#this is a quiet thing that i know for myself (they love billy joel) but unless it's actually resonant with their character

[ayotofu]

i'll be honest that i'm not a taylor swift fan (i am also not a major hater, i just don't care about celebs lol) but i have to say that the swifties do have a tendency to make characters taylor swift fans when they would absolutely NOT be taylor swift fans

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Vienna (S.R.)

*as always, the gif is not indicative of Reader's appearance.

Summary: Spencer is a bona fide 40-year-old virgin. After a few months of dating Reader, he finally decides he wants to change that. Based on "Vienna" by Billy Joel. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Virgin!Spencer, Spencer POV, established relationship loss of virginity, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex Word Count: 3k

MASTERLIST

I’d often wondered whether my preternatural love for autumn was part of why my life had turned out the way it had. As if my love for late-blooming flowers was built into my biology. Something innate in me that carried with it a promise for a lonely youth.

For a long time, I thought my state of waiting might be fated. Eternal celibacy seemed inevitable. As I watched the years pass by, I’d even started to find some comfort in knowing that there was still a part of me left untouched. Something that could be truly mine in a way things so rarely are.

I was resigned to a life filled to the brim with platonic intimacy. It had been a good life; a happy life. I had a family, albeit not in the ordinary sense of the word. But deep within me, in that 21 ounces that pseudoscience claims to constitute a soul, the longing never ceased. It persisted for nearly forty years.

And then I found her.

She walked into my life with little fanfare. Meeting her felt like finding the answer to an impossible equation after lifetimes of searching.

There had never been a dull moment with her. There was never a lapse in the conversation to permit for any awkward misunderstandings.

The first time that she kissed me, it felt nothing like the times before. It was soft and unassuming, like she were a natural extension of myself.

If one must fall into love, she caught me before my brain could even comprehend it was happening. There was no nauseating sunken stomach, no breathless anxiety of whether or not I was making a mistake.

The first night we were alone, she’d held my face in the dim light. I thought then that my lifetime of waiting had finally come to pass.

She’d only needed a moment of vulnerability to read my soul with the highest proficiency.

With an unrivaled tenderness, she’d told me that she had sensed my innocence the first day we met. That night, and every opportunity since, she had assured me that her love was not conditioned on a physical intimacy. Our life would be beautiful regardless of what it looked like, and she saw no need to fuss over something as simple as sex.

Her assurances had been unnecessary. It had hardly been a month before I found myself eager to give away what I’d once held dear.

Even without a faultless memory, I would always remember the first time she touched me without inhibition. I would forever cherish each of the times that I found myself through an exploration of her.

I had always heard the time-old adage, ‘when it’s right, you’ll know,’ and the skeptic in me doubted whether it could be true for someone like me.

But it was. Because that night, I knew. The same as I knew that the sky appears blue when it is closer to violet and that the color of grass depends on a multitude of factors, I knew that my waiting had come to an end.

I knew because it felt right when she walked into my room with faded lipstick and yet another wonderful memory. That quiet moment felt as fated as the first time I met her. That heaviness in my chest lifted when she turned to look at me, as if my soul had finally found its other half.

I approached her without words because they felt so unnecessary. I wrapped my arms around her instead, pulling her back against my chest and reveling in the warmth she provided.

She placed her hands over mine and fell back against me like a weary traveler who’d finally found their way home. I thought to myself that falling in love should always feel that way.

My lips found their way to her neck with a similar familiarity. I littered her with kisses, forever seeking the satisfaction of her sighs. I listened to each full inhale and felt the way her body moved with the breath.

The smell of her perfume would fill my lungs better than oxygen ever could. But as her skin grew feverish, so too did my lips. Chaste pecks turned to open mouthed kisses that were better spent on her.

I pulled away but lingered. I pressed my cheek against her jaw and my breath shook with excitement.

“I don’t want to wait forever,” I whispered into her ear, “I want you.”

She turned her head ever so slightly, pressing our cheeks together until I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. Before my lips could make it, though, she spoke the words I knew to be true but always loved to hear.

“You have me,” she said.

I believed her. I felt my belonging in the literal and metaphorical sense. I lifted a hand and pressed it against her chest to feel the soft thrumming of her heart.

Carefully, and taking the time to linger, my hands began removing her clothing. I took my time in a way I rarely ever did. Because was the kind of masterpiece that needed to be appreciated for every freckle and scar. Each perceived imperfection was nothing but the history of her, the proof of a life well-lived.

Her experience bled through to her behavior when she was bare. Although she still had her bashful moments, it didn’t take much persuading for her to drop her arms and turn to face me.

I stared with my usual awestruck expression. My eyes roamed along with my hands. They ended on either side of her smile, which was broken by laughter.

“Your turn,” she giggled.

My heart threatened to stop. Not because of nerves or insecurity, but because she looked so impossibly beautiful, and she was mine.

Her fingers were delicate but quick to undo my shirt. I wondered how it could be that someone could touch me without my needing to recoil.

I leaned into her touch, only slightly, and I sighed with relief when she finally released the pressure around my waist.

She didn’t take anything off. Instead, she slid her fingers underneath the loosened clothing. She explored skin that was normally hidden with an undeniable affection.

She looked at me much the same.

“We don’t have to do this,” she offered. Her voice was so gentle that scarred skin still broke into goosebumps at the sound of it.

I answered her offer by taking it upon myself to remove my clothing. Each piece that fell to the ground felt like the end of something.

Looking at her felt like a beginning.

Whether it was my fear of inadequacy or just the usual, simple overwhelming love I felt for her, I didn’t let her stare. Instead, I pulled her closer until our bare chests touched. Also between us was the evidence of my desire, burning hot and aching to be held by her.

A shaky breath slipped through her lips before I kissed her. I kissed her again, harder, and more insistent than ever before.

She laughed. I did, too.

“You’re the most beautiful thing in all of creation,” I murmured absentmindedly against her lips.

Still smiling, she grabbed hold of one of my hands before she pulled away from me. At first, I thought she was leading us to the bed. But then she spun around on her foot, displaying the entirety of her naked body for my adoration.

“You’d better take a closer look, then,” she said.

“I could never forget,” I reminded.

She knew that, though. That’s why she tempted me the way she did, so that I would remember perfectly how we looked in that moment.

I would see the motion in her body just before I pushed her back against my bed. I served witness to the way she made herself comfortable in a matter of seconds. Her body writhed with anticipation, her skin a perfect contrast to the sheets beneath her.

She was so beautiful in her vulnerability. I could tell she felt the same simply by the way that she looked at me.

As I climbed atop her, I tried to stop my arms from shaking. Her hand reached up to cup my cheek. I nearly fell limp in her embrace. I stumbled forward still, falling onto my forearm so that I could free a hand to feel her.

My hand slid between her open legs at the same time she reached between us. Her fingers felt scorching around the base of me. I imagine mine felt equally paralyzing as they dipped between slick folds.

We groaned in tandem at the sensation. The anticipation heightened with our quickened breath. She was already practically sobbing as I dragged my fingers down warm walls and imagined once more what it would feel like to be welcomed into her fullest embrace.

I was surprised to find how much her hand fumbled, how unpracticed she seemed when faced with my ultimate submission.

Dare I say, she almost seemed nervous. Yet I would never be anywhere near dissatisfaction. I was quite the opposite, already aching for the release that only she could give me.

“Do you want to do this?”

I was surprised to hear the question uttered in my own voice.

But I was so happy to hear her answer, “Yes.”

Then, with a lovesick smile that would always seem too good to be true, she teased, “I’m ready when you are.” 

I returned it with a taunt of my own. I withdrew my fingers and spread the remnants of her desire over her heat.

“I can tell.”

Like always, she accepted it with grace, and her own clever retort.

“I guess there really is something to that genius thing after all.”

But when the jokes were over, I was lost in the wonder once more. My whole body felt aflame with lust and lover for her the very moment that her legs fell further open.

I looked down at the way her chest heaved and her stomach tensed. Her back was arching like every part of her sought closeness.

As if her body had been begging: I love you, let me shelter you.

She must have seen how foreign the feeling was to me, because as soon as I felt the familiar warmth of tears gathering in my eyes, her grip turned gentle. One leg hooked around my waist and pulled me closer until I could feel the velvety slickness against the head of my cock.

“How about I help you with this part?” she offered.

I lowered my hand to join hers before I replied, “Together.”

“Together,” she promised.

True to her word, she helped guide me to her entrance before her hand slipped away. It found me again shortly thereafter when both of her arms were thrown around my shoulders.

I pushed forward to find a slight resistance. My breath caught in my throat, my whole body halting without any command.

“Keep going,” she said breathlessly, “It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I explained.

She silenced any further protest by rooting her hands in my hair and pulling me in for a kiss. My hips fell forward from the momentum, sinking a few more inches into the blinding, blissful heat of her.

I tried to accommodate the feeling of her the same way her body tried to make room for me. Each twitch of my cock was returned with her walls closing in on me. Every one of her limbs begged for more of me, and I wanted so badly to give it.

But I was still bashful, still frightened by the possibility of hurting her somehow.

She ended the kiss prematurely. Before she could speak, she whimpered. Her eyes opened to reveal mirrors into myself. A vulnerability, a belonging beyond the physical.

Her body begged me, and I answered. I pressed forward, sinking into her inch by inch until there was nothing more to give. I reveled in the soft sounds of her pleasure, the way her whimpers turned to wanton moans.

“I love you through infinity,” I whispered against her lips.

“I love you, too,” she returned dreamily.

Her body was pulsing around me with a burning heat and unrivaled softness. I felt the shelter of her, the vulnerability of her embrace. There was no greater reward than the knowing that she allowed me, begged for me to claim the empty space in her body.

“You are…”

I struggled to find the words to explain the thought.

She found them for me.

“Yours,” she slurred, “I’m yours, Spencer.”

My hips moved without thought. They bucked forward and caused moans to spill from both our lips.

I became greedy quickly. I desperately sought to hear her again, to experience again the novel wonder that was her body. I pulled my hips back and focused on the way her walls clenched tighter, begging me to stay.

I returned to them immediately. I thrusted forward, faster than before and with enough force to set her body in motion.

Her mouth was open, alternating between simple, wonderful sounds and a lack of them altogether. The twisted tension, the unmuted pleasure of half-lidded eyes and flushed lips, it made me realize how badly I’d craved this experience all my life.

Again, my hips crashed into hers. I fucked her harder and took pride in the way her nails dug into my skin. I wanted her to claim me with the same animalistic nature that I displayed.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you,” I told her between brutal thrusts.

Like always, she understood the meaning behind the words. She could feel the decades of yearning with every motion. Each time that I bottomed out inside her, she would praise me, worship me, love me.

I didn’t expect her to respond with anything more than her body. It spoke so eloquently. Her back arched and her nails dragged down my shoulders as she struggled to keep hold.

To relieve her of the need, I straightened my back and sat up. With both hands, I pulled her hips up to meet mine.

“Fuck!” she squeaked.

I understood what she’d meant. The new angle felt entirely different, impossibly better than the one from mere seconds before.

“Are you alright?” I asked, anyway.

“Yes,” she said with a quick nod, “Yes, you’re perfect.”

My long dormant ego swelled at the praise. It turned my lips into a smirk and made my hands pull her even closer.

I watched with rapt attention as I pulled out of her. It seemed so intimate—was so intimate—that I couldn’t break away. Fascinated by the way her body accepted me, I continued to watch where we joined as I pulled her hips back to me. 

“You look so beautiful like this,” I groaned.

So elegant, so submissive and pliant as I filled her with the full length of my desire.

“You do, too,” she giggled.

I looked up to see her, and, immediately, I missed her. Without even taking the time to readjust her hips, I moved forward until our lips met.

She gasped at the pleasurable pain when I found a new depth of her. She swallowed my moans the same way her heat accepted me.

It was all so new, so overwhelming and invigorating that I couldn’t stop myself. My movements became sloppy and insistent. Her body folded beneath mine at the same time her arms fell on the bed. She gripped the sheets with a vengeance.

Open and wanting, her chest heaved, and her small voice managed to call my name.

“Do it, Spencer,” she pleaded with her everything, “Come for me.”

Without a single hesitation, I did. Unaware of how close I’d even come; I gave one more unrelenting thrust before I was hit with a truly staggering wave of pleasure.

As I emptied myself inside of her, the warmth pooled around what was an already burning heat. Each pulse came with bucking hips. Every time, her body tightened around me and prolonged the pleasure.

“I love you,” I chanted while the world felt far away.

She had never felt closer.

“I love you,” we said together just as I fell limp in her arms.

Breathless and with fast-beating hearts, I melted into her embrace without regret. I felt the sticky warmth as it filled every particle that remained between our joined bodies.

It was the most heavenly bliss, to feel so thoroughly loved.

Yet she was the one to say it first.

“Thank you,” she slurred.

“It was my pleasure,” I chuckled back. I’d meant it literally and in the traditional, colloquial sense.

The kindness continued when she was finally able to move again. She didn’t go far. Instead, she wrapped lazy arms around me and tilted her head back so that I could nuzzle further against her shoulder.

“Was it worth the wait?” she asked cheekily.

But I noticed the way her voice still shook. She would blame the exhaustion, but I could tell that she was nervous.

There was no reason for her to be. Regret was the furthest thing from my thoughts.

“Yes, it was,” I assured her.

Then, because she deserved to hear it and because it was the undeniable truth, I explained, ��It had to be you. It would have always been you.”

“Are you saying I was meant to be yours?” she giggled.

“No,” I corrected with a smile, “I’m saying I was meant to be yours.”

“Split the difference?” she offered.

“Not a chance,” I scoffed.

“Fine,” she sighed happily. “I guess you’re mine.”

And I took comfort in knowing that everything was finally, exactly how it was meant to be.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

Thanks for reading!

[autisticempathydaemon]

For the matchups /np <3

What song are you fixated on at the moment? What lyric or verse, and why?

At the moment it’s Vienna by Billy Joel, ‘she’s always a woman’ is one of my favourites ever and Vienna just hits right as I feel like I’m behind a lot of the friends that I grew up with atm. (My fave parts are ‘you’re so ahead of yourself that you’ve forgot what you need’ and ‘ you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time’.

What is your Enneagram type?

I don’t know my enneagram sorry but I know my personality type is ENFP if that’s any help :)

Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend.

Funnily enough he was a dog, like I used to just imagine I had a dog and he’d follow me around, sometimes he’d talk and sometimes he wouldn’t and he was named after ‘Balto’ from the animated movie.

What is your go to way to fall asleep?

