#probably that's the only glass and he got thirsty then forgot and after he drank then he probably realized

[shalebridge-cradle]

When You Smile and it Tears Your Face (It’s Time for the Inhuman Race)

Warnings: Blood. Implied Violence.

“Anna?”

Anna von Kleve, former minor noble of the Holy Roman Empire, pries open her eyes. It’s well into the night – the heavy curtains are drawn, as usual, the grandfather clock is ticking away, and the electric light flickers ominously above her.

She herself is sprawled on the sofa, with her date’s head in her lap. Ah, yes. A night on the town, a few drinks (well, more than a few on her part)… she hopes he’d had a good time.

“In the drawing room,” she calls, lazily.

“Have you seen my book?”

Anna has seen lots of her housemate’s beloved books. So very many volumes she’s collected over the years – in her day, the emperor himself would be hard-pressed to afford such a selection. Still, she’s proud it was a German who invented the printing press and started the whole thing off.

“Which one?”

“Pride and Prejudice, volume three. It’s got a red-brown cover.”

von Kleve frowns, looks around herself, lifts up her date to check under him.

She grimaces.

If the book didn’t have a red cover to begin with, it certainly did now. She never intends for the whole biting-people-and-drinking-their-blood business to be messy, but it always ends up that way. Strange how that happens.

She quickly drops the man’s unconscious body back on top of the book, just as her housemate materialises in the doorway.

Catherine Parr sighs. “Seriously? What have I told you about putting down plastic when you bring your food home?”

“I know, but we get kind of… into it, you know? You know me, I live in the moment – well, not live, but… you get what I’m saying.”

“That’s the problem, hence, the need for plastic.”

A pause.

Anna knows what she’s about to say, and preempts her. “No, not your type. Not terrible, but he couldn’t talk about anything that wasn’t his football team.”

“Oh. A pity.” Another pause. “Have you seen my book, though?”

“No books here. Did you leave it at Seymour’s?”

Parr hums. “Possibly. I’ll visit later. It’s your job to get rid of the poor soul, though.”

“Yes, yes, personal responsibility and all that.”

Before Anna leaves, she tucks the first edition under the sofa cushions, and hopes her housemate doesn’t look that hard for her precious book.

~~~

The shovel plunges deep into the black, wet soil, and out again. In, out, in, out, methodical and practiced. The hole needs to be deep enough, and wide enough. She’s underestimated the size before, and that simply causes problems. There are bits that need to stay underground.

Once she is satisfied, and with great care, Jane Seymour places the rose bush into its new home.

Gardening might be considered an odd hobby for someone like her to have. Even if she rarely gets to see the fruits of her labour (which is most certainly a metaphor for something), it keeps her busy and helps her feel productive. It’s terribly easy to fall into a rut if you don’t have something to do, and caring for plants gives her plenty of that.

Just so long as they survive everything.

There is a loud bang from inside the house. Jane turns briefly, listening for something further, before she goes back to patting down the soil.

Another bang, followed by a crash.

Jane squeezes her eyes shut, and growls under her breath. That had better not be anything important.

Really, she should go in and stop them from doing any more damage, but they’d probably just ignore her like they usually do. Maybe you shouldn’t have your thrice-bedamned battle in the house, where there are things that you both like and are easily breakable all over the place. Is that such an unreasonable concept?

A third bang.

“For heaven’s sake,” she grumbles, and makes to get up, turning to her gardening tools. Initially, she shies away from some of them out of instinct, but… then again… this may the only way they’ll listen…

-

The fearsome duel is still going on when Jane reaches the hall.

One combatant has a name she knows well, mostly because she insists on using the whole thing whenever she is introduced. Catalina Trastámara de Aragón, former Spanish infanta. The other has gone by many different but similar names – Anna de Boullan, Anna Bolina, Nan Bullen, but she generally responds to ‘Anne’, so that’s what they go with.

Catalina has her hand around Anne’s neck, hoisting her up in the air, whilst Anne has a hold on Catalina’s arm, hissing up a storm. Another bang – Catalina slamming Anne against the wall – sends a cloud of dust trickling down on top of them.

Jane enters, in her gardening smock, boots too big for her, a straw hat (you must always wear a hat while gardening, though Jane isn’t sure why), and with a wooden gardening stake in each hand.

“Down! Both of you!”

Anne turns her head slightly, and her eyes widen when she sees what Jane’s holding. “Shit.”

This gets Catalina’s attention, too, but she manages to keep the quiet part quiet. She releases her grip, and Anne sinks to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Catalina recovers her regal demeanour, or at least part of it. “Have you gone quite mad?”

“Have you? Look at what you’re doing! What on earth is noble and queenly about repeatedly smacking your housemate into a wall?!” Jane stops to compose herself. “What is it this time? Territorial dispute? Long-standing grudge you refuse to talk about? Monopoly?”

“Anne? How many glasses would you say are in the sink?”

...No.

Anne rubs her neck. “Well, maybe less if you weren’t such a toff and drank like the rest of us.”

That can’t be right. Was that it?

“Unlike you, I like to keep some of my dignity about me.”

“Oh, don’t you fucking talk to me about dignity -”

Jane is between them in a blink. “Anne, do the bloody dishes.” Anne groans, probably at the unintended pun, but is interrupted. “We have the chore wheel for a reason. We have standards.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I know. Dishes now, fight later.”

Anne huffs, and stomps into the kitchen. Jane’s attention turns to Catalina, who is trying very hard to suppress the smug smile on her face.

“How many languages to you know, Catalina?” She already knows the answer to this question, but Catalina will happily tell her anyway.

“Five. Spanish, Latin, French, Greek, English.”

“Five languages, and you still don’t know how to use your words?”

Catalina simply stares at her.

“You would have been very upset if you knocked any of your paintings down, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but we couldn’t take it outside. You would have been upset if we crushed your plants.”

“Well, that simply reinforces my point. Violence is very rarely the answer when it comes to who you live with.”

“You’re threatening me with a lethal weapon right now.”

Oh, right, she forgot about them. Jane looks down at the stakes, flinches again, and throws them unceremoniously to one side. “Fine. We all need to work on discussing things, and remember we all have our part to play. Anne’s doing the dishes now -” There’s a clatter from the kitchen – “I’ve been taking out the rubbish; can you tell me your royal responsibility, or do I have to check?”

Catalina’s eyes are everywhere but on Jane. She brushes a bit of powder off of her sleeve, and mumbles “Dusting.”

~~~

“Look what I found.”

Parr looks up. It is a whole entire person Anna has come to show off, which usually isn’t something Catherine needs to see – it does not pay to get attached. This girl has her long hair tied up, dyed an almost neon pink at the ends, and is clad in one of Anna’s oversized fur coats. She seems to be faltering under Parr’s gaze, trying to make herself look as small and insignificant as possible.

“I see no plastic in the drawing room,” Catherine says to von Kleve, as a warning.

“What? No! No, no, no. Not that. Big smile, Katie.”

The girl’s lips curl into a rictus grin, revealing a set of fangs not unlike Parr’s own.

“Oh!” Immediately, Catherine’s attitude shifts, and speaks with a soft, comforting voice (she hopes), “Okay, hello. I’m Catherine Parr, of the Westmorland Parrs, and this is Anna von Jülich-Kleve-Berg of the Holy Roman Empire. Neither of us are going to hurt you. Please, take a seat.”

She gestures to a nearby chair. The girl walks over to it, unsteady on her feet, and sits down.

“It’s been a bad week,” she mumbles.

“Tell us about it.”

“Well, it started with a night I couldn’t remember, which always freaks me out, and then I was really sick, and then I’m pretty sure I died – no, I did die… I died…” She goes quiet once more, aghast at the revelation.

“Found her ripping some dude’s throat out behind a nightclub,” Anna explains, then shrugs. “It happens.”

The girl shuts her eyes tightly, as if she is trying to block out the memory. Parr takes her hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Katie, is it?”

“Or Kate. Or Kat, or Katherine – but, that’s you as well. I’m rambling.”

“That’s alright. The transition can be stressful. May I call you Kat?”

Kat nods.

“Good. Now, from what you’ve told us, it sounds like nobody explained to you how this works. What is it that you think is going on?”

“’M a vampire. Right?” Parr hums an affirmation, and Kat laughs, without humour. “And, because I’m a vampire, and I was going insane with how thirsty I was and because he wouldn’t stop talking and he kept touching me after I told him not to…” She looks to Anna. “That man. He was my boyfriend. I killed my boyfriend.”

It’s usually cold in the house, but it seems to get even colder after that statement.

While Catherine intimately knows the feeling of wanting to murder your former significant others (Thomas – Foul rake! Blackguard! She shall curse his name after death and beyond!), she is aware that this may not be the case for Kat. Most couples these days actually quite like each other – one need not rely on a husband to vote for them anymore, after all. She’s been looking out for someone like that, but she hasn’t found them yet. Maybe someday.

There have been so very many days…

Thankfully, Anna is there with a kind word, so she need not answer nor dwell on her failure to find love. It is just one word, however, and it is not spoken with great compassion.

“Condolences?”

Kat waves a hand, shakes her head. “The only good thing about dating Francis is – was – that he gave me a place to stay. Everything else… I don’t think anyone will be that upset he’s dead, put it that way.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “It was so easy. Too easy.”

Well, it’s good to know that nothing of value was lost, at least.

“Subtlety and control are the results of practice,” Catherine tells the girl, “and that will come, in time. Until then, since the one who turned you is not around to help, I humbly request that you allow us to assist you.”

“We have a spare room. Um. Not that you have to take it, or anything, but the option’s there -”

Kat cuts Anna off. Nobody’s had the gall to do that for centuries.

“Why are you doing this? Any of this?! You want something from me, don’t you? Otherwise, I’d still be out there, dealing with my boyfriend’s corpse! Be honest with me, please. What is it you want me to do?!”

She is looking into both of their eyes, searching for an ulterior motive like she knows it’s there – Parr gets that, unfortunately, and she’s disgusted that something has happened to the poor girl to prompt such suspicion and mistrust.

Catherine does not raise her voice, speaks calmly and carefully, just like she was taught. “We are not doing this in the hopes of a favour, or any material gain. We – or, at least, I – am behaving in this way because I want to see you turn out well. Perhaps there is a vain hope of a new friendship out of this, but that is the loftiest of my wishes, and you should not feel obligated to fulfil it if you don’t want to.”

“You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened in at least a decade,” says Anna.

“But you’re vampires. Why are you helping a competitor?”

“Why not? Just because we’re bloodsucking monsters doesn’t mean we can’t be nice about it. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Okay. Okay. In that case… might I ‘humbly request’… a hug, please?”

~~~

“How do you feel about it?”

Catalina does not turn away from her painting; yet another Spanish vista. She has been told that the Inquisition is over, that she can return for a holiday, but there is no doubt in her mind that what is there now must be wildly different from what she remembers. The latter is what she puts to canvas, to show off what she knows, what mortal eyes can no longer see.

“You shall have to be more specific,” she says to Anne, her voice clipped.

“You know.” She refuses to give Anne the satisfaction of looking at her, but she can feel the fluttering eyelashes, the lazy grin, just from her cadence. “Us. What we have.”

“What on earth are you implying?”

“That thing we do. The one where I press all your buttons, and you beat the shit out of me. Great way to work out that tension, yeah? But then there’s Jane – Plain Insane Jane – putting stakes in our faces and telling us to end it.”

“Would you have listened to her if she hadn’t?”

“Nah.” No hesitation whatsoever. No hint of shame. “But it’s fun. Don’t you think so?”

…Frankly, Catalina does not know. She knows it is not a healthy way of relieving stress. She knows Jane is justified in her motivations to stop it, if not her methods (though both of them make it difficult for her to use a softer touch).

But, if she is truly honest with herself, she likes to feel powerful sometimes. Yes, she is powerful when compared to a regular human – but that was true when she was alive, too. Now, she is no longer in the line of succession, she is no longer a princess. She is ‘just’ a vampire, and that fact irks her more than it should.

But she doesn’t tell Anne any of that. She puts her brush down, and turns to the source of her self-reflection. She’s hanging in the air, as if she were watching Catalina from an invisible sofa.

“You’ve been out drinking, haven’t you?”

Their kind can, in fact, get drunk. It’s more of a roundabout process than it is for mortals – one must find someone that’s absolutely cup-shotten, take them somewhere quiet, and… share their blood alcohol content. Catalina knows this because Anne is a master of the process.

“Of course I have!” Anne replies, with a funny sort of smile. “That’s why you go out, why Jane goes out. To have a drink!”

Oh, she definitely has been. She’s wearing the silly spectacles again, the ones where you can’t see her eyes properly.

“I’m not having this conversation with you while you’re out of your wits,” Catalina carefully enunciates.

“I always have my wits. Do you even listen to my jokes, princess?”

“You’re drunk.”

“And? You don’t talk when I’m sober, you won’t talk when I’m toxed – what is it that you need me to be for you to be honest?”

There is a knock at the door, and Jane’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Catalina? We have a guest.”

That’s interesting. They don’t often have guests – well, not ones that aren’t ‘invited for dinner’, and Jane likes to keep that private, if it’s her. It can’t be Parr or von Kleve; Jane would have said as much.

Perhaps it is someone important, she thinks, and immediately her mood sours.

“Who do you think it is?” Anne asks.

“I don’t know. All I ask is that you don’t make a complete fool of yourself.”

“And what if I do?”

“Then I take no responsibility for your actions.”

-

“She’s very new, apparently,” Jane tells them, and she is doing only a slightly better job than Anne at holding in her excitement. “She doesn’t remember who turned her. Cathy thinks it’s Thomas, but you know how she is.”

Yes, Catalina does. Thomas may be responsible for a lot of things, but if he showed his face in this part of town, he’d probably find himself dismembered by his very angry ex-wife.

They reach the top of the staircase. Below them, on the ground level, Cathy is speaking quietly to – good Lord! That woman’s hair is pink! How is it that vibrant a shade?!

Anne gasps in delight. “A baby! You’ve found a little baby, Cathy!”

“I’m not a baby. I’m nineteen.”

“Exactly. Two-digit age. Baby.”

“I apologise for her conduct,” Catalina sighs. “Someone had a bit too much to drink, and she had too much of them. I am Catalina Trastámara de Aragón.”

“And I’m Anne. Sometimes.”

The girl blinks. Probably thrown off by that introduction. “Oh-kay. Uh, well, I’m Kat Howard. Katherine, actually, but you see how that will cause problems. I’m moving in with Cathy and Anna, and Anna thought it might be good to introduce myself.”

There is an image of vampires being solitary creatures, living in ruined castles and moping about in their every waking hour. It’s not untrue, but Catalina hated it when she had a go. Eternity? With no-one around her? What torture!

No. Ever since she found Jane sobbing in front of her own grave, since Anne had her chance encounter with a Spanish princess, she’s resolved never to be alone again. She shall, of course, extend that invitation to this new girl.

It’s practically her duty.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Kat.”

~~~

Vampires own nightclubs.

That makes sense, right? They only operate at night, they attract a crowd, many people there aren’t expecting to remember what happened there, only that they had a good time and feel terrible in the morning, if they make it that far.

Well, Anna doesn’t own a nightclub. She owns a chain of 24-hour off-licences. But, she can hypnotise the bouncer into letting them in, so that’s alright.

The music thrums in place of Kat’s heart as she watches the mass of bodies swaying and jumping with absolutely no sense of rhythm. Coloured lights flash, the DJ plies his trade, glasses clink and sweat permeates the air.

Anna is watching only her.

“See anyone?”

Kat scans the crowds, a grim expression on her face. “No-one looks particularly appetising.”

“Well, of course they don’t. We’re not looking for the cream of the crop here, we’re looking for someone who deserves it.”

Kat leans her head on her hand. Anna told her she could come to her for anything – so, Kat had, when she started to feel hungry again, and so Anna planned this little night out.

“There are two choices,” she’d said. “Either you pick someone out yourself, or you go mad with hunger and some other poor sod ends up like your boyfriend.”

“You’re sure of that?” Kat questioned.

“Oh, yeah. I speak from experience – I’ve always regretted what happened to the Duke of Lorraine…”

Anna had refused to say anything more about that.

Kat has… mixed feelings about what happened with Dereham. Okay, she’s horrified that she murdered him, but she doesn’t feel bad that she wiped that arrogant look from his eyes for a few seconds (before he, you know, died). He didn’t care that she was sick, didn’t answer her texts when she told him her reflection had vanished, or that she was bleeding from her eyes – and as soon as he got back from his work trip, he dragged her to a nightclub to ‘show her off’ and pretended nothing was wrong…!

…Okay, she’s getting a bit heated. The man’s funeral was three days ago. No point in holding a grudge, now.

“What about that one?”

Kat follows Anna’s gaze. A man is swaggering over to the bar with a confidence that nothing about him implies he’s earned. She gets the feeling this man used to be handsome, or liked, and no-one has told him otherwise just yet.

“Dunno. Maybe.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Kat automatically bites her lip, before remembering that’s probably a bad idea now. She doesn’t want to be alone, exactly, but at the same time…

“Is it alright if you hang out slightly further away?” She asks. “If I need your help, I’ll laugh really loudly.”

Anna smiles in acknowledgement, nods, and wanders off. Kat might be wrong, but she seems almost gleeful.

Thankfully (or not), the once-handsome man notices her staring, and saunters over. Kat’s skin crawls.

“Hey.”

Kat gives a small, brief smile in return.

“You here alone?”

She risks a quick glance over to Anna – she still has an eye on her. Kat isn’t alone. “Yeah. Just… needed to get out, you know?”

“I do.” He smirks, points to himself. “Henry. You know Tudor Real Estate?” She does, and the man grins at the recognition she must be showing. “I’m the co-owner.”

Kat doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, but this guy has only a passing resemblance to the man on the ‘for sale’ signs.

“Must be an important job,” she tries.

“Very. My brother relies on me for a lot.” Oh, okay, he’s the brother. Wait, the brother she’d read articles about? The one who got acquitted last year? “Sometimes I just need to blow off some steam, you know? Have some fun. Speaking of, can I buy you a drink or two?”

Wow. That look in his eyes. He clearly hasn’t changed as much as the judge thought he had.

“I don’t drink… alcohol.”

He scoffs. “Listen. You heard how important I am, right? Nothing will happen to you without my say-so. We can have fun if you just let me help you.”

This man is made of red flags, isn’t he? A blind woman could see the warning signs. He’s a creep with overly-inflated self-esteem, seems to have spent his whole life getting everything he’s ever wanted…

And that means he’s perfect.

“I guess you’re right,” she says, quietly. She doesn’t have to fear his kind any more. “I am here for a good time. If you’re offering…”

Henry grins. “Anything you want, babe! Name it, and it’s yours!”

“Anything?” Money and connections won’t protect you from me.

