#anyway i had a great time writing about these two. monica is just So Much and hubert is hubert [affectionate]

[clockworkflicker]

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In Sickness and In Spite

3.5k words, F cold. Familiarity with the source material is not required.

Fi/re Emb/lem Thr/ee Ho/pes — platonic Hubert & Monica. Snzfic + character study. These idiot rivals begrudgingly care about each other, your honor! Cue mlm-wlw bickering. Inspired by this post about ice magic. We love a sniffly traumatized mage.

Content warnings for wartime medieval fantasy setting, referenced past imprisonment, and mess.

“Return to the eastern encampment at once, and see to it that our reserves are told to prepare for the capture of Arianrhod.”

The faintest of smiles threatens to tug at Hubert’s lips as he hands a letter off to the courier standing at attention in his quarters. His expression, which the courier might later describe as “reeking of malicious contentedness” is one that Hubert’s fellow commanders are slowly growing used to as this war drags on, but it still sends a chill down the spines of those less familiar with the man’s more dubious qualities.

“Count Bergliez is to bring his troops to Arianrhod to hold the city in our absence, do I make myself clear?”

The man’s voice is smooth as dark chocolate, and equally rich, the courier finds himself thinking as he accepts the letter from Hubert. Of course, now is no time to indulge in chocolate, nor thoughts of admiration of a man’s voice. How foolish.

“I’ll see it done.”

Hubert folds his arms and gives a subtle nod. “Good. Well then, safe travels.”

The courier leaves, and Hubert finds himself once again alone in his quarters. He considers stepping out to check in with Lady Edelgard and discuss upcoming battle plans, but he thinks better of it once he pulls the drape from the entrance to his tent and sees that the sun has already set. They’ll be marching again early in the morning, and Her Majesty is likely to be asleep (or attempting to sleep, at least) by this hour.

He lights the lantern at his desk and sets a kettle to boil for coffee. His body feels heavy after the day’s skirmish at Magdred Way, but his mind isn’t quite ready to sleep. His troops encountered those damn Agarthan mages looming between the trees at Magdred. Evidence of their continued presence in this war, pulling the strings from behind the curtains, is enough to keep him up at night — not that he’d ever admit to such a thing. Given that he’s not sleeping just yet, there’s no sense in squandering an opportunity to get some work done, so he settles down with a stack of paperwork and quill.

Outside, a chorus of crickets come alive for the night, cautiously chirping along with the smoky early-autumn breeze and the occasional chatter from other commanders and soldiers passing by. After some time, the sound of a harsh sneeze pierces the white noise. Hubert casts a slow glance to his tent’s entrance. It sounded close by, but no one’s immediately outside the tent. He sets the distraction aside and returns to the list of provisions he was perusing.

But he can’t help but notice that the crickets’ song is punctuated by the occasional sniffle. Is that new, or has he only just noticed it now, he wonders. After a few minutes, there’s another sneeze, this one more high pitched than the last, followed by a slow, laden groan. It’s a familiar groan, he realizes. He knows exactly who it belongs to.

Unlike Monica von Ochs, Hubert does not possess a perfect memory. But given the frequency with which the woman expresses irritation around him, he would be remiss not to recognize the sound of her grumbling.

Her tent isn’t far from his. “I’m Her Majesty’s vassal just as much as you are,” Monica had insisted when they’d been setting up their base camp last week. “If she has need of me, I wish to be prepared and nearby.”

While Hubert finds her near-constant presence and general lack of composure to be somewhat grating, he certainly cannot complain about the woman’s dedication. Monica is, above all else, a valuable asset to the army and confidant to Her Majesty.

The kettle boils. He sets his quill aside and finds the coffee grounds he’d packed in his satchel. His eyes fall on the Almyran pine tea blend he keeps handy next to his stash of coffee grounds — a provision should he find a spare moment to enjoy a warm beverage with Ferdinand.

Hubert briefly regards the pine needles. Certainly not the ideal tea for a cold, and he can’t imagine his neighbor would particularly want his company. And yet...

~~~

There’s ice in her veins and haze clouding her head, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter. She sits at her desk, bundled up in her cloak with a quill and stack of paperwork. The flickering light from her lantern blurs her vision, eyes half-lidded and threatening to grow too rheumy to make out the words.

Not that it matters much. The chill gnawing at her bones from the inside out is enough of a distraction on its own that Monica finds herself wholly unable to make a dent in the status report she’s meant to have on Her Majesty’s desk by tomorrow morning.

She sniffles in irritation. She’d managed to doze off immediately after returning from Magdred this afternoon, but sleep held little respite. After a few hours of tossing and turning, she’d gasped awake, shivering with ire and cold sweat, unpleasant memories distorted by the whims of her feverish subconscious still vivid in her mind. With some effort, Monica had forced herself upright, shakily grasping the glass of water beside her bed and taking a drink.

She’s never forgotten what it’s like to be locked up in a cell — how could she? They say time heals all wounds, but such a thing can’t be true; not for her. While the sands of time are kind enough to erode others’ painful memories, weathering away sharp edges into manageable curves, Monica needs only close her eyes to find herself back on that cold stone floor, every detail in place, nothing forgotten. Exactly 296 stone blocks comprised the wall she had been chained to. That horrible woman’s raucous laugh, which always hit G#, no higher, no lower. The gleam of her athame, teasingly pressed below Monica’s jaw with just enough force to draw a thin line of fresh blood. The warm ferrous odor intermingling with the cool musk of the dungeon and that woman’s near-intoxicating scent of patchouli, sage, and mahogany.

And knowing Her Majesty was put through something so much worse; held in a cell and poked, prodded, sliced open, then reassembled as a tool of war? It makes her blood boil.

Her head had swam from sitting up so fast; a reminder that this Goddess-forsaken fever is going to literally boil her blood if she’s not careful.

Against her better judgement, she’d lit her lantern and dragged herself to her desk to take care of some paperwork. As much as she’d love to drift back off to sleep, the thought of going back there — even if only in a dream — is more than enough to keep her wide awake for a few more hours. Normally, she’d go out for a run or a swim to clear her head and simmer down, but she frankly can’t imagine her body will comply today.

Pinching her nose with a handkerchief that has long outlived its usefulness, Monica distantly wonders what would’ve become of her in that cold dark cell, had Her Majesty not come to her aid. She’d be dead, probably. It’s a useless thought, but one that plagues her nonetheless. Her nose is no less damp when she pulls the cloth away, so she sniffles again and resigns to just cleaning herself up with the inner collar of her cloak, soft fabric feeling like sandpaper against her nostrils.

“Monica?” A low voice from outside her tent startles her back to reality. “It’s Hubert. I have a matter I’d like to discuss, if you wouldn’t mind my company at this hour.”

She hesitates. Company is the last thing she wants right now. Well, perhaps she wouldn’t mind if it was Lady Edelgard or Dorothea...

“I’ll leave you be if you’d prefer it,” Hubert continues when she doesn’t reply. “But I thought it prudent to offer some tea.”

Still no response. Hubert briefly wonders if she’s managed to fall asleep. But then a small sniffle breaks the silence, followed by the sound of shuffling blankets. Monica draws aside the thick cloth draped over her tent’s entrance, eyes tilted up to meet his. Her brow is knit in confusion, but her gaze is glassy and distant. By the look of things, it was indeed the prospect of tea that coaxed her out.

She finds Hubert stood before her, holding two cups, warm steam gently rising from both. Monica doesn’t need her sense of smell to know their contents. One black coffee — a preposterous choice of beverage at this hour — and one Almyran pine tea. It’s almost a comedic image, the way the man's usual looming presence is kneecapped by something as mundane as a warm drink.

“You keep Almyran pine needles on your person specifically for Ferdinand,” she says plainly, her voice hoarse around the edges. “Why offer them to me?”

A slight frown draws Hubert’s lips. This woman is irritatingly perceptive and straightforward, especially when it comes to relationships he would prefer she kept quiet about.

But even in the low light, he can see the exhaustion plainly written across Monica’s face; dark thumbprints pressed beneath her eyes, a glimmer of moisture sits below her pinkish nose, her pallor framed by a mess of untamed burgundy locks. Judging by the paperwork strewn about on her desk, he figures she’s been just as busy as he’s been this evening. It’s not all that cold out, but her slight frame is swallowed up in a heavy winter cloak. Despite this, she looks to be shivering a little, and Hubert makes a mental note to check later if any of her reports from this excursion will need to be rewritten due to shaky handwriting.

While Monica is objectively the shortest commander in the Adrestian army, her shrewd demeanor and prowess on the battlefield are more than enough to compensate for what she lacks in height. But for the first time in years, Hubert finds himself thinking that she just looks small.

“You’re ill,” he says, matching her matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes, and?” Her eyes narrow, unfocused, and she inhales an uneven breath, then another. She ducks to the side with a horribly gruff sneeze, snatching the collar of her cloak up to meet her face as she shudders forward with the force of it. “ihh- hheh-! hHT’CHHUHshh!”

“And tea serves the dual purpose of perhaps offering some relief while also coaxing you away from your paperwork.” Hubert gives a small sigh, still looking stoic. “I should admonish you for working late in such a state.”

She scoffs, the watery phlegm crackling in her airways making her sound far more pitiful than disdainful, much to her chagrin. Wincing, she snuffles and rubs at her nose through the fabric. When she clears her throat, it does absolutely nothing for her wrecked voice. “As if you’re not guilty of the same.”

“Unlike you, I possess the sense not to work myself sick.”

“If you say so.” Knowing the man’s work-life balance (or lack thereof), Monica finds that statement highly unlikely. If she weren't so sick, she’d call him out for it, but she can’t quite muster the energy to get worked up over it at the moment. Another chill shakes through her, and it occurs to her that she’d much rather be sitting than standing, and a warm drink really does sound nice. She swallows thickly and glances away. “Anyway, I, um, I won’t say no to tea. If you’re offering.”

“That is why I’m here, yes,” Hubert says with a hint of levity, handing her a cup.

She gratefully accepts it, the deliciously warm ceramic prickling her cold fingertips. The rising steam causes her nose to run a bit more than it already was, but she revels in its gentle heat. “You said there was something you wanted to —” she pauses to sniffle, and exhales a tired, drippy guhh. “— to discuss?”

~~~

The two sit beside a small fire, tucked away at the edge of the base camp. On any other day, Monica would have simply invited Hubert to join her in her quarters, but she can’t imagine she’d be able to keep this damn cold to herself in such a small enclosed space, so this will have to do.

“Were you unwell when we marched on Magdred this morning?” He asks, settling down on a fallen log once he’s convinced he’s fed the fire enough wood to sustain itself. The flames dance, bathing them both in a warm glow amidst the dusky woods.

She shakes her head. “What, would you expect me to delay our troops because of a sore throat? I simply did what was necessary.” Monica takes a careful sip of her tea. Swallowing hurts, but it warms her from the inside out. Although her senses are too dulled to get a good handle on the flavor, she finds the tea has a distinct, earthy quality. It reminds her of simpler days spent hunting in the mountainous woodlands scattered about inland Ochs territory.

“And last night?” Hubert raises an eyebrow.

“I thought it was just exhaustion and nerves, at that point. We’d been marching all day, after all.” Smoke from the fire makes her sinuses burn, prompting her to retreat further into her cloak with a watery sniff, almost like a turtle into its shell.  

