#this is like the time I went to a Christmas market and Taylor showed up for Beyoncé’s premiere next door

[sophisticatedswifts]

So funny story, earlier today I was exploring London and ended up in an area I had never been to before. And I was walking down the sidewalk when I saw a man ride past me on a bike. And I thought “wow, that man looks just like Harry Styles.” So just to reassure myself that it was very unlikely I would have just randomly seen Harry Styles, I decided to look up what part of London he lives in. And it turns out I was on his street.

[theputterer]

Good Things In 2023

It’s that time of year again! Time to remember all the good things that happened in 2023. I’ve done this since 2017, and highly recommend doing this as a fun way to reflect (and to have something for future reference when you are feeling Down.)

woof ok here we go

PERSONAL

I visited two countries I haven't been to before: the Netherlands and Iceland!

The Netherlands: mostly Amsterdam but did also pop down to The Hague for a day. Did the Van Gogh Museum, the Anne Frank House, the Rijksmuseum, the Bloemenmarkt, a canal boat tour, the Royal Palace, the Mauritshuis.

Iceland: I was there for less than 48 hours but I saw THE NORTHERN LIGHTS!!!! they were subtler than I expected but so cool. also did the Perlan Museum and a Lava Show, which ruled.

Related: I turned 30 this year!

My dear friend Sam came to visit me in Dublin in June! The highlight of her visit was going with her to see Hozier at Malahide Castle.

Speaking of which, Hozier dropped UNREAL UNEARTH which isn't personal, per se, but is very personal to me

My sister visited me in November! We squeezed a lot in her time here, but highlights were Glendalough, the Hill of Tara, and the Galway Christmas Market.

A few aunts went on a trip to Ireland this fall and I joined them for a bit up in Donegal, as well as a day trip to Derry, which I'd not been to before.

Completely fucking forgot about this but I did write a 158k word long ROGUE ONE / FRINGE AU, ENDLESS FORMS MOST BEAUTIFUL. it was a real fuckin bitch to finish, let me tell you that

I got really into MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE over the summer (don't ask) and wrote a couple short pieces inspired by the most recent movie, DEAD RECKONING - PART ONE: LADY LAZARUS and WORTHY THE NAME OF SIR KNIGHT.

I jumped back on my bullshit in October and wrote a long, extended epilogue to my BINARY STAR SYSTEMS trilogy: TWO DESERTS. the way the series ended was always correct and good but it was fun to write this extended epilogue focusing on the fallout, the question of what it's like to live past the end of your myth.

Anything bolded below is something I particularly enjoyed and recommend. 

MOVIES

2023 movies I saw and liked:

M3GAN

KNOCK AT THE CABIN

65

BONO AND THE EDGE, A SORT OF HOMECOMING WITH DAVID LETTERMAN

DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS: HONOR AMONG THIEVES

RENFIELD

THREE MUSKETEERS: D'ARTAGNAN

JOHN MULANEY: BABY J

SISU

THE LITTLE MERMAID

SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER VERSE

ASTEROID CITY

INDIANA JONES AND THE DIAL OF DESTINY

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: DEAD RECKONING - PART ONE

BARBIE

OPPENHEIMER

PAST LIVES

ELEMENTAL

A HAUNTING IN VENICE

CHEVALIER

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON

BOTTOMS

THE ROYAL HOTEL

DREAM SCENARIO

ANATOMY OF A FALL

THE HUNGER GAMES: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES

EILEEN

NAPOLEON

GODZILLA MINUS ONE

FERRARI

2022 movies I saw and liked:

TAR

THE LOST CITY

WOMEN TALKING

TV

THE LAST OF US

PEAKY BLINDERS

BOOKS

super embarrassing how few books I read this year:

"Survival of the Richest: Escape Fantasies of the Tech Billionaires" by Douglas Rushkoff

"Donegal Folk Tales" by Joe Brennan

"Listen to the Land Speak: A Journey into the Wisdom of What Lies Beneath Us" by Manchan Magan

"Hell Bent" by Leigh Bardugo

"The Book of M" by Peng Shepherd

"The World We Make" by NK Jemisin

"The Echo Wife" by Sarah Gailey

"Daisy Jones and the Six" by Taylor Jenkins Reid

"White Cat, Black Dog: Stories" by Kelly Link

"Yellowface" by RF Kuang

"Ithaca" by Claire North

"Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI" by David Grann

"A Heart That Works" by Rob Delaney

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier

"The Crying Book" by Heather Christie

"In the Dream House" by Carmen Maria Machado

"Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels, and Crooks" by Patrick Radden Keefe

"Fleabag" by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

"The Hurricane Wars" by Thea Guanzon

OTHER GOOD THINGS

*some of these things are Good as in well-written or well-made, but maybe not Good in topic.

"Eurydice" by Adrienne Su

"What Happens to a School Shooter's Sister?" by Jennifer Gonnerman for The New Yorker. A high school student murders his parents and several students at his school, and his sister is left to pick up the pieces. really powerful story on unconditional love.

"A Friend Died, Her Novel Unfinished. Could I Realize Her Vision?" by Leslie Jamison for The New Yorker. the grief of losing not only a dear friend but her art as well.

"Fuck you, I don't know?"

Werner Herzog pronounces Eeyore.

George Washington's Dream for America, an SNL sketch.

Judi Dench performs Shakespeare.

"Walking Brittany Home" by Devin Faraci for Washington Post. a really beautiful piece on death and love.

This thread on the struggle of trying to be fashionable in Ireland.

"The Return of the Marriage Plot: Why everyone is so eager for men and women to get hitched" by Rebecca Traister for The Cut.

"We Were Never Supposed to See Our Own Faces This Much" by Lola Christina Alao for Dazed Digital. on social media and personal reflection.

sunwoof

this story about Jimmy Buffett I loved

"She Wasn't Able to Get an Abortion. Now She's A Mom. Soon She'll Start Seventh Grade" by Charlotte Alter for Time. the cruelty is the point.

had a pilot named Ken yesterday and he introduced himself by saying his job is plane

"Cillian Murphy might be the star of a massive movie atm but to me he will always be the guy that showed up in the rain to our abortion rights marches"

"The 'Troubling Reverberations' at the End of OPPENHEIMER, Explained" by Bilge Ebiri for Vulture. it's an absolutely devastating ending, but the fact remains: there was no other way to end it.

this obituary for the great Sinéad O'Connor.

Kiké Hernandez returned to the Dodgers!

this behind the scenes video from the filming of MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: DEAD RECKONING - PART ONE where Tom Cruise's co-stars watch him drive a motorcycle off a cliff.

"How Christopher Nolan Learned to Stop Worrying and Love AI" by Maria Streshinsky for Wired. good interview with Nolan, one of my favorite filmmakers / artists. (anyone who's ever read anything I've written is probably like yes, this is very obvious.)

"The Perils and Promises of Penis-Enlargement Surgery" by Ava Kofman for The New Yorker. an absolutely BONKERS but super important piece!

a new ending to RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, lmao

"The Return of Ryan Gosling" by Zach Baron for GQ. really great profile writing going on here!

"LOST Illusions: The Untold Story of the Hit Show's Poisonous Culture" by Maureen Ryan for Vanity Fair. LOST is one of my favorite shows and has been super influential on my work. (again, this is probably very obvious). this piece is devastating in how it reveals the terrible racism and sexism behind the scenes of a show I have loved. important.

Henry Kissinger died this year (GOOD THINGS BABYYY) and this piece by Nick Turse, which came out in May, is a good explainer on why that's such good news: "Kissinger's Killing Fields".

"Talking With 'Swiftie Dads' at a Taylor Swift Concert" by Eileen Cartter for GQ. I thought this was very sweet.

The New York Times had an interactive feature about Connie Chung and her impact on young Chinese-American women, particularly the ones named after her. I love this video of her meeting some of them.

"Will A.I. Become the New McKinsey?" by Ted Chiang for The New Yorker. Chiang is best known as the writer of STORY OF YOUR LIFE which was adapted into ARRIVAL, so it's wise to listen to him when it comes to tech and science.

Loved this speech Mark Hamill gave about Carrie Fisher at her Hollywood Walk of Fame induction ceremony.

Accents white people can still do.

this absolutely incredible slapstick esque unintentional comedy scene.

As always, tagging anyone who’d like to do this!

@magalis @callioope @earnestfeeling @illuminahsti @fortysevenswrites @vaderkat @leaiorganas @garethsedwards @rifle-yes @buffyrat @alittlemomentum @i-am-slain @rogue-rook

[lonelyasawhisper]

Queen: Britain's Biggest Unknowns

Martin Hayman, Sounds, 5 January 1974

QUEEN ARE being hailed as the natural successors to Led Zeppelin on the other side of the Atlantic. This may cause an outburst of derisive laughter, hoots, boos, jeers and catcalls from those who think Zep are the cat's whiskers. But most of the people who have seen Queen agree that they are pretty hot.

They have been touring with Mott the Hoople and make a good showing on what is now a pretty tough assignment, opening the show for Mott: They write and play punchy songs, they are loud and aggressive to the right degree, they look good and move well on stage, especially their singer Freddie Mercury, who besides strutting and prancing has an excellent, sharp-edged voice with a lot of power.

It makes one wonder why the New York Dolls were so lavishly feted on their derisory couple of British gigs. I reckon that a British provincial audience would have pulled the Dolls apart in a jiffy; Queen handle them well, and they were getting encores on their set.

And the public are giving them the thumbs up too, which is reflected in steady sales of their debut album — standing now at 15,000 in Britain and a quite incredible 85,000 in the States, where it has crept into the lower reaches of the album charts. Not bad when you think how comparatively unknown they are even here. Evidently not as unknown as we imagine. You might say they were Britain's biggest unknowns.

I went to Trident Studios on a rainy night before Christmas to find the band hard at work trying to complete their second album before the inevitable cutbacks in production at EMI slowed up their progress. For at this point Queen are at a crucial stage of their career — just before the break, as they say in the business. If they are to maintain the initial impetus it is essential that they get out another album — and preferably a single too — and then get a support gig with a big British act in America.

Business-wise Queen seem to be quite well set. They are signed to Trident Audio Productions, the production and management arm of the studios. Queen are TAP's first signing and this is likely to give the group considerable leverage with EMI. They are no newcomers to the music scene though it's only in the last year that they have turned to music full time. Bassist John Deacon and drummer Roger Taylor had been in a semi-professional group called Smile for a year or two while at college, but it was not until singer Freddie Mercury's arrival that they named themselves Queen. Wisely they all decided to finish their respective courses before going professional.

John, originally from Leicester, had been at the Chelsea College of Arts and Technology; Roger, up from Cornwall after leaving dental college, joined up with Freddie to run a stall in the Kensington Market; Brian May the guitarist took a degree in Physics and went on to do a Ph.D. in, believe it or not, infra-red astronomy; and Freddie they just describe as a "Kensington poseur".

I talked to John and Roger in Trident's re-mix room as they played through such rough mixes as they had finished. The sound was still a bit raw and ragged, but there was no mistaking the originality of the songs and the thrusting energy of the playing, the kind of buzz you only get from a new band whose creativity has not yet peaked. First song up was 'Fairy Feller's Masterstroke', so titled after a painting by the Victorian Richard Dadd (it hangs in the Tate Gallery). "Freddie just wrote a song using all the characters in the painting — it's fairly incomprehensible," commented Roger. Next up were 'Loser In The End' and the atmospheric 'Ogre Battle', with bumping and grinding effects. Freddie (the one with the Bugs Bunny mush and the wigwam of dark hair) is the principal writer, followed closely by Brian, although Roger occasionally turns in a song.

The band were complimentary about the way their first album had been handled by the American record company Elektra, who had used the orginal cover art-work supplied by the group, which EMI here had not done. They also complained that the record had gone out of stock for six weeks in this country, which could have done them a lot of damage if they were not pushing hard.

It's to avoid such complications that they are working so hard on the album, to give plenty of margin for other people's errors. They have their heads screwed on, these fellers, following the business manoeuvres with an interested eye, and Roger was able to give me a sort of market breakdown of Queen's global trading position — they are especially strong, it appears, in Germany and Sweden as well as the US.

But closer to home, they feel that they acquitted themselves fairly well on the recent Mott tour, despite an outdated PA — actually David Bowie's old Ground Control. "It was the first time we'd done gig after gig, night after night," says John, "but we were really pleased with some places — Newcastle and Glasgow and, strangely enough, Bournemouth, seemed to know about us."

Continued Roger: "I've been with the band two and a half years and I'm the newest member. Queen was Freddie's idea really, about three years back. We'd like to make it everywhere, but we are placing a lot of emphasis on America, but we don't want to go out there too soon and blow it. For example we've been giving a lot of thought to getting in a keyboard. We may get another guy in. It would thicken the sound up. It's a bit limited with only three instruments on stage, but we don't really want to make it a five-piece. We're going to do a tour of concerts before we go to the States. That'll probably be in April. It's got to improve a lot yet, the stage sound has to be good every night."

Retrieved from rocksbackpages.com

[lonelyreputation]

'tis the damn season (college au)

A/N: Hello!! I’m back with some holiday angst 💥 It’s been a busy holiday season for me, but we made it!! I hope you all have had a lovely December so far!! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!! Thanks a million million for all your support!! ✨🎄⌛️🍫☕️

Prompt: You’re back in Canada for the Holidays after leaving for California three and a half years ago. And while you’re home, you run into your ex-boyfriend––Shawn––and things get…Complicated. 

(heavily inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift)

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Allusion to Sex (no smut directly written) // WC: 12.6K // Angst & Fluff 

A gust of wind hit your face like a hundred needles pricking your cheeks. The frigidness of the dry air caused you to shut your eyes tight and sniffle.

It was the first week of December, and the temperature was just a little below freezing as you walked around an outdoor market that was decorated for the Holidays. Bright string lights were wound around the trees; with even more lights zig-zagging from the tops of them, that mimicked stars in the night sky. 

The Christmas music that played above the shops through speakers sounded more like a quiet hum beneath people chattering and hurrying off to the next shop. And there was the occasional cry of a child when their parents told them they couldn’t get the specific toy they wanted.

Even if a person didn’t celebrate Christmas, it definitely would put them in a festive mood.

“A little cold?” Your friend–Tara–bumped your shoulder with a chuckle.

You glared at her, shoving one of your mitten clad hands further into your jacket pocket. Unfortunately your other hand was preoccupied by holding onto a bag full of Holiday presents.

“It’s too cold.”

You could see Tara’s breath when she tipped her head back and laughed, “That’s what happens when you leave for California and have only been back three times since you left.”

At her comment, you shrugged your shoulders. She wasn’t wrong, and her tone was more lighthearted than malicious, but you still felt a pang of guilt. You left the quiet town of Pickering for the booming city of Los Angeles for university. And in the three and a half years you’ve been at university, you’ve only been back home three times.

Whenever you did come back home, it was kept to a week––or shorter––and you solely only saw your family and Tara. But your mother convinced you that it would be nice to have you home for a majority of the holiday break. So that’s how you found yourself back in Canada, when you could’ve been basking in the warmth of the sun in California.

“Any other plans for when you’re home?” Tara asked as she steered the two of you over to look at the front windows of a shop.

You rolled your eyes, “Just sitting on the couch.”

“There’s no one else you want to see?”

The undertone of her quick response was not lost on you. You glared at her, “You know I only see you and my family whenever I come back.”

“But you’re never back,” Tara tore her attention away from gazing at the shoes that were way too expensive for either of you to buy. Her eyes were slightly larger than normal and her lips tugged slightly into a frown, “I bet there are some people who would want to reconnect.”

You let out a bitter laugh and shook your head, “Not with how I left things.”

“Y/n––”

“If I wanted to know who you were hanging out with while I was gone,” You said with a bit of edge to your tone, because you knew while she mentioned how there were multiple people who wanted to reconnect…You knew she was specifically talking about one person, “I would’ve asked.”

Tara was silent as she confidently held your stare. It was as if she was trying to convince you that he would want to reconnect.