“Anything at all, princess.”

“Hmm…” Kat makes a show of looking him up and down. Yes, this is the one. “Maybe we can take this somewhere private?”

Henry is clearly thrilled at the prospect. He grabs her hand, roughly (though Kat is sure she could break his arm if the need arose), and leans in close.

“I know just the place.”

He leads her away, to a location where there are no witnesses, no-one to save him. From across the club, Anna gives her a thumbs up.

Kat returns the gesture.

-

She comes in the front door with her phone in her hand. Henry has a Wikipedia page. Not very long, pretty much goes on about his brief stint in custody and that he’s Arthur Tudor’s brother.

Or, was. They might have to change the tense, soon.

Cath is on the sofa, chatting quietly with… Kat wants to say… Jane…? Yeah, Jane sounds right. She’s friendly enough, but always seems like she’s on her second-last nerve.

“How did it go?” Cath asks.

Anna grins. She’s been like this all night, and Kat feels conflicted about all the praise she’s received.“Oh, fantastic! Kat was a natural; that idiot fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Turns out I have a vendetta against people who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Kat adds.

Parr’s smile grows sharp, but her eyes still sparkle. “Well, there won’t be any shortage of those. Come, sit with us.”

So, Kat does. The things they speak of are so normal, Kat is initially confused. Jane’s gardening is a topic of discussion, as is Cath’s ever-expanding collection of stuff she finds interesting. When Jane asks about Kat’s “little slate-thing”, they both listen with rapt attention at her explanation of modern technology.

Kat had forgotten what it’s like to have people listen. It’s a shame she had to die to experience it.

~~~

“Yes, I’ve received a notice recently about outstanding bills owed – no, no, don’t shut off the – listen to me. The account has been paid in full. Enter that into the system. Okay, great. Thanks for that – no, no, everyone makes mistakes. Alright, bye.”

Anne hangs up. Great, power bills are sorted.

Contrary to popular opinion, she actually does do her share of work around the house. Yeah, the dishes are her least favourite task. Vampires shouldn’t have to do the dishes. But, that doesn’t stop her from helping in other ways.

She’s just about to start dialling the telephone company, when there is a knock at the door. Few are brave enough to do that at this place. As she stalks over, she wonders if it might a debt collector – if it is, that means she can have a snack, too.

The heavy oaken door swings open with an agonising creak, and the eyes of the figure on the other side glow in the evening gloom.

Oh, it’s that pink-haired girl. Katie, maybe? Anne can’t actually remember her name, and at this point she’s too afraid to ask.

“Hi.” The girl waves slightly. “Can I come in?”

Do you really want to? Anne thinks, but she says, “Uh, sure.”

With a sigh of relief, Kiara steps over the threshold.

“Apparently I called you a baby last time you were here,” Anne says. “Sorry about that. That’s not fair to you, and you don’t scare the shit out of me like an actual vampire infant would. But, I’m guessing you’re not here for an apology.”

Kitty smiles awkwardly. “Uh, no. I’m here to try and fix your computer. Um, the little television-box-thing you never use?”

“Oh! That! Yeah, I never knew how to get that thing working.”

“Yeah, no promises,” Kelly says, “but Jane thought it might help you… connect.”

That really gets Anne’s attention. She’s not surprised it was Jane who told her, because of the way Kim described the computer, but that part about connecting.

Anne wants honesty, for once. If Kat (that sounds right) is offering, she will take it.

-

To Anne’s surprise (and shame), Kat is able to get la machine infernale up and running in just a few minutes. She explains the mouse, the monitor, and the programs built into the operating system. The computer is not to get wet, nor is it to be fed. Do not sacrifice anything to it in an attempt to make it work properly.

Why Kat felt the need to include that instruction is a mystery, but it was probably necessary.

“Now, I had this whole speech with my step-grandma – back when I talked with my family – and I’ll give the same to you. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. A lot of it’s lies, or personal opinion. On that note, not everyone you talk to is who they say they are. Don’t do things like send money or give out personal details if someone asks, and don’t meet with someone without people around.”

“Okay, I’m absolutely going to do that last one – but for the rest of them? Sure!”

Kat genuinely smiles. Wow, when was the last time Anne did that, and didn’t eat the person afterwards? Must have been ages, because it feels like she’s come across an oasis after months in a desert.

“So,” she goes on, “what exactly is the internet? I know I pay the bill for it -” ‘pay’ is a strong word - “but I don’t actually know what it entails.”

“Okay, well, you know… books?”

“Yes.”

“You know the television?”

“Yeeesss.”

“You know those coffee shops where people yelled at each other about philosophy, in the eighteenth century?”

“Yep, yep, yep.” Even though she was never invited, the sexist pricks.

“The internet is all of those things together,” Kat explains, “but worse.”

Anne gasps. “I love it already.”

-

The room is dark. No lights, curtains shut. The only source of light is the faint white glow of the monitor.

The internet is, as Kat had warned, a shitshow. Anne thinks it’s just the best thing. University professors and the lowest common denominator share the same spaces, and send vile, scathing messages to one another over fictional characters. Maybe she should do some research, just so she can play along. It’d be just like her days at court, getting one person at another’s throat, playing them off each other… ah, she misses that, if nothing else. It’s just not the same, now.

Oh, but then there are the videos. Little mortal Anne would never have thought it possible. What an idea! What awful and wonderful things humans create when they’re not being killed!

Anne’s exploration is interrupted when the light from the hallway fills the room.

“Ah. So you haven’t left.”

Catalina? Come to check on her? Anne turns – yes, it is her, likely wondering why her evening hasn’t been ruined yet. Or, maybe not. Anne has a terrible habit of putting words in other people’s mouths.

“You haven’t been downstairs this evening,” Her housemate continues. “Jane was worried about you.”

Anne doubts that’s true. Not that Jane doesn’t worry, she worries about almost everything (who cares if her teeth show when she smiles?), but she would be thrilled to know Anne is being quiet.

“Just looking at things,” Anne mumbles.

“Hm. Ominous. What ‘things’?”

Well, the best way to explain would be to show, right?

Anne plays the video. Normal night sky, a deep navy. Then, violet, then orange, and the fiery sun rises over the horizon, accented by the crimson heavens.

There’s a thump from behind her. Catalina has flattened herself against the opposite wall, eyes wide, fangs bared.

“I will not die so easily, Boleyn!” she snarls. “I’ve survived assassination attempts before, and I’ll do it again!”

“I’m not trying to kill you, girl! It’s a video! Do you almost die every time you put the sun in one of your paintings? Because that would be a much bigger problem than me showing you this.”

She presses the button to make the video play once more, and makes a show of standing in front of the screen, conspicuously not combusting.

Catalina stares at her. Then, at the monitor. She approaches, slowly.

“Can you make it go again?”

Anne does. The sun is reflected in Catalina’s eyes for the first time in over five hundred years.

“…I miss it, sometimes.”

Oh God, it’s happening, Anne thinks. Out loud, she says, “Miss what?”

“The sunrise.” From the sound of her voice, calm and quiet, Anne gets the impression Catalina’s not really here. “My home. My family. It doesn’t matter how far away I am, in years or in miles. They’re gone, and the name Trastámara means nothing.”

Oh, that’s it. Of course it is.

Anne did not what it was like to be a princess in the early 1400s, partially because she wasn’t born yet. She knows from her own experiences with Whatever the Fuck the Sun King Was Playing At that the nobility was constantly having to be perfect at all times; not even a twitch of emotion could play upon your face, even as you drain all your resources to support the near-impossible standards of fashion, or it could easily be all for naught.

She’s just been thinking, maybe, something like that might be why Catalina has the sort of aversion to talking about her emotions that would normally be reserved for holy symbols.

“Catalina. You’re not a princess anymore.”

Catalina sneers, all traces of vulnerability gone. “Yes, you have taunted me about that many times before.”

“Not a taunt.” Sometimes. “A reminder you no longer have to try and be perfect. I’m not gonna tell any peers of the realm if you feel sad sometimes.”

“So you feel the need to drive me to madness in the hopes I accept your view?”

Okay, so maybe Anne’s been a little coarse. In fairness, she tried passive-aggressive behaviour and it didn’t work. There’s a reason she goes after Catalina, and it’s not just because it’s easy.

Anne points to herself. “Unstoppable force.” To Catalina. “Immovable object. You move, I stop.”

“…Right. Okay.” A pause. “I know, logically, that you are right – about that particular thing. But, it makes me feel like I’m ignoring part of myself.”

“Just have the good without the bad. If the King of Spain has anything to say about it, kill him and rule the country as their immortal god-queen.”

“I would never be so rash,” Catalina huffs. “I’ll try. Just… don’t mock me for it. If I’m keeping at least one good thing about my life, it will be threatening anyone who insults me with imprisonment.”

“Yessssss…”

Both Anne and Catalina jump at the voice from outside the room. Anne acts first – she opens the door a crack, and sees Jane’s eye on the other side.

“You’ve been at it for two hundred years,” Jane says. “Two. Hundred. Years. I don’t care if you don’t get along straight away, let me have this.”

And, fearing her ire, they do.

~~~

Anna’s on the roof again.

There are two main reasons for this. One, her room is in the attic and it’s the easiest way out of the house. Two, it’s a good place to sit, look up at the stars (at least the ones you can still see, anyway) and think about things.

Kat is on her right, arms around her knees, looking up at the moon. Anna does not think she’s paying much attention to it, however.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Kat doesn’t answer straight away. “Just how things are better.”

“…They are?”

“I’m living… uh, residing in a house with people I actually like. This is the first time that’s happened since I was about eight, I think.”

Wow. Anna hadn’t had a terribly good time when she was alive – no rights, no fun allowed, go marry some dude you’ve never even met, and no you can’t have fun then either – but Kat’s life might beat out Cathy’s hopeless search for love, in terms of tragedy.

“I cannot truly speak for you, but I have found this…” Anna waves her hands, trying to find the right way to put it, “whole thing to be very affirming. There is no-one to hold you down. No-one to stop you from doing what you like. Well, except priests, but they can be ignored, mostly.”

“You don’t brood about it too much?”

“Why would I? It’s the only reason I’ve been able to see the things I’ve seen. To be here, now, talking to you.” All because she told the wrong (or right) person about how bored she was. Of course she would accept the offer to have fun, even if the whole process wasn’t. “Do you?”

Kat stops to think again, so that’s a ‘yes’. “I’m still getting used to it. But, I don’t mind it. I’m not scared of the things I used to be afraid of. That’s good, right?”

“Sounds good to me. But, if you falter, that’s okay, too. We have supported Cathy, who was the youngest before you, we can do the same here – so long as you support us in turn.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got that thing about finding the one.” How does Kat manage to fit so much bitterness in only two words? “Don’t get it. She’s got people who love her already. You, and those three around the corner. She doesn’t need them.”

“That’s a very good way of putting it, actually.” Anna’s argument against serious dating has been that three of the people Parr’s courted have tried to murder her, and her ex-husband technically succeeded. It hasn’t worked, but maybe a more positive viewpoint might win out against two centuries of stubbornness.

“Anna von Kleve.”

von Kleve looks down. Ah, speak of the devil. She’s on the balcony below them.

“Cathy! Kat has had some good thoughts about love!”

“Oh? How wonderful.”

She doesn’t seem like she thinks it is, though. She almost looks angry, with the hard eyes and pursed lips and the red-brown mottled book in her hand -

Oh no.

“I think, Anna,” Cathy intones, her voice sharper than any stake, “that we should talk about personal responsibility first.”

#the cradle will write #six the musical #not the historical figures #but that won't stop me making references to them

[cali-holland]

Learn To Be Lonely, Ch 4: Scars of the Past

In a world where two souls are destined for each other, is it possible to find love when your other half has passed- or are you truly destined to have a lonely heart forever?

Word Count: 2300

Learn To Be Lonely Masterlist

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*gif is not mine*

Warning: unedited, maybe some swearing, immunosuppressants, scars, (spoiler) organ transplant

Reposting because tags didn’t work...

~~~

The next morning, you woke up with a burning ache in your wrist. A painful, burning ache- perfect. You squeezed your eyes tightly, hoping for a moment that the pain would vanish miraculously. When it didn’t, you opened your eyes with a small huff of frustration, but the pain went away at the sight in front of you.

With his eyes shut tight, Tom breathed out steadily in his state of deep sleep. His bed head poked out in every direction, even flopping down over his forehead. His legs were tangled in yours, neither of you had shifted much during the night apparently- too overwhelmed by sleep. You smiled softly, watching as his lips puffed out slightly when he exhaled. With the sun streaming in from the window behind him, he was actually glowing. You could just stay there all day, enraptured and in love.

Love. That’s something you hadn’t thought of, not consciously at least. How could you love someone that you weren’t supposed to love? You weren’t fated to be together, you weren’t destined to be with Tom, so how could you possibly be in love with him?

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you quietly unwrapped yourself from Tom’s embrace and snuck out of the bed. You made your way into the kitchen, searching for a glass of water, just anything to clear your head. You’ve never felt this way about anyone; it felt so right to be here with Tom, but it still managed to feel wrong. Just before you drank from the cup, you saw an envelope sitting out on the counter, a bright blue sticky note on top of it.

‘Tom, remember to mail this -Harrison’ the note read. Curious, you folded up the sticky note to read the mailing address on the envelope. ‘Organ Donor Liaison’, organ donor as in-

“Morning.” Tom’s voice broke you from your thoughts and you jumped back from the envelope, clutching onto your water.

“Morning. Sorry, I got thirsty.” You held up the glass with a small laugh as he came into the kitchen.

“Want some breakfast?” He asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he went over to the fridge.

“I think I’m going to head out actually.” You said. Your heart was already racing while your mind tried to process your newly found feelings; and now he had some sort of organ donor letter? Something felt wrong, and that wasn’t just because your wrist began to burn as he stood in front of you.

“Is everything okay?” Tom frowned.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just have a bit of a headache.” You hurried back to his room to get dressed into your clothes from the previous night, and when you returned, he was looking over the envelope, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He looked up at you, noticing your presence in the room, “I can walk you home.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” You reassured him.

“Oh,” His hands nervously played with the end of the envelope, before he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. He stammered as he spoke, “Well, um, did you- did you want to maybe go grab O’Reilly’s tonight at 6- if you’re feeling better I mean?”

“Yeah,” You nodded softly. “I’ll let you know.”

“Tell me when you get home, yeah?” Tom stepped over to you and you nodded again. He placed a soft kiss to your forehead, and you left without another word.

You were in love with him, there was no denying it, but he had so many walls up, so many secrets, that you couldn’t blindly let yourself fall any further. You needed space, and, thankfully, Daisy and Harrison were still cooped up in her room when you returned home, allowing you to be alone in your thoughts in the tranquility of your own bedroom.

A thousand thoughts were running through your head while you lay on your bed. Vanessa, the ex-roommate who moved out suddenly, was friends with Tom, and yet it’s hard for him to talk about her and that photograph- that photograph told a different story. On the other hand, Vanessa’s wrist had a full mark on it, and Tom’s didn’t. At least, that’s what you assumed since he hadn’t spoken about it. And, if it was full, surely he wouldn’t have kissed you last night, but then again, you kissed him first and he was the one to not have the night go further.

And then, there was his mysterious scar, his immunosuppressant medication, and that letter. The scar seemed fairly recent, maybe it had to do with the “two months” Tom and Daisy had talked about, maybe the immunosuppressants had to do with that- they were fairly common after all. But then the organ donor letter? You honestly didn’t know enough about organ donors to even hypothesize the extent of that letter, besides wondering if he had donated an organ or perhaps needed one. If he was missing a kidney, maybe he’d need the medication.

Even with all of these unanswered questions, you’d still managed to fall for him. Sure, you’d only known each other about a month, but there was something about him that captivated you. He was undeniably attractive and you’ve seen random girls hit on him more than once at the pub. He was also incredibly sweet and caring, always making sure he didn’t overstep with you, always making sure you knew he didn’t think of you differently because of your mark. And he was hilarious and so easy to talk to; you’d never met someone who could make you laugh so hard you felt like you were floating and yet that same person could bring you right back down to Earth. Most of the time you spent with him, you forgot you were a solum; your mark didn’t burn and you lived freely and happily. This morning was different, it burned when you woke up and again when he offered you breakfast; it felt as if your mark was trying to tell you something. Or maybe, it was just your mark proving to you that the pain’s absence had nothing to do with Tom himself, it was just all in your head.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there before sleep overcame you, and you weren’t sure how long you dreamt of finding answers before you were drawn out of your hazy state back to reality. Groggily, you got out of your bed, acknowledging your clock’s time of 5:20 in the afternoon, or well evening now. You dragged your feet to the kitchen in search of some food, having unintentionally skipped both breakfast and lunch today. You poured yourself a bowl of cereal, not caring enough to cook yourself an actual meal. You ate in silence, your stomach happy to have something in there besides alcohol. Just as you were putting your bowl away in the dishwasher, you heard a soft sob coming from Daisy’s room.

You hadn’t even realized she was still here, and you slowly made your way over to her partially open door. Through the crack, you could see she was crying on her bed, hunched over what appeared to be a small scrapbook. You knocked lightly on the door and she looked up at you, her red eyes filled with sadness.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, cautiously stepping into the room. You had no idea what could have happened to cause the bright girl to break down besides someone dying or Harrison leaving her- but they were soulmates, so that wasn’t an option, right? Daisy shuffled the open scrapbook over to her nightstand, making room for you to sit next to her on the bed.

“It’s just one of my friends. I miss them.” She said, wiping away her tears from her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You wondered if this friend was Vanessa, but Tom had said he was closest to her, so if he wasn’t breaking down and crying over her absence, why would Daisy? The whole Vanessa situation was a mystery to you, but it felt like such a delicate subject that you couldn’t really mention it.

“No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” She reassured you with an unconvincing nod. She got off the bed as her tears dried and she ran a hand through her hair, trying to fix her appearance. You noticed the packed suitcase at the end of her bed- you hadn’t spoken to her much this, with your contradicting schedules and all, so you weren’t sure if she was leaving or if it was just out.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked quietly, looking at the suitcase.

“Yeah, Haz and I are going to Brighton for a few days. It’s a business trip for me, and, while it’s not that far away, they offered me a hotel room. Haz took some time off to be with me. I’ll be back when you get back though. You’re going to New York tomorrow, right?” She explained, packing a few more things in the suitcase.

“Yes.” You answered with a nod, “When do you leave?”

Before you could reply, her phone began to ring. She gave you a quick hug before grabbing the handle of her suitcase. “Now, actually. I gotta go, but have a safe flight to New York! Tell Kate congrats for me!”

“Safe travels to Brighton.” You smiled as she left the room in a hurry. The scrapbook laid abandoned on her bed.

You made your way back to your room, but paused as you heard Tom’s voice from the hallway outside of your apartment. You looked at the time and realized he was probably very serious about going out with you tonight. As you padded back down the hallway to your front door, it was partially cracked and you could hear Daisy talking to him outside.

“You need to tell her. Y/N deserves to know.” She told him, her voice soft, yet firm.

“I just don’t know how to.” Tom replied with a small sigh.

“You’ve got a good heart, Tom. You know it’s the right thing to do.” You heard her footsteps retreat down the hallway outside and Tom knocked lightly on the front door, even though he knew it was already open. You opened it wider, greeting him with a small smile, not as wide as his. You felt relief wash over you as the pain in your wrist halted.

“O’Reilly’s?” He smiled hopefully.

“Let me get my shoes.” You told him, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. He waited by the front door while you got ready to leave.

“Are you feeling better?” Tom asked you as you returned to the front door.

“Yeah, just had to take a little nap’s all.” You laughed lightly.

The night went on just like all of your other nights with Tom. You went to your favorite Italian-Irish fusion restaurant that somehow was everything to the both of you, it was your own place. You weren’t sure if you should ask about the kiss from last night and chose to ignore it because Tom didn’t mention it either. He didn’t mention whatever it was that Daisy was urging him to tell you earlier. You just waited, though, knowing it might not be best to bring it up yet. It wasn’t until you got home later that you really got enraptured by those thoughts.

“Tom, can I ask you something?” You spoke up as the two of you got settled on your bed to watch some Netflix from your TV mounted to the wall.

“Technically you just did.” He laughed, sitting beside you on the bed and resting an arm over your shoulder. You shifted away from his touch, turning to face him completely.

“What was Daisy talking about earlier?” You asked. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, “And- and I want the truth. I know you have a scar on your chest, and I saw the organ donor letter this morning. And then the immunosuppressants. You’re entitled to your own secrets, especially about your medical history, but I- I’m concerned because something doesn’t seem right.”

Tom sat silent beside you, his face completely unreadable. He let out a small sigh, his brown eyes refusing to meet yours now. Wordlessly, he slowly removed his shirt, unveiling the long scar from just under his collarbone to below his diaphragm. Your eyes traced the scar down his chest; it hadn’t healed yet, the small imperfections in his skin still showing clearly. Tom looked over at you and your eyes met his.

He started quietly, “I had a heart transplant. They- they took out my heart, they took it and threw it away. I don’t know what they put back, but it felt weird and different and strange, like I’ve lost my most special part.” You hesitantly reached out a hand towards the scar.

“Is this okay?” You asked, and he nodded. Your fingers trailed the scar lightly, feeling the odd lumps along the pinkish skin.

“I’ve never- never really told anyone. Daisy and Harrison- they were there. The doctors and just people tell me I’m lucky to be alive, but I don’t feel lucky. I just feel half dead, like I’m incomplete, but you- you make me feel whole.” Tom admitted, and you felt your heart flutter at his words.

“You make me feel whole, too.” You told him. You shifted closer to him, almost in his lap, and slowly leaned down, placing your ear over his heart to listen to his steady heartbeat. Your hand traced its way over his scar delicately as his own fingers gently ran through your hair. You placed a soft kiss to the top of his scar, before sitting up to meet his eyes.

“You’re not incomplete to me.” You whispered, and Tom pulled you in for a kiss.

Tom may not have been your soulmate, and you may not have been his, but in that moment, you really felt like perhaps you didn’t need to be alone, like somehow you and Tom were meant to be.

