#I highly recommend if you've never given them a chance

[lonicera-caprifolium]

"... What I thought was that if you-- maybe just once a year-- if we could come here at the same time, just for an hour or something, then we could pretend we were close again-- because we would be close, if you sat here and I sat just here in my world..." "Yes," he said, "as long as I live, I'll come back. Wherever I am in the world, I'll come back here--" "On Midsummer Day," she said. "At midday. As long as I live. As long as I live..."

(from Philip Pullman's The Amber Spyglass)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #his dark materials #both the books and the tv series are GORGEOUS #I highly recommend if you've never given them a chance #HDM

[nackrosor]

~Midnight Healing~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

[I highly recommend to put this song on repeat as background music. It will help set the mood.]

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, p*rn with feelings & plot, unexperienced reader, first kiss, first time, oral s*x (fem receiving), p in v, soft Ghost, slow dance, mutual pining, slight angst/comfort, Soap being the best mate, the team being supporting in their own way lmao, cap. price approved 👌🏻 summary: You're at the pub, enjoying a night out with your team. The soothing lulling music, the booze, Johnny's taunts and your own repressed feelings embolden you to invite Simon to join you in a slow dance. The dance leads to long overdue confessions which in turn lead to your first time together. word count: 12.5k. (longest one yet)

A special and huge thank you to my dear @magnoliabutters who has helped me SO MUCH. You've given me so many suggestions that inspired me to write the best possible version of this story. I probably would have given up halfway through if it wasn't for your support. I love you and appreciate you a lot. ♥️

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the counter with a thumb circling the cold rim of your half-full glass of bourbon. The soothing blues music playing in the background adds to your sense of calm, with notes vibrating through your limbs, echoing in your ribcage, and clearing your thoughts. You let yourself be lulled by the soft melancholy tune, quietly humming along and rocking your head in rhythm. 

Given your job as a task force officer, you rarely get a breather and a chance to enjoy a night out. It is a luxury for you and that is what makes it so special, a time to truly look forward to. Especially when you can share it with your brothers in arms, your family, not bonded by blood but by a profound feeling born through shared hardships and nurtured by trust, respect and understanding. One would imagine you'd prefer to spend your free nights alone or with different people, perhaps even a one-night lover, rather than with your coworkers, the very same guys you spend your entire days with, through sweat and tears, anger and frustration, and occasionally a moment of respite. This is exactly the reason why you wouldn’t dare unwind with anyone else; they are everything for you, the sole people you trust and you would gladly give your life for without hesitation. Why would you need anybody else? 

Seeing them loosen up for one night, just enough to treat themselves to a pint or a glass of whiskey is such the delight. You wouldn’t even need to chug a drink of your own to feel the tension leave your body, finally allowing yourself to relax. 

This time is no exception. Same place, same company, same feeling of being exactly where you need to be, of needing literally nothing else in the world.

"Enjoying yourself?" 

Soap's voice sounds clear in your ear and interrupts your blues-induced trance. A lazy smile greets you as you turn to look up at him. He settles down on the barstool next to you.

"Yeah… I love this music. It feels like a lullaby but instead of making me want to sleep, it makes me want to move, you know? "

"Sounds like you want to hit the dance floor! Care to give us a show?" 

"Wouldn't you like that!" 

You smirk at him, bumping your shoulder against his.

"Who wouldn’t?” he returns the nudge, playfully winking at you, “But I know someone who would particularly enjoy it, more than anybody else."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. Every time you come to the pub, you can't avoid one or two, occasionally three, drunken brash males hitting on you or simply gluing their eyes on you from afar, never stopping for the entire time you're here. You'd think that being literally surrounded by four menacing - some more than others - muscular men would prevent anyone from ever looking your way twice, especially weak-minded misogynists who don't believe a woman could take care of herself… That clearly isn't the case. Go figure! These people have no sense of shame or… self-preservation. 

"What ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude is staring at me this time?" 

A chuckle escapes him. He shakes his head as he swirls the liquid in his glass before taking a sip. 

“No ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude , just a possibly ugly dude.”

"Oh?" a wry smile takes form on your lips, "well, I could get behind that."

"He's been throwing some not-so-sneaky glances your way ever since we arrived."

"Yeah?”, you ask, taking a quick glance around the room. “Coordinates, Sergeant. Don’t leave me in the dark."

Soap's eyes glint mischievously as he subtly nods to your left, then raises his glass to his lips to take another sip and mask his grin. You follow the trajectory of his nod, gaze skimming the whole length of the counter, overlooking the serene faces of Gaz, Laswell, the captain, until it locks on a familiar pair of big dark eyes. The smirk on your lips immediately falters and your stomach flips. 

Simon is holding your gaze, seemingly unfazed, arms folded across his chest and muscles flexing under his black windbreaker. No matter how accustomed you are to seeing him in his casual attire, your heart always loses a beat whenever your eyes land on him. The way his skull balaclava hugs his face and the way the hood of his dark grey sweatshirt is all the way up, hiding his head, make his mesmerising eyes circled with black make-up even more striking and thus much more lethal to your poor weak heart. You’re so attracted to him, so infatuated… you’ve never felt this inexorable pull toward anyone before. It’s like a new form of gravity, so strong that you can’t even avert your gaze; it takes too much effort, like going against the laws of nature. 

Soap’s giggle draws you back from the trance. Your eyes dart around aimlessly for a moment before you whip around to glare at your friend.

“You’re a bastard.”

He shrugs innocently, that stupid grin of his still tugging at his lips.

"You saw it for yourself, he was staring."

"Yeah, 'cause he probably heard you or read your lips or… something."

"Right,” he says with a scoff, elongating the word. “Didn’t know superman was part of the 141…"

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes. Grabbing your glass, you bring it to your lips and savour the sensation of the cool, sweet but strong liquid flowing down your throat. As you knock the empty glass back onto the counter, you catch a glimpse of Ghost. Fortunately, this time he appears to be engaged in discussion with Price, providing you with the green light that allows your wistful gaze to linger on him, unnoticed. 

"Well, you must admit that…”, you mutter almost to yourself, eyes reverently roaming his figure, “...if anyone had superpowers in our team, it would definitely be him." 

"Heh. You certainly look at him as if he already has them."

Johnny interrupts your reveries again and you shake your head, tearing your eyes away from Simon and trying to clear your mind in the process. "Stop it. He's just, he's-" 

"He's single, for all I know." 

The sergeant shrugs again with an innocent smile as you give him the stink-eye.

"You’re a menace ."

You poke him hard in the ribs, causing him to wince and almost spill his drink. You both can’t help but laugh.

“I swear if you told him or anyone anything… I'll strangle you in your sleep.”

“Mmm, so passionate, y/n. He’s gonna love that.”

You roll your eyes again, yet can't help but smile.

Soap is your best mate; you're closer to him than the rest of the squad, which is saying a lot given how close the team is. You may or may not have let your feelings for Simon slip during a private conversation one night at the HQ while you were a little tipsy, and he's been a little shit about it since then, unwilling to let you live it down. You know it's all in good fun, there's no malice in his words, but his taunts do nothing to help you keep your feelings under control. 

“You should tell him, by the way.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Johnny…”

“I just don’t understand why you’re keeping it to yourself. You scared of getting rejected?”

You shrug, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you as you fidget with it absentmindedly. He struck a nerve. Taking the first step without being absolutely certain that your feelings are reciprocated and thus making a colossal blunder scares the shit out of you. Actually, the mere thought of taking a shot in the dark makes your stomach churn with dread. 

“Y/n, he would never turn you down. Never .”

“You don’t know that.”

Soap scoffs incredulously. “C’mon! You’ve seen the way he looks at you! There’s nothing PG-13 about it.”

He pauses for a moment waiting for your retort but when you don't give him any, he draws conspiratorially close to your ear. “Although, I guess you don’t get to hear what he says about you when it’s just us boys…”

You perk up, turning toward him with a curious and clearly hopeful look on your face. Does he know something you don’t? Or is he messing with you? You can never tell with Soap.

“W-what does he say?”

Soap grins victoriously, undoubtedly pleased with himself for catching you failing, yet again, to hide your stupid little crush. 

"Gave my word that I would keep my mouth shut..."

“Ugh!", you push him away with a hard smack on his arm, "you’re insufferable.”

“Go talk to him and find out on your own. In the unlikely case that what you fear the most happens, any of us smart boys would gladly take his place in your heart, love ."

You shake your head with a scoff, eyes drifting aimlessly to the other side of the room. Turns out, Johnny was trying to get under your skin, as per usual, however you can’t help but mull his words over.

Perhaps he's got a point, perhaps it is time to let it all out in the open and face the consequences , whatever they might be. Johnny said that Simon has talked about you with the guys. It might be nothing, but what if he really has let his own feelings slip during a conversation, just like when it happened to you with Soap? Or perhaps, he had a real heart to heart talk with his mates… 

You have your doubts, but then again why would Johnny mention that he spoke of you? Why would he try so hard to reassure you that Simon would never reject you? Why would he stress out the fact that he often gets caught staring at you? Could your friend be doing this solely for a laugh? No, Johnny is not that kind of person. He cares about you and he clearly understands how much you care about Simon. He would not give you a friendly push merely to watch you fall face first to the ground. There must be some truth behind his jokes and teasing… but are you ready to risk it all to find out? Being rejected isn't the only fear that prevents you from acting on your feelings... 

"Whatever.” You sigh at last, propping yourself up by pushing your palms against the edge of the counter. “I'm here to unwind, not get caught up in my head as usual. So… now, I’m going to dance. And, just to be clear, I'm not doing it for you or Simon or anybody other than myself."

The pointed look you give him makes Soap raise his hands in defeat, however it doesn't wipe that little smirk off his face. The glass grazes his curled up lips as he looks at you with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You'll thank me later.”

His words get lost in the rising bustle of the pub; the cacophony of voices and the clatter of glasses gets louder just as the music fills your ears the more you get away from the bar. The soothing tune comes out of two huge amps set at either side of an empty stage, and floods over you, the sole person standing in front of it. You feel a bit self-conscious at first, sensing everyone's eyes on you but you try your best to ignore them. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you focus solely on the music, allowing yourself to be transported by the slow lulling rhythm. 

Soon, you're swaying your hips in time, your feet picking up their own pattern. You don't care about how you're moving, how it may look; all you care about is letting go, setting yourself free, feeling the music pass through you, and being completely in the moment. You dance worry-free, entirely surrendering control of your body to the enthralling and sinuous voice of the electric guitar. Few things are more freeing than dancing like nobody’s watching…

The song comes to an end almost too quickly and so does the enchantment that has seized you. When you open your eyes, chancing a look around you, you immediately meet Simon’s stare. He's still sitting at the bar but now he's turned toward you, back to the polished wood of the counter, one elbow resting on its edge. Clearly he has been watching you the whole time, enjoying the show , as Soap said. You feel a thrill run through you. Perhaps it's the alcohol kicking in, perhaps those feelings pushed deep inside you are finally emerging to the surface. Or is it just the adrenaline of the dancing still holding control over your body? 

Regardless of the answer, you find yourself walking toward him; the initial notes of a new song matching your sultry and unhurried steps. He firmly holds your gaze, but you notice the shifting in his seat as you approach him with renewed confidence.

You stop when you’re right in front of him, a coy smile plays on your lips while you hold out your hand.

"Care to join me?" 

His eyes flicker to your extended palm then wander over your face, as if he's looking for a cue that would tell him whether you're joking or being serious.

"You're outta your mind, princess ."

You raise your eyebrow at the word 'princess'. He knows you don’t like to be called like that but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps using that stupid term, especially when he wants to reprimand you, putting you in your place or just to tease you and get under your skin. But there is something in the way he said it just now, an endearing nuance in his tone that combined with his thick accent makes you melt like chocolate.

"Why? You seemed really interested only a minute ago."

You tease him with a challenging look on your face while you nonchalantly tug down the zip of your biker jacket. After the dance you're feeling a bit flushed, you need to let your skin breathe. No other reason for uncovering your cleavage, right? Definitely not to draw his attention to the deep neckline of your dress. Of course not, why would you do that? 

"I was only-" 

You interrupt him, arms folding across your chest, drawing his eyes even more to the curves of your body. " Enjoying the show , right."

"No.” He counters quickly, his voice loud and clear even over the music. Doesn’t he sound a little nervous? Or are you simply imagining it? 

“I was just… glad to see this carefree side of you. It's a good look on you."

You stare into each other’s eyes, your heart thumping hard in your chest. You didn’t expect to hear him say that.

"Well…”, you bite your lip as you try to ease your racing heart, arms falling back to your sides, “...dancing is very freeing. You should try it."

"I don't think it would work for me."

"Why don't we find out?" 

Shivering just a little, you take another step forward. His head slightly cranes up so that he can keep his piercing gaze on yours. You move your hand on his wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it before giving a little pull in your direction.

"C'mon…", you give him a teasing smile as you step back, head nodding back to the space behind you, “...let’s go.”

Despite your pulling, Simon doesn’t budge a single inch, but you see him hesitate. You keep tugging at his wrist, stepping backwards, even attempting to pout, until he silently relents and stands up, letting you drag him toward the stage at last. You didn't expect him to give up. You thought you'd have to put much more effort into it, or that you'd have to be the one giving up in the end. You're genuinely surprised by the turn of events but you won't let that dent your spirit now. You've just started playing with fire and you can't help but feel the thrill of it, the excitement lighting up inside of you. 

You stop when you reach the spot you previously made your own during your solo dance and turn around to face him. He stands there, tall and motionless, the hood of his sweatshirt still on; he looks so out of place on the dance floor, the sight makes you chuckle.

"Don't worry Si, nobody would dare judge you."

"I don't care about that."

"No?"

With a smile on your face, a gaze fixed on him, you start to sway your hips in sync again. His eyes immediately flicker down to take in your movements. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he looks like a freaking pole, standing so still in front of you, not moving even one muscle. His whole focus is on you and he seems to particularly enjoy being able to watch you from the best seat in the house.