I don’t really have one, I usually end up waking up not remembering falling asleep in the first place. I basically just wait until I’m tired enough for it just happen.

If you had to change your name, what would it be, and why? (In tandem, if you have changed your name, why did you pick that one?)

Although I wouldn’t like to change my first name, as I think it suits me, I did change my last name to my Grandma’s maiden name after she’d told me she was sad that she couldn’t keep it when she married my grandad.

What Redacted boy holds no appeal to you, and why? Like, not the one you hate but the one who you don’t get the hype for. (I won’t judge, I promise.)

I feel awful about this one, but Guy. I don’t dislike him or anything but I’m also not necessarily excited when he gets an upload. I’m also not sure why, he just doesn’t hit the same for me as he seems to do for a lot of other people.

Tell me about that one book/movie/tv show you know all the words to.

Fantastic Mr Fox. I love it, I love the framing and the colours and the characters. They’re all very ‘human’ in different ways and the moment between Foxy and Felicity near the waterfall is so relatable I want to eat it.

Which Redacted boy are you platonically attracted to? Like- forget dating, which dude do you want to be your best friend?

SO MANY. Like the entire D.A.M.N squad. I love all the characters and I don’t mind anger but if Damien directed it at me I’d get defensive and that wouldn’t make for a good couple. Gavin, I wouldn’t really like my partner flirting with other people, Huxley I enjoy hiking but simply can’t picture myself dating him because he’s with Damien etc etc

Do you have a go-to thing you ramble about when you’re tired, and if so, what is it? (For example, my boyfriend knows I’m ready to sleep when I start talking about space.)

The signal for me being tired is actually that I go very quiet/ not talkative. But if I was to ramble about something it would probably just be about things that had happened irl, old funny story’s and stuff (or whatever fandoms I’m in at the time depending on who I’m with).

Tell me your go-to gas station and drink combo.

Red Bull. Always Red Bull. 🧎🏻

Extra’s: My favourite colour is green. I love movies, reading/writing and animals. I’m a Libra. My love languages are acts of service and physical touch but again, depending on the person.

Thank you!

As always, I love it when I am given so much information to work with! You seem so lovely and agreeable, it’s hard to think with whom you wouldn’t work well. Somehow, the “loving animals” bit convinced me, because what’s better for an animal lover than our beloved beta boy who can turn into a wolf on a whim?

Asher strikes me as the type of guy who works best with someone like himself. He works well with everyone, by his nature, but you and he would have so many similarities that being together would be wonderfully easy. It’s the big things like your extroverted natures and your compatible love languages. Yet it’s also the little things like your shared love of hiking and caffeinated battery acid (I say affectionately as a Strawberry Apricot Red Bull fiend).

You’d be the sort of couple who operate like well-oiled cogs of a machine, like one of you was a telepath, that’s how naturally you communicate and maneuver around each other. It’s a wonderfully comfortable, joyful life that the two of you have. There’s lots of alternating days of him showing you Halo and you showing him new, interesting movies, countless lectures from David about y’all having to drink something not poisoned with taurine, and so, so much love.

Song:

I confess, I messed up/ Dropping "I'm sorry" like you're still around/ And I know you're dressed up/ Hey kid you'll never live this down/ You're just the girl all the boys want to dance with/ And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances

I’ve just got to give the boy a FOB song, you must understand; I also think it’s a really fun choice for y’all. I love the movie references, the fun, boppy tempo, the dramatic, theatrical way Asher would fall to his knees on the kitchen floor as he belts it out at you in true, emo kid fashion. It’s infectious, and you would be helpless to either sing or headbang along.

Runner-ups:

This was hard. Again, I feel like you could pair well with just so many people; narrowing it down to two was an ordeal. In the end, I like Anton for you because you two contrast in a lot of the ways you and Asher compare. Also, I chose Sam as a runner-up for you because you two hiking together would be really cute. Also, You/Sam is giving kind of David/Asher but in another font, and I love Dasher /lh

note: thank you so much for waiting 💕

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh]

my autism with this being my long-time special interest: “well hello! allow me to introduce myself-“

mario is totally oblivious to the internet and thinks that the terms ‘nsfw’ and ‘sfw’ and pertain to actual work safety. luigi, on the other hand, is absolutely aware.

mario would be the type to buy anything and everything off of amazon while totally unaware of spending luigi’s debit card money (or they have a shared account for money like life savings or spending purposes)

mario would be the type to use bright mode on his phone with his brightness and volume all the way up; apps would constantly be running while also killing his already-low battery (i’m talking like 15-20%). luigi questions mario’s constant disorganization while bringing spare accessories in preparation (e.g. chargers, earphones, etc.)

luigi’s autistic and mario has adhd (both late diagnosed).

when luigi was little, he would hide underneath of tables and areas to comfort himself in overstimulating environments. he would most likely be binding under a very specific table and mario would instantly know where he would be, thinking that this would be some game of hide and seek or peek-a-boo upon finding him for the first time.

luigi is still very fond of quiet, dark surroundings that soothe him (though he sleeps with a nightlight on to be able to see.)

luigi sleeps with a teddy bear that he has from his childhood, though would refuse to tell anyone about it as a result of being made fun of horrendously throughout his childhood. only mario knows and he also sleeps with a stuffie of sorts.

the brothers did not have a very well-off childhood so to speak, and this is something very personal between the two brothers as they were likely emotionally abused. in the mushroom kingdom, mario and luigi were given little yoshi plushies when princess peach overheard about special, favorite toys of theirs that were thrown away.

given the yoshi plushies, the brothers were initially shocked, and luigi was the first one to say thank you. while not too sure about how to react, this did not mean mario was ungrateful, but simply stunned at how kind of a gesture this was. the brothers keep their yoshi plushies but their side and have taken them on several adventures of theirs.

both mario and luigi have designated sensory issues when dealing with food textures — like how in the mario movie, mario does not like mushrooms, but luigi absolutely loves them. the both of the brothers would look out for one another to try and accommodate for designated needs whenever possible (e.g. taking turns cooking, involving one another throughout the process, buying each other’s safe foods, etc.)

luigi would prefer very sweet things while mario would like savory items; bowser, surprisingly introduced mario to spicy foods (e.g. ramen noodles, soups, hot potato chips) and mario turned out to really like them!

luigi absolutely loves steak — especially when cooked to medium. luigi can make a killer steak, not to mention his spaghetti would be absolutely scrumptious with homemade sauce and everything!

in terms of music, mario would be more of the upbeat, pop-loving type, though gained interest in some of the more classic artists like dean martin and frank sinatra through luigi. additionally, both of the brothers like billy joel, queen, and depeche mode.

that was a-lot, please excuse me for my rambling. i will think of more and be happy to post them whenever the time comes!

@n64gamepak @everythingtoony @henryplush @multicolour-ink @zootopiathingz

Random SMB movie headcanons that randomly came to me at random times

Luigi always keeps his phone at high percentage. It never gets below 70%. Mario however almost never charges his phone so it’s always at 20% on low battery mode

Toad’s love language is cooking for his friends and occasionally hitting them with his staff

When the gang first started hanging out DK playfully made a joke at Luigi’s expense, and immediately got the shit beat out of him by Mario. He learned not to ever insult Luigi again, even if it’s lighthearted

Peach occasionally has nightmares about Mario dying (poor girl witnessed him almost die twice)

Luigi listens to Taylor Swift. Mario listens to Britney Spears

DK is actually a huge softie but bc we saw him with Mario for most of his screentime he didn’t show it

Mario once accidentally cussed in front of Peach (probably stubbed his toe or smt) and at first assumed she didn’t hear it. But then later she repeated it in front of the whole gang and Mario was flabbergasted.

Toad is aroace

Mario and Luigi are huge mama’s boys. But when it comes to her showing them affection in public Mario���s the one that gets embarrassed while Luigi happily accepts it

Kamek taught Bowser how to play piano

The gang regularly have races against each other. Peach is usually the winner but sometimes the boys surprise her at the last second. But DK almost never wins and he’s always salty about it

Mario’s a fighting drunk, Luigi’s a crying drunk, Peach is a black out drunk, DK’s a sloppy drunk, and Toad’s a “tells you all the secrets of the universe while eating snacks” drunk

^ Bowser’s a mix of fighting drunk and crying about his ex drunk

DK jokingly flirts with Peach sometimes just to annoy Mario. Even after the two start dating DK still does it as an inside joke

Gonna keep reblogging this as I think of more

[guitars-and-kaleidoscope-eyes]

Disclaimer: These are not my questions. I found them somewhere and answered them myself.

Found this somewhere and thought it looked fun:

A- Age: Sixteen

B- Birthplace: Ohio

C- Current Time: 9:44 pm

D- Drink You Last Had: Apple juice.

E- Easiest Person to Talk To: This will sound really strange, but I'd probably have to say myself, because I know me best.

F- Favorite Song: My favorite song in general is by far The Beach Boys, God Only Knows. But I also have my favorites from different groups I like. The Beach Boys, Here Today. The Beatles, She Loves You. Led Zeppelin, The Ocean. Queen, It's A Hard Life. George Harrison, Isn't It A Pity. (Along with All Those Years Ago, What Is Life, Crackerbox Palace, and When We Was Fab.) Billy Joel, She's Got A Way. Paul McCartney, Maybe I'm Amazed.

G- Grossest Memory: Anything I've seen happen at my highschool.

H- Horror Yes or Horror No: Yes!

I- 😍?: In regards to romantic relationships, a guy who is charming, loves animals, resembles Paul McCartney in appearance and personally, and likes kids. He also has to be practical, but also willing to run through a field with me or ride horses through the woods with me just to make me happy.

J- Jealous of people: Who can stay organized and on top of stuff and people who have clear skin around their eyes.

L- 💛 at first sight or should I walk by again?: I believe in love, but not at first sight.

M- Middle Name: Rose.

N- Number of Siblings: One older brother.

O- One Wish: To meet Paul McCartney before one of us dies to tell him how much his music and legacy means to me.

P- Person You Called Last: My mother.

Q- Question You Are Always Asked: I don't really have one.

R- Reason to 😁: Kids, people who are still pure, accomplishing things, playing music, finding cute fanfics, cats, and The Fab Four.

S- Last song you sang to: I'll Be Back by The Beatles.

T- Time You Woke Up: 6:40 am.

U- Underwear Color: Gray at the moment.

V- Vacation Destination: Scotland, Pennsylvania, and India.

W- Worst Habit: Scratching my neck when I feel awkward and letting conversations get quiet.

Y- Your Favorite Food: Shepherds pie, popcorn, and pumpkin pie.

Z- Zodiac Sign: Pisces.

[blackcatrph]

** sour  sentence  starters.

brutal.

“  i think that i’ll die before i drink.  ”

“  i'm so caught up in the news of who likes me and who hates you.  ”

“  i'm so tired that I might quit my job, start a new life.  ”

“  they'd all be so disappointed  because who am I if not exploited?  ”

“  where's my fuckin' teenage dream?  ”

“  if someone tells me one more time "enjoy your youth," I'm gonna cry.  ”

“  i'm anxious and nothing can help.  ”

“  i wish I'd done this before.  ”

“  i wish people liked me more.  ”

“  all I did was try my best.  ”

“  this the kind of thanks I get?  ”

“  they say these are the golden years.  ”

“  i wish I could disappear.  ”

“  god, it's brutal out here.  ”

“  i feel like no one wants me.  ”

“  i only have two real friends.  ”

“  lately I'm a nervous wreck.  ”

“  i love people I don't like.  ”

“  i hate every song I write.  ”

“  i'm not cool, and I'm not smart.  ”

“  i can't even parallel park.  ”

“  got a broken ego, broken heart.  ”

“  i don't even know where to start.  ”

traitor.

“  brown guilty eyes and little white lies.  ”

“  i played dumb but I always knew.  ”

“  i kept quiet so I could keep you.  ”

“  ain't it funny how you ran to her the second that we called it quits?  ”

“  ain't it funny how you said you were friends?  ”

“  it sure as hell don't look like it.  ”

“  you betrayed me.  ”

“  i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt.  ”

“  loved you at your worst but that didn't matter.  ”

“  guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.  ”

“  there's no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly.  ”

“  ain't it funny, all the twisted games, all the questions you used to avoid?  ”

“  remember I brought her up and you told me I was paranoid?  ”

“  i wish that you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.  ”

“  you gave me your word but that didn't matter.  ”

drivers  license. 

“  i got my driver's license last week.  ”

“  just like we always talked about.  ”

“  today I drove through the suburbs crying 'cause you weren't around.  ”

“  you're probably with that blonde girl.  ”

“  she's so much older than me.  ” 

“  she's everything I'm insecure about.  ”

“  how could I ever love someone else?   “

“  i know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one.  ”

“  i just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone.  ”

“  guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me.  ”

“  all my friends are tired of hearing how much I miss you.  ”

“  I kinda feel sorry for them because they'll never know you the way that I do.  ”

“  i still see your face in the white cars, front yards.  ”

“  can't drive past the places we used to go to because I still fuckin' love you.  ”

1  step  forward,  3  steps  back.

“  i called you on the phone today.  ”

“  all I did was speak normally.  ”

“  you got me fucked up in the head.  ”

“  like am I pretty? am I fun?  ”

“  i hate that I gave you power over that kind of stuff.  ”

“  it's always one step forward and three steps back.  ”

“  i'm the love of your life until I make you mad.  ”

“  do you love me, want me, hate me? i don't understand.  ”

“  maybe in some masochistic way I kind of find it all exciting.  ”

“  which lover will I get today?  ”

“  will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?  ”

“  it's back and forth, did I say somethin' wrong?  ”

“  it's back and forth, goin' over everything I said.  ”

“  i'd leave you, but the roller coaster's all I've ever had.  ”

deja vu.

“  strawberry ice cream, one spoon for two?  ”

“  i bet she's braggin' to all her friends, sayin' you're so unique.  ”

“  so when you gonna tell her that we did that, too?  ”

“  that was our place, I found it first.  ”

“  i made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you.  ”

“  do you get déjà vu when she's with you?  ”

“  do you call her, almost say my name?  ”

“  i hate to think that I was just your type.  ”

“  don't act like we didn't do that shit too.  ”

“  play her piano, but she doesn't know that I was the one who taught you Billy Joel.  ”

good  4  u.

