle them up forever.

"What kind of food do you like?" Frankie asked, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"I like everything, to be honest, but I really love Italian food!" you answer him with matched enthusiasm.

"Oh, that's perfect; there's a new Italian place down town; I think it's called the Chubby Cherub or something? We could try it if you'd like." Frankie inquired eagerly.

"I have actually been meaning to try that place; I've heard good things!" You gushed back.

"Perfect; it's a date," he murmurs with a lopsided smirk.

The two of you make your way back to the garage, where Benny is placing the remaining tools back in their original places. He beams as he watches you and Frankie amble down the long driveway, lost in conversation. It's been too long since he has seen Frankie so confident and comfortable around anyone but the guys.

"That's her all fixed up, Y/N; I would say good as new, but I honestly don't think that's possible at this point." Benny laughs as you approach him.

"Honestly Benny I can't thank you enough. You too, Frankie. I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for you two!" You exclaimed before continuing, "How much do I owe you?"

You had pulled out of your little 'emergency' fund to pay for the repairs, but not sure how much you would need, you brought $300 with you, hoping that it would cover the cost of the labour and parts.

"Nah, you don't owe me anything; it's on the house," Benny states nonchalantly, dismissing your question with a wave of his hand.

You stare at him blankly; there is no way that you are leaving without paying him for the work. He and Frankie have spent all day on your car; it is late afternoon at this stage.

"No, no way, Benny, I'm paying you for this; I don't care what you say! You have spent all day working on it, and I can't let you—" You stammer, words coming out in an anxious rush, but he cuts you off before you can ramble further.

"Listen, I have spent a beautiful sunny Saturday doing what I enjoy, with good company and good tunes, and you even brought beer and made lunch, so we're even! I'm not taking your money!" He insists in a serious tone, leaving no room for argument.

You sigh heavily and turn to Frankie for help. "Can you please convince him to take my money? " You beg, sighing loudly in exasperation.

"I have to say, I agree with Ben here, Hermosa." He laughs, his hands coming up to rest on his narrow hips. "I'm afraid you're outnumbered on this one. Plus, they were really great sandwiches.

You can't help the laugh that escapes yyou,and you let out a quite grown laugh whilst rubbing your forehead, trying to comprehend their genorosity. Why were they being so nice? They barely knew you, and you know that work like this would cost you a couple hundred if you took it to a body shop.

Eventually you admit defeat as Benny walks over and drapes his arm loosely over your shoulder, just as he had earlier, with a smug grin and a "You're not going to win this battle, you know that right?"

You suggest that if the three of you hang out again, the beers are on you to even out the playing field, and he reluctantly agrees, as Frankie watches on, enjoying how easily you have gelled with his best friend.

The three of you sat in the backyard, enjoying a cold beer, as the sun started to dip below the horizon. It was much more pleasant sitting here on the little deck, covered by shade from a tall dogwood tree whose branches loomed over the fence and swayed slightly with the gentle breeze. The air is warm, and the soft glow of string lights above adds to the relaxed atmosphere. You lean back in your chair and take a sip of your beer, feeling content.

"So, Y/N," Benny says, breaking the comfortable silence, "tell us a little bit about yourself." "Are you from Florida?"

"No, I'm from Columbus, Ohio, originally, but I moved here for work, and I didn't have much of a reason to go back home, so I just decided to stay." You tell them honestly.

Frankie was listening intently, his elbows resting on his knees as he was unconsciously leaning towards you. He was absentmindedly peeling the label of the beer bottle, lost in thought.

Benny nods, taking a swig of his beer. "What about your family? Are you close with them?"

You hesitate for a moment before answering, "That's kind of why I didn't have a reason to go home; I actually don't have much family left. My parents passed away a few years ago, and I don't have any siblings. But I have a few close friends who feel like family to me."

There's a moment of quiet before Frankie speaks up. "That must have been really hard; I'm sorry you had to go through that." His voice was low and thick with sincerity.

Benny continued his questioning: "What did you do for work? What do you like to do in your free time? Until Frankie interupted him.

"Okay, I think that's enough questions for one night, Ben." He laughs, flicking the brim of his friend's cap. "I think we should probably get going if we want to get a table Y or N," he urges.

"Yeah, you're probably right. It was great to meet you, Benny. Thank you so much again for fixing my little rust bucket. I promise not to run into any more trucks." You chuckle and shoot a wink in Frankie's direction, making him grin.

"The pleasure was all mine, sunshine!" He beams at you, thowing his arms around you in a bear hug. He really is just a big puppy dog; his smile was infectious, and as you hugged him back, you felt a bit nostalgic for the brotherly bond you never had but hoped that you could have it with Benny.

After the boys say their goodbyes, Frankie follows you back to your house in the truck, so you can leave your car behind. You climb out of the car and walk to the end of your short driveway, where he is waiting. He rolls his window down as you come to a stop at his driver's side door.

"I'm just going to quickly freshen up a bit; you're more than welcome to come in while you wait." You smile at him sweetly.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he murmurs as he turns the ignition off and unbuckles his seatbelt. You step back as he steps out of the truck and comes to stand beside you.

You nervously run your hand through your hair as the realisation hits that Frankie is going to be in your house. Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, you glance up to find him watching you intently. You both share a nervous giggle and head towards the front door.

You push the key into the lock with shaking fingers, wondering why you are suddenly so nervous. You have spent the entire day with this man, but now that you no longer have Benny as a buffer, the electricity returns in full force.

It sends sparks across your skin at his close proximity; you can feel the heat rolling down his chest as he stands just behind you. You open the door and flick on the lamp on the side table, gesturing for him to come inside.

You walk further down the hall, flipping lights on as you go, and you notice that Frankie is not following you; instead, he is lingering in the hallway by the front door. His hand coming up to take home at the back of his neck—you noticed throughout the day that it's something he does when he's nervous, and it's endearing.

"You don't have to wait in the hallway, you know; make yourself at home; I'll be right back." You encourage him as you head through the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom.

You head into your bathroom and stand in front of the sink, taking in your reflection for the first time since you left the house this morning. You were thankful that your makeup seemed to be holding up. You quickly top up your powder, brush your teeth, and reapply your lip balm before heading back into your bedroom.

You decide to ditch the sneakers and opt for a cute pair of sky blue high-heeled sandals. They take your outfit up a level, and you figure they are more appropriate for the restaurant you are heading to.

Tearing a brush through your hair and giving yourself a last once-over in the full-length mirror, you head back down the hallway in search of Frankie. You find him perched on one of the benches at your dining room table, in the corner of the kitchen, running his large hand back and forth along the smooth oak table top.

As your eyes land on him, you watch as his gaze starts at your feet, slowly raking up your body until he meets your eyes. His expression is dark and hungry. You both stare at each other in silence, and the electricity is back crackling like a live wire in the space between your bodies, and you know Frankie feels it by the way his grip on the table tightens, knuckles turning bone white as he fights to keep himself in place.

He stands from his seat at the table, slowly closing the distance between you. He reaches up and strokes from your temple to your jaw, allowing his touch to linger there.

"I love that dress baby, and those are some very pretty shoes." He growls, and his voice and gaze set a fire low in your belly; the flames lick wildly up your limbs, making you lightheaded. Were you even breathing right now?

Right now, you couldn't care less about the restaurant, about the fact you had just met this man, or about the preconception that sex on the first date—or in this case, before the first date—was frowned upon. Your mind was racing; all you wanted, no, needed, was for Frankie to rip your dress off, bend you over that table, and make you his.

"Are you ready, Hermosa?" He husks quitely, pulling you from your lewd thoughts.

"What?" You all but gasp in response, embarrassed by your breathlessness. You hadn't even heard what he had said; you need to get a grip on yourself.

"I asked if you were ready to go." He chuckles quietly; he's standing so close that you can feel it vibrating through his chest.

"Um yes, yes, I'm ready to go. Sorry." You say it through a breathy laugh of your own.

You and Frankie hop into his truck, headed to the cosy Italian restaurant down town. As he starts the car, you notice the music playing in the background and lean forward to turn the dial up.

His phone is connected to the Bluetooth, and from the speakers croons the voice of Don Henley. The song that is playing in contrast to your close encounter in your kitchen makes you blush a deep crimson.

"One of these nights,

One of these crazy old nights,

We're gonna find out, pretty mama,

What turns on your lights,"

As you drive through the quiet streets, you catch Frankie stealing glances at you every now and then, his dark eyes darting away whenever you meet his gaze. You can feel the tension building between you two, and he can feel it too.

"I'm really glad you said yes to dinner," he says, his voice low and husky, a small smile playing on his lips.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his voice: "I'm really glad you asked me to join you." You purred back at him, matching his smile.

As you approach a red light, Frankie reaches over to your lap and takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. You feel a jolt of electricity run through your body at his touch, and you can't help but lean in a little closer.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you turn to face him. His caramel eyes are intense as they lock onto yours. You can feel the chemistry between you two building, and you know that this dinner is going to be a night to remember.

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie x reader #frankie morales x fem. reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #mylostloversbookmarks

94 notes · View notes

popcornforone · 1 year ago

Text

Cobwebs

A Frankie (Catfish) Morales Fan Fic

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, & all that shiz. This is it. This is my Christmas Fic for the year. & I decided come September it was gonna be Frankie. I’ve always kinda wanted to do part of this myself, which you’ll all work out (I mean you know some of it I’d love to but we all know we don’t live in that world) so I wanted to share something sexy & romantic at the same time. & I think Frankie always gives those tropes.

Synopsis:- Circumstances mean both you & Frankie are off the grid so it’s time for you to both celebrate a Christmas neither of you had really planned.

Word count: 4100

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, swearing, pleasure, oral, depression, mission gone wrong but no details, self doubt but not suicidal thoughts, wanting to belong, alcohol.talk about sobering up.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy & I wish you all an amazing couple of days & all the best for 2024.

“Are you crying?” You turn to face your beautiful catfish as he cuddles you on the sofa. Christmas Eve night it’s tradition. It’s time to watch Love Actually. It’s as Andrew Lincoln starts doing his signs.

“No” he says. His shoulders shake slightly, his hat which covers his curls is pulled down his head a little. His breathing is sharp. Yea he’s getting emotional. Your hand goes into his hair removing his hat for a few seconds to ruffle it.

“To me you are perfect” you say to Frankie quoting the film, before your lips softly kiss his lips. They feel so soft & you hold his face as he kisses you back.

“Surely im meant to say that”says Frankie.

“But you don’t need to win me over” you smile & you pass him a tissue. “I just want you to hug me, the second the score kicks in for the airport scene” you sip in your hot chocolate & pull your blanket up over you again.”that’s when I blub, it’s pure love”

“As pure as ours?” He asks.

“You tell me baby? Would you run through an airport to declare your love for me?” Frankie pauses for about 3 seconds & then smirks.

“Wouldn’t need to baby,” he giggles” I have my license we don’t need an airport. We can escape when we want to” your thumb wipes his last tear away. He grabs your hand & softly kisses each knuckle.

“Such a romantic” your hand scratches his beard before you pull him in close for a tender kiss on the lips. Everything is right with the world each time you smooch.

The way frankie holds you as the score kicks in & you start blubbering at the airport scene, makes you feel like home. You wish you were at home, but due to Frankies last mission, hes had to all but disappear for 6 months, to make sure no one can track him down. He sent you the code word you’d agreed on if anything happened & you upped & left your entire life behind in 6hours. Frankie had always warned you this could one day be the case & that if the time came, it would prove if you were his or not, were you willing to change everything to be with him? His face 4 weeks ago, when he arrived at this little house you have next to the beach, & he saw you standing in the kitchen made him sob. The sex that night was phenomenal too, you lost your voice from moaning his name. You got married 5 days later. You’d proven you would give up everything for your man & he had been given the love & loyalty he had always craved for. You genuinely had just abandon everything & were happy to live off the grid until Frankie could return back home. He’s heard from Pope who thinks it should be the start of June by the time people stop looking for the people involved.

“You okay baby?” He strokes your shoulder as you just let your tears fall & land in his tshirt.

“Never better Frankie” you mumble. Your arms are wrapped around him & you hug him tightly. His tummy filled with the nice food you’ve eaten & is now full of the love you have for each other.

“My beautiful girl, you’re so beautiful when you cry, I mean not that I want to see you cry but I love that you are so comfortable being vulnerable with me.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is all about Frankie?” You ask “if you can’t accept me at my worse, you don’t deserve me at my best?”

“Maybe” he states & then softly chuckles “I thought marriage was about who does the washing up & having sex 3 times a week”

“We must be having another couples sex then” his comment made you smile, blush & feel aroused. The good thing about living off the grid & only having an emergency burner phone, is that there is no work & no distractions for either of you. Most newly engaged or married couples have a honeymoon period but Frankie has made love to you every morning & night since you both arrived. Afternoon sex after a beach swim or walk has also been a rather pleasurable experience. This little town just know you as the newbies & nothing else. You are his. He is yours.

As the credits start on the film, Frankie disguards his hat onto the coffee table & thrashes his head so his hair is free & messy just how you like it. You know what gonna happen. No words need to be said. Your lips find his, as you help each other undress on the sofa, hands tugging at clothes, exploring the familiar landscapes they have done for the last month. The way Frankie always gasps when you lick his nipples always arouses you. His hand slips inside your knickers to check. Those long fingers are sodden in seconds. The moan you make intoxicates him.

