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fangirlings-things · 4 years

Text

Rescheduled Lesson

❦ PART. II

Fandom: Enola Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x female reader

Word count: 3K

anon said: Can I request a Sherlock x reader where she visited Enola often when Sherlock left on long cases, so they became good friends? And when Enola runs away to find her mom, she goes to stay with the reader, which Sherlock deduces and tries to get her to let him find Enola and talk to her? -&

A/N: this request was amazing and I loved every bit of it!!! I put all my inspiration in this, tried to make the personality of the character good, so I hope you like this piece, love, I did my best!! (also I’m thinking about a part 2? if you guys like it let me know, I would be delighted to write it) (had to repost guys, I'm sorry!!)

also, the tag list for this fandom is open!!!

gif credit: @henrycavilledits

❧ You knew the Holmes family was nothing like the other families that lived in the countryside. The father had died many years before. The two oldest sons had already left home, to live their lives and follow the careers they desired. On that incredibly big house, where once lived a family, there was only a mother and her youngest child left. Perhaps the fact that you yourself was considered a little off by other people, was the fact that made you become friends with them.

You lived completely alone, surrounded by books in a small house. Your life was made of studying, researching and writing texts about science. You loved it, great authors of the matter being your inspiration. You tried to learn their teachings and with luck, wanted others to learn as well. You almost couldn’t believe when one day in the middle of a sunny afternoon, Eudoria Holmes had showed up at your door and invited you to her house, where she asked you to be Enola’s science teacher. She educated her daughter not for society, but for herself, so that she could find her own path when she came to grow up. That instantly made you respect that woman and accept her offer.

Twice a week you would go to the Holmes’s house and spend hours and more hours teaching the girl. Darwin, Copernicus, Newton, Galilei. She was eager to know and you were eager to teach her. She was the first student you had that actually wanted to learn and that was amazing. Made you proud and happy, more than you could say. At the evening, Eudoria would ask you to stay for dinner. You would put lessons aside and talk and laugh together. They were like your family, the one you didn’t had.

You were always excited for the days of teaching Enola to come soon. They were your absolute favorites of the week. In the beginning of the afternoon of one of those days, you had been incredibly surprised by a knock on your front door while you gathered the books you would make the girl read and study. Frowning, because you never had visitors or received letters, you went to attend the door.

And when you opened it, you saw that your visitor was Enola herself.

“Hi, Miss (Y/L/N)” the girl smiled at you, a little forced smile that instantly made your frown grow deeper. She was wearing boy’s clothes, even a hat, and her long brown hair had been hidden inside of it. “I’m afraid today’s lesson will have to be rescheduled”

“Enola, what…” you began, confused. You had seen her dressed in boy’s clothes before around her house, that wasn’t a big deal. She did find them more comfortable, she had told you before. But the fact that she concealed her hair as if she wanted to hide it and the expression on her face, something that you couldn’t quite identify but resembled urgency, was enough for you to get anxious.

“Please, Miss (Y/L/N), can I come in? I promise I’ll explain everything you want to know” she pleaded, eyes locked on yours as she did so. The tone on her voice made you nod and take a step to the side, locking the door once she was already inside. “I had never been here. Your house is really amazing” the girl seemed overwhelmed by all the books and unfinished texts you had around, laying on tables and shelves.

“Thank you” you said, mind still running fast as you tried to understand what was happening. You walked after the girl, that had advanced until she reached the next room of your house, one who only had two couches and a table. “Enola, what is going on?” her face instantly lost the admiration she was having for your belongings. Her eyes went to the floor, and she went silent. That made you sight. “Enola, you promise you would explain. And you know you can trust me”

That seemed to make her come around, because she sighted as you had just did and sat at one of your couches. Or better, she laid down on it, placing her head over a pillow and focusing her eyes on the roof. Her hands were joined over her chest. “I came here because I wanted to hide, Miss (Y/L/N). I’m running away”

Your eyes went wide at that declaration and you sat on the other couch, realizing that would probably be a long conversation. “Enola! Think about your mother! She loves you. Your disappearance will hurt her deeply”

“No, no, I’m not running away from my mother. I’m running away to find her” the girl sat straight on the couch, eyes meeting yours again like they had before at the door. She could see the confusion in your eyes grow by each word she spoke. “My mother went missing a few days ago, Miss (Y/L/N). She didn’t say goodbye or said where she was going. She only left me clues, here and there that I’ll have to use to find her”

Worry got a hold of you, the same worry you had recognized on Enola’s eyes. Eudoria. Where would she have gone? Was she fine? Not knowing you realized, was terrible. As you thought about what Enola had just said, another question got to your mind. “If your mother is missing, who are you running away from, Enola?”

“My brothers. Sherlock and Mycroft. Well, especially Mycroft, because he wants to send me to a finishing school, that prepares young women for society” the clear disgust in her voice would have made you laugh if you weren’t so worried.

“Where will you go to find your mother, Enola? What plans do you have? Do you want me to go with you?” all questions left your mouth in such a rush, that it seemed like you had just spit out the words one after the other.

The young girl smiled kindly and got up, going to sit right next to you on the couch you were on. She grabbed your hands in hers gently and squeezed them tightly. “Thank you for offering to go with me, to support me, Miss (Y/L/N). Is more than my own brothers have done. But this is something I have to do alone, I have to be the one to find her and know why she left. And I think that the less you know, the better it will be”

Oh, that girl. You smiled while you looked at her. Eudoria had raised her to be a force of nature and had achieved that goal, brilliantly. You squeezed her hands back in affection. “When will you leave?”

“At sundown today” she said, so quickly that you realized she had already thought about everything. At least, on that phase of that 'plan' to find her dear mother. “Will walk to the train station, not the closest one but the next, and get on the first train in the morning tomorrow. In this way, I’m quite sure my brothers won’t be able to understand my intentions soon enough as to catch me”

“Very well” you passed your arms around her and hugged her tight, sighting. “Let’s get you some food for your journey, then. If you find Eudoria and she finds out I let you almost starve I’ll get in trouble”

Enola laughed as she hugged you back.

════ •⊰❂⊱• ═══════ •⊰❂⊱• ════

Enola had left at sundown of the previous day, just like she had said she would. Carrying nothing more than money her mother had left her, a bag of food you had given her and her favorite book of yours, Origin of Species, you had watched her walk away into the night alone, as her name backwards spelled.

You had spent the whole night incapable of sleeping, wondering if she was fine and if she hadn’t encountered any dangers as she travelled on foot. You worried so much but all you could do, was hope that she would stay safe and find her mother. Soon.

On the next day, you had spent the morning and the beginning of the afternoon distracted. Tried to complete some of your works, but couldn’t. Your mind would always go back to the gone girl and her well being.

You had frustratedly been trying to read the same page of one of your books for fifteen minutes, without being capable of keeping any attention on it, when for the second time in a long time, you heard knocks at the front door.

You got up instantly, leaving the book forgotten upon the closest table as you rushed to the door, already smiling at the thought at Enola had came around on her idea of going alone and was back to ask you to go with her.

When you opened the door though, you realized that it wasn’t Enola who had knocked. It had been a man. A man you had never seen before.

He was tall, it was the first thing you noticed. The fact that he had no beard, was the second. And then, details of him came rushing into your mind through your eyes. He had short, curly hair, bright eyes and memorable features. He wore a white shirt, a brown vest with small white details in it and a brown suit as well as trousers of the same color. No tie which was insula for men that well dressed.

“May I help you?” you frowned at him, holding the wooden door firmly with one of your hands. To receive the visit of men, had always made you nervous. You lived alone, after all, and the world was becoming a more violent place day by day.

“I hope so” he said, which such confidence on his voice that it actually made you raise your eyebrows at him. His eyes were fixed in you, analyzing your face with much intensity. Far more than you thought it would be appropriate. “I’m Sherlock Holmes. And I suppose you are Miss (Y/L/N), my sister’s science teacher”

You took a moment to watch him again, trying to put into your mind that the man in front of you was the Sherlock Holmes, the detective who was making a name on England, solving the most incredible and difficult cases on his own. After long seconds of silence where you only stared at each other, you cleaned your throat. “I am in fact Enola’s teacher, Mr. Holmes. How did you know?”

“I found her works, studies on great science authors. They all had writings on the borders where she constantly mentioned a desire to please and make a 'Miss (Y/L/N)' proud. It only took me a visit to one of the closest houses to ask who it was and get pointed in your house’s direction” he explained, in an impersonal tone quite fitting to a detective. He saw the incisive tone look you were giving him, filled with suspicion, and smiled slightly as he looked at his feet, before focusing his eyes back on yours. “I came here because Enola ran away from home, Miss (Y/L/N). And I think she would come here to see you if she needed help”

You sighted, looking into his eyes. You remembered Enola’s words, where she had told you Mycroft was the one who wanted to send her to a finishing school, the one who had made her run away. If that had been Mycroft Holmes at your door, you would have denied being her teacher or even knowing the girl, wanting to cut the conversation short. But that was Sherlock Holmes. Enola hadn’t expressed much anger towards him and honestly, he would for sure find out the truth on his own. He was the best detective there was in the nowadays. You tell him, would just spin faster the process and you would be able to send him away sooner.

“Come in, Mr. Holmes” you took a step aside, motioning for him to come in. He did, in slow calculated steps and once he was inside you closed the door, sighting. You expected him to say something, but he didn’t. Not at first. Instead he walked around just like Enola had done, eyes floating through the uncountable books you had, all in a complete mess over the tables, piles and more piles of them . “She was indeed here, your sister”

He turned his head to look at you, a genuine smile on his lips. “I was already certain of that” then he walked towards one of the tables, fingers running through one of works. The paper was a bit kneaded, but he didn’t seem to care. “The works you did with Enola, the amount of things she learned… they were quite impressive”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to contain your surprise to know you had impressed the most impressive man of all, Sherlock Holmes. You waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t, just kept on walking through the room and inspecting your things with his perceptive eyes. “I don’t know where she is, Mr. Holmes. She left many hours ago”

He placed his hands on the pockets of his trousers, turning completely to you the resemblance of his previous smile on his lips. “And I believe she didn’t tell you what were her plans?”

“No and if she had, I wouldn’t tell you” you said and went to sit on a chair, at the table he had been studying with his eyes previously.

“Mind if I take off my suit?” he asked simply. You just nodded for him to go on, not giving it much thought. He took off his brown suit in gracious movements, then placed it in one of the other empty chairs close by. “May I ask why you wouldn’t tell me my sister’s plans, Miss (Y/L/N), if you knew them?”

“Enola said your brother wants to send her to a finishing school” you replied, watching as one after the other, he folded the sleeves of his white shirt until they got close to his elbow. Unconsciously, you noticed how his muscles could be seen from under his shirt. “To try to turn such a brilliant, incredibly smart young girl into a 'lady society' would be a terrible mistake. She shouldn’t be forced to do it” at the end of that sentence, Sherlock Holmes had grabbed two books in his hands and after reading the tiles, he went to the shelves and started placing them there. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I am organizing your books, Miss (Y/L/N). In alphabetical order, of course. Like I’ve noticed you do after a quick inspection” he smiled at you again, placing those two in place. Then, he went to the table and grabbed a few more. “I personally agree with you. I don’t think Enola should be sent to such a place, but she is my brother’s ward. It is out of my hands” he read the titles, then turned around to return to the shelves. “I suppose you weren’t raised as a lady of society also, for you live by yourself apparently and your academic interests”

“You’re wrong” you said with a little smile taking a hold of your lips, and that made him stop organizing the books and look at you with a frown. She shouldn’t be wrong often. “I was raised to be a lady, until the point where my parents died. After that, I started to live on my own, for I had no more relatives. It gave me a chance to become who I wanted to be, instead of whom I was being carved into”

“You chose your own path” he said with a bigger smile this time and when you nodded in agreement, he returned his look at the shelves. “How did your parents die?”

“They were murdered” you tried to swallow the knot on your throat. Even though they had been controlling parents to the most when regarding your future, they were still your parents, and you loved and missed them. “The police never found out by whom”

“The police can be quite… inefficient” he turned back around with his hands already empty. “I’m really sorry”

“Thank you” you said, squeezing your lips in a thin line as old memories came to surface. Things you hadn’t you thought about in a long, long time. “If there isn’t anything else, may I escort you to the door?”

Your polite way of sending him away made him smile.

He placed the books he had just gathered back on the table, grabbed his suit and accompanied you towards the door, not bothering to dress the piece again. You opened the door and he stepped out, turning to look at you once more. His eyes were curious, interesting. Full of something you couldn’t quite identify, so mysterious as his sister’s.

“If you find Enola, don’t stop her from trying to find your mother” you told him, trying to repress the emotion in your voice. “Not knowing what happened… can be quite disturbing”

“I promise, stop her, is not my intention” he looked down at his feet once again, as if he was thinking for a brief moment, before his eyes went back to yours. “I could try to find out what happened to your parents. Who was their murderer”

“I don’t have much money, Mr. Holmes” you told him, your turn now to look down at your feet.

“I never said you would have to pay” he replied and with that your gaze snapped back up to meet his, and that made him chuckle. You couldn’t deny he looked quite beautiful when doing that. “You were there for my sister through much time and when she needed help, when I wasn’t. That is enough paying for me. Think about it, Miss (Y/L/N). After I find my sister and discover where is my mother, I am willing to take over your case. If you want me to” he nodded his head in your direction in a silent appreciation for your reception in your house and began to turn to walk away, but stopped himself in the middle of such movement. “May I know your first name?”

You smiled softly at that. “It’s (Y/N), Mr. Holmes”

“Please, call me Sherlock”

And after that, he walked away.

#imagine #x reader #fanfic #imagines #enola holmes fanfic #enola holmes imagine #enola holmes #sherlock holmes fanfic #Sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry!sherlock

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moonrazeeclipse · 3 years

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Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

#kpop smut #smut #g idle #minnie

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thecassadilla · 3 years

Note

#6 “I'll find my way back to you” for KA❤️👀

Hi, India!!! 💕 I’m so sorry this prompt took me a bit of time to fulfill, but I was a bit busy and I wanted to take the time to make sure it was perfect. A little birdie told me that you’re a fan of the 1940s era, and that same little birdie helped me with some of the details for this fic (in case anyone is wondering, that little birdie is @tamorasky who I owe my life to at this point 😂 thanks for the help, Rhianne!!!)

Just as a fair warning to anyone reading, this fic does take place during WWII but there are very few mentions of the war. It’s mostly just mushy, sappy love letters exchanged between Kristoff and Anna throughout that period of time lol. I apologize if the formatting is wonky, I posted this on tumblr mobile. I really hope you enjoy it!!!! 💕

6. “I’ll find my way back to you.” Send me a prompt!

The day that Anna and Kristoff had been dreading for a long time had finally arrived.

As they stood on the platform of the train station, which was hustling and bustling with activity, it nearly felt as if they were the only two people in the world. But they were here for another reason; they were here to say goodbye to one another for the foreseeable future, and potentially, forever.

“You can’t leave me,” Anna cried, her eyes boring into him. “I-I need you.”

“I’ll find my way back to you,” Kristoff promised. “You know I will.”

“I know b-but…” she sniffled, trailing off.

He swiped at her cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything will be alright.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he acknowledged. “But we have to stay positive. I will come home to you.”

She nodded just as the shrill train whistle indicated that it was nearly time for them to separate.

“I love you,” Kristoff declared, ducking down to capture her lips. “And we will see each other again.”

“I love you, too,” Anna murmured, trying to memorize the sensation of the warmth of his lips on hers and the strength of his arms around hers. “Please write.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Can you just...hold me until you have to leave?”

“Of course.”

And he did, until the last possible moment, neither of them knowing when they would see each other again.

September 29, 1943

Dear Anna,

I know it hasn’t been long since I left, but I wanted to let you know that I miss you terribly and think of you often. All has been well for me aside from missing you.

Love Always,

Kristoff

P.S. Tell me - have the leaves started to change colors yet?

November 3, 1943

Dearest Kristoff,

My heart skipped a beat when I received your letter in the post. I’m glad everything has been well for you thus far, but I’d be lying if I said things have been well for me. It’s been difficult for me to focus on anything but your safety and well-being since you’ve been gone, and I spend most of my days praying for your safe return.

Love,

Anna

P.S. The leaves have changed colors since your last letter to me, and they’ve since fallen off of the trees. Winter is drawing closer, as you know.

January 16, 1944

My Sweetheart,

I beg of you, don’t let my absence consume you. I miss you more than words can describe, but you must continue to live your life - do not let your worry for me consume you. You have a life you should be busy living. I want to hear about your adventures, not about how sad you are that I am gone.

Love Always,

Kristoff

P.S. Will you be my valentine?

February 8, 1944

Dearest Kristoff,

It is difficult to not let your absence consume me. You are the first thought on my mind when I wake up in the morning, and the last before I go to sleep for the night. I am always thinking and worrying about you, and I am so looking forward to the day that we will be reunited.

As far as adventures go, I haven’t had many since you’ve been gone. I’ve been keeping busy, of course, but the days are long and dark without you.

All My Love,

Anna

P.S. Of course I will be your valentine - what kind of silly question is that?

P.P.S. I love when you call me your sweetheart. It brings a smile to my face when so little else does.

April 30, 1944

To My Sweetheart, Anna,

I apologize for the delays in my letters. It is spring now. I hope all of the leaves have returned to the trees, and I hope the flowers are blooming in lovely shades of yellows and pinks. I sincerely hope you are able to take advantage of the milder weather; perhaps you could take up gardening? Or painting? I’m sure you’d do a lovely job painting the colorful landscapes of Arendelle.

Everything is well. I miss you, and I love you, always. I can’t wait to be back in your arms.

Love,

Kris

May 14, 1944

Darling Kristoff,

I have been waiting with baited breath to hear from you. I wanted to write to you again after I had gone so long without hearing from you, but I was convinced not to (by someone who I shall not name - though I’m certain you know who I am referring to). I am so sorry for not listening to my instincts.

I am also sorry that I was not able to send you regards in time for your birthday last month. I imagine that it was nothing like a birthday celebrated at home, but I hope you were able to enjoy yourself nonetheless. I think we both know that I am not much of a baker, but I will try my hardest to bake you a cake when you return home, and we’ll celebrate then.

I also regret to inform you that I’ve neither planted a garden nor painted a picture of Arendelle. You have more faith in my abilities than I do, and I truly don’t think I’d be able to plant a garden or paint a picture that anyone other than you would enjoy.

Since you’ve been gone, there has been a Kristoff-sized hole in my heart. Life is not the same without you. I miss you terribly, and will not feel peace until I see you again.

Your Girl,

Anna

June 1, 1944

To My Beloved,

Please do not be sorry about missing my birthday or not writing sooner. I am just thrilled that you continue to find the time to write to silly old me when you surely have bigger and better things to occupy your time. Though, looking forward to letters from you is one of the few things that has been getting me by.

Also, please do not sell yourself short, my love. You are incredibly talented, and anyone would be lucky to walk past a garden you planted or view a piece of your artwork. In fact - if you have the time, will you please paint me a portrait of something? I want to display it in our future home.

I hope you don’t think that I’ve forgotten your birthday is this month. I probably won’t be able to write to you again before your big day arrives, so - Happy 19th Birthday! I sincerely hope that you are able to celebrate with your sister and friends and that this year is the happiest, healthiest one yet.

Just remember, everyday we get a little bit closer to seeing one another again.

Love You Forever,

Kristoff

P.S. If you can, please send a photograph of yourself. I know seeing your beautiful face will help to get me through my toughest days.

June 23, 1944

Dear Kristoff,

You must be delusional to believe that I have bigger and better things to occupy my time with other than writing to you. My heart beats for you, and even if I didn’t have the time, I would make it.