“  well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily.  ”

“  you found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks.  ”

“  remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?  ”

“  good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself.  ” 

“  i guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped.  ”

“  now you can be a better man for your brand new girl.  ”

“  well, good for you, you look happy and healthy.  ”

“  not me, if you ever cared to ask.  ”

“  good for you, you're doin' great out there without me.  ”

“  i've lost my mind.  ”

“  i've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom.  ”

“  it's like we never even happened.  ”

“  what the fuck is up with that?  ”

“  good for you, it's like you never even met me.  ”

“  remember when you swore to god i was the only person who ever got you?  ”

“  well, screw that and screw you.  ”

“  you will never have to hurt the way you know that I do.  ”

“  maybe I'm too emotional.  ”

“  your apathy's like a wound in salt.  ”

“  maybe I'm too emotional  or maybe you never cared at all.  ”

“  like a damn sociopath.  ”

enough  for  you.

“  i wore makeup when we dated because I thought you'd like me more.  ”

“  i know that you loved before.  ”

“  tried so hard to be everything that you like.  ”

“  i read all of your self-help books so you'd think that I was smart.  ”

“  stupid, emotional, obsessive little me.  ”

“  i knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave.  ”

“  you found someonе more exciting.  ”

“  you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong.  ”

“  you always say I'm never satisfied but I don't think that's true.  ”

“  all I ever wanted was to be enough for you.  ”

“  maybe I'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before.  ”

“  you couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more.  ”

“  i'd say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that.  ”

“  i don’t want your sympathy, i just want myself back.  ”

“  don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded?  ”

“  don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?  ”

“  don’t tell me you’re sorry, feel sorry for yourself.  ”

“  someday i’ll be everything to somebody else.  ”

“  you’ll be the one crying.  ”

happier.

“  we broke up a month ago. ”

“  your friends are mine you know.  ”

“  you’ve moved on, found someone new.  ”

“  i thought my heart was detached from all the sunlight of our past.  ”

“  she’s so sweet, she’s so pretty.  ”

“  does she mean you forgot about me ?  ”

“  i hope you’re happy but not like how you were with me.  ”

“  i’m selfish i know. i can’t let you go.  ”

“  find someone great, but don’t find no one better.  ”

“  i hope you’re happy, but don’t be happier.  ”

 “  do you tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?  ”

“  an eternal love bullshit you know you’ll never mean.  ”

“  remember when i believe you meant it when you said it first to me?  ”

“  now i’m picking her apart like cutting her down will make you miss my wretched heart.  ”

“  she’s beautiful, she looks kind.  ”

“  she probably gives you butterflies.  ”

“  i wish you all the best, really.  ”

“  say you love her, just not like you loved me.  ”

“  think of me fondly when your hands are on her.  ”

jealousy  jealousy.

“  i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room.  ”

“  all i see are girls too good to be true.  ”

“  i know their beauty’s not my lack but it feels like that weight is on my back.  ”

“  comparison is killing me slowly.  ”

“  i think i think too much.  ”

“  i’m so sick of myself, i’d rather be anyone else.  ”

“  my jealousy started following me.  ”

“  i see everyone getting all the things i want.  ”

“  i’m happy for them, but then again, i’m not.  ”

“  i can’t stand it.  ” 

“  oh god i sound crazy.  ”

“  their win is not my loss, i know it’s true.  ”

“  i can’t help getting caught up in it all.  ”

“  all your friends are so cool.  ”

“  you go out every night.  ”

“  you’re living the life.  ”

“  i want to be you so bad, and i don’t even know you.  ”

“  all i see is what i should be.  ”

favourite  crime.

“  know that i love you so bad.  ”

“  i let you treat me like that.  ”

“  i was your willing accomplice.  ”

“  i watched as you fled the scene.  ”

“  doe-eyed as you buried me.  ”

“  the things i did just so i could call you mine.  ”

“  the things you did. well, i hope i was your favourite crime.  ”

“  you used me as an alibi.  ”

“  i crossed my heart and you crossed the line.  ”

“  i defended you to all my friends.  ”

“  every time i siren sounds, i wonder if you’re around.  ”

“  you know that i’d do it all again.  ”

“  it’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we’d do.  ”

“  i was going down but i was doing it with you.  ”

“  i say that i hate you with a smile on my face.  ”

“  look what we became.  ” 

hope  ur  ok.

“  his parents cared more about the bible than being good to their own child.  ”

“  wore long sleeves because of his dad.  ”

“  somehow we fell out of touch.  ”

“  hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush.  ”

“  don’t know if i’ll see you again someday.  ”

“  i hope that you’re okay.  ”

“  her parents hated who she loved.  ”

“  she was brought into a world where family was merely blood.  ” 

“  with the courage to unlearn all of their hatred.  ”

“  we don’t talk much.  ”

“  i miss you and i hope that you’re okay.  ”

“  address the letter to the holes in my butterfly wings.  ”

“  nothing’s forever, nothing is as good as it seems.  ”

“  when the clouds are ironed our and the monsters creep into your house, every door is hard to close.  ”

“  i hope you know how proud i am.  ”

“  i hope that you’re happier today.  ”

“  i love you and i hope that you’re okay.  ”  

[valwentinefics]

Hello!! May I request a Helmut Zemo x Reader where he comforts them from a really bad nightmare? Maybe he whispers sweet phrases to them in his native language? The reader can be female or gender neutral, whichever one you feel most comfortable with!

A/n: Thanks for the request I loved writing it, we need more soft Zemo in our lives. I did she/her pronouns because I feel more comfortable writing it (despite preferring they/them myself like what’s up with that??) I hope you’re fine with the addition of a lullaby at the end I just couldn’t help myself.

I never will be far away - Zemo x F!Reader

German is being used as Sokovian, translations are in the text. The song is Lullaby by Billy Joel.

Thank you to @grazessa for translation help!

The soft moonlight shone onto Y/n’s face as she awoke with a gasp, sitting up with heaving breaths. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her nightmare as she sat in the silent bedroom, the darkness consuming nearly everything but the body of her husband beside her. She brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in them, the tears flowing from her eyes easily as her muffled sobs filled the once quiet room. She didn’t notice the soft sound of sheets rustling as her husband Helmut Zemo awoke beside her, his soft brown eyes looking at her with concern as she cried into her hands.

Zemo sat up, reaching out his hand and placing it on her back, gently rubbing circles into it with his thumb. “Liebling (darling), what’s wrong?” He asked softly, his voice raspy and accent thick from just waking it.

 “It’s nothing important Helmut, go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you.” Y/n sniffled. 

“Hey, hey.” He said softly, grabbing Y/n’s hands gently and holding them in his own large warm ones. It was surprising how a man who had killed so many and ruined countless lives could be this soft and warm. “If it’s bothering you it’s important. Please, I want to help you through this, I don’t like seeing you upset.” 

Y/n let out a shuddering breath. “I’m just… I can’t bear the thought of you going back to prison. Every moment without you was painful, I felt as if I was suffocating on my own loneliness, and then I just had a nightmare of you being taken away from me again.” She clung onto Zemo, burying her face into his neck as sobs racked her body. He held her close silently, rocking her ever so slightly as his one hand played with the ends of her hair, the other rubbing her back soothingly.

“Schatz (sweetheart), I cannot promise I won’t be forced to leave you again, but I’ll do everything within my power to get back to you. You’re my wife, my true love, and it pains me to be away from you as much as it pains you.” He mumbled, eyes filling with tears. He wished to give her a better life. One where they could live in domestic bliss without the fear of the Dora or the government coming after him. A life where they could have a son and daughter running around cheerfully, lighting up rooms with their smiles. That was the kind of life Y/n deserved and it shattered Zemo’s heart that he wouldn’t be able to give her it. 

“I wish things were different Schatz (sweetheart), I wish I could give you the peaceful life you deserve, but what I can do is cherish and protect you and pray that is enough, that I am enough.” He continued.

Y/n lifted her head out of the crook of his neck, pressing her forehead against his. “That is enough Helmut, you are enough. I just can’t stand to lose you a second time.”

“Liebling (darling), I will fight my way through anything to see you. I promise you darling, even if I am taken, I will never be far away.” He said, cupping her cheeks. “Now get some rest meine Liebe (my love), and sleep well knowing I won’t leave your side.”

Y/n gave him a sleepy nod, shuffling under the covers, the tears no longer falling down her face.  Zemo sat beside her as she closed her eyes, his hands running through her hair while he began to softly sing. His voice wasn’t perfect and melodic, but to Y/n it was home, and led her to a peaceful sleep easily. 

“Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes, And save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, Then you should always know, Wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.” 

Zemo paused as he heard the gentle snoring come from his wife’s sleeping body. “Schatz, du schaffst es irgendwie, schön auszusehen, selbst wenn du im Mondlicht schläfst. Ich verspreche dir von ganzem Herzen, dass ich dich niemals verlassen werde, egal was uns im Weg steht. Ich werde immer zurückkommen, meine Liebe, du bist mein Licht, meine Luft, mein Herz.” (Honey, you somehow manage to look beautiful even when you sleep in the moonlight. I promise you with all my heart that I will never leave you no matter what stands in our way. I will always come back, my love, you are my light, my air, my heart.)

He gently pressed his lips against Y/n’s head, vowing to himself he would do everything in his power to give Y/n the life she deserved, free of turmoil and strife. A life where they could grow old together without fear of him dying or being taken away. A life of domestic bliss.

[maxbegone]

if this is too personal, you definitely don’t have to answer 🤍 but i was wondering where you were in your grief journey and how you are doing? my dad passed away a month ago and im struggling and reading your fics has truly given me some joy

hi, anon! i would love to.

i’m going to drop this all under the cut so i don’t take up too much dash space ♥️

first of all, i am so sorry for your loss. losing a parent is one of the most difficult things to go through. when my dad passed, i had a neighbor who said that you’re suddenly part of this horrible club and you’re not sure what to do about it, especially if you lose a parent when you’re young. and she was right.

i don’t want to give any unsolicited advice here, but please allow yourself to ache. allow yourself to sit in your grief and don’t try too hard to understand it because there are some days where you just won’t. if you’re angry, let yourself be angry, if you’re happy, don’t feel guilty about that, no matter how hard it might be. if someone says they’re proud of you for how you’re handling your grief, and you feel comfortable doing so, thank them. because guess what — despite what anyone says, you are doing a good job. no one’s journey with grief is the same, and it shouldn’t be. there isn’t a guideline and those stages don’t have a specific order. it’s cyclical.

personally, i’m still very up and down. there are days where i feel like i’m not doing enough, or that the bare minimum is still either too much or too little. it helps to talk about it, i can’t lie about that, but there are times where i just want to sit and stay quiet for as long as possible. i think that’s why i write about it as often as i do. i find comfort in grief nowadays, especially in stories about grief and sort of analyzing how other people handle theirs. i’m not sure if it’s good or bad, but it’s my method of healing.

there are days where i don’t want to get up or go to sleep, where i wonder what i’m supposed to be doing without him to bounce ideas of, to laugh with, to blast billy joel with. i don’t want to get too far into the fears that have developed since my dad died because that just wouldn’t be fair to subject into a post, but they’re there. that’s probably normal.

i don’t live in my childhood home anymore, so the feeling isn’t as prominent, but i swear to god there are days i think he’s going to walk through the door. when i’m at work, the same thing happens. especially when someone walks in that even slightly resembles him. and it’s normal, it’ll always be a thing no matter how much time passes, i guess.

nothing about this is easy and it’s never going to be, i’ve [begrudgingly] accepted that. i’m now...almost a year and a half into living a life without my dad and it still absolutely sucks. i had a fantastic relationship with him, and there are so many things that are now left unsaid, so many things i know he didn’t tell me to keep me from worrying, but i know he’d be proud of him.

i’m not one for signs and never have been. if you aren’t, don’t let anyone push them on you. my dad loved cardinals because we had a family of them that lived in our backyard, so every time i see one i think of him. there’s a well-known belief that cardinals are actually angels. it’s a sweet thought, but it’s also one that doesn’t sit quite right with me.

it really is that whole one day at a time thing. we want to know the answers to everything but we can’t, and it sucks. the best thing we can do, outside of allowing ourselves to feel, is to remember every time we had with our loved ones — the good especially, but also the bad and the ugly. i’m trying to remind myself to keep the people who love i close, cherish them, but don’t let the unknown amount of time i might have left with them impede me from living the life i want as well. it’s a learning curve.

ok. i’m going to stop here. please, please do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk. i’d be more than happy to chat. and i’m happy that my fics have been helpful.

take care of yourself, anon. let yourself feel ♥️

[knjsnoona]

So When You Gonna Tell Him

Summary: Tae’s musings about you.

Genre: angst

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: brief mentions of sex

Rating: PG

Author’s Note: This is something that came to me and I just needed to write it!~ I’ve never written in first person before so I’m soooo sorry if it sucks!!! This is also for @btscreatorscorner ‘s Summer Games Event~

ALSO SHOUT OUT TO JEANIE [ @eatjeanjin​ ] AND RID [ @taegularities​ ] FOR BETA READING! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! RHDHEEHOG

When are you going to tell him?

Is all I can think whenever I see you with him. Sitting in the same spot, where we once shared our picnics. Feeding him the same homemade brownies you’d always make me. Giving him the smile you’d once only reserved for me. All the joy reflected in your beautiful eyes. As if it was something I could never find anywhere else but with you. 

Does he get to see all the things you shared with me? All the sides of you, you always claimed to be too afraid to show the world? Does he get to know you like I did? Telling him the stories of your youth and your struggles you’d stay up telling me on sleepless nights? Is it his shirt that now absorbs each of your tears when you’re upset? 

I can’t help myself. I have to walk past you, hood pulled up to hide my face. I need to hear your voice, to hear the words you now gift him. Does he know I told you that joke, that now has him almost choking on his drink? Have you told him about others? All the jokes I ever told you? I bet he doesn’t. 

I bet he doesn’t know I’m the one who taught you who Billy Joel was. He seemed so excited when I passed you in the music shop. You amazed him with all of your knowledge of his songs and your insight into his lyrics. He almost creamed himself over each word that came out of your mouth. I disliked him, but had never seen myself mirrored in him before until then.

Does he find it endearing when you exchange clothes? With you laughing at how small your jacket looks on him like you did with me. Does his heart melt the way mine did, seeing you swallowed in his clothes? Completely enamored with your sweaters paws as you wave them around telling him to stop teasing you.

Has he memorized all the patterns and textures of your skin? Do his hands feel like mine as they run along your skin, exchanging electrifying heat everywhere they touch? Does he get to hear your quiet whimpers, hidden behind a bitten lip too afraid to make a sound? Embarrassed by the wanton noises that escape you? Does he get to look into the universe hidden behind your eyes as he makes love to you? Did you teach him that spot, the one that I found, that always had you mewling for more? Do you tease him with your innocent looks and touches like you did me? Do you touch him how I taught you? Or does he show you like I once did? 