“That’s my girl” he says.

You watch in awe as he uses his teeth to remove your knickers. He uses them to wipe his already building sweat off his brow, it’s now sticky with something else. You slowly turn over & grip the end of the sofa nearest the small Christmas tree you have. Your bum presenting itself for your man. The way he teases you. So large & girthy his length. It collects all your slick. The way it brushes your enterance has you fluttering, ready to accept his pleasure.

“Frankkkkiiiiieeee” the e is drawn out, as he slowly pushes inside you. Your legs part a little more so you’re comfortable as he slow rocks into you.

“Oooh darling” his grip around your hips always starts gentle, but never ends that way. “Oooh so so good, so wet” you rock back into him as he slowly thrusts inside. His curls already sweaty. The look of desire spreading across his face. The noises you make get louder.

“Don’t stop frankie”

“I don’t plan to” the panting is starting, & a firm hand smack your tight arse cheek making you yelp & clamp around him. “Oooh don’t act so surprised girl” he smacks the left one “I know it gets you going” your hand start grabbing the arm of the sofa grips harder. Your other hand which is underneath you, it pleasuring your clit. Frankie usually would but when he’s taking you from behind, he likes to stroke your back. The goosebumps that form on your skin from him trailing down your spine always have you whimpering at the slow sensitive touch. He is right, you enjoy a good smack in the arse. He’s always been a bum guy more than tits. But you both know it’s the long tongue of your catfish that makes you crumble. His mustash always tickles but no man has ever made you squirt during oral before. Frankie makes it happen every time including the first time. You know on Christmas morning you will probably wake up to Frankie being inbetween your thighs lapping away. He enjoys it as much as you do. Says you are the best breakfast a man could ask for.

“Oooh fuck” you bite the back of your hand & stop pleasuring yourslef. Overstimation is happening. Frankie is pounding away.

“Tell me baby, tell me how good it is”

“Fuck it good, oooh fuck fuck fuck yes more”

“More?” He snarls & slaps your arse again. “damn” he feels like he is in your belly. So long & girthy. So deep inside. Your special spot probably needs a break it’s been hit so much, it needs to explode.

“Frankie please please please”

“Tell me baby” the noise of his thrusts have disappeared due tk the heavy breathing & both your volume as you moan.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m…I”

“My slutty wife, oh fuck”

Frankies words finish you off. You fully put all your energy back into his next thrust & then freeze. Thank god you’re gripping onto the sofa, because your thighs crumble & you drop slightly as your orgasm hits you. Frankie is almost instantaneous with yours.

“Jesus oooh fuck” he crys as he spills inside you, fill you up with his seed. His thumbs digging into your skin. There might be marks there in the morning. You think you’re going to go blind as you scrunch your eyes up. It always Feels extraordinary when you cum at the same time. It makes it so intense & phenomenal. Frankie growls & you collapse your head onto the arm of the sofa, trying to regain composure from your high.

“Baby” Frankie lifts you back up a few minutes later, himself also in an exhausted sweaty state. “Oooh baby” soft kisses fill you lips, filled with love. You only muster 2 words as you look at Frankie with a devilish smile.

“To bed?”…

You don’t turn in your sleep that often, not that you know of, but for some reason you have & you can feel a cooling matress next to you. But no flesh. You half open your eyes & then they fully open. Frankie is not beside you. The curtains are still pulled, the door is shut. Where is he? He’s in the bathroom you think but you can’t hear anyone walking around your small house. You slowly sit up to check he’s not anywhere in the room. Nope no Frankie. Usually if he’s up early especially considering your current circumstances, he leaves you a note or a message or he’s left you a cup of coffee for when you wake up. But no there’s nothing. You can’t even turn on your phone to see where he is. You’re off the grid. you can also see the burner phone sitting on his bedside table. You stretch getting out of bed & find a pair of long shorts & an oversized blue fluffy jumper to go & search for him around the property.

You search each room & the garden & look up & down the road looking for your man, but still no sign. This isn’t like Frankie at all, not since he’s been sober, but even with his issues he always told you what he was going to do or if he needed some him time. You head back inside & make yourself a flask of coffee, before then thinking about what you should do. It’s as you sniff the coffee brewing that you remember something. You put on your old running trainers, grabbing the flask & head through the lounge out of your house to go find him, you notice his hat is still on the table from last nights rampant escapades, so you put that on your head too, grab your keys & head to the beach.

People walk past you & wish you a merry Christmas before looking at the state of you. You’re wondering why so many people are up at 7am, but then you remember there’s a church at the top of your road. They are all going to go & bless Jesus but you just want to find your god of a husband. You are now regretting the shorts as a rushed choice of clothing. It’s not cold cold but the closer you get to the beach the breezier it gets. It’s a bit of a shock to the system but you are now fully awake. You walk the 7mins to the beach & start walking over the pebbles & rocks to get to the bay.

There he is. Your Catfish. Your husband. His shoes are off as he paddles in the incoming tide form the sea. He has also gone for shorts, his old jeans which he cut up a few years ago when he got engine oil down the bottom half of the legs. He’s got a grey jumper on underneath a big stripy woollen hoodie. His hair is a mess & his face looks like he’s conflicted. That’s him. That’s your Frankie.

“Frankie” you shout as you carefully but quickly manoeuvre your feet to get to him across the stony beach.

“Hey” it’s soft & a sigh follows it.

“Baby what are you doing, you left no note, you didn’t…” you see his shoulders, they are stressed & carrying the weight of the world the closer you get to him. You slow your steps down but you’re only a few meters away now. “Do you just need a minute”

“I’ve had a minute” he says as he steps out of the water onto the rocks to put his own trainers back on. “I think I’ve been here for at least 45 mins having a minute” it’s exasperated his tone.

“We can talk or not Frankie, you know I’m happy to do whatever.” He stands up & walks towards you, you see in those eyes that there’s still so much he wants to tell you but as much as you know your husband & have done everything for him, he doesn’t want to burden you with his struggles. He has now got to you & he takes his hat from your head, ruffles his own hair as he puts it on his own head, before he ruffles your still bed hair. Long, messy & mousey blonde.

“I just had so many plans, for us, for the next year, for this Christmas” he says. Sorrow ringing in his voice.

“It’s okay Frankie we…”

“No it’s not” he interupts. “We were going to do so much today, we were going to tell both our families we were going to get married, we were going to eat a fantastic feast sourrounded by those we love. But no I had to listen to the guys & go on the stupid fucking mission.” He kicks at a few stones as he turns a few bounce off the rocks. “Why can’t I catch a break”

“Shhh shhh shhh” you hold his face.”baby, this might not be what we had planned but we’re here & we’re making the best of it. There will be other Christmases but this one is more than unique” you look dead in his eyes & make intense eye contact. You both close your eyes & sigh, all the stress you’re hoping is leaving his body.”I love you frankie”

“I love you too” Frankie whispers your name against your lips before your lips meet. Soft & slow, taking in all of him. His hand is in your hair after he’s pushed it off your face a little. You could be kissing for just 5 seconds, 5minutes or 5 hours. Time stopped. Frankie realises as his lips slowly part yours that you are right. He needs to accept that this now is your Christmas. It might be away from home, in hiding & just the two of you, but you can still make it special.

“Sorry baby” Frankie whispers as your eyes flutter open. “I just feel like I’ve let you down, you didn’t even get a proper wedding”

“You could never let me down baby” you say before kissing him again “& who needs to spend 10grand on a wedding when you can get married with 2 random people as witnesses & a registra. It was perfect. Me & you.”

“I guess” he states, “that’s when we first came here. To this bay”

“Yes frankie” you giggle”it clearly left an impression”

“It did, I often sneak down here to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain & calm the stress”

“Does it work?” You ask as you sip you coffee, it’s getting colder in the flask.

“Try it?” He suggests. “Take 5 steps forward & close your eyes & just listen to the waves”

“Promise not to run off” you ask him as you step away from him.

“Never, I’m never leaving you again”

You stand completely still & face the sea & slowly close your eyes. The waves crashing into the rocks at the right of you, the way the salty beach air hits your face. Your own breathing being shallow. The warmth just about clinging to your flask & the fact your lips still taste of coffee. You stand in silence & feel the weight being lifted & a sense of calm rolls over you. It works Frankie was right.

You then feel Frankies own head rest in your shoulder. Your eyes stay shut.

“Forever” you mumble as your breathing hitches.

“Til death do us part baby” he whispers in your ear & the kisses pepper around the top of your shoulder & around your neck. This is the moment you realised you made the right choice. His hands wrap around you & you both just stand in silence. His own breaths are music to your ears better than any waves or music or bird song. You slowly feel at peace with everything.

“So…” Frankie says & you slowly open your eyes, cobwebs gone. “…I didn’t give you a proper Christmas wake up did I”

“Well I’m very awake now…”

“Ahhh I meant something more personal than running around trying to find me”

“Well this was a unique way to start Christmas day” you chuckle.

“Personal wasn’t the right word, I meant intimate” no one else is on the beach as Frankie seduces you with those words & he also slips his hand inside your shorts & his eyes light up when he touches flesh. You let out a short gasp as your mound receives its first touch of the day. He scoops you into his arms. “I’m not waiting another second.”

Frankie all but runs with you in his arms back to your house. People watch as you squark his name & he laughs.

“Merry Christmas” you each separately yell at people as he hurry’s you back into the house & kicks the door shut behind him a before he finally deposits you on the bed. The warmth of your house already feeling good to you both but what feels best to you is his hands dealing with your jumper.

“Oooh you were in a rush to find me,no underwear at all” Frankie says as he sucks licks your nipples. “You must love me” Your head rolls back.

“Frankie”

“Oooh fuck baby” he takes his hat off & puts in on your head as you are sitting up. His hoddie & jumper are quickly taken off. His chest always looks magnificent. A few scars from his missions in the past. A little bit of hair. It forms a happy trial. He drops to his knees & you lift up once his hands are in your waist band. The long shorts are slowly removed. You keep your legs together, you know he likes to ask.

“Show me baby” he says as he licks his lips.”please, slowly” you part your things revealing yourself to Frankie. He always looks like an excited puppy when he sees what he gets to taste, it very quickly goes to a brooding desperate husband. “Ooh darling.” He’s panting. His erection growing. He wants to go slowly but he knows once he’s between your legs he will get his fill. “This is the sexiest you’ve ever looked, naked except for my hat & your trainers. So beautiful” his words have you wanting him more. “What did I do to deserve you”

“So much Frankie” you lean forward & caress his face. An impish look glances at him & his smile is one the devil would have. His two large hands push against your breast & you are now laying down, it means you legs open a little bit more & he slide towards your treasure.

“Oooh baby, come to daddy” he say & he slowly licks your clit. Such a large tongue just starting its magic. His tastebuds excited.

“Mmmmmmmm” you make noise but you’re not sure what it registered as. “Frankie…”

“Mmmm exactly” his large thumb takes over, your clit being pleasured has your hips already moving. You can feel yourself clamping already. “Oooh what a lucky man I am” he then parts your legs a little more. “But now you’re going to be my lucky wife…” Frankie does say something more but your too busy trying not to cum at this early stage of the session, to comprehend the end of the sentance. But then you moan.

“Oooh frankie, fuck” he’s buried his head inside you. Not just lapping at the residue or keeping you stimulated. That magnificent tongue is more than just pressing against your enterance, is popping inside your cunt. You feel so sexy. Frankie is the king of oral.

You thrust your hands into his hair, grabbing the pillow or your own breasts werent doing it for you. You tussle his curls as you moan & everything unravels. You push his head further down. The more you push the more pleasure he gives. His nose is rubbing too, making your own rhythm faster. Your pussy quivers at each sensation much like his taste buds must be as he licks.

“Fuck, oooh fuck” your panting. His mouth taking in your sex. Your arousal growing. Your thighs griping around him, hard, but not for much longer at his pace. They will soon be jelly. You will soon be cumming all over his lips. He enjoys the salty taste & you like to make out afterwards as he starts to make love with you. You’re always so sensitive after this & the way his girthy penis will push into you, will have you reaching multiple highs this morning. The way his thick curls feel in your hands as you rustle more, as you feel each motion getting you higher has you whimpering. The words no longer able to be heard. But he can tell from your body you’re close. He’s being squeezed between your legs. His entire face is sticky. Sweat & your arousal. He knows he’s going to get a better taste soon.

He then removes the hand that was griping your hip & slips a finger inside you.

“Jesus” that makes a noise. It’s high pitched & breathy. The finger inside you, the one on your clit & the way his mouth tastes you has you gasping. Your hands dig into his head, thighs grip around him. He’s struggling now but he know it’s coming. You screech”Fuck fuck fuck” & you fall apart. He smiles not that you can see it as he tastes your cum. The clit is furiously rubbed by his thumb to keep your high going. He slurps & sucks away at the new sticky sensation in his mouth. Always his favourite meal. Your chest rises & falls, your nipples are hard, but the rest of your body relaxes in euphoria. He is the king of oral. No man has ever satisfied your cunt more than Frankie.

