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ashes-writing · 1 year

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a n a t o m y | ahs murder house ; t.langdon

|| taglist,babes + req rules + send ?s + masterlist + kinktober masterlist ||

** graphics made by me courtesy of pinterest + google image search. The list of prompts provided so generously by @the-purity-pen -huge thanks, y'all please go check them out. **

𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 ; 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔

Summary ;

--- (pt 1 of 2 ) tate just wants to help you learn anatomy in any way he can. 90's/early aughts Med School Tate Langdon au. this one is for you bestie @tbmunson because without our talk this NEVER would have clicked for me.

Pairing ;

90's!CollegeGuy!MedStudent Tate Langdon x fem!reader

--- no physical description given beyond having female parts.

Warnings ;

--- minors, abso-fuckin-lutely not. In addition to the prior, murder house and his og backstory doesn't exist + tate langdon is not a ghost, but a med. school student, innocent reader, slightly pervy!sweet tate, lots of lustful touching, innuendo, corruption kink, use of medical terminology, nudity, lustful gazing, foreplay heavy -touching and dry humping, mostly. The banner is different because this is a whole other version of Tate Langdon, who is at least 22 here.

Taglist ;

--- the people listed below are the only ones I have on my american horror story taglist. If you'd like to be added, click the little link up top.

@krys-orion

@hajimaaaaaa

“I’m never going to remember all of these. How the hell does Professor Adams expect us to remember all the muscle groups and their placement in the body along with everything else? I’m going to fail this.” you’re disgusted as you toss down the pile of flashcards on the counter. Tate looks up from the textbook in front of him and chuckles, nodding to it. “Everything okay?”

You rub your temples, you can feel the migraine setting in already. Tate raises up from his chair, moving to stand behind the chair you’re sitting in, hands at your shoulders. As he starts to massage your shoulders, you bite back a soft gasp and your eyes flutter open and shut. The way his hands feel on your body has you thinking about anything but the textbook and the notes, the flashcards in front of you, but you don’t dare say this aloud.

Falling in love with your roommate is a recipe for disaster and sadly, you have.

But you’re probably not his type, you’re introverted, you’re not supermodel hot, you’re actually kind of a nerd and you’re not like the other girls at school, you’re very inexperienced. Awkward.

As Tate feels the tension gathered in your shoulders, he continues to massage, leaning himself against you lightly as he stops massaging you to reach out and pick up a pen lying on the tabletop. “I’ve got an idea.”

You glance up at him over your shoulder and he’s tugging off the Nirvana shirt he’s wearing, letting it fall from his fingertips as he holds the pen out to you and bites his lip. It’s so hot the way you get flustered so easy around him. He’s definitely gotten the suspicion that you’re not like other girls, you’re innocence and light. Warmth and pure. And god help him, he’s drawn to it like a moth to flame. He wants to protect it and at the same time, he wants to ruin it, ruin you for other guys so he can have you all to himself.

His little idea is just a foot in the door.

“What’s your idea?” you ask, brows knit in confusion, cheeks on fire as your eyes have no choice but to roam his bare upper body and your whole body burns just a little hotter when your eyes lock on his big brown ones and you see him staring back at you, the softest of smirks on his mouth. He holds out the pen to you. “Label them on me. It’ll help you see it and remember it.”

“Tate, I–” you bite your bottom lip but you take the pen and give him a weak but thankful smile. “O-okay.” your hands are shaking as you step up to him, dragging the pen over his chest first, marking off the pectoral muscles. He swallows hard and bites back a groan, managing to keep a straight face the whole time he’s doing it but as that pen moves lower, he can feel himself getting really, really hard. He never stopped to consider that getting you to do this -getting you to touch him in the process, was going to be the tease it was turning into.

You’re done labeling his upper body and you’ve stepped closer to him at some point, when it happens and your bodies brush, he bites back the quietest of growls, quick to disguise it with a chuckle. He can feel the pen shaking in your fingers but he doesn’t say anything, instead pretending he doesn’t notice because the last thing he wants is you to stop touching him. He grabs the textbook from the table without breaking his gaze and bites his bottom lip as he reads out each grouping of muscles you’ve labeled.

“See?” he chuckles, stepping just a little closer as he sits the book down on the table nearby, brown eyes fixed on you, leaning down and into you just slightly. It’s enough that you can feel your thighs clamp together tight as your panties really start to soak through. And you’re flustered, stammering for your words. He pushes the pen back into your hand and takes a shaky breath. “Do y’ think you can remember the others? Or do I…” he nods to his jean clad lower body and you nearly swallow your tongue, stammering out that he doesn’t have to do this, that you think you can remember.

“I don’t mind, darling.” he coaxes, biting his lip as a low and dark chuckle slips past, “Unless it’s gonna make you uncomfortable? That’s the last thing I want to do, princess.” and he wants to punch himself when the pet name leaves his mouth but he can’t help it, you’re bringing out this whole other side of him and it’s so overwhelming that he can’t possibly keep fighting it.

“N-no. No. It’s fine. I just…” your eyes are glued to his hand and the way it hovers over the button of his jeans. As the button slips through the buttonhole, you just barely bite back an unholy whine threatening to come. Then he’s unzipping his jeans and your breath catches, hanging in your throat. His pants fall to the floor and you tell yourself not to look down but naturally, this is the first thing you find yourself doing. Tate sees it and he licks his lips, reaching out to lightly grip your jaw, giving just the smallest squeeze as he tilts your face so that your eyes meet his.

“You alright?” his question is asked in a husky whisper, his mouth just nearly grazing against your own… And if you were smarter, you’d have figured out by now that he’s definitely up to something. And it’s everything you’ve lain awake nights imagining, touching yourself underneath the bed sheets, all hot and bothered as you picture what your hot and broody roommate might look like beneath his clothes.

“Y-yeah.” you manage to stammer out the word and it’s lame, weak. You’re not okay right now, your stomach is coiled and your thighs are clamped so damn tight they hurt and you’re visibly flustered, you’ve dropped the damn pen before you even realize it. Tate bends to pick it up and maybe he’s teasing a little when he looks you in the eye and uses that smooth tone he’s so adept at using and the one that always calms you down, “Relax. ‘S not like you’ve never seen this…”

“Right, yeah.” you’re laughing despite knowing full well that Tate’s cock is the first cock you’ve actually seen before and now that you have, all you can think about is how badly you wish it was buried inside of you. You try to shove the thought out of your head and focus on labeling the groups of muscles that make up his thighs and then his calves and you pause when you hear him grunt and it’s this husky sound from deep within him.

You’re dangerously close to his cock right now, the warmth of your breath fanning against it a little when you breathe in and out. He squirms a little, tries to keep his composure so he doesn’t make things awkward, but your breath against it has it getting even harder. He fixes his gaze down on the top of your head and tries like hell not to imagine curling his fingers in soft strands, tugging as he pushes your mouth down around his member.

When you stand again, holding up the pen to him, he lets out a long and ragged breath and his legs finally seem to relax, even if only a little. “Let’s see how y’ did.” he picks up the book again, noting all the names and areas you’ve marked off, chuckling to himself as he sits the book to the side again and bends down, pulling back up his jeans and black boxers. “Think you can remember now?” he asks, his tone huskier as it leaves his mouth. You’re stepping closer too, your bodies bump against each other, his hand against your hip just slightly. You give him a flustered smile and nod, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“If you…” you start to offer yourself up to do the same for him, but you can’t even begin to make the words leave your mouth. The door to your shared apartment is being beaten down and Tate grumbles as soon as he hears one of the frat boys he’s friends with yelling through the other side.

The second Tate is gone to answer the door, you lean heavily against the fridge and you try your very best to pull yourself together.

You’re going to need an ice bath now and you know it.

#90s/aughts!medstudent!tate langdon #tate langdon #tate langdon smut #tate langdon imagine #tate langdon fanfiction #tate langdon x fem!reader #tppkinktober2022 #tppkinktober #tppkinktober22 #kinktober #kinktober 22 #kinktober 2022 #kinktober22 #kinktober2022 #<- minors absofuckinlutely not. a general warning for all my adult content.#-> please read all warnings before reading.#<- female reader ; vague description (female parts)#-> we're ignoring his death and literally everything else bc i have an idea. if you wanna see more please... tell me so bc i have... ideas

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pandasized-crevice · 2 years

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MY FRESH JUST WATCHED KINNPORSCHE EP8 THOUGHTS

I PROBABLY FORGOT SOME STUFF I NORMALLY TYPE THIS ON MY LAPTOP WHILE I WATCH THE EP BUT RN I JUST HAVE MY PHONE SO ONWARDS WE SCOOT

THEY ARE SO FUCKKMG CUTE PLEAAE LOOK AT THEM

Last night was incredible😏😏

Porsche kissing kinns forehead?YES PLEAse

Me watching them:🥺🥺💖

Oh lord someone’s here

Kinn you asshole!

Pete sweetie…….

A whole thing of bread?nice not obvious product placement yall💀

THE THUMBS UP AHAHA

kinn…..beckoning Porsche….with his finger…..?I’m going to be totally normal about this (this is a lie)

THERE HE GOES

Side note;who eats plain bread for breakfast?not even toasted?!NO JELLY

Bread eating should not be hot…

And yet here we are…..

Kinn and Porsche wearing the others sock can be something so personal

Oh okay so it’s like showing them as days go by

THE FOOT SCENE WE WIN!!!!!!!

Jesus CHRIST ON THE LITTLE TABLE YOU GUYS!?

Punishment….sir ken that’s what’s going on….

Big rn “god I wish that was me”

NOT THE BUTTONS LORD

TO THE WINDOOOOOW TO THE WALL!!!!!!

They are so horny for each other

And I don’t blame them

Jom and Tem!!YOK HELLO QUEEN

Aw Porsche is unsure since kinns his first boyfriend 🥺valid valid

Heartbroken you say??i fucking wonder why🤨⏱🕰⏰

Look at him wanting to go on a date with kinn!!!HE IS TRYING SO HARD

so those aren’t Porsches clothes??!?