When are you going to tell him?

Of the poor fool named Kim Taehyung? The love sick idiot who thought the world began and ended with you? The man who found all the answers to the universe behind your twinkling eyes. A fool who claimed a small patch beneath an even smaller tree to have picnics. A tree you both decided to adopt and take care of. The tree that was witness to your blossoming adoration and shared meals. 

Poor stupid Kim Taehyung, laughing and making jokes just to hear your musical laugh. The laugh he believed he’d hear for the rest of his life. A life he pictured sharing with you, in a home he’d buy just for you, the house of your dreams. A silly dream of home cooked meals, halls filled with joy and laughter, and the sound of children playing. 

I feel bad for that dope, Taehyung, who spent countless nights swaying to Billy Joel with you in his arms. Soothing away your tears, singing softly in your ear. Holding you as if he could protect you from all your fears. Whispers of his love and adoration slipping between the verse and chorus. 

The idiot who thought he’d be the last to have you. The last to touch… caress… kiss you. He really thought he’d be the only one to hear the music that left your lips in the throes of passion. That those eyes full of lust and passion were reserved only for him. That those lips of yours could only form his name as you clung on in your release. The idiot really believed the two of you were one being when joined together, twin souls… two halves of one. 

When are you going to tell him?

That the poor fool Kim Taehyung was me. That I loved you more than anyone before you. I loved you the way one breathed air to continue living. I had shared dreams of making you my wife, ones that you shared. That I wore my heart on my sleeve for you, the one that you ripped and took with you on that fateful day. 

My heart that you wear now, like a trophy. Are you proud to have reduced me into such a pitiful man? A man with an unfillable hole in his chest? An empty void that could only spew misery and envy. 

I was the fool that ignored all the signs and whispers. I was the idiot that proudly wore his rose colored glasses, disregarding warnings of being just another one for your jar of hearts. Eyes shut to possible truths, afraid of just being your type.

I wonder if you get pleasure from reliving the same love, passion and inevitable heartbreak. Do you enjoy this game of deja vu? Or was I the only real fool? The only one who never knew the kind of agonizing pain you’d leave in your tracks as you walked away? The poor wretch that spent his nights spilling tears for you. Pleading words sobbed into the pillow you once used, begging you to come back. Feeling his heart get ripped out every time the night sky made its appearance, the silence filling his dark room with memories of you. 

So when are you going to tell him?

Of the man whose life you destroyed. 

When are you going to tell him?

About Kim Taehyung.

When are you going to tell him?

About me.

[pascalpanic]

At Last (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Summary: you, Frankie, and your fur baby go camping! Little does Frankie know what you have planned.

W/C: 2.1k

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, alcohol, food, language, otherwise, this is toothaching fluff!

A/N: SAMMY MY BELOVED @sanchosammy GAVE ME THIS IDEA! I hope it’s as cute as I think it is :) also, Charlie (Frankie’s pup) isn’t involved in this fic but she is still part of the fam :)

Pine trees surround you on either side, tall and majestic. You can see the blue-gray sky patching through the canopy; the clouds are leaving, but some linger a little longer to clog up the sky. The air is warm and slightly humid, but a wonderful breeze rustles through the trees and rushes across your bare arms. Your trail shoes squelch underfoot in the damp ground. You sigh, totally content with this moment. 

Frankie’s flannel is tied around his waist, leaving him in his khaki cargo pants and t-shirt. A couple of curls peek out from under his ball cap, turning into little ringlets at the nape of his neck. He walks in front of you on the trail, his boots pressing prints into the soft ground. His back profile is beautiful, even with the large camping pack, and you can’t help but grin. 

Foxtrot embodies her name- Frankie is holding her leash, and the auburn and white dog trots up ahead of him, sniffing along the mulched and muddied path. The air smells of humidity that’s just passed over and that wonderful accompanying petrichor. Fox’s white paws are surely getting dirtied, but that’s only to be expected. You don’t care, too excited to watch your boyfriend and dog walk ahead of you. 

Frowning at the bend of Frankie’s back, you catch up and take his free hand. “Let me carry something, baby.”

“No,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers through yours. “You have important cargo,” he teases and pats your back lightly. 

Strapped to your back, in a backpack-style blue case, is your ukulele. One hand carries the cooler, slung over your shoulder, filled with food and drinks for tonight. Frankie carries the heavy-duty stuff- the tent, stakes, more essential supplies. “At least let me take Fox.”

Her red ears perk up at her name and she stops, turning and growing excited, as if she forgot you were there. “Yeah, hi Foxy!” You coo as she runs towards you, jumping with her front paws in the air in excitement. “Yeah, you love it out here, don’t you?” You ask her in a baby voice, scratching behind her ears as she circles around your legs and prevents you from moving. Frankie drops her leash in order to prevent your legs from being tourniqueted by it, and it drags behind her in the mud. 

When you pick up the leash, it’s sludgy and damp, but you don’t mind too much. You continue the hike forward and Frankie and Fox follow at your sides, both beaming ear to ear and enjoying the serenity of the woods. 

Frankie picked the campsite, so he’s technically leading the way, but the trail is fairly straightforward, meaning you don’t need to be led. Frankie points out wildlife here and there: chipmunks, rabbits, cardinals and chickadees flitting through the pine-needled canopy. He’s in his element, and you’re in yours: with him. 

The mud gives way to drier ground ahead, and luckily enough Frankie pulls off to the side. It’s the perfect spot, with a beautiful little field of wildflowers. “Welcome to your five-star hotel for the night, babe,” he assures you and kisses you softly, making you giggle and kiss him back with excitement and a pinch of nerves in your stomach.

There’s a routine the two of you have silently adopted. Frankie sets up the small tent, just big enough for the two of you and Fox. You gather kindling, set up a fire, arrange the chairs and all-around make the outdoor area of your campsite ideal.

Frankie is a man of patience, truly, but sometimes the little portable tent proves to be a challenge. You allow Fox off of her leash, knowing she’s well-trained enough to stick around the site, and find your way to the mess of fabric and stakes covering the man. “Baby. For the love of God, we do this all the time,” you tease.

“Well, something must’ve fucking changed,” he grumbles as he fiddles with the parts. You get on your knees on the soft bed of dried pine needles and help him out. With your help, the tent takes no time at all to put up, and you stand and brush off your hands. Frankie gives you a sheepish smile and you give him a kiss. 

The two of you don’t need to converse while you set things up. You enjoy the woods, the rustling of the wind and chirping of birds. Fox curls up on the blanket you set out for her, and when everything is done, you unzip the cooler and hand Frankie a beer. “Well, now we’re all set.”

“Let the fun begin,” he chuckles and twists the top open, clinking his glass bottle to yours. 

“So, Francisco,” you smile over at him. “What do you have planned for this trip? I know you have some sort of plan laid out up there,” you tease and rap on his head softly, through the trucker cap resting there.

He blushes a little and looks away. “I don’t always have a plan.”

“Hey.” You turn his face back to yours by the chin. “You do and I absolutely love it. Now tell me about it, please, baby.”

Frankie removes his hat and runs a hand through his curls. “Well, I figured we could start the fire soon, cook dinner over it. It’ll get dark pretty quick. Then hang around the campfire, maybe play some of the games I packed.”

“Is a quiet tumble in the tent on the cards?” You ask him with a teasing grin, nudging his side. 

He shrugs, jokingly, as if he’s considering it. “I don’t see why we couldn’t squeeze that in. We only have, oh… three hours of time in between these plans.”

“Then we’ll use all three of those hours,” you shrug and steal a kiss, smiling into his lips. “I love you. And I love it out here.” You were never a nature person before Frankie, usually preferring indoors adventures to hiking or camping. Frankie looks like he belongs out here, and he probably thinks he does. Even if you didn’t enjoy the fun of outdoors adventuring, you’d have at least one thing to enjoy: Frankie’s excitement and enthusiasm over it. “Thank you.”

Fox is curled at Frankie’s feet, and he bends over to scratch her ears, running his fingers through her scruffy fur. “Thank you, baby. For coming out here with me and putting up with all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better adventure partner.”

-

You do, indeed, cook dinner over the fire. You’d prepped all kinds of chopped vegetables to be grilled over an open flame, and had additionally packed pre-cooked hot dogs as well as s’mores ingredients. Frankie is a firm believer that it’s not camping if it doesn’t include graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

Luckily, your Frankie is a skilled griller. He always is, always has been. He takes care of the cooking part, since you prepared everything else, though he lets you hold the hot dogs over the fire to roast. “I feel like I’m at camp again,” you laugh as you slowly rotate the food over the fire.

Frankie is taking charge of the vegetables, expertly. They’re getting a beautiful char, you notice. “It’s much better, because you don’t have to sneak around to make out with your boyfriend at night, huh?” He teases and tosses you a grin. 

“But I get my boyfriend all to myself,” you nod and confirm. “And I have my baby girl with me,” you coo as you rub Foxtrot’s head, where she’s resting at your side.

The meal is delicious, of course, when the two of you work together and each used your strong skills. Frankie slips bites to Fox when he thinks you’re not looking, of course, but it’s endearing, the way the dog’s big brown eyes mirror those looking down at her.

There’s not much conversation while you eat, mouths occupied with food rather than speaking. That’s alright. There’s plenty of time for that tonight and tomorrow.

The sun starts sinking lower when Frankie brings the marshmallows from the tent. “Guess what time it is!” He exclaims as he rips open the bag, skewering two marshmallows and holding them over the fire.

Like he’s a skilled griller, he’s also a wonderful marshmallow-toaster. Frankie toasts yours to perfection, just the way you like it, and you do your part as the s’more-sandwicher, shoving the marshmallow between the graham crackers and chocolate.

There’s no signal out here, and you agreed neither of you would use your phones unless an emergency happened. Frankie frowns as he sees your phone. “Hey. Put that away. Don’t use that.”

“There’s an emergency, Frankie,” you whine, opening the camera app with one hand and eating the sugary dessert with the other.

“And what’s that?” He asks, taking a bite of his s’more. 

Strings of gooey marshmallow connect the sandwich to his lips, making him laugh, and you snap a picture at the perfect moment: Frankie’s closed-lipped smile as his s’more falls apart on him. “You’re too damn cute, that’s the emergency,” you laugh and set the photo as your lock screen, tossing it away.

Frankie’s schedule actually worked itself naturally. After the s’mores and a wet-wipe hand-washing to remove the endless marshmallow from Frankie’s hands, you find yourself sitting around the fire, no light left in the sky. When you look up, all you can see is inky blue and pine trees, the stars yet to make their nightly rise. 

“I have a song request,” Frankie asks and raises his hand like a child in a classroom.

“Yes, Francisco?” You tease as you walk to the tent, grabbing your ukulele and returning with it, sitting back in your lawn chair with it. “Hit me.”

“Only The Good Die Young by Billy Joel. No, wait- Country Roads.”

Laughing, you noodle around with the strings for a moment. You knew this moment would come, and here’s the opportunity. “I can play all of those and more, Frankie. We’ll do the Billy Joel first,” you nod decisively.

Frankie sounds like the forest wolves at night when he sings along. He absolutely howls, taken away by the song, taken to a place where his voice isn’t just a little on the rougher end of good. He belts the words and dances along in his seat, like you do.

Then Country Roads. You thought the last one was bad before you hear Frankie’s booming voice echoing the ballad of West Virginia through seemingly the entire preserve. But you don’t care in the slightest. You sing along proudly, strumming your ukulele harder and harder until you’re sure you can’t add any more volume before snapping a string. 

After the song, you pause and rest your ukulele flat on your lap. “Frankie, baby. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, smiling over at you. “Any time. What’s up, buttercup?” He asks, taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles.

“Will you marry me?” You ask. The question is straight and to the point, blunt and honest. Your face conveys your hope, and the grandiose speech follows. “I love you beyond belief, Frankie. I love you almost as much as you love these woods. I know you love me too. I just… think it’s time. We’ll be perfect for it. What do you say?”

You can feel Frankie’s slightly-chapped lips curve into a smile against your hand. He’s grinning and then he’s crying, soft water droplets forming in the corners of his eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he grins, grabbing your ukulele and setting it aside.

Once the ukulele is on the ground, Frankie stands in front of your chair and lifts you to your feet, kissing you with such fervor you can’t help but gasp. When he breaks away, you smile, eyes watering too. “I know it wasn’t the most elegant of proposals, but-”

“It was the most us,” Frankie cuts you off with a teary grin. “I would be honored to be your husband, my love. You really want me enough to do that?”

“Frankie,” you coo, cupping his face in your hand. “You are the best husband I could ever want, could ever dream for,” you assure him and kiss his nose gently.

The man laughs, wiping his tears away. “Then let’s get married,” he whoops excitedly, then lets out an excited shout to the woods. “We’re getting married!”

You laugh at his loud and booming declaration, but nothing can detract you for the love and joy in your heart.

When you and Frankie settle down in your chairs again, you pick up the ukulele and finish off with one last beautiful song that you and Frankie have always adored, with a title that truly fits: At Last.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[theimmaterialplace]

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 3: just the way you are

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s day after.

Contains: mentions of death.

Word Count: 2k

Comments: haha, uni is kicking my ass! sorry for the three weeks it took to post this, this chapter would just not write itself :( also i literally have future chapters finished but i need to get the in between chapters done before that so sorry! a lot may not have happened but spencer is seeing something here. he hasn't been able to come to a conclusion quite yet but he will soon... but will it be before the reader spills? also yeah, this story is filled with headcanons because i can't help myself! :D

i love jj but she gives off overbearing vibes and rn spencer needs some space from everyone that reminds him of emily/will only want to talk about his feelings. little does he know for that first part...

the next chapter is the funeral and after party!!! hope you enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think!

masterlist | read on ao3

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

- Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are

When Spencer enters the room, it reveals relieved coworkers. JJ is the first one to approach him, eyes red and worry evident on her face. She pulls him into a hug as soon as she reaches him.

“Spencer, we were so worried when you left last night,” her whisper might as well be a scolding in his ears but he’ll take it because he never meant to worry his team, not like this. She pulls away and cradles his face gently in her hands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad it would seem to everyone. I… I didn’t want to make anyone worry after everything else.” He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions that will only bring him to his knees.

Derek speaks up then and it’s like he knows. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kid.” Looking at him, Spencer can tell he hasn’t slept and has cried the whole night through. If he had stayed with them, he likely would look the same. As it is, he barely got a few hours asleep, as haunted as his dreams were.

“Me too.”

