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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

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Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him. But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #writing blog #writing requests #askbox #ask response #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

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How Bad is Sia’s “Music” really?

I watched it illegally (because there was no way I was paying for that bullshit) and found out. It’s not as bad as we thought... It’s worse.

TW for ableism, Sia, drugs, alcohol, just in general a terrible movie, meltdowns, blackface

Literally the first thing you hear while they’re showing the production companies is THOSE stereotypical noises. If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ll know what I mean.

And yes, she does this for the WHOLE fucking movie

What was the need to show her in her underwear? Maddie Ziegler was 14 when this was made, so what was the need??? And why did Sia prolong the scene by having her hitting herself?

Less than a minute in and my reaction was already “what the fuck is this shit?”

So the opening number not only had stereotypical exaggerated facial expression, it has Maddie in BLACKFACE?!? And with culturally appropriated hair?!?

The exaggerated facial expressions are literally constant and I took photos during the film to show it, more later, but I’ll keep mentioning it

ITS LITERALLY THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME SHE IS ON SCREEN

Even her way of walking is fucking offensive, Jesus Christ

The vocalisations just had me cringing so hard, I cannot describe how awful it made me feel

Why do all the neighbours need to be paid off and help her when she goes for a walk? I don’t-

Yes, by about the five minute mark I was already seriously debating all my life decisions. It was that bad.

Kate Hudson really didn’t give a fuck that her grandma died

I will keep saying it but WHY are the facial expressions/vocalisations CONSTANT?!! Literally they do not stop at all. I work with a child who is actually similar to this in that he’s nonverbal and he makes similar noises/faces, but the way they’re in this movie is so over-exaggerated?!? And even the kid I work with doesn’t do it 24/7?!?

Sia, calling your characters Zu and Music doesn’t make them interesting in the slightest. They’re still painfully terrible and one dimensional

Literally ONE minute after being left alone with her autistic sister, Zu calls the mental health service asking if they could “theoretically” “pick up” her sister?!? Like she wants to get rid of her already?!?

“A magical little girl” - autism isn’t a magical power?!? And Music is a young woman, not a little girl?!? Why are you infantilising her?!?

Okay I’m not being funny but this choreography is NOT hard. ANYONE can do it, so claiming that you needed to hire a dancer to be Music because of the numbers is literally bullshit (and even so, there are so many amazing autistic actors and dancers?!?)

20 minutes in and I wanted to give up

So she had her first meltdown because her hair didn’t get braided immediately and that’s... certainly interesting??

The fact that Leslie Odom’s character says “I’m going to crush you now”?!?

AND THEN HE FUCKING PICKS HER UP AND FULL-BODILY PINS HER DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR

“I’m crushing her with my love” - oh fuck you, just fuck you

So Sia lied, the restraint scenes were NOT removed and there was no warning. She’s a fucking POS liar

I have no idea why he’s called Ebo or why he has such a cliche African accent?!? I might have missed out on why because I was busy trying not to bang my head into the table while I watched this film but just... yikes

“He (his brother) liked to be held” - YEAH, HELD. NOT FUCKING CRUSHED

“He is dead now” - IM NOT FUCKING SURPRISED IF YOU CRUSHED HIM LIKE THAT

The constant babying and patronizing of the autistic character is so exhausting to watch. I’m so tired

“Planning on sending her to the people pound but I guess I’ll keep her a little longer” - SHE WAS JOKING BUT THAT WAS NOT EVEN REMOTELY A FUNNY JOKE. NOT EVEN IN AN AWKWARD WAY

STOP THE FACES IM-

^ YEAH, Sia, totally a fucking love letter to the autistic community here ^

So Zu finds this necklace she made as a kid that had a little dog on it, and she says to Music, “He had seizures too, just like you”... MELTDOWNS AND SEIZURES ARE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME FUCK THIS MOVIE-

It’s like Sia is trying to make the movie funny but it’s really not at all

Is Zu implying that Music is autistic because the mum was a junkie?!?

For real though, the dialogue in general is so fucking awful and cringey. Whoever wrote this should never be allowed to write again

Did she seriously leave her autistic sister alone to talk to who I’m presuming was her dealer or loan shark?!?

Also why is he - a white dude - wearing cornrows?!?

So who is the film really about? The autistic girl or the older sister saviour? I think we all know the answer to that one

WHY IS SHE WALKING AROUND WITH HER TEETH JUTTING OUT LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME

The musical numbers are literally so painful to watch. The overly bright colours, the flashing... my eyes were hurting and so was my brain

Autism representation aside for a second, the musical numbers/choreography are all fucking atrocious. Ditto for the costumes

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE PINK OOMPA LOOMPA FRUIT THINGS?!? THEY LOOK LIKE THE PINK VERSIONS OF VIOLET BEAUREGARDE THE BLUEBERRY

I wanted to cry by this point, this movie is far more awful than I thought

“I’m not saying she doesn’t want to change, I’m saying she can’t” - FUCK YOU. Why is it okay for him to assume what she can or can’t do

Can I just say that autistic people aren’t constantly in a coked up wonderland state?!! We don’t see the world as a wonderland fantasy world 24/7?!!

“She can hear you from two rooms away” / *shows her listening through two brick walls to a conversation* — Also, we don’t have super fucking sonic hearing?? WE CANT HEAR THROUGH FUCKING BRICK WALLS?!?

“She can understand everything you’re saying to her” - she’s autistic not fucking deaf

Less than 45 minutes in, there’s another meltdown in the park

“I’m not climbing on top of a small screaming white girl in public” - yeah please fucking don’t

So Zu fucking pins her down with her weight 🤦‍♀️

“She doesn’t know who she’s hitting” - IM SORRY WHAT

EBO LITERALLY SAID “TREAT HER LIKE A BEAR” when talking her through the prone restraint, I fucking CANNOT

“Tell her she’s safe” - NOT IF YOU FUCKING RESTRAIN HER LIKE THAT SHE IS NOT

The fact that she gets up, smiling and happy after a meltdown and immediately is excited to get a snow cone... I can honestly say that after a meltdown, I am in no way happy or smiling. I am often not very verbal and I’m withdrawn/not myself for at least several hours, usually the rest of the day. Fuck this film

This film is literally just about Zu, and Music is there for a plot device to give her character development. That’s all she’s there for.

Love how Sia shoehorned Zu being suicidal in there. You know, just to try and make her more easy to sympathize with (it doesn’t work)

This film is literally just a 1 hour 47 minute Sia music video with ZERO plot

WHY WERE THEY WEARING PILLOW DIAPERS IN ONE NUMBER-

I really did not feel into the side plot with that guy who was fighting but it was still better than the actual movie so...

I am SO DONE with the NON STOP CONSTANT vocal shit. So tired.

LOJ’s only role in this film is to be the stereotypical wise black guy who assists a white woman’s story. There’s like hardly any other depth there

The Ebo/Zu romance is so fucking stupid and pointless and out of NOWHERE. I couldn’t even tell if they were into each other or not

I was already so bored of the musical numbers by this point. They added NOTHING to the plot but they pretended they did, and I was so over it. And it’s not because I’m not “creative enough” or anything to understand, I love musicals and I think it could have been cool if done right... but it wasn’t. They were a mess. It’s just bad.

Sia really tried to pretend her movie was deep but really it’s a shallow mess

So Zu is meeting rich drug clients and says to Music “try not to have one of your freak outs up there” and “if you could try to get it out now”... FUCKING YIKES. It’s not an on/off button, shut the fuck up

YEP THIS WAS THE SIA CAMEO FUCK THAT BITCH

The fact that she just calls “DRUG DEALER?!? DRUG DEALER IS THAT YOU”, fucking end this please-

I fucking hate this bitch I’m dead serious

“We’re gonna send them to Haiti cause there’s been an earthquake. All these buildings fell down, children’s bones were dislocated” - WHY WAS SHE SO CHEERFUL ABOUT IT

“Gonna buy a shit load of pain meds, gonna but them on my private plane” - FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

“Pop stars without borders” - Sia thinks she’s so clever but I would give anything to punch her I swear-

ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER JUST STOP IM BEGGING YOU

There’s this awkward conversation/bit with Zu and her drug dealer/loanshark about his outfit that was clearly meant to be funny but was just flat and painful

Yep, Sia really showed Music eating chewing gum off the underside of a park bench. Of course.

Look, the kid I work with does similar stuff by putting literally anything and everything in his mouth but like... why would you put that in your movie?

And there’s no indication before this that Music puts everything and anything in her mouth, she just randomly decides to get on her knees, under the bench and eat chewing gum, like she calculates that it’s there and gets it???

She has a THIRD meltdown after an allergic reaction to a bee sting and her sister just yells at her before realizing... I’m not here for this movie, I feel like I drifted off and was not really there

So Zu got angry because she left the drugs at the park but she’s not that upset that her sister had an allergic reaction???

Zu gets absolutely drunk because a) she lost Sia’s drugs and b) she’s stressed out by her autistic sister... wow, great message, Sia!

She really fucked off and left her sister alone to go clubbing/on a bender

The less said about the musical number here the better

Sia’s movie also checks the box of having stereotypical Asian parents, specifically stereotypical Asian dad being harsh/angry and hitting his wife!

ALSO HE PUSHED AND KILLED HIS SON WTF IS HAPPENING

Less than 3 minutes after the last, there’s a musical number that I think was about this side character going to heaven... another shitty Sia-esque number

The patterns during the number made my brain hurt.

Also there are so many autistic actors who can also dance, and yet Sia chose the neurotypical one because ✨ N E P O T I S M ✨

I just want to know how it was deemed necessary to show the fact the autistic character peed/wet herself? I mean... ??? It’s just so undignified and not at all necessary to the plot. Nothing happens after that, it just moves onto the next scene and it didn’t do anything

“I have no one” - 1) YOUR FUCKING SISTER. 2) GEE I FUCKING WONDER WHY, couldn’t be that you’re a shitty human being?!?

There’s a scene where Music is walking and she does ALL the stereotypical behaviours at once... just YIKES

Zu somehow stopped another meltdown just by grabbing Music by the shoulders and sitting her down???

Aaand yep. Another shitty musical number

Zu really goes to put her sister in a fucking facility and claims it’ll be “better for her” - BULLSHIT. Better for Zu, maybe, not Music.

Ah yes - the girl who the characters have said has problems with routines being changed/change in general... you’re now going to fuck up her routine by dumping her in a facility. Perfect Plan.

The nonverbal autistic girl suddenly speaking to say “don’t go” - you can just predict it from the off, can’t you?

Love that as soon as Music starts talking, Zu is like “fuck it, I’ll keep her!”

Zu really went and crashed Ebo’s brothers wedding... in a fucking bralette... YIKES

“I almost gave Music away” - SHE IS NOT A DOG YOU DONT GIVE PEOPLE AWAY

“We should sing a song” - PLEASE DO FUCKING NOT

Also that kiss/romance montage between Zu and Ebo was the CRINGIEST fucking shit ever

This movie seems to be implying that Music has locked in syndrome or something, like she’s locked in her own head or whatever it’s called, and I just... *sigh*

Oh and now Music magically fucking sings in a room FULL of strangers... this is literally embarrassing, please let this end

I mean it, this movie was fucking painful to watch on ever level

She got a service dog puppy which... okay?

Oh look, it’s the only decent song on the soundtrack but with an absolutely shitty over-stimulatory music video with the credits!

I can only name 5 characters in this film. Maybe 7 at a push, but even then I would be guessing

AND YEP SHE THANKED AUTISM SPEAKS OVER THE CREDITS. FUCK YOU SIA 🖕🏻

Let me reiterate: this is a movie about a neurotypical former drug addict whose character development comes from the autistic character, from having an autistic sister she has to take care of. I’m so tired.

We are NOT plot devices or tools for character development. Not once does anyone in this film treat Music like a human being - she’s treated as a burden, a problem, and then like a pet that they decide to keep. Not once is the film focused on how she is feeling - it’s always about Zu or Ebo. The performance itself was so over exaggerated and it made me want to cry when I watched it because this is how the world sees us, and this movie will make it ten times worse. It’s stuff like this that made me think “I don’t want to be labelled as autistic because people will think I’m a certain way”, that made me wait so long before going to the GP to get a referral.

As I said, poor autistic representation aside, the movie is just so appallingly bad. It truly is one of the worst films I’ve watched. If you’re going to watch it, please don’t - or, if you want to because you want to see how bad it is/to raise awareness/critical posts, at least do it illegally. Do not give Sia your money.

#sia #music #music 2021 #music movie #autism #tw ableism #tw meltdown #tw blackface #anti sia #lol sia

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

I only have my self to blame...

Frankie Morales x you fic

Tags: A lot of cursing. So much cursing. Drug use. Angst.

Summary: I kept thinking about the coke rap they mention in the story. And I thought, what if Frankie was innocent? So most of this is about that, with a tense change so that when the reader enters the picture, it’s “you” -- no y/n.

I have never written a fic before. I am no nervous AT ALL. But I wanted to give something back, even though it’s not really romantic. I logged into my laptop so I could use cuts. XD I am ashamed at how long it took me to remember my password.

2,083 words.

It was, really, a bullshit coke rap, but it was still Frankie’s fault. He was flying one of the boss’s nicer planes, a pretty little Cessna Caravan, fitted out for luxury in the back, a curtain separating the pilot from the main cabin. The curtain was partly folded back, so the rich folks in the cabin behind him with their booze, lounging in their leather seats don’t have to stare at the back of Frankie’s tousled, ball cap covered head.

It also meant that he could hear what they were saying, the headset over one ear was quiet, but he’d already decided they were a bag of dicks and he wasn’t going to pay attention to them, as they laughed like a bunch of frat boys behind him. There was a mirror, angled so he could see what was going on, and once in awhile he’d look. There were five men and one woman, the men acting like a bunch of frat boys, the woman trying to pretend she was amused.

Frankie knew, of course, that the trouble was men like that made that secret chip on his shoulder come out. The one he tried to ignore. Because I’m better than that, right? They ain’t got nothing that I want. But they did. They didn’t have to worry about money…they didn’t have a new baby to worry about, they didn’t have to play the game of if-I-pay-this-bill-I-can-pretend-I-didn’t-get-that-one. He was tired, worried about his lady, scared that he was going to fucking fail her, fail their little girl, Luna.

He let out a long, pent up sigh. He itched to put on some music, was considering it when the shuffle of curtain fabric told him he was no longer alone.

The sole woman from the back gave him a shy smile. “Do you mind? They’re acting like idiots back there.” She had a stylish, blunt cut, a white button shirt and a short, black skirt. Everything was fitted perfectly so the clothes molded against her. It looked polished rather than cheap. He smiled politely and shrugged as she arranged herself gracefully into the copilot chair.

“So, you said your name was Frankie?” She reached out with a foot and nudged his chair. She’d shed her high heels, and, despite the shortness of her skirt was gathering her legs under her.

Lady, you might as well have a danger sign around your neck. He nodded, feeling a little out of his depth.

“Macey. Pleasure to meet you. You been a pilot long?”

He nodded.

“You don’t speak much, do you?” She was flirty enough that even he, usually captain obvious, caught on.

He gave her a sidelong look. “I’m trying to figure out how to slip the face I have a wife and kid into the conversation.” Wife was a stretch. He wanted to marry you, he dreamed about it. He wanted to give you everything – a nice ring, a pretty dress. A day to be a be special, to feel loved. Proof to all your friends and family that he could take care of you, that he was worthy. He was scraping up money, setting it aside. If he didn’t go for a diamond, maybe he could get her something else nice. Maybe an opal. Opal rings couldn’t be that expensive, right?

She laughed. “Sorry. I’m bored.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor, I will do nothing to hurt your marriage.”

He gave her a grin. “Well, then, tell me a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah. Once we touch down in…” He looked at the time “About two hours, we won’t see each other again. So tell me a story. Something you’ve always wanted to tell someone, but you couldn’t.”

She arched an eyebrow provocatively.

“Not like that, not a secret. Just a story you want to tell. Can be anything, I don’t care.”

She looked bemused for a second. Then she starts, haltingly, as if she’s never had t actually make real conversation. As if she’s never had anyone to listen to her. And the thing is, she’s funny. Clever. He finds himself laughing as he does his thing, even throwing back a couple of smart remarks of his own. She has a gift of making him feel like he has a wicked sense of humor, and for a little bit, the cares he’s been harboring fall silent.

So does the cabin behind him, once. He has a mirror, set low, so he can see behind him. The ringleader of the group is glaring at him, not looking too happy.

Well, fuck him. What can he do?

A lot, apparently.

They land, and Macey gets up to go out the back. “Thanks, Frankie. Good luck with everything.”

“You, too, thanks for passing the time with me,” he says, and sets about the tasks. He checks gauges, writes things down, and finally, goes back and checks over the cabin. He gets out a basin from a cabinet and puts the used rocks glasses in it. He won’t wash them – he’ll just dump the basin on the sideboard inside the hanger. He doesn’t have to do the cleaning, but Allie, the janitor who usually cleaned up the planes, had hurt her back and everything, like picking up candy bar wrappers and throwing them away, checking the seats to see if anything had been left behind was an extra chore she did not need.

The plastic baggy was almost invisible against the beige leather of the seats. He picked it up, made a shocked little huff, like he’d put his hand on a snake. Coke. A pretty good amount of it, too. The old craving raised its head, making his hand shake a little. He heard voices, and shoved the baggy in his pocket. I’ll pitch it. He had to take a leak, anyway, he’d go, flush that garbage down the toilet, and there. Done. He wasn’t that man any more. It was the one thing he could do for you.

He grabbed the waste basket and put it next to the door, grabbed the tub of glasses and put it under his arm.

“Frankie? You in there?”

“Yeah, boss…coming.” Snagging the clipboard to put on top of the glasses so he’d have a free hand if he needed it, he went down the steps and onto the tarmac.

Hector stood there, hands in his pockets, looking ore hang dog than usual. “Yeah, boss?”

“The passengers said you were flying high, Frankie.”

That stopped him dead, like to concussion from a bomb, hitting his face and chest and taking out the air in his lungs. “What? No, I’d never…”

“They said that they saw you – just before take off. And you know, I don’t want to believe it, but looking at your eyes…they do look awful red.”

“I’ve been up late with Luna. She’s not been sleeping that great, and I can’t leave it all on…”

Hector nodded, as if he believed him, but Frankie had a feeling he didn’t. He’d give real money to know exactly what the fuck had been said. “Turn out your pockets, Frankie.”

You jackass. He attacked himself. Did you really think they just accidentally left that much coke behind? You fucking jackass. “I found some shit they left behind, but you gotta believe me, Hector, I am clean. I’ve been clean for a couple years now.”

“Just show me your pockets, son, then we can just leave this behind.”

He took the coke out. “I told you, I found it on the plane.”

Hector shook his head, and started to walk away.

“Look, I’ll take a test.” He jogged a little, caught the other man’s arm. “Seriously. You can watch to make sure I’m not cheating. You’ll see. I’m clean. I’ll take a drug test right now.”

“You just happened to find a baggy of coke? That the passengers happened to leave behind? And why would they accuse you, if it’s not true?”

Frankie dropped his hand. I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I said some asshole thought I was flirting with his girl and thought he’d get back at me…hell, I’m not sure I believe it.

“I’ll be reporting you. They’ll suspend you. Maybe they will go easy on you, you being a Vet and this being your first offense…but you need to clean out your locker. I’ll write a check for what we owe you.”

“I…I need this job.” He could hear an edge of pleading in his voice, and he hated it, but he’d go down on his fucking knees and beg if he had to.

Hector’s eyes hardened. “And I don’t need to send a druggie up in one of my planes.”

Frankie took the back roads home. There was an old farm gate, a place where he could pull off the road and stare, blindly, at overgrown fields.

“What am I gonna do?” He whispered, over and over, like a mantra. “What am I gonna fucking do?” His hands clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white. He could barely breathe, and when the words wouldn’t come he just sat there, panting, beating his head against the steering when and wondering how he’d survive this.