Both of them being unused to their relationship is so fucking SCRUMPTIOUS im glad they’re showing it

Me watching kinnporsche be cute:🥰🥺🥰

Me knowing they’re giving us so much fluff cuz angst is coming:🕴🏻😶☹️

Ik they’re a hot ass couple but cafe patrons MIND YALLS BUSSNIES

Aw Porsche don’t let go☹️

Kinn grabbing Porsches hand again YES GOOD

there’s a pig!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!nice

Porsche is so dedicated to making this date perfect please

Porsche being the so that takes pictures before eating and kinn being the so who goes along with it is so fuxking true

Where tf did porsche have that camera?up his ass?

THE FUCKING PHOTO MONTAGE P L E A S E MY HEART

Kinn is so fuxking cute kissing on Porsche?I CANNOT HANDLE

KINN GIVING PORSCHE A PHONE JUST FOR CALLING HIM? W O W

TAWAN🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🚨🚨🚨

Bro why is tawan literally this 🕴🏻🧍🏻

THIS SCENE TOO OMG

Them running around the place is so fucking precious

Kinn just looking at Porsche like THAT my heart has melted

UNDERWATER KISS YALL SEE THAT😮

Quitting smoking you say?

Pete pete pete pete pete💖💖💖

KINN PORSCHE CANT SEXT YOU RN HES ON THE CLOCK

PORSCHE LOOK OUT🚨🧍🏻🗣

well no one said Porsche was an artist…..

These fools sneaking into kinns room please dumb and dumber

Why is Porsche ostrich😭💀

Which celebrity did kinn sleep with LET US SEE PORSCHE 👁👁

ITA THE PICTURE 🗣🗣🗣🧍🏻

Porsche is giving Wei wuxian after he makes wen Ning leave YALL KNOW YALL SEE IT

“If it’s this guy I need the other gun” HELLO?HELLO H E. L L O

Porsche is so cute apo you god amongst men🙌👏👏

DAMN KINN HOWS MY BOY SUPPOSED TO HIDE THESE HICKIES

oh pete….never change

Oh we giving merit i see

Aw Porsche thinks tawan is a ghost 💀😭we know he’s scared of that shit

TANKHUN BELOVED YAY

always with the kdramas he’s just like me

THE MAKEUP💀 That seems so fun actually I wanna do that with my friends

POL PLEASE JESUS CHRIST

tankhun kicking Porsche out 💀harsh but had to be done hes so jumpy

Not Porsche calling kinn cuz he’s scared💀

kinn heard No clothes and he said SAY LESS🏃🏃🏃

WHYD KINN CATXH IT IN HIS MOUTH SIR💀

Oh we talking about 🧍🏻🕴🏻

Anytime porsche says love,in love with kinn,I gain eyebrows

Fuck tawan fr🗣🗣

Kinns face when Porsche pulls out the picture 💀

Tell him porsche tf you still have it sir🤨porsche is JIST LIKE ME FR

Aw they’re doing the merit thing together love that

NO SIR WE DONT NEED A BIGGER ONE THANKS

UM fuck yall🚨🧍🏻🗣

So tawan was just wondering around like that for days?you couldn’t changed or something?

I JUST REMEMBERED THE KIMCHAY STUFF SHIT

so Kim thinks Porsches parents were killed alright same

Kim please no jokes 💀

wasted too much time🤨CHAY IS NOT A WASTE OF TIME YOU WHORE

ANSWER THE PHONE KIM😶👊👊

BABY CHAY!!!

Since Kim showed up to Chays house uninvited it’s only fair that chay do it as well

I.love.chay.SO.MUCH

THE LOVE SONG PLEQAW CHAY😭😭

Kim get ready for me to rock your shit sir it’s coming I AM COMING🕴🏻🚨

Okay the preview,I hate that they’re putting it at the very freaking end damn: YAY THEY PUT HIM IN THE CELL!!! That’d better not be kinn going to see tawan while he’s in the bath…(predicting it now that it’s vegas PLEASE DONT LET IT BE KINN) (SHIT I REWATXHED IT AND I THINK ITS KINN I SEE A RING😭TF YOU DOING THERE KINN)tawan if you don’t shut the fuck up😶👊👊

Y’all I watched this whole ep in a car with my family I need to pterodactyl screech about it so bad😭😭

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #thai bl series #this is so long sorry not sorry #thai series #kinn x porsche #kinnporsche ep8 #cellulars FJWKPT #I wanted to screech so many times yall😭#but I held it in like a winner

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

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— “LESSON LEARNED.” + KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

author’s note(s): a product of me refusing to study and thinking about nothing but bakugou, so enjoy my beautiful little loves and good luck on exams and deadlines if you have them!!

cw: smut, MDNI 18+, degradation, slight size!kink, clit play, tutor!bakugou + sorority girl!reader.

you never quite expected tutor!bakugou to be so rough, so brash. you had heard that his teaching methods were everything other than traditional— kirishima from the frathouse across the street whining to you about the bruises he’d gotten for simply mistaking one fact for another, but you were desperate. you needed to bring your grades up and you’re sure he could do with the extra credit for tutoring you.

tutor!bakugou is not what you expected, you were sure you’d get a whiny little thing like your ex midoriya, who’d shake in his boots upon seeing a darling little sorority girl like you. but bakugou is big, tattooed arms barely restrained by his tight black t-shirt, glasses low on his nose, ruby eyes darkened with concentration. he barely bats an eyelid when you enter the study room. “get out yer material, you’ve got a lotta shit to cover. s’a miracle you’re even still here.” he grunts when you sit next to him, again, barely batting an eyelid.

are the rumours about tutor!bakugou true? surely someone this good looking can’t t be a virgin, couldn’t have never had a partner or had a one night stand. he looks too sinful to be this good— to be a top student with nothing but pretty grades and a squeaky clean reputation, especially in college. so for an hour or so, you put him to the test with a plan you might come to regret. you whine his name when confused, lean over tutor!bakugou to get a ‘better’ look at the material, slide your hand up his thigh and play dumb— so you seem excited when getting something right.

slowly but surely you chip away at the blonde, watching his resolve break until finally tutor!bakugou snatches your wrist from its ‘innocent’ placement on his inner thigh and he yanks you towards him, sinister snarl etching its way onto handsome features. “try that shit again, ‘n i’ll fuckin’ punish you. got that?” katsuki hisses to you, glasses slipping down his nose and his eyes calculating and cool.

you should have been scared, should have backed down while you still hand the chance— “i don’t know what you mean baku, i just want you to help me,” but instead, you push his glasses up his nose and grin stupidly.

“answer the fuckin question, fuckslut.”

tutor!bakugou’s hot voice above the shell of your ear makes you shiver in his lap, heat flushing through your body at the debauched scene. one thing you can note from this tutoring session, is that katsuki bakugou in fact, isn’t a virgin despite what the rumours say and is more than capable handling dumb little sorority girls like you. you find your back pressed against his chest, molten warmth seeping through your clothes is hands force open your plush thighs and delve into the stickiness that hides between them.

“can’t y’hear me, slut?” katsuki huffs, annoyance rolling in waves through his tone. the yellowed pages of great expectations swim before your very own eyes— tears mounting your waterline and lower lashes as the blonde gives a sharp thrust to ‘wake you the fuck up’. he’s big, everywhere not just in his build that you’d observed earlier. no, tutor!bakugou’s cock sits snugly against your gummy walls while they trap him inside of you—you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix, bulging in your tummy while you squirm, spread across thick, muscled thighs. “s’not a wonder why you’re failing, nothin’ but air up in this pretty little head of yers.”

your cunt flutters, he’s right, you can’t even think straight with the pulse of his shaft against your dripping sex nor with his lips ghosting across the back of your neck and the flex of his muscles while he turns the page of your studying materials. your mouth is too wet, too hot, salivating while you try to calm your lust clouded mind and focus. “ba-kugou,” you mewl, the shift of his hips beneath you to get comfortable, sending you into overdrive. “‘m sorry, i’ll try t-to focus from now on...just please...move...”

tutor!bakugou laughs breathily in your ear— sending butterflies in a frenzy in your lower tummy and your tight pussy clamps down at the melody of a sound. “y’think you’re so funny, honey,” his fingers dance across your shiny, wet thighs and place feather light shapes on your puffy clit, causing you to throw your head back in sensitive ecstasy. katsuki doesn’t like that, freehand roughly gripping your throat to pull you back down to your incomplete work. “you really think i was gonna let you make a move on me without you actually learnin’ a damn thing? now i’ve got you stuffed full on my cock ‘n y’got the nerve to complain about it...’m not the one who wanted to mix work with pleasure.”

“I-i didn’t, i’m sorry—“ your voice is punctuated by wobbly hiccups as you shake your head, fighting the sleepy wave of neediness that pulses through your body since tutor!bakugou has cut off your air supply. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, skirt flipped up so he can see himself beginning to pump in and out of you— prodding at your g-spot. the hand around your throat tightens and even he knows that you’ll need all the oxygen to your brain you can get to answer this simple question.

“then answer the damn question, it’s not that fuckin’ hard.”

you tremble, thankful for the frosted glass windows of the study room. it is that hard, you can’t think with his thick girth stretching you open and two of his hot digits burning circles into your swollen nub. “i cant, s’too much, please just move—“ the words die in your throat, fading into a squeal when bakugou lands harsh spank against your creamy folds— sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“‘m not fuckin’ movin’ in this bitchy, needy fuckin’ cunt until you answer these questions right. dumb sluts don’t get rewards no matter how cute they look split open on my fat cock.” the tone of tutor!bakugou’s voice lowers into an evil growl before his fingers slide up the length of your slit to play with the desperate juices gushing from your hole.