His head eventually rises after you’ve let go of his hair & you smile. What a mess your husbands face is, red from blushing & being excited. His hair a mess, those front few curls dripping with sweat. But it’s how slick his face is. It glistening like cake icing. You’re both proud of the mess you’ve made of him.

“Never gets old” he says as he unbuckles his belt & gets on top of you on the bed. The fingers that were inside you he trails over your breasts, especially around your erect nipples.

“One of my favourite joys in life” you managed to muster back. Your eyes are transfixed onto how sexy your husband looks right now.

“Mine too baby” his head is now above your, hoover. His hand removes his hat from your head, ending up on the floor. As you had hoped his lips meet yours & the way they feel & the way you can taste yourself on them has your heart pounding. Both your & his hands make quick work of his shorts & boxers. Just feeling his leaking length against your skin has you whinging into your kiss. Now your done with the clothes your hands go back to each other bodies. Touching all you want. He slowly moving up & down your body. He knows he’s doing it right. You both feel the sensation of his tip slowly gracing above your clit. The ultimate tease.

“Frankie” you moan & lift his head up slightly. This big brown eyes on that charming face look back at you. “I didn’t need anything for Christmas, i just wanted you to be happy.”

“& that my beautiful wife, I am.” Your body gives in & he slowly as his tongue finds your tonsils, exploring like it did your cunt earlier, fills you with his penis. You moan & feel full. The stretch is magnificent.

“Happy Christmas beautiful” Frankie says “the best gift of all was knowing you cared” & so continues your Christmas Day feast. It might not be your big planned day, but your circumstances, no matter how unfortunate they are, means you & Frankie can have some quality time together & multiple orgasms.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #over18 #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales fan fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fic #triple frontier #Christmas

24 notes · View notes

bibibinnie · 2 years ago

Text

im lost | [ tattoos ch. 7 ]

✧ synopsis. yeonjun takes indigo out dancing for her birthday. read previous chapter here. all chapters here. ✧ pairing. idol!yeonjun x indigo [oc - read about her here] ✧ genre. fluff, slice of life, third person pov ✧ words. 3.9K ✧ cw. swearing, drinking alcohol, creeps at a club (a man touches indigo without her consent, but nothing too intense), sad drunk!indigo, yj kisses a stranger at a club, fake dating, pet names (babe), eating, indigo is bisexual and in a relationship with a woman who's implied to be controlling. ✧ notes. cutie chapter imo

𖦹 June 22, 2021 | 8:56 PM 𖦹

“Come on, it’s your birthday! You gotta do something,” Yeonjun says, shaking Indigo's knee.

“No, I don’t,” she turns over, pulling a pillow over her head.

“You can either sit here eating room service all night, watching,” he looks over at the TV, “whatever this is. Or you can have some fun.”

“Eating room service and watching movies isn’t fun?” She asks, muffled by the pillow.

“Not as fun as going out dancing with me,” he says pridefully. “Come on, Indi. I promise you’ll have fun.” He sits next to her. “Come on, come on, come on,” he says, poking her back.

She sits up, narrowing her eyes at him and asks, “What if I don’t have fun?”

“What if you do?”

“Fine, jeez,” she rolls her eyes, pushing herself off the mattress, opening the closet. Holding two dresses in front of her, she asks, “Which one?”

“Hm…the green one.”

“Okay, give me, like, fifteen minutes,” she says, closing the door to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Yeonjun silently tries to convince himself he’s not nervous, using the movie on her TV as a distraction.

“Indi,” he calls out. “Your phone is ringing.” She opens the door slightly, asking who’s calling. “Um,” he reaches for the phone on her nightstand. “Hannah.”

“Oh, okay. You can just let it go to voicemail.” She shrugs.

Walking out of the bathroom a little over fifteen minutes later, he watches her adjust her sock. She turns toward the full-length mirror hanging on the wall, looking over her ensemble, smoothing over the deep green silk dress that falls just below her knees. Gold earrings dangle from her ears, a gold necklace around her neck.

“Okay, I guess I’m ready,” she sighs, crossing her arms and looking down at her Vans. “And I’m not wearing heels.” He turns, resting his feet on the floor, looking her up and down. “Yeonjun?”

“Huh?” Not wanting to make his feelings too obvious, he diverts his eyes, forcing himself to not stare at how gorgeous she looks.

“You ready?” She chuckles, fixing her hair one last time as he hums.

“Ah, there you are,” Indigo says, pulling Yeonjun into a hug, whispering, “pretend like we’re together.” He looks at her questioningly as they pull apart. “My boyfriend’s here now, so…” she smiles awkwardly at a man sitting next to her at the bar. “What took you so long, babe?”

“Don’t worry, I kept her company,” the guy says, reaching for her knee, but she jerks it away from him, glaring at Yeonjun.

Bending to meet her ear, Yeonjun whispers, “Why don’t you go find another seat?”

“He follows me. And I’m waiting for our drinks.” He nods, wrapping an arm around her waist. The guy next to her slurs something, but she can’t make out what it was. Reaching for the front of Yeonjun’s shirt, she pulls him so he stands between the two of them.

“How long ago did you order these drinks?” He asks.

“I dunno, ten minutes ago? I guess they’re super backed up,” she says, looking at the crowd of people. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you a beer. You have my phone or I would’ve texted you.”

“Oh, here,” he says, reaching in his pocket.

“No, keep it. I don’t have pockets and you’re here now.” She turns, resting her chin in her palm. “Ah, here they are,” she smiles, reaching for the glasses from the bartender.

“Did he bother you too much?”

She shakes her head while she takes a sip. “I can usually handle it, but he was just…persistent,” she says, keeping her voice low.

“That’s your drink?” He laughs, tilting his head toward her scotch on the rocks.

“Yeah, so?” She shrugs.

“You said you don’t drink very much, so I thought you’d get something a little softer.”

She giggles, but her smile fades when the guy moves to the other side of her seat. “See?” She glares at Yeonjun.

“It’s okay,” he says, pressing his hand to her lower back to push her closer to him.

“Do something else boyfriend-y so it gets the point across again.”

Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her ear, making both of them worried the other heard their heartbeats. “He keeps touching my ass,” she scream-whispers. He takes a deep breath, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt.

“Let’s just finish our drinks and go dance.”

This isn’t something she’s used to. Performing on a stage alone and dancing with someone—but not with someone—are two very different things. Luckily, her drink made her feel at ease just enough to be dancing comfortably with him.

Their movements are lighthearted and fun while they keep up with conversation and laugh together. Indigo rolls her eyes, frowns, and says, “Goddamnit. That guy’s behind you now. Switch places with me and keep an eye on him.” She nudges his shoulder with her elbow. “I guess your acting is slacking.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t look enough like my boyfriend.” He swallows, looking down at his feet. “You barely even look like you like me.” She laughs.

“What am I supposed to do?” He asks.

“Oh, come on,” she starts. “You’ve never danced with a woman at a club before?”

“Wait a minute,” he crosses his arms, looking around the room. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“Ah, you know what I mean.” She chuckles. “Just act like you’re on a date.”

Holding her hand, he spins her around, pulling her close to him, his thigh barely pressing against her pelvis. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, one of his hands resting on her upper arm, the other at the lowest part of her back.

Leaning closer to her, his cheek grazes hers and he whispers, “Do you just wanna leave?”

“What? No, I’m not letting some creep ruin my birthday.” She shakes her head. “That’s called giving into the man, Yeonjun. I’m not doing that,” she glares at him.

He looks down at the ground again, suddenly aware of their closeness and says, “I’m sorry I made you come out with me.”

“What do you mean?” She backs off slightly.

“I just feel like you aren’t having any fun.” He shrugs. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t.” She smiles. “I am having fun,” she says, hoping that he can’t see the color of her cheeks under the pink and purple lights. “Thanks for dragging me out of my hotel room.”

He smirks at her. “Thanks for wearing that dress.”

“Yeonjun!” She giggles, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“What?” He laughs. “I’m supposed to act like I’m on a date, right? That’s what I would say.”

She glares at him, one corner of her lips upturned. “I kinda like this Yeonjun-on-a-date experience.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush on me.”

“What if I did?” She sticks her nose up at him.

“Eh, that wouldn’t be so bad. I’ve had worse.”

“Wow,” she rolls her eyes. “I could get anyone in here I wanted to.”

“Yeah, right.” He smirks. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen, scrunching her nose. “No, I just mean, there’s no way you can walk up to a stranger and hit on them. You never talk to strangers.”

She looks around the club, notices the creepy guy from earlier leaving out the front door and pushes herself off Yeonjun. “Fine,” she says, walking to another guy sitting at the bar.

He watches her lean against the counter, graze this guy’s shoulder with her hand, bite her lip, buy one drink for him and another for herself—she even takes him out to the dance floor.

Staring them down, Yeonjun leans back against the wall, watching him run his hands all over her, the way she smiled back at him when he whispered in her ear, probably about what he wants to do to her later.

Attempting to swallow back the heartbeat in his throat, his hands get sweaty. He has to hold himself back from going over there and dragging her away from him.

As the song finally ends, Indigo pulls away from the guy while he smiles and nods, walking back to the bar. Pushing himself off the wall, he strides over to her with his hands shoved in his pockets. Crossing one arm over the other, she finishes her drink in one gulp, smirking and raising her eyebrows at him.

“See?” She giggles. He reluctantly nods at her, their stare lingering a bit longer than either of them intended.

He clears his throat, “I could pick someone up too, you know.”

“Do it then. I’ll go have another drink,” she says.

After ordering her third drink of the night, she turns in her barstool, resting against the counter, subduedly scanning across the crowd before her eyes land on him and another woman.

She watches him make her laugh and blush while her hand presses his chest and slides up, resting on his shoulder. Meanwhile, he rubs her arm with his hand, pulling her closer to him with his other.

After several tries, the bartender finally gets Indigo’s attention long enough to hand her a scotch, this time neat. Turning back around, her attention returns to Yeonjun and a stranger dancing together while she drinks alone. He takes her hand and spins her around, pulling her close, his hands roaming her arms and back.

It takes Indigo a second to realize she already knows what that feels like.

Sliding his hand down the woman’s back, he slips his fingertips into her back pocket, barely squeezing her. Indigo’s eyes raise and her head cocks to the side, downing the rest of her drink in one gulp. Soon after, she turns around and orders another one.

Watching them get closer and closer, her heart beats faster and faster. The woman leans close to him, whispering against his lips.

Did he just—?

Indigo swears he glanced over at her for a millisecond. He looks down at his dance partner, nodding gently and she presses her lips to his, gliding over them passionately.

The air’s knocked out of Indigo’s lungs. Her eyes dart around, trying to look at anything but them, instinctively reaching for her phone, but remembering it’s in Yeonjun’s pocket.

She lets the burn of the scotch take over her body as she downs it all at once, her mind slightly buzzing, but the feeling quickly intensifies.

As they pull apart, his eyes meet Indigo’s across the room and she smirks at him, tilting her empty glass toward him. Her vision starts getting blurry; her eyelids feel heavy, but her head feels light.

The chorus of this song has played at least twenty times by now. At least it seems that way. And it won’t stop.

As the song finally ends, he pulls away from her, but she refuses to let him go, pulling him closer to try to kiss him again. But he turns his head, shaking it, making Indigo chuckle to herself. Eventually pulling away from her, he finds his way back to Indigo at the bar.

“There. I told you,” he chuckles, waving down the bartender.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she slurs, looking up at him.

“Woah,” he laughs, noticing the change in her demeanor and the smell of alcohol on her breath. “How many drinks did you have while I was gone?” She laughs, holding up two fingers, almost falling off the stool. His eyes widen as the bartender asks for their order. “Actually…just two waters.”

“I can’t believe you just kissed her,” she says. “Right in front of me.” She laughs, pulling on his sleeve. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Sure,” he chuckles.

She pulls him down by the front of his shirt, whispering in his ear, “I did not like that.” He looks down at her. “Don’t do it again, please.”

“Okay,” he says, taking the waters from the counter, handing one to her. “Drink this.” Taking the drink from him, she struggles to catch her straw with her tongue, making him laugh at her.

She finally takes a sip, “ah, damn it—” she groans, trying to put the glass back in his hand. “I thought this was a vodka tonic.”

“No, you need to drink it.” She concedes, rolling her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like drinking,” he says.

“Do you promise?” She looks up at him through her eyelashes.

“Promise what?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him down so his eyes are at the same level as hers. “That you won’t kiss anyone else.” He gulps.

Sitting his glass of water on the counter, he takes a deep breath and looks at her eyes. “I promise.” He smiles, pressing his lips together. “But only on one condition,” he starts. “You gotta promise me too.”

She laughs. “I knew you were gonna say that.” She takes a big drink of her water. “You know I can’t.”

“Then neither can I, Indi,” he sighs.

Looking down at the floor, she bites the inside of her cheek, mumbling, “I wish I could, Yeonjun.”

“Ah, stop.” He shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” She scoffs.

Taking a deep breath, she glances up at him.“Will you dance with me again?”

“I’ll dance with you whenever you want,” he says.

She stands and stumbles over, but he catches her. “Can you at least promise me that?” She asks.

He chuckles. “That I can do.” Leading her to the dance floor, he holds her like he did earlier.