When his breathing steadied, he got back on the road, and went home. It was the only thing he could do.

You knew something was wrong, he could see it, but he wasn’t being exactly subtle, pressing his spine against the doorframe like he was ready to run.

“Hey baby,” you say, and he smiles a little. Tries, anyway.

“Where’s Luna?” He’s surprised how hoarse his voice is. He shouldn’t be. He’d been in some bad situations, but he’d never felt this a drift, this terrified.

“Laying down.” You say it sweetly, like everything is OK. You’re cooking bread in the over, something’s in the crock pot and everything smells like home and like everything left to lose.

You lean against the sink. If you reached out, you could almost touch him, but you don’t. There’s a look in your eyes, like Frankie is a wild animal, easily spooked and so you’re going to move slow and careful.

“I lost my job.” He says it so quietly he’s not sure you heard, until your shoulders drop a little.

“Oh, honey, what happened?” No recrimination. Not yet. You take a step closer to him.

So he tells you. He doesn’t lie, just lays it all out there. Not looking at you, not daring to, instead staring at the refrigerator door and all the magnets and photos and clutter. But seeing them, either.

“He didn’t believe you?” You practically shriek it out. “What the fuck…you’ve been an awesome employee for what? A year and a half now and he wouldn’t even let you take a damned test to let you prove yourself? Seriously? I’m going to kick his ass…”

The baby monitor interrupts her, Luna making fitful little noises. After all, the house was not that big. You hold a finger up to Frankie. “Hold that thought.” You leave the kitchen, shaking your head, and Frankie stands there, feeling like he’s on the edge of the precipice.

“Ah, Luna, baby, what’s wrong?” He can hear you, a much gentler, sweeter voice echoing out of the monitor. He stands over it, hands clutching the counter on either side of it, listening. You are both everything to him. Everything.

He listens to you say nonsense as you change the little baby, to you muttering about how such a tiny, adorable thing can smell so bad. “You must get it from your daddy,” you say a little louder, as if you know Frankie is there, listening, and he grins a little.

He doesn’t move, when you come back out into the kitchen, when you wrap your arms around him. You hug him tight and he starts to feel a little less adrift.

He turns, looks down into your eyes. “You believe me?” Puts his arms around you carefully, like he’s still not sure of his reception, because he still doesn’t feel like he deserves this, the right to touch you.

You reach up and cradle his cheek. “Always, mi vida. Always.” And he starts shaking, and he starts crying and he buries his face in your neck so you can’t see, and you toss aside the ball cap so you can stroke his hair. “It’s going to be alright, honey. We’ll figure it out. Its going to be alright.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #fix it fic #pedro pascal #our soft boi is innocent #mostly

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do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger · 3 years

Text

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

#is this even good #i wrote this instead of an essay #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x reader #me 🤝 commas #me 🤝 ... okay #the quality of this fic 📈📉📈📉📈

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sjjdkdkwo · 3 years

Text

I think while Stephen was a pompous doctor during his pre accident days, he’d actually be a really sad person behind closed doors? He probably doesn’t even realize it but he’s such an empty person for so many reasons at that point like the loss of literally his whole family. And he doesn’t really strike me as a social butterfly even then, like he doesn’t really have friends, he has colleagues but in his warped sense of companionship that’s enough and means he’s not a sad lonely person. At least in the movies they don’t show you any friends he might have besides Christine? And it really makes me wonder if he even has them to begin with, and if he didn’t I feel like he’d do all these little things to overcome loneliness he doesn’t even know he has? You get me??? Anyway—

—

A thirty-four hour shift wasn’t the longest Stephen had endured since becoming a surgeon, but it was draining all the same. Especially when it seemed he was the only capable surgeon at Metro General half of the time he was working there. Stephen swore if he had to fix Nick’s mistakes on more time he’d push him from a fifth floor window; and make him operate on himself just to make him see how incompetent he really was. He’d already come close once earlier that week.

He stifled a yawn as he made his way toward the elevator in his building but stopped when he felt something barrel into his legs. Nearly tripping over the thing he looked down with scowl and found a familiar furry face looking up at him. Stephen forgot any irritation as the little dog before him barked and got up on it’s hind legs to paw at Stephen’s own longer ones. He broke out into a large grin as he crouched down to be closer to eye level with the dog and reached out to run his fingers over the animals soft silky fur before sticking out one hand for the dog to shake.

“Well hello, Bandit.” He greeted. “How are you doing today?”

Bandit let out a high pitched bark and placed his paw into Stephen’s waiting hand. After giving the dog a gentle little handshake he reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a small bag of dog treats before holding one out for the dog to eat. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as Bandit scarfed down the treat and he let his hand linger so his furry friend could lap up the residue left on his fingers.

“I know, I know, bacon flavor is your favorite. I didn’t forget.”

Stephen held conversation with the dog for another minute before a tall man ran up to them calling out the dogs name. When he saw Stephen a look of relief passed over his face as he made his way toward them.

“Doctor Strange, thank God.” He huffed before his gaze landed on Bandit. “And you! What have I told you about running off like that? Your lucky you ran into Doctor Strange, mister!”

Bandit barked again, wagging his tail and jittering about between both men. Stephen shook his head fondly and stood back up.

“Marcus, how are you?”

“Great, listen I’m so sorry, Doctor Strange. I don’t know what comes over him whenever he sees you.” Marcus said scratching his chin in thought.

“Probably these?” Stephen laughed holding up the bag of dog treats.

“I see now, trying to bribe my dog into leaving me for you, huh?” Marcus joked.

“Hardly. If anything, he’s the one trying to con me with that adorable face of his.”

Marcus laughed and settled a soft, kind smile on his face and leaned down to hook Bandit back on his leash.

“I get what you mean, I’m practically starving with how often he whines for table scraps.” Marcus huffed again. His phone chirped then and he quickly fished it out from his pants. His eyes widened when he stared at the screen and he looked back up at Stephen with a sorry face. “Shoot, I gotta go, Doctor Strange.”

“Oh…right course, it was nice seeing you, Marcus. You keep a close eye on him, he’s a slippery one.”

“Oh I will.”

“I was talking to Bandit.” Stephen teased.

Marcus rolled his eyes and gave him a wry smile. “Very funny, Doctor Strange. Bye now!”

Stephen waved them both off with a slack smile before making his way back toward the elevator door and to his loft. He often thought about getting a dog of his own, but then he’d remember he hardly had time for himself most days and would eradicate the thought from his mind completely.

Walking through his front door Stephen slipped off his coat and shoes and placed them neatly on by the door and on the coat rack. He rolled his head side to side a few times and walked into the living room quickly switching on the television. The loft would be to quiet otherwise and on days were things were less ideal than usual; it almost felt like there was someone else there. Not that Stephen needed the comfort, certainly not. It was merely a habit he often told himself instead. Stephen turned his gaze to the table settled against the wall and the two frames placed meticulously there.

“Donna, Victor. I’m home.” He said to the frames then trotted to the kitchen. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I swear it’s like Nick was placed on this earth just to annoy me.”

It was a stupid habit really, one that Stephen would never admit to anyone to save his life. It had started thanks to an old college roommate who had once confided in him that he could speak to the dead. Of course Stephen had laughed at him and had deemed the whole ordeal sheer lunacy. His roommate had hadn’t taken much offense though and had continued to hassle Stephen with tales of psychic powers or special cards one could use to speak to the deceased. Sometimes one could merely talk into the open air and if they were lucky a loved one would be near by to hear it, he’d said. Stephen had taken everything with a grain of salt though, and hadn’t cared much for the conversation.

After a particular nasty phone call with his father however, Stephen had been reminded how strained things were with his family at the time, and how broken they’d all become since Donnas’ death. And later that night in a bout of deep dejection he’d called out her name when no one was around. Before he knew it he’d spent six hours talking into thin air about anything and everything, and from then on he simply hadn’t been able to stop. A few years later he’d ended up doing the same with Victor.

Stephen reached the kitchen counter and opened one of the cabinets beneath the sink to pull out a silver pan. Opening his fridge next he rummaged through before pulling out a stick of butter and single cut of steak. “He nearly misdiagnosed a patient with a brain tumor. Can you even believe that? If I hadn’t stepped in and run a few more tests who knows what would’ve happened? Sometimes I just want to—“

Stephen stretched out his arms and clenched his fingers as if strangling an imaginary person. He sighed and went back to the items lying on the counter and heated up the stove.

“Honestly some days I think it’s not just the patients who’ve got something wrong going on in their brains.” Stephen laughed at his own words and dumped a scoop of butter into the pan before placing the steak in. “It seems like there isn’t anyone there who hasn’t gotten on my nerves. Well…there is a new surgeon, Christine. It’s kind of endearing really, when she first met me she could hardly find the right words to even say hello. I’m not surprised though, it’s not everyday you meet someone of my skill and talent.”

Stephen walked away from the stove and found his way to the living room and turned on some music.

“We actually have a date this weekend at dinner I’m speaking at. She was so excited when I told her; I bet she’s kept up with all my work...” Stephen said, drumming his fingers on his armrest with a lofty smirk. A slight smell of smoke made it’s way over to him but Stephen decided to ignore it in favor of talking some more. Before he could continue his ramblings though the next song played and he let out a jovial laugh. “I can’t make you love me by Bonnie Raitt, 1991. Oh god, I remember when you played this song for days on end after Brian Williams broke up with you, Donna. You didn’t stop moping over that halfwit until Victor and me practically dragged you out of the house.”

Stephen smiled softly to himself, looking over at Donna and Victor’s pictures on the table in front him. “We went to the fair that day, remember?”

Donna had been a wreck when Brian had decided she simply wasn’t the right person for him. She’d cried and ran into the family room to declare that true love was a lie and that her life meant nothing anymore. Stephen and Victor had tried not to laugh, and instead set about planning ways to get back at Brian for making her cry regardless. She was their sister and they loved her too much to let her tears go to waste after all. After more than a week of hearing the same sad song behind her closed door though they’d decided enough was enough and had tugged her out of bed and into Stephen’s car. She’d been steadfast in her sulking demeanor the entirety ride there regardless of what Victor or Stephen did however.

It wasn’t until two rides in that Donna had cracked her first smile after Victor had screamed so hard he’d almost cried while on the rollercoaster ride. She’d babied him after, but still teased him about it as they’d made their way around before she dragged them both to see a psychic. Stephen had groaned and begged her not to indulge in the nonsensical fake mysticism but she’d made a show of almost crying herself and Stephen knew had no choice. He had often thought Donna could one day convince him into murder if she’d tried hard enough, and thanked anyone who would listen that she was kinder than that.

Stephen had stood off to the side as his siblings received their readings, not paying any mind to what the supposed psychic was telling them and making faces the whole time. He’d been relieved that they’d finished till Donna had insisted that he get a reading of his own. This time he hadn’t relented when she’d pouted—until Victor had joined.

He’d sat in front of the psychic with an air of skepticism and superiority, nodding with feigned interest with at each word he heard. He would admit that his ego had been stroked when he’d been told that great things awaited him in the future, and had turned back to his siblings with a smug grin. His mood has quickly shifted though when the psychic had told him that sorrow and hardship would also follow him for the rest of his life. When he’d been warned that he would come to associate large bodies of water and automobiles with pain and death Stephen had scoffed and demanded their money back. Donna had smacked him on the shoulder and scolded him for his rudeness, apologizing to the psychic while Victor rolled with laughter behind them.

Though it had left him annoyed, Stephen didn’t think on it beyond that day and resumed life as usual. He didn’t believe in discernible tales of the supernatural and mystical beings or the occult, not when science and logic could easily disprove them.

And then a year later, Donna drowned in the lake.

Stephen had been to overcome with grief to make any connections between the two events at first, and when he could finally think on it had merely become angrier with himself for belittling his own sister’s death in such a way and pushed the thought from his mind.

Victor’s death hadn’t hurt any less. And looking at his brother’s mangled dead body beside the parked car he nearly laughed at the fortuity of it all, before breaking down and cradling him in his arms while he cried.

Stephen had become deathly silent as he let his mind wander further into the tragedy that seemed shadow him through life and wondered not for the first time if perhaps he was cursed. Pain had become an old friend by now, and sometimes Stephen didn’t know if he was truly happy or simply passing by as best he could. All his thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the smoke alarm going off however, and he cursed as he ran back into the kitchen to turn of the stove and look down at his now burned dinner. Glad for the distraction Stephen laughed into the empty loft and turned his head slightly as if someone were really there.

“Guess that’s a no go. You know what means, take out.” Stephen said throwing out the steak into the garbage been before grabbing his phone. And if anyone else were really there they might have said he looked almost relieved and eager at the thought of ordering out. Almost like he’d planned for the dinner to fail since starting it. “I think I’ll order Ruffian’s tonight, the delivery boy, Tim always gives me extra utensils.”

Stephen didn’t need extra utensils. Who would even use them? No one, not when he lived all alone.

A few hours later Stephen practically rushed out of his seat to get the door when he heard the buzzer. Swaying his way to the entrance he opened it with a casual smile only to drop it when he saw a stranger standing there.

“Uh, food for…Doctor Strange?” the man before him said, squinting at the paper in his hand in disbelief before looking up at him.

“Ah, yes. That’s me.” Stephen responded. He furrowed a brow. “Tim’s not working tonight, huh?”

The man gave him an odd look before nodding. “Yeah he’s um—he’s off tonight. Anyway here.”

Stephen reached out to grab the bag as it was offered to him, and gave the made a teasing grin.

“Thanks, I needed this.” He said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Let’s just say my cooking is so good even the smoke alarm cheers for me.” Stephen snorted. The other man didn’t laugh. So Stephen did it for him, admittedly awkwardly though. “You get it? See I’m so—“

“Yeah listen I’ve gotta go to my next delivery, but uh, you enjoy your food Mister—“

“Doctor” Stephen corrected.

“Right, well. Bye now.” The man said in grimace before hastily making his way away from Stephen.

“Yes…goodbye now.” Stephen said to the empty hallway.

Stephen ate his meal in relative silence after, only finishing half and talking out loud only a few times in between bites. After finishing and placing the leftovers in the fridge he stood in the middle of the empty living room.

“Well, I’d better head to bed. Early day tomorrow, and I can’t be late.” Stephen said, rocking back on his heels. “You know they’d be completely lost without me otherwise.”

He laughed, but no one was there to hear it. He gave a strained smile before shutting the television off and heading to bed.

After changing into his sleeping attire Stephen settled into the large vacant bed under the warm thick blankets and shut off his bedside lamp.

“Today wasn’t so bad. Saw a few people today. And of course I did excellent work.” Stephen spoke into the dark solitary space around him. “Yes, thing are looking pretty good for me I’d say. Right Donna, Victor?”

Stephen smiled to himself but couldn’t help but think about what his siblings would really say in that moment. He knew of course, he could still remember every detail about them well enough to be able to guess. He could see Donnas’ pitying glance and Victor’s desolate stare.

Aren’t you lonely, Stephen? , Donna would probably ask.

Stephen scoffed into the air.

“I’m not lonely.” He mumbled. “I’m not, I’m perfectly fine with my life as is. I have everything I ever wanted you know.”

He was speaking louder now he knew, but it didn’t matter. He had no one to wake up anyway.

Are you sure?

“Don’t be ridiculous. Lonely…I can’t be lonely.”

Stephen shifted in bed, suddenly realizing how quite the room was and frowned deeply. He sat up and beat his pillow; it felt to stiff in that moment. The whole bed felt uncomfortable then really, but Stephen didn’t give in and settled back down with an angry huff.

“How can I be lonely when everyone knows my name.”

He lay there for a moment in the heavy stifling silence before he couldn’t handle it anymore and flung himself from out of the bed to open his bedroom window, letting in the harsh cold air as he did so. Along with the cacophony of voices and cars and whatever other noises lived on constantly in New York.

Stephen let out a shaky breath and made his way back into bed. He didn’t bother getting comfortable this time, instead curling in on himself and shutting his eyes tight as he let the raucous noise from outside shelter him from the suffocating stillness of before. Only then was Stephen finally able to sleep.

That night he dreamt of bright flashing lights and drowning. Deep, deep into a pool of black ooze until he could no longer breath.

In the morning, Stephen wouldn’t give the dream a second thought. He didn’t need to, not when he already knew.

There was no such thing as magic.

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starkidpotty · 3 years

Text

The Good Side [DLM]

You and Draco lament on what could’ve been and what would’ve been fun had things been different.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: ~2.1k

A/N: I took a lot of liberties writing Draco out, so I’m sorry if the characterization is a little whack. (any draco writers out there...advice is welcome pls message huhu) i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3

The sun beat down on the northern part of Diagon Alley that day. It was the transitional period between summer and spring, where the weather hit just the right spot and everyone was out to enjoy their time. It was quite the contrast to what you and Draco had come to discuss at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shop.

Draco was sat across from you, people-watching while scooping up his raspberry ice cream. You decided against ice cream that day, with your hands folded gracefully on your lap. You and he would occasionally steal glances at each other, trying to urge each other to start the conversation. Whether it was pride or shyness that hindered you two from talking, you were not sure. The heat was starting to get to you, as you were now starting to get annoyed with the silence you two didn’t need to share.

“How’s the MACUSA and Ministry effort?” Draco starts, as though he were aware of the irritation building inside you. He was always one step ahead of you, a skill he still proved to have been proficient at even though it had been years after you two parted ways.

“Same old, same old–only I spearhead it now.” You answer him quite proudly. He stops picking at his ice cream to flash a smile your way.

“I always told you’d get it, didn’t I? The Ministry would be fools to let such talent go to waste.”

A heavy pause blankets you both. The air between you two was a tripe mixture of nostalgia and despondency. As uncomfortable as it was, neither of you made moves to fuel the conversation further. Draco picks at his cup again, and you fixate on a wizard carrying a stack of books making his way out of Flourish and Blott’s.

You take a deep breath in, “Alright, I think it��s time to save us the awkwardness, yeah?”

Draco puts down his ice cream cup, turning his body and chair to face you. He perches his folded hands on the table and looks at you intently. Your body is still facing the street the ice cream shop overlooks, but your head is turned to look back at him.

“I need the ring back.” He states his purpose simply.

“Then, you’ll get it back. Need not worry, Draco.” You grab your purse and shuffle through its contents until you finally palm the velvet ring box. You gently place the box on the table.

“Perfect.” Draco says to you, as he opens the ring box, examining the emerald ring inside.

“When are you planning on asking Astoria?” You ask Draco, trying to make your tone as neutral as possible.

“All I can say is soon. I just know I’m going to marry her.”

You won’t lie to yourself and say that there isn’t a small part of you that finds this deeply saddening. Draco and your’s relationship was good, to say the least–as good as it gets as childhood acquaintances to Slytherin housemates to lovers. All firsts were shared with each other: first kiss, first time, first I love you’s. You watched him as he received the Dark mark, held his hand through Lucius’ trial after the war, and watched each other in the early stages of your respective careers. It wasn’t the beginning and middle that was terrible so much as the end. There was never any big event that had caused either of you to fall out of love. There was no third party, no betrayal, no selfishness, no greed. It was quiet–that was the best way you could describe it–the ending crept up on the both of you, sleeping on your chests until the weight became too heavy to shudder away. You looked at each other and no longer sought each other out in the future. The breakup itself was amicable and neutral, with the both of you accepting that you had merely outgrown each other, despite having grown together. On some nights, imagining what could’ve been sent you down two paths, where you either resented each other or fell back in together. It bothers you sometimes to think of the latter, but you know well enough it was going to be the former.

You smile sweetly at Draco in response, looking back down at your hands as you were at a loss for words.

“I’m glad you found someone, I really am.” You say as you finally unknot the tie your tongue was in.

Draco looks around, as though making sure no one would be able to hear the next sentence to fall out of his mouth. “D’you ever think we could’ve made it to that point?”

“You did propose to me, hence why we’re here.” You chuckle lightly and continue, “but, I think we would’ve grown to hate each other, if I’m being honest, Draco.”