“You could move your shoulders a little bit, you know? Or even just nod your head in time with the music.”

It’s so evident that he doesn’t know what to do with his body, where to even begin. You almost feel guilty of having dragged him there, of putting him on the spot.

“Here, follow my steps.”

You pick up a simple left-to-right footwork, following the slow but steady rhythm of the drums and encourage Ghost to mirror your motions with a nod and a gentle smile. He studies you, eyes observing your body attentively, picking up every little movement you make. 

He appears quite stiff as he attempts to follow along; his bulky body doesn't seem keen to make him look as graceful on the dancefloor as it does on the battlefield. But he's trying at least, and quickly getting the hang of it.

“That’s it! You’re not half bad, Si!” 

A soft chuckle escapes you as you bite your bottom lip. Seeing him dance - or try to - makes you oddly giddy, euphoric even. It's just such a rare and bizarre thing to see that you can't help but smile wide and enjoy the moment to the fullest.

Raising your arms in the air, you swing your hips and bend your knees as you lower your body to the ground, only to raise up again, twisting your curves like a snake. The thrill of his probing stare piercing you causes you to shudder; his eyes are unwavering, admiring your every move with utmost devotion. Having his undivided attention makes you feel alive, it makes you feel special and bold. 

You take a step closer and reach out to grab both of his hands in yours, your movements mellowing to fit his laid-back rocking. His calloused hands are surprisingly soft and warm as they wrap perfectly around yours, like matching pieces of a puzzle; his touch feels comforting, stable, safe. As you look up at him, eyes locking once again, you feel your heart pound rapidly in your chest. A small smile takes form on your lips to mask the turmoil rising within you.

“This feels… nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Your heart soars upon hearing his answer, smile widening.

“I didn't know you could dance."

"I can't dance”, you correct him with a light chuckle, “I simply enjoy moving my body to the music."

"Never seen you do that before."

"Well, most of you guys don't even like listening to music, so I only get to do it when I'm on my own… which is a rare occurrence since apparently you babies can’t leave me alone for more than one minute."

You squeeze his hands playfully, a cheeky grin playing on your face. You notice his eyes crinkle lightly in response.

"You can use my office, if you want. There's enough room to… move around."

You let out a hearty laugh, head shaking softly. Your eyes lower to the floor for a moment, monitoring the way both your feet move perfectly in sync and at the same time picturing the silly image in your mind.

"You gonna sit at your desk, grumbling over your paperwork while, with music blasting in my ears, I dance like nobody’s watching right in front of you?" 

"Why not,” he says with a shrug.

His voice doesn’t betray his collected demeanour, but you know he’s smiling underneath that mask.

"Well, for one…”, you raise one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look, “I think it would get pretty distracting, rather quickly." You bring your joined hands to the level of your eyes and his chest, slowly interlacing your fingers with his. The muscles of his arms seem to tense for a moment.

"...Fair enough."

"Secondly…”, you trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his serious stare, voice losing a bit of its jovial nuance, “...people might start talking."

"Who cares."

His remark is curt and blunt, and it takes you a bit by surprise. He actually sounds as though he wouldn't care less if your coworkers were to start spreading rumours about you two possibly being... intimate. Or perhaps you're merely grasping at straws. After all, you're talking about dancing. Nothing more, right? 

"You’re telling me that you wouldn’t care what the others may think or say?" your tone is clearly hesitant this time, vulnerable even, eyes frantically searching his, "...watching us dance like this? Being this close?"

He keeps silent for a long moment, gaze boring into yours. His hands then pull on your wrists, tugging you closer to him. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, while your hands fly onto his chest for support as a surprised gasp escapes your mouth.

“How could I give a crap about them or what they think… when I have you here in my arms?”

His straightforward statement catches you off-guard, causing you to stumble upon your feet. It feels like the tables have turned. Your flirtatiousness made him take the bait and now you’re the one who doesn’t know how to act. Your boldness instantly vanishes, it’s as if you never had it in you in the first place. A tardy nervous chuckle slips out of you as you struggle to regain your synced rocking.

“You must’ve had a drink too many, huh Si?”

“Never been more lucid in my life.”

You stare deeply into his eyes, a wild-eyed look on your face, as he firmly holds your gaze. Tension soaks the air around you, you can sense it getting thicker and thicker. Suddenly, there's not a single soul in the pub but you two. Your eyes locked, bodies swaying gently together, lightly brushing against one another. Your heart thumps forcefully against your chest. 

[ 2:26 min .]

… 

I just want to get your head back, baby

Give you all the love I got, for sure

So, baby, if you've got that feeling

You know I wanna give you that midnight healing

Oh, I just want to make love to you all night long

… 

Perhaps it's merely your perception, but the music appears to get louder. The song’s lyrics are now distinctly clear; they echo in your head, tickling your mind like a subtle hint intended specifically for you.

Returning your attention to Simon, you detect a strange glint in his eyes. Did he receive the hint as well? The way his grasp on your waist tightens, palms roving over your sides and drawing you even closer to him, seems to confirm your supposition.

You both seem to lean forward, attracted like magnets, until your faces are merely inches away. The music deafens, slowly making its way into the background, providing the perfect mood for this special moment. Neither of you says a word, instead you let your eyes speak for themselves. Everything around you seems to blur into a negligible mist. Simon has you hypnotised, just as the music did, with the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. As one of his hands slides up to your neck, fingers grazing the soft hollow area just above your pulse point, a sharp shiver travels up your spine. 

The room spins around you. All of a sudden, your heart pounds hard against your chest and in your ears. You sway on your feet with fingers tugging on his jacket to keep your balance. His hands move quickly to your back, to support your body as you shift your weight on him for a moment before catching yourself. You feel hot, dizzy, and out of breath. 

"Y/n?" 

"J-just give me a moment, will you?" You say rather harshly, unable to keep the rising panic and tension out of your voice.

His concerned gaze is the last thing you see before you abruptly pull away and dash back towards the counter, mind buzzing, chest tightening. You notice Soap’s smile drop into a puzzling look as he watches you rush over but before he can ask you anything, you hear Gaz's hesitant voice coming from behind you. 

"What's going on?" 

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder, instantly meeting his perplexed look. Your actions seem to have drawn the attention of Price and Laswell, too; you find both of their gazes set on you. 

You struggle to take deep breaths, your eyes darting aimlessly from one friendly face to another while your hands clutch around the table edges, fingertips turning white. It takes all your efforts to not raise your gaze toward the dance floor and rest it on the man still standing exactly where you have just left him. 

"Nothing! It's all going great!" 

Your voice comes out higher pitched than normal but you try to mask it with the most convincing smile you can muster. 

You turn toward Johnny before you can witness the other's reactions or give them time to question your words. Your friend pierces you with a questioning look that doesn't leave room for lies. 

"I-I think I'm gonna pass out."

He immediately reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm as he slides his freshly refilled glass towards you.

"You ok? What happened?" 

Your hand shakes as you grab the drink. You rub it to your forehead, cheeks, and neck before moving it to your lips. The cool sensation of the glass against your feverish skin seems to ease your panic, even if only a little. You focus completely on the cold liquid scorching down your throat as you take a long sip. 

You gasp, pulling from the rim of the glass. "Nothing. It's just-" you take another deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut,"...it felt all-too real, all-too quickly, I guess. I'm not entirely sure. I panicked."

"Y/n," he coos softly, gently squeezing your arm, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to-" 

"But that's the point! I want it! We were so close, I mean… you saw it! If it wasn't for the mask, I’m pretty sure he would’ve leaned in for a kiss. I-I felt my heart was about to burst!” The words fall out of your mouth in a nervous rambling. “I wanted to close the distance so bad… that I fucking ran away." A deprecating chuckle escapes you, eyes rolling in disbelief. "I'm so fucking stupid!" 

Johnny squeezes your shoulder again, offering you a genuine smile.

"You are not stupid, y/n... Well, maybe just a little bit." He grins in response to your not-so-convincing glare. "Could a little more privacy help you feel better? You know there are rooms upstairs, you could always go there if you want to..."

You watch as his hand disappears inside his jacket and reappears a moment later, holding a small silver key between his fingers. He holds it out to you and you take it from him mindlessly.

Soap laughs as he detects the mute query in your stunned expression.

"I took it earlier thinking I might get lucky and use it for myself, but it looks like I’m not the lucky one tonight…"

Your gaze darts from your friend's face to the key, then back to him. Your heart starts racing again as the true meaning that small metallic object holds hits you like an unforeseen gunshot to the chest. You let out a loud groan, your hands flying to your face to hide your grimace.

"What is it now?"

"Johnny...", his name falls out of your lips in a sing-songy cry, barely audible above the music and chatter. Lips quivering both in embarrassment and fear for the confession you’re about to make. With a whisper, you share, "I've never been with anyone before... I've never even kissed anyone." You chance a look at your friend through your fingers. "What if I make a fool out of myself in front of Simon? Hell, who am I kidding? I-I already have!"

The astonished expression on Soap's face only aggravates your growing anxiety.

"Creeping Jesus! Y/n… I thought you… uhm, it’s okay-," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and shutting without emitting a single sound, at least not one that you can hear. His gaze abruptly darts to the side, focusing on something far over your shoulder before moving back to rest on you with a barely concealed alarm. "Ok, take a deep breath, he's coming over."

You only have time to curse under your breath and pull your hands away from your face before you feel a presence behind you that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

When you hear your name being called, you turn warily to face the man standing by your side, stomach twisting as you meet his inquisitive stare. You believe you can also see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, too. 

"Simon, I'm… I'm-"

"She needed some fuel, L.T.!" Soap rushes to your aid, grinning up at Ghost and smacking him on the arm - a little too hard. "She's all good now… right, y/n?" 

He gives you a quizzical look, as if he's asking whether you're ready to handle the situation on your own or if you need more time; at least, that's what you believe he’s trying to convey.

You respond with a feeble nod before your gaze shifts to Simon. You offer him your glass. "A sip?"

He stares at you intently, seemingly studying your face, his expression now unreadable. 

"No."

"A-alright, more for me..." you fake a smile and then guzzle the drink all in one go. You slam the empty glass on the counter as you suck air through your teeth, grimacing at the piercing sensation of the scorching liquor spreading inside your system. Your gaze is drawn to Soap's, and you give him a somewhat confident smile, which he returns with a little wink.

Your hand then moves on its own accord, finding Ghost's large palm and interlacing your fingers with his; the contact sends a chill up your spine. When you look up at him, a ghost of a smile appears on your lips. You're not sure what you're doing or what's going to happen, but you try not to second-guess yourself too much and risk screwing up for the second time in a row.

Taking a step back, away from the counter, you beckon him to follow you.

"Come with me…"

He does not resist your pull. He does not hesitate for even one second. He trails behind you as you lead him up the stairs and to the second floor. 

Neither of you dare utter a single word as you walk through the corridor and come to a door that matches the number on the key Soap gave you. You don't dare glance at him as you walk in, taking in the dim tavern-like atmosphere of the tiny bedroom. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the king size bed in the centre, which takes up most of the space. Your mouth goes dry. You wonder what Simon might be thinking, if the same thoughts that course through your mind are pestering him as well. 

The sound of the door being closed startles you and makes you whirl around. Your gaze immediately captures his, and you gulp under his piercing stare.

With slow heavy steps that mismatch your thundering heartbeat, he walks over to you, stopping only when he’s towering right over you, standing tall in all his imposing height. You keep your gaze levelled in front of you, unable to meet his eyes, however his fingers curl under your chin and nudge your head up, forcing you to face him. 

" Princess… " he murmurs in a low breathy tone, his voice tinged with something akin to irritation, “why are you playing little games with me?”

Your stomach flips again. Of course he’d assume you’ve been messing with him, leading him on; it’s only fair considering the odd behaviour you’ve had all night. And probably not just tonight. 

“I’m not, trust me…”

He pauses for a brief moment, his keen eyes studying your face, possibly looking for proof of your sincerity.

"You brought me here. Why ?" 

"I-I don't know…"

"You don't know?" 

You mentally reprimand yourself for your dumb answer and shake your head in an attempt to dissipate the haze that has settled over your mind.

"I mean, I know why, but-" you try to swallow but your throat is dry. The intensity of his dark eyes boring into yours causes you to stutter, "f-fuck Si, you make me so nervous I can't even think straight!"

Your voice comes out louder than intended and soaked with frustration. Your hand moves on his wrist, tugging at it to pry yourself free from his grasp, but his hold on you does not relent.

"You were dancing for all the pub to see until a minute ago, and I make you nervous?" 

"Yes! Of course! I don't give a damn about those strangers! Why should I? Besides that's not the point! You make me nervous because you are... you are-" 

You shake your head again as you let out a shuddering breath, your gaze averted from his. You know you can't really back down now. You have to tell him the truth but it's damn hard to find the right words to express exactly how you feel. And more than that, to finally find the courage to say them.

You feel like your heart is on the verge of bursting out of your chest.

"You’re someone I really care about, Simon."

His fingers squeeze your chin, urging you to look up, and when you do you notice that his eyes have softened. 

“That made you panic?”

You give him a lopsided smile, but a short-lived one, for your anxieties come tumbling back, slithering into your mind and compelling you to address them, once and for all.

"T-There's something else..."

You want to tell him that you've never been with a man before, that you've never even had your first kiss yet, and that the thought of him, the only man you’ve ever loved, desired , possibly being your first, makes you incredibly nervous and self-conscious. You really want to tell him everything and free yourself of this burden but your voice gets stuck in your throat and you gape up at him, feeling your stomach churn.

Simon waits patiently for you to speak up, his fingers still holding your chin. The soft look he offers you seems to ease your tension a little. 

"I have…”, you draw a sharp breath, "...no experience in this field , if you catch my drift...”. You mutter those few words in a small voice as your face twists into a grimace. 

Your confession hangs in the air for what feels like eternity, your heart seems to have stopped beating altogether. 

"I know."

“Wha-?!”

You are completely thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone.

"H-how? Why-" you stutter, mouth gaping, your eyes wide. How could he know? You've never told anybody, not until a few minutes ago. But he couldn't have heard you, could he? That would be impossible. 