“For someone so perceptive, you certainly posses an impressive lack of self-awareness.” He tilts his head with a slight smirk. “Perhaps if you didn’t so frequently find yourself flush with rage or affection, you wouldn’t struggle to tell apart fatigue from fever.”

She glowers. “Perhaps if you grew flush with rage every now and again, you wouldn’t have the complexion of a coffin-dweller.” Smoke catches in her throat as she speaks, completely stripping the insult of any teeth it may have had otherwise. She muffles a few weary coughs against her collar, causing a bit of mess to spill from her nose and create another dark patch on the fabric.

Hubert exhales a dry laugh. In spite of everything, it’s good to see that she’s at least well enough to quip back. “Well, there’s nothing to be done for it now. But do try to be more conscientious of your limits.”  

Monica narrows her eyes with a sniff. “I know very well how hard I can push myself, thank you.” As if to deny her claim, the irritation in her airways causes her breath to hitch. Her eyes squint shut and her face contorts into an expression somewhere between a grimace and a snarl. She snaps forward with a desperate and distressingly sick-sounding sneeze, frantically aimed at the fabric resting atop her shoulders. She’d meant to stifle, but there’s only so much one can do when attempting to restrain such a forceful sneeze hands-free. She fumbles her cup of tea, spilling a bit in the process.

“And yet I can’t help but find your form as of late to be rather... rash.” Hubert turns his eyes back to the fire, not wishing for his gaze to be a source of further embarrassment for his stricken companion.

The gesture does not go unnoticed, and she’s grateful for it. The space between her nose and lips is slick, and a string of glistening mess dangles precariously from her septum to her cloak before falling against her chest. She instinctively snuffles, and immediately regrets doing so, as it produces a horribly soupy sound and reignites the burning itch. She hastily sets her tea aside and clutches at her collar with steepled hands, trembling with a flurry of quick, audibly damp breaths, until —

“ihheH- hH’KSSCH’ue! …hh? …hht’KSSCH’uhh!”

The second sneeze rends her throat, leaving her airways and collar absolutely drenched. With a small, exhausted groan, she allows herself just a brief moment of feeling sorry for herself before tending to her nose. She’s soaked through the fabric in her hands, and finds herself wondering if she needs to worry about running out of cloak. After finding a suitably dry spot, Monica draws a handful of cloak to her face and begins cleaning herself up. The stinging sensation of dry fabric against slick, inflamed skin makes her wince. “How so?”

“Lady Edelgard tells me you’ve had quite the talent for fire magic since you were young, and I must agree. The army would be remiss without a skilled mage such as yourself to set enemy strongholds ablaze.”

If she were alone, Monica would have blown her nose by now, but the thought of doing so in front of someone else makes her stomach twist in a knot. Clearly, if his unprompted arrival at her tent with tea is anything to go by, she's assaulted Hubert (and the rest of the camp, for that matter) with far too great a volume of sick noises as is. Goddess, she hopes Her Majesty hasn't overheard any of this. Monica settles for gently pinching her nose between the slick fabric, which does, blessedly, remove a decent amount of moisture. She gives a tired sigh, cautiously reaching down to retrieve her tea, almost afraid another sneeze will cause her drop it without warning. “What’re you getting at?”

Hubert gestures to the jet black tome strapped to her hip. “You’ve been teaching yourself ice spells recently. Why?”

“What kind of question is that?” She crinkles her nose. “Sometimes it’s more beneficial to freeze an enemy in place than set them on fire. Anyone can benefit from being more versatile.”

“Is versatility truly your reason, though? The elemental whiplash you must be giving yourself can’t be healthy.” Hubert gives her a knowing look as he raises his coffee to his lips.

Monica stares at him, then looks down at her tea. Assailing an enemy with flames, followed up by an ice spell, is going to inflict more pain than fire alone. That’s her reason. It’s that simple.

“We’ve recently been fighting more of the people who imprisoned Her Majesty and me. The dark mages at Magdred, for example. I...” she pauses with a sharp sniffle, frustrated with this cold, frustrated with Hubert for prompting her to confront one of her more wicked impulses at a time like this, frustrated with herself for being such a deeply bitter person. “I want it to hurt.”

Hubert remains silent and his expression unreadable, much to Monica’s annoyance. She presumes that his lack of reaction means she’s just confirmed something he was already aware of. Goddess, she hates how he seems to know her vices better than she knows them herself.

Finally, he speaks. “I understand.” His voice is low and surprisingly sincere. “Not a day goes by that I don’t lament my failure to protect Her Majesty when it mattered most.”

‘I understand’ is a bit of an unspoken compromise between two people who will never truly see eye to eye. Their ire for Edelgard’s captors is not equivalent, and they both know it. Hubert is cold and calculating, more than able to channel his emotions into neat, underhanded tactics that will serve Her Majesty well. But for Monica, it’s a spiteful, burning hatred that hungers for vengeance. It’s selfish and cruel and everything she wishes she wasn’t.

Hubert continues. “But, for Lady Edelgard’s sake, if not your own, I ask that you don’t do this to yourself. Even the most skilled mages aren’t equipped to deal with recoil from opposing elements. I suspect you’re intimately aware of this fact.”

He’s not wrong, Monica must admit. Ice magic has a way of chilling its caster to the bone, and alternating between fire and ice always leaves her a sniffly mess. It’s caused easily-ignored colds to turn debilitating more times than she’d care to let on. She doesn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected anyone, let alone Hubert, of all people, to care.

Before she can fully sort out her thoughts, a familiar burning sensation bristles at her sinuses. Her mouth hangs slightly open in uncertainty, brow furrowed, and a small, wavering breath sifts through her teeth. Monica teeters on the precipice for just a moment. Watery mucus drips down one flared nostril, then the other, pooling above her lip. She dares not sniffle, or else —

“ihhh-? hehh- hED’SSHuuh!”

She ducks to the side and clings desperately to her teacup as a half-stifled shivery sneeze seizes her, sending another unfortunate deluge of soupy mess down her face. Goddess, she’s tired. “snndffl. ghuhh. You could say that.”

Once again, she sets aside her tea and takes to tending to her nose. “Look, Hubert, I appreciate the concernd, but I...” she trails off with a congested groan and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Far be it from me to lecture you,” Hubert says, standing from his seat on the log and turning to leave, “but destroying yourself won’t change the past.”

“Where are you going?” Monica looks up at him, confused.

“To fetch my kettle. You’re still shaking, and have just about spilled the last of the tea.”

Pulling her cloak a little tighter around herself, she watches him walk back to his tent. She thinks that perhaps, just this once, he might have a point.

#y'alllllll it's finally FINALLY done!!!!!! #i've been working on this since late july and it went through like three rewrites so I Am Thrilled To Be Done. happy sicktember! #monnie is one of the worst written characters ive ever seen in a video game #she had so much potential to be interesting and the breadcrumbs are certainly there but GOD #the writers hecked the fuck up #thankfully i know how to write her Correctly #the devs just straight up handed us a canon lesbian and said #'she's horribly traumatized and has a ton of ugly emotions simmering below the surface but we're not going to address any of that' #anyway i had a great time writing about these two. monica is just So Much and hubert is hubert [affectionate] #also this has almost nothing to do with this particular fic but you can't tell me that monica doesnt fuck a sneeze okay #the sky is blue. capitalism sucks. mon/ica von o/chs is a sneezefucker. these are immutable truths #the fact that she canonically has a running tally of how many times edel/gard has expressed concern for her health is proof enough #(i looked it up. the tally is at 208 at the time of the cutscene she mentions it) #this woman is unhinged we love to see it #i'd also point to her love for tea (and making tea for edel/gard) if it weren't for the fact that 90% of the cast loves tea #'oh lady edelgard! it's chilly out! would you like some tea? a coat?' girl. honey. i know what you are. #th/ree hou/ses and th/ree ho/pes are such funny games. these bitches really do just swing swords and drink tea all day long #my art #my writing #btw this isn't beta'd so if you see a typo or something that makes no sense please PLEASE tell me

[hecckyeah]

Hey! I’m super enjoying your pro-Joey Friends phase. It was my favorite show for a long time.

You had a GREAT post about how that relationship really grew and matured both Joey and Rachel’s characters, and I want to add that the fizzling of that relationship also DESTROYED Joey’s character.

Joey finally falling in love - real love - with Rachel made him see the hollow/shallow reality of his womanizing ways. His parents’ dysfunctional marriage really affected him early on in the series, and I head canon that he felt safe with Rachel. They developed that trust from living together. She was a person he’d never tire of the way that his father tired of his mother and sought out someone else.

When things didn’t work out with Rachel, the writers infantalized him. For laughs. Monica and Chandler joked that they’d have to have a room for him at their new house so they could take care of him forever because he couldn’t take care of himself. A grown man. Who had a good job and lived on his own since his 20’s.

If anyone should’ve been stuck in neutral forever, it was Ross. He was self-destructive from the start (Carol destroyed him and he never got over it and kept hurting other people because of it) and it would’ve been so satisfying to see him just stay in NY and raise his son and be a confirmed old bachelor. He had the temperament for being alone.

Oh! And one more thing: Joey was the first one to step up and offer to be committed to Rachel to help her raise Emma, and even tho Rachel turned him down, he ended up doing it anyway because Ross drove her away.

Anyway, I haven’t thought about all of this in a long time! But it’s been a lot of fun to read your takes and analysis. ☺️

Hi!!

Okay oh my gosh YES to all of this. OH the essays I could write.

I actually went through this exact same phase many years ago, and hadn't watched Friends in a while, so now just speeding through the entire series in a couple months, it's really giving me a different perspective than I had the first time. I'm also quite a bit older (you know how people change so much from late teen years to early twenties? It's crazy) and I have a different frame of reference for all the issues these characters deal with, since a lot of them have become my own issues now. There's so much nuance I didn't pick up on the first time around.

You are so right about Joey's character deteriorating after season 9. It's like the writers didn't know what to do with him except continuing his infamous saga of being an immature, stupid womanizer. He has no character development in season 10. Nothing pushing him ahead, nothing to look forward to like the other 5. Monica and Chandler having their babies and moving, of course, Rachel getting the Paris job offer, Phoebe and Mike getting married. What's in all this for Joey? Jokes about him being possessive of food and regressing back to how he was five or six seasons ago.

Infantilizing is absolutely the perfect word. Of all the friends, I would say Joey had the biggest development in the shortest amount of time, with Rachel right there with him. He was immediately ready to step up when she told him she was pregnant, without giving it any kind of second thought. In fact, he begged her to stay and live with him when she was so sure he would hate the idea. He was there with her at every turn, when she was scared about the braxton hicks, when she had so much anxiety about being a single mom, and especially when she missed going on dates and he made the perfect pseudo-boyfriend.

He absolutely felt safe with her, probably more than anyone he'd ever known. They're so similar in so many ways and he'd been living with her for years. Rachel couldn't even live with Ross for a year, or probably less (the timeline isn't super clear, let's be honest lol). She and Joey finally fell into this relationship built on an incredible foundation of trust and friendship (just like two other friends we all know and love), but they broke up because......???? of Ross? Or something? They were so perfect for each other, the writers had to bumble their way through a breakup in the weirdest way possible.

