#By the way my anxiety is still off the fucking charts so instead of calling my mom I went and visited her today.

[iero]

I do not like my mom's boyfriend and I don't think I ever will, but he is absolutely real as hell for not being able to do anything without having music on.

#personal #Bro literally turned on his music as he was walking up the stairs to go to the bathroom and kept it on the whole time until he came down. #And I literally turned to my mom and was like 'Does he always do that?' And she was like 'Always.' #By the way my anxiety is still off the fucking charts so instead of calling my mom I went and visited her today. #<- I say that acting like she lives far away (she lives a 15 minute drive away from me) #Went grocery shopping this morning and then took a 3 mile run and I was feeling FINE and then it kicked in as soon as I got home. #I literally don't know what to do at this point.

[saucy-sassy-sparkly]

Moments: Eight

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~ 6.4k

Author's Note: the final full-length part 🥹 I have some drabbles to keep these babes going a little longer, so they'll be back! Thanks for the support on this story! I can't wait to share my next one! ❤️

Moments Masterlist

2014: Sudbury

1 day after Minka-gate broke, Y/N and Chris flew home from their vacation early, feeling very tense and exhausted. They’d returned to the hotel immediately and Y/N was back in sweatpants within 5 minutes of crossing the threshold. Chris sat on the edge of the bed in his suit, his tie undone and his top button loosened, holding Y/N on his lap while she cried; his tears leaked into her hair. This was not how tonight should’ve been. She’d stayed tucked on his lap and they’d fallen into an uncomfortable sleep for several hours before Chris gently moved her to change for bed and returned to bed to find her awake and ready to crawl back into his arms.

3 days after Minka-gate broke, Chris begrudgingly went back to Atlanta to finish his last 5 weeks of filming. Y/N had driven him to the airport and they’d kissed goodbye in the drop-off lane, but with nowhere near the passion they normally parted. The three days between the phone call on the rooftop and this moment were filled with tears and stressed phone calls to all the members of Chris’s team. They all assured him with full certainty that this would not be interesting for long, to lay low, and not engage.

8 days after Minka-gate broke, Chris and Y/N got into a huge fight during one of their nightly phone calls. All their calls had been tense of late but they’d both continued to try. The anxiety and frustration hung in the background of all their interactions came to a head after Chris continued to repeat, “I never meant for this to happen,” to which Y/N snapped and said, “I know you didn’t, but what are you going to fucking do about it!” before Chris returned with his own ire.

10 days after Minka-gate broke, Y/N took a day off of work to lean into her feelings, stay home and sob watching Titanic and take a long, luxurious, wine-soaked bath in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. Now it wasn’t just the tabloids but all the online gossip blogs and even a few credible media outlets had picked up the story, claiming to talk to “sources close to the couple” who knew that Minka and Chris had rekindled their romance months ago and were finally ready to settle down. Instead of passing, it was picking up intensity.

14 days after Minka-gate broke, Chris’s team was still advising him that the best course of action was to ignore the press until it goes away. Minka’s team was, according to Chris’s team, not responding. She’d even been seen leaving a grocery store with a ring on her finger. Chris had thrown and shattered his coffee mug when his assistant had to tell him and then immediately called Y/N to be sure he heard it from her. Around the same time, the media outlets had started to drag out old pictures of Y/N and Chris: grocery stores, sporting events, the dog park, fan sightings… anything for another chance to manipulate the story with new headlines: What about Chris Evans’s mystery Boston girlfriend? Does she know about his engagement to Minka? Is he planning to keep his side piece? Will he have an LA wife and a Boston piece of ass?

17 days after Minka-gate broke, Chris called his mother, who told him she didn’t understand the Hollywood ways, but she thought this was taking an awfully long time to die down. She gently, quietly wondered– in a way only a mother could– why he didn’t just make a statement to protect his real relationship. In another fit of frustration, Chris snipped at his mother, “I pay these people to take care of it, so they’re taking care of it.” Lisa sighed and responded, “but are they?”

19 days after Minka-gate broke, Y/N was sitting in her office, updating client charts, when her office phone rang.

“Hello, this is Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N, we’ve never spoken, but I’m calling about your situation with Chris.” The voice on the other end was a clipped female and there was a long pause during which Y/N expected her to continue and perhaps introduce herself. When she didn’t, Y/N rolled her already tense shoulders and sighed.

“Who’s calling?”

“Oh right, this is Megan.” Y/N obviously knew who she was but as she was mostly connected to Chris via phone, email, or when he was in LA life; they’d never met or truly spoken other than a quick wave on a FaceTime call. Obviously in the last weeks since the photo dropped, Y/N had been in the background of calls or seen emails that Chris forwarded her about the latest updates and plans, but they’d never had a one-on-one conversation.

Her phone buzzed on her desk with Chris’s caller ID, which was odd as he was supposed to be on a super secret closed set all day- no phones allowed. She ignored the call.

“Hi Megan,” she said tentatively, “you said you were calling about our… situation?”

“Correct. I’m reaching out on Chris’s behalf to move forward on our next phase of sidestepping this issue.”

Y/N’s whole body stilled at these words and her phone started to ring again. She ignored it again and a text immediately came through.

Chris: Do not answer a call from Megan. Call me, please.

Megan continued, “I know I called your work phone so I won’t keep you long, I’ll get right to it. I’ve been talking with Chris and the next best course of action is to announce your engagement. I think an exclusive with People with a shot of the ring and perhaps a few candids of you should do it. So we’d like to do that within the next week; can you get down to Atlanta by Thursday?”

Her phone was ringing again. She hit ignore again. And yet, she didn’t know why she stayed on with Megan; she had a sick feeling in her stomach from the second Megan had announced herself, but she couldn’t get herself to hang up.

She finally spoke to stall for time to process, “help me understand, why is this the best plan?”

“If we can put your real engagement out there with a wedding date attached, we can pull focus and put this mess to bed. I already have Chris booked for several appearances and interviews after where he’ll be asked…” Y/N stopped listening and switched the call to speakerphone. She set the headset back in the cradle and put her head down on her desk, her mind immediately wandering to that snowy rooftop…

Y/N’s whole body was shaking with rage when she handed the phone to Chris. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She didn’t know what, exactly, was happening, but how she’d ended up here on this rooftop while a picture of her boyfriend on one knee in front of another woman was circling the internet. How had she gone from an independent, strong, capable woman living on her own in DC to being entangled in a relationship with one of Hollywood’s up-and-coming heartthrobs who everyone wanted a piece of? She knew this wasn’t real but she just couldn’t understand how the stars had possibly aligned to set up such a suspicious picture.

She looked up to watch him look at the picture and, in slow motion, she watched his face drained of color entirely, his head dropped into his hands and she saw his shoulders immediately start to shake.

He was crying. He was squeezing her phone in his hand so hard that his knuckles were white and his body was trembling with sobs.

After watching him for a moment, unsure what to do, she reached out tentatively and took the phone from him, setting the table in front of her, and then moved closer to him. She put her hand on his leg and used her index finger and thumb to tip his chin up to look at him.

All of the initial anger she’d felt when seeing the photo melted away immediately. Y/N had seen Chris’s actor cry– this wasn’t it. This was pure devastation. He was already snotty and his eyes were swollen. His lip trembled as he looked at her, trying to keep it together. He fought against the hand that held his chin, trying to dip back down to avoid her eyes.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Y/N knew that she’d jumped to conclusions. He’d been as blindsided as she was. She knew nothing was going on with Minka; she knew what they had and he’d been upfront from the second he knew Minka was in Atlanta. This was the press going rogue and trying to get some money however they could. She’d process her emotions later– she had a lot to think about– but right now, she could see in his face how terrified he was that Y/N might be doubting him… them.

“I love you,” she told him quietly, still holding his chin. “I love you, and I know this wasn’t your fault.”

He lunged at her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her tightly against him. She felt his tears on her cheek as they were pressed so tightly together. “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll make this go away, you don’t deserve this. I love you so much.”

They stayed tangled up on the patio for another 15 minutes before they both calmed down enough and realized they’d lost their appetites. Back at the lodge, Y/N tried to keep herself together. She knew from the few whispered words between tears that Chris was distraught. Their relationship had already had so many bumps, he was so worried that they couldn’t survive another one… that she’d go for good.

And he hadn’t acknowledged it, but he’d been planning to propose tonight. She saw the hints now that she looked back- the surprise trip, his jumpy nature, his extra focus on using the word ‘forever’ in all of their conversations, the beautiful restaurant, the sexy suit, and the insistence she be equally done up.

Instead, this night had been ruined by a misunderstanding with a bunch of money-hungry strangers looking to stir the pot. They didn’t care about the real people involved or what hurt they inflicted.

So, once she’d donned sweats and washed her face, she took a deep, shaky breath to calm her nerves and walked back out towards the bed.

He sat on the edge, staring at his hands. No, not his hands, but something in his hands…

She unwillingly gasped when she realized he held the open ring box with tears running down his face. Her gasp alerted him to her presence and he snapped it shut, swiping at his eyes and spinning to look at her.

Y/N’s resolve crumbled and she let out the sob she’d been holding. He held his arms out and she crawled across the bed and into his waiting embrace.

Quietly he asked, “did you know?”

She shook her head and leaned back in his grasp to look at him, “I had no idea.”

He laughed bitterly, “another part of this ruined: the element of surprise.”

“It’ll be a surprise whenever you do it,” Y/N smiled softly and Chris’s lips crashed into her, swallowing her startled noise.

When he pulled back, he said, “you still want to marry me?”

Y/N nodded, “I won’t accept a proposal until this whole mess is settled, but of course I do. I love you.” He kissed her fiercely with both of their tears mixing, muttering ‘I love yous’ against her lips every time they came up for air.

A soft knock on the door and then Stacey stuck her head in. Before she could speak she saw Y/N slumped on her desk and caught Megan saying “… and I’m also hoping you and I might be able to talk Chris into giving wedding photo rights to People Magazine…”

Stacey physically pulled Y/N to stand, caught a glimpse of her tear-stained face, and whispered, “Chris is on the phone in my office. Go. I’ll get rid of this,” she gestured to the phone where Megan was still rattling off her long-winded 18-month plan. Y/N nodded and accepted Stacey’s quick but tight hug before leaving the room.

She kept her head down as she moved through the hall and past the open lounge and slipped into Stacey’s office. Y/N saw the hold light flashing on the desk phone and took a steadying breath before rounding the desk and taking the call.

“Chris?”

“Oh Bunny, thank god,” she could hear his relief.

“What is happening Chris, why does Megan have the rest of our lives planned out?”

“It’s her job to manage my image,” she heard his sarcasm on the word image, “but this is not how I wanted any of this to go down. We need to be on the same page first. I tried to stop it but it’s just been–” he cut himself off and she knew that he was running his fingers through his hair. “She has been relentless. She pitched this plan to me yesterday, and I told her it was awful and that she needed a new one. She’s been pushing this idea for almost 24 hours and I didn’t realize she’d called you until I got a break. I came back to my phone and she’d blown it up telling me she was calling you to tell you ‘our plan’. It’s not my plan, Y/N, I didn’t back this idea.” Y/N could hear his frustration, his disappointment, and his confusion, but was feeling all of her own emotions.

“She wants to announce our engagement and then give our wedding photos to People,” anger was boiling in Y/N’s stomach even as her tears kept falling. “We aren’t even engaged, Chris! I don’t want People magazine at our wedding! What’s next? Let People Magazine have the first photos of our baby? Do they get the exclusive rights to be in the delivery room with me? What the fuck, Chris, you said you’d make this go away. And I’m all alone in our stupid house trying to wait this out by myself. All my close friends are in DC, and I have no one to talk to here, every day it seems to get worse and I wake up with more texts with screenshots from people… and I hate every second of this. I can’t do this anymore, Chris.” Y/N’s voice continued to rise with every sentence.

Chris was silent and then she heard movement- the rustle of fabric, a door opening, and closing, a zipper being pulled, “I’m coming home.”

“No, don’t do that. You can’t just come home from this project, you remind me of that frequently.”

“I’m coming home,” he repeated more sternly.

“Don’t bother, Chris. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to come home just so we can discuss our 5-year plan with your team,” she spat the last word.

“I’m not coming home to discuss our plans or anything else with my team. I’m coming home to be with you.” She heard him pull the phone away to speak with someone. There was a back and forth and she couldn't hear all the words, but she heard Chris’s forceful tone to whomever he was speaking to. Then after a few more minutes of rustling, there was a car door shut and the dinging of a seatbelt reminder. “I’m headed to the airfield; should I schedule a car or can you pick me up around 6?”

Before Y/N could answer, there was more muffled conversation and then she heard Chris mutter, “fuck,” before coming back on the line, “can you pick me up?”

“What’s wrong now?”

“I’m still in costume. I have to change and then I’m going to the airfield… as much as I know you like me as Cap.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself when she snorted a quick laugh; that was her Chris, dropping a suggestive line amid a heated conversation. He’d be smirking if she could see him, trying to gauge if it broke some of the tension. “Are you sure you can come home?”

“There is nothing more important than getting this figured out. They’ll manage without me.”

“Chris,” guilt started to course through Y/N’s body as her frustration level lowered, knowing that once he’d decided to come home, he would be back with her soon, “this doesn't seem like a good idea.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a few days anyway, and have an email already drafted to suggest how we can adjust my filming to not mess everyone else up. I won’t be able to stay longer, but I’m not coming back until this is behind us. But stop worrying about this, Y/N. You’re right, you’ve been dealing with this alone and that isn’t fair to you. I’m coming home and we’ll manage it together.”

“Don’t you dare propose to me. Don’t use this opportunity to try to re-do, it is not the right moment.”

He laughed lightly, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Six?”

“Six.”

“Dodge and I will be there.”

“I love you, we’ll get through this.”

“Hey Chris,” Y/N’s lower lip was wobbling; relief was already flooding her body knowing that Chris would be here soon to weather this storm with her.

“Yes, Bunny?”

“Thank you,” she twisted a piece of hair around her finger and bit her lip, waiting for him to respond.

He heaved a heavy sigh, “always, sweeth’art,” he croaked before a quick goodbye.

Stacey was waiting in Y/N’s office when she returned and looked up, “that woman has a lot of nerve.”

“Tell me about it,” Y/N started to gather her belongings, ready to leave for the day with no more patients and too many emotions.

“She would not shut up. She just kept running her mouth like I was your publicist or something, all the ways I could try to convince you that her idiotic plan was in Chris’s best interest and therefore in your best interest. When you two do get married, do not invite her. I will punch her in the face for all of this.”

Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like ages, “you’ll have to get in line, Stac. Thanks for getting rid of her; I’ve never had to deal with her and this has all just been…” she trailed off while she reached for her phone and smiled to see a picture Chris had sent in costume with a message:

Chris:

Chris: Had to leave the Farmer Cap costume, but see you soon, beautiful

Her bag packed and jacket on, she realized Stacey was still watching her and then tentatively began to speak, “I’ve been afraid to pry, but are you– how are you doing?”

Y/N shrugged while she pulled on her jacket, “I’ve been better.”

“Did he really…” Stacey trailed off, biting her lip and staring at Y/N.

“God, no. I mean, he dated Minka years ago, but no. He’s not cheating, he’s not living a double life. The photographers will go to major lengths to get some clicks on an article.”

Stacey nodded but continued, “and you’re positive? No doubt he’s just acting?” Y/N stilled in her preparations to leave and turned to look at her colleague… her friend… more carefully. Stacey continued, “I’m just saying, it’s his profession to fake things, would you even know?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Stace, and I love you, so I’m trying to avoid snapping at you,” she sighed and slung her bag over her shoulder, “but I know Chris, I trust Chris, and I love Chris. He isn’t acting.”

Stacey threw her hands up in front of her, “I’m sorry, I just felt like I had to ask.”

“And you did, but please don’t ever question him again. We’ve been through so much already, I need my friends to have my back.”

“Won’t happen again,” she stepped towards Y/N offering a tentative hug that Y/N quickly accepted.

Y/N sat in her warm car on the tarmac waiting for Chris’s plane to land. Music played quietly but she wasn’t listening. She’d left her phone in the back seat so she wouldn’t be tempted to scroll while she waited; instead, she was aimlessly petting Dodger with one hand and playing with the edge of her scarf with the other.

She saw the lights of the plane and watched it take its time landing and taxiing towards the hangers on either side of her waiting SUV. Her car was the only one on the tarmac, although there were a few parked in the lot at the entrance, which made sense: Chris was likely the only passenger. For once, she’d been quite grateful for his privilege and situation to be able to get on a flight and come straight to her.

The door to the plane popped open with the stairs dropping down and displaying Chris’s silhouette as he reached the top of the stairs. He had a duffle bag in his hand and his backpack slung on one shoulder while he descended; Y/N felt her anxiety melt away seeing him. As he got closer, she pushed the door open and started towards him over the snowy pavement. Chris dropped his bags when they met and lifted her into his arms, his face tucked into the crook of her neck and burrowing through the fluffy scarf to kiss her neck, her jaw, her cheek, and her lips while pulling her legs around his waist. He took three huge strides and she felt her ass meet the hood of her car.

Chris set her on it carefully and continued to kiss her, to rub his hands on her, while she clung to him– it was freezing in the March air but she didn’t care, all she wanted was to be close to him. She didn’t realize she was crying until he swiped at her tears. A loud bark forced them apart when they noticed Dodge jumping around beside them and then untangled long enough for him to lean down and properly greet Dodger, then retrieve his bags. The drive home was quick and quiet while they listened to music and held hands on the center console. They ate dinner on the living room sofa with Y/N’s legs draped over Chris’s lap and Chris indulging in pizza, mozzarella sticks, and beer– definitely not part of his Cap diet– and didn’t bother to turn on the tv. Being back in each other’s company, Chris telling set stories, Y/N telling stories about her adventures with Dodger.

The doorbell rang and surprised both of them while Chris untangled himself and pulled the door open with a surprised, “Ma!”

“Chris?” Lisa sounded equally surprised as she crossed the threshold. “I thought you couldn’t leave set in this super secret last stretch of filming? What are you doing here? Where is Y/N?”

Y/N round the corner and greeted Lisa with a warm hug, accepting the tote bag she offered (full of homemade cookies) before gesturing Lisa into the house and pouring her a glass of wine. “I came home to be with Y/N. She’s been here all alone.”

“I’m well aware, Christopher, I’m glad you came to your senses too.”

Y/N shoved a whole cookie in her mouth instead of laughing loudly at Lisa’s directness with her oldest son. Chris shot Y/N a look and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, “I know, I know, it took me long enough.” Taking pity on him, Y/N rounded the kitchen island and put an arm around his waist, accepting the kiss he planted in her hair.

“I heard about Megan’s plan,” Lisa took a sip of wine and her eyes bounced between the two of them.

“It’s idiotic, I know, we’re not doing it,” Chris answered immediately, his grip on Y/N’s waist tightening when she leaned into him.

“Thank God. Are you firing her too?”

Chris glanced at Y/N and then shrugged, “We have to manage this first, then we’ll talk,” he looked back at Y/N.

“We?”

“You’re my team. Everyone else is just people who work for me.” If she wasn’t already in love with him, that line would’ve brought her to her knees. Y/N was immediately overwhelmed by emotions (again) and tried not to cry. She tucked her head into Chris’s shoulder and wrapped her other arm around him, “I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge that sooner.”

