#n guess we will see if the other queer stuff gets to stay in. was kind of psyched to see super normalised polyamory and queerplatonic stuff

[squiddlysquoo]

Just heard the news about the Murderbot tv show. I suppose the books will always be there !

#Murderbot #murderbot tv show #like not the throw up or anything but some white dude buying the rights and casting himself as the star. get fucked #at least I can stop worrying about it now. solidly fallen on the ‘it’s gonna suck shit’ side of things #I’ll probably pirate it to see what the fuck they did when it comes out but tbh. kind of fine with it. passed thru all stages of grief at on #at once #I guess we’ll see if this dude is willing to go by it/its pronouns and be normal about it or if we r gonna get a wonderful he/ham situation #n guess we will see if the other queer stuff gets to stay in. was kind of psyched to see super normalised polyamory and queerplatonic stuff #in tv #but yknow. we will see if it makes it to the screen lmao #that persons cis woman ART casting horror theory looking more and more likely by the day

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 

“But if she does…” 

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

#lunalovecroftstropechallenge #cw language #cw kissing #cw polyphobia #cwhomophobia #george weasley #fred weasley #molly weasley #ginny weasley #fred and george #gred and forge #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley x y/n #weasley #ron weasley #fred and george imagine #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #fred weasley fic #george weasley fic #fred and george fic #weasley twins fic #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert

[cockroachmotherfucker10]

PRIDEFALL UPDATE: real or fake?

What is Pridefall?

Operation Pridefall, also known as Project Pridefall or simply Pridefall, refers to an attack planned by /pol/ (a political discussion board on the anonymous website 4chan) for all of June, AKA Pride month. The original 4chan thread, which has since been deleted, was primarily focused on “redpilling,” i.e. spreading queerphobic propaganda to make people question the LGBTQ+ community. However, now that it has spread outside 4chan, there are threats of harassing, doxxing, and outing queer people (especially minors) on social media, spamming gore and rape videos in private messages and Pride tags, and even kidnapping, assaulting, or killing queer people in real life.

Specific targets include Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and dating apps. The goal is to go after smaller accounts so the queerphobia isn’t lost in the comments.

Is Pridefall real?

Yes and no.

I searched “pridefall” on 4chan last night. Apparently any new threads on it are being deleted, and anytime someone mentions it, everyone calls them slurs and says no one is doing it.

However, Pridefall is gaining some traction on Instagram--I have seen it for myself. I don’t have TikTok or any dating apps, but I’ve heard that some people are spamming homophobia on TikTok. As for Twitter, I only looked briefly, but I saw some Pridefall accounts there, as well as a lot of warnings and blocklists from people who are worried about it.

I’ve also heard that there have been a few Reddit and Discord raids, and that there is an Operation Pridefall Discord server (someone who spied on them says they have been banned on Discord as well as a platform called Riot before, so very few people are left on the Discord server now).

What do you think, Lia?

This is not coming from 4chan. No one on 4chan is interested anymore.

Most likely, people outside of 4chan heard about it and decided to take matters into their own hands.

The original 4chan thread wanted to make Pridefall “normie-palatable” by avoiding Nazi imagery or other overt unpleasantness, but I have seen a LOT of both on Instagram. This reinforces my belief that 4chan isn’t doing this.

A lot of the people behind this are young, or at least unsophisticated. Most of the Pridefall accounts on Instagram engage in very childish trolling, and one of them said they were a minor. Some of the threats I’ve seen are so outlandish that I can only imagine they came from a fairly young person.

My guess? Most of these people are around 13-19.

There are also very few of them and some of them probably have multiple accounts. Anti-Pridefall accounts outnumber them by far.

However, on Instagram I’ve seen Pridefall accounts following each other and commenting on each other’s posts, so there may be a few groups working together.

A lot of this shit is going to get deleted. I know Instagram is working through reports very slowly right now because they have fewer people available due to COVID-19, but most of the worst accounts I saw last night were deleted by this morning. I saw some more accounts deleted today.

Most, if not all, of these Pridefallers are just trying to scare us. Because they’re probably quite young, there’s very few of them, their accounts keep getting deleted, and law enforcement can track online activity, there is no way they have the balls or resources needed to coordinate major attacks.

There is a very, very slight chance this could spill over into real life, but as long as you practice basic online safety, you will be fine.

That being said, if you are threatened or doxxed by a Pridefall account, PLEASE contact the police. Better safe than sorry.

I do think that the threat of being doxxed or outed is more real than the threat of being attacked. I have already seen one Pridefall account who posted a trans boy’s address on Instagram (he is okay, he posted recently) and another who posted someone else’s address.

There is little chance this will last throughout Pride month. Apparently the goal is for Pridefall to worsen until the end of June, but given that this is most likely just some vastly outnumbered teenage trolls who are bored in quarantine, I seriously doubt they’ll be able to stay interested for a whole month.

This might not be as big on Tumblr. Tumblr is a lot more anonymous than, say, Instagram, which will hopefully deter would-be doxxers. It’s also known to be a highly liberal and queer-friendly site, so any Pridefaller with half a brain cell should know that A) their content is sure to be outnumbered and reported (only us Tumblr users know how bad staff is at deleting questionable stuff), and B) anyone with the original goal of “redpilling” is sure to fail here. Plus, I only remember seeing few, if any, mentions of Tumblr on Pridefall planning threads.

Still, expect to see some Pridefall activity here. Unsurprisingly, not all of these Pridefallers have half a brain cell. Some of them will definitely be unable to resist the lure of a community as openly queer as Tumblr, and we’ve all seen or heard about doxxing, harassment, gore, Nazis, and queerphobes on here. Also, 4chan has historically had some beef with Tumblr, so young teenage boys who idolize 4chan may target us for that reason.

How can I stay safe?

If you have any social media accounts where you A) have posted identifying personal information, and B) are openly supportive of the LGBTQ+ community (especially if you’re queer yourself), put them on private for June. Any other accounts are probably fine to stay public.

If you need a private Tumblr, you can make a password-protected secondary account and only share the password with mutuals you trust.

It is probably okay to be openly queer on a private account (e.g. have pronouns/rainbow emojis in your Instagram bio), since a private account is not likely to be doxxed. But if you want to be extra careful, remove queer identifiers from anything that is publicly visible.

Use Pridefall blocklists. They’re all over Instagram and Twitter. I may repost some here.

Report any Pridefall accounts you see. This is VERY important because this is how we can actually get rid of Pridefall content.

DON’T RESPOND TO ANY PRIDEFALLERS WHO PERSONALLY INTERACT WITH YOU. I know it’s tempting to give a snarky reply, but if they message you, comment on your post, etc, just block them. Seriously, don’t feed the trolls. It's exactly what they want.

Make sure your password game is strong. Use a different password for every site (I know, I know, it sucks), and use passwordmeter.com to test their strength. Write them all down on a piece of paper.

Make sure your username game is strong. Don’t use the same username for multiple sites, and avoid putting personal information in your username, such as your name or birthday.

Do NOT open random links!! Pridefallers could message you links that will give you viruses or track your IP address.

Don’t accept DMs or follows from people you don’t know. Pridefall accounts don’t always look like Pridefall accounts. Some of them are undercover.

Use a VPN. This is probably a little overkill unless you’re particularly at risk of being doxxed, but it will hide your IP address.

Be careful who you interact with. A lot of queer people on Instagram are DMing Pridefall accounts or commenting on their posts, but this could make you a target. As helpful as anti-Pridefall accounts are, you might even be targeted for following those.

Be wary of Pride tags. Unfortunately, a lot of Pridefall accounts plan to infiltrate tags commonly used by queer creators during Pride month. Use discretion when looking for queer content.

Be safe IRL. Lock your doors, lock your windows, be aware of your surroundings, don’t walk alone in poorly lit places, know basic self-defense, etc. Again, I absolutely do not think people will be attacked in real life, but you should be doing this shit all the time, not just in June. Thanks to COVID-19, you’re safer inside anyway!!

Make yourself hard to dox. Even though I have a very unusual first name (it's not really Lia), I am extremely hard to find online. I just went into an incognito browser window and searched my first and last name in quotation marks, but I didn’t find myself until page 4 of Google (and that result wasn’t even posted by me). I’m only half as careful as I could be, but here’s some of the things I do:

-I never use a picture of myself as my profile pic, except for Facebook and Instagram, which are both on the highest privacy settings possible.

-If I post identifying information on a public account (my college, my age, etc), I use a pseudonym or my first name only.

-On Instagram, I only use my first name, and I used special characters to type it, so you won’t find me if you search my name.

-On Facebook, I only accept friend requests from people I know. Most, if not all, of my Instagram followers are IRL friends, friends of IRL friends, and trusted Internet friends.

-If I’m really being paranoid, I’ll make a brand-new email account to sign up for a site. That way, my accounts aren’t all linked through one email address.

-Before I post a picture online, I delete the EXIF data with verexif.com, since EXIF data can hold GPS coordinates.

🌈 Stay safe, everyone.

You will not be harmed. You will be okay. Like cockroaches, we are survivors, and we will get through this!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

-Mod Lia

#mod lia #og post #og post cmf #pridefall #operation pridefall #pride fall #pride #pride month #lgbt #lgbtq #gay #safety #psa #please reblog #pride 2020 #lgbtqia #lgbt pride

[we-are-inevitable]

not moving on, not looking back // javid (ch. 10)

A/N: y’all know the drill

TW: discussion of abuse (physical and substance related)

Read On AO3!

And that’s how it starts.

They stop at David’s beforehand so he can change out of his slacks, shirt, and tie, and if David purposefully wears an outfit to elicit a certain response from Jack, he plays it off pretty well. He had changed into a tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit in all the right places, hidden under a baggy hoodie that he didn't take off until he was safe within the walls of Jack’s home. It feels… empty, now that Katherine isn’t there to fill the space with her voice, her presence.

It’ll be an adjustment, but as long as Katherine and Jack are okay with it, then David will follow their lead.

David sits alone on his phone while Jack goes upstairs and changes. He scrolls through twitter for a while, until he hears footsteps and-- oh, holy shit. Jack walks into view wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt and gray sweats, and his hair looks so deliciously messy from combing the gel out. He’d clearly gone for the more comfortable look, and David has to stop himself from staring.

“You want anything to drink?” Jack asks as he walks into the kitchen, which prompts David to stand and follow him. Jack grabs a beer from the fridge, offering a second to David.

“Hey, I know we kind of talked already, but… How are you? Like, really?” David asks as Jack takes a drink.

Jack takes in a deep breath and shrugs as he hops onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, swinging his feet. He looks up at David, who has positioned himself to lean against the counter about two feet in front of Jack. “It… It tore me up for a while last night, after she told me, but honestly? I feel a lot better. Like a weight’s been lifted. I had a bad panic attack, but we talked more last night than we’ve talked to each other in ages, and I… I feel like I got my best friend back, y’know? I didn’t get a lot of sleep, though, just… because it’s makin’ me think about stuff I ain’t never thought about before.”

“Like what?” David asks softly, tilting his head before taking a sip of the beer. “Not that- I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but maybe I can help a little. I don’t mind.”

“It’s just… Family stuff,” Jack admits, then rubs his forehead. “We told my Ma last night and she was, y’know, a bit disappointed, but she understood. I just… The whole divorce thing makes me feel like my dad,” Jack explains softly, crossing his arms over his chest. For someone who is nearing thirty, Jack looks like a vulnerable teenager right then. He slowly looks up into David’s eyes, gulping. “He always said he regretted not getting a divorce. He wasn’t a good guy at all. Homophobic, real republican, but my mom married him because he had a good job and a good family. He was the one to kinda push the whole football thing on me, but I was never good at playin’, y’know? Loved the game, but I didn’t have any skill, trust me," Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Did they get a divorce? Your parents?”

“No, my, uh… My mama died before anything was finalized, and everything kinda took a turn. I got… I don’t know. I was really fucked up for a long time. The school counselor suggested that I start drawing my feelings or starting a journal or something, and it worked. Really well, actually. I loved it.”

“Is that what got you into art? Kath mentioned that you wanted to go to art school,” David murmurs, moving to lean against the island, right next to Jack’s leg.

“Yeah, actually,” Jack says with a laugh, then gulps. “My dad wasn’t a fan of me doing the art stuff. I took an art class in middle school, and we had a showcase at the end of the year. I invited him to it, and he-- Do you, uh, do you mind if I talk about this? I don’t wanna force, like, heavy shit on you if you aren’t comfortable,” Jack cuts himself off, looking at David with a gulp. “I’ve only ever told my ma and Kath about this. My dad just… wasn’t a nice guy.”

“Thanks for checking in, but I don’t mind, okay? I’ll tell you if I’m ever not in the right headspace, but, Jack, you’re going through a lot. Just let it out,” David encourages with a sad grin.

Jack nods, then takes in a deep breath. “So-- Art show. Dad said he wasn’t gonna come. Told me he wasn’t gonna support me doing something ‘queer’, even though I’m- even though I told him I wasn’t,” Jack explains, taking a long drink from his bottle with a blank expression on his face. “But, uh, he didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t, and he… slapped me. That was when I was eleven. The physical stuff continued, ‘specially when football season started up again and he saw that I was on the bench every game, ‘cause I really wasn’t good at it. It got… rough. It only stopped when my coach noticed a bruise when we were practicing and I- I guess I was real stiff and limping real hard, so he told me to sit out, and when I took my pads off, my shirt lifted up, and… My dad was in police custody the next morning.”

“Fuck, Jack,” David says in an apologetic voice, staring at him with a lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry you went through that… Did he go to prison, or--”

“Yeah, there was a bunch of evidence, so- so he went to prison. Really easy case against him. He was supposed to get, um, ten years, I think. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was glad my mom was dead so she didn’t have to see me 'turn gay’- like I said, he was a shitty guy. That… I don’t know. I used to be like that, too, but then one of my friends, a coworker of mine, came out, like… eight years ago?” Jack bites his lip, looking down at his hands after putting his bottle down. “I’ve changed. I realized that I was just actin’ like him. I never realized he was so… bad, until I became an adult.”

“Are you still…” David gulps. “You haven’t talked to your father?”

Jack looks up at David, and smiles sadly. “He had a heart attack in prison, about five years in. So… yeah. I’m all that’s left.”

David is at a loss for words. He doesn’t know what to say. This is not how he thought the night would go, but at least Jack was getting to vent and David was getting to know him on an even more personal level but, good God, Jack had been through so much.

And adding being adopted, losing his daughter, and divorcing his wife into the mix…

Jack has hurt more in his life than he ever let on.

“Jack, I… I don’t know what to say,” David admits with a frown, but slowly reaches out, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me all of that. You… You’re so strong, y’know? You’ve been through so much, yet you’re successful and smart and… I know we haven’t known each other long, but I am so, so proud of you. But- but you shouldn't have had to be so strong. You didn't deserve any of that. Not the… Not the abuse, or the homophobia, or the pressure. If you ever need to talk about it again, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, Davey, that means a lot,” Jack says with a tight-lipped grin, then gulps. “What about you? You got any skeletons in your closet? 'S only fair that you tell me somethin' sad now, y'know.”

David stares at him for a moment. He then holds up one finger and downs the rest of the beer in his bottle, taking in a deep breath once he is done. His eyes close and he tilts his head back, then begins speaking. “From the age of twenty-two to about a month and a half ago, I was addicted to cocaine. I had a brief stint in which heroin was a daily thing, but that stopped after a few months. Too expensive. I regularly had sex with drug dealers in exchange for pills, I’ve been kicked out of gay bars for showing up high out of my mind, I now go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and I have to spend, like, ten minutes every morning trying to convince myself not to call in sick just because I’m having bad withdrawals. Bad as in, like, shaking in the shower and crying because I feel like I need to shoot up.” He slowly opens one eye, shooting a sad grin toward Jack. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

Jack stares at him for a few moments, then lets out a laugh as he nods along. “I- I guess you can say that, yeah,” He murmurs, then looks at David with a gulp. “If you ever need anything, just let me know, ‘kay? I don’t… I don’t really have experience with that kind of stuff, but if you ever need anything, I’m here, whether you need to talk, or you… need somewhere to stay,” Jack says slowly, seriously, and David nods. “I’m right here, Dave. Just like you're here for me.”

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve been getting better, I think- the, uh, withdrawals are starting to mellow out, at least a little bit, but it’s just… getting used to sobriety that’s throwing me for a loop,” David admits. He watches Jack’s eyes shift from his face to the empty bottle in his hand, and David shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking-- I never had an alcohol problem, it was just the drugs. I, uh, don’t drink often, though. Just to make sure.”

David doesn’t drink often because David has an addictive personality. David doesn’t drink often because David knows he’s susceptible to alcoholism if he goes down the wrong path.

It makes him feel better to know that Jack is watching out for him in that way, though.

“If you’re sure,” Jack responds with a kind smile. The two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Jack finishes his beer, David watches him, and everything is… calm.

But not for long.

“Dave? Can I ask you a kind of weird question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d ya know you were gay?”

David’s eyes widen a bit. He wasn’t expecting... that. He looks up, but Jack refuses to meet his eyes. He’s instead staring at the cabinet above the sink, sitting eerily still, and David isn’t sure how to respond for a few moments. Slowly, David shrugs, and looks down at his hands. “I just never really found an interest in women. Plus, I used to be really into this guy in one of my classes… I don’t know, it was just kind of natural for me. My parents were religious, but they never really said anything about it if I brought guys home for dinner, or if I wore makeup to school. I never really had that… epiphany, I just… I was just gay. Never questioned it,” He explains, holding his breath in the heavy silence that follows. He slowly glances back up toward Jack, expecting to see him staring off into space, but to his surprise Jack is staring right back at him. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

Jack gulps. There’s a long moment of silence, before he sits up a little straighter. “Kath has been talking about 'self exploration' ever since yesterday. Mentioned she’s, uh… curious.”

“Mhm.”

Jack meets David’s eyes. He stares for a few moments before locking his lips, straightening his posture, and saying, “I think I might be, too.”

There’s a beat of silence. David holds his breath. Holds Jack’s gaze. He waits for a few moments, waiting for Jack to back down, but it never comes. Finally, David gives in.

He asks, breathless, “Wanna find out?”

There’s no more speaking after that.

#jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #tarrytown au #jac writes #newsies #newsies fic #newsies live #livesies

[ko-fanatic]

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake (Part 2)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

It seemed after the night before, Ishimaru was back to routine. The issue? Mondo wasn't previously aware of said routine.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

Other parts: Part one

A/N: So, I reference a small headcanon of mine that Mondo has asthma. So fed up of it being seen as a "nerd" condition, so... The boi now has it. Not severe, but still.

Mondo made the executive decision to stay sleeping on the couch that night. Not that he was that bad off - the suite was VIP, after all, and the couch was comfy. he was a just bit miffed that, firstly, he had to do that in the first place because Mr Pretty Boy wanted to go clubbing, and secondly, there was a plush, California king sized bed in his room which was being tragically wasted. He hadn’t exactly had many chances to experience that sort of luxury, and he’d slept like the dead the past few nights. 

Maybe that was a problem. Had he just not realised? Some “Ultimate Bodyguard”, if that was the case. Shit… Little asshole, making him question things and get all shaky and crap. It might’ve had very little to do with Ishimaru, in full honesty, but he was too tired to think it through clearly. 

At least he did manage to get some sleep, despite being slightly cramped. He was over six feet tall, after all; not exactly made for sleeping on the couch. He’d even managed a rare, pleasant dream; dogs and cotton candy, Daiya’s obnoxious laugh and hanging with their friends in one of the many abandoned buildings they used as hangouts. They were such edgy little shits, but it wasn’t like anyone cared about the disused factories and crap. 

He’d been reliving the time Takemichi got his tongue piercing stuck in his jumper (somehow, Mondo still didn’t know how the hell someone did that), when he awoke. It wasn’t some crash or anything, just the usual sounds of someone pottering around, getting ready for the day. 

He groaned as he sat up, head pounding. He still felt exhausted, and he’d definitely drooled in his sleep. He turned to the window, and realised… It was still dark. Fucking really? After Mondo told him he wasn’t going out?

“Hold it right there,” He began, hoisting himself to his feet, doing his best not to fall straight over again, “I thought I said -”

Oh. He wasn’t wearing the tight jeans and such he was the night before. 

Ishimaru raised an immaculate eyebrow at him from where he was tying his trainers. “Relax, I’m going for a run,” He huffed, “I might as well get on with my regular routine, since someone -”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there, kid,” He grumbled, stretching out his back and arms, “What time is it? Sun’s not even out yet…”

“Owada-san, it’s winter,” The kid sighed, a deadpan look on his face, “It’s about 5:15AM.”

It was a damn good job he wasn’t drinking anything - he would have choked on it. Who the fuck even wakes up at five in the fucking morning, let alone after being awake at midnight? Not to mention the clothes. Mondo was praying, if the kid really was going to work out in some way, it’d be in a gym. Heating, shelter from the elements, a bench he could probably catch some z’s on because it’s not like anywhere’s going to be busy at five in the morning -

“Now, if you excuse me, I’m late for my run,” Ishimaru waved off, going to open the door before Mondo reached above him, slamming it closed once more. For a guy who worked out pretty constantly, it was pretty effortless to overpower his grip. Eh, guess that what comes from having lithe muscle for aesthetics, rather than the bulky stuff for actual strength. Not to mention the lack of warning  -

No, that shit could wait until later. Fucking focus, Mondo!

“You said routine… Have ya really been sneaking out every day?!” He demanded. He could’ve been a little softer about it, sure, but you have to understand; this wasn’t a good start to the job, especially if shit got out. Was he being overly paranoid? Yes. Did he not have a reason to be? He abso-fucking-lutely did! 

“It’s not sneaking anywhere,” The idol groaned, sounding very much like the stereotypical teenager in that moment, “I’m an idol. As such, I have an intensive exercise routine to stay trim, not to mention fit enough to perform my high-energy choreography. I just don’t see the need to wake you and have an irritable tough guy around me, when I can easily complete my run without dragging you the whole five miles.”

Five fucking miles?!

Oh, today was going to suck. Today was going to kick his ass and run him over with a truck. All because an idol needed to “stay trim”. Fuck, if the kid was any trimmer, he doubted he’d have any skin left. 

“Were the idols you guarded before babysat so extensively?” He kid questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“In all fairness, you’re the youngest client I’ve had,” He grumbled, scrubbing his hand over his tired eyes, “But kid, you’ve got to tell me when you run off. Don’t care what for. You being famous, and pretty, and so skinny… I wasn’t kidding about my worry last night. Celebrities get murdered… Or worse.”

“You think… I’m…” The kid shook his head, cheeks red, gaze staring holes into his trainers, “I understand. I don’t like it - it’s suffocating! But… I see the logic.”

Mondo smiled, turning back to his room. He had to find some clothes that passed as exercise gear… 

---

Mondo knew someone had it out for him. 

He was wheezing as he jogged, trying to keep pace with Mr Trim in front of him, but lagging behind somewhat pitifully. He had his inhaler in his bag - he wasn’t that much of a dumbass - but holy fuck if this wasn’t torture. He didn’t do track in middle school. He was more than content to work on his strength and brawling skill. 