And then how do they treat Joey in season 10? Like he's the dumbest person who's ever existed. I get that he's not the sharpest crayon in the box, but they play up the stupid factor by about a thousand, and it's infuriating. I've always said he's the emotionally intelligent one of the group, but not even that is really shown in season 10. He flunks at the Pyramid game, he doesn't realize he's not speaking French, digs are made at his character, like you said with Monica and Chandler having a "Joey room" in their house. Sweet idea, horrible insinuation.

I mean, the man is in his mid-thirties. He's been through more life than Ross, for sure. I specifically remember watching that episode recently with Joey's parents and thinking how mature he was, how protective of his mom. And how angry he was at his dad, and insistent that he make things right with Ma. He's had to fight tooth and nail for a place in the world of showbusiness. He's had to watch all his friends find love and settle down and get everything they've ever wanted, while he's been in love exactly once in his entire life. He's grown and matured and when his best friend was pregnant, he realized that he actually wants to settle down and have a family. I mean, what level of growth and maturity does it take to realize that?

In earlier seasons, his demeanor was totally different. I don't even recognize season 10 Joey. They had to kill his very essence to explain their breakup.

And yeah, like you said. I think they wrote Ross into a storyline that -- if we're being realistic -- can only end with him being a bachelor and working at the university. He's never been able to live with anyone. He was a terrible roommate for Joey and Chandler, and he and Rachel couldn't last. Not only is he self-destructive, but he's destructive to everyone around him.

What kind of world do we live in where Joey "my god, she is... beautiful" Tribbiani doesn't get a happy ending, and Ross "we were on a break" Geller does??

Anyway, there's the essay for the day. My mind kind of ran away with me and I probably have more to say and maybe I'll organize my thoughts someday, but I'm watching season 10 as we speak and I'm just so. so sad. about how it all turned out. But I'll just live in AO3 Land and pretend Rachel and Joey raise their little family and grow old together and Ross stagnates and continues his precious tenure.

#asks #omg i am so sorry for the multi-paragraph ramble #thank you for the ask!!! I'm so glad I'm not the crazy one around here lmao #friends tv #anti ross geller #joey tribbiani #rachel green

[fireemblems24]

Scarlet Blaze Ch 9

Going to admit up front that I'm incredibly unmotivated to play this, but here we go.

STORY

Ok, so calling it now. Edelgard realizes she's a dumbass for thinking her single-supply line 10/10 army strategies couldn't smash all of Fodlan under her fist at the same time. So she's going back to look at options.

Given what the story's said so far, write it down - Edelgard will call a temp truce with Claude to focus on the Kingdom. Then she'll later plan on fighting the Alliance or doing exactly what she accuses Rhea of doing and ruling the Alliance with her soft-power.

Lysithea showing up? Does she if you don't recruit her? She doesn't really add anything to the scene.

Hubert thinks TWSITD wants to recruit Shez. He's getting interrogated by his own allies. Yikes. Deserved. That's what you get for fighting for the Imperialist land-hungry country.

Oh, no side-battles this time, like in GW in ch 8. Good. Means it'll go fast.

MAP/SIDE BATTLES

I keep remembering that Ingrid's dead in this storyline. If Sylvain or Felix are recruitable after this, that's straight-up character assassination.

Monica adds nothing of value. Her personality is literally just "Edelgard."

"Whatever part of me that was a knight is dead." - Ashe 😭 It's like CF!Felix all over again. He's just miserable. At least someone here gives a fuck about Ingrid.

Lysithea not trusting the Empire saga continues.

Least self-aware Imperial soldier "Why, what would happen if instead the Empire itself were suddenly invaded?"

Glad to see Mercedes expressing regrets.

Ok. Who wrote this? "I believe the Church of Serios ought to be protecting the people of Adrestia even now." 🤣

SHEZ & MONICA B SUPPORT

I'm sure this will be a deep, nuanced conversation. 👌

Monica is jealous of Shez because Edelgard is impressed with him. And is in denial.

She claims her relationship with Edelgard is deeper and Shez is just her servant.

Monica literally counts how many times Edelgard says people's names.

Much deep. Such character.

EDELGARD & BALTHUS B SUPPORT

Their final support.

Hubert told Edelgard Balthus was a womanizer. Hubert is really over the top in this game, lamo.

Edelgard isn't Balthus' type. Taste.

"I'm not compassionate - merely hopelessly committed to my ideals." - Some self-awareness this time. Nice.

"I've set out to unite all of Fodlan. I've started a war over it." - Edelgard.

I've seen people say the fandom say we shouldn't assume Hubert's thoughts are Edelgard, fair. But, like, it's right there. Out of her own mouth. Again.

She promises to protect anyone who serves her and her ideals. Tell that to Houses!Bernedetta or Houses!Monica.

In the end she invites him to a war council.

MANUELA & JERITZA B SUPPORT

Their final support.

Manuela notices that Jeritza is getting along better with the soldiers. He compliments her for being perceptive.

Manuela tells him that all he's missing is a smile. Not going to lie, I thought she was going to say "wife" instead.

She's really pulling a "you should smile." She and Claude need to get put in a corner for that. Albeit, Manuela is acting as his teacher, Claude's just being a sexist ass.

Jertiza smiles and seems to like Manuela, but not the way she wants.

HUBERT, PETRA, & JERITZA PARALOGUE

I see Lorenz is in two paralogues available here, so I guess characters sometimes are in more than one?

Anyways, plan is to use Hubert and/or Petra while Jeritza gets carried around.

I think I pissed Hubert off and made Jeritza happy.

They debate how tough the group is. Game is being somewhat self-aware by having people be like "move on already."

Soooo . . . this paralogue is about stopping the Church of Serios from assassinating Count Varley. Fuck that.

So in this paralogue we're rescuing an abusive father who's using faith as propaganda from the people trying to get rid of corrupt leaders in the location of the home we chased them out of on threat of murder if they return. Great.

Man, we had to fight Shamir and Catherine duo :(

Catherine asked if we were really willing to die for Varley. You know it's bad when Catherine is the smartest one in the room.

SHEZ & JERITZA B SUPPORT

Jeritza is looking for someone. He saw them and he ran away.

Shez described Jeritza as having a "murdery aura," accurate.

He says he'll never "capture her." Man, Shez, not sure it's a good idea to help him here.

He denies getting help.

LORENZ, FERDINAND, & CONSTANCE PARALOGUE

They're all having tea together and discussing it and trying to "out noble" each other and kissing each other's ass.

Constance feels inferior to their nobility. It's her sun thing, right?

Constance asks them which one is the most noble. Ferdinand says it's not noble to rank things like that. Constance calls them cowards essentially.

Now they're having a competition and asks Shez to judge. Shez suggests a training battle.

I hope Ferdinand gets a second paralogue that's most interesting than this. The dialogue wasn't even that funny outside the the first part.

It was an extremely mid plot, but fun to play with the time limit on killing all the generals.

If Ferdinand was MVP, does that mean he won?

Shez won. Is that automatic then? I jumped back and forth between Shez and Ferdinand the whole time.

Now they're going to have a tea party.

MAIN BATTLE/STORY

Monica is soooo boring.

People are trying to assassinate Edelgard. Hubert suspects Shez.

Shez, Monica, and Hubert rescue Edelgard from Shamir in a cut scene. Hubert also blasted at Shamir and Monica was in the way of his magic. Monica gets mad. No one told her what happened in Houses lamo.

Edelgard just stands there the whole time during the cut scene lol.

Oh, Edelgard's a green unit this time. Weird. Like it made sense for Dimitri but the moment we busted him out, he was playable. Edelgard isn't under threat of Cornelia or anything. Oh well, she's not one of my best units.

Oh, fuck, I can't use Hubert either. That actually does sting.

It's ok. I still have Ferdinand and Shez, Manuela is good too.

Persuade Shamir is an option. Makes sense I guess.

I have to protect Edelgard from getting routed. But what if I just . . . don't? Kinda weird how she's just . . . standing there. Like there's no in-game reason for why she's not fighting and just sitting around letting everyone else save her.

Edelgard left the throne room for like a minute and needed to get warp rescued back lamo.

OMG, Shamir only defects to save Catherine's life. 😭😭😭😭😭 Girlfriends.

I feel so much like the villain right now. After that stuff with Catherine and Shamir.

Ferdinand's father escaped. Hubert's taking it out on Ferdinand.

I think Hubert will use this escape as an excuse to kill Aegir.

They used a secret passage. Rhea probably helped build it lol.

Hubert is apologizing for suspecting Shez.

Wow, Shez only got promoted so Hubert could investigate him. So Edelgard only promoted a commoner because she suspected him of being a spy.

Yikes, poor Shez. Claude leaves him with no work (and not much pay) for years and Edelgard suspect Shez is with the enemy nearly the entire game.

I get to make Shez pissed off though. He's actually calling them out for being two-faced too.

"The great war Edelgard instigated" - narration. Claude, Dimitri - neither of you started this.

Part 1 Fin. Like with GW. I suspect AG will get that after Ch 9 too and GW is just one chapter ahead time-wise than the others right now.

xxxx

#fire emblem #fire emblem three hopes #scarlet blaze #three hopes #scarlet blaze spoilers

[adamantineheart]

my final three hopes thoughts

AG >>>>>> SB >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> GW

anyway

The Good

AG is basically just dimilix fanfic. like we are either psychics or INTSYS/KT owes us royalties.

The character work in AG was phenomenal. They way they adjusted the characters for their situation but still made them feel like who they are? Fucking ace. SB went a little differently, where certain characters feel much different but I can forgive it because the eagle kiddos were always weird for characterization due to the route split. Which version of these characters you consider canon is up to you.

Whoever wrote the Duscur and Sreng paralogues… I love you. The Duscur paralogue is just so so so emotionally moving and really lets Dedue grieve as he usually isn't allowed and gave Ingrid a lot of closure she desperately needed. Meanwhile Felix gets to just really show what kind of person he is and drive home that what he needs is the present aka Dimitri to feel satisfied (instead of clinging to the past). Sreng was wonderful for the lore, political situation, and all that character work, especially between Sylvain and Matthias.

Monica is the character I didn't know I wanted. I love her…. I've already added background Monigard to two dmlx fics. She's just the perfect amount of unhinged. <3

Playable Rodrigue is one of the best parts of this game. THANK YOU!!!! It also means his optional death is the most impactful of the game, aided by it being centered around dimilix and not Shez.

Voiced Shez is an improvement, as is voiced Byleth. I also appreciate that Shez isn't anyone important and is a student instead of a teacher. Also thank you for only making some characters make romantic overtures toward Shez instead of almost all of them.

There are a lot of excellent paralogues in the game and most of them had a lot of thought put into their setup (which characters were chosen, the premise, the writing, etc).

Making my blorbos uber powerful is a lot of fun 💙Also Felix is such a fun unit (I loved the sword units the most tbf).

Supports are generally amazing. A lot of improvements to some original chains or new versions that add something to the relationship. All new chains altogether that fleshed out relationships we were denied before. Also a lot of ships I hate had reduced supports or had them removed altogether :) No one won as hard as me in the shipping department tbh. 🫡

A great OST again even if nothing hit quite as hard as some of the original final boss themes.

I actually love the setup of the story even if I take issue with individual routes or moments. But it was nice getting out of the academy setting and exploring Fódlan instead. 