“You- are- cute-,” she says, poking his cheek with each word.

“And you- are- drunk-” he laughs, mocking the cadence of her voice. She giggles, hugging him tighter, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You know that song you wrote yesterday?” She asks, making him smile thinking about them hanging out in the recording studio the night before.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Yeonjun,” Indigo said, fiddling with some of the knobs on the mixing board.

“It’s like I know what I wanna say, but can’t…put it into words.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “At least not words that sound pretty together.”

“Let me see what you have so far,” she said, reaching for his notebook, but he pulled it back. “Why can’t I see it?” He leaned back in his chair, guarding the notebook, tapping the pencil’s eraser on the paper. “I won’t judge you.” He shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “You never know…it could be the greatest song of all time if we use both our brains.”

He looked at her through the hair that had fallen in front of his face. “Fine,” he conceded. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” He sat up, scooting closer to her.

“I won’t laugh,” she smiled, taking the notebook from his hand while he cringed, resting his heels on the chair and tucking his face into his knees while she read it. “What if—why are you hiding?” She giggled, poking his calf with her pen. “It’s good.”

He shook his head, “you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Just some tweaks…” she trailed off, scribbling on the page. “Listen,” she said, reading the lyrics out loud. His face shot up, looking over her shoulder. “See? Now the syllable count matches between these two lines. Not bad, right?”

“How did you do that?”

“Years and years of practice,” she giggled, watching his eyes brighten as he re-reads the lyrics.

“Do you remember?” She giggles in his ear, bringing him back to reality. He nods, his heart pounding, worried that she caught onto the subject of the lyrics. “I was just thinking about it. I liked it a lot.”

The alcohol gives her the strength to look into his eyes. Both of their lips part as they inch closer together. His hands press against her back, her breathing steady and heavy. They were the only two people in the world. Their breath on each other’s mouths, their eyes locked on each other’s lips, their bodies impossibly close.

She whispers his name.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“Your pocket’s vibrating.” She giggles.

He lets go of her, looking down, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Oh, it’s your phone,” he says, handing it to her.

“Ah,” she sighs, her face lit by the cool glow of her phone. “I, uh, I guess I’ll take this outside.”

Finding a seat at the bar, he looks at himself in the mirror behind the counter. Maybe this was a bad idea. After unlocking his phone, it buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

Indi 12:48 AM im lost

“Where are you?” He asks over the phone.

“I told you,” she stutters. “I don’t know,” she laughs. Standing, he heads toward the front door, glancing around the room for her. Eventually, he finds her leaning against the railing leading to the front of the door.

“There you are!” She cheers. “You look…” she grabs the front of his shirt by his collar, “so good in this outfit.”

“Yeah, okay,” he chuckles, his eyes shifting, trying to hold her up so she doesn’t fall.

“You…” she points at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “You always look good.”

He laughs, “you think so?”

“Have you seen you?” She looks at him, squeezing his face, making his lips poutier than usual. “Damn,” she giggles. He nods, pulling her behind him down the sidewalk. “Where are we going?”

“You need food,” he laughs, walking toward a convenience store.

Walking up and down aisles of food, she turns to him, “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Do I look good too?” She spins, tilting her chin down, looking over her shoulder with seductive eyes, making him laugh and nod. “A nod isn’t good enough, Yeonjun,” she says, holding her hand behind her ear.

“You look good, Indi.” He bites his knuckle jokingly. “Damn.”

“Yeah?” She asks, sliding her hand around his neck and into his hair, pulling on it. “You think I’m sexy?” She whispers, her breath on his lips. He swallows, smirking down at her. “Don’t worry,” she lets go of his hair. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He takes a deep breath, opening one of the refrigerators, pulling out some water bottles. “Go sit down and I’ll meet you over there,” he says, tilting his head toward a booth.

Greeting her with food, he finds her laying all the way down in the seat. She sits up quickly, wincing and holding her head.

“Here,” he pushes a water bottle and a bowl of instant noodles toward her. She fiddles with her noodles, her eyebrows furrowed. “You gotta break the chopsticks apart.”

“Oh, yeah!” She cackles, picking up the chopsticks and attempting to break them apart. “Can you do it for me?” He chuckles, reaching across the table to snap them, placing them in her hand. “Thank you!” She shouts.

He shushes her, “Indi, you’re yelling,” he laughs.

“Sorry,” she giggles, covering her face with her hand. “Thank you!” She scream-whispers.

“Man, you’re funny when you’re drunk.”

Her smile drops, “oh god, Yeonjun,” she says, laying her head on the table, her shoulders shaking.

Moving to her side of the booth, he lifts her up, asking, “What’s wrong?” He turns her face toward him by her chin, tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she says. He raises his eyebrows, chuckling at her. Burying her face in his shoulder, he wraps his arm around her while she hugs his waist, draping her legs overtop of his.

“You’re a happy, sad, and clingy drunk?”

“...and a sleepy drunk too,” she giggles.

He doesn’t know how long they sat there, carefully eating his noodles, listening to her gentle snores while she fell asleep.

Soon enough, the water, noodles, and nap sober her up just enough to be able to walk on her own again without stumbling over.

“So,” Indigo starts as they walk down her hotel’s hallway. “What are your end-of-the-night moves?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, his hands in his pockets.

“You know, what do you do at the end of a date?”

“Oh,” he sighs. “I don’t know. What do you do?”

“Well, if I want someone to kiss me, I’ll lean back onto my door and pull the front of their shirt like this,” she says, her fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him closer to her. “And look at them like this.” She tilts her chin up, narrowing her eyes at him seductively, a slight smirk on her face. “And then I move my hand up their chest and around their neck and pull them even closer.”

Her hand makes his breath hitch just barely, but not enough for her to notice. She does, however, notice his hands wrapping around her waist. “Then I’ll compliment them.” He tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. “So for you, I might run my fingers through your hair,” she says, doing exactly that. “And say something like ‘you dyed your hair again’,” she smirks. “‘I think black’s my favorite on you.’” His eyes roam her face before she lets go of his hair, standing up a little straighter as he backs off.

“Is that true?” He asks, and she hums in question. “My black hair is your favorite?”

“Uh,” she blushes, looking at the floor. “Yeah, I guess so.” She giggles. “How about you? I had purple hair last time you saw me, right? Which do you like best on me?” He uses this question as an excuse to look at her.

“Black.” He says matter-of-factly. Smiling, she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”

“Thanks for taking me out. It was fun,” she giggles, leaning back on her door. He has to force himself to not brush some of her hair out of her face. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Indi,” he sighs, and she presses her lips together, watching him walk away.

“Yeonjun?” He looks at her over his shoulder. “Will you stay with me?” He turns around completely, raising his eyebrows. “Nevermind, that’s stupid. Goodnight,” she says, turning toward the door.

“Actually, no,” she starts, turning around again. “I just don’t feel like being by myself on my birthday. I know it’s not my birthday anymore,” she giggles, looking at the time on her phone. “But it’s still my birthday in my head.” He smirks at her. “I’ve got popcorn.” She shrugs.

He agrees, following her inside as she sets her keys down on the desk.

“I’m gonna change,” she says, grabbing her pajamas that were resting on the chair while he sits on the bed. “I have a big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that might fit you if you want?”

“No, that’s okay,” he says, shaking his head. She nods, closing the door to the bathroom, walking out a few minutes later with her hair up in a clip and her glasses on.

“What?” She asks, her eyebrows scrunching up and her eyes widening, unwrapping a bag of popcorn to put in the microwave.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, realizing he was staring at her. “I just didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh my god. Are they that bad?” She asks, her cheeks turning red, using her hands to cover them.

“No, no, they look fine,” he stutters. “I just didn’t know you wore them is all.” He shrugs. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? It’s your birthday. You pick.”

#hp's writing🪲#tattoos♟️#yeonjun x oc #yeonjun x indigo #txt fic #txt ff #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt imagine #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together imagine #tomorrow x together smut #kpop x reader #kpop imagine #kpop smut

4 notes · View notes

miioouu · 4 years ago

Note

you should do a supernatural au with whoever you want !

It's only after I've written all of that that I realized you maybe meant it as the supernatrual show? If not then great (although im not sure this counts as super natrual, and if you did mean the series sjensjdb sorry i never watched) Anyway, that's a mess, so if you meant smth else please let me know, I'll write you smth else! Thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Sero Hanta

It's getting hot lately, it's the middle of June and you're dying of heat, typical summer weather. Which is totally normal, you're not really complaining, you're a summer lover. Since you were kid, you loved the bright sun, the hot air, sweating off and enjoying the clear sky. You enjoyed summer and it's multiple activities, from ice cream cooling you off, to hiking up to a fresher environment. But your favorite of them all has to be going to the beach. The sand under your toes and the waves controlling over your body, letting go. It all felt so nice. A bit too nice.

Enjoying yourself way too much, you didn't realize that the waves are getting you further and further away from the shore. The sun is setting and the water cooling off more, your eyes closed for a second enjoying the breeze, and that was your mistake. You didn't see the big wave coming, no one around you was there to warn you either, it came crashing over you. Turning you over, making you reach the bottom of the ocean, and pushing your body left and right, the impact leaving you blacked out.

It's a miracle you opened your eyes. Though you were met with darkness, with nothing but a few... Purple lights? That's weird. Looking around you, you find yourself in what seems like a cavern, dark, humid, jellyfishes were the source of light. You laid in the back, on a rock, a big one and you wondered what brought you here. Who brought you here. And your question was soon to be answered. A man, black haired and even blacker eyes making his way towards you. Agile and smooth in his movements, the ethereal light accentuating what you can see of his body. His torso smooth, his abs showing slightly, and what were that on his elbows? The closer he got the more obvious it looked, but not really. Are those scales? And is that... Is that a tail behind him? A mermaid! Merman! That can't be it. You must be dreaming, you really knocked your head really hard. Maybe if you just turn away, and close your eyes, this timr you'll wake up in reality. But that was in vain. A wet hand found it self in your shoulder shaking you, while the other still behind his back. His abyss eyes looked into yours, he looked so handsome, he looked so real, maybe if you.... As you reached out, your fingers shaking as they made their way to his cheeks, but as soon as he felt the contact he backed away. "I... I didn't mean to hurt you.... Are you ok?" Giving you a questioning look, head tilt to the side and an obvious confusion in his eyes, it's when you realized, he can't understand you, and finding a way out of here, might be more difficult than you expected it.

As much as you'd love to stay with the new found creature, you have a family that might be worried to death about you right now. So standing to your feet, you tried to make your way out of the cavern, though you were stopped. A webbed hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you backwards "Where do you think you're going?" Huh? So now he can speak?! "Why- why didn't you answer me before?" You wanted to sound more confident, more serious, but you voice came out as shaky and trembling. "Because you asked me a stupid question! I should be the one wondering if you're ok. Anyway, you can't go back now. The waves are still too strong, and it's so dark out, you'll only get lost. So why don't you stay for a bit more, and in the morning I'll lead you out! Here I even got you some games we can play so you don't get bored!" Finally the hand that was behind his back was revealed, stretching it before you, opening his palm, small fish bones, some pearls and shells shone in his palm, but what really attracted you was the big shell with something engraved on it. Four letters symbolizing who this man- euh merman before you was, in an intersting typography, the name "Sero" made your heart beat a bit faster....

Kozume Kenma

Living far from the city is fun. Every morning you opened your window, the fresh air carrying the smell of baked good from the small bakery accross your small house and the lavender growing infront of your porch door. You liked living like that. And you liked roaming around the village, petting every animal you see, from the elderly couple's cows, to the young boy's dogs, it's an amazing life you're living.

The pet that you liked the most, but unfortunately you don't think it reciprocate your feelings, is the nocturnal cat that's always meowing outside your window. It was a stray cat, only showing up at night, you'd throw it some food before it snatched it and left. Though as more time passed by, this cat seemed to like you more and more. It would stay out a little longer, eating in front of you instead of leaving to eat in it's secret hidden place. And on cold nights, it would rub its head on your leg, relishing in the pets you'd give them. This cat, white with spoltches of black and gold decorating its furr, seemed like it was abandoned, for a collar was still wrapped around its neck, and a name shining under the light on the medal "Kenma". And you loved that name, you don't know why, but it fits the cat, and everytime you think of this five letter name, you can't help but smile and your heart get warmer.

Cold winter night, you were worried; where's your precious Kenma. You were about to go look for him until you heard whines and scratched on your door, indicating it's your beloved street cat. Quickly letting him in, running to grab a towel and drying him, holding him close to your chest to keep him warm "Awww baby, you're cold yeah? I was worried about you all day long, why didn't you come earlier?" and of course you didn't get a reply, only a purr and a scooting closer to you, burying himself in the warmth of your body. So warm and peaceful, the cat drifted to sleep. And it could be because of the weather, or because you're so happy with the kitty next to you, it's still early but your eyelids are growing heavy, you fell into dreamland with your arms holding the pet close to you.