She nodded against him, not taking a chance to pull away and look at him, and Lisa broke the silence that followed, “so what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea. If I post something on Twitter, especially at this point, it’ll seem fake. If we coordinate with a press outlet, it’ll be forced and that puts Y/N too far in the spotlight.”

Lisa was quiet for a few minutes and then she looked between the two of them, “I might have an idea. How long are you home?”

—

Two nights later, Chris’s hand fell to the small of Y/N’s back as he guided her through the door of the Concord Youth Theater. The House was open and it was mere minutes before curtain: all exactly as planned. They stepped through the nearly empty lobby and were greeted by ushers who started to ask about their seat numbers but quickly panicked when they processed Chris’s presence.

After a quick autograph on a spare Playbill, Chris and Y/N continued down the aisle towards the front where Lisa was, as planned, craning her neck to spot them. She stood up when she spotted them coming towards her and waved them into her row, offering huge (genuine) hugs as they took their seats. The production– Once Upon a Mattress, performed by the Young Adult Company– was heartwarming and well done, and when it was over, Chris was swarmed by all the teenage fans and siblings who had come to see people they knew in the show. Chris’s photo was taken, he signed autographs, and he talked to fans, all while he kept some kind of physical contact with Y/N, introducing her whenever it felt natural. Y/N, with her natural ability to connect with teenagers thanks to years of counseling them, jumped into conversations easily.

They even went backstage with Lisa to greet the cast and take more photos– many of that were quickly uploaded to various social media accounts. Afterward, Lisa took them to dinner at a local restaurant, which was packed on a Thursday evening, where Chris greeted more people and made sure to have Y/N beside him at all times.

By the time they were back at home, Chris was scrolling Twitter in the backyard while Dodger romped around and a slow smile broke on his face. He’d done something he didn’t normally do: he’d typed his name into the search bar. And there he was tonight: candid with fans in the theater holding Y/N’s hand, posed with a whole group, including Y/N, at the restaurant, blurry and distorted but definitely identifiable from someone’s creepy picture across the street as they left the restaurant.

When he came back in with Dodger, Y/N held out her phone for Chris to see a screenshot Lisa had sent: her Facebook page with a photo of them from tonight where Lisa had been tagged that included Lisa, Y/N, and Chris talking candidly behind the scenes. It had been posted by a parent of one of the performers, extolling the surprise visit from the sweet and engaging Chris Evans and his girlfriend, Y/N. Lisa had sent a picture of the comments; six different people– both performers and family members they’d talked with tonight– commenting on the couple and how exciting it was to meet them.

He leaned in to kiss her, and when he pulled back he asked, “are you up for a few more outings before I fly back?”

In the final 48 hours of Chris’s stay– one that he’d extended from two days to four after talking with the directors– they made sure to be seen around town as much as possible. They went to his niece’s basketball game, they stopped for Dunkin’ and groceries and ice cream, they went to the dog park with Dodger and Y/N went along with Lisa for her afternoon constitutional around her neighborhood. They’d been caught and posted– truly candidly, although by their design and not Megan’s– at least ten different times before it was time for Chris to head back to Atlanta.

With each post, comments continued to flow in from neighbors, from fans, on their interactions with Chris. And the more things were reposted and dragged into the fan accounts and boards, the more comments shifted to commentary on their relationship. Not all of it was positive and supportive, but much of it was and before his return flight had landed, Chris noted that the buzz about Minka was all but disappeared. The gossip blogs weren’t getting much traction on it at this point, but the next thing they’d expected happened: the media started to reach out to Chris and his people looking for Y/N’s name and comments from her or Chris.

Megan. Was. Furious.

To her credit, her plan had been one that she would mostly be able to control and Chris and Y/N’s rogue version was anything but controllable. But Chris didn’t care. He’d found a way to make Y/N more comfortable, to make it clear how he felt (he’d always been comfortable with PDA, and he made sure to lay it on even thicker), and to get traction moving forward from this awful misunderstanding.

In addition to his nightly call with Y/N, he now had a nightly call with someone trying to stay one step ahead. If it was Megan, it usually started with him being scolded for not listening to her… often a variation of ‘this is why you pay me, Chris’ and then she’d try to push a new narrative. Then he’d hang up with her and call Y/N to pass along any valuable information and hear her daily updates. They spent the final few weeks of his Avengers filming this way until it was finally time for him to pack up from Atlanta and return home.

April 1st arrived and with it, Y/N’s excitement: Chris would be back home tomorrow and it was her birthday. His plane got in around dinner time, so she would pick him up and go to Lisa’s, who had volunteered to host a joint birthday/welcome home dinner before they finally had some time alone. She tucked into bed with Dodger curled next to her and fell asleep quickly, only to be jolted awake hours later by Dodger pawing at the bedroom door.

“Dodge,” Y/N whispered in the dark, patting the edge of the bed, “c’mon, bud.”

Instead of a whine, as he’d normally do if he needed to go out, a low growl emitted from the normally friendly dog. It made Y/N’s hair stand on end. She groped for her phone, realizing she’d left it charging on the kitchen counter instead of on her bedside like normal. She’d left it there while she cleaned up from cooking dinner and chatted with Chris on FaceTime, and by the time she’d taken Dodger out, locked up, gotten ready for bed, and snuggled down in the covers, she realized where it was and decided she was too tired to go get it.

Dodger growled again and pawed frantically at the door. “What is it, dude?”

In response, he barked loudly and increased his scratching. She groped her way in the darkness to the small desk in the corner of the room, stopping to pull a sweatshirt on, and found the cordless phone that she was now so grateful Chris had insisted on keeping– “you should always have a landline!” he’d told her a million times when she moved in and laughed at it. Her fingers fumbled on the buttons while she tried to remember Chris’s cell phone number as Dodger barked again.

She finally dialed– hopefully correctly– and moved across the room to lock the door. “Hello? Y/N?” Chris’s croak came through the line and she looked at the clock on the bedside table: 2:37 am.

“Baby, Dodger is freaking out,” as if on cue, Dodger barked again and continued to scratch the door. She knew that there would be gouges in the wood tomorrow morning. “What do I do?”

“Is the security system on?” His voice was more alert and she heard him shuffling on the other end.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can you hear anything? Does it sound like someone got inside?”

Y/N’s heart was thundering in her chest and Dodger was getting more and more frantic, “I don’t think so. Chris, what do I do?”

“I’m going to call the security company and see if the alarm was triggered, I’ll call you back.”

“NO! No, don’t hang up!” She yelped, sinking to the floor in the dark corner, trying to urge Dodger to come to her. “My phone is in the kitchen, and I’m scared.”

Chris sighed, “I don’t have another way to call and check, Bunny. I promise I’ll call you right back.”

“What if someone did get inside, Chris? If you call the house phone it’ll ring and they’ll know!”

“Y/N, I promise you are safe in our house. Let me just call the security company to be sure. Just stay where you are. If you don’t want me to call back, give me 5 minutes and then call me.”

“Okay,” she whispered; her whole body was shaking.

“I love you, babe, it’s going to be fine.”

“I love you too,” she muttered as she hung up and held the phone to her chest. “Dodger,” she moved towards the dog and grabbed his collar gently, deciding to take him into the bathroom with her while she waited to call Chris back. He threw his head away from her, jerking wildly and barking. Y/N started to cry while she tried to pull Dodger away from the door, begging him to come with her.

The phone in her hand rang loudly, startling her, and she yelped despite herself before scurrying across the room to answer in a whisper, “Chris?”

“The call is coming from inside the house,” came his reply in his creepiest voice.

Y/N froze.

Banging came from the other side of their bedroom door before he yelled his best “hereeeeee’s Johnny!” impression.

“FUCK. CHRISTOPHER!” She swiped at the tears on her face and moved to unlock the door, letting Dodger tumble out and greet Chris.

Chris collapsed to the ground while Dodger greeted him; he was laughing his boisterous, contagious laugh and Y/N wanted to be mad at him. The adrenaline coursing through him was going to take forever to settle down, “you’re an asshole.”

Between laughs and kisses from Dodger, he said, “I thought I could get in without you guys noticing. This guy isn’t typically so protective.”

“Yeah, well, he likes me better than you so he wants to keep me safe.”

“Seems that’s correct,” Chris gave Dodger one last rub before getting to his feet and reaching for Y/N, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you when I called?”

He shrugged, “sometimes I can’t resist the urge to be a 12-year-old. But I’m happy to see you.”

She sighed and uncrossed her arms, deciding not to be mad at him and accepting the hug he wrapped her in. “I’m happy you’re home, you absolute jackass.”

“Take me to your bed, gorgeous girl,” he pressed kisses to her cheeks and neck while he walked her back towards the bed.

“If you think I’m even spooning with you after that mean trick, you’ve got another thing coming, sir.” Y/N laughed up at him, kissing him once solidly before crawling back into the bed and watching him strip off his clothes. Once he’d dumped his clothes in the hamper and brushed his teeth, he stumbled into the bed beside her and pulled her to his chest.

“Please spoon me, I missed you too much not to have you touching me tonight.” She started to wiggle away but stilled when his bulging biceps were caging her in and his hard pecs were pressed against the thin fabric of her shirt. She sighed into his grasp, enjoying the smell of him wrapping around her.

“Only because your Cap muscles are so good I can’t resist them,” Y/N turned in his arms and snaked an arm around his waist while she looked up to kiss him.

“Happy birthday, Bun,” he whispered against her lips before he pressed another long kiss onto her lips and pulled his arm away from her, reaching her hand and interlacing their fingers. She leaned into his kiss, luxuriating in each feeling– each comfort of having him home– when she felt him press his palm into hers, and something cut into the palm of her hand.

Y/N pulled back and started to pull her hand away from his, only to have him wrap his huge palm around the item and pull away from the kiss. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at her carefully, not breaking eye contact.

“I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend my whole life with you. I never want another minute where the world doesn’t know we’re together.” He kissed her tenderly, his fingers once again playing with her hand, but this time, rather than their fingers intertwining, he held just her left ring finger and slid a cool metal circle down it until he reached the base. The movement was loving and sensual as he traced his fingers back up her hand, then her forearm, then the back of her arms, and around to cup her neck, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth and swallowing both of their moans. He finally pulled back and looked at Y/N again, “marry me?” he whispered against her lips, his eyes dancing between hers while he waited for a response.

She nodded frantically, pulling him to her for another long, deep kiss, when they finally pulled apart, her eyes were glazed with tears but she was grinning, “yes.”

Taglist: @bellaireland1981 @before-we-get-started @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @elrw24 @maylaysia109 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @behindmygreyeyes

#chrisevans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris+evans+fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans series

[feeshies]

Voyage of the Nautilus: The Gulf Stream pt. 2

Trying my hand at live-reading even though I was bad and read ahead. But this chapter hurts and I need to yell about it.

“Sir,” he told me that day, “it’s got to stop. I want to get to the bottom of this. Your Nemo’s veering away from shore and heading up north. But believe you me, I had my fill at the South Pole and I’m not going with him to the North Pole.”

I like Ned putting his foot down lol. Big "this party's going on for way too long, I'm calling the Uber" vibes.

“I keep coming back to my idea. We’ve got to talk to the captain. When we were in your own country’s seas, you didn’t say a word. Now that we’re in mine, I intend to speak up. Before a few days are out, I figure the Nautilus will lie abreast of Nova Scotia, and from there to Newfoundland is the mouth of a large gulf, and the St. Lawrence empties into that gulf, and the St. Lawrence is my own river, the river running by Quebec, my hometown—and when I think about all this, my gorge rises and my hair stands on end! Honestly, sir, I’d rather jump overboard! I can’t stay here any longer! I’m suffocating!”

Ned :((( This chapter is so anxiety-inducing and you can feel the dread. Also "When we were in your own country’s seas, you didn’t say a word. Now that we’re in mine, I intend to speak up" is such a good line.

I had a sense of what he was suffering because I also was gripped by homesickness. Nearly seven months had gone by without our having any news from shore. Moreover, Captain Nemo’s reclusiveness, his changed disposition, and especially his total silence since the battle with the devilfish all made me see things in a different light. I no longer felt the enthusiasm of our first days on board.

Aronnax :((( Nemo :((( I wonder if Aronnax's homesickness was amplified (or rather unlocked) after hearing one of the crewmen speak French during the devilfish fight. Everyone's depressed on this submarine.

You needed to be Flemish like Conseil to accept these circumstances, living in a habitat designed for cetaceans and other denizens of the deep.

Except for Conseil, who seems to be fine just chilling. Is this a Flemish stereotype? Should I be side-eyeing Aronnax?

Truly, if that gallant lad had owned gills instead of lungs, I think he would have made an outstanding fish!

I still think this line is super cute. I wish someone would say I'd be an outstanding fish.

“But I rarely encounter him. He positively avoids me.” “All the more reason you should go look him up.” “I’ll confer with him, Ned.” “When?” the Canadian asked insistently. “When I encounter him.” “Professor Aronnax, would you like me to go find him myself?” “No, let me do it. Tomorrow—” “Today,” Ned Land said.

Ned "either communicate with him or just dump him already!" Land.

I entered. The captain was there. He was bending over his worktable and hadn’t heard me. Determined not to leave without questioning him, I drew closer. He looked up sharply, with a frowning brow, and said in a pretty stern tone: “Oh, it’s you! What do you want?” “To speak with you, captain.” “But I’m busy, sir, I’m at work. I give you the freedom to enjoy your privacy, can’t I have the same for myself?”

My anxiety is off the charts. I also love how short and abrupt his sentences suddenly get. It makes the encounter that much more tense.

Aronnax saying they "were miles apart" ;-; Turns out the 20,000 leagues was the distance that grew between him and Nemo this whole time.

“Here, Professor Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains a summary of my research under the sea, and God willing, it won’t perish with me. Signed with my name, complete with my life story, this manuscript will be enclosed in a small, unsinkable contrivance. The last surviving man on the Nautilus will throw this contrivance into the sea, and it will go wherever the waves carry it.”

Only during my second reading did I realize that this is essentially a suicide note. Oh fuck. Then Aronnax going "👀 I wanna see that manuscript..."

The exchange between Nemo and Aronnax was brutal and tense, holy shit. You can feel Aronnax's anxiety and frustration and Nemo's impatience. The chapter they spent trapped under the ice wasn't as suffocating.

“Ned Land can think, attempt, or endeavor anything he wants, what difference is it to me? I didn’t go looking for him! I don’t keep him on board for my pleasure! As for you, Professor Aronnax, you’re a man able to understand anything, even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this first time you’ve come to discuss this subject also be the last, because a second time I won’t even listen.” I withdrew. From that day forward our position was very strained.

I don't like it when they fight :(

But the skies became more and more threatening. There were conspicuous signs of a hurricane on the way. The atmosphere was turning white and milky. Slender sheaves of cirrus clouds were followed on the horizon by layers of nimbocumulus. Other low clouds fled swiftly. The sea grew towering, inflated by long swells. Every bird had disappeared except a few petrels, friends of the storms. The barometer fell significantly, indicating a tremendous tension in the surrounding haze. The mixture in our stormglass decomposed under the influence of the electricity charging the air. A struggle of the elements was approaching.

It's so cinematic aaaa. I love the way the weather matches the tension inside the submarine. Not the optimal weather for an escape, but I think Ned is in "I don't care if the price surge is 200%, I'm calling the Uber!" mode.

#voyage of the nautilus

[spxllcxstxr]

Always With Me • R.L

Summary: “Please don’t go.” (Bolded)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating/not being able to eat, brief mention of vomit, Remus is very close to the full moon so he’s snippy, underage smoking, yelling, Remus is insecure and hard on himself, depressing thoughts

Word Count: ~1k

A.N: I actually wrote this like a year ago, but I’ve recently tweaked it and all that. Listened to Tiny Dancer by Elton John while thinking up the title. I guess this is my first angst post too, so I hope it’s angsty enough! Some characters may be a bit ooc though

Title: Elton John - Tiny Dancer

****

The week of the full moon takes a lot out of Remus, especially when added to the increasing amount of assignments the professors start handing out. The stress practically kills him.

He’s stuck in bed three days before the full moon, and will likely stay there until after the transformation.

Remus looks sickly, laying in his bed. His skin is pale and dotted with sweat like he’s got a fever. The numerous scars that litter his body look rougher and inflamed. His hair looks like it’s thinned overnight, and you can see strands scattered over his pillow. It’s wirey and delicate to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

“You need to eat, darling.” You mutter, trying to convince him.

The plate of plain toast and orange slices you brought up from the Kitchens sits untouched on his nightstand.

“Love, I won’t be able to hold it down.” He croaks, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands.

“Well you can’t just starve yourself for three more days, Rem.” You lecture, watching him puff out rings of smoke.

“You think I don’t fucking know that? I just don’t feel like vomiting it all up!” Remus snaps, ripping his gaze from you, deciding to focus on the ceiling instead.

The bags underneath his eyes are heavier and darker than usual.

You sigh and lay down next to him, resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Rem. You know I just worry.”

The thumping of his heart is dull and every breath comes out in a labored wheeze.

“I’ll try to eat later, ok?” He murmurs eventually, still focusing on the thin wisps of smoke.

You hum in response and rub your thumb across his chest, partially trying to ease his anxiety and partially to ease yours.

“Don’t you have class?” Remus questions.

“Don’t you?” You counter.

He huffs out a faint laugh. “Don’t get smart with me, love.”

You bury your cheek deeper into his shirt.

“I’m fine missing one Arithmancy class, darling. Especially for you.” You shrug.

Remus grunts in response, snubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. The movement has his bones creaking, and his teeth grinding together in pain.

You kiss his cheek. “Try to get some sleep, alright?”

He nods, his eyes already closing due to pure exhaustion.

You stay with him until the end of the period, but you do have to go to class eventually. You write him a note and make your way to Potions.

Lily catches up to you on your way to the dungeons.

“(Y/n)!” She calls, her fiery braid flowing behind her.

You slow to a stop and let her catch up to you.

“How was Arithmancy?” You ask.

“Just some more number charts. I’ll lend you my notes.” She shrugs.

“Thank Merlin for you, Lils. You’re a life saver.”

Lily finally grabs your arm and drags you into an empty classroom. She closes the door behind you.

“Lily, what’s up—?”

“What’s up with Remus?” She cuts you off. Her green eyes search your eyes for answers.

“What‘re you talking about?” You scoff, nervously. Your fingers twitch out of habit.

“Cut the shit, (Y/n). I’ve noticed it for years now.” Lily crosses her arms in annoyance. “He’s my friend too. You think I haven’t noticed how sick he gets, especially during the full moon? And how all of you disappear in the middle of the night?”

“Lily—“

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“You’re not stupid—“

“Is he a werewolf?” She whispers harshly.

You pause and bite your lip. You could just deny it, but she’s already completely figured it out. You start wringing your hands, wishing you could take out a cigarette right there in the middle of the castle.

“It isn’t my place to say.” You finally sigh, dodging the question.

“It’s a yes or no question.” She argues.

“It’s not!” You exclaim. You then get close enough to whisper in her ear. “Ask him about it next week, yeah?”

Her green eyes are wide and staring at you when you finally pull back.

You swallow harshly, guilt pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

“Let’s drop it and get to Sluggy’s class.” You walk out of the empty classroom, and walk briskly to the potions room.