"Is it really so fucking obvious?" 

"No.” 

In stark contrast to yours, his voice sounds cool and collected. His fingers graze your skin as they move up from your chin to your cheek. "I figured you had no idea how this worked when suddenly you’re lacking your usual confidence and turning into a bloody school-girl. It threw me off at first. I thought you didn’t want this…”

" Hell…”, your head slowly shakes in disbelief, eyes darting to the side. 

Suddenly you don’t know if you should feel relieved, ashamed or sorry for it all. Your own body chooses for you, opting for an odd mix of the three; shoulders slumping, mind buzzing, you stare into space while his words sink in. 

So he's been into you the whole time but your mixed signals, caused by your stupid anxieties, have made it look like you were not into him? Or that you were just playing with him? Seriously? What kind of shitty B-rated rom com is this? 

" So , you've never been held by a man.” Simon’s calm voice draws you back to the moment, his fingers taking hold of your chin once again. “ Blimey . Is that what makes you so nervous?" 

"Is it really not a problem for you?" you ask out of genuine curiosity, brows furrowing as your eyes meet his.

Simon’s scoff almost turns into a hearty laugh as he holds your gaze, eyes crinkling.

"No man has ever put their filthy hands on you and I should be - what? Sad? Disappointed? For God's sake, princess..."

He shakes his head, fingertips taking better hold of your jaw as he leans down.

“You and your worries…” His tone is almost scolding but playfully so, eyes studying every feature of your face. “Stop thinking so much, you numpty . It’s not good for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…”, you let out a long shuddering breath, in an attempt to let go of the lingering worry still tightening your throat, "I just… don't want to fuck this up, Si. You mean too much to me..."

He hums softly. 

Silence engulfs you. A silence tinged with renewed tension. Not the type of tension that fuels your anxieties but the kind that makes you warm inside. Soft distant notes coming from downstairs fill the room, washing over you in a soothing yet electric wave, reminding you of the dance you shared, of how close you were and the desire that was rising, burning hot, inside of you. 

Just like a magnet the attraction between you and Simon grows. 

His free hand moves on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and just like before, out of instinct, your hands land on his chest. He holds your chin high, his gaze piercing straight to your heart.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" 

You bite your lip, surprised by his forwardness, a nervous giggle shaking through you. "What kind of question is that-"

"Do you want me to kiss you, princess?" 

He asks a second time with a more serious tone that makes your nervous giddiness fade. Looking deep into his eyes, you take a long breath to ease your racing heart, or at least attempt to.

"Y-yeah, I want you to kiss me."

His hand moves over yours resting on his chest, and guides it up to his neck. 

"Pull up my mask, uncover my mouth. Only my mouth."

You stop breathing altogether, heart jumping in your throat. 

"Y-You want me to do it?" 

"Aye."

Touching his mask, pulling it up to uncover his face feels like such an intimate gesture… Your eyes roam reverently over his newly uncovered skin as your fingers gently peel up the fabric of his balaclava, until his mouth is completely exposed to your sight and you can let your adoring gaze truly linger for the first time. You’ve caught glimpses of his face before, his chin looking vaguely familiar for the few times you’ve seen Simon drink or eat in front of you and the team. But that’s all it has ever been: glimpses. You’ve never been allowed to study his clean-shaved chin and alluring mouth like you are now, from so up close.

"You have pretty lips…"

Your comment slips out of your mouth before your mind could register it and you grimace out of embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, that was-" 

Words die on your tongue as soon as you feel his hand firmly squeeze your jaw. Your eyes immediately dart to his, which bore into yours. Slowly - breathtakingly slow, he draws closer until his lips hover inches away from yours and you can feel his hot breath on your skin. You swallow dry. In a heartbeat he closes the distance, kissing you gently, softly but with a clear, barely-withheld passion. 

You respond to the kiss after a moment of stun. The contact of his lips on yours feels like a soft dream at first, one that seizes your mind in a haze and makes you walk on cloud nine, and then grows in force, as if Simon can't contain his desire any longer.

Your lips part and his tongue slips into your hot mouth, eager to explore this new territory. You moan in the kiss and meet him in a twisting dance of control. 

Every move comes surprisingly natural to you, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His hand travels down from your back to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive squeeze, then slips even lower to lift your short black dress at its edges and tug it upward just enough to expose the back of your thighs. He doesn't waste time when moving his hand onto that newly uncovered area, kneading the tight flesh there as he bends forward, causing you to arch your back and latch your hands around his neck. Bodies tucking closer. 

You take a deep breath as you slightly pull away, lips still grazing his, your hot breaths merging together. 

All the words you thought would play out in your head in such an important moment are now nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s all just a feeling of rightness between you and him. None of your fantasies could have ever prepared you for a feeling so… intoxicated. 

"Simon…", you usher in a barely audible whisper, slipping your hand under his jacket and feeling his muscles tense under your wandering touch. His lust clouded eyes search yours, his chest heaving hard, hands pressing against you and relenting a second later, as if he’s trying to restrain himself. 

"...I want you to be my first."

A guttural sound comes out of his mouth at your words, his fingers spread again on your ass cheek, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper. His gaze seems to get darker and he draws closer once more, teeth grazing your bottom lip, nibbling at it. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive."

And just like that, as if a barrier has been finally lifted, his lips crush onto yours once more but harder, hungrier than the first time. In one swift motion he yanks the biker jacket off your shoulders and tosses it on the floor. You instantly match his eagerness, returning the favour; his own windbreaker dropping at your feet. 

Before your mind can register what’s happening, you find yourself back against the wall, your shoulder blades hitting the hard surface in an audible thud. You feel your guts twist as heat starts to pool in your belly. 

Your lips are still connected, unwilling to separate. His hands dive on your hips, the thin fabric of your flared dress creases under his ravenous groping. One hand slides down, curling up the hem and slipping underneath, meeting the side of your bare upper thigh. His palm closes around it, firmly, possessively as he lifts your leg up to his hip; you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find a red mark on your skin later, nor would you be displeased. You moan in his mouth in response and let your own hands wander on his body, blindly scanning the muscles of his torso from above his sweatshirt, only to slide lower and lower, until you find its edges and curl them up. Your fingers sneak under the fabric, meeting the smooth skin of his abdomen; his muscles tense up at the teasing contact. Your palms climb up his abs, his pecks, committing the tactile sensation of every inch of his taut torso to memory. 

As you both pull away, gasping for air, you let your eyes fall to where your hands disappear under his clothes; you want to look at him, feast your hungry eyes on his naked body but before you can do it yourself, Simon grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it off his head, adding it to the rest of your discarded clothes. However, he doesn’t give you time to take his bare chest in, for he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all, walks you over to the bed and drops you on the mattress. 

Only at this moment are you allowed to let your eyes wander over the muscles of his torso, probably the only part of his body you've already had the pleasure of seeing in the past, although mostly in not so pleasant times, when he needed to be patched up. This time it's totally different. Your hungry gaze devours every inch of him, glinting in twisted pleasure when it meets the scars that you remember having tended to yourself. 

You're too eager to touch him again to keep laying there waiting. Quickly throwing your boots off the side of the bed, you crawl on your knees toward him, hands latching on the inseam of his trousers to unzip them. In the meantime he yanks his own boots off his feet and out of the way, with eyes glued to yours. 

When you're done with his zip, before you can tug his jeans down, he pushes you back on the mattress and joins you on the bed, settling himself on top of your body, knees resting at either side of your legs. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.”

The way his raspy voice breaks a little as he ushers his confession makes your stomach twist.

“Do w-what, exactly?”

His hands move on your collarbone, peeling the thin straps of your dress and your bra off your shoulders. You allow him to tug them down your chest as you look up at him with nothing but unyielding passion. His eyes wander over your freshly uncovered breasts and you can see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw setting hard. 

He takes a moment to answer, staring down at you, perhaps struggling to give voice to something that has been swirling against the recesses of his mind for quite some time. 

“Push you on a bed, pin your body under mine and… taste you.”

A sharp shiver runs up your spine at his words, heart skipping a beat. 

One of his palms closes around your breast, firmly squeezing the soft flesh, while the other lifts the skirt of your dress up to your stomach. Without missing a beat he bends down beneath your thighs and presses his mouth against your panties, just above your lower belly. 

“Oh!”

Your hips buck up on their own at the sudden stomach-churning contact. His free hand moves to rest on your upper thigh, pressing your body back against the mattress. 

"This is uncharted territory, innit?"

"I-It is, Lieutenant…", you match his playful tone even though your voice is but a mere whisper, struggling to get out in between your ragged breaths, "...nobody has yet claimed that path..."

You hear him hum in appreciation and you feel his voice too, vibrating against your core.

"Don't mind if I do."

You take a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against you again, only lower this time, teasing your most sensitive part. The thin fabric of your underwear does nothing to muffle the intense touch and yet the obstacle irritates you, you want it out of the way and Simon seems to share your feelings. Both his hands move on your hips, grabbing the hem of your panties and sliding them down and off your legs. A thrill curses through your whole body at the sight of your undies being tucked inside the back pocket of his jeans. Simon’s eyes crinkle lightly as they watch your reaction, lips curving into a smirk.

You don’t really care about them now, whether he’s planning on returning them or making you walk out of here butt naked. All your attention is drawn to the cool breath blowing against your delicate skin, turning hot only a second later as Simon leans closer, until you feel his lips meet your heat and cause you to whimper. The cloth of his mask grazing against your folds only adds to the stimulating touch.

His hot tongue swipes up your core once, twice, with hands spreading you wider for him to reach every inch of you. Another slow stripe from your entrance up to your clitoris and your body shakes in ecstasy. He latches his lips to you and starts to suck hard, swirling his tongue around your nub and dragging it up and down along your wetness. 

He said it. He wanted to taste you. And that is exactly what he’s doing, with no hesitation whatsoever, nor waste of time. You’re already a quivering mess beneath him, pathetic whines falling from your parted lips, hands closing in fists as fingers dig into the sheets. 

“F-Fuck, Simon…”

You feel his soft chuckle against you; it drives you mad. 

He shifts from his position, lips pulling away as he grabs the back of your thighs to tug you closer and pin your spread legs to your stomach. You chance a look at him through your heavy lidded eyes. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, the sight ignites a fire inside you that you’ve never felt before. The way you’re spread for him, your privateness so thoroughly exposed for the first time in your life… you thought that you’d be embarrassed, that you’d be awfully shy to show yourself like this, especially to him. You do sense a faint tightness in your stomach and a warmth spreading in your face, yet there’s another feeling prevailing over the rest. A feeling that surges from Simon himself; the way he leans back down, hands travelling up your body to grab your breasts, the way he’s devouring you like a starved man, the way he’s taking care of you, making sure to pleasure you, to make you feel good… It allows no room for awkwardness or discomfort, only a warm pervasive and soothing feeling of pure care and devotion to wash over you and envelope you whole. 

The lewd sound of his mouth working against you has long prevailed over the music and it only seems to grow in tone the more the tightening of the heat in your belly grows in intensity. You feel it coming, the high is close. Your hands fly toward him, landing on his head. You grab his mask, tug at it, feeling it slip from its place, then you freeze abruptly, as soon as you realise what you’re doing. You look down again, instantly meeting Simon’s hard stare. A strange glint passes over his eyes; he seems to ponder something for a moment then come to a final decision. In a few dismissive moves, he pulls away from you, grabs the dark fabric curled under his nose and yanks it off his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor. 

Your heart is sent into a frenzy. It no longer knows what to do; whether it should keep thundering in your heart for the intense and building pleasure or stopping altogether for the shock of what you have just witnessed. Your wide eyes wander toward him, curious and hesitant at the same time but they only catch a glimpse of his bare face before he disappears between your legs once again, latching his mouth on you even more greedily than before, possibly feeling more free in his movements without the mask impediment. You want to watch him, stare at him as he drives you to heaven but your head falls back on the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and back arching sharply as a wave of skin-crawling chills sets your entire body aflame. It is nothing like the orgasms you’ve had before, when you touch yourself. This is a new feeling; it’s intense, it goes to your head, it makes you dizzy and wordless. It makes you feel loved. 

Simon keeps moving against you, tongue curling at your entrance, gathering up the fruits of his hard work. His hands still pinning your thighs close to your stomach, fingers digging in your soft flesh as he eases your shakes. 

Your mind is still struggling to come out of the haze when your hand blindly travels down in search of him. Fingers tug at his short locks of hair, urging him to come up to meet you. He lingers a moment longer to press a soft kiss on your swollen bundle of nerves, then on your lower belly and between your breasts as he makes his ascent. Finally he faces you, eyes meeting again. 

If your body wasn't already heavily overwhelmed, the sight of his beautiful sharp features would send all your senses into overdrive. 

He looks at you so openly, dark eyes twinkling with adoration and what you can only read as vulnerability, that you find yourself unsure of how to act. 

Would this special moment turn awkward if you were to make a comment on his looks? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Removing his mask must take such an effort… you don’t want to risk making this more stressful for him. You opt for keeping your comments to yourself, at least for now. 

Instead, you let your hand rest on his face, caressing his skin, softly, slowly, as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world and you have to handle it with utmost care. You hope that by doing this you can show him and reassure him that everything is ok, nothing has changed, surely not for the worse. That you deeply appreciate the fact that he decided to let his guards down, to be vulnerable with you. That’s what you try to convey with your adoring gaze and your tender touch, and you sincerely hope it reaches him.

When you feel him lean into your touch, a content smile spreads on your face and you instinctively tilt your head up, capturing his damp lips in a passionate kiss that instantly rekindles the desire inside of you. Simon matches your eagerness, hands travelling down your body to caress, grab, squeeze, grope and tease anything he finds on his path. You do the same, mapping his muscular torso, skimming your fingers down to his navel. 

For a moment, only a moment, you hesitate to go lower as you get caught up in your head, worries threatening to hold you back again, but the way he interrupts the contact of your lips to place a trail of sloppy kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck makes your worries fade again and you slip your hand inside his unzipped jeans. You relish in hearing the guttural sound that rewards your action; it compels you to rub your hand over his boxers with more confidence, feeling his bulge with a light squeeze.