But there was a reason you kept your visits to Canada so short.

You knew Tara still talked to him––You knew she was still friends with him. How could she not? He was intertwined with your high school friend group. And you weren’t mad at her for still keeping contact with him, you didn’t have a right to tell her who she could and couldn’t be friends with…But you were fairly certain he never wanted to speak to you again.

You were the first to break eye contact and look down at the ground before looking over her shoulder to see a small stand for hot chocolate, “I’m getting a hot chocolate, do you want anything?”

Tara shook her head with a small smile, “I’m all good. Think I’m going to take a peak in this store.”

Without another word, you nodded and swiftly walked past her and toward the stand. There was another gust of wind that blew into your face. It was a kind of cold that fogs up windshield glass, when you passed a group of people who looked to be around your age.

You wiggled your nose from the cold air and didn’t pay any mind to them.

The line was longer than you thought, but you would wait in the cold if it meant avoiding Tara’s innuendos of meeting up with a certain someone. You bounced your leg to keep your blood circulating, but when you heard a little kid yell about someone cutting in line, you stopped and leaned your upper body to the side.

Everyone always got a little temperamental when they were freezing, especially little kids. But the parent hushed the child and everyone in line went back to minding their own business.

You dug around your pocket for some cash when you noticed you were a few people away from the front of the line. When it was your turn, you held out a few dollars for the cheap hot chocolate. But the cashier, whose elf hat jingled when they shook their head no, just handed you the white styrofoam cup.

“Someone covered your drink.”

You knitted your eyebrows together, “What?”

He kept his unamused facial expression as he nodded somewhere behind your shoulder, “He cut in line and said he had to pay for your drink.”  

Taking the steaming cup from him, you felt your hands defrost from under your mittens as you nodded slowly, “Thanks…”

The cashier barely lifted their lips up in a smile at your response and was soon helping the couple behind you.

You took a single sip of the hot chocolate, letting out a content sigh as it warmed up your insides, when you turned around to thank the person who paid for your drink.

But when you turned around on your heel and saw the person who paid for your drink already staring at you…Your face fell. The hot chocolate you held in your hands no longer provided warmth. And you wanted to run all the way back to California.

It felt as if the cold air had frozen your feet to the pavement.

Last minute shoppers hastily walked around you, sometimes with their bags of presents clashing against your side, but they didn’t offer you an apology like you didn’t offer one for standing in their way. You assumed your face was just as blank as his.

The last time you saw him was a few days before you left for Los Angeles about three and a half years ago.

As if it was any more possible, he was taller and seemed more muscular. And while his hair was tucked under a beanie, you could tell that it had grown a little longer. No matter what season it was, his cheeks still held their rosy color, and even though he looked at you with a hint of indifference…His brown eyes were still as comforting as ever.

Noticing that you weren’t going to move, you saw his breath through the cold air as he let out a deep sigh. And with his own white styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate, he walked toward you.

Your heart gradually fell further and further in your chest with each step he took. And when he was standing in front of you, it felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

Both of you stood still, and while he kept his stare on your eyes, you couldn't help but wildly look around the little Christmas village. The hum of Christmas music and families chattering as they walked to their destination was drowned out by the ringing in your ears until he spoke.

“Long time no see.”

His tone of voice was as emotionless as his face.

“Hi––Hey.” You breathed out and held up the styrofoam cup, “Um…Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

He nodded and took a sip of his own drink, “No problem.”

This was not how you expected seeing Shawn again for the first time since the two of you broke up. In fact, you never really planned on seeing him again since that disaster. Just standing in front of him in absolute silence was only causing your chest to tighten with anxiety.

“I––Uh,” you didn’t know what to say. He was looking at you like he expected you to say something profound; or some sort of apology. You avoided his stare as you took a sip of your hot chocolate and coughed into the crook of your elbow, “I can pay you back.”

Shawn didn’t miss a beat, “That’d defeat the whole purpose.”

“Purpose of what?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“To talk to you.”

His responses were instantaneous; it felt as if he planned out this whole conversation in his head prior to buying your hot chocolate.

You let out a shaky breath, “Well…We’re talking.” Shawn closed his eyes in irritation and this was exactly why you didn’t plan on seeing him when you were back home. “Do you have venmo? We could call it even––”

“Are you busy tonight?”

Your eyes shot wide open at his question. Busy tonight? Of course you weren’t; your only plans were to watch cringe worthy Christmas movies on Netflix curled up on the couch. Maybe have a bit of eggnog and wishing you were back in California.

Shawn Mendes was nowhere in your holiday plans, and even though spending one-on-one time with him terrified you…You felt yourself rearranging all of your plans to fit him in exactly like you had done when you were seventeen.

You gulped, “What…What do you have in mind?”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you immediately felt yourself smile as well, “Just to talk.” You nodded your head until he offered up more information. He sniffled his nose, “I have my own place in Toronto now––”

“So why are you in Pickering?”

Whether he was bothered that you cut him off or not, he didn’t show it. He just took a sip of his hot chocolate as another cold breeze came through. He brought his index finger and thumb up to run the corners of his eyes before answering, “Christmas shopping with my friends.”

My friends.

The offhanded way he said it made it seem as if he didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

You peaked behind his shoulder and saw that the group of people you passed on your way to get hot chocolate was in fact a small group of people you went to high school went. You caught the eye of Brian, one of Shawn’s best friends that wormed his way into your life when you started dating, and offered him a small smile. He didn’t return it.

You nodded your head, understanding that Brian definitely still held ill feelings toward you. Instead of focusing on the negative, you brought your attention back to Shawn, who was surprising you with how…nice he was being.

“I don’t have any plans.”

As if he expected you to blow him off, his eyes widened in shock the same moment his mouth dropped. You let out a small laugh, thinking how you probably looked the same way when he asked if you had any plans.

Shawn cleared his throat, “Nice––I––Like I said, I have my own place in Toronto now.” He shifted his gaze toward the black pavement and let out a nervous breath before he asked his next question, “Do you still have the same number?”

Your voice cracked, “Yeah.”

Slowly, he picked his eyes from off the ground. He looked relieved that you hadn’t changed your number, but you felt hurt deep within your chest thinking that he didn’t have much faith in you. The 905 area code you’ve had since you got your first cell phone was one of the few things that still tied you to your tiny Canadian town.

“I’ll text you my address,” Shawn offered you a tight lipped smile before you both heard his name being called out by a girl. He briefly looked over his shoulder and then turned back to you, smiling, “Tonight.”

You quickly nodded, and didn’t stop nodding until he was slowly backing away from you, “Tonight.” You confirmed the plans back to him.

And this time when he smiled, he showed all his teeth, and it was a smile you recognized. One that traveled all the way up to his squinted eyes that made the corners crinkle. It was the smile you fell in love with at fifteen.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate before he turned his back to you and you saw how he was greeted back into his group of friends. He walked right up next to the girl who called out his name and threw his head back in laughter at something the group said.

You could name almost everyone in that circle; and there was an ache in your chest when you saw Tara make her way out from the laughing friend group and bounce up to you. Of course her life didn’t stop on your account, but you felt a bit crestfallen thinking how that could be you; laughing and smiling with high school friends––pressed up to Shawn’s side––if you didn’t flee away at the first chance you got.

Tara’s cheeks were bright red, but not the type of red from the cold air, they were red from smiling too hard with people she loved. She tried to keep her small laughs at bay, “Ready to continue shopping?”

You blamed the stinging behind your eyes on the cold air that continued to whip through the streets, “Let’s go.”

///

It was nearly ten at night when you parked your mom’s car in the parking garage of Shawn’s apartment complex. The sound of your door closing shut echoed through the nearly empty guest parking spots. With shaking hands, you pulled your phone out to tell Shawn that you arrived at his place. He immediately responded saying he would meet you at the front door.

You shoved your phone into your jacket pocket as you crossed your arms over your chest, hunching your shoulders ever so slightly, hoping it would preserve some body heat. With chattering teeth, you made your way outside the garage and waited outside the front door.

Standing still wasn’t doing you any good in keeping warm, so you decided to walk in a small circle.

And with pacing came overthinking.

What did Shawn want to talk about that couldn’t be said when you saw him at the Holiday shops? You didn’t think that there was anything left to say with how you ended things. When he texted you his address for tonight, it was the first message exchanged between the two of you since the last text he sent you in 2016. And that text made it quite clear about how he felt about you.

Please never speak to me again.

“Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and saw Shawn dressed in gray sweatpants and a soft pink sweatshirt. A sweatshirt you stole from his closet countless times when you were a couple. And while he looked absolutely adorable with his hair tousled, as if he’d just woken up from a nap, the heat from inside the building was the main factor that lured you inside.

“Thank God,” You brushed past him and immediately began to regain feeling in your toes.

Shawn let out a laugh, “Cold?”

You sniffled, “Uh––Yeah. Very cold.”

He shook his head with a small smile, “Well, lucky for you, I have the heat on in my place.”

And you took that as your que to follow him to the elevator. The short walk from the front door to the elevator was silent as Shawn pressed the up button. He rocked back and forth on his heel, something you knew he did when he was nervous.

But why would he be nervous? He obviously knew what he wanted to talk about. You on the other hand…How does a person go from never wanting to speak to someone again to inviting them to their apartment?

The soft ding of the elevator made you jump.

Shawn let out a single chuckle and let you onto the elevator first. You crossed your arms over your chest as Shawn pressed his floor number.

The ride up was also spent in silence.

It wasn’t until the doors slowly opened onto Shawn’s floor that panic began to infiltrate every corner of your mind.

“Do you have roommates?” Your voice came out more high pitched than you intended.

The last thing you needed to deal with was Brian––or some other old high school friend––coldly stare you down as you walked through the door.

Shawn shook his head as he took his keys from out of his pocket and twirled them around his index finger, “I have a studio.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out.

As if he could sense how nervous you were at his answer, he slightly turned his head to look at you; eyebrows raised and a smirk placed on his lips.

The rest of the walk was in silence until Shawn stopped in front of a dark teal door that looked identical to the rest on the floor. The first time he tried to unlock the door, he accidentally put his mailbox key in the lock. He nervously chuckled as he fiddled with his key ring for the correct key. And once he found it with shaky hands, the door clicked and he walked through first.

The walls were an offwhite color, and his furniture was either all navy or black, making the single room more cozy than it probably was intended to be. His bed was pressed up on the far back wall in a corner next to a window. From what you could make out, you saw a few scattered pictures tacked up on the wall next to his bed. Most of them looked like they were from college; but you saw a few high school graduation pictures, prom pictures, and comical spirit day photos.

Even though you and Shawn were connected at the hip during those prominent high school memories…You didn’t see yourself in any of the pictures.

“It’s nothing special,” he shrugged and walked over to his little kitchen area, “Do you want water?”

His question brought you out of the pity party you were throwing for yourself in your head, “That’d be great.”

Shawn opened up one of his cabinets and reached for two glasses. Slowly, you walked up to the little counter and sat on one of the barstools he had. He slid a glass of water over the counter and you smiled in appreciation.

You tapped your fingers around the cold glass, “So…How’ve you––How’s your family?”

You cut yourself short from asking your first question…Unfortunatley, you had a pretty good idea of how he’s been the past few years. So instead, you stayed in neutral territory.

“They’re good,” Shawn took a sip of his water as he leaned his back on the fridge, “How’s your family?”

Like him, you kept your answer short, “They’re fine.”

The pleasantries were weird. You don’t know if you preferred his silence or the awkward short phrases the two of you exchanged. You used to be so entwined with his family, and he with yours, that just hearing that they were “good” made it seem like they were an off limits topic.

Silence.

You took a sip of water.

The water felt extra cold against your dry throat. You set your glass on the counter and folded your hands together, “Still studying architecture?”

At your attempt of trying to continue the small talk, Shawn pushed himself off the fridge and sat on the barstool next to you. Even though you’d spent three and a half years apart, you spent four years together, and he still knew you better than you’d care to admit.

And that meant he knew the exact way to teeter the line of making you slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to send you running away.

Small talk was something you disliked. Silence was something you hated. Feeling unprepared in a situation was something you loathed. And you despised being so close to someone without knowing what to say.

He knew all of that.

Not liking how out of control you felt in the situation you scooted the chair back, “I think I should go––”

You were only able to get off the chair and stand straight up before Shawn’s hand shot out and took hold of your wrist, keeping you in front of him.

His touch burned; it felt hotter than any summer day you spent in L.A., but the familiarity that came with his calloused fingers––from spending hours on end practicing guitar––felt like home.

You stood frozen with his hand keeping you from still. With closed eyes, you took a deep breath in, “Shawn…”  then slowly let it out, “Why did ask me to come over.”

He stayed silent, but the way he slowly let go of your wrist, and trailed his fingertips over the top of your hand right down to your fingertips before he glided his fingertips up to your elbow…It caused all sorts of bells and sirens to go off in your head.

After a few more beats of silence, where Shawn just trailed his fingers up to your elbow and back down to your wrist, he slipped his hand into yours and laced your fingers together. You closed your eyes as he tugged you forward so you were now standing in between his legs.

“This isn’t smart,” you whispered, eyes still shut.

He squeezed your hand once, but you kept your eyes shut and held your breath.

Only when you were drunk off champagne in L.A., droning on and on about your problems––most of them circling back to Shawn––did you let yourself imagine what it would be like to hold his hand again. To be in this position again. One that you found yourself in plenty of times in high school.

“Y/n…” His voice softly carried your name through the silent studio apartment.

He squeezed your hand again.

You knew that once you opened your eyes that you would give in to anything he wanted. There was only a miniscule part of the rational side of your mind holding out. But when he bumped his knee against the side of your thigh, that last part of you that was holding out was consumed by the ever growing desire of wanting the person in front of you.

You snapped your eyes open and were immediately drawn into the sincerity he held in his eyes, “I miss you.”

I miss you too, you wanted to say. But you kept that admittance to yourself.

You gulped, “This––We shouldn’t––” you briefly looked down at your intertwined hands, a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see again, before looking back into his wistful eyes that caused your stomach to twist in knots, “This is a bad idea––”

He tugged you even closer to him where you were almost pressed up against his chest. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the soft fabric of the sweatshirt. You hoped your hand would add some kind of distance, but at your touch, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh as if he’d been waiting years for this moment.

And maybe he had.

“Babe––”

“Just for the weekend,” you fell into his plea, but cut him off in a strained voice.

There was a time in the past where you thought you would be in this same exact position with Shawn; standing between his legs, holding hands, in an apartment somewhere in Toronto…He squeezed your hand again and you felt a sharp pain in the center of your chest.

This was almost like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination, but there was one piece missing.

You lifted your palm from off his chest and twiddled with the strings of his hoodie. You tried your best to ignore the ache in your chest. And you tried your absolute hardest to not concentrate on that missing piece. You bit the inside of your cheek, and blinked away the burn behind your eyes.

The missing piece––that would make this scenario exactly like a scene drawn perfectly out of your imagination––would be if you two were still in love.

But love wasn’t what this situation was about.

“Tis the damn season,” Shawn murmured, and In one swift motion, he used his free hand to cup one of your cheeks before crashing his lips onto yours.

The heat you felt when he had only touched you didn’t hold a fame to how it felt to kiss him again. It felt as if no time had passed, his lips molding right on to yours. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, his thumb slowly caressing your cheek. Keeping his lips connected to yours, he stood up from the stool.

Slightly hunched over, Shawn deepened the kiss as he slowly walked you backward until you felt your back softly come in contact with the wall. With his one hand still holding onto the back of your neck to keep you close, his other hand slowly crept under your sweater.

You shivered under his touch and you felt him smirk against your lips.

“Where’ve you been staying?” Shawn mumbled into your neck as he nipped at the skin there.

You let out a few deep breaths through your nose, you were finding it a bit impossible to think clearly seeing as your train of thought was only focused on Shawn,  “I––” you were cut off by his lips reattaching themselves onto yours.

“I’m staying at––at my parents’ house,” you were able to get out through his rushed kisses.