~~~

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[zwiezraczek]

The Perks of being Roger's Girl... [Chapter 4]

SUMMARY:  Anna is Brian’s friend, his childhood best friend. They were separated for a long time, but when Smile performs at the Royal Albert Hall, Anna is here, invited by Brian. There, she meets Roger, the dentist drummer, a loverboy.

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4: Belonging

The Rhye, the Rainbow and the Raw

WORDS: 5.6k

TAGLIST: Leave a comment if you want to be part of the taglist! ^^

Rays of sun penetrated through the curtains she forgot to close when she came back home yesterday, in the middle of the night, absolutely – but not too much – drunk. Too happy about her friends' success, she let herself go and drank too much against Brian's will. And Lord, how much she regretted that last beer that Roger paid her, and the other ones following Seven Seas of Rhye. She had forgotten how dark the hungover place was, and how much light was aggressive towards her eyes when her head ached like it didn't for almost half a year – or even more, she couldn't really remember. The fact: she had a hungover. Another fact: it was noon indeed, and she barely remembered who walked her home yesterday – she could bet on Brian and Chrissie, but nothing was certain in her blurry mind. Why didn't she listen to Brian again...? Yes, pride. And fun. Too much of fun.

She lazily got out of her bed, shambling her way towards her bathroom. And there, she discovered her face. Oh Lord, she wished she hadn't. She had forgotten to wipe her make-up off her face when she was back home, and her panda-like look reminded her why she should have. But drunk Anna seemed to be useless, apparently, unless for dancing and drinking – these were her jams. The harsh yellowish light hit her eyes, and she struggled to wash her face without feeling either sick or dizzy. She did everything backwards, not even drinking a glass of water to soothe her hungover before cleaning her face up: useless. Sluggish and useless. She sighed as she looked at her face in the mirror, again, staring for a longer moment than intended, her hands on the edges of the sink. She recalled her dancing moment with Roger. What did she had had in mind at that particular moment, she wondered, putting her wet cold hand on her forehead. She decided to head to her living room, hoping to find some pain-killers in her drawers. And she did, and didn't even hesitate to take one of them, before snuggling into her bed to lie under her blankets and to do what a hungovered Anna was able to do the best: sleep.

Whoever called her right now tried to be dead forever, and ever. Somebody tried to contact her, at this ungodly hour for a hungovered woman. She opened an eye to look at the hour, a reasonable hour to wake up in fact, four in the afternoon. Still an ungodly hour, she thought. With a smaller headache, thirsty, yet dissatisfied because of the abrupt wake, she lay on her back contemplating the vast ceiling above her. The telephone rang for about a minute – or even longer who the hell  knew –  and when she thought the person abandoned the idea to talk to her ever again, it rang again, and kept ringing until she actually decided to get up and answer. Probably her parents, they knew about her going out in the previous night, and because she didn't call them in the morning, they – her mother – were thinking she was dead and already buried in a dark place.

“Are you dead,” Brian's voice greeted her, with a fabulously concerned tone as she only blinked and coughed a bit. Not her parents, she felt obliged to call them right after.

“Was in a coma from yesterday's revelries,” she admitted, trying to wake her body and mind up.

“I told you to not drink that much,” he teased her and she groaned. “But I'm calling you to ask you if we can meet tomorrow for lunch, I need to talk to you about some things.”

“To scold me?”

“Among other things,” he added playfully. “At our pub?”

“At our pub,” she confirmed. “This time, I'm drinking only coke or tea, I promise.”

“We'll see that tomorrow, sweet sister.”

“See you tomorrow Bri,” she told him before he hung up.

Great. Now, her parents.

~~~~

Anna sat in front of Brian, her elbows on the wooden table after the waiter came to ask them what they wanted to eat, and as always Anna couldn't resist the chicken pie on the menu, and Brian asked for some fish and chips. She looked at her fidgeting friend, trying to small talk her for a while before she could really see his anxiety grow. She knew Brian had anxiety problems back then, she knew it happened sometimes to him even now, but when it came right from him, when he genuinely wanted to talk about it, it was either catastrophic or really important. And she expected the latter.

She didn't want to push him, to force him to tell her what he needed to, so she sipped the tea as he talked about probably moving out his parent's house soon to live with Chrissie, and how happy he seemed to be with her. Nobody could argue. Seeing Brian this happy became her newest hobby – along with teasing him for his relationship –, when Chrisse was near him Brian beamed with joy – a smiling face Anna could kill for. She hoped his happiness would live forever with her, or just live for ever.

“I'm considering to stop my PhD,” Brian stated out of the blue, throwing Anna out of her dreamily balance about her friend's happiness. She almost chocked on her tea. Brian wanted to do what? She put the cup on the wooden table, and looked him right in the eye.

“You're joking,” she asked, astonished by what he was just telling her. Yes, his music was taking a huge part of his time, but Anna knew how much his PhD meant to him, since forever.

“Not at all, I'm deadly serious.” He planned it, he planned it all, she could be certain about it. But he wanted to know what she, his long-time friend, thought about his decision.

“Brian... We always spoke about getting our PhD's together! We're so close, we'll be Doctors Bri,” she said, as the waiter brought them their dishes and Anna smiled at him, thankful, before focusing on Brian again. “How long are you thinking about this?”

“For a long time, but really since the Top of the Pops performance,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves and putting his dish right in front of him. “But I feel it Anna, I feel that Queen is growing bigger and bigger, both in the music industry and in my life and I know it makes me happy, maybe as much as my PhD does... I don't know,” he whispered, toying with the chips on his plate, staring blankly at what he ordered. “I just need an advice, from an old friend,” he finally said, looking up at her with an imploring look.

“You know my advice,” Anna stated, maybe a bit too coldly for him because he looked down again, and began to stuff some fries on his fork. “Do whatever makes you happy, Bri.” His eyes lightened up, almost instantaneously, his beautiful eyes looking at her. Relief could be read on his face as she smiled. “I'll always support you, Bri. A boring astrophysicist? I'm here for it,” she said and he only could groan as she slightly laughed. “A a great rock star? I'm here for it too. A great astrophysicist and a boring rock star? Brian can be both, and I'm sure you can be even more than that.” She looked at him for a moment before getting a bite of her chicken pie.

“You aroused mixed feelings in my mind Anna, but mostly joy and gratefulness,” he admitted. “Thank you for being here, with me.”

“Thank you for dragging me into this crazy adventure of yours, I'm a mere mortal,” she joked.

“A great poetry Doctor to be, not a mere mortal,” he corrected.

“You're too flattering, Brian.”

“Never too much with such a great friend,” he stated and Anna rolled her eyes with a smile.

Such a great friend that he didn't forget to scold her about what happened the other night. Anna could feel how – after their lovely moment of sharing their deepest feelings of friendship – Brian wanted to talk to her about how badly she ended up being during that night. He couldn't forget to remind her how drunk she was when he walked her home with Chrissie – so she did remember well – and how loud she was in the street, wanting to party even more than before. He had to hold her by the hand so she wouldn't fall on her knees, with her reddish face. How embarrassing. He commented that her and Freddie were unbearable together, and that was why they split up as soon as they could to not let the two of them ruin their lives together, in unison. Anna laughed it off, not showing any discomfort she felt, before sipping her tea – as promised she didn't order a beer – and slightly moving her head in disapproval of what he said about her. She did remember that night, mostly, maybe not the part about going home, but her memories were clear enough to remember every important moment of that night. And her dance with Roger, vividly. Maybe too vividly. She felt as if everything shut down around them, as they danced against each other in rhythm. Everything was playful, careless, free.

“You were flirting,” Brian interrupted her long silence. “You were definitely flirting,” he emphasized as Anna's mouth went agape.  

“I danced with Mary and Freddy too,” she defended herself, her fingernails drumming on the wood. “He had his hands on your hips, you were both alone in a dark corner... Should I continue?”

“Yes and,” she asked, trying to play it cool, cooler than she thought. Because, really, she refused to see Brian's concern about what started to bloom between them.

“Freddie saw Roger's games a countless number of times...”

“Fred's a snitch,” she stated, a smirk on her face which made her friend sigh.

“But he has a point. And at that point, you were close to your drunken state.”

“ I wasn't,” she vigorously protested.

“Chrissie saw you at the bar drinking with Roger.”

“Bad sister-in-law,” she commented, biting her lower lip.

“You owe me ten bucks too,” Brian said, rising his finger.

“Jesus, you'll have your ten bucks, Mr. Boring Rock Star!” Her annoyance made him chuckle.

“Aggressive, already,” he replied, his eyes closed as he shook delicately his locks. “But I could bet another ten bucks that if not Seven Seas of Rhye, he'd kiss you in that corner.”

“For God's sake,” she almost exclaimed, exhausted by this discussion, before remembering she was in a public place. With all eyes on her now. She shrunk on her chair, under Brian's amused gaze. “Roger is your band mate, I heard so many stories about him and I'm not that stupid Bri... This was all fun and nothing else,” she lowered her tone in order to convince him – as well as herself – that this moment meant nothing. Not at that moment. Nothing.

“If you say so,” Brian replied, not convinced at all by what she had just said as he felt hesitation in her voice.

“I'll already have my success when my brother's band will become the best band in the world, why would I date one of its members when one of them is family, huh?” She smiled.

“You forget a small, tiny detail, young lady,” Brian said after he chuckled.

“You'll live and lie for me,” she quoted, as she moved her shoulders as a small girl proud of what she just did.

“I hate you so much, sister.”

“Me too, brother.”

~~~~

Anna ran her way towards the Rainbow, with her hair strictly tied, her pencil skirt making it difficult to run along with the small heels she wore. How much she regretted that she hadn't done the same choice as Brian: leaving her PhD and to be free. But without money, and any talent – unlike Brian and the band – she couldn't afford stopping her studies. She still had some books in her bag, she hadn't had the time to go home and change herself, so she had to improvise her venue at the Rainbow on that night.

The gig began at eight thirty, and the first call for the sound-check was at six. It was already seven thirty and she was still running in the streets, passing by people already there, in advance, all excited and happy to finally see their favorite band on stage. She got a few funny looks from the – stylish – people there, she had to admit that her outfit wasn't really gig related. And if she was them, she would have given herself the same look. But instead, they gave her another look when she had to rummage her bag in order to find a paper allowing her in as a staff member. Nobody made the link to the infamous rumor of her being Brian's sister, her hair was tied.

With the help of some technicians, she ran towards the wardrobe. She hoped that Freddie had everything they needed to create the fantasy make-up he wanted to go for with the whole group. She stormed in the room, to find the boys sitting in their white robes laughing for no reason – there was a reason, she just missed it. She had a funny look from Roger who couldn't really recognize her, her hair tied-up and her outfit weren't the usual Anna outfit features.

“Darling, you're saving us,” Freddie stated, being the first one to greet her as Brian just winked at her and John just smiled.

“Not with that look,” Roger commented and Anna tried to stay as calm as possible when putting down her bag full of papers and books and other things.

“I'm not the one sitting in a robe,” she replied before looking back at Freddie, “so, we should begin the whole make-up session, right?”

“Mary's outside, she should be back in a minute!”

“Perfect,” she stated and rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy turtleneck. “So, tell me what we're going for with the make-up?”

“I want it to be dramatic darling!”

“Not too dramatic,” Brian warned her, because he saw her eyes beginning to glisten. She was excited to do another thing than trying to explain the 'hidden message' of Shakespeare's poems.

“Brian already has this flowy-silky top you see over there, and mine matches his” Freddie said as he pointed towards two beautiful tops and Anna looked at Brian and the top back and forth, not believing what Freddie had just said.

“Zandra Rhodes is an amazing designer, and the top is very nice and I really like it,” he defended himself as Anna just smiled. He would look gorgeous in this top.

“He was thrilled when he saw this wedding-top,” John said while looking at Anna with smiling eyes. This guy knew how to embarrass her childhood friend. And anybody in fact. And it always fascinated her.

Brian was thankful to see Mary enter the room again, and greet Anna. The two of them immediately took the make-up they needed to begin to decorate their friend's and lover's faces. To tease him even more, Anna began with Brian. She had a fun time putting too much powder on his face to make him sneeze from time to time and he would just groan and tell her that he wouldn't forget about this disgraceful moment. He wouldn't.

As Mary was occupied with John's face, Anna had to switch to Roger's. It was probably the first time she had to be this close to his face, surrounded by people laughing and talking, in this kind of discreet intimacy. She noticed how long his eyelashes were and how beautifully his eyes glistened in the yellowish light of the room. Her brushes wandered all over his face with powder, and she wished that this moment would last forever. She couldn't resist to do the same trick she did with Brian, but going slightly heavier on powder with him that with her childhood friend. He complained for a long time about how unprofessional she was, and how he pitied the children that were her students. So she made it even worse. Freddie insisted that she should put some eyeliner on his eyelids, just to underline the whole look, Roger protested because “nobody would ever see if I'm wearing make-up or not”, to which Freddie replied that he wanted to see him with some eyeliner everytime he would turn back and to look at him during the gig to admire the work of art Anna had created out of nothing. With a laugh, Anna absolutely agreed, and Brian did too.

“Fucking siblings,” Roger mumbled under his breath as he closed his eyes to let Anna apply the eyeliner.

Anna and Mary stood backstage, enjoying the music the best they could while being on make-up duty. From time to time, the band had to play through some power cuts, or more probably to compensate during the power cuts with Freddie's attitude and his amazing power over the audience. Above every issue they had to face, Freddie played with the audience as if he was the Black Queen herself. During every short interlude, the audience hung onto his words and replied enthusiastically. Brian's White Queen gave Anna chills, as every time she heard the song, knowing exactly what it was about. She remembered when Brian first began to write the lyrics, when they were in high-school and this beautiful green-eyed blonde gave Brian goosebumps; but he never dared to go and talk to her, and when he had the occasion he lost every ounce of his soul and could only nod. From time to time, she caught Brian's eye and they exchanged a subtle smile before his fingers wandered on his guitar's strings again.

When the medley's moment came, Anna was really thrilled to hear Roger's voice in “In The Lap Of The Gods”, it became a pure pleasure to hear his angelic voice contrasting with his womanizer personality. But above all, she liked how he showed off his voice. He always complained that being in the drummer position meant being put aside, so he absolutely refused to be put aside and did whatever he could to not be left behind. He worked hard on a song for every album they had made, and in this third album – Sheer Heart Attack – he wrote a beautiful song about living in the outskirts of a big city and being an outsider. As much as Anna loved lyrical ballads – such as Brian's – this song particularly resonated in her mind as an anthem to all these kids they used to be, hoping for a better future. She could hear herself promising, swearing to herself that she would become somebody and young Anna would have been proud of her.

After half an hour, John and Freddie came backstage in a hurry, leaving Brian and Roger on stage for a while. Freddie grabbed a glass of water from Mary's hands, as Anna handed a glass of beer to John – as he had requested. She gave him a warm smile, before Freddie began to talk.

“Roger is so pissed, I can see in his charming eyes how much he wants to destroy everything here,” he snapped catching his breath as he waited for the moment they had to be back on stage.

“He tries to knock his drums out apparently,” John added before putting the glass down and Anna smiled again.

“Classic Roger,” Anna commented with her arms crossed before she handed a towel to John to let him wipe his face before she could apply some powder on his face.

“But his liner is still on point,” Freddie added as Mary put some balm on his lips and he winked. Anna could only grin, and John couldn't contain his little chuckle.