Did I mention Dimitri and Felix? His Majesty and Duke Fraldarius? They are perfect and I love them.

The Bad

No fucking snow maps in Faerghus.

Edelgard's reunification scheme is 10x worse here than Three Houses because Rhea is willing to ally with her against TWSITD. As usual, Edelgard is stuck in her assumptions on what she thinks is true and refuses have an open dialogue with the Church and Dimitri, choosing violence because she believes she knows what's best for everyone. I've accepted this about her but it's still a hard pill to swallow that dangled her talking to Rhea and Dimitri above our heads and then took it away.

​​Zahras is badly written independent of route, just like Gronder Field. The desire to make the lords interact even when it’s nonsensical just needs to stop. It sucked every time.

IT’S SO EXPENSIVE TO UPGRADE STUFF (like weapons). LIKE REALLY EXPENSIVE.

Every route had issues, especially toward the end but the worst for me was GW. There was a lot of bad character shit, not just for Claude, though he was the plot instigator of everyone else being out for blood.

Almyra is a joke now I guess. Actually, it flip flops being a joke and completely awful. It’s true they were never great in FE3H but Cyril existed as a contrast. Him not being playable sucked. 🙁

Scarlet Blaze’s convient ending…….. Edelgard’s main enemies just kill each other……….. it just felt like “Why were we even there?” We accomplished nothing.

How dare I not be able to making Dimitri and Felix marry :( WHERE IS THE DIMILIX WEDDING DLC!

#few3h

[0tivez]

how they fell in love with you

note: the urge to write smut is sometimes overpowered by the desperate desire to fall in love, so there ya go. might write how you fell in love with them sometimes in the future. quick note, my finals are coming up! yay! but fret not, mama will feed you nonetheless

warnings: nsfw undertones, not explicit, gender neutral reader, scary mask mentioned if you are sensitive to those do not search it on google lol

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji

<- navigation

gojo

⁜ he's not a man of love, so he didn't even realize he was falling until it was too late

⁜ gojo is pretty much a loner, so he avoids having feelings romantically

⁜ probably thought "oh fuck" to himself

⁜ he realized it when he was bored and the first person he thought of calling was you

⁜ because he knew you would hang out with him, even if you were busy

⁜ and he appreciated that a lot

⁜ one thought to another, it hit him on his head

⁜ he thought it was just a crush but nooo

⁜ after that night, everything you did felt captivating

⁜ reaching for a book at a high shelf? you looked adorable on your toes. smiling and greeting gojo? he swears his heart stopped beating for a second. even just calling him satoru? he called his parents and thanked them for giving his name

⁜ he started acting weird around you, probably ignored your calls and stuff a lot

⁜ tried to push you away but it was so hard for him

⁜ he was so used to being together all the time

⁜ remember that friends scene? when chandler tells monica i love you? that's definitely something he would do

⁜ like

⁜ you would dress up silly (maybe don't put a turkey on your head) and go to his door to see if he was okay and talk through things

⁜ he would open the door, start laughing and just casually say "you're so funny i love you"

⁜ "you... do?"

⁜ "HAHAH WHO SAID THAT? NOT ME!" and slams the door on your face

⁜ except it DOESN'T close

⁜ "i... love you too? i guess?"

⁜ two dumbasses interacting

⁜ i love this dynamic so much

⁜ "ah... well that's great. um...."

⁜ "yeah haha."

⁜ "can you... take the mask off so i can see your face?"

⁜ "yeah sorry"

⁜ so you take your scary old witch mask latex hair halloween fancy dress face party costume cosplay masks props adult one size mask off

⁜ gojo kisses you and it feels like his insides are both burning up and cooling down

⁜ all the times he had imagined this moment

⁜ and how your lips connected perfectly with his

⁜ "is that why you were distancing yourself?"

⁜ serious turn huh

⁜ not the best thing to say after kissing someone, reader

⁜ "didn't know you liked me too"

⁜ "wait, did i make the sexiest man alive, biggest womanizer gojo satoru insecure? huh? you felt like a little boy? scared i would make fun of you, little baby boy? the strongest is--"

⁜ "oh shut up"

⁜ "how did you even recognize me with the mask on? it was supposed to be scary, y'know"

⁜ "you had a mask on?"

⁜ "fucker"

geto

⁜ you were dating for a while now

⁜ he thought of your relationship as a fling and nothing more

⁜ just someone to entertain his bored heart

⁜ he wasn't oh so charmed by you anyways

⁜ it was the little things you did for him

⁜ how you teased him back, how you joked with him, how you held him, how calm you looked while sleeping in his arms

⁜ he also isn't a man of love honestly, he wouldn't realize it either

⁜ tho he found it weird how often he would think about you

⁜ how he would dream about your lips, how his name escaped your lips

⁜ he would sometimes have dreams about you

⁜ you would be lying on his chest with your hair splayed on his body, he would be playing with them lightly

⁜ every time he woke up from that dream he would be hazy

⁜ his breaking point was when he left mimiko and nanako with you to take care of some work and came home to you, hair braided so poorly with an even poorer makeup on your face, sitting down on the floor with two dolls in your hands

⁜ you turned at him and greeted him with the brightest smile he had ever seen

⁜ his feet froze, mouth slightly open and eyes wide

⁜ he looked so confused that you thought something was wrong

⁜ nope, nothing was wrong. it was just that geto suguru's brain was getting flooded with thoughts of you

⁜ everything you had done that made him blush, that made his heart skip a beat

⁜ "i'm screwed"

⁜ it wasn't that he got impressed by your ability to entertain kids or seeing you as a possible mother figure

⁜ no, it was how much you cared for a piece of suguru. the girls were a huge part of his life and a piece of him. seeing how much you cherished them and accepted to take care of them in a heart beat made him realize his true feelings for you and yours for him

⁜ you weren't a fling, you weren't a crush

⁜ you were whom suguru was meant to spend his life with

nanami

⁜ nanami isn't an emotional man

⁜ he probably doesn't believe in all the soulmate crap

⁜ he firstly thought dating you was beneficial for him

⁜ you were good looking, in the same profession as him, a reasonable person too

⁜ in a world where everyone is superficial and cold, your warmth made him fall in love with you

⁜ how you would greet him with the biggest smile, how even the smallest compliments made you blush, how sweet you called his name

⁜ nanami felt guilty for thinking of you solely as a marriage candidate

⁜ you taught him how to enjoy the small things in life (other than bread i guess)

⁜ he learned to love your small things

⁜ your hands, your hair, the way you do your hair, how you softly moan his name

⁜ he knew how much he loved you, he just didn't express it verbally

⁜ when you told him i love you, he didn't hesitate for a second to say it back

⁜ married or not, you were who he was destined to be with

toji

⁜ another loveless, stonehearted man

⁜ or is he?

⁜ toji is vulnerable actually, conditions make him feel the need to act tough

�� and though he isn't emotional in his core, he still wants to feel safe around his loved ones

⁜ because when he cares, he cares a lot

⁜ so when he first met you, he felt the need to protect you

⁜ you were so reckless, so impulsive

⁜ he honestly found it annoying at first

⁜ if you ask him how he even agreed to be in a relationship with you, he would say "voodoo or sum shit"

⁜ toji never knew he would be the sane one in a relationship

⁜ so, he started walking around you like a big, scary dog

⁜ it started off as something like a favor

⁜ how you yelled "i can protect myself!" when you clearly couldn't was adorable to him

⁜ would tease you a lot too

⁜ "talking big for someone your size, doll"

⁜ still, despite how highly you see yourself, when something remotely scary happens, you would squeeze his hand tighter and hide your face behind his back

⁜ he found that adorable

⁜ or when a woman tries to hit on toji, you would get all bitchy and possessive

⁜ he found that adorable

⁜ you made him feel wanted, you made him feel needed

⁜ and behind closed doors, he could be vulnerable too

⁜ if he ever felt down, you welcomed him with open arms

⁜ after nightmares, you were there, hugging him, giving small kisses on his face

⁜ i don't think he gives too much meaning on saying "i love you"

⁜ so it would slip out of his mouth

⁜ kqwndxkasnwd he would accidentally say i love you mid sex

⁜ "you what?"

⁜ "huh?"

⁜ "what did you just say?"

⁜ "nothin"

⁜ "scared i won't say it back, babe?"

⁜ "..."

⁜ "if you be a good boy tonight, maybe you can get a treat, too"

⁜ toji is a tough guy, he can protect himself

⁜ but he doesn't mind if you try to protect him too

okay reader absolutely dominating toji to make him say i love you again is just ksakdskdwnjxkajsnckasjwecnkaenw #pegtoji2021

on another note, nanami's was pretty short cause i feel like he would be open with his feelings and accept being in love with you super fast lol

see ya next time you sexy beast (～￣▽￣)～

#sweet #hcs #gojo #geto #nanami #toji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk nanami #jjk toji #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #toji fluff #satoru gojo #gojo sensei #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru #geto fluff

[writingmyanxietyaway]

I Still Get Jealous | El Profesor

Requested by anon: i really enjoy your writing! can i request a money heist imagine where the reader is jealous of how much time the professor(her crush) and the inspector are spending together while reader is part of the heist and it leads to a fight but with a happy ending

Word count: 960

Warning: swearing, angst, angry reader grr

Note: this once takes place around the third/fourth season. Thank you so much for the compliment! Hope you like it, enjoy! xx

------------

Perfect. Your crush of two years was now on the road with your former biggest enemy. She was a great addition to the team, but the amount of time they were now spending together while you were stuck inside a building again made you angry. Some people might call it jealousy, but you were way too proud to call it that. Because of that you were really short tempered and quickly annoyed. 

‘So, everyone sit down, grab a drink and relax. This is nothing but a minor inconvenience,’ Palermo spoke like the big leader. His attitude pissed you off incredibly and in addition to your frustrations about Profesor, you were constantly on edge.

‘Shut up man, it’s not a ‘minor inconvenience’, everything is going to shit. We’re stuck here for the second god damn time, with no plan out and not even a Profesor who can help us out. And in case you haven’t noticed, that bodyguard is out for blood and I’m sure as hell am not going to be bait. So either you make a goddamn plan or I’m out,’ you hissed.

Your explosion seemed to surprise everyone as they al stared at you with wide eyes and jaws on the floor. You threw your hands up in the air.

‘So I’m the only one that is being realistic in this situation? We’re all going to die, as simple as that.’ You turned to the camera in the room and raised your middle finger. ‘I’m out.’

You threw your weapon on the floor and left the room. The telephone in the other room started ringing and you angrily picked up the phone.

‘Yes, dearest darling?’ you said.

‘Lower the attitude. The tension is already through the roof. Get it together,’ you heard him.

‘I’m sorry, who is this?’ you sneered.

‘I’m serious. You’re only making things worse like this,’ he said.

‘So am I. Unless you come up with a plan in the next two hours, I’m walking out the door. And if you do, you tell me, not that weak excuse of a man.’ You threw the phone down and exhaled loudly.

Why were you like this? It scared yourself how weird you were behaving.. It was nothing like you. You leaned back against the wall and held you head in your hands. Footsteps were approaching and you felt someone sit down next to you.

‘When did I become such a bitch?’ you whispered.

‘The second you didn’t tell the man you love about your feelings for him,’ Monica spoke next to you. You raised your head to look at her and she looked at you with a sad smile.