“bakugou—“

“katsuki, sir.” he corrects you quickly, the grip he has on your throat moving up to your cheeks. katsuki squishes them together, forcing the tears to roll freely from your babydoll eyes as he steadies your blurry gaze on the set of work on the desk. “you really must be a stupid bitch if you can’t get this one right, or are my cock and my fingers making you that fuckin’ dumb, princess?”

you nod, not a clear answer in your mind as you wonder how the fuck katsuki bakugou can hold out on you for this long, even when you clench down on him and your honeyed nectar drips between his balls. the whole afternoon is torture, leaving you on edge and the verge of release.

thats your own fault though, guess you should have learned your lesson.

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nanikoreeeh · 3 years

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dilf!osamu x chubby!reader

warnings; age gap [college reader, 40, 50-ish osamu], fem!reader n*n-con, groping, face-fucking, perverted old samu being nasty

author’s note; this effing idea has been causing my writers block, i’m finally free, also i need dilf! osamu to force me to suck his cock

dilf!osamu who can't get enough of his son’s pretty & chubby best friend. why his too dumb son hasn’t make a move on you is out of his understanding, cause he’s noticed the way you look at him when you think no one is watching. you are attending the same college as his son and osamu insists on having you for dinner at least once a month. his son doesn’t complain cause he adores you, but of course he isn’t aware of the way his dad’s dick gets hard inside his pants when you arrive at his restaurant wearing a denim skirt that perfectly hugs your full legs.

you are always so polite and you honestly seem to enjoy his company, always eager to hear a funny anecdote about one of his many customers, always willing to lend him a hand with the dishes, saying it’s the least you can do after he feeds you so well and “for free!” you add, your laugh so cheerful that he almost feels bad for stroking his cock at night thinking about the way you’d look pressed into his chest as he pounds into you.

he catches you crying one time because of a stupid boy that never made you cum (or so he remembers from your conversations with his son that he definitely shouldn’t be listening to). he offers you his arms, and they are so warm, strong and comforting that you melt into his chest that is surprisingly sturdy, you mention it without much thought only to instantly blush after realizing what you’ve just said. osamu swears your embarrassed expression is the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

he doesn’t seemed bothered by your comment, if anything there’s a hint of smugness on his eyes as he lazily half smiles at you, he swifts his hold of you, one big hand placing itself at the base of your throat , your breath hitching at the weight of his placement. he leans down over you, warm breath ghosting over your lips. “you are too pretty to be crying for a boy (y/n), also...” he places a soft kiss on you lips, once that has you closing your eyes and leaning into him “if you are going to cry over a boy, well...” his lips place gentle, feather like kisses on your jawline.

“what?” your voice is so thin he wouldn’t have heard you if not from his closeness to you. your eyes are glossy and filled with expectation as he looks down on you, your lashes slowly batting at him and lips slightly parted, showing him a too cute of a pout that makes him wanna shove his cock inside your mouth.

“a girl like you should only cry because of a guy, if said guy is making you cry from fucking your brains out”.

your reaction is priceless, it engrains in his memory as vividly as an evening with a bright orange sun on the horizon, you close your eyes, a new stream of tears rolling down your round cheeks and your much smaller hand placing itself atop his own.

“want me to show you what it feels like?”

you’d like to gulp down, but the grip he keeps around your neck keeps you from doing so.

osamu doesn’t really care that you deny with your head, doesn’t care that you manage to breath out a “please stop it, miya-san”. cause this can’t be happening, this is osamu-san, who has always been nice, who’s offered you his house countless times, whose fatherly hugs have always felt so warm, so right.

"do you really want me to stop, or will i find your panties wet if i sneak my hand under this slutty skirt of yours?"

[ • ]

dilf!osamu who acts like nothing happened after that incident. like he didn’t laugh at you after you couldn’t answer to his question and who ruffled your hair as he told you “you shouldn’t take me seriously, (y/n)-chan”.

and you really try to forget about it, you try to pretend that nothing happened, despite the fact that you can still remember his breath on your lips, or his strong grip around your throat. or how he has developed the habit of pressing himself against your ass while you vigorously wash the dishes from dinner as your friend is already napping on his room. his strong arms surrounding your soft frame as his big hands come to shamelessly grope your tits over your top.

you try to not moan as he twists your sensitive nipples around his calloused fingers. while his tongue laps at the delicate skin from your earlobe. it doesn’t matter that you ask him to stop, it doesn’t matter that there are tears streaming down your cheeks as he forces you to get on your knees as he springs his heavy and fat cock from the insides of his pants.

he gently caresses your cheek as he forces his member inside your mouth, the yuxtaposition so severe that it makes you sob as he sighs in delight as you feel the tip of his head hitting the back of your throat.

“shhh, you wouldn’t want my son to find out you are choking on his dad’s cock, do you?”

you try to sputter an answer, but he holds your face in place, strong hands gripping the top of your head as he begins to fuck himself into your mouth. you are gagging, this is the biggest cock you’ve ever taken, and it doesn’t help that his pace is getting brutal and sloppier as you feel his orgasm reaching him. the air smells like him, and you can only think of the discomfort of your knees as the salty flavor of his precum washing over your senses.

you look up at him, nails digging into his tights while trying to find the sweet man who offered to drive you home the first time you and his son got wasted together.

“fuck, don’t look so pitiful sweet girl, you only make me want to fuck you even harder, what’s even more, i’m gonna give you a present, don’t waste a drop, okay?” his voice is sweet, but the treat in his eyes makes your guts clench, still, you try to nod your head to say no, but osamu is too focused in reaching his orgasm.

the taste of his cum sticks to back of your tongue for days. it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve brushed your teeth. if only you could also wash the feeling of being violated from your insides. if only your wouldn’t feel your panties get wet at the memory.

#miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #miya osamu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #miya osamu #— playing [w. dilf]#— playing [w. age gap]#— playing [w. noncon]#— playing [w. groping]#— from sun’s book

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Ghosted (Emily x Reader)

Request 1: sonnett where reader is really good friends with a goalie(your choice) and sonnett gets jealous because reader and goalie play for the same club and Emily is in Europe. Do she goes to Lindsey and reader thinks Emily is going to breakup with her and pushes her closer to the goalie and it’s a whole shit show

Request 2: Can you do a Emily Sonnett imagines where her and the reader are together but the reader use to date someone else on the team ( you can chose) and the comments gets to Emily. And the Reader shows Emily how much she loves her?

Request 3: Something with Jane Campbell please

Author’s Note: I thought these three would work very well together, so I combined them. Also, this one takes an interesting turn in the end and if you look closely enough there are hints to a very interesting dynamic and why reader and jane wouldn’t work out. Let me know what you think. I live for interactions and stuff. They help to keep me motivated.

It had been one hell of a year. It had started with both you and your girlfriend getting zero notice when the thorns traded her to Orlando and you to Houston. Then you had been trapped on opposite ends of the country due to the pandemic. That distance only got bigger when she decided to go to Sweden when Orlando pulled out of the challenge cup.

But the two of you had made it work. Well, at least you thought you had made it work. apparently, Emily thought differently, if the silent treatment you had gotten the second you stepped into camp 3 hours ago was anything to go by.

Hell, she wouldn’t even look in your direction. All you wanted was to hold your girlfriend (cause you hadn’t seen her in person in almost 6 months) and it felt like she didn’t even give a fuck that you were there. And Lindsey intercepted you every time you tried to get close.

You smiled as you approached your blond girlfriend, leaning on the squat rack next to her. Normally you’d wrap your arms around her and kiss her neck, but you didn’t want to overstep with this weird tension happening between you.

“Hey Em, wanna partner?” you asked softly, almost shyly.

Emily didn’t even turn to acknowledge you.

“I’m already with Linds,” She said tensely. Since when had she been so on edge around you?

You frowned, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand what was happening between you and your girlfriend. You glanced down at your shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting.

“Oh, maybe-“ You started, poking the squat rack with your shoe. You looked up, only to find that Emily had already walked away and joined Lindsey on the other side of the gym.

You sighed, finishing your thought into the blank air around you. “we could do dinner or something later. Guess not,”

You blew out a long breath, willing yourself to hold back the tears. She didn’t even wait to see what you were going to say. Your eyes followed her as she hugged the blond midfielder and laughed loudly at whatever she was saying. It was like a knife in your heart.

“What’s going on with you and Miss Sweden?” Hands on your shoulders and the voice right next to your ear should have made you jump, but you were too used to Jane’s scare tactics.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged the keeper off of you, your gaze never leaving Emily. “Honestly, I have no clue,” You sighed deeply. She had never been like this with you before, and you definitely hadn’t expected your reunion to go like this.

“Maybe it’s just jet lag. You know how she gets when she doesn’t get enough sleep,” Jane shrugged, poking at your dimples, trying to get you to laugh. You batted her hand away.

“The question is how you know that,” You said, sending her a scathing look.

She smirked impishly, wiggling her eyebrows. “I live with you, remember?”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, shoving your best friend. “I don’t think You’d ever let me forget,”

The only good thing about your trade to the dash was that you got to hang out with your best friend every day. You and Jane had known each other since college and instantly hit it off as friends. When you had been traded, Jane also just happened to be looking for a roommate and things had worked out pretty well.

“Well, if you’re still looking for a dinner date, I’m free tonight,” Jane hummed, wrapping an arm around you again.

“Been there, done that,” You scoffed playfully, shoving her again, but she didn’t let go of you this time.

So maybe the two of you had tried in college. It was more of a fling than anything else, and it had mutually ended on great terms. You loved each other, but you weren’t in love and that was alright. You decided you were way better off as friends than lovers and left it at that. Plus, you had kinda fallen insanely hard for a certain blond cavalier.

“Not that kind of date,” She giggled, letting you shove her ways this time (definitely taking note of how your lips ticked up and patting herself on the back for clearing some of the clouds on your sunny personality away).