Draco squints to look up at the sun, trying to muster a response.

You look back at him with your mouth twisted into a half-smile, brows furrowed, mildly amused that he asked. He finally turns to you and catches your expression, making him smile slightly.

“Why do you think that?” Draco asks you intently.

“Well, I think we just became different people. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

One of the things Draco had to learn was choosing his words carefully before speaking them. He was never keen on being heedful with what he’d say, as evidenced by his formative years at Hogwarts, even when he was talking to you. However, his early years in litigation forced him to catch his tongue before it made any unfavorable comment on stakeholders during a trial. His eyes were shut in deep concentration, trying to map out what to say next to you.

“What happened between us?” Draco asks you. “I still ask myself that a lot sometimes. Not for anything, but it’s just hard for me to understand. It just happened upon us, quickly too might I add.”

You take a few moments to ponder, to craft out your dialogue, “It wasn’t that anything happened, Draco. It was moreso that nothing happened at all.”

“Did we grow to hate each other, is that it?” Draco tries hard to hide his classic schoolboy sneer, but fails.

“Draco, I could never hate you. You of all people should know that.” You huff out, suddenly frustrated at his tone.

“Sorry, [Y/N], that didn’t come out quite right.”

“S’alright, I understand.”

Draco curses himself for the drastic change in mood, he didn’t mean for it to happen.

“It’s just strange to think, I suppose.” He asks again, more careful now with his tone.

“What is?” You turn your head to face him. Suddenly, the years you spent apart are splayed on his face in developing forehead wrinkles and tired eyes. You are studying the new features on his face intently, making sure that this is the Draco you had spent more than two decades with.

“Weren’t we always sure of what was to come to both of us? As though we had so much control over the next few years of our lives?”

You breathe in and close your eyes before you answer. In a flash, you are taken back to nights spent in the Slytherin common room, talking hypothetical situations with Draco–what you’d do if in the event the hospital made a mistake and you were having twins instead of one child, what if you became a quidditch star and he your number #1 fan instead of working for the Ministry, what if you both ran off to an island off the coast of Greece and raised sheep and never came back?

You reply to him solemnly, “I think the universe is funny that way, don’t you think?”

“Merlin, you sound like you belong with the quacks in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Shut up, it’s a saying muggles like to parrot, thought it would go nicely with the tone of conversation.”

Draco pauses and continues, “Didn’t we always have our own sense of time? That extended into our plans, who our hypothetical kids would be. It’s insane to me how that changed so fast,”

“I agree.” You tell him, “We were supposed to marry each other, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco sighs, looking off to the side.

You never held any ill-intent with how you and Draco ended, but now you realize that was just you. Not once had you considered that he was hurting more than you due to the peaceful nature of the breakup. It was criminally naive of you to have thought Draco was just as at peace as you after ending a decade-long relationship.

“Well, do you hate me, Draco?” You ask him at your realization.

“More than 10 years together and, what? Four years apart, you think I could hate you?” Draco asks you, almost offended at your question. “You know the answer to that, [Y/N].”

“Were you ever angry at me? For how,” You pause trying to look for the term to best describe, “calm I was when I told you I wanted to leave?”

Draco’s practiced this conversation so many times in his head, but he still takes a moment to process the words he wants to use to convey his emotions. “For a time, yes. I was angry with you. But not the kind of angry I usually am. It was an anger that made me question so many things.”

“I had just always thought time was an excellent indicator of a strong relationship, I mean, 10 years? Would you question it then? A decade? So, to put it simply, I was angry–angry that time wasn’t enough to salvage what we had. But, I think that was naivety talking. This is in no offense to you at all, I cherish our time together so much so. But, Astoria? It’s as right as anything, and not even time could tell me how to feel about her.”

You look at Draco in awe, wondering when he had crossed the line from boy to man in the four years you spent apart. Draco was always smart, no doubt. But, this Draco sat in front of you–carefully choosing his words and explaining his emotions–it was entirely new. You reached over to hold Draco’s hand, but not in the way you and he would hold hands years ago. It was in an I’m proud of how far you’ve grown, type of way. Draco was taken aback, but understood quickly, always privy to your emotions, whether they were tacit or overt. He squeezed your hand back.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that you are such a huge part of who I am today, I can never discount that. Ever.” Draco says to you, your hand still in his. “We’ve done so much good for each other, we really have.”

“We really have, Draco. Astoria’s so lucky, she has to know that.”

Draco’s famous smirk makes an appearance on his mouth, “I’m damn well sure she knows.”

You throw your head back in laughter, letting go of his hand, “Merlin, there you are again–cocky boy from Slytherin.”

“Cocky boy from the litigation department, I’d rather hear that.”

You both laugh at each other like no time has passed. Like both of you were back in the Slytherin common room after bedtime talking about all the dumb things two teenagers thought were important at the time. You two catch up a little bit more, further detailing your efforts in dating and at the ministry (with the former being quite futile), and he diving into how he and Astoria came to be. You and Draco filled in the blanks from the last few years until the conversation boils down to a halt. You say your goodbyes, hugging each other, wishing each other well and walking toward opposite ends of Diagon Alley.

As much as you thought this a heavy task to fulfill, you left the conversation with a light heart and even lighter shoulders. There is relief you haven’t felt since you left Draco. The relationship, as good as it was, was best left how it ended. No mourning, no lamenting could rewrite the ending or the years succeeding it in the same way no regret or guilt could change the years prior to it. All you knew was the good that you and Draco left in the spaces between you two.

masterlist here | requests open

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

i love ur stuff!!! do u think u could write something like diego and the reader not liking eachother (maybe the reader is friends with klaus or allison or someone) and then slowly they begin to like eachother ??? :0

A/N: Thank you so much for the sweet message Nonny ☺ it was a lovely prompt, and I hope you enjoy. Word Count: 2060 Content Warning: mild swearing

“Hey Y/N, why don’t you like Diego?” Klaus asked one evening as the two of you lounged on your couch watching Allison’s latest red carpet event.

“Is that a serious question?” you counter with a raised eyebrow, popping another piece of popcorn in your mouth.

“Yeah. I mean, you get along with everyone else, literally. But not Diego.”

“I don’t get along with everyone else. And I just…think he’s jerk.”

“He is. But so’s Luther and you like him fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I don’t know how to explain it. I just, every time I talk to your brother I get filled with this overwhelming desire to hit something.”

Klaus started laughing and you raised an eyebrow questioningly. He just shook his head, still laughing. However, he dropped the subject after that and you decided not to push him on what might have been so funny.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a smirk, still holding onto your arm.

“Oh don’t do that, Diego,” you snapped. “Don’t act like you did me some favor and I should be grateful.”

“I just saved your life, Y/N.”

“It was a guy on a bike; I think I would have been fine. I can take care of myself.” You folded your arms over your chest, pulling out of his grasp in the process. “What are you even doing here?”

He shrugged. “Out for a walk.”

“Really? In this part of town nowhere near anything you usually have to do with?”

He shrugged. “It was a long walk.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m outta here.”

“Not gonna offer to buy me dinner for saving your life?” he called after you as you started to walk away.

“In your dreams Hargreeves,” you shot back.

The next time you saw Diego, you had called him to meet you and he seemed quite surprised when he showed up to the park.

“What’s going on, Y/N? No offense, but you were the last person I was expecting to hear from,” he asked, trying to hide the fact that concern had made him run most of the way there.

“It’s Klaus. He hasn’t been by in a while and he missed our weekly breakfasts. He never does that, especially since I pay. So I’m worried and…I couldn’t think of anyone else who might be able to help. Sorry to bother you.” You shifted uncomfortably and bit your lip, worried that you had annoyed him and that he would refuse to help.

“Shit,” he sighed, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Alright, I’ll help you look for him. But the kind of places he hangs out…we probably shouldn’t split up, even if it would let us cover more ground.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking too. I figured I should call someone in for backup.” You shrugged and forced a smile.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, figuring that you would be more likely to actually spot him if you moved on foot than by car, even if it would take you more time. And, if you were being honest, you didn’t mind the amount of time. You found that when you weren’t actively fighting, you appreciated the presence of the other Hargreeves. You certainly felt safe with him beside you, between the knives and the subtle strength that you could see in his stance and the muscles that his clothing clung to.

“Is there something going on between you and Klaus?” he asked suddenly after a while of quiet.

“What? No. He’s my best friend. I don’t…I don’t see him like that.”

He gave you a look that suggested he didn’t quite believe you.

“I’m serious. I love him sure, but the same way I love my baby sister. I want the world for him and would do anything for him but…romantically…blegh.” You scrunched up your face in disgust at the thought and the man beside you laughed.

“So if not my brother…is there someone special?”

You fell silent, studying Diego through the corner of your eye. Part of you itched to snap that it was none of his business. The other part of you, quite rebelliously, admired the slope of his shoulders beneath his black sweater and the cut of his jaw, how the long scar above his ear interrupted his smooth, almost militaristic appearance and made him more attractive, more dangerous looking.

“No,” you said, after maybe too long of silently enjoying the view of him. “No one’s seemed worth my time.”

“You really think highly of yourself don’t you?” he laughed.

“What?”

“’No one’s seemed worth my time,’” he quoted back, “sounds awfully pretentious.”

You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “No…I just meant that I’ve dated quite a few duds in the past, and I don’t see the point in wasting my time. If I don’t feel a connection with the person before we go out…” you shrugged. “Maybe it’s high maintenance, but I’d rather be that than miserable.”

He nodded and stayed silent. A quick glance over at him showed that he was lost in thought.

As the two of you patrolled, looking for any sign of Klaus, you found yourself wondering more and more about the mysterious “Number Two.” But after several hours, even though you were enjoying your, mostly silent, time together, you were growing frustrated.

“This is hopeless,” you groaned. “It’s going to take the two of us days to canvass the whole city, and if he’s been checked in somewhere, we still won’t find him.”

“You’re probably right, Y/N,” Diego said with a nod. “Let’s grab some lunch and then we can start—”

“Calling the usual rehab centers,” you finished at the same time as him. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

He smiled softly at you and reached out, as if offering you his hand to hold before quickly retreating and shoving them into his pockets.

“Do you like Greek? I know a great Greek diner nearby,” he offered.

After that day, you found yourself spending more time with Diego, realizing your initial distaste was misguided, a snap judgement that he really didn’t deserve. One afternoon, Klaus caught you chatting with his brother on the phone, he had called to invite you to one of his boxing matches, and twirling the cord between your fingers as you did.

“Oh. My. God.” he cried out, slapping his hands to either side of his face with exaggerated shock. “You liiiike him.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, punching him lightly, a hot blush creeping across your face at the thought of Diego potentially hearing.

“What was that?” he asked, voice tinny through the receiver.

“Nothing, just your idiot brother.”

You heard him chuckled. “I see. Well, anyway, the gym is kinda out of the way so it can be hard to find, so how about I meet you at your place and we can walk there together?”

“You don’t have to do that Diego.”

“But maybe I want to?”

“O-oh,” you stammered, thrown by the warmth in his voice. “Well, in that case, that sounds nice.”

“Good. It’s a date.”

“A date?” you raised your eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it and tried your best to ignore Klaus’s flailing and pumping his fist excitedly in the air.

“Yeah, a date. I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Okay, see you later Diego.”

You were smiling when you hung up the phone, and the warmth in your chest made you feel like you were floating. So much so that you were completely compliant to Klaus dragging you through the apartment the two of you sort of shared, insistent on picking out the “perfect outfit” for you to “stun his brother so hard he drops in shock and awe.”

The night of the date, you fidgeted nervously on your couch, bouncing your leg and chewing on the corner of your thumbnail, waiting for Diego to get there. A thousand thoughts a minute ran through your mind and you stomach twisted itself in knots. You tried to tell yourself you were being ridiculous, the two of you had become friends over the past several weeks, and there was no reason to think this evening was going to be any different, just because Diego had said it was going to be a date.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear the buzzer or notice Klaus rushing to greet his brother until Diego stood in the doorway, trying to get around his brother to say hello.

“If you ever hurt her Diego,” Klaus said sternly, poking an index finger against his brother’s chest, blocking the short hallway of your apartment.

Diego raised an eyebrow as if challenging whether Klaus was actually trying to threaten him.

“If you ever hurt her, my beloved brother or not, I will eat your shoelaces,” Klaus continued, undaunted, eyes narrowed and face the picture of seriousness.

“What?”

“Every single shoelace. Slurp ‘em up like spaghetti. Inconvenient as hell.”

“Klaus, you are my very best friend and I love you,” you interrupted, rising to go and stand by the two, equally unable to get Klaus out from between. “But what the fuck? Please don’t eat shoelaces in my defense. God that is the weirdest sentence I’ve ever said…”

“Yeah, and we can’t afford to take to the vet and have them removed when they tangle around your intestines,” Diego added, rolling his eyes. “We’ll have to just put you down.”

“Unsettling and inconveniencing my family and dying? Best day ever!” Klaus gave a little clap and jump of joy, which quickly morphed into an apologetic look when he glanced over his shoulder and saw your glare.

“Well, I’ll get out of your way. You two crazy kids have fun now,” he said cheerfully, as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened. “Don’t do anything I would do!”

You rolled your eyes as he sidled past back to the living room, giving you an affectionate pat on the shoulder as he did.

Diego felt his jaw drop as he took in your outfit. It wasn’t quite your usual style, but was enough like you to not feel like you were trying so hard. And you looked stunning in it.

“Wow,” he eventually breathed, causing you to chuckle and rub the back of your neck nervously. “You look…I don’t know if I’m going to be able to focus on the fight with you looking like that.”

“It was Klaus’s idea,” you mumbled. “I know it’s a bit much…”

“No!” he assured, a little too quickly. “It’s great…you look great.”

You shot him a slightly flirtatious smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” You let your eyes rove over his tight-fitted jeans and Henley, in black of course.

“C-c-can I kiss you?” he stammered, stepping closer. “For luck?”

You responded by snaking your arms around his neck and leaning in to press your lips to his. He groaned into the kiss, hands coming to rest on your hips, fingers digging into your sides and pulling you closer. Gently, he backed you up the few steps necessary to pin you against your wall, running his tongue over your lower lip at the same time. You let out a little gasp as you bumped into the plaster and he took the opportunity to slip in and begin exploring your mouth.

Grasping his hair in your fist, you eventually pulled him away from you to drink deeply of the air, trying to ignore the wave of desire that shot through you when the action made him moan hungrily.

“We should stop,” you panted.

“Why?” he responded, equally out of breath and fighting your grip to kiss the side of your neck.

“You have a match to get to. Wouldn’t this be so much better as a reward for winning it?” You teased lightly. “And somewhere your brother wasn’t…?”

He laughed. “You have a point there. I want you all to myself.”

“Well then get a move on. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

He threaded his fingers through yours as he led you through the door.

“Don’t wait up!” you called back over your shoulder to Klaus, making Diego groan once more and you smirked. Tonight was shaping up to be even better than you could have hoped.

#something of an abrupt ending but I got stuck and gave up #Diego Hargreeves x Reader #featuring Klaus Hargreeves #because he's too much fun not to include lol #Diego Hargreeves #reader-insert #The Umbrella Academy #TUA #a little light enemies-to-lovers?

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words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

Happier (3) | T.H.

Summary: Harrison is looking for answers. More unknown text messages and blackmail. A phone conversation takes place. Wait...who’s the new guy?

A/N: Don’t be shy let me know all your theories! Again, thank you for the support on Happier! The story continues!

Puzzle

This whole thing was just a giant puzzle that needed to be solved, but the closer one got to solving it, another complication comes around. The story wasn’t clear for anyone, but for Harrison it was a mess. He had so many questions that needed to be answered, so many clues he wish could have been solved at the snap of a finger.

Tom was too lost in himself to even comprehend the puzzling reality, Y/N while also lost in heartbreak had been awefully quiet since she left London, Kate was lying to Harrison, and Natalie had been too friendly with Tom.

Harrison replayed the conversation with Kate over and over again in his mind, trying to remember every little thing she said that night. He knew Kate was aware of something. Her tone said it all.

“Listen I dont know who you are, but if its the same person that sent my best friend a threatening message that she’s better off breaking up with her boyfriend”

“She received a few messages...from Tom.”

“Oh my god.” Harrison said to himself in realization. How could he have been so dim to not recognize what Kate had said in the first place? He paced around as he continued to think it through. But a threat message? Who would send a threat to Y/N? And what did they threaten her with? Tom and Y/N’s relationship has been secretly hidden from the public for as long as they’d been together. No one knew she even existed...right?

For a moment, Harrison stopped in his tracks, thinking of Natalie. Though he quickly shook the idea off. Natalie may have wanted Tom, but she wouldnt go as far as threatening Y/N. He had been friends with her since they went to primary school, and knew she wouldn’t go that far. “Maybe a stalker fan?” He questioned himself. Though he also quickly ruled it out, but something about it just didnt feel right.

In the kitchen, Harrison took out his laptop and started googling Y/N’s name. If her name didn’t show on the News or one of those Tom Holland fan accounts, it would at least answer one theory. As he scrolled through pages and pages, nothing showed up until...he found on account. He logged into the site and browsed the history, realizing it was all about Y/N and Toms life. Not as a couple but seperately. It all seemed too strange. Only very few accounts followed it and yet no other accounts in the world had mentioned Y/N. Harrison quickly shut his laptop when he saw Natalie enter the room.

“Oh don’t mind me just...grabbing a water.” She giggled, making her way to the fridge.

“Hey mate...uh..I guess everyone got hungry at the same time?” Harry asked, a bit surprised to see Harrison and Natalie in the kitchen.

“Yeah. I guess.” Harrison muttered.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine. If i didn’t know I’d say you were the one more affected by the break up then Tom and Y/N themselves.” Natalie commented.

“No. It’s just that I dont think Y/N broke up with Tom just because of some rumors about you and him.” He explained rubbing his face from exhaustion. Natalie’s smile dropped, when she heard Harrison mention his potential theory.

“Well...did you talk to Y/N about it?” Harry asked him, also intrigued by the theory. “Now that I think about it she —“

“Oh come on. Just leave the poor girl alone. Im sure she knew what was best for the both of them. You’ll only make it worse.” Natalie interrupted, taking a sip from her water. “Well since you boys are all talk, Im gonna go find something more worth my while.”

Out of sight and out of mind, Natalie made a quick call about what she heard. “Harrison’s getting suspicious, and so is Harry.”

“Time to clean up then.” The unknown number spoke out before hanging up on Natalie completely.

Meanwhile, Kate had managed to get Y/N out of the apartment and walk the streets of the city. Her heart and spirits were still low, but she appreciated the efforts. Kate and Y/N went around stuffing their faces with crepes and ice cream. It was the cure to any bad days, but it wouldnt have been a Kate and Y/N date if they didn’t hang around the New York Aquarium. It was also the perfect time to crack out what Y/N really knew about the unknown text message, and who was harrassing the both of them. “Look, I know I promised you a stress free outing, but I saw a text from your phone the night you came back home.” Kate confessed.

Y/N’s face became pale almost as if she’d seen a ghost. She knew, and now there was no point in going back. “So you know then.” She says quietly looking at the fishes.

“I only know they threatened you.” Kate states, leaving out that she, herself, was also threatened. Y/N had enough on her plate to worry about, and it wouldn’t be the best time to being up how her message also threatened their friendship. “How long?” She continues.

“Weeks maybe. They started around the time I was fighting with Tom.” Y/N vents, she takes a deep breath before she continues. “Each message was worse than the last. They threatened that if I didnt leave, Tom would lose career, and I...I couldnt do that to him.” Tears were falling slowly, but Y/N was quick to pick them.

“Why didnt you tell him?”

“Yeah, Kate let me just tell him the truth of why I left him because the messages weren’t offensive nor threatening enough. And let’s just assume that the person texting wouldn’t blackmail either of us if they knew I said something. Anyways, maybe it was for the best...I could never fit in his world and those past few months just proved that.” Y/N’s words continue to spill out every fear and thought she had bottled up within her. It felt good..for a moment, but nothing can really erase a heartbreak of losing the one you loved.