Speaking about things he was more than willing to do; laying down in the road, waiting for the next car to come along and end his misery, was getting far too attractive. 

Conversely, Ishimaru was just about breaking a sweat, panting. His insides weren’t threatening to become his outsides like Mondo’s were. Kid either had a stomach of steel, or he was just a lot more used to this shit than Mondo was - namely, the extensive train travel and exercise. 

Actually, considering the whole “Ultimate Idol” thing, it was most likely the latter. 

That was when his legs noped out of the situation, sending him stumbling and falling. He didn’t cry out, per se, so much as let out a manly grunt of surprise. 

Who was he fucking kidding? Ishimaru heard him through his headphones and blaring music. 

“Owada -san!” He called, rushing to his side in an instant, “Are you hurt?! Can you speak?! What’s wrong?!”

Ugh, so loud. 

“What’s wrong,” He grunted, “Is that someone is punishing me!” 

Maybe a tad dramatic, but holy hell! Fuck five miles, it felt like he’d run a marathon. 

“I don’t know if I royally pissed off someone up there -!”

He pointed an accusatory finger at the idol.

“Or someone down here! Like, sorry kid, but I give! Just doing my fucking job!”

Mondo watched the idol’s carefully cute and prim expression crack apart, his dignified (if far too loud) concern quickly falling into laughter and snorts. He had half a mind to be rather offended, but the carefully crafted exterior melting into those cute as hell snorts and chortling… That wasn’t even mentioning the look on the idol’s face. Pure fucking sunshine. 

Could he not be a queer disaster for five fucking minutes?!

“You’re rather funny, Owada-san,” Ishimaru chuckled. 

“Mondo.”

“Huh?” The idol barely breathed - lord above, give him strength - staring at him wide-eyed. Of course, that tends to be what happened when he let his tongue go before his brain.

“Ya can call me Mondo, none of that ‘Owada-san’ crap,” He grumbled, and he will eternally blame the heat in his cheeks on the marathon he was sure the other dragged him through.

“Oh! Well, in that case… You can call me Taka!” The kid - Taka, Goddamnit that’s cute - grinned. He was going to have to invest in those cheesy, stereotypical sunglasses if the kid was just going to unleash that megawatt smile on him without a shred of warning. Then, the kick to the crotch he really needed in that moment - 

“Now, as you’ve caught your breath, we should keep going! Obviously such a long break isn’t ideal for cardio, but we can still -”

He just flopped down once more, groaning like a man dying.

“I said sorry, didn’t I?! Ya don’t need to keep punishing me! I fucking give!” 

“Mondo,” Kiyotaka sighed, standing once more and looking at his FitBit, “Do you want to know how many miles of my morning run we’ve completed?” 

“I don’t know, ten, you animal!”

He was sent a rather disapproving, levelling look. “Two,” Taka deadpanned, “We’ve got three miles to go.”

That truck Mondo mentioned? The one the day was going to run him over with?

Yeah, it reversed for another hit.

#danganronpa #dr talentswap #ishimondo #kiyotaka ishimaru #mondo oowada #idol!ishimaru #bodyguard!Mondo #blood guts and chocolate cake series

[dotthings]

The discourse (I am using that term generously, since the posts on the subect I have seen all seem to be transparent in a self serving clumsy wank agenda) from the bibro/brosonly lanes that virtue signals over Sam and Dean’s sibling bond being “progressive” is one of the more insidious and toxic things that lane has done in 15 years.

First of all: yes, it’s true romances on tv are dime-a-dozen—m/f romances. What are not dime-a-dozen is a queer slow burn love story like Dean and Cas getting its consummation after 12 seasons of immense emotional story arcing. Fans are rightfully criticizing the way 15.20 dropped that relationship off a cliff leaving it with nothing but an infodump to leave the lantern on in the window after the actually progressive 15.18.

The anti-romance rhetoric that cloaks hatred aimed at an actually progressive queer ship isn’t nearly the clever serve the bibro/brosonly lane seems to think it is. You don’t dig romance? Good for you. Quit acting like Destiel is the same as heteronormative defaults.

Secondly: PLATONIC MALE BONDING IS NOT RARE AND UNDER-REPRESENTED IN THE MEDIA. PERIOD. AT NO TIME IN MEDIA HISTORY HAS THIS BEEN NEGLECTED.

What is neglected is m/m romance, especially one as intricate and emotionally intimate and complicated as Dean and Cas’s love story, which went through not only different phases of their relationship, but different stages of how it was handled on the production end of things, with shifting attitudes by the creative team and in the real world. I’ve never seen anything like this. And in-story, few relationships, period, either romantic or platonic, have gotten to me the way Dean and Cas have, and I have shipped some delightful openly canon ships and I adore platonic bonding and team building and guess what I don’t watch ANYTHING for ships. I just don’t. They happen to me, but at no point do I ever see any piece of media I consume as all about just one relationship or just about my favorite ship. Just FYI. Destiel happened to me, and it’s not just the romantic aspect, it’s the emotional one.

As things are, as screwed up as things are, Destiel is a unique depiction in media and I’m sick and tired of seeing that being erased. Theres been so much bullshit falsely depicting what exactly Destiel fandom predominantly was responding to I am ready to scream. Watch the damn canon and actuallly pay attention to Dean and Cas and maybe this won’t be such a ~mystery.

Thirdly: a lot of the pointless, endless grudgewanking from the bibro/brosonly lane right now can be summed up as “the problem with this fandom is that people dared to care about Dean and Cas’s 12 year long immense emotional story with each other, how dare people not pay enough attention to only the brothers in a way that I dictate, how dare they not pay attention to the canon” when Destiel shippers are responding to CANON. But I guess canon isn’t canon any more, canon is “only that stuff I am obsessed with and that queer ship that I irrationally keep hating on isn’t canon because I said so.” And then they tantrum because Destiel shippers won’t comply and have the “right” priorities.

That is gatekeeping 101 and a pitiful effort at that. Come on.

Fourthly: yes Sam and Dean and their bond overturn quite a few toxic masculinity tropes and that is one of the things I have always appreciated about the characters and the show.

*rings bell* guess what, so do Dean and Cas. The relationship is a challenge to toxic masculinity. Each of them is a challenge to toxic masculiniity.

It is also the very definition of toxic masculinity how and why Destiel was silenced for 15.20.

Male siblings openly showing affection is common and non-threatening in media.

Dean and Cas getting to hold each other beyond a “omg thank goodness you aren’t dead!!” hug or “omg pls don’t die” furtive and frantic touch and finally remove the last barriers of misunderstanding and heaven forbid, idk, get to fully consummate their love story in some kind of fashion after 12 seasons of misunderstandings and yearning and love and losing and finding each other again and again, that must stay hidden out of sight.

People need to stop claiming progressiveness as they gloat about that erasure and while they appropriate “ace rep” and “queerplatonic” for a sibling bond. They’re...siblings.

The creative team on the show did their outright best to get the Destiel story told, to make it so it wasn’t silenced. I appreciate that. And I will always always love Dean and Cas’s story and always love this ship. If you’ve decided that love “ruins” the fandom I think you’re a shitty person and I don’t have any interest in sharing a fandom with you nor do I care about impressing some mythical “s*n f*m*ly” ideal about can’t we all just get along. I no longer care.

#mildew #why are people like this why are they always like this!!!

[knives-out20]

Discrepancy - Dean Corso x Male!OC - #3

Fandom: The Ninth Gate (1999)

Pairing: Ambrósio ‘Ambrose’ Fargas (OC) x Dean Corso

Warnings: Swearing, Faggotry, Spoilers for The Ninth Gate, Flirting, Homoerotism, Sexual phone stuff but not phone sex y’know, Ambrósio has no chill and knows no bounds y’all,

Notes: what is going ON y’all....lmao

Dean lay on the bed of his hotel room in Paris, talking to Ambrósio over the phone. "Ambrósio, how are you holding up?"

"I'm lying down if that answers your question, Dean" Ambrósio answered, definitely wearing a shit-eating grin.

Lying down, Dean thought. "What're you doing?"

"Oh, I dunno...talking to some shady book dealer over the telephone."

"I'm shady?" Dean chuckled. "First I'm out of place, and now I'm shady?"

"Yea, man, what the fuck is with your fucking gray hairs around your ears, you got premature graying or something?" Ambrósio inquired, squinting a bit.

"Have you just been thinking about the hairs around my ears lately?"

"I've been thinking of more than the hair around your ears, Dean."

"My facial hair?" Dean teased.

"More than your hair, man."

Dean grinned, "ever the flirt?"

"I try my best, Corso." Ambrósio rubbed his thigh, biting the edge of his lip.

"You been, uh...back at the house, as of late?"

Ambrósio shrugged. "Carmen let me go back to check it out with her really buff boyfriend, like, wrestler-type buff, Jeronimo's huge."

"Is he setting some high expectations up for me?"

Ambrósio decided to mess with Dean. He put on a puzzled tone, "who said they're for you?"

This caught Dean off-guard, like Ambrósio wanted it to. "Oh- uh, nothing, I just- all this had led me to assume-"

"Chill, man, calm down, I'm playing around" Ambrósio giggled. "It felt a bit...grim, but that's obvious, y'know? I mean, with...the reason why I'm staying with my friends in the first place."

"Yea."

A moment of silence struck the two before Ambrósio asked Dean another question. "Where are you right now?"

Dean's gaze darted around his hotel room. "In a hotel."

"Central?"

Dean slowly licked his lips in thought. "Uhh...Sure." He nodded, pulling out a slip of paper and a pen. "I'm staying at this Hotel Central place nearby, in this room. You can reach me there if you're specific."

"No, no. Out of the country." Dean corrected him.

Ambrósio scoffed, "yea, so where are you?"

"France. Ever been?"

"You offering?"

"Again?"

"I'm assuming that's a no."

Ambrósio broke out into a smile as he leaned back in his seat. "Does adoption not exist in America, or wherever?" He giggled. "I'm adopted, half-Pakistani."

"Ever been?"

"You offering?" Ambrósio joked.

"Don't lose hope" Dean smiled. "If I grow to like you enough, decide I need some sort of companionship in my life, I'll reach out."

"You make it seem like it'll be a privilege to me, to be able to hang out with you. It's quite the opposite."

"Oh, really?"

"Yea. It'll be a privilege to you, or rather anyone, to hang out with me, Ambrósio Fargas."

"That's true. Any new up-comings with your..uh...grandfather?"

"Mmh." Ambrósio hummed in a gloomy way. "Jeronimo has an uncle that's in the funeral business. He'll help with all the funeral stuff for my Avô."

"Wish I could come."

"It's like you want to be out of place, Dean, jeez" Ambrósio laughed.

Dean liked listening to Ambrósio's laughter, even more-so since he caused it. He assumes he just liked that he was able to make Ambrósio smile during this suddenly-dark time in his life, given the abrupt death of Victor and all.

Ambrósio and Dean got hit with another moment of comfortable silence. It seemed to be a running thing between the two men.

"You still lying down?"

"On my bed in Carmen's guest bedroom, yea. Why? You gonna ask me what I'm wearing?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you're still wearing that red shirt."

"I have a damn washing machine, Dean" Ambrósio licked his lips. "It's unbuttoned just like the first time you saw it."

"You wearing those gray pants, too? With the stripes?"

Ambrósio hummed his answer, meaning a 'no." "I'm wearin' some shorts, actually. Switching things up, today. What're you wearing, Corso?"

"Same things from the day you first saw me."

"Not one for changes, eh?" Ambrósio questioned. "Well, no. You probably are, given that Balkan's making you go here 'n' there around the globe for some old books 'n'...whatever. Y'know?"

"Yea," Dean nodded. "I'm really sorry, too, Ambrósio. About your grandfather. I never meant for this to happen to him, I didn't anticipate it like you did, but anticipation really has nothing to do with it." He explained. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing. My Avô was old as hell anyway, Dean. He was bound to go sometime, but I just...not so soon. He was a good man."

"I'm sure he was, he seemed like it."

Ambrósio smiled. "You're a good man, too."

"Really?"

"Yea." Ambrósio nodded. "You, you- you didn't need to give me your hotel number that night you first came, you didn't need to come inside the house to call for me the other day. You didn't need to make sure I was okay, and gonna be okay. You didn't need to make sure I had some place to stay, or ask for Carmen's number in order to reach me. Hell, you don't need to be talking to me right now" he listed out, admittedly blushing a bit.

"But...I am."

"But you are, exactly. You added me into your little equation when you had the choice to leave me in your memories as Fargas' pretty, queer grandkid."

"'Pretty'?" Dean repeated.

"I'm fucking divine, Dean, it's in my name. Meanwhile, Dean means like...'valley.'"

"Would you describe me as a valley, Ambrose?"

"A valley of weird gray hairs, some round glasses, dark academia, and an angular face."

"You think my face is angular?"

"In a good way, pretty boy."

Dean smirked to himself, dragging his free hand slowly down the side of his face. "You think I'm pretty, too?"

"I thought the flirting made it obvious."

"I'm more than a pretty face, y'know" Dean sassed.

"Well, duh. I'm not shallow" Ambrósio scoffed. "I like when we talk, too, and not just for your voice-"

"You like my voice?"

"I've told you this before!"

Ambrósio chortled. "I don't only listen to Hendrix and Foreigner, Dean, Jesus Christ."

"Who else do you listen to?"

Ambrósio stepped back, towards his staircase. "I could listen to you. You sound like you could do a number on people if you sing."

Dean knowingly shook his head, looking down to hide his smile. "I don't sing, but...thanks."

Dean hummed in agreement. "You mentioned reciting poetry, when I met you."

"Yessir."

"What writers do you like?"

"Aw, damn, uh..." Ambrósio scratched his jaw in thought. "Baudelaire, definitely. And JP Marquand, Oscar Wilde, and Lord Byron. To name a few."

"Quite an array."

"You like?"

"I wouldn't shy away from the names. It's an impressive list."

"Thank you, I know." Ambrósio smiled, proud of himself.

"You still lying down?"

"Yea, what're you doing?"

"Lying down, on my hotel room's bed, talking to the dreamy, divine grandson of Victor Fargas." Dean flirted, stroking his beard.

Ambrósio poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "I am dreamy."

"You really are."

"So..."

"So?"

"So, we're just both lying down, on our beds, talking to each other over the telephone?"

"Why, would you rather be doing something else, with somebody else?" Dean joked.

Ambrósio raised his eyebrows. "I'd rather be doing something else that involves being on a bed, with you...Doing a far more scandalous activity than just talking."

Dean fought back a grin, looking over at the wall. "You're on quite the roll, huh?"

"Whether it be the romantic poets I indulge in, or my natural-born charm, the world may never know."

"I think it's just you, honestly."

"I'm touched." Ambrósio placed his free hand over his chest, where his heart lay underneath. "Oh, also- I figured out another song you remind me of."

"Really? Which?"

"Poison by Alice Cooper. I was gonna say his other song Feed My Frankenstein for the sake of the title and sexual themes, but there's lyrics in there regarding a body part that neither I nor you have...I'm assuming. There's nothing wrong with if you do, though. I have a guy friend with the body part, but he's saving up money to get rid of it."

Dean's eyebrows jumped. "You listen to Alice Cooper?"

"Sometimes, do you?"

"Not really my thing."

"Ah, yes, let me guess." Ambrósio raised a finger in thought. "You enjoy sitting back in leather armchairs, surrounded by dusty, possibly-expensive books and listening to the likes of Debussy, Chopin...I happen to like Tchaikovsky myself, if he's any your style."

Dean laughed softly. "No, not actually. I don't know what I listen to, I don't know if it could be classified as one thing."

"If you ever come back to Portugal, we could listen to my records together 'n' see what you're into" Ambrósio offered.

"Are you asking me out?" Dean joked.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm a gentleman, I'd buy you dinner, first." Ambrósio corrected him. "I'm just flirting your socks of for the time being." He told, sliding a hand through his dark hair; he closed his eyes and gave it a tug, trying to imagine that it was someone else, someone specific, tugging his hair in his bed.

"I'm not wearing any socks right now."

"Task complete." Ambrósio nodded slowly, sure of himself. His smile grew when he heard Dean's slight laugh through the phone.

"Dinner, huh?"

"Yea. Wine, music, candlelight, the whole shebang. Again, a gentleman."

"The sound of it does intrigue me."

"That's the goal" Ambrósio stared up at the ceiling. 

"Your activity from before, regarding a bed...What would that include?" Dean didn't know what he was doing, nor what he was hoping to accomplish, but liked the power it held over Ambrósio trying to flirt with him...Well, trying and succeeding, but he liked playing a hard-to-get guy.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure." Ambrósio partially lied. "Winding, twisting, turning, gyrating, writhing...incessant writhing" he purred. "Perhaps some assorted debaucheries along the way."

"You can be so charming when you want something, eh, Ambrose?"

"Or someone," Ambrósio added. "And I can be so charming, full stop."

"Of course you can."

"Alright, how can I get to you, Dean?" Ambrósio asked him. "Tell me the rules." He whispered through the telephone, Dean stifling a shiver.

"Can I trust you?" Dean playfully rolled his eyes.

"Oh, my dearest Dean, have I given you any reason not to?"

"That's true."

Ambrósio's voice turned into another whisper, "you and I could be as thick as fuckin' thieves. Tell me the rules, Dean." His fingers stroked from his chin to his cheek, a faraway look on his face.

Dean could just imagine the look on Ambrósio's face as they spoke. "First, you gotta tell me if I can call you 'chico' yet."

"Beg for it, like you wanted to" Ambrósio reminded him, free hand trailing down his neck, down his torso.

Dean turned back around, seeing Ambrósio holding onto the opened gate. "What is it, chico? Can I call you ‘chico’?"

“If you ask nicely.”

Dean rolled his eyes knowingly, “save either one of us begging for something from the other for another time.” He finally flirted back. 

Dean held a knowing expression on his face. He should've expected this.

"No problem, Ambrose. Can I call you 'chico', yet?"

"Only if you beg like you wanted to." Ambrósio flirted.

Dean looked around in thought, "wouldn't you rather in person?"

"Would either one of us want to travel seventeen-ish hours for you to beg me for something so small in the midst of your big book mission?" Ambrósio rhetorically asked. "You wanna call me 'chico', you gotta do what you suggested. It was your words, not mine, big man."

Dean hummed. "Please?"

"'Please' what?"

Dean giggled quietly. "Please, can I call you 'chico'? Please?" He insisted, "please? Let me call you 'chico', Ambrósio, please."

Ambrósio had a smug look on his face, "you may."

"That was barely any begging."

"Let's save actual begging for some other time, when we're closer together. Okay, amor?"

"Okay, chico." 

"I also thought of another song."

"You're full of them for someone who supposedly couldn't think of any."

"Shut up," Ambrósio chuckled. "I Was Made For Loving You."

Dean licked his lips, "by Kiss?"

"You like Kiss?" Ambrósio looked surprised.

"I know Kiss, and I know the song you mentioned. How come I never remind you of any Jimi Hendrix songs?"

"That's not my problem" Ambrósio replied. "I Was Made For Loving You, Dean. Take it or leave it."

"Y'know what, Ambrósio?" Dean inquired. "Maybe you were."

"Not even 'maybe', Dean. I know I am." Ambrósio checked the time. "Listen, I gotta get going, a guy's gotta run. Talk soon?"

"Sure thing, chico."

"Bye, Dean. Stay safe."

"You too."

Ambrósio and Dean hung up their phones, Ambrósio's head spinning of round glasses, prominent cheekbones and smooth voices as he left the bedroom. Whereas Dean stayed where he was, rubbing his thighs with thoughts of dark, soulful eyes, inked-up torsos, and dreamy grandsons.

Both of them just hoped Dean's mission would end quick so the two could talk physically again, or maybe do a greater deal than talking.

#the ninth gate 1999 #the ninth gate #the ninth gate oc #dean corso #dean corso x oc #dean corso x male!oc #dean corso x male #oc #ZAYN oc #zayn malik oc #male oc #oc x male #oc x canon #canon x oc #canon x male #male x male #male x oc #male x canon

[multifandomfanfiction]

Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9

TITLE: Beauty and the Genius Chapter 9 PAIRING: Spencer/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 9/? SUMMARY: When David Rossi joins the team, so does his daughter Gwendolyn. But what happens when she and the resident genius start developing feelings for each other? How will it affect Rossi and Reid’s team dynamic?

[A/N - Longer chapter this time.]

“After my parents died, I…kind of went off the rails for a while. I dropped out of Cal Tech. I lived underground, basically. But I kept teaching myself code. It was like the one thing that kept me together. Of course, my skills got me put on a list. Of people who could potentially do very bad things,” Penelope explained.

“So they offered you a job?” Spencer asked, “Like Frank Abagnale. The Bureau figured if you can’t beat ‘em, hire ‘em.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Garcia, what’s on the encrypted file?” Morgan asked.

“I’m required to keep a record of everything the team does. And after my system got hacked and Elle got shot, I just didn’t want anyone else to be able to get at you.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor, see if he’ll clear you to leave,” Spencer said and left the room.

Gwen went with Derek and Penelope, but not before doing her usual ‘goodnight’ with Spencer. Of course Penelope teased her all the way back to the apartment.

There was a police officer stationed out front. “Hi. I’m Mike Fleming. I’m on till midnight. Officer Cranbeck will be here after that, okay?”

“Thank you,” Penelope told him.

“You’re welcome.”

Morgan led her to the entrance of the courtyard. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Penelope stopped to look at the bloodstain on the steps.

“Come on. It washes off. I promise,” he reassured her.

They entered Penelope’s apartment and Morgan looked around and laughed. “I, umm…I would expect nothing less.”

Penelope laughed. “You should be flattered. Not many people are invited in off the grid.”

Morgan spotted a film player on an end table. “Super-8?”

“Yeah.” Penelope walked over to it and turned it on. A film of a younger Penelope started playing. “I always imagined myself fighting crime. My parents were hippies. I think it horrified them.”

“Now why does that not surprise me?” Gwen teased.

“How old were you when you lost them?” Morgan asked.

“18. Drunk driver.” Penelope turned off the projector.

Morgan picked up a piece of paper and examined it.

“I volunteer once a week to counsel family members of murder victims.”

“Baby, you don’t get enough of this stuff at work?”

“I look at those crime scene photos all day long. I can’t know that those families are out there trying to cope and not do something to help.”

Gwen rubbed Penelope’s back and said, “You’re a good woman, Penelope Garcia. Far too precious for this world.”

“Thanks.”

“You do know it was stupid to encrypt that file?” Morgan asked her.

“Yes, I know. Old habits, I guess.”

“You need some rest. You both do.”

“You’re right.” Penelope hugged Morgan. “Go. Be free, my love.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m fine. I got my goon squad parked out front and a badass witch on my side.”

Gwen giggled at the comment.

“Goon squad or no goon squad, that couch right there is gonna be my best friend until we find this guy. Now leave it alone.”

“Okay.”

Penelope looped her arm around Gwen’s and started to head to her bedroom. “But if you’re thinking of trying to take advantage of me, let me call my doctor so he can revive me afterward.”