I think you are the only person on the planet who has ever referred to me as talented. Perhaps in the context of my clumsiness I am talented, but I am no artist or gardener or baker. Are you sure you’d want to display artwork I painted in our home? I feel like it would bring nothing but shame and embarrassment to me and my poor skills.

Thank you for the birthday wishes. I knew you wouldn’t forget, but I have to say, I am ecstatic that you remembered. I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate this year - life is too bleak without your presence. I will not have another happy birthday until you have returned home safely.

I’m sure by now you’ll have seen the photograph of myself that you requested. I apologize for my disheveled appearance - cosmetics have been difficult to come by since the war began. Elsa insisted that I looked fine, but I know I’m not as pretty as the other girls who are sending their beaus photographs. I only hope that you have not forgotten what I look like and are not turned off by my appearance.

I miss you more than anything, and am very eager for you to return home.

I Love You,

Anna

August 31, 1944

Dearest Anna,

I can assure you, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on and every time I look at the photograph you sent, I can’t help but smile and think about how much I love and miss you. I cannot wait until the day I can hold you in my arms again. All of the other men are envious that I can call you, “my girl.”

In fact, the first thing I intend to do when I return home is marry you - I know this is not the romantic way to tell you, but I promise I will not keep you waiting for another moment, especially since you’ve been so patient this entire time. I look forward to the day that I can call you my wife, and then from that day forward we can celebrate every birthday, holiday, and milestone together for the rest of our lives.

Love,

Kristoff

P.S. I will be proud to display any artwork you create in our home.

September 18, 1944

Dear Kristoff,

I cannot believe you’ve already been gone for a year. It has truthfully been the slowest and grimmest year of my entire life. I spend all day, everyday longing for your safe return.

Your kind comments flatter me, but I can hardly believe that the other men you’re acquainted with are envious of someone as plain-looking as me.

On the topic of marriage - yes! I will marry you! You are right, that was a dreadfully unromantic way to ask me for my hand, but I would never (and could never) say “no” to you. You’ve truly just made me the happiest girl on the face of the earth! But oh, how you humor me; my parents always said patience was a virtue I never acquired. And besides, I don’t feel particularly patient - not with you promising to marry me when you return.

Forever and Always,

Anna

January 27, 1945

Dear Anna,

I apologize for the delay in responding to your letters. All is well, I promise. If my letters become more infrequent over the next few months, it’s because things are changing quickly.

Something that hasn’t changed are my feelings for you. I’m very much looking forward to coming home to your beautiful face. I love and miss you more than anything, darling.

Love,

Kristoff

February 20, 1945

Dear Kris,

Of course I understand that things have been very intense and you can’t write as frequently as you used to, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss hearing from you. That’s why I’ve been sending you so many mundane letters in between our correspondence - I have nothing else to occupy my free time, and I hope hearing about the neighborhood gossip and my woes have kept you entertained during this time.

I love you, Kris. Time is simultaneously moving too fast and not fast enough. I haven’t had a good night’s rest since you’ve been gone, and I’m very much looking forward to being able to love you in person again.

Your Girl,

Anna

May 7, 1945

Dear Anna,

I could never view your letters as mundane; every time I receive a letter from you in the post, I can feel a spark reigniting inside of me. I’m here fighting for you, baby. You keep me going, and I don’t think I’d have lasted this long if I didn’t have you to come home to.

I love and miss you, sweetheart. I’m so ready to hold you in my arms again, and this time, I’m not letting go.

Always,

Kristoff

June 2, 1945

To My Sweetheart,

Please continue to fight for me; I need you to come home safely. I need to see you and know that you’re real, and not just a figment of my imagination. You’ve been gone for far too long, and I hardly know what to do with myself.

I just want you to come home to me. That is all I could ever ask for, and just know, I’ll be wishing for your safe return for my birthday this year. Hopefully you’ll be home soon. I need to touch you and know you’re real.

Love Always,

Anna

September 18, 1945

To My One and Only,

Wonderful news, darling - I’ll be coming home to you very soon. I can’t wait to see you.

Love,

Kristoff

And finally, the day they had both been waiting for had arrived. Anna stood in the train station, clutching her purse in her shaking hands as she eagerly awaited the train’s arrival. When it finally pulled into the station, her eyes continuously scanned the crowded room, searching for the person she had desperately missed for the past two years.

And then suddenly, he was running towards her, a massive smile plastered across his face.

“Kristoff!” she exclaimed breathlessly, bursting into tears at the sight of him. She raised a hand to cover her mouth, unable to move or think straight as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“Why are you crying?” Kristoff asked softly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he beamed down at her.

“I’m just so happy you’re here,” Anna sniffled, rushing to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“I told you I would find my way back to you,” he soothed, pulling her into his arms. “You know I don’t break my promises.”

“We both know that your safe return wasn't entirely up to you.” She nuzzled her face against his chest, still in disbelief that he was standing in front of her.

“I had a good reason to keep fighting,” Kristoff grinned, his own eyes growing a bit misty. “There was a girl back at home who promised to marry me when I asked her, and I couldn’t let her down.”

#Kristanna #kristanna fanfiction #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fanfiction #my writing

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

The Last Toll

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3865

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Trying to protect the boys from having to witness your death, you leave the bunker to die alone. Dean and Sam desperately try to find you before time runs out.

Notes: Here it is. The final part in this trilogy of twists and lots of angst. I am super proud of how this series turned out and I hope you guys enjoyed the ride. As always, let me know what you think! (But hey, keep an eye out in the future for possible continuations)

Warnings: Death, gore, sacrifice, lots of angst and tears

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

Monday 6:00 A.M.

You had exactly 18 hours left on Earth. 18 hours until a big invisible dog carries you in its mouth down to the eternal Big House. After arguing with Dean last night, it was finally hitting you. You were going to hell. An endless circle of torment that you had no escape from. Beside you, Dean turned over, still fast asleep. You smiled to yourself. You were going for him.

Carefully lifting the blanket, you silently got out of the bed. You grabbed some clothes and stuffed them into your bag. It would be easier to change in the car. You couldn’t risk waking anyone up.

You snuck out into the kitchen, quickly ducking behind the wall when you saw a trench coat laid over one of the chairs, it’s owner flipping through a book. Why can’t angels take naps? You tiptoed towards the entrance, making as little noise as possible.

“You won’t get far.” Cas scolded, not even looking up from his cookbook. You sighed heavily. Busted.

“I can’t stay.” You stepped into the kitchen, putting your bag on the table. “I’ve put them through enough. I have to do this alone.”

“You know what Dean would say?” Cas inquired. You hated when he tried to guilt trip you. “He would say,” the angel lowered his voice to impersonate your boyfriend, “‘You’re one of us. And none of us goes down alone.’ Don’t you want to be with the people who love you? With the man you love so much you sold your soul?” It was odd to hear him speak so emotionally. You could feel tears welling, but you forced them back. If you cried one more time, you’d scream.

“I got to see him one last time. I got to see those eyes bright with life again. I got to kiss him again.” He looked ready to rebuttal so you stopped him. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, Cas. I can’t make Sam watch that again. And Dean…” You sighed, “The only thing that would come from them being there when the bitch comes is more trauma for them to carry around.” You put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to understand. “Let their last memory of me be a good one.” Cas was silent for a moment.

“Alright.” You exhaled a breath of relief. You knew he would understand. Cas stood and grabbed his trench coat. “But I’m driving.” Your relief was replaced with frustration.

“Cas, no-”

“Spare the Winchesters if that’s really what you want. There may not be a way out of this, but you will not go alone.” He was using his angel voice and there was no fighting him on this one. With a huff, you conceded.

“Fine, but I am picking the music.”

9:34 A.M.

You’d kept your phone on silent, ignoring all of the calls you had anticipated. If you heard his voice, you would make Cas turn the car around. You did, however, try and read the avalanche of text messages you were receiving from both brothers.

Don’t do this.

You don’t have to face this on your own.

Please baby, answer the phone.

One of Sam’s messages in particular sent a pang of guilt through your heart.

Dean’s going nuts over here. We both are. Please just come home. If only to say goodbye.

“Regretting your decision?” Cas wondered gruffly. You shot him a look and turned on the radio. Cas changed the channel quickly as ‘Highway to Hell’ played, muttering that it was inappropriate given the circumstances. Instead, he found a station playing Night Ranger’s ‘Sister Christian’. You felt that ache in your chest come back.

“Now what?” Cas read your expression.

“Nothing, it’s just this song.” You had to laugh at how sentimental you were being. “Dean played it all the time when we first became a couple. He liked to joke that he was the ‘Mr. Right’ I’d been so desperately looking for.” The memory made you smile and you imagined being in the impala with Dean singing from the driver’s side.

“Motoring!” He would belt. “What’s your price for flight? You’ve got him in your sight. And driving through the night.” You would both sing the guitar part and laugh.

“Y/N… Y/N.” Cas broke you out of the memory, seeing the sadness in your eyes. You hadn’t even realized that he had stopped the car. “I figured you would want some coffee.” You looked out the window and saw the gas station he had parked in front of.

“You’re a saint, Cas,” You exclaimed, the grumbling in your stomach finally getting your attention. The angle looked very confused.

“Y/N, I can’t be a saint. I’m an angel.”

“It’s just an expression.” You laughed, opening the car door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Cas knew that if you were anything like your boyfriend, you’d pursue the aisle for some pre-packaged junk food for a while before checking out. Which gave him about ten minutes to return a very angry call.

“Where are you? Is she with you? What the hell Cas?” Dean yelled into the receiver. Sam sat at the table, still trying to find you, but you must have turned the tracker on your phone off.

“She’s okay, Dean.”

“Bring her back. Now.”

“I can’t. She’ll run if she thinks I’m taking her to you.” Cas explained, keeping an eye on you as you moved through the candies. “We’re stopped at a gas station in Topeka.”

“Where are you headed?”

“She won’t say.” Cas sighed. “She just tells me what turns to make and what roads to follow. Although, she did mention something about ‘seeing the old place again’, whatever that means.” Cas watched you pay for your items and head for the exit. “I’ve got to go.”

“Cas, wait!” Dean said, but the line was already dead. “Damn it!” He tossed the phone across the table. Sam caught it before it could slide off.

“He wouldn’t tell you?”

“He doesn’t know!” The older Winchester exclaimed in frustration. “He said Y/N is just telling him as they go. The only clue she’s given him is ‘seeing the old place again.’”

“Did he say where they were stopped at least?”

“Some gas station in Topeka, so they could be heading anywhere.” Dean paced back and forth. He should have known you would pull something like this. You thought you were protecting him by facing this alone. Hell, you’d been doing it since you were a kid. Dean stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Sam asked and his brother grabbed the keys to his car.

“I know where she’s going.”

2:14 P.M.

You hadn’t seen the house in about twenty years. Then, it was a family home- bikes left on the lawn, your mother’s tulips overtaking the garden, your terrible chalk drawings covering the driveway. Now, the wood was rotting and a tall chain link fence surrounded the premises.

“What are we doing here?” Cas wondered, turning off the truck as you hopped out. The bottle of anger liquid practically glowed in the afternoon sun. You took a swig.

“This, my friend, is where I grew up.” You surveyed the house and nodded. “And it’s where I want to die.” You tucked the bottle in your bag and climbed the fence, landing on the other side with a dramatic flare. Cas let out an exasperated sigh.

“What happened here?” He asked, reading all of the ‘Condemned Building’, ‘Do Not Enter’ signs. He followed you over the fence, clumsily tumbling onto the other side.

“When I was fifteen, my brother came home from college for the weekend. Only, it wasn’t my brother.” The old wounds didn’t hurt as much anymore, but being here again certainly made them sting a little. “It was a shifter. Now, my parents were hunters before they had us, so they figured out something was wrong…just not fast enough.” It all felt so far away now. “After he killed them, he came after me. Somehow, I got the upper hand and sent a silver kitchen knife through his heart. That’s how I started hunting.” Cas put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” You just shrugged sadly.

“It was a long time ago.” You were able to pick the lock on the front door, the smell of mold and dirt filling your nostrils. Home sweet home.

Somehow, the kitchen table was still standing and the sliding glass door leading to the back porch was intact. Your father always used to joke that it was bulletproof. The last time you were in this room, you stabbed a creature that looked like your big brother. And that was shockingly the least complicated your life had been in twenty years.

“Make yourself at home Cas. I’ve got about,” You looked down at your watch, “nine hours and forty minutes until I become a chew toy and I’m going to spend it reminiscing and getting very, very drunk.” Cas gave you a look of disdain. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“You are handling your impending damnation remarkably well.” He sat down in a creaky chair as you started to empty out your bag.

“I’m not going to spend my last few hours cowering in the corner, Cas.” You opened the small tin box that you had brought. “I can’t fight what’s going to happen to me. The most I can do is stay here, away from Sam and Dean, and wait.” You repeated it over and over in your head as if you could convince yourself. Every bone in your body wanted to fight. It’s just who you were. You survived. But now, you were staring down the gaping mouth of hell for the man who taught you to live.

4:36 P.M.

You may have had a three hour head start to St. Louis, but Cas couldn’t drive like Dean could. Both brothers continued their attempts to call you but it was still to now avail. It didn’t matter. They knew where to find you.

The exact address of your childhood home was not hard to find. Your parent’s deaths were well publicized so Sam just followed the trail of articles. Sure enough, Cas’ truck was parked in front of the condemned building.

“Why would she pick this place?” Sam asked, taking in the sad sight.

“This is where it all started for her.” Dean answered somberly. “It’s where she wants it to end.”

Inside, a half empty bottle of Jack sat beside the pile of photographs you had been looking through. You told Cas dozens of stories, some through laughter, some tears, and some both. With music playing from your phone, you didn’t hear the new set of footprints until the Winchesters were standing in front of you. You jumped up from the table, the alcohol in your system making you dizzy.

“You told them!” You cast an accusing glare at the angel beside you.

“This isn’t what you want.” He replied in a quiet voice. You turned your panicked face back to the brothers. Sam’s expression held a sad understanding, but you couldn’t read Dean’s. He stepped towards you.

“You have to leave.” You ordered, backing away as he got closer. “I don’t want you here for this. Get back in the impala and leave.” You backed into the corner and Dean towered over you. “Please, Dean.” His eyes searched yours and knew. He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t fight him. You let him hold onto you as your body started to shake. It was another one of your selfish reasons for leaving. If he wasn’t here, if you couldn’t look at his face, you could pretend that you weren’t scared. Now he was here and all of that tough-girl bullcrap was gone.

“I’m right here baby.” He kissed your forehead, taking all of your stress and putting it on his shoulders. You would carry this together.

“Why did you leave?” Sam asked gently. You turned, Dean keeping his arms around you from behind.

“Because you shouldn’t have to see this, Sam. You watched it happen to your brother, I couldn’t make you watch it again. Neither of you should be put through this.” Dean lightly kissed your shoulder.

“You can’t do this alone.” He whispered.

“I had Cas.” You smirked. The three of you laughed, Cas even cracking a smile.

“Why don’t I go to a restaurant with quick service and get food?” Cas suggested.

“Fast food. It’s called fast food.” Dean snickered into your shoulder. You elbowed him.

“That would be great.”

The sound of a clock chiming startled all of you, Dean instinctively pushing you behind him. Sam sighed.

“It’s okay, It’s only five.” You were all so on edge that it felt later. The clock echoed still, connecting a memory in your mind.

“No way.” You broke away from Dean and found the living room. You must not have heard it earlier because of the music. Sure enough, the gigantic Grandfather clock was still ticking. “I can’t believe it still works.” You mused, running your fingers over the dust covered glass. “My dad loved this thing. He never let us play around it because he was scared that my brother and I would break it.” By some cruel irony, it lasted longer than he did.

10:29 P.M.

With stomachs full of fries and mediocre burgers, you had climbed up onto the roof- which was surprisingly still sturdy- to look at the stars. Five hours passed in a blink and you were all getting anxious. Sam and Cas were inside, giving you and Dean time alone.

“I want you to have this.” You began, talking over the music playing from your phone. You handed him the small tin that you kept all your pictures in. Dean raised a brow and you playfully rolled your eyes. “And no, there’s no playboy material in there so you can wipe that smirk off your face.” Dean chuckled and draped around your shoulders to pull you closer.

He opened the box and spilled the contents into his lap. The first image made him laugh. It was of you and Sam, fast asleep on a motel sofa, your head on his shoulder and half of his body dangling over the arm of the couch. Someone- aka Dean- had drawn mustaches on your faces.

“I forgot about this.” Dean put each photo back in the box as he looked at them. Some were from when you were a kid, but most were from your time with them. He paused at one in particular. It was of you hugging him from behind as he worked under the hood of the impala, both of you laughing at something he had said. You were at Bobby’s. Ellen had taken it.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, putting the picture on top of the others. You knew what he was thinking. He’d lost so many people. His parents, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, and countless others. Now he would have to add you to the list.

“When it comes, I’ll need to borrow your gun.” You said suddenly. He gave you a strange look, taking a second to understand. “I figured it would be a better way to go than becoming dog food.” Dean winced. This was not a subject he wanted to address. A part of him still had hope.

“Maybe there’s still a way.”

“Dean,” You sighed, “there would need to be an act of God or the gates of hell closing.” You had a little less than an hour now. Dean’s eyes lit up and he shifted to face you.

“That’s it. That’s how we can fight this.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“When Sam was completing the trails, he was able to kill a hellhound with an angel blade. We can kill it.” His voice had a new sense of determination.

“Dean, there would just be more.” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“So we kill them!” He said it as if it was simple. “It’ll at least buy us more time to undo the deal.”

“Dean…” You looked at him like he was crazy, but the new found hope on his face made it impossible to rebuke.

“It’ll work.” He said, more to himself than to you. “It has to work.” You both fell silent, listening to the music. You almost laughed. Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. You sang along in your head.

“And it’s whispered that soon, if we call the tune then the piper will lead us to reason. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long and the forests will echo with laughter.”

Surely, somebody up there was laughing. Whoever God was, he sure had a twisted sense of humor.

11:57 P.M.

“We need to get inside.” Dean announced, grabbing the tin and putting it in his jacket pocket. “It’ll be easier to corner the bitch so we can kill it.”

You both climbed down into the back yard. Sam and Cas were waiting, already filled in on the plan. Neither were overly confident, but if there was a chance, they were willing to try.

“You ready?” Sam asked. You gulped and gave the three of them a solemn nod. Each man filed inside, weapons at the ready. As soon as Dean was in, you slid the glass door shut, jamming a metal bar in between the door and the wall.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, trying to force it open. “Y/N, what are you doing?” The door wouldn’t budge. “Let me out!”

You put your hand against the glass, palm splayed out where Dean’s fist pounded. You gave him a small, sad smile.

“It’s okay.” You mouthed. His hand flattened against yours. “It’s going to be okay.” You exchanged a glance with Sam and he gave you a wordless promise. He would make sure his brother would get through this. You locked your eyes with Dean’s. You never got tired of those emerald irises. Knowing that you put the life back in those perfect green eyes would give you enough courage to face what came next.

You closed your eyes, feeling a lone tear slide down your cheek.

12:00 A.M.

This time, the clock’s chiming didn’t make you jump. The howl did. Both Sam and Dean were desperately trying to get the door open, but Cas knew that this was what you wanted. He turned away.

“Damn it, Y/N! Open the door!” Dean shouted again, hitting the glass as hard as he could. You spoke just loud enough for them to hear you.

“I love you.” You opened your eyes only to find the heartbreak in his. “I love all of you.” You cried out as a set of claws dug deeply into your calf, yanking you backwards onto the concrete.

“No!” Dean screamed. He pulled so hard that the handle of the door snapped off. Sam was frozen now, neither brother able to tear their eyes away.