“He still won't come off stage during the whole performance,” Mary asked with her finger pressed on Freddie's lips.

“If he comes off stage he won't go back on it, he's ready to throw his whole drum set on the audience at this point,” remarked John after Anna had finished.

“They're already finishing,” Mary said concerned, “go, go we'll see you in a minute!”

And they left on stage, again.

By the very end of the show, right after the few last notes of Jailhouse Rock, Roger exploded. Under the blue lights, he pushed his drum set from the small elevated stage he was on and Anna saw the rage in his eyes after such a problematic gig. He almost made the drums fall on Freddie, who  had moved right in time – without even knowing it. John was the first one to go backstage, with his bass on his shoulder still and reaching for another drink, Freddie quickly followed and Roger ran in, cursing. Brian made calmly his way towards the girls, after unplugging his guitar from the amp, and saluting the crowd again.

“These wankers and fuckers,” Roger kept on repeating. “Rainbow my ass! Thankfully we're paid for this shit!” John only reached for another drink, as he stayed silent eyeing every band member, not wanting to interfere into Roger's fulminations.

“Rog, it was fine,” Brian sighed and Anna already shook her head as she had a nervous smile on her face. Everytime the two disagreed on something – mostly on Roger's 'emotive' reactions – it never ended well. Mostly never.

“I'm fucking leaving this fucking place, I don't fucking care Brian that 'it was good'”, he mimicked his friend and Brian only rolled his eyes.

“There's only room for one hysterical queen, Roger,” Freddie remarked and Roger just groaned.

“Fine, I'm fucking leaving then,” he concluded, reaching for his jacket and starting to go towards the exit before getting struck by something. “I fucking live too far to go by foot, and they bought us here in a fucking taxi together.”

“You're stuck with us Rog,” Brian concluded as he began to take off his white top.

“Thanks Brian, you're a genius,” he sarcastically replied before almost throwing himself onto the couch next to Anna.

“I am indeed,” Brian replied with the same amount of sarcasm.

“Only one hysterical queen, Brian,” Freddie reminded them with a laugh, warning them with his index.

They all exchanged a look, and they felt a weight coming off their shoulders as they all began to laugh. All the tension was immediately gone with the wild wind. And Anna proceeded to take a make up wipe in order to clean Roger's sweaty face, he didn't even oppose when Anna's hands approached his face. As her fingers wandered on his face to remove the make up, she could feel his muscles relax under her touch, with his eyes closed. The others chatted loudly, but nothing could really disturb this quiet and quick moment – even Brian's glances.