Simon hastily brings his hand to his waistband and tugs it down, his boxers receive the same treatment. Your hand now closes around his erection, giving it a few tentative strokes. He draws a sharp breath.

“ Bloody hell , princess…”

He mutters in the crook of your neck and you shiver. His reaction encourages you to increase the vigour of your movements.

“Is this ok?”

He hums softly, hips starting to buck in sync with your hand. He lets you fondle him, drag your fingers on the tip wet with precum, make him moan in pleasure as your hold around his girth tightens… then he pulls away, grabs your hand and brings it to his lips for a soft peck on its back.

You follow his movements, eyes drawn to his lips then flickering down to his cock. By the touch you assumed it was pretty big and the sight only confirms your thoughts but it shocks you anyway.

You hear him huff a laugh through his nose.

“Do you think you can take me, mh?”

Your eyes dart back to his face, meeting his amused look.

“I don’t know…”, you bite your lips, the angles of your mouth curling up in a playful smirk, “but I sure as hell ain’t gonna back down from a challenge.”

Your heart soars with joy seeing his face crack into a pleasantly surprised expression, a chuckle coming out of his mouth.

“Good girl.”

He pins you with his mesmerising gaze, bending down on you again. He leans on the side, toward the bedside table. You crane your neck to watch. His hand slips into a black smoking-bowl and comes back with a small metallic sachet. Protection. Of course. This place is well-equipped. Your curious eyes keep following his movements as he takes the condom and secures it onto his throbbing erection. You swallow as his gaze moves back on your face, your stomach starts churning again. He seems to sense your nervousness and leans down, hand grabbing your jaw, eyes piercing right into yours.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be gentle.”

You nod with a smile, then take a deep breath.

“It’s okay. I trust you, Si.”

He leans in for a quick soft kiss, hand guiding his erection between your legs, tip rubbing against your slit to coat it in your wetness. Your whole body tingles in anticipation. 

“Stop me anytime if you need to.”

He waits for your confirmation before he slides in, bit by bit, easing you to the intrusion. An instant groan comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re so fucking tight!”

Your brows furrow, your jaw sets, soft cries come out of you as he settles inside your walls but you don’t stop him. He kisses your neck, right on the spot he learned that makes you quiver the most, your hands clutched at his sides. It doesn’t take long for the nagging feeling to fade and for you to get accustomed to the sensation as your core stretches to welcome him fully.

Simon feels your body relax and starts to push into you, slowly, carefully, letting out pleased grunts of his own. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and lift them up to his waist. You latch your legs around his body, a maneuver that allows him to bury his cock deeper inside you and that causes a loud moan to erupt from you.

“G-God… That’s…”

His lips trail back from your neck to your jaw, teasingly brushing your skin, until they hover on your open mouth; his eyes take in your contorting features with a pleased smile. 

He rocks at a steady pace against you while his hands roam your body, travel up your hips, caress your breasts, skim along the shape of your arms, stopping only to let his fingers interlace with yours, and pin your hands down to the mattress, at either side of your head.

You feel your lucidity slip from you completely. No coherent words come out of you, only a nonsensical mumbling. The way he’s thrusting inside of you, so deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot at each push, it takes every fiber in your being not to scream out loud and make the whole pub know how Simon’s fucking you sensless. 

You can only focus on how you’re connected to him, how he is filling you up so beautifully, how your bodies move wonderfully together; it’s almost like a dance, a primal animalistic dance that belongs to you two only. You even have the music to accompany your dance moves, a soft sensual melody that perfectly complements your passion-imbued union of trembling bodies.

So this is how it feels to have sex? This is how it feels to be wholly consumed by lust and desire? Or could this overwhelming sensation simply be Simon’s doing? To have him make love to you?

“Y/n…”

It takes a lot of effort for you to hum back in response.

Simon’s lips crush clumsily against yours as his movements become frantic and sloppier. He must be close to reaching the high. And so are you. Your eyelids are heavy, your sight slightly blurred and unfocused.

“Si, I think I’m about to-”

He pulls away from your lips, spine straightening, piercing eyes landing on your face as one of his hands slips from yours and travels along your body, down toward your core. He deliberately rubs your slit with his palm before he picks up a hectic waving motion to stroke your swollen nub, immediately triggering a shock wave of shivers to spiral up your back. Your head spins at the additional stimuli. Your eyes squeeze shut, cries fall out of your mouth as you contort in pleasure.

You feel his other hand grab your jaw and shake it lightly, demanding your attention.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.”

You look up at him with glazed eyes, dizzy and yearning for your release. With every stroke and every thrust you lose yourself more and more into the bliss.

His hand settles on your neck, closing around your throat, not hard enough to delay your breathing but providing you with such a thrilling and wicked pressure that makes you salivate and that instantly sends heat flaring in your belly, causing your need to build faster and even more intense.

Panting hard, your hands now free, you grip onto Simon’s strong arms while you progressively lose focus on every way he’s indulging your desire, instead centring your heightened senses on the feelings he’s awakening. The last thread of restraint then finally snaps and you reach the peak, core lightening with an answering flame that you’ve never felt before. You lose yourself in the waves of pleasure overtaking you, barely taking notice of Simon’s rutting inside you once, twice, three more times before his body goes still against you and a deep groan erupts from him. Both of you anchor the other’s body, pressing together, relishing in the other’s shudders and panting breaths. You’re so flush against him that you can feel his heart, challenging your own in a speed race and then gradually slowing down.

Chest heaving, you cradle the back of his head, letting your fingers thread between the roots of his hair, while he blows his hot breath on the crook of your neck as you both ease down from your highs. The warmth of his body is comforting against yours, you never want him to let go. The rousing feeling of his cock still buried inside you, resting between your fluttering walls is one you could easily get used to. It almost takes your breath away when Simon slides out of you, leaving you bare.

His damp lips press against your boiling skin, trailing up your jaw. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, committing this idyllic moment to memory. 

His thumb gently strokes your chin, fingers resting upon your cheek. When you open your eyes, he's already looking at you with the loveliest smile you've ever seen graze his face. You return it with one of your own.

"Si..." you pause, staring deep into his eyes. There's so much you want to say, a multitude of emotions running wild and untamed inside of you that needs to be addressed and yet you struggle to find the right words to tell him how you feel.

The realisation of what has just happened downs on you. You've spent years fantasising about this moment, fearing the real thing wouldn't even come close to your idealised perfect first time. Wondering when, where, with whom you would live through this experience. You're euphoric to admit to yourself that the real thing has surpassed the fantasy by a landslide. 

"I'm... glad it was you."

It sounds silly when you say it. You could have chosen from a billion other thoughts you had swirling in your head, yet this one drowned out the rest. But as silly as it may sound, it’s the truth: you’re beyond thrilled he was your first. There’s no other man in your life that you trust, respect, and love as much as him with whom you could share such intimacy. 

You see the angle of his lips curl up to one side, the pad of his thumb softly brushing the outline of your bottom lip. 

" I'm glad it was me ."

Your face cracks as you erupt in a giggle. With your palm against his cheek, you gently push him away. "Simon..."

He smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling as he leans down again to kiss the crown of your head before drawing all the way back and getting off the bed. 

Your gaze follows him as he tosses the used condom into the trash can and pulls up his underwear and jeans. As he picks up the rest of his clothes from the floor and gets dressed again, your devoted gaze glides up and down his body, a permanent smile engraved to your lips. You feel so lucky to be able to witness such a sight… You still have a hard time believing your eyes.

“Now, who’s enjoying the show ?”

His amused glance meets yours, and you give him a sheepish smile, followed by a shrug.

"I'm just taking it all in..."

"Oh, you've already taken it all in , princess."

You let out a shocked scoff, your mouth wide open. You dismissively wave your hand in front of your face and shake your head, as you feel a crawl of heat flooding to your cheeks. 

"Oh, shut up..."

You love his sense of humour. It’s one of the qualities you like the most about him. And now that you’re… well, even closer to him, the sarcasm is only bound to get more pungent. Not that you’d complain about it.

His low chuckle fills your ears as you distract yourself by adjusting your bra and dress, then taking a seat on the side of the bed to slip your boots back on. You notice a heap of black and white fabric on the floor at your feet and bend down to pick it up. It's his balaclava.

The thought doesn’t even have time to fully form in your mind that you’re already pulling the mask over your head. Unfortunately there’s no mirror in the room to check your reflection, to see how the skull fits you but the cloth feels surprisingly nice against your skin and… you can smell his scent.

The sudden lack of rustling from behind you causes you to spin around and you find Simon staring at you, holding your jacket. He walks toward you, handing you the garment, reaching then for your face to adjust the fabric on your nose and on your chin. He stops to give you an appraising look.

"It looks better on me."

You chuckle, smacking him playfully on the chest. “Oh, c’mon… what if I want to wear one, too?”

"And hide your beautiful face? Negative.”

“Well, then…”, you pin him with a challenging look, palms pressing hard against your cheeks, securing the mask on your head. “I won’t let you hide your beautiful face, either.”

You see him softly shake his head as he huffs a chuckle through his nose. After a moment, he reaches for his back pocket and retrieves your undies, waving them high above your head. 

“What? You’ll put those on your head instead?”

You try to suppress the laugh by biting on your lips but it erupts out of you anyway, like a river in flood. The pointed look he gives you only makes it worse.

“Alright, alright…”

Still snickering, you pull on the fabric and peel it off your head, holding it out to him. 

He takes the mask from you but doesn’t let go of your undies. He puts them back in his pocket as casually as he took them out.

You scoff, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" 

“I’m keeping them, as a memento.”

You stare at him, appraising his solemn expression. If he wants them then you’ll let him have them - the fabric is ruined anyway. They're not even your favourite pair, thankfully.

“First and last time you steal something from me, Si!”

“Can’t make promises, princess.” 

Your chest swells as you try to read between the lines. It's inevitable. You can't help but wonder if he means to tell you something else. Will there be a next time, or multiple next times? Does he plan on stealing something else? Like, your heart? To be honest, he's already halfway there, but he doesn't need to know that. At least not yet. 

You keep on looking into each other's eyes for a bit longer. You think you can detect the profound fondness behind his look. Your lips curl up in a shy smile.

“Ehm… I believe we kept the guys waiting long enough." you say, breaking the silence. "We should get back downstairs."

He gives you a curt nod but instead of moving away, he draws closer to you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he leans down and angles your head to brush one more kiss against your lips. The contact is strikingly gentle and it takes your breath away. It’s a kiss infused with unspoken words of devotion, promises, feelings which are too strong to be shared so early on but that are already there, growing, blossoming. Both your hearts are gardens in bloom. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours for a lingering moment before taking a step back and disguising his face once again. 

The action saddens you but at the same time it fills your chest with pride; you're the only one who has been blessed to bask in the beauty of his seldom-seen bare face and no one else will receive such special treatment. Not today. Hopefully never. Is it selfish of you to wish that? Perhaps, but you don't care. Not when images of your lovemaking are still so fresh in your mind. Not when you can still feel the worshipping touch of his hands and tongue on your body. Certainly not when the cool, humid air of the room hits the wetness of your exposed core beneath the dress. 

You exchange a knowing look before moving towards the door and walking down the stairs together. That soothing tune, now linked with poignant core memories, floods in your ears once again, growing louder as you return to the main area and towards the bar. Your team is still at the counter, exactly where you left them... how long ago? You have no idea how much time has passed. You were too engrossed in your passion to pay attention to the outside world and its trivialities.

Johnny glances behind his shoulder just as you and Simon make a beeline toward the group. You can see his lips moving; he must be saying something to the others because they all crane their heads to look at you before returning to their drinks. Soap is the only one who whirls around, bivouacing on his seat and all over the counter like a fucking braggart as he meets your eyes and winks at you. 

Oh, he'll take yours and Simon's hookup as a personal victory, and he'll brag about it; you already know it. But you're far too happy right now to be bothered by it. Let him gloat. You're the one who got the reward, anyway. 

When you eventually make it to the bar, no one acknowledges your arrival. Nobody says anything about your absence or the dance prior to that. Their silence only serves to emphasise that they are all aware of what happened. The furtive glances they cast your way, some more mischievous than others, serve as plain confirmation. 

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we can head out." 

The captain's voice calls out to everyone as he stands up from the barstool. "Unless the two lovebirds fancy one last drink?" 

You try to ignore the appellation he used and the way your stomach flipped in response. You raise one hand and shake your head, avoiding his eyes as well as the urge to glance up at Simon. "I'm good."

A beat.

"Alright then. Off we go."

On cue, everyone gets off their seats, some knocking back their glasses, others stretching their legs. You take advantage of the shuffle to walk over to Johnny and hold out the key to him. He takes it back without a word but the sly smile playing on his face is hard to miss. You hope at least he has the decency to hold off of grilling you for deets until you’re back at the HQ.

You seem to catch a movement in your peripheral vision: Price giving Simon a firm pat on the shoulder? You’re tempted to turn your head to take a better look when a loud scoff interrupts you and draws your attention back to your best mate.

"Bloody hell, y/n! You and L.T. are not joking around!" 

Your brows furrow upon hearing his remark and when you follow the trajectory of his stunned look, your eyes widen as they meet the cloth of your undies poking out of his back pocket. You spring into action right away, grasping the exposed edge to yank it farther inside his jeans. Simon’s own hand reaches behind him to wrap around yours, fingers interlacing, as he maintains his focus on Price in front of him. Your chest swells at the gesture, heat rising in your cheeks,  but you manage to turn around and zap Johnny with a fierce glare anyway.

He makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. However, the grin he flashes you is so contagious that you find yourself returning one of your own.

It appears like you're in for a ride full of taunts, jokes, knowing looks and funny name-calling. Your mates will give you two no rest… but who gives a shit about it? Simon said it first. Why should you care? You'll take this and much worse if it means getting the chance to explore your feelings with the man of your dreams and spending many more nights out - or inside his spacious office - dancing together.