You stomp up to the boys dorm after Ancient Runes, your last class of the day. The rest of them are already in their room, James, Sirius, and Peter already back from Divination, and Remus not moving from the morning. At least the orange slices are gone. However, that doesn’t mean he kept them down.

“Lily knows.” You announce, dropping your bag at the end of Remus’ bed and taking out a cigarette.

Sirius, who already has one lit, snaps his head towards you. “Lily knows a lot of things, so you gotta be a little more specific.”

“She knows about Moony’s furry little problem.” You clarify, biting your lip.

“She what?!” Remus cries, finally sitting up against the headboard.

“I didn’t tell her, Remus. She figured it out herself and asked me about it!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Well shit, (Y/n). What’d you say?” Peter asks, picking at his blanket.

“I just told her to ask him about it next week.” You mutter, anxiously awaiting Remus to explode out of anger.

“Oh that’s just bloody brilliant, innit?” Your boyfriend spats at you, teeth clenched.

“Hey! Don’t yell at her, it’s not her fault!” James shouts, coming to your defense.

“Moony, she was bound to find out eventually, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Sirius comments, picking at his black nail polish, successfully chipping the paint.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No.” You reply, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Yes.” Sirius says at the same time, effectively provoking it.

“Lily can report me and spread this, don’t you understand?” Remus rages, the tips of his ears red.

“Lily wouldn’t do that, you know this Remus.” James tries to reason.

“I think you’re a little biased, Prongs. She was bloody friends with Snivellus! Anything could happen!”

“Well she isn’t friends with him anymore, Moons. Lily is trustworthy and a good friend. She wouldn’t tell a soul.” James argues.

Remus growls and forcefully closes the curtains around his bed, shutting you all out.

You shift awkwardly on the balls of your feet, the four of you watching the scarlet curtains sway. Remus is silent behind them.

The guilt has your stomach in knots. You can’t help but feel responsible.

“C’mon, (Y/n), it’s time for dinner and obviously Moony wants to be left alone.” James anxiously runs a hand through his already chaotic hair, slightly tugging at the dark curls.

You wordlessly nod your head and start to follow them out the door.

“W-we’ll bring something up from the Kitchens, Remus.” Peter stutters in front of you.

However, you hesitate at the threshold, reluctant to just up and leave your boyfriend in such a vulnerable state.

“Please don’t go.”

The broken words are almost too faint to actually hear.

You creep your way back to his bed, carefully pulling back the curtains revealing your boyfriend’s head buried in his hands. You notice the pronounced tremors taking over his hands.

“Hey...hey Rem, it’s all alright.” You murmur, lightly dragging a hand through his rough hair.

Dropping your head down to his, you press your foreheads together, whispering reassurances and declarations of love into his ear.

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #the marauders x reader #the marauders

[kevindayisafrog]

Part 2 of the post that was supposed to be a one shot inspired by @knandersonart ‘s art on Instagram (I have too many ideas for it to be left as a one shot, babe, I’ve got a whole book planned)

TW - abuse, anxiety and mentions of Dr*ke

Kevin had been at Palmetto for over a year now; alone and in fear. He tried hard to fit in with the upperclassmen but his short temper and constant panic left a huge gap between them that no one had tried to fill. He tried to get close to his father too but he knew that he’d never be able to tell him who he really was to him; he knew that his dad would only turn him away like Riko said. Kevin tried to keep in contact with Neil but their texts and calls had gone from one a day to one every few months. Everything was falling apart and all Kevin could do was watch as he fought like hell to climb back to the top. And the top is where he is now, but this time the podium he’s standing on is for him only, Riko can’t pull him down. Until Kevin’s alone with his thoughts, then he remembers how small he is against Riko’s power and ruthless abuse. Kevin felt himself slip further into the darkness around him when the championships were announced, something to finally concentrate on and a place where he’ll finally be with his Neil again; even if they’ll be against each other.

Kevin stared blankly at the empty bus seat in front of him as he sat at the back of bus alone; distantly listening to the upperclassmen’s idle conversation as the foxes made their way to the banquet. He couldn’t sit still as fear warred with excitement in his tight chest. He placed his AirPods in and called Neil, knowing that he’d see him in less than an hour but couldn’t wait to hear his voice. He grumbled to himself when it went to the voicemail and hung up, choosing to listen to his music instead as he watched the scenery pass by in a colored blur through the window.

Kevin was last off the bus and he stood behind the other foxes as Wymack opened the storage compartment on the coach, passing their outfits to each player. Matt tossed Kevin his dark green suit before turning back and catching his own suit before it hit the ground. “Jesus, Coach, this cost me a lot of money”, Matt smiled despite his words and smoothed down his suit. Wymack retorted dryly but Kevin didn’t hear what was said as he already turned and made his way towards the stadium; his body buzzing with a distant memory of Neil’s body close to his. He pushed his way into the locker room with a sign reading: ‘Palmetto Foxes’ written in black sharpie. He quickly threw on his suit with his back to the others, ignoring Nicky’s wolf whistle as he moved to the mirror to smooth down his forest green blazer. “Where are you going, hot stuff?”, Nicky winked with a laugh as Aaron groaned and turned away from his cousin. “I’ll be on the court”, Kevin muttered as he left the locker room and walked as fast as he could to the court. It pained him to see a perfect court being used as a dance floor and dining area, but he wasn’t here to be disgusted. He opened the court door as he felt a stern hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch and duck down. “Don’t worry, it’s only me”, Wymack pulled Kevin back up and turned him so that they were facing each other, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay before you walk into the lion’s mouth”. Kevin looked up into his father’s eyes and blushed in embarrassment at the raw worry that he saw. “I’ll be fine as long as we’re not near Riko or Tetsuji”, he wrung his hands together and tapped his foot impatiently. “I’ll keep an eye on you, kid and if you’re worried in any way come straight to me, okay?”, Wymack gave a fierce squeeze of Kevin’s shoulder before pushing him through the door. Kevin turned away and made his way over to where the seating charts were. He ran his finger down the sheet until he found the Foxes’ name and made his way to the back table, freezing as Riko stood from their shared table. “Kevin, welcome home”, Riko announced in Japanese, spreading his arms in a vicious gesture of a hug. Kevin gulped and clenched his hands before taking a deep breath and making his way over to the table. “Riko”, he muttered as he sat down opposite Neil, relaxing as Neil wrapped their ankles together, “the rest of my team are just coming”. Riko barked a shrill laugh as he sat down and leaned towards Kevin, “me and Jean were just talking about how we’re surprised you guys made it into the championships, what with your small number of players”. Jean looked up and sent Kevin a subtle shake of his head, mouthing a small ‘I’m sorry’. Kevin sent a small smile back before turning to Neil, ignoring Riko’s annoyed frown. “Hi”, he whispered, running his ankle up to Neil’s thigh. “I’ve missed you”, Neil replied in French, reaching down and squeezing Kevin’s ankle under the table. “Hmmm, so we’re doing this now? Speaking other languages so I won’t understand”, Riko nodded slowly before laughing and curling a large smile, “your mother would be so disappointed in your disobedience. If you’d shut up we’d all hear her turning in her grave. Even though we’re so far away from her”. Kevin tensed and clenched his jaw, trying not to give Riko the satisfaction by showing his anger.

“Riko, it’s so lovely to meet you, Dan Wilds”, Dan led her team to the table and scraped her chair back, sitting down with her hand extended to Riko. Riko looked at her hand in disgust before shaking it with a fake smile, “I hope you’re looking after my Kevin for me”. Matt sat beside Dan and laughed sarcastically, “he’s not yours anymore, he’s ours”. Riko dropped Dan’s hand onto the table with a thud and turned to Kevin, “weren’t you just telling me how much you hated this team and that they’ll never win the championships?”. Kevin sat up straighter and smiled, “no, I wouldn’t say that and do you know why, Riko? Because although these aren’t the best players, they’re the strongest I’ve ever met. They use their teamwork to push back and fight to win their deserved place at the top. You won’t be smiling so wide when we beat you and win the championships”. Riko’s smile fell and he grabbed Kevin’s left wrist in an iron grip, “don’t fucking push me tonight, remember that you’re my pet. I won’t hesitate to put you down, do you hear me? One wrong move and I’ll bring your whole team down with you, see if you’re so brave then”, he growled in rapid Japanese. Nicky looked between the two before placing his hand over Riko’s and digging his nails in deep, “I’d advise you to take your hands off of him or I’ll break it off”. Kevin turned to Nicky in surprise and was shocked enough to let his long lost genuine smile get plastered across his face. Riko pulled his hand away and glared at Kevin, “you’ve deluded these jokes into thinking that they’re better than they are. You’re getting cocky, Kevin, what will you do when they turn you away like they inevitably will?” Andrew elbowed Neil to get him out of the way and leant on Neil’s hunched back, “now, now, Riko, let’s not throw your toys out of the pram. I told you what I’d do if you messed with my family, do you really want to test my word?”. Riko tensed and slowly turned to face Andrew, “One more word, Andrew and I will get an old friend over to play with you. Drake must miss you”. Andrew flinched at the name and let out a long medicated laugh, “try me” he growled. Neil shouldered Andrew off and stood up, ignoring Riko’s glare, “I’m going to the bathroom, try and fucking stop me”. The foxes watched in silence as Neil left the room without a single glance back to the table. “Your pets aren’t as loyal as you thought, are they?”, Dan asked and she tapped her nails against her glass, “must suck when everyone turns their back on you”. Riko growled in annoyance, hating how he’d lost control of the situation and his words were thrown back at him. Kevin stood up quickly, knocking his chair onto the floor with a loud clatter as he left the table, half running to the bathroom and ignoring Wymack’s shouts of concern.

“Neil?”, Kevin called into the seemingly empty bathroom, pushing open the stool doors slowly. “I really did miss you”, Neil walked around from the corner of the room and stood on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Kevin’s neck, “I actually missed your irritating shouting and obnoxious presence on the court”. Kevin let out a small huff as he brought their lips together, smiling into the kiss of ‘hello’. “I hate you”, he whispered into the kiss, knotting his fingers in Neil’s orange hair. “Sure you do”, Neil replied, purring as Kevin tugged lightly on his hair. Kevin pulled away first and stared down into the ocean blue eyes before him, the auburn eyelashes fluttering his eyes back open. “Neil”, Kevin started but Neil let go and walked away to the sinks, “please just hear me out”. Neil sighed and turned on the tap, “Kevin, not now, can we just have this moment? Stop trying to ruin everything”. Kevin frowned and followed Neil, leaning his hip beside him at the sink, “I don’t ruin everything”, he muttered. Neil placed his hands under the tap, refusing to look up at his pouting boyfriend, “you know that’s not what I meant”, he sighed and dropped his hands to the bottom of the sink, “I can’t come back with you”. Kevin groaned in annoyance and pushed off of the sink, pacing his way back to the stools, “why not? Why the fuck not, Neil? Nothing is stopping you and even if something was you wouldn’t care anyway”. Neil turned the tap off and slammed his hands against the ceramic, “for fuck’s sake, Kevin, are you being obtuse on purpose? If I could go, I would. Do you think that I enjoy the nest? Do you think I like you being so far away from me? Because I fucking don’t, it’s hell”. Kevin laughed flatly and crossed his arms, half turning away, “you can come with me, you just don’t want to”. Neil pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed heavily, “why do you always twist things? Listen to me”, he dropped his hands and marched over to Kevin, pulling his arms apart forcibly, causing him to flinch, “listen, I hate not being without you, okay? And I know it makes you cringe when people talk like this, but I can’t live without you and I hate to admit, I really do, but I need you. I’m trying so hard to get out of there so you’re not alone anymore and Andrew’s helping too. We’re so close to getting out, we just need to be patient and wait a little longer before we can be with each other again, okay?”. Kevin dropped his head and Neil stood on his tiptoes so their foreheads could touch. “I hate being alone”, Kevin whispered, “I’ve never been alone before. When my mom found out who Tetsuji really was, who his family were, she exiled us to Ireland and never let me leave her sight. She took me everywhere with her, not even trusting teachers to look after me at school. But she left to go to the shops in the next town whilst I was sleeping and Tetsuji paid people to stage a fatal car accident. After that day I was with Riko and he wouldn’t let me leave his sight either, so I don’t know what to fucking do. I’ve never been alone before”, he sniffed and let out a small whimper. Neil gently placed his hands either side of Kevin’s face and placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose, “you’re not alone, I’ll never let you go”. Kevin lifted his head and turned to look away, “but you are leaving me alone”. Neil shook Kevin’s head and pressed his own head against Kevin’s ribs, “I’m trying, I really am”.

They stood in silence as Kevin hesitantly wrapped his arms around Neil’s shoulders. “I know you are, I’m sorry, I’m just scared”, he placed a gentle kiss atop Neil’s head and rocked him side to side slowly. Neil hummed and looked up, taking in his boyfriend’s worry filled eyes, “that color looks good on you”. Kevin frowned and looked down at his suit, “I wanted to wear red but I don’t really suit it”. Neil snorted and pulled away, turning to walk to the bathroom door, “you suit red, Kevin, trust me”. Kevin watched as Neil left the bathroom with a wink and couldn’t help but feel alone once again, a heavy feeling weighing on his chest. “Thank you”, he whispered with a small smile to the space Neil left behind as Riko kicked open the door with two broad shouldered Raven players behind him.

#aftg #aftg trilogy #kevin day #kevneil #neil josten #nora sakavic #tfc #all for the game #aftg textpost #andrew minyard #andreil #kandreil #aaron minyard #kevaaron #nicky hemmick #matt boyd #dan wilds #allison reynolds #renee walker #riko moriyama

[irisbleufic]

This is prolly a weird compliment, however I appreciate the signs you know a decent amount about different prescription drugs and therapeutic indications in your fics. Like I get that a lot of the canons you work in are awash in mad science and such, but the flashes of realism in your characters' medical and mental health situations have helped me a lot.

Not a weird compliment, anon! That's one of the more reassuring things a pharmacist's kid can hear, let me tell you. I used to pull my mom's textbooks and continuing ed materials off the bookshelves when I was younger, and I spent from about age 4 to about age 14 regularly hiding behind the counter after school at the drugstores where my mom worked, quietly doing assignments. Past that age, my mom worked for the pharmacies in bigger chain stores instead of in smaller pharmacies, but I was still hit with info nonstop.

More to blame, though, is that I've just had so many fucking surgeries and health issues (mental and otherwise) for someone who's only just approaching 40—and that I've had to change medications more times than I can count because I form resistance worryingly fast. The number of painkillers that will work on me, I can count on one hand; getting me numb at the dentist and getting me put under general anesthesia are both tasks that routinely get fucked up because some clinicians don't read my charts closely enough. You have to give me way too much shit for a small-to-average sized person in order to keep me numb or unconscious for long enough.  Gotta love that redhead problem.

My experience with anxiety meds and antidepressants has been pretty wild. It's the other place where my resistance-forming has been truly pernicious. Citalopram made me a zombie easily startled by any sudden sound, no matter how small, in my vicinity. From there, I was switched to fluoxetine, which seemed to work well for about 3-4 years and then suddenly flatlined no matter how much they raised my dose. About 5 years ago, I was put on venlafaxine and figured out that, in my case, it was only good for fatigue and suicidal ideation no matter what dose I was on. About 3 years ago, I was put on what my psych called one of the "last resort" drugs for their clinic, bupropion, and gabapentin for anxiety/sleep. This has been the most stable combo until recently, when the source of my generic bupropion changed—that tripped off a spike in anxiety and insomnia, and raising the gabapentin dose didn't quite compensate. The workaround du jour was badgering my psych until they assented to fax a Canadian pharmacy my prescription, citing name-brand (Wellbutrin) only, no substitutions, since that's the only way we can guarantee my formulation won't randomly change. I'm maybe 2 weeks into that transition and am starting to feel as close as I ever feel to normal, faster than I've ever gotten there after a meds switch, but I always have to pay close attention for changes in efficacy. I'm hoping bupropion/Wellbutrin remains a keeper, because those early switches were grueling.

(I spent way too long being silenced about mental health struggles, so fuck anybody reading this who thinks it's TMI. People need to know how difficult psychotropics are to calibrate. I also go to therapy and talk extensively with my psych.)

TL;DR it's not any miraculous studiousness on my part above and beyond being a nosy Autistic kid who formed special interests easily, having a mom who never shut up about work, and being sickly AF before I've even hit my fourth decade of life. I guess the way it manifests in my writing is the lemons-to-lemonade principle. I might as well make the best of my complicated relationship to all things medical!

#mental health #medical #antidepressants #tw medical #writing

[creativeashproductions]

In the Beginning // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie (Rhodes)’s older sister is the epitome of cool in his, and his friends, eyes with her in a band. Pushed by a hazel eyed brunette with a huge crush on the eldest Rhodes teen the boys decide to start a band. While at first the band is for Luke’s dream of landing you he finds his passion with music.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff, dad!Luke

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist writing another alive!Luke fic with Luke crushing on his band mate’s sister. Ugh, just imagine Luke suggesting a band to impress his crush only to fall in love with music instead.  For my fics it will be Alex Mitchell and Reggie Rhodes until JATP reveals their canon names. 

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1992

The guitar case was a familiar heaviness as you walked into the home for the first time in months after a practice. You ached from the long travel, and all you wanted was your bed. The yawn came first, then the startled yell at the living room.

Four pairs of eyes met the girl standing in the entryway, surprised at a sleepover with her brother and his full friends. Eyebrows coming together you shook your head wondering why they had come here instead of the typical Patterson home.

“Hey!” Fourteen-year-old Reggie beamed towards his older sister excited she was back from her weekend band practice. Your eyes blinked at his usual upbeat personality before switching to the brown eyes from Bobby, too shy to full meet yours.

Spread around the living room watching a movie was Reggie’s best friends; the socially awkward Alex, the shy Bobby, and the Patterson boy Luke. The young typically spent their time at Luke’s place, so seeing them in your home was strange.

“Reg, what’s up?” You asked crouching to untie your shoes confused at the sharp audible gasp coming from Luke. Standing straight up, you saw Luke awkwardly looking away with bright red cheeks.

“How was practice?” Reggie inquired with the smile he got from your mom and his dark hair from your dad.

Reggie usually wasn’t interested in your band leading you to wonder what the hell was going on with them. Being sixteen you didn’t socialize with Reggie’s friends, thanks to the two year age gap, but you were happy he had good friends. Well, less than two years between you and Luke.

“It was good. Since when are you interested in Crimson Queen?” You questioned moving more into the room with the four young teens, “You haven’t even touched your bass in years.”

One eyebrow raised you individually looked at the boys in the room all with sheets of paper around them. From a distance, you couldn’t tell what was on them, but it couldn’t be homework. They all attended the same high school while you had done correspondence with the band and a tutor.

“Luke’s parents got him a guitar,” Reggie spoke gesturing to the decent brand new acoustic guitar on the floor beside the Patterson. Luke’s hazel eyes widening as you came closer to the group.

Your hand picking up the guitar to look it over finding it was decent for a beginner, but it was definitely not tuned. The sheer sound made you wince.

“So, you guys want to be a band?” You questioned sitting on the floor beside Luke. The boy shifting nervously, you weren’t blind that he got shy around girls, “Do you guys even play instruments?”