As the pair walked through the shark tunnel, Y/N bumped into a tall figure. “Oh my god, Im so sorry...Matt?” she asked in confusion. The moment Y/N looked up into those familiar brown eyes hidden behind the thin glasses, she knew. How could she forget?

“Y/N? Wow, it’s been so long how are you?” Matt greeted as he wrapped her into a hug. “Kate, it’s good to see you again too.”

“Yeah, we’re great, just you know...navigating life.” Kate responded to him. “We haven’t seen you since what? High school?”

Matt smiled and nodded at Kate’s response, his focus remaining on Y/N. He didn’t remember much with Kate back in high school, but Y/N was a different story. They were good friends at the time, always competing in classes, but as junior year rolled by things got awkward. Y/N was falling for Matt while he didn’t return the favor at the time. Though he’d be lying if he didn’t say he may have felt the same at one point, but just never committed. Now all grown up, he didn’t realize how pretty she turned out, but her personality wasn't there. He must have figured something was wrong. After all, a girl with that kind of spunk back in the day, didn't seem like the one to lose hers so easily. “Yeah, look. I know it’s kind of a spur in the moment, but maybe we can all hang out sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

Kate was all for it, but Y/N felt a tension she wasn’t sure if she wanted to act upon. After all, breaking up with your boyfriend after 2 weeks, because of threatening messages and still loving him deeply, it wasn’t an easy thing to move on from. Then again it’s not like Matt was asking for a date, it was just to catch up after not seeing each other for 6 years. “Uh, maybe. I have to check my schedule, and see when Im free, but I can let you know” Y/N answers him.

“Great, well..here’s my number, and hopefully I hear from you guys. I gotta get back to my brother, so hope to see you around.” he quickly says as he walks away.

“Wow. Matt Brynne, who would have guessed?” Kate says, breaking the silence.

“I know...Funny I used to be so head over heels with him at the time, and now I barely feel a thing.”

“Well yeah, cause you still love...you-know-who.” she teases, though it probably wasn't the best time to be making that type of joke with everything going on.

“And I don't think I’ll ever stop.” Y/N mutters to herself. As Y/N and Kate make their way forward, Kate’s phone began to vibrate.

Unknown

Set up a date and take a picture of Y/N and that boy you posted on your insta story. Or Y/N finds out the truth about what you did. XOXO

Kate looked up as she cursed herself, realizing she forgot to keep her story private. It was supposed to be a harmless post of old friends reuniting and now the unknown number has used it as blackmail. It would have been easy to find the culprit, but her view count was up in the thousands with unfamiliar faces. It’s what she gets after gaining a decent following on TikTok. Kate couldn’t let Y/N know what she did, and she’d make sure she would hide that truth from her for as long as she can. “Hey, Y/N...I think we should hit up Matt.” she says, running after her best friend.

At the same time, another texted popped from Y/N’s phone. She picked up thinking it might have been a group chat with her close friends, but it was from the only person who could make her heart flutter and break simultaneously.

Tom

I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. I still love you.

Y/N almost called him..almost, but she knew better. She couldn’t...not unless she wanted to continue to hurt each other.

Meanwhile, back in London, Harrison was ready to come clean to Tom about what he’d found out. He watched as Tom finished typing on his phone, and throwing it on the side of the bed, rubbing his face. This was the new normal. Tom being alone in the dark, reflecting on his sadness and exhaustion. Only stepping out when needed and keeping up smiles for appearances.

It was then Harrison was ready to knock on the door, when his phone received a notification.

Unknown

Don’t even think about it. Or I’ll make sure you and your lads careers are over for good.

Harrison sighed deeply, as he put his phone down, and walked away. Until he came to a most probable conclusion. “Natalie.” he says anger. “I should have fucking known.” At this point he no longer cared, about who she was before and how they were friends. The timing of it all seemed too perfect. Her arrival, the eavesdropping, the flirting. It had to be her but with what proof other than unknown numbers and good timing? Another part of him feared...what if it wasn't her?

Meanwhile, Tom was still unaware of what was really happening behind his door, but he did know, he had to take a chance now and try to contact her instead of sending these useless messages. In the moment, he showed no signs of regret, only praying Y/N would pick up so he could hear her voice.

“Tom?” Y/N answers hesitantly.

Tom closes his eyes, as he takes in her soft and gently voice. “Y/N.” he speaks softly into the phone.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave @ifntelyinspirit @trumpettay @astridcommings

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine

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rovewritesit · 4 years

Text

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 3) John Deacon x Reader Series

Meant to get this out last night but I’m on call 24/7 for my job so ya know, life.

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

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

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, you know the deal. Feelings of anxiety. Slightly sexual dialogue. Reader is kinda horny? Misogynistic comments towards reader.

Chapter Notes: I may have written out an ENTIRE episode of Pop Quiz before realizing that shoving music facts down your throats isn’t the best use of our time. Apologies if it got a bit disjointed in the trimming process. I work in TV so I just had to add in a cliche meet-cute. Sorry not sorry.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye

April 1982 - BBC Studios, London

“It’s not funny, Y/N! Stop laughing. You’re gonna ruin all my hard work!” Dawn chastises you as she sweeps a pale blue eye shadow across your lids, trying her best to complete your request to tone down your usual stage look.

You try to muffle your laughter, teetering on your chair set up in the spacious green room. It comes out as a wheeze, a soft whistle escaping through your nose. “I’m sorry, you said what!?”

“I kid you not, I took one look at his penis and said ‘What the fuck is that?”

A sharp laugh escapes from your mouth once again, failing miserably to prevent tears from leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

“I feel awful! It’s just that I had never seen one before,” Dawn whines.

“Okay, I know for a fact that’s not the first dick you’ve seen. Hell, even I’ve seen some of those. Like ships passing in the night as they raced out of your dorm bed,” you giggle.

“You know what I mean. I’ve never been with one that’s… intact.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh c’mon. Uncircumcised can’t be that different.”

“It wasn’t! I was just drunk and got spooked, I guess. It was actually kinda cute. Like it was wearing a little turtleneck or something.”

You lose it, yet again. Laughter falls freely from your lips, helping to alleviate the dreaded stress that has now become your constant companion these days. Appearing on a game show alone was not something you thought you’d have to tackle on your third day in London. You’re sure the boys were off exploring the sprawling city that none of you had stepped foot in prior to the trip.

Pop Quiz was apparently a big hit for the BBC, featuring a bevy of famous musicians battling out their knowledge of the industry. You’d never had the chance to watch, obviously not readily available to viewers back home, but a harried man had come in earlier to give you a basic rundown of the format. You were somewhat confident in your knowledge of music, having been a regular at your hometown’s local record shop, you just hoped it would be enough to keep you from making a fool out of yourself in front of an entire country. But your anxiety mostly stemmed from your upcoming appearance in front of the camera without the boys there to play off of.

“How was it, though? I heard they’re supposed to “feel better” or something like that,” your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ooo, was it curved? Sometimes that can be a great thing. Except for one I encountered that was going in the opposite way then you’d think. Like even it knew it should be running away from the dude.”

Dawn’s face screws into a pinch, “Was that Tyler... Wait, don’t tell me. Ew. And I wouldn’t know! The poor guy was so embarrassed he couldn’t even keep it up after that!”

“What a waste,” you sigh. “I thought I’d be at least getting some field research out of your antics. What did I even bring you to London for?” you joke as she holds a tissue out to blot your lips.

“Uh-huh. The day you do some “field research” of your own is the day I chop off my own hair,” she quips, narrowing her eyes at you.

You casually raise your right hand to flip her off. She wasn’t wrong; it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, let alone entertained the fact of jumping into a relationship. There were partners in the past, of course. A few geeky high school boys, a woman who worked at said hometown record store, and the occasional pretentious film kid while at NYU, who spoke condescendingly of women working in film but scratched an itch when needed.

“And there’s no time like the present! You know what they say. When in Britain…” Dawn trails off, failing to finish her bit.

You left eyebrow quirks, “Throw dental hygiene standards out the window?”

Her face twists in disgust again as she uncaps a can of Aqua Net. “Gross. Now close your eyes and shut up so I can be done with you.”

The spray sputters, emitting little from it. “Dammnit,” she curses, turning to rummage around her sprawling kit. “Of course, I didn’t pack a spare. I’ll be right back. Hopefully, their hair department has one we can borrow.”

She rushes from the room in a sweeping motion, knocking over a coffee that was precariously placed on your chair’s armrest in the process.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, jumping up, your white blouse now doused in caffeine.

You hurry to jog out of the room, trying to catch up with her. “Daw- Shit!”

Your face collides with a hard chest.

Two large hands grip your shoulders to stop your momentum. “Oh! Apologies,” comes a light voice from above, muffled by your full head of ringlets. You jerk your head away quickly, and your gaze lands on a pair of startled greyish, green eyes.

“S-sorry,” you stutter out. “Completely my fault.” You glance down to the hands that still rest on your shoulders for a moment before looking back up. The pair of eyes go wide, and the hands quickly retreat back to the man’s side.

The man being the bassist of Queen, John Deacon. You scold yourself for only having glanced at the day’s detailed itinerary this morning before heading out. How did I miss that one? Sweat begins to gather on your palms immediately.

“John Deacon,” he hesitantly smiles at you while extending a hand.

“Y/N L/N,” you squeak out as his hand engulfs yours, inwardly cringing at how moist it must feel. You hold it for a bit too long. “I’m one of the contestants on Team A today,” you yank your hand back to your side.

His brow knit together. “Oh? I was told I’d be with Nick Rhodes and Jon Moss today.”

You shift your weight uncomfortably from side to side, having yet to meet his eyes again. “Nick had to cancel, I believe. I’m a last-minute replacement.”

“Okay,” he replies with a tight smile. “Well, good then. I hope you’re ready,” he glances down, noticing the stain splashed across your top. “Or, at least close to it...”

“Huh?” you blurt out before realizing, looking down at your shirt. “Oh, yes. The reason I so rudely ran into you. I should go-” your eye catches something as they finally travel back up to his. “Aw, fuck.”

“Pardon?”

You grimace, pointing directly at his chest. Right to the giant imprint on his tight blue shirt. One that had been left by your bright red lipstick.

He follows your finger. “Ah! Will you look at that.”

“I am so, so sorry,” you rush out, absolute mortification seeping into your voice.

He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “Not to worry. That’s what jackets are for,” he says, zipping up the oversized grey jacket slung around his shoulders. “And at least now I know this shade of red really isn’t my colour.”

You smile up at him, not really knowing what else to say—the full weight of your not-so-smooth first encounter with this man hitting you fast, as people squeezed around you two in the tight hallway. “I should go get fixed up,” you tell him, pointing your thumb back over your shoulder towards your dressing room, ready to make a quick exit.

“Alright. I’ll see you out there then. Cheers!” he smiles back with a wave of his hand, turning to find his own space to get ready.

You stand there watching him in a daze, mentally berating yourself for now having had two inappropriate run-ins with a member of Queen.

Dawn materializes into your field of vision, hands-on-hips.

“Honestly, what the hell. I left you alone for two minutes!”

- - - - - - -

20 minutes later, you follow a stagehand through the back of the soundstage, fidgeting with your outfit while trying not to crash into anyone else. Dawn’s top that she quickly switched with your own was cut much lower than you would’ve liked and left you feeling even more exposed than your current bout of nerves did.

You’re dumped onto the set with the point of a finger over to a tall man. Mike Read, the host of Pop Quiz, stands by a large desk, crew members bustling around him. You stick to your spot out of the way, not sure if to interrupt the conversation he’s currently having to introduce yourself.

You take in the spacious stage, never having been on a show of this size before. A wave of longing suddenly washes over you, yearning for days on set where you were a part of the crew that moved around you. While at school, you’d worked on several student films, usually as a 1st Assistant Director or Line Producer. You loved the pace of production. Keeping everyone on time, on budget. It was where you felt most confident. While there were a variety of different types of personalities on set, you found it exhilarating to be the one to settle disputes and help everyone stay on track. Your subtle superpower of putting out little fires everywhere you went. Never had it crossed your mind that you’d be on the other side of the camera one day.

“A change of wardrobe, I see,” a voice says from behind you, pulling you out of your daydream. You turn to catch John’s smirk, his eyes trained intentionally on your own.

“It would appear so,” you reply, glancing down at yourself quickly.

“Have you been introduced to Mike yet?”

“Nope. I was working up the courage,” you admit.

“C’mon,” he gestures for you to follow him as he strolls towards the man. “He doesn’t bite.” You follow, trailing behind his long strides as he daintily weaves between the many bodies in your path.

“John!” Mike exclaims as you both approach. “Good to see you, mate,” he claps him on the back.

“You too. Thanks for having me back,” John greets him cheerily. “And look, I brought a present. All the way from America, I’m assuming. Mike, this is--”

“Y/N L/N!” Mike says, a genuine smile forming. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that we fit you in.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m excited to be here,” you mumble as he brings you in for a hug.

“Can I just say, your video for Heart of the Night is absolutely outrageous. I thought my eyes were going to pop out my head when I’d learnt that MTV in the States had aired it,” he laughs. “Daring stuff, really.”

You feel a heat creeping up your neck as you try to accept the compliment. “Yeah, thanks. Glad to hear that you’re all a bit more relaxed in terms of watching the explicit murder of a teenage girl on your screens.” You immediately wince at your own bluntness.

You can’t help but peek over at John, curious if he’d seen the violent clip now making its rounds across UK television sets everywhere. He’s staring at you with eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open slightly.

Great. He thinks I’m a lunatic.

“We certainly are!” Mike chuckles. “Have you been briefed on the logistics of how the taping will go?”

“Mhmm, I got the rundown from one of your producers.”

“Excellent. Well, you’ll be in good hands with John here heading your team,” he says, slinging an arm around the man’s shoulders and adjusting his large glasses with the other.

Good hands indeed, you think to yourself, remembering how large they felt when they gripped your shoulders earlier. No, stop that, you scold yourself.

“We’ll be getting started in just a few minutes if you’d both like to find your seats. And you’ll have to regale me with the gory details from that shoot of yours afterward,” he winks, gesturing towards your spots for the show. You turn to follow John to your side of the set.

“Oh, and Y/N!” Mike calls out. “I do hope you’re good. Deacon got absolutely spanked last time he was on.” You bring your hand up to your face to stifle your giggle. John makes a show of rolling his eyes but keeps walking. You notice his face is now tinged a lovely shade of pink.

“You must think I’m daft,” he says, turning to you slightly.

“Me? Oh no, I’m sure we’ll do great!” you reply, a bit too happily.

“No, no, not that,” he laughs lightly, his hand finding the back of his neck. “For not recognizing you during our... colourful meeting in the hallway. It seems you and your band left quite the impression on our dear Freddie.”

“Oh! That’s nice to hear. You can tell him he left quite the impression on us as well, but I’m sure he makes an impression on most everyone,” you shrug. “And don’t worry about it, please. It’s not as if I’m a part of the biggest band in Britain or anything,” you tease. He smiles shyly. You catch the crinkles on the outer corners of his eyes before he turns them downwards.

You reach the long table on your designated side of the studio. There’s one on the other side mirroring it, with three somewhat familiar faces already sitting behind it. You glance at the empty seats before you, moving hesitantly towards them until John pulls out the closest chair, gesturing for you to sit. He gingerly pushes it under you as you lower yourself down.

“Thanks,” you mumble. He nods and moves to sit beside you.

There’s a loud bang to your right, causing you both to jump and look to the source; a large Grip gingerly picks up the c-stand he’s knocked over. John hovers above his chair, watching on as a producer shouts at the poor man, his waist now at your eye line.

You had never understood the fascination with men’s butts. That is, until now. The tight jeans John had on left little to the imagination. As if that would stop you. You shake your head back and forth as if to clear your thoughts. All of Dawn’s talk earlier must have you seriously whacked out.

“Are you alright?” John asks, now situated in his seat.

“Hm?” you break out of your daze. “Yes, fine. It’s just- I haven’t done anything like this,” you gesture to the large room teeming with various crew and a studio audience, “before, on my own. Usually we’re all together, and I’m slightly less charismatic than the rest of them, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I would tell you that it’ll get easier, but I still feel like I’m rubbish without my lot as well,” he sympathies. “And I happen to find you quite charismatic as you are,” he adds softly. “You certainly had Mike going back there.”

“Oh boy,” a voice huffs from the other end of the table, drawing away John’s attention. You’re thankful for the distraction, finding yourself at a loss for words due to his comment, coupled with your previous thoughts.

“I see you two actually arrived on time, ya goodie-two-shoes,” the flamboyant man complains as he plops into the third and final seat at the table.

“Jon, welcome. Good to see you,” John acknowledges, shaking the man’s hand.

“And who’s this little thing at the end, then?” he points at you.

John’s expression turns slightly sour at the informal greeting directed towards you. “This is Y/N L/N of Lo & The…” he struggles to remember, “Legs?”

You bark out a laugh. “The Limbs. But The Legs sounds better actually.” You share a smile, holding onto John’s eyes even though it makes your insides flip.

An outstretched hand is shoved past his body. “Jon Norris. Drummer. Culture Club.” You accidentally brush John’s arm as you move to return the handshake, not missing how he jumps a bit at the contact. “Pleasure,” reply, tearing your eyes away.

The drummer retracts his hand, settling back to swing his shoes up onto the table. “I’m glad to have a bird on the team, actually. Maybe we’ll get a few extra points thrown our way for that tiny top of yours,” he smirks, not even glancing over in your direction.

You look down at your slightly exposed chest, but the color red quickly clouds your vision. John sucks in a breath as he sits up straight in his chair. “That’s a bit ru-,” he starts in an annoyed tone.

But you’re quick to cut in, leaning your body forward on the table to lock eyes with Jon, “Actually, we might get docked a few for that obnoxious suit you’ve got on. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that stripes bleed on camera, sweetheart?” you seeth.

He glances down at his bright pink and green striped suit, clearly taken aback by your quick comeback. “N-no…” he falters, shutting up for the moment.

You catch John’s expression, a mixture of confusion and awe while he gapes at you. You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. Luckily you don’t have much time to stew over the misogynistic comment as the stage manager’s voice rings out a 10-minute warning.

“Just try not to show me up too much, would you?” John whispers, leaning in closer to you. Obviously, trying to lighten your mood.

You give in. “You, sir, are lucky to have me on your team,” you point at him. “Tell me, what’s more important? The scoreboard or your fragile ego?” You’re not sure where your sudden wave of confidence is coming from.

He brings his hand to his chest. “You caught me,” he says, trying to hide his smile. “One could say I’m overcompensating, given who my bandmates are. Roger’s won this twice already, and it only started airing last year. I’ll never hear the end of it if I muck it up again.”

“Well then, I’ll do my best to save your sorry ass, and maybe that one down there too, if he’s lucky,” you tease.

Great. Now I’m thinking about his ass again. Fuck you, Dawn.

“If you’d be so kind,” he says before turning his attention elsewhere, content to watch the happenings around him until the show’s start. You hear him start to softly hum to himself, not able to place what the tune is.

You try not to watch him out of your peripherals for the next few minutes, hardly even noticing your lack of nerves as the studio audience starts cheering.

- - - - - - -

“And to end out round one, we have Adam Ant’s team with 3 points. And with a slight lead, John Deacon’s team with 4.” The studio audience erupts in a deafening cheer. “That’ll bring us into round two, which will be a team question. John, your team to go first,” Mike directs from his desk in the center of the set.

John lightly taps his pencil against the notepad in front of him, the current tight score starting to bring about his competitive side. He peeks over to check on his teammates. Y/N looks like a radiating ball of energy. Her feet are tucked up under her on the chair as she hunches forward, pencil already hovering while her teeth chew on the eraser. To his right, Jon doodles away, drawing exaggerated characachers of select members of the studio audience.

“Right, question coming to you in a moment, but first here’s the band, The Band.”