They both laughed.

“What about me?” Gwen asked.

“You’re hot, Sabrina. But I know a certain doctor would beat my ass if I tried anything with you.”

Gwen blushed furiously as Penelope pulled her into the bedroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They woke up to gunshots.

“Garcia!” Morgan yelled, running into the bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Penelope asked.

“Stay right there. Stay there!” Morgan looked out the window and then walked over to the two women. “Come here. Come with me.” He dragged them both into the corner. “Get in the corner. Get in the corner. Gwen, your gun.”

Gwen pulled out her gun.

“Were you sleeping with that?” Penelope asked.

“Downside of having an FBI agent for a father.”

“If somebody walks through that door, you shoot okay? Shoot first, then ask questions,” Morgan told her.

“I got it Derek!”

Morgan walked out the door and fired a shot.

“Morgan!” Penelope yelled.

“Stay there!”

They heard Morgan running down the stairs.

“It’s okay, Penelope. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” “But what if something happens to you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

There was movement in the doorway and Gwen cocked her gun.

“Rossi. Rossi. Woah. Woah. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.”

Gwen lowered her gun. “Call me Rossi again and I will you shoot you.”

Penelope ran into Morgan’s arms crying as they heard sirens in the distance. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The ambulance arrived and the BAU team followed shortly after.

Spencer rushed to Gwen’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Spencer. Really.”

“I should have never left you alone.”

“Okay, first off, I can take care of myself and second, I wasn’t alone. Morgan was here.”

“Thank god he was.” Spencer sat down once he was convinced that Gwen was unharmed.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked, walking up to Penelope.

“I don’t know. This guy’s gettin’ seriously bold and I can guarantee it’s not over.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Penelope said.

“Could you know something about him?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you have something he wants?”

“I don’t know who he is. I’m so scared.”

“I know,” JJ told her.

Rossi, Hotch, and Emily came into the apartment.

Rossi looked at his daughter, who nodded. She wasn’t hurt, so there was no need to fuss over her.

“Hey, did you get a look at him?” Emily asked Morgan.

“Nothing solid.”

“Garcia, we need to get you back to the hospital,” Hotch told her.

“No,” Penelope said.

“You know what? You should still be there. We need her someplace safe,” JJ agreed.

“I feel safe with all of you.”

“We can take you to the BAU.”

Penelope nodded, staring off into space.

“Garcia?” JJ asked.

“You okay?” Spencer asked her.

“When we were at dinner… They wanted to seat us by a window, but he insisted on sitting at the worst table in the place. And he sat with his back to the corner.”

A couple of detectives walked in, talking quietly.

Hotch turned to them. “Detective, can you clear the room for just a minute?”

“I got a dead cop downstairs. I consider this part of the crime scene.”

“I know. Just a couple of minutes.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

“Thank you.”

The detectives left the apartment.

“Tell us about the car,” Spencer told Penelope.

“Why?”

“Just go with him,” Morgan said.

“You said it was white, 4-door, American. What else?”  Spencer asked.

“That’s it. It was just a car.”

“No, come on, think. Anything. Go back,” Morgan told her.

“The seat belt was buckled behind his back.”

A look dawned on everyone’s face.

“Why does that matter?” Penelope asked.

“It wasn’t a rental. It was for surveillance,” Morgan explained.

“Agents don’t wear seat belts. They need to get out in a hurry.”

“All right, let’s cut the crap,” Rossi said, storming over to Penelope.

Gwen knew what was about to happen.

He sat down across from Penelope. “You need to be straight with us. Right now.”

Penelope looked over at JJ for help

. “Look at me, not them.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Penelope told him.

“You got shot. Most people get shot for a reason.”

Penelope looked at Morgan.

“Eyes here!” Rossi yelled.

“Ease up, Rossi,” Morgan said.

“Derek, he knows what he’s doing,” Gwen reassured him.

“You got a roomful of people here willing to believe that an FBI agent is trying to kill you. We need to know everything you do on company time that we don’t know about. Come on. Spit it out!”

“It’s nothing bad! It’s just…I counsel victim’s families and they know where I work, so sometimes they ask me to look into cases for them.”

“What does that mean?”

“It just means that the cases, the unsolved ones, I tag them, so whoever’s investigating them knows that the FBI considers them a priority.”

“You’re not authorized to do that,” Hotch told her.

“I know. I was just trying to help.”

“But whoever’s working those cases thinks you’re watching them,” Emily explained.

“I just wanted to put pressure on them so that they don’t slide.”

“How many cases are we talking about?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t know. 7, 8 maybe. I need to get into my system.”

“You can’t. You’re suspended.”

“Wait a minute, Garcia. On your date, you said this guy was pressing you to find out if you were working murder cases,” Morgan said.

Penelope nodded.

“Hotch, we gotta look at those files.”

Hotch sighed and looked at Rossi.

“I told you, I’m sick of this jagoff being in front of us.”

“Dave’s right. We’ll go back to the BAU. Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, Gwen, you stay here and make sure no forgets to log out of the system. Garcia should not have access,” Hotch told them.

“Understood,” Morgan said.

Gwen shared a smirk with her father.

Taglist: @imagining-in-the-margins , @subhuman-queer, @anotherr-fine-mess and anyone else who would like to be tagged!

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #dr. spencer reid imagines #spencer/oc #spencer/gwen #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #Penelope Garcia #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #beauty and the genius

[irwinkitten]

got lucky | c.h

requested by anon: ok so for the bi!reader concept: last year i ended my relationship w this girl the main reason was because she was really insecure and jealous especially about me being bisexual like anytime i would talk to a guy she would just get so upset about it and she would make such gross biphobic comments and at the time i had so much internalised biphobia that i tried to convince myself i was gay n stayed in the relationship longer than i should have because i rly liked her i guess lol anyways (1/4) we ended and a while afterwards i started seeing this guy who i’d known of for ages (friends of friends type situation) but we just never really talked before or hung out but from the first date we clicked and the sex was crazy good like the type of sex were ur ditching ur vibrators cuz he’s that good lmao so one weekend we went to this party together and of course she is also there, i was so surprised and i could see her eyeing us the whole night, so when she came over i was anxious af (2/4) and this guy knew i was bi! it was no secret, i worked really hard to accept myself! so she comes over and she deadass goes “are you straight now? i knew you would end up with a man!” and she’s all smug but also hurt and im standing there like what the fuck and THEN this dumb man goes “ha guess the sex is so good i made her straight again” and i’m literally about to cry over how gross the whole interaction is and im so shocked i can’t even defend myself, i dumped him that night obviously (3/) last messgae: so basically can you pls do a redo of the gross situation where instead of being with that dumb guy its with calum and he is so protective n sweet n NORMAL n encourages u to stand up for urself about bisexuality / your sexuality, because what happened to me happens too often and its disgusting and gross and no one deserves that!! only if u feel comfortable/inspired tho, no pressure!! love u laura, thank u for creating such a safe space for all the queer babies it means a lot 💘 notes: i kinda enjoyed writing this one esp for my sweet anon baby. i love u and i hope this is everything you wanted ♥  warnings: biphobia, implications of emotional abuse

word count: 3.2k

donate to my ko-fi here

-

“Hey what’cha doing sweets?” Calum’s voice pulled you from your musings, your hand idly tracing patterns against the paper but the pen remaining on the desk. You wrenched your thoughts from the spiral you seemed to have fallen down, a smile crossing your lips as you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him.

“Nothin’. Just thinking.” You finally replied as he pulled up one of the spare chairs next to you, the bustling activity of the coffee shop falling into your background noise as his thigh pressed against yours.

“Really? Normally you doodle when you’re just thinking.” He countered with ease and your eyes dropped to the paper, noticing that the pen remained where you’d placed it when you first sat down. Subconsciously you must’ve realised that the route your thoughts had gone were not suitable to put down on paper, your fingers picking up the pen and mind falling blank immediately.

“Oh.” You breathed before placing the pen back down and packing away the pad and pen.

“What’s running through your head, doll?” Calum’s voice was quiet and concerned, you shrugged.

“Just, a lot on my mind is all. You’re not my keeper just because we’ve slept together.” You admitted quietly and he frowned before picking up his bag and for a sinking second you thought he was going to walk off, but instead, he took your bag from your hands and slung it over his shoulder. 

He looked back at you expectantly and you sighed before standing up, leaving the coffee shop with him, your eyes on the floor as you fell into step next to him.

“Your place or mine?”

“E’s gonna be home and I don’t want to hear them rant about me bringing people back.” You muttered and Calum nodded. 

“I think Ash is out. He’ll probably head out to Luke’s if I show up with you.” At his smirk, you rolled your eyes fondly before shoving him towards the bus stop. His indignant “hey!” was only ignored as you two waited for the bus, his arm slung over your shoulders.

Selfishly, you leaned into his touch, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach was doing flips at his touch alone. 

The bus journey was a quiet ten minutes, but Calum seemed to understand that you weren’t willing to talk with so many people around, so he was content to just keep you close, and you were unwilling to pull away until his stop came up.

When you reached his shared house with Ashton, you noted that the car was gone from the driveway and Calum smirked.

“Looks like he’s out. C’mon.” His hand tucked around yours and pulled you inside. And for a second you wondered if you could distract him with sex, but then the guilt appeared and you could feel the tears of frustration appear as your thoughts swirled and you felt dizzy.

Calum had stepped ahead, turning to see you stood leaning against the closed door, head in your hands and he knew something was wrong. Stepping back to you, he dropped your bags and took your hand in his, pulling you upstairs to his room and your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Cal I-”

“I’m not suggesting that.” He muttered. You fell silent at that and as he pulled you into his room, you felt unsure, but he gave you no chance to really deny him as he crawled into bed before opening his arms out to you.

“Cal.”

“I know you. You don’t do emotional stuff well but I’m here for a cuddle and an ear if you need it.” You fell into the embrace easily, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his lips finding your temple as you finally felt something in you snap, the surge of emotions overwhelming and frighteningly vivid. 

“I keep telling myself that I never was a lesbian, that I still found men attractive but Poppy made me feel like having that attraction was stupid since I was dating her and that I was a lesbian and it’s so fucking confusing because I like you, but I can hear her voice screeching that I’m not right, that I’m a lesbian or faking it or a freak.” And for the first time since you left Poppy, you cried.

Calum had been waiting for this. When the split had happened, you’d been ready for it, you’d already left her mentally, but this was what he knew you needed. He knew that the relationship with her had been toxic, but you’d never revealed the extent of her behaviour. 

His heart broke.

“Just because you like both men and women does not mean you should feel so guilty over your sexuality. There’s a B in LGBT for a reason, doll. That’s you. You’re bisexual and you should be proud of that, not ashamed because some bitch with a control issue couldn’t handle the fact that you liked more than women.” 

You found yourself gripping his shirt with your fists as you pressed your face into his chest, trying to stem the tears that seemed relentless. But Calum held his silence whilst you got it out of your system, knowing that you needed to get this off your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally got out, but he simply shushed you. 

“She was a shitty person with an attitude to show. You shouldn’t apologise for the bitch.” His words were simple but it gave you a breath of ease, pulling away as hands rubbed your shoulders gently. 

He was definitely too good to you, but he was there for you regardless and you were certain that you loved him for that.

“There’s gonna be a party on the other side of town in a couple of weeks. Ash took over the old Firefly down on Hartley. He’s revamping before opening the bar to the public. You fancy going?” And you smiled at the gentle distraction he was offering. 

“We get at least a free drink if we show up, right?” And Calum laughed as he kissed your temple. 

“He wouldn’t say no to me. Or you. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s expecting me to do full introductions on that night since Luke and Mike will be there with the others and their girls.” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s not like I went to school with Luke or anything.” Came your sarcastic retort and Calum laughed as the two of you settled for the evening. 

“Pretty sure Luke last saw you when you started dating Poppy. He’s put two and two together but he won’t say anything unless you mention it. Even then he knows it’s not his place.” Your heart seemed to swell another size in affection for Luke. 

“You’re making it difficult for me to not fall in love with you Cal. Good dick, you know how to use those lips and fingers of yours, you make me feel like I belong and you respect boundaries without me having to ask.” You finally muttered and Calum gave you an almost wistful smile. 

“You may have been with Poppy but that didn’t stop me from being friends with you. You’re someone I’ve genuinely cared about from day one. Not gonna chuck that away because of who you are. Plus growing up with my mom and sister almost made certain I’d be in touch with my feminine side.” He teased but the sincerity and understanding in his tone eased your shoulders. 

Your features softened at the admittance and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I definitely got lucky to have you in my life at least, falling in love or not.”

—

When the day of the party rolled around, you felt sick with nerves and you couldn’t understand why. 

When Calum rolled up to pick you up—he was driving to Luke’s who lived closest to the bar and you’d both get a ride back to yours before he picked up his car the following morning—he could see the nerves and the grimace on his face spoke volumes. 

“What?” You all but demanded when you were debating outfits. He’d been sitting on the bed watching, but got up and held his hands out to you. 

You took them hesitantly. His thumbs almost immediately started to soothe across the back of your hands to help relax you. 

“Word has gotten around that Poppy is planning to show up. We haven’t exactly been quiet about our relationship, but I didn’t think she’d pull something like this.” And your stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“We’re still going. Ashton promised free drinks and we’ll be in the VIP area right?” You checked and Calum nodded.

“Ashton has already told the bouncers that she’s not allowed near the VIP section. They’re checking and rechecking the lists to make sure she isn’t on one of them.” He explained and you let out a breath of air. 

“Okay. It’ll be fine. It’s being handled and I’ve got you. Now which outfit do you think I should wear?” He studied your face for a second before a smile broke across his lips. 

“The dark purple with the deep plunge. Is it wrong of me to flaunt in her face what she lost?” And you laughed as you kissed him. 

“I mean, yes. But I also know that you want to show me off properly now that we’ve got things really settled.” You murmured and he grinned back unabashedly. 

It was still an uphill battle, but he’d given you a lot to think about. And after gentle convincing, you’d found an LGBT friendly therapist who helped you process your thoughts. It helped you come to terms with accepting the toxic relationship that you’d been in but also it highlighted how beneficial Calum had been as a friend and confidant. 

It also gave you the courage to ask Calum out officially, wanting to be with him entirely and not just in the evenings. 

He took that in his stride and things shifted once more between the two of you. When you opened up to him about some of your sessions, you knew that your trust had been well placed because he never indicated anything to his friends and so you were never subjected to pitying stares or glares. 

You were almost sure that you’d fall in love with him faster than you fell for Poppy. 

The drive to Luke’s was filled with your nerves. You hadn’t seen Luke in years and you were also meeting his two other friends, Ashton and Michael as well as their partners. 

“Ashton’s excited to finally meet you and stop telling me to be careful when I go to yours.” 

Despite Calum living with Ashton, your schedules never seemed to match and more often than not, Calum could be found at your place, a small sanctuary from your hectic lives. 

Ashton never begrudged that time you shared together, but Calum had mentioned a few times about how snappy he was being on the subject. 

“He’ll chill when he realises I’m not out to break your heart or steal something.” You muttered with a chuckle. Calum snorted in return as he pulled into Luke’s driveway. 

Your nerves return full force as he pulls you to the front door and steps in like he lives there. 

“Hey fuckers, anyone about?” He called through and was met with calls of confirmation, another yell following that they were in the dining room. Your fingers squeezed Calum’s tightly and he didn’t hesitate to return it, his thumb soothing across the skin on the back of your hand.

“Look who it is!” A voice crowed loudly as he stepped into the dining room, followed by loud calls of greetings. 

There was a flurry of introductions and you felt like the spotlight was being shone on you, under scrutiny from his best friends gazes once they had greeted their friend and Calum had introduced you. Or re-introduced you in Luke’s case.

“Well c’mon, the last time I saw you we were leaving school. What’s been happening to you?” Luke finally asked, indicating to the seat next to him. A small smile graced your lips as you sat down, Calum falling into the seat next to you as you shrugged. 

“Life I guess? It’s been definitely more interesting with the different jobs and moving about. Building up a social life again.” Luke’s face filled with a frown at that. 

Michael came in next. 

“Building up a social life? Did you not have one?” His words held an innocent curiosity, yet you felt yourself hesitate. 

“My ex was controlling to the point that I couldn’t do anything without their permission. They managed to make me believe that no one really wanted me around and I lost touch with old friends, like Luke.” You glanced to the side and he was frowning. 

The others held varying degrees of stunned shock or disapproval. 

“Well then he was a cunt.” Michael muttered and your eyes refused to meet theirs at the assumptions. Luke stayed quiet but his hand rested on your knee, squeezing it. You shot him a gentle smile in return.

“Well it’ll be good to have you back in our lives. Especially with these two knuckleheads.” He nodded at Ashton and Michael who immediately protested and you laughed. 

It felt like you’d known them for years as you all had a few shots. Ashton, despite being the owner of the bar, wasn’t worried about turning up with his friends. He’d already explained to his staff that he’d be around for the rest of the night once he arrived and he’d told the small groups he’d be here and there. 

After a handful of shots, the group of you made your way to the bar, your arm linked with Calum’s. There were separate conversations happening between you all, their girlfriends including you on their pamper night whilst the boys discussed a possible games night for all of you. 

When you arrived at the club, you saw the queue of people waiting to get in and the subsequent groans from the line as the bouncer let you in, no questions asked. 

Ashton guided the group of you to the VIP section and the music was still loud but you could still hear each other talking. You were chatting away with Luke’s girlfriend, arm still linked with Calum’s as Ashton disappeared to get drinks. 

Calum pulled your attention away briefly, his lips by your ear. 

“I’ve spotted her. She’s not seen us yet so don’t worry.” You barely nodded, acknowledging his words as you listened in, fighting to keep your nerves down. 

The night continued and you were all a few drinks deep. Calum’s arm had barely left your waist all night as you talked and danced and drank. You’d been welcomed into his group of friends with an ease you never realised existed. 

You’d deliberately not tried to seek out Poppy, silently praying that the universe would comply. But as the group of you stood out in the smokers area, huddled together under a heating lamp, your stomach sank as she stepped out, her eyes narrowing on you. 

“Fuckin’ knew it!” You could feel the alarm in your face as you stepped back into Calum, his arm going around you protectively. 

“Poppy, you’re drunk.” You felt curious gazes from your new friends, but you didn’t spare them a glance.

“You break up with me and go running to his arms, I knew you weren’t a fuckin lesbian. Pretending to try it out? Just another straight girl seeking attention. Fucking freak.” She snapped and your stomach sank. 

“Get it through your thick head that she’s bisexual.” Calum snapped in your defence, earning a glare from Poppy. But Calum didn’t shrink from the glare, your glance to his face confirmed he was giving her his own. You were mildly impressed that she didn’t back down instantly. 

“She’s a fuckin liar! Years of my life wasted on this bitch.” She spat at your feet and you took in a deep breath. 

“You don’t get to control me anymore, Poppy. I’ve liked both men and women, but you never liked that because it meant that I had more chances of leaving you. And I wished I’d have left you sooner. Calum certainly thought so.” 

“Of course you fucked the first man to pay you any attention.” Your heart sank once more at her declaration and you felt your mind fall into the old trap that you’d fought with for so long. 

“No she never. In fact she slept with a few girls long before she slept with me. But I was her best friend as she tried to deal with the mess you created in her mind.” Calum snapped back. You felt your heart swell for him. 

Poppy stepped forward, her hand raised but then Ashton stepped in front of you. 

“Get out. You’re no longer welcome in this bar.” He made a gesture and security slowly made their way over. 

“She shouldn’t be fucking welcome!” Poppy yelled back, but Ashton held firm. 

“She is my friend. You are not. Get. Out.” When the bouncer rested a hand on her arm, she shrugged it off and stormed away. Your entire body was trembling.

“So that was the ex, huh?” Michael commented and you could feel your hands trembling as you nodded. “Why didn’t you correct me?” Calum spoke up for you as his hands took yours. 

“It’s been a battle for her. Poppy had convinced her she was a lesbian, that she was wrong for having any attraction to men. In Poppy’s world, either your gay, lesbian or straight. Being bisexual isn’t acceptable in her eyes.” Calum’s arms wrapped around you and you stood there, holding onto him for dear life. 

“Well that makes two of us then.” Michael’s casual comment had your knees go weak and you let out a weak laugh. 

“Thank you Ash.” You finally murmured when you pulled away from Calum. Ashton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a warm hug that was both comforting and reassuring. 

“Hey, you’ve been the best thing for my best mate. And you were friends with Luke once before. I’ve definitely got your back. And I get why you didn’t say anything and don’t hold that against you.” He muttered and you breathed a sigh of relief before returning to Calum’s embrace. 

“More drinks or are we gonna go back to Luke’s?” And you shook your head. 

“Let’s stay. I’m not gonna let her ruin it,” you leaned forwards so your lips were by his ear as the others went inside, “also I want to see if we can christen the bar in one of the toilets.” You breathed. Calum groaned as his grip around you got tighter and he pulled you in for a kiss that promised more. 

“Oh you’re so fucked sweetheart. Especially since I know where the individual lips are and they aren’t attended by anyone.” You held back a moan at that thought before pulling away, your hand in his. 

“Dance first?” And the innocence in your tone made him laugh as he followed behind you willingly. 

“Menace.” The term was laced with affection as he caught up to you, kissing the spot just below your ear. 

You simply grinned in return as you pulled him onto the dance floor, Poppy long forgotten as he danced with you. 

-

@sexgodashton, @goth5sos, @calumsmermaid, @empathycth, @wildflowergrae, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cal-puddies, @clockwork124, @loveroflrh, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir, @cthla, @liketheydidwithyou, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​, @bluehairedtracii, @drummerboy794, @feliznavidaddycal, @i-calumhood, @wokeupinjapanisabop, @converse-luke, @madbomb, @ccnicole02, @youngblood199456, @aulxna, @megz1985, @lukesidentitycrisis, @snapback-irwie, @neonweeknds, @666yourwitchyfriend666, @gamerboymike, @cashtonasfuck, @ashtaway, @conquerwhatliesahead92, @itjustkindahappenedreally, @twoamhood, @kchillout, @damselindistressanu, @colormekaykay, @findingliam-o, @sublimehood, @sugarcoated-pain, @singt0mecalum, @singledadharrington​, @calumspeachy​, @colourfulcalum​, @lostincalum​, @burncrashbromance​, @asht0ns-world​, @a-mnd, @flusteredcliffo​, @loti18​, @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​, @clumclum-hood​, @fangirl-everythang​, @lashtondaddies​, @calumssunshine​, @ambskiwi​, @abundant-stars​, @caltattoohood, @seedless-vascular, @myescapefromthislife​, @lmao5sosimagines​, @beyoncesdragon​, @jae-writes-fanfiction​, @cxddlyash​, @tresfandom​, @utterly-u-n-p-e-r-f-e-c-t​, @niallisworld​, @lietomevalntyn​, @babylon-corgis​, @monochrome44​, @behind-my-hazeleyes27​, @ghost0fy0u​, @lyllibug​, @bloodmoonashton​, @balsamic-cal, @calumsbaldhead​, @washedout-ky, @calumssunshinee​, @ghostofmashton​, @summerellaz​, @a-little-less-sixteen​, @cashworthy​, @smokeinherlungs​, @longlastingdaydream​, @h0tsos​, @sweetcherrymike​, @5sosnsfw​, @sugar-nico​, @sunnysideblog, @angel-cal​, @samros95​, @maluminspace​, @lukeinblue​, @cakesunflower​, @allamerican-betch​,  @britnicole11​, @gigglyirwin​, @everyscarisahealingplace, @loverofcashton​, @iovehemmings​, @g-l-pierce​, @jannimoeller3​, @wildmichaelflower​, @lukeskisses​, @5sossstan​, @youngbloodchild​, @alloutofcashton​, @tobefalling​, @abb-lan-5sos​, @calumsbub​, @flameraine​, @here-for-the-uproars​, @mateisit-balsamic​, @ilovelukey​, @sarahshepherdblog​

#calum hood blurbs #calum hood blurb #calum hood x bi reader #bi!reader #calum hood fic #calum hood fics #calum hood imagines #calum hood imagine #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos fic #5sos fics #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fics #my writing

[descendantofthesparrow]

Multipart Commission - Harry Hook x Reader - a prince behind the pirate - part 3 - stress

@musicarose​

=

You flourished your hand, ending the signature the paper needed to be approved, “okay my half done” you announced, stretching back in your seat and groaning lightly “alright, i’m gonna get to my dress fitting kay? See you later Ben” he waved you off, intently staring down at the paper he was overviewing.