It's just so warm here, so comfortable, your mattress and your sheets are so soft, your heartbeat lulling him into an even deeper slumber, keeping him in your bed even well after the sun had risen. It's only when a sudden push made him fall of the bed, a high scream making his ear ring and the warmth of you once close body left him cold and shivering tat he finally opened your eyes. "Who are you?! How did you get here?! You know don't say anything, keep it for when the police comes!" That's when it all clicked in his head, eyes widening, moving fast as a cat to take your phone away from your hand. "Y/n, listen, calm down, calm down! I can explain, I swear!" Y/n? How does this stranger know your name? When he finally stood to his feet, you had a proper look at him. Long hair that stops right before his shoulder, dyed blonde but you could see the black roots. Eyes sly as a feline, golden, a bit strange. And it's when your eyes raked down, stoped to his neck you noticed something familiar, the collar of your beloved cat. "Y/n, it's me Kenma!" You always knew this village was bit strange...

#kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #hq x reader #request

76 notes · View notes

ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

#a favor #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

176 notes · View notes

angstysebfan · 4 years ago

Text

PR Stunt Gone Wrong - Chapter 8

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: You are a fellow actress in the MCU, Bucky’s love interest. You met Seb during the CA: WS and you guys hit it off. Chemistry on and off the set, but never dated until after Infinity War. During filming of FATWS, the pandemic caused everything to shut down. Seb offered you to spend quarantine with him, but somewhere along the lines, things go wrong and Seb makes a PR decision.

A/N: I was going to to this in a Bucky story, but then I decided to keep it Seb. With everything going on with Seb over the last several months, I came up with this story in my head. Obviously a lot of this is made up, but it is using what we know Seb has been doing over the last several months.

Your grandfather passing hit you hard. You closed in on yourself and became almost numb. Seb was able to go with you to the cemetery this time, and held you as you watched your grandfather be buried. You decided not to stay with you mom this time and went straight back home to Seb’s apartment. When you got back you went and took a shower and climbed into bed and just stared at the ceiling.

Seb walked in to see if you were hungry, but you didn’t even answer. It was like you were in your own world, and that scared him. He thought leaving you alone for a little while would help, but when it was getting late and you hadn’t eaten, he became frustrated and felt helpless. He walked back into the bedroom, “Y/N, you have to eat something. I got you your favorite, please just eat something!” he begged.

You looked at him for a moment before resuming to stare at the ceiling. Seb sat next to you on the bed, sighing, “I know this has been a shitty month for you. I wish there was a way to make this all go away and for things to go back to normal. Just please don’t push me away. You have been so distant and quiet, and I...” he sighs again looking at you. You haven’t moved from your spot and continue to look up at the ceiling.

Seb leaves your food next to you before heading back downstairs. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He hates to see you like this and isn’t sure how long he can bear watching you like this. He knows that sounds selfish, but he just wants things back to normal. He sits at the counter and eats his food in silence, before walking into his office to write a little and speak to his agent about the upcoming months. He has a lot coming up and needs to make sure he has everything set and ready to go.

He gets a call from his PR agent to set up a Zoom meeting with a potential partner. He isn’t sure he wants to go ahead with the partnership, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to talk. Once he is done with all his work, he heads back up to the room to see you curled in a ball on your side of the bed. He notices that you did eat, which makes him smile. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed, spooning you, kissing your shoulder. He smiles again when he feels you lean into him.

Over the coming weeks you started to act more like yourself, which made Seb very happy. One morning in early June you woke up with your head on his chest. You slowly tried to peel yourself away but he tightened his hold. You looked at him and saw him looking at you with a sleepy smile, “Where you running to?” he asked in his sexy morning voice. You smile and lean back into him, “I was going to go to the bathroom and then make us some food,” you say and he wraps his arm around you.

“No, stay here. Let’s just stay here for awhile,” he says. You look at him and notice an unknown emotion behind his eyes. You noticed it’s been there ever since his Zoom meeting a few days ago. “Is everything okay? I feel like something is wrong,” you ask. He pulls you in and kisses you, “I just want to lay here with you,” he says before kissing you again. You smile and nuzzle into his chest, “I love you,” you say. You swear you feel him tense up at the words, but he kisses you on the head in response.

Over the next few weeks you notice Seb acting weird. He goes from being cold one minute to wanting to be in your arms the next. He starts picking fights with you at random, and you never understand what he is thinking. He also never tells you he loves you anymore. Whenever you say to him, he answers with a smile and kiss. You feel the being stuck in quarantine might finally be getting to him, but you honestly hope this passes, and soon.

“I think I’m going to go to Spain next month,” he says nonchalantly one morning. You look up from the book that you are reading in shock. “Why?” you ask. He shrugs his shoulders, “I mean get out of here for awhile, see some people, and remember I said I was going to visit the kids,” he says. You put down your book and try to reign in on your emotions.

“Seb this is the absolute worst time to travel! In fact there are travel bans that stop people from the US going to Europe, and your going to go to Spain?” you say irritated. He is honestly not totally surprised by your response, “It’s for work, I wont be gone too long, you can come with me!” he says. You roll your eyes, “May I remind you I lost 2 family members to this shitty virus! Do you really think I am going to risk my life, as well as countless other people’s lives?” you ask.

Seb looks at you and realizes how stupid he is being. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have even thought about it. I will cancel,” he says. You nod, but look at him unsure of how you are feeling toward him at this moment. He sighs defeatedly and walks over, squatting in front of you, “Forgive me? I wasn’t thinking. I just want things to be normal again, and I am sorry for being selfish,” he says brushing your hair back from your face.

It was honestly the first time he has touched you in a few days, so you melt into it. “Ok, I forgive you. I get it. I wish we could run away from here and go some place else, but not yet okay?” you say. He smiles and nods before walking into his office.

You watch him walk away and are not sure why you have this unsteady feeling in your gut. You feel like something is going to happen. Something bad.

Chapter 7 / Chapter 9

What’s going on with Seb? Get ready for the angst train people!! Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @arundhati1609 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys

Story Taglist: @5jacobm5 @thejemersoninferno @godohammers @adriannajackson @barikawho @uglipotata72829

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #seb

128 notes · View notes

jem-2096 · 4 years ago

Text

Brunette from Mars - (Peter Parker One shot)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of fighting/abuse, FLUFFY AF!

(This could be read as ftm!peterparker and/or regular MCU Peter Parker)

This one shot is inspired by the song mars by Yungblud. Go give it a listen if you haven't!

You and the brunette haired boy with deep honey coloured irises quickly became good friends. You commuted to school each morning together after learning you lived in the same apartment in Queens while your first day of highschool in homeroom. You were paired for some lame icebreakers to get to know other students. He had nervously blabbed to you about how he had moved apartments with his aunt over the summer and as you got to know him better over time, he let you know the reason why they moved.

You quickly learned that the brunette was a great listener, quick witted, fairly thoughtful, determined with his studies, had a passion for tinkering with programming and computer tech and secretly kept a picture of Daisy Ridley as Rey from Star Wars in his desk that you won't let him live down.

Two summers ago, the brunette had quite the glow up that to be honest made your stomach do flips. After returning from a trip to Detroit with his Aunt May to visit family, the brunette came back to school with his braces off and a nice build to him compared to the lanky string bean he was when he had left in that June.

With this overnight glow up also came this new habit of him flaking on you and really everyone without reasonable explanations. He would come to school with bruised knuckles, scratches on his face, and more often than not bags under his eyes. Although he seemed exhausted, his smile and upbeat self usually didn't seem to waver. His eyes did however seem to say otherwise whenever his honey brown irises met yours.

Unless he flaked on an important commitment, you didn't display emotions or words for his lack of presence. His world didn't revolve around you and you accepted that. You reminded yourself to try not to hold him back from what he loved because you were a good friend and wanted what was best for him, even if it was draining him.

"I'm free to study for algebra after dinner tonight." You stated to the brunette, looking past him out the city bus window as the buildings, and trees whirled past you. You weren't looking for an answer at this point, just giving him an open invitation to come over if he had nothing better to do on his Thursday night. You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye as he leaned his head against the pole you both were holding onto and closed his eyes. The bus was quiet this morning as you watched the orange sunrise dance over the brunette's features and could hear the beat of whatever song he was listening to through his headphones.

A GPS like voice came over the bus intercom as you turned the corner. "Grand Central Parkway at 65th Avenue". You pulled the chord on the side of the bus for the bus driver to stop and gently shook the brunette's shoulder. As you saw his honey coloured eyes once again, you nodded in the direction of the door for you to both get off.

You were early to school today seeing as you made the transfer bus in time for the first time in forever. Walking through the dewy grass on the field together, you pointed at an open picnic table near the tennis courts.

Setting your backpack down, you opened it grabbing out two granola bars and an apple. The brunette slumped down beside you to face away from the sun. As he set his coffee on the table, his head immediayley went into his folded arms. You placed one of the granola bars infront of him, and sat facing the courts. Stretched your legs out and crossing your ankles, you flipped through one of your novels, quickly finishing up your AP lit reading before class.

"Thanks." You heard him pipe up in a monotone voice as he shoved the granola bar in his pocket. You nodded, nose still in your novel. He knew by now that he didn't have to put on an act around you. "We gotta go in, in 20. I'll wake you in 15, kay?"

He nodded as his head was back in his arms, facing away from you. You heard him let out an audible sigh as you finished up the last of your notes.

"Pete?" You ask hesitantly, resting your hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond. "You know, you can tell me anything right? I won't push you. The offer still stands. No judgement. Alright?" You say quietly, softly rubbing your hand down his jacket clad back and let it drop off to collect your things and pack up your bag.

The alarm you set on your phone goes off as you see him prop his head up and wipe his eyes on his sleeve out of the corner of your eye.

'Oh Peter. Sometimes, as close as we are, I wish it didn't feel as though there was a cement wall between us.' You thought to yourself as you scrolled through your phone. As you both stood to walk up to the school, to your surprise, as cold and distant as he had been recently, he pulled you into his side. You wrapped your arms around his torso giving him a quick hug.

After taking attendance in home room and catching up with MJ about her latest find in the school library, you were dismissed to your first period class. "Leave your window open at 6." You heard the brunette pipe up at your lockers. "Always." You nodded, giving him a small smile before parting ways to your classes.

You quickly glanced at your alarm clock on your desk reading 8:30 pm. Quickly realizing you were running out of graph paper in your notebook as you flipped to a fresh page, you scribbled down the next practice question. Your headphones blasted one of your new favourite songs as you disconnected them from the bluetooth on your phone to play out loud. "Do you feel like your irrelevant, do you feel like your just scared as fuck.." You quietly sang along, writing a note to get more graph paper in the near future, as you heard a thud from the window beside you.

Swiveling in your chair, you look up to see the silhouette of the brunette. As he steps into the light of your desk lamp and sits on your bed you can see his eyes are red and his knuckles are beginning to bruise again. He kicks off his sneakers as you hesitantly stand from your chair to go and to sit beside him.

He immediately buries his face in his hands as he quietly cries. You try your best to not show the hurt on your face from seeing him like this as you gently rub his back. You go to sit behind him up against the wall. You bring your hands around his waist gently holding him, letting your legs dangle on either side of him and rest your head on his shoulder.

When you no longer hear uneven breathing, you sit back up and one hand goes to the hair on the nape of his neck, softly playing with his locks, while the other gently rubs circles on his back.

"I'm sorry." You hear him sigh out. "Im so fucking sorry." He pleads as he begins to cry again. "I'm here. Just breathe Pete." You say calmly as you wrap your legs around his waist and hug him tighter. You take deep breaths for him to mimic to try and calm him back down.

"I keep fucking up Y/n/n, and I don't know what to do anymore." He painfully lets out. You take in his words and quickly think of an appropriate response. "Everyone I try to become close with has ended up hurt or passed away, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders and have to fill his shoes. No matter what decisions I make I still always end up letting someone down. I'm just so fucking tired Y/n." Although his words are a jumbled mess to you, you nod. You let go of the tense brunette and sit beside him. "Take your shirt off and go lie on your stomach." You say to him as he looks at you somewhat confused but does as he's told and props his head up on his folded arms.

You can see the faded scars and healed wounds on his arms, shoulders and back, wondering who gave these to him. As you sit straddling his waist, your hands go to his shoulders and back massaging his tense and knotted muscles. He lets out a big sigh of relief after realizing what's going on. He softly mewls as you gently work the knots out. Once all the tension in his back and shoulders is gone, you lay close beside the half awake brunette.

"Thank you." He states sincerely, as he rolls to face you. You know that his words of gratitude are for more than just the back massage. You nod, reaching your hand up to run your hands softly through his locks to relax him further as his eyes flutter shut at your touch. "We're all only capable of so much Pete. Please, don't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. It's a hard pill to swallow but its impossible to win every battle and win everyone over. I know it's easier said than done, and it'll take some time to figure everything out, but I'll be here every step of the way though alright?" You whisper softly, and reach for his hand giving it a squeeze as he nods. "I'll let you get some rest." You sigh out, sitting up, bringing the blanket at the end of the bed over his larger frame and bend down giving a kiss to his temple. "Goodnight love." You whisper.