It ended as soon as it began, leaving the White Queen and the White King to their occupations, with their friends.

~~~~

When Anna heard that Veronica was pregnant and that John asked her to be his wife, and that they had planned a wedding in January, she almost jumped up and down in her small flat out of excitement as Brian entered the place with John and she prepared some tea for the three of them. It was a blissful surprise for all of them – but especially for John when he learned that the would be a father. Anna happily made her way towards the small table they were sitting around, and put the fuming cups in front of their noses with a genuine smile on her face surrounded by her fluffy locks. She first asked if she could help with anything, and then said that if needed she could be by Veronica's side as often as needed when not working – because now, both of them were teachers in the same school and had some gossips to share. John was absolutely grateful for having a friend on his side caring so much about Veronica, because he knew she had friends but knowing that one of his own friends was able to “understand” his wife was an absolute relief – not that Brian or Freddie couldn't help or weren't willing to, but he knew that Anna would probably be a less embarrassing friend of his to stay with Veronica if needed, and he refused to talk about Roger for this, because he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

“Thank you Anna for your kindness,” John said again after sipping some tea from his cup. “But I also came here with an unusual request.”

“Tell me John, I'll try to figure this out,” she replied after having arched an eyebrow, a little bit curious. She thought about Veronica, it had to be about Veronica for sure. She couldn't imagine anything other than that. But what unusual request it would be?

“I want you to be one of my groomsmen,” John declared and Anna almost chocked on her tea making Brian chuckle a bit.

“I told you she wouldn't be ready to hear it,” he teased John as Anna had to wipe the drops of tea from her chin.

“Groomsmen,” she repeated. It was way more than a surprise coming from John, the man faithful to traditions. “You know John, I would love to but, as in 'groomsmen' it's about being a man, you know... I can be a bridesmaid, I mean if you want! I don't want to pressure you into that or anything, I was just telling you that it would be great if...”

“I want you to be my groomswoman,” John repeated clearly as he looked her right in the eye after stopping her ramblings. “I know it's uncommon, but you are my friend first and foremost, and as much as I want to have the boys by my side during the wedding and my friends, I want to have you too.” His face was illuminated by a genuine smile, a smile a child could have when asking for a favor, something that was dear to their heart and that would immediately kill them if it wasn't provided. And Anna wanted to keep John happy, because he was her friend too, and she just felt happy that he thought of her as his too.

“If it doesn't bother you more than that, I would love to be your groomswoman, John,” she replied with a smile before Brian gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder.

“I told you that she would say yes. The only thing that scares her more than people's looks are spiders,” he joked and she just sighed.

“We don't joke with spiders, Bri,” she whined before rolling her eyes. “So,” she quickly said, “where and when we're having your bachelor party?”

“And I also told you that she wouldn't miss a chance to have fun,” Brian added making the two of them laugh.

Freddie was the one organizing the party at his flat. As John's witness, he insisted on doing this party as it should have been done – minus the strip club part, because he knew that Veronica wouldn't appreciate her husband-to-be going in such places and because Anna was with them, not because it would have been awkward for them or her but because nobody would let her in in such a club without being a huge jerk to her – and prepared a feast with candlelight and beers for the groomspals. A noun of Freddie's own invention he proudly exposed to John and Anna once – because darlings, we need to include our other May to the pack!

Anna had never really paid attention as she should have to Freddie's decoration of his flat, and God knew how much time she had spent in it with Mary drinking wine. The ground was covered with  these large old-patterned carpets laying one on another creating a nice volume to the floor, with vintage cushions thrown almost everywhere on the seats or the sofa, and the red curtains covering the windows of the living room, dimming the lights of the place as if it was a dream. A beautiful midwinter night's dream. And this dreamlike atmosphere gave her happy chills.

It wasn't even late December, and she already expected some snow to fall this year in London as she walked down the street. She only hoped that the groom and the bride wouldn't have to freeze in the snow when they would get married. The wedding was to be held in January, on the eighteenth but John wanted to celebrate his bachelor party as soon as he could – and as late as he could, according to Freddie – because of Christmas and New Year's eve that they would probably spend together. Anna still wondered what they were about to make for the New Year's Eve together this year, as a huge band. They had already spent a few Eves together, but this year Freddie talked about something grand. And honestly, Anna couldn't wait to see that. All of this destroyed John's plans to combine his party and New Year's Eve, a proposition Freddie had immediately refused while making a great fuss about it – Veronica had said that to Anna while they were on a recess together, drinking tea. And now, Freddie was running everywhere putting cans of beer on the table, not even being able to greet Anna properly at the door, a task delegated to Brian who gladly welcomed her inside.

John had invited a few childhood friends to celebrate his last moments – not the lasts darling! – as a bachelor, they were a happy dozen there, drinking some alcohol and singing while talking about things and others. First, Anna could feel tension in the air as John's friends began to join the party. She noticed how they looked at her, not knowing if this lady sitting right here next to Brian laughing with him pretty loudly and devoured by Roger's eyes was a hooker or the infamous Anna John couldn't shut up about. But slowly, the atmosphere loosened up with alcohol's help. Yet,  apparently, there was never enough alcohol for Freddie and John who began to dance together to some tunes on the radio. They danced effortlessly, Freddie was a great dancer indeed, but Deacy was nicknamed the dancing queen for a reason: his fluid and unpredictable movements were candy to the guest's eyes. Anna couldn't stop herself from laughing, her head resting on Brian's shoulder, her legs crossed and her eyes now looking at Roger. He was smoking another cigarette in a detached manner, his blue hooded eyes locked on her for a while – at least, she thought so – and she couldn't tell what that look meant. What this little sparkle in his eyes meant. Especially after the Top Of the Pops night. Almost nine months had passed and they had never talked about that night. It was an uneasy subject for both of them, for one reason or another, yet their friendship never ceased. They only caught themselves staring at each other from time to time, a little bit longer than intended, or to be a little more tactile than before. Anna noticed that she thought a lot about him, for no apparent reason, probably because he was fun to hang out with, a great and powerful song-writer who came from time to time to seek some advice, a caring man and a really exceptional friend. Or maybe even more.

Suddenly, she heard a thud next to her, making her break contact with Roger's eyes before anyone would notice. John fell on the couch next to her, with a blissfully happy expression, a feeling nobody in the room shared with him after this big fall. His cheeks were even redder than before, and his head was slightly spinning as he took a beer from the table in front of him, another one gone into his mind.

“Ronnie is truly the love of my life,” he stated after having gulped the whole beer at once. He seemed happy and loosen up. He seemed in another world, yet stuck in reality. And Anna wasn't sure if it was a new state or not. “I love her so much, I'm going to be a dad you know guys... I hope we'll have many many children together, with Ronnie...”

“You will,” one of his friends said, patting his forearm gently from the chair next to John.

“I can tell you that Ronnie is very happy to be by your side,” Anna added, her head no longer on Brian's shoulder. She was facing John with a tipsy yet concerned smile.

“Thank you for being here with us Anna,” John immediately replied, grabbing her by her hands with smiling yet vacant eyes. “I know it's a funny request for a traditional guy like me but I'm glad you accepted it and that you're here with us...”

“John you're so sappy mate,” Roger remarked before taking another puff on his cigarette. “Should slow down on the alcohol sometime soon.”

“Don't be ridiculous Roger darling,” Freddie interrupted him as he put his arms around Roger's neck and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Don't be such a killjoy and let our baby Deacy drink a bit!”

And they drank. Never too much.

#roger taylor #ben hardy #brian may #gwilym lee #freddie mercury #rami malek #john deacon #joe mazzello #mary austin #lucy boynton #queen band #queen #bohemian rhapsody #queen fanfiction

[cupidoargiades]

fuck a keyboard, you're my type.

A/N - its ur thirsty boy jackson yall :) this was SO easy to write like im not even gonna lie, i love this guy so much like CHRIST not to be nsfw or anything but can he please just h*ld my h*nd ???

-

staring at you from the bar, a rather hot guy smiles at you once the two of you lock eyes, gesturing you to come closer. you look around and point at your chest, as if saying 'who, me?'; he nods yes. looking around once again, you try searching for your friends in the busy crowd to check if they knew the guy, but to no avail; everyone was either having other conversations, playing games, or they were just nowhere to be found.

stepping closer to the guy, he holds up a finger to the bartender, ordering another shot of soju. looking at the empty glasses that were already on the bar, he seems to have already drank a few shots. "hey gorgeous" he says, pushing a stool towards you to sit on. "how come you're all alone on this beautiful night?" he asks.

"oh, just the regular," you chuckle, as the bartender placed your shot in front of you. you nodded kindly at him before turning back to the kind stranger. "you know the drill; got dragged here after a break up to find some distraction, friends left me alone, all that bullshit."

he smiles a little and looks around. "they're not looking out for you, either..? because you're exactly the kind of girl those gross and nasty guys like me would hit on. that's so irresponsible, guys like that are just so- ew.." he says playfully, making you laugh a little as you down the shot of soju with ease. "you're one smooth motherfucker, you know that?" you say, ordering another drink.

"oh- just saying, you ordered more alcohol, so if you get wasted, end up fucking me and regret it in the morning, it's not my business" he says. once again, he makes you laugh so effortlessly like the times before, even though you have only known him for a few minutes.

"shit- i'm sorry, i forgot to introduce myself. i'm jackson. jackson wang" he says, urging to hold out his hand but pulling it back once he mumbles that's too formal. "great to meet you, jackson," you smile, holding up your hand, palm to the ceiling. "give me your phone and i'll tell you my name" you demand.

not even doubting your intensions, he smiles contently and hands you his phone. "you knew what i was gonna do, huh?" you say when you see a new contact on the screen, ready to be filled in. "i'm the master of flirting, stranger." he scoffs as you type in your name and number. taking back his phone, he stares at the letters on his screen.

"y/n, hm? that's a pretty name. it suits you" he says, looking at you, then his phone, and once again back to you. "you think so? why's that?" you ask. "like i said, it's a pretty name, just like you"

a blush paints your cheeks a cute red that compliments your makeup and outfit. he seems to notice this, as he tells you how dope your accessories are. "i love your earrings" he says, pushing your hair to the side to admire the studs lining along your earlobe. "i love your necklace" you nervously respond, pushing the hand that was next to your face and about to touch your ear aside so you could look at the golden chinese symbol hanging from his neck.

"it says 'wang'.. stands for my last name and it translates to 'king'. it's perfect, since i'm a king." he says, boosting his own ego a bit. "what are you a king of exactly?" you ask, staring at the pendant for a few more seconds.

"you. which makes you my servant, and you should do as i say." he jokes, making you scoff. "the king's got some tension right here, hm? can you fix that?"

you sigh and push his hands off of yours. "one more sex-related remark and i will actually start considering not going home with you." you say confidently, making him roll his eyes. "as if i'm not gonna talk you into coming with me anyway." he answers.

the two of you keep on talking for the rest of the evening effortlessly, and as tough and manly as he seems, he's funny, soft and really kind. it's no surprise you ended up in the back of his car at midnight, lips crashed together.

"one second-" you pant, taking your phone to see that one your friends is calling. "it's okay, baby, you're with me now.." jackson groans, pushing your phone down and leaning in to continue the sweet kisses. "no- i really have to get this, they're probably worried sick.." you say. admiring the kindness in your voice, he pulls back with a smile. you pick up after swooping your hair to the side, hearing your friend go off worriedly about how they searched the entire place and didn't find you anywhere.

"yeah- yeah, i left already. sorry i didn't text you," you say, watching jackson twirl a strand of your hair into a shiny wave. "no, it's fine, i've got a ride back home, right?" you ask, looking at jackson. he nods, before taking your phone out of your hand. "hey y/n's friend, y/n's future-husband here.. i just want to say that i'll give her a ride back, on one condition." he says.

you raise an eyebrow, telling him to stop whatever he's doing as you hear your friend cursing at him for being a 'filthy playboy-kidnapper-hybrid'. "sweetheart, it's nothing like that," he sighs, massaging his temples slightly. "she's gonna stay the night at my house. i'll bring her back home safe and sound tomorrow, i promise." he says, before hanging up. you shake your head with a roll of the eyes and a scoff. "you could've just said 'hey, this is y/n's hookup and she's staying over for sex.' but you just had to be a mysterious little bitch about it, huh?" you say, hanging your arms around his neck as you lean in for a kiss.

"you know it, baby" he says, pushing your phone back into your purse before getting back to business in the backseat of his spaceous car. "let's just make sure you forget about your ex tonight, and make you fall in love with me, if that's cool with you" he suggests, pushing the strap of your top down your shoulder.

-

coming down from a second high that night, you collapse on the bed, chest raising and falling from heavy breathing. jackson rolls over to kiss your forehead and lets his fingertips glide over the dark rose petals of red and blue he made over your neck, chest and stomach.

the slightest touch of his seems to burn marks into your damp and sensitive skin; just ghosting over you would make you shiver. "you know, you're not like other guys.." you mumble, turning your head to look at him. his hair's now messy, and a splotchy blush covers his face.

"is that a compliment?" he chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth and running his fingers over yours before intertwining perfectly. "most definitely.." you say, making him nod confidently. "usually, guys that hit on me just want a quick fuck before ditching me. you're different.., i like that" you say softly, feeling so at home next to him.

"fuck yeah," he smiles. "i'm in it for the long run.. no more hook ups, just love making and real love."

soft buzzing fills the comfortable silence, and you pick up your phone to see it was exploding with messages in you and your friends' group chat.

- friend #1, 1:22

LMAOOO i bet she's getting laid

- friend #2, 1:22

No wtf

She's too prude

- friend #3, 1:22

girl ... r u even her friend ??? shes everything but prude lol

- friend #2, 1:23

I did see her talking with a guy at the bar when I went to the bathroom

Maybe that was the guy on the phone?

- y/f/n #1, 1:23

leave her alone shes getting dick tonight

- you, 1:23

LOOOOL y'all are too much

- friend #3, 1:24

omg y/n how was he

- you, 1:24

SO FUCKIN GOOD

... like- personality wise

lmao no nsfw in this christian household

- friend #2, 1:24

Thank you :)

When are you coming home?

- you, 1:24

didn't you hear jackson ??

he's driving me home tomorrow

... after a date

omg i gtg right now he asked if i wanted to shower

i'll update y'all later

- you, 2:07

dont worry girls, i took good care of her

xx jackson wang (y/n's bf)

#jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #got7 jackson #got7 #got7 x reader #jackson x reader #got7 jackson x reader #got7 imagine #jackson imagine #got7 imagines #jackson imagines #got7 reactions #got7 reaction #jackson scenario #jackson scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 smut #got7 fluff #got7 angst #jackson fluff #jackson smut #jackson angst #jackson wang smut #jackson wang fluff #jackson wang angst #wang jackson #wang jackson x reader #왕잭슨 #잭슨 #잭슨왕

[qlistening]

I Fucking Hate Brunch. The world will be a better place if I could convince you to feel the same way.

All you upper middle class Jeep driving girls can go ahead and put your gun back in its holster because I know you’re feeling attacked by this post right off the bat. I want you to read the argument I’m about to present to you with a clear head because if everything goes as planned, I’m about to rock your shit with how valid my opinion is on this subject, and I want you to be in a good headspace to take all of this in.

Ah brunch, a genius concept at first glance. A perfectly plated visual masterpiece, one filter away from landing on your insta story, delivered to you at a time that acknowledges and accepts your constitutional right to suck down a tanker truck full of alcohol the night before. No more pulling up to a greasy diner in your friends sweatpants for some scrambled eggs. Every classy restaurant in town is now opening their doors at 11 AM so you and your friends can get drunk before noon in a place that had the funds to pay an interior designer. 

Well you know what else looked like a genius concept at first glance? Mortgage backed securities baby! And those suckers single handedly butt fucked the entire economy when you were like eight. I’m not saying that is in the cards with brunch, but I’m also not saying it’s not.

I’m actually an expert on this subject, as I have brunched it up in seven different countries and served this beloved meal at three different restaurants. And yeah, I know chomping down those pancakes in the upper righthand corner of this picture makes me a hypocrite, but the title of this post isn’t “I fucking hate hypocrisy”, is it?  

(you might have to click the title to keep reading. I’m not about to relearn html to fix this)

Diner Perspective

As a diner, I know that the brunch is a classic case of “expectation vs. reality”. You wake up at like noon. Try desperately to make something cute out of your dry skin, smudged eyeliner and greasy hair from the night before. You fail miserably. Then you put on some clothes that typically reside in that rarely touched “darty-wear” section of your closet. When you pull up and sit down at the restaurant, you can’t help but feeling a little bit ridiculous. The waitress is sitting there wearing an apron and nonslip shoes and you are wearing giant star earings. There are like, old people scattered throughout the place as well. Their faces makes it pretty clear that your footwear choice of wedges was in fact, not super appropriate. Once you sit down, you realize how fucking thirsty you are. You start taking down glasses of water at an embarrassing speed and feel kind of bad that your waitress has filled your glass three times before you have even ordered.

Oh yeah ordering. You were so busy rehydrating your kidneys that you have no idea what you want when the waitress comes back to the table the third time so you order something stupid and kinda out of your price range. Either that, or your eyes are way bigger than your stomach and before you know it there are 5 plates and three drinks sitting in front of you. Whoever drank the least the night before whips out the classic “so ladies are we drinking” and now, thanks to that bitch, you have a mimosa on your bill too. 

You eat a solid two-thirds of your food and suck down all of your drinks. You and your friends do a baseline rehash of the night and realize that you have little left to talk about. Because you like, already talked about it last night. Meanwhile, your hangover is hitting its peak and you would really rather go to the bathroom and pull trig than take another bite of eggs benny but shit! You can’t. Because of the judgy old people. You sit there and dream of when you can go the fuck home and lay down after this. 

Oh here comes the best part! The bill! Thirty five fucking dollars you have to be joking. I could buy an eighth for that much. I sure as hell would get more use out of it. And I have to tip this waitress! it’s not like she turned on the ol’ razzle dazzle or anything. She literally just asked what we wanted and brought it to the table. Fuck this shit. “How much are you guys tipping? $5? Cool me too.” 

Server Perspective 

How the fuck is it already 9 AM. I feel like I slept for five minutes. Probably because I want to sleep at 5 AM. I can’t believe I have to work this fucking shift. I literally texted every single other server before I went out last night asking for a cover and no one responded. I worked thirteen hours yesterday with no break. I’m not even sure this is legal. Do I need this job? One of my friends made a lot of money as like a cam girl. Maybe I could do that. I’ve got pretty nice boobs. Wait no people might look me up and see them when I’m applying to grad school. Okay I’m getting up. 

Good thing I’m still wearing my makeup from the night before bc I’m not trying to sit here and beat my face right now. Shit my uniform is literally disgusting from sweating for thirteen hours yesterday. Dryer sheet and a 10 minute run in the dryer and she’ll be good to go. Hair...going in a top knot. Alright lets take some Advil and get this bread.

“You know you’re late, right?” “Yeah I’m really sorry I forgot my apron and had to run home and grab it”. Fuck off idiot. I may be late but at least I graduated high school. Holy shit why has no on done any side work? I’m literally going to be sitting here making coffee, syrups, ketchups, toast, sweet tea, lemons and place settings for the next hour to make all of $2.13.

Oh yes the first customer is here. It’s the boy I made out with at DKE freshman year and his entire extended family. And they’re sitting in my section. Can’t wait for his grandparents and dad to emotionally abuse me while his mom insists on making six to eight substitutions to whatever she orders. The chef is going to literally throw hot grease in my face when I put in this complicated order. If you could even call him a chef. He’s just one of the line cooks that gets screwed into making omelets and microwaving food from the night before every Saturday and Sunday morning, as if it’s some kind of promotion. I need to get these rich people drunk or there is no way they are tipping me shit. Read them the brunch drink specials. Make sure to lock eyes with the women when you are describing our specialty mimosas. Phew they ordered $150 worth of drinks. That’ll be enough money to justify half-assing the rest of this shift until I can go home and smoke a bowl to forget what I just went through. Oh the white girls at table 46 only tipped me $5 a piece? Shocking. Could give a damn.

If you did not relate to this post whatsoever and are still clinging to your fantasies of brunch being “like the best meal ever invented”, you my friend, are too far gone. There is no way a working class girl like me had any chance of getting through to you in the first place. I sincerely apologize for wasting your time. For the rest of you, I hope we all learned something today. And that the next time the topic of brunch comes up in the group-chat, you will make the noble suggestion that we just cook the cinnamon rolls in the fridge.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

Fuck these hiccups(outta me)!

(I forgot who asked for this but here ya go! )

Naturally, it all began with Steve doing something Danny specifically told him not to do. 

They were out to lunch after a case wrapped up, it was particularly humid and they were all very thirsty. They grabbed a few sodas for the road as they rode over to Kamekona’s for their after-case lunch with everyone else. Steve began to drink his cold soda with enthusiasm to which Danny warned, “Slow down, you’ll get the hiccups.” 

Steve only rolled his eyes and kept slurping happily and quickly, until it was all gone. He smirked over at Danny to prove he was just being a worrywart for nothing....except that when he opened his mouth, he hiccuped. 

Danny ended up being the smug one and got to say four of his favorite words in a row. “I told you so.” 

It was amusing for the evening, but not once they got home and Danny just wanted to shower off the grime of the day and head to bed. 

“Danny what *hic* do you want me *hic* to do? I can’t *hic* stop!” Steve told him with a pout. 

“It would have been nice if you’d listen to me. But come on Steven, hiccups do not last this long!”

“Try telling *hic* them that!” Steve exclaimed. 

Danny rubbed his temples and counted to ten. “Alright...let’s get rid of these fucking hiccups and head to bed I’m exhausted.” 

“You *hic* think I haven’t  *hic* tried? I’ve held *hic* my breath countless time. Normal *hic-hic*person *hic* hold and SEAL hold. These are SEAL *hic* hiccups sadly.” 

“I...I cannot believe you said that with a straight face.” Danny deadpanned. 

“Point is *hic* I need something *hic* else to try.” 

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” 

“Do I *hic* have to *hic* drink it upside *hic* down?” 

“Anything! Just so long as you get rid of those damn hiccups, or else you’re on the couch.” 

“What? You *hic* can’t couch *hic* me cos of *hic* hiccups! In sic-*hic*kness or in health, D-*hic*aniel!” 

Danny sighed, “And in health. Alright alright...just...it’s not cute anymore. So if it’s supposed to be a prank, I’d rather you try to get me to walk through a door with a pail of water over it.” 

“Th-*hic*anks Danny...and *hic* it’s no-*hic* not a prank...I’m tired *hic* too.” 