“I got the bass, Bobby can play rhythm guitar, Alex plays dru-“

“I wouldn’t call it proper drumming. It’s just something my therapist suggested with my anxiety and frustrations.” Alex raised his hand leading to everyone in the room looking at the tall male, recently had a growth spurt, with the backward black hat.

“And Luke will learn guitar as well.” You added, looking at the quiet, “How well can you play?”

“I don’t even know how to properly tune it,” Luke admitted playing with his fingers adorned with a ring.

Luke had chosen a cutoff shirt in an attempt to gain your attention to his arms he hoped had gotten more muscled. He had a massive crush on you but with the guys your own age he had step up; he started working out. He actually enjoyed it, but he’d enjoy it more if you were checking him out.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You mumbled glancing out the window at the ocean waves thinking. The house was on the prime real estate edge of the beach all thanks to your well off parents; Dad, a doctor and Mom, an interior designer.

Your fingers tapped on the ripped blue jeans you had chosen that day with the flannel shirt opened over the black AC/DC t-shirt. You started standing up, grabbing Luke’s hand to pull him up as well; the boy’s cheeks grew pinker, and his heart fluttered.

“What?” Luke spluttered, staring at his hand, caught in yours in sheer awe.

“You’ll need a place to practice.” You answered, dropping is head to reach in your pocket for your key chain.

The key chain had a few keys on it: one for home, one for your car, one for the band van for gigs, one for the garage, and lastly one for the house the garage belonged to. The boys piled into the car, apprehensive for where you were taking them. The only sound was the radio playing local greatest hits, your foot slammed on the brake at the house of your bassist.

“Well Marty, this song has blown up on the charts. New band Crimson-“

“Holy shit.” You breathed staring at the radio. Your door opened as you sprinted down to the steps that led to the garage. The footsteps of the boys following.

The garage was open already with your band members lounging around the space filled with instruments and amps. Their heads swivelling as you frantic turned the radio on.

“Come on.” You mumbled, turning the radio station to the right one, “Guys listen!”

“-Crimson Queen is an LA-based band making waves in the LA Nightlife and hit the top ten with their newest song Sorry Now.” The radio host spoke, “If you haven’t heard the song before, this is the band’s new single.”

The song was blasted from the radio leading to the four girls screaming the song out dancing around the room. Euphoria was the only way you could call the feeling rising in the bodies of the girls in the place. The room burst into more screams as your drummer. Faith switched the radio station.

“Today history was made, Crimson Queen is an all-female rock band fronted by Y/N Rhodes. They started as a hobby at fifteen, but a year later at sixteen they’ve made waves.” A hit radio station, the second one so far, was talking about your band. Holy shit.

“Lucy, this band is going places. My daughter is seven years old, and she’s telling me this band is the talk of her school. I can’t tell how much Lucy listens to their demo.”

Your eyes saw Reggie having a meltdown of excitement for older sister and her band, and you were so unbelievably happy you should care the moment. You rushed over to Reggie to pull him into a hug.

“Girls…and boys.” Mrs Taylor spoke furrowing her brows at the young boys in the garage her daughter had begged to use for the band. Shaking her head, the middle-aged woman turned her attention to her daughter.

“Hey, Ma.” Dawn, your bassist, spoke spreading her pink painted lips to her perfectly straight teeth too hyped up on energy, “What’s up?”

“First congratulations on the single. Secondly, we’re gonna need to get a personal line for the band because our phone is blowing up.”

A sharp gasp from Dawn before the three of the four girls rushed to the house of the Taylor’s. You hung back to look at your brother and his band.

“So? What do you think?” You inquired with the group, “This idea of yours has to be one hundred percent what you want. It won’t be easy in LA, it will come with hardships, and Reggie Mom and Dad won’t let you drop out.”

The four boys nodded their heads because the excitement they saw in your big break was something they wanted. To be able to connect with people cemented their decision.

“Feel free to hang around.” You suggested glancing around the garage that started it all, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The Orpheum, Los Angeles, 1995

The crowd screamed as Crimson Queen, the song that started this road played with the girl crouching to grasp the hand of fans. At the beat of the chorus, you stood up eating up the energy of the last show of the tour. You went jumped on the drum riser rocking on the guitar as Faith did her magic.

Dawn on her bass made her way to rock with your rhythm guitarist Sara sharing grins with you still feeling the euphoria of this success. As the song came to an end, your entire band went to the front of the stage.

“We’d like to thank our fans for the last nine months of our world tour. We started this band in LA in 1991, so we thought it fit to end our tour at The Orpheum.” You spoke to the crowd, feeding off the energy as the concert came to an end.

The road crew would load your instruments up in the van to take home after months of travelling. You were so excited to see Reggie, who would be seventeen now, having celebrated his birthday while you had been in Europe. Too excited were shocked as Reggie backstage.

“Reggie!” You exclaimed tugging the teen into your arms, leaning back to take him in, “Damn you grew!”

Reggie grinned not giving a shit you were coated in sweat from performing your setlist, but your eyes went over his shoulder. Standing close and just as excited was Reggie’s friends. Alex was taller, Bobby looked more confident, and Luke could meet your eyes. Luke also had changed, no longer baby faced.

“Sunset Curve.” You spoke, stepping back to look them over, “I haven’t seen you guys in months, how did you change so much!”

“That’s what happens when you go on tour for almost a year.” Luke teased tugging you into his arms for a tight hug.

It was odd seeing Luke taller and more muscled than when you left for tour, and the confidence was honestly hot. You had seen Luke as anything other than your brother’s friend, who tended to stare a little too long.

“You played the fucking Orpheum!” Alex screamed, holding your shoulders with a wrinkled nose at the damp red thin flannel shirt. The girls wandered up behind you each with a grin at the guys.

“Well if it isn’t Sunset Swerve,” Sara spoke swinging her arm over your shoulder with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Her blonde hair swept up in a bun high on her head from a recent shower.

“Sunset Curve!” The male quartet snapped at the name before they fell back into a happy demeanour. Luke and you both staring at each other with a pink-hued face.

Faith was quieter in the group leaning closer to your band to whisper in your ear, “Jay scored us some drinks. But MJ got us into a party.” Faith’s textured hair tickling your neck.

Grins split the three girls at the suggestion each excited for the party with fellow musicians and plus ones. Sure, the parties had drugs and alcohol, but they were fun and part of the scene. Half of you wanted to go, but the other wanted to spend time with your brother.

“I’ll think I’ll pass.” You spoke up to the girls motioning to the guys, “I’ll head back with them. Meet you at the house later?”

Your black vans moving backwards as you moved to be closer to be flush against Reggie’s side grinning as he bumped his hip against you. Sara, Faith and Dawn each raising an eyebrow at your response since you often dragged them to parties.

“Orrr…we could each take one of them.” Faith cajoled mocha skin gleaming in the light with her hands, tugging her hair into a thick braid.

“You want me to take my seventeen-year-old brother and his friends-“

“-I’m like two weeks from being eighteen-” Luke cut into the conversation buzzing at the possible date, but not date, with the girl he had been crushing on for years. He was pretty sure he was in love with you at this point; he did date a little, but nothing stuck.

“-To a party in Hollywood.” You finished pinning your gaze on the three girls ahead each with mischievous grins. Your cheeks puffed as you breathed out, thinking of the positives and negatives.

Bobby was bouncing on his heels with Reggie leaving Alex shifting uncomfortably in his place. His partially relaxed when Luke squeezed his forearm through the distressed black jean jacket that bought his outfit together. Luke himself was apprehensive on your decision because either way, he got to spend time with you.

“Come on.” Dawn implored, pulling out the big guns with her ocean blue eyes widening into the puppy gaze that did you in each time. Her curtain of short dyed pink hair framing her heart-shaped face.

“I’m going to pass this time. Do some shots for me! Not tequila though, that was a huge mistake.” Faith’s grin widened at having you carry you out of the house in the early morning after a wicked party.

“Did you ever find your tho-“

“Faith!” You hissed turning a bright red at her revelation that you definitely didn’t want Reggie to know. The atmosphere turned awkward as everyone realized what the sentence would end with.

Okay so maybe you had hooked up with a few people over the last three years but nothing permanent. It was fun, drunk fun, but still fun and nothing had gone wrong. Your eyes avoided looking at Luke for a reason you couldn’t decipher.

“I’ll see you later.” You spoke motioning for the guys to follow you to the dressing room you had settled in early in the day. The corner of your lips quirked at the awe on each of the boys’ faces.

“I’m in the dressing where bands become legends.” Reggie gasped circling the room with wide-eyed interest. Alex was interested in the band posters on the walls from previous performers.

Luke, however, was more interested in your curves covered by your sweaty stage clothing that stuck to your form. His Adam’s apple gulped as you grabbed your shower bag moving towards the connected bathroom.

“I’ll grab a shower, and we can head out.” You supplied, “I’ll just need to stop at Rudy’s office for our portion of the concert.”

The guys mumbled a response finding a place to wait without hushed conversations of when they would get to play. Luke’s eyes found yours at the low call of his name from the bathroom; a crack opened he walked over.

“Do you have a sweater?” You mumbled at the taller teen with widening eyes as he realized that you were naked behind the door.

Luke stumbled over his feet, retrieving the black pullover Crimson Queen merch he had had for months now. He had saved up money to buy the merch to support the band. The door closed as you tugged the sweater in the bathroom momentarily before walking out.

“Thanks Lu. I forget to pack a shirt.” Luke awed as your nose scrunched up adorably to the amusement of his friends, “So, do you wanna hit the beach? Or maybe give me a concert in the garage?”

Luke intertwined his fingers in yours as he tugged you out of the room with your bag in hand. His heart fluttered as you held on to his hand even in the little office of the Orpheum’s management for the thick envelope of money.

“Thanks, Rudy!” You called over your shoulder at the short, stout man going over the financials and upcoming performances.

The smell of Sunset Boulevard brought a smile remembering the first time you performed and the small group that had waited outside. The first night of autographs and recognition.

“So, Reg how’s my car?” You questioned the teen who impishly grinned tugging the key chain from his black jeans. You had given him the keys when you revealed Crimson Queen had a world tour.

“Right there.” Reggie pointed leading the group of five to the car that would take them to the garage. Reggie drove with Alex in the passenger while you were crammed between Bobby and Luke; Luke was delighted in your warmth against his side.

While your band members partied, you got a first-row seating to Sunset Curve’s talent in the garage where you had started out. It was amazing to see how much they had accomplished in the three years since they started.

The sudden knock on the door had you flailing off the couch onto the floor with a sheet of paper stuck to your cheek. Your spine cracked as you sat up glancing at your watch, finding it was after midnight, only an hour of sleep after inspiration for a new song.

The door was knocked on once more and coming close the sound of crying could be heard, and you wondered if it was Luke. He had been over a few days in the night following a fight with his parents and needed to crash; helped you were giving dating a chance after his well-rehearsed speech.

Imagine your shock when it was Reggie sobbing, “Reggie.”

“C-can I stay here?” Reggie whimpered cuddling himself into the leather jacket he received at Christmas from you. You had inside in your arms in moments, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Are they fighting again?” You murmured to your younger brother content to hold him as he cried. Bringing him to the living room, you held him as he cried humming under your breath the first song you ever let him see.

“Yeah. The music doesn’t work anymore.” Reggie murmured leaning back to wipe his tears off, “Sorry for crashing. I can go stay with-“

“Here. Reginald, you can always stay here.” You soothed the seventeen-year-old boy with sad eyes and a sombre look. His sad eyes shattered your heart, knowing he had suffered the fighting for months alone, “This house is empty Reg. You can move in here.”

His lip quirked up, “Can we play country music?”

“And eat breakfast at night.” You teased him grinning as his lips pulled up into his trademark grin, “The guys can come over whenever they want. I’d actually prefer they know they can stay here, they deserve a safe place to stay.”

You knew that Alex endured living with his parents, who had gone out of their way to avoid him after he came out. Luke couch surfed at your old house, never at Alex’s home; after coming out, Alex didn’t feel comfortable bringing anyone over.

“Good, because they’re outside.” Reggie sheepishly admitted raising his thumbs-up, “Go thinking ahead!”

Snorting the human version of a golden retriever you opened the front door to the house finding two guys in strange positions. Alex was inspecting the light fixture, and Luke was leaning against the wall with his elbow, foot across the other.

“You guys need lessons in the art of pretending you weren’t eavesdropping.” The sigh fell stepping aside for the two to enter the home—each carrying a backpack and small duffle bag for wherever they would have crashed.

The male trio got comfortable in the living room curiously glancing at the mess of papers, sticky notes and pencils. While with good intentions, they didn’t follow boundaries well, even for Alex.

“Whatcha working on?” Luke inquired, leaning closer to a sheet of paper. His pout coming over his face when you quickly tidied up the papers.

“Nothing. I fell asleep on the couch. The label wants new songs.” You groaned rubbing your eyes, “I got inspired last night. Oh! Hey, I took a message for you guys.”

Jogging to your office studio for the band you quickly grabbed the envelope along with the note that you had been given.

“So, Rudy called me, and I had a meeting with him.” You started sitting on the coffee table in front of the trio. The trio leaned forward.

“Rudy?” Luke questioned, pursing his lips together at the male name. While you and Luke were dating it wasn’t official, he was just really nervous with his dream girl liking him back.

“He’s the management for a venue. He asked if our band was available for a concert, but we collectively decided to focus on songs and recording, which you can’t tell anyone about, but he’s in dire need. So, I might have given him something. Specifically a demo of yours and knowing your home situations I gave my information.”

“Okay…so?” Alex questioned, leaning forward. His eyes growing wide as you pushed the envelope in his hand.

Alex quickly opened the cream envelope finding inside a paper along with a mock-up promo poster with Sunset Curve. The squeal was shocking from the teenager as he read the letter and note out loud.

Y/N,

I gave the demo a listen, and we usually wouldn’t do this, but Crimson Queen has been gracious with us. Always mentioning where the band got its start and closing the tour here. To repay the favour, we would formally like to invite Sunset Curve to perform. In the envelope is a mock-up poster as an option for the promo. Get the Sunset Curve’s people to get in touch. I can get the word out to some friends from some labels to come for a listen. Get in touch as soon as possible.

Manager of The Orpheum in Los Angeles,

Rudy West.

 “The Orpheum?” Luke screamed, yanking the paper from Alex to re-read it in complete shock, “We don’t have people!”

“But Crimson does.” You smirked, “On a temporary basis Crimson Queen formally offer our manager’s help.”

In his excitement, Luke lunged to pull you into a kiss freezing the room in shock.

“He got the girl.” Alex breathed elbowing Reggie in the side who’s mouth was open at his best friend kissing Reggie’s older sister. The older sister who was the driving force behind Luke wanting to form a band to impress her, “We need to tell Bobby!”

1995 was the best year for Luke Patterson. He got the girl, his band made it, his parents finally saw his dream was worth it.

The sound of music hypnotized the woman as she wandered down the hall to the open door of the large home. Nothing too over the top like Bobby’s mansion, but it was a nice size in a gated area. Your neighbours being Reggie on one side and Alex on the other side with his partner Willie; Willie had skated into Alex and into a love story pretty much.

Resting against the door edge of the designated home studio you saw Luke had moved a rocking recliner in. Softly playing in the room was a soft acoustic song recorded months previous as a surprise for you.

“When are the lessons starting?” You questioned bringing Luke’s attention to your soft smile and the love in your eyes. Luke’s grin widened glancing down at the miniature version of his love-filled eyes.

“Given her legendary parents, I think at two.” Luke chuckled shuffling the baby to the crook of his arm shifting, so you could curl into his side as well. Both eyes gazing at the little baby you had welcomed what felt like yesterday.

Stevie could fall asleep only to the lullaby her father had created during the pregnancy, and he had written. Stevie had Luke’s eyes, and so far her blonde hair had yet to darken so the question of if she’d take after your hair or his hair was unanswered.

“Hey sweetheart.” You whispered to your daughter falling asleep to the sound of her father’s voice in the room. An adorable yawn pulled from her little body as she nestled into Luke’s arms.

“She’s so gorgeous.” Luke breathed tears welling up as he could understand the reasoning behind his parents’ opinions in his teens. He truly felt terrible at hurting his mom now that he felt the love for his child.

“We did good Patterson.” You murmured back to the man who had held your heart since you were nineteen and back from tour. Your finger tracing Steve’s soft cheek, “I think she has your mom’s mouth.”

Luke’s lips lingered on your cheek heart full of love for his family with you and his little girl. He had known since his eleventh birthday he would marry you even if you were a year older. A year that made the difference when he was months older than his friends, so the year felt like two for you. At eighteen when was tentatively dating you, he knew he would marry you. He never anticipated the sheer amount of adoration for the little girl he would have at twenty-one.

God, he loved his life. He made up with his parents, his best friends, had the girl of his dreams, the most beautiful daughter and it all thanks to music. Can you see why he lives and breathes music?

Tag List Underneath (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @ssprayberrythings​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #dad!luke patterson #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #alive!luke patterson #jatp luke #caitsy and ash productions #jatp au

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

Heliotrope

Here’s my submission for the Forget Me Not collab for Anisylum! Please note the TW as it is VERY heavy. This piece is entirely SFW though!

Ship: Tsukishima Kei x GN! Reader Genre: Angst, but some fluff in some places. Word Count: 2.2k  Trigger/Content Warnings: near death experience, hospitalization, COVID-19, vomit mention, amnesia after hospitalization, a suicide attempt is briefly mentioned, swearing because this is by me Sexy Sexy Masterlist: here!