After another hour and a half of battling through algebra questions, you quietly change into some sweats and open up your netflix account to get your mind off your math problems and your worries of Peter. Picking up your laptop, your half empty waterbottle falls to the floor with a thud. Your gaze darts over to your bed to see the naturally curly headed brunette sound asleep. Your heart flutters as you catch him pull the covers up to his chin and nuzzle his nose into the pillow and blankets while he curls his legs up into the fetal position. You sit on the floor beside your bed as the light from the movie on netflix illuminates your bedroom. You have the subtitles on and the movie on the lowest volume as you rest your back against the bed frame.

After a few minutes you begin to hear the brunette stir and roll over to face the movie. "Is this that BoxTrolls movie?" You hear him croak out in a deep voice that makes your heart flutter. "No, this one's Paranorman. It's in my top 5." You respond, your gaze still on the screen. You feel his fingers playing with the ends of your hair softly, trying his best not to disturb you even though you've seen this movie more times than you can remember.

He pushes all of your hair over to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the opposite one. "You know, you don't have to sit on the floor right? I don't bite Y/n." He states sleepily in your ear. You quickly catch your breath at how close he is as you comprehend the words coming out of his mouth and nod standing. You place your laptop on your desk chair and wheel it over in front of the bed. Looking over to the brunette laying confortably in your bed, he holds the blanket open for you to get in. "One sec." You say as you take off your hoodie, revealing your white tank top underneath that clung to the hills and slopes of your natural curves. You had ditched your bra long before the Brunette had arrived, remembering that it's laying in the clothes hamper and not on your body. You looked back down to see the brunette's arm still holding the blanket open, his honey eyes on you. They slowly wandered down your silhouette to see the loose sweatpants hung low on your hips and back up to meet your gaze. The dark room concealed the deep blush you felt on your cheeks from his gaze. 'Too late now..' you thought as you climbed under the blanket. Your back rested up against Peter's larger frame. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Is this okay y/n/n?" The brunette questioned. You nodded, trying your best to calm your breathing as you felt his warm, gentle touch on your skin. You hoped and prayed he couldn't hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest. 'I feel so safe and at home in his arms but the last thing he needs right now is a girlfriend. And why would he want to be with me anyways. We're just friends and he probably just needs physical affection from someone right now.' You thought to yourself.

You let out a soft sigh at your thoughts. "You okay sweetheart?" He asks softly, as you feel his warm lips peck the back of your exposed neck. Your face is on fire at this point. 'He's just tired Y/n. Calm down. Dont say anthing stupid' "Yeah, I just feel safe in your arms." You murmur loud enough for him to hear. 'Idiot. You ruined it. Shit shit shit.'

It became deathly quiet between you two. You could hear his breathing, the rain hitting your bedroom window, the cars driving on the street below, your upstairs neighbour walking around their apartment and the dull volume of the movie playing from your laptop.

"Y/n/n?" You heard him whisper.

You rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his warm cologne and body wash as you wrapped your arm around his waist and tangled your legs in his. Although you didn't have all the answers you were looking for, this the closest you two had been in over a year and you were happy that he was finally starting to let down his walls.

He stroked your hair, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Goodnight love." He mumbled before all the sounds around you in the silence of your bedroom coaxed you to sleep.

You had woken up to your alarm at 6:30am to find the spot beside you empty.

The brunette swore that was the best sleep he had had in months he thought, reminiscing as he climbed down the fire escape after quickly showering and getting ready to meet you before catching the bus. You heard a knock on your window before he slid it open and sat on the sil. He fiddled with tge metro card in his hands as a small smile crept onto his face watching you concentrating on finishing your eyeliner and mascara. You take a step back to look in the mirror to see if your wings are symmetrical, seeing the brunette looking at you with a sheepish grin in the reflection. He looked well rested for once, his eyes kind and soft, glancing at you in adoration. Your heart beats out of your chest as you spin around to look at him.

"One sec." You say quickly rushing out to the kitchen to grab some food before packing up your bag. Pulling on your coat and beanie, as you walk towards the window sill the brunette is lounging on.

"Before we go, I uhm... forgot to tell you something.. last night." He says looking down at his hands as you reach out gently hold his larger ones. "Y/n.. I uhm-" he looks up at you, scanning your features, trying his best to read your emotions. You see him glance down quickly at your soft lips. 'I can't take this. Screw always being a good friend.' You thought as you leaned in, placing a hand on his cheek and a soft kiss to his lips. Your thumb stroked his cheek as he leaned back in for another. Your forehead rested against his. "Was that what you wanted to tell me?" You asked in a hushed tone, looking down at his lips again. He nodded before giving them another peck. "Uhm.. we better go before we-" "oh.. yeah, your right. Shit!" You say, quickly checking the time on your phone.

As you dashed down the fire escape and towards the bus stop, his hand never left yours as you jogged behind him giggling at his antics of repeating "Shit" as he saw the bus waiting for you at your stop as you both jogged towards it. You couldn't see it but for the first time in a while, a genuine smile adorned the brunette's face and through whatever he was battling with, knowing you were by his side, there would be plenty more to come.

25 notes · View notes

chaoticdisater · 5 years ago

Text

Red white & royal Blue Favourite quotes

“How many times do I have to tell Y’all not to discuss your murder plots in front of a sitting president” their mother interrupts “Plausible deniability. Come on” (Pg 64)

I don't know WHO you think you're kidding, you Hufflepuff-ass bitch, (Alex to henry over text pg 69)

“‘put the turkeys in my room’ ‘No.’ ‘put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room -’ later that night as Alex stares into the cold pitiless eyes of a prehistoric beast of prey, he has a few regrets” (Alex and his mother Pg 76)

“’he- Oi! Not for you Mr.wobbles! those are mine!’ more rustling and a distant offended Meow, ‘no, Mr. wobbles you bastard!’” (Henry at his sister's cat, pg 80)

“Dec 8, 2019, 8:53 PM yo there's a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe HRH prince Dickhead I BEG YOU TO NOT “ (Henry and Alex over text Pg 84)

“’ the options Id like...’ he says dragging the words out. ‘they don't quite seem to be options at all’” (Henry Pg 107)

“’ christ you're a thick as it gets’ he says and he grabs Alex's face in both hands and kisses him.” (Henry Pg 107)

“‘Seventy-eight percent probability of latent Bi-sexual tendencies. one hundred percent probability this is not a hypothetical question’” (Nora pg 118)

“‘am I? do you think I'm Bi?’ ‘I can't tell you that Alex!’ she says ‘that's the whole point!’” (Alex and Nora Pg121)

“she slants a look at him ‘is this a diabolical scheme of seduction?’ she asks ‘if so, yes.’“ (Nora Pg 130)

“Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes henry onto it so hes sitting with his back against - Alex looks up and almost breaks into a deranged laugh - a portrait of alexander hamilton.” (Pg 132)

“‘im going to die’ henry says helplessly. ‘im going to kill you,’ Alex tells him.” (Henry and Alex pg 133)

‘”and if you fucking ghost me again, I'm going to get you put on a fucking no-fly list. got it’” (Alex at henry pg 134)

“worst of all, Henry is good“ (Alex's thoughts on henry playing Polo Pg 147)

“’I’m gonna go, Uh’ Alex says ‘say hi to henry’ Amy's mouth settles into a grim line ‘Please don't elaborate’ ‘Yeah I know’ Alex says ‘plausible deniability’” (Alex and Amy Pg 148)

‘A <[email protected]> to Henry his royal highness prince of whatever, Don't make me learn your actual title’ (Alex’s email to henry Pg 152)

‘Henry <[email protected]> to A Alex, first son of inappropriately timed Emails when I’m in early morning meetings’ (Henry’s email to Alex Pg 155)

“when he shows up to a briefing two days later Zahra grabs his jaw with one hand and turns his head, peering closer at the side of his neck. ‘is that a Hickey’ Alex freezes. ‘I . . . um, no?’” (Zahra and Alex pg 162)

“‘Do you have a last name?’ Alex has never actually offered a greeting when calling Henry ‘What?’ the usual bemused elongated one-syllable response” (163 Alex and henry over the phone)

“‘Baby’ its become a thing: Baby he knows it’s become a thing. hes slipped up and accidentally said it a few times, and each time, Henry positively melts” (Alex Pg 166)

“‘I miss you,’ Alex says before he can stop himself he instantly regrets ut but henry says. ‘I miss you too’” (pg 173)

“she flung her arm out emphatically enough to upset an entire potted cactus on her dresser and says ‘Because until now you weren't fucking the prince of England’” (June pg 177)

“‘you should try saying some of that stuff to Him’ ‘stop trying to Jane Austen my life’” (June and Alex Pg 180)

“’ is now a good time to point out henrys very hot Very rich best friend is basically in love with you?’ Alex says to June ‘hes like some kind of billionaire genius manic-pixie-dream philanthropist. I feel like you would be into that.’ ‘Please shut up,’” (Alex and June Pg 182)

“‘yes, yes, Pez, we know there's nothing you cant do,’ says henrys voice off-camera ‘no need to rub it in’“ (henry Pg 184)

“‘oh I haven't had vodka since uni,’ henry says ‘it tends to make me erm, well-’ ‘flamboyant?’ Pez offers. ‘uninhibited? randy?’ ‘Fun?’ Bea suggests ‘Excuses you, I am loads of fun all the time! I am a Delight’“ (Henry Bea and Pez pg 190)

“’yes Beatrice, we shall behave in a manner befitting the crown,’ henry says. his eyes are slightly crossed ‘don't be a tosser’“ (Henry and bea Pg 195)

“He likes taking henry apart but there's something incredibly intantament about sitting on the bed they wrecked the night before, the only one who watches him create Prince Henry of Wales for the day.” (Pg 200)

“‘So this is the gang now, huh?’ and through it all, Alex realizes with a start: he has friends now.” (Cash pg 201)

“How is a man to get anything done knowing Alex Claremont-Diaz is out there on the loose?” (Henrys email to Alex pg 203)

“yours in sexual frustration Henry” (henrys email to Alex pg 206)

“once again, how had he ever convinced himself he was straight,” (Alex pg 213)

“‘just so we’re clear,’ Alex said ‘Im about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family. Like that's what's happening?’“ (Alex pg 217)

“your Brave I could use some of that” (Pg 218)

“Because that's what he would do if he were here in this palace to fall in love Henry” (Pg 220)

“Zahra doesnt even look up from her phone ‘that was my boyfriend and no, you may not ask me any further questions about him’” (Zahra Pg 223)

“If he’s some anonymous normal person removed from history he’s twenty-two and he’s tipsy and he’s pulling a guy into his hotel room by the belt loop. He’s pulling a lip between his teeth and he fumbling behind his back to switch on a lamp and he’s thinking I like this person” (Pg 228)

“You still are. Because you still bloody care so much.” He leans down and presses a kiss into Alex’s hair. “And you are good. Most things are awful most of the time but you’re good” (Henry Pg 230)

“’Seriously?’ She hisses ‘your literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state who is a man at the biggest political event before the election in a hotel full of reporters in a city full of cameras in a race close enough to fucking hinge on some bullshit like this like a manifestation of my fucking stress dreams and you’re asking me not to tell the president about it?’” (Zarha pg 233)

“The next slide is titled EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH THE PRINCE ENGLAND? she apologizes for not having time to come up with better titles Alex activity wishes for the sweet release of death” (Pg 237)

“History huh? I bet we could make some.” (Alex’s email to henry Pg 241)

“The pair of you share and an alarming number of traits by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c,” (herny’s email to Alex Pg 242)

“Regards Haplessly romantic heretic prince henry the utterly daft” (henrys email to Alex pg 243)

“‘It’s math,’ Nora says ‘Math has no authority here,’ June tells her ‘Math is everywhere June’” (Nora and June Pg 247)

“Henry is tipsy and shirtless and attempting to referee” (pg 252)

“’Some times you just jump and hope it’s not a chiff’” (Alex dad Pg 256)

“Well, Alex is so in love he could die.” (Pg 257)

“He’s been falling in love with Henry for years probably since he first saw him in glossy print on the pages of j14 almost definitely since Henry pinned Alex to the floor of a medical supply closet and told him to shut the hell up.” (Pg 257)

“’Fuck off five nine is average’” (Pg 258)

“’H?’ He whispers ‘you awake?’ Henry sighs ‘always.’” ( Pg 260)

“He’s got a distinct feeling of something being pulled out of his hands right before he could grasp it.” (Pg 263)

“something rises in Alex's throat - anger, confusion, hurt, bile. Unforgivably, he feels like he might cry” (Pg 270)

“’Fuck I swear you don’t make it fucking easy but I’m in love with you’” (Alex Pg 271)

“’I never thought I’d be stood here faced with a choice I can’t make because I never ... I never imagined you would love me back’” (Henry pg 273)

“He’s in Henry’s face now if he’s getting his heart broken tonight he’s sure as hell going to make Henry have the guts to do it right ‘tell me you're done with me. I’ll get back on the plane. that's it. and you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fucking poems about it, whatever just say it’” (274)

“He’s in stupid unbearable love and Henry loves him too and at least for one night it matters, even if they both have to pretend to forget in the morning” (Pg 275)

“He tells his too fast brain: don’t miss this time he’s too important” (Alexs thoughts Pg 275)

“henry’s hands-on him are unhurried and soft and they make out lazily for hours or days.” (Pg 280)