You ran to Evie’s dorm, smiling as you entered, Mal sitting on her bed wearing her own cotillion dress. “love the dress Mal” you chirped, making her jump and looked to you surprised.

‘oh! Uh thanks,” she muttered distracted, eyes drifting to her mother in the tank.

“just in time (y/n), now here's the form and go get changed so I can make any changes to the size or anything kay?” you nodded and grabbed the light pink dress, going behind her changing setup.

Minutes later you stood on her little platform letting her move your body around and pin the fabric. “so, what do you think” Evie smiled up at you, glancing down you moved your arms around and took a deep breath.

“pretty good! If I could have some gloves that end in a princess point?” Evie beamed and grabbed her measuring tape, grabbing your arm, and started to measure.

“read it fast at lightning speed, remember everything I need” you glanced at Mal, who tossed her spellbook to the side and grabbed a evacuate book, waving her finger around and spelling it.

“Mal please teach me that, It would be so dang helpful for Sundays with my grandma” you laughed, mentally patting yourself on the back as Mal looked to you and gave you a small grin.

“well I think, Mal should give her spellbook to the museum!” Evie grabbed the book, Mal gasping and reaching for it “she doesn’t need it”

“you remember what I was like I couldn't even remember what class I had next without it” Mal whined, reaching for the book.

“I don’t know about you Evie, but I had that book I would use it for the same reasons Mal is using it, it's a lot to go from an isle girl to a lady of the court, there are so many rules and expectations that it's so mentally exhausting keeping up with it all!” you had a habit of talking with your hands so as you ended with your mini-rant you dropped your hands from the air and let them hit your legs.

Mal gave you a grin, the brightest you’ve seen the last couple months, Evie looked from the book to Mal and sighed, placing the book back in Mals lap “I guess you're right, but you have to tell Ben soon, i’m sure he'll understand the pressure you’ve been under to perform”

Mal nodded glumly, picking her book back up and continuing to read. You sighed, glancing at the refined sketch of your dress Evie was shoving in front of you.

“love it Evie! If its no trouble, maybe some more lilac?” Evie smiled and shook her head.

“no problem at all, you, Mal, and Chad are the only ones not done yet, I already finished the others and Jane and Lonnie had their last fittings yesterday” she chirped, grabbing a marker and opening it with her teeth, scribbling in some more lilac in your dress.

“Alright then, I have to get back to my dorm, I have some stuff on my computer that I need to send out Jane” Evie nodded and helped you off the pedestal, and unpinned you.

Three minutes later you left for your dorm, humming your mother's song as you did.

-I know you I walked with you once upon a dream- you smiled as you thought of the black-haired dream boy with the accent.

-I know you~ the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam- you stepped into your room and closed the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and collapsing into your desk chair.

“Alright, let's get to work” you muttered to yourself, clicking on your tablet and refining some décor sketches.

=

Harry pouted as Gil wiggled his brows at him “the dream girl again huh~” he laughed as harry pulled the napkin away, the form of the dream girl messily sketched on to the dark brown napkin.

“shut up” he growled, quickly punching Gil in the arm, causing the teen to yelp and wince as Harry's rings slightly cut into his skin.

“oww!” Gil whined, pouting as harry snickered and stuffed the drawing of dream girl in his pocket.

Uma came out of the kitchen and tossed tray in front off harry, glaring at the tv as she turned, she growled and hit Harry's arm, he lifted his arm allowing Uma to grab one of the crab patties and chuck it at the tv.

“ugh!” harry chuckled as she flicked the residue off her hand and leaned on the table, a nasty look on her face.

“What a poser” harry laughed and glanced at the tv.

“traitor!” Uma glanced around, raising her brow at the crew

“Hello?!” the crew roared, tossing some of their food at the tv.

Harry ducked slightly, a small grin on his lips. “oh I would love to wipe the smiles off their faces” he wiped some mayo from the screen, sticking his finger in his mouth to lick it off “yeh know what I mean?”

“Gil!” he jumped slightly, glancing at Uma, a couple of fries hanging out of his mouth “wanna quit chocking down yolks and get with the program?!”

He swallowed down and gave a nervously smile “yeah what they said?!” Uma rolled her eyes and glared at nothing in front of her.

“that little traitor, who left us in the dirt!”

“and turned her back on evil” harry cooed, lifting a fry and smirking.

“who said you weren’t big or bad enough to join her gang!” the crew went silent, harry sighing from Gil's lack of timing. “ back when we were kids….what? You remember she called her shrimpy and the name just kinda-“ gil caught Harry's eyes, which were yelling at him to shut up “-stuck?” he ended quietly, looking back down at his food.

“that snooty little witch” Uma muttered to him, looking up at him and sneering at the tv “who took everything she wanted and left me nothing”

“no, she left you that sandbox and said that you could-“ Uma slammed her hand on the table, giving a “nice” smile to Gil.

“I need you! To stop talking~” she purred, nodding as Gil shrunk into himself.

“look” Harry pushed his tray away, gesturing out to the isle “we have her turf now, they can stay in boradon-“ Uma groaned and smacked his arm.

“harry that’s her turf now!” she turned off the tv, smacking her hands on the table and leaning back with her heels “and I want it too, we should not be getting her leftovers!”

She turned and smirked at Harry, wrapping her arm around his shoulder “son of hook” she grabbed Gil and pulled him into her side “son of Gaston and me! Most of all daughter of Ursula!” she pushed Gil back to his food and turned to harry.

“what's my name?” harry dropped to a kneeling position, taking off his hat and putting it to his chest. “Uma~” she turned to Gil and repeated.

‘what's my name?”

“oh um, Uma?”

She grinned and turned to the crew. “what's my name!?”

“UMA!” satisfied, Uma nodded, eye-catching the dirty white napkin in Harry's pocket, she smirked and pulled it out, dangling it in front of harry. His eyes widened and he scrambled to grab it.

“Uma!?!” she cackled and looked at the drawing, her eyes softening slightly.

“any new things about dream girl?”

Harry sighed and shook his head “not even a smidge, she was talking about planning about some important event and how shes stressed about it n stuff” Uma stared blankly at him. “wha?”

“you dolt she's planning cotillion, your dream girl is in Auradon!” harry stopped….that made a lot of sense?

Harry groaned and facepalmed “im so stupid”

“you are” Uma stuffed the drawing back in Harry's pocket and walked around the table to grab orders, “tell ya what when we take over she can be your little pet kay?”

Harry shrugged, that was the best he could get in a villain ruled world so he would take it.

It meant that no one else would touch his dream girl at least.

=

You sent the last piece to Jane, sighing and leaning back in your chair, the door suddenly slamming open, you flinched and sat up, Mal rushing in and slamming the door behind her, the muffled voices of the press behind the now-closed door.

She quickly locked it and sighed, starting to walk around the room and breathing heavily. “Mal!” you stood and walked in front of you, holding out your hands. She reached out and grabbed them, holding onto them tightly as she closed her eyes and tried to calm down.

Her eyes flashed open and glowed, her hair flying around slightly and her grip tightening on your hands. “okay okay breathe, breath, it’s a panic attack mal, it'll pass”

With your help Mal managed to calm down, you letting her collapse against your bed, she buried her face in her hands, letting loose a sob. “why can't they just leave me alone for five minutes!!” she screamed.

You sighed and kneeled in front of her, gently prying her hands away, frowning as you saw her red eyes. “I know, I know, it's hard. The press doesn’t really get boundaries, and hardly understand the unspoken rule of ‘don’t harass a minor’ but ya know”

“how do you deal with it” she muttered, sniffing slightly and wiping her cheeks.

“uh, ignore them the best I can and if not smile and wave? Sorry, but i’m no help with it” you smiled, brushing her blonde hair back. “its, unfortunately, something all us royals deal with, trust me, we all hate it, just some of us are better at hiding it”

Mal laughed, taking one more deep breath and sighing “okay, um, I should probably get back to my dorm room now, thanks (y/n)”

You grinned and helped her stand up “no problem”

Mal looked at the window and raised her brow, which you shrugged at “you wouldn’t be the first to sneak out the window to get away from the press” you snickered, watching as Mal just went ahead and climbed out your window.

“see you tomorrow Mal!” she smiled back at you and nodded.

“see you tomorrow” she repeated, hopping out of your window and walking across the ledge to get down easier.

You closed the window and decided to get ready for bed.

Only two more days to cotillion.

--end of part 3--

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@lunanight2012​

@sephiralorange​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@random-thoughts-003​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

@rintheemolion​

taglist for pbtp

@thecaptainsgingersnap​

@thebookwormfairy​

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #commission work #writing commission

[arsonist-chicken]

Lockdown Tag game; I got tagged by @we-are-not-amoosed thank you! I keep forgetting you know I exist, also I hope you had fun being drunk at midnight on a Tuesday hjhjhj.

First of all, a big FUCK YOU to tumblr, because I was at the LAST QUESTION and opened ONE NEW TAB to look up the word windmill, and when I went back to tumblr, my post was GONE, so here we go again. If an answer seems short of half-answered, it’s because I didn’t feel like typing everything again.

Are you staying home from work or school?

HA. Yes. Love that for me. Not at all. My university opened for 1 1/2 weeks in March 2020, then for another 4 weeks in November, and it has been closed ever since. I’m in my dormitory in the town I study in, not home home at my parents’ place though, because that would Not end well. The internet connection sucks though, that’s really annoying with distance learning. When I go into The City for A Thing, I usually cycle past my department and it makes we Yearn to go back in there, which is a thing I didn’t think would ever happen, but one pandemic later and suddenly everyone would kill for the change to go back to work/school in person, wouldn’t we?

If you’re staying home who is there with you?

I live in a dormitory, so technically, there’s a lot of other people there, but I don’t really talk to any of them except for when we meet in the hallways or the kitchen or wherever, so really it’s just me, the stuffed animal my friend got me last year because I kept whining that I didn’t have a cat like her at her boyfriend’s place where she basically lives now, and the birds who come to eat from the bird house I put on my balcony.

If it makes you feel any better @we-are-not-amoosed, not that I think it will but hey, who knows, my twin sister is moving out in December, so I will be the only child at home with my parents during summer/Christmas/Easter break, which will be Not Fun. I’ll take another 1 ½ years for my degree, and another 2 if I do a master’s, so that’s about... 1-3/4 years I’ll be alone with my parents while my perfect sister gets to move out and move on and live Adult Life fully respected as an Adult working with renewable energy, as opposed to the Disappointment who takes 5 years for a 3 year degree in a field that’s hard to find employment in and never Does Stuff like my mother wants me to Do Stuff.

Are you a homebody?

I’m with @we-are-not-amoosed there, I didn’t know what that meant, but Pons says “Stubenhocker”. A bit I guess? I’m definitely fine being home by myself if I’m unbothered there (read: not at my parents’ when they are home) and I do need time by myself to recharge. But probably like everyone else, I crave and enjoy social contact a ton more than Before. I meet a friend fairly often (aka the only friend still here instead of home for distance learning), and today we worked together (handing out flyers which idk why the company pays us to hand them out, like 95% of them get thrown away immediately, but hey, we’re getting paid 🤷) and then went to sit by the river, and there were SO MANY people there, it was not *entirely* corona-compliant (but outside with town-typical wind, so it’s fine I think, with my non-existent knowledge about spreading of viruses and such), but honestly? I just couldn’t be bothered to care in that moment: it was warm and sunny, I was there with a very close friend, people were laughing and dancing to good music, it was just so GOOD to be there, almost as if Corona didn’t exist. The police even drove by like they always do to check for people smoking weed and didn’t say anything like usual, so hey. It was just so good, okay? So, homebody? Within reason, I guess, but less than Before, probably.

An event you were looking forward to that eventually got cancelled?

Oh boy, SO MANY. The one I’m most bitter about was a very prestigious international interpreting event, that would have involved me interpreting in the actual European Parliament building in Strasbourg. But there was also a festival week with my best friend I was looking forward to, maybe even a second festival with another friend, my company’s ten year anniversary party, etc. And Prides! I came out to my family in 2019, and was like “Yay, I can finally go to Prides now!” but well 🤷

DUDE SO MANY ARE YOU KIDDING ME

CONCERTS: 5SOS (I SHOULD HAVE heard “Old Me” in a crowd full of other people getting nostalgic for their past selves, but NO), Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Rock im Park aka GREEN DAY AND RISE AGAINST (I have been trying to see Rise Against for YEARS and ALWAYS something gets in the way!), one or two small local artists.

ERASMUS: I should have gone to Russia for a semester to improve my not-too-great speaking skills but Corona said FUCK YOU you will study ALONE and LONELY in your ROOM like a child on TIMEOUT

PRIDE: none in particular, just generally it would have been nice to go, maybe even with a friend to the one in Vienna

Also just general stuff like birthdays and get-togethers with friends, and my club’s annual get-together was cancelled too, and it would have been my friend, sister and my’s 10-year-anniversary, so that sucked to get cancelled.

What movies have you watched recently?

Movies? Pfuh, I don’t know, I’m not really into movies anymore, tbh. TV-series and games are more my jam.

Descendants 1 +2, I finally watched those after I read so much fanfiction that I knew the plot without having watched a single scene that isn’t a music video that youtube kept showing me. They’re nice enough, if you overlook the fact that they make a 16-year-old king while there’s still perfectly capable adults but whatever, there’s a lot of cute moments (Carlos and Jane omg) and a lot of funny ones (UMA. Is HILARIOUS), the music kind of slaps ngl, and arguably Mal + Evie are queer and in love. I still want to watch the third soon, and rewatch The Hunger Games since it showed up on my dash recently.

What shows are you watching?

Rewatching Julie and the Phantoms forever until the end of time (or until season 2 comes out @netflix, and I started Brooklyn 99 again for background noise/low-energy background watching. A friend recommended Ginny & Georgia and it’s okay enough, but it’s written in a way that makes you want to keep watching because there’s just such whack stuff happening that you want it explained; it’s 1h episodes though, that’s a bit hard on my attention span. I want to rewatch FMA:B some time, too.

What are you reading?

@we-are-not-amoosed said “tumblr posts and the texts I translate at work” and if that isn’t a Mood. I’d love to read more, but my attention span is shit and my reading comprehension even worse. I *am* reading “Explain to me like I’m 5” atm which explains stuff easily, like, well, you’re 5 years old, so you’d think a 23-year-old could understand, no? No. I read it, I vaguely understand some stuff, I close the book, and it’s G-O-N-E, not a single thing left. Literally the only thing I remember – and this is why I had to re-write ^^^all that because I needed to look up the English word for Windräder, if that’s even what they’re called in German but whatever I’m tired – is that insects and birds die a LOT in windmills when they get too close and get sucked in and can’t escape anymore, which is one of the reasons windmills aren’t as environmentally friendly as we thought when we built them. Anyhow, I’d love to read more, but idk, there are a lot of posts on here, some I’ve reblogged, that are like.. something something reading fanfiction is easier because you already know the characters and universe something something less mental energy something something idk. Yeah I mostly read fanfiction these days. I hope I’ll get back to reading books sometime soon-ish, I have a long list.

What are you doing for self-care?

Hm. I meet my friend I mentioned above pretty regularly, and I have a notebook that I write stuff in that was nice or made me happy when that happened (like today: working with my friend and then sitting among people by the river in the sun with said friend). I’m getting a tattoo next week (3 cat paws + 1 dog paw = technically my two cats and my late cat and dog, but well, two of them are dead, so I asked two friends for a paw print of their cat and dog, so I’ll always have those two with me, too). I try to make a to-do-list each day, but I rarely stick to it. I apply eyeshadow and body glitter if I want to, I dye my hair bright colors (think pink, purple, blue, red, maybe orange next). I always have chocolate in my room meaning I stopped depriving myself of food I like/food in general because it’s “healthier”/”I need to lose weight” etc. all that you know all those great reasons. I went to a doctor about my knee and it ended up being useless but I went, so.

I also went to see a therapist but she is very useless, like “ended our first session telling me well she doesn’t know how to help me/if she can help me at all/if therapy would even help me” kind of useless; I’ll go again next week and see if that changes or if next week will be the last week and I’ll go back to Dealing Like Before, which is not great but whatever. I’ve lived until 23 without therapy, surely I can keep doing it. Therapy’s expensive if it’s not covered (which this doctor IS which is why I went to her but it’s still a waste of time) and if it’s not gonna work/not gonna help me apparently or if there’s nothing actually wrong OR that therapist is just like, bad at her job, what’s the point of going yk?

Uggggh, I hope the swimming pools and Zumba class will be open again soon, Zumba (also with said friend) is AMAZING, easy fun exercise you don’t need any knowledge or skill for and you can hang out with your friend by the street after for an hour and say goodbye five times and then remember one more thing you wanted to actually still mention and stand there for another 20 minutes hjhjhj. Best times, truly.

Idk this is probably not self-care but I got a small job working with Austrian German and it gnetflix the chance to save up a bit and add it to my resume and also hopefully get my mother to shut up about my non-existent job prospects for a bit, so that’s kind of helping in making me feel a bit more like I’m Being An Adult (also because it means I have to learn how to change my insurance and finance department stuff now, yey).

Tagging: @languages-and-else @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @the-real-daddy-van-der-bellen @sunsetcurveofficial if you feel like doing it, also sorry @we-are-not-amoosed it became such a rambled long answe on almost everything hjhjhj

#tag games #me talks #covid-19 #swearing #It’s a post about corona there Must be swearing

[uswnt-owns-this-homo]

Catch These Hands, The Motherfuckers (Rose Lavelle x Reader)

   AN: TW, for pretty strong cursing, a panic attack, and homophobia/ abuse

I walk out of the airport, my luggage trailing behind me. It’s my first day in Tampa and I have to get to the hotel that all of the team is staying in. I’m nervous, being one of the youngest people there, tied with Mallory at 21. On the brightside, at least I’ll know one person.

I went to college with Mal at the University of California, and played with her for the school. We roomed together at UoC and got closer. She’s offered to introduce me and help me get settled in with the team for the camp, which I’m super grateful for. I try to hail a taxi, giving the driver the address of the hotel after I’ve put my luggage in the trunk. We get to the hotel in maybe 10 minutes, the man pulling up and helping me with my bag after I’ve paid my share. I roll the bag up to the doors and pull out my phone to text Mal.

  Y/N: Hey, I’m here, didn’t know if you wanted to meet up for lunch after I’m done unpacking and meeting the roomie?’’

Mal the Pal: Yeah, sure man! Ay, you’re rooming with Rose btw… I can introduce you? I’ll come meet ya real quick.

  Mal comes down as I’m heading into the lobby, pulling Rose Lavelle behind her. I set down my bag as Mal charges me.

   “Y/N! It feels like I haven’t seen you in years,”

    “Mal, it’s been what, 3 weeks? I missed you too though,”

We chat for a second about what I’ve been doing in the time that we’ve been graduated. I turn to Rose and put out my hand for a fist bump.

  “I’m Y/N, and unless Mal is lying, which she’s done a couple of times, I’ll be rooming with you for camp,”

She chuckles and gently bumps my fist.

  “Nah, Mal isn’t lying… this time. We’re roomies, it looks like. I don’t know about you, but I tend to stay up pretty late at camp, so I apologize in advance,”

I shake my head and laugh.

   “Eh, no problem, I mean, Mal can attest, I do my fair share of staying up late, especially before big games and stuff so I’m sure we’re probably in the same boat,”

We all go up to our room and I start to unpack my stuff while Mal and Rose sit on the bed Rose has claimed and talk.

     “So, Rosie, after Y/N finishes unpacking the entirety of her closet, we were thinking of grabbing something to eat, I kinda wanted to head down to the little bakery-coffee place, you wanna come? Help Y/N pick what nasty espresso crap she’s gonna ingest?”

    “Sure! I’ll make sure to pick something good, Y/N,”

I nod and put my last pair of sweats in the drawer, grabbing my room key and wallet before checking my snapback in the mirror.

   “Alright, I think I’m good, show the way to the coffee, Mal,”

I groan as Rose’s alarm blares. I roll over and out of bed, shrugging on a sweatshirt and putting a hat on the mess that is my hair, sliding my feet into my tennis shoes and joining Rose at the door, patting my sweat pockets for my wallet. We both head down to the lobby of the hotel where Sonnett and Mal are waiting to walk to the little breakfast place the hotel has. We all four trudge down to the cafeteria and laugh as we see Ashlyn, Ali, and Pinoe all sitting with cups of coffee. We go over to their table and plop down.

“So, youngins, how’s the morning going so far?”

I shrug and they chuckle as I go to get my breakfast and coffee, taking a mug off of the stand and filling it with black coffee. I grab an apple, some granola, and some yogurt before heading back to the table. Ali turns to me and smiles.

“Y/N, how are the parents dealing with you not being at home for the camp?”

Ashlyn scoots over and puts her arm around my shoulder. I shudder slightly and a tense smile stretches across my face.

“Yeah, I bet they’re sending lots of texts, trying to get used to having you out of the house,”

Mal walks up and hears the tale end of Ali’s question and grimaces. My stomach lurches and I scoot my chair out, trying to get up and out of the room before I freak out or throw up in front of the whole team. Ash drops her arm and I beeline towards the door leading to a smaller hallway. I take a seat against the wall a little ways from the door and try to control my erratic breathing. I grab my hat and throw it against the opposite wall, clenching my teeth and digging my short nails into my scalp. I hear the door open and look up, expecting to see Mal, but instead catching sight of Ali. She sees me and I duck my head again, still trying to control the shaking in my hands and the hammering of my heart.  Ali kneels in front of me and gently grabs my hands, taking them from my head and grabbing them tightly.

“Is it okay if I hug you?”