Sand clung to skin and the harsher rays of light that usually cascaded and burnt you had died away into a fading tangerine glow. You perched comfortably on the sand, taking note of the undulating waves- they were like you in the sense that while you could crash down hard on the opposition, you would shy away in a fragile manner when faced with gentle treatment. Perhaps it was that you felt you weren’t worth such luxuries that you found it hard to make friends through your first few years of high school. Perhaps it was trying to push people away because you were afraid yet alarmingly aware of your mortality. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something you weren’t quite ready to come to terms with. What you did know was that you weren’t alone in the violent struggle through high school to make friends while you had your walls up. Next to you was someone you never thought you’d share your favorite place with; in any terms you found this boy appalling with his behavior. So appalling, you saw yourself in the way he closed himself off and cut those close with tongue lashings. You knew this only through another friend who took issue with him as you went to another school in an entire other prefecture. Words mauled their way out from your throat, breaking the silence between you and Tsukishima Kei. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life.” You didn’t understand yourself. Why would you say that…? You don’t remember anything like this at all… His response was equally incoherent and odd. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.” When you opened your mouth to reply to him, the ground around you suddenly reared up like a defensive serpent. A pillar of beach sand forced its way from the ground into your throat, suffocating and trapping your lungs in permanent fullness. You could only gag and cry, unable to even see Tsukishima past the torrent of sand breaking into your body with the intent to kill you slowly…

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You woke up once more in that dull grey-blue and white room with the only sounds you could properly process being the beep of a heart monitor somewhere behind you. You had managed to halfway curl into somewhat resembling the fetal position, but something kept making you cough and gag as your throat was caught. You move your hand to whatever is catching and about to make you vomit- a tube. This tube, you followed, was in your nose good and solid, and you felt it deep enough in your sinuses you didn’t dare try to pull it out. Moving your hands felt foreign like you had forgotten how to process being human and natural motions like that. You testingly ran your right hand down the tube, taking care to not tug and cause discomfort. Your other hand came to rest on your face. It was slick from sweat, likely due to whatever the fuck you just had a dream about. At the corner of your lips was another tube and when you followed where it led it was taped to the side of your face. You lick your lips and manage to almost fall into a haze until you see movement for the first time in what feels like forever. To be fair, it is one of the most jarring appearances of a person you’ve seen in your whole life to what you can recall. A person in a full-body hazmat suit enters your room through a door you hadn’t even processed was there, then greets you as casually as they can through a plague-resistant suit. “Hey there.” You squint at them. Yeah, you have no fucking idea who this cosplayer in a hospital is, and while you should probably be polite, you feel like you got ran over not once but twice.  You try to speak to them, but you can’t. You don’t have the air for it, it’s like you have no control over your breathing. Clarity washes over you. You’re hospitalized. These are tubes because you were asleep and weren’t breathing or eating right. The realization must show on your face because your nurse speaks up again. “Don’t worry about me too much, we’re just gonna check your vitals and if you feel up to it, we can see how you do without the ventilators.” You try to manage out a “whoopee”, which unimpressively comes out as some form of odd wheeze, and your nurse begins by grabbing the blood pressure cuff covered in protective plastic while they wear a sympathetic expression.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Once you were off the ventilator, the nurse informed you about what had happened. Apparently, an ambulance was called when you were unresponsive and nearly blue in the face, sitting in front of your refrigerator with the door open. You were diagnosed with a severe case of COVID-19, something you had feared would wipe you out entirely and turn you past tense since its spread in your country. This fear wasn’t entirely irrational, either- you were immunocompromised and have been since you were a child. You grew up with being careful around others and hearing of a highly contagious new strain was something that filled you with so much paranoia you seriously considered quitting your current career and instead adopting a hermit lifestyle while completing college at home. Of course, such a thought was squashed by the slowly impending thought of rent, bills, due dates for assignments, and your bitch of a manager who lets people get close to you without a mask on. It’s not a big deal, (y/n), she once said to you. You wanted to shoehorn some tubes down her throat just to survive, see how that felt. It didn’t help that human resources wouldn’t listen to your complaint. They brushed it off since you were just a lowly sandwich maker at a chain sub place. If you had enough scraped together for lawyers right about now, they’d be totally fucked, you thought to yourself. Even more jarring is that it seemed you lost a handful of memories while in the hospital. You could remember basic outlines of people in your head- your very tall and incredibly testy roommate, your younger sister who wore glasses and was much smaller than you, and… a foggy memory of a man with messy black bedhead who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It hurt to think too hard. The doctor soon came by to give you test results, to check your vitals again, and to look over your records. He was a bit terse, but you can’t make the best judgments of people when they’re in plastic suits. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up by tomorrow and you should be able to head home,” he’d said, looking over your chart. You didn’t necessarily feel too ecstatic about your trip to your apartment. You remembered your roommate and how finicky he was, and you dreaded for him to belittle you over your condition. You dreaded it enough to even feel a knot of anxiety form in your stomach, wrenched in between your ribs without the intent of ever coming out. “We’ve already contacted uh…” The doctor squints at the screen, “Tsukishima… to come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll have care instructions printed out. You still have to quarantine for about a week more since your immune system isn’t at its most prime currently.” You agreed, it probably wasn’t a good recovery idea to make a couple of sammies for the public while you were recovering from a virus that had you intubated. He seemed grateful that you were lucid and cooperative, at least.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You, predictably, didn’t sleep well after being in a medically induced haze for several days. Even more predictably, you found yourself awake from anxieties of the future. Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then you’d be home. Home… what did that look like for you? The fog in your head was thick initially. You do remember coming home from classes at a different time than Tsukishima, how when you entered he’d often be reading over homework. You remembered how sometimes he would be in the shower and the scent of cheap green apple soap filled the living room connected to it. You remembered… You remembered holding his thin frame in your arms on a bridge, pulling him back from oncoming traffic. You remember how you both collapsed and how the cold autumn air stung your lungs. You remember wide golden eyes staring back at you, as tears slowly filled them, then his normally impartial voice breaking as he hiccuped a sob, “Why? Why did you have to be in Sendai right now?” You felt tears stinging your eyes and a lump form in your throat. You found yourself in distress of your new emotions. Maybe… maybe you can sleep this horrible feeling off. Maybe this fog in your head where you need to know how deep your relationship ran will lift once you get genuine sleep.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Finally, a knock on the door encouraged you to rouse from your sleeping state. And eloquently, you spoke your true feelings in your sleep-deprived state,  “No.” You hear the doorknob turn and the door open. There’s a lack of a greeting from your nurse nor a quick apology from your doctor for interrupting your sleep. Actually, if you’re gonna use logic, what nurse or doctor is gonna wake up their peacefully sleeping patient in recovery? Thought of it being your doctor or nurse practically evaporates once the intruder has a seat on your bed. They still haven’t spoken, so now you’re remembering what tricks of self-defense you learned online to give this person a proper ass-kicking for getting way too close. You crack your hazy eyes open to get a look at where they’re sitting and you stop dead in your thoughts as wary gold eyes peer down at you. Your eyes widen out of reflex and butterflies bloom from your stomach at seeing what you now remember is your roommate. “I knew you were awake,” He said, a wry smile on his face. His expression was betrayed by his concerned gaze, though, “Wow, you look like shit.” You don’t know entirely why past his comment feeling not as an insult, but almost as a compliment, but you smile a little, “I feel like it too.” His expression doesn’t change. He runs a large calloused hand through the tresses of your hair, though, as if to soothe you. The doctor walked in and apologized for interrupting the moment between the two of you, unsure if it was something serious. You told him it was nothing because that’s what it was to you.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The car ride wasn’t filled with the snarky banter you had been expecting. Instead, there was plentiful comfortable silence as Tsukishima drove. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for the silence- you still felt quite feeble and needed way more bed rest before you could get ready to do anything for anyone. Despite the wholesome silence, you felt those round gold eyes focus on you occasionally. And even though it was comfortable, you felt a melancholy twinge in the atmosphere as he inspected you. “I know you’ll give me shit for this… but you look like you’ve lost weight. I uh…” He gripped the steering wheel harder. You glanced over at him. A shade of baby pink dusted itself across his cheekbones and nose as he focused on the road. “I’m worried about you.” Fuck, there go those butterflies again. Something in you pushed to help- to comfort- but the logical side of your brain brought you to a halt. You’d weighed it in your head a couple of times. You two act closer than just roommates, and it’s not entirely clear how or why you got up to this point… but you had a solid hunch you might be dating this guy. Maybe? You closed your eyes and rested your head on the car door as you thought. You remember how sand clung to your body and you could hear the roaring of the sea. How you watched Tsukishima focus on the waves to regulate his breathing. You vaguely remember your words breaking away from your throat and catching the salty sea air. “Why don’t we stay together?” His lanky body stiffened, then he looked at you with disbelief. “... you wouldn’t want that. I’m fucking annoying and mean.” Your eyes creased with familiarity at the line. “Yeah? So am I. We can butt heads until we balance each other out.” It looked like he wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn’t let him cry in front of you anymore today. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life,” you reached a careful hand over to rub his back, “Kei, if there isn’t, let me be that person.” You felt how his breath shuddered. To save his pride, you looked to the ocean and watched its hypnotic movements. After a few deep, shaky inhales and exhales, he replied. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. Why you didn’t let me die. I will probably come back to this point in my life several times and you’re trying to say you’ll put up with it?” There was some bite to his tone, he was trying so hard to put up walls when he had no will to do so at the moment. How long had he pushed others away from being close? If he was anything like you… it was since grade school. “Let me be your support for when you’re in pain,” You tried once more, “I’m stubborn as shit so I know I won’t give up on you.” “You’re not getting it, you fucking idiot. I’m always in pain, that’s just been life,” he snapped bitterly, glaring at you now.  “Then I guess I’ll be by your side forever.” You’d said it without thinking that day. It was like the ocean grew quieter with your words as if even Poseidon became interested in your proposition. You felt heat rise to your face at the implications of what you said. He stared at you with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a champagne pink hue on his face. He averted his eyes almost in a panic and watched the ocean again, suddenly very aware of his own expression. You carefully peered over at him again to see he’d only grown redder, now mirroring you. “You… don’t mean that,” He said as if it were a statement. “I do. You’re a good person inside, but you’re defensive and hurt. I’ve seen that from you in the past and I’ve learned more about you today. I want to be there for you as long as you’ll have me. Will you let me?”  He picked at the sand as if thinking it over for a moment. There was a brief pause as waves rolled over each other in front of both of you, the sound of their impact being the only thing to grace your ears. Finally, his cynical tone returned as he regained some form of his prior composure. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.”

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

“Hey. (Y/n), we’re home,” Tsukishima gently shook your shoulder to rouse you from your sleep. You opened your eyes slowly and groaned out a swear. Tsukishima felt a hesitant smile creep up his face as he opted to just try and maneuver you into your shared home himself. He remembered how waking up was hard for you. Once he opened the passenger door you nearly fell out onto the pavement, only saved by your seatbelt and the giant himself. Your face fell awkwardly into his hip, and you grumbled at the interruption to your sleep. “You sleep like the fucking dead, christ,” he mused out loud and sat you up so it was safe to unbuckle your seatbelt. He urged you to get up more- it wasn’t that you were heavy, he just really wasn’t in the place to lift you at the moment and didn’t even know how to go about it. Regardless, he held you up by a shoulder and crouched to make it easier for you both to walk to the apartment. In some part of your sleep, you began to speak, “Kei.” He kept his gaze trained forward at the front door and struggled to grab his keys from his pocket, “Yes?” “Are we married?” Kei dropped his keys, then shot you a look of concern, “... No…?” He had to hold himself back from saying not yet, unsure of what you were getting to. He reached down to grab his keys and he focused back on the door. “Why are you asking?” He unlocked the door and threw it open, getting you both inside finally. He set you on your couch and sat on the floor in front of you. You looked at him suspiciously, now roused from your sleep. The only thing on your mind was that dream- it had to be a memory! You refused to understand it as anything but that. You prodded, “On the beach, I told you I’d be by your side forever.” He seemed to weigh your thoughts heavily in his mind, “... did you forget about us?” You didn’t expect what felt like cold water to hit your back so hard and so suddenly at his suggestion. He didn’t seem hurt at the thought, instead, he found himself occupied with your reaction. His hand reached out to rub the side of your face as you looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister told me this kind of thing might happen…” His calloused thumb traced over your lip, and he offered a smile the best he could, “I’ll try to explain it.” Tsukishima explained that what you remembered happened about four years ago and you had been living together ever since. He motioned to photos on the walls of the two of you and people who you could just hardly remember. When you rested your index finger on an individual who was much scrawnier than most of the people there, sitting on the bench with you and watching you speak with admiration, Tsukki put his hand over yours. “That’s your sister. She took most of these pictures, but she usually sits next to you when you have a space available.” You nodded and closed your eyes. You began to remember summers you spent with her in childhood and her yelling at you to do your homework when you bothered her as you got older. You smiled a bit. Once your eyes opened again, your finger traveled to possibly the tallest person in the room. He was big, but you remembered something warm and comfortable about that man… “That’s Kuroo. You both went to the same high school and you were in his friend group.” You both went on like that for a while until you’d cleared everyone in that picture. Once you did, you sat down to think over the new cluster of names you’d picked up. “... when you promised you’d be here with me forever, did you remember what I promised to you?” Kei asked as he sat next to you. “No… I just remember what happened on the beach up until you threatened to kill me if I took back my promise.” “Oh, right. I was going through that phase,” He seemed displeased with the comment. You found it almost funny but refrained from laughing for his sake. He continued, in a quieter tone, “I promised that if something happened to you, that I would always be here for you, too. That I’d get you back into shape.” His larger hand gently entwined with yours, “... so if you remember that promise and you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you once you get your memories back. … If you want to. I-” You cut him off with a hug to his side, trembling a bit as your emotions got the better of you. You smiled up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be better fast, and I still feel like several trucks ran through me at once… but I’m happy,” you managed out. You didn’t know what your face looked like right about now and you didn’t have the nerve to look up into Kei’s glasses to check your reflection. He wrapped his arms around you in return, pressing the side of his face against your head. “Please, don’t give me an answer yet. You’re not in the right mental state. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” You ran your hands up and down his back. You weren’t exactly afraid of remembering things, but you were quite anxious for what tomorrow might bring for both of you. Despite that, you felt safe recovering in his arms, and you were sure you’d feel that way for a long time.

Have a link to the sexy sexy masterlist down here as well. Unless you’re done reading, then have a good day. But if you’re not there’s some fire stuff in that bad boy.

#fanfic #tsukki #tsukishima #hq #x reader #tsukishima x reader #angst #fluff #collab #anisylum #sfw #tw near death #tw hospital #tw hospitalization #tw covid #tw memory loss #tw suicide attempt #tw suicide #cw swearing #i could be convinced to make a part two in the future #forget me not #heliotrope

[ukiyoexo]

reconcile. — ljn

reconcile implies the demonstration of the underlying compatibility of things that seem to be incompatible.

nct dream — lee jeno x reader

synopsis — when your best friend invites your ex to the birthday party you never even wanted, you’re forced to face the feelings you had been trying so hard to bury deep.

info — fluff, angst, smut (blowjob, some suggestive stuff), bad boy!jeno, exes to lovers, 2.8k words

warnings — swearing, drinking, smoking, blowjob, lowkey some deepthroating

masterlist

The air was thick with the stench of sweat. Warm, sticky bodies squeezed into one room, dancing - if that’s what you would call it - to whatever songs were in the charts, most of them being completely new to you.

You didn’t like parties, you never had. Something about being in a mosh pit of drunk teenagers never quite appealing to you.

Alas, it was your 18th birthday and your best friend, Jaemin, seemed to not take the word no as an answer. Before you had even known it, he had convinced your parents, made a guest list and told you “you have to!” one to many times. A part of you wanted to be annoyed at him; the other part didn’t mind, seeing the rest of your friends have fun satisfied you enough. 

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

You took another sip of alcohol. The strong liqueur burning the back of your throat, but you didn’t mind, you needed all the liquid courage you could get if you were to talk to half these strangers. Another swig of alcohol glided down your throat, your eyes tracing the crowd through the kitchen door.

“Nice party.” There was a chuckle next to you, a large hand suddenly finding its way onto your lap. You flinch in response, unfortunately hitting your head on the cabinet behind you, causing another chuckle from the unknown body beside you “you’re not very graceful, are you?“

You nod silently in response, finally lifting your head up to find the muscular build of Jeno leaning against the kitchen countertop, a smile blossomed on his lips. One which was not matched on yours as you looked down in dismay at the hand still on your thigh.

“Why are you here?” You huffed at the boy, sliding off the kitchen counter, tone cold and unforgiving.

“You’re the one who invited me.” He shrugged back, his face dropping slightly when you informed him it was Jaemin - not you - before gaining composure once again. A small smile flashing across his face to cover up the red tints of awkwardness on his cheeks.

“Are we done here then?” Your arms folded across your chest, eyes glowering at the boy as your tongue poked at the inside of your cheek, anything to help give the impression of a cold front.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your hand gripped your best friends arm, dragging him into the hallway so when you yelled he would at least know it wasn’t so you could be heard over the music. “Well, I was dancing but-” “Jaemin-” You warned. “Why is he here?” Jaemin only rolls his eyes in response, taking a deep inhale before looking back at you, a serious expression on his face that you had only seen a couple times during your seven year friendship with him. “Because you need to get over him- or talk things out with him- or god even hook up with him if that’s what will help-” “But I am over h-” You attempted to argue, only to be cut off by your friend. “No you’re not. Look I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it was, you need to let go of it now. I love you y/n and even if you say you’re fine, I can see you’re hurting.” His hand cups your cheek and you nod into it. He was right, god you hated how right he was. “I’ll work it out.” You give him a solemn smile and his hand eventually slips from your skin, moving back to his side. “Thank you,” the smile you loved so much finally returns to his face, his pink cheeks rounding, “now let’s go enjoy this fucking party whilst we can.”

And that’s what you did for the next hour or so. You danced with more people than you actually knew, you drank more types of alcohol than you knew existed and you had more fun than you had in what felt like a long time. But when you find yourself getting just a bit too sweaty for your liking and go out to get some fresh air, your high comes crashing down quickly.

Jeno is leant against the brick wall of your house, puffs of smoke from his mouth creating white clouds in the crisp air. His leather jacket fits him in all the right places and somehow makes him look so damn good despite only wearing a simple white tshirt and pair of black jeans with it. You hate that he looks good, you hate that he can still captivate you and that you most definitely aren’t the only girl who’s been caught under his spell.

“Earth to y/n?” A hand passes through your vision and you’re brought from your train of thought and back into reality, a soft chuckle emptying from Jeno’s mouth. “I-” “Good, you’re alive. I thought I’d lost you for a second.” He continues and your bottom lip catches between your teeth, your head shaking when he holds out the packet of cigarettes for you. “Ah, I forgot you didn’t smoke anymore,” his slides the packaging back into his jean pocket, a bitter smile on his face, “that was just another one of my bad influences right?” You don’t want to nod but you don’t need to, you know it’s true and so does he; it was just one of the many.

Silence seems to quickly swallow the world around you, the ink black sky seeping into the cold air until it feels like it’s only you and Jeno left on earth. Words swell in your throat, all the things you want to say to him, all the things you never got to say to him. There’s so many things to tell him yet nothing comes out, any words stolen by the frosty air, never to be found again.

The figure beside you stirs in place and you know Jeno wants to speak - but unlike you, he’s brave enough to do so.

“What happened to us?” The words finally empty from his mouth, the answer so complicated yet he says the questions so casually. “I tell you I love you and you vanish- I- I thought you-” “I did.” You pick your body up from against the brick as you twist to look at him, his eyes watching the stars above instead. You did. You did love him. God, you still did.

“Then- then what happened?” His gaze finally meets yours, lost and confused as if the one home he had ever found was in you and just as soon as he had finally felt safe, it had being pulled from ibeneath. In some ways you guessed that wasn’t wrong. “Was it me? The bike and the drugs? The deals? Or- or my friends? I- I can stop. I can change. I would change for you.” And the way he says it is so sincere and so raw that you hate yourself for ever doubting what you meant to Jeno.

Maybe it’s the anxiety or even the liquid courage pumping through your veins, maybe the look in his eyes, or maybe you’ve finally come to your senses. Whatever it is, you can’t take it anymore, your lips pulled towards Jeno’s. Your mouths interlocking as if they were perfectly sculpted for each, carved to fit like two puzzle pieces. Each movement of your lips matches Jeno’s and it’s simple bliss, the connection only breaking when you pull away for air, “Please, don’t ever change.”

Jeno wraps his arms around your waist, planting a sweet peck in the tip of your nose, “Whatever you want angel.” And you can’t help roll your eyes at him, giggles bubbling in your chest that are soon echoed by Jeno.

When your eyes connect back with his, you can see they’re tired but the stars are still there. Slightly duller than they used to be but still just as persistent.

Your lips are drawn back to his like a magnet and once again, your connected with him but in a more heated kiss this time. A hand pulling you together so that there’s no room between you; another hand trailing up your back and tangling into your hair. Your own arms wrapping around Jeno’s neck, pulling you up as the kiss deepens.