You tried to hold back your screams, but it was useless. The hellhound flipped you onto your back, claws ripping through your shoulder like paper. Your shrieks were loud enough to fill the kitchen.

“Baby, please.” Dean cried, his efforts in trying to break the glass merely giving him bruises. He was forced to watch the invisible beast create claw marks along your arms and chest. He felt every tear as if it were happening to him all over again. A pool of blood started to pour out beneath you.

Your most agonizing scream came when you felt the dog’s jaws clamp around your side. You looked up at the men above you. Dean’s face was stained with tears, as was his brother’s. They both looked so anguished, so shattered. So you remembered last night. You remembered their laughing faces and off-key singing. You remembered Sam’s comforting embrace and his knowing smile. You remembered the taste of Dean’s lips and the feeling of his body tangled with yours. You remembered their eyes in the sunset, sparkling and alive. And you smiled. Your boys.

“Y/N! No!” Dean screamed in horror as a chunk of your flesh was violently torn away. You stopped moving. “Y/N!” The last toll of the clock echoed throughout the entire house and the old Grandfather clock stopped ticking.

Sam pushed his brother to the side and fired his gun at the glass until it shattered. Dean bolted through, not caring if he got cut. The hound was gone, leaving only carnage in its wake. He fell to his knees.

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet now, hoarse from screaming. Your eyes stared blankly up at the stars, blood splattered across your face. He cradled your head in his hand. “Don’t do this to be, baby. Don’t do this to me.” He pulled you into his lap. “Come on sweetheart, don’t make me lose you too. Please.”

Sam’s chest tightened, watching his brother break down. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dean cry this hard. Cas had vanished, so it was just the two of them now. After a moment, Sam let out a heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you head out the car? I’ll clean up.”

“No.” Dean growled, head jerking up to look at him. “I have to do this.” Dean straightened and he scooped your body up into his arms. Blood rushed down his clothes like rain, seeping through to his skin. It would stain him for the rest of his life. He pressed a kiss to your forehead one last time and gently closed your eyes.

And she’s buying a stairway to Heaven.

Tuesday 8:33 A.M.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Even when they got back, Sam knew better than to say anything. Dean went to take a shower, shoving the small tin to the back of his drawer. Sam poured himself a drink. He looked out on an empty library and lifted his glass, as if he were toasting you.

Dean turned the water to a scalding temperature, feeling it burn as it rinsed off the sticky crimson liquid that covered his chest and arms. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your smile going blank as the hellhound tore away your skin. And all he could hear was that stupid clock. Before he even realized it, his hand punched the tiled wall over and over again until it cracked, his knuckles splitting open and oozing blood. He didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything.

It was dark, but you could still see the blade hanging above you, glistening menacingly. Spiked restraints pierced your wrists, holding you down on the table.

“Sam? Cas? Anybody!” You cried. There was no hiding the terror in your voice. The saw screeched to life and slowly lowered down towards you. “Help me! Somebody please!” You struggled, only making the spikes dig further into your skin. There was no escaping this. Your screams filled the darkness. “Dean!”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

#gore warning #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural imagines #winchester takeover #october #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #to be continued?

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plainbrunettelbl · 4 years

Text

ABO Rich (A) Katsuki Bakugo x Poor (O) Reader Money Can’t Buy You Everything Alpha (Chapter One)

Word count:

Warnings: Mentions of possible Omega trafficking. Rude rich Bakugo.

Title: ABO Rich (A) Katsuki Bakugo x Poor (O) Reader Money Can’t Buy You Everything Alpha (Chapter One)

Summary: Ten years later you run into a red-eyed customer that smells nice but has a terrible attitude.

(Gif not mine)

💥-Boy were you wrong. You wanted money desperately.

💥-You were now a struggling twenty-year-old who worked two jobs just to keep a roof over your head. One job you loved at the other you hated. Of course, the one you hated was the one that brought in the most money.

💥-During the day you worked at a nice floral shop and at night you were a waitress at a popular night club. The tips paid really well so you tolerated the creepy Alphas that would try and get you into their bed.

💥-Another thing that made you struggle. You were an Omega. While that would have been okay in normal circumstances for you it was a life sentence. Once your mom had caught on about your presentation and how it could mean money for her she nearly sold you to the highest bidder.

💥-Luckily you overheard her plans and got the heck out of dodge. So at eighteen you packed whatever you could into a bag and ran off. The first few months were horrible.

💥-Being a homeless Omega was like leaving a nice juicy cut of steak in front of a group of lions. You had a few close calls with a couple of Alphas but nothing too serious.

💥-An old Beta had seen you on the street and offered to house you until you could get back on your feet. She was a sweet old woman that ran the floral shop you were still working out.

💥-At first, she had you helping around the store in payment for staying with her but then she noticed how handy your quirk was. She hired you after that and while it was decent money you didn’t want to burden her so you looked for another job and found the one at the night club.

💥-Once you made enough to move out you found a cheap apartment on the less welcoming side of town. You didn’t mind it too much. Your neighbors could be loud at times but it was better than nothing.

💥-So here you were standing behind the counter of Fana’s Floral trying to plaster a smile on your face. You loved this job but it was tiring working both jobs just to keep you afloat.

💥-When you heard the bell chime you were under the counter looking for a pair of stem cutters for the order that was meant to be picked up at lunch. The sound of shoes tapping against the floor made you peek above the counter.

💥-A pair of ruby eyes connected with yours.

💥-They seemed oddly familiar but you couldn’t place from where. You quickly stood up and brushed off your green apron. “What can I do for you today sir?” You smiled.

💥-The scowl on his face was unchanging. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

💥-“My assistant was supposed to pick up an order today but something came up. I would like to pick it up instead.” He sighed clearly impatient to get this over with.

💥-You could tell from his white dress shirt and black slacks that he was well off but him mentioning an assistant sealed the deal. You had to make sure to treat him well so he could come back again.

💥-“Of course. Do you have the name that went with the order?” You were quick to pick up the logbook.

💥-“Bakugo. Bakugo Katsuki.” He stated offhandedly his eyes focusing on the phone he held in his hand.

💥-That’s why he looked familiar! He was that boy you saved when you were a kid. You were glad he didn’t notice your eyes widening. Your brain instantly notifying you of the glaring differences in your appearance and social standing.

💥-What did you say? Hey, you remember that girl that found you locked in a shed? I wasn’t desperate for money then but now I would take anything you offered. No way were you gonna let him know it was you.

💥-Another thing caught you by surprise. He smelled delicious. The smell of salted caramel invaded your nose. You had come across good-smelling Alphas before but nothing as mouthwatering as him.

💥-You quickly reigned in your Omega it could do anything stupid and busied yourself with finding his name in the logbook. Bakugo. Pick up at 11. A bundle of pink Peonies. Payment due: 356.25

💥-Your jaw nearly dropped. You didn’t even know the store sold flowers that could cost so much. You schooled your expression before addressing him. “Pink peonies for Bakugo?”

💥-His eyes looked up from his phone for a second before going back to his screen. “I don’t know what type of flowers he ordered. I let him pick them for me.”

💥-“I see. I’ll go check in the back to see if they are ready.” You held a tight smile before turning and fleeing to the back. You saw the pink flowers in the check-out station. You grabbed them before heading out.

💥-“I found them. They are wrapped and ready.” Set them on the counter.

💥-He slipped his phone into his pocket this time. His eyes gazing at the delicate display. His frown deepened a little more.

💥-“I don’t like the purple wrapping. Change it.” He demanded before taking his phone back out as he clearly wasn’t gonna leave anytime soon.

💥-You floundered for a second. Wrapping things had always been your weakness when it came to working in the shop. You were working by yourself today so it wasn’t like you could pass it off to the other workers like you usually did.

💥-“Of course. Right away sir.” You ran back into the back room to grab all of the wrapping supplies you would need. “What color would you like?” You called out.

💥-“Anything not purple.” He bluntly replied.

💥-You picked out a sky blue and walked back out to him. Instead of being on his phone once more he was casually leaning against the counter. You tried not to blush as his gaze was focused on you.

💥-“So do you get a lot of customers?” He asked.

💥-“A decent amount. There is always a poor Alpha trying to make up with his Omega or an Omega wanting something to brighten up their den. You never know who will walk through that door.” You laughed.

💥-You tried your hardest to wrap his flowers the best you could. No sloppy ribbon tying or crinkled edges.

💥-“Sounds a bit boring if you ask me.” He answered.

💥-“It can be. Around the holidays it gets busy but we also do bonding ceremonies so that can also keep us busy as bee sometimes.” You reply trying not to let his rude attitude affect you.

💥-You cut the white ribbon that held everything together and sighed. It seemed decent enough. Not your worst work.

💥-“Okay, that will be 356.25. Will you pay with cash or a credit card?” You looked up at him.

💥-“Card is fine but I don’t think I would like the flowers to be wrapped anymore. Do you have a vase to put them in?” He remarked.

💥-The smile on your face was starting to slip. What type of jerk had you re-wrap flowers and then ask you to end up putting them in a vase anyway. You don’t care if your Omega was nearly purring at the smell of him you nearly wanted to refuse and have the door hit him on the way out.

💥-Of course, you couldn’t. He was spending good money and would likely come again if he every whim was met. So you tersely cut the wrapping away and went to go get a vase.

💥-“What color would you like the vase? It will also cost you extra.” Your tone had taken on a slight edge.

💥-“Extra doesn’t matter. A red one would be fine.” He added. He stopped leaning against the counter and stood straight up.

💥-He really didn’t care about the purple wrapping or a dumb vase. He had merely asked for those alterations just so he could stay in your presence a little longer. There was something about you that had him lost in thought.

💥-Like a distant memory or something.

💥-He told himself it wasn’t your alluring scent that had him transfixed. You smelled of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Sweet and comforting. Your cute frame and pretty smile were also not on his mind.

💥-You worked in a flower shop for God’s sake. He wasn’t gonna associate himself with you any further than this stupid flower order his assistant wasn’t able to pick up.

💥-Kirishima’s mate had his pup so he really couldn’t blame him for taking the day off. He was gonna be gone for a while since Bakugo agreed to give him a few weeks off to bond with the pup. Bakugo would shut him up every time he tried to thank him for it.

💥-“Alright, the vase is gonna be an extra 26 dollars.” You slid the vase in his direction.

💥-You tried not to choke when he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He reached in and grabbed a black credit card. He swiped the card without even looking at the grand total.

💥-You ripped off his receipt and handed it to him.

💥-“Have a nice day.” You chimed.

💥-He shot you a glance before picking up the vase and headed towards the door. Goodbye grumpy face. You were gonna leave it at that before he suddenly turned back and stated.

💥-“Have fun playing with dirt.” He called out a small smirk on his face.

💥-“I do have fun digging around in the dirt so don’t worry about me.” You joked back. Once the words registered you blanched. Hoping he didn’t catch on.

💥-He let the door close and turned towards you. “You like digging around in the dirt? Why does that sound familiar? Have we met before?” He pressed.

💥-You face would get even paler if it could. “I-I don’t think so. I would remember if we did.” You stammered.

💥-“I swear something about your dumb dirt-covered face reminds me of something.” He stated.

💥-“Hey! That’s not nice!” You quickly brush away anything that might have been on your face. “Trust me I would remember someone as rude as you.” You countered.

💥-If he wasn’t gonna play nice than neither were you.

💥-“Rude? I have been nothing but nice.” He began walking towards the counter.

💥-Maybe you should have been worried about angering him but your filter flew right out the window. You would blame it on being tired later on. “You have been rude and brash ever since you walked in with that grumpy looking face of yours.”

💥- “Grumpy face...” Something clicked in his head.

💥- He slammed the vase onto the counter with a shocked look on his face.

💥- “Plant girl?”

I was surprised everyone liked the prologue so much. Thank you for you guys kind words! It really means a lot. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. What do you think of Bakugo being his usual rude self? You see the reader liking him for more than his scent anytime soon? I would like to know you thoughts. Thanks for reading. 💕

Taglist for this series Here. Please add your username. 💕

#my hero academia #bnha bakugou #BNHA Headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #Katsuki Bakugō #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #Alpha #Omega #omegaverse #angst #bnha fluff #fluff #rich #poor #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou

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duchesschameleon · 3 years

Text

what if - chapter 4

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 1841 a/n: alright, getting into some of the meat of the story! this one is longer and the original chapter 4 was so long I broke it up so now there is a planned nine chapters for this fic. chapter 5 is written and will be queued up for sunday’s post, but as my parents are visiting, chapter 6 might be delayed. I’ll try my best not to but no promises. a huge thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo for the beta!

what if masterlist

The next day, there’s less tension between you and Aaron. He’s more amenable to talking to you and even smiles at you in the rearview mirror of the car. There’s a smile on your face as you write in your notebook, keeping track of the Carolyn’s you visit and adding to your story. The radio’s on and once Dave had found a station he liked, he forbade Aaron from changing it. Not that he’s listening to the music. He talks over the music, filling the car with stories from his summer spent with Carolyn, the afternoons they spent together in the fields and the nights spent walking through the trees in the moonlight.

You smile wistfully as you listen to the adventures - and troubles - Dave and Carolyn had gotten into. Aaron even quirks his lips in a ghost of a smile. It’s a small thing, something you would have missed a few days ago but now find yourself noticing it. Even catching his eyes a few times in the rearview mirror.

So far, the Carolyn’s are proving to be a bust, no one Dave recognizes. The map you’d marked up with all their locations is spread out on the hood of the car and you and Aaron are leaning over it, trying to agree on where to go next.

“That one’s isolated! If we go there, we’re done for the day,” you argue.

“Exactly. One more for the day and then back to the hotel,” Aaron says, crossing his arms over his chest. You shake your head at him, trying to avoid looking at his forearms. The bands of muscles spanning his forearms are flexed and on display in his polo shirt, they keep catching your eye and you just turn back to the map.

“It’s early afternoon. We cannot just visit one more Carolyn, even with driving time that’s leaving too much on the table.”

“We’ll get those two tomorrow morning, they head out towards some of the others,” Aaron points out. You scrunch your eyebrows, bending closer to the map.

Shit, he’s right. You sigh and stand up. “Fine, we’ll do one more today.” Aaron just quirks his lips into one of his smiles, and you huff out a breath and fold up the map. Dave chuckles as he watches the two of you, Aaron smirking as he puts his sunglasses back on and you grumbling.

Choosing to visit only one more Carolyn Bartolini turns out to be a smart idea for many reasons. The one on the way back to Siena takes a bit to find. Since it turns out to not be a simple house, but a whole estate. There’s a winding drive to the large house that is surrounded by land, hosting gardens and crops.

“Look at that, Dave,” Aaron says, looking around as he drives down towards the house, “you may have gone from a girl who worked in the fields to a woman who owns them. And you got to skip all the messy bits in the middle.”

“Life is the messy bits,” Dave scoffs, hitting Aaron on the shoulder. Aaron clears his throat, looking a little sheepish and you smile softly, silently agreeing with Dave. The messy bits, the adventures, they made life interesting. You look out the window, heart squeezing with the missing presence of your partner.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as the car turns off, shaking your head and taking a steadying breath. You and Aaron trail behind Dave, letting him do the talking. The person who answers the door beckons the three of you inside, leading you towards the garden and Carolyn. The garden is lush and gorgeous, filled with flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. You walk along the hedges, letting Dave and Carolyn talk. You can overhear their conversation, talking about that summer Dave spent in Italy and Carolyn answering his questions, but you can tell that this isn’t the right Carolyn. Her answers aren’t right, not specific enough, and you can hear the disappointment seeping into Dave’s voice. But Carolyn keeps talking and responding, obviously trying to impress Dave.

You make your way back towards where Aaron is standing and cross your arms over your chest. Dave’s words from the car are still rattling around in your head and pulling your thoughts towards your partner, the messy bits of life you’d shared and the adventures you’d promised to share. You turn your attention to where Carolyn is fawning over a melancholy looking Dave, trying to impress him. It's not an unfamiliar scene at this point, Dave can apparently charm any woman, even if she’s not the one he’s looking for.

“I wish I was your Carolyn, I would have enjoyed a life with you,” she’s telling Dave as they walk over to you and Aaron, “but I also would not have let you go in the first place.” Dave smiles at her and you all say goodbye.

As you walk back to the car, step in step with Dave, you smile and ask, “What is it with you and Italian women? They just fall at your feet.” Dave chuckles and you catch Aaron’s quirk of a smile, happy you managed to make both men happy for a moment.

By the time you get back to the hotel, all three of you are exhausted. Aaron walks with Dave to his room, wanting to make sure he’s alright and bring him anything he might need. You head back to your room alone, already planning on spending the evening writing. There’s a good amount in your notebook and you want to start getting it into a document. You might even reach back out to your old boss, talk about coming back to work in a different capacity once you return to New York and feel ready.

You settle at the desk in your room, laptop out and booting up, and feel yourself get pulled into the rhythm of writing an article. The notes and thoughts in your notebook aren’t terrible, but polishing them into a more cohesive story fills your evening and you look up at one point for a break and realize it’s nearly dinner time. There’s a simple room service menu you order from before sitting back down in front of your laptop to continue working. The knock on the door announcing the arrival of your food pulls you from your trance. As the hotel employee wheels the cart out of your room, you hear a knock on the doorframe.

Aaron’s voice is calling your name and when you peak your head around the wall to the door, you see him holding the door open. “Oh, come in,” you tell him, standing up from the desk chair.

“Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get dinner, but you seem to already have that figured out,” Aaron points out.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on the story and didn’t want to stop so-”

“Can I read it?”

You blink at him. “Uh. No, not yet. It’s not ready.”

Aaron takes a step towards you. “Come on, just a little bit. I want to make sure you’re telling the story right. That I’m being portrayed accurately.”

“Trust me, you’re being portrayed accurately. No worries there.”

Aaron huffs out a breath and shoves his hands into his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” you laugh. You push off from the desk and grab Aaron by the shoulders, turning him towards the door. “Now leave me be so I can work in peace.”

He says your name, almost in a whine and you roll your eyes, opening the door. “Out. Goodnight Aaron.”

“Just one paragraph, please,” he protests as you shove him out of your room.

“Goodnight Aaron,” you say with a tone of finality.

“Goodnight,” he says, the door swinging shut in his face. You settle back in at the desk, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

The next morning, you search the patio for Aaron and Dave. They tend to beat you to breakfast and you figure today is no different. But you can’t find them anywhere so you simply grab yourself some food and sit at a table, facing the entrance to the breakfast area. You keep an eye out for them as you fix yourself a cup of coffee and pick at the pastry you’d gotten, pouring over your notebook.

“Ah, good morning.” You look up to see Aaron standing by the table. You smile, tapping your pen against your cheek.

“Morning,” you say as he sits down. There’s a comfortable silence as Aaron pours himself coffee and you concentrate on your notebook. It's still just the two of you at the table after a few minutes. “Where’s Dave?” you ask, eyes still scanning the pages of your notebook.

“He said he wanted to sleep in today.”

Your head snaps up and you look at Aaron. “Is he okay?” You can hear the slight panic in your voice, mind already racing with where the closest pharmacy is and what could possibly be wrong.

Aaron says your name, eyes locking on yours and cutting through your worry. “He’s fine, just tired,” he assures you. You let out a breath, nodding. “So he’s going to lie in for the morning. I was thinking about, uh, going into Siena and seeing the sights. Since we’re here you know.” He shrugs, glancing over to you.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” You turn back to your notebook, plans for working on your story filling your thoughts. Aaron lets out a soft scoff and you look up at him, confused. “What, it is a good idea! You should go explore. I’ll stay here and work on my story.”

Aaron looks out towards the city, his thumb running over his other fingers, nerves coursing through him. “Right, work on your story,” he mutters. “Of course.”