I let out a shaky breath and nod slightly, letting her wrap me in a warm embrace.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out… My parents are more than happy I’m out of the house, they kicked me out right after I graduated.. There are no texts,”

She lets out a breath, squeezing me tighter.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why’d they kick you out?”

I let out a bitter laugh, trying not to cry.

“I’m sure you and Ashlyn know plenty about how much people hate people like us. I guess me having a girl over and them catching me was enough. I knew they were going to react badly, and I still did it, god,”

She runs her hand through my hair and sits beside me, keeping an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess we do. But Y/N, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong, or that you should be ashamed, or kicked out. We’re just trying to love who we love. Ash wasn’t trying to bring up bad stuff, she was just trying to make you feel comfortable, get you to talk about something,”

I nod.

“I know, and I appreciate it. You can tell her what I told you, give her reasoning behind why I flipped out. I just- I thought that they were supposed to be there, to love me no matter what, ya know, and now it’s just me. My grandparents won’t talk to me, and the whole family knows, and I haven’t gotten one text, not a ‘sorry, that sucks’ or anything,”

I’m pretty heavily crying and she just hugs me, and waits until I’m finished before helping me up and using her sleeve to wipe at my cheeks.

“All you can do is keep moving, build your own family, and show them what they’re missing. A pretty awesome kid who just so happens to prefer to kiss girls,”

I shrug.

“I guess. We better get in there, I still need to eat and get ready.”

I grab my hat and jam it back onto my head. We both head in the room and Ash and Rose give me a pitying look. I look at Mal and she shrugs. I give her a weak smile and nod. I quietly eat my food while everyone talks about the upcoming day, and what they think Vlatko has in store for us.  As soon as I finish my apple and my second cup of coffee Rose, Emily, Mal, and I go up to our rooms. I quickly change and then sit on my phone while Rose finishes up. We take our bags and things and walk down to the elevator to meet Mal and Emily. Rose touches my arm about 10 feet away and pulls me into a hug. 

“I guess they just don’t know what they’re missing, cause you seem like a pretty awesome person, and a super chill roomie,”

I laugh and try and shake off the stress that the conversation brought. The only thing I can focus on is going out onto the field and showing Vlatko and the rest of the team what I’ve got.

The first day of camp was a success. We did mostly team building drills and bonding centered stuff, to help everyone get to know each other. Ashlyn and Ali both seemed to watch out for me, which I appreciated. I got to know some of the other midfielders better, and hung out around Rose, goofing off when we were allowed to not focus as much. I meet Lindsey, who’s rooming with Emily, and get to meet Mal’s roomate, Megan Rapinoe, who I can only describe as the coolest gay aunt that I’ve never had. It’s obvious that Ali or Ash told her about my little meltdown in the hallway, she keeps calling me ‘kid’ and pretty much treating me like one, which I don’t entirely hate. The whole team is walking back to the locker rooms to change and I’m walking beside Mal, Lindsey and Sonny in front of us slightly, when someone comes up behind me and hip checks me. I fall into a bush framing the sidewalk and let out a groan when twigs and leaves end up in my mouth.

“Whoever just checked me needs to be prepared to get dunked on. I swear to god, me and Mal act like the oldest ones here,”

Rose laughs and I turn around, charging at her and lifting her up, and tossing her into the aforementioned devil-bush.

“That, Rosie, is why we don’t mess with defenders, isn’t that right Kelley?”

Kelley just smiles and quickly schools her face, solemnly nodding when Rose looks at her. I offer the spirit player my hand and she tries to pull me back into the bush.

“Ma’am, please don’t, that’s my emotional support limb, I need that,”

She snorts and loosens her hold, allowing me to pull her out of the bush. The whole team is slightly snickering, except for Carli, who just looks oddly disappointed. (AN: I swear this is no shade to Carlos, she’s super chill and I aspire to have the motivation that she does.) We both continue to walk and as soon as we get in the locker room, I quickly go about changing, trying to avoid any unnecessary skin exposure. I guess I’m not fast enough to pull on my clothes after my quick shower, as I hear a couple of the girls gasp. I sigh, not bothering to pull on my shirt, turning around to see most of the team staring at me. Ash stomps forward.

“Y/N, what the hell happened to you?”

I laugh bitterly and wave off her concern, trying to ignore the urge to cover the scars that mar my legs, back, and chest, given to me by my mother and father.

“My parents weren’t too happy when they found out about the girl, and let’s just say that I didn’t like how they treated me. My dad wanted to ‘beat the queer out of me’ and I fought back. Didn’t do that again, let me tell ya,”

The whole team crowds me and I take a step back. Ashlyn looks ready to throw down, Ali and Pinoe too, for that matter. Sam and Becky look sad, Sonnett and Lindsey look pissed, and Mal and Rose just look upset.

“Y/N, does anyone else know about this, like authorities, or relatives? Anyone?”

That comes from Julie and I laugh.

“Oh yeah, I went to the cops in my hometown, ya know what they said? ‘Sounds like you deserved everything you got, queer,’. After that I pretty much just gave up, and a few days later my dad woke me up, threw all my stuff out in the yard, smacked me around a bit, and told me not to come back, so yeah, people know, they just don’t give a shit,”

I turn around with tears in my eyes and roughly pull my shirt on,grab my bag, and walk out to the bus. Rose stops me and grabs me in a tight hug. A small shiver goes down my spine and I force the feeling out of my mind.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, no one does, and we all stand with you, regardless of who you like, or what you’ve been through, we’re all a family here, and that includes you,”

I sniffle and grin.

“I know, and I’m really thankful, y’all have made it easier to adjust to, that’s for sure, besides, if they don’t want me, why should I waste my time crying over them?”

 She hangs on for a few more seconds before taking my hand and tugging me onto the bus, pushing me into a seat beside Sonnett and Mal and taking a seat next to me. We spend the relatively short ride to the hotel looking at pictures of WIlma and Bagel, and I feel slightly better by the time we reach the hotel, all except the fluttering in my chest and the deep, bone tiredness my small meltdown caused.

Okay, Rose is acting weird. I’ve just been focusing on training, proving to Vlatko I belong, and trying to get to know the team. I’ve hung out with Kelley a few times, going on coffee runs and taking her advice on trying to play a more defensive game in my midfield position. The whole team is taking a gym day, and I’m with Kelley at the cardio/core station, Sonny and Sam also there. I’m finishing a 4 minute plank and some crunches when Rose huffs from the arm station. Ash is grinning broadly.

“Y/N, looking pretty hot there, kid! Come over, you too Kell, I wanna see short stuff show off,”

I grin and come over to the bench press, straddling it and letting Ash start me off with something light. She adds the weights and laughs.

“Lets see you do 70, kid, then I’ll let you increase it,”

I take the bar down and quickly pound out 10 reps, slotting the bar back into place. I nod to Kelley.

“How about we do about 135? 140?”

Rose’s eyes bug out and I laugh. Ash and Kelley quickly load up the weight onto the bar and I once again, pretty easily do another 10 reps. Even Ash looks slightly surprised at my nonchalance. What the team doesn’t know is that I set the record for female bench press at UoC with 514 pounds, and have been keeping up with weight lifting. I shrug and grin.

“Okay, let’s start getting a little difficult. Go up to 260?”

Mal just grins from the core station while Kelley looks down at me.

“You sure, y/n, that’s like more than Uncle can lift, and she’s the strongest here,”

I nod.

“Oh yeah, I got this, easy lifting, we can go on up to 300,”

They look skeptical and I just nod. They load up the 300 pounds and I lay back down, winking at Kelley and doing 10 reps. They all look amazed and I stand up, quickly putting enough weights to get me up to 520. The weight is slightly over my school record, but I’ve been doing high weight training since I set that. Ash looks down at me and smiles.

“Okay, if you can do ten-no, five reps of 520, I’ll let you pick where we go out tonight, no questions asked,”

I laugh and nod, laying back down. Kelley gets behind me, but shakes her head.

“Who am I kidding, I can’t catch this if your dumb ass drops it, Uncle! Come on, Y/N is being crazy stupid and lifting more than two of us, I need you to spot her!”

Alyssa comes over, sees the weights, and shakes her head.

“Kel, we better both spot, I can’t even lift that much, kid is crazy, or stupid,”

I laugh and slowly lift it once. I take a deep breath and do two more, some of the rest of the team coming over. I see Mal nodding her head and do one more, acting like I’m going to put the bar up.

“Kid, that’s four, I don’t have to give up my dinner choice!”

I laugh and do six more reps, my arms shaking. I put the slightly bent bar back, and cheer.

“Take that Ash, 10 reps, looks like we’re going to sushi tonight bitches!”

She just looks amazed, and the team all groans, vocalizing how unhappy they are.

I go to cool down and Kelley follows me, whispering in my ear.

“Dude, Rosie Posie was totally staring at you the WHOLE time you were being he-man! I also wanna know how in the Hell you did that, you’re like 90 pounds, kid!”

I blush and stammer, regretting telling Kelley about the small crush I have on Rose Lavelle. Which slipped out when I got a little tipsy at a team outing. 

“Kell! No she wasn’t, she was probably surprised I could lift any of that!”

She smirks, pulling me off into the hallway.

“Ma’am, she was practically trying to decapitate me with her mind when I just told you that, I’m pretty sure she’s jealous,”

I just shake my head. There’s no way, no way! She’s Rose frickin Lavelle, I’m just y/f/n y/l/n. 

Training has been going well. I’m keeping up with everyone, and Vlatko has definitely been paying attention to me. The team has been acting kind of weird today, but overall everything is fine. It’s time for a team bonding night in Alyssa and Carli’s room, and I’m in some sweats and a muscle shirt, walking in the hallway towards their room when I’m suddenly shoved into a small towel closet. I pound on the door.

“Hey! Whoever the fuck put me in here better be ready to catch some fuckin’ hands! Let me out, I’m legit dead serious!”

I hear muffled talking outside, recognizing Sonny and Ash.

“Em, Ash, let me the fuck out!”

They keep talking, but slowly walk away. I drop to the floor and try to control my breathing. I stare at the wall and focus on staying calm. 

It doesn’t work. It’s not 5 minutes before I’m hyperventilating and trying not to cry. The door to the closet opens for a split second and someone is shoved in. I try and get to the door, but whoever shoved someone in here is already gone. 

“God, seriously, Emily, Ash! Not cool!”

Of course it’s Rose. Who better to see me lose my shit? I sit down and bury my face in my hands.

“I’ve gotta get out of here, I can’t do this!”

Rose turns to me.

“Y/N? Of course. I’m going to kill Emily and Ash!”

I try to laugh but it comes out sounding strangled. I start to panic again, being forced to remember the night my parents found out. I can still feel the bite of my father’s hand, and the rough feel of our coat closet floor beneath me. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

I sob and grab my legs, slightly rocking back and forth as I shiver. My breath comes in tiny gasps and Rose scooches over to me, grabbing my face gently.

“Hey, you’re okay, we’ll get out of here, we just need to stay calm. I have my phone, we’ll call them okay?”

I nod quickly and she pulls out her phone, quickly putting it on speaker and setting it down. No one picks up and she curses.

“Fine, they want to ignore us, I’ll call Ali, she’s gonna have Ash’s ass for this, I can already feel it,”

I laugh slightly, still grasping my hair. She calls Ali and puts it on speaker.

“Hey Rose, where are you, and have you seen y/n? Ash said you both were tired and stayed back,”

Rose scoffs.

“Well currently I’m stuck in a towel closet, so is y/n, we need you to come get us, Ash and Sonnett locked us in here, Y/N isn’t doing too well,”

I laugh hysterically.

“Can you give the phone to Ash, Al? I need to tell her that she and Sonny better be ready to catch some hands, the motherfuckers,”

Rose gently rubs my back and I try and match my breathing to hers, failing.

“Y/N, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

I once again laugh, this time the sound sounding watery and panicked.

“Well, your jackass of a wife fucking locked me in a closet! You know what that does to someone who got the hell beat out of them and then locked in a closet after their parents screamed at them for an hour after they were outed?”

She sighs and we hear her yelling at who I’m assuming are Ash and Emily. There’s a lot of rustling and muffled talking, before Ali comes back on.

“Okay, the whole team is coming, let me tell you, everyone is either pissed or trying to save their asses. I’m sorry guys, she’s stepped over a line this time, haven’t you, Ashlyn?”

We hear a muffled apology, and then the door cracks open. I launch myself out of the room and lean against the wall of the hallway, avoiding the eyes of the team. I crumble and Ali comes and hugs me, yanking Ash down with her.

“Now, Ash, what do you think you should say?”

I scoff and look at Ash.

“It’s fine, y’all were just being dumbassses, as usual, you didn’t know, I just wish you would’ve let me out when I yelled at you,”

She looks at me and apologizes. I nod.

“Just, think, maybe, before you lock someone in the closet? I spent enough time in one, man,”

She laughs and helps me up, putting her arm around my shoulders and leading me back to the hotel room. Before I go inside she looks at me.

“Me and Em did it to try and get you and Rose to man up and get together already, just so you know why we did it,”

I blush and nod. She smiles and gives me a tight hug, leaving with a wink. I go inside and see Rose standing there, waiting for me. I go to get some clothes to change into and she roughly grabs me, pulling me in for a massive hug.

“I’m sorry they did it, it’s sorta my fault,”

My eyebrows raise and I give her a small smile.

“I may have told Emily that I liked you, and then she told Ash, and that’s why they did it, oh god, you just had a panic attack and now I’m spilling, I’m so sorry, oh god,”

She covers her eyes with her hands and I grab them, pulling them from her face.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure Kelley had something to do with it. I uh- I told her I liked you when I got a little tipsy and I’m pretty sure she was plotting with them. On a completely unrelated note, would you like to go out with me sometime this camp, or after? I’m coming up to Cincinnati in a few weeks to visit some college friends?”

She laughs and nods.

“I think I’d like that very much, y/n,”

I grin and gently grab her chin, tilting her head up and gently pressing her lips to mine. We stay like that for a moment, no rush, no crazy teammates, no one to interrupt.

Until Ali comes into the room, immediately laughing.

“Well I was coming to check on Y/N, but I think you’ve got it under control Rose, sorry y’all, I’ll leave,”

We both laugh and go about getting ready for bed, turning the lights off, wordlessly agreeing to an early night in. I try to sleep for around 45 minutes, unable to get my mind and body to relax. Rose must hear me shifting around and huffing, because I hear her get up and come over to my bed.

“Can I sleep here for tonight, I can’t sleep, and it sounds like you can’t either?”

I blush slightly and grab her hand.

“Yeah, sure, maybe it’ll help to share the bed,”

We both keep a small amount of space between us for a few minutes, before I sigh and grab her hand, pulling her closer, pressing her front to my back.

“Night, Rosie Posie, I’m kinda glad I got locked in another closet tonight,”

She grins against my neck.

“Well, I’m glad I got locked in with you,”

#Rose Lavelle x reader #Rose Lavelle Imagine #Rose Lavelle #Ashlyn Harris #Ali Krieger #emily sonnett #Mal Pugh #USWNT #reader is buff as hell apparently #I dunno it kinda just worked out

[offspring-of-calliope]

Peculiar (Newsies Fanfiction) - Chapter 2

Description: Jack just wanted to have a normal conversation but Race, Albert and Finch are impossible.

words: 2041

Warning: slight period-typical homophobia (it's not explicitly stated but it's implied)

A/N: I still got no real plan for this, like there is no actual plot in my head yet but little snippets of action/moments. So, we'll see how this'll work out. Anyway, I decided to include more sidecouples, so you'll be seeing established Blush and also Redfinch but I'm not sure how slow the burn will be. Thanks for the likes on the last chapter.

I hope you enjoy and maybe leave a comment when you do,

Lélodie

-----

The back rooms of the theatre were filled with loud noises when Jack entered them. Some of the younger Newsies, who weren't too exhausted from selling papers all day, were running around, trying to chase each other. In one corner, Jack could spot Jojo, who was trying to teach Romeo and Elmer how to sew. It took him a while to recognize Race, Finch and Albert at one of the tables, playing some kind of card game. Since he couldn't see Crutchie anywhere, he supposed that he was already up on the rooftop – their usual sleeping spot – and decided to approach the card game table.

Race was the first one to notice him. “Aye, Cowboy! What happened to yer shirt?” With a teasing grin, he offered him a free chair at the table.

“An' while we's at it, what happened to yer arms?” Finch added, a concerned look on his face, while Jack was sitting down.

Confused, Jack checked his arms. Up until this moment, he hadn't even noticed the bruises which scattered them. Right in the places where he had blocked Bulky Guy's blows. He sighed. These were going to be a pain in the ass while sleeping. “Oh, that's nothing. Some fancy snob was jealous of my shirt, so he splashed it with muddy water an' another guy was tryna soak me for tryin' ta clean the rest of my body.”

The concerned look didn't leave Finch's face and he put down his cards to inspect Jack's bruises. “Ya didn't... ya know, use your powers, did ya?”

Jack wasn't exactly sure, why, but he felt guilty all of a sudden. “Yeah, I did. But in an alleyway which was all dark 'n' scary so I think, maybe that guy's been after me for longer.”

“I bet ya hit him good, too, right? I's tryna imagine his face when he realised he can't win a fight against the great Jack Kelly,” Albert said, not nearly as worried as Finch. Race looked as if he was more interested in the fight than the circumstances as well.

Finch just shook his head at Albert and Race, took his cards again and decided to stay silent. The three of them continued their game.

“Of course I's delivered him a pretty good fight,” Jack claimed, smirking. “But I have to admit, I was gonna loose. The guy was, like, really big. And then, there was this boy that jus'... He told the guy ta let me go an' he did. No kidding, I think this boy might be a charmspeaker.”

Everyone at the table glanced at him in disbelief. Eventually, Albert said, “Jack... You can't jus' accuse any person who did somethin' of bein' like us.”

“I don' 'accuse' him, first off,” Jack started but Race interrupted him.

“Yes, ya do. You do this every time. You's jus' tryin' to be a hero again – findin' a little Peculiar who ya can talk into joinin' the Newsies and comin' to Medda's.”

“Well, I wasn't wrong the last time,” Jack replied, referring to the time he invited Sniper to join them. “An' it's not like I's doing it on purpose. I just want them to be safe, ya know?”

“An' there ain't nothin' wrong with that, Jackie-Boy. But ya can't jus' walk around an' force your opinion on these people,” Race insisted. “Besides, why d'ya think that this boy that helped you has powers? Maybe he just knew the guy or somethin'.”

Jack didn't even get the chance to respond because in this moment, Finch groaned loudly. “Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me. I's lost again. Albie, don't leave me hangin', you gotta win now.”

Puzzled, Jack glanced at the cards and then at his friends. “I guess the fate's on Race's side today?” Race's power was... an interesting one, he thought. Every time he put effort into something, the universe seemed to flip a coin. Either, the thing Race was doing would go terribly wrong or turn out to become perfect. Due to the possibility of doing everything wrong, Race often considered these powers as a burden. But when he had a good run, he was on top of the world.

“Don't even ask,” Albert said, taking a look at his own cards and groaning as well.

“An' I guess that's not a good thing for you guys because you, like bet or somethin'?”

Race grimaced but suddenly, Albert was grinning. “If Team Telebrothers wins against Race, he has to tell us who's his new sweetheart.” Finch cringed at the word 'Telebrothers'. It was a word that Elmer had invented once because both Finch's and Albert's powers started with the syllable 'tele'. Albert knew how much Finch hated this invented word so he used it as often as he could.

“Oh, shut up, Al. It's not even as if I'd have a chance, even without the powers.”

Jack flashed Race a disbelieving look. “What do's yer powers have ta do with that?”

“Everything!” Race retorted and draped himself dramatically over the back of his chair. “Don't ya remember what happened when Al an' I was still a thing? It was like my powers did everythin' ta end this whole thing – which they's did in the end. It's not gonna work as long as a part of myself's makin' somethin' serious impossible.”

Jack considered this for a moment. Then, he mused, “Well, maybe Albert jus' wasn't the right one for ya.”

“Thanks, pal, that ya think it's my fault that we ain't havin' our relationship any more,” Albert said, looking comically devastated.

“Right, I mean, it was so romantic, bein' teleported by yer fella every time ya two were gonna get ta some touchy stuff,” Race responded with an affectionate eye roll and adjusted his position on his chair.

“There was a damn ceiling fallin' down on us 'cause of yer powers! Yeah, 'cause that's been so sweet of ya, Racer.”

“Me's always as sweet as honey, darlin'.” Race winked and blew Albert a kiss.

“Ya'll ready now?” Suddenly, Finch was talking and Jack couldn't help but notice how he snapped a bit during his question. He knew it wasn't fair of him but he sometimes wondered if Finch was a bit homophobic. It wouldn't be that big of a surprise, considering the general view on same-sex-relationships, but Finch was usually such a nice guy that Jack couldn't fathom him invalidating others.

He remembered the time when relationships between two boy newsies were something scary and new to everyone. Stolen kisses in dark alleyways, two hands holding each other when nobody was watching. The first one who had openly addressed the topic had been Kid Blink. There had been something going on between him and Mush for a really long time until he, all of a sudden, had raised his voice when every newsie had been hanging around in the theatre.

“Listen everybody,” he had said. “I'mma say somethin' and I's only gonna say it once. Don't think for one moment that I's not able ta notice the stares and the whispers every time me an' Mush are getting' close. I know that some of you's only curious but for those who's judgin' us 'cause they's ashamed of knowin' some queers: Every newsie who's livin' under this roof is part of a big family. Most of us didn't get ta know a life in a normal, caring family but in our family, there's gotta be only love an' respect. Ain't nobody's makin' fun of Jack sproutin' water out of nowhere or Finch movin' things around with his mind. Ain't nobody's rattin' out the Peculiars among us. It's the same with the queers. We's different but we jus' wanna live our lives like everyone else does. So if anybody has a problem with that – there's the door. Ya can either pull the stick outta your ass or loose the greatest family there is.” Silence. Nobody had even dared to move a muscle, let alone interrupt Kid Blink. That guy could be really intimidating if he wanted to. “Thanks for yer attenton. I'mma go kiss my fella now.”

After that, many others had openly admitted being queer, for example Race and Albert. Jack himself had also said that he could imagine being with a guy. Romeo flirted with anything that moved anyway. Then, there were many, many others, even some who just wanted to try and see. But there were also some, not many but still, that left that day. Some of them, they saw never again. A shudder went down Jack's spine and he dismissed the memory. This was slowly turning into a direction too painful to think of.

“So, what's you gonna do about that 'Peculiar' of yours?” Finch asked Jack.

Jack hesitated for a moment. “I'm gonna find him tomorrow. And then, I'm gonna prove ta you that he really is special.”

“Uh, looks like our Jackie-Boy here has got the hots for his saviour,” Race teased, shoving Jack slightly against the shoulder.

Jack sighed. “Oh my, why do I even put up with ya guys?”

“Come on, Jack. Ya know ya love us,” Albert said, laughing. “But Race, you shouldn't be the one to talk, you's not better than him.”

“Maybe. But still, you's never gonna know who I's been talkin' about all mornin', noon and evenin'.” With a triumphant smile, Race played his card. “I won.”