Shawn hummed as he ground his hips into yours, causing you to whimper in his mouth as you threaded your fingers through his curly hair.

He repeated his movements a few more times as his hand that was cupping your cheek made its way down to your hips. And he let the hand that was under your sweater, trail painstakingly slow down your stomach, until he had both hands holding onto your hips.

He slowed down his kisses, until they were just a few pecks, before he stopped all together and leaned his forehead against yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that his eyes were still closed as well.

He brushed his nose against yours, “And where did you tell them you were going tonight?” You felt his breath fan over your voice.

You breathed in, “Tara’s.”

He pressed a single kiss to your lips, one that was reminiscent of your first kiss underneath the bleachers when you were fourteen, “Does she know you’re here?”

And when you breathed out, you felt your chest touch Shawn’s, “No.”

Shawn hummed in acknowledgement, but you couldn’t tell if he was relieved or sad that you kept your late night rendezvous with him a secret. But before you could ask him if anyone knew you were coming over, you felt one of his hands slide into yours once again and pull you over toward his bed.

For the rest of the night…Every touch, every kiss, every soft spoken word with eyes closed––because with your eyes closed, at least you could pretend that you two were in love––brought you to a higher sensation that you chased all over L.A. to find.

And while Shawn was fast asleep, you laid awake with your head on his bare chest, rising and falling with every one of his even breaths. As you were tangled up in Shawn’s sheets naked, with one of his arms thrown around your shoulder, you realized that the feeling you craved would always lead you back to Shawn and your hometown.

///

Promising Shawn that you would only be together for the weekend was a bold face lie that you should’ve seen coming. That first weekend spent at Shawn’s place led to another weekend. Then the weekends bled into the weekday. And you found yourself sneaking out of your parents house more to meet up with Shawn now than you ever did in high school.

Christmas had come and gone and Shawn was busy around the clock with his family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. He did send you a few texts throughout the day to let you know he was thinking of you, but it wasn’t the same as actually hearing him whisper the same words to you right before you drifted off to sleep next to him.

It was Boxing Day, and with Boxing Day came a tradition for graduates at your high school that you never participated in. You thought it was a bit foolish, high school graduates meeting up in the woods behind the school–that they swore they hated for four years–as they drank and reminisced about the four best years of their lives.

You never participated since you were usually back in California by this time, booking the first flight out of Canada after Christmas. Or it was like your first year at University…Not even bothering to come back to Canada.

You texted Shawn that you parked your car between the Methodist church and the school that used to be yours. As a response, he sent back the emoji with one eye closed with its tongue out. He was the one that convinced you to come out tonight…After he promised that not everyone was still bitter about how you dropped them after you moved to L.A.

Taking the lock and chain off from around the gate, that was never securely locked around the Holiday season, it was easy to sneak in. And you wondered if this was the school’s secret way of encouraging their graduates to come together.

Trudging through the frozen grass, you were still freezing even though you had multiple layers on to keep your body temperature up.

You felt like you were wandering forever, and if it wasn’t for Instagram pictures you’ve seen in past years, you would’ve thought that Shawn was pulling a prank on you. But the further you walked into the woods, you started hearing a few shouts of friends greeting each other with Happy Holidays. And when you got closer, you saw string lights zigzagged from tree to tree.

There were people you recognized and others you didn’t recognize either gathered around keg stands, sitting on tree stumps, or in a small circle of fold up chairs that they provided themselves.

You felt a bit lost, and you took out your phone to text Shawn, but Tara bounced up to you with a red solo cup in each hand.

“I kneeew you’d come,” she drew out the lone vowel in ‘knew’ as you took one of the red solo cups from her and rested a steady hand on her shoulder, “No one belieeeved me that you’d show.”

Tara wasn’t drunk, but you knew that when her speech pattern wavered that she was a little more than tipsy.

“I told you I would be here,” you took a sip of the beer in the cup, “So, here I am.”

Tara raised an eyebrow at you, “But you’re late.”

“I never promised a specific time,” you narrowed your eyes at her as you brought the red cup up for another drink.

If this conversation was going where you thought it was, you would need more than just a few sips to get through it.

“Stop playing dumb,” Tara rolled her eyes, but her voice was soft.  

You hadn’t told her that most of your break had been preoccupied by Shawn. He was one of the major reasons why you hated returning home, so it was a bit ironic that you now looked around for him with anticipation clawing up your stomach.

You continued to play dumb, “I don’t––”

Tara let out a huff, “I know––We all know––That you and Shawn have been attached at the hip.”

The background noise of old high school friends laughing was the exact opposite of how you felt with your best friend. You hadn’t told anyone that you were spending time with Shawn. And you were pretty positive he hadn’t told anyone either.

“That’s not true.”

Were you attached at the hip with Shawn since you returned to Canada? No, that wasn’t true. But did you spend a considerable amount of time together? Possibly.

“He’s been more…Smiley, the past few weeks,” Tara gave you a pointed look, “And so have you.”

While you felt not much disdain for your hometown anymore, and felt a bit lighter on your feet…You knew that part of that feeling was thanks to Shawn. And while you never thought of returning back to Pickering when you were done university, you slowly started to come to a realization that coming home wouldn’t be that terrible.

You took a sip of beer to cover up your smile, “Good for him that he seems happy––”

“Don’t you remember how things ended between you two?”

With her comment, you took a few more longer sips of your drink.  Once you felt confident that you wouldn’t lash out at her, you brought the empty cup down to your side and clutched the plastic cup down at your side.

“I think I remember quite well,” you grumbled with a clenched jaw.

You glared over her shoulder at a happy looking couple

There were a few beats of awkward silence before Tara let out a soft sigh. She looked at you with her big adoring eyes that were supposed to be comforting, but you saw a hint of protectiveness in her eyes. A protectiveness that wasn’t for you.

“I’m just looking out for you––”

“No,” you tore your longing gaze away from the smiling couple as you looked at your best friend with hurt in your eyes, “You’re looking for Shawn.”

The silence was enough of an answer for you.

You nodded your head once and swallowed down the lump in your throat, not even your own best friend had your back, “I think I’m going to leave.”

You were about to spin on your heel when Tara’s voice stopped you in your tracks, “I’m looking out for both of you.” You let out another breath, not wanting to get in an argument with her, but she spoke up once more, “Like it or not, you were the one who left.”

You wiped away a tear from your cheek that managed to escape your eye, “I know I left,” you whispered, “But you also knew how torn up I was after we broke up.” You felt your throat tighten up more as you spotted your old friend group over Tara’s shoulder that you lost contact with after you left, “They don’t know that. They only know how he was.”

Tara reached out for your hand, but you took a step back, “Y/n, it’s not like that––”

“It’s cool you’re friends with Shawn and still friends with everyone else,” you gnawed on your bottom lip, as an unfamiliar feeling creeped up your stomach when you looked behind Tara’s shoulder once more at your old friends; guilt.

You thought you were going to say something else, but the longer you stood in front of your best friend, the more guilt you felt rise up like bile in the pit of your stomach. So without another word, you turned around and started to walk away from the smell of bad perfume lingering in the air.

The grass crunched loudly under your shoes, but not loud enough to block out a certain voice that would visit you in your most blissful daydreams, but also haunt your darkest nightmares.

“Long time no see.”

Letting out a deep breath, you put on a brave face as you spun around to see Shawn.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he walked to you, only stopping when the tips of his shoes touched yours, “It’s been three hours.”

Shawn rolled his eyes back at you as he took one of his hands out of his pockets and slid his fingers easily between yours. It was too perfect the way your hands fit together. Too perfect how he still knew your body like anyone else. And too perfect how he seemingly just forgot about how you left.

While you were heartbroken over your break up with Shawn, you couldn’t say that Tara was wrong when she said that you were the one who decided to leave.

Shawn’s curls tickled your forehead as he ducked his head and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “I’ll always miss you.”

You didn’t miss the subtle undertone of devastation in his voice.

You looked away from him as you tried to swallow down the pain you felt. From the start of whatever this arrangement was with Shawn, you knew that it wouldn’t end well. It was a recipe for total destruction, and It’s why you only wanted it to last a weekend.

But with the few weeks you’d spent with him, you were starting to see how you could possibly make this work past the weekend. It would be tricky with you heading back to L.A. at the end of the month, but you thought it would be worth it to try something new.

“Shawn…”

Just like how you noticed the devastation in his voice, he picked up on the slight ache behind your voice. He knew that tone of voice all too well because it was eerily similar to the tone you used on him before you told him you were leaving.

And even though you did eventually have to leave, you weren’t trying to say that you were leaving him.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh that broke your heart, “Stop running.”

You shook your head, “I’m not––”

“You are,” his voice was heavy, and when he opened his eyes you felt your shoulders fall at how his brown eyes were full of fear, “You can run, but only so far. And it’s been so long,” he squeezed your hand and didn’t ease up on the pressure, “Aren’t you tired?”

You tilted your head back and let out an aggravated breath through your nose, but you still held tightly onto his hand.

“I’m not––We’re both in this situation,” you blinked away the stinging behind your eyes and slightly skewed the conversation, “I think we should––”

With a tilt of his head, he pinched his eyebrows together, “Are you––” his voice cracked, “–-Are you really making me watch you leave again?”

With a frown, you shook your head, “That’s not what I’m saying. This situation isn’t the best, but if we change––”

“Because I remember that damn well,” he flared his nostrils as his breaths came out uneven, ignoring the idea you were trying to propose. You were caught off guard by his sharp comment, and didn’t have a rebuttal, but he seemed to take your silence as an answer. And when you felt him drop your hand, that’s when the panic really started to flood your body.

Shawn let out a bitter laugh as he looked down at the frozen grass, shaking his head as if trying to rid you out from all of his memories. But when he looked back up at you, his lips were pulled into a tight frown and you could see his bloodshot eyes from the haze of the dim Christmas lights.

You took a step forward, reaching your hand out to feel him one more time, but he took a step back, “Do you not remember telling me––and everyone else––how you were going to McGill?”

He waited for a response, but you didn’t have one, so he kept on with his scathing questions, “Do you not remember us making weekend plans to see each other? We were going to make it work between Montreal and Toronto. ”

You felt your chin wobble because you knew exactly where he was going with this. And all of his anger and heartbreak toward you was justified.

“Shawn––”

“Do you not remember,” his harsh voice dropped down into a gut-wrenching whisper, “Telling me two days before the semester was starting that you were leaving for L.A.?”

The feeling of holding back your tears became too much. A few leaked out from your eyes as you hiccupped, “You don’t have to–”

“Do you not remember,” He spoke over you, “how much planning you put into moving out there?” Shawn let out a shaky breath as he harshly wiped a few tears off his cheek with the heel of his palm, “Because if I remember correctly, your mom said you were planning that for months.”

More silence on your end.

“If leaving––” He brought the sleeve of his arm to wipe under his nose, “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even.”

You swallowed thickly as a gust of cold air blew in between you two, “Call what even?”

“I watched you leave,” Shawn itched the bridge of his nose, not looking directly into your eyes, “You can watch me leave.”

You were beginning to feel the oncoming of a headache; which wasn’t surprising considering how hard you were clenching your teeth and how you were trying your best to hold back your sobs.

While you didn’t think whatever mess you got yourself in with Shawn over the break was healthy, you did think that there was a way to sort it out to make it better. With only one semester left, you had to go back to L.A. to finish your degree, it was the only thing that made sense. But you were starting to think that maybe you could try long distance with him. And you were hoping that maybe––up until this point––that he would also want to try it out.

But maybe wasn’t enough.

You let your shoulders drop, because as much as you didn’t want to let go, he seemed pretty set on making you feel the same exact blindsided pain you caused him years ago.

You let out a pathetic laugh as you curled one arm around your waist, “Tis the damn season, right?” You barely got the sentence out before you brought your other hand up to your mouth to muffle your cries.

His eyes were wide with pain, much like the day you left him on his back porch after you told him you were attending a different University than planned. He fiddled with his hands, almost like he wanted to reach out and hold you one last time, but he shook his head––as if he decided you weren’t worth anymore words––and walked away.

You watched him walk in the direction you had just left from until he disappeared beyond the trees. Once he was gone, and you were certain he wasn’t going to turn around, you let your shoulders drop and buried your face in both of your hands.

Your breaths came out shaky as your shoulders shook with your cries. Shawn was gone. He left you exactly how you left him; standing alone, crying, wanting more of an explanation–-wanting to still make things work––and not being able to do anything while watching the one person you ever loved walk away.

At least when you left, you looked back at him one last time. You vividly remember how his face crumpled and then how he brought a hand up to cover his face as he openly sobbed. You could still feel how your chest tore open at the sound of his wailing that day.

But he didn’t look back at you when he left.

You stood alone in the woods, unable to catch your breath between your hyperventilation and cries, as you felt scratches on the back of your throat from harshly breathing in the cold air. You cried for a little longer, rocking back and forth as you clutched your stomach, until you felt ready to leave your high school.

You shivered from the cold, but at this point, you would welcome any other feeling than the devastating heartbreak you felt in your chest as you walked out of the woods. With one last look at the highschool that brought you to the absolute best person you’ve ever found in your life, you headed down a road you hadn’t taken in months.

Taking the road you used to walk from your parents house to high school looked real good…It looked fine until all you saw on the street were memories that danced their way around in the haziness of the night. Time flies and the memories blended together through your blurry vision.

You approached the stop sign, which had an infamous ditch, that caused almost every car to get stuck in if they didn’t take the right turn wide enough. You let out a small laugh as your mind drew up a version of a fifteen year old Shawn and yourself in his white truck. He was so proud to finally have a vehicle of his own––even if it was his grandfather’s old truck––to take you out on dates.

And one day when Shawn was driving you home from school, he was too caught up in recounting a story about how he and Brian nearly got caught ditching third period, that he got stuck in the ditch. How you got out of the ditch wasn’t clear––but you remember Shawn standing behind his truck, pushing it, as you were in the front seat pressing on the gas pedal.

And when the two of you were able to get his truck out of the ditch, his back tires spurted up an insane amount of mud. It caused his freshly washed white truck and white shirt to look just as messy as the mud on his truck tires.

Your laughs soon turned into more tears as you crossed the seat and leaned your forehead on the metal post of the stop sign. You didn’t regret going to California, you knew you wanted to get out of Pickering, but being home for an extended amount of time showed you how you wished you’d gone about leaving a different way.

Going back to your old high school showed you how much you missed your old life. You missed the nights when you stayed up all night with your friends, waiting to watch the sunrise, and then going to a diner for breakfast. You missed the times you would lie on Shawn’s floor doing homework, while he studied at his desk. You missed the way your friends would tease you and Shawn when they saw you holding hands.

But most of all, you missed seeing Shawn’s smile.

Bright headlights from your peripheral vision caused you to pick your head up from the rusty metal post. You sniffled and decided that it would be best to continue walking so the car wouldn’t see your mini breakdown.

You continued to walk straight, but the car didn’t speed up and go around you like you expected. Instead, you heard the sound of a window rolling down as the person who you were just thinking about called out your name.

You should’ve given Shawn your full attention, but you don’t think you could watch him leave again. So you shook your head and continued to walk forward.

“Y/n,” Shawn called out your name again, “Get in the truck. It’s cold out, it’s late, you’re upset, and Tara said you had a drink.”

You shook your head no as you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffled away the last of your tears, and continued walking.

But what did cause you to stop walking was the sound of the engine shutting off and the slam of a door.

And like when you first saw him at the little Christmas village all those weeks ago, the two of you stood face-to-face in silence. It seemed as if his tongue was tied and he didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what you wanted him to say. He made his intentions with you clear at the edge of the woods.

“I’ve only had one drink,” you looked away from his eyes that were full of remorse, and it only made the ache in you feel worse, “I’m fine walking home.”

You brushed past his shoulders, but he shot his hand out and clasped his hand around yours. You held your breath as he spoke, “Hear me out––”

“I heard you in the woods,” you choked out.