His team is in shambles. It’s not just that Emily has gone away and left them, left him, like Gideon or Elle. No, she’s never coming back because she is dead, just like every other cadaver they’ve encountered in their line of work. Statistically speaking, death in their line of work was highly likely and it’s a miracle he’s managed to avoid it for so long.

Perhaps it’s because Emily has always been impressive but he’d never thought she’d be the one to die. If anything, he’d bet himself before anyone else on his team.

His team is talking to one another and Spencer can’t hear anything they’re saying. All their words are blurring into unintelligible words and the only thing he can see are their faces.

Rossi is a slab of stone being chipped at little by little into something unrecognizable. Hotch’s eyes are red and his face is pale and an ever looming cloud of guilt surrounds him. He wonders why; it wasn’t his fault she died. Morgan is much the same but there is an anger in him that he hasn’t seen before.

Morgan’s anger simmers underneath his skin; he’s frustrated that he wasn’t fast enough to save her or to catch Doyle. His sadness has become eclipsed for now but he knows it’s there, buried under the guilt and rage he feels. Perhaps it’s because Garcia takes on the brunt of it, the grief is written all over her face. She’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve and this hasn’t changed. He chooses not to look at her because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it together. Someone so vulnerable makes him want to do the same and he feels vulnerable enough as it is.

JJ is like Hotch, guilt and grief clouds her. She keeps sweeping her hair back and chewing on her cheek, a habit when she doesn’t want to focus on what’s plaguing her.

Their tells are obvious to him and he’s memorized all of them, every little action they’ve done is cataloged in his brain and this is no different. He had already known what they’d be like and what they’d do when he saw them.

He hears Ambassador Prentiss’ voice stutter when she asks why Hotch has called and he wonders if she already knows and wants to hear it before she comes down so she can grieve on her own time. He stays quiet and that’s as good as confirmation for her because her breath hitches and she says she’ll be down in an hour.

Emily never spoke much of her mother but she takes- took after her greatly. They share the same face and hair color. It’s like her mother had asexually produced because he sees no difference between the two; there was no bit of her father in Emily. The only difference between the two are the crow’s feet and smile lines on her mother’s face and he realizes that Emily will grow to her mother’s age because she died too young.

Hotch delivers the news, as expected of his status of Unit Chief, and Ambassador Prentiss is stoic and nods at the news of her only child’s death. She asks for details and Hotch is only able to give her the bare minimum and she only nods and thanks him and the rest of them. She goes up to Morgan and takes his hands into her own and whispers something only for his ears. He stiffens but nods and she goes away with the request that they inform her of their decision of when the funeral is and that she’ll pay for everything.

It’s a bit cold the way she all but announces how she doesn’t want to be included in the planning of her daughter’s funeral but Emily always had described her as cold and distant, loving only in private and when convenient.

The planning process takes up the rest of the afternoon and it passes him by quickly and he knows it’s mostly because he disassociated through most of it. JJ and Hotch shot him with worried glances all day and he just wants to go back to your apartment. He doesn’t want to go to his apartment just yet, not when he'll have to come face to face with the reminders of her in his own apartment.

The funeral is booked three days away and he shoots you a text and you respond a minute later with a simple thumbs up.

He tells the team he’ll be heading out and unsurprisingly JJ speaks up over this.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I can give you a ride or you can come over. I don’t want you to be alone, Spencer.” Her voice is meant to be soothing in that maternal way she’s learned but it grates at his nerves. He doesn’t need to be babied. He knows she’s just worried about him but Emily’s death has left him exposed in a way that throws him off his rhythm.

“Thanks JJ, but a friend is picking me up. I’ll be staying with her tonight.” The team exchanges looks in a way that is meant to be subtle but Spencer has always had an eye for details so he doesn’t miss it but he doesn’t call it out.

“Oh well, okay, if you’re sure…?” He nods and she acquiesces but says she’ll walk him out. She waits with him outside while he waits for you. You pull up in your car with his favorite Billy Joel song on and he can’t help the tiny grin that spreads on his face.

You look tired but happy to see him and he knows that JJ probably wants to examine you but he really just wants to get out of here and cuts her off before she can say anything and says goodbye to her while getting into your car.

He can smell the aroma of Italian in the backseat and he knows you went to the little restaurant he frequents after a bad case because the food reminds him of when his mother used to order takeout because much like himself, she was a disaster in the kitchen. It made him happy that you remembered.

Billy Joel’s velvet voice is enough to fill the silence. He watches you as you drive, noticing how you tap your fingertips to the beat of the song on the steering wheel and how it’s obvious now that you’re distracting yourself from something. He hadn’t been able to see it before because he was too lost in his own grief but there was something off about your demeanor.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment, he finds it to be cleaner than it was in the morning and set for maximum comfort. Your couch is covered with soft, thick blankets with animals on them, cobijas, you had called them. He’s fairly certain that just means blanket in Spanish. The table that is usually in the middle of your living room is pushed closer to the couch and it’s where you set the food at so he assumes it’s where the two of you will be eating.

Your record player is playing jazz music. A compromise, you had told him one evening, appealing to his classical music needs with it’s long instrumentals and your love of their crooning and smooth voices.

“Hey, Spence, what do we feel like drinking tonight?” Your voice jolts him out of his observations and he looks towards you where you’re peering at the available drinks in your fridge, two ice-filled glasses set on the counter beside you.

“Arnold Palmer?” You hum and grab two pitchers from your fridge and set it out on the counter and he watches as you mix the two together so it’s not separated. You set the two pitchers back into the fridge and bring the two drinks to where he’s sitting, handing him one and placing the other on your coaster.

He watches as you take out the food from the bags and put his own container in front of him along with two pieces of garlic bread and his own fork and napkin.

Once you’re all done, you take a drink from your glass and open your container and take a bite of your usual order. He follows quickly after, knowing from experience how rapidly the food can get cold.

Time passes by and eventually the food gets finished and you’re both left alone with Billie Holiday’s voice filling the silence.

You’re nibbling on the last piece of garlic bread, your eyes focused idly on your bookshelf but more specifically on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He files away the fact that he’s seen this specific book somewhere and decides to ask at another time.

Once you finish, you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. He shifts so that you’re in a more comfortable position that lets you rest against him while he’s able to hold onto you as well.

Spencer can’t help but think that you always know what he needs without him needing to say anything. It’s something he hasn’t had since Elle or more accurately, Emily. It’s not even been a month and already, he craves her affection. He misses the impromptu Russian talks and the book sharing and her calming presence. You remind him so much of her. It’s like you've taken on some of her mannerisms. Perhaps it’s projection but he’s noticed for months now how you’ve changed bit by bit into someone similar to Emily.

You must have seen his tell because you look up at him, hand finding his own and squeezing it gently before bringing it to your wrist.

It’s the little things you do that bring him back to reality, no matter how painful it is. He’s not sure where he’d be right now. Most likely with JJ and her family, all the while feeling like a burden. With you, he feels vulnerable in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s known you for years and not once, have you ever made him feel small. It’s always been easy with you and he hopes the same can be said for you about him.

“Stop thinking right now, Spencer. We can do that later, like tomorrow. You need a break right now. I know it’s hard for your big brain to shut down so just focus on my pulse and match your breathing to mine.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his sweater and he can only nod and follow your instructions.

“Thank you.” He says after a while.

“ Always, Spencer.” And like always, you understand.

The words are never said but he’s sure you know it and he knows you feel the same.

[lilbabycee]

ooo maybe one where chris/Steve meets the parents and it can be fluffy or smutty however that would work. i don’t see enough of that and it’s so cute to read 🥺🥺

meet the parents // chris evans

↳ pairing: chris evans x reader

i love this concept, i’m already about to cry:

“baby, they’re gonna love you,” you tell him, a minute away from jumping on your boyfriend because he won’t stop pacing your bedroom. 

he’s changed his tie three times, and you have to work to keep the grin off your face because he’s so adorable.

“you say that, y/n, but i’m still shitting myself,” chris admits, running his hand over the invisible creases on his white collared shirt. 

he’s ditched the tie entirely and popped a few of the buttons on his shirt - just low enough to be appropriate - and rolled up his sleeves to bare his thick forearms. he’s wearing slim grey slacks and he’s donned some faux leather italian-made black dress shoes. 

“you really shouldn’t be,” you cross one leg over another as you sit on your bed, watching him mess with his hair in the mirror. “my mom already loves you because she thinks that you’re devastatingly handsome and i’m pretty sure that my dad is just happy that i’m finally bringing someone home. i think they were concerned that i was going to die alone.”

chris freezes and spins on his heel, panicked eyes darting to yours.

“wait but babe - you’ve dated other people before me.”

you shrug, staring at your nails calmly. “yeah, but i’ve never brought any of them home.”

your bedroom goes completely quiet for a few seconds before chris buries his hands in his hair and wails dramatically.

“why would you tell me that?!”

when chris rolls into your parents’ driveway, you go to unbuckle your seatbelt when you notice his breathing visibly speed up. 

“chris,” you say, trying to catch his attention, but his eyes are glued directly in front of him as he attempts to regulate his breathing. 

“chris.”

you try a little louder but it’s as if he’s forgotten that you’re in the seat right next to him. you extend a hand and place it on his knee, and this finally gets him to snap his eyes to yours, his teeth digging into his full lower lip.

“sweetheart, i’m freakin’ out.”

“yeah, i didn’t notice,” you say dryly. he shoots you a look and you squeeze his thigh reassuringly.

“i don’t know what to do, y/n,” he breathes. “i feel like i’m gonna make an ass out of myself and go up there, actin’ like a fuckin’ meatball in front of your parents-”

“would it make you feel better if i gave you head before we went in?” 

your deadpan statement causes chris to bark out a brief laugh that then turns into a chuckle, and eventually, it evolves into a full-on laughing fit. 

“honestly, yes,” he admits, rubbing at his left pec. 

“well, that’s not happening, bud, ‘cause we’re in the driveway of my parents’ house so let’s haul ass because think of it this way. the sooner we head in, the sooner we can go home.”

“alright, baby, let’s go then.”

unsurprisingly, chris only had to give your mom a hug when he first came in for her to pull you into another room and proceed to gush about him for almost a full half-hour. 

“honey, he’s so nice,” she gasps and she is visibly glowing with pride when she pulls you into a hug. “he’s so good for you, i’m so happy baby.”

and your dad tries to play hardball at first, all “what are your intentions with my baby” and “i don’t trust you yet, evans”

but the minute that they got to talking about politics, it was as if they had known each other for years

and this was all before dinner

you were baffled because you couldn’t believe that the same nervous man who was so close to having a complete breakdown three and a half hours ago is the one sitting with an arm around your mom, flipping through your baby pictures

as it turns out, he and your dad also share the same music taste which really floors you because you never really noticed before, and they fight over what they think billy joel’s best song is for much longer than you like

on your way out, your mother hugs chris for a full minute, whispering all kinds of things that you can’t hear in his ear

(some of them make him blush and you are outright horrified)

and your dad claps him on the back before giving him a brief hug of his own, a kind smile on both of their faces

“how is it,” you ask chris as you make your way down the highway, watching him hum along to the song on the radio and jovially tap his fingers against the steering wheel, “that my parents like you more than me?”

he shrugs but he hasn’t stopped smiling since he left and frankly, neither have you

“i don’t know, baby - i guess i just have that effect on people-”

“shut up, you’re annoying... i love you.”

“i love you too.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Howdy!✨✨ Congratulations on 5k! You are literally one of the most talented writers I follow! Ilysm never change!💕

Alrighty, I was hoping for a male ship from Marvel? I'm nonbinary(they/them), I dye my hair frequently but currently it's black and short. Think like a shaggy grown out buzzcut. I have hazel eyes, a small nose and I'm 5'1. I'm a Gemini, an INTP, and a Hufflepuff. I have anxiety so I'm pretty quiet and nervous in public or around people I don't know but around my close friends I'm extremely outgoing. My friends say I'm the scariest in the friend group but I don't believe them lmao. I'm fairly confident that I'm autistic and I'm working towards getting a diagnosis. I'm not really the dating type but I suppose my type would be smart people who can make me laugh. Ive been wearing glasses since grade 7 and my eyesight keeps getting worse. I think my favorite feature would probably be my hair. If my hair looks nice I feel nice. I have this big birthmark that's right under my belly button and for as long as I can remember I've hated it but its whatever. My taste in music is honestly all over the place. Most of the music on my playlists come from wildly random artists that i don't even know the name of. But for the most part Id say Ajr, Abba, Huey Lewis, Billy Joel, anything 70's and 80's, and random Tiktok songs I take a liking to. My favorite author is Gordan Korman and I probably read 10 or so of his books in a year and a half which doesn't sound like a lot but it's an achievement in my books. Im in band and I play the clarinet. I wanted to play the saxophone because my mom played it but my 6th grade band teacher just gave me a clarinet and ive loved it ever since. (Would still love to play the sax tho) I'm in drama and id probably be an actor if I could do it without the fame. The only sports I actually enjoy are soccer and volleyball. But I don't even play them properly, I only play them in gym. Im planning on going into graphic design when I graduate. I love all things computers and technology, and I love to draw and being able to combine those two thing is amazing. My current favorite movies are Dead Poets Society, Mamma Mia, Spiderman into the Spider verse, Now You See Me, and Pride and Prejudice. I also really love nature documentarys, specifically ocean ones. I love the ocean alot, its probably one of my favorite topics. I really like deep sea creatures.

I can't really think of anything more. I hope this is enough lmao. I have a really weird perception of myself so when I have to describe myself I take a really long time. Also I really hope I'm not late with this. I know its the last day for ships. Ahhh that would be embarassing. You are literally the coolest. Thanks so much and have an awesome day/night!💕💕 lots of love!✨

What trope are you? Opposites Attract 💕

Your friends would describe you as scary. Peter's friends would say he's about as scary as a baby deer learning to walk. You love to read. Peter's more of the skimming and hoping for the best type. All the clubs you're part of, he had to quit because of Spiderman. You and Peter are part of different social circles. Sure, you know of him, much like the rest of the kids in your class, but you don't really know him. Not that well, at least. He's nice, nice to everyone, and that's good enough in your book. He doesn't cause trouble, he's not one of the mean kids or the ones who think High School is their whole lives. He doesn't make waves or cause trouble. You see him and Ned goofing off at lunch or in the hall, but other than that you don't really see him. And then you become lab partners.