“I hate everything,” Albert said, while Finch was banging his head against the table with a soft: “Who's even surprised?”

Jack decided that it was better to let Albert and Finch suffer in silence, so he bid them goodbye and went to search for something to eat before going up to the roof. Maybe Crutchie would support him.

#writing #writer #musical theatre #musicals #newsies #crutchie #david jacobs #fandoms #jack kelly #fanfictions #fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #racetrack higgins #finch cortez #albert dasilva #ralbert #sprace #redfinch #blush #kid blink #mush #jojo #elmer #romeo #newsies musical #newsies live #newsies broadway #javid #newsies au

[charlie-writes1]

Valentine

By: @charlie-writes1

Writing Masterlist

Fandom: My hero academia

Ship: KiriBaku

Warnings: Swearing, gay

Word count: 2,354

Posted: 27.4.21

a/n I got this idea from a comic I saw a long time ago (like a year or two), I don't know who created it and I only ever saw a few short panels. If someone knows the comic please please please tell me because I want to link it! As I said I only ever saw a few short panels so minus a very short scene that I tweaked to be my own the rest of the story is mine. (Characters belong to the respectful creator)

-Summary-

Today is the day! Kirishima was going to ask out his crush. That is... he was going to ask him out, but someone beat him to the punch and he didn't think he had any chances left.

"Yo! Baku wait up!" Kirishima yelled, running up behind his explosive friend.

"What do you want Shitty Hair?" Bakugo grumbled. He didn't even spare Kirishima a glance as the redhead swung an arm playfully around his shoulder, topical interaction for the two students.

"Well, I was wondering- uhh-" Kirishima stared as he fiddled with a small box in his pocket. He took a deep breath, about to speak again but was cut off.

"U-umm excuse m-me? B-Bakugo?" A timid voice came from behind the two. They turned to see one of the 1-C students. She had orange hair that had been shaved on one side of her head while the rest of it covered her left eye. She was shorter than the two boys so Bakugo was literally and figuratively looking down at her.

"Damn extra, what do you want?" Bakugo grumbled, not in the mood to have to talk with people he didn’t know or care about.

She looked at the ground and Kirishima noticed she was holding a nicely wrapped box with a small heart-shaped card on top. "I-I w-was wondering, w-well I mean I umm-"

"Just spit it out, I'm going to be late for class," Bakugo snapped.

"I would like you to accept my feelings and be my Valentine!" She bowed and held out the box for Bakugo. Kirishima stared at the small gift, it was similar to the one he was just about to give the blond moments ago before she cut him off.

"Tsk, and why would I do that? I don't even know you," Bakugo told her. “You’re just some extra.”

"B-but-" In reality, they had had a few classes together, sometimes their classes work together in different subjects, not often but it happens, especially when a teacher had to take the day off for hero work or a sick day.

"Besides, I'm trying to become a hero, I don't have time for stupid distractions like a girlfriend, though I guess you wouldn't know much about becoming a hero since you're in general studies.” Bakugo’s voice was cold as ice. Even Kirishima thought it was harsh, even for Bakugo.

"Bro, that's not nice..." Kirishima said quietly. He didn't know how to feel, Bakugo was rejecting her, therefore he still sort of had a chance, but the way he had said it... 'I don't have time for stupid distractions like a girlfriend' that probably went for boyfriends as well.

"Tsk whatever, come on Shitty Hair we're going to be late for class," Bakugo grumbled turning back around and walking towards their class. He didn’t even spare a glance back at the girl who just stood there staring at the ground, shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she tried to hold in her tears. Kirishima gave a sympathetic look to the girl who had just had her heartbroken, she looked like she was about to cry, and truthfully, Kirishima was right there with her, Bakugo had indirectly said he wouldn't date him.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Kirishima muttered, turning back around to follow Bakugo. He gripped the box in his pocket and shook his head trying to forget about it. There’s no point in giving it to him now, not now that he knew what the reaction would be.

Kirishima couldn't get his mind off the scene from that morning all class. "I don't have time for stupid distractions like a girlfriend." Was it a stupid distraction? Was dating someone really just a distraction when they were training to be heroes? Even if both had their minds set on the same goal?

"Kiri? You okay bro?" Kaminari asked as they stood in line for their lunch food. "You've been extremely spaced out all day, did something happen?" It wasn’t normal for Kirishima to not at least try and crack a few jokes, so when he had barely even spoken three sentences... his friend had gotten worried.

The redhead looked up to his friend, getting pulled out of his daze a little too quickly. "What? Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Kirishima asked, flashing one of his signature smiles, but it didn't quite reach his eyes like it usually did, and the blond could tell. Kaminari gave him a look that seemed to say, 'yeah right, you're not okay.' "Okay fine, maybe I'm not completely okay," Kirishima admitted, looking down at the floor.

“So what’s bothering you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side a little.

"Can we talk about it after we get our food?" Kirishima asked, he didn't need anyone else listening in on their conversation. If someone heard... it didn't matter if UA was generally really good when it came to queer kids, Kirishima didn’t know what he would do if it got out that he had the biggest crush on the most explosive person in the school.

Kaminari smiled a little, "sure thing." They got their food and Kirishima led his friend out of the cafeteria to talk. He made sure that they were far enough away that no one would hear them before turning a corner and sitting against the wall. "So what's got you all down in the dumps? Girl troubles?" Kaminari asked jokingly.

Kirishima stared at him for a moment. "It's not girl troubles, Kaminari, I'm gay," he told him. Had he not told Kaminari, one of his closest friends, that he was gay?

Kaminari's face went red with embarrassment, "man I got to stop assuming this stuff, first Mina and now you, totally cool with it though don't get me wrong," Kaminari started to ramble. "Anyways what was it?"

Kirishima took out the box from his pocket. "I was going to confess today," he muttered, handing the small box over to his friend.

Kaminari took the box and turned it over a couple times in his hand. It was wrapped in shiny orange and black wrapping paper, though there was about half a roll of tape trying to hold it together. 'Be my Valentine?' had been written across the top in sharpie. You could tell he was trying to keep it neat, though it didn't work. "So what happened?"

——

Bakugo had noticed that Kirishima had been acting strangely after that morning, though he couldn't figure out why. It was almost like the redhead was avoiding him. No nagging for him to hang out with the self-proclaimed “Bakusquad” no arm being randomly thrown over his shoulder, no “Bakubro!” Being yelled, while he tried to do his work. It was too quiet.

When he noticed Kirishima and Kaminari leaving the cafeteria instead of sitting with their friends like usual, Bakugo got even more suspicious. He couldn’t remember a day that the two didn’t sit with the others, so he went to investigate.

He left enough space between them so the two in front wouldn't notice they were being followed. When they turned the corner and sat against the wall, Bakugo waited just on the other side to listen in.

No, Bakugo was not one to usually eavesdrop, but he wanted to know what was going on. Though he may not say it, Kirishima was his best friend, and maybe even more than that to the blond. He wanted to make sure Kirishima was okay.

"So, what's got you all down in the dumps? Girl troubles?" Kaminari's voice came.

Bakugo couldn't imagine Kirishima having girl troubles, it just didn't make sense to him. He didn’t know if it was because the redhead had never shown much interest in any girls or if it was because Bakugo thought Kirishima was nearly perfect in every way, having girl troubles just didn’t fit with his character.

There was a small silence, "It's not girl troubles, Kaminari, I'm gay."

Bakugo was shocked to say that least, though that would explain why he never showed any interest in girls like Kaminari or some of the other boys in their class had. He would not have pegged Kirishima as gay. But he couldn't help but feel happy about that.

Kaminari began rambling about something before asking again what was happening.

"I was rejected," Kirishima said. He sounded hurt, he sounded broken, he sounded like it was going to take years to build him back up again.

"By who?" Kaminari asked with a bit of worry in his voice.

"Well, it wasn't direct, but he made it clear that he didn't have time for a relationship," Kirishima muttered almost too quiet for Bakugo to hear.

"Who was it?" Kaminari asked again. His answer was too quiet for Bakugo. But whatever he said shocked Kaminari. "What? Him? He’s so... How?"

"Oh shut up," Kirishima said. Bakugo imagined him rolling his eyes. "He's not that bad," he continued. "I just, can't get his words out of my head.”

"What'd he say?"

"Just that he didn't have time for relationships, and that he had to focus on school."

The words began to click in Bakugo's head. If he wasn't trying to stay hidden right now he would be cursing at himself for being so stupid and saying something like that in front of Kirishima. He realized the way he turned down that girl made him think there was no chance when in reality Bakugo had turned her down because he liked Kirishima in a way he's never liked, anyone. This explosive Pomeranian was gay as well for his best friend.

He had to find a way to make it up to him somehow, make sure he knows that he still had a chance... but how?

"Well, he's a dick for saying that," Kaminari said. "Well, he's a dick in general-

"Kami," Kirishima cut him off, not very amused. "I'm not in the mood for that right now," He muttered.

"Right, sorry," Kaminari said.

Bakugo had heard enough and went back to the cafeteria. "I'm so fucking stupid," he muttered under his breath.

——

When school ended, Kirishima was going to head straight home. All his friends had plans so there was no point in going anywhere else, that is until he was yanked aside by the explosive blond he had been avoiding all day.

"Bakugo what are you-"

"Shut up and follow me Shitty Hair," Bakugo grumbled, pulling at Kirishima's arm for him to follow.

Kirishima stayed quiet and followed Bakugo around to the side of the school. He wasn't sure what to expect but what happened next was not it.

Bakugo stopped and turned to Kirishima. Staring at the ground he started talking. "I fucking messed up and I feel like fucking shit for saying what I said so I..." he trailed off. Shoving his hand in his pocket he pulled out a slightly wrinkled card. "JUST FUCKING READ THIS," Bakugo said shoving the card in Kirishima's hand.

Kirishima was shocked and looked down at the card. It had originally said "to Shitty Hair" in Bakugo's handwriting but then it was crossed out and replaced with "to Kirishima Eijiro."

He looked up at the blond confused. "Just fucking read it," Bakugo grumbled, a small blush crossing his cheeks as he continued staring at the ground, his hands finding their way back in his pockets.

Opening the card Kirishima read out loud. "'I don't have time for a stupid girlfriend, but maybe I can make time for a stupid shitty-haired boyfriend?' Bakugo what is th-" he was cut off by Bakugo grabbing his shirt caller and pulling him into a rough kiss.

Kirishima was too shocked to do anything. The note he was holding fell to the ground and he wasn't sure where to put his hands.

"Just shut up, I heard you talking with sparky, I'm sorry you thought I didn't want a relationship," Bakugo muttered when he pulled away. "I'm gonna sound fucking cheese and you're not allowed to tell anyone I said this, but you're the only person I can imagine being with."

Kirishima was shocked, taking a long moment to process what he was being told before a huge grin formed across his lips. He let out a small laugh before pulling Bakugo back into a kiss.

"You're the only person I can imagine being with too, Bakugo," Kirishima said pulling away slightly and resting his forehead on Bakugo's. "Even if you are loud and explosive," he laughed.

"So? Will you be my Valentine?" He sounded so cheese saying that, but honestly, at that moment, he couldn't care less.

"Of course, Bakugo Katsuki, of course," Kirishima said smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot, I have this for you," he said pulling back and taking a small box out of his pocket.

Bakugo took the box, looking up at Kirishima a little confused. The redhead motioned for Bakugo to open the box and unwrapped it before sliding the top off. The blond found a pack of cinnamon candy hearts, pokey and... "dog tags?" Bakugo asked pulling out the long chain that had two of what looked like military dog tags dangling from it.

Kirishima looked a little flustered. "I knew you weren't big on jewellery, but I thought you'd like these so I got them custom ordered," he explained. "One has your name and the other has mine. I-it's fine if you don't like it, I just wanted to get you something special."

Without a word, Bakugo slipped it on over his head and tucked it into his shirt. "Stop rambling. It's cool," Bakugo said, a light shade of pink on his cheeks as his eyes drifted to the side. Kirishima smiled. "I feel bad I didn't get you anything," Bakugo muttered.

"W-well it's not necessary, I just wanted to do something and-"

"I know," Bakugo said cutting Kirishima off. "You're free tonight, right?" He asked. Somehow Bakugo seemed a lot calmer and somehow softer as well. "I'll take you to dinner."

Kirishima's cheeks burned. "Y-you don't have to," Kirishima said. "R-really."

"I want to," Bakugo said. "Come on Kiri, I'll walk you home so you can get changed."

Bakugo started walking off and it took Kirishima a moment to register what just happened and follow. "R-right!" He said running a little to catch up.

He was happy it all worked out.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #Kirishima #eijiro #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #katsuki #bakugo #kacchan #kiribaku #bakukiri

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers 2.I (Josh Wheeler xF!Reader)

A/N: SURPRISE!! Who’s ready for season 2? Dunno how long this will be but I expect you enjoy it! -Danny

Words: 1,492

Warnings: Swearing

First Season // Next Chapter

[First scene, random Glendale street.]

The place is silent, not a Ghoulie in sight. Some mutant squirrels rummage through the garbage, they're starving. Not much has changed in Glendale since Principal Burr was defeated, not on the exterior at least. But we're about to see the real deal: A sound grows stronger in the distance. The squirrels look up, trying to locate the rumbling noise. Then, almost as if she materialized out of thin air, we see our protagonist skate at full speed out of the nearest alley, living her best life.

"Wooooo!" She gives a sharp turn in order to follow the main street, the squirrels scatter in outrage, abandoning their meal. Y/N doesn't notice.

The camera follows her for most of her trip, we see the empty houses as she passes without a second glance, a small group of stores and a garage that looks battered. She also glances at the abandoned private school, a slight frown appears on her face as she thinks to catch some shadow figure in one of the windows, but she doesn't stop to check.

[Time-skip]

We see her approach a group of kids around her age wearing some kind of armor. They look like trouble, but as she gets closer they receive her as another member of the group, even though she clearly doesn't look like one of them.

Y/N smiles and replies to every single one of their greetings as she skates through, she seems to have done this before.

Once in front of her old highschool her demeanor changes. She clears her throat and one hand blindly looks for the knife she keeps on her hip just in case. She walks inside.

Y/N keeps going, the kids that spot her wave and act as friendly as the ones outside, but now Y/N's nervousness has increased and as she gets closer to the biology classroom, she starts to get more and more serious.

The door is right there, and she's about to face her destiny. She opens the door and walks inside, a quiet 'Hi' makes its way out as the door closes behind her.

On the tempered glass of the door that moments ago was completely blank, now we find the title of our series:

Starcrossed Losers- Season Two.

[Queue voice-over]

Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

To be honest, I kind of wish you had. If that were the case, then it would've meant the rest of my untold story was my happy ending, regardless of what Sam had chosen to do with hers. It could've meant that there were no problems on sight and that Josh and I were destined to end together.

But you're here, and my story isn't over.

I'll take a wild guess and assume you want to know exactly how long and how many things have happened since the last time we talked. Well, it's been about what, five days? Yeah, a week tops since we defeated Burr and Sam took her rightful place -it was rightful, not gonna deny that- and us? Well, we hang in there.

Where do I start? Ah, of course, perhaps you'd like to know why I'm at the Highschool instead of the mall, that's easy.

After the small fight we had, the tribes' relationships kind of got ruined. It's hard to explain, but what happened was what always happens when some leader gets dethroned. In this case, this leader being Turbo, got kicked out and many kids thought it would be fun to throw their shot and try and do the same to Sam Dean, however, they weren't counting on how fucking sick her adviser is, this being Maya.

We Daybreakers knew, though. So we kept it to ourselves as we collected food and supplies, and now we're back in business. Everyone has their place, their part to play. Right now, I'm playing mine.

Apparently, people think I'm likable and social as well as creative and good-natured, so naturally, I had to be in a position where I get to convince leaders of other tribes to leave us alone. We trade things, usually clothing or Angelica's bright ideas, or- well, our medical supplies.

But the fucking jocks, dude. It's Maya's fault of course, I've been trying to make a deal for ages and they keep refusing all my offers because they insist is not enough. Because she insists is not enough, and Sam just agrees with her. I don't know what her plan is, but it certainly is my personal fucking hell.

So that's the reason I'm here, a new offer in my hands in hopes that I'll be able to go back to the mall with good news.

"Hi, Y/N," Sam smiles at me as if she hasn't turned down four of my offers already, "what do you have for us today?"

"Well," I rummage through the papers in my backpack, finding the notebook that contains all the deals I've made with all the tribes, "since you're not interested in the food or the medical supplies- without mentioning that your kids aren't interested in wearing something else besides their sports clothing-"

"It's comfortable," Mona replies dryly.

"...Sure," I sigh, "anyway, since none of those things are enough, I thought you might find the new update a bit more appealing."

Sam raises a brow, her smile unwavering.

"Go ahead."

"We finally managed to get the projectors working back in the movie theater," I say proudly, "and -word of the wise- Finders keepers. The cinema belongs to us."

"No way!" Sam says excitedly, straightening up in her chair.

"Yes," I admit, my tone unchanging, "we could allow you to use two rooms twice a week, as long as you stay away from our mall and our kids, obviously."

Sam bites her lip, though this time I'm a bit more certain she'll accept. No kid could ever deny to their tribe two nights at the movies. Bless Angelica and KJ for fixing the projectors and making the place run on solar panels.

Sam turns to look at Maya, who is lazily reading a magazine in the corner of the room. What an asshole. She raises her eyes with a careless stare, shrugging.

"We already have the American thingy going on-"

"But the movies, Maya!" Sam insists, "This could be good for the boys, it'd be a different way to deal with their emotions apart from the killing and the violence!"

Maya frowns, my smile remains the same cause now I know there's no excuse she can find to refuse our offer. I mean, it's the movies, who would say no to the movies?

"I suppose the food would be given by you?" She looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry?"

"The food, in the cinema?" She smirks. "We can't watch movies without food, that's what psychos do."

I clench my teeth, of course she was going to say that. She knows I can't just say yes, I can't give away things that are so valuable.

"I... could talk it over with the people in charge of the theater, see what we can do. We don't have that much food to give away, you know? I have to think of my tribe first."

Maya sneers at me but talks to Sam instead.

"You're the Queen," Maya replies, "it's up to you"

She sends a single deathly look in my direction before going back to her magazine. I look back at Sam and Mona, expectant. Sam stands up and holds out her hand for me to shake, I happily oblige, relieved about not having to come back here tomorrow.

"Oh! We do have a small petition, though," Sam adds once I let go of her hand.

I hold my breath, waiting for the worst.

"Yes?"

"It's nothing bad," She assures me. "We're doing a book of tribes here, for the future generations? And to keep things in order as well."

"That sounds... actually kinda cool. What is it about?"

"We send one of our boys to your tribe and you give them a little recap about who the leader is and what is it that you do, or if you have subdivisions and stuff. That way, if outsiders visit our city and want to stay, they can read the book and decide which tribes they want to apply to. You're allowed to say no, though. You're not obliged to appear in it, but we just thought it could be useful, and a nice way to create a legacy."

"That's so sweet," I beam at her, "you know, you really are a good leader"

"I try to be," She smiles.

"I'll talk about it with my tribe and I'll make sure to send our reply by the end of the week, is that cool?"

"Sure," Sam sits back. "Have a nice day, Y/N."

"Bye!"

I'm afraid to say it, but perhaps... things are going well?

God, I hope I'm not wrong.

Taglist.

@letsbe-queer​ @slythermyg​ @loving-u-3000​

A/N: Dunno when will I post the next part, but I figure I’ll give you guys time to tell me whether if you still want to be part of the taglist (or if you want to be added, pls let me know!) 

#twoidiots writing #daybreak fanfic #daybreak #josh wheeler xreader #josh wheeler #Starcrossed fic #sam dean #mona lisa #netflix

[freddiesaysalright]

I Don’t Like You or Your Band

John Deacon x Reader

Summary: Reader is a music journalist, and a very popular one at that. She knew Deaky when they were teenagers. She’s written a pretty harsh piece about Queen.

Word Count: 10K

Tag List:  @someone-get-a-medic @deakysgurl, @polarcrystall, @queer-heart-attack, @dewdarkdemon, @qweenly, @smittyjaws, @caborhapch, @amelialio, @flyawayhay, @hannahfuckingsucks, @hotspacedeaky, @julessbrown, @reavenedges-lies, @simmisblog, @anna-1946, @ziggymay, @retromusicsalad, @catch-a-deak, @winterssoldierrs, @casafrass, @cranberribread, @strawberry-lemonade0, @ilovetacos1267

A/N: This gets very smutty at the end, but that was the whole point! Also, this fic was inspired by the song, “I Don’t Like You or Your Band” by Kate Rhudy. Go check her out on Spotify, her whole album is awesome :)

Your cigarettes, your leather shoes You, your friends, and your middle class white boy blues You’ve become something I can’t stand Don’t even miss holdin’ your hand And I don’t like you or your band

Monday I was in love with a good, good man 

He was kissing you. Shy and sloppy, reflecting the innocence of the moment. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, hands shaking. He went to do the same, his fingers tracing the hem of your sweater. It was soft and pink, as virginal as you were. 

Your eyes snapped open. A tear leaked out and slid down your cheek. Why were you dreaming this now? Then you remembered. The Queen article was going out today. It was scathing. The thought made you nervous. Would the band see it? Would he see it? Did you care if he did?

You wiped your face and got up. You put on a simple dress and heels, pushing all thoughts of your past to the back of your mind. You didn’t want to think about him now. You didn’t want to think about him at all, really. 

As you walked into you office, you said hello to the receptionist as you made your way to your empty desk. You usually had a copy of the week’s issue waiting for you, before they hit the shelves. Your brow furrowed.

“Y/N,” said your editor, Charles, as he sauntered over to you. “You ready for today’s issue?”

He waved the magazine in front of you before letting it fall onto your desk with a slap. Queen was spread across the front page. You looked away.

You nodded at Charles, resolving yourself to your pride in your work. Your history with John Deacon was irrelevant. In fact, you had not even disclosed it to Charles - or anyone - because you felt that it mattered that little. 

“Hey, you’re from the same town as the bass player, right?” Charles asked.

A nervous twinge went through you. “Um, yeah.”

“Did you know him?” 

“No,” you lied. “No, not really.”

***

“This is shit!” Roger cried, throwing down the magazine as he entered the studio. “Have you all read this review?”

“Oh, God, what is it now?” Freddie wondered, rolling his eyes. 

“Listen,” Roger said irritably. “‘Queen is a band with talent that could best be described as above average. Their most redeeming quality is their frontman, Freddie Mercury, but even his eccentric style and quality vocals can’t make up for the fact that they’re just another wannabe Zeppelin. Only they don’t have half the lyrical depth or musical skill.’ What the fuck?!”

“Who’s the author?” Brian wondered.

“She’s a really well-known reporter,” Roger said. “She did that whole profile on Elton John last year that everyone loved. Y/N Y/L/N.”

John choked on the sip of water he was taking, and the other three turned eyes on him.

“Do you know her?” Freddie asked.

John coughed for a moment and had to catch his breath. “Yes.”

They all still stared at him. He cleared his throat. “What?”

“How do you know her?” Roger asked.