Danny went and got him a glass of water and Steve drank it all. They waited about ten seconds before he hiccuped again. Steve did a handstand and Danny got him a straw to see if drinking water upside down would do the trick. But it didn’t. 

Steve actually looked miserable and Danny went easier on him. He was looking up cures for hiccups when he saw something....interesting. 

(Smut starts now. It’s not the best or the smuttiest but it’s there)

Danny read over the article and made sure that he read it all before he looked over to Steve. His poor, exhausted SEAL was spread on the couch, probably making himself comfortable for the night thinking Danny was serious. Danny went to join him, making Steve move his legs so Danny could sit down. Steve rested his legs on Danny and smiled helplessly at him before hiccuping, which made him groan and throw his head back in despair. 

Danny chuckled at him before letting his hands reach for Steve’s cargo pants button and undid it and lowered the zipper.

“What *hic* are you doing?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Danny pulled up his search and handed it to Steve to read while Danny lowered Steve’s pants enough for the blond to pull Steve’s cock out. Danny slowly began to stroke Steve. 

“ You uh... *hic* you gonna *hic-hic* fuck the hiccups *hic* outta me?” Steve asked with a smirk. 

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” 

In response, Steve could only hiccup. 

Danny adjusted himself so he was comfortable giving Steve a blow job. While the blond tended to his dick, Steve removed his shirt and played with his sensitive nipples. Watching Danny work on his cock was so hot...but he couldn’t enjoy it properly because of the damn hiccups. He reached into his cargo pants and pulled out his travel pack lube he always carries. Tugging on Danny’s hair to get his attention, he gives the lube to his husband. Doing quick work to get naked and bent over for Danny, Steve still hiccuped and looked pleadingly at his husband. Hiccups only semi on his mind right now. No matter how long they’ve been together, even as they get older, he will always be Danny’s very needy bottom. 

Danny was about to start stripping himself, but Steve stopped him. “No. Fuck *hic* me with your *hic* clothes on.” 

Who was Danny to deny him? 

He took his time opening Steve up, dragging it out maybe a bit longer than needed just because Danny likes to remind Steve that he should have listened to him in the first place. And this was part of the punishment. Steve let out a needy whine of Danny’s name. When Danny decided that Steve was ready, he unzipped his pants and released his erection as he draped himself over Steve and tugged on his hair, “Stop squirming or I’ll cuff you.” To which Steve just let out another greedy groan. 

With a smirk of satisfaction, Danny gives Steve the fucking he deserves. And they’re loud and thankful they have the house to themselves tonight. 

Steve is a sticky, sweaty, panting mess but he’s got a goofy smile on his face. Danny’s shirt is sticking to his body and he’s trying to gather the strength to do laundry before going to bed but it might not happen. They lie there, Steve naked and sated, Danny tired and cock out, catching their breath for a few minutes before Steve realizes something. 

“Holy shit...Danny! You fucked the hiccups out of me!” 

“As fun as this was...next time just listen to me.” 

#McDanno #Steve McGarrett #Danny 'Danno' Williams #fanfic #ficlet #request #new trope #gay lemon #boys in love

[thestarrynightgazer]

I love them so much, it hurts.

Just a little fic celebrating this crackship i picked out of nowhere, so here they are. :)

Special thanks to @galfridus1 for being my beta for this fic! Love lots!

☆☆☆☆

Estarossa glanced at his phone with a sigh, face flushed with the idea his mind had given him. However, he simply couldn't sit still without working on the project he had decided was necessary. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket, not bothering to exit the gallery, the picture of a young man with long silver hair and sapphire eyes eventually disappearing from the screen as it went pitch black.

His workspace was a mess. Zeldris had constantly complained about how messy it was but he couldn't bring himself to care since he knew exactly where to find what he needed. Containers of different kinds of paint were lying everywhere, some particular brands were on the floor, while some were on tables along with brushes he could no longer count. 

The paintings he had were everywhere as well, some finished ones and things that he would never complete were lined up to the side, while those he liked a lot, or those projects he had for himself were on the wall. His favourite was a painting of him and his brothers, it was difficult to miss since it was the biggest canvas on the wall and the first thing one would see upon entering the room.

He wrinkled his nose, the smell of different paints lingering around the room as he decided to open the window before picking up an empty canvas. for the moment, he ignored how messy all his things were, picking up the materials he needed to start his project.

He shut his eyes, the image of Simon in his mind rather clearer than anticipated. From the shape of his face, the color of his eyes, the direction where the strands of his hair fell as a memory of his laughing flashed before his eyes. He smiled at the memory, Simon had been laughing back then as he shared the pranks Meliodas use to pull off on him and Zeldris, he had looked so beautiful then.

He bit his lower lip, looking at empty canvas, before picking up the brush he needed to start his painting. His hand and the brush danced gracefully over the canvas, staining the once pure white surface with colors as he finally gave it some use. He was far too focused on his work, not even noticing that paint had started to stain his hands, cheeks and nose and even his shirt as he went on.

From the clothes he wore, the color of his skin, to the strands of his hair, he paid close attention to it, wanting nothing but to perfect the image in his head. He always enjoyed painting hairs, although it was what took most of his time, usually spending hours in lighting and shading until he was satisfied. It was his first time painting Simon’s hair, and he loved how it was in a shade of silver with a hint of blue, a color only slightly different from his own.

He didn't notice the time that passed at all, had it been minutes? Hours? Probably hours, but he didn't bother to check. He usually stepped back to look at his progress, going to the bathroom once in a while, sometimes going to the fridge to pick up something to eat.

Before he knew it, he only had to color the eyes before finishing it, usually he painted them first, not understanding why he saved it for last this time.

He picked a paintbrush up again, dipping it over the paint with exactly the same hue as Simon's eyes, painting for the first layer before moving with the lighting and shading. He hoped he'd be able to capture the shine they usually had, he usually did, but the perfectionis within him were starting to give he doubts.

He took a deep breath, taking a step backwards as he looked at the painting, smiling to himself as he saw the results. He might notice some things tomorrow about it and add some finishing touches but he was happy at the result.

He took the phone out of his pocket again, swallowing nervously to see Meliodas' missed calls and one missed call from Zeldris.

At least he was done for today. 

~

"What's the point of coming to a bar when you're not gonna drink?" Simon laughed, wiping few glasses as Estarossa glared at him, sitting by the counter as a glass was left untouched in front of him, the ice melting slowly.

"You know why I won't."

"Yeah, you made an absolute fool of yourself once---"

"Simon." He cut him off, face starting to burn red. He had absolutely no memory of what had happened, all he knew was that he got dragged here once after his classmates found out Meliodas owned this bar, he got too drunk and one of the staff finally contacted his brother about what was going on. Simon took care of him while waiting for Meliodas to pick him up. The following day, Alioli had been nice enough to send him pictures of what he did.

He was absolutely embarrassed, personally going to the bar to apologize to the staff and particularly to Simon for what he did. The taller silverette had laughed of course, telling him he had experienced far more worse.

It didn't sound reassuring, he just wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

He was thankful however, it had been the reason he had met Simon. He had tried to make it up to him though and they eventually became close friends. That's when he realized that things do happen for a reason.

"Estarossa! Stop flirting with the bartender and join us!" Arden laughed from his table, Estarossa blushing before cursing under his breath, not really wanting to drink tonight. With a sigh, he drank what was in the glass in front of him, it mostly tasted like water now.

"I am not held responsible for whatever kind of nonsense you'll see today." 

"Don't worry that much, I'll look after you just like before." He chuckled, the shorter silverette eventually excusing himself. 

Estarossa immediately knew it was a mistake to step in the bar. He was sure he was going to regret having more than a single glass, his tolerance just wasn’t as good as his brothers. 

He groaned, having no memory of the previous night at all as he buried his face in his pillow. His head was aching, and he promised himself for the second time that he would never drink again. He was good at keeping promises, the peer pressure on this one was just annoying.

He didn't want to check his phone…He was sure Alioli or Arden had sent him pictures of his nonsense already.

"Oh, good morning Estarossa!" He lifted his bed off the pillow, hearing Elizabeth as he pushed himself off the mattress. The woman smiled at him, bringing him a glass of water and he immediately knew it was for him.

"You shouldn't have---"

"No, it's fine… you looked pretty awful last night." His face burned red, not really remembering anything at all. He just murmured his thanks, drinking the water that was given to him and feeling like he had been thirsty for ages. 

He really wanted to no longer live in the mansion, Meliodas was married and it felt awkward to be around. However, the blonde had insisted for him to stay after Zeldris started living with Arthur, saying such big house felt lonely with only the two of them.

"Umm… where's Meliodas by the way?" He asked, knowing that his brother probably had picked him up. He should contact Simon soon, to thank him after promising to look after him.

"He hasn’t been home since last night, he went out with his friends, according to Elaine anyway." That made him confused, then who brought him home? No one else could have picked him up but Meliodas. 

"One of the staff members from the bar were nice enough to call a taxi to get you home, it was getting late so I asked him to stay for tonight as well." He had seemingly forgot about his headache as his mind started screaming. His painting, his painting! Simon is here! He'll see his painting! He just knows that it's Simon!

"Where is he?" He asked immediately, his heart beating rapidly at the idea of him seeing the painting. He just can't! He wouldn’t know how to explain it!

"He wanted to wait for you to wake up before he left so I allowed him to look around the mansion for a bit. He's really amazed with your paintings on the walls." With that, Estarossa had threw himself out of bed, running towards his workplace. Elizabeth had called out for him, but he didn't listen, far more worried about Simon finding the painting he had only just finished.

A painting of him…

He could feel his leg freeze as he found himself by the doorstep of his workspace, the color of his face draining as he saw Simon standing right in front of the painting in question. He was just standing in front of the canvas, which he hadn't lifted from his easel stand, his hands gently rested over the painting.

He couldn't hear himself breathe. 

Simon suddenly turned his head, probably after noticing his presence, making him look down to the floor as he bit his lower lip. He didn't know what to say, thoughts that were giving him anxiety started flooding his mind as he gripped on the hem of his shirt.

He didn't know what to say either, unable to make himself look directly at his face.

"I… I'm sorry…" For what? For painting him without permission? For falling in love with him? He had no idea which. He tried not to tremble, trying to figure out what to say next. He didn't even know if he should be genuine or make an excuse. It was driving him insane, he feels like he could cry.

"Es-"

"I ju-just really like you a lot I didn't know how to handle it, I'm sorry." He blurted out of panic, wanting to curse for his tactlessness. There was no excuse for this, he had no other choice.

"I like you a lot, Simon." He forced himself to look up, his face as red as his crimson paint, wanting to see Simon's reaction. He couldn't read him, he looked shocked somehow, suddenly sighing and looking away while scratching his head. He bit his lips again, heart racing as he waited for the response.

"Honestly…" He started off, gaze still elsewhere as if he's thinking of something deeply. "I didn't expect that you'd tell me first before I could." 

He must have been hearing things, his blue eyes going wide, his mouth agape with surprise. The implication of what he just told him just wouldn’t sink it as he stared at Simon in disbelief. 

"I like you too, Es." Yep, he was definitely hearing things. This was the hangover making a fool out of him, nothing more.

"Although I'm quite sure that you told me you love me last night."  Estarossa's face turned crimson, now far scared of what else he did last night.

"What else did I do last night?!" The other silverette was smirking now, leaving him absolutely terrified.

"Well you tried to kis-"

"Simon!"

"And did."

"Oh my god." He was drowning in embarrassment now, face still red as Simon kept laughing at him. He kissed him and he didn’t even remember it, he feels awful. 

But if Estarossa was to choose, this was better… he had expected much worse, all the 'what if's in his head weren't just pleasant as this was an outcome he never expected. 

Somehow, he was happy with this. 

#nnt #sds #simon #estarossa #sirossa #long post

[lynyrdwrites]

Harmless

Well, I asked and people said “sure, I’ll read your original nonsense!”  So of course the first thing I wrote was a story about a serial killer.

---

The house is charming.

              It’s painted yellow, with a white porch where a chair swing sits, surrounded by carefully maintained pots of flowers.  If I close my eyes, it would probably take me back to my childhood. We had a porch like this one; it didn’t have the swing, but there had been wicker furniture, where mother would sit and watch us play in the front yard, while she drank lemonade and enjoyed the warmth of summer.  

              I miss her sometimes.  Mother. I sometimes miss my sister, too. Maybe I should visit her.  It’s been too long; at least five years. Maybe even more.  I wonder if she’s changed her phone number.

              The doorbell chimes brightly within the house.  The noise is muffled, but I can still hear the three cheerful chimes it gives.  Now isn’t the time for nostalgia.  That come later.  For now, I smile.  It’s a harmless smile.  A friendly smile.

              I’m harmless.  I’m friendly.

              The woman, when she opens the door, is smaller than I had expected. Her hair is gray, but it only shows at the roots, where she’s starting to let it grow, now that she’s decided she’s old enough not to maintain the dye.  She has a deep belly laugh, the kind only someone who truly enjoys life has.

              She’s not laughing right now.  

              Her eyes – a color somewhere between green and gray – are narrowed behind thin framed glasses.  Everything about her says suspicious.  

              I brighten my smile.

              I’m harmless.  I’m friendly.

              “My car broke down,” I say, motioning behind us, to where the car sits, it’s hood up.  It’s been a useful tool, that car.  Maybe someday I’ll think of it with the same nostalgia as I think of my mother.  “Could I use your phone – maybe you know the best mechanic to call?”

              “I thought you kids all had cellphones,” she says, though her suspicions have lowered somewhat.  I can tell.

              After all, I’m harmless. I’m friendly.  Why would she be suspicious of me?

              I haven’t been what anyone would call a kid for at least a decade, but I still turn my grin sheepish and rub the back of my neck as I shrug.

              “I’m the worst,” I admit.  “I never keep it charged.”

              In my pocket, my cellphone is a weight.  It’s fully charged; I always keep it fully charged.  So much of life is spent waiting, and I hate not being able to amuse myself when I’m waiting.  

              The woman doesn’t know that, though.  But her own son says the same thing, all the time.  I know that.  She thinks it’s just a coincidence, and the similarity makes her face soften.  Her eyes seem more green now, as though the gray is only there when she’s on her guard.  She’s not anymore.

              Her smile is pretty.  It’s harmless.  She’s friendly, now.

She stands back and lets me into the house, and I feel a thrill of victory that I know won’t show on my face.  It’s been at least a decade since my face was so easily read.  Now it shows only what I want it to.  

              She shows me to the small terrible, where she still has a landline, even after all this time. It’s charming, just like the whole house is charming, and that nostalgia is a drumbeat in the back of my mind.  I wonder if she has lemonade.

              “You can call the mechanic.  They won’t be in, but you can leave a message.  And call the motel down the street.  Tell Tommy you’re here, and he’ll come pick you up.  I’ll make us some iced tea while we wait.”

              It’s not lemonade, it’s not quite perfect… but nothing is ever perfect.  It’s better that way.  Now the nostalgia will be there, but it won’t be overwhelming. I don’t like to be overwhelmed, not when I’m working.  

              I am thirsty, though.  I bet she makes the tea extra sweet.  She’s a grandma to a three year old.  They always make it extra sweet.  

              “Thank-you, ma’am,” I respond, and turn my attention to the phone as she wanders into the kitchen.  In my pocket, I carry a pocket knife.  It’s surprisingly easy to slice through the cord of the phone.  She has a cellphone, but she keeps it in her car.  She and her son had an argument about it, because she always forgot it.  So she started leaving it there, with a chord that her daughter bought her, so she could charge it while she drove.

              It’s smart.  After all, she has the land line if she needs help in the house.

              I drop the wire and it hangs uselessly as I pocket my knife.  

              My smile is no longer harmless.  I’m no longer friendly.

              Truly, I never was.

---

              She’s been baking.  Scones with blueberries in them.  I’m not overly fond of blue berries, but she also has homemade raspberry jelly, and it calls to my sweet tooth.

              I take a sip of the iced tea as she gets a plate together.  I was right; she makes it sweet.  Mother had always been so careful about how much sugar she put in the lemonade I remember so fondly.  I grew used to it, but in my adulthood I always took it sweet like I wasn’t able to in childhood.

              “You make sure you drink that all up,” she says to me with a smile.  It crinkles the corner of her eyes.  Would mother smile like that, if she’d had the chance?  She probably would.

              I want to shake my head. It’s odd, all the nostalgia I’ve been feeling. Usually I might feel it for a moment or two – right at the beginning, maybe again at the end – but not like this.

              It’s the house.  It’s too much like ours had been.  

              But the woman isn’t like mother.  Mother never made it to gray hair and grandchildren.  I need to remind myself of that.

              “Drink up,” she says, reminding me that I need to stay alert.  I have a job to do, now.  I take pride in my work.  Others might argue that it’s just a hobby, but I don’t agree with that.  It’s not payment that makes it work, it’s the achievement you feel.

              “And you need to put the butter on these scones,” she adds, as she puts the plate in front of me.  “It’s not right, just putting jelly on.  That’s not how scones are meant to be eaten.”

              The butter is saltier than I would like, but it can be easily hidden with the jelly.  The scones themselves are soft and moist.  I eat two before I really think about it, and go to wash it all down with the iced tea.

              My glass is empty, and I blink at it.  When did that happen?

              “Oh, here.  Have more.”

              She fills the glass again, and I don’t argue.  The iced tea is delicious.  It’s all delicious.

              I feel light headed.  

              “Oh, don’t fall over, dear.  If you need to rest, lean forward.”

              She’s standing at my side, her smile warm and friendly, and I’m not sure how she got there so quickly.  She helps me to lean forward, and I let my weight rest on my forearms.  

              Harmless.

              Friendly.

              Until she isn’t.

              “It’s rude, you know,” she says, her grip surprisingly strong on my arms. “To listen to people.  To follow them.  Very rude.  I don’t do this very often… but sometimes people are so rude.  Drink your tea.”

              I don’t want to drink the tea anymore.  Something is wrong.  I need to get away.  My phone is in my pocket.

              My hand slides against denim and I nearly slip off the chair.  The woman tsks and rights me.

              “Don’t continue being rude.  I’m sure your mother taught you better.  Drink the tea.”

              Mother did teach me better.  My head feels so heavy, but I remember that mother always taught us better. Sometimes her teaching hurt. But we both took them to heart.

              Until mother couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.  But she’s still here, still in the back of my head, and I can almost hear her voice.

              Drink your lemonade.

              I feel like I’m floating, as I lift the glass to my lips.  It’s still sweet, but almost too much now.  It’s heavy and wrong on my tongue, but I drink it anyway, and the woman strokes my hair.  

              “So very rude,” she sighs.  “It’s what happens when boys lose their mothers too young.  My Tommy knows better, but we don’t want to upset him.  We’ll make sure you’re gone before he comes to visit.”

              I must slide off the chair, once she moves away again, because I find myself on the floor unable to move.  When the woman comes again, there’s something dangling from her hands.

              The phone and it’s cord.

              “You ruined this,” she says, and her voice is so very disappointed.  

              You ruined it, Mother’s voice echoes, and I want to ask for forgiveness.  To say I didn’t mean it.

              But I did. I did mean to ruin it.  No one can tell me what to do now, now that Mother is gone, and I try to get up.

              My arms are heavy and I can’t get purchase.  It’s easier to just lie on the floor, my cheek on cheap linoleum.  

              I blink, and the world disappears.  When it comes back, she’s kneeling next to me.  I’m surprised she can kneel like that.  She hadn’t seemed so spry before.  

              I blink again, and the world seems dark.  

              I keep blinking, and the world keeps changing, and when I finally see the woman again, she no longer looks pretty and friendly.

              It occurs to me, far too late, that she never was.

---

              “He tried to kill old Millie.”

              She sits on her porch swing, wrapped in a shawl that the very nice young detective got for her, holding a warm mug of tea between her hands.  She’s not really that cold, but she was shaking with adrenaline, and she let the detective make his assumptions.

              It’s tea time, anyway, and she had to pour most of her iced tea down the drain.  She likes it warm and just a little bitter anyway.

              The two detectives look over at her, and Millie musters a smile.  The adrenaline has faded, and she doesn’t feel glee.  Not like that boy would have.

              She doesn’t like having to teach the children lessons.

              They roll him by her.  He’s hidden within a heavy cover, but she knows that his face is pale and lax.  Not charming, like it had been when she opened the door, or calculative and anticipatory, as it had been when she had watched him from her front window.

              He had been good.  Probably one of the better ones.  But like all the others, he’d known he was wrong. They all knew they were wrong.  Otherwise they wouldn’t come to her.

              She sighs and leans back, and knows the detectives think she’s just relieved. But really she’s sad.

              It’s such a shame when children lose their mothers.  She doesn’t want to have to teach them their lessons.

              But really… they need to learn.

#Original work #Original Story #my writing

[queen-bunnyears]

(Un)Professional Mistake Making ~ Ben Hardy

Summary: When Rose has to start a new job next day, she does what everyone would do, go to a pub for a last nights party. A slight issue comes up when her one night stand appears to have a major role in the production she will lead. 

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Female OC

Wordcount: 3.35 K

Warnings: Mentions of sex, language, one night stand, alcohol, probably lots of cursing. 18+ please

So I wanted to try something new regarding to my writing style, so here is a small one-shot with an OC. 

“Come on Rose, we have to go if we want to have our first drink in peace! The pub will be overcrowded in one and a half hours.” Lily her voice rang through the house. Rose ran down the stairs, checking her purse for her phone, while trying not to drop said purse and the pair of heels in her hands. “Calm down hun, we have plenty of time.”

Lily insisted in going out for a drink tonight, because she was absolutely sure Rose would have no time for her anymore after starting her new job tomorrow. Rose applied a fresh layer of lipstick, tucked her blouse into her black jeans and grabbed her keys. “Right Lils, I am ready to go.”

They walked out of the door, into the early London night. At nine  pm London was still buzzing with energy, and the streets were filled with people. Rose and Lily were lightly chatting while they were on their way to their favourite pub.

“I can’t believe you start tomorrow. Tomorrow for god's sake. You only got the call a week ago.” Lily linked their arms together, smiling up at Rose.

“I know, the man who had the job had to quit due to personal reasons.” Rose told her. 

“What kind of personal reasons?” Lily asked curiously. 

“I don’t know, it’s not professional to ask, and honestly I don’t care. I don’t even know the man. But anyway, they asked around where they could find a new person, and apparently somebody mentioned my name.” Rose continued her story.