You look up at him, taking in his pose, how tense he looks. Quickly, you glance at your notebook and think it over in your head. You’d gotten a lot of work done the night before, the story was coming together quite nicely. Taking time away from it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. And the way Aaron’s holding himself, the way he was talking, it’s almost as if he wants you to come with him. You shake that thought, thinking of how callous and rude he’s been to you this entire trip, how dismissive he was of the entire plan to find Carolyn. But, you are here in Siena. Adventures in Italy, you hear your partner whisper, as if their voice had been carried by the breeze.

You sigh and place your pen in between the pages of your notebook, saving your place. “Since we’re here,” you say grabbing Aaron’s attention, “we might as well explore.” He flashes you one of his small smiles and you return it, before putting your notebook in your bag and standing up. “C’mon Aaron, show me the sights.”

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @kelstark @hurricanejjareau @oreogutz @whentheautumnleavesfall

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #letters to juliet #letters to juliet au #my writing #fic stuff #what if tag #charlie rambles

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cruzrogue · 3 years

Photo

Broken

Ch1 (an olicity AU story.)

It’s a cloudy miserable noon with a chance of rain. So far today nothing has gone her way. Finding herself grabbing another coffee because the first one was full of grinds. The only perk of her job is endless bagels and mediocre coffee.

Her sigh remnants through the small breakroom. Mumbling to herself, “You’d think a multi-billion-dollar company could afford better coffee.”

The only other occupant in the room snorts, “They wouldn’t make so much money if they gave their slaves… I mean employees premium coffee.”

“I Guess.” Placing enough sugar and cream in her cup. She deserves this. Especially being free from a call she finished up where a Queen Consolidated employee who seemed to be locked out of their computer had such a terrible attitude.

She had dreams. Aspirations. They all vanished when her boyfriend was lost somewhere in the Northern China Sea.

“It looks like it is going to rain hard soon.”

“I hate rain.” Her eyes move from the small tv showing a weather update to the overhead windows. The sky is getting darker by the second.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned it was a rainy night when you and your boyfriend got into a fight. He left and never returned.”

Felicity stares at him. She’s never told anyone the full story.

“Yea, something like that.”

Her life has changed dramatically in the last few years. To be clear. It’s been five years since her heart was ripped out from her chest.

“What a deadbeat.” Her coworker keeps going, “Wasn’t he the father of your three kiddos?”

“I better get back to my cube.” Pointing to her work area, “See you around Cooper.” She doesn’t wait for his own goodbye as she hightails it out of there.

Single moms aren’t his thing. It doesn’t stop Cooper from checking out her nice legs. She’s one of those MILFs he’d wouldn’t mind one night with. No strings attached kind of way. Too bad she’s pegged down with three kids.

As the breakroom is now void of anyone viewing the broadcast. Headlines appear. Oliver Queen has been found. After his five-years of being considered dead. He will be coming home. To reunite with his family.

Moira Queen face appears on screen, “It is a miracle with that of my young daughter’s prayers were answered.” She appears to hold back tears of joy. The camera than pans to the man by her side. Under his picture the viewers are reminded about his amnesia. How his bodyguard pulled him out of the turbulent water to a life raft.

Robert Queen has a few words, “My son is alive. After all these years of mourning. There is nothing worse than waking up not remembering anything that transpired. It has been my greatest failure as a father. I get a second chance. My boy is alive.”

The station airs a few more minutes of a recap of the Queen tragedy before the headline repeats its saying, ‘Oliver Queen has been found… Alive!’

As the hard rain begins to pellet against the building.

Felicity’s glancing at a photo of her three munchkins. Oliver was such a hands-on dad. Their first pregnancy was accidental. Their second was totally planned. Their third, well… she was alone for that one. His voyage with his father resulted in his death.

Life has a funny way of working out.

What does it matter that she was a prodigy child? At fourteen she was admitted to M.I.T. Her brain revered. Still is. It’s just… She doesn’t have passion to continue with her once upon a time active goal.

Losing Oliver was a knife to her zeal to conquer the technical world. Without his support she’s withered away in a gloomy existence. Somehow pushing forward due to motherhood. Seeing a piece of him in each of their children.

All it took was an eighteen-year-old boy to break her full academic resolve. She fell in love at first sight. It took awhile to become lovers because of her age. It didn’t stop them from spending each free moment together. Learning, appreciating, falling deeper, and the respect was always there. That when their bodies shared a special dance that carried them forward to wanting a life to be forever bound.

The most bizarre thing in all this. His parents didn’t approve of his affiliation with a minor back during their college years. They kept their relationship a secret. With the quarrel that led to Oliver giving her some space she felt to guilty to approach his family. They just lost their son.

Even though her babies are a joyful creation. If Oliver’s parents didn’t accept her in the past. She doesn’t ever want an eternal battle of custody. Powerful people have ways to win against dreamers like her.

To many people it is unfathomable that she’d keep the lineage of her children hidden. Maybe one day. When her kids are old enough to understand. For now, it is a secret that she carries.

It takes her stomach to growl to even leave her post. Maybe a bagel will suffice until quitting time. Moving past some coworkers who seem to be gathered around animatedly gossiping. It takes a name to stop her in her tracks.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shakes her head no, “Heard what?”

“The boss man’s son has returned.”

“What?” She shakes her head. Why is this conversation not making any sense to her, “Who?”

A name yet to be supplied but a few coworkers point to the breakroom.

“It’s all over the news.”

Felicity doesn’t wait. Hearing Oliver’s name once was enough to have her in a daze. She makes it to the room and any hunger she had seems to be forgotten. Her eyes scanning the headlines. Her world is spun upside down or is it right side up? It doesn’t take long as her head spins all the new information. Her Oliver is alive.

“He’s alive!” She can’t contain how much hearing this is just so overwhelming, “He’s coming home.” Hearing some voices agree that he is coming back to Starling City. She would find it amusing if the voices didn’t drown away as a dizziness overtakes her. Falling. Falling upon the carpeted floor. Not hearing the same voices sounding panicked.

“Felicity?”

Her name again said out loud. To be answered by a moan.

“Ms. Smoak?”

Felicity doesn’t want to open her eyes. It’s a harsh light waiting for her. Squinting she tries to cooperate with the voice.

“Welcome back. You had us all worried.”

“I’m okay.”

“There is an ambulance on the way.”

“No. No need.” Is mumbled out. “I’ll be okay.”

“Ms. Smoak, it is policy to make sure you are alright. I’ll give you some forms and they’ll need to be filled out before you can return to work.”

“Okay.” Is softly spoken. Felicity feels lightheaded. She just hallucinated that her boyfriend is alive. Maybe it purgatory. Even though she doesn’t believe in purgatory. It is the hellish state to want him back so bad. Their last words said of anger. She’s already exhausted every nightmare trying to make things right.

“Alright then. They’re here. Please remain seated I’m just going to handle their arrival.”

The woman leaves Felicity alone in what seems to be an examination room. Afraid to pass out again she remains seated. This has never happened before. Fainting by wanting something so bad. Crying her eyes out. Crying to the point of exhaustion. Now that is something she knows of well.

How will she explain to the medical professional she passed out thinking the love of her life miraculously came back to her. Just out of the blue she’s so overemotional. Thinking about a man for the longest time. Didn’t believe was gone. How cruel is her mind? That when she finally admits he is never coming back. She’d have an episode.

Across the city at Starling General. Oliver Queen is being checked out. His family insistent that he have a medical professional make sure he is truly fine. The media is playing that he has been found and is awaiting extradition out of the US Embassy in China. The truth of the matter is he was found days ago. He silently made it back states side early this morning. He has yet to see his parents. Glad to know his father is alright.

He is anxious.

What he wants... no what he needs is to know of his children. Know how Felicity is? Five years is a long time. The fear that has taken so many dreaded nights. Did he lose her? Their last words to each other harsh.

Is their another raising his children? His parents unaware of their grandchildren. His mind going all over the place. On the trip before that horrifying night. Oliver told his dad about his granddaughters. Of how he felt about another little one on the way. He was ecstatic.

At first, he kept his relationship from his parents because they weren’t keen on him courting a minor. They wouldn’t believe him if he were to say they never consummated their love until she was ready. He understood the ramifications society holds. Yet, age between them was just numbers. It’s not like he was a party boy like his high school self.

Meeting the blued eyed prodigy. He was quickly under her spell.

He regrets that he kept his growing family a secret. His love for Felicity should have never been under wraps. The moment they graduated from their prestigious schools. He should have pushed. Should have fallen on one knee and asked her to be his bride. Should have not listened to her newest reasons that she wanted to succeed without his family’s help.

Understanding that his father and a few of the crew made it out alive. He was pushed out on the wreckage further away. That when the storm calmed, he was already halfway to purgatory. His father’s amnesia keeping both sides of his family from connecting.

His thoughts are on his kids. Two he helped name. One he wonders if he has another sweet daughter or a little boy. Are they healthy? Doing well? His little Maple she’d be about seven of age. Ava would be five. His youngest almost four.

His youngest. Every thought that comes about is agonizing.

Felicity didn’t have him to lean on. Which means she either was alone or another somebody took his place. It guts him to even picture his young children calling someone else daddy.

Five years. Five years in turmoil.

He’s back. He’ll find his family. No matter what. He’ll apologize to Felicity over and over until she knows those angry words were of a silly man being hurt.

Now he waits. Looking out of a hospital window. Waiting for familiar voices to come and claim their lost child. He needs this as much as they will. To be home. To be among those he loves. He missed so much. So much time lost.

He can feel the yearning come tenfold as a familiar voice is heard behind the hospital door of his room.

#Broken #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Text

Consequences (Part 4 of Fairy)

The final part...It’s a bit rushed but I want to finish this series.

Warning: None, just past Yandere mentions.

No gif because I can’t seem to find one that fits the theme...

After Kai saw Eri clinging to Midoriya Izuku on that street, he knew a storm is coming.

Before all the fighting could begin, Overhaul sends you to one of his vacation homes in the outskirts of Mustafu. “You can come back soon, once I deal with those troublesome heroes.”

You kissed Kai goodbye, knowing this might be the last time you seen him. Should you be sad? No. If he is killed, you can finally have your life back.

After the Villain Overhaul was arrested, the police searched all the properties owned by the Yakuza, and they found you and your son in a cottage sitting on the edge of a forest.

Your son has Kai’s brown hair and golden eyes, although his features resembles you more. He has no idea what is going on, as he cried when police took down the henchmen stationed outside.

When you walk out of the house, they are stunned to see you. (hero name) had been declared deceased sixteen months ago, yet here you are in flesh, and seem to be good health.

With their help, you broke those quirk-cancelling bracelets for good. Then you retrieved your son from the cottage and left with the police, without looking back.

“Where is Eri? Is she safe?” When you are told that she is safe in the hospital, you finally let out a laugh. Eri is safe and sound now, far away from Chisaki’s clutches.

They also told you Overhaul lived, although the league of villains had destroyed his arms. Maybe that is for the best, a part of you did not want him to die, but you know he cannot keep living as a threat to society.

“Ms. (l/n), you say you been living in captivity since your supposed death?”

“Yes. Overhaul hired some Villains to attack me, faked my death and snatched me away.”

“And this child...It’s his?” “Yes. However he is innocent, he needs his mother.”

The police can forgive a faultless baby, so the next day you both are free to go.

Your picture was all over the news that day, although you never let the media catch a glimpse of your baby. He is innocent, unlike his father.

Your old apartment has already been cleared out, so you decide to go stay with your parents.

Your parents are overjoyed that you are still alive, less so when they noticed the little boy you have in your arms. They were taken back at first since they know this is his son, but he is a sweet grandchild who does not cry on most nights, so they warmed up to him eventually. They are retired, so you leave your son to their care as you resumed Hero duties at your old agency. You are grateful that your boss is still willing to take you back as a sidekick after your long absence.

Your old clothes can hardly fit, and you did not take any clothes when you left. So you did some shopping for you and your child. Blue suited him more then black, as you once suggested Kai. You are right, too bad you cannot make this remark to him.

To pick up the slack of sitting idly for the past year, you trained relentlessly. Often getting up before the sun rise and got back home after your son’s bedtime.

However you would spend your days off with him, scrolling him through the park, changing his diapers (Kai never let you do that, he said it is filthy).

Your friends all agree your son is adorable, but they will not touch him. They will come around, you comfort yourself.

Many newspapers and magazines want interviews with you, they eagerly want to know what happened to you in the past year. But you turned them all down. You want your son to have a peaceful upbringing, unbothered by the media.

You went to visit Eri often, brining her some schoolbooks and stuff animals. The doctors were afraid you might trigger her dark memories, but when she heard you are here, she demands to see you at once. She starts to call you “Sister” again after Overhaul is out of the picture. Eri also rambles about how these two kids bravely saved her-Lemillion and Deku, you never met them in person, but they sound like wonderful people.

It was after two months, you first thought about visiting Kai. He must be a mess right now, behind jail bars of Tartarus. So you requested a visit through the Commission.

“Chisaki, you have a visitor.” Who could have come to visit him? Expect you.

Even though you hate him with all of your heart, seeing him strapped to a chair without his arms still produced some sympathy in you.

“How is our son doing?” “Chisaki, he is my son. He will not live his life as the son of Overhaul, a villain.”

Then there is a minute of silence between the two of you. “You seem to be doing quite well in here, I got nothing to worry about. Gooday, Overhaul.” Words full of sarcasm and mockery. You signaled the guard, preparing to end the visitation early.

“Is this how you speak to your husband, fairy? Freedom has rotten you mind.”

“I am not your goddamn fairy, Chisaki. Those things do not exist. We are never married, so I am not your wife either. I hope you are happy in here because you are never getting out. I’m getting my life back, without you.” Tears slides down your cheeks, tears of joy this time. You want to shout those words for a long time, and man it feels good to spit it out.

“Am I really that bad?” He asks as you walk out.

Now that you give it some thought, Kai is not THAT terrible. He did kidnap, imprisoned, and made you have his son, but you were pampered. He never yelled or starve you. All he did is making threats on your quirk.

It was a normal day in your agency, and you are fulling out a report of a villain sighting before going out on patrols with your boss. Your boss suddenly requires your presence.

It is the two kids Eri keep telling you about. A tall muscular blonde and a short green hair boy. You welcomed them into your office.

“I am (hero name). How can I be of assistance today?”

“We are just here to thank you for your help.”

“But I wasn’t even there when you rescued Eri.”

“Eri said you cared for her and protected her from Overhaul. Without you, she might not even make it this far. Thank you.” They bowed.

“I should be thanking you two. Without you I might be still stuck with Chisaki in that damp basement.” You offered them refreshments, but they said they are in a hurry and left not long after.

Your son would live a normal life, grow up without knowing he is the son of an infamous villain.

Maybe he would have the Overhaul quirk, or your wind one, it does not matter much.

All that matters is that you would raise him well, as a normal little boy instead of the heir to a yakuza. He would grew up under your name, not the Chisaki name.

He won’t ever know about Overhaul.

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha overhaul #yandere bnha #kai chisaki #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul

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oureuphoria · 4 years

Text

Worst of You - JJK Final

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,834

Warnings: None but let me know if you find me.

Note: I’m so sorry for the really late update BUT I had to finish my paper first! Wow, let me just say I am very, very, thankful to have such amazing, wonderful people who read this fic and I love each and every single one of you so so so much. Thank you for reading and thank you for allowing me to share this with you. This is just the beginning and I have many ideas that are yet to hit paper so this will not be goodbye. Once again, thank you to everyone for reading and I love you all!

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

Jungkook promised himself he wouldn’t get sad over you. He tried so hard to stop himself from getting attached and yet here he was, 2 weeks later, unable to focus on a single thing at work. Jungkook spent his entire Saturday moping around his apartment, he recalled how he used to spend Saturday nights, clubbing and one-night-stands, but now none of that appealed to him. You had ruined Jungkook, now he couldn’t even look at a girl the way he used to because he always thought of you instead. On Sunday he was invited out with his brother’s family, his niece and nephew were constantly asking about you and Jungkook couldn’t help but grow sadder each time. He didn’t know why he missed you, or how he even could miss you when he swore to himself he wasn’t attached. It was a Monday and Jungkook was at work again, staring at the same paper for 20 minutes with an empty head. Mel approached him with a coffee. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook gratefully took the cup from her hand as she sat on the chair in front of his desk, where you used to sit. Jungkook scolded himself mentally for thinking of you but no matter how many times he did it, his mind would come back to you.

Mel felt bad for what she did, it was eating her alive and yet she knew if she told him he’d never forgiven her, especially since he lost Y/N. She was jealous, unaware of the fact that her love for him wasn’t as platonic as she thought it was. It never bothered her before because he was alone but when he wasn’t, all her emotions came cascading upon her as she let her jealousy overrule her rationality. Jealousy was a horrible emotion that caused people to do reckless things, Jungkook knew it, Mel knew it and back at your dorm, you knew it too.

“I’m so stupid! I screwed it all up just because I’m an insecure, jealous little bitch!” You were angrily throwing pillows around as you ranted to Jimin who just came into your room to borrow your laptop charger. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure if you apologize he will understand.” You fell back onto your bed, sighing. “I tried. I called, I messaged, I even went to the station but the receptionist said he didn’t want to see me.” He softly stroked your head as you pouted at the ceiling, he was grateful you stopped crying but your anger was more annoying than your tears. “Make a grand gesture or something, like they do in the movies. You know, with the whole rocks on windows thing and the poetic love letters.” You grabbed one of the pillows you haphazardly threw and aimed it at him. “Except, I’m not 15, this isn’t a movie and he lives in a penthouse; I can’t throw rocks that far up, Jimin!” He threw the pillow back at you and soon enough it became a pillow war.

“Wait!” Jimin’s hand stopped midway through the air. “I have an idea!” Jimin looked at you weirdly but put the pillow down to listen. “What if I reverse ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ and write a letter about all the reasons he should forgive me?” Jimin looked at you blankly, not catching on. “Writing on paper is literally the only thing I’m good at, Jimin!” He smiled before rushing you to get ready while he left the room. Once Jimin was outside, he silently prayed that the letter would work, post-break-up Y/N was the worst Y/N.

“I know he doesn’t want to see me but could you just give this to him-” “Y/N!” Mel’s voice startled you, causing you to drop the letter. You quickly picked it up though in the process you gave yourself a paper cut. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been 4 pages long. “Y/N, I have to apologize about something.” Mel had explained that she had lied to you, and even went further to explain everything you were suspicious about with Jungkook, even covering his fears about his mother. You spoke for about 20 minutes before she told you he was upstairs, at his desk, on his lunch break. Although what she had told you was a lot to take in, you found that the only thing you could think about then was apologizing to Jungkook. You took the letter and zoomed upstairs with Mel’s permission.

The second Jungkook saw you he felt his eyes poke out of his head. He wasn’t expecting to see you, especially not with a huge smile on your face.

“Before you yell at me and tell me to leave, let me explain. Throughout my entire life, the only safe place I had was my mind and I’ve grown to live in it sometimes and despite my unhealthy attachment to it, it hates me. I overthink a lot and whenever I do my mind runs off to the worst possible scenario and my mind turns into pure chaos. It’s not an excuse because it doesn’t justify me accusing you of something you didn’t do and I’m sorry that I didn’t come to you first but you have to know it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me but you must accept this apology letter as a sign of my extreme remorse. It contains all the reasons why I believe you should forgive me because I am very, very bad at talking-” before you could finish your rambling, Jungkook interrupted you.

“Y/N, I’m busy, I don’t have time to read your letter right now.” Your smile fell, but you were persistent. “It’s okay I can read it out to you!” He shook his head, picking up the remains of his lunch and throwing it into his bin. You began reading it but he stopped you again “You should go.” You frowned, getting upset because this wasn��t going to plan and you didn’t have a plan B. “But I still have 4 pages left…” You looked like you were going to cry and Jungkook wasn’t sure he could handle it before anything else happened though, Mel interrupted.