Sloppy kisses slowly scatter down your jawline, red bruises staining your neck like bold paint on a blank canvas. A small gasp escaping your lips when Jeno’s teeth graze against your skin.

But all too soon, Jeno’s touch against your neck is gone. A short “Are you sure you want this?” whispered between deep inhales as he catches his breath.

Your hands cup his cheeks, pulling his face back in line with yours so that you can plant a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose. “I’m sure,” another peck lands on his left cheek, “I’m sure of all of this,” and another kiss on his right, “I’m not leaving this time.” Jeno’s only response is to smile, a genuine smile that seems to warm the frosty air.

“I guess I should show you what you’ve been missing out on then.” Jeno fingers interlock with yours, other hand opening the door and guiding you back into the house where a party is still very much underway. Jaemin shooting you a small smirk, eyebrows raised, mouth rounded, when he sees Jeno escort you up the stairs. A glare being the only thing you can do back before he’s out of view once again.

Jeno finds your bedroom with ease, opening the door as if it was only yesterday that you were sneaking him into your house during the early hours of the morning.

No more words are shared as your lips attach once again, his hands gliding up your body to cup your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks as fingers nestle into your hair. The kiss is clumsy and eager, your legs backing up until they hit the edge of the bed, your body instinctively collapsing onto the mattress. Jeno follows, landing above you as his lips continue to attack yours.

Hands claw at your clothing, slipping under the crop top you’re wearing to cup at your boob before fully removing your top and bra altogether. Your hands follow suit, tugging off Jeno’s leather jacket and pulling off his shirt to reveal his muscular body. The light of the moon perfectly capturing the dips and curves of his toned torso.

Jeno leans back down to kiss you and you can already feel the strain in his pants grinding against your thigh, leaving you to only giggle slightly at his unapologetically eager manner.

Still, you’re just as eager and don’t wait to help relieve him of the building pressure. A hand slipping down to palm the bulge before eventually undoing the button and pulling both the denim and his underwear down.

His cock springs against his stomach as he finally settles onto his knees, his hand tightly gripping his erection before stroking up and down a couple times. The glow of the stars perfectly captures the glistening precum leaking down the side off his cock and you can already feel the pit of arousal growing in your abdomen. “You want help with that?” You smile at the boy, smirking slightly as you crawl towards him, a hand extended. He nods quickly in return and you grip the base of his cock.

Your hand glides up and down his length, your thumb slipping over his tip and eliciting a sweet moan from the boy’s mouth. The pretty sound is like music to your ears and you’ve not heard in so long, the mere thought of coaxing more moans from Jeno has your mouth watering.

Starting from the base, your tongue trails up the vein bulging at the side of Jeno’s cock, tongue then circling around the head. Your eyes meet his half lidded ones, something about the way there’s already a sheen of sweat on his skin from your teasing has your core clenching around nothing. And when you take just the tip of his cock in your mouth, there’s a low grunt and hands are suddenly tugging on your hair, pushing you further down as his hips buck up. It has you gagging slightly but the rough groan from Jeno has you going down for more, letting his grip tighten in your hair and pump you onto his dick.

His tip hits the back of your throat and you hollow cheeks, sucking away the salty leaking liquid.

Jeno’s breathing quickens until he’s panting, his heavy breaths combined with the sloppy sounds as you accelerate your bobbing drown out the already muffled sounds of music from the party downstairs. You know he’s close. You can tell by the way he tugs on your hair and how he chokes out your name when your tongue runs a long strip all the way up his length.

“Fuck,” his hips buck a couple more times, “fuck- fuck.” There’s a harsh guttural sound from the back his throat and he’s pulling out, spilling warm, sticky ropes of cum onto your chest.

It takes a couple seconds for Jeno to regain any sort of composure, his hooded eyes finally focusing on you as the last of his orgasm washes over him. Heavy kisses find there way to your neck and down your collarbone until they’re cleaning up the mess on your chest - and when your lips connect after, you can taste him on his tongue.

Having cleaned you up enough that cum isn’t going to spill onto the bed, Jeno’s hands finally grip your thighs, pulling you towards him with a force that has you falling onto your back. “Your turn baby.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Specks of light dance between the blinds of your bedroom window, the amber glow of the sun forcing you to open your eyes and welcome the morning. As you stir in your bed, a worser headache pounding in your head than you would have liked, you almost forget about the dark haired boy resting beside you. He looks beautiful, not that he doesn’t normally, it’s just that there’s something about him sleeping, safe and secure, one arm loosely hanging around your waist, that makes him look extra ethereal.

His lips are a blush pink, parted slightly. His tousled hair a honey brown as it catches in the golden light. His bare back flexing under the shimmer of the sun, his body finally stirring awake and eyes fluttering open. “Morning baby boy.” You take his chin in your fingers, leaning down to kiss him. And he can only smile at the sweet action, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards to reveal a grin. His eyes curving into crescents.

“Breakfast?” You hum over the chirps of the birds outside, sliding out of bed and slipping on Jeno’s tshirt that was strewn across the floor. He nods back and you can’t help but be sincerely grateful that your parents are away for the whole weekend so that you can fully enjoy this time with him.

The living room is more of a mess than you would like to face in the morning when you head downstairs. And you expect the kitchen to be the same as you enter it. Fortunately however, you are wrong, instead finding Jaemin picking up the pieces of rubbish that littered the countertops.

He smiles as you enter, failing at his attempts to hide the evil flicker in his eyes. “So, d’you enjoy last night?” His eyebrows lift expectantly but you refuse to give in so easily. “I did actually, the party was great.” You nod back, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and spooning coffee into them. “You enjoy anything else about last night too?” He continues nonetheless, watching you intently as you pour hot water and milk into the mugs, blowing slightly in attempts to cool the drink before taking a sip. “The drinks? The people?...The sex?” His last question has you spitting out your coffee, choking on the hot drink as you look at him with red cheeks - as if you didn’t already know that he knew.

“I fucking hate you.” You murmur, finding a cloth to clean up the coffee you managed to spray across the countertop, Jaemin silently cheering like your personal cheerleader beside you.

#kwritersworldnet #jeno #nct #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct jeno #lee jeno #nct oneshot #nct scenarios #bad boy jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno oneshot #jaemin #jaemin fluff #jisung #chenle #haechan #renjun #mark

[everybodyscupoftea]

this is the life

ole miss rafe x reader

you and your boyfriend deal with your ~futures~

literally no one asked for this lol, i’m sorry

(warnings: cursing)

Your animal and dairy sciences seminar had a report due that you’d stayed up very late making last minute edits to because you were stressed it was really bad. The next morning was brutal. Not only was in an 8 a.m. lecture, but your coffee machine was out and you overslept, barely giving yourself enough time to get to class before the professor checked attendance.

You slid into your seat, out of breath, just as started scanning the seating chart for attendance. The boy who sits next to you turned to ask, “Library was backed up this morning?”

“What?” you asked, halfway paying attention, still scrambling to get your notebook out.

“Since you’re running late, I’m assuming it’s because the library was busy when you went to print your report.”

Your stomach dropped and you swore, “Fuck. I forgot to print it. Fucking fuck. I submitted it online but I forgot we needed to hand him a physical copy too. Oh god I can’t afford to fail this class.” You were getting worked up and the boy was starting to look more and more like he regretted talking to you in the first place.

“I mean he’s pretty chill, so I’m sure if you explain he’ll let you bring it by his office later.”

The boy had a point, but you were already too far gone. For the rest of the class, you were unfocused, and if someone asked you what he lectured on, you’d have no clue, so preoccupied with rehearsing how you were going to beg him for an extension. You only had one other class, and you’d definitely be able to print it out and run it to him between them, but that was depending on if he let you.

Just as class was ending, your phone vibrated in your hoodie pocket, and you checked it, immediately calmed at seeing a text from your boyfriend. Rafe sent Can’t wait to see you this weekend and whatever had a grip on your chest loosened enough for you to take a full breath for the first time since waking up.

After speaking to your professor and his reassurance that you didn’t really need to worry much about the written report, that it was just to ensure everyone had it turned in prior to class, you left, much happier, but the exhaustion hitting you straight in the gut.

Thankfully, all you had left that day was a communication elective and then to drive to Rafe’s apartment in Oxford. He’d convinced you to make the trip because he wanted to show you around the place he’d called home for four years after leaving behind his “hometown trauma.” His words.

Your class flew by, people were giving speeches and you’d given yours Wednesday, so you sat there mindlessly, half asleep, until she dismissed the class for the weekend. Stopping back by your apartment to pick up your overnight bag, you decided to last minute check your PO Box, it had been a while. To your shock, you actually had mail, and when you saw the return address, the sick feeling returned to your stomach.

There was about a two-hour drive to Rafe’s apartment from Starkville, and you had the option of opening the letter containing either the best news or the worst news of your life before the drive or at Rafe’s apartment. Part of you wanted to know then, but a stronger part of you wanted to be with Rafe so he could comfort you if necessary.

Instead of making a decision, you felt your tired brain could not, you called Rafe. He answered before the second ring and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I see that receptionist job taught you some useful skills.”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Answering my calls fast, that’s good because my time is money.”

Rafe sighed, “Can I help you?”

“Someone’s mad. But, yes, should I open the letter from the vet school now or wait until I get to Oxford.”

You heard some shuffling around before he answered, “You think you can wait? I actually have something to tell you too.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” you were a little worried, “Is everything okay?”

“I think so. We just need to talk.”

“Right, talk, are you sure everything’s good?”

“Yeah, stop worrying. Just drive on over.”

You had been excited to go visit, but after that phone call you wanted to go back to bed. With a deep sigh, you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands and slumped backward. Blinking away the spots, you buckled up, pit in your stomach, and drove to your favorite coffee shop in Starkville. If shit was going to go down in Oxford you were going to have your comfort drink.

StrangeBrew’s drive-thru was packed and you tapped your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel as you waited to order your blueberry cobbler cold brew with soy milk. Right as the barista handed you the to-go cup, your phone vibrated and Rafe had sent drive safe!! <3. The fuck did that mean in the context of your earlier phone conversation?!

The drive to Oxford was boring as hell. You’d made it before, a band you liked had played there one night, and you and some friends had made the reluctant trip to see them. Turning on your podcast, you focused on nothing but the drive, pushing aside relationship doubts and the growing anxiety about the letter sitting in your passenger seat.

You called Rafe when you got close, and he was waiting outside his building when you finally found a visitor’s spot. He jogged over to grab your overnight bag and bent down to give you a quick kiss, before greeting you with, “Hey, baby, how was the drive?”

“Boring as fuck, nothing new.”

“Went smoothly?”

“About as smooth as possible. I’ve had to pee for the last like 40 minutes though, so it’d be great if I could do that now.”

He laughed and turned to walk to his building, motioning for you to follow him. You did, scampering a little to keep up with his long strides, and he unlocked a door on the first floor, holding it open for you, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.”

Rafe was sitting on the couch when you made it back out to the living room, and you finally took a good look at him. His laptop was on the coffee table and he was wearing a pair of Ole Miss sweats, a worn-out t-shirt, and a pair of glasses you were unaware he needed.

“Take a picture,” he interrupted your train of thought and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Cameron. Now, tell me what you want to talk about so I can open my letter.”

“No, open your letter first and then we’ll talk.”

You weren’t sure why he was so insistent or why your heart rate tripled, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t the coffee. With shaking hands, you held up the letter from the MSU Vet School. All of your undergrad work came down to that letter, whether you’d have to take a gap year and try to find work to apply again or whether you could move forward in your career path.

Rafe watched on eagerly as you carefully tore it open and started reading. Eyes jumping across the page, unable to focus, you barely made out, Congratulations and We welcome you and We look forward to seeing you next fall.

With a gasp, you launched yourself at an unprepared Rafe and latched on, arms wrapped around his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly and asked, gently, “Good news?”

“I’m going to Vet School,” you whispered, voice cracking in the middle of your sentence.

“Fucking right you are, my little Rockstar.”

Your face heated up and you buried it in the crook of his neck, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Only to come crashing back down a few seconds later as you remembered Rafe wanted to talk. Pulling back slowly, you asked, “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

His face lit up and he leaned forward, hanging on to you so he didn’t accidentally dump you onto the floor, and grabbed his laptop. Clicking to his email, he showed you the message he had pulled up from Mississippi State University Department of History Admissions.

“So, you know I’ve been interested in teaching,” he started, “and I’m debating whether I’d like to teach college or not.”

“Yeah, last we talked, you were leaning toward college professor, right?”

“Right. Well, I applied to a few schools that had a PhD program I was interested in, and I heard back from my top choice.”

Your mind was racing, still not connecting the dots, until he motioned at his laptop. Looking back down, you skimmed the email, telling him that he’d been accepted into MSU’s PhD in European History program and gasped, turning back to him in excitement, “No way?!”

“Way,” he told you, wide grin on his face.

Jaw dropped, your mind raced to put together a coherent thought, “How long have you been planning this?”

“The program is good, this isn’t a new thought, but MSU obviously jumped up my preference list to the top after we got together.”

“Fuckin whipped,” you teased and he tilted your chin down to kiss you.

Pulling away he brushed some of your hair back, “Only for you.”

As he leaned in again, you were the one to pull back, “Wait, we have to celebrate!”

Rafe groaned, “No, let me kiss you.”

“No! I want food, I spent the entire ride thinking I was going to get dumped when I got here.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

“We need to talk,” you quoted, “that’s one scary fucking sentence, Cameron.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sweetheart, I just wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“Well you did.”

Rafe leaned in to kiss you again and pulled back to add, “You really think I’d make you drive all the way here, just to break up with you. I’m wounded you think that lowly of me.”

“You are an asshole.”

Rolling his eyes, he pinched your cheek gently, “Be nice to me, I’m sacrificing my dignity and lowering myself to Mississippi State’s standards.”

Blinking a few times in surprise at his sudden switch, you told him back, “Fuck off, I’m sure you were last choice as soon as they saw where you got your undergrad degree.”

Without saying anything else, he kissed you again, gripping behind your knees and shifting so your back was on the couch. As he lowered himself down on top of you, you decided that food could wait. You had your future to celebrate.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fluff #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe obx #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #college rafe #ole miss rafe

[willowbird]

Twinyards - Hello ( Daemons AU)

Okay so here is going to be my one and only entry for @twinyardsappreciationweek -- not because I didn't want to!! I just.. life happened and so I only actually got the first one done and then I went back and forth about posting it for several days because my anxiety is off the charts this week (huh I wonder why??)

So ANYWAY! This is my "Hellos", a first meeting between Aaron and Andrew in an AU that takes what I like about His Dark Materials and ignores what I've forgotten about it because I honestly haven't read the books in 15 years. Please forgive me for making up the rules as I go along. You do not need to be familiar with The Golden Compass/Northern Lights/His Dark Materials in order to understand or enjoy this AU because.. well, like I just said, I kinda kept the "soul animal" bit and decided to make up the rules for the rest as I went along. Feel free to ping me in messages or send me an ask if you have any questions.

------

“You’re biting your nails all the way down again.” Stella’s voice was quiet in Aaron’s ear. She was currently balanced on his shoulder where she could see the whole room while also being well out of trampling-range of larger daemons and their people.

“No I’m not,” he grumbled, but snatched his fingers away from his mouth because yes - he was. “And don’t hedgehogs have terrible eyesight? How would you even know?”

Stella huffed, and the small snap of her breath tickled his ear, making him twitch. “I don’t know where you heard that, but I can see just fine, thank you very much.”

“If you say so,” Aaron relented -- not because he actually believed her but because he was too distracted to engage in their usual bickering. There was nothing interesting about the room they were sitting in. It was empty of anyone besides him and his uncle and their daemons, neither of which were very large, and was painted a pale blue offset by a dark gray shallow carpet that made Aaron feel like he was sitting in the waiting room of a dentist’s office rather than a juvenile detention center. Still, despite the general blandness of their surroundings, Aaron’s mind was busy.

After all, today he was going to be meeting his brother. His long-lost brother. His long-lost twin brother.

Yeah, mindfuck right?

Twice already his uncle had shot him a look for the way his knee kept bouncing with jittery nerves, but it’s not like he could help it. It just wasn’t every day that you found out that you had a long-lost twin. That you got to meet that long-lost twin, especially after they’d initially told you to piss off.

Well, more or less.

Andrew’s letter back to him had been more like, Aaron, back the fuck off. Stay far the fuck away until you hear from me. I’m fucking serious. -- A.

No, really. That’s exactly what it said. Aaron had read it so many times that he’d memorized it, first because he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten a letter back, then because he couldn’t believe his brother was such an unrepentant asshole, and then because he couldn’t help but notice that they both wrote their lower-case ‘a’s the exact same way.

That was almost two months ago. Mom had absolutely freaked out and moved them across the damn country within a couple of weeks of the whole ‘Andrew Situation’ coming to light, and if it had been up to her Aaron definitely wouldn’t be here now. Except Uncle Luther, for all that he was a gigantic flaming dickhead, wasn’t quite as willing to let it go. Then, last week, he’d gotten a letter back from Andrew. All it had was an address to a juvenile detention center.

And so here he was, ready to meet his twin brother, and he felt so many things about it that he didn’t even know how he was really feeling.

“Luther Hemmick and Aaron Minyard?”

Aaron jumped at the voice and looked over at the stout man who had just entered the room. He wore a white coat like some kind of doctor and looked weirdly buff for also being old and balding.

Beside him, his uncle stood up, his pomeranian daemon trotting out from where she’d been curled under his chair. Aaron scooped Stella off his shoulder and returned her to her preferred nest inside the pocket of his hoodie as he joined his uncle. He tried to mimic his uncle’s superior sort of calm as he trailed after the two men, passing through the security door and down the narrow tiled hallway into what looked like some kind of common room.

Aaron had expected it to look like the rooms inmates talked to their families on tv, with two-way glass and phones so that you could talk to the person on the other side. He’d expected a lot of cold steel and white stone walls, with all the kids in matching gray jumpsuits or something.

Instead, they were in what looked like a giant living room. There were several couches and tables, a television with a few different video game systems, and a tall shelving unit filled with board games. There were teenagers lounging on the couches or at the tables, one or two of them apparently also visiting with family. Aaron didn’t spend all that much time scoping out the other kids, though, because on his first scan of the room his gaze settled on a blond boy sitting in the bay window with a fucking lion stretched out on the floor beside him, a living, breathing, tooth-filled barrier between him and the rest of the room.

Andrew.

Their little party had stopped just inside the door and Aaron was distantly aware of the warden or the principal or the doctor or whatever the fuck he was telling Uncle Luther about the facility. He couldn’t focus on them enough to actually retain the specifics though, not when he saw Andrew.

It was so… so fucking weird. He was there. Right fucking there. His brother, and they were identical. Okay, so, not completely identical. Andrew’s hair was longer than his own, and since the kids here were apparently allowed to wear street clothes he was wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt (which was neither a gray jumpsuit nor anything that Aaron would typically wear -- he preferred normal jeans and band t-shirts, thanks). There was also something… colder about him that Aaron didn’t know how to feel about but definitely seemed to match the two brief letters he’d gotten from him.