MORE STORIES 🥀

[Also consider leaving a tip here on Tumblr or buying me a ☕ if you particularly like what you read. Thank you! 🥀]

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #ghost smut #Ghost fluff #simon ghost riley fluff #cod ghost #ghost cod #call of duty: modern warfare ii #call of duty #cod mwii #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #Spotify

[about27th]

job hunt tipssssss (and lessons learnt..)

tailor your resume to each position you apply

(1) always make your employers' job easier

include only the relevant experience and keep the descriptions straightforward.. recruiters are basically just ticking boxes, make it easy for them to do so or expect them to bin your CV after a quick glance

(2) have too many part-time/work gaps?

i highly recommend using a skill-based CV than a chronological CV for this case; not only is it waaaaaaaaaay easier to prepare but also makes your experience look more put-together since you can mix & match your relevant skills.. give it a shot if you've inconsistent work history or want to have a career change; i should mention it's also a game changer for people whom English isn't the first language

(3) review your cover letter before heading to an interview

i mean you've already explained why you're a great fit for the job in the application, just take advantage of that effort and reiterate everything during the interview --- preparation done!

dont use the same answer for interviews

.. it'll definitely make you come across as average

there are 3 key and frequently asked questions you should be ready for:

(1) tell me about yourself

start with a basic introduction, followed by your previous work experience (again, making them relevant to the job) and wrap up with a glimpse of your personality -- for instance, say something like.. I see myself as an ambitious and self-motivated person (.. and how these qualities fit the job profile!)

(2) what do you know about us/ why do you want to work for us

always research the company; mention its values or services, and how they resonate with you

(3) what can you offer us/ why do you think you suit this job

highlight how your experience aligns with the job requirements; this demonstrates your dedication and preparation.. and also shows the employer what they can expect from you

i hate interviews (who doesnt?).. i believe many of us are very qualified for jobs we're interested in but often struggle to demonstrate our competence effectively; my way to make the process less agitating is to view it as a cool opportunity for employers to learn about us: it's not an exam.. rather, it's a level playing field where two or more strangers come together to mutually explore each other.

This is your chance (after putting so much effort into preparing the application) to shine and let them know you're the perfect fit for the job they're offering!

never trust the reaction of the interviewer!

some interviewers acted super affirmative to each of my responses, making me feel like i was nailing the interview.. but then i ended up getting no job; i understand the intention is to encourage interviewees during the process, but pls dont take them too seriously and get carried away

stay focused and humble instead

always reflect after each experience (exactly what i'm doing now)

it's important to reflect on your performance and seek improvement for future applications

i always discover areas that could be done better while preparing for new job applications, even though i felt that i'd already given my best for the last one

the competition is fierce but dont worry about competing with other stronger candidates (what you cant control); instead, concentrate on what you can control which is demonstrating how you're the best candidate!

always put yourself in your employer's shoes and do the homework; focus on the good and keep trying, one day all your hard work will pay off and get the job you deserve

.

(i regret so much that i didnt perform better during my interview just nw🥲i dont want the same thing to happen to you, pls take my tips and prepare as much as you cn💔)

#job search #job hunting #interview tips #interview questions #cv tips #resume tips #job interview #career tips #career #recruitment #lessons learned #good luck #get a job #be prepared #employment #jobseekers #graduate

[0perfectimperfections0]

I think it would be interesting if you'd made an au where the dolls see that they have also wronged Lou and should of given him a 2nd chance. So they now try to earn his trust. From styling his hair to how it originally was and giving him more comfortable clothing to trying to talk to him more. But it's very hard to do so because the former leader is now depressed, anxious, and jumpy. He closes himself off and vows to never trust any doll ever again.

And maybe another au where Lou is very smart and manipulative and everything goes his way.

Btw I love your fics, I've searched everywhere to find good Lou angst and you make my day. Thank you for keeping the fandom alive.

Awww, you're so sweet! I'm glad you enjoy the stories! I've also heard you've found my friend @natalie-the-writer 's account. Her stories are absolutely AMAZING! She has such amazing attention to detail and can make any scene feel so real in your imagination. If you haven't already, I HIGHLY recommend reading through all of her stories on her profile. They're awesome!

And since I've gotten an ask similar to the latter portion of your ask, this one will revolve around the former prompt. Brace yourself, this will be longer (for the first time in forever XD).

<><><><><><>

The dolls prided themselves in how fluidly everything seemed to be running at the Institute. It was like Ox had said: they didn't need Lou. From an outside perspective, everything seemed to be going about splendidly. More importantly, everyone was happy.

Moxy hummed a made-up tune to herself as she walked down the winding sidewalks of the villa. Dolls -- with happy smiles, she was pleased to note -- waved and offered their own greetings as they swept by each other. She found her best friend, Mandy, and hopped in front of the doll's path with an enlightened expression. "Hey, Mandy!"

"Hi," the female offered a small smile of her own. "Have you seen Nolan anywhere? I haven't been able to find him."

Nolan. Did she know a Nolan? There were so many dolls that it was difficult to remember all of their names. Mandy must have caught on to her perplexed face because she soon elaborated. "Has the sign around his neck? Brown hair? Green and purple eyes? Kinda tall?"

For such a specific description, Moxy would've thought herself to be quick with a revelation. Unfortunately, that description didn't fit any of the dolls she had grown to be close friends with in the past few months. "Mmm, sorry. I don't think I know a Nolan." She admitted guiltily. "But!" She swung a short leg out to proceed in the direction Mandy had been going in, "I can help you find him!" Then she would know who Nolan was and all would be splendid again.

Mandy accepted the offer silently and walked in what seemed to be an aimless direction. However, she had a specific destination in mind. Nolan had mentioned a few times in conversation about a certain doll that she'd rather not bring up in front of...well, anyone else. So, unbeknownst to Moxy, Mandy had them set toward the old wooden shed near the back of the Institute. Now that she dwelled on it, they hadn't seen Lou in quite some time.

Her theory proved fruitful when she recognized the brunette outside of the abandoned shed. Abandoned to others, not to Lou. Moxy's pace slowed down to a stop even as Mandy proceeded on. "The shed? Why would Nolan be here?" Her question wasn't answered. Mandy didn't really have a sound answer to it either.

Nolan had made his vigil just outside the closed door. He sat on the ground, knees drawn to his chest to rest his head on, and back pressed against the door. There was a plate of food set beside him. Mandy's footsteps caught his attention before he could say anything. Quickly, he put a finger to his mouth to warn her to be quiet. His eyes went to Moxy as she finally walked closer. "What are you guys doing here?" He asked, keeping his voice just above a whisper.

"Looking for you," Mandy answered. "What are you doing here?"

Nolan cast a short glance at the plate of food beside him. It had grown cold, now. "No reason. Maybe I like the peace and quiet." Mandy shook her head and sat down on the other side of the plate. She tapped a piece of bacon experimentally.

"I'm guessing this wasn't for you." Nolan didn't respond. "How many days has it been?"

"Five. Six, if you count today." Nolan sighed.

"What are we counting?" Moxy tilted her head at them.

The Pretty Dolls exchanged glances. Mandy spoke. "How many days it's been since Lou came out of the shed."

"He hasn't been cleaning?" Moxy looked taken aback.

"You haven't noticed he hasn't been around?" Nolan's eyes went a little hard at that. It was the closest to a glare Mandy had seen him pull off. Moxy stuttered out an excuse of some sort, but he brushed it off. "You two can go. He doesn't like having so many people around. It's just been me for the past week."

"How did you know he was locked up in the shed?" Moxy asked. Had she missed a sign or something? Were the other dolls talking about him? She hadn't heard a single mention of the blond since his downfall.

Nolan visibly refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he flicked at an imaginary piece of lint on his knee. "Well, he doesn't exactly have the looks to blend into the background. He stands out pretty well on his own." There was an audible bite to his tone that Mandy silently acknowledged and Moxy took no note of. "I came here the first day I noticed he was missing. The door's been locked and he put a tarp over the window to keep from anyone looking inside."

"Maybe he's plotting something," Moxy brought a hand to her chin in thought.

The brunette tried not to bristle at that comment. He closed his eyes, eyebrow raised indignantly. "Like I said, you two can leave. I've managed to get him to unlock the door and I don't need anyone undoing all that progress."

"If the door is unlocked, why don't you just go in?" Mandy blinked up at the potential entryway.

"Because I want him to be the one to open the door. This is the only place he can go without being pushed around by the other dolls -- in case you haven't noticed that either." Nolan sent a look over to Moxy. She shrunk a bit under the tone. "This is his safe place now, and I don't want to intrude on it. If I'm going to make any progress, I need him to be the one to let me in."

Moxy drummed her fingers against her side, eyeing the door that could easily be walked through. "You make it sound like he's scared or something. I'm sure he's just sitting in there pouting and refusing to carry out his punishment." Nolan's jaw clenched, but he kept his mouth shut lest any harsh words are said by him. "Let's just go in there and tell him to get back to work." She stepped up and turned the knob before Nolan or Mandy could stop her.

A concentrated form of light entered the dark room. It revealed the particles of dust floating aimlessly in the air. She waved off a few visible ones and noticed the small figure hunched in the corner of the room near the door. She had been about to say something but stopped short when she realized something was off.

Lou didn't move at all from his position despite her bombarding him. He had been seated similarly to Nolan: legs were drawn up to his chest tightly, feet angled inward, arms wrapped around them, and head resting on his knees. She couldn't see his face with the mess of tangled, blond hair draping over his arm. He seemed to have his head laying to the side, facing away from her.

Before Moxy could take a step toward him, Nolan startled her by appearing in front of her path. "You need to get out. He doesn't want to be around anyone. Especially you."

Moxy was taken aback. "Wh--What did I do?"

"Is that a serious question?" Nolan finally let himself bristle as he glared down at her.

Mandy pulled on the pink doll's arm. "Moxy, let's leave. Nolan can handle it from here."

"Handle what?" A new voice sounded behind them. Ox tilted his head at the group from outside the shed. "What are ya'll doin' here? And where's Lou been? I ain't seen 'im in almost a week."

"Huh," Nolan couldn't help but comment wryly as he looked down at Moxy again, "even Ox noticed." Moxy merely shrunk in more guilt. Perhaps she had been a little too blinded by all the smiles and positivity of the other dolls that she neglected to check in on Lou.

Ox ignored the two and stepped inside, seeing the ex-leader curled up in the corner. "Lou? What's wrong?" Nolan couldn't get a word out to tell him to step back before the bunny was in front of the doll. Ox put a paw on Lou's head to try and brush away the hair, but Lou flinched away. "Lou, talk to me."

"He doesn't want to talk," Nolan clarified sharply. "And you guys are making it worse by invading his space."

"I agree," Mandy tugged harder on Moxy's arm. "So, let's give Lou some space, Moxy." The pink doll finally relented and walked out with the Pretty Doll.

Ox didn't move from his spot. He watched Lou's hands clutch at his pants tighter. Was...he really upsetting Lou just by being here? The thought sent a sharp pain through his chest. Nolan's gaze prompted him to finally stand and part ways. He sent one last look to the doll in the corner before walking out of the shed. Nolan made a step toward the doorway until he heard rhythmic tapping from where Lou was. He paused and listened.

Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

Nolan abandoned the doorway and kneeled in front of Lou. His hand was leaning against the side of the building, tapping. Lou still didn't look up. Nolan pulled out his phone and hit the record. "One more time, Lou, please?"

Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap

The message was translated on the phone. Nolan had first heard the organized tapping a few days ago when Lou was aware of his vigil. It initially sounded like a song that Lou was tapping to the beat of, but the repetition of the taps didn't follow along to a song. It was morse code. Nolan didn't know how or when Lou had learned the cryptic language, but the translator on his phone helped them communicate. Nolan read the result:

Stay.

Just to be sure. "You want me to stay?"

A second of silence.

Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap...Tap...Tap-Tap-Tap

Nolan knew that one due to their limited "conversations" between the door. It was 'yes'.

"Okay," Nolan kept his voice soft. "Give me a minute to get them to leave." He stood and leaned out of the doorway. The others were waiting for him. "You guys go on. He wants me to stay."

"He talked to you?" Ox's ears perked up in hope.

"Sorta kinda," Nolan teetered his head with a short glance to Lou in the corner. "I'll text when I'm headed back into town. It might be a while, though, so don't wait up on me."

They hesitated to move, especially Ox. It took some coaxing from Mandy to get him to relent and walk away. Nolan didn't move from the doorway until they had walked far enough from the shed. Satisfied, he closed the door and immersed the shed back into an opaque darkness. He silently sat next to Lou in the same position he'd been in outside. No words were spoken.

#this is gonna have to be a series- #oops #uglydolls #lou #fanfiction #writing #ox #moxy #nolan #short story #mandy #ask #part 1

[aguecheek]

do you have any good resources for watching/reading some of shakespeare's works? i've been wanting to learn more about poetry and writing lately and i would love to better understand them for inspiration when i write my own stuff

(rubs my hands together) you may regret sending this question in, because I'm about to be insufferable and talk way longer than I have any right to.

First thing you need to understand is this: Shakespeare did write poetry, don't get me wrong. He wrote 154 sonnets and 4 longer poems (Venus and Adonis, A Lover's Complaint, The Rape of Lucrece, The Phoenix and the Turtle,. But reading his plays as poetry is not (in my opinion) a particularly helpful approach. Certainly, you can look at the poetic conventions he uses, and you can look at their poetry as part of the larger picture, but when academics treat his plays as if they are just poetry and not performance pieces, they miss a ton of stuff. If you're gonna read his poetry, read it like poetry. If you're gonna read his plays, read them like highly poetic plays.

Second thing: Don't read his plays. This is really hypocritical of me, since if you ask me what my favorite book is and what my favorite play is, the answer is the same both times (it's King John). But I'm serious, especially if you're just starting out--please watch them. Please go see local productions and support live theatre, or watch movie adaptations, or recordings of live plays (since Shakespeare is public domain, there's no shortage of them on youtube). His plays were never intended to be literature, they were intended to be performed. Look, he was a genius, and there is a ton of stuff you can learn from reading what he's written, but if you're really trying to understand them, you just can't do it without watching them performed first. If you watch a video, and you hear someone say something interesting, pause it and write it down, and then ctrl+f for it in the full text later, and then read the full scene to get better context for the cool line you heard. You will be able to better understand why the line works, why the scene makes sense, if you have connected to it emotionally through performance first.