“I lied to Y/N.” You looked up at her, shocked and confused because you could almost swear she wasn’t standing there before. “I lied to her about where you were that Friday, that’s why she thought you were cheating.” Jungkook’s face looked mad but his eyes looked hurt. He was betrayed by the one person he thought he could trust, and at that moment, he couldn’t bear to look at either of you. He ignored her confession, stood up and went on his way. “Wales. Hurry up, we have shit to do.” The man quickly picked up racing after he and Mel winced at the sight. “Poor Wales, he’s going to have to deal with the short end of the stick.” Your eyes went to her face, she wasn’t worried at all. “Aren’t you worried he won’t forgive you?” She smiled down at you before saying something that left you perplexed. “I hope he doesn’t.” She walked off right after leaving you with nothing but your racing mind. You grabbed a post-it-note off his table and wrote in all caps ‘PLEASE READ!!’ With a smiley face that followed, you stuck it onto the letter and left it on his desk.

Jungkook said he wasn’t going to read it, he swore to himself he wouldn’t but how could he not when the note you left alone had him missing you like crazy. Fuck it. He thought, picking up the letter angrily. Each and every word made him miss you more and it wasn’t until he read the very last reason you’d written that he realized he needed to see you. He got up quickly, it was already after hours and now that he was corporal he could basically dismiss himself. He said his farewells to the chief and drove to you as fast as (legally) possible. He didn’t go into your dorm building, he parked in front of it and leaned on his car staring at the establishment with an overactive mind. What if you didn’t want to see him? Then what? Jungkook messaged you to go outside and you read it instantly, after a couple of minutes he was worried you weren’t going to come.

Eventually, your small frame squeezed through the tiny opening of the door you managed to open, he remembered you always complaining about how the door was too heavy. “Did you read it?” He smiled at how cute you were, your optimistic eyes clearly hoped for a happy ending. He nodded and the smile you had been fighting back was beaming on your face. “Y/N, I hated it.” Your smile dropped, your face significantly sadder. “Why? Was there a typo? I was rushing so-” “You got the last reason wrong.” You furrowed your eyebrows, you remember faintly that the last reason had simply been you confessing your love to him, you didn’t understand what was wrong.

Jungkook was fishing through the pockets of his coat. “You wrote ‘Reason number 10: I love you. I know you’ve heard me say it before and I know you’re not quite there but I feel like it is a pivotal reason because I think you’re unaware of just how much I love you. P.S. it’s a lot.’ You nodded in reply, you had indeed written that but you weren’t sure what was wrong with it. “Y/N, you wrote that I didn’t love you but you are so terribly wrong.” You felt as if your heart had stopped beating and you were impatiently waiting for him to spit it out. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t know why but from that very first interrogation, I knew I had to get to know you. I’m not sure how I fell in love with you. Maybe it was your weird obsession with those cheese balls from the café that you stared at more than you ate, or your clumsiness that had you adorably tripping all the time, or how excited you got over a good report grade, or your kind, sweet, heart that forgives more than it should. You forgave me every time I screwed up and yet you didn’t expect anything from me. It’s been rough and we’ve both screwed up a lot, although I will admit it was mostly me, I realized that I would much rather exhaust myself fighting for you than rest with someone else.”

“That’s not fair!” Your voice broke in the middle of the sentence because you had started crying. Jungkook was quick to pull you into a hug. “No, baby, don’t cry. What’s not fair?” You spoke into his chest and although it was muffled it was still coherent. “How are you so good at talking?” He let out a chuckle but stopped laughing when you forced yourself out of his arms and started rubbing your cheek. “What’s wrong?” “Your vest hurt my face.” He apologized through laughter which you found mocking and he roughly pinched the cheek you were trying to soothe and you angrily slapped his hand away. “I missed you, princess.” “Well, I miss not having sore cheeks, you bully!” You were genuinely mad because the man you loved just told you he loved you back and all you could think about was how much your cheek hurt.

“But you promised!” You whined while pulling his unresponsive body back and forth. “Y/N, no.” He pulled you off of him out of annoyance but you couldn’t back down, not with so much at stake. “You promised that if I didn’t rant to you about the shows I was watching for a whole month then you would watch The Office with me!” Jungkook slowly put his laptop down on the coffee table and turned to you, holding both of your hands in his. “Baby, this may come as a shock to you but, I lied.” You sighed in frustration before angrily storming off to your room. Jungkook picked up his laptop to continuing working. Soon after he began to grow afraid of the fact that you may actually be mad at him so he put his laptop back onto the coffee table and slowly made his way to his room, he opened the door ever so slowly and peaked in to see you wrapped up in a blanket, frowning as you watched The Office on your TV.

Jungkook smiled and opened the door completely, violently unwrapping you from your self induced blanket burrito causing you to roll out off of the bed. “Oh shit, sorry.” You didn’t say a word, still evidently mad at him. “The silent treatment, over this?” Jungkook gestured at the screen looking unimpressed. “Excuse me, The Office is one of the most iconic sit-coms to ever be televised in the existence of sit-coms, you’re just uncultured.” Jungkook was having a dilemma, was he supposed to be glad you were speaking to him again or be mad over the fact that you had called him uncultured. “I just don’t understand the hype around sit-coms it’s basically the same situation over and over with different variables-” You slapped your hand onto his mouth to shut him up. “You already ruined Brooklyn 99 for me, keep this to yourself.”

After an entire year of being together, your dynamic was still yet to change. You both still acted like 12-year-old frenemies and madly in love adults simultaneously and you wouldn’t trade it for the world but in moments like such, the urge to strangle him was unbearable. “See this is why we can’t have nice things, Kook.” You folded your arms as you laid back onto the bed but Jungkook was committed to ensuring you didn’t go to bed angry. After several minutes of tense silence, the clock hit midnight and Jungkook whispered into your ear, “happy birthday, Y/N.” You tried to fight back a smile but you couldn’t no matter how hard you tried. You turned to him, smiling bitterly before whispering back, “Happy Anniversary, Jungkook.”

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Janus Bullard: Mistakes

Mistakes, big or small, tend to stack up. Does Janus manage to fix theirs before the damage gets too big?

Masterlist

The rest of the year, Virgil was quiet. Distant. Janus realized they’d done the controlling thing again and gave him space. It was hard though. They’d sent texts and get no reply and spent hours wondering if they should text again or if that was pushing too hard. Their comfort was that Virgil still met them at the bus stop and ate lunch with them. That meant he just needed some more time, right? Maybe he was just very focused on finals? They wondered if they should take the first step. Apologize for being harsh… but they didn’t want to push Virgil even more if he was already this upset with them. So time went on, finals came and went and Janus left on the end of year trip once more. They considered staying home, but they didn’t want to explain to their parents what happened last time. And besides, other than the terrible company, they’d had fun on that first trip. They deserved a reward for working so hard for good grades. And maybe some distance for a week was what Virgil needed to be ready to talk. And in the end, Janus was glad they went.

The guy with the gay cousin wasn’t there this year. In his stead there was a boy with a little pride flag hanging from his luggage. He introduced himself as George, specified his pronouns as he/him and confirmed he was gay. He told them all that he understood if they felt uncomfortable getting dressed and stuff with him in the room, so he offered to talk to their chaperones about arranging alternatives to make it so everyone felt at peace. Turns out, Janus wasn’t the only one who’d felt like they’d had to agree with the homophobe of last year. The boys Janus recognized from back then all seemed to be okay with it, though they were all apprehensive to be the first to say something. So Janus decided to be brave. “Hi, Janus. He/him for me. And I don’t care where you sleep,” they told him. They were not comfortable coming out with they/them pronouns. Not to mention the fact that they still wanted Virgil to be the first to know. After they greeted George, the other boys followed. One even revealed they were ace. They joked and teased, but all in good fun. Most of those of last year expressed their relieve and how bad they’d felt about how they acted last year. How afraid they’d all been to speak out. The week was great. They did lots of cool stuff and George was a fun guy. And rather handsome. On the final night they got to sleep under the stars. Janus and George stayed up the latest. Staring up at the stares while sitting at the slowly dying campfire. The chaperones had told them to make sure to douse the fire before going to bed. Janus had found themself talking to George a lot over the week. They had told him about Virgil and their parents and uncle Lo. Complained about Castile… “You’re gay too aren’t you?” he suddenly observed. Janus had been telling him about the concert they’d gone to with Virgil before High school started. “Wh… What makes you say that?” they asked shocked that he’d figured it out. “Well you clearly think your friend and this ‘Castile’ are hot. And I have noticed you checking me out…” suddenly George stopped himself. “Sorry, I get it if you aren’t ready to tell anyone… Blame the sleepy brain.” Janus tensed. Were they that obvious? But as they thought about it they relaxed. They might as well admit it. “I… Want to tell him… Virgil I mean… I’m just…” “Scared of rejection?” George guessed. “No. I mean ,yes a little, but not in the ‘he doesn’t feel the same’ way,” they admitted. George nodded in understanding. “He sounds like a cool guy though. And if he rejects you over who you like. Then you’re probably better off without him in your life anyway.” Janus curled in on themself. “I know he’d accept it… But what if things get weird?” “Then you two figure it out. You’ve known each other since diapers right?” “I guess…” Janus nodded. George scooted closer and gave them a supportive sideways hug. “Then it’s something worth fighting for,” he smiled. Janus looked back at him. He hadn’t been this close to another boy in ages. “Can I…?” they didn’t get a chance to finish. “Oh, absolutely,” George smiled. So Janus took hold of the boy’s face and kissed him. It was nice. A strange sort of relief even. To finally act on attraction instead of trying to repress it. As a bonus, they were Janus right now. So there was no guilt about being deceptive. It was a summer fling. Neither expected anything romantic to come from it. Just two guys making out before never seeing each other again. The next day Janus waved George goodbye at the train station promising to take his advice. They had a plan. When they got off the bus they hurried to Virgil’s house. They needed to see him and apologize for what happened at school. Not just with the electives. But everything. Then they’d stop distancing themselves. Allow for hugs and playful shoves and the likes once more. And then… Then they’d come out.

When the door opened however, they were met with a stranger. It was a kind faced man. Big eyes framed with a pair of glasses took them in curiously, gaze lingering briefly on their marks, before focusing on their eyes. “Oh, hya kiddo,” the man smiled. “You must be looking for Virgil!” Janus felt lost. Who was this? Where was uncle Lo? Or Virgil? The answer to the first question luckily soon joined the stranger in the doorway. Logan noticed Janus and offered them a familiar patient smile as he wrapped an arm around the stranger’s waist. What in the world…? “Janus. It’s been a long time. How are you? Had a good time at camp?” he greeted warmly. Despite the unexpected behavior, the implications of which refused to register in Janus’ mind at the moment, hearing that steady, welcoming voice, felt like coming home. Uncle Lo had a reassuring presence. One that had been missing from Janus’ life for far too long. They smiled up at the older man. “Hi, uncle Lo. I… I guess it has been a while…” Trying not to be too clingy, they had stopped spending time with Virgil at either of their houses at some point. “Um camp was good. I did miss Virgil though…” Their eyes went from studying the friendly stranger to looking past them to the staircase, expecting Virgil to appear any moment, and back to the stranger. Luckily Uncle Lo was quick to make introductions. “Patton, this is Janus. He’s been our neighbor ever since we moved to town. He and Virgil practically grew up as brothers.” Hearing uncle Lo say that made Janus feel a little guilty. They hadn’t been ‘practically a brother’ to Virgil lately. Too cowardly to apologize or to be honest with him. But they were determined to be better. “Janus, may I officially introduce you to my partner, Patton Bonaire?” Uncle Lo continued, giving the man, Patton, a kiss on the lips. Clearly comfortable with the PDA. Patton giggled at the act of affection, and possibly Janus’ shocked reaction. Partner. The kiss… Uncle Lo was in a romantic relationship? Sure the body language had suggested something like that but… They weren’t even nervous about it. Since when? “Logie! Virgil would die of embarrassment if he were here,” Patton scolded Uncle Lo playfully. “Well, good. He’s long overdue for some.” Uncle Lo looking mischievous was not something they expected to find when returning home. Janus was still trying to unpack all of that when uncle Lo spoke again. “Virgil left on a camp of his own this morning. He should be back next Sunday.” What? “Oh… He never mentioned anything about that…” Or this. Why had Virgil hidden all this? Suddenly Janus thought back to the times Virgil had brought up the LGBTQ+ community and they’d gotten defensive. Had he tried to tell them about his dad’s boyfriend all those times? Or at least about his dad’s preferences… A comforting hand on their shoulder pulled them out of their worries. “It was a very last minute decision. We were lucky to fit him in.” Oh, well so… Maybe Virgil hadn’t consciously kept this trip from them then. “Wanna join us for a cup of tea kiddo?” Patton offered all of a sudden. He seemed like a very kind man. Good. Uncle Lo deserved that in their life. And Virgil too, for that matter “I don't want to intrude…” Janus argued. Not sure how long they could talk with uncle Lo without revealing how much they’d grown out of touch with Virgil. They didn’t want to disappoint him. “Nonsense Janus. You are always more than welcome here.” The words were a much needed reminder. Right. Uncle Lo considered them and their parents close to family. He’d always been there with advice and support. They’d had thanksgiving dinner together every year. How had Janus allowed so much time to pass since last they spoke to him? Still they shook their head. They hadn’t seen Patton around the house before now and if Virgil was out, this was likely their first chance to spend some one on one time together. They knew better than to intrude. “I just came by to say hi…” Then something occurred to them. If uncle Lo was gay. And Virgil knew he was with Patton, which seemed to be the case, then he might know... “Can I ask you something kind of personal? “ they asked before they could change their mind. “Of course,” Logan nodded. “Should I go?” Patton added already taking a step back. “No, it's fine…” He might be able to help too. “I just wanted to know… aren't you ever afraid what people say about… you being different?” they asked purposefully moving their hand towards their birthmarks. They didn’t want it to be too obvious. When they came out, they’d realize what this was really about. For now they could think that Janus just meant their appearance. The couple exchanged a glance. Patton spoke first. "Well, there will always be people who judge you. No matter what. I mean, I adore dad jokes and I like wearing pastels and cute onesies on the weekends. I'm sure there are plenty people who judge me for that. But I like it. It makes me happy." ‘But it makes me happy,’ Virgil’s voice echoed through their memory. Oh, they had really messed up. Patton giggled as uncle Lo kissed their temple. “And I love you for that,” their honorary uncle muttered in a gentle and sweet voice they weren’t used to hearing from him. Then he turned his attention back to Janus. "We can't figuratively bend over backwards to fit the norm of the Karens in this world. They don't have to live your life. You do. And denying who you are is no way to live it. Especially when it comes to things you can't help." Uncle Lo was talking so earnest and it made so much sense, as he tended to do. There was one other thing that worried them though. They nodded slowly, trying to play it off as if they were just curious at this point. "But what about the people you want to stay around... I mean, weren't you worried how Virgil would react?" To their surprise this question was met with careless laughter from both men. "Aside from the fact that Virgil has known I'm gay for almost 10 years, he was the one to suggest me and Patton should go out together." Janus’ mind went blank. Virgil… Had set his dad up? Sure Janus remembered Virgil’s tendency to play match maker when they were little. He’d once suggested to set Janus up with one of the girls in their class way back in middle school. An endeavor they now knew was doomed to fail from the start. But this meant that Virgil really was comfortable with it. That he wasn’t just an Ally in theory. He’d already shown he didn’t mind different gender labels… Janus felt their heart race. So all this time… If they’d come out when they’d figured themselves out… They were such an idiot. All this wasted time. The tension the worries. Uncle Logan’s face softened, clearly sensing the inner turmoil in Janus. "Virgil probably didn't want to out me without my permission. And asking your father such a question... it is rather awkward I would say.” That was not what Janus had been thinking about. And he was sure that respecting his father’s privacy was not the only reason Virgil had been hesitant. Janus had their answers now though. And they’d already bothered their uncle and his partner more than enough. They nodded. “Yes, you are probably right… I’ll see him when he gets back then. Have a nice evening,” they bid before heading to his house.

The end of the week came. Janice got dressed in a cute outfit hidden under a long sweater, they planned to take off once they had privacy in Virgil’s room and had properly apologized and explained themself. Then they’d let Virgil see them as Janice and explain the fact that they were aromatic to him. It had to be tonight. Janice’s parents had reminded them they’d travel to Europe for a wedding turned family trip. Janice’s parents had immigrated to America from France before Janus was born. Which meant that they only saw their family in person for special occasions, like their cousin’s wedding. And when they did they made sure to visit and catch up with both sides of the family tree. So Janice had to tell Virgil now, or wait until they were back in august. They really wanted to tell him now. That way their friend would have time to think over their apology and their confession and they could talk more about it when they returned. They saw Virgil arrive and leave with his dad almost immediately. They might be going out to catch up? It was fine. Janice hadn’t expected to talk to Virgil the second he got home anyway. So after dinner that night they went over to the neighbor’s house and rang the bell. “Oh… Janus. What brings you here?” Uncle Logan asked surprised. It was… Odd. He seemed almost tense… Maybe Virgil hadn’t had a good time at camp? They’d ask about it later. “Hi, uncle Lo. I came by to say hi to Virgil. If that’s alright?” they asked carefully. Uncle Lo hesitated. “I’m sorry Janus. But Virgil went straight to his room after dinner. Camp was pretty exhausting apparently.” Janice nodded. They understood. “Oh… Ok. Tell him I wanted to say hi. We’ll be leaving to visit family in France early in the morning. We won’t be back until August. I’ll see him after. Have a good evening,” they told him disappointedly. Of course. Of course after all the missed chances, now that they finally got their act together, the world was conspiring against them. Because even after they got back it seemed like Virgil was always out when they tried to reach him. Janus regularly took out their phone and almost texted him to ask if he could keep a few minutes free for them. But they couldn’t figure out a way to ask that didn’t seem controlling or clingy. When had they forgotten how to ask something like a normal person? Or were they overthinking it?

In the end, the solution to their problem came through an announcement from the school on the last day of summer. Assembly day. They didn’t even read the full announcement. Janus never skipped, but if there was one day they would consider it, it was assembly days. In this case it meant that they could meet Virgil and talk all day if that was what it took. They sent Virgil a text right away. ‘Skipping assembly. Meet me @ <3 swings 9am?’ There, not too forceful, not too clingy. Just one friend asking another to hang out at their favorite spot in the neighborhood. It was called the lovers swings by most people because it was secluded and supposedly romantic. People rarely came there. It was a perfect place to have a private conversation. Virgil didn’t answer, but that usually meant he agreed… Still Janus wondered all day if they should text Virgil to confirm their plans. No. Virgil had read the text. So he’d be there. No need to be pushy when you are going to apologize for just that. The next day they woke up and knew right away, it was a Janice day again. Which meant that once again they had a chance to introduce Virgil to that part of themselves face to face. They did their nails, dressed up cute, hid it with a long sweater and let their hair down. After breakfast they packed their makeup and headed to the swings. Once there they applied it as best they could while looking in a pocket mirror. They were quite happy with the result. They were ready to show Virgil who they were. But Virgil didn’t come.