‘Why do I even bother? He’s clearly in love with her,’ you threw your hand in the air, ‘I’m just one of his employees, nothing more, nothing less. When we get out of here I’ll never see him again anyway.’

‘You really think that?’ she giggled. ‘My God, you’re both so oblivious.’

You frowned. ‘What are you talking about? I literally heard them making out and god knows what more back in the monastery,’ you said, a frown plastered on your face.

‘Honey, Raquel is a lesbian. Sergio spent that entire night working on the plan. What you heard was her with someone else,’ she laughed. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

‘B-but she has a kid! And an abusive ex-husband!’ you exclaimed.

‘Yes, that’s when she started dating women. No reason to be jealous, I think you’re safe,’ she said while bumping your shoulder.

‘I’m such an idiot.. How do I always manage to get into these kind of situations? And I’ve been such a bitch.. and for what?!’ you exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. ‘I should probably call him, shouldn’t I?’ you asked her. She nodded heavily.

‘Only if you tell him you love him.’

‘I hate you.’

‘You love me. Now go call the man. He’s probably had 3 panic attacks by now.’

You picked up the phone, dailing the only person you desperately wanted to talk to. How could you have been so stupid? Why didn’t you just trust him?

‘I don’t have anything yet so just let me work fo-’ You quickly cut him off.

‘Shut up. I just need you to listen. I’m so sorry for acting like a bitch. I was, well am, jealous of you and Raquel and I now know I shouldn’t have been, but I didn’t know and now I’ve been so rude to you and her and I guess what I’m trying to say is I really like you. Like, really really like you. It’s actually kind of more than that and now I’m stuck her and you’re out there and I don’t know if I’m going to make it out alive. So yeah basically I love you and I really want you to feel the same, but it’s totally okay of you don’t,’ you ranted. You were out of breath when you finished.

‘That’s.. a lot,’ you heard him whisper.

‘Please say something,’ you replied. The line got silent, but you heard some whispering in the background.

‘You know I’m not good with expressing my emotions. But there is one thing I know for sure. I love you, a lot. Since the first heist if I’m being honest. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I guess I did deserve that middle finger,’ he said. You giggled, making him smile as well.

‘So, what now?’ you asked.

‘I’m getting you out of there and then we’ll travel to a beautiful island somewhere. I’ll see you soon, love,’ he said. Your heart swelled at his sweet words.

‘Can’t wait,’ you replied. A warm smile on your face as you imagined your future with Sergio together.

#la casa de papel #lcdp #lcdp imagine #el profesor x reader #el profesor imagine #alvaro morte #lcdp x reader

[erin-bo-berin]

Home Run

MASTERLIST

Happy Saturday! I’m back with a THIRD new fic in a row. I just couldn’t wait to post this one either. Requested by @andiebeaword​, this fic was obviously inspired by the baseball scenes from 8x06. This was just so much fun to write and I liked being able to switch it up some and have it be like a huge BAU annual baseball game with past and current agents. It was interesting to be able to write about all these characters together, some of them never even being around at the same time on the show. Also, I had to use this gif cause Spencer’s huge smile in this scene will never fail to make me happy. Sit back, relax and enjoy a nice BAU ballgame fluff piece. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,634

It was the arrival of the annual baseball game that started it all.

Every year, the BAU held what was the most well known event outside the office; the baseball game was held on the first weekend in June, infamous for the most competitive game between all different members of the BAU, past and present.

Past members of the team came back every year to play. It was a nice, fun way to see everyone again.

This year was going to be a little...different.

“Guys, come on! You know why I never take part in this!” Spencer Reid whined, “I had to be exempt from any physical test just to get in the FBI!”

You chuckled at your friend and coworker’s expense. Standing next to you was Derek Morgan, another of your coworkers. Beside the two of you was a baseball cannon, loaded with balls for Spencer’s practice.

“Reid, you know Kevin Lynch can’t make the game this year due to a family commitment. We’re short one player,” Derek hollered back.

“I don’t even know how to play baseball!”

“Which is precisely why we’re here,” you retorted, “All you do is swing, hit the ball and run. It’s easy!”

“Easy for you,” he grumbled, lifting his bat again, “Okay, let’s try it again.”

“Don’t think, just feel it,” Morgan called.

“Feel it, feel it,” Spencer nodded.

The ball went shooting from the apparatus and you saw Spencer trying to follow it with his eyes. You crossed your fingers, hoping he’d hit it.

He swung.

And he missed. Again.

“Reid, that’s not feeling it!” 

“I’m feeling like an idiot!” Spencer shouted back, exasperated.

“Come on pretty thang, go show your pretty boy how it’s done,” Morgan nodded to the home plate.

You cut him a warning glance, your cheeks reddening. You’d had a tiny crush on Spencer since the first day you met him. 

Derek’s nickname for Spencer was pretty boy. When you’d joined the team, you became pretty thang. It was often his joke that Spencer was your pretty boy, which embarrassed you to no end. He definitely rooted for you two as a couple.

Despite all the relentless teasing, Spencer remained mercifully oblivious. You’d rather not deal with that embarrassment of your crush being exposed. Although if it was up to Derek Morgan, he’d shouted it from the rooftops for you ages ago.

“Kid, come here. Watch how she bats, okay?”

Derek put his arm around Spencer’s shoulders as you took your place behind the home plate, bat raised and ready. Morgan loaded another ball and it flew towards you.

A crack of the bat sounded as you hit it high in the air, watching it soar to the further end of the field.

“All you gotta do is swing your hips and hit it!” you called.

“If I had hips like that, I would,” Spencer retorted.

You knew Spencer didn’t mean anything by the remark, but you still felt a tad embarrassed at his focus on your body.

“Grab a mitt big boy, we’re practicing your catching,” Morgan called, running to grab one for you. 

“Can’t wait,” Spencer mumbled sarcastically.

You chuckled, taking the mitt from Morgan and handing him the baseball bat.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that remark of his about those sexy curves,” he teased you as he took your place batting.

“What’s that? You’re gonna take it easy on us?” you chuckled, purposely ignoring his remark.

Derek was a beast at batting and if he was going to bring his A game, Spencer was surely going to be in for it during his first outfield lesson.

“Oh never,” Morgan laughed.

“Guys you know all my unpleasant childhood sports memories happened like this,” Spencer protested.

“Okay, okay,” Morgan relented, “I’ll take it easy on you.”

“Thank you,” he huffed.

“Spence, since Kevin was right field, you’re going to be in the right field,” you said.

“Which is where exactly?” he asked, wincing.

You chuckled.

“Well, you know which way is right, correct?”

He nodded, pointing to the right.

“Then that’s where you’re heading,” you grinned, pushing him gently in that direction.

“Isn’t the right fielder where a team can hide their worst player without destroying their defense?” Spencer called, walking backwards to his position.

“You know that yet you can’t play baseball?” you asked, mystified.

“I know information about a lot of things I don’t do,” he replied.

“Good point,” you mumbled.

“Watch out pretty boy,” Morgan called, “Y/N’s a beast at playing center field.”

“As long as I have to play as little as possible, I’m fine!”

The ball shooter let loose another ball and Morgan hit it high in the air. Your eyes never left the ball as you sprinted to catch it, the ball falling perfectly in your glove. If it had been a real game, Morgan would’ve been out.

He whistled across the field.

“Now that’s impressive.”

You peered over at Spencer, who was looking at you, mouth agape.

“What?” you flushed.

“I just didn’t expect you to be able to do that.”

“I played a lot of baseball when I was younger,” you explained.

“How do you expect me to play like that?” Spencer asked, still stunned.

“We’re not expecting you to be a professional, Reid,” Morgan said, approaching him, “Just do your best and have fun. It’s a game for fun anyway.”

“Fun for you guys,” he grumbled.

“Okay, I’m gonna try to go easier on you, to give a little practice on fetching the ball,” Derek said, heading back to home plate.

“I’m not a Golden Retriever!” Spencer said.

You chuckled.

Derek purposely held back, sending the ball in the middle of your area and Spencer’s. He ran for it at the same time you did as you noticed it was close to falling towards the field’s fence.

You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, only the ball. That was how you ended up running right into Spencer’s chest, falling backwards into the ground. You lost track of the ball, but noticed it fall to the ground a few feet away from you.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!”

He rushed to help you up, but you waved him away, apologizing.

“So sorry about that,” you chuckled, “I should’ve been paying more attention to where I was going.”

Like a gentleman, he offered a hand to help you up, which you ended up taking, trying to ignore the tingling on your skin that holding his hand produced.

“No, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m not that good at this sort of thing. In fact, I suck.”

“Hey, no need to be so hard on yourself,” you smiled, “You’re doing just fine.”

“Unless you two are over there discussing how amazing I am, I’d love for you two to get back to your positions!” Morgan shouted.

“Nah, we were just discussing how we think you’d look in a toupee,” Spencer remarked, making you snort.

Your phone beeped and you reached in the back pocket of your shorts and pulled it out, seeing a text message from team member and technical analyst Penelope Garcia.

“Guys, we’ve got a case,” you announced to the two men.

“Hallelujah.”

Spencer practically sprinted off the baseball field making you and Derek laugh heartily.

“Just you wait, pretty boy!” Derek called out to him, “I’m sure you’ll surprise everyone this weekend!”

•

Saturday was a beautiful day. 

The skies were such a clear blue, it almost looked artificial. The sun shone brightly without a cloud in the sky and the temperature was pleasant, without being too hot. Basically, it was the perfect day for a baseball game. 

The game day also fell on a great day. 

The team had just wrapped up the case that you and them had been called in on earlier in the week. It would be nice to have a relaxing Saturday afternoon with some baseball, good friends and plain ‘ol fun.

“Spencer!”

You waved him over, when you saw him.

“Hey,” he grinned, catching the mitt you threw him.

“We’re first in the field,” you explained, “You ready to play some ball?”

“Stoked,” he deadpanned.

“Oh come on, it won’t be that bad,” you chuckled, reaching up to place his baseball hat on his head.

“You’ll do great,” you assured him, patting his chest as you headed off towards your spot in center field.

Your team was made up of your fellow BAU team members including: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Luke Alvez, Penelope, Derek, Spencer and of course, yourself.

On the opposing team were friends and fellow coworkers: Matt Simmons, Tara Lewis, Alex Blake, Ashley Seaver, Stephen Walker, Kate Callahan, Jordan Todd, Mateo Cruz and Grant Anderson. 

Last year, they had won. This year, you and your team were ready to take back the reigning title.

The crowd was filled with friends and family, here to support their loved ones.

There was Beth, Hotch’s girlfriend and Jack, Hotch’s teenaged son. Rossi’s wife Krystall, his step daughter Portia, daughter Joy—and her husband and son Kai—were also in attendance. Savannah and Hank were there too, Morgan’s wife and three year old son, cheering their favorite player on. 

JJ’s husband Will and their two boys, Henry and Michael were in the stands as usual; they never missed this yearly game. All of Matt Simmons’ small tribe were also present and accounted for; wife Kristy and their two sons Jake and David, twin girls Chloe and Lily and their newly one year old final child, Rose Mary. Even Emily’s boyfriend Andrew Mendoza had shown up to cheer on his favorite girl.