Third thing: I know how tempting it is to use a "no fear" or "no sweat" translation. Believe me. But that kind of translation is not going to help you understand what's being said. Maybe it'll give you the gist of it, and I absolutely believe that students and actors and pretty much everybody should have access to those translations. But if you are a writer trying to dig into the text, a translation will not serve you. I promise you, he is speaking the same language we are. Most of the words he uses are words we know. You can look them up, if you like, but translations often lose really key factors about the text that I think are important if you are trying to get a grasp on him as a writer.

fourth thing: disregard everything I've just said to you and figure out a method that works best for you. I've already given you conflicting information. I'm just some guy on the internet who knows way too much about Shakespeare. Mostly, what I want to impress upon you is this: don't treat this like an english class. If you want to get into Shakespeare, that's fantastic. He's a genius writer, and his texts are worth getting to know. But the second you stop having fun, you've lost. His plays are about 70% sex jokes. Every time you don't understand a phrase, there's a good 50/50 chance that it's a sex joke, and I'm completely dead-faced serious about this. He wrote for the working class, his plays were written to be enjoyed by everybody who saw them, they were always meant to be fun, they were never meant to become high literature. Distancing yourself from that fun is the fastest way to lose sight of what's important in his writing.

If you're gonna watch something, I will recommend what I always recommend which is Baz Luhrman's Romeo + Juliet. Some people hate it, but I believe that it achieves what every Shakespearean movie adaptation should set out to achieve. It is fun, it is engaging, it is emotional, it is self-aware, it is heartbreakingly clever.

If you're gonna read a book about it, I'm gonna recommend This Is Shakespeare by Emma Smith. I think that Smith's book is one of the most beginner friendly Shakespeare analysis texts I've read, while still remaining intelligent and comprehensive. It covers a broad range of topics, and is so clever and thoughtful that it changed my mind several times throughout reading it.

You can read the full text of every single one of his plays online, as well as his poems. This link has all of them except the phoenix and the turtle for some reason, but you can find that one on poetryfoundation.

I don't really have a thesis statement, this is more of a word vomit. If you have any follow-up questions you can drop them in my askbox at any time, or if you just want to message me for clarification, or my opinion on something, or a conversation about what you're reading, feel free. I don't bite!

#askdrew #shakespeare tag #infodumping

[jet-bradley]

hey splatoon fans, while you're waiting for side order i highly recommend playing TRON 2.0

it's a FPS sequel to TRON that came out in 2003. it's about the now-adult son of two of the main human characters from the original TRON movie getting sucked into a virus-infected computer, and in the process of trying to disinfect the computer, he uncovers a plot from the company taking over his parents' company to use their laser technology to digitize armies of humans and take over the world.

do i have you hooked yet?

if i don't, consider this: i'm recommending it in huge part because it's largely a story about jet, the protagonist, learning to reconnect with his dad after they both lost his mom, who died in a workplace laser accident and was most likely partially digitized. the digitization laser was her own life's work. the digitization AI, MA3A, takes on lora's voice after her death (and is voiced by lora's actress from the original film), and there are workplace rumors that it's because alan incorporated the digitized portions of her remains into MA3A's code. jet spends a lot of the game defending his mom's digital/digitized ghost from external threats.

what i'm getting at is that if you're excited for side order because of how it's hinted at dealing with themes of grief in a y2k digital landscape... they're mostly subtext in TRON 2.0 but i still think the game is seriously up your alley.

if you're a splatoon fan who hasn't played many other shooter games before, TRON 2.0 is a great introduction to the PC shooter world imo. if you're squeamish about blood/gore/giblets flying everywhere, there's none of that in TRON 2.0. if you're a splatoon fan because you like shooters but you've never given TRON 2.0 a chance, this is your sign!

some pros of TRON 2.0:

it looks fucking awesome

TRON 2.0 has a very turn-of-the-century take on the aesthetics of the original TRON. it predates tron legacy by seven years and it doesn't have any of that apple-store aesthetic. it's got all the juicy colors of the original film, with lots of crisp details that the original animation hardware couldn't handle. the digital world of TRON 2.0 only gets better every year with age. meanwhile it's got a (for its time) state-of-the-art glow mechanic that gives the game a very comforting soft feel.

and these are just the ones i've got on my own PC! (the last one i dont know if it's my, screenshot but the rest are from my own screenshots folder).

it can run on basically any PC

no, fr, this required some pretty good hardware when it came out... but the game turned 20 this year. i managed to run TRON on my old laptop after it very nearly split in half like a 2ds and took half an hour to boot by using my parents' TV as a monitor. it didn't even drop that many frames! this was in 2020. it didnt even have a graphics card.

yeah i was a grown adult when that photo was taken. no i dont care that i look 13. my car had just burst an engine rod in the middle of the desert about 48 hours before this was taken, so my fit wasn't really at the top of my priorities. (don't ask.)

you can get it DRM-free

don't get the steam version y'all, i can vouch for it being super glitchy. i can basically only run it while using mods to launch it without contacting steam. get it from gog.com.

ethics note: pirate the TRON movies as much as you want but im pretty sure the original company still gets some bucks when you buy 2.0 legally, and disney fucked them over pretty bad when it comes to the rights to TRON 2.0's characters and story, and they ripped off half the plot of the game to make the movie (and the movie is worse). if you don't wanna drop $10 wait for a gog sale and drop $3. (and honestly, if you're paying $20/year to get disconnected every 15 matches in splatoon, even paying $10 for a good retro game isn't the worst financial decision you've ever made.)

#im just gonna post this and hope it makes any sense at all

[astriiformes]

any words of wisdom for someone who has to withdraw from their senior fall semester for health reasons? brain and body both decided to breakdown this semester and it's hit the point where i have to drop out. I know you have some experience with that, so... any advice?

First of all, I truly hope taking a withdrawal is very healing and helpful for you. I'm sorry it's been a rough semester and, having been there, I know how hard it is to accept that in order for things to get better you might have to make a choice that hurts in order to take care of yourself. But it's still commendable.

I don't know if your plans are to go back or not (or to wait a bit and see), but the best thing you can do for yourself is to keep in mind that, either way, there are still paths forward for you. I know that both times I had to withdraw from school, the part that proved the hardest and most dangerous for me was the fear/feeling that, in doing so, I had messed up so badly that it ruined my chances at future happiness. That, and feeling like it reflected on my value -- especially as someone who had essentially placed all my value on how good I used to be at school before then. But there are so many things we can do with our lives, and so many ways to add feelings of value to them. School is just one option.

(It's also, obviously, important to remember that "having value" is an arbitrary standard that's harmful to apply to people in the first place -- there is value just in existing, and the mindset that we all have to contribute something important to the world to justify our existence is basically a harmful social construct. We all add something just by being here, too, hard as that can be to imagine.)

I don't know where your energy level -- physical or emotional -- is going to be at, or how long your break is going to end up being, but if you want and/or feel up to something a little more actionable, I would highly recommend making yourself a list of hobbies or causes you find "valuable" in some way and that you also think add something to the world (independent of school, or academics) and to explore small ways to integrate them into your life while you rest from other obligations. Is there a type of craft you love making -- or have always wanted to learn -- that you could spend some extra time on now? A volunteer opportunity you could look into since you have more free time, that would be less stressful than school but still allow you to feel like you're doing something meaningful? A friend or group of friends you could spend more time with? Anything you feel like you would be proud of is worth investing in, because it gives you something tangible to point to when your brain starts whispering that you've "given up" on doing "important things" by taking a much-needed break.

But even if you don't feel up to that, remember that no time -- especially not time you're using to take care of yourself -- is wasted. It's easy to compare yourself to other people who got through school without needing to withdraw, but the things that shape our lives and take us places we end up being happy we journeyed to take all shapes and forms, and theirs just looks different than yours, not inherently "better." I know if I hadn't had to withdraw from school for several years, I would probably never have moved to Minnesota, where I have made so many good friends (some of whom are basically family at this point), or worked at the science museum I did, where I had the chance to educate people about topics that are super important to me and do some really fulfilling equity work, or have realized the full depth of my passion for science communication (instead of just wanting to be a scientist), which I now hope will help me do even more things I'm proud of in the future. Even now that I'm back in school, I've stumbled my way into a degree program that's a better fit for me than either of my old ones I had to pull out of ever were. And while I still have a lot of shame, and regret, and mourning tied to the fact that my life didn't go the way I originally wanted it to, every time my brain starts to play that "What if?" game, I am finding it easier and easier to turn it around and counter it by saying "Well, yes, but what if I didn't have these other things, too?"

The thing about life is that we never know what experiences we are ultimately going to be grateful figured into it. Giving up on a dream -- or even taking a break from it -- can feel like an immense tragedy, and in the moment it often feels impossible to imagine it will ever be something you overcome. I'm sure that's where you're at right now, and I know how hard it is to see the pinpricks of light in what feels like an immense, scary darkness. And even as I'm offering all this, I know that hearing "Things will still be okay and you might even find worth in this in the end" sounds like the absolute lamest possible platitude, because even knowing your life can swing upwards from here doesn't change the fact that, in the moment, it really hurts to live it! You're absolutely still allowed to be sad, and mad, and frustrated about that. You don't have to love the idea that this painful experience is the path you ended up on, at least not right now. But I am sure you will ultimately still find things that bring you joy, or that you find worth in, or new paths to go down, and slowly, those lights will get easier and easier to see, until eventually you start connecting them into constellations, where those small, individual, bright things together start to tell a story you feel better about.

You've actually caught me at a point where I've been thinking a lot recently about who I used to be and how much it's informed where I am now. And one thing I keep coming back to is that, while the idea that you have to suffer to get to places you feel proud of, or that every bad experience you have is ultimately going to have some significant meaning is, to put it lightly, a bunch of harmful, nonsense, there is one comfort I can actually take from every single awful period of my life -- which is that I am so, so grateful to the person I was for pushing past that point, no matter how much it hurt or sucked at the time, so that I could be here now. If there's anything you hang onto while you're going through this, let it be the idea that not only is there a path forward, but that there is a version of you a little further down the timeline who is going to feel so, so much compassion for what you dealt with, and be so, so grateful you did, and love you so, so much for it. I feel so much sympathy and kindness for the younger me that used to cry his eyes out over what felt like the ultimate failure -- especially after my second, more long-term withdrawal -- and while I am still carrying that hurt with me in a lot of ways, there's also something overwhelmingly soft in feeling like my existence now is the comfort he needed back then, and that in living through that pain, I ultimately gave all the things that make me happy today to.... myself. I know from my own experience that "It gets better" feels like the absolute flimsiest comfort in the moment and I feel kind of useless even offering it because I remember it being almost impossible to internalize, but I do think that "You will be grateful to yourself for getting through this pain" is a slightly realer-feeling sentiment, that acknowledges the hurt you're feeling in the moment while also promising it's not the end.

Can I leave you with a poem? Or at least, the end of one? Long-time followers will know I have a whole thing about Longfellow's writing, but one of my favorites of his ("The Light of Stars") deals pretty overtly with the idea that, while hurt still really, genuinely hurts, pushing past it is ultimately a feeling we can value, too. The two closing stanzas have been a comfort to me for a long time, and are some of my favorites in all of poetry:

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm.

O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.

#may i also add that i am losing it a little giving you this advice about inherent worth even when you're struggling with my hunter icon #so thank you for that particular unique joy #i hope you can find some things that bring you joy; too and that this ends up being exactly what you need; even if it's hard #trying to remember you can still be happy in the future while you're hurting in the present is... not always a comfort i know #but it's also pretty critical to cling to in my own experience at least #take care of yourself and know i'm rooting for you <3

[roscoe-dream]

End of the Line [ 1 ] || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: this takes place during season 6A, when Stiles is taken by the Ghost Riders. a STYDIA SCENE TURNED INTO AN STILES x READER SCENE. also, italicized text symbolizes memory.

word count: 2,426

WARNINGS: i’d say none, but some might consider angst? I don’t know how this works yet.

Inspired by this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Your heart ached as you walked through the doors. It wasn't an aching that you'd get from seeing a sad scene in a movie or seeing someone cry in public — it’s the feeling you get when you lose someone. You felt like you lost someone.

You felt lost. And you didn't know why.

Frantic. You were so frantic, tears welling in your eyes as you scanned the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School in search of your hazel-eyed best friend.

"Y/N?"

You heard him call out for you, and in that moment you didn't care if you tripped over your own two feet to get to him. You did what it took to get to him as fast you could.

The wind was picking up. The golden brown autumn leaves that tumbled from the trees were being blown by the harsh wind, your hair being whipped around your face. You didn't care. You only cared about him, only cared about being in his arms.

"You know me. Oh, thank God." He panted, hurrying you into his strong embrace. You were speechless, heart racing at the thought of being too late before he was taken. Clinging to his body, your  fists clenching into his flannel shirt.

"I know you." You managed to squeak out, mind feeling hazy.

You knew him. But it began to feel like you didn't.

Your eyes screwed shut, and you hissed in pain at the sudden pounding to your temples. Instinctively, you held your head, ignoring the stares you were given by fellow peers as your slowed your walking in the hallway.

And just as quick as it came, the headache was gone. Your eyes sprung open, and you let your gaze travel through the sea of students. Fingers tingling as well as the tip of your tongue, and you couldn't explain why. Someone was supposed to be here. But where were they?

With your brows furrowed, a look of determination settled nicely on your features. You pushed your way through the bodies, but not without looking at each one of their faces in hopes of easing the longing feeling that was only growing in the pit of your stomach.

"I think everyone else is forgetting."

Your words were weary, tears leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. Bottom lip wobbling as your grip on his flannel shirt only tightened.