A large monitor towards the front of the set comes to life with a clip from their concert film, The Last Waltz. The chair to his left gives a loud squeak as Y/N begins to scribble furiously as if already knowing the question before it’s been given.

“Here’s a clip from The Last Waltz, The Band’s famous taped last concert. Please name 10 of the 20 rock legends that joined them on stage that night.”

John’s face scrunches in concentration, trying to recall the recording of it that he’d listened to many times before. He writes down the first few that come to mind, struggling to get past 6 names that he’s sure were present.

“Bloody American bands and they’re American friends,” Jon says, shoving his own piece of paper into John’s view. It has 4 names on it, 3 of which John already has down.

“They’re Canadian,” John replies, transferring the extra name to his paper.

“What?”

“The Band. They’re from Canada, I believe. At least most of them are.” Jon shrugs as the clip fades out, their minute of deliberation up.

“Alright, that was The Band with a famous clip from The Last Waltz. If you’d please, John, name 10 of the acts that accompanied them that night.”

A sheet of paper smoothly glides in front of his, Y/N’s messy scrawl covering it with 10 names hastily jotted down. He raises his eyebrows to her, but she just nods at the paper, urging him to read it.

He starts, completely disregarding his own list. “Erm, yes, we have Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Dr. John, Van Morrison, Ronnie Hawkins, Neil Young, Bobby Charles” he struggles to read the small scribbling, almost illegible. “Um, Muddy Waters? Yes. And Neil Diamond.”

John lets out a breath, silently praying that the young girl beside him is as bright as she seems.

“Right you are! 10/10,” Mike exclaims. “For a bonus point, can you name the two artists that recorded pre-taped performances with them for the film as well?”

“Uh…” John glances at Y/N for support. She shoves another scrap of paper to him. Emmylou and Staples the only thing written on it.

“Emmylou Harris and The Staples Singers?” he answers, more like a question.

“Wonderful, a full 4 points to you all.”

He watches as a deep grin breaks onto Y/N’s face as she finally reclines. She looks over to him, a bit proud of herself, he thinks, as the other team begins their own round of questioning.

He’s quite intimidated by the American next to him if he’s being honest with himself. Her anxious demeanor seemed to have vanished into thin air once the game started, tackling each question thrown at their team with a hungry reverence. But her laugh is what keeps him on edge the most. It’s brash and full, consistently breaking him from his determined concentration to send a confusing jolt through his body each time.

“While your knowledge reigns superior, your handwriting leaves something to be desired,” he whispers in jest, not being able to help himself. She simulates a shocked expression as she leans over to look at her own paper that sits in front of him.

Her accent is thicker as she returns his whisper, “What ya tawking about?” She moves her eyes closer to examine, her shoulder bumping his. “That clearly says Muddy Waters.” Her hair hovers below his chin, almost tickling his stubble. It smells of something citrusy and light.

“Y’ smell lovely,” he sighs, almost inaudibly.

“Hm?” she questions, bringing her body back into her own seat.

“E-ever-ly,” He stumbles out, still quietly. “I thought it read it as the Everly Brothers at first,” hoping to god his bad save is enough.

She snorts. “You sure you didn’t leave your glasses at home? Would’ve thought you’d bring them to something like this.”

He quickly fixes the flustered look on his face, “Hm, glasses aren’t conducive to my rockstar type of lifestyle. Take Rog, for instance. Always wearing those bloody prescription sunglasses indoors, looking like an absolute git.”

She lets out that sharp laugh again, immediately covering her mouth, embarrassed at the thought of interrupting the other team. “I’ll have to watch out for that. Eat my carrots, all that nonsense,” she answers softly. If Brian were here, he’d ramble on about how there’s no scientific evidence of that or some bollocks, he thinks to himself.

“Let us hope my ears are in far better condition. Then you won’t have to keep, how did you put it, saving our sorry asses?” She smiles down into her lap and bites her lip. Oh hell, don’t do that.

Mike is now wrapping up with the other team. “No, I’m sorry. Their other top 10 hit was “So You Win Again. 3 points it is.” He once again turns his attention back over to John’s team. “Moving on to our third round, we have individual questions. Y/N, we’ll start with you. Here’s the hit Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye. Please name the artists you hear in order.”

The sound bites begin, and Y/N is once again bent over her paper as she listens, brow furrowing. John identifies the first two singers instantly but is at a loss for the third, making him grateful the question isn’t his. The clips fade out.

“Y/N?”

“I think it was Glen Campbell.”

“Correct.”

“Johnny Nash.”

“Good. Last one?”

“And... Bettye Swann?”

“Yes, top job! Known for her R&B hit Make Me Yours. I’ll give you a bonus if you can tell me who the song was sung by originally,” Mike counters.

“The Casino’s,” she says confidently.

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll give you one more chance.”

John realizes she was probably too young or not even born yet when the original was released. He slyly slides closer to her. “Don Cherry,” he mumbles lowly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Don Cherry?” she shouts as if to cover up his assistance.

“Yes, John Deacon, you’re right. It is Don Cherry. The point is yours for at least attempting to be subtle,” Mike laughs. Y/N shyly smiles over at him, silently thanking him for his help.

John and Jon mostly breeze through their questions with ease, racking up a hefty amount of points in favor of their team before turning over to the others. He takes a sip of water as he smugly watches on.

“Glad to know my own ass is in good hands if it’s ever in need of saving again,” Y/N quietly comments. He chokes lightly on his water as an image flashes quickly through his mind. John racks his brain for a reply, but only overtly cheeky responses come to mind.

“Anytime,” he manages, afraid to catch her eyes. She lets out a light giggle, starkly different from her usual roar. It sends a warmth of color to his cheeks.

Intriguing, he thinks, silently hoping that he’ll get the chance to hear it again.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deacy x reader #deaky x reader #angelofmydreams

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lonelyandlovelorn · 4 years

Text

Adore You

A/N: Wow, this is my first request and I really liked it. Sorry it took me a while to get written, it’s been a wild week, as I’m sure you all know. To @marvel-madness, I hope this is close to what you wanted, I’m sorry if it’s not perfect. Also, tagging is being weird so I hope this works.

Genre: fluff and like, a smidge of angst that’s hardly angst

Warning: uhh, none

Word count: 1500

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem reader

Summary: You’re weird and afraid Loki hates you.

Request: marvel-madness asked:

Hi I read your marvel fanfics and I love it!! Could u do a fanfic where reader is like super quirky and tries to get to know Loki but he’s a bit cold and she feels that he hates her. And one day she confronts him crying and he’s all like I love you and I felt someone perfect like you wouldn’t want to be with me. Love your works and hope you’re having a good day :)

Masterlist

You’re weird. Even if you didn’t have superpowers, you would be weird, and that never bothered you. Until now, it seems. You have always been okay with being the strange girl, because anyone who thinks that’s a bad thing isn’t worth your time.

But then you met Loki. You greeted him in all of his stoic glory and were immediately drawn to him. Wanda later let you know you had gone a little doe-eyed upon meeting him. However, as warm and welcoming as you tried to be, he never looked at you with anything better than indifference. Worse than that, you often felt as though he judged you for the way you acted and dressed. You know your social skills aren’t exactly the norm, but you don’t think you’re terrible. And maybe your style is a little eccentric, but it makes you happy.

You have spent your whole life ignoring judging looks and funny stares from those around you, and that was okay because they were just people who thought they were better than you. But now, the man you’ve been fascinated by since you met him seems to look at you the same way. And now, it breaks through the armor you had built up in childhood. It hits you right in the chest to see what you’re sure is judgment reflected in his gaze.

A few days into Loki joining the team in the tower, Thor assures you that his brother is always like that. He tells you not to take it personally. Thor is a sweet man (god?) and you think that if Loki cares so deeply for someone so much his opposite, then maybe he’s just hiding a kindness. You decide you need to get over your fear and possible prejudices and make it your mission to get to know him.

You begin by joining him on the couch as he sits alone reading. He has found a common area most of the rest of the team avoids, but that you happen to frequent for the peacefulness. As you sit a seat away from him, jostling him in the process, he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You can’t be sure that’s a look of judgment, but it resembles many a side-eye you’ve gotten in your life. You shake the feeling off and push forward.

“What are you doing?” you ask, chipper and enthusiastic.

“Reading,” he responds shortly, briefly looking in your direction.

After a moment, you continue. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

There is an awkward pause where you had hoped he might continue talking, but he doesn’t and you have to keep trying. “So, how has your time here been so far?”

“Fine.” This time, he doesn’t even look away from the page. Your shoulders sag, seeing how obviously he doesn’t want to speak to you. You give a quiet goodbye before trudging out of the room.

It’s really okay that he doesn’t like you, but does he have to look at you like that? You hadn’t noticed originally, but a few weeks after his arrival, you could feel eyes on you. You casually glanced around, only to find Loki looking at you, stone faced. You had blushed in confusion before quickly looking away.

But he keeps doing it. Sometimes you’ll just be wandering around the tower in some strange and unmatching outfit, and you will be able to feel that sensation of someone watching you. Almost every time, he’s the only one in the room. It would feel flattering if his look came with the heat that people always describe in romance. He doesn’t look at you like he wants you, though. He looks at you almost in complete indifference. Maybe if you were trained like Natasha, you would be able to read more into it, but all you can see is the exact same stare you had gotten all throughout your adolescence, riddled with condescension and judgment. It could have just been the fact that he was raised a prince that made it feel like he was always looking down his nose at you, but a lifetime of being a target of mockery and ostracism could really shake one’s confidence.

You know you talk a lot about strange things, your laugh is weird, and on and on. But why does he have to watch you as though he’s waiting for you to make a fool of yourself? Why does he hate you without even knowing you?

Your worries are interrupting your sleep schedule. You’re too anxious and wrapped up in your fears to sleep, so you go to your favorite lounge. You like it because whoever designed it hadn’t felt the need to add a TV or any fancy technology. It’s just some big and comfortable couches with a great view. You stare numbly into the lights of New York. At least in the dark, no one is there to think you odd.

Of course, you have to think something like that. Moments later, you hear steps coming towards you. You look over your shoulder to see the God of Mischief himself walking into the room, seemingly unaware of your presence. He walks around the couch to sit down, only to finally notice you as he settles in. The book in his hands closes as though you startle him.

“Oh, hello,” he greets quietly.

You’re a nice person, but you’ve lost a lot of sleep over this man, and you can’t hold in the huff of frustration at his words. He quirks a brow at you. “Have I done something?”

You realize as soon as he asks that you should have left when he entered the room. You’re a lot less nice when you’re tired, sure. Unfortunately, you’re also much more emotional. You are reminded of this when you immediately feel your eyes sting at his words. You try your hardest to hold the tears in, but your sniffle gives you away. His eyes widen momentarily and he scoots slightly closer to you on the couch.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, your voice obviously choked up. You train your eyes on the city lights once more, afraid to see disdain in his eyes.

“Hate you?” He genuinely seems confused by your question, and that somehow makes it so much worse. Without warning, your face scrunches up and your tears fall, out of your control. If you were to look at him, you would see the frantic concern on his face now, more emotion than you’ve ever seen.

“I was so excited to meet you. I wanted to get to know you and maybe be friends or something, but you didn’t want that. I tried to be nice, but you hated me no matter what. I know I can be to excitable and clingy, but I wasn’t even that bad! And then you look at me like my presence is offensive. Please don’t hate me for being weird, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I swear.” The exhaustion is surely the reason for your lack of filter. While you speak, you tuck your knees to your chest and hug them. Somehow, every insecurity you had ever had in a friendship or relationship leaks into this conversation. You bury your face in your knees in shame at your outburst.

You’re startled to feel a cold hand on your arm. You look up quickly into his eyes to see him looking at you earnestly. “My dear, you are absolutely perfect the way you are, I don’t want you to change.” A small, almost bashful, smile appears. “I swear on my life I do not hate you.”

You wipe your nose in the most un-ladylike way, keeping your eyes glued to him. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Darling, I adore you.”

You’re sure you’ve never felt more like a deer in the headlights. “You what?”

He looks down at his hands, which you now see are fiddling with his book. “I adore you. You’re lovely and energetic, you light up a room with your smile, and to top it all off, you were kind to me from the moment I got here. I was quite taken with you. I hoped to hide that by seeming unaffected by you, but my intentions were not to make you feel bad about yourself.”

“Then why…?” you trail off.

He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I didn’t want to fool myself into believing myself worthy of someone as wonderful as you. You could do much better.”

You don’t speak for a long time, shocked to your core. He adores me. His eyes never leave his book as you appraise him. You can see in the hunch of his shoulders that he is preparing for rejection. In a split-second of courage, you set your hand on top of his, stopping it from messing with the book cover. When he doesn’t pull away, you let out a shaky breath and intertwine your fingers with his. He watches in fascination, and you can feel a grin overtake your face.

“Will you tell me about what you’re reading now?” As he finally meets your eyes with a small smile, his expression can only be described as adoration.

#loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki x y/n #fem reader #reader insert #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #avengers #lonelyandlovelorn #request #adore you

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Lean On Me

"Can you do something with both George and Dean maybe like seeing the reader cry and comforting her?" "Hiii, could you write a George x reader where they’ve been dating for a while and he’s jealous of her. Love your writing"

Right, so I've gone on and combined these requests because I failed to think up two separate ideas. So here's this monster! Thanks for askin' y'all! Enjoy ♡

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

"We're officially not unofficial!" You announced, clinking your second glass of wine against Dean's tumbler full of whiskey.

You'd been cast as costars in an indie rom-com, and were staying in the middle of nowhere Ireland for a month, to begin filming. Tonight you'd been shown to your separate motel rooms but wound up sharing a drink in yours, catching up and enjoying each others company before tomorrow's first big shoot. And since you'd been seeing George, it didn't take Dean long to ask how his friend was doing.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean let out a bright chuckle before taking a swig of his preferred alcohol.

"Well as you know, George is off filming in the US and I'm stuck here, filming with you." You pulled a face but broke out into laughter before your playful disgust could be read. You adored Dean, and there weren't many people you'd rather be stuck in a dingy motel with.

"Before he left two days ago, we agreed not to see anyone else while we're both so busy. And to keep seeing each other when he's back." You rambled. Dean shifted on his side of the love seat as you shared a drink and conversation.

"Really?" Dean's eyes winded as his smile grew, causing a blush to appear on your cheeks.

"Yeah," You grinned. "I know he wanted to take things slow before diving into a serious relationship, but it sounds like he's ready to pick up the pace." You informed although you figured Dean already knew. They were already the best of friends when you'd come into the picture.

"I'm going to tell you something." Dean leaned in a little closer as if someone might have been listening in. You brought your glass of wine to your lips to prepare for what he might say.

"George has some pretty serious feelings for you. But he's been burned before. There have been one too many girls who wanted him for all the wrong reasons." Dean went on like an older brother, though he was quite the opposite, "The fact that he's mentioned getting more serious with you is a big deal. I hope you're ready for that because I think you're perfect together. But if you're not-"

"I am, Dean. The last thing I want is to hurt George and I swear to you I won't let that happen." You traced an X over your heart and gave your friend a stern nod, the best promise you had to show.

Your friend snorted a laugh but returned your serious nod as you both silently agreed to have George's best interest at heart.

___

"Action!" Your director shouted through a laugh as you sucked in a deep breath. You were placed at the end of a foothill where the damp grass caused you to slip every time you tried a new take.

Luckily the director got a kick out of your silly little mishap and you'd stopped laughing enough yourself to try the take again for the fourth time.

Dean was standing amongst the rubble of a halfway demolished castle, waiting for you to run into his arms. Your first day of shooting was focused on the climax of the film, and it wasn't hard for either of you to fake years of chemistry for the camera as you'd been friends behind the scenes for months now.

That's why when you finally nailed running into his open arms, prepared to be swept off your feet, you kept on laughing when his foot slipped, sending you both to the dirt.

"You weren't supposed to do that!" You laughed. "We finally almost had it! I was depending on you." You fake cried, while Dean apologized through bouts of laughter.

"Take ten, we'll suss it out!" Our director laughed while a small crew scurried to help you up and clean up your costumes of dust.

After finally getting the final shoot right, you were sent off to change and grab dinner with the rest of the crew.

The middle of nowhere Ireland didn't have much to offer, so the company you kept became even more valuable.

Behind Dean, you followed the director and his wife into an unassuming pub, where you ordered drinks. You sat close together and spoke about what you'd gotten right on set and how you hoped for scenes in the future to turn out, now that you'd started bringing your characters to life.

When your extra-large drinks came, you took a selfie with the pints and followed Dean's strict orders to text the photo to George.

"Tell him I love him and wish that he was my leading lady, instead." Dean teased.

"Well, we'll just see if I catch you when you slip up next time!" You feigned offense while you formed a text to George. Under the photo of you and his dear friend, you wrote:

You're missing all the fun! But I'm missing you more. Hope your day on set is going well xx

You hadn't quite reached the heart-eye emoji stage, with George, but all you wanted to do was flood his message thread with sappy saying. Delivering all your romantic lines today was made easier if you thought of saying them to George. You couldn't wait for the film to end so that you might have the chance to actually kick off what you'd started with the man.

You met George at the Golden Globes, at one of the after-parties. Your agent knew his and you'd been wanting to congratulate the stars of such a groundbreaking film, anyhow. George and Dean were sort of a packaged deal that night, but by some miracle, you'd been left with George to finish off your free cocktails and talk about how the music was much too loud.

You went home with a funny feeling in your chest, thankful that you got to spend an hour chatting away with the handsome man, knowing you'd only gotten extremely lucky.

But not long after then, you met George again. He was all alone in a coffee shop on the lot of a studio you'd both been filming on opposite sides of. He offered you a seat across the tiny table from him, where you sipped your drinks and dove into conversation like you'd known each other for years before then.

That was the day you realized you had feelings for George, when you swore his bright eyes lingered on your lips. When he asked if you were going to some silly Hollywood party. You said yes, even though you hadn't planned on it before then.

That's how things kept going with George, for a while. You'd run into each other at events and waste the rest of those evenings sharing passing thoughts and strong opinions. Around the third or fourth run in, you got the guts to compliment his suits and the way he laughed. He finally invited you to a party you wouldn't have otherwise known about.

It was someone's birthday, and every surface of their mansion had been turned into a minibar. Dean was there, and when George left you two to find some drinks that weren't just straight vodka, Dean asked what was going on between you and his best mate. George had clearly been smitten, but you'd yet to discuss anything like that with each other.

With a push from Dean, George asked you on a Sunday morning stroll along the lake, your first official date, both glad to finally be able to call what you'd been doing more than "hanging out." That was the day you'd found out about each other's upcoming films. When George held your hand on the park bench. When you agreed to keep seeing each other when you'd finished all your work. Agreeing to keep up as many late-night chats as you possibly could, while you were worlds apart.

___

You woke up not so long after you'd fallen asleep to your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You worried you'd missed your morning alarms but a new sort of excitement took over your nerves when you realized George was calling.

"Hello?" You answered, happily snuggling back into your motel bed.

"I'm sorry, love did I wake you?" George worried, his use of a pet name causing your heart to flip.

"Well yeah, but I'm glad you did. We aren't filming until tomorrow afternoon. How's America, then?" You wondered, peering out of the crack in your curtains. The night was dark, and the light from the motel sign reflected off of the crew's cars in the lot. You heard laughter in the distance and wondered what kind of fun you were missing out on.

"It's nice. We're actually ahead of schedule. I might not be here as long as I planned." George spoke up, and you thought you heard him smile.

"Is that good news?" You wondered. He seemed so excited to head off overseas and start working again, even if his role was only small.

"I think so. Means I'm closer to getting to see you." George said, his voice was warmer and more inviting than all the blankets you were currently wrapped up in.

"That's very good news indeed, then!" You grinned. "But you know I think Dean misses you most of all, and that's really saying something." You joked, thinking about all the conversations you'd had about George since you'd been filming together.