“Whatever you say, now shut up and spot me,”

The two of you were so caught up that you didn’t see the annoyed blue eyes following you from across the room, or the clenched fists and jaw that would have told you exactly what the issue with your girlfriend was.

*****

You tried to smile as you entered the dining room, hoping that you would finally have the chance to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering your girlfriend.

You spotted her from across the room, seated at a table with Rose, Sam, and Mal. You released a breath that you didn’t know you were holding at the absence of a certain blond midfielder. Emily had been attached to her side, and watching them was like a knife in your chest, every interaction a slice at what felt like the tiny thread keeping your relationship together.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” You asked as you approached the table, stopping short of the seat next to your girlfriend.

She tensed, and you noted how her jaw clenched with furrowed eyebrows. She opened her mouth, but before she could respond another body slid between the two of you.

“Yeah, it is,” Lindsey said firmly, setting her plate down right in front of the seat in question. You frowned, and your fingers tightened around your plate. You bit your lip in an attempt to not say the thing that was on your mind. Despite how pissed off you were with the woman, she was your friend too.

You glanced around the table that was now awkwardly staring at you, your eyes landing on an empty seat next to Mal and across from Emily.

“Alright, what about that one?”

“Taken too,” Lindsey said shortly with a shrug. Mal glared at her. “No, it’s not, sit Y/n,”

The team was growing tired of the tension between you, and how sad you looked.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, sliding in beside Mal.

Silence fell over the table, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You never felt so unwelcome around your friends before.

“Well I better get going,” Emily said after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, shoving the chair back and abruptly standing. Lindsey stood up next to her, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. Your chest ached at the hand placement and how Emily leaned into her.

You shot up too, clearing your throat and extending your hand. “Wait Em, I thought maybe we could talk after dinner?” You said, desperation clear in your voice. The table had never heard you like this before, had never seen a crack in your typically cool and unfailingly in control exterior.

“She’s already got plans,” Lindsey said with an eye roll, and Emily seems to tuck herself further into the taller midfielder. You gulped down the defeat and desperation threatening to crawl out of your chest.

“Oh, um maybe I could join you then?” You asked hopefully.

“Private plans Y/n.” Lindsey snapped, already beginning to guide Emily out of the room, seemingly careless to what you had to say. The blond defender didn’t even give you the courtesy of eye contact as she left.

“Sure, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I love you, Emily,” You called after their backs, watching them go.

Everything in you seemed to deflate. It felt like she was leaving with a piece of you like she didn’t even care you were crumbling behind her. You didn’t try to stop the tears as they fell this time, slumping miserably back into your seat.

A warm presence knelt next to you, and soft but calloused hands gently wiped the tears burning down your face.

You met the keeper’s concerned blue eyes and allowed her to pull you into her strong embrace, hiding your face in her neck.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” You sobbed. Jane rubbed large circles on your back with one hand and squeezed you tight with the otherHands-onother hand was trying to hold your broken pieces together.

“I don’t know either,” She said, kissing the side of your head.

You missed Emily pausing at the door to send you one last look, but Jane didn’t. Her eyes bored into the blond defender. If she thought she could just jerk you around like this with no consequences then she had another thing coming.

Jane wasn’t romantically attracted to you, but you were her best friend and she wasn’t about to let you continue to get hurt. Emily might be able to avoid you, but she wouldn’t be able to avoid Jane, the keeper would make sure of it.

****

“Alright cut the Bullshit Sweden, you’ve been ignoring Y/n for a week. What the fuck is your problem,” Jane growled, stepping into the nearly empty locker room and glaring at your girlfriend. She knew you could more than take care of yourself, but this had gone on long enough.

Emily tensed at the new presence, back straightening and eye going wide. She hadn’t bet on the head of the Houston department of defense to get involved.

“Fuck off Campbell,” Lindsey said back, stepping so she was standing protectively in front of her best friend.

“I will not because your best friend there is hurting my best friend,” Jane took another step towards the duo, puffing out her chest.

“Yeah right, she’s barely even noticed,” Emily scoffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

“See, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that considering she’s cried herself to sleep every night since she’s been here,” Jane said, taking another terrifying step forward, stabbing her finger wildly into the air.

She had been the one to hold you while you sobbed yourself to sleep because you were sure Emily had fallen out of love with you. The one who watched you agonize over every interaction you had with your girlfriend leading up to camp, trying to find where you had gone wrong. The one who listened to you degrade yourself for apparently driving Emily away and right into Lindsey’s arms. She was watching as you literally ripped yourself apart over this.

“And what, You didn’t enjoy comforting your new girlfriend?” Lindsey scoffed loudly, shoving Jane’s hand (which was practically touching her chest) away.

“What?” Jane asked shocked.

Emily peeked over Lindsey’s shoulder, scowling at the keeper. Anyone with eyes knew what they meant. “Look, I know she’s cheating so you can both drop the friends act,”

Jane oils to help the laugh that bubbled out of her lips. God, Emily was clueless if she thought you two were anything more than friends. Sure you had tried in college, but there weren’t romantic feelings there. You both wanted such different things out of a partner and agreed that you were better off as friends. Emily was your person, and Jane would be damned if anyone said anything different.

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she wants anyone but you and if you weren’t so far up Horan‘s ass you would know that. If you wanna break up with her to date Miss Portland then grow some balls and do it, but don’t you dare try and ghost the sweetest person in the world,”

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” Emily spat.

Jane rolled her eyes. “No, because it would hurt her more than you already have. She loves you, and I thought you loved her. If you do, then you should show it,”

Emily seemed to soften at Jane’s words. She did love you, more than life itself. She really had to talk this whole thing out with you. Jane didn’t give her a chance to respond, deciding that storming off to find you and make sure you were ready for practice was a more productive use of time (she would never admit that it scared her a little to leave you alone these days).

*****

Emily wasn’t a jealous person. At least she tried not to be. But it was really fucking difficult when it came to you and your friendship with Jane. Well, it was difficult in the beginning, when she had you next to her, but with you so far away it was nearly unbearable.

She hadn’t minded that the Dash moved you into Jane’s apartment, but then the comments started and they wouldn’t leave her alone. Instead of turning to you, talking it out with you, she had gone running to her own best friend. And in her effort to run from the fear that you wouldn’t choose her, she had hurt you in the process.

She watched you from across the field, taking in the slight tilt of your head and slump of your shoulders. You smiled tightly at the keeper as she approached you, but Emily could tell that it didn’t reach your eyes, even from across the field. She also knew it wasn’t the blinding smile you saved solely for her. How hadn’t she noticed it before?

“Jane was a little crude but she’s right you know,” Lindsey said, wrapping an arm around Emily’s shoulder, her eyes easily finding you.

She felt bad about how Emily was treating you.

“About which part?” Emily asked, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. Jane had said a whole lot, and she couldn’t find it within herself to disagree with them. It was childish to ignore you, and for her to be oblivious to your obvious feelings.

“Don’t play dumb,” Lindsey scoffed, pinching Emily’s side a little harder than necessary. She didn’t like being the middleman between the two of you. You were her friend too after all.

Emily sighed crossing her arms a little tighter around herself. “I know. I need to talk to talk to her,”

“I’m sure when she finds out what’s bothering you, there’ll be a whole lot more than talking. Isn’t communication one of those rules between the two of you?” Lindsey asked with a smirk, laughing loudly when Emily shoved her. The team knew about your relationship… dynamic and Lindsey was sure Emily was in for it when you realized exactly why the defender had broken your most sacred agreement.

“Shut up,”

Emily’s cheeks flavored up at the implication. He was sure you’d come up with a very… creative… way to aid her in expressing her feelings next time and show her how much you loved her when you found out what this whole thing was about.

*****

You watched Emily very carefully from your perch on the end of the bed. She had dragged you here right after practice, and as soon as the door closed the words were pouring out of her lips.

You sat quietly, letting her finally get out the emotions she had been keeping from you for so long. She explained how the comments on Houston’s latest photo of you and Jane had started this whole shit show, and how terrified she was that you would decide you didn’t want to deal with the distance.

You let her pace back and forth as she told you about how she didn’t want to confront the issue, so she thought ignoring you would be a better course of action. It didn’t give you a chance to tell her that you didn’t want to be with her anymore.

She finally paused, turning to look at you with wide tearful eyes, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

“I don’t have romantic feelings for Jane,” You said seriously, looking your girlfriend right in the eyes. You wanted her to know how true those words were. She knew that tone and had this been a different conversation it would have sent a chill down her spine.

“I know I just-“ She started, but you cut her rambling off an eyebrow raise and your firm voice“Got jealous and thought that cutting your losses was better than coming to me,”

It was a rule in your relationship- communication was king. The only way things got done was if you talked about them. You talked through every aspect of your relationship, every like and dislike, every limit and desire. This situation broke every rule you had established and that didn’t sit well with you. You couldn’t be the only one initiating (or trying to), she had to do it too (especially if she was uncomfortable with something) for this whole thing to work. It scared you a little that she had just shut down and run off to Lindsey.

Emily nodded slightly, staring a hole in your shirt.

“I thought you had moved on already,” She mumbled.

You stood from the bed, gently using a finger to tilt her head so you could look her in the eyes. You raised an eyebrow. “So you got cozy with Lindsey to make me feel as jealous as you were and then wouldn’t respond to me as punishment?”

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would hurt less,” She mumbled, captivated by your y/e/c eyes and the little swirl of deeper emotion hidden inside.

You nodded. stepping closer so your noises were almost touching and gently grasping her shoulders. “I love you Emily Ann Sonnett, even when you’re being a dumbass and ghosting me,”

She could feel your breath fanning over her lips, only adding to the weight of your words.

“I love you too,” Emily said, and you could see the truth to her words in her blue eyes.

You smirked. “I know,”

You leaned down and finally connected your lips. She grabbed your collar and pulled you closer, pouting all of her emotions into the kiss, trying to show you how much she loved you and how sorry she was for hurting you.