He squeezed your hand tight and the action caused you to rapidly blink away the tears you were so certain were gone. He was all you wanted, the past weeks showed you that, but the back and forth––the crushing of both of your feelings––wasn’t something that was healthy or sustainable for a relationship.

You dropped his hand for a second, but his hand reached right back up to yours, holding onto it in panic, “We––We could just ride around,” he let out a low somber chuckle, “Just like the old days.”

Even though your back was still facing him, you bit your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut. Just like the old days. You didn’t think words that sounded so innocent could be so painful.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

At your denial, Shawn held your hand tighter, and you felt him take a step closer to you, “I just-–I want to spend time with you.” You heard him let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t––What I said back there––I know you’re going to leave again. I thought it would make me feel better to say those things––But it didn’t. And I––” his voice cracked, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You tried your hardest to resist the urge of leaning into the warmth of his chest. But when you heard the crack in his voice, you didn’t care about all the alarms going off in your head about how this was a bad idea.

You turned around to face him and saw stress lines on his forehead as his eyes looked red. He had his lips firmly clamped together, as if he was also trying to hold back in his tears.

With a deep breath, you tried to smile, “Shawn––”

He shook his head. He didn’t know what you were going to say, but with past experience of you starting a sentence off with his name, it was like he didn’t want to take any risks.

“I––No one is at my parents’ house. We could––We could just go there, watch a movie––Or do absolutely nothing,” he took a deep breath and leaned his head against yours, “I just need to spend more time with you before you go.”

You gulped, “Okay.”

The relieved sigh Shawn let out fanned over your face as a small smile lit up his face. If this was any other moment you previously shared with him, you would expect him to press a light kiss to your lips, but he just nodded against your forehead.

With your hand still in his, he guided you to his truck––the same one he got stuck in the ditch with––and you were proud of yourself for not crying at the sight of it. The way he opened the door, and placed a hand on the small of your back––to make sure you didn’t fall backwards as you stepped up into the truck––was reminiscent of all the times he picked you up on dates.

When you were buckled into your seat, you turned your head to look out the window to wipe away a few tears with the heel of your palm.

Shawn started his truck back up and the whole way back to his parents’ house was spent in silence.

He turned in his driveway, and put his car in park as the two of you sat in silence. His hands were still placed on the steering wheel and your hands were curled in fists, no doubt your fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes on the inside of your palms. You knew that the two of you were thinking the same thing…The last time you were both at his parents’ house.

The last time you were both at his parents’ house was when you told him you were leaving––Leaving for L.A. and leaving him.

He switched off the ignition and turned to face you, “Are you…Do you want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said as you swallowed down the lump in your throat.

Shawn nodded too, and the two of you unbuckled your seatbelts, as you opened the door. You carefully took a step down, but ultimately stumbled out of the passenger seat.

Once you regained balance, you saw Shawn standing a few feet in front of you with an amused smirk, “Even after years…You still have trouble getting out of it.”

Even though his tone was lighthearted, you saw the painful look in his eyes as memories of you struggling to get out of his truck flashed before his eyes.

You rolled your eyes as you shut the door, “It’s steep.”

Shawn let out a boisterous laugh as he led you through the front door and an overwhelming sensation washed over you. Seeing Shawn’s apartment was odd, but it was his own space that you hadn’t seen before.

But his home…You spent countless Sunday night dinners in the dining room with his family, helped his mom throw a surprise seventeenth birthday party for Shawn in the kitchen, fell asleep on Shawn’s shoulder in the living room during a movie, and snuck into his basement countless times on a school night. 

You knew this place.

“We can uh––” Shawn brought a hand up to the back of his neck, “Go to the basement? We got it redone last year so it’s nice––And um––Do you want a sweatshirt? A blanket? Something other than your jacket?”

Even though Shawn was in his house it seemed as if he didn’t know how to act either.

You smiled, “A sweatshirt would be nice.”

He nodded, “Cool. I’ll go grab it and you can––You can wait in the basement if you want.” Before you could respond, he turned around and ran up the steps to his room to fetch you a sweatshirt.

Instead of wallowing in your memories right by the staircase, you headed for the basement. Your feet had a memory of their own as they carried you straight back through the hallway, past the kitchen, and made a left. You walked a further bit down that hallway until you were met with the white door that led to the basement.

With a deep breath, you twisted the handle and walked down the stairs.

The basement was redone, but not overly done. There was a fresh set of paint, new hardwood floor, and new furniture scattered about. You weren’t alone for very long before you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Shawn had changed out his jeans for sweatpants and a hoodie, “Here you go,” he handed you a sweatshirt of his.

You took it from him and inspected it as you slipped off your winter jacket. It was his varsity hockey sweatshirt from junior year of high school. The gray sweatshirt had your high school’s logo printed big on the front, the top of the sleeve had a bold C for captain, and the back had MENDES 16.

It was one of his sweatshirts that exclusively lived in your closet since you wore it to his games so often.

You gulped as you slipped it over your head. Once the sweatshirt was on, you saw Shawn sitting on the futon with his eyebrows pulled together. He was either thinking about all the times you wore it previously or he was regretting offering it to you.

You stuffed your hands in the front pockets of the sweatshirt and stood there until Shawn patted the spot next to him, “Come here.”

Shuffling your feet, you made your way across the hardwood floor and slipped your shoes off before joining Shawn on the futon. You crossed your right leg over your left thigh and started to nervously pick at the loose skin by your thumb.

You didn’t know what he was going to do…Was he going to turn on the T.V.? Did he want to talk? You thought that the two of you talked more than you needed to in the past few hours.

Shawn’s eyes glanced down at your nervous hands and in one swift motion, he shifted his sitting position so that he was facing you, and took both of your hands in his.

He was staring intently at you, and you wanted to do anything to lessen the tension. His hands felt warm around yours as you looked at the wall that the futon was pressed up against. You let out a small laugh when you saw the tiny holes that the new paint wasn’t able to hide.

“Not able to get rid of the holes from darts?”

Shawn was confused for a moment, until he followed your gaze to see the tiny holes for himself, and let out a chuckle, “My parents painted the basement last year and they just noticed the holes…” He shook his head, “I tried telling them that it was Brian and Aaron, but they were still mad at me.”

You smiled softly at the memory, “They were wasted that night.”

Shawn mirrored your smile, “Yeah it was six years ago, but they were still mad.”

You squinted an eye and offered him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I encouraged them that night.”

Shawn shook his head, telling you not to worry about it, “We were all having a good time.”

Silence.

You let out a deep breath and broke eye contact with him again. You felt nervous as ever under his gaze and felt hot as you wore his sweatshirt.

“How’re you liking California?”

You snapped your head over to him, eyes bulging out of your head, because him bringing up the place you left him for was definitely not something you would’ve thought he’d bring up.

“I um––It’s warmer,” you weakly smiled and Shawn’s chest softly shook with laughter. He looked at you, raising his eyebrows, wanting you to expand on your explanation, “It’s nice.” You let out a sigh and looked into your lap.

Shawn squeezed your hands which caused you to look up at him, “Even though we…We didn’t leave off on the best of terms,” he licked his lips in nervousness, “I still care about you. And I’m curious to know.”

You nodded your head in understanding. Saying that you didn’t leave things off on the best of terms was an understatement––It was Shawn trying not to hurt your feelings––But you knew exactly how you left things. And it was absolutely terrible.

You let out a sigh as a genuine smile lit up your face as you remembered landing in LAX for the first time, “It was really really nice,” you peaked a look up at Shawn to see that he also had a genuine smile on his face. “At the time, it was exactly what I needed. I just…I don’t know what it was about Canada but I just needed something new and––” you felt yourself get choked up because here you are, sitting in front of the boy who promised you the world for years, saying how much you wanted to leave.

Shawn squeezed your hands in reassurance, “It’s––I get it.”

You let one of his hands drop as you brought it up to wipe away the tears, “Sorry I––I don’t want to cry, sorry.”

“Really, it’s alright,” Shawn squeezed your hands once more, “When things got…” he tilted his head side to side, trying to find a word, “better, Tara would tell me about how happy you were out there.” He smiled sadly, “I was happy that you were happy.”

You wiped away more tears and let out a pathetic laugh, “I really don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Shawn leaned forward to wipe away some of your tears. And when you opened your eyes, you saw how close he was to you, the tip of his nose a centimeter away from yours, “Everything’s…We’re good now.”

You shakily took a deep breath and nodded your head, “I––I’ve been thinking and I––I don’t want to stay in L.A.”

Shawn’s eyes brightened up at your confession, “You’re not staying there?”

You shook your head and whispered, “I miss home.”

You miss Shawn.

Shawn’s eyes flickered down to your lips and then gazed back up into your eyes. You offered him the gentlest of smiles, shoulders dropping in relaxation, and that was all the go ahead Shawn needed to lean forward.

When your lips pressed together, you instantly closed your eyes and felt Shawn let out a content sigh out through his nose. It was a short kiss, and when Shawn pulled away slightly, you didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re coming back to Canada?” He whispered in a daze, voice full of hope.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep your growing smile at bay, “After I finish this semester, yeah,” you let your eyes linger on his lips for a second longer than normal, before lowering your voice in all seriousness, “I’m coming home to Canada.”

Without any hesitation behind the actions, Shawn crashed his lips back onto yours that had you toppling back a little. You let out a small laugh against his lips as you regained your sitting position and wound your arms around his neck.

His once hurried kisses morphed into slow sensual kisses as he took his time savoring every kiss. His kisses were just as slow as the movement of his hands on your thighs; slowly rubbing your knees, then trailing his palms up your thighs, until he slid them back down to your knees. Everything about his touches, and your kisses, were slow and unhurried.

Eventually, his hands trailed further up your thighs until they didn’t come back down to your knees like usual. Instead, his hands rested on your hips, with one hand traveling to the button of your jeans. You felt your breath hitch in your throat when his fingers popped open the button of your jeans.

Without breaking the kiss, he slowly pulled down the zipper of your jeans and helped you shimmy out of them. Once you kicked your jeans off from around your ankles, you tugged at the bottom of Shawn’s sweatshirt, letting him know that you want it off.

He hummed against your lips in acknowledgement, but didn’t remove his clothing right away, “I want to kiss you a little more.”

You fought to suppress your smile, the corners of your lips still tugged upward, making Shawn’s deep kisses a little hard to continue. With a sigh, and one last peck to your lips, Shawn pulled back and tugged his sweatshirt over his head.

You tilted your head, “No shirt?”

Shawn shrugged as he lowered his gaze back down to your lips, “Most of them here are too small. My sweatshirts still fit through.”

And while everything before was gentle touches and hushes kisses, the earnestness of the situation was coming to light. He looked at you with the same sincerity and understanding that you held in your eyes. He offered you a small smile before he latched his lips to the skin just below your ear.

“If it’s okay with you,” Shawn spoke as he took his time on your neck, depositing slow, wet kisses, some of which would definitely leave lingering marks, “It’s okay with me.”

You tilted your head to give Shawn better access as one of your hands absently played with the curls on the back of his neck, “I––Yes,” you let out a content sigh as Shawn nipped at a spot on the base of your neck.

His lips made a sound as they detached from the skin on your neck so he could look down at you. You held onto his bicep and nodded your head slowly, “We need to talk more in the morning, but for now…” You squeezed his bicep, “I want this.”

“Agreed.”

And with that, Shawn leaned forward, as he pressed his lower abdomen into your front, and cupped the nape of your neck to kiss you deeply.

///

You didn’t know what time it was when you eventually stirred awake, but you awoke with a soft smile on your face. You wore Shawn’s hockey sweatshirt, had his arm curled around your waist, and were pressed firmly against his back as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Waking up in this position was better than anything you ever dreamed about.

After a few minutes of being up alone, you felt the arm around your waist tighten, “Morning,” Shawn’s voice was groggy as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

You closed your eyes and hummed as you felt him pepper a few more kisses along your neck, “Hi.”

Shawn chuckled at your morning greeting before propping himself up on his arm. He squinted his eyes at the wall with the television on it and let out a soft laugh. He looked down at you with an adoring smile as he brought one hand up to stroke your cheek, “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Your eyes winded as you felt wide awake, “What?!”

You went to sit up straight in alarm, but Shawn had other plans. He moved the arm that was propping him up, falling beside you, as he dropped his entire weight on you. You let out a muffled groan into his shoulder as you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“We can afford to sleep in half the day,” Shawn pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Just for old times’ sake.”

You let out a deep sigh, but brought one of your arms out from under Shawn––and the blanket that was draped over him––to curl around his shoulders. You let your fingertips softly graze his back in a figure eight pattern and he let out a deep sigh.

“That feels nice.”

You only offered a hum in agreement because even though Shawn felt like a dead weight on top of you, it felt nice. The whole situation felt nice. Everything from the events of last night, to waking up in his arms felt nice.

It felt almost as good as being in love in high school.

But like every time you felt yourself getting swept away in past memories that were better than anything you felt in the present moment, reality came crashing in like a tsunami.

Because the reality was that you had to go back to L.A., go back to all of your friends––or so-called friends; you heard whispers from one of your closest friends that a girl named Janey just wanted to be your friend because of a connection you had to a production company. It was something you heard before, but it wasn’t something you ever spent a considerable amount of time wondering about.

Out in L.A., you mostly wondered about the only soul who could tell which smiles you were faking.

Shawn was the gentlest and kindest person you’d ever met. His heart was bigger than anyone else’s; and he always made sure to make people happy even when he wasn’t feeling at the top of his game.

He showed people that he cared for them by remembering their coffee order.

He showed people he cherished them by putting their birthdays in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget to wish them a happy birthday.  

But most of all, he showed people he loved them by not allowing them to walk home alone in the cold when they were upset.

And now, with that soul on top of you––literally––you knew that the heart you were breaking was your own. How deserving were you of a second chance? How deserving were you to be let into his life again? You were selfish––greedy to have him back in your life––so you would cling onto that second chance, but there was still some left over guilt.

You let out a sigh, “Shawn––”

“Shawn?”

A voice that wasn’t yours––But one that you recognized as the voice of his mother––called out his name. Your fingertips stopped grazing his back and it felt as if you forgot how to breathe. Shawn mirrored your alarm about the situation as he shot up.

“Shawn? Are you here?”

“Oh my god it’s your mom,” you whisper yelled at him.

Shawn’s mouth hung open in panic, not knowing what to say, but then the basement door opened up and his mom called down, “Shawn?”

“I––Uh––Yeah, mom! I’m down here!” His voice was strained as he yelled up to her.

You were still under Shawn, and you prayed to anyone up in Heaven that she would stay up there. You didn’t know how well it would go over if she walked down the stairs and saw you.

You stayed frozen under Shawn as you heard his mom call out again, “We’re going over to the Martin's house in a half hour!”

Shawn swallowed thickly as he nodded rapidly, “Yeah––I––I didn’t forget! I’ll be ready!”

After his mom got his answer from him, she shut the door and neither of you two breathed until you heard her retreating footsteps. Once you were both positive his mom wouldn’t make a re-appearance, Shawn let out a laugh and you smacked his chest.

“That was not funny,” you glared at him, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, “I haven’t felt that kind of thrill since the last time we almost got caught when you snuck over.”

“We don’t talk about that.”

Shawn let out another laugh as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You don’t like to talk about it.”

You shoved his chest until he moved off you. With a small laugh, he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, with a regretful smile on his face, “I do have to shower and get ready though.”

You let out a frown, not wanting to leave the warmest bed you’ve ever known in the last three and a half years. Blindly, you reached out for his free hand and slid your fingers between his, “Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at you, “Can’t get enough of me, eh?”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile before regaining your serious composure, “We need to talk.” Shawn closed his eyes momentarily, as if not wanting whatever trance he was under to be broken, but when he opened his eyes, you were smiling reassuringly at him, “I want to make this work. We just have to talk about how.”

Shawn released a relieved breath and smiled, “I want to make this work too.”

“We could call it even…” You smirked at him, as he raised his eyebrows in amusement and curiosity, “You could sneak into my house.”