“We sort of went out when we were in school,” John explained. “I guess you could say she was my first real girlfriend.”

“Well - Christ, Deaks, what’d you do to her?” Roger wondered.

“Nothing!” John insisted. “I mean - I suppose we - well, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Could you speak in complete sentences?” Brian asked cheekily. “So the rest of us might keep up?”

John ran a hand down his face and groaned. He mumbled something that the others couldn’t hear.

“Deaky, just tell us!” Roger cried.

“We were each other’s first times!” he finally came out with. “We were seventeen and it was weird and then I fucked off to London shortly after.”

Freddie burst into giggles. Roger sighed and Brian rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you just ring her and apologize?” Roger suggested. “Maybe she’ll take back what she said.”

“Oh, come on,” John returned. “That article couldn’t possibly be a reaction to something that happened years ago. It’s probably just her honest opinion.”

“There’s no way that’s her opinion because the album isn’t shit and we’re not Zeppelin wannabes,” Roger insisted. “If anything, we also have an influence from Yes.”

“Which she also mentions,” Brian interjected, looking at the article again. “She really knows her stuff. Even if she is wrong about us.”

“If she really knew her stuff, she wouldn’t be wrong about us,” Roger said stubbornly. 

“That gives me an idea,” Freddie said.

They all looked curiously at him.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

“Let’s invite her here,” Freddie said. “Let her see how our work comes together and how original we are. That is, if it isn’t too uncomfortable for you, Deaky, dear.”

“Look, it wasn’t like I left without saying anything,” John further explained. “We had a normal breakup, I thought.”

“Great!” Freddie said with an excited clap. “It’s decided! She’ll join us for the week!”

“Hold on, nothing is decided!” Roger argued, but Freddie was already gone to use the phone. “Well, I’m not going to be nice to her.”

“She wasn’t very nice to us first,” Brian said as if that settled the matter.

***

You were going through some papers on your desk as preliminary work for your next article. Your phone rang and you picked it up lazily.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you answered.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N,” said a strangely familiar voice on the other end. “This is Freddie Mercury.”

A chill ran down your spine and your heart nearly stopped. “What?”

“We’ve read your piece on our music, and I must say, darling, we believe you’re mistaken,” he said. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Look, Mr. Mercury,” you said, finding your voice again. “I was just doing my job. If you don’t like what I say, that’s your problem. At this point, Queen should be used to bad press.”

It was a low blow, but you didn’t care. Freddie only snickered.

“I like you, darling,” he said. “You’re feisty. But I’m about to make you an exclusive offer.”

“I’m listening.”

He arranged to meet you at a cafe between your office and their studio. You told Charles about the call.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he gasped.

“Do you want me to cancel?” you asked, concerned by his tone.

“Hello no!” he cried. “Take the meeting, and whatever exclusive they’re offering you. Find out everything you can about them. Dig up the dirt. Find me something we can use to take them down.”

“Take them down?” you wondered. “I don’t want to make shit up about them.”

“You won’t have to,” he said. “But get me something.”

“I’ll do my best,” you said warily.

“That’s a good girl.”

You clenched your teeth as you left the office. You hated when men talked to you like that. You were a grown woman, out on her own. You were not a little girl who needed the approval of anyone, especially not a man. 

You went to the cafe where Freddie asked to meet. You spotted the band right away. Brian’s fluffy curls gave them away, but you first noticed John. He looked quite different with his long hair and fancy clothes. But he was still John. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. You loved the John you knew dearly. But he also hurt you. 

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N,” Freddie said, getting to his feet and shaking your hand. The others offered you no such courtesy. 

“I am,” you said. “Obviously, I know who all of your are.”

“Obviously,” Freddie said slowly, with a mischievous grin. “We wanted to talk to you about your article and offer an opportunity to...correct it.”

You frowned. “It doesn’t need correcting. The appeal of music is entirely subjective. Not everyone is going to think you’re the greatest band to walk the earth.”

“There’s no need to get defensive,” he said. “Especially since you haven’t heard our offer.”

“Well, make it then,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“She’s right to business,” he remarked. “I like it.”

“You wanna make an arrangement or do you wanna fuck around?”

He laughed. It was charming in its own way. You tried not to let it infect you, but you felt the corners of your mouth nearly twitch. It didn’t help that you were ignoring John’s intense gaze. 

“Spend the week in the studio with us,” he said. “See what we do. How we put our unique sound together. I guarantee you’ll change your mind.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him and then gestured to the rest of the band. “And you’re all on board with this?”

You scanned them. Roger glowered at the ground and didn’t answer. Brian nodded stiffly. Finally, you met John’s eyes. It took him a moment to respond, but when he opened his mouth, Freddie spoke. 

“Deaky told us you’re old friends,” he said. 

You weren’t looking at him, but you could feel his smirk. You continued to look at John and your gaze hardened. 

“Oh?” you said coldly. “I don’t recall.”

You cut away from his stare, but you saw his mouth drop a little before he quickly closed it again. Your eyes found Freddie’s, and laughter danced behind them. 

“What do you say?” he asked, ignoring his clear urge to take a dig at his friend. “One full week behind the scenes with Queen. And you’ll write a new story.”

“What if my opinion stays the same?” you challenged. 

“You write it exactly how you see it,” he said. “If you don’t change your mind - although I’m sure you will, darling - you can write even more about how terrible we are.”

“You’re awfully confident,” you replied. 

He shrugged. “Take it or leave it, love.”

“I’ll take it,” you said. “But just so you know, everything is on the record.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With the deal in place, you went with them to the studio. You walked there right from the cafe since you had your notepad in your bag. You followed behind them, but John dropped back to walk beside you. You resisted rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s - uh - good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you returned, not looking at him. 

He grabbed your arm and yanked you to a stop. You glared at him and wrenched yourself free. 

“What’s up with you?” he demanded quietly so the other guys wouldn’t hear. “I thought our relationship was meaningful...that we still cared about each other.”

“You did?” you spat. “Well, imagine my surprise.”

He blinked. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” you said. “Everything you fucking forgot when you left home, including me.”

“I never forgot you,” he insisted. 

“You could have fooled me,” you bit back. 

He looked away, clearly stung. You didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. 

“Is that why you wrote those things about Queen?” he asked. 

You laughed humorlessly. “Oh, please. You’re not important enough to be my reason to write anything.”

With that, you jogged ahead, away from him. You made a silent vow to yourself that you would not go there again with him. That from here on out, you would keep everything professional. There was no need to face what had happened. That was behind you. And you weren’t going that way. 

The first day with the band went smoothly. You didn’t interact very much with them, just quietly observing them from the booth. You had to admit they worked hard, overcame small disputes, and were experimental. 

You noticed your eyes lingering on John throughout rehearsal. His face looked the same as it used to when he was concentrating on learning a new line for a song. He looked natural behind the bass, and for a moment, you forgot you were angry at him. It was like the old days, when he was with The Opposition, and you were just a young girl with doe eyes, and he was the rock star of your heart. 

You shook your head to clear it. No. It would never be that way again. You knew only too well how that story ended. 

Tuesday You left me unamused and unimpressed 

The next day, you skipped going to your office entirely. You had called Charles from the studio and explained what they had offered, and you were pretty sure you heard him cry on the other end of the line. He again reminded you to find something “juicy” while you insisted you would still only report the truth. You could picture the way he rolled his eyes when he sighed at you. 

“Must you be so annoyingly ethical?” he wondered.

“I’m a journalist, Charles, not a gossip columnist,” you returned, and hung up the phone.

So on Tuesday morning, you came straight into the studio. You heard voices in the booth. Knowing them to be the band’s, you stopped and listened. Since they didn’t know you were there, this was obviously off the record, but you were just curious.

“Honestly, I don’t know what you ever saw in her,” Roger said.

“She didn’t used to be…” John trailed off.

“Such a bitch?” Roger finished.

“I guess so,” John agreed. “When I knew her she was honestly the sweetest person I’d ever met. A really lovely girl.”

“Are sure it’s the same Y/N Y/L/N?” Brian joked.

They all snickered. 

“Well, she mostly looks the same,” John said.

“I will give you that she’s a looker,” Roger said. “But it’s hard to believe that woman was ever a ‘really lovely girl.’” 

“She was,” John insisted. “Really, she was. Her nickname in school was Judy because she reminded everyone of Judy Garland.”

Just hearing that endearment again - especially from John’s lips - drove a knife through your heart and twisted it.

“Judy Garland?” Roger returned, incredulous. “Are you joking?”

You decided to walk in now, lest this conversation go further into John’s memory of a girl that no longer existed. 

“Morning, gents,” you said coolly. 

Roger groaned, departed to the studio, and started fiddling with his drum set. He left the door open, but the rest of the band did not follow him just yet. Freddie looked at you.

“Sorry about him,” he said.

You shrugged. “I don’t care that he doesn’t like me. I don’t need anyone’s approval. Especially not some Cornish pixie drummer boy.”

Roger froze, dropping a drumstick, and scowled at you. Freddie cackled. John clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Even Brian let out a small chuckle. You just stared Roger down, cocking a challenging eyebrow at him. He said nothing, but he did flip you off through the window. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on the couch.

Brian joined Roger in the studio, picking up his guitar and slinging it across his body as he began tuning it. You watched how careful he was. Roger was too. They were meticulous about sounding exactly right. You observed this the previous day as well but thought they were just doing that because you were there. Clearly, this was their normal routine. You were just barely impressed. 

They started playing through a song, but quickly began bickering about tempo. Roger accused Brian of going too slow, whereas Brian thought that was appropriate for the song. Voices were raised, insults were tossed, glares were exchanged. Freddie was giggling as he watched from the booth. John kept glancing at you, but you resolutely ignored him. 

“Darlings, darlings,” Freddie said to Roger and Brian. “Please. We can settle this. Deaky, what do you think? Roger’s tempo or Brian’s?”

“Roger,” John said. 

“Of course you side with him,” Brian snapped, rolling his eyes. 

“Christ, Brian, it’s not personal,” John argued. 

“Yeah, it’s because I’m right,” Roger added.

“I happen to side with you, Brian, dear,” Freddie interjected before it could escalate again. “So it’s a tie.”

“We don’t have a tie breaker,” John said. 

Freddie smirked. “Sure we do. Y/N.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“What do you think, darling?” he asked. “Brian or Roger?”

“I have no opinion,” you said flatly. 

“We all know that’s not true,” he returned. 

“This is all very democratic of you,” you said with a sigh. “But if I participated in the making of the music I’m supposed to be evaluating, wouldn’t that create a conflict of interest?” 

“Don’t be difficult, Y/N, just tell us what you think,” John said shortly. 

You shot him a glare. “No.”

“Why should she decide?” Roger chimed in. “She doesn’t even like our music.”

“All the more reason to believe she’s being honest,” Freddie pointed out. 

“Or just petty,” Roger muttered. 

“Did you even hear what she just said?” Freddie said. “She’s got principles.”

“I have been described as annoyingly ethical,” you said. 

“Principles be damned, I don’t give a shit what she thinks,” Roger said. 

You shrugged.

Freddie turned to you. “Just for fun. Off the record. Who do you think is right?”

“Off the record,” you repeated firmly. “Roger is right.” 

Roger threw you a surprised look before a smug smile claimed his face. He looked triumphantly at Brian. 

“What happened to not giving a shit what she thinks?” Brian spat. 

“My opinion doesn’t count,” you reminded them. “It’s still a tie.”

Roger frowned. “Who was it that described you as annoyingly ethical?”

“My boss.”

“Smart man.”

“Look, let’s just count Y/N’s vote so we can move on,” John suggested. 

“No,” you said. “You can’t.”

“Don’t worry, it was off the record,” Freddie said. “No one will know.” 

“We’ll know,” you argued. 

“And we shall all take it to the grave with us,” John said sarcastically. “Lest you be known as a music reviewer with a bloody opinion.”

“Oh, fuck y-” you began, but Freddie cut you off. 

“Roger wins the popular vote,” he said. “Deaky, get in there and help them out.”

Your eyes bored hatred into John’s back as he entered the studio. You slumped back onto the couch, feeling a bit like a pouting child as you continued to observe them. John’s mouth was drawn downward as he grabbed his bass roughly. He licked his fingers before plucking at the strings. A motion that almost made you gasp. It was...sexy. You shook your head and crossed your legs with a huff. 

You spent the rest of the day scratching your notes down harshly, lips pressed together with irritation. As they finished up, you started to put away your pen and paper. You slung your purse onto your shoulder and started to head out when your pocket knife slipped out of your bag and onto the floor. You reached down to pick it up, but John beat you to it. You snatched it out of his hand without even thanking him and stuffed it into your bag. 

“Why are you carrying that?” he asked. 

“Experience taught me I had to,” you replied. 

“Experience?”

“I got fucking robbed, John, what do you want from me?”

“When?!” he wondered, eyes going wide. 

“My first day in London,” you told him, unsure where this honesty was coming from. 

You didn’t tell him that they man who did it made you strip, taking everything you had on you including your address book and money, so you shivered naked in an alley until a kind restaurant owner came out, saw the pathetic state you were in, and took you inside. She gave you a spare uniform and then offered you a job and a place at her flat until you could pay her back. Which you did in full. You also didn’t tell him you had only come to London looking for him.

His eyes searched yours. He found a hurt there that was bone deep. You were like a wounded dog, whimpering for a helping hand but prepared to bite the first one that touched you. Your glare was like bared fangs. Still, a part of him ached to reach out and risk you sinking your teeth in. 

“That’s terrible,” he said, knowing exactly how lame it sounded. 

You held his gaze. “I’ve been through worse.”

With that, you left the studio. John sighed and looked at the floor.

“She’s awfully cryptic, isn’t she?” Brian remarked.

“She’s so angry,” John said, half to himself. 

“Forget about her,” Roger said, clapping John’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

Meanwhile, you walked to the pub you usually patronized in the evenings after work. It was actually the place you had worked after that first horrific night. The owner was still there and tended the bar on weeknights, so you went to see her. She always offered you a drink for free, but you never took it. She had already done too much for you.

“Y/N!” she called as you came through the door.

You beamed at her. “Cora!” You came around the bar to embrace her. “How are you?”

“I’m just fine for an old lady,” she replied. “How are you, my dear?”

You sighed, unsure how to answer her.

“I know that face,” she said. “You’re in need of a drink and conversation.”

“The drink I could use,” you replied. “The conversation, I’m not so sure about.”

She poured you your favorite, gin and tonic. You took a sip and thanked her.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, just gotta pop in the back and get some wine glasses,” she said.

You stood up. “I’ll get them, Cora.”

“You don’t work here anymore, love,” she said with a grateful laugh.

“I’ll always take care of you,” you returned. “Besides, the doctor said you shouldn’t strain your back.”

You set your drink on the bar and then headed into the dish pit. 

While you were in the back, Freddie, Brian, Roger, and John walked in. They took seats at the bar, leaving a few chairs between themselves and where your bag and drink sat. John thought it was yours, but wasn’t quite sure. Cora walked over to them and took their drink orders. You emerged again, carrying the rack of glasses and groaned when you spotted the band. Still, you brought the dishes behind the bar.

“Oh, Y/N,” said Freddie. “Do you work here too?”

“What, writing rubbish about music not paying the bills?” Roger jabbed.

“Piss of, Roger,” you snapped. “I don’t work here, but I used to.”

“Are these friends of yours, Y/N?” Cora wondered, eyes flickering between you and the band.

“Cora, this is Queen,” you said gently. “I’m re-evaluating them.”

She released a delighted giggle and clapped her hands. “Oh, my! Well, it’s not every day we have real rock stars in our little pub! Welcome, lads!”

“Thank you, darling,” said Freddie.

Cora just grinned widely at him. A warm smile danced across your lips as you took in her excitement. John’s eyes landed on you and he saw, for a fleeting moment, the girl he knew. But at that moment, a man approached you and asked you to join him at his table. You agreed, wiggling your fingers at Cora as she watched you cross the room. 

“You two seem very close,” Brian said casually. “How long did she work here?”

“Just over a year, actually,” Cora said. “But she lived with me too.”

“How did that happen?” John wondered.

“Well, I found her right outside this building,” she explained. She told them all how she found you, to their shock. Even Roger felt pretty sorry for you.

“I couldn’t just leave her out there, shivering and alone,” she continued. “My Christian heart wouldn’t let me. So I took her in. But she took care of herself really once she started to make some money. I know she did some...unsavory things to earn the extra. I offered to help her, but she refused to take even one penny from me.” 

“Why didn’t she just go home?” Roger asked.

Cora shrugged. “She said - and I’ll never forget the words she used - ‘I came to London looking for someone. He’s lost, so I’ll find myself instead.’ Seemed quite poetic to me. I knew from there she’d be a writer.”

“Did she ever tell you who it was she was looking for?” Freddie asked, glancing at John.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “She refused to speak of him. Some chap from her hometown, though, that’s all I knew.”

At that moment, you came back over to tell Cora goodbye, since you were leaving with the man from before. You kissed her cheek before turning to the band.

“See you lot in the morning, I suppose,” you said.

They gave you odd looks, but you pushed your confusion away. You left with David, heading back to your flat, which wasn’t far from the bar. But as you took David up the stairs to your front door, the look in John’s eyes haunted you. Something like pity swam behind them. Pity mixed with guilt. It infuriated you.

Then David’s chapped lips were on yours, cracked and unpleasant. He shoved his talentless tongue into your mouth as he pushed you gently onto your bed. You bunched your skirt up to your hips so he could tug your panties off, but he stopped.

“Would you suck me off first?” he asked.

You smirked. “You wanna keep your cock?”

“W-what?”

“If you wanna keep your cock, keep it the fuck out of my face,” you warned.

“Shit, alright,” he gasped.

“Now take my knickers off and fuck me.”

He obeyed, pulling his pants down to his ankles. You weren’t quite wet enough so it stung a little when he pushed into you, but you bit your lip through it. Only, his fucking was as awkward as his kissing. His thrusts were sloppy, and he failed to even graze your g-spot. Your clit, he completely ignored. He clearly thought he was doing great from the noises coming out of his mouth. Gasps and groans, and some semblance of dirty talk that you didn’t even hear. You sighed, exasperated, and pushed him off of you.

“You’re shit,” you said. “Get out.”

“What the fuck?!” he cried breathlessly.

“Get your pants on and get out of my house,” you ordered. 

“I’m still hard,” he complained.

“That’s not my problem,” you returned. 

He narrowed his eyes at you and scrambled off the bed. He tucked himself into his trousers and glared at you as he put his shoes back on.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

You grimaced at him. “So I’ve heard. Bye now.”

He muttered under his breath some more as he left, slamming the door behind him. You got up and followed, locking the door just in case. Then you returned to your bed. Flopping onto your back, your mind showed you John’s eyes again. You remembered kissing John all those years ago. The ways his eyes looked the first time you’d kissed him. 

You pictured John now. Different, but much the same. More talented, less awkward. You remembered him licking those fingers of his before playing his bass. His mouth in a slight pout as he focused. Your skin felt hot. Your lower stomach churned with desire. You dipped your finger between your thighs and pressed onto your clit.

“John…” you sighed.

Wednesday What a shame it is that the rock I thought you were turned out to be sand

You arrived to the studio early the next morning. It was raining heavily as thunder rolled in the distance. Cosmically, John was the only other person there. You didn’t let the fact that you’d gotten off to the thought of him throw you. You just took your seat on the couch, ringing out your hair, and waited in silence with him. You pulled out the book you were reading and dove in. The only sound was the patter of the rain on the roof.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened to you when you came to London?” he asked suddenly.

You snapped the book shut and looked at him icily. “I didn’t realize that was any of your business.”

“I know you’re not this person,” he said. “When you looked at Cora yesterday, you were yourself again.”

“You don’t know anything about who I am, John Deacon,” you said. “A lot has changed since we left Oadby.” 

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“You’re assuming you have a right to an answer.”

“I think I do have a right,” he said hotly. “A lot of this anger you’ve got is clearly directed at me. Maybe if you stopped biting everyone’s head off and talked about it, you wouldn’t be so pissed off.”

There was that look again. The pity guilt combination that made your stomach roil. 

“Fine,” you snipped. “You wanna know what happened to me? Yes, I got robbed and left naked behind a building. I took a job as a waitress to scrape by and pay back a fraction of debt I owed Cora. And there were a few regulars at the bar who I fucked for money. Anything else?”

“How’d you get a writing position?” he asked levelly.

“One of the regulars introduced me to an editor friend of his,” you said. “I submitted my first article to him, and he took me on. I got better and was eventually offered the job I’ve got now.”

“Okay, how is any of this my fault?” 

“Is that what you think?” you laughed. “I don’t blame you for any of that shit. You weren’t even in my life anymore.”

“Then why are you so angry at me?!” he demanded, getting to his feet.

You jumped up too. “I’m angry at you because you lied to me!”

“What?!”

“You did!” you cried. “You broke up with me, and it broke my heart. But it was okay because we were supposed to be friends. And yet I was the only one who made any effort. Then suddenly you were off to London and then I never heard a thing from you! And I wrote you every day! Every day until I came here looking for you! And you promised you’d write to me, John!” You choked on his name as your throat got thick with the old wound. 

“You promised,” you repeated with childish stubbornness. 

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. 

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want from me, John? My forgiveness?”

“Well, it was only letters,” he said.

“Only letters?” you repeated quietly. “John, it’s not about the letters. It’s the fact that you didn’t give enough of a shit about me to pick up a goddamn pen. Our relationship meant that little to you. I meant that little to you.”

You had scarcely gotten the words out when Roger and Brian walked in, both rain soaked, and flicking water off their coats. They were already quarrelling about something regarding the song again. You and John turned eyes on them.

“Y/N, what do you think, off the record -” Roger began, but you cut him off.

“Oh, no,” you said. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“Damn, I don’t know how else I’m gonna win this one,” he muttered.

You giggled. All eyes fell on you as you clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Y/N, did you just laugh?” Roger asked, a smile on his face.

“No,” you insisted, but the corners of your mouth were still turned slightly up. 

“I think she did,” Brian added. 

“Could it be that there’s a real, human heart in that chest?” Roger continued. “I thought it was just a hunk of ice.”

“Shut up,” you said through another laugh, but they let you have that one. 

“Is Fred here yet?” Brian asked John.

John shook his head. “Late, as usual.”

You and John locked eyes briefly before you started getting out your pen and paper again. Freddie arrived within a few minutes, and they got right to work. You did actually admire their focus and professionalism. They took their craft seriously. More seriously than most musicians you had met. And you had met a great deal of them.

Today they had fewer arguments. It seemed that the rain was making everyone too tired to fight. That was more than okay with you. You couldn’t stand the bickering, especially between Brian and Roger. You wondered how they were the founders of the band since they rarely seemed to agree on a concept for a song. It was maddening to listen to.

John was stuck somewhere between staring intensely at you or avoiding you like the plague. The conversation from before was not a comfortable one, and it was so clearly unfinished. Unsaid words hung between you like clothes on a line. When your eyes did meet, it was like stepping onto a balance beam. You were unsteady and wobbly, but clinging to the very thing that put you there.