Your lips moved together in a very familiar dance, slow and full of all of the emotions between you. At some point, you had flipped the two of you around so Emily was seated on edge of the bed. You pulled back and began to trail kisses down your girlfriend’s neck.

She tilted her head to give you more room, sighing and moaning as you trailed your way down her chest, stomach, and thighs, placing kisses as you went until you were kneeling between her legs. Your fingers toyed with the waistband of her pants, an annoying cocky smirk plaster on your face when she whined that you were going too slow.

“No, no baby girl. We’re going to work on your communication skills, so I’m not going to do anything unless you tell me exactly what you want,”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagine

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celamoon · 3 years

Text

JJK characters as people I met before college

Characters include: Itadori, Megumi, Inumaki, Nanami, Gojo, Nobara, Maki, Sukuna, Geto

Warnings: unedited, typed at 12am ❤️

Itadori as the boy I liked for a bit in freshman year. He’s sweet, incredibly athletic, but also a bit bonkers. He shares a good number of passions with you and he also talk a lot. He has a sibling, who’s apparently a skater boy who plays girls. He knows how to cook, but can be a bit stubborn at times. He’s the reason you studied to hard to pass the placement test with, only to end up realizing that he didn’t make it. But he was sweet, even if you later on realized that you two weren’t compatible.

Megumi as the boy I had a crush on in 4th grade. He generally doesn’t talk, always done with his friends wrecking havoc. He’s sweet though, because when he catches your eyes slightly dropping he’ll have you lean onto his shoulder to rest if you’re sitting down. If you guys are out, then he’ll excuse the two of you to go home. He doesn’t talk much at school, but he never hesitates to let you know about how he’s feeling. He always listens to you vent after he finishes talking about his day. He also offers you great advice and helps you cut off people who are damaging to you. Once you got sick and this man cooked you up an entire dish for when you woke up. Another time you went to an amusement park with him and he won you a stuffed animal. He also really liked mangoes so now you use mango flavoured chapstick as a habit. You still talk to him surprisingly enough.

Inumaki as the boy I sat next to in middle school History class. He’s quiet, quiet as hell and hates talking to the class. He will slip in a passive aggressive comment that’s enough to have someone shut up every once in a while though. He refuses to share his notes with anyone but you, and you even get to use his expensive alcohol markers! He lets you use the coloured pencils and ruler he carries around in his backpack and only ever discusses on topics with you. He helps you grab your binder from the shelf when the teacher calls on everyone to, and he also shares homeroom with you. Once you actually got him to talk about his passion for chess and homeboy wouldn’t shut up about it (it was adorable). On top of that he also always letting you raid his lunch for the snacks his parents pack him. He also mentioned that he would miss you in high school. You still have the words ‘I’ll miss you’ written in your yearbook from your final year.

Nanami as the boy I always vented to in sophomore. He comes to you to vent about school and work often, and you’re always there to listen to him. You offer words of advice and you listen to the tea that he heard of from Gojo. He always asks before venting and always apologizes after. You two form trust, as you vent to him quite often as well. He a really good listener, and he would drop the task at hand to make sure you’re ok. He sends you song reccs and animal crossing updates too. He’s really sweet, and you feel safe around him. He would fight a rude person on the street for you if you asked him to.

Gojo as the guy my friend had a fat crush on. He was sweet and you had arrived to the school three days late thanks to an exam, and you had been told that he wrapped your books for you. You find that he’s extremely gifted athletically and he’s the fastest in your school. He talks to lots of people online and even asked one of the girls a grade below you out. He got rejected though. He’s very friendly to you, and he always has a rebuttal to the girl that insults you in class. He also taught you how to insult the girl back . He also comments on how you’ve changed. Cut your hair? He makes a comment. Put yourself hair up/down? He makes a comment. Got a high grade? He makes a comment praising you about it. You two don’t have a crush on each other but he makes sure that you’re comfortable in school and you’re thankful for him.

Nobara as the popular girl in middle school. She’s not obnoxious surprisingly enough, and she gets along with everyone. She’s the center of all the gossip and she always has the freshest tea. She doesn’t talk with you often, but you once let her know a small secret just to find that she was incredibly good at keeping secrets. She fought with her best friend at some point so she started to talk to you about her relationship with her boyfriend. You got a bit annoyed but she helped you get over the crush on your deskmate so you’re thankful for that. She also talked to a ton of guys online and somehow never bumped into an internet pedophile. You didn’t talk to her much but you’re thankful that she was in your class.

Maki as the smart upperclassman I talked to in middle school. She was incredibly sweet, yet she didn’t talk to that many people in her class since they isolated her. She told you about how she learned martial arts and how she had a passion for photography. You followed her Tumblr page of her photos. She offered you great advice and gave you a reason to not talk to the other girls in your class. She had quite a bit on her chest so you let her vent to you. She talked with you lots and you two started drifting apart after one of your old friends transferred back. Maki let you know that it wasn’t you though, it was your friend who was toxic. You met her a year after at a history competition and was pleased to find that she still trusted you. You miss her often when you have no one to talk to.

Sukuna as the classmate that I never talked to. You heard rumours about him, ghosting girls, not wanting to settle down for one person... but you find that he’s actually quite entertaining as a classmate. He doesn’t talk to you much and settles for causing ruckus in the class instead. He always gets on the teacher’s good side and has saved the class from at least 12 science class lectures. He dated an upper classman and had a crush on the popular girl in your class while in that relationship. He also once bet that you’d be able to make a hoop earlier than the other girl and actually won the bet. His family moves around often and he left a year after. He wrote that you would go places in your yearbook before he left. You still wonder how he does from time to time.

Geto as the boy I called dad in high school. He has a resting bitch face, and he’s almost always done with you, but he’s incredibly kind and sweet sometimes. He helps you with homework and he doesn’t hesitate to point out any errors to you. He talks about his shit teachers often and you have to stifle a laugh so you don’t get in trouble with the teacher. He doesn’t have that big of a friend group but knows way to many people for his own good. He’s sweet in his own way, and is always offering you snacks that he brought from home or bought at the cafeteria. He had anxiety and self confidence issues though, and you try to help as much as you can by praising him. He’s lovely, just a bit too much to handle sometimes.

Itadori's the reason I jumped ahead in chinese. Megumi's the reason I have no trouble cutting people who are toxic to me. Inumaki's the reason I turn things in on time and don't procrastinate. Nanami's the reason I bought animal crossing and my switch, and the reason I started talking with my middle school classmates again. Gojo's the reason why I have no trouble speaking up when I have an issue with someone. Nobara's the reason why I got over a pointless crush. Maki's the reason I work hard in school. Sukuna's the reason I get up when I fall down. and Geto's the reason that I survived high school. Each person I've met in my life is more than just a fleeting figure, they are a puzzle piece, and they made me who I am. So yes, I am just a mosaic of everyone I loved, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

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spilledkauffie · 4 years

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In Your Dreams

Repost from an old account I deleted!!!

Pairing: Charles Xavier x reader (mutant) AU: first class era Word Count: 2.0k T/W: a little flirty A/N: the reader’s power is controlling water!

A hazy start, first a bright light then… a calm. Shifting onto your back, you groaned a little while squinting your eyes at the illumination flooding your pupils. It didn’t take long for you to sit up, curious as to where you were instantly. You felt your hands almost sink, only ever so slightly though you were quick to retreat them. Observing the terrain beneath you, you picked up a handful and watched it slip through your fingers. Beautiful pure sand, falling from your palm. The sound of distant seagulls came next, until it was quiet. Quiet enough to hear your own breathing. Momentarily you felt alone. Picking yourself up, you stood slowly, still unsure of your surroundings. It wasn’t a familiar place and it didn’t seem dangerous, you drew obvious speculations. Making the decision to walk around, you found several sporadically placed seashells along the path your foot prints made in the moldable sand.

“Oh,” you gasped, happily stepping toward a gorgeously coloured shell.

Taking it gently in your hands, you rubbed your thumbs across the surface, revealing a chrome-like coat to the shell. Smiling, you rather enjoyed the peacefulness of, well, wherever you were. Continuing your collection, you lost track of time, never really sure what time it had been to begin with. A breeze came about, fluffing your hair and rosing your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you breathed deeply. Such a calm had long escaped your life. Always on the run, hiding, being scared of what would happen… all those thoughts faded, as if they never even existed. A graceful smile spread across your lips, simply standing happily with the sand between your toes and seashells in hand. The sun was warm, but not too hot. The trees that were rustling in the wind provided shade. And the ocean’s waves-

Stopping your cleansing inhale, you opened your eyes ploddingly, “oh...”

Another bright, soft light and you found yourself batting your eyelashes. Adjusting to a morning glow of sunlight. This time you knew exactly where you were. Glass windows, a dark wooden room, soft sheets and careful, tender circles being stroked against the temple of your forehead by loving fingertips. Shifting onto your opposite side, you opened your eyes, the loss of physical contact wasn’t ideal, but now you could see him. Sitting next to you in bed, book in hand and back against the headboard, his hand hovered over your temple. Gazing upward, you waited until his mind told him you were up before he glanced downward.

“Good morning,” Charles smiled, voice as tranquil as ever, while he took to stroking your hair, “sleep alright, Love?”

“You know,” you sighed, shifting, “I’ve never had a dream about water, despite being able to control it.”

Raising an eyebrow, you were telling him just how aware you were of him giving you a good dream the very night after you told him you often had nightmares. You heard a soft chuckle, watching him bite his lip and furrow his eyebrows next, as he looked you over. In cases like these you desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. Instead you met his insatiable blue eyes, adoring how they reminded you of crystal clear water, a calm you seldom saw within yourself.

“Wait, so, you’re-are you telling me that you’ve never dreamt of water, in any case at all?” Charles closed the book in his hand and turned to see you better.