Alex Blake’s husband James had come, taking a weekend off of his teaching duties so he could travel to D.C. for the game. Stephen Walker’s wife Monica sat with their two teenagers, a son and a daughter, already whooping and cheering for his team. Kate Callahan’s little family was there too; it was nice to see them since you hadn’t seen them in a while. Her husband Chris was seated with their biological niece turned adopted daughter Meg—who was now 18 and so much older than the last time you’d seen her—and their youngest daughter, now five.

Rounding out the group of loved ones was Anderson’s wife, her belly swollen with pregnancy. 

If that sounded like a huge turnout, that didn’t even count the other members of the BAU and other departments of the FBI. The bleachers were absolutely packed. The game really was that big of a deal.

The game started out rather slow, which was pretty unusual for a game between both teams. With two incredibly talented teams, usually someone had scored by now, but in hindsight it also meant the defense of each team was incredibly good as well.

By the third inning, both Morgan and Hotch had hit two homeruns. You’d had a decent hit, but ended up striking out before you could reach third base.

In another inning, the opposite team had tied up. 

Poor Spencer up to this point had struck out every time he was at the bat. You could tell he was incredibly embarrassed, but you kept encouraging him.

“Don’t let it get you down, Spence,” you smiled, after he’d struck out again, “You’re gonna hit it when they least expect it and knock them off their feet.”

He offered an appreciative half smile and you found yourself silently cheering him on throughout the entire game.

Surprisingly, his right fielding skills were pretty great. He had caught on quickly and was able to fetch the balls and throw them to any nearby basemen. He had actually struck out Kate, preventing her from almost scoring another point to take the lead.

“Woo! Way to go, Spence!” you hooted, clapping as best as you could with your mitt.

You saw his face flush and you knew it wasn’t all from the heat.

By mid game, the sun had started beating down on all of the attendees causing lots of red faces, sweaty shirts and bottles of water to be consumed. You were hot and sweaty like no other, but you were having the best time.

The fifth inning brought your team a three point lead which you’d contributed one of those points to and you were rather proud. You high fived all your teammates as you ran across home plate and came to the end of the line where Spencer was. He picked you up and spun you around in his excitement.

“Is it my imagination or is someone actually having fun?” you grinned.

“I’m definitely having fun.”

-

The last inning was the most tense. 

It was tied 5 to 5 and Spencer was up to bat next. If he struck out, the opposing team had one last chance to come out ahead and win the game.

Spencer was a wreck, to put it lightly. He’d already struck out once and Morgan ended up calling a time out. 

Spencer had been pacing and gesticulating wildly as Morgan talked to him, finally putting his hands on Spencer’s shoulders to calm him.

Whatever Morgan said to him, seemed to work. 

You watched from the sidelines as he calmly walked back to the home plate. 

Stephen was the one pitching this inning and he had a pretty good throw. But you believed in Spencer.

“Come on Spencer! You can do it!” you hollered.

You watched his posture change from nervousness to more confident. There had definitely been some sort of change in him.

The ball left Stephen’s hand and went flying Spencer’s way. You found yourself holding your breath and you actually flinched at the sudden crack of the bat hitting the ball.

Spencer seemed stunned for a moment as the ball soared towards the outfield, high above everyone’s heads.

“Run, run!” you and the rest of the team yelled to him, snapping him out of his daze.

Garcia was on second base and Rossi was on third. They went running as the other team scrambled to catch the ball in time. 

Rossi crossed the home plate, causing loud hoots and cheers from the audience that continued on as Penelope made it home right behind him.

Spencer hit first base and second by the time Matt had retrieved the ball. You noticed Spencer pick up speed and whiz past third base, trying to make it in time before the ball reached the pitcher again.

The cheers grew louder as loved ones shouted their encouragement to Spencer in hopes he made it home.

He slid home moments before the ball met Stephen’s glove bringing the game to an end in a 5-8 win.

The bleachers erupted in screams, as did you and the rest of your team. 

Morgan practically tackled Spencer in a hug, Spencer’s grin so big it rivaled the brightness of the afternoon sun. 

You were right behind Morgan to greet Spencer. Morgan had just let him go as you ran up to him.

“Spence, that was awesome!” you cried. 

In your excitement you grabbed Spencer’s face and kissed him hard, not even thinking of what you were doing until after you’d already pulled away.

He stood frozen and stunned, a smile on his face and you grinned, realizing you didn’t regret it one bit.

Everyone else had been too busy to see it, you assumed, so before the rest of the team swarmed him you called to him.

“You deserved that!”

Just then, the other six members reached him, swallowing him up in their excitement. His smile never left his face and his eyes flicked to you numerous times, an almost shyness to him.

You had assumed no one had seen the kiss until you overheard Morgan’s comment to Spencer.

“Way to go pretty boy! You didn’t just get one home run today, you got two!”

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[zankivich]

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 2

a/n: this one was really fun to write. I’m back in my bag tbh. These are some cute characters if I do say so myself. Like everything I write I feel like  this could be a fully blown multi-chapter fic. Also it’s finna get smutty so I hope you’re prepared for that. Let me know what you think? K bye. 

WARNINGS: Smut, softness, too much cuteness? 

Part 1 Part 3

The call comes two days later. Not that he leaves any room to be forgotten. No, Chris had texted you bright and early the next morning to thank you again for giving him a chance, and to apologize if he’d been in any way aggressive. You were quick to reassure him there’d been no aggressiveness on his end, certainly not any that was unwanted. He was a good texter, happy to provide details about himself, and to notice the details you, yourself, provided.

Chris: What are you up to this morning anyway?

Y/n: I had an early meeting with the company I just signed on with for a project I’m spearheading, and now I’m in my office preparing the debrief on that meeting which will be presented at another meeting.

Chris: Wow. Sounds intense. What do you do for a living?

Y/n: I’m a senior level consultant at a consulting firm. I basically just get hired to tell folks what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it. Then I leave before they fix it.

Chris: Ah so you liked to be in control huh?

Y/n: I...trust my gut, and my gut has yet to lead me astray. I only make decisions I believe in.

Chris: And what is your gut telling you about me y/n?

Y/n: It’s telling me to keep texting you even when I shouldn’t. Even when I’m busy. I like the things you say.

Chris: I like that. My gut is telling me you’re important. I can’t really explain it further than that. I just think we could be really good together.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over the words in the message a few times. It was sweet. Damn him all to hell.

Fast forward to the next day where you’d spent all day outside of the office meeting with clients. He caught you in the middle of your lunch break between bites of sandwich that wasn’t very good. You’d put his name in your phone as just Chris, and yet when his name flashed across the screen the letters may as well have been hieroglyphics. It took you ten seconds just to get your shit together.

“Hello?” You swallowed into the phone, trying to manage an up-beat cadence.

Chris was like honey through the phone, as if the weight of the conversation was nothing to him.

“Hello. God, I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. I thought I was starting to lose it in my memory for a second.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure it’s been exceptionally trying for you.”

“It has, it has. So perhaps you won’t think I’m being too pushy by asking you out tonight?”

You moved the phone just far enough away from your ear to wordlessly praise the lord to the air. Or whoever was up there.

“Um...tonight, huh?”

“Yea do you already have plans?”

“No, no. I just have a pretty long day ahead of me. I might not be able to make an early dinner.”

“Well that’s okay. Dinner isn’t even what I had in mind. What if I picked you up at, say eight-thirty? Would that be enough time?”

You bit your lip. “It would...Can I ask, if we’re not going to dinner, where are we going?”

“Now that....is a surprise. Send me your address, I’ll be there at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Oh lord. Okay I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

It took you a moment to remember to put the phone down. Men were usually very simple. Dinner, usually somewhere they can order a steak. They like to do dinner on the earlier side, give them ample time to order drinks. The more drinks they order the higher they believe their chance of sleeping with you goes up. In all your years of “grown up dating”, you could count on one hand the amount of men who had offered to take you somewhere other than dinner on the first date, and never had that place been alcohol free.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more that understanding men; their preconceived notions, their inadequacies, their mentality etc. was about safety for yourself and for others who may fall victimized. The patriarchy was toxic afterall and perhaps no one knew this better than Black women.

And yet Chris seemed to be evading your expectations, and not for the sake of keeping you on your toes. It was as if his aura existed outside of your expectations all together. He didn’t need to trick you, or convince you. He was just himself, and that self was perhaps better than the vast majority of men you’d met in your life. Could that be? Was it really possible? It seemed like you’d find out regardless.

***

Large hoop earrings are truly a staple piece for any iconic outfit. Without the dread of a formal dinner, you were excited to play with your wardrobe a little bit. There was a beautiful pastel pink camisole that matched a floral set of pumps quite perfectly. The slicked back ponytail and the knitted cardigan are simply added bonuses. Ya girl looked good as per the usual is the moral of the story.

By the time he knocks on your door there’s a giddiness to you. Grownup dating seemed to lack a certain excitement at that point in your life. Oftentimes priorities didn’t match up, men didn’t say what they really wanted, or truly were after. But it really did seem like Chris just wanted to show you a good time. And as much as you were trying to keep the walls up and stay smart, you couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might prove you wrong.

“Hello.” He smiled warmly at the threshold. “You look beautiful.”

Your brain had short-circuited. This was basically nuclear warfare and you were not having it! He was wearing a thin black sweater that stretched tightly across the firmness of his chest. There was a level of scruff that was absolutely tantalizing, and the way his eyes were one step away from twinkling like an anime character was a reality that suffocated you with the weight of it. It was truly too much. This man looked straight out of a factory. The wind had been zapped from your sails. Dammit.

“You look...really good yourself.” You hummed. “Like, unnaturally good actually.”

He only laughed wild and carefree arms coming up into a shrug.

“I gotta keep up with you somehow, right? So you ready to go?”

“Yes actually, let me just shoot a quick text…” You mumbled, swiping your fingers across the screen.

y/n: Okay we’re leaving the house. Remember if I don’t text back for an hour without stating why to track my phone.

Raya: don’t worry girl ain’t nobody gone call the police on captain america. Yo black ass wouldn’t make it a second

Jesse: Me and my cousins will ride up there swinging if need be. You just say the word mija

Tanya: or not word….cause the girl might be dead????

Jesse: Oh...you right

Y/n: okay BYE NOW

Usually the group text for dates was centered on safety and precaution. You had a feeling this one was going to be fully for them to clown your ass for the rest of the night.

Chris gets the door for you, and it’s easy to note immediately that you’re sliding into a tesla. The fact that it looks like a spaceship on the inside is a dead giveaway. But the car is warm and the second he slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame takes up precedence in the vehicle. His non-driving arm lands on the middle console sending parks of heat over to your seat with stark intensity.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going? You know that’s like prime serial killer talk right?” You noted.

He smiled again, this wide grin that seemed to transform his entire face. It seemed infectious just to look at him.

“Gosh you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re heading towards the city and not away from it. It’s a public place, I promise.”

“Okay Chris. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now.” You teased.

He looked over at you instead of the road.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Oh chile….

“Mmm. Noted.”

There had been a certain energy the night you met. It had existed in the non-existent space between your bodies as he held you against his chest. A sort of aura that pulled you, pulled the both of you in. It had felt a little overwhelming then, but to know that it existed now within the small confines of the car was another thing entirely. Your body tilted in the direction of his unconsciously, your elbow propped on the console directly next to his. You were drawn to him. And the good news was he seemed to be too.