Eventually they had to accept that Virgil hadn’t replied because he hadn’t planned on coming and probably didn’t want Janice to be difficult about it… That was fair. They probably deserved as much after how they’d acted the past two years. They took out a sponge and make up remover and got rid of the most obvious stuff before heading to school. They might catch Virgil at lunch and get him to listen to the apology at least. The rest could wait for a little longer… But when they arrived at the cafeteria, they spotted Virgil, talking to Castile. Virgil had his back turned towards Janice. Castile on the other hand was in full view. Smiling awkwardly, fidgeting… What was going on? What were they talking about…? They could feel a storm of emotion warring inside them. All trying to get the upper hand. Attraction for the two boys he was looking at, anger, jealousy and fear. They tried to get a hold of them, to push it down. Suddenly they felt something snap, as if something had given out under their weight, but they weren’t falling. They blinked and then the ceiling lamp was on the ground. Virgil and Castile a few feet away from it. What just happened? How… Had… Had they done that somehow? Their eyes took in the figures laying on top of one another. Watched as they got up. They let out a sigh of relief as they saw they seemed unharmed and took off. Before anyone could spot them. Not realizing someone already had. That evening, when they finally calmed down they sent out a text. “Sry bout what happened 2day. Will U B @ schl 2mrw?” There, simple and to the point. They were called down for dinner, which saved them the torture of staring at a screen, waiting for a reply. When they headed back to their room a bit later, they got a text. “M fine thx. C U there.” Janice felt relief flood them. Finally, an end to the radio silence. It made them feel a bit better about tomorrow. Tomorrow they’d tell Virgil everything… Or, they thought back to what happened in the cafeteria… almost everything.

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tiny bit of background prinxiety #kissing #trans #lgbtq+#hero au #genderfluid #they/them

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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Text

Already Home

((Angsty one-shot time. Good luck, y’all. This is to Already Home by A Great Big World.))

...

You say

Jack was a goddamn idiot.

For getting on that stupid train, for crossing the country for someone who didn’t know he existed, for wanting Santa Fe so badly in the first place when he’d never seen so much as a picture of it outside his mother’s stories.

Love is what you put into it

His hands had been numb opening that letter, addressed to Anita Kelly-Sullivan. The boy who delivered had been paid enough that he’d looked everywhere, asking all around until he found out that Anita was dead, but her best friend owned a theatre on the Upper East Side. Her best friend told him that Anita was dead, but she’d had a son. Anita was dead, but her son worked as a Newsie and lived at the Duane Street Lodging House.

You say

Anita Kelly-Sullivan. A woman who’d moved to New York to become a dancer, but hurt her leg before she ever made it big. Who’d dreamed of owning a theatre with her best friend, but never recovered in time to get it.

Jack had never told anyone about her. The others probably assumed he didn’t remember his parents, the way Race, Smalls, and Crutchie only had a few vague memories of theirs.

Until the day when Davey walked in on him with that letter, completely in shock.

He’d wordlessly handed the letter to his lover, with only a brief explanation.

“My grandfather is dyin’. He spent his last dollar to send this letter for my mama.”

That I’m losing my will

“I have to go, Davey.”

Davey had thought it was a bad idea. The letter had taken a few days to even get to New York, and it had taken that boy weeks to find Jack when it did.

Jack’s grandfather didn’t know he existed. Anita Kelly had sent one last letter home when she got married, and never been able to afford to write to her father again after that.

Jack had always assumed, from the way his mama talked, that he was already dead.

That man was the one from the stories. The vaquero, the cowboy, Jack had always wanted to be.

Maybe it wasn’t smart to cross the country to say goodbye to someone who didn’t know he existed, but Jack still felt like he had to.

Don’t you know that you’re all that I think about

Davey’s face had said that he didn’t approve, but he said goodbye at the train station with the others as if they were friends. In the Lodging House beforehand, he said goodbye with a kiss.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Jack wasn’t looking for a family or home anymore. Just closure. His mother had never gotten to say goodbye to her father, so he would for her. Then he’d come right home.

You make up a half of the whole

It had still hurt to watch Davey’s face get smaller and smaller from that train.

You say

The train ride wasn’t how Jack had always imagined it, but he guessed he should have expected that.

All he kept thinking about was how though he didn’t say it, Davey’s face had told what he was really thinking.

About how Jack was leaving him.

That it’s hard to commit to it

Jack knew that the others had a hard time believing him that he was really over that fantasy of Santa Fe. He saw the look on Race’s face when he looked at a western through a store window, the uncertainty whenever Crutchie called him ‘Cowboy.’ They were still scared that Jack would just pack up and leave them. Not that he could blame them.

You say

He saw now that they were his family. They were his home. He would never leave them without plans to come back.

He would never leave Davey.

Still, Davey’s words in their private goodbye stuck with him, replaying all through the train ride.

“I know you have to go. I know how hard it is for you to want to stay in one place, and... I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Jack wished he could tell him how homesick he was from the second the train pulled out of the station.

That it’s hard standing still

Santa Fe was hotter than he was expecting.

Jack probably should have seen that coming. His mama had always said that he couldn’t imagine how hot New Mexico summers were, and September was the tail end of it.

He’d asked for directions, gone to the address on the letter, and found a middle-aged woman who looked too much like his mother sweeping the porch.

She’d asked him in English what he was doing there.

It took Jack a few seconds to answer, and when he did, it was in shaky, slightly-panicked Spanish.

“You sent a letter to New York for Anita Kelly-Sullivan. Only... only she’s... I... my name is Jack. Jack Kelly. She never got to tell you about me.”

The woman had gaped at him, clearly connecting the dots, doing the math on how old he was, scanning his face, then shakily responded.

“I... you’re Anita’s boy?”

Jack nodded, “She died when I was 5. I’m sorry.”

The woman had closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then given him a sad smile, “I guess I’m your Aunt Sophia. I’m so sorry. You’re too late.”

It turned out that Jack’s grandfather was already dead, and while Sophia would have been happy to have him stay, she was understanding when he said he had a family to go back to. If anything, she seemed happy that Jack wasn’t alone, that he’d had someone after his mom died.

Don’t you know that I spend all my nights

So, Jack gave his Aunt Sophia Medda’s address so she could write if she wanted, filled her in on his mother’s accident, how their family had fallen into poverty after they had him, and how she’d gotten sick after her husband went to prison. He was sorry he didn’t have more to give her, but just knowing for sure what had happened to her sister seemed to be enough.

Knowing that he had an aunt out west... well, it was more than enough for Jack.

Counting backwards the days till I’m home

It wasn’t until he got to the train station that he realized he didn’t have enough to get back to New York.

If only New York wasn’t so far away

Jack was stuck in Santa Fe. He should have listened to Davey.

I promise this city won’t get in our way

The man working at the station said Jack could get maybe halfway, but unless he wanted to be stranded somewhere in Missouri, he shouldn’t get on a train.

When you’re scared and alone

God, Davey and the others were going to think he just left them.

So, instead of letting them believe that, Jack did what he did have enough money for; he sent a letter. His handwriting was terrible, made worse by anger and fear, but he sent it, hoping they would understand.

Just know that I’m already home

Sophia was surprised when he showed back up on her doorstep, but willing to let him stay with her until he had enough money to go.

Jack just had to hope he could find a job in the morning.

...

I say

Davey was trying not to be worried. After all, maybe Jack had just lost track of time catching up with his family and missed the train. There would be another tonight. No need to jump to conclusions when half the Lodging House was already panicking.

Jack hadn’t been on the train they expected him back on.

That we’re right in the heart of it

“Davey!”

Davey shook himself out of his thoughts as the door downstairs banged. Race, Romeo, and Crutchie were running up to him, what looked like a letter in their hands.

“It’s from Jack,” Crutchie said grimly.

“It’s bad,” Romeo added.

A love only we understand

Scenarios raced through Davey’s head about how Jack found his blood family and no longer wanted his chosen one, he was staying in Santa Fe, he was abandoning them but he pushed those aside to read the letter.

Jack was not abandoning them for Santa Fe. He was stuck, and didn’t have enough money to get back.

I’ll come home as soon as I can. Until I have enough money, I’m staying with my aunt. Don’t worry about me, any of you. Especially you, Davey. Tell Race not to try to teach anyone to swim this year. Dave, you don’t wanna know what happened last time. I miss you all, but with luck, I’ll be home soon. Love, Jack

That was what the last paragraph of the letter said, and Davey knew it was as close as he could get to safely telling him he loved him, but that wasn’t the part he was worried about.

I will bend every light in this city

Jack wrote messy normally, but he only wrote this messy when he was upset—scared or angry.

He was worried he wouldn’t be able to get home, and Davey wasn’t about to let that happen.

And make sure they’re shining on you

“How many of the others would be willing to work extra to send Jack money to get home?”

“I will,” Race said firmly.

“I think everyone will,” Crutchie admitted, fidgeting with the grip of his crutch.

If only New York wasn’t so far away

Davey folded up the letter, putting it in his pocket.

I promise this city won’t get in our way

“We’re gonna bring him home,” he told the others firmly, “If we all work together, we can do it.”

And when you’re scared and alone, just know that I’m already home

...

“So, Racetrack and Albert are the ones who cause trouble?” Sophia asked with a laugh.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed, “And sometimes Crutchie and Romeo, too. And they’re a handful, but at least I can tell when something’s bothering one of them. It’s the quiet ones I need to keep an eye on.”

“You have a lot of friends,” she noted.

“I do.”

Jack had been stuck in Santa Fe for a month now, saving what he could, but he also had to help Sophia pay for food, now that he was living with her.

His aunt smiled at him, “You’re so much like Anita, you know. She had a lot of friends, too. Such a big heart. I can see you got that from her.”

Jack snorted, “Well, I didn’t get it from my father.”

When life takes its own course

He still didn’t like to think about that man. Jack’s mama had deserved the best husband in the world, and instead, she’d gotten Francis Sullivan, a man who’d let a cruel world turn him cruel, too, instead of wanting to make it better.

Jack had sworn never to be like him. That was why he’d taken his mother’s maiden name, using the middle name she’d always called him by as his first. He’d decided to carry her legacy instead of his father’s.

He’d told Davey that just before leaving. He wondered what Davey was doing now, if he was back in school yet or if he’d even kept with the newsies without Jack there.

He really hoped so. Davey needed not to be alone and the others needed someone to take care of them until he got home.

“You want to know something else about your mama?”

Jack nodded eagerly. In the last month, he’d already learned more about his mother than he’d remembered on his own.

“She could never hide her feelings from me,” Sophia said simply, “When she was happy, or sad, or angry... or when she was in love.”

Jack froze.

He really liked Sophia. And he knew that the west was somewhat safer than New York for people like him, if only a little, but he wasn’t sure if his aunt was one of the people who didn’t care who other people loved. After all, she did go to church every Sunday and all that.

“You told me about your friend, Katherine,” she said, “The reporter. Is it her?”

Judging by her tone, she didn’t really think it was Katherine. Crap.

“Uh, no,” Jack responded, “I did court Kath for a while, but we broke up.”

“That girl, Sarah, then? Or was it Smalls? I can’t keep all of your friends’ nicknames straight.”

Jack was now regretting telling her about each and every one of his friends.

Because though he hadn’t told her about his relationship, he had told her about Davey.

Sophia smiled, “It’s not a girl at all, is it?”

Judging her reaction as safe as Esther and Mayer’s had been, Jack slowly shook his head.

Sometimes we just don’t get to choose

“Did you know that your grandfather had a male partner when he was young?”

“What?!”

Sophia laughed, “Many cowboys did. Not many women out west in those days, and some of them would have preferred men, even if there were. Unfortunately, Papa’s partner died young, but if he hadn’t, Papa might not have ever fallen in love with your grandmother.”

Jack was still wrapping his head around that information when his aunt spoke again.

“You must miss him.”

I’d rather be there next to you

He managed to nod, “I do. A lot.”

“Well, I hope I get to meet this man of yours someday. Which one is he?”

“Davey.”

Promise you’ll wait for me

...

Wait for me

“Damn it,” Davey swore.

Everyone had been slinging nearly twice as many papes as they usually did, Race was being more careful with betting, and even Kath had chipped in as much as she could spare since her father kicked her out. They were saving every little bit they could to send to Jack, but they barely had enough to send a letter, let alone any money in it.

It was nearly November. Which meant Davey had to choose between sending what they had to Jack or putting it toward keeping everyone alive through the winter.

Jack would know what choice to make, but he wasn’t here.

Wait till I’m home

As of now, they could pay for a letter to Santa Fe, but they’d only be able to put a couple dollars in it. Nowhere near enough for a train ticket.

“I could move out of my apartment,” Kath offered, “Staying in the Lodging House would be cheaper. I could—“

“No, Kath,” Davey mumbled, “Kloppman’s reluctant to let Smalls and Sniper stay, and they’ve been here since they were Littles. You’re a full grown woman.”

“To get Jack home, I bet I could convince him to—“

“We don’t have a bunk to spare, anyway.”

Kath shut up, still looking like she was thinking hard.

She’d already done so much for them, putting every cent she earned that didn’t need to be spent on rent or food toward bringing Jack home. She’d been taking every story available lately, from big articles like she usually took to the kind of flower show reviews she hated. And all of this was especially notable on the count that as a woman, Kath didn’t make as much as most reporters, anyway.

“Kath, you’ve done more than enough,” Davey muttered, “Winter’s coming up, and now that you’re out of your dad’s house, it’s going to be hard on you, too.”

Kath shrugged, “My reporter salary is more than most of you newsies make combined.”

“That don’t mean you can afford to be careless with it,” Davey insisted, “Kath, you’re gonna have to save up to buy yourself some real winter clothes. Less newspapers sold in colder months means less income for you, too.”

The look on her face said that she’d already thought of that, and had been planning on helping, anyway.

“I miss him,” she said finally, “And I’m worried. We haven’t heard from him in two months.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Kath sighed, “So... what are we gonna do? Save for winter, or keep saving for Jack?”

Davey really hated this choice, but he knew what he had to choose.

All I had was this feeling inside of me

“Romeo can barely fit into his shoes,” he mumbled, “Finch needs a new shirt. And that’s not even taking into account all the new kids who are gonna come ‘cause they lost parents to cold or sickness.”

Kath nodded grimly, “It’s what Jack would do.”

“I know,” Davey admitted.

The only thing I have ever known

...

If only New York wasn’t so far away

Santa Fe wasn’t even cold in winter, which made Jack feel strangely guilty. It made him think more of his kids, of Kath, Sarah, and especially of Davey, and how they had to be nearly freezing to death up in New York.

“I’m worried about them,” he admitted to Sophia.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, Jack.”

He knew better than her that some of them probably wouldn’t be, and he wasn’t even close to having enough to go to them.

He hoped the flu didn’t come through too bad this year. They’d lost kids to it in the past.

The only thing worse than watching a kid die would be losing one and not being there for them in the end, not being able to even try to ease their pain.

Oh, God, Jack hoped Davey, Crutchie, and Race were handling things.

...

I will be there every step of the way

Davey swore under his breath as he took a step out of the bunk room for a five second break.

They didn’t know who had brought the flu home, but it was bad. Half the Lodging House was down, including Race and Crutchie. Davey was the only leader still standing.

Well, besides Katherine, technically, but they weren’t letting her in the house.

They had some medicine, bought with the money they were going to use to bring Jack home, but they couldn’t afford to give it to everyone; just the really bad cases. The cases that looked like somebody was about to die.

God, if Jack had been doing this every winter since he was 14, Davey was amazed he was still sane.

“You alright, kid?” Kloppman asked.

Davey nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kloppman raised an eyebrow, “That’s what Jack always used to say.”

“Especially when he wasn’t,” Davey mumbled, “I know. Fine. I’m not fine. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

“Bottlin’ it up never helps. I know Jack leavin’, even when it was temporary, hurt you more than the others. I know what he means to you.”

A smile flickered across Davey’s face, half-delirious. He’d always suspected Kloppman knew about them, and judging by the tone of his voice, he definitely did.

“Kid, it’s okay to miss him.”

“I do miss him. Every minute. But he’s not the one who needs me right now.”

Davey took a deep breath, grabbing a few handkerchiefs off the drying line, and headed back for the bunks full of sick kids.

“Hey, Davey?”

Davey stopped, “Yeah?”

“Thanks. For takin’ care of the boys while Jack’s gone.”

“No problem.”

Davey couldn’t imagine not taking care of them when they clearly needed him.

They needed Jack, in reality, but he would have to do for now.

God, he barely could. Especially when he needed Jack, too.

...

And when you’re scared and alone

Spring coming in Santa Fe wasn’t as noticeable as it was in New York.

Counting back the days, Jack realized that he’d been there for almost six months.

He’d been in his mother’s birthplace, his childhood fantasy, for six months.

Shit. He’d been trying not to think about it. How long he’d been gone. How different his family must be and how much they must miss him.

All he did was think about them. His brothers and sisters. The only family he’d ever known. His lover, Davey, that wonderful boy waiting for him back home.

Hopefully still waiting for him. If Davey had moved on by now, Jack wouldn’t blame him.

God, how had he taken so long to realize that they were the family he’d been looking for?

Why was he just realizing now that Davey was his Santa Fe?

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Sophia was standing on the porch behind him, and Jack had a sudden realization that from his new job to the house he was staying in with his aunt, he hadn’t spoken English in months.

He’d always loved his mama’s language. Loved speaking it with Jojo or whoever else happened to be around who understood.

He still loved it. Honestly, Jack couldn’t remember feeling as close to his mother as he did here.

But she’d been gone a long time, and he had more people he loved now still alive back in New York.

As hard as he’d tried, Davey had never been able to get Spanish. Jack missed laughing at his terrible pronunciation, then just switching to English and spending the whole night talking between kisses.

“I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout him,” he mumbled.

“I’m sure he’s thinking of you, too,” Sophia said.

Jack hoped Davey wasn’t feeling as lonely as he was right now, clinging to memories and missing the person who had become the embodiment of his dreams.

Davey wasn’t Santa Fe. He was New York.

He was Jack’s home.

Just know that I’m already home

...

Davey stared off in the direction of the train station on the first sunny day of the season.

It had been over six months since he last saw Jack Kelly.

They hadn’t lost anybody this winter, but it had come close. Now, the weather was starting to warm up, and Davey was debating whether or not to start saving for a train ticket again or not.

He was sure if Jack was still alive, he was doing everything he could to get home. He could use all the help he could get.

But on the other hand, after how close they had come to losing Crutchie, to losing Smalls and Blink, Davey wasn’t sure they shouldn’t just start saving up for next winter.

Still, he stared towards the train station. He still had dreams that he’d see a familiar silhouette coming home from there sometimes.

“Wanna go sell down there?” Crutchie asked.

They were selling together today. Les was selling with Mush.

He just shrugged, “If you want to.”

Davey was finding it hard to show enthusiasm for anything lately. He was getting to be nearly as good a liar as Jack, just smiling and joking around to hawk papers.

“He’s comin’ home. As soon as he can. Ya know that, right?”

“You don’t have to put on a happy face for me, Crutchie. I know you miss him as much as I do.”

Crutchie took a deep breath, “Yeah. Yeah, I mean, of course I do. He’s my brother, blood be damned. And we both know Race runs away to Sheepshead to hide how he does, too.”

The three of them were messes, weren’t they, desperately trying to keep the others from losing hope? Especially when they were the ones breaking the most from this.

Davey tossed an arm around his friend’s shoulders and squeezed, “Kath’s got a front page story again today. Let’s sell a ton for her.”

Crutchie grinned, elbowing him, “Of course. Bet I can sell more’n you.”

“In your dreams, Morris.”

His laugh sounded fake, but Davey didn’t let himself think about it.

One day, someone would come home from the train station.

Until then, Davey would make sure home was still there for him.

With one last glance towards the station, Davey turned and headed towards his and Crutchie’s selling spot.

Just know that I’m already home

Part 2 here!

#newsies #javid #javey #angst #jack x davey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #david davey jacobs #songfic #already home #violet’s writing

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years

Note

What if like Harry was rude to YN (they aren't dating) and she just feels really sad and stops hanging out with him and then he feels bad

YN’s a hard person to upset.