George's delicate laughter was music to your ears. He asked you to send his sappiest greetings to Dean and the pair of you went on telling stories about your days on set. George seemed to be getting on with his castmates and enjoying his work. You were glad to hear it and made sure he knew that you and Dean were having the best of times as well.

You wanted to end the call with George by expressing how dearly you missed him, but something stopped you. Maybe it was your conversation with Dean from before when he warned you how cautious George was to move too quickly in relationships. You figured keeping in touch while so far apart counted for a lot, and settled for wishing George a happy sleep before you hung up to shut your eyes again.

___

As you wrapped up filming in Ireland, you and Dean had become rather inseparable. Since you'd been acting alongside each other almost exclusively, you were a little nervous how filming back in London was going to go. There was a new set of cast members to finish filming with, and you and Dean had developed some kind of secret language you worried might seem off-putting to everyone else.

You didn't want to be the costar known for picking favorites, so you tried your utmost to get on just as well with the folks meant to play your family members and friends.

That meant spending time off the set, going to dinner and hosting game nights when the chance arose. Granted, you and Dean often paired up to beat everyone at Monopoly, you were still succeeding in getting on with everyone.

"Tomorrow is the big fight scene. I just don't think I can punch you in the face, Dean." The actress playing your older sister laughed, reaching over to pinch Dean's cheek.

"Good, 'cause you're not really supposed too." Dean laughed, shooing her hand away. You laughed at their antics as you flitted off to the kitchen to find another beer.

Your phone had been left on the counter, and you noticed it lighting up as you stepped past the refrigerator.

You narrowly missed a call from George, his profile photo filling up your screen. When the call went dead, you noticed he'd tried to call once before then.

"Oh shit, it is Friday, isn't it?" You worried. As you and George each found the swing of your days on set, you figured Friday nights were the best time to check in on each other. But tonight you'd been so wrapped up in enjoying a night off at Dean's flat with your castmates, that you'd left your phone in the other room.

You pressed the call back button and scurried off to the back patio where you wouldn't be bothered.

"Hello love! Everything alright?" George asked. Because even though you'd agreed to call each other once a week, you'd started texting silly little updates to each other throughout most other days. And you hadn't done that at all today.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry I've been away. We've just been enjoying the rare day off."

"Ah, yeah that's alright." George was quick to assure you but you didn't miss the way his voice fell a little flat. But before you could go on apologizing, he spoke up again.

"I'm flying back home tomorrow morning." He spoke, and now he sounded as if he were on the verge of bursting out into excitable screams.

"Tomorrow morning?" You grinned. That was a week earlier than he'd been planning.

"We finished everything today and I've booked the soonest flight back. I can't wait to see you." George cooed through the phone line.

With all your might, you held back squeals and confirmed that you were just as excited to finally see him again, as well. Thought you'd started things off at an awkward time, your feeling for George blossomed more every day. Between flirty texts and late-night phone calls that lasted as long as they could with completely different schedules, you'd fallen head over heels for George.

He made you laugh, even all the way across the ocean. He would ask genuine and thoughtful questions and he'd never hold back from giving you his own honest and meaningful answers. You practically melted through the slots of the patio board when you ended your phone call with "See you tomorrow, darling!"

___

"That's a wrap for today!"

"Holy shit, I'm so glad we got that on the first take." You shivered. It was a little too cold to pretend to enjoy yourself in a swimming pool.

Dean was by your side next thing you knew, offering a robe from the costume lady who was sewing up another actor's tuxedo.

"Just think, all the hard parts are over. Only a few more days left of easy shooting!" Your friend held open the robe as you slid your arms in as a frown pulled at your lips.

"Don't remind me! I don't know what I'll do when all the fun is over." You pouted like a kid and dramatically threw yourself against Dean in a hug you couldn't manage while keeping your hands tucked under your arms. Your friend ran his hands along your shoulder with a laugh as you shivered, but the extra bit of warmth didn't last long.

"Oh my God!" Dean chirped, shoving you away from him all of a sudden. Just before you had time to shout at him for being rude, you noticed what caught his attention.

George! There he was, dressed in dark jeans and cozy sweater, happily chatting away with your agent before Dean got to him. The men shared a happy greeting and a warm hug as you hurried to do the same.

You shoved Dean away like he'd done to you, with a playful "Ha!," and practically threw yourself at George.

He was strong, effortlessly scooping you into his embrace and giving you a small spin from the momentum you'd gained. You'd never greeted each other so enthusiastically, but somehow now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You're here!" You realized as George set you on your feet again.

"When you told me you'd be done round five I figured I'd just swing by." He explained, keeping one of his hands gently wrapped around your waist. You weren't very cold any more.

"I missed you." You beamed, soaking up how close he finally was, after so long. George returned your sentiments as you both stood together, enjoying nothing more for a beat.

"I just need to change, then we can get going, yeah?" You shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your still-damp bathing suit under the itchy robe. Before you parted, you'd somehow made plans to go get dinner, and Dean was invited along.

"I did miss him too." George shot you a playful face as he moved to find where Dean had gone off too, leaving you to go change. You'd never flown in and out of the makeup trailer faster, sliding your clothes on and checking your face in the mirror before walking out onto the lot calm and cool.

You were totally anxious to finally get to spend time with George, but you hadn't forgotten what Dean mentioned about moving too fast.

You found both men in the car lot laughing together. They both turned their heads to see you approach, smiles widening, somehow.

"Ah, my boys. Let's go eat." You laughed, shooting Dean a look at George grabbed your hand in his.

___

You wound up at a posh Italian place, sat in the curve of a big red booth under George's arm. Dean was nearer the opposite curve, leaning a in a little closer to show George a bunch of dumb pictures the two of you had accumulated on set for the past couple of moths.

"Can I tell him about Taco Bell?" Dean choked back a laugh and looked at you with pleading eyes.

"I guess." You smiled after a beat. One night, not so long ago, you and Dean got plastered beyond belief and wandered to the nearest Taco Bell on foot. Their diner was closed, but their drive-through was open, and you had no choice but to try and walk up to the order box and try your luck. No one would respond, but Dean swore he saw workers avoiding your drunken rambles through the windows. The adventure ended with you having burst into tears, somehow deciding the Taco Bell was purgatory, drunkenly crying into the drive-through box. It made Dean laugh so hard he vomited next to the bins in the parking lot, and the pair of you got sternly asked to leave.

Not your finest hour, but certainly one of many memories from the highlight reel you and Dean had spent the early spring creating together. And it was Dean doing most of the talking tonight.

You spent your time snuggled close to George's side. His hand rested on your thigh while you buried your face in your hands at the end of each of Dean's stories.

George sat back, listened and laughed, and made fun of both of you along the way. You and Dean were in the middle of arguing over the details of your first petty fight when the check came.

"I have been missing out." George took the last swig of his drink.

"Well, we're glad to have you back mate. I better get going, though." Dean explained that he had a meeting with his agent before your day on set started tomorrow. When you all made your way out of the restaurant, you hugged Dean goodbye, calling him some silly nickname you coined in Ireland. He pulled a face at you, waved to George leaving the two of you alone for the first time in ages.

"I'd hate for the night to end, already." George gave you a convincing set of puppy dog eyes, but you didn't need convincing.

"It doesn't have to!" You spoke rather quickly. "We could go back to mine and watch a film or something."

You offered a bashful shrug, hoping your excitable offer wasn't too forward.

But before you knew it, you were leading George into your studio flat, offering him something to drink as you flipped on a few lights on the way.

Tea was in order. You leaned against the kitchen island while George leaned against the counter, delving into conversation like you did best. He'd asked about some of the pictures you had framed of your family and friends, and you asked about his.

When the kettle rang and you filled two cups and asked George what he was most excited about being back home.

"I'm just glad to finally be with you." He informed, reaching out to pull you closer with the gentles tug at the hem of your shirt. He was a lot more affectionate than you remembered, but you certainly weren't complaining.

"I wish I'd spent all month having all that fun in Taco Bell purgatory with you." George joked, hooking one of his impossibly strong arms around your waist.

"George Mackay, are you a little jealous?" You laughed unbelievably, shoving your cup of tea a little further from you.

"Dean has gotten to kiss you more than I have, yet." George gave a little shrug as his bright blue eyes searched your face. If he was actually bothered, but the tiny smirk on his lips made you believe otherwise.

"Why don't we get up to speed, then, huh?" You rose a brow, resting one of your hands on George's sharp jaw. He didn't waste another second before diving into a kiss that left you breathless.

You expected your first kiss with George to be gentle and soft, just like him. But this kiss was fierce and hot and his hands were pushing your shoulders against the wall. And his lips only left yours to travel down your neck.

Your tea went cold that night.

___

You plopped into Dean's lap for the first shoot of the day. A rush of gratitude swooped over you, glad that you'd been able to work with someone you cared for so deeply.

"For someone who claims to know his best friend so well, you sure were off the mark." You playfully jabbed Dean in the ribs. He shot you a curious glare as a boom mic was being switched out for another.

"Do I even wanna know?" Dean chuckled, gazing up at you.

"All I'm saying, is he definitely didn't seem to care for taking things very slow last night." You proudly hinted as Dean let out an understanding yet mortified laugh. Some of your castmates were trickling onto set as your director checked behind the camera.

"He was totally jealous of all the time we've been spending together." You laughed, picking a piece of lint off the actor's sweater.

Dean's smile faltered as the director called action. Your friend's arms wrapped around your waist as you went on pretending to be in love.

After a long day of hard work, you and Dean started off in the direction of the makeup trailer. You'd kept one arm slung around his shoulders as he went on yammering about the last scene you shot.

George had decided to surprise you on set for the second day in a row, this time with a coffee for you and Dean, each.

"Awe, would ya look at that, we've got our own personal gofer." You laughed, looking at Dean as he gently slipped out from under your arm to accept George's kind offer. The labels on the cups were from a tiny bakery down the street from your set, but you didn't think much of it until you took a sip.

"Oh my God." You looked up to George with starry eyes. You wouldn't have cared what he ordered you, but he somehow got it exactly right. "How'd you know my favorite order from this place?"

You'd never been to the bakery with George before, and you couldn't remember a time you'd mentioned it to him. He really was the perfect boyfriend.

"I asked Dean," George admitted with a smile. You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and when you turned to do the same to Dean, he was gone.

___

You spent the rest of the week acting your heart out during the day and decompressing in the evening with George between movie marathons and dinner dates.

He was always checking in, making sure you were comfortable and always excited to experience new things with you. And you made sure George knew just how glad you were for his company. And especially charmed by the fact that he could never keep his hands off you. When you sat watching old tv shows he would trace patterns against your knee. He kept an arm around you as you walked the streets and always greeted you with a kiss.

Today, that's how he left you on set, with a sweet peck on your temple and a few words of encouragement. It was your last day, and you just weren't ready to say goodbye to everyone.

The last scene to shoot was of you and Dean, alone together in the isle of a convenience store. Your characters were meant to be having their first big fight, when a song comes over the loudspeakers neither of them can resist dancing along, bickering all the while.

It took you a couple of takes with the director suggesting different approaches, but it was over in the blink of an eye, Dean's character delivering the final line, while you were instructed to keep lazily dancing. After the director called cut, someone turned up the music and everyone cheered as your time together drew to a close.

You danced your way closer, throwing your arms around Dean in celebration.

"You've been the best castmate in the world! Thanks for putting up with me this long Dean. On and off set." You nodded, feeling your heart begin to ache. Dean hugged you back, offering similar sentiments, but unusually, something in Dean's tone fell flat.

You gave him an extra squeeze before he slinked off toward his trailer. While everyone else was offering goodbye hugs, you wondered if Dean wasn't keen to show how sad he was too. You shook it off and went on thanking the rest of the cast and crew for such a wonderful production.

The wrap party was later in the evening, but you left a big part of your heart on the set that was being torn down on your ride home.

___

George made it a bit hard for you to slip all the way into your party dress with the way he kept slipping it right back off. But with a little luck, you straightened his collar and dragged him out the door in the nick of time to party the night away.

The wrap party was at a nightclub where a live band was playing. As you slipped past drink stations and loudspeakers with George's hand in yours, you were reminded of when you met. How you'd keep running into each other on nights like these.

You held his hand a little tighter as the thought passed your mind and smiled up at him like a loon as he moved closer to your side.

"I'm glad you're here with me." You spoke up past the music.

"Me too." George grinned, leaning to place a kiss on your temple.

Your cast members bombarded you with hugs when they noticed you'd made it, asking for selfies and handing out drinks.

When you turned to look for George he'd found Dean and you were glad to skip toward them.

"Long time no see." You joked, sitting perfectly between the two of them.

"I can't believe it's over." Dean shook his head and cast a look to you.

"Yeah, but we still have press tour! And the premieres." You reminded, lifting your glass to your lips.

"Yeah." Dean smiled like he was glad, but you knew him better than that. Now was the time when he'd dream up some wild scenario he hoped would happen as you traveled to advertise for your new film. Or surely at the very least crack a joke.

You almost wanted to ask if he was okay, as he'd been totally reserved for a couple of days in a row. Of course, you knew he was probably just as sad for the production to wrap, but something was off. You could just tell.

___

Dean was weird during the entire press tour. He kept getting increasingly weirder as the days went by. And it was hard to pretend you weren't bothered. You called George every night, begging him to check up on Dean, make sure he was alright, get him to tell what he wouldn't tell you.

Over the past couple of months, you and Dean had grown inseparable and after the film, that changed. You knew your closeness couldn’t have been an act. You knew Dean made genuine connections with people he cared about. He was still close to George after their film had ended. Why was he suddenly so cold to you?

When you did interviews together, it was almost like it used to be, suppressing snickers and sharing secrets through the rise of an eyebrow.

But on the bus and out to dinner, Dean kept his distance. He still spoke with you and asked about your life, but it was like he'd severed himself off from your connection. By the time you got home, you hoped leaving him alone for a week and getting back to normal would make things better.

But the morning of the premiere, you'd had all you could take. You and Dean were just leaving a hotel conference room after the last of a dozen interviews.

Dean walked a few paces behind you on your way out to the lobby. George was there, waiting to take you to some celebratory lunch before you were meant to start getting ready. He was all smiles, happily greeting you with a warm hug. He started to say something about how excited he was to take you out when you noticed Dean brush by, headed for the door.

"Uh, give me a second." You decided all of a sudden, leaving George in the small waiting area so you could catch your castmate before he reached the hotel doors.

"Dean! Wait." You demanded, fed up with how strangely he'd been acting. You couldn't possibly show up to the premiere tonight without at least trying to make things better.

You had to chase him out of the revolving doors, but when you reached the pavement, Dean was shocked enough by your low tone to stop and face you. You finally had his full attention, thank God.

"Are you okay? Have I upset you, somehow? Did I do something? Please tell me what's wrong." You begged, your throat started to close, but you managed to press the words out in time. As you spoke, Dean's face changed.

His eyes left yours, cast to the floor, and flicked up to somewhere behind you.

"Please talk to me." You begged in a hush. You didn't care about anyone passing by who might have looked at you funny.

"I-I'm sorry. No, I'm not upset with you. I never meant to make you think that." Dean explained in a low manner.

"Then what's going on?" You asked, worried by how reluctant he was to say anything.

"I didn't want to be in the way." Dean started, searching your face. "You and I had gotten so close and when George got back I felt like I was breaking some kind of boundary." Dean sighed, waving a hand as he cleared the air. And right on time, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed George stepping out of the revolving doors to find you.

"I was only trying not to hurt his feelings." Dean finalized. All the while, you tried taking a step closer to your friend. He took a step back.

"Well, you're hurting mine." You batted back, feeling tears sting your eyes. You were much too overwhelmed by the interaction to keep talking to Dean.

As George approached the pair of you, you grabbed his hand and spun around to the other end of the pavement. You heard Dean call your name to try and stop you, but you were already around the corner to where George's car had been parked.

George hurried behind the wheel but didn't start the engine. He leaned gently toward where you settled back against the passenger seat, defeated. You sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to totally lose your cool.

"What's happened?" George worried in a high pitch. One of his warm hands wrapped around your shoulder as you tried understanding everything Dean had just explained to you.

"He finally told me what his problem was and," You let out a humorless laugh as a tear escaped. "And I guess I just wasn't expecting it."

"Oh love," George barely whispered, lifting a finger to wipe your tear away.

"I think... he thinks you're jealous of him? Or at least he was afraid of our friendship coming across as something it wasn't, in your eyes. So he just shut me out. I guess it's nice he cares for you that much huh?" You let out another small, watery laugh.

George had that adorably confused look on his face, casting his pretty eyes into yours.

"That's what he’s been worried over?" George seemed just as confused as you had been. He'd never been able to get a read on Dean, any time George had tried to talk to him about how strangely he'd been acting.

And you knew George wasn't jealous, not of Dean. He asked to hear all of the fun stories you had about Dean while you'd been working together. George seemed delighted that his friend cared for you so deeply. You knew that.

George reassured you that was the case, admitting he might have been a little jealous of missing out on all the fun, but not of Dean.

You'd calmed down a bit, with the help of George's sweet, gentle talk. He reassured that you weren't silly for crying, and then he took you to lunch. As you fueled up for a long exciting night, George insisted that he would knock some sense into his dear friend and that you'd get back to being just as close in no time.

___

The pair of you got all dolled up, painted for a premier. George's suit complimented your dress and you confessed you were totally madly in love with him. Maybe it was too soon, but it was just the right time, all things considered. George returned your sentiments with a light in his eyes and a smile on his face and everything was almost perfect.

You piled into George's car and drove to the studio where a limo was waiting to escort you and Dean to the premier. You were a packaged deal tonight, and he never invited a date.

Thank God Dean was already waiting at the studio for you, and early. George was able to pull him aside as your agent fussed over a bunch of silly questions. Your director still hadn't shown up by the time George and Dean reappeared before you, both wearing relaxed smiles.

"I'm sorry I never really talked to you. I shouldn't have ghosted you like that." Dean approached, looking dapper in his navy blue suit.

"Never do it again. Yell at me next time, I can take it." You swore, nodding in his direction. Dean rolled his eyes as his smile grew and all the tension between you fizzled away.

"So are we finally back to normal? I want to have game night and I need you on my Monopoly team." You fell back into a familiar banter, longing to make plans with your friend.

"I can't play a single board game without you. We share one brain cell, I think" Dean reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you into a hug, a real, meaningful one. You could have cried again just knowing he would be there to make fun of you for being so emotional.

"Yeah well, you're gonna need it because I'm the best Monopoly player in the British Isles." George sauntered up to the pair of you, seemingly very serious. You let out a loud chuckle as your embrace with Dean ended.

And when you piled into the limo between the two people you cared most about, you wondered how you'd gotten so lucky. It was official, everything was picture perfect.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman fanfic #dean charles chapman imagine

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theseagull16 · 3 years

Text

Warning the following content includes swearing ideas of suicide attempted suicide and depression and anxiety and mental illness detailed graphic descriptions and sexual references and criminal acts which could be upsetting to some viewers viewers discretion advised before reading the rest of this post remember this is all of my own oc is not official and I don't know how to make it if it's even possible anyone knows please comment but for now is this is my personal SCP but other Scps mentioned are real as in official

At present day Dizzy has requested out of the blue for an interview it's noted that is SCP has often refused any interviews that is requested to her and any interviews normally that she participates in are immutable, lies or just plain out ignored. But Dizzy has come to researchers and bargains an interview for the deal of being allowed to visit SCP 1508 in private for an hour at least site director... has agreed to the interview and taking Dizzy bargain so long as she doesn't cause any harm at all, any sign of aggression or sines of excitemen stress to anyone during the interview any signs of escape interview and her deal will be off. Dizzy has to where when juring outside of her containment high Dennsery expense gloves to avoid causing inorganic objects to be affected with poison table and area around Dizzy is not to be approached by interviewer or touched juring interview because that would trigger the response of the poston to exploding and causing the effect to happen. Interview Dizzy being green interviewer is in blue

Begin log

Instant silence

You know we could come closer I won't bite, l said I won't hurt anyone and you're standing in the middle of the room on a chair looking like an idiot might as well come closer to the table.