Shawn let out a quiet laugh as he shook his head, “It’s so hard to sneak into your house,” Shawn dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he continued laughing, “Sneaking up to your room is impossible with that tree that’s in direct view of your parents window.”

“You’ve done it before,” you shrugged.

With one last laugh, Shawn pressed a single kiss to your neck before lifting his head up, “That I have.”

Once both of your laughs subsided, you stayed on the futon for a few moments longer just looking into his eyes and holding his hand. While you felt pure happiness explode in your chest at this phase of reconnecting, you hated the fact that you had to leave again.

Even if you were just leaving for a few months and then coming right back to Canada. You felt as if you spent too much time away already.

“Hey…” Shawn carefully pulled yourself out from your own head, “We’re good.”

You held his steady gaze before squeezing your eyes––and his hand––tight, “Even though I’m leaving––”

“I’ll be yours for the weekend,” Shawn cut you off. You gulped at his answer and slowly opened your eyes to see the seriousness he was trying to convey, “We’ll talk more tonight, but we can make this work, I––You have a spring break, right?” You nodded your head, “I can come out and visit. And we’ll figure––” he squeezed your hand, “it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you repeated his promise.

He smiled one last time before leaning his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You have to––” You tried to get words out between kisses, but Shawn kept deepening the kiss to keep you quiet, “Get ready––”

“Shawn!”

His mother’s voice caused him to bolt up right. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to quiet your laughter. He glared down at you, “I’ll be up in a second!”

You shoved his shoulder so that way you weren’t trapped under him anymore. You stepped onto the ground and stretched your arms over your head as you saw Shawn smirk at you. Finding your jeans somewhere on the floor, you slipped them back on, “What?”

Shawn nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, his smirk transforming into a wide smile, “Nothing. Just that I could get used to this again.”

Again.

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would have an ‘again’ with Shawn. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you returned his smile and buttoned up your jeans.

You made sure you had everything you came with before turning to see Shawn at the bottom of the stairs, now with a sweatshirt on. You walked up to him, placed a hand on his shoulder as you stood a bit on your tiptoes, and pressed a goodbye kiss to his lips.

Shawn smiled into the kiss, “Know your way out?”

You smacked his chest and he let out a small yelp, “I could sneak out of your basement with my eyes closed.”

Shawn smirked as he watched you walk toward the door that would lead to an outside staircase that would deposit you to his side yard, and from there, you would sneak behind the line of hedges in his mother’s garden.

Easy peasy.

You opened the door and had one foot out before you heard Shawn let out an over dramatic sigh, “Ah,” his eyes twinkled with a familiar mischievousness, “Feels like we’re back in high school.”

You looked out at the cement staircase with a fond smile, reminiscing on all the times you sneaked out of his place, before looking back at Shawn with a mischievous smile of your own, “Tis the damn season.”

Taglist (add / remove yourself): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @badreputatiom, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @determined-overthinker @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm​ @lovelysunset1​ @samaratheweirdo​ @sarcasticallywitty15 

[unicornbitchface]

Sabotage

Pairing: Mob!Henry x Reader

Summary: Things will always fall into place with him. 

One shot.

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

Chaos.

 Phones ringing, voices yelling, minions running around.

 everything was.. well, EVERYWHERE! You didn’t know what you were doing anymore. Maybe this was it, this was the bloody end.

So this is how you go down. So much for being your own boss. Maybe everyone was right, you cannot do this. You were made to serve your husband.

Cook, clean, dry for him and when he felt like, bent over like a bitch in heat. That was your fucking job, not this high end firm that was burning up in flames.

 Damn it.

 You are going to swear off of interns. They are a bloody liability with no consequences over their heads. How could you not see this coming?

They fucking stole from the accounts! Never in a million years would you have assumed those meek rats would have the audacity to touch a penny. 

But that’s what they are- damn rats.

Now you had a big ass hole in the accounts and before you could do any damage control, word spread in the market like a fucking STD.

What will you tell your clients? Hell, what will you say to the press hounding outside of the office building? You had to come up with something, and something good, SOON.

You looked around your office, as if this was the last time you are going to be in it. 

You felt like a fallen queen on the checkered black and white marble floor, not knowing her next move, scared and parched for mercy.

This was the office of your dreams. Every tiny artifact, every angle of the furniture had a purpose.

The miniature gold bull you gifted yourself for closing your first big account.

The picture of your grandmother in her office, ambition wrinkled all over her face.

The desk, angled so that you had an eye on the entire office.

And the sofa, well placed for comfortable long meetings and late-night camping you often did.

Well, not just for camping. 

The thought made you clear your throat, you cannot think about it right now. But who were you kidding, he was always on your mind. Even when your life was crumbling, all you wanted was to get lost in that blue eyed monster.

As you collected yourself, you heard a commotion above all that yelling and chaos.

Him.

You couldn’t miss it anywhere, it was ingrained deeper than your DNA. But what was he doing here? We never met in public, it was too dangerous, he once said.

You couldn’t deny the pull any longer and your feet did the work for you. As you reached the lobby, there he was.

Chest heaving, eyes glaring at anything that moved. Your deadly husband, Mr. Henry Cavill, dressed to nines in your favourite blue three piece.

“Mr. Cavill-”

“We had a date, Mi amor and YOU didn’t show up. You know I don’t tolerate being ignored, much less by my .. WIFE.”

He called me his wife. We don’t address each other like that.

Panic set in as I could hear gasps and the office suddenly stopped. The time seemed to have fucking stopped, and I did not know why he was doing this.

“I.. I.. Ahem, can we talk in my office, Mr. Cavill?” I glared at him.

The next thing I know, his lips are on me, holding me in a death grip he is so famous for. I couldn’t help but forget where we are, and moaned, heart on fire. He broke the kiss, his forehead on mine, and he whispered, “lead the way, amor.”

I was in a trance wrapped up in his arms, all the panic, fear and sorrow simply washed away. Taking his hand, I walked towards my office when he stopped abruptly.

“ Everyone, get out.”

No movement.

He turned, removing his glock from the waistband, “I don’t like repeating myself.”

The office was empty in less than a second.

 I couldn’t help but giggle at the scene.

I would never get used to his MO, as he liked to call it. Every time I saw him, my heart gushed with so much love, it surprised people when I was untouched by fear they usually felt.

As we entered my office, he took me straight to the desk and sat me on it. A knee between my legs, he placed his palm on my cheek and just kept looking at me.

“I’m sorry I could not join you baby, I know tonight was important for your new deal.”

He just hummed, as his eyes raked over me. His palm moved to slide my dress up my thighs till it bunched over my ass. He moved to remove his jacket and removed his cufflinks, folding up his sleeves.

“Say something Henry. Are you mad at me?”

“Never when I can see your cunt leaking like a faucet for me.”

And with that, he slapped my pussy so hard, I almost yelped.

“I am just disappointed that you hide from me.”

Our eyes locked, mine teary and his, well they held that promise etched at the altar.

 I’ll always protect you.

I will always be there, even if you cannot see me.

Just look to the shadows, and you’ll find me standing.

Silent, but firm. 

Just like you want me.

 I blinked as I came back to the present.

Pulling on his tie, I brought him back to me.

“I could never hide from you. You are a piece of my soul Hen, I..”

Words died on my tongue as he plunged his into my inviting mouth, letting the moment talk for itself. My hand went to his belt, removing the barrier between our union.

Much like his tongue, his thick cock plunged into me at one go. Pain seared through me but he didn’t stop. My Henry was many things, a great chef, master strategist, flawless shot, an enticing mobster, but patience was not on his tiny list of virtues.

He liked giving it hard, and me? Well, obviously I liked taking it harder. So that’s what I did. Spreading my legs wider, hopelessly hoping he might fit better.

Pushing me down on the desk, he went harder. His eyes on mine, face contorted with all sorts of emotions, hands groping my tits over the dress, he looked like Hades all set to conquer Athens.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head when he put his fingers on my clit, rubbing it with abandon, none of us able to form words.

The room was filled with his grunts, roars and fucks, my whimpers giving them company.It soon turned into screams when my beast pinched the clit hard, and choked the life out of me.

“Jaan, please don’t stop!”

“Ah, HARDER baby!”

“Ooomph, keep going Jaan!”

Suddenly I was sputtering a string of words and that only made Henry slap my tits harder than ever before.

Fuck, I loved this beast. He was mine.

Mine.

I didn’t have to tell him I was close, he pulled out and went on his knees, eating my cunt like he’d been starved for decades.

Oh shit it was coming.

“Fuck Jaaan”

It was all over his face. My juices coating this God’s face while he shamelessly lapped it all up.

“Mm, delicious as always, amor. Taste yourself.”

I licked my juices off his face while he was bent over me. Sighing, I was about to move, when he dived in again, “Where do you think you’re going? Not done yet, baby!”

Smirking, I locked him in with my knees, “Bring it on, Hades.”

That name always made his cock twitch, and the dance began again. My cervix was on fire, as he kept hitting it right.

“Give me your seed, Oh Gods, yes just like that Henn!”

I came undone twice more before he even came close to his climax.

“I don’t want you to hide from me anymore amor. You know I’d kill for you!”

My nails raked over his arms as I held on to my dear life, only able to nod.

“I want the good, bad and the ugliest you can throw at me baby. I want all of you. I want your cunt, ass, that pretty little mouth and your soul, you hear me?” he growled.

“Jaan, please.”

“Please what, slut? You want my cum? You think you earned it?”

“I am yours, you get all of me. Fill me up, Jaan.”

Yanking on my hair, he pulled me up to him and bit hard on my lower lip as he came, taking me with him and roaring like the devil he is. “I fucking love you!”

Breathing hard, coming down from the blood rush, our foreheads touched.

“I got them.”

“Did you hear me? I got them amor.”

“Mm? Who?” eyes closed, my brows furrowed.

He left for the washroom, and came back to clean us up. Fixing my dress, he held me against him and said, “Bring them in!”

My cheeks heated, thinking that someone heard us go at it like rabbits and I tried to hide my face in his chest but he won’t have any of it.

Hands on my hips, holding tight, we stood facing the door when Taylor, our bodyguard came in.

I was confused. I was about to look at Henry in question when two men and a woman were thrown at my feet.

Them.

The bloody interns! Covered in literal blood this time.

Hands bound, crying.

 How, what, when..?

 I felt his breath on my neck as he kissed behind my ear, “Merry Christmas, love. The money is back in your accounts. Fucking rats were planted by a rival, the audacity.”

Speechless.

“How did yo-”

“Like I said, shadows. Always there.”

“Oh, Jaan!” I turned to kiss him, his hand squeezing my ass in return.

He broke the kiss, looked at the crying culprits, stepping on one of their hands, “And now that the word will spread you’re my wife, these roaches won’t dare come within a 50 miles radius of you.”

And there it was, that million dollar smile filled with warmth, only for me.

Only me.

Mine.

In that moment, the befallen queen was not alone.

The King had arrived.

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

Jaan: commonly used between couples in India, means life.

@madbaddic7ed @henrythickcavill @toomanyfandomsshreya

[littlequeenies]

Mary Asutin was Freddie Mercury’s girlfriend in the 1970s, subject of Queen’s song ‘Love of My Life’ and Freddie’s longtime friend and companion until his death.

Early Life

Mary Georgina Austin was born on March 6, 1951 in Fulham, West London. Her life had been deprived, she grew up in a struggling working-class home and her parents were poor. Her father worked as a hand-trimmer for wallpaper specialists and her mother was a domestic for a small company. Both parents were deaf and communicated through sign language and lip-reading. At 15 she left the school and began to work as a secretary.

She moved up some shortly afterwords, when she got a job at the trendy Biba store in London as a customer PR. This was a very fashionable place, and the customers included some of the biggest celebrities of the time. One night, she attended a rock concert at a nearby college. While there, she ran into a friendly acquaintance who worked nearby, Brian May. They hit it off and they began dating. The relationship was fun, but it never got serious and they broke up on friendly terms.

1970s Freddie’s girlfriend

May was a musician and was starting a band with some talented friends, and one day he introduced her to the band, when she was 19. Though she wasn't aware of it at the time, she attracted the infatuation of the group's lead singer, a co-worker of May's who called himself Freddie Mercury. Mercury soon frequented the store she worked at and they became increasingly friendly. With fellow band member Roger Taylor, both ran a stall in nearby Kensington Market, selling old clothes and Freddie’s artwork.

Six months later, he surprised her by asking her out on a date, which she accepted after some hesitation. Both were financially strapped, so they had to do things together that didn't involve spending money. He was a flamboyant person in public, which she found intimidating, being a shy and unassuming person, herself, but Mary found herself fascinated by this “wild-looking artistic musician”. However, she eventually got to see the side of himself that he didn't show others, a serious and quiet person who was mistrustful of others. She says, “He was like no one I had ever met before. He was very confident and I have never been confident. We grew together. I liked him - and it went on from there.”

When Freddie first asked her for a date on his 24th birthday, Mary pretended she was busy on that particular night. “I was trying to be cool,” she recalls with a smile, “not because there was any real reason I couldn’t go. But Freddie wasn’t put off. We went out the next day instead. He wanted to go and see Mott The Hoople at the Marquee Club in Soho. Freddie didn’t have much money then and so we just did normal things like any other young people. There were no fancy dinners - they came later when he hit the big time. It took about three years for me to really fall in love. But I had never felt that way about anyone.”

She first shared a £10-a-week bedsit with Freddie in Victoria Road, Kensington. It was at this time that Freddie Mercury proposed to Mary Austin. On Christmas Day in 1973, he gave her a big box. Inside, there was another box: "[Then] another and so it went on. It was like one of his playful games. Eventually, I found a lovely jade ring inside the last small box." Confused, she asked where she should put it on. "Ring finger, left hand," he answered. Then he elaborated "Because, will you marry me?" She accepted. After two years together they moved to a larger, self-contained flat in Holland Road, which cost them £19 a week. By then Queen had signed a record deal and had their first big hit, “Seven Seas Of Rhye”.

It was at a showcase held at Ealing College of Art, Freddie’s old art school, that Mary first recognised his star quality.

Mary remembers the first time she took Freddie, with his thick mane of long, black hair, home to meet her father in their terraced Fulham home. “I hadn`t warned my father how extraordinary looking Freddie was and so I think my father handled the situation very well. Sadly, my mother never met Freddie as she had died four years earlier. My father opened the door and just stayed very calm and treated Freddie very warmly. There were a few glances and comments from the neighbours. Afterwards I realised bringing home this musician must have been quite a shock for him.”

Although Mary and Freddie were engaged to be married, the marriage never took place. It was after they had moved to their second flat in Holland Road that Mary first started to think something was going wrong with their six-year relationship. As Queen grew ever more successful, their relationship cooled. Freddie Mercury started staying out to increasingly late hours, prompting Austin to wonder whether he was sleeping with another woman. Everything changed one day when Freddie told her he had something important to say, something that would change their whole relationship forever. Mary explains, “Being a bit naive, it had taken me a while to realise the truth. Afterwards he felt good about having finally told me he was bisexual.” Mary decided to move out, but Freddie insisted she shouldn`t move too far from him. After a six-year relationship, Freddie and Mary split up in 1980.

After that, their physical relationship ended, but their connection deepened. Freddie Mercury bought her a flat nearby his apartment and employed her as his personal assistant.

1980s and beyond

Mary and Freddie keep their friendship through all his life. In a 1985 interview, Freddie Mercury said: "All my lovers asked me why they couldn't replace Mary, but it's simply impossible. The only friend I've got is Mary, and I don't want anybody else. To me, she was my common-law wife. To me, it was a marriage. We believe in each other, that's enough for me."

In 1987, he revealed to her that he had tested positive for the HIV virus. She was the first person he told, and she never repeated it to anyone through the remainder of his life. One of Mercury's top priorities was making sure that Mary was financially secure, but she was interested in making sure he take care of his health.