She’s very independent and strong-willed, she’s tough and doesn’t show any weaknesses, she’s very level-headed with situations and she doesn’t let things bother her like they would other people so, to upset her and for her to take any action in proving that she was sad by what was said, Harry would have had to have said something that was very personal to her.

He’s not shallow so I don’t think he’d go for her looks and he’s not ignorant to be rude about her ways of life or what she chooses to support and protest so it really would have to be something that she feels strongly about, something that she sees as important, something that he used against her to try and entice a laugh out of their friends.

The day it happens, her day had gone from bad to terrible.

She woke up late and missed the breakfast times at her local bakery, she had a short but sweet argument with her agent over something work-related that she could get round to in her own time, her parents demanded she travelled back to home so they could spend time with her at the weekend, she was an hour late for a meeting at lunch with a potential (and rather important) client who wanted her to use her platform to recommend their company and she’d forgotten her keys and locked herself out of her flat and had to walk, in the pouring rain, to her landlord’s home that was just down the block from her complex so she could take her spare key and give it back straight after.

When she walks into the local pub on the corner of a street in Hammersmith, dressed in a cream knit-jumper, some black jeans and ankle-high boots, and sees her friends already sharing a round and filling the pub with raucous laughter, she doesn’t expect anything to happen and she doesn’t even bat an eye to the knowledge that the night could (and would) end so poorly because it already felt like it was going to be a good stress reliever for her. She orders for herself - a vodka and cranberry juice - and mingles her way through the tipsy drinkers to get to her friends.

She hugs her girlfriends, shares an inside greeting with her boyfriends and she receives a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze to her shoulders from Harry as he takes her coat, drapes it over his and lets her have the seat he was sitting in so she could perch next to one of her friends.

Nothing wrong about it.

He kept an arm resting on the back of her chair as he took swigs from his beer bottle, fingers brushing over her upper arm as she tried to stay in her deep conversation, clueless to how he kept taking secret glances at her and how he smiled every time she bellowed out a laugh at something that someone had done. Knees knocking under the table. They were friendly touches, the caring kind that showed friends looking out for one another, and that’s what they hoped they looked like to everyone around them.

Still nothing wrong about it.

The night passes and the number of friends decreases by two or three every hour that passed by until it was just the two of them, in an almost empty pub, finishing the last of their drinks and finished up their conversation... more abrupt and sudden than Harry had thought.

They were only talking about work when things took a turn.

He was on a break from a world tour, the first of many to come, and all she needed was a night away from talking about work so she wasn’t best pleased to talk when he brought the subject up but she wasn’t rude enough to turn the conversation away when they hadn’t seen each other in a while; catching up like old friends do, that’s what they were doing.

But the more sips he took, the drunker he seemed to get and his words slurred much deeper and longer than normal, with eyes so distant and watery that this definitely had to be his last beer and she would have him in a taxi and on his way home before the pub became vacant. So when he accidentally slipped that her job sounded pointless, that he couldn’t understand why anyone would ever venture into it, that he didn’t understand why it was ever a career and that she can’t be getting any money to care for herself and that she must have been getting financial aid from somewhere, she’s out of her chair with a frown and a ‘goodbye’ before he could put her beer down.

Eyes following her as she yanked the door open and let it bang behind her. The foggy glasses distorting her figure as she walked passed where they were sat and disappeared from the windowpane before he could blink. Guilt sitting in his veins, overtaking the alcohol that seemed to build inside him, bottom lip between his teeth as he stood to his feet and scuffed across the sticky floor to put his half-finished beer bottle on the side.

“Bye, mate!” being the last thing he heard, from the bartender who was drying glasses behind the bar, before he took the stumbling walk home.

They both sleep the night off; Saturday morning was mere hours away and the apology could wait until he had a clear head and a solid argument as to why he said what he said.

Except all he could think about was how she left without their usual goodbye; they didn’t hug, they didn’t share drunken kisses to the cheek, they didn’t agree to call each other in the morning or organise a breakfast or brunch date so they could feast their hungover stomachs together. She didn’t promise to call him when she got home; and by god, he hoped she got home okay. She went home and, as much as it hurt him to think about, cried. He know she did. He knew that’s was why she left so quickly. He knew that that he upset her and he felt like an arsehole.

“Hey, love. It’s Harry. A very apologetic, guilt-ridden Harry. Although, I probably came up on your screen, I forget you have my number. At least, I hope you do after last night which I’m incredibly sorry for. I don’t know what came over me, I don’t know why I said it and I know it’s lousy to blame it on the alcohol but you know I don’t drink like that very often and- and I’m making excuses. Poor effort on my end. I’m really sorry. Like, incredibly and terribly sorry... hope to see you soon. I really hope last night didn’t ruin anything between us. Bye, love.”

“Hi, love. So, you either didn’t get my last voicemail or you chose to ignore it... I wouldn’t blame you if you ignored it, to be honest. Grovelling for forgiveness. I would ignore it, too. It was a bad apology. I don’t know what came over me and I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about you, the strongest person I know, being so down and upset over something I, the biggest prick I know, said. Something that I said when I was drunk and didn’t know what I was saying. I’ve sent you a small something in the post; I don’t know when you’ll get it but I made sure it was first class... first class post for a first class girl, I guess. See you soon? Bye.”

“Hey, so, this will be the last voicemail I send and then you can have all the time in the world to be alone, to think about what you want to do, to moan about me to your friends so they can hate me too or you can slate me online. I deserve it. I rather you than a friend; as much as I like your mates, they’re tough and you deserve someone like them to fight with you. I hope you liked the flowers and the doughnuts I sent you. From your local bakery since I know you love them a whole lot. Went there for lunch yesterday and it may just be my favourite place too... hopefully we can go together one day? Maybe, for a date? Or something. If you wanted to. I’m not saying you should because of what I said but- and I’m waffling. Oh, they do good waffles, too. Anyway, I miss you. I’m still incredibly sorry for how I handled the situation and I hope this can be resolved again soon. See you, love.”

When it’s still radio silence, he lets her be.

Until one Monday evening, two weeks later, when they both stumbled into one another in her local bakery; YN being there to grab something small for dinner and Harry being there to grab a coffee on his way back to the tube station after being on his feet all day.

“Harry-”

“YN-”

He laughs softly and he’s surprised to hear a soft giggle escape her mouth. Her bag slipping from her shoulder and a white paper bag, smelling strongly of a warm ham and cheese panini (and, knowing her, a blueberry muffin in there for her dessert). His cheeks flushing pink when she looks at him.

“New favourite place,” he nods slowly before his eyes widen, “not because you live around her or anything. I’m not stalking you or anything. You keep telling me to try it and I did a couple of weeks ago and-”

“I know,” she interrupts, reaching forward to squeeze his forearm, “it’s good to see you.”

He sighs with relief.

“Listen, about what I said, I’m still incredibly sorry. I think I will be for the rest of my life,” he says gently, guiding the both of them out of the way so they weren’t in the way of the queue to the till, “I don’t want you to think that that’s what I think about your career or anything. It was stupidity and ignorance all coming out at once... my ego needs a knock back and I think you did that. Right with a baseball bat.”

She smiles softly, tugging the corner of her lips.

“It’s okay. I think I’ve let you suffer a lot more than intended,” she admits a little sheepishly, “I’ve brought two blueberry muffins if you want to have one? I know you like them so you can’t fool me. We can go back to mine?”

“Can I grab something to eat then?”

“I’ll meet you there? You know where I live,” she grins, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “still best friends so don’t worry.”

She walks away from him and he watches her disappear around the corner of her complex, hair blowing in the wind and her hands tugging on her coat to sit a little tighter and warmer around her body, eyes squinting in the wind. A huge weight being lifted from his shoulders as he queued behind a little old lady who couldn’t help but admit that the two of them would make such a sweet couple one day... xx

#IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE SOMETHING THIS LONG #WITH DIALOGUE AND EVERYTHING #STILL NOT THE BEST BUT I TRIED AND I'M HAPPY WITH IT #PLEASE ENJOY #PLEASE SEND SOME FEEDBACK ALSO??#WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK #harry talk #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts #harry styles #fluff #angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 10

Brian May x Fem!Reader

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

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

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

Warnings: swearing

Historical Inaccuracies:

Crystal did not join Queen until November of 1975

There is no attic bedroom at Ridge Farm

Word Count: 6.6k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugged. “Freddie.”

“Ah.”

“Quite.”

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

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

“Yep, off to write an album!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t got anyone to—”

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

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

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

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

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

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

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

Strangers did not make you feel like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brian was right.

You looked lovely.

But perhaps the craftsmanship of the photo played a part as well. Despite being a hastily-snapped candid, the photo was framed perfectly, and the light that illuminated your figure was well-contrasted. It was art, in yet another form; Brian seemed inherently capable of creating art in any and every moment. And he certainly knew how to pick his moments. In photography, at least.

“Y/N!” John called to you, and all the others turned to you expectantly. “Train’s here.”

Sure enough, the clock hanging above the platform matched the departure time printed on your ticket. You hurried over with your bags, which was quite a feat, given you had your messenger bag, your guitar in its case— Brian had encouraged you to bring it— and your suitcase. The others were equally badly off— Deacy carrying his bass, Brian with not one but two guitars, Roadie-John with packed-up amplifiers and cords, and everyone carrying suitcases. Deacy in particular looked strained, having insisted upon carrying some of his wife’s things so that her load would be lessened, but subsequently, his own was significantly worsened. You made quite the group.

You caught up with the others and with a few quick hello’s the five of you shuffled alongside the rest of the crowd toward the train carriages.

Brian was at your side and nudged your elbow. “Guitar looks heavy,” he said.

“Mmm…” you murmured. “Some idiot suggested I bring it along.”

He chuckled warmly, and despite the sunny weather, you longed to move closer to his warmth. “I’d offer to carry it for you, but I’m rather decked out myself.”

You sniffed. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

Just then, a man in a time-worn jacket jostled you, and you stumbled.

“Excuse me,” you muttered. But the man continued to try to push past you, past anyone who stood in his way.

You glanced over at Brian to roll your eyes at the man’s behaviour, but Brian’s face had taken on a peculiarly pinched look. He looked angry.

“Oi, mate,” Brian raised his voice slightly. The man didn’t react. “Hey,” Brian said when you got shoved for the third time. He stepped forward. “Hey, watch it!”

The man whirled around with an equally angry expression, but Brian was taller, and he made that fact quite obvious, leaning down and glowering at the other man. Shoulders stiff and eyes dark, though he had no hands free with which to defend himself should the situation take a violent turn, Brian glared with such scorn at the man who’d run into you that anyone would’ve rightly wilted beneath his gaze.

“Bri,” you said, hoisting your guitar onto your back, “let it go.” Brian didn’t move, though the other man bared his teeth. He stared past you like you didn’t exist. Then the rugged man spat on Brian’s clogs, and Brian lurched forward in fury, his bag and cases landing on the ground.

You were quick to step between the two men, placing your palm firmly against Brian’s chest. That caught his attention— his heartbeat quickened beneath your splayed fingers.

“Let it go,” you repeated.

Brian’s eyes flickered, then met yours. You stared down his intensity, unwilling to back down, though your lungs and their rapid intake of breath were inclined to disagree.

His eyes were melted toffee, and beneath them, you could have melted as well. But then Brian inhaled carefully, and with a gentle touch, pried your fingers off of his chest.

He nodded to you in promise to not antagonise the other man any further, then let go of your hand.

You would have intertwined your fingers with his and held them there, if the crowd hadn’t begun moving again.

And if you’d had the courage.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The train sprinted along the tracks from Waterloo to Epsom, and the journey passed quickly. Your arrival in Surrey was perfectly on time, and this day, the weather in your home county was no less pretty than that of London.

From Epsom Station to Ridge Farm was another half-hour or so, but luckily, your dad owned a minibus and was waiting at the station to pick you and the others up.

“Y/N!” your dad called when he saw you.

“Dad!” you rushed forward and dropped your bags, flinging your arms around him. You hadn’t seen him for months, and had spoken to him only every few weeks; you weren’t going to be embarrassed for being happy to see your dad.

“Missed you, love,” he squeezed you tightly.

“Missed you too.”

Then you stepped back so as to introduce the others.

“So we’ve got exactly half of the band here, and the other half I think we’ll intercept on the way home,” you said. “This is John Deacon, bassist and vocalist—”

John laughed. “No no, I can’t sing, Y/N. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Andrews,” he shook hands with your dad. “This is my beautiful wife Veronica,” he beamed upon introducing her. The two of them were so in love, it was ridiculous.

“Hi!” Ronnie said, hardly taking her big eyes off of Deacy.

“Hello there,” your dad greeted them.

“And this is our second John, who crews and just generally is a great help,” you said as Roadie-John strode forward.

“John Harris. But everyone just calls me Roadie-John, to sorta prevent confusion with Deacy over there,” he jabbed his thumb in Deacy’s direction, and your dad laughed amicably.

“So they call you Deacy, then?” he asked John, John Deacon.

“Yeah, or Deacs, or something like that. Seems to have stuck.”

Your dad laughed again, and you smiled, pleased. It seemed he and Deacy would get along well.

Then Brian caught your eye timidly. He looked a bit lost, like meeting new people wasn’t his strong suit. It probably wasn’t— Brian very much conformed to the initially-shy-and-awkward stereotype of an astrophysicist.

“Oh dear, sorry Bri,” you apologised. “Dad, this is Brian.”

“Hello,” Brian said, extending his hand. Your dad shook it.

“So what do you play, Brian…”

“Brian May, Mr. Andrews.”

“Brian May. What do you play then, Brian May?”

“Oh, I play guitar.”

“Any good?” your dad inquired.

“I—”

“Very good,” you interrupted. “He’s actually been helping me to learn to play,” you said, pride in your voice.

“Has he really?” your dad muttered in an odd tone. “My Y/N’s been having quite the trouble learning.”

“Dad…”

“Really? She’s a natural!” Brian smiled disarmingly, but your dad’s expression was set.

“We’ll see,” your dad responded, and you thought he looked rather standoffish. Brian’s shoulders seemed to droop.

You frowned.

“Uh, sha’ we get going, then?” Roadie-John stepped in.

“Yep, yeah, sounds good!” you patted your dad’s shoulder and he made a noise of agreement. He took your bag for you, and took one from Ronnie as well.

“Thank you. Those things are heavy,” she said.

“I’m not actually a rotten husband,” Deacy added, “I’ve just already got my hands full.”

“No one thinks you’re a rotten husband,” Ronnie pulled her arm around Deacy’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder as you all followed your dad toward parking.

“Well thank goodness for that,” Deacy responded, and Veronica brushed his hair away from his face.

You were so distracted by how Deacy and Ronnie looked at each other, with such unyielding affection and warmth, that you didn’t notice Brian until he was next to you, the sleeve of his cream-coloured jacket brushing your hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, and you slowed your pace, guessing correctly that he wanted to talk apart from the others.

“Hey,” you said back. “What’s up?”

“Um… I don’t… I don’t think…” He stopped, then tried again. “What did I say wrong?” His eyes were soft and pitiful, and he looked so genuinely crushed that you almost threw your arms around him. “To your dad,” he continued. “I think I said something wrong.”

“Brian, what could you possibly have said wrong?”

His curls bobbed as he shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure, but I don’t think your dad’s pleased with me, all the same.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” you said. “He gets like that sometimes, when I introduce my friends. He’s a bit protective of me, I think.”

Brian bit his lip and made no response.

“Cheer up, Bri,” you nudged his side. “You can’t possibly look so sad when you get to spend an entire summer with me.”

“Half. Half a summer,” he corrected you. “D’you think I’ll last that long?”

His grin was brazen and his tongue poked out between his teeth.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re on thin ice, Brian May.”

He only went on smiling.

And you’ll surely melt the rest with that sunny smile of yours.

But no, you had it wrong. He would not melt the ice. He would melt you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The car ride from the station to your home was mostly uneventful, but as you’d predicted, Deacy and your dad got on like a house on fire. Your dad had studied electrical engineering, which John was studying now, and he played many instruments, including bass guitar. The two were currently occupied discussing electric pianos, and the one that your dad owned, which Deacy now wanted to learn to play.

Veronica and Roadie-John spent the journey playing weird road trip games, half of which you’d never even heard of. You resolved they’d made a few of them up on the spot.

You’d stared out the window, watching the landmarks of your childhood pass you by, pointing out a few of them to Brian who sat beside you. He appeared very interested in it all, to understand where it was you’d grown up, and he asked a multitude of questions concerning your school, an ice cream parlour you’d frequented ever since you were little, and finally, about the lush woods that surrounded the wealth of land that was Ridge Farm. You were happy to answer his questions, and to ask your own of him. He told many stories, and he told them well, upon one occasion eliciting so much laughter from you that your dad raised his eyebrows at you in the rearview mirror.

When the minibus finally rolled up the drive to the main house, your mum stood waving, and your family’s dog, Selkie, bounded back and forth with his tail wagging madly.

Then, Roger’s shiny red Alfa Romeo pulled up beside the minibus, just as you were getting out. Music was blaring, and everyone’s hair was thoroughly windblown.

“Did you even remember sunscreen?” Brian called to the passengers, pulling his guitars from the boot of the minibus.

“Nice to see you too, Bri,” Roger responded, giving Heather a hand out of the car.

“No,” said Mary, trying in vain to comb her hair into some semblance of a ponytail, “we definitely forgot sunscreen.” Gingerly, she touched a finger to the tip of her nose, which was looking rather pink, and winced. “Definitely forgot,” she muttered.

“You’re all pasty-pale,” Freddie laughed, fixing his hair.

“Well,” Crystal returned, “aren’t you lucky, Fred?”

“To be honest,” Heather was swaying slightly on the spot, “I’m not feeling too great. You drive too fast for me, I think, Roger.”

He kissed her cheek. “‘Course I don’t! Have a glass of water and you’ll be perfectly lovely again.”

Heather whacked his arm. “Cheeky.”

Your mum approached the scene, smiling with amusement at the various interactions going on around her.

“Mum!” you said, hugging her tightly. “You’re not at the pub?” Your mum ran the local pub— The Plough— and could thus be found there quite often.

“Hello my darling,” she kissed your cheek. “No, I got your brother to cover for me. It’s good to see you.” She pulled back from the embrace and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t call nearly often enough.”

“Sorry,” you winced, crouching down to scratch Selkie behind his big, floppy ears as the golden retriever panted happily, having run to you upon seeing you.

“You’re here now, so no need to be sorry!” She smiled her bright smile, the one that never failed to cheer you up, to comfort you, and you knew that she meant what she said. Your mum always meant what she said. It was both a blessing and a curse.

A whirlwind of introductions followed, and apologies too, because your mum worried she’d forget the names of nine new people as quickly as she’d been told them. Of course, no one minded; there would be plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other. Six weeks, to be exact.

Then there was the matter of accommodation. Your parents had yielded the main house to you all, preferring themselves to retreat to the smaller building farther up on the farm. Frank had his granny flat down the path from the main drive, so that left you, the band, their partners, and the roadies divided amongst six bedrooms.

You had your childhood bedroom, Freddie and Mary took a room, Roger and Heather took another, Deacy and Veronica a third. Meanwhile, Brian, Roadie-John, and Crystal drew straws to see who would be sharing and who would get their own room. In the end, Roadie-John and Crystal drew the shorter two straws and ended up in the bunk-beds of the room that your two brothers Frank and Billy had once shared. Brian had looked much relieved by this turn-out, because, as he told you— “My legs wouldn’t have fit on that bed!”

“Well, good you got the room to yourself,” you’d responded. “Though, you could easily have guilted me into giving up my bed to you.”

Brian had laughed, rather nervously. A blush rose to your face when you’d realised how your remark must have sounded. Deacy had then made the incident twenty times worse by turning to you and saying “Y/N, was that an innuendo? I’m proud of you!”