She got a call five days ago, from a man named Graham King. He told her he needed a productors assistant for a movie production that would start in six days. She would get a fat bonus for being called in this late, on top of a very decent salary, and he said it would be an amazing chance for her, as a starting production leader. Rose just told him to email her the details, and she would see him in six days. “You got yourself an assistant sir.”

When he emailed the details she did have to sit down for a bit. There was the usual stuff, which wasn’t a problem, but then there was a huge presentation for the entire cast and crew that she would have to do. In seven days. Rose didn’t have any stagefright, but starting this late on a presentation was a bit scary, even for her. But she put her mind to it, and she finished everything this afternoon. 

Tomorrow she would do the last things, like googling the most important cast and crew members and testing her powerpoint on the screen. And she would meet Graham. Then the day after was the day of the presentation, which was about the schedule they would follow, the most important dates and some other important information. Needless to say, tonight was the last night she could go out in a while, and she intended to have a good bit of fun.

Lily’s laugh brought her back to reality. “Yeah, I wonder who recommended you. Do you think it would be someone you worked with on that musical? But this is so much bigger. Bohemian Rhapsody. You are going to meet Queen! And so many talented actors. Oh lord how do you handle it all so well?”

Rose smiled and replied smiling. “Well I just don’t think about it. I have to be professional or they might throw me out Lils. It’s part of the job.” She then changed the subject by asking for Lily’s boyfriend, as they continued walking to the pub. When they arrived at the pub Rose ordered two pints, and they sat down and chatted on. A few rounds of drinks later the pub had changed a bit to a club, lots of people dancing on the floor, and people on the sides sat in the booths, or at a table. Lily glanced over Rose her shoulder.

“Don’t look, but there is this very handsome boy staring at you, he moves to the bar now, you should be able to see him in a second. Go talk to him.” Rose picked up their glasses. “Lils, I am not interested. Another beer? My treat. One last one, then we should go home.” Lily laughs in response. “Sure thing honey. It’s the blonde guy, not the extremely tall one, but the handsome one who is about your height.” Rose just rolled her eyes and walked towards the bar.

“Two beers please.” She made a small conversation about how crowded the bar was that night with the bartender while he poured her drinks. Rose pays, and picks them up with a light thanks, starts moving back to her table.  

“Hey miss, girl with the beers!” A deep voice with a strong accent calls at her. Rose turned around and saw a hand with her wallet in it. “You forgot your wallet on the counter ma'am.” She looked up and her breath hitched in her throat. He had to be the guy Lily was talking about. He was blonde, not too tall, and incredibly handsome. 

“Thanks…?” She said, silently asking for his name.

“Ben. Name’s Ben.” Rose smiled. “Thanks Ben.” She took another look at him. He really was handsome, with his plump lips and strong jawline. “I should be going back to my friend.” He quickly nods. 

“Of course. It was nice meeting you.” Rose turned around to look at Lily, finding her at another table, talking with some students who went to her uni. 

“You know what, it seems like my friend found some people to talk to. Would you like a beer?” Before he could answer she handed him the beer.

“Well yeah. My friend just went home so why not. Tell me something about yourself. You could start with your name.” He took the beer from her hands. 

“It’s Rose. I am twenty-four years old,” Rose sent him a wink and took a sip of her beer.

Ben liked how easy she talked to him. Rose was pretty and she had a very open look. Not to mention that she could drink. He was stunned by how quick she downed her beer, with casual gulps she drank and the glass was empty within minutes. 

“Well I am twenty-six now.” Rose smiled, and leaned towards him, her lips close to his ears. “And i start my new job tomorrow, so I don’t really feel like wasting a lot of time talking” The alcohol in her blood definitely made her bolder, which was always tricky combined with her flirty nature.

“As you wish Rose. Would you like to dance?” Ben replied, encouraged by her easy behaviour. 

“I’d love to dance with you.” Rose dragged him to the dancefloor, leaving her glass on a table, and started dancing. Ben was mostly watching, while slightly swaying his body to the beat. They were both tipsy, not drunk enough to make stupid decisions, but tipsy enough to make bold ones. Rose was dancing gracefully, and motioned for him to come to her. Rose danced with him, doing some spins and a casual dip. She was a good dancer for in a club, with little to no shame thanks to the booze, but she never missed a beat.

A slower, sexier song started, and Rose pulled Ben closer so they could slow dance. She laid her hands around his neck, and he slowly placed his hands on her hips, hoping she wouldn’t swat his hands away. She didn’t, and he was surprised with how natural this felt. After all, they only met about half an hour ago, and twenty minutes usually wasn’t enough to make him feel this way, not even when there was much more booze involved. He moved in closer, and the sweet scent of shampoo hit his nose. Hell, she even smelled good.

The next song came on, and Rose surprisingly didn’t let go. She kept him close, and started moving her hips to the beat in the best way possible. Ben had danced with many girls before, but this was too much, and he decided to get drinks before it went too fast, too soon.

“Another drink love?” Rose looked up at him and smiled. “Yes please. Dancing always gets me thirsty.” His face flushed red. He certainly understood the meaning of her words. He didn’t know how to respond, so he decided to just walk to the bar for drinks.

Two drinks later they sat in a booth at the side of the dancefloor, talking about everything and nothing, and Rose felt herself getting tipsier and tipsier with each sip of her tequila sunrise. Lily had already gone home, and she considered going home as well. But then she looked into Ben’s eyes again, and she felt herself getting lost. To hell with going home on time. He told her some sweet story about his dog, when all of a sudden he stopped talking. A new song had come on, and the harmony of fat bottomed girls hit your ears. You chuckled. A queen song, so right before she would start with the movie, it was quite ironic. Ben continued talking after his sudden halt, and Rose tried to listen but her eyes kept diverting to his lips. He saw her looking, and he stopped talking mid-sentence to press his lips on hers.

Rose kissed back, but kept the pace sensually slow, knowing it would drive him crazy. She climbed into his lap and his hands grabbed her hips. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, but keeping it slow. He was overflowing with lust, wanting more, but she was very dominant in the kiss, and it turned him on. He couldn’t wait to see what more she had in store for him.

“Fuck Rose, don’t be a tease.” She just smiled, and kept kissing him but quicking the kiss just a little. She was absolutely surprised with his kissing skills. His plump lips felt better against hers than she had thought, and she wondered how they would feel elsewhere on her body. Ben let his hands roam over her side, grinning when she giggled into the kiss. 

“That tickles!” His lips moved down to press kisses along her jawline, and in her neck. When he reached a certain point just underneath her jawline she let out a quiet moan, and he sucked on the spot, wanting to hear more of those beautiful sounds. He was quickly praised by another moan, and she slowly started grinding her hips against his crotch. He was shocked by her bold move, even if they were in a very dark corner of the club, it still felt publical. But he was even more shocked about how good it felt. Rose reconnected their lips shortly before she whispered into his ear. “Show me the way to your home Ben.”

The morning after was not a problem. Rose woke up around eight pm, no clothes on, and with a mild headache. She knew it would get worse, so after getting dressed she scanned through Ben’s cupboards for some Advil. She quietly tried to make herself look presentable and went to his living room. Leaving a glass of water, two advil pills and a short note,on his table, she opened the bedroom door once more. Ben laid sprawled out on his stomach on the bed, and she memorised his naked form. He was definitely the most handsome one night stand she had ever had. His neck was covered in love bites, his back had scratches all over it, the sight made her smile proudly.

Rose vividly remembered making them. She remembered digged her nails into his shoulders when he first entered her, and how that made him moan loudly in pleasure. And for the love bites scattered across his neck and chest, her memory again didn’t fail her. She was on top of him, and he came up to sit up straight and hit a deeper angle. She tried to be quiet, and bit his neck to stop herself from letting the screams of pleasure past her lips.

One last look at him. God, he looked like a hot mess. She softly closed the bedroom door and left his flat.

When she was outside of the house it took her less than a second to find out where she was, so she stopped a cab and told him where to take her. Back home, she showered, and got dressed for her first day at work. If she had hopes Lily would still be asleep when she left, she was sadly wrong. When Rose left the bathroom Lily sat at the breakfast table, smiling widely.

“Well Rosie. Where have you been all night? You might want to cover up that hickey before leaving hun.” A hickey? Rose was unpleasantly surprised. She was certain she had checked her neck and shoulders this morning. She ran towards the mirror, and a curse slipped of her lips when she saw the purple mark just below her ear. Grabbing her concealer she covered it up quick enough, while Lily took the opportunity to interrogate her about last night.

“And? How was it? What did you do?” Rose laughed, while putting the concealer on the mark in her neck. “We had sex of course. And it was great.” Lily squealed in excitement.

“I knew it! Oh that’s just great. How drunk were you? Do you remember everything?”

Rose nodded, blending in the concealer. “Yeah, I still remember everything. I was very tipsy, or slightly drunk, and he was tipsy as well.” 

“Oh that’s fun. So you just left or do you have his phone number?” Lily asked. Shaking her head, Rose replied. 

“No, I don’t have his number, and I just left without waking him up. That is what a one night stand is about Lils. I have to get to work now, see you later!”

“Fuck!” Rose quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her curse. It was him. Ben. When she saw the name Ben Hardy behind Roger Taylor, she just thought it was a funny coincidence. But then she clicked the link in her email. The headshot on her laptop, with all his information underneath it. 

Shit. This was bad. Tomorrow was presentation day, and Rose wasn’t sure what to do. Stepping out wasn’t possible, so she figured she would make the most out of it. Ben seemed like a very nice person last night. He might be a nice colleague, and maybe they could laugh about it. But she knew deep down, that wasn’t gonna be the case. In the bar your mutual attraction was very clear, and Rose was very afraid how that would turn out at work. She would see next day how he reacted, and she decided adjust her reaction to his.

The morning of the presentation and first table read Rose looked her very best. From her lipstick to her suit, she had thought about everything. Walking into the meeting room, she felt a bit tensed. Even though she started working yesterday, she hadn’t met Graham yet, as he called in sick. But today he was here, and Rose immediately recognised his face when she looked through the crowd. Straightening her back, she walked up to him and introduced herself.

“Well Rose, are you ready for the presentation? I am very glad you could do it, I am a disaster in these kind of things.” Rose politely smiled and told him it was no trouble.

“Excuse me, I have to grab the last few things from my purse.” She said to him, sending one last smile before walking into the seemingly empty corridor that lead to her temporarily office.

“But Joe!” She recognised the voice in an instant, and hid around the corner. Ben was in the corridor, apparently with Joe. Just her luck. His voice send shivers down her spine, and she felt herself wondering over what he would wear. Would he have covered the love bites?

“She left a note? Why would she leave a note? It makes no sense.” Ben sounded confused, and when Joe replied she could hear the grin in his voice. “Because of the effect it has. Look at you, you are still thinking about it, and it’s two days ago. What did it say anyways?” Ben sighed. “It said ‘Didn’t want to wake you up, you probably need your sleep after last night. Kiss Rose.’ And she didn’t need that note. The sex was mind blowing, I won’t forget that for a while.”

Around the corner Rose smiled widely. She promised herself to wait and see what he would do, but this was the perfect opportunity. She rounded the corner with a sweet smile on her face.

“Well ain’t that lovely to hear. I have to admit the feeling is mutual mister Hardy.” The look of shock on his face made the risk worth it, let alone the look on Joe his face. Rose had to suppress a smile, she wanted to keep the cool facade.

“T’was quite a shock to see your photo pop up on my laptop screen yesterday I have to admit, but it’s not an unpleasant surprise. I have to go now. Will I see you guys later?” She ended her sentence casually, as if she didn’t just scare the living daylight out of Ben with her appearing out of nowhere. Joe chuckled at seeing his friend stand there, speechless. “Yeah I think we will see you around. Bye!” Rose send him an award winning smile, and walked out of the corridor, knowing the boys watched her walk away, and probably wondering what the hell just happened.

The presentation went smooth, and before Rose knew, she had finished. After thanking everyone for listening, she told the actors what time they were needed the next morning for the first table read. She collected her things as everyone started leaving. Graham came to congratulate her on the success of her presentation, as suggested she would also be at the table read the next day. She packed her bag, she was free to head home, and she couldn’t wait to tell Lily everything that had happened today. When she walked out of the door, a voice rang in the hall.

“That was a great presentation.” Ben his accent filled her ears. “And a great shock to see you stand there.” Rose turned around. “Imagine my shock when I saw your face pop up yesterday. I am almost sorry for what happened before the presentation, but the opportunity you gave me was too good to ignore. I may have come across as very unprofessional, but I do actually take my job very seriously Ben. Even if our conversation didn’t make it seem that way.”

Rose sounded serious, but Ben noticed her checking him out. She was obviously torn in two about it. Just like he was. Because indeed, they would be slightly unprofessional, and very unprofessional if they would just fuck around. But on the other side, they were both adults, not much illegal about that.

“I understand. Would it be unprofessional to ask you on a date?” He asked with a hint of humour in his eyes. “Rose nodded. “Oh yes it would.”

“And exactly how unprofessional would it be to ask you to come home with me after said date?” He asked, his eyes filled with amusement and his lips formed a sexy smile.

“Extremely unprofessional. But we all make mistakes, don’t we?” She replied with her signature flirty smile. Ben also wore a full on smile now.

“Well Rose, would you like to go on a date with me, say... Tomorrow night?” Rose her eyes lit up, and she replied quickly, not covering up her excitement about it. “Oh god yes.”

#benhardy #ben hardy #queen #bohemian rhapsody #fanfic #benfic #fanfiction #joe mazzello #ben jones #love #one night stand

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten Ch. 10

10. The next morning When Hyde awoke, it was bright daylight. He squinted his eyes against the shrill sunlight he wasn't used to. But then again, he had never seen the sun, except for that one afternoon, where he had accidentally come out at the most unfortunate time in the most unfortunate location. Where am I anyway? It's too bright, I can hardly see anything. “Oh, you're awake!” Hyde jumped in shock, but then two small, gloved hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down.

“Calm down. You shouldn't move too much in your condition.” That voice! Damn, I still can't see anything! “Oh dear. My apologies, I forgot that you're nocturnal. Wait, I will close the curtains.” Hyde almost sighed in relief, when he heard the sound of the curtains being drawn, dimming the light just enough to make opening his eyes easier. “Better?”, the voice asked. He nodded. Only now he noticed that there was a slight pain in his neck, where the jugular was. Not to mention the much worse pain in his guts. Now, that it was darker, he could finally open his eyes properly and make out his environment. A big, but very simplistic room that he guessed was something of a sick room. He was lying on what probably was a hospital bed or something like that and – Wait … I'm in a hospital?! “No, you're not”, the voice answered, reading his mind. “You're in my house. Mr. Utterson brought you here, because this was the closest place to get medical attention.” When Hyde slowly turned to the left, he finally recognised the owner of the voice. It was the woman he had fenced with a few weeks ago. Now that she wasn't wearing her widow cap, he saw that she had yellow hair, matching her ice blue eyes, and a face almost as pale as his own. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Hyde. You look a lot better than yesterday night.” When he wanted to answer, he found that he couldn't – his throat was as dry as dust. “Here”, the woman said and handed him a jug of water and a glass. He didn't even bother to pour himself a glass, but drank the water straight from the jug. She chuckled. “It's no wonder that you're thirsty. After all, you lost a lot of blood.” The woman – no, Lady Summers – stopped laughing. “You were really lucky. Doctor Lanyon said that, if Mr. Utterson had arrived with you only two minutes later, you would have been lost. These two gentlemen saved your lives.” For a second, Hyde was confused – then he remembered that this Lady knew about everything, which put him a little on edge. “Calm down. I didn't tell anyone, just as I promised. The only other person in this house who knows, is Dr. Lanyon and he's currently recovering from the stress of yesterday night. As for Mr. Utterson … well, you have yet to tell him.” Suddenly she took something from a fold of her black dress and Hyde's heart almost stopped. It was a vial and it contained Jekyll's formula. How had she got her fingers on that?! She didn't answer that question, only smiled amiably. “In fact, you two, I think you should tell him right now! As for how … I think actions speak louder than words.” Utterson was sitting by the bedside of Lanyon, who had just awoken and was still tired. Lady Summers had told the lawyer that the other still hadn't quite recovered from his shock and that his constitution would be weakened for longer than expected. The Lady had assured him that she would take care of  his friend and he trusted her – after all, she had a lot of skills that no other lady had – but he was still unhappy. Just what is happening to my friends? They both used to be so lively and cheerful and now … “Gabriel?” He looked up and found that Lanyon was looking at him with concern. It had been ages, since he last had called him by his given name and that alone said a lot. “You look so unhappy. What's the matter?”, the doctor asked him worriedly. “Oh, nothing”, Utterson answered bitterly, “Just that both of my best friends suddenly are in a horrible state, someone I really don't like got shot and now I feel conflicted and I don't even know why, because no one will tell me what the hell is going on! Forgive me”, he added, when he saw Lanyon's tortured expression. “It's just that … that …” “It's fine. You're not to blame”, his friend said sadly and took his hand. “But Gabriel … this is a truth you really don't want to know. It's too horrible. You will never be able to look at Henry with the same eyes again.” “What do you mean …?”, the lawyer began, but in this moment Lady Summers herself entered the room with a plate full of food and jugs and teacups in her hands. “Good morning, gentlemen”, she greeted them. “I hope you slept well. Doctor Lanyon, how are you feeling?” “Still a bit tired, but better, thank you, Milady”, Lanyon informed her with a smile, then added, obviously for the sake of politeness alone: “How is Mr. Hyde?” “That's why I'm here. He is awake. And he wants to speak to you, Mr. Utterson.” I have no good feeling leaving Lanyon alone here. “Don't worry”, the Lady reassured him, reading his mind as usual, “I will sit here and keep your poor friend company.” “Thank you”, the lawyer said and went to see Hyde. Not that I'm expecting someone like him to be grateful for me saving his damned life. 

(A/N: It's the morning after the shooting incident. Utterson is frustrated, Hyde and Lanyon are recovering and Lady Summers is determined to make the story progress.)

#mr utterson #Gabriel John Utterson #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #dr lanyon #Hastie Lanyon #oc

[fangirlingwhileblacktarot]

Wanna Bite (Dean x Reader)

sorry the pic is so effin’ big. tumblr hates me today...

Characters: Dean Winchester & Reader Summary: One-shot, where the reader is going on a diet and Dean wants to make sure she’s okay. Works for Plus-sized reader (like myself lol), but really we are pressured into body insecurities? Tried to keep it racially open, as well. Wordcount: 2100-ish Warnings and Ratings: Fluffy, romantic flirting, sexy talk; Body insecurity, little bit of angst A/N: This was fun to write. Would love to hear your feedback - pushing myself to finish and share more of my SPN story ideas. 

**** "Wanna bite?" Dean's voice nearly echoed through the quiet of the Bunker Library. He holds out a fork full of pumpkin pie to your mouth, playfully teasing you with the creamy harvest orange creation, daring you to give in. You want a taste of something alright, but he's not offering that just now. You do get a tiny thrill from his little wicked smile, as you make him wait. "Nope. I'm on a diet," you announce. "Since when? Come on, I need your opinion." Dean had bought 6 different pumpkin pies, including Patti Labelle's brand, for taste testing. You can not break his Pie-loving heart. You open you mouth for Dean and catch the pie on your tongue. "Mmm...I give pie number three 4 stars outta 5...I know, you probably can't tell..." He must be surprised in some part because of the pizza you chowed down on with him last night. And now this. You couldn’t resist - you have to live, right?! You ignore the tiny bit of guilt that is clinging to your conscience. "But yeah, I have to do something." "About what? What’s wrong with you?” His eyes scan your body from head to toe, for the thousandth time since you’ve known him. He catches your eyes and frowns in disapproval. He's not co-signing your dieting decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" You reply in confusion, why did you decide to even discuss it with him? It was a sensitive topic that you never discussed with anyone. "What's obvious is that you are too hard on yourself," Dean replies. "Takes one to know one." "Yeah, you told me before. Now, I'm giving the favor right back, Sweetheart. 

Okay, try this one." He lifts up another bit of pie to your lips. "How dare you use my words against me," you joke, to smooth over the awkwardness. You had no idea you would be discussing your health and body issues with Dean Winchester, but here you were. You taste pie number four.“Mmm...This one is better. Might be my favorite of the bunch.” "I'm just sayin' there are things about you to appreciate," he says. "Well, I appreciate that, but..." "No buts...There are things that I appreciate about you," he said firmly."But since you started it... You definitely have a great butt," he paused when he saw your wtf look. "If you don’t mind me saying so." "I'm strangely...not offended," you admit carefully. "Okay then, Y/N has an amazing butt. It's law." His hand slammed the library table to make it official and reaches for pie number five. "I thought you were a boob guy," slips out of your mouth before you can take it back. You had accidentally found one of his "special magazines" in one of the bathrooms once before. You said nothing, and but later that day they were gone, never to be seen in public again. "Not going to lie, I do. But when I see your body...It's like...You're into Art, right? You appreciate each painting for different reasons...Just because you like the Van Gogh, it doesn't mean you don’t enjoying Caravaggio." So he actually listened when you babbled on about Art? "You want me to go into detail about your frame? The background, the foreground, the color scheme, body placement...?" Shit, he was paying attention. You felt a bit more self-conscious, out of habit. You were so used to downplaying your body and staying away from the spotlight. You couldn't argue with Dean's "art theory" though. He went on before you could accept or deny his offer. "This wasn't because of the other night, I hope?" Oh that….You were hoping to forget what happened and was hoping he had as well. You get up quickly. "Can I get a drink before you stuff more pie down my throat? A beer maybe?" You make an attempt to change the subject as you head toward the bunker kitchen. Dean follows you. "Oh we are definitely talking about this. You don't even like beer." "Well, I'm thirsty. And someone has been drinking my wine faster than I can." "What can I say? You inspire the softer side of me." You try to ignore this comment, one of his many flirty remarks toward you. Was he staring at your "amazing butt" as you tried to get away? You definitely would be locked onto his backside if the roles were reversed. You reach for the orange juice, the one beverage outside of the consistently well-stocked beer arsenal in the Winchester fridge. Dean is so close on your heels, you bump into him when you turn around, the orange plastic juice jug hits his chest. It doesn't even faze him, he's like a dog with bone.   "...Now back to the other night..." He says. You let out an involuntary groan while you sit a glass down at the table and pour. Now that you've finally stopped moving, he catches your gaze, keeping you hostage. He would be so pissed if you were doing this to him. But usually, he would consider what you said and you had to do the same. You didn't have to like it though. "Okay, you mean when we were at The Rusty Fork and I made a fool of myself? That place? That night? That's what you want to talk about?" "I knew it bothered you more than you let on! That hipster douche was just a drunk asshole and I took care of him." Whatever Dean said or did, didn't take away the sting you still felt. That jerk had been stealing your attention all night, talking to you, laughing at each other's jokes. You thought there was a connection. "I only remember the part where he admitted to talking to me just to get to my "hotter friend" aka the much taller and skinnier, Talaya." Talaya was a sweet girl, but when you were around her, you felt invisible, or worse. She even got Dean's attention. That hurt the most though you had no rights to him, technically. The facts were that you two were getting closer, he practically made you move into the bunker since the Wraith had killed your roommate, and he openly flirted with you. It all just watered your growing crush until your feelings bloomed into scary level of intensity. The only way forward was down, the only direction you expected any romantic attachment to Dean to have. And that night had been a huge learning experience. No one should go after someone who doesn't feel the same. It was emotional suicide. "You conveniently forgot some of the facts," Dean said. "Like that other douche you exchanged numbers and social media accounts, and who knows what else with early in the evening." "You mean Barry?" "Yeah, Barry. Another bearded, hipster that you were attached to, before the other stuff went down." "Well, we there was a lot to like there," you admit, sheepishly. "He's an illustrator, he has two cats - AND his apartment might be haunted by some ghost kid. So I got us a case as well.. I was working, multi-tasking." "Honeybunch, you were working it alright. And I had a front row seat." If you didn’t know better, you would think Dean was...jealous?! You had nearly forgotten about Barry, his sweetness was overshadowed by later events. Plus, you thought he was just being nice, nothing more. "We just played pool," you say defensively. "And he lost because he was so distracted by you." "First of all, he was just sucked at pool. And wait - how did you see everything? You were busy with Talaya." "Don't you know by now that I always keep my eyes on you? Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch." "Well, I wasn't in danger and you were pretty busy." Why was he challenging your memories, what was his point? "I don't trust anyone around you, especially at a bar. And Talaya - We drank and we talked. What else did you see?" It had been simple just minutes ago. Jerk Douche pretending to be interested in you but really wanting to meet Talaya. Jerk Douche calling Talaya "the hot one," to your utter embarrassment. Later, Dean left the bar with Talaya.  Barry had been long gone and forgotten by then and you got out of there as fast as you could and into your own car. "You left with her!" You considered that your mike-drop and walked to the tv room, "Her friend that does Uber picked her up. She so was wasted. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. When I came back you were gone. How did you get pass me?" "I went out the back way." You sat your glass on the coffee table, and the two of you sat on the brown leather sofa that was more comfortable than it looked. "I called you! I even called Sam." Shit. He had called you. You didn't know until the next morning. You had been too embarrassed to bring it up. "I came home and saw you were in bed, got outta my clothes, and binge-watched Luke Cage until 4 in the morning." "Good show choice," you approved. You were a little distracted. The visual of Dean stripping off his clothes was fighting for attention. "So Dean...What are you trying to tell me?" "What I'm saying is don't feel bad, because of one fucker who doesn't deserve you anyway." "Thank you. That's very sweet." And you mean it, he's so serious and earnest about it, you accepted his compliment, for once. It seemed important to him. "Also, Confession Time: I'm doing it for myself. Heart problems run in my family and losing the weight helps. You know being around you guys is enough of a health risk!" "True that...So it's not about Bearded Douche? \”