By the afternoon, you heard a rough run through of a new song. You would never, ever tell them this, but you liked it.

When the day was over, you packed up your things and for the first time, the band said goodbye to you. Roger only offered a wave, while Brian and Freddie said the words. John actually asked if he could walk you out.

“I can get to the door myself, thanks,” you said.

You weren’t sure where you two stood after the morning’s conversation. You feared another emotional line of questioning. 

“Please,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, then.”

You walked down the hall together, but he was behaving strangely. He kept glancing into every doorway you passed, and would sigh when there were people inside. When you reached the end of the corridor, he pulled open the door to what appeared to be a closet. He took another quick look around before pushing you inside.

“John, what the hell?!” you demanded as he shut the door.

“I want to speak in private,” he said.

He reached up and pulled the string to turn the light on. It was a tight space. Your bodies were pressed together, chest to chest. It made heat rise in your cheeks to be so close to him. You looked up to meet his eyes. When had he gotten so tall?

John swallowed as he looked down at you. The feeling of your breasts against him was enough to drive him crazy.

“I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, focusing on your face.

He was so close you could feel his breath on your face.

“I don’t have to tell you everything,” you returned.

“Y/N, please,” he groaned. “We were going so well this morning.”

“Well?” you questioned. 

“Yes, you were opening up,” he said. “You’d softened to the point where you laughed.”

You sighed. “That was a fluke.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he said. “Tell me one thing.”

“What do you want to know?”

“After you had some money, why didn’t you go back home?” he wondered. “Why put yourself through all of this? You could have been back with you mum -”

“She left, John,” you said. “She left me in the middle of the night.”

John knew already that your father was not in your life. You and your mother were on your own back in Oadby. She had made quite a life for herself and seemed devoted to you. This revelation clearly shocked John, as he would have stumbled backward had there been space to do so.

“She left you?” 

You nodded. “Yes. She left a note that said she couldn’t do ‘this’ anymore and she was leaving, but she knew I would be okay. I started to write you, but you hadn’t been answering my letters, so I took the money she left me and came looking for you. Because I needed my friend. I needed you, John.”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm you again. This was something you had never told anyone. Not even Cora. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I left you in the dark...I’m so, so sorry.”

“Just tell me why,” you breathed back.

“Because I missed you so much,” he told you. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “If you missed me, why would you ignore me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to be with me again,” he said. “It wasn’t fair.”

“Elaborate on that.”

“I wasn’t sure that I was going to be successful,” he said. “I didn’t know if I wanted to have a career in electronics, and music was still something so unsteady. All I wanted was to be with you again, but I didn’t want you to give up home and security. I didn’t think I was worth it.”

“So you thought the solution was to just shut me out?” you said. “Without even telling me why?”

A tear slid down your cheek, catching you by surprise. Gently, John brought his thumb to your face and wiped it away. The feeling of his touch made goosebumps erupt over your skin and sent a shiver down your spine. And yet, anger sat on your stomach. 

“That is a piss poor excuse, John,” you spat.

“I was a kid,” he argued.

“We’re the same age, and I knew better,” you said. 

“I said I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

You held his gaze for a moment. You didn’t know what else he could do either. Your feelings weren’t clear to yourself. You weren’t sure you were at a place where you could forgive him. As you looked into his eyes, you wanted to. You desperately wanted to. His eyes flicked down to your lips. Slowly, he began to lean forward. Your heart hammered against your chest and cheeks warmed as he inched closer. You were suddenly absurdly aware of his hand on your face. His eyes began to close and you pressed your hand to his chest.

“John, wait,” you said, sounding even less sure than you felt. 

He opened his eyes and looked at you questioningly.

“I can’t do this,” you told him. “I don’t know how I feel about you.”

His hand trailed down to your neck, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin. You sucked in a breath. He noticed, but he let you off the hook.

“I know how I feel about you,” he said. “I don’t like the ice queen we met earlier this week. But the woman you are beneath that is someone I’d like to know again.”

He pressed his lips to your cheek and you closed your eyes at the contact. When you opened them again, he was pushed the door to the closet open. He offered his hand so he could help you out. You accepted, needing the balance to step over all the items on the floor. As you headed to the front of the building, you said nothing else to each other. When you reached the door, you faced him again.

“Have a good evening, John,” you said.

“You too, Y/N,” he replied.

He gave you hand a small squeeze and then left. You took a deep breath and went out the door. The sun shone. The sky had cleared.

Thursday Maybe you should get your shit together

You sat in the studio taking notes, your eyes flicking between your notebook and John. He occasionally looked back at you, in which case you would look sharply away. You had to bite your lip to keep from smirking. You couldn’t tell if he noticed or not. 

You were a little embarrassed at how quickly the band hand begun to sway your opinion. You usually considered your opinion resolute. Perhaps it was growth that you could change your mind. About Queen, and the desires of your own heart.

Suddenly, Charles walked in. He was carrying your notepads from the last three days and looking livid. He waved them in your face. You shot him a confused and offended look. 

“What?” you snapped. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re damn right there’s a problem!” he cried. “Is this really all you’ve got from the last three days?”

“That’s three notepads full,” you replied. “You really think I’m keeping stuff from you?”

“Do not sass me, girl!” he shouted. 

Quietly, the band came into the room, though neither you nor Charles noticed, too caught up in the argument to see. 

“Don’t call me girl!” you retorted, getting to your feet. 

“Look, I didn’t give you this assignment so you could give me this choir boy version of the band!” he continued. 

“Roger literally does coke on the second day, but yeah, I got choir boys,” you spat. “I’m writing the truth -”

“LISTEN!” he bellowed. “I told you I needed an exposure! Something to fill the headlines! A take down piece! So unless you wanna put some heels on and fuck me for an hour, you better stop acting like a little bitch!”

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. The words had hardly left his mouth when John tackled him to the ground. He drilled his fist into Charles’s face repeatedly. You watched through teary eyes as John defended you. Blood burst from Charles’s nose as John’s fist made hard contact, over and over again. Charles was resisting weakly, blindsided by this attack. 

“John!” you cried, reaching for him. “Stop! Stop it!”

Brian grabbed your arm to keep you out of it. Freddie and Roger stepped in to drag John off, but he struggled against them. You stared at him, amazed and horrified. Charles got slowly to his feet, shaking as he peeled himself off the floor. He glowered at John, breathing heavily. Then he wiped his bloody face with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“You will be hearing from my lawyer,” he growled. He rounded on you. “And you, little groupie whore, are fired.”

You blinked, letting a tear fall down your cheek, and bit your lip to hold back the sob threatening to escape from your throat. Charles spat on the floor before limping out of the room. Roger flipped him off as he held John back. Freddie just sighed. Brian turned eyes on you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you choked out. Then you looked at John. “Let him go, guys. I need to speak to him.”

Freddie and Roger released John’s arms. He shrugged them off and followed you out of the booth and down the hall to an unoccupied office. John looked expectantly at you as you turned to face him.

“Close the door, please,” you requested. 

He did. As soon as it clicked shut, you flared up.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you demanded. “We’ve spent all week despising each other and now you’re fighting some guy because he insulted me?! Who are you?! I don’t know where your head is at at any given time! How can you -”

He cut you off with a searing kiss. Your eyes fell shut as his lips moved against yours and you plunged your hands into his hair. It was frenzied and needy, all teeth and tongue. His hands slid over your shoulders before he grabbed your breasts and squeezed. You moaned into his mouth, feeling like you might faint.

He pulled back from your lips to pepper kisses down your neck. He nipped at your soft skin before swirling his tongue around the same spot to soothe it. High, breathy moans fell from your lips as he went. You pressed yourself closer to him and you could feel his hardening cock against your stomach. It sent a powerful jolt of arousal to your core. Your panties dampened.

“Mmm, John,” you sighed.

When you said his name, it fanned the fire in him. He grabbed you roughly, turned you around, and pushed you against the desk. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he bent you over. He yanked your skirt up around your waist, revealing your legs and thong to him. You shivered as the air hit your warm skin. John ran a hand up the back of your thigh, making you tremble with anticipation. He moved his hand away only to bring it back down sharply on your ass. The sound cracked like a whip in the empty room and a guttural moan tore from your throat. It only made you that much wetter. 

“So damn strong willed, Y/N,” John growled into your ear, rubbing your stinging skin. “But this is what you really want, isn’t it? Someone to take care of you?”

You judged yourself a little for the pathetic whine that came out of your mouth. He wrapped his arm around you and dipped his hand into your underwear. Quickly, he ran his fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness. 

“Oh, God,” you moaned as his pointer finger found your clit. 

You took hold of his arm, gripping it tight as the pleasure built. He made light circles on your clit, picking up speed with each rotation. 

“F-fuck, John!” you cried. “Feels so good!”

“I see the way you watch me play,” he teased. “How badly you want these fingers inside you, princess, huh?

“Please, please, please,” you begged. 

His middle finger nudged your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so sexy begging for me.”

Finally, he sank it into you. You groaned and your head slumped forward, lost in the feeling of it. He pumped in and out of you, slowly at first as he curled his finger into your g-spot. The heel of his hand put pressure on your clit and you saw stars. 

“So bloody proud,” he said, kissing your shoulder softly. “But so needy.”

You couldn’t answer him. Your brain couldn’t even form words. His hand was working you right up to your orgasm. When he added a second finger you nearly screamed. 

“M’close,” you mewled. “So close, John - fuck!”

You were clenching around his fingers, hurtling toward the edge. He sped up. You were grateful for the desk beneath you because your legs completely gave out. 

“Go on then,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, princess.”

His permission was all you needed. You came completely undone with a choked cry of his name, riding out your high on his hand. As you came down, your whole body shook. He kept his hand at your center, lazily stroking your folds. 

“Ready for my cock?” he asked, grazing your clit again and making your hips twitch. 

You nodded. 

“Need to hear you say it,” he urged. 

“Yes, please, John,” you whined. “Want you to fuck me…”

You caught your breath as he unzipped his trousers and pulled your thong down to your ankles. You moaned when he pressed his tip against your entrance. All your senses were heightened by the pleasure coursing through you. The head of his cock right at your core, the silky feeling of his shirt against your back, the tickle of the ends of his hair on your cheek. All of it was just John. 

He pushed slowly into you. He was quite big, but you were so wet, he met little resistance. You groaned as he entered. He filled you up, bottoming out inside you and he stopped so you could adjust. 

“You’re so tight,” he hissed. “Fuck.”

“Move, please,” you told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He started at an easy pace, but quickly picked up. He must have been needier than you realized because his cock twitched inside you. So he was close. His finger found your clit again, circling it to the rhythm of his hips. His free hand gripped one of yours, interlocking your fingers. He pounded into you, his tip hitting your g-spot and making you whimper with every thrust. 

“Can I - hng, fuck - can I cum inside you?” he asked breathlessly. 

Just the thought of it made you squeeze around him and he let out the filthiest groan. 

“Yes - oh, God - yes,” you practically sobbed. 

One, two, three more thrusts, and you finished together, his hot cum coating your pulsing walls as he collapsed above you. You were shivering from the intensity of two such rapid orgasms, so his weight warmed and stilled you. He pressed his lips to your shoulders and neck, easing you down before he pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling. Then he pulled your underwear back up and readjusted your skirt. There was something touching about him redressing you before tucking himself back into his pants. 

You just barely managed to push yourself off the desk. “John...that was…”

“Sorry I just pounced on you,” he said, looking at the floor. 

“No, don’t apologize,” you said. “You were...you were incredible.”

“I just had to have you,” he replied bashfully. 

You smiled. “John, I’ve never…”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’ve never orgasmed from a partner before,” you admitted. 

“What?!” he gasped. “Never?!”

“That’s what I said,” you replied. 

“Even when we - y’know - before?”

You laughed. “John, we were teenagers. No, I didn’t fucking cum. But you certainly made up for it now.”

It was his turn to smile. Then, he took your hand and pulled you close to kiss him. He was softer now. All anger and frustration gone. He rubbed your sides before wrapping his arms around you and just holding you close. 

“Next time, we’ll make love properly,” he said into your hair. 

“There’s going to be a next time?” you questioned. 

“If you’ll let me,” he returned with a smirk. “You proud little thing.”

“I’m not so proud,” you said. “I did just let you bend me over a desk and fuck me.”

He chuckled. You returned to a comfortable silence and holding each other. You dug your fingers into his shirt as he embraced you. You buried your face in his chest. The girl you were - one who was hopeful, sweet, and romantic - was clawing her way out to meet the stronger woman you became. John’s return to your life showed you that they could exist together. His arms around you reminded you that she was a part of you and though you had changed - you both had - she was a remarkable and formative part of your story. 

“I’m sorry again,” he said, pulling away to look in your eyes. “For letting you feel like I didn’t care about you. I thought about you all the time. And when your letters stopped, I hoped that you had found something that made you happy. I have only ever wanted that for you.”

You cupped his face in your hand. “I know that, John. I forgive you.”

“I like this woman, Y/N,” he said. “Who you are. Can we get reacquainted some more over dinner?”

“I would like that very much,” you said with a smile. “And I suppose it’s not a conflict of interest anymore since I’ve been fired.”

“Oh, shit.”

You shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m a good enough writer that I’ll get another job. Plus, I was going to have to eat my words and I really didn’t want to.”

“You were?!”

You nodded. “So thank you, John. You spared me that.”

He only laughed. You kissed him again. 

“Actually, I think I will write the story,” you said. “We had an agreement. I’ll sell the story to another magazine. When the public eats it up, Charles will be sorry.”

He grinned, kissing your forehead. Then you left to go to your dinner date.

Friday I look pretty, I’m lookin’ pretty in my dress

The next morning, you woke up next to John. Your dinner date went well, and you brought him back to your apartment for more of what you called “making up for lost time.” You gazed at his sleeping face and wondered at your own heart. How quickly this man had softened you. You couldn’t help pressing your lips to his chest. But when you got close to him, you noticed that he was hard. You stifled a giggle and then gently nudged his chest. 

“John,” you said. “John, wake up.”

“Ugh,” he groaned. “What is it, love?”

“Can I touch you?” you asked sweetly. 

“Fuck, yeah, of course,” he said. 

You sat up, straddling him across his legs. You brought your hand to his cock and just stroked it with your finger, looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes. You kissed his chest again. Softly, you nipped at his collar bone before trailing down to his tummy. Your tongue flicked out at the places that made him moan. When you reached his hips, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and he arched up with a soft gasp. 

You never understood what men loved so much about fucking a woman’s mouth. You understood even less why women willingly gave men head. It brought them no pleasure. For the first time in your life, you willingly took a man’s tip past your lips. The beautiful little whine that came out of John’s mouth made it make sense. The knowledge that you made him feel this good was incredibly hot. You rubbed your thighs together for some friction. 

You lowered your mouth onto him, taking him all the way down until his tip hit the back of your throat. You hummed around him and he whined, holding himself back from bucking up. He had no idea how grateful you were for his allowing you control in this situation. You bobbed up and down, taking his cock as deep as possible with every stroke. 

“Fucking Christ, Y/N,” he sighed. “Your mouth is incredible.”

You didn’t answer, but kept going. You couldn’t believe what giving him this kind of pleasure was also doing to you. The sounds me made, the way he looked with his head thrown back and mouth hanging open...it was sexy as hell. 

You reached up to massage his balls and he couldn’t stop his hips from jumping at the contact. He apologized, but you waved him down. You continued. He finally pulled you off him because he was so close. 

“S’okay,” you said. “I want to finish you off with my mouth.”

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned. 

You smirked before taking him down again. You went a little faster now, eager to get him there. His chest became as flushed as his cheeks. 

“Ah - Y/N - I’m -” 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, as he released inside you. You swallowed as you worked his cock through his high. He panted beneath you. You came up with a soft pop and showed him your empty mouth. 

“Oh, God,” he shuddered. “You’re so sexy.”

“That was fun,” you said with a smile. “You got so worked up.”

“It felt good,” he returned simply. 

“I never understood before why blowjobs were fun,” you told him.

He just looked quizzically up at you. 

“Never mind,” you said, shaking your head. 

He didn’t press you, which you appreciated. You didn’t want to talk about that now anyway. Without warning, he gripped you by the hips and flipped you over. You yelped with surprise. 

“What are you doing?” you wondered. 

“Returning the favor,” he said. 

He kissed your lower tummy, exploring your skin and making you giggle. Then he turned his attention to your thighs. You rocked your hips up toward him impatiently. 

“Relax,” he said. 

“I didn’t tease you like that,” you reminded him. 

“Never said I was playing far,” he shot back. 

Even so, he finally licked a stripe up your slit, making your hand jump to his hair. He swirled his tongue around your clit and you sucked in a breath. Your heels dug into the mattress as he built up speed. Then he lined up his fingers with your entrance. 

“So wet already,” he said. “You enjoyed sucking me off that much?”

“Shut up,” you groaned. 

He chuckled and returned his mouth to your throbbing clit. He pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them perfectly. It was almost overwhelming how good he made you feel. No one had ever gotten you this aroused before. You couldn’t even get this hot on your own. John brought out something primal in you that made you just melt to his touch. He knew what the fuck he was doing and did it well. Your toes curled as heat spread through you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. 

You looked down and met his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with lust, but adoration lingered behind it. He kissed your clit as he maintained eye contact and you nearly finished from that.

“John, please,” you whined. 

“Don’t hold back for me, Y/N,” he said. “Fucking cum if you need to.”

“Faster,” you instructed. 

He obeyed. He devoured you like a starved man as his fingers pumped in and out at an almost brutal pace. Your mouth fell open and you began writhing beneath him. 

“John - John - oh - fuck!” you cried. 

“Like I said, cum when you’re ready,” he told you again. 

“Close,” you sobbed. 

Your orgasm washed over you, your body jerking as is wracked through your muscles. John let you ride it out on his face. When you stilled, he crawled back over you, kissing you deeply. You tasted yourself on him. 

“You want to keep going?” he asked. “I could get it up again if you want.”

You shook your head. “After yesterday, last night, and now I can’t take anymore.”

“Alright, love,” he said, settling beside you and pulling you under his arm to spoon. 

“Don’t you have to be at the studio?” you wondered. 

“We can lay here a while longer,” he assured you. “I don’t…” he trailed off.

You turned your head to look at him. “What?”

“I don’t want you to ever again feel like I’m abandoning you,” he said sheepishly. “Even for the small stuff.”

“Oh, John,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

When you did go to the studio, you arrived together, hand in hand. Roger, Brian, and Freddie looked at your hands, then your faces, and back again. 

“What’s this?” Freddie asked. 

“We got reacquainted,” John said. 

You beamed. 

“Who is this?” Roger questioned, looking at you. “A smile? Who are you and what have you done with the real Y/N Y/L/N?” 

“The real Y/N Y/L/N is whoever I want her to be,” you said. “I’ll still call you a pixie, Taylor. I’ll just smile while I do it.”

“That sounds more like it,” he returned with a smirk. 

“Well, Y/N, what are you doing here?” Brian asked. “I mean, you were fired.”

You explained to them what you told John. You were going to write the article as a freelance writer. You were certain another magazine would be interested. 

“And what is this article going to say?” Freddie wondered. 

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” you said. “It’s not ethical to let your subjects read the piece before it’s published.”

“It’s also not ethical to fuck your sources,” Roger pointed out, grinning. 

You and John exchanged shocked looks. 

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Brian said. 

Your face went bright red as Freddie laughed. Before long, you were all laughing with him. It was rather funny. 

As they prepared for their day, you took out your paper and pen again. You weren’t sure exactly what you were going to say about Queen after seeing what they did. You weren’t sure how you could convey their style and friendship. You weren’t sure you could get it all in one article. But you knew you would somehow. There had to be words to describe Queen. 

That night, Freddie hosted a party at his house and invited you to attend. You told John you would meet him there, since you weren’t sure who else was going to be there and you still had to pitch the article. 

As you got ready in your room, throwing on a beautiful red dress with some strappy heels, you became a bit nervous. You wondered if Charles had told others in the industry about what happened. But you didn’t know how you came out of it looking like the bad guy if he told the truth. That was the hang up. Had he told the truth?

You decided firmly to forget about that and just have a good time tonight. What would come, would come. You had faced much worse and stayed strong. You could do so now.

When you arrived at Freddie’s, he answered the door. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek before leading you inside to meet some of his other friends. It was crowded, which made you nervous, but you kept your eyes peeled for John. When you entered the living room, you spotted him. His smile faltered as he saw you in your dress. You couldn’t help but smirk.

He walked over, a hungry look in his eye. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” you said with a grin.

He kissed your cheek. Your skin lit up at his touch.

“The dress looks great, but I really can’t wait to take it off you,” he whispered in your ear.

You shivered as you took his hand. Roger approached, so John just slipped an arm around your waist and faced his friend.

“Wow, Y/N,” Roger said. “You clean up nice.”

“You too, Rog,” you returned. 

You chatted and mingled for the night. The whole time, John was at your side, with a hand on you. Whether it was your waist, your back, your arm - it didn’t matter. You felt him there with you. Reassuring and safe.

You went back to your place afterward, unable to keep your hands off of each other. By the time you were through the door, your dress was halfway off and John’s shirt was undone. Your mouths crashed together as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. Then he pulled away.

“Y/N, hold on,” he said. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him. “What is it?”

“What do you want from this?” he asked.

“What?”

“I love what we’re doing,” he said. “I’m just wondering if it’s...more than it is.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Are we in a relationship?” he asked outright.

He was suddenly the John from home. Unsure, but hopeful. You vividly recalled the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend. He was so shy and a bit awkward. You were so endeared by him. You felt that again as he looked at you now. Overwhelmingly, you wanted to be his again. 

“I know I hurt you before,” he said. “So I understand if you’re hesitant, but -”

You cut him off with a sweet kiss. 

“John, if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t,” you said. “As it is, I do. So, if a relationship is what you want, then that’s what I want too.”

His smile was like sunshine. You could have melted into a puddle right there. Then, of course, he absolutely ravished you.

Two Weeks Later

“Have you all seen this?” Roger wondered as he entered the studio, carrying a fresh magazine.

“Y/N’s article came out?” Brian asked.

Roger nodded.

“How’d she do?” Freddie questioned.

“Listen,” Roger began. “‘Queen is a unique band made up of unique individuals. Their differences work together to create some of the most cohesive work in rock music. No matter the year or the style, Queen sounds like Queen. And not just because of frontman Freddie Mercury’s unmistakable and outstanding voice. The work of guitarist Brian May, drummer Roger Taylor, and bassist John Deacon are vital parts a body of work that is more than signature. It’s a fingerprint. All of this is made possible by the professionalism and hard work of one of the greatest rock bands I have had the pleasure of seeing in action.’ She goes on, of course.”

Brian took the article and scanned it. “She really is a great writer.”

“I’m just glad she’s on our side now,” Freddie said. “What do you think, Deaky?”

John shrugged. “What can I say, I’m proud of her. That’s my girl.”

#Queen #John Deacon #John deacon imagine #john deacon smut #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #queen imagine #queen smut #Brian May #roger taylor #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap imagine #borhap smut #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody smut #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello smut #joe mazzello x you