“Never,” you admitted, observing how he smiled widely following your answer.

Though unsure why he was so happy, you smiled back. Leaning in, closer to you, Charles shook his head with amazement, slipping his hand down from your hair to rest against the side of your neck endearingly.

“Do you realise that your subconscious not acknowledging your conscious power directly could be able to explain where specific mutations lay in the chambers of the mind?”

He trailed off on some scientific explanation and you tried your best to listen, but when he talked so excitedly and intelligently, it was difficult to pay attention. There was something terribly attractive about it. The placement of his hand wasn’t helping either, you felt his finger tips move when he began explaining certain terms excitedly, sending a shiver throughout your skin.

“Insanely informational and so very fascinating. A very groovy mutation,” Charles said with a pause and a look that could stop your heart. He straightening up to lean back against the headboard, “I wonder.”

Removing his hands from you, he picked up another book from the pile he always kept on his side of the bed. Dropping your shoulders, you were hoping he’d pick up on your thoughts. He wasn’t the very best with romance, but you really weren’t asking for much, just a little flirting maybe a kiss, anything. Being so busy with the X-men training, you wanted some form of affection to take place. Knowing you might have to be the first to engage, you did. He’d catch on the instant he grasped the concept it just took a push when he was preoccupied.

“You know I love it when you talk like that,” you smiled, musing your voice.

“Talk like what?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the pages he flipped through.

“I think you know,” you tilted your head, lifting yourself up, allowing the sheets to gracefully cascade down your body, folding at your waist, exposing the beauty of your skin.

“I- what, when,” he stuttered, taking a few looks up from his book, attempting to subtly scan your frame.

“Though I’m sure you’re much too busy with work and the team,” you sighed playfully, hoping to draw his attention in, “I know you don’t have much time for, well, other things.”

Combing your hands through your hair, you worked out the tangles, carefully. Charles watched as your perfectly messied hair fell smoothly. It lead his eyes to your bare neck and shoulders, temptingly. The way your skin managed to slightly glisten from the morning sunlight dancing about the room was undeniably stunning.Your eyelashes fluffed with every seductive bat you gave them.

“Depends on what sort of things,” he placed the book aside, noting the smile that spread across your lips and the thought that ran through your mind.

Biting your lip and containing a giggle, you drug your hand up his thigh teasingly, while closing the distance between the two of you, “why don’t you read my mind?”

A polite smirk and chuckle was all you received before feeling his hand grace your skin, making you blush at the softness he always touched you with. Batting your eyelashes, you closed your eyes again, this time lips finally being met by his. It was gentle, yet deep and oh so adoring. It amazed you at truly how talented he was at making you swoon so easily. Rather enjoying the kiss, you leaned forward when he pulled back, in hopes of bringing him back into the kiss.

“Oh, Darling,” Charles whispered almost empathetically, lips moving against the corner of yours, “I’ve pictured that so many times.”

Your lips parted subconsciously, he truly was diving into your thoughts, even those thoughts. The stroke of his fingertips against your temple soon turned to him spreading his fingers through your hair. Breath hitching, you felt your heartbeat increase. His other hand ghosted down your rib cage, to your navel, settling at your hips.

“Except, how about this time you call me Professor?”

Biting your lip again and curling your toes a little you smiled, happy with the direction the situation was headed, “hmm, Ch-“

“Kinky,” a voice from the doorway chimed in, making you grab the sheets to hold tightly against your body, “and of all people I least expected you.”

“Well, we all have learning to do about each other,” Charles played it off calmly, sure to erase the memory from Erik’s mind at a later time, “you most of all should know kinky.”

Seeing a slight flinch in Erik, you smirked.

“And this is something I suggest you don’t get between,” you glared towards Erik.

“What’re you going to do?” Erik raised an eyebrow with a quiet scoff, “drain my bath water?”

“No,” you perked an annoyed eyebrow yourself, “but humans are sixty percent water...I’m sure I could think of something creative.”

Dipping his head Charles refrained from showing his amusement, not wanting to aggravate anyone: he opted to play the peacekeeper as per usual. Reaching to hold your hand, he looked over to Erik, who was now clearly unamused with the whole situation.

“We’ll be down in a few minutes, I promise,” he nodded, “kindly make sure everyone else is down, please, Erik?”

A reluctant, but accepting nod was returned before Erik left. Still staring the direction of the doorway, you were brought back to the prior mood by a hand rubbing up and down your arm. Tilting your head, you sighed, proceeding to straddle his lap. Charles set his hand on either side of your hips, looking up curious as to what you were playing at. Setting your arms atop his shoulders you got lost for a moment in his ocean eyes.

“Are we ever going to get a moment alone in this place?” You asked seriously, aware of the school he wanted to create from the mansion.

“Of course,” he chuckled in response, before noticing your demeanour.

You didn’t smile or laugh, you just looked away and dropped your shoulders. You knew he would ask, so you spoke.

“I just feel like we never have time,” you shrugged, “we can’t stay in bed, or go to dinner by ourselves, or...other things. Not without other people constantly being around us here.”

Bouncing you slightly, he drew back your attention with a smile and his hands studying the curve of your back. He loved how romantic you were trying to be, and that you were expressing emotions with him, no mind telepathy involved. But you were right, it was going to be very busy and very taxing soon with the team and future students. He always pictured you by his side through it all though. The chance of losing you always frightened him, even though he could see there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in your mind for your love.

He stayed silent, keen to listen to you continue, “I just- I just want a moment. One moment, just with you.”

“We’ll have several more,” he said sincerely, “I promise you that, Love.”

Filing through your thoughts subtly, he found images and ideas of the two of you in the future that you had thought up, even with the school he wanted. You were by his side and he by yours, always. There were several different versions where you wore a sparkling ring on your left hand in those ideas, which he much appreciated; a smile pulling at his lips when he saw those images, every time.

Seeing how your iris’ sparkled in the sunlight, as you looked toward the window made him fall more in love with you by the moment. It wasn’t something he was used to, but now he never wanted to lose it. You were the one person that let him in completely, you didn’t want to hide anything, as most people did. You wanted him to feel free to use his power just as much as he encouraged you to. His heart practically stopped the moment you turned back to him.

“I swear you are ethereal,” Charles whispered, brushing his fingertips against your cheek, watching your smile reappear.

“Stop using fancy words I don’t know to turn me on,” you raised an eyebrow, happy with the intimate proximity, “especially when you’ve just made a promise.”

A soft chuckle came before his explanation, “it’s an adjective, of which means delicate to the point of appearing not to be of this world, in other words: heavenly.”

Rolling your eyes, you hardly thought of yourself as heavenly, but you smile nonetheless just hearing him call you that, “maybe in my dreams you could make me.”

“I can make a lot happen in your dreams,” Charles winked with a charming expression, “and...I’ll make them come true. That’s a promise.”

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 4 years

Text

Infatuation P1

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Warnings: Casual Joe thoughts and stalking/watching from afar

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic... and I chose Netflix’s YOU of all things. This doesn’t specifically take place anywhere on any timeline, but know that Joe and Love are together. I don’t know if I should continue this but I felt like it needed to be posted.

There you were.

You are currently Love’s favourite customer and, as I watch you, I can’t begin to see why.

You’re not really interested in what’s on display, are you? You come in every day, glance around as if you’ve never seen the place, and slowly make your way to the front counter.

You don’t even say anything when you find yourself waiting alone, but you do toy with the bell charm on your bag. It’s almost like a replacement for your own voice.

You know, by the way you’re looking around, it almost seems like you’re searching for something... or someone. Should I feel threatened? You come in three times a week and hog Love’s attention like a spoiled kid.

Now you’re checking the time on your phone. Do you have somewhere else you have to be? Relax, Y/N, you’re just in Anavrin.

“Y/N, can you proof read this for me?” Forty walks into frame with his phone in hand, saving you from your awkward wait.

I click my pen and pretend to be taking inventory.

“I don’t know, I’m waiting for Love.” You say quietly. I almost didn’t catch that.

The conversation seemed to stop and I glance up to see Forty’s lips puckered. He’s thinking.

“Well, I don’t see her anywhere and it’ll only take a minute.” He continued suddenly. “Please, please, please?”

A little annoying, I will admit. But his request doesn’t feel like something you’d turn down-and I already spot you nodding your head. He hands you his phone and you begin to read.

Your lips are pursed and your eyes are moving back and forth. Either you’re a fast reader or Forty used a very large font size. Do you read often? Your bag looks big enough to hold a couple books.

You’re very petite, reserved and seem like just the type to secretly enjoy a steamy romance novel. As they say, It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.

“Sorry for the wait, someone left one of the spice caps loose and I had to clean the mess.” Love steals your attention away from Forty’s phone. He’s quick to take the device back from you. He looks frustrated.

“Oh, it’s alright! Forty was keeping me company.” You say, but Forty is already walking away- more specifically, walking towards me.

My attention is momentarily taken away from you while I look down and pretend to examine the books that came in this morning.

“Hey old sport, can you proof read this?”

I look at him, his phone, and then glance towards Love. He seems to notice and also glances back.

“Hey, Love has her friends and I have mine.” He snaps his fingers infront of my face and I look at him. “Right now is friend time and your creepy silence is not allowed.”

“I-“ before I can even get two words out, he’s got his phone in my face and an expectant look in his eye.

It had been a long day of enduring an earful from Forty. He’s passionate for his craft of the week, I’ll give him that.

But you... you left hours ago, yet you were still on my mind.

Love and you were in the back kitchen and I knew. Love doesn’t just take anyone into the kitchen, especially not a customer... no. You’re much more than that. Aren’t you, Y/N?

You two prepared a lunch together, as you did every time you found yourself at Anavrin.

“Will, I’m planning a ‘get together’ on Friday.” Love snapped me out of my expressionless daze. “In all seriousness, I just want to relax with some friends at home. Will you be there?”