You were both confused and happy to see him steer clear of the usual Beverly Hills or Hollywood spots. Where does one such movie star as Chris Evans take a woman on a date anyway? Your girls had discussed everything from WolfGang Puck to the Rosevelt. The sun was sinking low and heavy in the sky as night began its arrival. As he navigated you to the Santa Monica Pier you felt the giddiness from early wreck havoc in your belly. It was so far from anything you could have ever expected in the best way possible. All the nerves of being with this guy you really liked sort of melted away and gave way for excitement.

“The boardwalk huh?” You grinned out the window.

“Yea. There’s great street food, games, views. I figure it’s pretty tough to have a bad time here. Increases my chances of you agreeing to a second date.” He smirked.

You laughed a little louder than your flirting giggle and turned to face him straight on.

“Oh so you already plotting the second date now!”

He laughed right along with you.

“Sweetheart I’m on date number four up here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“Sheesh! Well I don’t want to disappoint, but I played point guard in high school so if we find some hoops I’ma have to put your ass to shame.”

“Oh she’s trash talking me already ladies and gentlemen!”

You were already taking your seatbelt off and reaching for the door handle. It was the most excited you’d ever been on a date, couldn’t even remember the last time someone took you some place to be goofy and play games. You typed your destination into your group chat and told your girls not to bother you. It was finna be a night.

It comes to no surprise that you end up at the arcade. He buys the tokens, you buy the beers. And then...it’s on.

“I want to start by saying that I am firm in my masculinity. Basketball is not my game, and I stand by that.”

You rolled your eyes around your beer and quickly took off your cardigan to free your arms.

“Boy, put the tokens in the machine and quit playing.”

He only grins at you so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Side by side in front of the basketball arcade game, you each take shots at the swinging net. Unfortunately there are no bonus points for fine looking biceps while missing shots. This leaves you to crush your opponent--date, whatever--by over twenty points. Though Chris was “firm in his masculinity” this did not stop him from being competitive, so he quickly threw more tokens into the machine and tugged the sleeves of his too-tight sweater up his arms. He makes a shot while you just stared at him, a little dazed. You only beat him by eight that time. Rude.

“Okay,” Chris panted. “I lied. I do play basketball. I like to think I’m pretty good at it too, but you definitely just kicked my ass.”

“I was MVP all three years I played. It’s not your fault.” You giggled.

“You play in college at all?” He asked as you took your beers and moved on to a new game.

You shook your head. “I went to Howard for both undergrad and my masters. We’re D1 and I wasn’t that good. I got an academic scholarship instead.”

“So brains and a killer arm? Anything else I should know?”

“Hmm...I have an irrational fear of mice? I found a mouse once in my kitchen when I was a little girl. I got so scared that I literally fainted.”

“Brains, killer arm, faints at the side of mice. So, I guess Cinderella for date number two is out.”

You placed your arm on his shoulder as you laughed. The sheer volume of muscle was not lost on you, nor the way your mouth salivated in response. Woops.

“I’d be down to watch Ratatouille. That’s my favorite food movie ever, I think. I guess animated equals not so scary.”

He smiled and let you keep your palm on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary.

“Duly noted. Shall we?”

Chris beats you in skee ball, and you beat him in some random zombie shooter game. Eventually he lets you lean on him to take your shoes off so that the two of you can do a dance revolution game. It’s silly and awful, and you laugh the entire way through it. There’s more arm touching and at some point he finds an excuse to touch your waist again. The way you bite your lip and stare up at him is only interrupted by the squeal of children’s laughter. There’s an increase in your heart beat that can’t be explained by the physical activity of the game alone, and the heat in his eyes is not nearly PG-13 enough.

“Should we uh...go get a snack or something?” You mumbled still peering up at his lips.

His grip on your waist only grows tighter, and you swear it’s past them kids' bedtime.

“Sure, why not?” He grins before slowly letting you go.

Sweet jesus.

It’s only when there’s a foot of space between the two of you that you can breathe normally again. But then he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Breathing is clearly overrated.

You buy two different flavors of icecream to split and find a bench tucked away in the lights of the pier to keep talking.

“So what about you?” You asked between globs of cookie dough.

“What about me?”

“I know what you do for a living obviously but like...Where are you from? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? How do you take your coffee? That kinda shit.”

He beams at you and holds a spoon of his rocky road to your lips. You hold eye contact as your lips wrap around the spoon. His lips part just barely and you know you’re not the only who can’t get a grip tonight. Good.

He clears his throat. “I’m originally from Boston, but I grew up in a town like thirty minutes away called Sudbury. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and an older sister. They’re all much smarter than me I promise. My uh father remarried so I’ve got some half-siblings too. I can break out the family tree sometime if you want. I really enjoy seafood. I think it has something to do with where I grew up. I take my coffee black.”

“Boston, eh? LA must have taken some getting used to.”

He chuckled. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to LA. I have a place in Massachusetts. It keeps my mom happy, and makes it easy to go home. I’m between projects for now, but its easier sometimes to just be here for the talk shows and the meetings and what not. I’ll be honest it’s been looking up lately though.”

Damn him and his ocean eyes and his dumb dumb smile and his stupid facial hair. And...now he’s putting more ice cream in your mouth. Diabolical.

“What about you? From DC to LA?” He asked.

“Ugh it does feel pretty cliche, I know. I never in a million years though I’d live out here. It’s tough cause all my family is east coast as well. When I was fresh out of grad school I got offered a job at a firm out here. The salary and the benefits were some of the best of my class. I couldn’t really say no. And now I mean...you saw me and my girls. I found community out here. It’s scary to think of losing that.”

“Hey that makes sense. You’ve made a life for yourself here. That’s really admirable.”

“Yea I guess. It helps to live away from the worst of it all. And I suppose LA does sometimes come with perks.” You smiled in his direction.

“I could not agree more.”

*Meanwhile in your phone*

Raya: what do we think? Is she still alive?

Tanya: Girl please. The only thing that girl is at risk for is a good dicking.

Raya: sljgdlkfgjkl you goin to hell

Jesse: Should we take our bets now?

Tanya: I’m putting five on the captain throwing her back out TONIGHT

Raya: I’m putting ten on y/n holding out just to be stubborn af

Jesse: I’m with Raya on this one.

You walk through the sand together with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. There’s everything from playful jabs to probing questions to heavy flirting. At some point it transcends the innocence of a first date. Perhaps it's the moment when he offers to carry your heels so you can feel the sand between your toes. Or the moment when you tell him something funny and he laughs into your neck till all you can feel is the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin. Maybe it’s the feel of his fingers untangling your hair from your cardigan when the wind traps it. There’s a softness to him in all his overt physicality. He thumbs at your chin playfully and smiles down at you. It’s not just softness then. It’s tenderness too. And you melt into him.

“Hi.” he whispered till you smiled.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“Can I kiss you by chance?”

Your arms slide closer wrapping firmly around his neck.

“Absolutely.”

If his chest is rock-hard muscle then his lips are the antithesis of that. The kiss is soft and yearning when he wraps them around your own, and his hands ain’t bad either. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in him and he in you until there’s no clear discernment of where one begins and the other ends. But it doesn’t matter when his tongue is just as teasing and probing at his personality, and you fingers scratch roughly through the strands of his hair.

The only thing that could possibly bring such a perfect moment to an end is the need to breathe. You pull away with a stuttering gasp, and he hides his face in your neck with a whine that awakens a whole new fire with you.

“Wow.” He sighed.

“Yea...Wow.”

You blinked a couple of times to try and bring yourself back to reality and out of...whatever the hell that was.

“I should uh--I should get you home right? You had a long day.”

He squeezed at your shoulders before pulling away and you swore it was colder without him near. As the night suddenly hurdled towards a close, you felt a sense of longing. You weren’t quite ready to let him go yet, and the anticipation of being without him was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. The only good news is he holds your hand the entire walk back to the car, and his shoulder makes for lovely resting space.

The car ride feels like a fraction of the time it took to get there. Perhaps it's because you know each other better now, have a taste of what it’s like to be next to one another. Like a junky you were hooked. White, Black, or green, there wasn’t anything that could stop you from wanting to be near him. He was infectious, and he’d gotten himself directly under your skin.

“Could I walk you to the door?” He asks.

“Please.” You nodded.

You take smaller steps as if that will make it all go slower. And a grin forms slowly on your lips when you notice his much lengthier legs attempting to do the same. It’s the kind of PG-13 shit you’d never really experienced before. How pathetic that the second you got just a tiny bit of it you were practically begging for more.

The light beneath your door illuminates the movement of your bodies. You turned with your back to the door to face him, aware for the first time that you’d been smiling for a while, that you had no idea how to stop smiling.

“I gotta say I had a really great time.” You murmured. “Thank you for the effort and the fun and...the kiss.”

“That means the world to me. All I wanted was for you to have a good time. Honestly I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“You know, I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on as well.”

He smiled widely at you. “Good. So now we’ve set the bar so high that it really only makes sense for us to go on another date right?”

“I think I could be up for that, yea.”

“Could you be up for another kiss?” He teased.

“Could you be up for coming inside?” You countered.

His eyes widened at that, the intricate game of you both keep each other on your toes unfolding. You weren’t even sure where the idea had come from. You certainly hadn’t planned it. At some point you realized you had to go inside, and the thought of him being on the other side of the door just didn’t feel right.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose if you’re tired. I know your work day was long.”

You nodded eyes skimming from his ankles to his hair.

“Suddenly? Not so tired.”

“Me neither. Let’s go inside.”

That’s what you thought.

You unlocked the door to your place leading him into the living room.

“Um make yourself comfortable. I just gotta let my girls know I got home alright. Do you want anything to drink?” You asked.

“I better not. Still gotta drive home.”

There was something about his lack of confidence about getting laid that had you pausing in the kitchen. Few men had ever made it past the threshold on the first date. The threshold may as well have been a neon arrow towards your vagina. Not that you’d decided to have sex with him. Of course not...

Y/n: I know y’all are not placing bets that center around my pussy. Get a life.

Raya: Girl I’m married with two kids and you just went out with Chris Evans. Your life is my life. Don’t take that from me.

Tanya: Now sis, why are you texting us when there is some red, white, and blue DICK to be had.

Jesse: djdflkjgdf

Raya: lmao. She got a point. Did he drop you off?

Y/n: He did.

Tanya: Annnnnnnnnnnd?

Y/n: Annnnnnd my date ain’t over. I simply must be going. Night night!

Your phone began to erupt with buzzes in your palm. You quickly set it to silent to ignore the peanut gallery and headed back to your date.

Chris was in your living room staring at a photo you had set up on the wall. It was you, your mother, and your little brother all wrapped up in each other from your graduation the second time. The fact that his ass was poised like a piece of fruit begging to be plucked from the tree is a secondary detail.

“Is this your family?” He grinned. “You look just like your mother.”

You stalked closer, ready to be in his space again, and smiled.

“This was for degree number two. I’m the first to ever get a master’s, and my mom couldn’t stop crying the whole day. This is the only picture I had where she wasn’t obviously in tears.” You hummed.

“That’s beautiful. She’s got so much to be proud of. You’re clearly an amazing woman.”

Most may have tilted their head in shyness, maybe looked at the ground and ignored the compliment. Such a cliche. You had learned long ago that the most radical, most self-loving thing you could do was believe your own hype. Others will rarely do it for you. Chris seemed to be the exception to many rules.