The lion lifted her head and looked right at him, fixing him with an eerie amber stare he felt both trapped and analyzed by. It was not comfortable and it took all of his willpower not to squirm. As it were, he ended up fully flinching when their guide called out a bit too loudly from a bit too close to him.

"Andrew! Come say hello, your family is here to see you."

Andrew, who up until this point had been reading a book like he hadn't known they were there at all, just… continued to read. He didn't look up, didn't even seem like he'd heard him at all.

The man sighed and gave them an apologetic look. "Sorry, he's, well. He's a bit antisocial."

"Hm." The disapproving sound from Uncle Luther had Aaron glancing over at him and he didn't really like the calculating look on his face. It would be utter bullshit if he finally got a brother only for his uncle to make it so he ended up getting shipped off to military school or something.

Rather than wait around for the adults to come up with some stupid way to attempt to make Andrew bow to their will, Aaron rubbed his thumb reassuringly over Stella's head where she was huddled in his pocket and strode forward with far more confidence than he actually felt. He stopped several feet in front of the lioness and tried not to be intimidated by her. Logically he knew that she wasn't a fully grown lion yet, that she was an adolescent to match her human's age, but Aaron had always been uneasy around daemons who had settled into big predators. Maybe it was because his own daemon was so small and he was protective of her -- or maybe it was some deeper instinct he wasn't ready or able to interpret yet. Either way, he ended up having to keep both hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He couldn't steady both them and his voice at the same time, and he needed his voice to be steady.

"Hey,” he said -- and yes, his voice for that whole one word was very steady. Maybe even casual. Fuck yeah.

The lion, who had watched him throughout his entire approach, flicked her ears -- but he had no idea what emotion that was supposed to be.

For a moment, Aaron thought that was all he was going to get. Then he saw Andrew sigh and resolutely dog-ear the page he was on before closing the book and setting it down on the windowsill. He looked over at him, just with a flick of his eyes at first and then by turning his head. Aaron kept perfectly still and had the distinct impression he was being judged or evaluated somehow. It was really uncomfortable and also kind of annoying, but the hard stare of the other boy matched that of the lioness a bit too closely for Aaron to be willing to call him out on it just yet.

Instead, he waited, and he used the opportunity to look at his brother too. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to know him. He wanted to know what his life had been like and his favorite music. He wanted to know if he and his daemon had played the same sort of ‘what if’ games that he and Stella had growing up. He wanted to know if Andrew had always wished for a brother too, and if he’d grown up feeling like something was missing only to feel all the pieces click into place the second he found out that he had a twin. None of these were things he’d be able to learn just by looking at him, but looking was a start -- and it could tell him other things.

For one thing, he could tell that Andrew liked to read, right? There was the book he’d been reading -- it had been a thick one and he’d seemed really into reading it. He clearly didn’t like adults, since he’d ignored the big guy when he’d called out to him (though really, Aaron figured anyone in juvie probably didn’t like adults). He liked the color black..?

Look, it was a start.

Somehow, Aaron got the feeling that Andrew was able to read more on him than he was able to read on Andrew; or maybe that was just his own frustration at being able to pick out so little. Either way, it was irritating when Andrew nodded a few moments later like he’d made some sort of decision or something. Andrew looked past him then to where Uncle Luther was still speaking with the guy in charge and the casual coolness hardened into something icy with disdain.

Aaron frowned and looked over his shoulder to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything weird. He looked back at Andrew and said, “So, I’m Aaron…”

Andrew looked at him again, his expression a blank mask. “Clearly.”

Aaron’s temper arrived unannounced and uninvited, but that wasn’t altogether that strange. “I thought you wanted me to come. Isn’t that why you sent the address? If you’re just going to be a big dick about it you could have saved us both the trouble.” He snapped the words out without repent, lifting his chin and glaring down at his brother before he remembered there was a lion between them with sharp teeth and man-shredding claws.

Neither Andrew nor his lioness daemon seemed offended by his little outburst, though. If anything, Andrew looked amused. His mouth quirked a little on the side, almost like a smile -- or like, maybe he had an itch or something.

“Where’s your daemon?” he asked then, familiar-but-not hazel eyes scanning the immediate area then glancing backward toward the window. Most buildings were designed for the ease of use for both humans and their daemons, but some larger daemons preferred to stay outside but close-by rather than squeezing into tighter quarters. Larger daemons also tended to have a larger range away from their person, as well. Aaron wasn’t sure how far he could get from Stella. He honestly didn’t like the idea of her not being physically on him most of the time, so he was glad she was small enough to do so.

Aaron cupped his hand in his pocket and she cuddled into it so he could pull her out.

Andrew looked at her, then to him. “She’s cute.”

From most people, that would probably be some kind of an insult, but Aaron got the very weird sense that Andrew was being genuine. It threw him off enough that he just blinked stupidly for a moment before saying, “Uh… thanks. Yeah, she is.”

Instead of responding, Andrew stood up and strode past him. Aaron quickly stepped out of the way as the lioness rose fluidly to move with him.

“And where do you think you’re going, Andrew?” the big guy who’d showed them in said with a false lightness.

“Outside.” He looked over his shoulder then, and Aaron realized a half a second before Andrew continued speaking that he was being invited along. “My brother and I have about fourteen years of catching up to do.”

Aaron’s heart did a traitorous little leap in his chest. He looked down at where he was still holding Stella up in an open palm. She gave him an encouraging nuzzle and Aaron hid a grin as he hurried to follow his brother. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here on out -- but he was suddenly sure that no matter what, he and Stella wouldn’t be alone anymore.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #my writing #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #his dark materials au #daemon au #twinyards #wholesome twinyards #hellos #look its an au where things turn out very different and i have a lot of feelings about it ok?? #twinyardsappreciationweek

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

A Prince’s Room

Part 2

Concept by @yeet-ceit

TW: Unsympathetic Sides (Except for Roman), Perfectionism, Self-Doubt, Cursing, Arguing, Injury? (Roman gets slapped). If I missed any, pleased tell me and I will add it.

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1807

Roman wants to be perfect. No, he needs to be perfect. And part of being perfect is being a good friend. Roman loves the other sides. He loves them more than anything in the world. Even more than Disney and musical theater. His friends are the main reason why his still holding on. He doesn’t want to lose them. He can’t lose them. He won’t survive if he does.

So, to make sure he doesn’t he takes notes. He writes down ways to make sure he’s constantly improving. Any bad habits that the others point out or flaws he writes down and tries to fix. 

The lists went on and on. Hung up on the walls of his room to make sure he always remembers. And as time goes on, more and more is added to the list. Every small addition getting him one step closer to perfection.

Remember to keep your voice level normal. Don’t talk too loudly.

Stop being so dramatic, you're taking too much attention away from the others.

Don’t be too confident, it comes off as cocky and no one like someone that’s too cocky.

Don’t rant about your interest for too long it gets annoying and boring.

Don’t be selfish, no one likes a selfish person.

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

The chart came along a few months later. 

Roman had already been taking notes on how to please his friends however he decided to reorganize his notes into a chart. Each side had their own section containing list of what they liked, disliked, what cheered them up, and what upsets them.

Logan

Likes: Crofters, astrology, coffee, books, teaching, silence, human anatomy, schedules, deadlines, Thomas being productive, debating, constellations, being listened to, law, learning, classical music, poetry, Sherlock.

Dislikes: Being ignored, unnecessary emotions, sweets, dumb people, someone being too loud, childish movies, games, being behind schedule, illogical decisions, jokes, unrealistic dreams.

What makes him happy?: Stargazing, writing, meeting deadlines, winning debates, telling random facts, rapping, his onesie, reading, being left alone, being called cool, teaching.

What upsets him?: Being treated as a joke, being teased, being reminded of his mistakes, making mistakes, being ignored or overlooked, losing a debate, feeling dumb.

Patton

Likes: Cookies, drawing, cure animals, compliments, happy songs, seeing his friends happy, t.v shows, helping others, singing, dancing, playing dress up, stuffed animals, gifts, holidays, baking, sweets.

Dislikes: Screaming, loud noises, getting stuff thrown at him, blood, weapons, violence, seeing his friends injured, sad movies and stories.

What makes him happy?: Cuddles, movie nights, being showered with affection, cookies, drawing, karaoke nights, talking about his emotions, playing games with his friends, helping others, his onesie. 

What upsets him?: Seeing an animal die, seeing people in pain, being forced to grow up, seeing his friends in hurt, not being able to help someone, disappointing someone, letting Thomas down, letting his emotions control him.

Virgil

Likes: Candles, alternative music, spiders, his hoodie, Tim Burton films, My Chemical Romance, headphones, fidget cubes, staying up late, drama shows, bats, knives, collecting pins.  

Dislikes: The ocean, sudden loud noises, cheesy pop music, people that are too optimistic (except for Patton), someone being mean to his friends,

What makes him happy?: Doing makeup, painting his nails, listening to music, Patton’s baking, playing with his pet spider, meditating, watching murder myterious, watching Disney and Tim Burton movies.

What upsets him?: Being put on the spot, being called evil, being treated like an innocent kid, being called a darkside, being called a disorder rejection, talk about serious topics such as suicide and self harm. 

Remus

Likes: Gore, blood, mud, fighting, collecting weapons, deodorant, musicals, inappropriate jokes, Fleischer Studios, pranks, dancing, mythical creatures, things that glow in the dark, random t.v shows, horror movie, slime, candy, octopus, skirts, crop tops.

Dislikes: Cheesy love songs, rules, normal food aside from fast food, birds, learning, shaving, reading, romance movies/shows, backstabbers, lying, shaving cream, showers, losing fights.

What makes him happy?: Dissecting stuff, fighting, pranking others, dancing, singing, coming up with outfit ideas, punching stuff, playing with slime, reenacting horror movies, inappropriate jokes, hanging out in his trash can, being pet, Shrek, eating deodorant, someone doing his makeup.

What upsets him?: Being abandoned or left behind, being told he isn’t good enough, being compared to me, seeing Janus upset, seeing Virgil upset, being told to shave.

Janus

Like: Snakes, philosophy, Greek mythology, sewing, horror movies, mystery books, murder documentaries, self care, sleeping, warm baths, weighted blankets, debating, law.

Dislikes: The cold, when someone takes his hat, dumb comedy movies, eagles, action movies, unnecessary violence or gore, close minded people, liars, sharing secrets, being vulnerable. 

What makes hims happy?: Massages, weighted blankets, cuddling, hanging out with Remus, acting, having debates, seeing Remus and Virgil playfully argue, watching murder mysteries, singing.

What upsets him?: Being called evil, being ignored, seeing Remus or Virgil upset, Thomas not taking care of himself, being replaced, being left behind, people not understanding him, someone making fun of his scales, taking off his gloves.

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

“Come on pussy! Let’s just march into his room, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Language!” Patton quickly scolds Remus.

“What if he’s in there and he screams at us for barging in?! What if he gets really mad and chooses to get physical!? What if we see something we don’t want to!? What if he’s asleep and he get mad that we woke him up!? What if-”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupts the panicking side, “Your anxiety is causing you to catastrophize. Please, take a deep breath and try to filter out your cognitive distortion.”

The anxious side nods and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“Now, I would like to add that I personally believe that Remus’ plan isn’t the worst idea ever and is currently the best one we have.” The logical side states.

“Well, while I love to agree with Remus, he is wrong in this instance,” 

Remus smirks widely, “Awe! Thanks Jany~ You’re too generous~”

The deceitful side rolls his eyes, “Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” Virgil stands up, looking rather done with everything.

The rest of the sides stand up as well and begin to make their way to the prince’s room.

Once they make it to his door, Remus immediately just breaks the door down and lets himself in.

“Surprise!”

 They walk in, greeted only by silence.

“He isn’t here?” Patton mumbles to himself.

“Doesn’t look like it. Let’s not go then.”

The other sides nod and start making their way out. Well, everyone except for Logan. 

The logical side instead gets distracted by a paper stabled to the wall. He walks over to it and reads it to himself. Once he’s done reading his looks around the room and notices all the papers on the wall. As well, as the lack of theater and Disney merchandise.

“Wait, doesn't Roman’s room look,” He pauses to search for the right words, “Wrong?”

The other sides stop walking and looks around.

“Now that you mention it,” Remus mumbles, “His room has changed a lot since I last saw it...”

The other start reading through the endless papers of tips to improve himself and advice. 

Suddenly Patton stops in front of a chart titled “Duties”

He slowly goes over it and buy the time he is done he is fuming with rage.

“What the hell!? Guys come look at this!”

The others go over, slightly amused and concerned.

Each of them take turns analyzing the chart. 

Roman had spend his day at the Imagination. After the whole wedding accident, he’s been stuck in a very toxic place and well he thought a small guest might help. So, he left early in the morning and began his guest. He hadn’t meant to stay there for as long as he did but he lost track of time. 

“Kiddo, we have a lot to talk about,” Patton mumbles in a passive aggressive tone.

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

As the tired side starts approaching his room, he notices that all the either sides are gathered outside his room. Once he’s a bit closer, Virgil is the first to notice him. To his shock though, Virgil rushes to him and slaps him

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

Roman stands there shocked for a few minutes before looking at Patton, expecting to hear him scold Virgil. Instead however, Patton just look away from him.

“ANSWER ME!”

“I-...” Roman bites his lip to hold back the tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t understand... W-what did I do....?”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!?”

The prince-like-side flinches and looks down.

Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, "Let me handle this.”

For some reason, Roman thought that Remus would be on his side. He thought that if anyone understood what he was trying to do, it would be his brother. Or that his brother would at least explain what happened and let him tell his part of the story.

So, he looked up with a hopeful expression. 

“Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck is wrong with you!? If you think we were such a hassle then why did you stay friends with us!?”

Any hope that Roman had immediately leaves his body, “I-I... I never said that! Where is this coming?!”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, ROMAN!” Remus summons his morning star, “WE SAW THE FUCKING CHART! SO, WHAT!? WE’RE NOTHING MORE THAN “DUTIES” TO YOU!?” 

The usual confident side is now frozen in shock. They weren’t supposed to see that chart. They weren’t supposed to see his room at all. If Roman was being honest, he could understand why they took the chart the wrong way. The name of it wasn’t exactly the best but it was all he could think of while actually making it. Now though, he wished he would have pushed himself to think of a better name.

“N-No! You got it all wrong!” He is now crying, flinching away from his brother, “I was just trying to make you guys happy!”

Remus scoffs and puts his weapon away. He walks away from Roman and returns to Janus’ side.

“Whatever, Roman.”

His knees give out and he falls to the floor in defeat.

“I would greatly appreciate if you keep your distance from Patton and I from now on. If you fail to do so, I can’t exactly guarantee that I will be nice. Goodbye Roman.”

“Fucking pussy.” Remus throws out.

And just like that Logan sinks down with a crying Patton.

“And I thought I was the snake,” Janus adds, looking at him in pure disgust.

Then, they’re gone.

For a few seconds Virgil stares at the broken prince in front of him.

“You really are an idiot.”

He looks away from him and sinks down with a scoff leaving the weeping prince on the floor. 

Alone.

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

#my writing #unsympathetic light sides #unsympathetic dark sides #unsympathetic virgil #unsympathetic deceit #unsympathetic logan #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic remus #unsympathetic sides #tw perfectionism #perfectionism tw #tw cursing #cursing tw #tw arguing #arguing tw #tw self doubt #self doubt tw #tw slapping #slapping tw

[aesthbaby]

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say. 

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu- 

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your  mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers. 

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag list is open. Go like that post if you’d like to be notified when Emily content is posted.

@iamyouknow-yours @mortallythoughtfulgurl @spencerreidistoocute @vivianabakshani @garcias-batcave @davidrossiismydad @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @criminalmindsmoodrn @miidguardian-exe @thestrawberrygirl @lisztomaniacalice @aaron-hotchner187

@andreaxxg13​ 

#emily prentiss #reader x emily prentiss #agent emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #x reader #criminal minds #reader interactive #prentiss x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds au #reader insert #emily prentiss x y/n #x y/n #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds fanfic #cbs #fbi fanfic #fbi x reader #paget brewster #emily prentiss angst #female reader #male reader #gender netural reader

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright: Baby, Please

Previous: Beacon in the Night

          Jungkook stares out the window of his bedroom, snow falling lightly, the only sound, his breath, slowly in and out. His phone, volume on, twirling absently between his fingers. In the distance, he can hear the other members laughing and yelling, their conversation and dinner prep echoing. The Yoongi’s space is attempting to be filled with their joy, as if laughing twice as hard would make up for his absence. Jungkook knows soon he’ll have to go out, pretend to be fine with the situation, and eat dinner. He’ll play make believe for as long as he can, but somewhere between dinner and the first movie or round of whatever game his hyungs force him to pick, Jungkook’s mind will slip.

           As he slips, his five hyungs will turn to the only thing that loosens him up, making his sadness bite a little bit less… Christmas Karaoke. They’ll queue the tracks, mixing in group songs with power ballads, a few hip hop and R&B tunes to balance the candy-coated sugar coma of the season, and for an hour or two, Jungkook won’t be swallowed in despair. But then, your favorite song will play, an accident, they didn’t know, and you will be the only thing on his mind. The tears will flow, mixing with whatever alcoholic beverage he’s consuming, and Jungkook will disappear into his bedroom, try not to call you, and force himself into an empty slumber.

           Instead, he’s staying on his bed, watching the snow fall in increasingly larger flakes, flurries swirling and sticking softly to the ground, building upon one another to form snowbanks.

           It’s in the middle of his reverie that his phone rings, your photo popping up.

           “Honey,” He says softly, doe eyes staring into yours.

           “Hi,” You sigh, his voice always feels like a warm embrace. It’s familiar and kind, steadfast in its ability to sooth you.

           “You look beautiful,” He smiles, eyes not crinkling at the edges.

           “Thanks, you look ethereal as always,” You smile, faltering as yours refuses to reach past your cheek bones.

           “Ethereal?” His expression is quizzical.

           “Yeah, I feel like it typically describes Jimin, but that hazy snow filter you’ve got going is just making you look so… heavenly,” You shrug.

           “You’re making me blush,” Jungkook’s smile moves closer to his wide eyes, nearly reaching as his cheeks turn a soft shade of crimson.

           “What are you up to?” You ask.

           “Sitting, feeling pathetic,” He says, the hint of a smile disappearing completely. You watch as his expression completely falls.

           “Kook,” You say, sympathetic to his pain.

           “I’m trying not to be so, sad, but it’s too hard,” He runs a hand through his hair, tussling the locks to one side, his undercut on full display.

           “I’m trying too, it just fucking sucks,” You say, instinctively adjusting your ponytail.

           “We had a plan, you know? We had a plan, we had arrangements, we had so much fun last year, and I was just so excited to share this Christmas with you, here,” His words are tumbling out of him, succinctly and organized.

           “I was looking forward to it... I bought a new hat,” You offer.

           “Oh?” He asks, happy for any sliver of joy.

           “Yeah, let me get it,” You stood up quickly, showing Jungkook your mid drift and legging clad legs as you moved through your bedroom to find your new beanie.

           “Aye, what are you wearing?” He asks, staring at the space your face was just in.

           “What? It’s a long sleeve cropped athletic shirt thing,” You answer, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

           “You look so sexy,” He says, a smirk on his lips, lust flickering in his eyes.

           “Jungkook,” You gasp.

           “Y/N,” He says eyebrow cocking.