“That depends, am I invited?” I reply with a quirked smile and an innocent look in my eye.

“Of course you are! Come over around 3, I’ll need help with dinner.” She doesn’t actually need help with preparing dinner, but I can tell she’d prefer the extra set of hands.

“I’ll be there.” I smile, a real genuine one too.

This is a nice conversation and all, but I want to find out more about you, Y/N. “While dinner is on the table, I was wondering if you wanted to go out and grab lunch with me tomorrow?” Im asking this because I know you’re coming in for your secret lunch dates with Love. This question is just the bait I need to get a conversation going.

“Oh. I don’t know about that. I kind of have plans with Y/N during my lunch break.” Bingo. Just what I wanted to hear. Well, not really but you get the point.

“Y/N... Is that... the...uhh...” This is all an act. I’m pretending to search for the name, but she’s never actually mentioned you to me directly before.

“She’s a customer.” Love says. Downplaying the meaning behind your relationship and keeping it professional? Are you two hiding something or am I just losing it?

“Is she the girl with the bell on her bag? There was a girl jingling something on her bag around noon.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely her.” Love nods. I like how reserved she’s being, despite feeling a bit frustrated that I couldn’t find out more. It’s almost like Love is tempting me to find you on my own.

“I guess lunch can wait then. I’ll be looking forward to dinner on Friday.”

Love leans forward and gives me one of her softest kisses. I return the action and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

My thoughts almost naturally start to drift to you again.

It’s another day at Anavrin, but I don’t see you anywhere.

Love is in the back kitchen, lost in her own cooking trance as per usual. She looks very beautiful with that focused look on her face.

But where are you? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago and yet, there’s no sign of you.

At least, not until I start to hear that little chime on your bag.

“Thank you for the input. I might not do anything with what you said, but I’ll definitely consider it.” That’s right... Forty knows you too. He’s talking about his story again and you seem interested. I can’t tell if you’re genuinely into it or just being nice.

When you come into view, Love looks up and spots you. You don’t notice her right away, but she smiles in your direction.

I spot your lips moving but I can’t make out what you’re saying. Damn it, Y/N. You have to get out of that mumbling habit.

Forty takes a sip of his drink and nods in response. Before I know it, you’re both going your separate ways: Forty hovers around some books while you go towards the back kitchen.

I look back to Love and see her eyes staring right at me. She’s looking with an unreadable expression... then she smiles, waves, and I wave back with a smile of my own.

I remember Forty and turn around.

“I kind of don’t like the placement of these.” Forty rotates a finger around the display. I ignore his statement.

“Who’s that girl?” I look towards the back kitchen. “I see her come in like every day but she doesn’t say a word.”

He seems to think for a bit as he spins whatever remains of his drink with his reusable straw.

“That’s Y/N.” I wait for him to continue. “She’s an old friend of Love’s. Y/N is back in LA and I guess Love just wants to spend time with her.”

“Who is she to you?” It only feels natural that I ask this. Forty seems to trail behind you, but it could be because you’re a recognizable face.

“I took her out on a date once.” He sips his drink. “Then she pretty much ghosted everyone when she moved.”

Now that... that makes me curious... I now want to dive deeper than I would have, if just to find out why you ghosted Love of all people. She’s good for you, she’s good for everyone.

There’s always the possibility you moved away with family, but I’d like to believe there’s a better story in there somewhere.

I think it’s time to see how reserved you really are, Y/N.

#you #love quinn #joe goldberg #poly #polyamory #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader #short story #oneshot #fanfiction #joe goldberg x reader #love quinn x reader #forty quinn #forty quinn x reader

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cyanide-mustard · 3 years

Text

Distraction (Part 1)(Reggie Peters X Reader Fanfic)(JATP)

This is my first time writing/posting a fanfic so please go easy on me but also constructive criticism is appreciated. There will be a part 2, so If anyone would like to be on a tag list for this specific fic or general fics in the future, just send me a message. Anyways, on with the fic!

Description: Reggie wears a new outfit and the reader gets a little flustered and carried away.

Tags: F/M, Bisexual female reader

I’m going to kill Julie.

I came to this decision while we were finishing our last song of the night. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Julie with all my heart. She's an amazing friend, but all I can think about now is how I’m going to kill her. I know she didn’t do it on purpose or have any ill intent, but I’m about to have a stroke, and it’s her fault.

She and Reggie had disappeared earlier in the afternoon, and I hadn't seen either of them until we got on stage, but as soon as I saw them, my heart stopped beating. Julie and Reggie must have decided he needed an outfit change, I’d never tell him, but I thought he looked amazing in what he wore, whatever he wore, though this might have been too extreme of a change for my poor little heart.

When I first appeared on stage, everything was normal. My guitar was in my hands, and I was ready to play. I was stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Reggie. He was wearing a red and black plaid skirt that cut off mid-thigh and his signature leather jacket. I even missed the first couple notes of the song, making the boys look over at me with concern on their faces. I shrugged it off and tried to keep my eyes on the left side of the audience but it was a struggle not to look at him. I was finally beginning to cool down and loosen up when, oh no, Reggie started to make his over to my side of the stage. We stood back to back as we played together; my heart was doing backflips, and my pulse was racing with no signs of slowing down.

Reggie went to his side of the stage once the song eventually ended. I let out a sigh of relief, only to immediately regret it. When he made it back to his side, he took off his leather jacket to reveal a black, sleeveless muscle tee. I pried my eyes from the current target of my spiralling thoughts, knowing that if I let myself stare any longer, I wouldn’t be able to hold my tongue, or my lips for that matter. “Get it together,” I said to myself a little too loudly. Alex looked over at me with confusion until he moved his gaze over to Reggie and back to me when the smuggest smirk appeared. I had a feeling that we would be talking about that later. I don’t know what supernatural force decided that I deserve to be punished like this. I never did anything too bad while I was alive. Sure I told my fair share of lies and maybe I did some less than angel-like behaviour, but nothing bad enough that would ever make me deserving of this toture. I'm pretty sure that when I died, I went to hell. I went to Hell, and watching Reggie in his current outfit was to be my punishment for eternity. And as torturous as this was, the worst part is that I can’t touch him and that I never would be able to. He’s too involved in my life for me to risk telling him about my feelings and them being unreciprocated. He’s helped me through thick and thin and has always been there to help me in my time of need. I would never be able to live with myself (while I guess I didn’t since I was dead) if I ever ruined the relationship I had with him and the band.

We played the rest of the set with minimal errors from me. Thankfully the knowledge of my feelings towards Reggie was kept just to Alex, though Julie gave me a look every so often that made me feel like she knew exactly what was happening. ‘We’re almost done’ was the mantra I had been repeating to myself the whole night, then we finally were almost done. I grabbed a drink of water in passing as we moved onto our last song of the night, ‘Edge of Great’.

As we played through the song, Reggie made his way to me again, but instead of going back to back like he normally did, he brought his face close to my mic to sing with me. He was close enough that I could practically taste his cologne on my tongue, thick and suffocating, but sweet all the same. The smell of cinnamon burned my nose, but I liked it. As one of the stage lights fell on us his pupils dilated, and I tried to take in every detail of his face that I could. It reminded me that this moment was real and that I’d always have this memory. I marvelled at the fact that I was still able to stand up straight because of how intensely my legs shook beneath me. I felt light-headed, almost to the point that I thought I would pass out. I chalked it all up to adrenaline and the two red bulls I drank before the show. I started to get lost in my reckless thoughts. I thought of how good his lips might feel on mine. Would he bury his fingers in my hair or keep them on my waist? On that note, how would his hands feel? Would they still feel soft despite the calluses he definitely had from years of playing bass? Would he mark my neck with hickies, or would he just leave my lips bruised and swollen? Would his moan sound just as sweet as his singing, or would it be dark and heavy? I cursed myself for being so reckless with my imagination.

Can ghosts pass out? I didn’t get time to think about that cause he somehow moved even closer to the mic, subsequently closer to my face. I didn’t think it was possible for him to be any closer to me without touching me; he was so close that I could see all the little freckles splattered across his face. I would never tell him this but I loved the freckles on his nose; they somehow made him look cute and hot at the same time. One day, I would love to trace all of them with my finger, count and memorize the placements of each freckle. I could also see all the little flecks of colour in his eyes, cascading out into a kaleidoscope of blue and green that made me weak in the knees. I, for the life of me, could never figure out what exact colour his eyes were. I’d contemplate if they were blue with a green overlay or vice versa, or maybe one flat colour with an undertone, but his eyes would always shift with the light, so I could never be sure. I would be content if the rest of my life (or afterlife I guess) was just dedicated to figuring out what colour his eyes were. We were on the last couple lines of the song, and I was still just staring at him, anchored to his eyes, eye contact unbreaking as if my life depended on it, which it kind of felt like my life did depend on it. I finished the last note of the song, and my eyes stayed glued to his for a minute before leaving to look at that crowd. I think the reason I stopped looking at him was because deep down I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing him if we kept staring at each other with this intensity .

We all quickly bowed to the crowd before we disappeared, earning a gasp of shock from the audience before they resumed clapping. We poofed into the side alley on the side of the building.

“We were amazing, guys!'' Reggie exclaimed and we all laughed at his excitement.

“How should we celebrate?” Alex questioned.

“We could go to that club a few blocks down, I heard it’s pretty cool,” Luke suggested, causing me to pale at that idea, don’t get me wrong I loved clubs and dancing but the last thing I wanted to do was watch Reggie drool over other girls.

“I think I’m going to head home guys. I’m tired and I don’t think I could do any more walking or even standing up,” I said.

“Are you sure? That’ll mean you don’t get to dance with me, the master of dance.” Alex jokingly nudged me in the ribs, but I could pick out a concerned lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’ll miss dancing with you so I’ll make an IOU.” I responded. The boys began to walk down the street as Alex told them that he’d catch up to them in a second. He turned to me and accusingly said “I know”.