From that moment she was there each day to try to comfort him as he gradually became more ill. Having stayed with Mercury throughout his battle with AIDs, their relationship intensified as the focus on his diminishing life did. "During those times I did really feel such love for him," Austin remembers, "They were the moments I remembered every time I looked at his bed. I would sit every day next to the bed for six hours, whether he was awake or not. He would suddenly wake up and smile and say, 'Oh, it's you, old faithful.'" She also had to take care of her baby son Richard Frederick, born on March 1990, and whom Freddie Mercury was his godfather; and was pregnant of her second son by that time.

Realising he was starting to lose his sight and with his body becoming so weak that finally he couldn’t even get out of bed, Freddie decided to face up to dying by refusing to take his medication. Mary had been his bedrock and a particular comfort in his final years. Finally in 1991, his health deteriorated and he passed away on November of that year at the age of 45. She was devastated when he finally chose to die. "It was the loneliest and most difficult time of my life after Freddie died." In the settling of his estate, Mary was left with the majority of his vast fortune, more than she had expected. Including that was his palatial mansion, which she agreed to move in to. That turned out to be more complicated than expected, as the mansion had a large staff and the settling of Mercury's estate took several months. It took her five years before she could even feel comfortable in the house he left her.

She too expressed a feeling that a kind of marriage had occurred between the two: "I lost somebody who I thought was my eternal love. When he died I felt we'd had a marriage. We'd lived our vows. We'd done it for better for worse, for richer for poorer. In sickness and in health. You could never have let go of Freddie unless he died. Even then it was difficult." Freddie’s cremated remains were left to her. To this day, she is the sole person with the knowledge as to the location of his remains.

Mary would go on to marry twice, first to a painter named Piers Cameron and had two sons with him, Richard Frederick born on March 1990, and Jamie Alistair, born on February 1992. "[Piers] always felt overshadowed by Freddie," Austin explained. "Freddie had widened the tapestry of my life so much... There was no way I'd want to desert him ever."

Later, she married a businessman called Nicholas Holford on Long Island, without telling anyone, with just Mary’s two sons, Richard and Jamie, by their side. This relationship only lasted five years.

She also started a foundation in Mercury's memory, and also continues to support Queen's musical efforts. She continues to live quietly in the mansion, but occasionally grants interviews.

[scripts4dreamers]

Invisible String

AN: Just some fluffy goodness because love fucking rocks. Characters: Lex Miller  Pairing(s): Lex x reader Spoiler(s): none

Warning(s): None

Prompt: “hey! how are you? have you any plans for the end of summer? recently i've been feeling a bit down, idk why, maybe because i'm going to school soon :/ anyways, could i request some realyyy fluffy domestic shit w Lex? thank you! i hope you have a lovely day!” for @uhohscarlett

Inspiration: Invisible String by Taylor Swift

-----------------------

By the time you wake up, the sun is already high, peeking through the thin white curtains of your room and soaking into your skin. You sigh, still in that comfortable space between awake and asleep, and turn your head to face Lex. He looks younger when he’s sleeping, you noticed fondly, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your head. His skin had taken on some colour over the past few weeks, and the spray of freckles across his face were more noticeable than ever. It had become your personal mission to count them all but, unfortunately, Lex seemed to be allergic to staying still long enough for you to get a solid count done. He muttered something in his sleep, a string of meaningless syllables that could have been your name, and you felt your heart swell with love.

Slowly, doing your best to detangle yourself from Lex without disturbing him, you crept out of bed, throwing a silky robe over your pajamas and padding through the apartment to the kitchen. It was a beautiful place, one of your family’s many overseas properties, tucked away in the artist’s sector of Bergamo, Italy. It had been a nightmare convincing Lex to let you bring him but, once you’d stepped off that plane and landed on italian soil, it had been paradise. You hummed to yourself as you flitted about the kitchen making fresh coffee. You never really drank coffee at King’s, they only had the instant stuff that made your tastebuds scream but here, on holiday, it had become a part of your routine. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, bathing the apartment in golden light and illuminating the hastily discarded clothes strewn across the floor from the night before. It was cozy, and safe, and you kind of loved it there, especially when you felt two arms wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush against Lex’s bare chest.

“Morning, you,” you giggled as he buried his head in the crook of your neck and squeezed you tight.

“Good morning, darling,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep, “why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve helped.”

You shrugged, pouring a cup of coffee and turning to face him, leaning against the counter. He always looked so soft and vulnerable in the morning, before his hair was gelled up, when all he had on was a pair of sweatpants and he clung to any affection you gave him like an octopus. It was a side of himself that he only ever let you see and you’d die before you betrayed the trust he’d put in you.

“You hate coffee,” you reminded him teasingly as you took a sip, “last time you tried to make it you almost broke the filter.”

Lex flushed and rolled his eyes, “That’s hardly my fault, love, it’s a confusing contraption.”

“It’s literally not,” you laughed, “there’s nothing simpler than filter coffee, nothing.”

“There’s instant.”

You shook your head, “Instant coffee isn’t coffee, it’s coffee flavoured water, we’ve been over this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lex conceded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, “lucky for me, seeing you every morning is all the boost I need to get me through the day.”

You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to hide how happy you were, which earned a fond chuckle from Lex. He was disgustingly romantic, really. He had been since the moment you’d met but, for some reason, being in Italy with you seemed to crank it up to the max. Every day it was something new; buying you flowers at the market, leaving little love notes all over the house, cooking for you when you were too tired, running hot baths, anything he could do to show his love, Lex was doing. You’d have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it.

His dark eyes were sparkling with fondness as you watched him, sipping your coffee in silence as he bustled about the kitchen, whipping himself up a cup of tea.

“See something you like, darling?” he teased, sending a cheeky wink your way, “Cause you know everything here’s available for purchase.”

“Oh you know I do,” you teased back, “and, if last night is anything to go by, I’d say you’re pretty close to priceless.”

He chuckled. His back was to you as he stirred in a spoon of sugar but that didn’t stop you from seeing the flush that crept up his neck and shoulders at your compliment. Even after all the time you’d spent together, it was still so easy to get Lex flustered. You stepped forward, pressing a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, and he hummed contentedly in response as you breezed by him, getting everything ready for your breakfast.

Once Lex’s tea was brewed, he linked his fingers with yours and helped you cart the bread, cheeses and fruits out onto the little balcony which overlooked the street, placing everything gently on the small table that sat out there in the summer. It was still early enough that the sun wasn’t punishing yet, just warm and golden, and you sat, sipping your drinks, and watching the neighbourhood come to live around you. As always, Lex kept one hand on your thigh at all times, tilting his head back and letting his eyes drift shut as he soaked in the sun. He looked like a cat, stretching out and getting comfortable in the warmth, safe in the knowledge that there was nothing to do except talk and enjoy one another’s company.

It was such a change from King’s.

Lex opened his eyes, sensing the subtle shift in your mood and shooting you a questioning glance.

“You alright, Y/N/N?” he asked.

You smiled, resting your hand on top of his on your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze, “Of course, love. I just-” you sighed, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to go back,” Lex said, with a knowing glint in his eye.

You nodded, “It’s just so peaceful here. Everything feels so...right.”

He smiled, “That’s ‘cause of us though. It doesn’t matter where we are , darling, so long as we’re together, we’re golden.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Lex laughed, turning his chair to face you and taking one of your hands in both of his, “look, I know I’ve been a right sap this summer, and you’re probably getting sick of hearing me say this stuff but, I love you, Y/N. More than I thought possible. Being back at King’s won’t change that.”

“Won’t it?” you asked, your voice small.

Lex leaned forward, cupping your face with his hand and running his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek.

“Not even if we tried.”

You smiled, feeling another rush of love and, on impulse, launched yourself into his arms. Lex laughed like a kid on Christmas and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap as you wound your arms around his neck. It was comforting and safe and familiar and, as you breathed in his earthy scent, of tea leaves and soap, you felt the little knot of tension in your chest dissolve. You rested your head on Lex’s shoulder, letting his arms sliding up and down your thigh soothe you as the noises of the day started to filter in from the nearby market. You thought about the dinner you might cook, and what sort of spices went best with eggplant, as an overpowering sense of belonging started to settle into your bones. It was heavy and thick, but in a sort of nice way, like it was anchoring you instead of weighing you down and, for the first time, you let yourself picture the rest of your life with Lex.

At a place like King’s, the rest of your life was a shaky promise to make, even to yourself but, there, on that balcony, you wanted to make it. You wanted a life with Lex, a real one and, as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you let it sink in that that might’ve been what he wanted too. You wanted to say something, something to signify the way you were feeling, but everything seemed too cliche, too sickly sweet for you and Lex, who had always been a little on the gritty side.

“Promise me we’ll come back here?” you eventually asked, “One day, once we’ve graduated and started our lives.”

Perfect. It wasn’t much but it was something. It said that you wanted to still be together in a few years' time, that you wanted to build your future with him, no matter what that meant. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something.

Lex was silent for a moment, hooking his finger under your chin and guiding your face up to his.

“You sure that’s what you want?” He asked.

You nodded, feeling the heat rush to your face at the way he was looking at you.

His answering smile was gentle, but radiant, filling you up with love and tenderness so intense that you had to smile back.

“Then of course we will, darling,” he said, “I promise.”

[natromanxoff]

Sounds - January 5, 1974

Queen: Britain`s biggest unknowns

By Martin Hayman

Queen are being hailed as the natural successors to Led Zeppelin on the other side of the Atlantic. This may cause an outburst of derisive laughter, hoots, boos, jeers and catcalls from those who think Zep are the cat`s whiskers. But most of the people who have seen Queen agree that they are pretty hot.

They have been touring with Mott the Hoople and make a good showing on what is now a pretty tough assignment, opening the show for Mott: They write and play punchy songs, they are loud and aggressive to the right degree, they look good and move well on stage, especially their singer Freddie Mercury, who besides strutting and prancing has an excellent sharp-edged voice with a lot of power.

It makes one wonder why the New York Dolls were so lavishly feted on their derisory couple of British gigs. I reckon that a British provincial audience would have pulled the Dolls apart in a jiffy; Queen handle them well, and they were getting encores on their set.

And the public are giving them the thumbs up too, which is reflected in steady sales of their debut album – standing now at 15,000 in Britain and a quite incredible 85,000 in the States, where it has crept into the lower reaches of the album charts. Not bad when you think how comparatively unknown they are even here. Evidently not as unknown as we imagine. You might say they were Britain`s biggest unknowns.

I went to Trident Studios on a rainy night before Christmas to find the band hard at work trying to complete their second album before the inevitable cutbacks in production at EMI slowed up their progress. For at this point Queen are at a crucial stage of their career – just before the break, as they say in the business. If they are to maintain the initial impetus it is essential that they get out another album – and preferably a single too – and then get a support gig with a big British act in America.

Business-wise Queen seem to be quite well set. They are signed to Trident Audio Productions, the production and management arm of the studios. Queen are TAP`s first signing and this is likely to give the group considerable leverage with EMI. They are no newcomers to the music scene though, it`s only in the last year that they have turned to music full-time. Bassist John Deacon and drummer Roger Taylor had been in a semi-professional group called Smile for a year or two while at college, but it was not until singer Freddie Mercury`s arrival that they named themselves Queen. Wisely they all decided to finish their respective courses before going professional.

John, originally from Leicester, had been at the Chelsea College of Arts and Technology; Roger, up from Cornwall after leaving dental college, joined up with Freddie to run a stall in the Kensington Market; Brian May the guitarist took a degree in Physics and went on to do a Ph.D. in, believe it or not, infra-red astronomy; and Freddie they just describe as a “Kensington poseur”.

I talked to John and Roger in Trident`s re-mix room as they played through such rough mixes as they had finished. The sound was still a bit raw and ragged, but there was no mistaking the originality of the songs and the thrusting energy of the playing, the kind of buzz you only get from a new band whose creativity has not yet peaked.

First song up was “Fairy Feller`s Masterstroke”, so titled after a painting by the Victorian Richard Dadd (it hangs in the Tate Gallery). “Freddie just wrote a song using all the characters in the painting – it`s fairly incomprehensible,” commented Roger. Next up were “Loser In The End” and the atmospheric “Ogre Battle”, with bumping and grinding effects. Freddie (the one with the Bugs Bunny mush and the wigwam of dark hair) is the principal writer, followed closely by Brian, although Roger occasionally turns in a song.

The band were complimentary about the way their first album had been handled by the American record company Elektra, who had used the original cover art-work supplied by the group, which EMI here had not done. They also complained that the record had gone out of stock for six weeks in this country, which could have done them a lot of damage if they were not pushing hard.

It`s to avoid such complications that they are working so hard on the album, to give plenty of margin for other people`s errors. They have their heads screwed on, these fellers, following the business manoeuvres with an interested eye, and Roger was able to give me a sort of market breakdown of Queen`s global trading position – they are especially strong, it appears, in Germany and Sweden as well as the US.

But closer to home, they feel that they acquitted themselves fairly well on the recent Mott tour, despite an outdated PA – actually David Bowie`s old Ground Control. “It was the first time we`d done gig after gig, night after night,” says John, “but we were really pleased with some places – Newcastle and Glasgow and, strangely enough, Bournemouth, seemed to know about us.”

Continued Roger: “I`ve been with the band two and a half years and I`m the newest member. Queen was Freddie`s idea really, about three years back. We`d like to make it everywhere, but we are placing a lot of emphasis on America, but we don`t want to go out there too soon and blow it. For example we`ve been giving a lot of thought to getting in a keyboard. We may get another guy in. It would thicken the sound up. It`s a bit limited with only three instruments on stage, but we don`t really want to make it a five-piece. We`re going to do a tour of concerts before we go to the States. That`ll probably be in April. It`s got to improve a lot yet, the stage sound has to be good every night.”

Credits to Geir Myklebust.

(The inaccuracies at this one 😳)

[tcm]

Cantinflas in Hollywood By Raquel Stecher

Comic film star Mario Moreno, AKA Cantinflas, was affectionately referred to as the “Mexican Charlie Chaplin”. With his baggy pants tied up with a rope instead of a belt, his signature cap and distinctive mustache, Cantinflas became famous for his on-screen persona as a pelado, a Mexican slang term for an urban bum. The name Cantinflas, which he gave himself as a way to hide his show business career from his disapproving parents, became a term in its own right. Cantinflismo or to cantinflear was to talk like Cantinflas; in other words, to deliver rapid-fire dialogue in a way that would make a simple conversation more complicated, ultimately leading nowhere to great comedic effect. Cantinflas got his start as a teenager performing song-and-dance numbers in a traveling carpa, or tent show. He also performed as a circus clown, acrobat and a bullfighter which would later serve him well in his acting career.

Cantinflas was a huge star in Mexico and in the Spanish-speaking world in general. His appeal, besides his talents for verbal and physical humor, was the common theme of his Everyman character outwitting authorities. In an interview with the actor he once said, “Cantinflas no tiene edad… yo no me quito los años. Lo que pasas es que no me lo pongo./Cantinflas has no age… I didn’t take the years off. What happened is that I never added them on.” The ageless Cantinflas character served Mario Moreno well in a career that spanned over four decades.

Producer Michael Todd was looking for an international star for what would be the biggest project of his career: AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS (‘56). Todd took notice of Cantinflas and cast him in the film in the part of Passepartout, the fearless and clever assistant to Phileas Fogg, played by David Niven. Cantinflas received second billing for his first Hollywood movie but his role was expanded and he was given additional scenes not featured in Jules Verne’s novel, including a bullfighting sequence, to showcase Cantinflas’ talents and give him more screen time. AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS was a lavish production complete with an all-star cast. It went on to win the Academy Award for Best Picture the following year. Cantinflas excelled in the role of Passepartout and won a Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical. It was a huge box office success and Cantinflas received top billing for the film in international markets to better capitalize on his worldwide fame.

Todd and Cantinflas became close. Cantinflas even helped coordinate Todd’s wedding to actress Elizabeth Taylor in Mexico, served as a witness for the ceremony and arranged a firework display for the reception. Todd would have overseen Cantinflas’ next Hollywood project had it not been for his untimely demise in a plane crash in 1958. AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS was so successful that director George Sidney was able to convince Columbia Pictures to invest $5 million in Cantinflas’ next movie PEPE (‘60). This time, the film would boast even more all-star cameos and have Cantinflas as the top-billed star.