           “Isn’t my new beanie cute?” You deflect the rising tension by placing your new cashmere beanie on your head. You bobble, showing the plush toggle on top.

           “It’s very cute,” Jungkook laughs.

           “I sent a few things to you,” You say, taking your hat off and sitting back down. “And by a few, I mean two boxes…”

           “Two boxes? How big are these boxes?” Laughter was in his voice as he waits for your response.

           “They’re standard, Jungkook,” You’re a little embarrassed by the amount of humor he’s finding in this admission of your Christmas splurge.

           “Standard? Oh my god, they’re huge!” Jungkook can’t stop laughing.

           “I got carried away, okay?” Your tone is defensive and chaste, a blush in your cheeks.

           “What’s in them?” He asks, the crinkles in his eyes present as his bunny teeth part to laugh again.

           “Goodies,” You say, trying to hide your smile by glaring at him.

           “Mm, what kind of goodies?” Jungkook settles down, taking a deep breath to tuck his laughs away.  

           “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jungkook,” You respond, faux shock laced in your words.

           Jungkook rolls his eyes at your gentle scolding.

           “What’s in the boxes?” He asks again.

           “Well, something for your hyungs,” You tell him.

           “You didn’t have to,” He’s always amazed by your generosity.

           “I know, I wanted to. It’s nothing big... I don’t know if they’ll even like it. They’re all wrapped, with their names on them. And I sent a few gifts for you, one from my aunts, one from my mom, and a few from me,” You rattle off the list, which seems far longer than Jungkook thought it would be.

           “You didn’t have to get me anything,” He says, a soft smile on his lips.

           “Jungkook, it’s Christmas,” You remind him.

           “I know, but they’re just items,” His words are delicate, he knows how you feel about the holiday.

           “I put a lot of thought into them okay?” Your annoyance is clear in the way your lips punctuate okay.

           “Hey, you know I’ll love them,” His eyes are trained on you, watching as you soften.

           “And you know, some cookies that will probably be smashed or stale… and a few, other items,” You shrug, a flirtatious look in your eyes.

           “Other items?” Jungkook raises his eyebrows, smirk on his lips. Had you sent him what he hoped for?

           “Mm, oh and something for your parents and Jung-Hyun.” You nod, signally the end of your list.

           “Jagi, you’re too sweet.”        

           “I know, my thoughtfulness is unparalleled,” You shrug at the compliment.

           “As is your humility,” He chuckles.

           “You love it,” You smirk.

           “I sent you something too,” Jungkook says, leaning back against his headboard.

           “Oh?” You’re not entirely surprised, but Jungkook has a way of getting you the perfect thing that you’d never in a million years pick for yourself. Your favorite cashmere sweater, the Chanel purse you vowed to yourself you’d buy when you made any money (which frankly, you never did), your favorite winter coat, a ring with gems from your birth months, a 14k white gold necklace with his initials, a tribute you were sure was tacky, but always made you feel closer to him… a photo album filled with your most precious memories… The year he created an entire journal full of art, poems, lyrics, that reminded him of you… You wanted for nothing, and Jungkook gave you everything.

           “Yes, it should be there soon,” Jungkook’s smile begins to falter.

           “Mine will be too,” You look down, picking at the piece of paper sat on your desk.

           “You’re not going to surprise me and send you know, yourself?” He whispers, knowing the answer.

           “No, I’m not shipping myself to you,” Your voice is hollow, eyes still downcast.

           “But can you?” His voice is small, fragile, weak.

           “Honey,” You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t keep having this conversation, it hurts too much. It’s just one holiday. We spent decades without each other, can’t we make it through this?”

           “It’s been months, Y/N. I’ve tried holding back the tears, I’ve tried to sing and deck the halls with everyone, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. I miss you in my bones,” Jungkook’s free hand clutches his chest, his eyelids becoming heavy as the tears start to form.

           “I feel it too… We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other,” You admit.

          The isolation of being apart from your lover for nearly a year… a year of fear, of anxiety, of sleepless nights and terrors as the world became overwhelmed by a pandemic, and the states were thrust into another round of Black Lives Matter protests coupled with an election that could be deemed as one of, if not the most, important election on American soil. All you wanted was Jungkook. His presence, ever calming, his joy, always contagious, was what your soul craved. You spent hours on video calls and phone calls, which often devolved into video sex, any form of intimacy you could muster to tie you to one another. The promotional work of BE, paired with the success of Dynamite and their Bang Bang Con and ONE concerts, Jungkook had zero ability to even try and find his way to you, or to chart a course for you to find him.

          It wasn’t fucking possible. He knew it, you knew it, and few things had been as devastating as realizing you were going an indefinite amount of time without each other.

           “Who am I going to kiss at midnight? Jimin?” Jungkook scoffs.

           “You’re performing, there’ll be so-

           “No, it won’t be you. I’m not kissing anyone except for you and our children,” Jungkook’s remark is flippant, a call back to a conversation you’d had months ago, wherein he asked where you thought your lives were headed.

           “Jungkook!” You say, eyes wide. You’d vowed to put talk of babies or marriage on the back burner until he had an idea of when he would do military service, before 30 or after. You hadn’t caught baby fever, but with Jungkook you knew it would hit and hit hard.

           “I didn’t know I would hurt this much, if I did, fuck, I would’ve flown you out sooner or come to you-

           “Jungkook you couldn’t have come to me, and there’s no way the government would’ve let me in.” Your tone is stern, moving quickly towards your limit of heartache.

           “I don’t fucking care!” Jungkook’s tears are flowing freely. You wonder if it was possible for anyone to cry us much as the two of you have in the past ten months.

           “I miss you every second of everyday,” Jungkook’s heartache punctuates every word.

           “Write me a song,” You suggest.

           “What?”

           “Write me a song, or five, fuck an entire album. Put your anguish into music, sing for me,” Your eyes are bright with possibilities.

           “I can do that,” He says, the idea sweeping over him like a wave in the pacific.

           “I’ll be here, embroidering and puzzling my sadness away,” You offer a smile. “Might as well put it into something productive.”

           “What if it doesn’t work?” He asks.

           “It won’t, I know it won’t, but can’t we just pretend it will?” You assured.

          “It’s hard to pretend my heart isn’t breaking over and over and over again.” Jungkook wipes his eyes, slightly alarmed at the number of tears he’d produced.

           “Mine is too,” Your words were soft, almost an echo of his hurt.

           “So, just, find a way to come home. Baby, please, just, come home for Christmas.”

Next: Pretend That We’re There

#jeon jungkook #Jungkook & reader #jungkook x reader #Jungkook/you #BTS drabbles #BTS fanfic #BTS fan fic #Jungkook drabbles #Jungkook fanfic #25 days of christmas #christmas writing challenge #Christmas baby please come home #merry and bright

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

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

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

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deaky x reader #deacy x reader #angelofmydreams

[abused-sides]

Looking [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s only implied, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: Homelessness, homeless shelters, sleeping outside, paranoia, house-bound, anxiety/overwhelmed, malnourishment, let me know if i missed anything 

Genre: ??? Virgil escapes and Patton interviews him to move in 

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Wc: 2541 

A/N: I promise I’m getting to your prompts I love you guys

Virgil laid flat on his back, eyes fixed on the familiar water stain on the ceiling. 

It’d been there since he moved in, three years ago. He hadn’t noticed it right away, instead focused on exploring all the rooms, thrilled about all the space he would have. He wished the house was smaller— Wished they lived in an apartment. He certainly would have more free time. 

There were four spots in the house Virgil hid the money, and he never visited the same one too often. One was tucked inside an empty spray bottle with all of his cleaning stuff, under the kitchen sink. One was slipped between the bedspring and the mattress, on Virgil’s side. He’d never felt a lump or anything, but he was terrified his boyfriend would somehow feel it in his sleep and find the stash. 

Another was hidden in a plant pot under Virgil’s favourite window, buried under the dirt in a plastic bag. The last was tucked into Virgil’s wallet, which he hadn’t touched in three years. No need for a wallet when you don’t leave the house, and your boyfriend pays for everything with his card. 

His boyfriend had been gone for hours. He’d be gone for several more. Virgil wasn’t sure why he hadn’t left yet, why he did his daily chores and then just laid there, hoping the water stain would grow and spread and swallow the entire house. 

He wouldn’t get another chance like this. Not for years, probably. It was the exact opportunity he’d been waiting for. 

So why couldn’t he do it?

He squeezed his eyes shut as they welled with tears. He imagined his boyfriend getting home with his gifts and false compassion, imagined having to spend another several years as his property, with his dull life of cleaning and not much else. 

He pushed himself off the ground and headed for the window that looked out the front yard. He dug under the daisy growing in the pot, spilling dirt all over the immaculate carpet, ripping up its roots and petals, and grabbed the first stash. 

Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He flew through the house to grab all the money and put his backpack together, and then skidded to a stop in front of the door. He swallowed. He was going to throw up. 

He reached blindly for the coatrack, his fingers wrapping around the soft fabric of his boyfriend’s hoodie. He pulled it on and threw the door open. He didn’t think to close it as he stepped out onto the drive, almost disassociating. All he’d felt under his feet for three years was carpet and tile and hardwood. He hopped off the driveway into the grass, and then the sidewalk, and then the road. 

He took in a shuddering breath, pulled his hood up, and ducked his head as he headed for the nearest train station. 

The ticket stole most of his money, but it didn’t matter. As long as he got to the city, he would be fine. He could figure it all out from there. 

He sat alone on the train, wanting desperately to sleep but instead sitting straight up, never resting from his constant patrol. A lady sitting across from him at one point offered to buy him something to eat, but he refused. 

The train stopped in the city’s station close to midnight. Despite him saying he didn’t need any help, the lady guided his shaky self down the steps, and patted his back. 

“Where are you headed?” 

Virgil swallowed. “Um…”

“Do you… Have family in the city?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know where his parents were. 

“Here, let me see your arm.” 

Virgil was hesitant, but carefully rolled his sleeve up. The cool tip of her Sharpie scribbled over his pale skin for a moment, and when she finished, she’d mapped out the directions to a few homeless shelters. 

“They should be able to help you if you don’t have anyone else,” she said. “They can feed you, too. You should eat.”

Virgil’s face turned red. “Okay. Uh, thank- Thank you. Thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then she was on her way. 

Virgil spent the next few weeks hopping around homeless shelters. Most of them only allowed a few days’ stay at a time, and he was forced out after breakfast early in the morning. Occasionally, he had to find alternative places to sleep, resorting to behind closed stores, alleyways, fire escapes— Anything he could find and be relatively certain he wouldn’t be caught. 

Most days spent in the city were unproductive. He was overwhelmed, not sure what he wanted, what choices he even had. The stark difference of the empty house he spent three days in, the loudest sounds being traffic outside or his music, to plunging himself deep in the middle of something that was constantly alive, constantly busy, was… 

Overwhelming. 

He was at a cafe, his current favourite place in the city because they let him stay as long as he wanted and gave him free water, when he saw the ad. 

THREE ROOMMATES (MALE) LOOKING FOR FOURTH 

The three of us are currently struggling to make rent, and we have a spare bedroom. Rent would be approximately $575/month. Two of us work from home, and they’re very loud. One of them only works from home part-time. 

Attached was a phone number to call for an interview. 

Virgil asked the girl behind the counter to borrow her phone, and dialled the number with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” 

“H-Hi.” Virgil cleared his throat as his voice broke. “Um, I saw your ad?” 

“Oh! Awesome! When are you free for an interview?”

“Any time, but…” He swallowed. “I’m… I’m just a little, uh, short. I only have about $490 left. But- But if I just had a place to stay, I could-”

“Hey!” The boy sounded concerned. “Hey, hey, calm down. We can still do the interview! Everyone here is struggling, we get it. Besides, you’re our third applicant, and the other two are… Not favourable. So if you nail the interview, and we don’t get too many more applicants, I’ll try to convince my roommates. Where have you been staying?”

Virgil hesitated. “Kind of, um, all over the place. The- The shelters, mostly.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed gravely. “Okay, are you free in an hour? I’m home, so if you want to bang out the interview today, we can!” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Really? Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I can get there. Um, what’s the address?” 

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he wanted to throw up and go back to the shelter. Images of Patton laughing at him, or harassing him, or attacking him were the mildest thoughts to run through his head. 

But this was his best option. 

He knew that. 

He had to go inside. 

He took in a shuddering breath. He had to go inside. 

He walked inside. 

Virgil was afraid of elevators, so he took the stairs, only half procrastinating. Patton and his roommates lived on the fourth floor. By the time he arrived, his thighs burned and he was a little out of breath. He looked down at himself and cringed— He was so skinny, mostly just bones, and pale. He looked like he crawled out of a cave. He wore his boyfriend’s now dirty hoodie and jeans that hadn’t been washed in a week. 

How the fuck was he supposed to land this interview? 

He forced himself to push forward, though, and when he knocked, he barely heard it. The door flew open and Virgil barely managed not to jump back. The boy on the other side had golden-brown skin and big, round green eyes. His dark hair fell in messy curls over his forehead. His apron, covered in flour and cocoa powder, followed the swell of his round belly. 

“Hi!” He stuck his hand out. “Virgil? I’m Patton!” 

Virgil shook his hand with a loose grip and stepped inside when gestured. Patton pointed out the table while he hung up his apron, and Virgil nervously lowered himself into one of the old, chipped wooden chairs. Patton came to sit across from him with a warm smile and a sheet of paper. 

“Okay, so I just have a few questions!” He said cheerily. “Don’t let yourself get too nervous, this is hardly formal, I promise.” 

Virgil nodded. 

“Okay! First question: How long would you be staying?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh… I’m not- I’m not really sure. As long as possible, I guess. Until I get back on my feet and some time after that, if you all are still here.” 

Patton scribbled his answer down. “What do you like to do in your free time?” 

Virgil spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about that question. Did cleaning count as free time? No, that was basically his job. Better refer to it as such. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and stumbled out, “Well, uh, I guess- I guess I listen to music a lot. I gardened sometimes with, you know, those tiny plant boxes?” 

He gasped, and for a terrifying second, Virgil thought he’d somehow offended him. But then Patton pointed to the right, into the living room. Along the sill of the huge window were several of the exact planter boxes Virgil’s boyfriend bought for him. 

“That’s awesome!” Patton gushed. “You’d be able to help us take care of them! They die a lot. We’re planting a lot of strawberries right now, are you any good with them?”

Virgil nodded. “Y-Yeah, I grew tons of strawberries.” 

Patton grinned ear to ear and furiously scribbled some things down. Virgil relaxed a little. “How clean are you? Are you good at cleaning up after yourself?”

Virgil was nodding before he finished speaking. “Yeah, I’m really clean. I spent a lot of time cleaning before I left, so it’s, uh, pretty much habit not to leave a mess around.”

“How would you feel about a chore chart?” Patton pointed to the fridge behind Virgil. Stuck on the front was a large sheet of paper split into three columns, with the headings PATTON, LOGAN, and ROMAN. “Logan made it, and he’s pretty strict about everyone sticking to it. It basically just splits our weekly house chores down the middle, with small accommodations depending on what job everyone has. On paper, I have the least amount of chores because I work the most hours, but a lot of those are cleaning, anyway.” 

Virgil shifted nervously. Would they let him off by saying looking for a job counted towards those hours? Otherwise… He’d be doing a lot of cleaning. What if I trick myself into thinking leaving was a waste of time? 

“I can do that.” He was surprised at how confident he sounded. 

“Great! How often do you cook? No one’s required to cook a certain amount a week or anything- You don’t have to cook at all, if you don’t want to or can’t -but we eat a lot of family dinners so it’s evened itself out so far naturally.” 

“Yeah- No, I can cook. I have a few recipes pretty nailed down so, uh, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Virgil’s body was alive with adrenaline. Was he doing well? He thought he was doing well. Patton looked happier and happier with each answer, so he had to be doing well, right? 

“Along the same line, how do you feel about sharing?” Patton bit his lip. “We understand that everyone has their boundaries, but we’re all pretty close. If you moved in, someone might dip into your groceries by accident, and borrow something without asking. We’d never go into your room without asking, but, well… Yeah, we have boundary issues.” He giggled nervously. 

Tightness expanded in Virgil’s chest. “That’s fine,” he managed. 

Patton frowned. “It’s okay if you’re not. If you’re the right fit for us, we’ll just have to be more careful. You’d just have to forgive a few slip-ups while we adjust.” 

Virgil nodded and forced his voice to steady. “It’s fine. I promise.” He’d just keep everything important in his room- It’s not like he had more than a backpack’s worth right then, anyway. 

Patton nodded slowly and wrote down his answer. “Okay… Um, what’s your sleep schedule like? Roman and Logan both get up pretty early. Logan’s really quiet, but Roman’s really… Not, so if you’re a light sleeper and you sleep in like a normal person, his singing might get on your nerves.”

“I’m fine with that. I, uh, my sleep schedule’s kind of all over the place, so I don’t think it matters?”

“Okay! How has it been lately?”

“Well, uh, the shelters kick us out pretty early, so my sleep schedule probably coincides with Roman’s.” 

Patton nodded. “Do you have any pets, or plans to get any?” Virgil shook his head, and Patton made a noise of disappointment. “How often do you get drunk?”

Surprised, Virgil admitted, “I’ve never gotten drunk.” 

“Oh!” Patton blushed and laughed. “Do you plan on changing that any time soon? Was it a rule, or?” 

“It wasn’t a rule, I just… I don’t know, there was never too much alcohol around. I don’t plan on getting into the stuff, no.” 

Patton nodded and mumbled, “Good.” He straightened up. “Are you still friends with your old roommates?” 

Virgil folded his hands in his lap, squeezing tight. “No?” He stammered, “Is, uh, is that bad?”

He shook his head. “No, not necessarily! How many roommates have you had?”

“Well, there were my parents, and then my boyfriend.” 

“That’s completely understandable,” Patton promised. 

Virgil tipped his head to the side in confusion. Even the part about his parents? He didn’t assume Virgil was some ungrateful, heartless monster? 

“And, um, I’m sorry about this-” Patton looked at him guiltily, “-but I do have to ask… How would you be paying the rent? Would you be able to put down a deposit?”

Shit. Fucking hell, this was going bad fast. “I’m not really sure yet? I- I know that’s bad, I just- Uh, well, I have been looking, I promise. I’ll get the first job I can. I promise.”

Patton held his hand up with a frown. “Hey, it’s okay. I know, you’re in a rough spot right now. It’s okay. You said you’d be a little on the first month?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “I can give it to you now, though.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Uh, no, that’s okay. Please hold onto that. If we accept you as a roommate, we’ll take it then, okay? Don’t let someone pre-emptively take your money.” 

Virgil blushed. “Okay.”

Patton wrote something down, then looked up and asked, “Is there anything else I should know?” 

He thought for a moment. He was sure there was something he should tell them, something they were obligated to know before they agreed to live with him. Plenty of ideas ran through his head in his boyfriend’s voice, but for whatever reason, he didn’t think those were appropriate to voice. 

“No,” he settled on. “Not that I can think of.” 

“Okay.” Patton smiled and set the paper down. “We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

Reblogs > Asks > Likes 

Also, for anybody who isn’t aware, I have a ko-fi where I’ll write you 300 words with your prompt for one coffee 

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #moxiety #roommates au #virgil writes #abuse tw #abuse mention