The sight of you this way broke his heart, and you could see it in his whiskey colored eyes.

'Those eyes, how could I forget them?' You thought. But little did you know it was already slipping your mind.

He opened his mouth to give you as many comforting words he could before his time was up, but it was too late.

The wind picked up gradually, cold air nipping at both of your skin causing your cheeks to flush. Your clothes flapping against your body as your hair attempted to block your vision of him. So you tied it up.

Although it was blind to your eyes, it wasn't to his. He froze in your arms, a panicked look taking over his beautiful features as his eyes darted around in front of him. You could feel his breathing picking up as you held him, which caused yours to do the same.

"What is it?" You asked, no matter how badly you didn't want to ask the question — you did.

"Do you see them?" Was all he asked, his arms slipping from their hold on you as he slowly stepped back.

You took this time to look around you, only to see the dimly lit parking lot with a few cars in it. "See what?"

He whimpered at your response, and you watched as tears filled his eyes. Taking a step toward you, his large hand clasped around your wrist, gently tugging you in his direction and away from the men on the horses that only he saw. His eyes weren't on you, they were on something ahead of you — they were on them.

"Stiles," You swallowed thickly, slowly pulling your eyes away from the empty lot to his fear stricken face. "If you can see them, they're gonna.."

You couldn't finish. You didn't want to, because you knew if you did, the truth would become even more real than it already has.

Stiles finally tore his eyes away from the Ghost Riders that slowly gathered in front of the two of you, grabbing onto both of your arms firmly.

"No, I know. I know. They're coming for me."

Headache again, but what was the trigger?

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, wincing at the harsh pounding in your head. It felt as though the back of your head was being whacked with a metal bat and you couldn't get it to settle or stop.

Looking around again, nobody seemed to give you the wave of familiarity you were yearning for.

You began to grow frustrated with yourself. Why couldn't you remember who you were looking for? They must've been way too important to forget if your body is aching to find them.

But you can't fulfill your own needs.

Why? Because you don't even know who you were looking for anymore.

"You have to get away from me. Right now, okay?"

You felt your pulse begin to quicken as the hairs on your arms and back of your neck began to rise. They were here, they were close. You could feel them, but you couldn't see them.

Shaking your head at him, Stiles scoffed. Now wasn't the time to be stubborn, so he let it go. "Alright, come on. Come on!"

He began to drag you off in the direction away from the school's doors, and you didn't even care about the fact that he was pulling you so carelessly, you were tripping over your own two feet. You needed to get away.

You crashed into Stiles' body as he stopped abruptly, him seeing a single Ghost Rider at the end of the path. "This way, this way, come on." Just like that, he was pulling you back in the direction you came.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He shouted, skidding into another stop.

The tears rolling down your face were relentless, looking in multiple directions, but seeing absolutely nothing. Unlike Stiles, who had every reason to be afraid, but all he was worried about was you.

"Stiles!" You finally broke, a sob escaping your lips as you let him drag you around through the parking lot in attempt to escape. "Stiles, where are they?" You whimpered, huddling your body as close to his as possible.

He slowed his movements, panting breaths with eyes full of fear and panic as he looked around you both.

"They're everywhere."

The headaches you were beginning to feel made you feel numb. It hurt that much.

Heading to your locker, you raised your shaky hands to the combination lock that rested there, swirling in the combination.

You've never had headaches or migraines this severe, or repeatedly in one day. You never thought to keep spare Advil in your bag or locker. Glancing at the clock posted on one of the walls in the hallway, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of having a little more than 10 minutes until class started.

'Maybe the headaches would die down by then,' you thought to yourself, rummaging through your locker to put away larger textbooks only to replace them with the needed ones.

Your locker slammed shut, and you clamped the combination lock back together. Almost immediately, you turned your head to look across the emptier hallway. You looked at the set of lockers across the hall expectantly, but soon made a face of confusion. The action was almost an instinct, but nobody you knew was over there, you were met with an empty set of lockers.

"Don't look at them, Y/N, okay?"

Stiles was booking it to his powder blue jeep, hand latched with yours as he struggled to get the keys out of his back pocket. Neither of you skipped a beat when throwing yourselves into the front seats, hands reattaching almost immediately.

"Don't try to scream, they'll take you too. Do not look at them." He ordered, both of you jumping at the loud crack of lightening in the sky. However to Stiles, it was the whip of a Ghost Rider.

You shook your head rapidly. "I won't, I won't!" you assured him, heart lurching in your chest as you watched the car keys slip from his shaking grasp.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Stiles' hurried movements stopped, and instead of starting the ignition and driving out of here, he let his hand fall into his lap. "What are you doing? We need to get out of here!" You yelped, feeling your heart stop all together.

"There's no time." Was all he said.

He turned his body to face yours, using both hands to grab onto yours with need. "Y/N, I'm going to be erased, okay? Just like Alex. You're gonna forget me."

Alex. A name you didn't recognize. You knew it was the effects of the Ghost Riders, and didn't suppress the sob that left your mouth.

"No. No, I won't! I won't. I won't." You promised, your sobs escaping at every chance they could.

The only reason why you were sobbing as bad as you were, was because you were making a promise you couldn't keep. As you stared into the beautiful whiskey eyes of your best friend, as welcoming and calming as they were, they were beginning to look unfamiliar to you.

Stiles shushed your mumbles of promises by placing his larger hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. "You will." He whispered calmly, tears rolling down his own freckled cheeks as he gave you a small smile. "Just try to find some way to remember me, okay?"

Remember.

Your bottom lip trembled as you desperately grabbed onto his hands, your eyes never moving to look at anything but his own.

"Remember how you were the first person to know my real name?" He chuckled, eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of you giving him a breathless laugh at the hazy memory, soon followed by a sniffle.

Remember.

"Remember how you always liked to hold my hand in the hallways so you wouldn't get trampled, just like I'll always remember how you smile at me across the hallway from your locker." He spoke, words trembling while using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away to new set of tears.

You wept as you leaned into his slightly familiar hands, fighting with yourself to remember, but cried when you were only given a slight hazy vision.

You were forgetting.

Stiles tore his gaze away from yours quickly, before reconnecting them and sniffling. "Remember how you were the only person I talked to about my mom, Y/N. I trust you with my life." He breathed out, leaning his forehead against yours as his eyes shut.

"And I trust you with mine." You let out weakly, eyes closing as you savored the touch that, for some reason, brought you so much comfort.

Remember.

He pulled away slowly, peeling his eyes opened and you gasped. You didn't know those eyes, not one bit.

Stiles' heart shattered at the fact, he could see the scared look on your face clearly. Readjusting his grip on your face, he licked his lips nervously before speaking again."Remember... Remember that I've been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn't even realize until middle school." He chuckled humorlessly, swiping at the few stray tears that sprung from your eyes.

Remember.

You shook your head in his hold, the faint memories of your blossoming friendship since diapers flashing before your eyes. "Stiles." You wailed, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to silence your cries.

The boy's eyes flickered past you, his heart stopping at the sight of a Ghost Rider just outside your window. He released a steady breath, leaning into your face.

"And remember this."

He whispered, and before you could ask, his lips were planted on yours.

Tears rolled down each of your cheeks, merging together in the places your faces were touching. It was a whole new set of waterworks, because as he kissed you, you could feel the distant wanting of this moment. However, it was crowded by the overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity.

You pulled away, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you stared into a pair of beautiful whiskey eyes.

Remember.

The moment didn't last long at all.

Time seemed like it slowed instantly in this moment, but it hadn't at all — in fact, it happened way too quick for you to comprehend.

The door to Stiles' side opened by a large gust of wind, a Ghost Rider, and he was dragged out. You screamed, at an octave that would put a banshee to shame. Reaching out for the boy that was pulled out of the car by the wind, you choked on a sob when he disappeared with a crack of lighting.

Your arms wrapped around yourself as you pushed your body into the jeep at was slowly beginning to fade from your memory, the only word leaving your lips being 'Remember.'

You jumped at the feeling of a hand being placed on your arm, snapping out your daze to meet the concerned looks of Scott, Malia, and Lydia.

"You alright?" Scott asked softly, taking a step closer to get a good look at your face after getting a whiff of your anxious aroma.

As Scott stepped forward, Malia did too, inspecting your face with her naturally gruff expression. "People were looking at you stupid for staring at the lockers across the hall. Who are you looking for?" She asked bluntly, letting out a yelp from the whack on the arm she received from Lydia.

Despite how blunt her words were, you looked at her as tears filled your eyes. Her hard gaze softened almost immediately, feeling guilty as she thought what she said hurt your feelings.

But that wasn't it, not at all. It was the multiple painful headaches you got just from being at school for 10 minutes. It was the longing feeling you had in the pit of your stomach, the anxiousness you felt walking through the hallways because you were supposed to be with someone. You were looking for someone, but —

"I, um.. I can't remember."

#dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o’brien x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #scott mccall #malia hale #lydia martin #dylan o’brien teen wolf #teen wolf season 6 #ghost riders #riders of the storm #dylan o’brien stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o’brien fic #dylan obrien imagine #teen wolf imagine #x y/n #x reader

[aintnouseofpretending]

But My Love, This Cannot Be pt. 1

Mr M (Brian May) x Tomboy!Reader x Mr R (Roger Taylor) Time Travelling reader AU imagine

>>The continuation of Many Years Away. I strongly encourage new readers to read the previous Imagine and fully immerse yourself first before continuing because the story is escalating. Also, yes, this is a two-parter as I got too carried away explaining some details ._.

Tagging peeps that want the continuation~; @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @tini-monster

ENJOY!

Small recap; you’re a college student from twenty thirty-nine. Worked in a guitar store and as a session musician in a big recording studio near your flat. You have an odd dream of being in nineteen seventy-three and becomes May and Deacon’s best friend, which are your guitar heroes from the legendary rock band, Queen. But when you wake up, you actually have to work with Brian May. After showing your guitar and bass skills to him, he says; “Perfect. Sounds just like yesterday…”

Your days were never been more perfect than today. “Thank you, sir. You’re a very big influence on my entire career.”

“Just call me, May. We’re going to work together again anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I respect you too much to just call you like an old friend, sir.” You say, purposely ignoring the last bit of his sentence. Although you have some suspicion,

“But we are.”

“Whatever do you mean—?”

“Were you not to told me you’re from twenty thirty-nine, how would I be here? Specifically picking you? Let alone wrote ‘39? You even play, dress, and worked as a session musician, exactly like that day. It’s already impossible to forget, now it feels like we’re still in that awful studio, taping, the way you cannot seems to stop calling it. Annoyed Rog so much he throws his sticks at you. How many times was it?”

“… May?”

“You’ve missed many of our plays. John misses you, y/n. And so am I. Much more than you can imagine.”

Both of you catching up right after you got the chance to talk in private. At first, May cannot stop telling you how much he missed you, how much he cannot believe when the producer recommended you as a backup, the fact that you are indeed a time traveller. He’s trying his best to fulfil your last wish before you disintegrated; to be happy and live his life. “And to always remember you,”

You still don’t believe it, neither did he. But what for you was in a blink of an eye, for him it was almost sixty-five years. Whilst you wonder why are you time travelling, do the others know? How is Deacon? You can’t help but notice that May has been fidgeting, and when you mentioned Deacon or Taylor or Mercury, he looks a bit displeased, but he answered anyway,

“To stop the questions on your whereabouts, I simply told them that you might be too caught up in family issues and cannot come back.” At first, they’re looking for you whenever they got the time; especially Deacon, to the point that it depresses him greatly. Deacon doesn’t know you’re actually no longer existed, but May does, and it destroys him daily. Eventually, they accepted that they’re forever lost contact with you,

But things still don’t add up. How do you do that? To time travel? “You should know better than I do, May. You’re an actual scientist. Even in sixty-five years, it shouldn’t be possible to time travel yet, undoubtedly?” You wondered after both of you finally get the chance to talk again post-recording. “That’s a good question,”

He promises that the two of you will meet again to discuss it, for, unfortunately, his schedule was full this month. He said that he has dinner with his family, a birthday party; much it is to break your heart alone that you remember, he has a wife, kids, and grandkids. “Understood. Be careful on your way home, May. I will be right here,”

You pondered; do May still see you the same way? Surely he has moved on from your departure. And just thinking about that fact makes you a bit sad, how you stuck in time all by your lonesome. Why does that have to happen to you? What is actually going on? What did you do? … It was the cassette. You remembered you are listening to it before you're asleep last week, and then woke up in nineteen seventy-three. That cassette also the reason why you're back here. You’re uncertain whether you should listen to it again, but you made sure to tell May about it,

You’re still not unsure how listening to the cassette could make you travel back and forth in time. You go back to the music store from where you bought it. The clerk says that a man sold it there for a cheap price and later on the same day you buy it. The clerk—an acquaintance of yours, only knows that the man is middle-aged and since haven’t been seen. He can’t remember how the man looks, his memories are weirdly blurred when that happens. “Maybe I was hungover still. Don't tell my manager,”

After recording the next month, May inspects the cassette. He remembered that cassette, it’s Queen’s debut album after all, and one of the first few copies. He’s still quite happy when you come to him and ask him to be the first one to sign your copy. Although you never told him that Taylor was actually the one received the honour, but the bastard returns it to the sender with a note; only going sign it after you introduce him to this pretty bombshell that works in the same music store with you—the gal that already has a girlfriend. He ended up signing it from the peer-pressure given by his bandmates six months later,

“The process was unbelievably slow and painful. The hallucination becomes very vivid to the point that I might’ve been just in two different worlds at once, but stuck in the middle,” you explained. “I’m afraid I will be time travelling again if I listened to it.” “It looks like a normal cassette,” May noted, “although I haven’t seen that many cassettes for a long time. Highly probable that there’s difference cannot be seen with naked eyes,”

“Perhaps I should try and listen to it?” You suggested, “you can see how it works on me.” At first, he’s pretty much against it due to safety. But you reason that the process most likely won't escalate if you didn't tell him about it, someone that's correlated directly with the cassette You wish to gain as many information as possible to help the research later. Also to further prove that you are indeed could time travel. “My first priority will be getting this cassette to travel back here. Make it as short of a trip as possible,”

“Is that all?” He asks, but you only shrug. “Yes. I shan’t try to change things. Instead, I'll collect photographs, tapes, and some other legit proves about my existence in that year that you—or someone—could keep until exactly today. Look for more clues and blends in. Maybe there's more to this cassette when I first bought it in the seventies.” “Why?” “Because we should stop and hide this time travelling business that could potentially harm many people,"

“No. Why don’t you want to change things?”