Though Peter and Ned tried to have all the same classes, their labs got mixed up. You didn't realize you were the only ones without a partner until the teacher put you together. He was all smiles, offering jokes along the way. It wasn't the worst class you'd ever had. When you realized you'd be partners for the semester you were secretly grateful. You and Peter are both smart students. You know whatever group work you do, it won't be up to you to do it all. Through the school year, despite your many differences, you become friends. He always compliments your hair and teases you about the music you listen to. Aunt May has shown him similar movies and he may, or may not, know every word to every song in Mama Mia! You talk about your shared love of science and technology, too. You see more of him everywhere and you're happy about that. He's always willing to offer help when you're carrying too many books and of course tries to read things with your glasses on. When he's not in school, for reasons that always sound a little too detailed, you find yourself missing him. . . .

Peter doesn't realize it til the last weeks of the semester that your classes change, that he won't see you almost every day. He starts to panic, hating the idea of not seeing you anymore. Seeing you makes his days better and brighter. He loves to make you laugh with the worst jokes he can come up with. He adores how excited you get telling him about all the sea creatures you love to learn about. He never realized how you went from strangers to friends, and never wants to go back to that. You and Peter start hanging out more outside of school, beyond the homework and study groups. You spend hours watching movies and talking. You've both got big plans for the future. He doesn't want to ruin the friendship you have, bit he can't get you out of his head. If he doesn't tell you how he feels, he fears he'll never work up the courage again!

~ I hope you like it my love!!! Xoxoxo💜💖💜💖💜💖💜

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 4) John Deacon x Reader Series

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

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

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: This one was a doozy! Don’t start your very first fic with only a vague idea of where it’s going, friends! Quick reminder that this is a slow ass burn. Gonna take us a bit to get there but want to point out there will be no infidelity. Also fun fact: my grandfather actually did work at Elaine’s and the Mick Jagger story is true.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Hallelujah, I Love Her So - Ray Charles

Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel) - Billy Joel - [I know it wasn’t released till the 90s but I couldn’t shake it]

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady

- - - - - - -

July 1982 - Freeport, Long Island

“I’ll be right back,” you sigh to no one in particular, pushing yourself off of the faded paisley couch in the basement of Steve’s parent’s house and making your way upstairs for a glass of water. The dull pounding in your head had only gotten worse from repeatedly staring at the green shag carpeting leftover from the prior decade. Navigating the layout of the familiar house with ease, you make your way to the kitchen.

“Oh, Bunny! Wonderful, I was just about to bring down some iced tea,” calls out Steve’s mother upon seeing you.

“Thanks, Mrs. Castellano. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you know me. It was too quiet when you were all away.” The Limbs had recently gotten back from a small European tour--the album having spread beyond England; to Scotland, France, Germany, and Belgium. “I can’t help myself when I get all of you back under my roof. Speaking of… how’s it going down there?” she presses.

You keep your deadpan expression glued to your face as you lock eyes with the kind woman.

She grimaces, “I had a feeling. You better bring this back yourself then,” she hands you the pitcher.

“Will do. Thanks again, Mrs. C,” you tell her as you start to trudge your body back towards the basement. You let out a deep sigh before yanking the door open and descending into the pit of your own personal hell.

Lawrence’s voice booms from below, “I said simple! A simple four to the floor, and that’s it.”

The rest of The Limbs were right as you left them. Eddie and Rich lounge on the couch that is pushed up against the wood-paneled walls, their guitars strewn casually over their legs as they watch the ongoing argument. Lawrence paces around the room, his hands seemingly glued to his head as he pulls on his hair, and Steve sits behind his drum kit that’s tucked away in the corner. Padded blankets hang from the ceiling around him - a sorry excuse for soundproofing.

“Oh c’mon, I’m just adding some flavor to it! I’ll be as boring, sorry simple, as you want when we actually record it,” Steven replies, twirling a drumstick in his right hand.

Rich lets out a sigh as he clocks you making your way back. “Bun, any help here?”

You softly place the pitcher on a table off to the side before turning to the group, leaning back on your hands. “I just don’t get why we need to debut something new if it’s obviously not ready,” you say carefully.

“Of course you’d say that,” Lawrence grumbled, gesturing in your general direction. “Do you not want to sing it? Because you all told me you thought it was good!”

“It’s not that, and you know it, it’s just-”

“It just needs some work before Sunday, so let’s run the rhythm section again,” Eddie cuts in impatiently from his perch on the back of the couch. He untangles his spidery limbs and makes his way over to where you’re camped out.

“Okay, I’ll explain it again,” Lawrence huffs.

“We don’t need this stress two days before we play,” you tell Eddie softly.

“It’s a hometown show, Y/N,” he looks at you pointedly. “These folks helped get us to where we are. It’ll be nice to give them something new.”

The label had secured The Limbs a night at the Jones Beach Theater, the largest outdoor venue on the island. People from all over traveled to watch such acts as Jimmy Buffet, James Taylor, and Aerosmith, the height of entertainment for the suburban droves. And now they’ll be camping out for the first hometown Limbs show since they’d been signed. It was a huge deal, and you knew it, but you didn’t need something unfamiliar to throw off your already wavering shadow of a presence on stage.

Rich begins to pluck out the new bass line, carefully watching Lawrence’s reaction as he plays. On the pick-up, Steve again adds a light flourish as he joins in.

“Steve! For god’s sake! What did I just say?!”

“Live a little, will ya, Lawrence!” Steven shouts back.

The door to the basement wrenches open, and you all freeze. Mr. Castellano’s footsteps are heavy as he stomps down the stairs, somehow staring all of you down at once.

“Kids. If you’d be so kind as to keep it down a tad. I already have to watch the Yankees hand their asses over to the Blue Jays up there. I would at least like to hear it.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Steve mumbles.

“Thank you.” He starts to make his way back up the stairs but halts, turning to you once again. “Oh, also, someone from your label called before,” he adds on casually.

Steven jumps up from his stool, “What?! Dad!”

“What?! Steven!” he mimics. “I’m not your secretary.”

“Can you just tell us what they said?” Steve scoffs at his father.

“Something about being invited to a show at The Garden tonight. Some band. It’s… Dang it. I wrote it down somewhere,” he mutters, making his way back up the stairs.

“I wonder who it is,” Rich thinks aloud, glancing around to all of you.

Eddie notices as your body immediately stiffens beside him.

“Bun?” he asks slowly. “Do you know who’s playing Madison Square Garden tonight?”

Your eyes find the green carpet once again. Of course you knew who was playing tonight. Queen was beginning their two-night stay at the venue. Dawn wanted to get tickets, but you had argued that it was getting harder for you to go unrecognized in public. That, and the fact you had come to the realization you could only act like a complete fool around any of the band members. You weren’t keen on adding another entry to the list.

“It’s Queen!” Mr. Castellano calls from upstairs. “Starts at 8. You kids should get going if you’re gonna make it.”

“Queen’s playing?” Lawrence marvels. “How did we miss that?”

Rich rises, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe all the incessant practicing you’ve been holding us hostage for?” 

“She knew,” Eddie smirks, pointing at you with his thumb. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve never gotten the chance to see them live before!” Steve questions, already rocking back on his heels with excitement. He had become quite the Queen fan since your run-in with Freddie after sticking to him like glue that entire night.

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, “I thought we had more important things to focus on.”

“No, that’s not it,” Eddie deduces, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re just embarrassed that you went all jellied around Mr. Mercury the last time.”

“You’re the one who had to go and tell him all about me fawning over them on MTV!”

“Ooor, maybe it’s because the entirety of the UK saw you making eyes at their bassist on that game show,” Lawrence elaborates.

“There were no eyes being made at anyone,” you grit out defensively, knowing full well that their words were ringing true.

“I, for one, am happy you have a crush, Bun. You know it’s been a while since…” Rich trails off, leaving out the name of a dreaded ex none of you speak of.

You push yourself off your perch on the table with a huff. “You know what? We’ll go. Let’s go. That way, I can disprove all your wildly inaccurate assumptions,” you retort, wanting to get the heat off you fast.

Steven chuckles, “Oh no, she’s broken out her dictionary, folks. Looks like we’ve hit a nerve.” He pokes your side playfully.

“Shut up, please,” you tell them, making your way over to the stairs. “We have a train to catch.”

- - - - - - -

You’re late.

The muffled bass from the arena hits your ears as the Limbs dash up the steps leading from Penn Station to MSG. You all but sprint to catch up with the boy’s long gaits as they approach the box office window.

“Hiya, there’s supposed to be some tickets at will-call for us from the band,” Eddie explains to a woman behind the glass as he tries to catch his breath.

“Name?” 

“Uh… Lo & The Limbs?”

“Don’t have anything under that name. Could it be something else?”

“Can you try just The Limbs?” he guesses, turning back to the group with wide, panicked eyes.

“Nope, sorry,” she answers in a monotone.

“How about The Legs,” you offer up from your spot behind Rich’s tall figure. She just shakes her head.

“Well, fuck,” Lawrence sighs, slapping his palms against his legs, obviously ticked off from the 45-minute train ride you’d all barely caught because Steve had changed his shirt a minimum of three times before you could all head out.

“What about Bunny?” Steve asks with a giggle.

The woman raises her eyebrows before checking the list yet again.

“Ah, there you are. Bunny and friends,” she concludes with a sigh.

A chorus of chuckles erupts from the boys. You point your finger at Eddie.

“I’m coming for ya. Eds. You’re not gonna know where or when, but I’ll get you back for this one day,” you tell him playfully. 

“Oh yeah, and when you kill me, you can be free to go off and start your solo group, Bunny and Friends.”

She hands you all large laminate passes and gestures for you to follow a security guard. They deposit you in one of the skyboxes on the 10th floor. The Limbs tentatively enter, glancing around at the mishmash of people gathered. Extra crew, friends of the band, some execs, you guess to yourself. The boys immediately descend on the small bar set up in the back of the room.

“Here, I assume you need one of these,” Lawrence shoves a beer in your shaking hands. 

“You assume right, good sir.”

“How the hell did we lose Steve already?” Eddie gripes. Rich easily spots him over the tops of heads surrounding them, pointing to a tall figure pushing his way towards the front of the box that opens up into seating. You all follow, mummering polite excuse me’s and thank you’s as you try to keep up. You can hear Play The Game get louder as you approach the view. 

Steve rushes to the first row of seats, leaning over the railing of the balcony. “God, will you look at all these people?” he marvels, watching as the dancing lights illuminate the mass below him.

But you’re not looking at the crowd. Your gaze immediately finds the stage, where Freddie is situated behind a piano off to the left. His voice booms as if he were standing right next to you, and you’re positive that even without a mic, it would be heard by all 20,000 individuals. His eyes are closed as he slams hard on the piano, seemingly in his own world, yet the entire crowd is wholly entranced.

Brian then casually lopes to center for his solo. He smiles out at the crowd as his fingers dance across the frets gracefully while Eddie screams in appreciation throughout. He then jogs back to his mic, nearly missing his cue for his backing vocals, but his fingers never rest. Roger’s gravely falsetto catches your ear, and you train your eyes on the multitasking drummer. Even up behind his kit, his presence takes center stage while he keeps perfect time. The group ends the song in perfect synchronicity as the lights cut to black.

The chords for Somebody To Love start with a few majestic trills from Freddie’s voice, but your attention is once again grabbed away. Towards the back of the stage, still cast in darkness, you see John. He quickly shrugs off a fitted leather jacket to reveal an even tighter full cerulean blue ensemble before a roadie slips the strap of his bass over his head. He strolls into the light just as Freddie finishes his improv, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet as they begin the song.

While he keeps his gaze mostly pointed to the ground, his body already thrums with anticipation. As it really gets going, you watch as he comes to life. You can’t help but hang onto his every movement; the unintentional jerks of his head, the light two-step of his feet as he shuffles along to his bass line's groove. He seems entirely at the will of the song and loving every minute of it. A pang of jealousy hits your chest as you wonder if you’d ever feel that free on stage.

Not much conversation passes between you and the boys as you watch on, more than a bit awestruck. You’re not sure how many songs pass, but fresh beers repeatedly appear in your hands every so often. The lights are dizzyingly bright as your eyes skip around the stage, trying to absorb as much as you can. You find they consistently flick back to John, sucking in every minutia of his performance. Your chest tightens like it did the day of Pop Quiz. Every time he had caught your eye, you remember having to push down the inescapable thoughts you were having. You would tell yourself you don’t know what it is about him, but you’d be lying. 

A voice jolts you out of your stupor. “You must be Fred’s young friends he met in New Haven.”

The group turns to find a small man situated in the row behind them wearing an impeccably tailored suit.

“Jim Beach, manager for the band,” he holds out a hand for each of you to shake. “Sorry for the last-minute invitation. Fred was simply beside himself when he remembered you’re all from New York. So glad you could make it.”

“This is incredible, thanks so much for having us,” Rich tells the man sincerely as his gaze keeps being drawn back to the stage.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourselves. We’ve always been big fans of playing here.”

“It’s quite the spectacle,” you muse. “I've never seen The Garden this decked out before. I mean, those lighting rigs alone must cost…” you trail off.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Jim replies with a quirk of his lips. “If you’d all like to follow me downstairs, they’ll be finishing up soon, and I’m sure Fred would love to thank you for coming.”

Steve leaps from his plastic seat, “Yes, please!”

- - - - - - -

The green room is unlike any you’ve ever seen—rust-colored persian rugs litter the floor, the grey slate underneath barely peeking through. Tapestries and various paintings line the walls, somehow giving the usually sterile space a homey feel. Multiple buffet tables filled with every accoutrement imaginable are tucked away in a back corner.

The room is scarce of people for the most part. Crew members filter in and out, grabbing waters, some puffing on cigarettes as they wipe down their sweaty foreheads. A select few have migrated down from the skybox as well.

Lawrence plops down on one of the many leather couches, taking in the room. “So this is what it’s like when you make it?”

“Seems a little excessive even for a band of their stature,” murmurs Rich as if reading your mind.

The deafening roar of the crowd is heard from above, and Queen closes out their encore. The crew members who are now needed for the post set break-down hurry from the room as it gets quiet. You all sit there in near silence for a few moments until a light cheer erupts as Freddie, Brian, and Roger all enter the room, swaddled in thick robes and towels around their necks. They're breathing heavy, still radiating the energy from their set, knowing full well that it was a fantastic show.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie says as someone hands him a bottle of cold water, glancing around at the people who are still giving the band a wide berth. He spots the group of you huddled out of the way. “Oh!” he exclaims with a clap of his hands, making his way over, “You made it!”

He kisses you all on the cheeks, leaving a ghost of sweat on your faces. “My gangly young saplings! It’s lovely to see you.” He locks eyes with you, a wicked grin on his face. “And you most of all, my little cottontail.”