This had resulted in further blushing on your part, and in Brian stuttering out some weak-reasoned excuse about going to unpack.

“What’s his problem?” Crystal had asked, and Freddie had snorted.

“Think for a second, Chris,” Roadie-John had cuffed the back of his mate’s neck.

“Yeah thanks John, that’s going to help me think, you idiot.”

“You don’t need to think, Crystal,” Roger had shaken his head. “It’s pretty bloody obvious.”

“If it’s so bloody obvious, Rog,” you’d interrupted, crossing your arms, “then would you mind pointing it out to me?”

“Oh, darling,” Mary had said to you, almost pityingly, while Roger had laughed.

“No, Y/N, Roger sha’n’t tell you, and nor shall anybody else,” Freddie had put it plainly. “You’ll be blind a while yet.”

And with that cryptic comment, he had wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders and dragged the others with him to explore the house and grounds.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

When the sky turned orange and all the land below it golden, your dad had tea ready. He loved to cook and had thus created a masterpiece of salads, grilled vegetables, barbecue, homemade bread, and a variety of dips.

Summer was finally setting in, and so, even in the glow of the six o’clock evening, the sun would not set for at least another three hours.

You and the others had spent the afternoon unpacking, and setting up instruments in the studio. You’d managed to keep everyone’s attention for long enough to show them around said studio, but then Freddie had insisted on more “exploring”, and the others had followed excitedly. You’d offered to give them a tour, but Freddie argued that exploring was more fun, and everyone had agreed wholeheartedly. Except Brian. He’d been lost in his thoughts, sitting in a corner, tuning his guitar as though he intended to begin a songwriting session then and there.

Heather had then tried, and failed, to convince you to join in the exploration. Failed on account that you needed an hour or two to yourself— hanging around nine people, plus your family, was really quite draining. And when you’d looked about the sunlit studio fondly before leaving it for your own room, Brian was nowhere to be found.

When teatime rolled around, you had not seen him for several hours, and he remained elusive even as your mum, your dad, the others, and even your brother Frank who’d slept the day away, gathered in the dining room.

“Oh, this looks delicious,” said Roger enthusiastically, eyeing the food piled up on the table.

Murmurs of agreement echoed all around, but your dad frowned. “Where’s that Brian May got to?”

“Sebastian,” your mum chided. “It’s been less than two minutes since you called us all in. He’s probably just upstairs or something.” Your mum turned to you. “Y/N, would you go look? I’ve just got to let Selkie out.”

“Yep, sure.”

You left the kitchen and bounded up the stairs, smilingly taking two at a time, now that your legs were long enough. You’d always tried to take them two at a time when you’d been little, but you’d never managed more than one set at a time before falling over your own feet.

It was quickly obvious that there was no one upstairs.

Poking your head into the kitchen, you announced, “He’s not upstairs, but I’ll just check outside. You might as well start.” Your dad looked to your mum for approval, and she shrugged.

“Bon appetit, then,” he said.

You slipped on some canvas shoes and jogged down the main path and to the end of the drive, where you stopped.

“Where’ve you gone, Bri?”

Your eyes fell to the green by the path, where tufts of grass had been pressed down in the memory of footprints. Beyond the grass, there was mud, and there too were footprints. And they really were footprints— the person who had made them did not seem to have been wearing any shoes. You set off following the trail.

Down the hill, skirting a meadow, and through the sand by the bank of the river, you stepped with your shoes into the footsteps that had been left.

Finally, you caught sight of the owner of the footprints.

He stood knee-deep in the river, his back to you and his face turned to the canopy of the trees about him.

Birds streaked across the sky above, merely silhouettes against the bright colours of the sky, and the air glittered as ordinary dust turned to stardust in the golden light of the sun.

The river babbled in an almost talkative manner, greeting you— hellohello slosh rush hellohello— and the creatures in the wood had realised your presence, pausing in their activities no matter how careful you made your footing upon the ground. Brian had not realised anything.

A thrush knocked a seedpod against the base of a tree, and other birds twittered merrily in the branches above. The trees whispered their secrets, rustling and passing their leaves along one another’s boughs like notes, and the grass shone in glory green, dotted white flowers conjuring an aura of magic.

You crept along the edge of the clearing by the river, careful not to let Brian notice you. You wanted to notice him first.

His face was expressive— his parted lips, the soft line of his chin in contrast to the sharpness of his wide hazel eyes. His hands hovered by his sides, slim fingers and wrists, the already lightly-tanned skin of his arms showing where he had pushed up his sleeves. His curls were tossed by the breeze and he stared up to the sky with reckless abandon, as though his entire existence hung upon the breath of starlight that would steal across the sky this night and every night after, as though he would give up anything, everything, to be a star as well.

And you understood that he would, because you would too. Without thought, without a single hesitation. Oh, to be a star.

Brian spun around, the water protesting with splashes about his calves, his shoulders tensed and his eyes now wider than ever.

Oh, you’d said that out loud.

“Y/N,” he said, relaxing almost instantly as he recognised you through the rays of sun that streaked across the clearing. “Yes, I’d like to be a star. What a vantage point that would be. I wonder what I might see differently from up there.”

“Everything,” you said. “You’d see everything differently.” You stared up at the sky, the waning crescent of the moon faintly visible in the glow of evening. But Brian was still looking at you; you could feel it. Your skin prickled.

“Would you come with me?” he asked. When you returned your gaze to him, his smile was gentle.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t need me out there, Spaceman. You know it so well.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but it’s lonely out in space.”

You shook your head. “You’d be a star. You wouldn’t think of loneliness. You wouldn’t think at all.”

“Well, while I still have my thoughts, I think that would be preferable to have someone there with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. In an instant you realised that you had been wrong; you didn’t want to be a star, you wanted to feel how starlight looked— ethereal and inspiring, yet powerful. And the closest you’d ever been to feeling how starlight looked was when Brian looked at you.

“You’d give it all up?” you said, and still he gazed at you.“Really you would?”

He hesitated, then said, “Some days, yes. Others, no.”

“Today?” you asked.

There was that gentle smile again. “No,” he exhaled softly, as though he had been holding his breath. “Not today.”

You smiled. “Then hurry up and come back inside. Tea’s waiting, and my dad’s an excellent cook. If you want to get on his good side, then compliment his food.”

“Do you think it’s still possible for me to get on his good side?” Brian began to wade back to the riverbank. “He seemed rather to have made up his mind, this afternoon.”

You held out your hand to Brian as he approached, planting your feet firmly in the sand. “Careful. The rocks are slippery,” you told him. “And no, I think there’s still hope. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Oh, he’s not bad, it’s just—” Brian had not heeded your warning and pitched forward. You grasped his hand just before he fell, and he smiled at you gratefully. His fingers were warm where they curled around your own. “It’s just me. I don’t think he likes me.”

“Brian,” you guided him around a particularly mossy rock, “why on Earth does this bother you so much? I’ve never heard you talk like this,” you said honestly.

He finally made it to the riverbank, and the sand dusted his toes, his cuffed trousers dripping water, soaked through because he hadn’t folded them up far enough. “Clearly, you haven’t spent enough time with me. Not to worry, though. Soon to be remedied.”

“Brian.”

He huffed. “Because it’s you, Y/N,” he said, and your heart rose to your throat. “I don’t usually care who doesn’t like me, but they’re your family and you’re my friend.”

Your heart sank.

Once, your insides had warmed when he’d called you his friend, but now things were different. You wanted more from him than just that, and you could admit as much to yourself, even if you couldn’t admit it to anybody else.

But his hand still rested in yours.

Take what you can get. It’s all you’ll ever have.

Your hand curled more tightly around his long, dainty fingers.

He glanced at you, and you realised that you had not said anything for a while. You’d been walking through the wood for minutes and you had not spoken a word, only held his hand, as though you had a right to. You didn’t though, did you?

You pulled your hand from his, and it felt like a severance when he let go.

“Shoes,” you murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You’re not wearing any shoes,” you laughed at the silliness of it.

He looked down at his bare feet and laughed too. “No, I’m not.”

“Why on Earth not?”

“Why on Earth should I?”

“Why not on Earth should you not?”

“Why not on Earth should I not not wear shoes?”

You stopped walking. “You’re absurd.”

He grinned. “And you’re an angel.”

“Oh, so I’m that far gone, am I?”

“Not as far as me.”

“It’s lonely out in space,” you repeated his words from earlier.

“You know,” Brian began as the two of you crested the final hill that led up to the house. “Think I’ll stay around.”

The breeze rustled his curls, and his eyes were bright, his profile illuminated by the sun. A small smile rested on the curve of his lips, and you couldn’t believe that he was real.

You were breathless; he took your breath away.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Tea was not the awkward affair you had expected, with your dad and Brian skirting around each other. It was instead talkative and homely, like the nine extra people at your table had always been a part of your family. It was a shame your brother Billy had decided to stay abroad with his mates this summer; he would have loved all this.

The table itself was taking the meal quite well— it held up, despite the great amount of food and plates and cutlery and glasses and bowls and napkins and trays piled atop its oakwood surface.

It was quite an arrangement, thirteen people around the same dining table, and chairs had been fetched from all over the house, from stools to desk chairs. Perhaps the feeling of closeness amongst you all had been achieved through literal closeness, seeing as the dining table was not meant for more than eight people, and certainly not for thirteen. Knees and elbows knocked, and you had the fortune to be seated next to Bri, whose hand or thigh bumped yours quite often as he reached for something or picked up his knife and fork. He apologised frequently, and every time he apologised and you assured him that it was fine, your stares grew longer and his eyes grew softer.

You could have gazed at him forever. And spoken to him forever, too.

The occupants of the table both roared with laughter and listened attentively as stories both utterly silly and quite serious were shared. There were tales from childhood; tales of Queen from before your time, when they were known as Smile; tales you already knew; tales you had experienced as they had happened, including the recent story of how Roger had plotted and executed his master plan of locking you and Brian in the kitchen. You laughed harder than anyone at that story, because in hindsight, it just seemed so silly, so ridiculous, how angry you and Brian had both been, not at each other, but at being locked into the kitchen with one another. Brian had been sure to describe— in detail— the look on your face when you’d realised that Roger, John, and Freddie had left you in the kitchen, to your own devices.

Your face ached from smiling, and your stomach hurt from laughing, and it was the best pain in the entire world. You wanted to feel like this forever, both young and old at once, young in spirit but wisened by nostalgia and an already great wealth of memories.

And with every glance you stole at Brian, to gauge his reaction to a particular story, or indeed, to nothing in particular at all, you were closer to reaching over and taking his hand in yours again, sliding your hand over the smooth skin of his wrist and palm, and along his slim fingers.

But you didn’t do it. His hands were not yours to hold.

When tea was finished, yawns began to make appearances between words, because it was good and well eleven o’clock at night. You all helped to clear the table and stow leftovers into the fridge, the chatter never ceasing as you communed between the dining room and kitchen. Your dad even broke into song at one point— he’d probably had a little too much to drink— and Roger joined in without hesitation, which led to Heather’s participation, and Ronnie’s, and Deacy’s, and yours, until the entire house was filled with the melodic tune of thirteen people singing ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’. Your dad swung your mum around the kitchen and she laughed as they danced, and you couldn’t remember the last time your parents had been so carefree. Something about the dynamic of the people around you was extraordinary, and irreplaceable.

It was midnight when you had bid your parents, Frank, and the members of your entourage that had the downstairs bedrooms— Freddie and Mary, Roger and Heather, Ronnie and Deacy— a good night.

Upstairs you trudged alongside Roadie-John, Crystal, and Brian, the former two of whom were arguing about who was to sleep in the top bunk, and who was to sleep in the lower bunk.

At the top of the stairs, Crystal and Roadie-John departed to the left.

“Night,” they chorused, and you and Brian responded in kind.

You made for the last set of stairs that led to your attic bedroom, which you’d always favoured because of its view to the open sky, but you stopped on the first step. You had remembered the polaroid Brian had taken of you, and it burned through your pocket.

You turned back.

“Brian—”

“Yes?”

He had turned back too. Eurydice and Orpheus. If they had both been obligated not to turn back. And had turned back all the same.

The words left your lips in a breathless rush, “Your photograph.”

“My photograph?” he wondered aloud.

You descended the step you’d climbed and walked toward him. His eyes trailed you, and your skin felt warm beneath his gaze.

You held the polaroid out to him, and it felt as though you were handing him your soul. “Have it.”

He blinked at you. “But I thought—”

“You thought I hated it? Yeah, I thought so too. But it’s art. Just like everything else you do. And it belongs to you.”

His lips parted and the world was suspended in that moment.

He took the photograph from your hand, but he barely looked at it. He was looking at you— like he was going to do something.

But of course he wouldn’t. You and your overactive imagination.

“Good night, Bri,” you whispered, and swept up the stairs.

There was no reply.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: the sheer amount of love i have received on this fic is just mind-boggling, not to mention incredibly touching. thank you <3

taglist: @melting-obelisks @stardust-killer-queen @hgmercury39 @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz @perriwiinkle @brianmays-hair

Masterpost / Part 9 / Part 11

#tina's writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

' There are a lot of things that remind me of you. More than things should make another person nostalgic, literally everything makes me nostalgic for you.

It's odd because I got over you but the bus rides remind me of you. The day you bought me a bus ticket and the way you laid your head on the bus window. Your hair were so greasy and you closed your eyes meanwhile I talked. The scene was like picked out from a movie and I remembered it since then. Every time I ride the bus, I sit on our designated seats and for one person, four seats are too much. It almost makes me feel selfish but I just grew attached to it. I remember you sitting across me or two seats next to me. I remember your ripped jeans, white and black, both pairs that you wore. I remember the bus station you waited on, and the path you walked me home on and your block... and the bus station near my block where we met to go out and the bus station I walked you to... and the bench we sat on... and I just remember so much of you that it still makes my eyes tear up.

I remember the conversations we had about horror movies and anime... and I remember how other conversations we had made right triangle and Pythagoras' theorem a thing for us. I remember conversations about having trust issues and when you had told me about your ex and a random girl, who stole your favorite bandana hoodie. I remember the water that you bought us that morning when we got high on the meadow and my shoes were covered in drawings of your cat you named Snow and the triangles, flowers... I cannot wear the grandma jacket I wore that day. Every time I spray myself with Dolce Gabbana The One parfume, it reminds me of you because I wore it for you. I remember how I couldn't climb the stupid wall because it was too high and we just spent laughing for five solid minutes. I remember you telling me that you loved my energy. That morning you sent me your plushie with wack eyes, your favorite hoodie, your plant... I came home with such a smile on my face- God, I told so many people about that day because it was like a movie. With you it was always like a movie.

I didn't know what was going through your head since then but something did because when I was working morning shifts, standing there completely asleep as I had no time for my coffee, you scared me half to death and laughed. People thought you and me had something... we did, actually. We did have something but nobody knew what, not even us. I don't know why but since that moment you started to push me away and I remember that so clearly for some odd reason.

I could say that it felt like a summer fling but it happened from November till March. Then in April... you just started disappearing and how can somebody just disappear? I beat myself sensless since then. Crying and crying and crying and crying because I lost somebody special but it wasn't just that. I believed that somehow you thought I wasn't good enough to be in your life... or funny enough or that I was just too weird for you- I don't know. I just felt I was losing my mind over you. That you just left without saying anything... not even a goodbye. You just disappeared.

I worked those night shifts without you and I sat at the same table we sat, we met, we talking about pencils, us drinking red-bulls (some days you bought them for us, some days I bought them for us), you trying coconut chips and judging me for it, me getting you pistachios, me making no sense with a story because you just listened and I got lost because nobody listened that much to me... I didn't know where to eat because we spent time everywhere in that place. The stupid heater and you standing there looking at it like you had seen God. The bench where I sat and you stood, smoking. Some days I woke up and even though you weren't there, I smelled it and I took such a deep breath of it because I missed you so much. You making no sense by asking me why I don't smoke. Which is saved in my drawer of our weird conversations about how to fall asleep if you cannot sleep, how some scenes in horror movies are actually funny instead of scary, throwing up while high- which reminds me of the day we went to get burgers for us three and I paid and you looked at me and were like so confused of why. Well, I like to give to my friends and that is who I considered you to be for all those months.

I should have seen the red flags thought. The mood swings you got out of the blue, the tired eyes and the way you snapped at me sometimes, the hot and cold energy, the way you invited us to spend New Years but bailed, the invite to your birthday party and you bailed even though all of us got you a birthday present already... you said only pistachios from me would be fine... I didn't take that at all. Some people told me to get you a ring and I thought that was a bit too weird. It might look like I was proposing to you and you always were curious of what I got you for your birthday. I feel like you still are at some point. I got you matching Rick and Morty bucket hats... and pistachios because you don't eat sweets.

God, there are so many memories that place me back in that time. You telling me to must watch that show... my mask getting stuck to my brand new piercing and you helping me get it off... every time it got stuck to my hair. It got stuck just this week again and I thought of you and a rush of memories came with that but I just brushed it off. They don't affect me like they would... like they did when you left, I was working the same place where I was that day we were by ourselves. You drew on my shoes, every time we went on a break, Maria- I hope you still remember her because I do and she was the sweetest person. The grandma sweater that I adore, now it always hangs in my closet. My parfume- and the duck tape- OH! And my uniform that I drew on that same day. The cereal that sucks by the way. You have a terrible taste in cereal, which reminds me that you promised me a chicken burger and I had never recieved it from you.

And then I quit because I was so lost without you. I quit and I spent a month and a half gathering myself together. And the first night after I quit there, I met a great guy but by the end of the night I still thought of you. That was when I needed to start the whole letting go of you process that was going quite well... up until I thought of you out of the blue when I was blending strawberries and banana. I have no clue how you popped into my head like that but you did at times but this time making a smoothie had no connections to you- so I thought that maybe you were heavily thinking of me. Since then, you had been on my mind all the time. I went back to work and it was weird at first but I was okay. I wasn't crying on the bus back home, that's for one. Which meant that I was a step further than I was before but I still wanted to see you. I still wanted to see just a peek of you that you were alive. Maybe at the bus station, maybe at the path, maybe somewhere in my town but... the only day I didn't take the bus, my co-worker said she saw you. And I was shocked at first and I was mad that the only time I didn't take the bus, I could see you. Then she said you didn't really look well and I got upset because if I hate something more than sea food, it's hearing that somebody I used to care for a lot isn't doing well. I cried that day for you, after a long time but also decided that day that you're not my problem anymore. You're not a burden, you're not something I have to think of all the time... and I was glad I didn't see you that day because if I would, I'd be stuck again. I don't want to be stuck again... ever... because you mean a lot to me but not seeing you made you mean less to me. I know the moment we see each other again, you'll mean a lot to me again but I won't be emotionally attached like I used to be.

I moved on. I got over you. Something I didn't think I would. Back then when I was moving on, I was crying because I was moving on and I didn't want to. I loved memories of us, us in general. I missed your laugh and your smile and your eyes, your hair, your jacket, your jeans... just you but that's all they were becoming. Memories. All the people from my past start coming back to me and when they did, I just put you among them. You're behind. You're the past but a great yet complicated past.

And now there is somebody new in my life and I don't know where this will take us but he's great. He's stable and honest... and great. He sort of talks like you, which reminds me of you but he's not you and I like that about him. He's funny and smart and he likes books. He's got a really nice smile and he's interested in the same things I am. He keeps asking me questions and he listens to my answers. He's sweet and he also made me realise that I should really stop missing out on good things because of you.

You were a good thing in my life... up to a point you weren't anymore.

But now he's a good thing in my life and he makes promises he can keep. I love that about him...'

#this is my coping mechanism #Love #friendship #friends #strangers with memories i guess #stranger #moving on #Heartbreak

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