I would but you're leaning your elbows on the table causing your so-called "poison" to infected it and if I touched any object infected with dos green veins I end up suffering norva and diarrhea for the next good 62 hours

sigh what's the point of having these gloves on when everything is already infected with this stuff, there's on point keeping them on

She throws the gloves into a nearby bin

I don't think you're allowed to do that

Err fuck like who's going to care anyway, not like I'm using them anyway

Still if you don't coporate this interview will be over

then herey up and say some God them questions

Alright why a sudden desire to communicate. Until say yesterday you refuse to take any interviews flipping off, telling to f*** off or any other offensive language to anyone who comes near you with the idea of doing any experiments or interviews. And in unlucky situations sometimes you even vandalised there cars, objects rooms, or just make them sick

(A laugh could be heard in a slight giggle) what can I say they deserved it

To you maybe

They do deserve it Dizzy slams her fists onto the table

Calm remember

Yeah I know stay calm or no interview blah you're probably going to ask me about that later in the questions and to answer your question about why I suddenly have the urge to talk to you bush bags I have my reasons but I don't think that's important the only thing your little Foundation fides important is I share my knowledge I ceep carefully to myself so if you want to know anything just ask you're stupid question you had on your mind since the day you started working and found out about me now then I can get on with my day

So long as it ends with you visiting SCP- 1508.

If you mean by Joe which is his name by the way then yes yes I do

Which moves on to the next question why do you dislike when we call you by your designated numbers instead of your name

AAA Dizzy Flores her head back laughing before continuing in a mocking manner you supposed to be smart but still asked me simple easy questions. What to get my opinion it's kind of obvious I don't like being called that because I'm not your property is the degrading and I have a name so I don't see why not use it. it's supposed to be respectful to use somebody's name and I don't see being called at number is very respectful it's why anything or anyone in here that doesn't have a name I give a name

Is that why you break into other SCP containment rooms.

At first usually I just go into the room for entertainment in the form of a conversation or to hopefully make a new friend like and Joe, know any other SCP but then after I get to know them better and I found out they have no identities and some of them are also as miserable as s***. So I give them a name to have an identity with the name.

why do you have the urge to break into other SCP containment for your own entertainment can't use ask for something to keep you entertained

No it's more than just entertainment is the opportunity to travel, explore, marvel and brighten up the day of different objects and people that can usually only be found in fantasy amazing and every experience is almost always something new you can't put a price on that or replicated is not same and it kind of pisses everyone off, so it's an added bonus for me ahah.

Next question are you aware of your other a anomalous traits other than your main one

Do you mean other than the fact that I didn't take a s*** in literally over 60 years, I haven't cough, sneeze, or felt anything other than normal for decades that I don't even need the shower when just for entertainment and It turned the water green with my poison, and that anything that comes on to me like bacteria that is harmful gust slides off my body and clothing and every part of me, that I can't feel actual fear other than shock seeing it's a negative emotion or the fact that I can't be affected by medication even with a positive effect and life vitals machines don't actually work from me yeah I kinda have notice

What's your opinion on the SCP held here at the site and throughout the foundation hard to pinpoint your exact your opinion on SCP even when observing other SCP is hard to get your exact opinion your reaction are randoms to say the least

Actually that kind of a hard one Doc, my reaction is random because it's really depending on what happens when I go in there I don't really know what to expect I just go with the flow and see what goes on in there really it's kinda going into a room blindfolded almost and as for my opinion for other SCP some of them I actually I'm glad they're stuck in here seeing that they will probably kill the whole god damn universe if they ever got out and others I feel sorry and also disgusted by the foundation for keeping it here it's not their fault and they're not even dangerous they just a little different that's all that star eyed girls she just want to get out but you won't let her shame on you

She which you have named galaxy never put any request for ever mentioned for going outside

That's because he is scared if you would just sedate her like other in here

She wouldn't be scared if people not mentioning names didn't tell exactly what people do in here to SCP when they are to Wiley

yeah put the blame on me why not it's not like he has brains to figure it out by yourself you really underestimated SCP that's another reason I find the foundation disgusting we're not objects or least not all of us

Moving on

Hurry up

Do you anything about the laxatives in the tea of dr ....

Maybe

now let's get to the source of this conversation in the first place, why the sudden urge to visit SCP- 1504 usually if you just want to see him you preferably or duo not encouraged method break into his containment and settings free usually or vice versa why now you deciding to go for more for the less catastrophic method of visiting

Like I said before I have my reasons

Oh really

What are you getting at is this a double course because if it's a double course I will

Don't worry we can't even double cross you know negative effect remember

We did some research on your friend Joe as you call him and surprisingly we discovered that today is his birthday and it so happens since was contained every year on his birthday he seems to be more miserable year after year it's also happened you demanded an interview you might despise us but we are intelligent we kind of put the dots together you might as well admit it

.... Alright fine I admit it I ordered this interview in hoping to get privileges of allowing me to visit him on his birthday he is miserable is sad seeing the only companion you probably have around here for who knows how long I stop counting decades ago just drink and get high on his birthday and not even happy it's a miserable sort of way in a sense of will depression and years getting older nothing to getting better for him even after me even just visiting him in his cell still miserable tied up in there but not even a single birthday cake or compliment from anyone other than me to make him feel better even though I know you don't even notice so I decided to take the long short by getting this party

That quite admirable actually your friend is not getting on well with his birthday so you decided to do something sweet for him, don't think from your records of time we let you two be together you'll probably get a reward like an extra radio but a party station I don't know

Worth a try

And what happens if it fails

I guess you'll be another miserable year then

Never realised that your friends up with SCP 1504 this toxic

Personally I think that comment is bullshit.

What makes you think that don't you notice you encourage each other to drink, smoke, commit crimes, and vandalism even notice once a couple of years back that you and "Joe" somehow managed to make a secret meff lab and using it to experiment with different a SCP for fun in the basement of site 91

Hahaha I'm surprised you idiots didn't notice that earlier we somehow managed to drug up at least 6 SCP before anyone noticed and even then it was by accident when they were clean out the old basement Dizzy throws back in her seat laughing AH AH

You think it's funny to drug up SCP some of them are people you know

Bravo and in only took you experimenting on them and somebody else who having needles jabbed into them who are not scientists to say it

Regardless don't you recognise that what you and 1504 are doing is cruel and reckless

Hypocrite!!

You know what I mean

sure on the surface it sounds ridiculous and somewhat crazy and be honest we kind of are it a way but before you see anything is my explanation when you were immune to heam itself we kind of lose the will to be careful in a way and when no negative effect can be brought on to you you also lose more of that desire to hold back in a sense it doesn't mean that your conscience has been affected it does means you're a terrible person a little bit bad but deep down good people or at least I'm a good person and the people we "druged up" as you called it they were all willing to do it and some of those people even asked for those hi all of the SCPS we did it were objects creatures that were animals in a way and people who asked or couldn't get any worse if we give it to them see the records none of those SCP if you don't believe me none of them were harmed at the a little bit delirious and tired after a while but fine we're not monsters we don't do it to hurt them in the way we do it to make them feel better what do you think people take drugs in the first place to make them forget about the horrible things in life it's not good to them and it temporary but what else can I get around here some of them they even steal it from us check the records again if we didn't do it together we probably would have done it in any other scenario and as for encouraging each other for doing thinks like I said when your immune due to lose any sense of dread do it we drink and smoke but in a way is nothing other than like drinking water or leads to me and as for Joe he gets drunk and high but in the end of the day it doesn't kill him it just get a headache I only do it the keep company if I do stop him you just do it anyway so really I I don't do it nothing bad will happen we are not normal people plush employees in the foundation actually bought some of the meth we made before they were probably discovered

OK how much other scenarios like the time you and Joe still Dr.... car and drove it through a SCP portal to another dimension into a abandoned waste dump full of scrap metal that goes on for miles not only did you also kidnap a mtif soldier and through in the back of your car but you also crashed the place and then crashed the car all the time when you and Joe escaped he loading some rich women and you beated her with cricket bat and then stole her money another terrible time when you were transported to another complete by plane with a couple of other SCP they decided to be better if you travel in an like normal people instead of in an enclosure and you're scps friends including Joe before you even entered the plane you used a plank placed on a rod on the floor to hit Dr clef in the balls

Slight giggles

you turned a man into a crying wimp on the floor clutching his groinedon in the plane when a Stuart found out you were french he greeted you in French you shouted back to him vous pouvez sucer le Dr Clef glorifié boules meurtries enflées Stanley Joe got drunk and you filmed it he passed out and then insulted and walked around the whole plane during the entire flight and when you came down you did the same thing you did to Dr clef only to Dr bright even though he tried to avoid it

Ok as for the car bit I was upset about my miserable life and so was joe slightly drunk and felt like we both needed something to cheer each other we saw the car out and I know Dr.... loves that car sweat to God I think I was him kissed it. I got pissed seeing Dr.... is a go for nothing jerk he puts D class into danger for no reason that's like any other people and just like any other person I would want to punish him I told this to Joe well you know what he had the idea of and there was a testing with SCP-093 dimension portal nearby so you can guess what happens next we hijack the car with some bottles of whiskey from some security officer and a camera, Dr.... was me in the car and I flip him off you should have seen the look on his face it was priceless and so we just drove straight through the portal like nothing and mtif trucks was chasing us it was absolute thrill and never felt so alive. And I didn't give a care of anything. The car was faster than them one of the sodger somehow managed to get up to us much have been in the back we didn't notice he was out match I paralyzed him and then we throw him in the back he was a jerk anyway so I don't care Anyway when the gas run out we watching the sunset tuke pictures of the car each other and us settings to the top of the car drnking whiskey having a blast gust two friends hanging out so we have no blame it was f****** awesome then the mtif scod fade us got the guy out of the truck and tode us back the car getting distorted was a actsdet nothing to do with us when we got back one of the crans for the portal fell

As for the incident in the plane Dr clef had it coming for the looongest time just ask any female SCP or researcher I did them a favour. That'll teach him a lesson to make smart ass remarks not so tough when reality

I'll be lying to say your not a little bit right there

The flight attendant mug and I wasn't it really in a good mood since I hate the foundation ice auto be a good time to that's really good friends was making some interesting memory videos and making them all upset. The woman incident was when me and Joe escape once we needed money and there was no banks nearby but a horrible rich woman don't feel sorry for her, we only steel off people that really deserved it well I do Joe don't I make him do it because I don't want him stealing off innocence the lady was a rich scamp who treated the poor folk like trust and Roberts said she was in the black market and even sleep with one of the old judges to get off from stealing charity money from orphans she deserved what she got, we beat up a little not anything fatal just enough to make her ugly then stole some money we broke into her house and use my powers to give us so blisters on her feet to just to make sure that the hit one kill her. And Joe hit her in the back with a bat

Why do you feel like you can use your powers to punish the ones who avoid the justice system in some ways

I have to power to make people suffer I might as well use it tell me if you had a chance to save someone or just stand whilst they be killed you would obviously choose them it's similar to how when I see somebody doing harm I can't just stand there I have to make them pay for it I believe everyone gets what they deserve eventually even if not in life they will get it in hell but it's too late because they're dead so I make sure they get the punishment before the dead to know what they did was wrong

when ever you brings us this or just someone annoys you and you played a prank on them you never killed them no matter how bad things they did are

because if I killed them I will be as bad as the people I call monsters I might have lost a lot of things but I would never ever in any circumstances lose my homity and dignity by being a hypocrite and committing what I believe is the worst thing a person can do to a person bring death and personally I don't really see this as a punishment when it comes to my own suffering I feed as a way out but obviously I'm immortal so that will never happened

When you first came to this Foundation was very suicidal it seemed to approve over the time I'm are you still suicidal

Sort moment of silence

Not as before to say I'm not completely suicide that would be lying kind of faded almost as the decades went through I see it as a sort of sideeffect being a model eventually your pain blur's into the conscience of your mind and your personality over take it because nobody get the live as long as me and I have pretty of distracted seeing as Foundation always bring something new that helps friends I made since helped but to say I'm cured completely nope some days is worse than others sometimes. but if there was a better option to be free for my depression I will take it of course but I'm glad I'm better than before you wouldn't believe how dark that mindset is

Has therapy helped

Yes definitely but is not just therapy I find everything helps me in some ways when it comes to friends to talk to even strangers people to listen to it that matter to get it off your chest helps a lot.

Speaking of your oh so "lovely" friends let's talk about them apart from Joe you made a couple of them over the years some more favourable than others let's talk about them less start with your closest friend and the reason why this interview is taking place in the first place Joe

Well you already know his life from his file as an SCP there's not really much to say about him apart from the fact what is he really like because unlike the rest of you I actually know for fact what he's saying or doing hints why we're so close friends

and hints why you 2 can get away with things like robbing people only two days ago you somehow managed to borrow 50 quid out of the wallet of Dr....

And we spent it on a magic coffee dispenser to trick somebody into drinking bin water just for fun

Nmmmm

But Joe and I kind of need each other he's the first to person to really understand me a fellow SCP you became my friend somebody who knows what it feels like to be lonely and is suffer for a good majority of time in fact I could say he suffers more than me even.I had are you still have a human connection or more reality until he met me he was suicidal depressed and nobody had any idea of it or even he had a blue tick knowledge you should have seen his face when you first realise he finally found somebody to connect to you and don't leave me feel worse that he couldn't give me a hug you know that's why he's in the streets that could because the amount of fluid is Santa's lack of escape makes a mad the let us be with each other and in close proximity because if he doesn't have a human connection now he goes nuts and once he was so this before escape from the mental pain he grabbed me by the solders and end of catching severe case of schizophrenia but also seeing him like that screaming bagging blood everywhere for the 62 hours is painful to watchbut we help with turning away we keep eachother company we have each other's backs we stop each other from going crazy I can feel my world go up if you don't want them with him because he doesn't care what I am he's not here to study he's really the only person that really gives a damn for me anymore and maybe is just because he's desperate for company but it's genuine at least

What about other people But 1st oof Did you ever fall in love

No, if you'd read my record, you would know that my anomalous ability makes people unable to be sexually interested in me, including able to feel any romantic feelings towards me which really sucks because nobody can ever fall in love with me which really sucks because I didn't have a boyfriend before all of this which really fuckin' sucks

Ok let's go back to some other questions then what are some of the other friends like scp-507

Honestly he's a nice guy but we and close friends sometimes gets nervous to are idea of fun mostly pranking people not into that sort of stuff sometimes me and Joe would sneak into his room he's pretty good at using computers

Explain

don't worry we just asked him let us see some videos that we are banned on watching well Joe's banned from watching is's nothing that bad and it's not like we scanned anything light drinker doe sometimes we will go to the roof to drink and being nice we invited him to come with us if you refused he would wosh out after half a bottle

Is that even allowed

Ah F*** them

What about jonesy the half cat you seem to be close to jonesy cat

I love jonesy his sweet and cute be honest he Sims more Joe friend seeing that I can't pet him but he's not afraid of me I can always play with him I told him tricks too

What tricks

I taught him to attack on command he wrecked Dr.... face it was hilarious. Moment of silence come on it was funny he only had a scratch

Moving on how about something different about Dr bright and agent Rocky Jones.

Temporary silence

Are you alright

Yes.

I believe rocky was the first person you ever encountered after your condition so to say happened if I believed correctly you two became close friends over the years even after his hair ternd completely grey you use to joke about that and he'd take time to come to see you and often joke about it until he's unfortunate demise unfortunately turned out to be by Dr bright

Rocky was a good man he was sent to like the other mtif soldier he went to the foundation for the sole reason of wanting to help others and protect others he never shot any human and never ever killed anyone even go against orders to save people including civilians and to avoid death casualties

he still experienced poison first time and leaving the second time he cut off his own hand to avoid getting infected again

Ok f*** off that was by accident and so was the second time you can't go 50 years without hitting an accident even if it's twice the actor of him cutting his arm off surprised me he did it so quickly and so swiftly I still feel sorry for him no matter how many times I see his prosthetic arm and no matter how many times he said to me it was ok I couldn't forgive myself for it but he never blame to me I don't know why but you never blam with me I'm Grace's for that

Unfortunately Dr Jack fight thought it would be a good test subject to a SCP due to the lack of D class and he was close to retirement he killed him with an axe and then experimented on his parts with SCP....

Anger: dat no good whatever he is didn't deserve to kill an innocent man and get away with it no matter how high he's clearance I wanted revenge I wanted to bury rocky picked up what's left of him in the acid bath and bury him of cause acid has no effect on me he's a skeleton but still l made sure he had a proper funeral with me Joe, some classes who are kind of nice and some scientists to also didn't like what bight did and missed rocky but he was the closest thing to a funeral I can get And then plotted my plan it was quite easy wait until it's dark nobody around other than the D classes, SCP and Joe distracted him than the clobbered him over the head well Joe bib then we tied him up to a cargo trolley and use my powers to give him a nail fungus I wanted the real pain to be more brutal than anything I have and then we'll come up he said crossword threaten even gloated and I stuck them over the face for that I told him he was going to suffer he said didn't care he's suffered before but I doubt he'd ever suffer like he did there and you could tell him his face he knew he was f***** when he realised what was coming to him a pit full of angry D classes who all had a bone to pick with him and some SCP who are also hated his guts and so didn't take the D classes we tied him up to the trolley made sure he'd couldn't escape and through him into the pit you should have heard him screaming begging for his released and even asking for help but no he was going to suffer just how rocky did .... 10 times worse the fact that I use my powers against him meaning that he wouldn't die butter suffer for round a good 10 hours it's more worse than poison because it's gets revenger gardens Joe and I just sat there watching with show during beer with him and some cigarettes it was the most relaxing thing I ever did for revents in the morning when everyone came and they put them out he's so scared of me after that's incident and it should be

And what you hate doctor bright so much

He's a prick

Oh really because your friend the plague doctor says otherwise

f*** you the plague doctor is not my friend I met him once when I escaped and he escaped in the same time and I found him by chance I only stayed with him after that to stop him from killing more people I didn't stop him from turning the bodies into what the plague doctor called the pestilence and the curd because they're already dead but he is scared of me he felt poison my poison and he's petrified of me

True when we asked about you in an interview with him he did say he was petrified to you but he also said you hate Dr bright to because you envy him you envy everything about him that he's in a SCP and he has the freedom that you can only wish for freedom to see your family the freedom to feel love freedom to have friends without restrictions to socialise and don't need to worry about making somebody have cancer just by giving them a hug and how he's anomalous ability doesn't seem to affect him that much and you hate when he says he feels upset due to his SCP status saying that because you're the only one who understands to suffering through and SCP you haven't seen your family in their decades you didn't even get to go to your parents funeral when font out you escaped to see the graves of the died of natural causes when MTF squad found are you are weeping at the graves they let you stay there a few minutes and then you went by your own recalled you carried on crying 4 weeks after that and as three siblings you don't even know what they look like no picture of them you have nothing

That plague doctor is wise I will give him that destrudo why am I a nice SCP but I'm stuck in here but all just constrictions that any other SCP has but Dr bright probably the worst person and most dumbest person I ever met is allowed almost get away with everything is not fair and that's for the real reason I hate him he says he understands and is sad because of his predicament of being a immortal he doesn't because I'm immortal to his immortality has no chains attached to it it's it's just sad to say just like that me there's always a catch I could just walk out of here with nobody stopping me but the catch is there's always a catch there's nothing for me out there there's no hatred there's no love there's no nothing what's the point of being a immortal if you can't enjoy it the only thing I bring is sickness and sadness I have to worry about giving people cancer just buy hugging them people are scared of me because of my ability and it should be but I feel miserable Dr bright is able to enjoy his life and he dares feels upset because of his predicament he should be god damn lucky he doesn't need to worry about it I didn't himself I have to worry about not only in myself my mental health but also others are not only hurt

is that why you stay here your numbers ability does prevent us from stopping you leaving

Yes

I see

it's also the reason whenever he says he understands pain the SCP feel the pain that he brings other people I make sure he's truly feels pain and he gets punished for his wrong doing

Now can I have my our with Joe

we'll have to see but that there's a lot of checklist to go through they might be even the couple of days who knows weeks until your permission has been approved

Ash I knew I wouldn't be getting to see Joe today but ok have a backup plan I went to Joe cell and talk to him before I came here if getting is interview fails there's always plan b this is breaks out and we go to the roof to enjoy ourselves and private for an hour

What

Gjvd

Rumbling noises lights Go out

Note lights went out due to SCP 1504 sneaking into the control room and the stopping the lights dizzy then escape through her miss form through the ventilation system and the two met on the roof after SCP 1504 took couple of bottles of beer from dr.... office the two stage on the roof remaining hour on deck chairs that SCP 1504 stole from a supply closetthe towards the sunset together was drinking beers a small recording managed to be caught before cameras went off of the two on the roof

SCP 1504 is blue and dizzy is green

So how was the interview

you no it was emotional but at least I got to see you too old friends

to old friends

the two then sheared and continue watching the sunset

End log

#ocs #scp #dizzy

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thtdamfangirl4 · 3 years

Text

1.) Who eats all the snacks?

kind of all of them but something inside me is saying it’s octavius? @harps-for-days can you confirm or deny?