“Know what?” I tried to play dumb but he saw right through it.

“Your crush on Reggie, obviously.” Alex placed a firm hand on his hip, tilting his head in a manner that told me he’d known long enough to have grown exasperated.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised I didn’t notice it earlier. I’m more surprised that only Julie seemed to catch on, Luke and Reggie really are oblivious.” We shared a giggle at that, and then I took a breath to collect myself before responding.

“You can’t tell anyone, Alex. I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

“I won’t, but they can only be so oblivious for so long,” Alex said, and deep down, I knew there was truth to his words. “Especially if you keep looking at him like that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’ll be fun, plus I’ll miss your company,” he reiterated for the third time, and I decided that this time I would tell him the truth.

“Yeah no, I’d rather not be forced to watch Reggie flirt and dance with all those other girls, even if they can’t see him it still hurts to watch.”

Alex's face contorted to one of pity before he gave me a hug, lingering as he spoke softly. “Ok, I’ll see you when we get home.” Alex then turned, jogging to catch up with the boys.

Ughh, what was I going to do.

Tag list:

@unihedgehog22

#julie and the phantoms #reggie peters #reggie x y/n #reggie x reader #reggie peters wears a skirt and looks hot in it #reader insert #jatp fanfic #bi reggie

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clockworkouroboros · 4 years

Text

I’m in a The Amazing Devil Discord server and have been going wild with crazy insane theories about just about everything, drawing connections that probably don’t actually exist, and generally losing my mind over both Love Run and The Horror and the Wild. That being said, I do have a theory about THatW that, if it’s not true, at least merits me a tinfoil hat, I think. Just be warned, this post will be long, and yes, I will include receipts.

So here’s this theory and Joey, if you read this, just know that I’m impressed either at how much thought was put into this, or the sheer number of coincidences that make this work if it wasn’t planned. It’s turned me into a conspiracy theorist for the past four days or so? And it’s severely affected the amount of sleep I’ve been getting.

My basic theory here is that Joey and Madeleine aren’t singing as themselves throughout this album, they’re playing characters, and those characters are old gods. Joey is the Wild, Madeleine is Time. (Alternatively, she’s Horror, fitting with the album title, but as she’s never explicitly referred to as such, I’m not insisting on that point.)

Now, where am I getting this silly idea from? None other than the title track, of course, in which Joey sings, “witness me, old man, I am the Wild, and Madeleine sings, “And I am Time itself.” And yes, they are both capitalized like that in the lyrics.

So they explicitly refer to themselves as such. But Emily, you might be saying (or not, depending on how much you care), that’s one song! This is hardly an album’s worth of proof! Sure, they might be gods in this song, but what about the other eight? To which I say, hoo boy, I’m just getting started.

Before I continue, I’d like to add something about how their characters are depicted throughout the album: Joey is more cheerful, Madeleine is not. (see: Wild Blue Yonder, Marbles, Battle Cries.) Joey is whimsical, Madeleine is practical. (See Battle Cries especially, but you can also see this in Wild Blue Yonder.) Madeleine is referred to multiple times as being stronger than Joey, and appears to assume a more protective role over Joey’s childlike. This fits in with my theory, by the way, in a roundabout sort of way that involves some squinting. Joey is the Wild, which is...well, wild. Think of little kids: cheerful, whimsical, in need of protection. Madeleine is Time. She knows what has been, what is, and what will be. Of course she’s going to be more mature, practical, and pessimistic.

And why is this important? Well, it’s kind of how I’m tying together a lot of the rest of the album. (Not all of it; Farewell Wanderlust is a notable outlier in many ways, and some of my connections are tenuous at best, but we’re going to ignore that and pretend it’s all rock-solid. Rockrose-solid. I’m sorry, I’m very tired.) I’m ignoring The Rockrose and the Thistle a little bit in this post, not because I dislike it (it’s gorgeous), but because it’s stubbornly eluding my attempts to tie it into anything other than Elsa’s Song, which isn’t even part of this album.

The vast majority of what you need to know about these two characters is in The Horror and the Wild (the song), so I’m gonna copy/paste some lyrics, and go through them. (Actually, the copy/pasting is nonexistent, these lyrics are imprinted on my brain at this point. That being said, if there are errors, lmk and I will edit the post and fix them!)

So we’ve got Madeleine starting, singing about Joey, with “You were raised by wolves and voices, every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed, they said it all comes down to you.” Aside from the fact that I have no clue why “it all” comes down to Joey, or anything with that last bit, maybe a few more late nights with a tinfoil hat will do the trick. That being said, the first line of the song references childhood specifically in relation to Joey. Notice also how wolves are referenced in Wild Blue Yonder (“we don’t know what’s out there/could be wolves”) and That Unwanted Animal (“‘What’s the time, Mr. Wolf,’ but you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws”). The whole “howling” thing and “deep beneath your bed” both pop up in That Unwanted Animal, too: “and on the wind it howls,” for one. And for the other, there’s “you [presumably Joey] make the bed up silent on the floor so no one hears us,” later followed later in the song by “and the door below us splinters, and the creature creeps inside.”

Following this, Joey sings about Madeleine: “you’re the daughter of silent watching stones, you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments, in wonderment at you and yours, forever asking more.” First of all, I’m gonna say that this is Joey’s point of view; later on, Madeleine will refute the daughter thing (“I’m not a drunkard, a daughter, a preacher”.) Anyway, “silent watching stones” could reference Wild Blue Yonder: “every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view.” The view being the stars hurling all their fundaments?

(Incidentally, I knew vaguely what “fundament” meant, but I looked it up to make sure I had it right, and learned that, among its other meanings, “fundament” can mean “butt.” But I don’t think that’s what Joey had in mind with this. I just think y’all should appreciate it.)

Anyway, we’ve also got in Battle Cries, “With you I could summon the gods and the stars, make them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart, and we’d laugh at the ghosts of our fears,” with Madeleine singing, “Come on, love, please don’t start, sing your notes play your part,” and then the part that gets me every time: M: “we were gods,” J: “we were kids.” Which is a whole other can of worms involving their personalities, which I’ve already briefly outlined. My point is the whole “gods and the stars” bit.

I could (and have, on Discord) done a full, in-depth analysis of this track, and I don’t want to go all over it again, but “I promise you, they’ll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, witness me, old man, I am the Wild” has both Time and Wild as proper nouns in the lyrics, plus reinforces Time’s view of the Wild as a child. No clue who the old man is, though.

In verse two, Madeleine sings, “you [Joey] are the son of every dressing-up box, and I am Time itself, I slow and let you play, I steal the hours, and turn the night into day.” Again, this reinforces Joey’s childlike aspects (which will later be hinted at in That Unwanted Animal, with the “god-child,” who’s clearly Joey), but also shows, as in the refrain, the fact that Time has a sense of protectiveness over the Wild, at least sometimes.

That being said, although I’ve obviously referenced other songs, I still have mostly focused on the title track. So. I’m going to go through some of the other songs real quick.

The songs on the album (again, excepting Rockrose, because my attempts to tie it in have been frustrating and not gone anywhere, Mr. Batey please explain) can be grouped into categories: songs outright referencing gods (THatW, Farewell Wanderlust, That Unwanted Animal, Battle Cries), songs about their relationship, (arguably all of them, although Welly Boots is a bit confusing), and songs that refuse to allow me to classify them (Rockrose).

I would argue that this entire album is about the relationship of two old gods, but I’m not quite sure what the chronology is of the album, because it seems like it can’t be straightforward. (Farewell Wanderlust, although its placement makes sense in the setup of the album, doesn’t make sense in the chronology of this theory.) Another important note in some way is that every song on the album, with the exception of Farewell Wanderlust, is about being there for someone, or steadfastness in some capacity, while Farewell Wanderlust is about abandonment. It’s an outlier in a lot of ways. (Though not as many ways as frickin Rockrose.)

I have been talking about this at great length (and almost incessantly) on Discord, so unless you want this post to get even longer, I’m going to run by some lyrics real quick to try and show a little bit my thought process.

- “He watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time” (Fair)

- “And she is stronger than he has ever been, he knows” (Fair) versus “Without you, I’m stronger, I’m no longer filled with wonder. How wrong you were” (Wild Blue Yonder, Welly Boots)

- J: “Place your hand in mine” M: “Hold the hand of the god-child, they said, as he falls from the sky” (That Unwanted Animal)

- “I’m the saint of the paint that was left in the pot, I’m your angel ellipsis, your devil of dots” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “the fluttering of all your wings” (The Horror and the Wild) versus “when you think about him, my wings start to flap” (Farewell Wanderlust)

- “come, devil, come, she sang, call out my name. Let’s take this outside, ‘cos we’re one and the same. Our gods have abandoned us, left us, instead, take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead” (Farewell Wanderlust)

There are even more lyrics, and I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’ve gone totally insane with all of this, but this post is way too long already, so just let me know if you want any clarification or something.

Tldr: The Amazing Devil’s album The Horror and the Wild is about two old gods, one being Time, and the other being the Wild, or the god-child. The album is primarily about their relationship and steadfastness they show each other, even in tumultuous circumstances.

Now go excuse me while I attempt to take off this tinfoil hat that appears to be stuck on my head.

#music #the amazing devil #joey batey #madeleine hyland #the horror and the wild #long post #i’m...so sorry #i needed some sort of record #because enough conversation has passed on discord that those posts are now lost to time #anyway here y’all go #man joey if you read this pls don’t judge me too hard

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rovewritesit · 4 years

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Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

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

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

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame.

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on.

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel.

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?”

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour.

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments.

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face.

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch.

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,”

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again.

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game.

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with?

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk.

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly.

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100.

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles.

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath.

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.”

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture.

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality. One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it.

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill.

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar.

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug.

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone.

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince.

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead.

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain.

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately.

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #angelofmydreams

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