“Nope. fuck him.” “Good. If that's what you want. I'll support it. I'm proud of you." “So you support me fucking him?” you play dumb. “Fuck no. I support your thing - your diet thingie. I want you to be around a long time.” You beam in the light of Dean's encouragement. There was one more thing that was bothering you though. "So who deserves me? I'm almost afraid of your answer!" He turns his body towards you. He took a moment to think and then said: "No one. “Ouch!” “No, silly. I mean you’re up here…” He lifted his hand in the air, above his head. “So I’m some cold bitch who’s destined to be alone?” “Jesus, will you stop looking for something negative, Woman?! The space between you gets smaller as he moves a few inches closer. “Look, the guy who always looks out for you….The guy who likes you right now, the way you are...The guy sitting here who wants to do some taste-testing on your lips...down your neck... travel  to some other places, many other places. Maybe you can give him a shot?" You feel thoroughly chastised, and it is a good thing in this case. "Well, that guy should come over here so we can work this out." Then he's leaning into you, no more space between the two of you. It’s like a light switch went from dim to full light, bright, electric energy. He brings a hand to your back, works up to the nape of your neck, messages the sensitive skin there. His other hand slowly rubs your thigh. "How will you support me? I don't need the food police, okay?" You enjoy the delaying him a bit more. "Nah, Sam is good with the healthy eating. Now, me....Cardio is good for the heart, right?" "I believe so.” Your thinking is fuzzy, nothing insightful can get through now. "I'm sure I can get your heart rate up." "Show me," you whisper into his waiting lips as they hover over your own. "You sure you ready? I don't want you to quit on me, when things get nice and hard, and deep..." "I’m all in." You barely know what you’re saying anymore. "It's better if I show you." He demonstrates in the most convincing way possible. The kiss began slow and sensual, but only heightens your mutual thirst and hunger. "Aren't we skipping a few steps here?" You weakly protest between smooches. "We can stop now..." "No!" You said louder than you intended to... He smiles into your mouth, lips still attached to yours. Now I can teach you the rest of my workout program. We have to get these knees up first..." THE END.

@trexrambling @roxyspearing @babypieandwhiskey @hot-craving@mango-blogs @jensenhandsome @cravingrichonne

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #dean x reader fanfic #supernatural #wanna bite #my humble fanfic offerings #happy halloween

[harryshmjr]

malec + 73? 💖✨

malec +“We’re not just friends, and you know it.” 

you can also read it on AO3

Alec always enjoyeda good sleep. He was going to bed relatively early and then he was up alsorather early to get the most out of his day. His work as a photographer allowedhim to schedule his day however he wanted, yet he always stuck to his pattern.Some people might think he was boring, but Alec liked this way of life.

And there he was,waking up in the middle of the night. His ringing phone rudely interrupting hissleep. He found it on his nightstand and noticed Catarina’s name. He answeredimmediately.

“Cat? Iseverything okay with Magnus?” he asked worried.

Alec could hearthe loud music of the club. Magnus, his best friend, enjoyed a good party andwas often going out with his friends from college, Ragnor and Catarina. Alecrarely joined them, he wasn’t a big fan of very crowded places. He was never agood dancer either.

“Oh he’s fine,maybe a bit too drunk to walk straight,” Cat replied with a laugh. “I’d put himin a taxi, but I’m afraid he might just fall asleep there and a taxi driverprobably wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“Say no more,”Alec was already out of his bed and putting some clothes on. “I’ll be there in20 minutes.”

Pandemonium wasone of Magnus’ favourite clubs so Alec had no problems with getting there. Hewent there with Magnus and their friends couple of times, but in the end he spentmost of his time in the booth, drinking his beer and observing Magnus.

And what a view itwas. Magnus definitely knew how to dance. His body was reacting to music soeasily and effortlessly. Sometimes Alec wished he could find the courage andjoin him on the dancefloor, even if he sucked at it. But he knew he would neverdo that. Not only was Magnus his best friend, he was also his flatmate. IfMagnus knew how Alec really felt about him, everything would be destroyed.

Alec reached thePandemonium in 15 minutes. He noticed Cat and Ragnor almost immediately, bothof them were helping Magnus to stand. It wasn’t an easy job because Magnus wastrying very hard to tell them something and he was using his hands a lot toexplain everything.

“Alec!” Catshouted and waved her arm to get his attention.

He ran to thegroup and stood in front of Magnus. He cupped his face and Magnus’ hazy eyes focusedon him. Alec was met with the most beautiful smile.

Magnus lookedabsolutely stunning. Even when his makeup was smudged a little bit and his hairwas already a mess, he always looked perfect in Alec’s eyes.

“Alexander, mydear!” Magnus shouted and threw his arms around Alec’s neck. “I’m so gladyou’ve decided to join us. It was getting rather boring with these two,” hesaid, pointing at his friends.

Cat shook her headwhile Ragnor facepalmed. Alec tried really hard not to snort.

“I’ve actuallycome to take you home, it’s late,” Alec untangled himself from his bestfriend’s embrace, trying not to forget how to breathe because Magnus’ perfumesmelt divine.

“Oh don’t be sucha buzzkill,” Magnus pouted like a child.

“Come on, Magnus,”Alec put an arm around Magnus’ waist, “Chairman Meow has missed you.”

“Of course hehas,” Magnus seemed to be pleased with this reason. “See you later, losers!” hesaid goodbye to his friends.

Alec’s taxi wasstill waiting for him. He knew it might be hard to find one at this time of thenight in front of a club, especially on Friday.

He helped Magnusgo inside and then followed him. He gave the taxi driver instructions whileMagnus made himself comfortable in the backseat. He curled his whole body intoa big ball and put his head on Alec’s lap.

Alec was surprisedat first, but even though, he couldn’t help but smile. He put his hand intoMagnus’ ruined hair and started playing with it. Magnus fell asleep in seconds.

“Wakey, wakey,sleeping beauty,” Alec said quietly when they reached their address.

Magnus sat up andrubbed his eyes adorably, smudging his makeup even further. “What’s going on?”he asked in a hoarse voice.

“You were partyingand now we’re home, come on,” Alec got out of the taxi and then helped Magnus.

They were bothliving in a loft in Brooklyn. Magnus loved that there was so much space andthat he could redecorate all the time. Alec loved the view from the balcony. Itwas a perfect place.

Alec helped Magnusget into his bedroom. He had taken Magnus’ shoes off and managed to take hisshirt off before Magnus collapsed on his bed. Alec tried not to stare atMagnus’ huge arms and his glorious abs.

He went quickly tothe kitchen and brought a glass of water.

“Drink this,” hesaid in a whisper, somehow speaking loud during the night didn’t feel right.

“Thank you,Alexander,” Magnus said after finishing drinking his water.

“That’s okay, whatare best friends for,” Alec replied when he took the glass.

“We’re not justfriends, and you know it,” Magnus added and then passed out.

Excuseme, what? Did he just say that? Did Magnus say they were more thanfriends? But how? Clearly he wasn’t thinking. Magnus was drunk, he didn’t meanit. He probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

Alec knew hewouldn’t be able to forget about it, though. He was still kneeling next toMagnus’ bed, where he was putting a blanket on Magnus. He was looking atMagnus, waiting for him to wake up and say that he was joking. Or anythingreally. Because Alec was in too much shock.

He went to hisbedroom and tried to get couple hours of more sleep but Magnus’ words were tooalive in his mind.

Around 7am he gaveup on sleeping and went to the kitchen and made some coffee. Alec was trying tofigure out what Magnus meant. What did he mean by they weren’t just friends. Itshouldn’t be complicated, yet Alec’s mind was providing him with a milliontheories.

“Morning,” heheard a hoarse voice behind him. “I’m so thirsty,” Magnus pulled a glass out ofthe cupboard, poured some water and drank it immediately. “I’m never drinkingagain.”

Alec had so manyquestions but he also didn’t want to bring back the subject. Izzy wouldprobably say he was a chicken.

“You should takesome aspirin, your head must be killing you,” he said instead and took a sip ofhis now cold coffee.

“So what happenedlast night?” Magnus asked.

Of coursehe didn’t remember.

“You were partyingwith Catarina and Ragnor, you drank too much. Cat called me and asked to bringyou back home. That’s basically it,” Alec answered, not even looking at Magnus.

He knew he was ashit liar so he had to hide it somehow.

“And nothing elsehappened?” Magnus tilted his head, he was holding a cup of coffee now.

“Nope.”

Magnus sighed.Loudly. Alec raised his head and finally met his eyes.

“So you’re justgoing to pretend I haven’t said what I said, okay,” Magnus took a sip of hiscoffee while still looking at Alec.

“You said many things.”

Magnus sighedagain. “You know what I mean.”

And no, Alecdefinitely didn’t know what he meant. He had never been more confused in hislife before. Thank you very much.

“You’re gonna makeme spell it out for you?” Magnus took a step towards him. He was standing onthe other side of the breakfast bar. “I like you, Alexander,” he said simply.And yet there was nothing simple about it.

Alec almost chokedon his coffee. “You what?”

Magnus smiled andput his hand on Alec’s. “How are you the only one who still hasn’t figured itout? Unless you have and I’d completely misread the situation and you don’tfeel the same way.”

“What?”

Greatjob, Alec. Fantastic communication skills.

“I mean, I- I haveno idea what to say.”

Magnus lowered hishead and took his hand off. “Oh.”

“No, it’s notthat!” Alec almost shouted in a completely quiet kitchen. “I’ve just- I’ve neverthought you would like me more than a friend.”

“Darling, howcould you think that way? You are an amazing person. You are supportive,talented, you would do anything for your family and friends. You’re someonethat I can always count on, you’ve always been there for me. And honestly, haveyou looked in the mirror recently?”

Alec chuckledbecause that was better than blushing. “But you’re- you’re perfect.”

Magnus walkedaround the breakfast bar and stood in front of Alec. He stood between his legsand Alec forgot how breathe. Magnus cupped his cheek and caressed it with histhumb.

“I’m far away fromperfect,” he said and closed the distance between them.

Feeling Magnus’lips on his own was something that Alec could never forget. Their first kisswas hesitant at first but it was saying so many things. It was a promise ofmore to come. It was a silent promise that they both made, they could betogether and take care of each other. It was happiness.

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#alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters #malec #my fic #alexandermagnus

[braidsfanfiction-blog]

Wanna Bite (v.2)

sorry for the big-ass titlecard!

Characters: Dean Winchester & WOC!Reader Summary: The reader is going on a diet and Dean wants to make sure she’s okay. Works for Plus-sized reader (like myself lol), but really we are pressured into body insecurities? Wordcount: 2100-ish Warnings and Ratings: Fluffy, romantic flirting, sexy talk; Body insecurity, little bit of angst A/N:  I made a few changes to my racially-neutral version. This was fun to write. Would love to hear your feedback - pushing myself to finish and share more of my SPN story ideas.

Happy Reading, shoetingstar*

**** "Wanna bite?" Dean's voice nearly echoed through the quiet of the Bunker Library. He holds out a fork full of pumpkin pie to your mouth, playfully teasing you with the creamy harvest orange creation, daring you to give in. You want a taste of something alright, but he's not offering that just now. You do get a tiny thrill from his little wicked smile, as you make him wait. "Nope. I'm on a diet," you announce. "Since when? Come on, I need your opinion." Dean had bought 6 different pumpkin pies, including Patti Labelle's brand, for taste testing. "Plus, I told you where I'm from we eat Sweet Potato Pie." But you can't bring yourself to break his Pie-loving heart. You open you mouth for Dean and catch the pie on your tongue. "Mmm...I give pie number three 4 stars outta 5...I know, you probably can't tell..." He must be surprised in some part because of the pizza you chowed down on with him last night. And now this. You couldn’t resist - you have to live, right?! You ignore the tiny bit of guilt that is clinging to your conscience. "But yeah, I have to do something." "About what? What’s wrong with you?” His eyes scan your body from head to toe, for the thousandth time since you’ve known him. He catches your eyes and frowns in disapproval. He's not co-signing your dieting decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" You reply in confusion, why did you decide to even discuss it with him? It was a sensitive topic that you never discussed with anyone.

"What's obvious is that you are too hard on yourself," Dean replies. "Takes one to know one." "Yeah, you told me before. Now, I'm giving the favor right back, Sweetheart. Okay, try this one." He lifts up another bit of pie to your lips. "How dare you use my words against me," you joke, to smooth over the awkwardness. You had no idea you would be discussing your health and body issues with Dean Winchester, but here you were. You taste pie number four.“Mmm...This one is better. Might be my favorite of the bunch.” "I'm just sayin' there are things about you to appreciate," he says. "Well, I appreciate that, but..." "No buts...There are things that I appreciate about you," he said firmly."But since you started it... You definitely have a great butt," he paused when he saw your wtf look. "If you don’t mind me saying so." "I'm strangely...not offended," you admit carefully. "Okay then, Y/N has an amazing butt. It's law." His hand slammed the library table to make it official and reaches for pie number five. "I thought you were a boob guy," slips out of your mouth before you can take it back. You had accidentally found one of his "special magazines" in one of the bathrooms once before. You said nothing, and but later that day they were gone, never to be seen in public again. "Not going to lie, I do. But when I see your body...It's like...You're into Art, right? You appreciate each painting for different reasons...Just because you like the Van Gogh, it doesn't mean you don’t enjoying Caravaggio." So he actually listened when you babbled on about Art? "You want me to go into detail about your frame? The background, the foreground, the color scheme, body placement...?" Shit, he was paying attention. You felt a bit more self-conscious, out of habit. You were so used to downplaying your body and staying away from the spotlight. You couldn't argue with Dean's "art theory" though. He went on before you could accept or deny his offer. "This wasn't because of the other night, I hope?" Oh that….You were hoping to forget what happened and was hoping he had as well. You get up quickly. "Can I get a drink before you stuff more pie down my throat? A beer maybe?" You make an attempt to change the subject as you head toward the bunker kitchen. Dean follows you. "Oh we are definitely talking about this. You don't even like beer." "Well, I'm thirsty. And someone has been drinking my wine faster than I can." "What can I say? You inspire the softer side of me." You try to ignore this comment, one of his many flirty remarks toward you. Was he staring at your "amazing butt" as you tried to get away? You definitely would be locked onto his backside if the roles were reversed. You reach for the orange juice, the one beverage outside of the consistently well-stocked beer arsenal in the Winchester fridge. Dean is so close on your heels, you bump into him when you turn around, the orange plastic juice jug hits his chest. It doesn't even faze him, he's like a dog with bone.   "...Now back to the other night..." He says. You let out an involuntary groan while you sit a glass down at the table and pour. Now that you've finally stopped moving, he catches your gaze, keeping you hostage. He would be so pissed if you were doing this to him. But usually, he would consider what you said and you had to do the same. You didn't have to like it though. "Okay, you mean when we were at The Rusty Fork and I made a fool of myself? That place? That night? That's what you want to talk about?" "I knew it bothered you more than you let on! That hipster douche was just a drunk asshole and I took care of him." Whatever Dean said or did, didn't take away the sting you still felt. That jerk had been stealing your attention all night, talking to you, laughing at each other's jokes. You thought there was a connection. "I only remember the part where he admitted to talking to me just to get to my "hotter friend" aka the much taller and skinnier, Talaya." Talaya was a sweet girl, but when you were around her, you felt invisible, or worse. She even got Dean's attention. That hurt the most though you had no rights to him, technically. The facts were that you two were getting closer, he practically made you move into the bunker since the Wraith had killed your roommate, and he openly flirted with you. It all just watered your growing crush until your feelings bloomed into scary level of intensity. The only way forward was down, the only direction you expected any romantic attachment to Dean to have. And that night had been a huge learning experience. No one should go after someone who doesn't feel the same. It was emotional suicide. "You conveniently forgot some of the facts," Dean said. "Like that other douche you exchanged numbers and social media accounts, and who knows what else with early in the evening." "You mean Barry?" "Yeah, Barry. Another bearded, hipster that you were attached to, before the other stuff went down." "Well, we there was a lot to like there," you admit, sheepishly. You could feel yourself blushing, if you were paler Dean would see it too. "He's an illustrator, he has two cats - AND his apartment might be haunted by some ghost kid. So I got us a case as well.. I was working, multi-tasking." "Honeybunch, you were working it alright. And I had a front row seat." If you didn’t know better, you would think Dean was...jealous?! You had nearly forgotten about Barry, his sweetness was overshadowed by later events. Plus, you thought he was just being nice, nothing more. "We just played pool," you say defensively. "And he lost because he was so distracted by you." "First of all, he was just sucked at pool. And wait - how did you see everything? You were busy with Talaya." "Don't you know by now that I always keep my eyes on you? Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch." "Well, I wasn't in danger and you were pretty busy." Why was he challenging your memories, what was his point? "I don't trust anyone around you, especially at a bar. And Talaya - We drank and we talked. What else did you see?" It had been simple just minutes ago. Jerk Douche pretending to be interested in you but really wanting to meet Talaya. Jerk Douche calling Talaya "the hot one," to your utter embarrassment. Later, Dean left the bar with Talaya.  Barry had been long gone and forgotten by then and you got out of there as fast as you could and into your own car. "You left with her!" You considered that your mike-drop and walked to the tv room, "Her friend that does Uber picked her up. She so was wasted. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. When I came back you were gone. How did you get pass me?" "I went out the back way." You sat your glass on the coffee table, and the two of you sat on the brown leather sofa that was more comfortable than it looked. "I called you! I even called Sam." Shit. He had called you. You didn't know until the next morning. You had been too embarrassed to bring it up. "I came home and saw you were in bed, got outta my clothes, and binge-watched Luke Cage until 4 in the morning." "Good show choice," you approved. You were a little distracted. The visual of Dean stripping off his clothes was fighting for attention. "So Dean...What are you trying to tell me?" "What I'm saying is don't feel bad, because of one fucker who doesn't deserve you anyway." "Thank you. That's very sweet." And you mean it, he's so serious and earnest about it, you accepted his compliment, for once. It seemed important to him. "Also, Confession Time: I'm doing it for myself. Heart problems run in my family and losing the weight helps. You know being around you guys is enough of a health risk!" "True that...So it's not about Bearded Douche?”

“Nope. fuck him.” “Good. If that's what you want. I'll support it. I'm proud of you." “So you support me fucking him?” you play dumb. “Fuck no. I support your thing - your diet thingie. I want you to be around a long time.” You beam in the light of Dean's encouragement. There was one more thing that was bothering you though. "So who deserves me? I'm almost afraid of your answer!" He turns his body towards you. He took a moment to think and then said: "No one. “Ouch!” “No, silly. I mean you’re up here…” He lifted his hand in the air, above his head. “So I’m some cold bitch who’s destined to be alone?” “Jesus, will you stop looking for something negative, Woman?! The space between you gets smaller as he moves a few inches closer. “Look, the guy who always looks out for you….The guy who likes you right now, the way you are...The guy sitting here who wants to do some taste-testing on your lips...down your neck... travel  to some other places, many other places. Maybe you can give him a shot?" You feel thoroughly chastised, and it is a good thing in this case. "Well, that guy should come over here so we can work this out." Then he's leaning into you, no more space between the two of you. It’s like a light switch went from dim to full light, bright, electric energy. He brings a hand to your back, works up to the nape of your neck, messages the sensitive skin there. His other hand slowly rubs your thigh. "How will you support me? I don't need the food police, okay?" You enjoy the delaying him a bit more. "Nah, Sam is good with the healthy eating. Now, me....Cardio is good for the heart, right?" "I believe so.” Your thinking is fuzzy, nothing insightful can get through now. "I'm sure I can get your heart rate up." "Show me," you whisper into his waiting lips as they hover over your own. "You sure you ready? I don't want you to quit on me, when things get nice and hard, and deep..." "I’m all in." You barely know what you’re saying anymore. "It's better if I show you." He demonstrates in the most convincing way possible. The kiss began slow and sensual, but only heightens your mutual thirst and hunger. "Aren't we skipping a few steps here?" You weakly protest between smooches. "We can stop now..." "No!" You said louder than you intended to... He smiles into your mouth, lips still attached to yours. Now I can teach you the rest of my workout program. We have to get these knees up first..." THE END.

#dean and reader #dean and woc!reader #dean winchester #dean fanfiction #woc characters #supernatural fanfiction #interracial couples #supernatural