“Why, May, I don’t belong in seven-thirties, I belong today. Before this trainwreck happens, my life is just a store clerk and a musician and a college student. Idolizing and to be like you. But you shouldn’t know about me at all; we’ve never met.”

“Yes, that’s how it is, before. But now that you have the power to change the history, why don’t you change it?”

“Why should I? What if that’s the cause in the first place? That someone has done it before and sold the cassette to forget about it, and now it happens to me? Besides, I am content with what I am today.”

“Surely?” He pleaded. That’s when you realised what he meant. There might be a huge doubt in your heart, but you have made up your mind. You know there’s no use to lie in front of the smart May, still, you did, and explained that you have no right to change things, whatever causes you to have such power. He respects your decision in the end. “What matters right now is finding how this works. We can stress about that later.” You closed the discussion,

Back to the cassette, you bought your priced vintage portable cassette player. You put on the headphone, waiting for May as he prepares the papers and pen, and making sure the camera is recording; so he can see and deduce how it works based on your reactions later. Unfortunately, by the time the music start, you passed out in an instant. When you are awake, however, you feel incredibly dizzy,

You don't remember what you've been dreaming, but it's something very real… Of someone. You promised someone that you'll buy… Something to go back? To buy them something? It's about music—perhaps a record? A cassette… It was a cassette! But for whom? And what cassette? You promised someone that you'll buy them a cassette—oh! Now you remember! You're supposed to bring your demo cassette to the new recording studio so that you can be a permanent session musician with Jordan!

You saw the clock on the wall and realised you're awfully late already! You quickly change your clothes and ran to the new recording studio. You're in so much hurry that you flung yourself out of the way of someone that's coming in your direction; nearly breaks your cassettes but magnificently hurt your own arse in the process—at least you didn't hurt whomever passerby you almost shouldered out the Earth,

“I'm so sorry! I didn't see there was someone around the corner!” A man profusely apologizing as he reached down and help gather your belongings. “Not to worry! I will be the one beaten by my boss! Have a good day, sir!” You told him whilst you put everything as fast as you can in your arm, although you can't help but notice that the man is a bit striking with his kinky brunette hair and a tall, skinny body. A familiar sight, you have to say, though you have no time to confirm it and simply continue running past his blonde girlfriend,

No matter whether the band wasn't ever here yet or to witness his glorious cracking voice, the producer took the liberty to be as loud and as merciless as he could when he yelled at you. He even pointed at your cracked cassette as you, apparently, left the good copy by the road; a disgraceful sign of the shit he and Jukebox—the band—has to listen to today. “You're lucky Jordan recommended you, or I might fire you on the spot,”

You try your best to hide the smug smile you had when Jukebox is visibly impressed by your skills, completely ignored the producer biased opinions. Despite witnessing your win, you're not ringed on the day where Jukebox supposedly taping. “Yeah. But you don't have to come. In the end, I didn’t do anything.” Jordan answered after you ask if he was ringed. That's odd. Not being ringed today… Weirdly doesn't feel right. As if you're supposed to get ringed in as a backup even though you're not doing anything. You later simply shrug it off, thinking maybe you're still quite upset the producer is so against you,

But it doesn't end there; once you did get ringed, you feel that odd tug again in the bottom of your heart. Relieved as though this indeed supposed to happen, that things are going back on track. When you've arrived, however, new curious thing hits you like a truck and tops every gut feelings you've felt these past weeks—you saw that tall man with the kinky hair again, in the studio, with his blonde girlfriend… Wait, the blue-eyed gal is a man! He's the drummer,

“They're the new band that had been using the studio past the taping schedule,” Jordan explained. “Name is Queen.” That's it! When you heard that name, you don't know why you instantly recognize them; vocalist Freddie Mercury, bassist John Deacon, drummer Roger Taylor, and… Guitarist Brian May. “You might've heard of them when we're out hanging in the clubs.” Oh, alright. Now that makes sense, but still, that fact doesn't satisfy you, there's supposed to be more to it, but again, you didn't bother…

In your mind you thought; “Alright, what the fuck is going on? Why did I have been feeling endless déjà vu since this morning?”. That reaction immediately sparked after you play both your guitar and bass since Dorian—Jukebox’s guitarist—broken his fingers from partying too hard, and the fact that Loui—the vocalist, told you to just straight up play the bass as well since you’re obviously skilled enough. And then come May and Taylor forward; they practically approach you straight up to comment on your skills after Jukebox taping is over,

That feeling like things doesn’t go right now is much clearer for you to identify; the fact that you expect May and another Queen member to came to you, but Taylor isn’t supposed to be the other one. Or that Taylor is the one that gives comment and praises your skills instead of May. Rather, May only apologizes about the previous incident and mostly listens to your answer for Taylor’s barrage of questions,

“We would like for you to watch us taping,” May insisted, desperately. “You should watch them taping, yes. They’re good.” Jordan agrees. “If the three of you said that word again, I will deck all of ya’,” shouted Taylor from behind his drum set. “What? Taping?” You received two sticks directly at your shoulder; thrown at full speed. Whilst Jordan and Deacon scolded Taylor for being rude to a woman—Taylor thought you were a guy with “uniquely progressive” fashion choice up until that point. Instead of anger, you, Taylor, and May laugh. There’s this familiar humour that tingles you and made you question why you find it funny instead of rude?

You try your best to convince yourself that you are indeed, perhaps, watched them play on a stage in one of the college gigs you attended or in any music clubs. But no. Their play is far too familiar—in a sense that as if you've been stalking them since the day they made Queen. The fact that you’re supposed to listen to them the day you’re not ringed when Jordan does makes you very upset—again for no reason; as to why you know you should have listened to them already despite finding them as familiar as the palm of your left hand, and for the fact that you think things have been nothing but a line of wrongness,

“Yeah, I really can’t. This is the third Saturday of the month, I have dinner with grandma.” You told the musicians when Jordan and May ask you to have dinner with them at the nearest pub. Jordan immediately put you into his hug that at first surprised you, but then he said; “Mate, your grandma’s been dead for two years. Let go.” “What the bloody hell are you—she’s alive!” Then it hits you. What he’s saying is right, you even remembered crying your eyes out as he hugs your shoulder. You think; “No. This is far too wrong. Something isn’t right. My mind and memory are fucking me up.”

“You’re right. Maybe that’s why I need to go home.” You resigned weakly, “have fun boys. You will be taping again tomorrow, correct? I will come and see if you don’t mind.” You could hear a subtle worried whisper asking “Is she alright?” which you presumed came from May,

Once you’ve locked the door, you quickly discard your coat away and sat on the cold floor. You try to think so very hard about the madness you’ve been through, that your stomach is swirling by itself trying to tell you what is right what is wrong without further made clear where it steers you to. Then you grab a pen and crumpled paper, write down the right-wrong things your own body trying to tell you; One, when you bumped with May and you felt like he’s your old middle school friend that lost contact with you. Two, you know that even Jordan doesn’t do anything when ringed in, but the fact you’re not even ringed upsets you greatly. Three, when you’re finally ringed; it feels so right. Four, the fact that there’s Queen and you feels like you’ve known them since their first debut gig. Five, that May and Taylor came to you and complimented your skills. And Six, your grandma. Your heart and gut declared that she’s indeed still alive, but your brain emotionlessly tells you that you attended her funeral shitfaced and simply still can’t get over it in two years straight,

After listing all of them and that particularly peculiar day ends, you decided that if you feel it again, you will investigate it further. One more to the list; Seven, the cassette. The cassette your brain trying to remember was not your demo cassette, it was something else—precisely about buying it, but for whom you still have no clue,

Since the day you met Queen, you have been watching and aid them taping. The weird feeling is gone, and you’re very grateful. You, May, and Taylor quickly becoming a best friend; you don't know why you're best friend with Taylor, though. Taylor occasionally casually chipping in—mostly because he throws his sticks at you for you seems to cannot stop using the wrong term; plays for gigs, taping for recording, at this point you continue doing it because you know it pisses him off,

“You’re going back to the campus after this, y/n?” Ask Deacon, you nodded in response. “Why, aren’t you model student? Be cool, hang with us more. Maybe you can hook with one of us.” Mocked Taylor as he sits next to Deacon. You happen to have lunch with them since they’re finally back in London after their debut album tour. “I have to be a model student for myself. Thesis incoming. That’s why I can’t help you with your next album.” You explained, completely ignoring Taylor's suggestion. “Never crossed my mind to ask you about it, but what’s your major?” May inquired. “Astro—,” you scrunch your nose as you think, “music.” You answered, finally. There it is, the weird feeling is back,

“Bri was Astrophysics. Never knew there's another major, what? Astromusic? That sounds cool. And how come you forget about it?” Taylor jokes again. “Wait, so that means you can’t tag long for our next tour?” You shake your head, continue eating. “That’s very unfortunate,” May sighed deeply, you can only shrug. "Listen to our cassettes if you miss us, love. Don’t worry, I will miss ya.” He said with a wink. Your spoon stopped mid-way as you quickly look at Taylor that’s being smacked by May and Deacon for some reason,

“What? You’ve forgotten to hook me with the shag? Don’t you want me to sign your cassette? Or you instead want to hook with me?” Your eyes widened as you dropped your spoon, which causes a confused reaction from the boys. “What cassette?” You queried, now this makes both Taylor and May shows expression of a sudden realization for something. “Didn’t you… Didn’t I say I will sign your copy of our debut cassette once you introduce me with the gal from your music store?”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t buy your debut cassette, I’m busy helping Jukebox and jamming with Jordan.” “Hold on. Wasn’t I the first one to sign it?” May adds, but just as unsure. “No?” “Bri was right! I saw him signed it with John!” Taylor nudges Deacon. The man was completely lost as to what happened with the three of you. “Y/n never come to me to sign anything.” “Exactly—,”

It’s like getting your head hit with a giant dictionary book, you finally remembered! Both your mouth and eyes were as wide as they can be. You are indeed from the future and—, “fucking shit! I forgot completely!” You screamed and jump from the chair, ran outside and to the store where you’re supposed to buy the cassette. It was almost on the other side of the city, but you’re glad you brought your bike with you,

“Have—,” you cough like crazy before you could even talk, scaring the store clerk, which are your friend. The same exact friend that sold you the cassette in the future. “What on earth is happening to you?” “The Queen! Queen debut cassette! Have you sold any?” “No—?” You immediately go to the rack. It’s there, what you assume is the same one from your first run in the past. You immediately fall down the floor, trying to calm yourself whilst inspecting the cassette; it was exactly the one you bought on the first time you’re in the past, because it’s a wee bit misprinted by half a centimetre which bothers the hell out of you, but it’s already signed when you notice it,

“You got the cassette?” Someone squatted right next to you. “May? Wait, what?” The man only nodded, “you should pay for it. Let’s talk outside,”

“I should’ve taken a taxi like you. I feel like dying,” you’re still wheezing, glad the air is much better than it was in the future. “But how?” You questioned, May folded his hands on his chest and contemplate. “I’m not sure. Do you remember when you throw yourself into the pavement just to avoid bumping that night? I have felt since then that you looked familiar. I thought you were my old school mates I might’ve forgotten. But then I remembered things we’ve done on your first time in the past—the fact that Rog said exactly the same thing despite everything was completely different… Perhaps he is affected too? But the memories of after your first disintegration was… Much more blurry. Same with when before you’re disintegrated in front of my eyes in twenty thirty-nine. I think my brain thought it was false memories and simply decided they're not important,”

As interesting as they sound, unfortunately, you really can’t be bothered about that much, so you told him to write it down. Now your objectives are to get as many proofs as you can and May will keep them safe until twenty thirty-nine, and go back to the future. “I’m terribly sorry that you have to go through another sixty-five years whilst I can travel back and forth as if the year thirty-nine was in Wales.” “About that, uhh... Should we really hurry?”

“May. Don’t. I have made up my mind. It’s far too dangerous if this fall on someone else’s hand. God knows they have certain things in mind on how to use this.” He closed his eyes and nods, “thank you.” He catches your arm. “Why I’m back here too is perhaps because I listened to the cassette. It was a week after you’re gone, and you haven’t come back. I was worried and helpless. Please understand.” “Well, at least there’s a silver lining to it—that you don’t have to live another sixty-five years to got to thirty-nine! And I’m awfully glad that I know I’m no longer have to do this alone,”

Both you and May bought a Polaroid camera and cassette recorder. The two of you jams together and taped the session, take pictures with the band and Jordan and Jukebox. In your flat, as you put the “proofs” of your existence in 1973, you saw the pic of you with May, Freddie, and Taylor jamming, the one that Deacon took. Something inside of you crumbles. “What happened, y/n? Are you okay?” You didn’t notice you’ve shed tears and it falls on the picture. “No. Nothing happened,”

May sat next to you and grab your hand. You stared at his hazel eyes. “I will miss you and Taylor. I will miss everyone living in this year.” You whisper as you hug him. “You’re a dear friend of mine.” You tighten your hug, and he does the same. You let go and wipe your tears. Before May could say anything you both will regret, you cut him, “we will study this cassette. Promise me you will.” He reaches for your hand one last time, give it a quick squeeze before he stands up and sits somewhere else,

“Ready?” He asks. You nodded. Your eyes never leave his, same goes for him. You both took a deep breath when he clicked the play button...

To be continued...

#queen imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #queen band #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #brian may x reader #brian may x reader x roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #tomboy!reader #time traveller au #alternate universe #brian may #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #gwilym lee #ben hardy #joe mazzello #rami malek #bohemian rhapsody movie