“You were fantastic Freddie, thank you so much for thinking of us, really,” you tell him genuinely.

“And who have we got here?” a towering Brian May appears behind Freddie.

“Oh yes, may I present to you, Lo & The Limbs!” Freddie says, spreading his arms wide. So he does remember the name; you laugh to yourself.

Eddie pushes further into the group to immediately extend his hand. “You slayed tonight, man. I mean, really slayed.”

Brian returns the shake with a surprised laugh. “Why, thank you. I’ve heard your album, and I have to say, you all… slay as well.”

“Oy, you!” A disheveled looking Roger Taylor makes his way over to the group, people parting like the red sea before him. He marches straight up to you, his finger inches from your nose. “I lost quite a lot of quid, thanks to you.”

You shrink back a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“It would be like John to bring in a ringer at the last second. And after we’d already threw down our bets.” You glance at Freddie with a confused look still on your face.

“What a lovely way to welcome our new friends,” Brian throws an arm over Roger’s shoulder before turning to you. “We may have made a slight wager on John’s most recent Pop Quiz appearance.”

“Slight?” Freddie smirks. “My new Gucci loafers would disagree, darling.”

Roger lets out an incoherent grumble. “Well, he usually fucks it up, doesn’t he? That is until you snuck in there.”

“I’m… sorry?” you offer, failing to find a witty remark for the situation.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me. I’ve been looking for someone to help me bury the bodies, or do my taxes, or be on call if I perhaps fancied a shag in the middle of the night?” he raises his brows in an overtly teasing manner.

You let out a sharp snort. “Fancy a shag? God, that sounds so much better than “ya wanna go fuck?”

Roger chuckles heartily, “Alright, alright. It was touch and go there for a bit, but I’ve come ‘round. I like this one. She can stay.”

“Y’know, we made a bet of sorts as well,” Lawrence reveals with a mischievous grin. The men all look to him, intrigued. “How long Y/N could keep her cool around that bassist of yours. She failed miserably, and now we shall reap the benefits by teasing her mercilessly until the end of time.”

You swear your mouth couldn’t have dropped open faster. Really need to work on that poker face, you tell yourself.

“Someone was trying to be cool around Deacy? Are you sure you’ve met the man?” Brian laughs.

Staring blankly around, all you know is you need to get out of this situation fast. “I need to pee,” you announce loudly. Really, Y/N? “Excuse me.”

Quickly ducking out of the room before anyone can say anything, you lean your back up against the wall in the hallway as you collect your swimming thoughts. What was it about this band that made you get all dumbstruck? Truth be told, you weren’t usually a timid person. Sure, everyone had bouts of social anxiety now and again, but you navigated social interactions seamlessly for the most part. It had always been easy for you to make friends or crack a quick comeback at a joke. Teasing was a form of endearment where you came from. But ever since you’d entered this new world, it was as if you were a stranger in your body. Who happened to be almost mute apparently. You push yourself off the wall to find a bathroom, your mind still fully occupied by your inner ramblings.

“Points!” a roadie shouts at you, trying to get your attention as they push a cart of cumbersome looking sound equipment right into your path. Before you have time to react, two hands grip your waist and pull you back to your previous position against the wall. 

Once again, you are face to face with a familiar chest. You watch as a light chuckle rumbles through it.

“I know it’s cheesy to say, but we have to stop meeting like this. Or do you make it a point to always bumble about in narrow hallways?” John pulls his hands back to his side as you meet his attractive colored eyes, amusement flickering in them. 

“John. Hi,” is all you manage.

“Good to see you again, Y/N. Freddie mentioned you all might be stopping by. Glad you could make it.”

You try and will your new persona not to take hold, but all you can do is smile meekly at him. He regards you patiently, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes, very much,” you rush out quickly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. The Garden’s not an easy place to play.”

“Thank you. You’re kind," he smiles bashfully. "The crowds in New York are some of my favorites. I wish we got the chance to spend more time here, but it seems we’re always passing through.”

“Am I interrupting?” Freddie asks with raised eyebrows from the doorway, a grin on his face.

John makes his way over to him. “Not at all. Just heroically saving Y/N from a near-death run-in with Ratty.”

“Sounds about right,” Freddie muses. “Now, if we’re all safe and sound, I’d like to get out of here. I’m positively starving.”

“Where to?” John asks.

“I want to go someplace real New Yorkers go,” he looks to you expectantly.

“Bun-bun?” you hear from inside before Steve pokes his head around Fred.

“Is your grandpa working tonight?”

- - - - - - -

Even John knew of Elaine’s. He’d hadn’t heard about it because the notable food, but rather the wide variety of clientele it boasted. Writers, directors, actors, and musicians alike frequently filled the establishment for the ambiance and lively conversation. Freddie would love it.

The large group enters through the wood door under a large awning, immediately hit by a wall of sound. The small place is packed to the brim. Raucous laughter can be heard from most tables as the patrons sardine together, shouting over one another. It had a certain charm, he guessed, taking in the decor of signed book covers and hand-painted murals.

“Bambina!” A small italian-looking maitre d' steps from behind the counter and spreads his arms wide as he engulfs Y/N into a hug. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by tonight.”

“Sorry, Papa. It was last minute. Just in time for the 10:30 rush by the looks of it.”

An infectiously warm smile spreads across his face. “Do you see me complaining? You hardly visit anymore now that you’re running around the world with that guitar. I’m so proud of you,” he adds softly, kissing her forehead. “Look at these boys!” he greets the rest of The Limbs like family, clapping each man on the back with love. “Am I shrinking already, or are all you still growing?”

“Probably a little of both, Dom,” Eddie laughs with the old man.

“And there’s even more, I see,” he inquires, finally noticing Queen.

It was unusual for them not to be the center of attention in any given situation, all of them hanging back except for Freddie, who marches right up to the man and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Freddie Mercury, a dear friend of your Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

He looks to Y/N suspiciously. “Are they musicians? You know what happened that one time. I had to pry Elaine off of beating that tiny Mickey guy. I’m telling ya, it was ugly.”

“Not Mickey- Mick, Papa. How many times do I have to tell you?” Y/N shushes him, looking a bit embarrassed.

Dom waves his hand at her, “Whoever he is, that kid owes me his life. I expect these ones to behave.”

Roger snorts from the back, “Not very likely.”

“We promise,” Freddie swears. “And might I say, I love the suit. Very dashing,” he adds on for good measure.

“Well, how else do you think I got this job?” Dom smiles at him with a wink. “C’mon,” he gestures for all to follow as he leads them through the narrow restaurant, to a long table in the back. “Enjoy, boys,” he tells them as he heads back to his post up front, kissing Y/N on the cheek before leaving.

“Come sit next to me, my love,” Freddie calls to Y/N, patting the seat beside him. “If any of your other family members are as outrageous as that man, I want to hear all about them.”

The group moves to squish in around the table. Roger silently catches John’s eye and motions to the seat next to Y/N. He quirks his brows at him, confused, but makes his way to sit between them.

Eddie has taken his rightful place next to Brian with Rich in tow, the three already in deep conversation about the current music scene. Lawrence and Roger sit opposite each other, tearing into the bread basket and chatting about the show. Next to Freddie, Steve is eagerly hanging onto every word he says as he chats to Y/N about her upbringing.

“I’m just hoping one day we get to do something like that, man. Our show on Sunday should be a pretty big deal, though,” Lawrence tells Roger.

“Where are you playing? CBGB? The Palladium?” 

“Nah, we’re playing out on the island. Jones Beach.”

“Huh, Long Island. We’ve never been to Long Island before,” Roger ponders, intrigued. “What’s there to do on Long Island?”

“Well, do you like bowling? Strip malls?” Lawrence pauses for effect. “Bowling at strip malls?”

John lightly chuckles. An arm brushes his shoulder, and he moves back slightly as a large woman weaves her hands around Y/N’s shoulders.

“My little Y/N has come back to us! And surrounded by even more devilishly handsome men than usual.”

Y/N turns around in her seat to give the woman a proper hug. “Elaine! It’s been too long.”

“Let me get a good look at you,” she gestures for Y/N to spin as she regards her. “If you need help beating em’ off of ya, I have my bat behind the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, teasingly, “Don’t I know it. I have a vivid childhood memory of you chasing Ron Galella around the dining room with that thing.”

She lets out a larger than life laugh at the memory, patting the young girl on the back. “Oh, those were the good years. So, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friends?”

“Elaine! I’m hurt you don’t remember our beautiful time together,” Eddie teases her from the table's end.

“Shut it, Eddie,” she reprimands him with a point of her stubby finger.

Y/N turns to the group, spreading her arms wide. “Guys, this is Elaine Kaufman, of Eliane’s, obviously. Elaine, this is Queen.”

She attempts a half-hearted curtsey. “Your majesties. Welcome.”

Before long, Elaine has pulled up a chair as she cracks dirty jokes back and forth with Freddie, which has the rest of the group (and some nearby diners) howling in laughter. Y/N’s now-familiar cackle sends tingles through John’s body once again. She’s more relaxed than he’s previously seen her be. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, showcasing her broad smile as she looks on fondly, hands waving about whenever she joins in the conversation. Her face is mostly free of makeup and he catches the hint of a dimple on one of her cheeks as she glances over at him to share in a joke.

Freddie gasps as he catches someone entering the front door. “Is that Shirley MacLaine? Slap my ass and call me Sally, that woman does not age.”

“Come with me,” Elaine says, rising from her chair. “I think she’ll like you.”

Food appears without any of them having to order, along with bottles of wine Elaine insisted they’d love. John tentatively takes a bite of one of the dishes set before him.

“Oh god,” he blurts out upon tasting.

Y/N snickers beside him. “Bad, right? I recommend the tortellini if you want something remotely edible.” She pushes a plate towards him, snagging some for herself.

He gulps down water, trying to rid himself of the bland taste. “I would ask why this place is packed, but it seems I’ve already met her.”

“And you would be right. She’s a riot, but I fully blame her for my vulgar vocabulary,” she reveals, taking a giant bite of pasta.

“You and Freddie seem to have that in common.”

Y/N chews slowly as she muses over that sentiment. “That seems to be the only thing we have in common,” she says softly. He cocks his head at her in question.

“It’s just,” she starts, a somber look replacing her previously buoyant one. “Watching him on stage tonight. All of you actually. You seem so free, so comfortable up there. And Freddie is just magnetic, you know that. It’s as if he makes the crowd fall in love with him again and again with every song. I could never do that…”

“I find that quite hard to believe,” he mumbles, continuing on quickly. “Freddie’s a performer. Everything he does up there is for that crowd. Whereas I’m just a musician, I think. It probably helps that I don’t sing. It'll just take some time to find your footing. You don’t have to be both. You don't have to be either for that matter.”

She scoffs lightly, pushing the food around on her plate. “Don’t I? Ever since this all began, I feel like I’m some paper doll or something. People just dress me up and mold me into what they want. And I go right along with it because I don’t even recognize this version of myself if I’m being honest. So I just keep that mask on until I get back home and I can finally breathe. Because then, at least I don’t have to stare at a stranger in the mirror anymore.” 

She breaks out of the daze she fell into while rambling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t unload on you like this,” she catches herself. “I guess I just had a very different assumption of what my life would look like... I think I'm afraid of losing who I am in all this."

John takes her in, catching glimpses of his former self in her cracks. He itches to soothe her distress. “I can understand,” he tells her sympathetically. “Hell, I thought I was joining a band to play with on the side at uni and look at us now. Sometimes I still feel like I’m leading a double life. I tried to convince myself all this was just a job at first, but I’m sure you’re finding out quickly that’s not always true.”

Y/N looks at him intently, and it’s the first time he truly sees the depth of her eyes. He clears his throat before continuing.

“I've come to learn that the concept of home is a funny thing. For a long time, I held onto the idea of it that I always had for myself, but it’s harder than it looks with what we do,” he sighs, running a hand through his short curls, not wanting to dwell too long on his unpleasent situation back in England. 

“But home can be anything really. It can be people,” he says, glancing at his bandmates. “Or even the stage, which sometimes I think is Freddie’s. Or you can be Roger, and make yourself at home wherever you go.”

They glance over at Rog, who is in the middle of an animated story, waving his glass of wine around as it drips on the tablecloth.

“So all you can do is find whatever that home is and hold onto it the best you can. And it might change, but that doesn't mean you have to," he nudges her shoulder with his.

Y/N smiles down at her lap. “Thank you,” she tells him quietly, still swimming in her own thoughts.

“Of course,” he assures, pausing to breathe- not used to giving long-winded explanations. Nervous that he’s pushed too far, he glances over, catching as her shoulders relax.

The restaurant was mostly cleared out by now, save for a few regulars sitting at the tall wood bar. The staff chats casually amongst themselves as they clean off empty tables for the night. Steve is giving Freddie details of the New York club scene, probably hoping to earn himself an invitation one day. Elaine’s regaling Brian, Eddie, and Rich with a story about two writers and a feud of accused plagiarism. Lawrence and Roger were currently attempting to turn their napkins into amusing hats for each other. John finds himself enjoying the young band's presence, their chaotic energy seeming to match Queen’s dynamic quite well.

The group collectively jumps as the music drastically raises in volume, the intro of Ray Charles’ ‘Hallelujah, I Love Her So’ pouring out.

“Oh god, no,” Y/N groans next to him as the waiters all turn their attention to her. Dom appears beside her with an outstretched hand. “Papa, not now, please.”

“Indulge your grandfather, Y/N,” he winks at her as she reluctantly takes his hand, pulling her to the middle of the room. John’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as the old man springs to life, twirling his granddaughter around the room with ease. The pure spryness of someone that age was genuinely shocking.

“Oh, this is fabulous!” Freddie laughs as he leans his chin forward on his hands.

And it was. The staff cheers, hinting that this was a familiar routine for them. The rest of The Limbs sing along with the track, watching the two affectionately like old family.

Y/N’s apprehensive look fades away as she gives in to the fun, pure joy flashing across her features as she glides along, following her grandfather in the swing dance rather gracefully. She looks free, John thinks to himself, drinking in the true version of the young woman. She was dazzling as her hair fell messily from her ponytail and her laugh was louder than ever as Dom dips her low to the floor, her body bending with him. If this was home, he could see why she was reluctant to leave it behind.

He’s mesmerized by her every movement. She was still an enigma to him, each detail he pulled from her, just making him hungry for more. 

You shouldn’t. You’re still married. Well, technically. Papers aren’t signed yet.

“Alright, I’m convinced,” Roger shouts at Lawrence. “Looks like we'll have to stop in Long Island.”

- - - - - - -

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Brian announces, burrowing further into his white windbreaker.