Based on an Austrian play Broadway Zauber, PEPE stars Cantinflas as a horse handler who loses his beloved horse, whom he affectionately refers to as his son, to washed up actor turned director Ted Holt (Dan Dailey). Shirley Jones plays Suzie, the love interest to both Pepe and Ted Holt. Sidney took cameos to the next level by involving big names such as Greer Garson, Edward G. Robinson, Frank Sinatra, Jack Lemmon, Janet Leigh, Bing Crosby, Kim Novak, etc. in scenes that would help move the plot forward. PEPE was shot over six months with five weeks of on location shooting in Mexico. For all intents and purposes, PEPE was meant to be a big vehicle for the international star. Bolstered by a big budget and a bevvy of stars, the intention was to not only capitalize on the successful formula of AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS but to make Cantinflas famous in the US.

Unfortunately, PEPE did Cantinflas no favors. The film was filled with tired Mexican stereotypes. The character Pepe is presented as a simpleton who means well and serves to help the troubled Tim Holt and aspiring actress Suzie achieve their dreams. According to Cantinflas biographer Jeffrey M. Pilcher, “Moreno lacked the confidence to try fast-talking in English, and throughout the filming he retained his Mexican director, Miguel Delgado, who spoke the language fluently, to coach him through the uninspired dialogue.” Perhaps 1960s Hollywood wasn’t quite ready for Cantinflas to play Cantinflas and tried to manufacture a character with Pepe that would be safe for the American moviegoing public. Unfortunately, the critics panned the film and it didn’t drive audiences to the theater quite like AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS did. The film was released on Christmas Day in 1960 and earned $4.8 million at the box office which was not enough to break even. It did go on to be nominated for seven Academy Awards, although it lost all seven, and Cantinflas was once again nominated for a Golden Globe for his performance.

AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS was a much better platform for Cantinflas to showcase his talents whereas PEPE was a sad finale to Cantinflas’ short lived Hollywood career. Cantinflas never made another American film although he was to play a part in the obscure film THE GREAT SEX WAR (‘69) that was never released. Cantinflas returned to his native Mexico where he made films throughout the 1960s and 1970s. Despite only making two films in the United States, he was recognized for his achievements with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1980.

[jmeddows2]

Merry Christmas, my love (Roger Taylor x fem!Reader)

It’s finally here - my christmas present for @liliah39​ I had so much fun creating this little piece, I hope you like it :) Merry merry christmas to you again! I had so much fun creating this for @dtfrogertaylor​ ‘s “Thank God it’s christmas event. Looking forward to more of these events. :)

Summary: Roger and Reader are best friends, they act very playful around each other, which makes it hard to see if there are real feelings involved. Warnings: swearing, sexual content  word count: 1.7k  Notes: sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language 

"Wake up slags, it‘s 1 pm“ Roger shouted from the living room. Yesterday‘s pre - christmas party, the annual party before christmas eve that your friends held got a bit out of hand, especially after Freddie mixed up some strong 'Pink Lady' cocktails which you sipped on like there was no tomorrow. Pretty intoxicated from the pink poison Roger persuaded you to spend the night at their flat. You found yourself in Roger’s comfortable, yet small bed in the morning. You smiled to yourself as you heard him call your fiends Pat and Sue  “slags”. The two girls also decided to stay the night, rather than tumbling home in freezing cold London in the middle of the night. Of course, Roger wasn’t serious in calling them out like that, it was more the idea of friends bullshitting each other and of course to get them out of the flat more quick. 

 You heard the door to the bedroom open quietly, then the bed sank a little as Roger slid back into under the blanket you two shared.  "Good morning love. it‘s not that late yet, only 9am you can keep sleeping“ he softly whispered in your ear while pulling you into his arms under you shared blanket. You smiled pulling your body flush against him, draping one leg over his hips.  "You‘re the best cuddle buddy ever“ you breathed into his neck.  "Yeah? What‘s my reward for being so good then?“ Roger playfully asked while slowly tracing his fingers down your back.  "What do you have in mind?“ you asked innocently looking up at him. Roger didn‘t have to think hard about it. "A kiss.... on the lips“ he smiled like an idiot, making you laugh. "No“ you laughed,  moving further against him in the process.  "No?“ he asked with a hint of dissappointment in his voice, but Roger kind of expected the answer anyway. It hurt though, but he would never admit it.  "So, you won‘t kiss me now but you literally keep grinding yourself on my cock?“ he chuckled, trying lift his own mood. You both burst with laughter, but you then removed your leg from him.  "Ok no, keep grinding on me“ he tried to pull your leg over him again, but you got off the bed instead. Roger watched you intently as you got dressed, with heart eyes as you would say. He was cute and liked you way more than you intended. You sometimes forgot about it though, which made situations like this torturous for him. 

"What are your plans for today?” you asked while buttoning up your shirt to get him off his lovey dovey imagination.  "Uhh just working a small shift at the market, you know people are awful when it comes to buying christmas presents last minute“ he got off the bed as well. You were stood in front of the full body mirror next to the small cupboard when you saw him stand right behind you.  "I bet they‘ll go crazy for your market stall. London’s most valuable items can only be found THERE” you joked and felt him wrap his arms around you from behind. "Ha Ha“ his sarcastic laugh filled the room. He dipped his head down to kiss your neck. Yeah not what best friends are supposed to do at all but there you were. "You‘re going to stop by at the market, right?“ he rested his chin on your shoulder with an expecting look in his eyes. "Sure“ you smiled at his reflection and it made him light up. A quick kiss on his cheek and you exited the flat he shared with Freddie, realizing that Pat and Sue must have left right after Roger woke them rather unpleasantly. Lunch came in no time and as expected Kensington Market was busy on this cold Christmas Eve. As you entered the building though, you were hit with holiday cheer. There was a little stall at the entrance that prepared fresh apple cider, a few stalls later an old lady had christmas spices spread all over the table to "call on all good christmas spirits“ as she would say. Once you were on the second floor of the market, the christmasy atmosphere didn‘t die down in any way. There were decorated trees stood in between all the stalls with one standing out the most. To no surprise it was Freddie and Roger‘s. "That’ll be three pounds, dear” Freddie handed over an old salmon colored scarf to the old lady, who pretty much only bought the scarf because she pitied the poor boys. You were nearly sure all their costumers did. Not to mention especially Roger’s clothes often had holes that were patched up with another piece of fabric that didn’t quite fit the color of the original piece.  "Hi love” Freddie greeted you while he still engaged in business with the old lady.  You entered the small stall that was about 10 feet times 10 feet in size.Roger was sitting on a little stool with a newspaper in his hand. His eyes were roaming over the pages before he looked up to meet your eyes.   "You came” he lit up and patted his thigh for you to sit.  "Of course, Rog. What else would I do with my time?” you laughed at him and took a seat in his lap.  "Hi” he mumbled against your cheek,giving a brief hug, before keeping his arms still around with the newspaper spread in front of the two of you. You gave him a questioning look but then he turned to explain why he circled certain things in it.  "Just flat hunting with Fred” he pulled you closer to him in his lap. In moments like this you wondered how it would be just easier admitting your feelings to him, given the fact that he was obviously doing his best to make you fall in love with him. Roger was  giving you all the signs either verbal or nonverbal. Signs a decent human being would naturally “send” out to their crush in hope of gaining some attention, in hope of spending more time with them. But there was always some kind of uncertainty in every situation. Roger was playful, maybe it was all a joke to him. All the hugs and kiss, little, gentle touches, the way he desperately clung onto you whenever he could. You sometimes felt like he was just trying to keep you warm for him, in case other relationships of his failed.  The comfy fabric of his black sweater mixed with the smell his cologne made you feel warm and comfortable in this position. He wore a concentrated look on his face. Something about the moment just felt right so you shuffled closer to him to put your head on his shoulder,where his golden shoulder long hair ended. The smell of his hair filled your nose while your other hand went around his neck to softly tug on the other side of his hair. He seemed to enjoy it so much, that he quickly put away his newspaper.  “How was your day, love?” he asked batting his eyelashes at you and you swore he was the cutest boy you had ever seen.  “Average but getting much better by the second now” you smiled back at him.  “Is that so?” Roger smirked while softly rubbing circles with thumb on your thigh. Just when you moved your face awfully close to him -  “Oh you love birds, getting it on early? It’s not even dark yet” Freddie interrupted. “piss off Fred, as if Mary and you only shag when it’s dark out” Roger laughed.  “Of course not Roger dear, I’m sure you are the best witness for that” Roger’s face formed like he bit into a lemon and you burst into laughter.  “As if you wouldn’t bring girls home all the time, Rog” you chuckled, daring to make a statement while trying to show no signs of jealousy.  “To be honest?” Freddie answered for him.  “Since you two are literally joined by the hip our dear Roger here hasn’t brought a single girl home. Seems like you’re either a real cock block or you just put a spell of love on him” Freddie joked, obviously knowing it was the second option. Roger on the other hand turned red as a tomato. Thankfully for Roger, Freddie returned to the front of the stall because of new customers. That way Freddie had no chance to go on about how hopelessly in love Roger really has.   “Is that true Rog?” you got off his lap to stand in front of him. He swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say. Roger knew he couldn’t fuck this up. There were only two options he thought the situation could end in. Either you would admit your feelings for him as well and he gets to live out all the countless situations with you that had been replaying in his head for much to long now.  Or you would break his heart and stop being his best friend. He knew chances of getting hurt were rather big. And choosing the right words to say was hard for him, especially without having at least a bit time to mentally prepare for it. You looked at him expectantly. Expecting him to finally confess what all of this was about. The playful, yet loving way you treated each other day by day, the looks he would give you that made you fall in love with him. Roger wasn’t perfect, sometimes annoying, but you didn’t mind, not one single bit, because he was all you ever wanted. “Yeah it’s true. How could I bring another girl home, when the only person I want to have with me is you?” Roger confessed with a shaky voice and glassy eyes. “You should have realized that by now” he added.   “You’re such a melt” you straddled his legs to sit on him again and gave him a big hug. The kind of hug he longed for since the day you first met. Now it happened for the right and realest reasons only. It felt different than any other of the thousands of hugs you shared before. It was warmer and exciting, and you couldn’t fight the loving feeling spreading through your whole body. “Are you going to kiss me now or what?” you bit your lip looking at his. Roger smirked at you, taking your face into his hand and closin the space between the two of you. His lips felt as soft as expected, which soon turned from soft and gentle into the needy kind and Roger’s fingers where roaming your arms.  “Finally,” Freddie squealed behind your back which made Roger jump at first, then smile into the kiss. You only parted when you felt Rogers teeth on your lips from all the smiling.  “Time for some booze, because this christmas is going to be extra jolly for you two darlings” Freddie trotted down the market hall to get some booze. “Suppose it will get extra jolly huh?” Roger wrapped his arms tightly around you.  “Merry Christmas, my love” he kissed you once more, before Freddie returned with his hands filled with all kinds that would make you regret drinking it all the following morning.But it all didn’t matter in the end, beause it would be your first proper christmas with Roger.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Crazy little thing called love

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: None! 

Preview: “Turn around! Get your arse back in that fitting room right this second!” She yells, waving her arms above her head wildly.

“Mary? What on Earth are you doing?” “Roger! The boys! They’re outside, they saw me and are coming in!” “Get rid of them! I don’t care what you have to do, but they cannot be in here!” You plead.

“Look Y/N, there’s another one!” Mary squeals excitedly as you walk along the busy street, you come to sudden halt as she stops moving, your linked arms preventing you from going any further without her. “Come on, lets take a look!” She urges, as she gently tugs you into the bridal store. As you enter, you feel like royalty, and know that you definitely do not belong in here. Pristine white dresses are displayed across the shop floor on mannequins in uncomfortable poses. Marble tiles line your way as you walk further inside, your jaw going slack as you look around. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging above you, its lights twinkling away merrily, unaware that no one in the history of the world would ever be able to afford a dress in this store.

“Mary, we shouldn’t be in here. We don’t belong!” You mutter, as you gaze down at yourself, your dusty combat boots nearly leaving scuff marks on the tiles.

“Oh come on, Roger just popped the question, you have to at least start looking for a dress!” Mary admonishes sharply, with a final tug at your arm to move you further into the store. She was stopped in front of the clothing racks, each garment in a bag to protect it from dust, and other foreign bodies. Ivory and cream fabrics were overloading your senses as she moves each dress to look at it.

“He asked me last week, we haven’t even spoken about it since, he’s been so busy with the record, I don’t think we’ll start planning it until the end of the month.” You shrug, following Mary’s lead and looking through the numerous dresses.

Mary rolls her eyes, huffing at you. “That isn’t the point Y/N. The point is, is that you are going to be Missus Roger Taylor at some point in the near future! And I’ll be damned if you don’t look a million dollars on your wedding day!” She declares, stamping her foot down to make her point as final. An older woman looks up from a few racks away, lifting an eyebrow at the noise Mary had been making.

“May I help you ladies?” She asks, her lips pursed as she saunters her way over to you both. You gulp, looking to the bottle blonde woman, wanting to simultaneously run from the store and also give her a swift kick to the knees. You knew you didn’t belong in here, but she didn’t have to make it so obvious with that look!

“Yes actually, I’m in the market for a wedding and maid of honour dress.” You smile sweetly, your perfect customer service voice coming in to play. Moving your hand to brush away a stray lock of hair, you make sure your engagement ring is clearly visible to the shop assistant, noticing her frown lift from her face somewhat. She still has a hard look about her, though it seems to be crumbling away slowly. Mary stifles a giggle from beside you, hiding it behind a sneeze.

“Of course, congratulations on your engagement! Was there any style of dress you were looking for in particular?” She asks, moving her hands in grand gestures towards the racks you and Mary had just been browsing through.

You frown for a moment, you hadn’t really thought about your dress very much. You know that Roger would find you stunning no matter what style you picked, though you also know that he would probably prefer you to wear jeans and one of his leather jackets. “Nothing too over the top, classic and simple, maybe with lace? I like off the shoulder sleeves…” You finally decide, an image of what your dress should be forming in your minds eye.

 “And nothing too frilly, or too puffy.” Mary chimes in, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. The two of you had been to a wedding earlier this year, for a friend you had both went to school with. Although it was her big day, both of you decided that the dress was utterly hideous, not that you would ever say that to her face of course. The dress had wide, puffy sleeves that were at least twice the size of her head, the bodice had a corset style ribbon running across it, with lace surrounding the edges. Then, there were the ruffles. The skirt had layers, upon layers of tulle, with ribbon edging each one. All in all, she looked like a yeti, but it seemed to make her happy at least.

You nod your agreement, and the sales woman busies herself with finding suitable dresses for you to model for Mary.

Twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a circular fitting room, with mirrors covering the entire wall around you. The sales woman was with you, helping you into each dress you tried on. The first three had been, nice enough, just not quite what you had been hoping for, and you were beginning to think that maybe the dress you had imagined didn’t exist. “There we are, all buttoned up.” She smiles, patting you on your shoulder with a soft smile. “Now, off you go and show your friend this one!”

You step out of the dressing room, noticing that you didn’t have to lift the skirt while walking unlike with the other dresses you had tried on, a smile forming on your lips at that. You wanted to be able to move easily in your dress, and the idea of lifting the hem each time you took a step just sounded like torture!

**********************************************************************************

The four men walked through the bustling streets, smiling and waving at fans as they made their way to the nearest pub. They had been in meetings all morning, discussing what their latest album should be, and were tired of trying to explain what they had all come up with.

“I just don’t get it.” Roger huffed, kicking a stone away from his feet as he walked. “What about Radio GaGa don’t they understand?” He groaned, as John placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

“It’s a great song Rog, and it’ll be on the album whether the record execs understand it or not.” John offered with a smile, which was returned by Roger.

“Mary!” Freddie squealed loudly, causing the other three men to look at him in surprise. From what they could see, there was no Mary anywhere in sight.