“Alex sighs ‘i don't think I told you but she uh. well, when she fired me she told me that if I wasn't a thousand percent serious about you. I need to break things off.’ Henry nuzzles his nose behind Alex's ear ‘a thousand percent?’” (Alex and Henry Pg 282)

“‘Diaz you insane hopeless romantic little shit’ says the voice of the president of the united states, muffled in the bed ‘it had better be forever. Be safe’“ (Pg 284)

“hes cut off mid-sentence because Alex has stopped in the middle of the corridor and yanked him backwards into a kiss” (pg 286)

“’its funny’ henry says ‘i always thought of the whole thing as the most unforgivable thing about me but you act like its one of the best’“ (henry Pg 289)

“he takes the chain off his neck and slides the ring on next to the old house key. they click together gently as he tucks them both under his shirt, two homes side by side” (Pg 291)

“I opened my blasted mouth and said ‘because I'm not like the rest of the men in this family beginning with the fact that I'm am very deeply gay Philip’ once shaan managed to dislodge him from the chandelier Philip had quite a few words for me,” (Henry’s emails to Alex Pg 298)

“just leaving, not coming back. maybe burning something down on the way out. it would be nice.” (henrys emails to Alex pg 299)

“I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire” (henrys emails to Alex (describing how he felt when he first saw Alex) Pg 300)

“20. the fact that you have loved me all along.” (alex’s email to henry (the list of things alex loves about henry) Pg 303)

“‘Oh my god Z what is That? did you get engaged?’ Zahra looks down at the ring and shrugs. ‘i had the week-end off’” (June and Zahra pg 305)

“’you and me and history, remember? were just gonna fucking fight. because your it okay? Im never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you,’“ (Alex pg 312)

“‘I swear to god if you say I'm too young I'm gonna lose my shit,’“ (Alex pg 315)

“What did he do ‘be more specific’“ (Alex to Zahra pg 321 )

“’the president is sitting down with as many members of the office of communitcs we could drag out of bed at three in the morning’” (Zahra Pg 323)

“‘pack a bag’ she says ‘we’re going to londan’” (Zahra Pg 334)

“she (Zarha) seems confident Shaan will agree to it and willing to physically overpower him if not.” (pg 334)

“still the cocky shit head part of him is slightly pleased to finally have claim on henry. Yep, the prince? Most eligible bachelor in the world? British accent face like a greek god, legs for days? Mine” (Pg 336)

“‘youre giving my ulcer an ulcer’“ (Zahra pg 336)

“‘Im running on nothing but black coffee, a wetzels pretzel, and a fistful of B12. Do not even breathe in my directrion,’“ (Zahra Pg 339)

“He leans up and kisses the underside of his jaw, finding it rough from a full fitful day,” (pg 340)

“‘What kind of family, that says we’ll take the murder, we’ll take the raping and pillaging and the colonizing, well scrub it up nice and neat in a museum but oh no you’re a bloody poof? That’s beyond our sense of decorum’” (Henry pg 347)

“Bea seizes the pot of tea from the center of the table and dumps it into his lap ‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry Pip’ she says grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him sputtering and yelping toward the door ‘so deardfully clumsy, you know I think all that cocaine I did must have really done a job on my refexes!’” (Bea pg 357)

“Henry pulls Alex close and kisses him whispers, ‘I love you I love you I love you’ and it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees.” (Pg 358)

And that’s when I gave up I do have more but well I didn’t want to make this list any more

#alex claremont diaz #henry got to many names for me to remeber #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue

66 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years ago

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper.

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

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

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

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

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you��ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

#queen fic #roger taylor fic

99 notes · View notes

kdenbibi · 5 years ago

Text

Boo

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x African American! Reader

Request: Hello! Could I make a request please? Could you write an African American! Exchange student! X Kaminari Denki?(or Hitoshi Shinsou, all my faves are problematic) If I need to be more specific, I have an idea: •The reader is normally a tough girl, but Since its spooky season™️ the two of them decide to go to a haunted house and it turns out she gets spooked pretty easily -> teasing ensues But anything would be fine because I like your writing style! If you dont have the time, that's ok, thank you!

AN: I'm sorry if it's short and or trash but I love this goofy fool sm and I'm really happy someone requested him!!! (ALSO I HATEMYSELF YOU REQUESTED THIS IN OCTOBER AND IM POSTIN IT IN JUNE END ME)

"Remind me again why I agreed to do this shit?"

"I’ve always said one day my daring charm and wit would finally getcha’- please don’t go I was just playing!" He laughed out catching my elbow before I could escape the oncoming headache.

"No, you said we were going to a pumpkin patch dickhead, this ain’t a pumpkin patch." You felt your eye twitch as you walked closer to your real destination, the scariest Halloween attraction in your town.

"I may have stretched the nature of the pumpkins, they'll still be here! Just on the heads of people trying to kill you in a corn maze.”

Almost as if to emphasize his statement shrill screams coming from within the maze finally reached your ears, and shit did it send a chill up your spine, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Huffing out a laugh you turned to face the eccentric blonde, "We're gonna have to square up after this you know that right?"

"What? I'm not a square! I picked this place after all." He boasted gesturing to the haunting atmosphere hanging over the two of you, before you could correct him on the term a particularly loud shriek had the both of you jumping in place, the sudden movement caused your hand to ever so slightly brush against his, unknown to you, but the harmless action had his heart racing faster than the zombie that chased the two of you from the ticket booth to where you now stood.

“If something grabs me i’m going to hit you.”

He laughed holding a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “Why are you gonna hit me?! I’ll only grab you if you ask- wAIT STOP LEAVING.”

“Well i’m not gonna hit the worker, they’re just doing their job.”

“You know I’m surprised.”

“What that I actually dragged my ass outta bed to be here? Me too.”

“No, well yes and no heh.” You turned to face him, overly aware of your place in line and how it slowly but surely grew closer to the dark entrance.

“Well you seem kinda..”

“Is there an end to that sentence?”

“Don’t bite my head off okay?” he anxiously toyed withe the strings of his hoodie, his eyes darting around from your face to the floor,

“You almost seem kinda, scared?”

“Boy if you don’t-”

“Next.”

Was the only word the doorman said as he ushered the two of you forward, cutting off your defense before it could begin, you’ve been in burning buildings, the bad end of a gun fight and can proudly say you’ve talked back to your mama and lived to tell the tale, statistically, you a bad bitch, things can’t shake you.

cept’ this.

The air seemed to grow colder as you wordlessly moved forward, your hands twitched at your sides, the longer nothing happened the tighter you tensed up.

“Pretty cool huh?” he whispered at your side making you jump nearly two feet in the air, your hands flying up to press against your temples.

“Whhhat the hell man? Why would you go and do some shit like that?”

He tried in vain to bite back a smile at your reaction, pausing his steps he stared down at you, “So you are scared!”

“Well no, your loud ass whispering caught me off guard is all.” He rolled his eyes, the grin on his face only growing as you suddenly picked up the pace, he had to jog to not lose you.

“Wait up a second here-”

“What good does that do anyone in horror movies ever? Exactly.” He laughed tugging at your sleeve.

“Come on! I’ve been asking you out since you transferred and you finally said yes, stay a while.” The urge to clown him for the line was strong, only outweighed by the urge to throw him a bone, to his credit, he had been asking you out since your first day in class, you gave him an elaborate excuse not to go every single time, it became sort of a game, no matter how ridiculous the lies got, he never argued, never got mean like a lot of people do when they get rejected, instead he’d laugh along and swear one day he’d get you to say yes, and somewhere, along the way, among the jokes and terrible, garbage pick up lines, you began to notice a few things about Denki Kaminari.

The first was that he had two sides, the guy who tries to be cool, the school flirt, this is the guy he usually was, but there was also this version of him that switches his Netflix to English when you come over, just to make it easier for you to enjoy, the kinda guy that sends you memes when you’ve had a bad day, the kinda guy who actually remembered how homesick you got talking about Halloween back home so he tried to surprise you with what he no doubt thought was a good idea.

Points for effort.

You sighed slowing your pace to fall beside him, once ore you continued forward in silence, you finally came to a choice in the path, left or right.

“So, where we going?” you asked subtly inching closer to him, the skin crawly feeling seemed to spread as you stared down the offending paths,knowing no matter where you went, some scurry shit was waiting for you.

“You tell me gorgeous.”

“Why the hell should I know?” he rolled his eyes, tugging you with a grin

“Fine! Lets go this way.” he began walking to the left, to his surprise you’d suddenly latched on his arm pulling him back.

“D-Don’t the screams sound louder down there?”

He tried to memorize the way you wrapped around his arm, not knowing if he’d get the chance again, he was so caught up he nearly forgot how to speak.

“Okay, no problemo, uh right it is-” a shout from that direction halted both your steps.

“Well shit.”

“Took the words right out my mouth.”

“Only way out is through babe.” he hesitantly gripped your hand in his own, his hold loose enough for you to pull away, when you didn’t, he swallowed thickly before tightening his grip.

“Come on, I got you scaredy cat .” he gently tugged your rigid form along thanking every deity he knew he found this place online

“If you let me die on our first date I’m telling god.”

“Ah-Ha! You admit this is a date?”

“Yes! whatever get me thefuckupouttahere!” your words were rushed as you tugged him forward, sidestepping a zombie on the floor, your grip was iron but he couldn’t find the heart to care, not when you were wrapped around him in a way he’d only imagined before.

The rest of the event was a blur as you dodged any and everything you seen, in fact it wasn’t until he pointed it out did you realize you'd ran all the way back to the train station.

While you leaned on your knees and desperately tried to get air back into your body, he was busy watching you with the sweetest little smile curling on his lips, because even in a moment like this you were still the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and as that thought processed, he understood just how whipped he was.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that be so scary.”

“Okay, you wanna makes jokes huh, fine next time we’re going on the biggest roller coaster in japan and I’m gonna watch your soul leave your body.”

“Can’t wait sugar.” he said looping an arm around your shoulders.

#poc reader #poc reader insert #poc imagine #bnha kaminari #bnha #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari

59 notes · View notes

godlessondheimite · 4 years ago

Text

guys did y’all ever see this peak cringe Jason Robert Brown interview where he, at 37 years old, answers questions like a teenager tumblr-roleplaying as an anime character?

Logan Culwell, in only the latest of three hundred emails to me, asks:

I have a composer demo of Smile by Marvin Hamlisch and Howard Ashman. I’m pretty sure one of the guys on it is Howard himself and the other one… I swear… sounds EXACTLY like you do on that Parade demo. Were you ever involved with that show and/or the demo?

JRB, patiently but with tension in his jaw, smiles and says:

Logan, Logan, sweet Logan. Smile opened on Broadway in 1986. I’m going to assume that the demo was made before the show opened. Let’s just say 1985. Was I involved with Smile in 1985?

Simone Becque, having too much time on her hands, asks:

I just was noticing how a lot of your songs (especially in Songs For A New World) have a lot of boating / water themes. Do you just like the metaphors (I know I do) or were you ever a big boat/water person?

JRB responds, a little too loudly:

I CAN’T SWIM.

Looking to expand her audition book, Andrea Liacos smiles coyly and writes:

Saw you last week at Birdland with a friend. By far and away one of the most enjoyable cabaret style nights we’ve had in a LONG time! Kudos! Where, if anywhere, if ever, can I find a copy of the song in the first set – I want to say “One More Thing Than I Can Handle”?

JRB, who always hates to disappoint a fan, sadly utters:

I’m so glad you like that song, it’s one of my favorites that I’ve written, and it’s especially fun to play. But it’ll be a while before it’s “out in the world.” I’m hoping to include it in a recording project I’m working on that will perhaps be ready some time next summer. Until then, I’ll program it on my concerts as often as I can find someone who can sing it (Benanti did a gorgeous job with it, and I wrote it for the sensational Kate McGarry), so keep coming to the shows; with any luck, you’ll be able to hear it there.

Matthew Baughan, still desperately trying to pay off the engagement ring, scrawls:

My fiancée and I can’t wait for the Donmar Parade in the autumn, but while you’re over here are you planning to throw in some concert dates somewhere? …and the thought… On 7th July we’ll be dancing the foxtrot (if we’ve learnt it in time) to “Grow Old With Me” for our first dance at our wedding in deepest Hampshire – if you’re in the UK that weekend there’s a baby grand you’d be so welcome to play!

JRB, who’s been listening to Brits doing American accents all week in “Parade” auditions, puts on his best RP and declaims:

Why yes, my boy, I am currently in negotiations with several excellent establishments to perform some concerts whilst I am in what I teasingly call “the Uck.” I have to do those concerts because living in London is so unbelievably expensive that I can’t afford to come to Parade rehearsals unless I get a little extra dosh. I’ll let the website know as soon as those concerts are scheduled (pronounced “shed-yooled”). And while I’m chuffed to be invited to your forthcoming nuptials, I must respectfully decline, both because I won’t be in the Uck yet and because if I said yes to you, Ryan Moody would beat me with a hammer. He’s probably still mad at me for that entry anyway.

Brian Perry, pouring salt in old wounds, asks:

My disappointment with not being able to make it out to DC for the Songs concert is bigger than you know. I travel all over to see you live and see your shows and it just didn’t work out. Any luck in securing that financing to record the show?