2.) Most likely to break something?

obviously Reginald

3.) Most likely to steal something?

Octavius

4.) Most likable character to others?

ooooh. that’s tough. I think (no offense) it’s definitely not Reginald or Dorian. Reginald is insane and Dorian can be scary. I think people kind of wish they were Octavius but he can also be a lil intimidating and jealousy plays a part so some petty bitches probably hate him. I think Jasper can be kind of quiet and standoffish at first so he doesn’t always leave a lasting impression until you have a full conversation with him, which is when people realize he’s great. I think people generally like Archie but he can be like A LOT, so I wouldn’t say him, but he is definitely well-liked, and unless you’re a PTA bitch named Jessica, he is desperate for you to like him. But for most likeable, I’s say it is probably down to Eustace or Nathaniel. Eustace is kind and lovely and a little snarky when you get to know him and Nathaniel is so sweet and sarcastic and funny but terribly genuine at the same time and let’s be perfectly honest: he’s a himbo. I’d give the edge to Nathaniel, but it’s possible that I’m biased.

5.) Least likable character to others?

my first instinct here was reginald but like... I don’t think so. I think though Reginald is strange as fuck, we’ve discussed that people eat that shit up. Reginald is like human Gritty. I want to guess that it would be Dorian because he just does not give a fuck what anyone thinks. And I know the people on the HOA hate him, so. And that’s not to say people don’t love Dorian, he’s the best and I love him and so do lots. But I feel like he causes the most beef. My only other thought is the way basic blonde bitches who were bullies in high school probably hate Octavius (but secretly want to be his best friend) because he wears heels and skirt better than they do. Stay mad about it.

6.) Most talkative character?

Archibald. Quincy. Pemberton.

7.). Least talkative character?

dude they’re based on us and literally none of us ever shut up. Maybe Dorian? Eustace?

8.) Most likely to set something on fire?

how is this even a question. Rabbit Boi himself, Reginald Worthington.

9.) Who would/does own the most pets?

I think it’s Nate and Archie? They have four dogs at one point. Though I would not be surprised to find out that Reginald has an entire condominium simply filled with exotic birds that squawk furiously at him every time he shows up.

10.) Most manipulative character?

oh god. Dorian? He technically manipulated everything and made the bois show up in 2020 to get out of marrying someone, and he’s the kind of guy who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants (read: he will do whatever it takes for Octavius or any of the bois or to spite bigots and the patriarchy) and we RESPECT it

11.) Most artistically talented?

i mean, archie can decorate baked goods and cakes so beautifully, but I’m gonna give this one to the obvious choice: Octavius Sinclair

12.) Which characters hate rain, and which love it?

I actually think all of them like rain? They’re largely (sometimes) depressed gays or otherwise very immature so like? For example, Reginald loves the rain because it’s sort of chaotic and also he likes to splash in puddles. Jasper likes the excuse to stay inside all day and work on writing or something. Eustace likes to pretend he’s in a sad music video while watching the droplets go down the window. Octavius likes to force Dorian to reenact the first proposal scene from Pride and Prejudice. Dorian likes to light candles and he loves thunderstorms (so does Octavius btw). Archie likes to drag Nate outside for kisses in the rain while playing Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift, and then bake all day. Nathaniel likes being dragged out for kisses in the rain and he loves drinking coffee and then switching to tea in the rain and reading on a window bench. They are all rain bitches, sorry not sorry.

13.) Which character is the hoarder?

Reginald is definitely the worst about this, but I also think Octavius cannot go to an antique store or estate sale without buying at least four things, and Dorian does the same thing with any sort of vintage weaponry or armor, so their household isn’t great about it either.

14.) Sweetest couple?

Natchie. No this isn’t bias, it’s just a fact okay? They are the sweetest!!!!

15.) Who loves reading the most?

Nathaniel. fuckin nerd.

16.) Who has the worst sweet tooth?

Archie. I mean, the man is a baker and he’s also me. So.

17.) Best and worst kissers?

LMAOOOOO okay.... so here’s the thing. I think kissing and level of skill comes into play to a certain degree, but past a basic level of acceptability, it’s mostly about compatibility? but I’ll give this a go in terms of what I think would be pure skill

from worst to best: Jasper, Reginald, Eustace, Octavius, Nathaniel, Archie, Dorian (once you get to Octavius, you’re at a fairly elite level of kisser though so the differences are marginal. but Dorian and Archie are the biggest hoes so they know what the fuck they are doing)

18.) Best and worst cooks?

from worst to best: Dorian, Reginald, Jasper, Nathaniel, Eustace, Octavius, Archie

19.) Who is afraid of the dark?

Jasper

20.) Most likely to fall asleep on their job?

I honestly only remember what Nathaniel, Archie, and Eustace’s jobs are for sure? and it’s none of them. But Reginald. MAYBE Jasper.

21.) Most commonly found drunk?

Octavius and Archie (often together)

22.) Strongest/most powerful character?

well, Dorian’s got some witchy stuff goin on which I love, but if we’re talking physical strength I like to think that Nathaniel is secretly jacked like Chidi on the Good Place lmao

23.) Most likely to be found in a coffee shop?

Nathaniel. This bitch drinks so much coffee, I swear. Plus he likes to grade papers there sometimes.

24.) Most clumsy character?

Jasper

25.) Most trustworthy character?

again, this is hard. I think it’s either Eustace or Archie. I think they’re all very trustworthy on like a friend level, but if you break it down to its base and you think about the most trustworthy in every situation, i’m thinking, who can you tell a secret to? Reginald might forget what you told him, which is a plus, but he also might tell any Doug who asks your juiciest gossip. Dorian and Octavius are not above blackmail and they LOVE gossip. Jasper is such a bad secret keeper, you immediately know he’s hiding something. It’s like Nick Miller on New Girl. Don’t do it. Nathaniel will try but his brain is always spinning at like 100 miles an hour so there’s a good chance he’ll tell people even if he didn’t really mean to. And then it comes down to Eustace and Archie, and I think I’m gonna give the edge to Archie. Cause Eustace won’t tell anyone your secret EXCEPT that he will tell Tyler because he tells Tyler everything, and if it’s a good secret, Tyler can’t help himself, he’s such a gossip. But Archie knows that sometimes, he does not need to pass on the secret that was entrusted to him to Nathaniel, because this is the kind of secret that would probably hurt someone if Nathaniel accidentally told someone. He tells Nathaniel everything he needs to know, and if he doesn’t need to know and it’s not really their business, he knows to keep it to himself. So... Archie.

#rfb #regency frat bois #archibald q pemberton #nathaniel qolicott #octavius sinclair #dorian fitzgerald #eustace marfleet #reginald worthington #jasper sculthorpe #the bois #natchie #octavius #tyler lawrence #tystace

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remijaecrowley · 4 years

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The Voice of Serendipity -- Chapter 6

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 -- Final

The Bard and the Witcher shared a meal at The Golden Sturgeon, neutral ground, as it were. They ate their meal in a semi uncomfortable silence, only SEMI because they were both relieved the other had agreed to the meal together. The Bard found is slightly funny that the Witcher watched him warily now, especially when he had a fork and knife in hand. Though at one point, Jaskier huffed in exasperation and muttered at Geralt, "What is it? Why do you keep staring?"

Geralt shrugged slightly, Jaskier swearing he saw a ghost of a smile hit the Witcher's lips for a split second before he replied, "In case you decide hitting me with a lute and your fist wasn't enough. You might decide to fork me instead...."

The bard sputtered at first, for a moment mishearing the Witcher, only to groan and covered his face with the palm of a hand, "You said FORK, ok....ok....yeah. I get it."

When Jaskier finally dropped his hand from his face to look at Geralt, he nearly bust out laughing because of the look on the Witcher's face. For those who did not know the Witcher well, they would just assume it was his normal stony face, but to Jaskier, the Witcher's face was one of utter confusion and a little bit something Jaskier couldn't quite put his finger on. The confusion though, it was priceless to the Bard. Seeing Geralt looking like a confused puppy was something that Jaskier would always prize highly.

"What is it, Geralt? You seem to have a question you want to ask..." the bard chuckled, not quite managing to contain his mirth at seeing the look.

The Witcher's eyebrows were high on his forehead when the Bard chuckled, but the look settled into his normal resting stone face as he muttered, "I didn't mean it to sound like that. I didn't even think you....." the Witcher making rude hand gestures that anyone else would have taken offense to, "....you know....with men."

The Bard just chuckled more at the Witcher's lack of wanting to come out and say the word Fuck in this instance, since it did seem to be his FAVORITE word in his somewhat limited vocabulary. A sly smirk crosses the Bard's lips as he leans forward, his voice going low and velvety, as if he was trying to seduce one of his many court ladies, "Are you asking me if I have ever fucked men, Geralt? Are you asking to know if I was the fucker or the fuckee?"

The Witcher glared hard at the Bard, who was trying so very very hard not to burst at the seams in laughter, for those who DID know the Witcher well, would notice the telltale tinge of pink at his ear tips, the only place the Witcher ever seemed to blush.

"That's not what I meant either, Bard..." snarled Geralt, his eyes flickering about to make sure no one was actually listening into their conversation as it devolved into....well, Geralt wasn't sure where the conversation was going but Jaskier was having way too much fun with the fact it was making the Witcher squirm a bit.

Geralt was quick to change topics, mainly because The Voice still had him curious as to why it was suddenly silent now that he was with Jaskier, had found him and had apologized. Jaskier seemed to have partly forgiven him, though he knew he needed to earn the Bard's trust back. He wouldn't blame the bard for making it hard on him either. He had been an ass and he deserved whatever the Bard did to him as part of his apology.

"Jaskier....have you....heard a woman....talking to you?" The Witcher asked, not sure exactly how to word it without it sounding like he was a marble short, as the Bard is often fond of yelling at him when he does something crazy.

"I have heard plenty a lady speak to me, Geralt. You'll need to be a bit more specific...." Jaskier quipped, not understanding what the Witcher is trying to explain.

"Not....not just any woman, Jaskier. A voice in your head....a woman's voice." Geralt says, leaning forward on the table, so his voice could be lowered and not run the risk of the Bard not hearing his words.

Jaskier arched a brow at Geralt, confused as to what the bloody hell he was talking about. He leaned forward as well, their heads close together as if conspiring. Jaskier could feel the heat of the Witcher's breath on his face. The scent of ale, stew they ate, and a scent that was signature Geralt brushed lightly over his senses, causing the Bard to bite his bottom lip a little to keep from taking a deep breath; to breathe in Geralt's scent like a drowning man taking in a lung full of air as he broke the surface.

"wha...what do you mean, Geralt?" stumbled over his words, voice somewhat breathy as his senses recover, the Bard looks into the amber eyes of his Witcher, waiting for an explanation.

Geralt hmm'ed and leaned back for a moment as he glanced around the tavern, noticing it must be getting late, because the crowd had thinned from how it was earlier. How many hours had they been sitting there talking and drinking, the Witcher wondered. He turned his eyes back to the Bard, whom was still leaning forward, his sky blue eyes having never left his face. Geralt leans back so he was in Jaskier's space a bit as he murmured, "There...was a woman's voice....she pestered me to find you. Saying I needed to find you before it was too late..." The Witcher looked at his hands, so close to the bard's on the table. he only need stretch a finger and he'd be touching the back of the bard's hand. He was tempted to, but didn't as he cocked a brow and met the Bard's eyes once more. "Are you sure there is no woman's voice haunting you or have I finally lost that marble you keep talking about?"

Jaskier shook his head slightly, his eyes drop to the table as he thought for a moment, "No....no ghostly voices in my case, I am afraid, Witcher. Mayhaps you have dropped that marble finally?" he quipped, a small smile playing on his lips, not wanting to wonder what potent a disembodied voice urging the Witcher to find him meant for his near future. What if it was a Banshee, or some other spirit who cries of one's demise? The Bard's eyes go wide for a moment, wide enough for the Witcher to notice and lean even closer to ask quietly,"What? Did you think of something?"

Jaskier whipped his head up to stare in the Witcher's eyes. "What if it is a voice trying to warn you to get to me before.....be...before I die or something?" The Bard's voice creeped up the register, growing higher as his quickly developing panic took over.

Geralt sighed and shakes his head, dropped his hand on top of Jaskier's as he spoke,"It wasn't a Banshee, Jaskier. Relax. There no wraith form, just....a voice."

The Bard stopped listening to the Witcher, his concentration now centered strictly on the burning heat of Geralt's hand on top of his. Geralt noticed that Jaskier was now distracted from the panic he had been feeling moments prior, then noticed what had distracted the Bard. He didn't even remember moving his hand, but it rested on top of the bard's hand. He looked up at Jaskier, but the Bard's eyes were trained on their hands. He experimentally rubbed his thumb on the back of Jaskier's wrist, only to hear the softest gasp escape the Bard, like he had been shocked. He kept rubbing his thumb on the bard's wrist as he spoke,"Jaskier? Still with me, Little Lark?"

Jaskier's head snapped up at the nickname, pupils blown, but this time, not from fear. His breathing was shallow, the Bard nearly panting as he met the Witcher's golden gaze. He pulled his hand out from under Geralt's and whispered, "Don't....don't call me that, Geralt. I'm....I'm still hurt and angry at you. You don't get to use that nickname like nothing happened. I haven't completely forgiven you yet, you know..."

Geralt sighed, fighting the urge to grab the Bard's hand, not wanting him to pull away, not wanting him angry at him anymore. "What do you want me to say, Jaskier? That I am sorry? That I was wrong for what I said? I was. It was never your fault for my own stupidity. Do you want me to get on knee and beg your forgiveness? I'll do it. Right now..." The Witcher moved to take a knee next to the bard but Jaskier quickly waved him off.

"Stop it!" The Bard hissed, his cheeks tinged red at the fact the good folk of the tavern would take the Witcher on a knee in front of him WAY the wrong way and he didn't want that. (Or do you?) Jaskier growled at the traitorous thought in his mind as Geralt settled back in his chair.

"I want you to realize I am your FRIEND. I was there when you were hip deep in shit that destiny threw at you because that is what a FRIEND does. They try to help shovel the shit AWAY." The Bard uttered quietly as he watched the Witcher. "I want you to admit we are friends."

Geralt stared at the Bard as he spoke, feeling as if someone hit him between the eyes again with a lute. (He was never going to forget that for the rest of his life.) Did the Bard believe Geralt didn't think him a friend? Well, he hmmed to himself, he hasn't exactly SAID those words, but then again, was Jaskier JUST a friend?

"About time you started realizing that, Witcher....now tell HIM that." The Voice whispered suddenly out of nowhere. Geralt had started to think it left him be once he had found the Bard. Well, obviously he was wrong on that assumption.

"Jaskier....did....did you just...did you hear a woman speaking just now?" Geralt asked, hoping maybe the Bard would have heard it now that they were together.

"Do you mean the Barmaid? Or is your mystery woman whispering sweet nothings to you again?" the sarcasm in the Bard's words not lost on the Witcher. Bitter sarcasm at that. The Bard was waiting for an apology and he asked him if he was hearing the same voice he heard.

"He doesn't hear me, only you do, Witcher. You are going to lose him here and now if you do not answer him true, now tell him the truth! Apologize to him before it is too late!!" the Voice raised near the end of it's comment, obviously sick and tired of the Witcher not listening to it's advice.

The thunderous look was starting to creep back into the Bard's eyes, thinking Geralt was trying to find ways to not apologize now that he knew what Jaskier wanted for him to say. He leaned back in his seat and huffed, "Never mind, Witcher. You obviously can't say the words...." He pushed himself to stand up, only to watch Geralt leap to his feet as well.

"Jaskier, wait...." Geralt started, reaching out to touch the Bard's arm to stop him. The Bard dodged the grip, glaring at the Witcher.

"The meal was welcomed, Witcher. I am going to return to my room now. Unless we are in the same inn, in which case I will be seeing if one of the other inns in the city has a room open..." Jaskier hissed between his clenched teeth, fighting down the pain rising in his chest. He felt stupid, thinking Geralt would say anything. He was asking a lot of the Witcher, but damn it, he loved the man and he wanted the Witcher to admit he was a friend at the very least!

The Bard moved quickly toward the door, using tables to keep the Witcher from being able to stop him as he burst out the door and onto the street. Geralt growled deeply as he moved rapidly to catch the Bard, who was already speed walking down the street. Geralt's longer stride allowed him to catch up with the Bard easily enough. He grabbed the younger man by the upper arm, spinning him around into the alley nearby before the bard could even yell.

Jaskier looked at him angrily, seething and about to yell his head off at the Witcher that he didn't have any right to grab him like a common street thug and drag him into an alley....when something the Bard swears to this day he will always remember. The Witcher shoved him against the wall of the alley, pinning the Bard with his lower body as his hands planted against the wall on either side of the Bard's head. The Bard still glared up at the Witcher, STILL planning on yelling, when the Witcher leaned into him, startling soft lips brushed against his, silencing the Bard from uttering protest at being manhandled.

The first kiss was barely even a kiss. Just a brush of lips, to be honest. The second kiss though, the second kiss blazed fire down nerves as teeth nipped at lips, tongues fought for dominance, growls and moans swallowed like the sweetest wine. The Bard quickly wrapped his arms up around the Witcher's neck as the larger man crowded the smaller against the wall, bodies pressed together, two pieces of a whole. Jaskier's fingers buried themselves into the locks of the Witcher, tugging insistently, while the Bard gave as good as he got from the Witcher. Geralt's hands were cradling the Bard's face while his mouth devoured the whimpers and moans of pleasure escaping the Bard's lips.

Geralt finally pulls away from the Bard's lips, though it was a feat of strength of will on his part. He wanted nothing more than to keep kissing the man in his arms until the taste of him was branded into his memory. Jaskier looked up at Geralt, pushing up on his toes to try to recapture the Witcher's lips, only to have Geralt chuckle deeply, a rumbling in his chest that made the Bard whine as he fought harder to get those lips back on his. Geralt had the advantage though, managing to hold the wiry Bard at bay as he murmured,"Now do you understand what you mean to me?"

Jaskier stopped his struggles to regain those sweet plump lips as he heard what Geralt said. Biting his bottom lip as he looked up at the larger man, he quipped, "You might need to tell me more.....repeatedly.....with possible nudity involved...."

The Witcher snorted at the Bard's sass, only to growl lowly against the Bard's ear,"Possible nudity?"

Jaskier nearly swallowed his tongue at the growl because it did such delightfully wicked things to his insides. He whined loudly, "Definitely nudity, most definitely nudity involved...."

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #The Voice Of Serendipity #geralt x jaskier #jaskier the bard #geralt of rivia #geralt witcher

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