Brian looked at Freddie, squinting down at the excited man. “Fred, there’s no Mary here.” He shrugs, unsure as to where his exclamation had come from.

Freddie points towards a bridal store, grinning light a child on Christmas. “She’s in there darling.” He coos, waving at Mary through the display window. Mary looks shocked, then promptly runs away from the window, arms flailing like a mad woman.

Roger had turned his attention to the store now, along with Brian and John. “What’s Mary doing in a bridal shop?” He muses aloud, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette, before stamping it out beneath his toe.

“I haven’t the faintest idea, let’s go find out, shall we?” Freddie decrees, as he pushes his way through the crowds of people, parting them as if they were the red sea.  The remaining three men gaze between one another, before following their lead singer towards the elegant store.

Upon entering the store, the four men look around, rather overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of white dresses. How can there be this much choice in only one colour? Roger walks further in, stopping every now and then to take a closer look at some of the garments hanging around him. From the corner of his eye, he spots a frantic Mary shoving a figure draped in white back inside a dressing room. “Get in! And don’t come out!”  She shrieks, as she barricades the door with her body. Roger frowns at the sight before him, shaking his head before making his way towards his flustered friend.

As he reaches Mary, the other men had decided to check what all the commotion was about themselves. “Uh, hi Mary?” Brian begins, lifting an eyebrow at the pale rose coloured dress she had on.  The dress boasted puffy sleeves at the shoulders, with the length ending mid forearm, a deep plunging neckline showed off her chest nicely, and a large bow was tied at the back. “You look stunning love, but I must ask. Do you have some news to share with us?”

Mary had the decency to look affronted by Brian’s suggestion, placing her hand against her chest. “Why, whatever do you mean Brian?”

It was John’s turn to speak up next, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Mary. “I think what Brian means to ask, is whether or not there is a particular reason as to why you’re trying on bridal dresses?”

“Yes! Who is the lucky man? And for the love of God, why did you not tell me you were getting married?” Freddie gasps, as he takes Mary’s hand away from her chest, twirling her in a circle.

Roger frowns deeply, desperately trying to put the pieces together of this puzzle. “Who’s hiding in the fitting room?” He finally asks, referring to the figure he had seen her practically tackle into the small room just before

Mary blinks up at the four men before her, her eyes darting between each of her friends, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation. “What makes you think I’m getting married?” She finally asks, folding her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently as she awaits a response.

“Well darling, either you’re getting married, or being just a little bit presumptuous. I will happily speak on behalf of all men here, if you were to find a wedding gown in the closet before having asked the woman to marry you, it would be a little bit confronting.”

Mary’s eyebrows crease together, listening intently to Freddie’s explanation, of course he of all people wouldn’t buy her story! She bites down on her lower lip, looking back at the fitting room behind her, praying that you would be able to keep quiet, and hidden from just a little while longer.  “If you must know, my dear friend is getting married shortly, and she has asked me to be a bridesmaid. So I’m looking for a dress for her big day.”

“Oh really?” Brian smirks, lifting an eyebrow in challenge up at her.

“Yes really, thank you very much.”

“What’s her name?” Roger queries, leaning his hip again a glass cabinet filled with tiara’s and accessories of the like. His arms are folded across his chest, his baby blues regarding her with scepticism.

“Um, my friend’s name?” Mary stammers, her eyes going wide, as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car.

“Yes, your friend’s name. Who else?” Deaky jumps in, from what he could tell, none of the others were believing her story. What he couldn’t quite understand, was why she was being so secretive. If Mary was engaged, surely, she would be excited?

“Her name?” Mary begins, before losing her nerve, and stepping backwards, pressing herself closer to the door leading to the fitting room. “Jessica!” She quickly declares, breathing a sigh of relief as she thinks up a name.

Freddie’s grin broadens across his lips, showing off his teeth. “My dear, I met all of your friends while we were together, you have never known a Jessica.” He chuckles, and the four men watch the colour drain away from Mary’s face.

“Just tell us the truth Austin, who’s in the fitting room, and who’s wedding is it?” Roger groans. He was already tired from the morning they had had, and he found himself in no mood to play silly games with an over emotional Mary.

Mary gulps audibly, “I dragged Y/N in here to start looking for her wedding dress.” She finally admits, and as if on cue, the fitting room door which she had been guarding is pushed wide open, sending the young woman tumbling to the ground, as a vision in white emerges behind her.

 You only manage to make it halfway towards the podium in the centre of the store, surrounded by mirrors so you could see yourself from each and every angle, before Mary comes running at you, the silken fabric of her maid of honour dress shining merrily beneath the bright lights. “Turn around! Get your arse back in that fitting room right this second!” She yells, waving her arms above her head wildly. You blink at her in surprise, unsure of how to react to her sudden outburst, that is until her hands are cupping your shoulders, and marching you backwards, back into the fitting room you had just emerged from.

“Mary? What on Earth are you doing?” You gasp out, as you take hurried steps backwards, both trying to follow the lead of your friend, and also get away from her.

“Roger! The boys! They’re outside, they saw me and are coming in!”

Your eyes widen, while your jaw goes slack, Roger can’t see you! It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress! Even if this isn’t the dress you end up purchasing, you still don’t want him to see you! “Get rid of them! I don’t care what you have to do, but they cannot be in here!” You plead, just as the chiming of the bell above the door informs you that the band had arrived. Mary has just enough time to slam the fitting room door shut, sending you  tumbling into the sales assistants arms. She caches you swiftly, a scowl forming over her features.

“What do you think you’re doing, playing around in a dress this expensive?” She chastises you, glaring daggers down at you.

“I am so sorry. But please, we need to stay quiet, my fiancé just walked in with his friends, he doesn’t know I’ve started looking at dresses yet!” You plead with the furious woman. The moment you had regained your balance, she had taken her arms away from you, whether to protect the dress or because she was cross with you, you were unsure.

You keep your voice hushed, and the sales assistant does the same, allowing you to hear the conversation beyond the door. The boys are pressing Mary for a reason as to why she’s here, and her lies didn’t seem to be doing a good job at convincing them as to her situation.

“I’m sorry my dear, but I don’t care who else is in this store. You do not, under any circumstances throw yourself around wearing a dress like this.” The woman hisses at you, as she pushes you towards the door again, desperately trying to get you out of the fitting room, despite your protesting.  “This is a three thousand pound dress, you either get out there or get out of the dress!”

With one final push, you find yourself practically flung out of the door, falling against Mary as the door swings open. You both crash to the ground, Mary luckily breaking your fall. “Five more minutes Y/N! I nearly had them convinced to leave!” Mary groans, as you roll off her back.

“You really didn’t…” Four voices laugh from above you, and you find yourself too embarrassed to look up at them. Mary pushes herself up to a standing position, before dutifully reaching her hands down to you, assisting in pulling you upright.

Once standing up straight again, you smooth the dress out around you, lifting the skirt before dropping it back down, quickly removing any creases that had formed from your, elegant entrance. After a few moments of silence, you finally look up at your audience, biting your bottom lip, desperate for someone to break the silence.

“Y/N, you look stunning…” Roger breathes out, drinking in the sight of you. You were an absolute vision, the dress looked as if it had been made just for you, and he would not mind seeing you walk down the aisle wearing exactly this dress.

“Thank you, Rog.” You smile gently, your gaze meeting his heated one, causing your smile to grow wider. It wasn’t an often occurrence for Roger to be honest with his feelings, however you knew he was genuine with his compliment.

Brian nods in agreement, his wild mane of curls bouncing around his shoulders. “You truly do look wonderful, but I must ask. Why are you trying on wedding gowns?” Deaky and Freddie both nod their agreement, all with equal looks of confusion adorned on their faces.

You blink at the three men, confusion colouring you features also. “Why wouldn’t I be trying on bridal dresses?” You press, lifting your eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well as we said to Mary just now, typically one waits until they are engaged before they start dress shopping.” Deaky supplies helpfully.

Nodding, you lift your left hand up, just as Mary points directly at the engagement ring adorned on your ring finger. “Yes, I think I’ve completed step one.”

Freddie gasps loudly, racing over to you and wrapping you up in a rib crushing hug. “Who and when?” He squeals, reaching a pitch that only dogs could hear.

“What do you mean who? Roger of course!” You declare, whirling around to glare at your fiancé.

Brain looks between the two of you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Roger finally got up the guts to propose?” He chuckles deeply.

“Roger Taylor. You have some explaining to do Mister!” You snarl, your hands resting on your hips as you glare at the blonde, who at least looked somewhat embarrassed by the situation at hand.

“Yes, I proposed, last week so everyone knows exactly when it happened, on a Tuesday. I just, I wanted to keep it between us for a little while, before telling this lot.” He shrugs, a look of guilt gracing his features, as he gazes at you. You step closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, causing him to smile against yours.

“Okay, I understand. You just had me worried for a moment there. I thought maybe I had imagined the whole, you getting down on one knee, and asking me to marry you, thing. But good to know I didn’t!” You blush, reaching up to push his hair back off his forehead.

Mary sighs dreamily behind you, wiping a fake tear off her cheek. “No matter how many times you tell me, I still find it hard to believe that The Roger Taylor proposed to you in a traditional manner.”

You roll your eyes at her antics, shaking your head slowly, smiling once more as you feel Roger’s arms circle around you, his hands resting gently against your waist. The moment is soon broken however as Deaky raises his voice to gather everyone’s attention. “While this is all very romantic, may we just take one moment to remind ourselves of the fact that Roger, our dear drummer, didn’t think any of us important enough to share this news with!”

Roger bows his head, his shaggy hair flopping over his forehead once again. “I mean, you did find out eventually.” He shrugs, looking only somewhat guilty about the whole situation. Deaky shakes his head in disapproval, while Freddie and Brian grin at the semi argument before them.

You can feel Roger’s fingers gliding along your spine as you face the group, playing with the ivory buttons that trail from the nape of your neck, down to the base of your spine. His fingers catch on the price tag, and he plays with the piece of card idly, taking a moment to glance down at the price stamped across it. His breathe hitches in his throat for a moment, though you pay him no mind, instead focusing on the grumpy sales assistant. She had recently emerged from the dressing room, her arms folded across her chest, a stern look gracing her already hard features. “This is no place for a friendly catch up! I must insist Miss, if you are not here to try on our gowns, then you must leave.”

Her look is focused solely on you, and you feel a blush cover your cheeks, averting your gaze quickly. Freddie, reading the discomfort on your face jumps to the rescue, sauntering over to the woman, a devilish grin tugging at his lips. “My dear, we were just leaving now! We are so sorry to have caused a scene, please forgive us!” He finishes his apology by walking up to the woman, taking her hand gently, and placing a kiss against the upside of her palm. Freddie’s grovelling only manages to raise a small smirk from the woman, though it soon falls away.

“I believe it best if I never see you four in this store again.” She grumbles, before turning her attention to you and Mary. “And you two are on thin ice too.” Mary gasps, taking a step back, at what she had deemed as a verbal attack.

“What did we do wrong?” She demands, stomping up to the older woman, both standing with their arms folded across their chests, glaring daggers at one another. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, it truly looked as if Mary were fighting with an older version of herself.

As Freddie rounds the band up, deciding it really was time to leave, Roger leans down against your side, his lips resting against the shell of your ear.  “Get any dress you’d like Y/N…. Just not this one.” He whispers, still struggling to wrap his head around the exuberant cost of one dress. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he dashes out of the bridal store, racing to catch up with the others, leaving you to try and stop Mary from arguing with the sales assistant.

 The four beer bottles clinked together, the noise muffled out nearly entirely by the noise of the band playing in the small pub. “To Marriage!” Brian declares as he grins at Roger.

“To secret proposals and not telling friends!” Deaky interjects playfully.

“Let’s just stick with to Roger hm?” Freddie offers, before downing a large gulp of his beer, the other three quickly following his lead.

Roger taps his foot along to the song the band had begun playing, the drummer in him unable to rest when a decent beat started. He had never heard of this band before, nor seen them at any of pubs the regularly visited. Though they were quite good, might even be the next Queen he thought. “Is it wrong for me to be worried about the cost of this wedding already?” He laughs half-heartedly, looking at John intently. “You got married Deaks, how much did it cost? Are you still in debt? Help me!”

John blinks at Roger in surprise, the usually stress-free drummer looked to be in the midst of a panic attack. “Ronnie and I kept it pretty simple, so it wasn’t too much, and no we aren’t still debt. We were never in debt. It’s the dress that’s the killer, they can cost a small fortune.” He finishes, before taking another swig.

“Trust me, I know. The dress Y/N was wearing, I don’t think I could ever afford something like that.” Roger sighs, his nerves now calmed somewhat from John’s reassuring words.

John nods in understanding, smiling gently. “You may think that now, but the dress is what makes them the happiest. That’s what Ronnie says at least. At the end of the day, all she cared about was having me there, and her perfect dress.”

“So, from the sounds of things. As long as you let Y/N get the dress she loves, then the wedding could be held in a grocery store, and she wouldn’t care!” Brian chuckles, noticing as the colour drain from Roger’s face.

Roger gulps audibly, before he leans forwards and rests his chin against the table. “I told her not to get the dress she was wearing. And now I can’t imagine her wearing anything other than that one!” He groans, as John moves Roger’s beer away from his head, in an effort to stop it from spilling.

“Congratulations Rog, your marriage is already doomed, and you haven’t even started planning the wedding yet. Surely that must be a world record!” Freddie smirks, while Brian timidly pats Roger’s head.

 “Did you get the dress?” You hear Roger long before you see him, as he stumbles through your apartment door, swearing as he walks directly into the coat stand by the front door. Despite you both having your own apartments, you can’t quite recall the last time Roger had stayed at his, not that there was much of his there anymore. Most of his belongings had migrated their way into your living space during the course of your relationship.

You bite down on your lip, waiting for your drunk fiancé to navigate his way into the sitting room. You couldn’t blame him from having a few drinks in celebration with the others, even you and Mary had gone to a fancy café that served mimosas all day, after leaving the bridal shop. Though from the sounds of things, Roger had likely had a few more to drink than you. “You’ll just have to wait and see won’t you? Just, you know, don’t go into the closet.” You grin softly, as he finally makes his way to you. It was fun to tease drunk Roger, it was fun to tease sober Roger too. Roger looks down at you, curled up on the sofa, with a book across your lap. He raises and eyebrow at your comment, mulling over your words for a few moments, before turning on his heel and marching towards the bedroom.

 A part of Roger was ecstatic at the thought you having bought the dress, the other part of him was utterly terrified, still unable to get the price tag out of his mind. Soon, he finds himself stood before the closet, hand hovering above the handle, shaking with anticipation. “Just do it!” He mutters to himself, before swinging the door open. There, in the corner of the closet, is a white garment bag, with the name of the bridal store printed across it, in black cursive. Reaching out, he pulls the bag off the rack and brings it over to the bed, draping it over the duvet. It’s not as heavy as he had thought it would be, though really, what did he know about the weight of a wedding dress?

Carefully he pulls the zipper down on the bag, pulling it down inch by inch, before it lay open before him. Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the sight before him, there, in the garment bag, from a bridal store none the less, lay a brand new leather jacket. A note, with Roger written in your handwriting taped to the material. He hurriedly shook off the denim jacket he was currently wearing, before replacing it with your gift, grinning at how well it fit, the smell of leather filling his nose as he breathed in deeply.

While Roger was engrossed in his findings, you quietly made your way into the bedroom behind him, leaning your hip against the wall, as you waited with a baited breath for him to reveal the jacket. “Damn I have excellent taste in clothing.” You chuckle, as he whirls around on the spot, sporting his new jacket.

“So, you didn’t get the dress then?” He raises his brows in surprise, blinking his striking blue eyes over at you. With a sly grin, you step over to him, reaching your hands out to his jacket.

You zip up the jacket slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I will not justify that question with an answer.”

The zip stops at his throat, and Roger smirks down at you. “It’s at Freddie’s isn’t it?’

“it’s at Freddie’s.”  You smile.

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