Quietly, with a single tear descending from his eye, JRB responds:

No.

full interview here, at his own official website: http://jasonrobertbrown.com/2007/06/14/june-07-im-turning-37-youre-asking-questions/

#jason robert brown

19 notes · View notes

ladylesso · 5 years ago

Text

thea gushes over kate's "alex vs the school for good" fanfic

i've reread this fanfic twice before it was finished but now it's finished, therefore i will read this beautiful work of art a third time and i have no regrets because this is the best fanfic in the entire fandom and i love kate so let's go (u never asked for it but here it is @pumpkinpaperweight)

i love how alex's close relationship with her parents, especially tedros, is already established within the first scene

alex is so witty and her mind is so sharp i've missed her so much :')

alex ribbin on tedros and agatha laughin as a sign of encouragement is my favorite thing

chapter 3: hooray for teenage angst

I STILL CAN'T GET OVER THE FACT THAT TEDROS NAMED HIS DOG CHICKEN THAT IS SUCH A TEDROS THING TO DO

will there be a one shot on the multiple ooty ambassor incidents????? i am Excited

"...and the author of this tale had lost their copy of The School for Good and Evil, and therefore could not remember exactly what the School for Good was meant to look like. They were running entirely off memory, and not doing a bad job, all things considered." KATE AKSKSJDKLFJ

get this: what if the camelot years were just a fever dream and alex vs is canon. what if.

chapter 10: these dogs are still alive for plot devices and comic relief don't @ me

marcy girl chill out

omg dean cromwell vs alex wearing the boys' uniform scene - iconic and sora-approved

oh my god i actually thought sophie stopping thorne was a scene in the actual books instead of in alex vs skdjkdfs

i love kate's adult! sophie - very realistic and in character

chapter 13: HA! GAY!

talib and sora my babies my precious my lovelies

"talib grinned, looking back in the direction of the classroom - sora kept looking at him and missed a step on the stairs" gay

chapter 15: my gran could do better, and she killed a warlock with a cheesecake - I LOVE THE CHAPTER TITLES SO MUCH

alex is so precious why are people being so mean to her :'( sora and i will happily burn them alive

"chaddick and lancelot always smacked her with the butt of the sword to signify a hit, but tedros had tended to sort of half-heartedly shove her off of the mat, unwilling to hurt her" tedros being a good and caring soft dad :')

"alex, what does your dad have?" "low self-esteem?" JESUS ALEX SKDFJLSDJFLJFSLDJ

"alex's temper was utterly uncontrollable, and hort didn't know how he'd forgotten- now it was all rushing back to him in one big, rather traumatic, wave" I'M LAUGHING

omg four year old alex defending her father i'm heart eyes

#i don't like this cromwell bat bring dovey back

"sora's brain was still trying to work out which panic he should prioritise more -the super deadly predators trotting at his feet, or the fact that talib was holding his hand?" Gay

seeing alex cry is like seeing a friend crying - it makes you sad and murderous

"we have been in so many fights.” said alex tiredly. “i wish our author would think of something else. but she won’t, it’s the Trial by Tale next, and that’s all fighting” KATE

chapter 21: EMMA, THEY'RE HOMOSEXUALS

"sora had snatched nadiya’s handkerchief and thrown it to talib like a maid watching her favourite knight" [crying] i would kill a small child for them

sora and alex trying to hide behind each other at the same time is makin me burst into hysterics

oooo sora bout to murder a bitch

sophie acting like an actual dean :')

nadiya's such a queen we stan

june being friends with talib and fondly calling him an idiot is my new religion

alex saying she's the "loser daughter" and me knowing that tedros and agatha are watching her right now hurts. thanks a lot kate

june and thorne???? ship????

omg sora laying it on thick and pretending to be unconscious so talib could carry him sldjsdlkfjdslf

SORA COMPLIMENTING TALIB ON HOW BEAUTIFUL HE LOOKS IN FRONT OF THEIR CLASSMATES

"my darling angel prince" that's Gay "sora fiddled with talib's collar" GAYYYYY

"gentle marital dispute" i adore kate's humor

TALIB PUNCHING THORNE TO PROTECT SORA

"wow,” said sora dreamily.

“he just punched someone in the face, sora,” sighed marcy.

“i’m dying, not blind. that was hot--”

im going to have a heart attack

sora dragging tedros is my new favorite thing

"sora smiled in a very self-satisfied sort of way, almost as if he knew the annoyance he’d caused several hundred miles away" this is sora's true talent

i love how alex breaks the 4th wall

sora: i don't know whether you've noticed, alex, but i can be really rude?

alex: ur not that rude to me

sora: because i thought it might make u cry

:') i love their friendship so much

yes alex! call him out! sora IS emotionally constipated!

omg im curious as to what color alex's fingerglow is

OMG ALEX'S TALENT IS RELATED TO AGATHA'S I LOVE IT

newsflash cromwell! we don't care about ur reputation OR you

alex clutching onto her aunt's arm :'(

awwwwhhh alex w curly hair!! <3

talib is the sweetest boy ever oh my goodness

OH MY GOD HE'S A PISCES OF COURSE KSJFSDJF SOFT BOY

sora is an aquarius HAHA suits him

alex's dramatic entrances are clearly from sophie's influence :')

talib gifting sora roses that's Gay

sora foreshadowing how ros and raiden will get along >:)

sora is a grumpy old man in a 16 year old body but WILL eat his friend's questionably edible birthday cake made for him don’t test him

TALIB AND SORA KISSING QUEEN KATE REALLY DELIVERS

SORA MAKING THE FIRST MOVE I AM SCREECHING I AM GOING TO BITE MY ARM OFF

oh my go d talib don't go ohmygod kate why

OMG ROSALINE POV I'M EXCITED

agatha planning a wrestling match with her and tedros vs cromwell and agatha confirming that the coven have spilled blood over june and will not hesitate to do it again is my favorite thing

if u look closely or if u look at all, ros is clearly a never

tedros: i don't have favorites

agatha: i do. you're my least favorite

tedros: i'm ur husband

agatha: so?

omg alex is tedros' favorite and marcus is agatha's favorite so does that mean ros is sophie's favorite

and now we're in marcus' POV? kate just keeps delivering

omg the famous camelot family scene i've been waiting for is finally coming to fruition

it's official: we stan emi

whenever i hear somebody call agatha the queen of camelot, i get this tight ache of pride in my chest

i love how marcus just looks at his father and tedros knows exactly what he's asking :')

raiden and the twins, marcus and ros? my Body is Ready for ros vs

WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE SLAMMING THE DOOR OPEN IN THIS FANFIC KSHFDJFSLJLJ

anemone campaigning for a ranking board that says who has the hots for who is something i can get behind

"there was a brief scuffle whilst both tedros and agatha fought to hug alex at the same time, which she didn't look in the least bothered about" ALEX FAMILY TIME YAY <3

alex introducing agatha, her famous mother, to her roommates is one of my favorite things

"alex stuck her tongue out at her and went back to rifling in her mother's cloak pockets for food" if this isn’t me -

alex being a wingwoman to make her mom sign marcy's copy of the tale of sophie and agatha is my favorite thing #1972934794

talib not recoginizing tedros as the king of camelot but as alex's dad :')

THE COLD SHOULDER SMOULDER

i love how ros could tell how much a fashion piece costs and what material it is just by looking at it

"there was a resounding crash, and another blade caught his, halfway" i love how tedros entered into this chapter kate is such a good writer

im lovin these marcus and ros descriptions

"rosalind and marcus looked at each other, then, slowly, back at jimmy. both of them suddenly looked a lot older than they were. raiden wondered how much damage they could do as a team. probably quite a lot" "raiden resisted the urge to squish marcus's cheeks" ROS VS HERE I COME

sophie rushing bc she senses drama is a big mood

omg i love these camelot year references

"...whilst tedros tried to pretend he hadn't just tried to shove agatha behind him, and awkwardly returned Excalibur to its sheath" his instincts :')

people mentioning that alex is a big sister makes me feel warm inside

the image of tedros braiding rosalind's hair gives me heart eyes

OMG GIN MILLS AND THE GOODS REFERENCE HAHA I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE KATE

im glad they're talking about alex and the reverse mogrification incident! i am also Intrigued

wait i thought ros and marcus were 10 years old? but agatha mentions how ros is 13? did i miss something

alex and hester aunt and niece relationship :')

this unspoken understanding between the pendragons is everything bless u kate

"i love it when Evers act like Nevers," emi told her grandsons from under her tree. “it’s good for the liver.”

EMI KNOWS ROS IS A NEVER SHE CALLED IT

oh alex u sweet darling child of course sora and talib are boyfriends even thorne could see it

this alex and thorne thing? gotta say,,,,,, i see the ship possibilities

SORA YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BUFFOON JUST TALK TO YOUR BOYFRIEND TALIB OH MY GOD

omg the everboys sitting in the beautification lesson im excited

emma,,,,... darling,,,,.........,,, they're Gay

i support alex's plan to look hot for the snow ball and single-handedly destroy the buffet

i love how tyler and marcy are in the squad now :')

anemone: WHO

talib: i'm not telling u!

anemone: WHICH GIRL

talib: not a - not a. uh, girl

anemone: I RESPECT THAT ALSO

tyler, nadiya, and marcy quietly discussing alex's type LKSDJFLSJFK

sora im bout to body slam u talk to ur bf u idiot donkey don't be like teenage tedros and agatha

"akiyama sora is a dead man," muttered nadiya" i bow to one (1) queen

SORA'S GAY PANIC

chapter 29: fellas is it gay to protect roses from winter damage

"poor thing,” she added as an afterthought. alex was forcibly reminded of her aunt’s 100% Evil status"

i love these scenes with sophie <3

"er. it's okay, professor," said sora's mouth. alex for the love of christ help me you useless git, said sora's eyes"

FINALLY SORA YOUR TWO BRAIN CELLS KISSED AND EXPERIENCED COMMON SENSE

alex saying marcy has horrible taste in men but swearing to take tyler's kidneys if he doesn't go for marcy - true friendship

AWWWWHHHHHH ALEX CAME UP WITH THE IDEA FOR THE EVERGIRLS WHO DON'T WANT DATES TO GO TO THE SNOW BALL WITH ANEMONE <333333

anemone just said the f word is this legal

the amount of times i've screamed over sora nd talib is too much to count - sometimes in excitement and sometimes in pain

"he was cut off when talib seized his collar and kissed him, much harder than sora had kissed him the first time" my lungs are exploding

ANEMONE IS ME I AM ANEMONE

"sora exercised all the curse words he knew in her native language. alex grinned. "you sound like ros. except ros knows more words" oh??????????

i've smiled more reading chapter 29 than i have this whole year

sora: weren't u listening to the announcement yesterday

alex: who was doing the announcing?

sora: pollux

alex: nope

love that tedros deemed his wedding outfit a Sacred Object

i love how tedros and rosalind bond over fashion

alex has a daily ritual of high-fiving the statue of king arthur, her grandfather. i love her.

omg tedros adopting a pseudo father figure role over tyler love that

i said love so many times but i can't help it this fic is just too good

it's official: sora is alex's partner in crime

so just to catch up, the squad consists of alex, nadiya, sora, talib, tyler, marcy, and june - and out of this chaos rises a mom friend: nadi

i never knew how much i wanted to see the teachers gossiping until i got it

of course agatha never hired a nanny for her children she loves them too much to ever not raise them herself >:((((((

magazine with a pic of talib: major hottie alert!

sora: finally, some high-end journalism

kate ur mind is amazing

omg i love this curses! the musical plot point im excited

ros? as the queen of camelot? Sign Me Up

SORA ND ALEX WROTE THE SCRIPT KSJFSDLJFSLD HERE WE GO

alex is drawing a six pack on her stomach with a pen to prepare for her role as tedros somebody please help me my lungs have ruptured

title reference on a crop top!! impressive!!

"MORE PANACHE !" sophie bellowed at the stage" did soman write this or did u kate

is marcus on the autism spectrum???? it would be great if he was

"alex said a quick prayer to rosalind, patron saint of spinning half-truths to people and getting away with it"

im grinning so hard at agatha possibly dying of laughter during alex's rendition of curses! the musical

"tedros made a sound like an animal in pain and sank down so low in his seat that he was barely visible. agatha burst into hysterical cackles, reminding ros, not for the first time, that she had been raised by an actual witch" "'tedros' and 'hort' had a rap battle that ended up getting too personal and devolved into a fistfight" AGATHA AND I ARE BOTH GOING TO DIE

"she turned around, saw tedros stood behind her, and screamed. tedros held up the programme, open on the page which said rewritten by akiyama sora and alex pendragon. alex screamed louder."

i adore the news' headlines

what's on the school master's mind??????????

omg is it about marcus and ros??

YES IT IS SKFDSJFL

chinhae is ros' friend and both of their names were circled in red bc the school master has a plan for them. whoaaaaaa

"slowly, she turned back to look up at the school master's tower. and got the distinct feeling someone was meeting her gaze" chills

finished 1:06 AM june 14, 2020

#this is so LONG sorry!!!#but i just love alex vs so much #i don't read fanfics at all so this is all yall are gonna get #i mean besides kate's fanfics ofc #alex vs #sge fanfic #kate #thea reads

24 notes · View notes