The Jones Beach Theater was tucked right up to the shoreline, causing the spray of the Atlantic to chill the air despite the summer heat. John had never seen a venue like it. It’s as if the vast sea acted as an extended backdrop to the stage, reflecting the stars and inky drape of the night.

The crowd didn’t seem to mind at all. They had been brilliant the entire night, singing along to every one of the songs and dancing in full force. It was perfectly clear how proud they were of their hometown heroes.

The Limbs themselves were a sight to behold from the wings of the stage. The energy from the packed seats had bled over, and all 5 members were indeed feeling it. They had been in perfect sync with each other the entire show, and John was certainly amused by their own way of interacting with their audience. It mostly consisted of them hurling humorous insults back and forth to each other in between songs.

Even Y/N seemed to be enjoying herself, despite her confession the other night. She had taken Freddie’s note that he’d given after seeing her dance and was now stepping out from behind the mic stand for her songs. She slinked around the stage effortlessly, interacting with the other members and the crowd, much to their glee.

“Before we say goodnight to you all, we’d like to leave you with a little something,” Rich calls out over the deafening cheers. “A lullaby of sorts from one of our favorites.”

Y/N drags a stool out to the center of the stage as Lawrence begins a somber melody on the keyboard. The audiences erupts in cheers and John recognizes it as a Billy Joel song.

She takes a seat behind the mic as she gazes out over the crowd. The exhilarated face she had been sporting all night was gone, a shade of melancholy in its place now.

Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you’ve been asking me

I think you know what I’ve been trying to say

Her hypnotic voice pierces through the now-silent crowd. The type of voice you immediately feel in your chest, as if it’s personally strumming your heartstrings. No one dares to sing along, afraid they'll miss a moment of her inflection.

I promised I would never leave you

Then you should always know

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are

I never will be far away

The familiar sight of lighters being illuminated flickers through the sea of people before them, casting a hazy glow on the previously faceless patrons. Their peaceful stares fixed on Y/N, entranced as if she was siren of sorts.

Goodnight my angel, now it’s time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me

Her voice breaks a bit, giving away the glassiness of her eyes. They’re not fixed on the crowd, but instead on the sky beyond them. John watches the panes of her face intently. She wasn’t singing to them, he realizes. This was to herself. Possibly to that image in her mind, she had confided in him, the one she was struggling to leave behind—her piece of home.

Someday we’ll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

“She’s going to be something else, isn’t she?” Freddie asks, mostly to himself.

They never die

That’s how you and I will be

John watches as a single tear slips off the slope of her nose as she finishes, bowing her head.

“Yeah, I think she is.”

[scotianostra]

Happy 51st Birthday Gerard James Butler born 13 November 1969 in Paisley.

When he was 6 months old, his family relocated to Montreal, Canada, where his father tried a few business ventures but ultimately failed. A year and a half later, his parents divorced, and his mother moved Gerard and his two older siblings back to her hometown of Paisley.

After the move, Butler was raised by his mother, with no further contact with his father until he was 16 years old. (Gerard and his later father reconciled, and remained close until his father died of cancer when Butler was in his early 20s.) During his childhood, Butler was enthralled with movies and acting, and his mother took him to several auditions. He joined the Scottish Youth Theatre and in one of his first roles played a street urchin in its production of Oliver!, a role I have played myself, in a school production I was in Fagin's gang, but alas fame was not to come my way as it did for Gerard 

Despite his love for theater and film, Butler was anxious to please his family and believed that acting was not a realistic career choice for him. "I was a 16-year-old kid on the other side of the world from where they made movies," he later said. "Scottish actors never really got play. There was Sean Connery, and that was it." Though he claims he is "not the most academic of guys," Butler graduated near the top of his high school class and enrolled in the University of Glasgow, where he studied to become a lawyer and solicitor. 

During his time in university, Butler was also the president of the law society and graduated with honours. Like many other new graduates, Butler decided to take a year off to travel abroad, and his ventures soon landed him in Venice, California, where he indulged in the high life: "This is when things started to go a little crazy," he later said. "Something very compulsive and dark and lusty and pleasurable but damaging took over. It was suddenly knowing I could go out and have a life of traveling, craziness, adventure, partying, women, and all the other things that go with that—including a sense of abandonment."

After California, Butler returned to Scotland to begin a two-year traineeship at one of Edinburgh's top law firms,(while there he shared a flat with my pal Peter)but soon found that he despised the job more and more, and he started slacking off and letting his depression show. A week before he was due to finish his traineeship, he went to the Edinburgh Film Festival and saw a stage production of Trainspotting, an experience that crystallized his disappointment with the law and his yearning to be an actor: "The guy playing the lead role was phenomenal. It was such an incredible atmosphere. And I'm dying inside. This is the life I wanted to live. I can do this. I know I can do this. But it's past now. It's gone. I'm 25. I missed that opportunity. A week later, they fired me."

Humiliated but determined to finally pursue his dream of acting, Butler moved to London, England, the next day and worked odd jobs while trying to get his career off the ground. While working as a casting assistant for the play Coriolanus, he ran into the play's director, Steven Berkoff, in a coffee shop and begged for a chance to read for the lead role. He says of the experience: "I gave it everything. Afterward, the casting director came up to me almost in tears. She said, 'You're the best he saw in two days!' Walking home was probably the happiest moment of my life, when there's an energy in you that can't be put down. I'd gone from handing out pages to getting the lead role." After a successful run in Coriolanus, Butler landed the lead in the exact same stage rendition of Trainspotting that had inspired him to try acting again, and he was really on his way as an actor.

Making the transition from the stage to the screen, in 1997 Butler starred with Judi Dench and Billy Connolly in Mrs. Brown and also scored a small part in the James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies. During the film's shooting, he was picnicking with his mother near a river and heard screaming from a boy who was in trouble. He immediately dove into the river and saved the youth from drowning, winning a Certificate of Bravery from the Royal Humane Society as an example of his courage and caring.

After acting in a series of largely forgettable films, in 2003, Butler finally got his break with the role of the Phantom in Joel Schumacher's on-screen adaptation of the Broadway musical Phantom of the Opera. It was a demanding role that required the actor to sing most of his lines. Even though Butler had been the lead singer of a rock band during his time in law school, he was incredibly nervous about auditioning for the part: "I'd had maybe four singing lessons when I went to sing 'Music of the Night' for Andrew Lloyd Webber, which was perhaps the most nerve-wracking experience I ever went through. But I got the role. 

Some people thought I did a great job, but others thought it was sacrilegious." Though Phantom did not hit blockbuster gold, it got Butler recognized in Hollywood, and four years later he landed the lead role, as King Leonidas, in 300, the testosterone-infused historical epic about a small legion of Spartan soldiers defeating the enormous Persian army. To look believable as a warrior king, Butler trained every day for four months in the most intense workout regimen of his life, giving him an incredible physique in time for the shoot: "You know that every bead of sweat falling off your head, every weight you've pumped—the history of that is all in your eyes," he said. "That was a great thing, to put on that cape and put on that helmet, and not have to think ...'I should have trained more.' Instead, I was standing there feeling like a lion."

Butler's role in 300 was a huge boost to his career profile. Since appearing in 300, the actor has starred in several romantic comedies such as P.S. I Love You with Hilary Swank and The Ugly Truth with Katherine Heigl, along with appearing on many "world's hottest men" lists. And his career isn't showing any signs of slowing down.

Despite all of his success, Gerard Butler still retains the breezy attitude of a guy who rolls with the punches and has a down-to-earth sense of humour. Looking back, he is still slightly stunned at the twists his life has taken and reflects on what could have been: "I wasn't going to be an actor. I was going to be a lawyer ... There was something else at work, something I didn't have control of. If I hadn't [messed] up that job, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I might be a very mediocre lawyer in some small town in the middle of Scotland."

I half expected a tweet on last nights Football from Gerard, but he has been quiet since the beginning of the month when he tweeted.

Devastated to hear that we lost one of the true greats today. He was such an enormous inspiration to me, and a big part of the reason I’m even here. He gave a little Scottish boy inspiration and hope that there was a place for us in this business.

On the movie front, Butler fans who like his "...has Fallen" films, will be pleased to know that Mike Banning will be back with a fourth instalment Mike Banning called Night Has Fallen, no more details about that as yet, but if it attracts stars like Nick Nolte and Morgan Freeman, who co-starred in  Angel has Fallen, it is sure to be another hit.

[penroseparticle]

Would it be appropriate for me to be That Dumb Bitch™ and ask for all of the music asks? Because I know I'm gonna ask them all on Anon anyway and I really love your opinions,thoughts, and suggestions on music

Thank you so much💜 ily(platonically)

And I hope you're drinking water

ILY too anon

We both know I’m drinking Diet Cokes rather than water. But I appreciate it! And of course you can be That Dumb Bitch. I approve of all Dumb Bitches as I am one too. all 30 questions coming right up!

your favorite album opener I know it’s pretty basic to answer Arctic Monkeys is a good band, but I am pretty basic so here we are. AM is a near perfect album, which is not news to anyone, but few people know that Do I Wanna Know? is the first track on the album. Masterful. 

a song starting w/ the same first letter of your first name Cheat, by Emily Burns. It’s just a quiet, competent, earworm. And it’s a pretty nice message too- if it were me I wouldn’t have cheated, end of. I like it.

a song outside of your usual genre I’m not super into Metal. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy it, my brother pretty much exclusively listens to hard rock and metal and such, so I have some stuff I like. But it’s just one of those genres someone has to introduce me to songs in. That said, I really like Cold Water by Protest The Hero. Good stuff!

a song that reminds you of your favorite season Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy is SUCH a Fall song, I swear.

a song from a lifelong favorite artist I think my lifelong favorite artist is Ms. Lauryn Hill, if we’re going by the artists I’ve loved longest- that’s obviously influenced by my mother, who LOVES Jill Scott, Lauryn Hill, etc. I’m going with a Fugees song, not an independent, but it’s still fantastic- the classic “Killing Me Softly With His Song”.

your current “on repeat” song Montero by Lil Nas X is still on repeat and I’m not ashamed.

a song your friend introduced you to that you ended up loving Shout out Anna for introducing me ti Leikeli47! Girl Blunt was the song and now I just love her in general but Girl Blunt is good. I think my fave is Wash and Set though, so have a freebie on me.

a song that speaks the words you couldn’t say I have a hard time asking for things for myself so Rose’s Turn has always been a song I think but don’t say out loud. Starting now it’s gonna be my turn? Too unrealistic tbh.

a song that captures your aesthetic (can be ideal!) Bambi by Hippo Campus

a song about the place where you live I have played Welcome to DC so many fucking times (By Mambo Sauce because this city is a fucking joke) and I am thoroughly sick of it. When youth hockey teams use a song as their warmup song it gets old REAL fast.

a song from an international artist I LOOOOVE Maluma, sorry not sorry, and El Perdedor is one of my favorite songs of all time tbh.

a song you can scream all the words to Love In The Morning by Chris Jobe. I just really enjoy the song idk why. Also it’s a very simple song and it’s easy to sing.

a reboot of a song/songs you already loved (remix, mashup, acoustic, etc.) I love Passionfruit, but Drake is a... problematic artist to enjoy nowadays. Yaeji did a very slow, lilting, quiet cover of it that I quite like. So now for my Passionfruit fix I support a small artist and not, you know, Drake

a song with the name of a place in the title Oh god. Vienna is literally the name of like 4 songs that I love (The Fray, Billy Joel, Lambert, and Ultravox, so I’ve gotta go with that one tbh. Lambert is instrumental and Ultravox is some chill ass 80′s stuff, and everyone knows the Billy Joel one.

a song that reminds you of traveling Feel It Still by Portugal the Man reminds me of a trip I took to NYC because someone I went with loved the band.

your favorite childhood song My favorite childhood song is What Kind of Pokemon Are You? From the 2.B.A. Master album for pokemon. It is my fave because that cd is the first piece of music I ever bought for myself.

a song that reminds you of a good time Midnight by Caravan Palace. I have seen Caravan Palace three times live, more than anyone but Betty Who, and I ALWAYS have a fantastic time at their concerts. Just. So good.

a song that reminds you of a bad time Season 2 Episode 3 by Glass Animals is how I describe depression to people- it’s not just that I’m like, blank or sad or bland. It’s that I go through the motions and it doesn’t feel like anything. I do things I love and it feels like nothing. You kind of just can’t do anything to get out of it, your stuff just stops working.

a song from an artist whose old music you enjoy more than their new music So it turns out that my favorite album by FAR for OkGo is Of The Blue Color Of The Sky, a fairly old album of theirs. I like most of thier stuff and obviously all of their videos are great, but my favorite song of theirs is from this album- Needing/Getting.

a song that empowers you I like other Lady Gaga songs more but Donatella makes me feel like I can punch through Concrete idk why

a song from a local artist DID YOU KNOW GINUWINE IS FROM DC. ANYWAYS STREAM PONY

a song you related to in the past and present, but for different reasons Let’s Dance To Joy Division by The Wombats is a song I’ve always related to. Back in the day it was just loud and fun and very good, and now I really think the message of “Everything sucks but we’re gonna celebrate what we can” is something I try to absorb as much as possible now.

your favorite cheesy pop song Classic by MKTO is an objectively bad song that I constantly have in my Spotify Wrapped. I legit can’t explain it. Is it good? no. Is it original? Also no. Is it interesting? No! I don’t get it but I’m under the spell

a song from a soundtrack (musical, movie, video game, etc.) A PROMISE FROM FIRE EMBLEM: THREE HOUSES WAS MY NUMBER THREE SONG ON MY SPOTIFY WRAPPED LAST YEAR SORRY MOM SORRY GOD

the song currently stuck in your head OR the song you are listening to right now My music is on shuffle but it just hit Hot Girl Bummer by Blackbear

a song that taught you a lesson Which to Bury, Us Or The Hatchet by Reliant K is one of my favorite songs and really is an object lesson in letting things go. What’s more important? The person or the problem? And sometimes it’s the person, so you bury the hatchet, and sometimes it’s the problem, and you bury us (the relationship). It’s a good song imo.

an instrumental song Teleblister by Clever Girl

a song you always skipped, but ended up loving once you listened to it My favorite song from The Blessed Unrest by Sara Bareilles is Cassiopeia and I straight up skipped it every time I listened for the first like, 6 months I listened to the album.

your favorite album closer good kid, m.A.A.d city is a perfect album as well, and Compton is the last song on the album. Perfection.

your all-time favorite song Such a hard question, and not always easy to answer to be honest. It fluctuates. But for me I think my all time favorite song is currently