You raised your chin proudly. “Thank you. Every ounce of it, I get from her. I can assure you of that.”

“I believe you. Mothers really are the superheroes of the world, no pun intended.”

You reached for his hand slowly, heart warming at the way he instantly went to intertwine your fingers. He was truly nestling himself inside your head, your walls coming down one by one. Silence pursued as you led him towards the couch, his eyes raking over every inch of you as you moved. As his back hit the couch, you stepped out of your heels. His legs were deeply parted and the thickness of his thighs looked like the perfect seat. It didn’t help the way his hands were gripping his thighs like an invitation. That knot that sometimes appeared in your belly when he was around tightened.

“Can I sit with you?” You hummed.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like.”

His voice had suddenly gone husky and deep, your eyes fluttering wantonly at the sound. You were mostly definitely going to take him up on that.

You placed your foot on the space of the cushion right next to his thigh, and used the leverage to climb yourself into his lap.  His hands immediately came to rest on the small of your back pulling you close, close, close.

This kiss is better. Much better.

Whatever gentlemanly urges he’d proudly displayed throughout the night, quickly gave way to a new urge, a hunger that boiled hot for each of you. It was the same feeling you’d felt when he first caught you at the bar, multiplied by a million. His facial hair rubbed tantalizing along your jaw as he kissed and bit and marked you with reckless abandon. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and tugged sharply. The moan he released in response had your hips bucking up against his.

“God, come here.” He muttered against your throat.

His too-large palms went from your back to your ass and suddenly he was tugging you rougher, firmer, right against something firm of his own.

“Oh shit.” you whimpered thighs tightening around his waist. “Touch me.”

His lips began a trail from your neck down your cleavage, beard scratching up the flesh until your back was arching in lust.

“Take this off.” He demanded with a tug to your cardigan.

No problem there.

“You next.” You whined and reached for the bottom of his sweater instead.

Your camisole joined the rest of the pile on the floor and suddenly his tongue was finding the patch of skin right between your breasts. Wet didn’t begin to describe what you were experiencing in that moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous you know that?” He huffed.

Your fingers gripped at his knee for leverage and you leaned back just enough to give your hips room to breathe. And move.

“Fuck.”

You giggled at Chris, your hips sliding against his in the most amazing rhythm.

“I like it when you lose that little nice-guy thing you got going on. What else do you got hidden from me, Chris?”

His hands moved to the thick of your thighs and squeezed hard until you lost your own grip of self-control.

“I think you like to take the reins. I think every part of your life is carefully constructed to your liking. But I’m starting to wonder what it might look like if you lost a little control, y/n. Do you think I could make you do that?”

Your eyes, though hooded with the overwhelming emotions he was making you feel, found a way to burst open at his words. Because in just one single night he saw you. Saw you in a way that you had not willingly given out. There was an armor that you put on to walk out into the world, something intentionally crafted to keep you safe. How had he disabled it in just one night? As sexy as it was, it was also scary. Were you ready to let him take control?

“Look if you wanna make me lose control? You better have something damn good to show for it, sir.” You grinned.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

And just like that you were being lifted into the air like a spaceship taking launch. A man had never lifted you with such ease since you were a child. A grown ass woman of your size wasn’t just thrown around like a rag-doll. Dainty had certainly never been used to describe you. And yet, Chris had managed to stand with your legs and arms wrapped around his like a kola to a tree. His hands on your lower body only throw you further out of whack.  This shit was insane. And your pussy was transcending physics with how wet he’d manage to make you.

“Can I take you to bed?” He panted, breath harsh against your lips.

You groaned. “God, yes, boy scout. Please take me to bed.”

Your bed seems perfectly crafted for two, or maybe that’s just the feel of him sucking at the skin of your pulse point. His tongue is suddenly everywhere. On your neck. Below your sternum. At the jut of your hip. He strips you of your jeans and falls victim to the slim space between your thighs. His palms now work on mapping them expansively but not without exploring the thin piece of fabric that separates him from the wetness of your inner folds. All it takes is the tip of his nose to rub against the pubic mound, right above your clit, and you just kind of lose it.

“Holy shit! Please. Just please.” You whined, hips bucking closer to his mouth.

A grin descended upon his face that held all of the cockiness of a man who was sure of himself. It was the first time he’d ever looked like that to you. And lord was it hot.

“Sweetheart listen to me.” He said smoothly. “I’m gonna make you cum now. But you gotta be good for me. Can you do that?”

Your lips parted in shock. What does one say to such a thing?

“Okay.”

He’s not interested in torturing you, at least not this time. As soon as you promise to be good, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and he’s on you. Firm flicks of his tongue and hard sucks of his lips quickly leaves your underwear sodden. It appears he has no interest in taking them off, and you might just care if it weren’t for the way he was rocking your body. Most men couldn’t find a clit if there was a neon sign pointing to it. Chris finds it like it's his damn address. He sucks and licks and drools until your thighs pulse, until your back arches, until your body feels poised like spring begging to break.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders trying desperately to pull him closer. You’re not gonna make it.

“I--I gotta...I gotta cum.” You huffed.

He nods while he’s eating you out and takes your statement as a direction to slip his fingers between the soaked material of your underwear. You’re so wet that there’s barely any hit of tension as his finger slides deep inside of you. You can hear it now right beside the desperate pants of your mouth, the crude slip of his fingers digging into you, searching and pumping. He curls it just right, touches that place, until you can’t breathe,  until your bursting for him like an overripe fruit.

Your body throbs and pulses as the orgasm rocks its way through you and he never moves, just licks away your release with the same intensity. When you collapse, he lays his head against your thigh and grins up at you with wet lips and a wet beard and eyes completely void of anything but tenderness.

“Oh fuck off.” You whined pushing your hand tiredly against his face.

He chuckled but absolutely did not fuck off. Instead he took to placing kisses along the skin of your inner thighs as if he was rewinding the coil inside of you so that he could make you come loose all over again.

“You done?” He hummed nosing at your pubic bone. “We can be done, just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

You bit your lip and watched him for a few minutes. His fingers were drawing patterns on your leg, his lips feeling like they shot sparks all across your skin. You wanted him bad. Whoever said consent wasn’t sexy hadn’t had Chris Evans in their bed obviously.

“Come up here.”

His eyes finally left the dream of your thighs and locked with yours. He trailed slowly up your body, thighs and arms bracketing either side of you. Your back arched involuntarily until your chests touched. He kissed you long enough for the taste of yourself to get lost in your own mouth. His facial hair still scratched hotly at your flesh.There wasn’t anything you wanted more than for him to destroy you in that moment. So that’s exactly what you said.

“Chris?” You mumbled against his lips.

He immediately backed away. “Yea?”

You reached over to the drawer of your bedside table and grabbed aimlessly for protection. The condom wrapper fell into his hand and your legs came naturally around his waist.

“I’d like for you to wreck me...please.”

It didn’t sound like a question. It was much more a demand than a plea. But your boy scout aimed to please. And please he did.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly when Nicki Minaj said You’ll never catch me in a light-skin nigga’s bed, it took on a whole new meaning. Surely she meant light skin like Drake, and sis definitely had a point. But... surely Nicki couldn’t hate you for the choices you made that night, and all the ones you’d go on to make for this man in particular. After-all, it was technically your bed.

buy me a ko-fi? 

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans story #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black woman #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans series #chris evans blurb #chris evans one shot #chris evans and reader #alex writes again

[anonil88]

Wandavision Ep. 9 (series finale) liveblog

Obviously there are spoilers below read at your own wishes im including a gif to give you more time to scroll away

The picture is the family together in fight stance omg omg let me hit play

We back right where we left off.

Yea she wants to absorb your power sis, nah fuck that Agatha you can fuck right off.

I can see the cgi in the window and car.

Oh fuck this white mother fucker. Vision please come save your wife. Ayyy my guy!

I mean is he her ex? Or just her exes body.

Multi boss battle time!

This has to be Peter from X-men just being manipulated.

Wanda really did create an entire man the only thing missing is the body.

Um we are missing a few scenes here. When did they capture Jimmy?

You handcuffed a magician? Stupid.

Cliff? Who's that?

So they are about to have a boss battle amongst civilians lmfao. They probably won't even notice what's happening.

On the nose entry of the Darkhold.

It's not her destiny to destroy the world at all. Even in the comics she fights and fights that destiny time and time again.

Oh no, angry puppets. Run Wanda run!

Mrs? Ralph is that you?

Oh it is Ralph they casted Evan Peters to tease us all about x-men im guessing.

That is fucked up to tease us with that.... I'm just saying that is fucked up.

She doesn't even know how she has done this, she really thought she was doing the right thing.

Ugh this feels like when grief gets overwhelming.

No WANDA NOOO, oh shit she really doesn't know how to control it fully at all.

Get out everyone get out!

Wtf is Agatha planning?

Oh no Vis! His soul, if only he gets closer to her.

No the boys....if only she could find a way to tether them to her and not the world she created.

She is going to try and suck wanda dry oh my lord.

Haha family stance too cute. A family that fights together, stays together? Maybe.

Ooo are together gonna fuse?

She is a hero and learning very very fast.

Ayyy boys

Monica lets goo! Take that Hayward.

Hayward is an entire bitch. Fuck him.

Oh they are gonna have a logic battle or a battle of the brains. Exactly you are both vision now kith.

Who will this new vision be? Not quite how I expected it to happen with an awakening but yay, the rebirth of vision!

But, will he stay alive at the end of this? This new vision not Wanda's remade husband.

Let's go red wiggly woos and nightmares. Destroy you with your worst fears or your regrets.

Dammit.

A witchhunt really?

No wanda not like this. Agatha is a liar and has shown that why would you trust her?

We all thought vision would die but what if it's Wanda? Oh no.

Me to Agatha Harkness:

Oh? Did she unknowingly cast another spell?

Ah ha that's why she was hitting the barrier so wanda is a visual learner.

I hope she gets that Darkhold book and reads it.

She is writing her own damn story. I know that's right.

COME ON CROWN

COME THROUGH OUTFIT

Ngl you can see they ran out if cgi budget this episode BUT I love this cute redone style of the comic book outfit. The new ones not the old ones.

Also she doesn't need you, she has a guy named Dr. Strange that she can call.

Awe this is so sweet but I know that this will end. I love that we see her vision and her boys happy all together because we do not get to see that in the comics really like all at the same time.

They are now friends in the comics that share kids, yaknow divorced parents that stay friends but can't make a relationship work.

At least for a couple moments we get a happy power family in house 2800, that get some last sweet beautiful moments.

They will live forever in her heart.....and cough eventually reincarnated cough. Their sound are very real.

I hope she saves that photo at least.

She healed and found out more about herself and who she loved, thats beautiful.

So he's not gonna tell her that he gave her vision the other back?

Awwww they are so in love and marvel doesn't even let them be happy in the comics.

I mean you literally will say hello again his body with his memories is flying outside right now.

Aww vision.

Emo wanda has returned in aesthetic. Starts playing BMTH or PTV

She's like I'm sorry, oh and she said it.

Oooo with the hood and cape on yesss. She is pretty much a rejected member of society and "herodom" now who runs off to discover herself after a really fucked up situation and then a messy engagement similar to comics. Kind of like how Peter is set up to be in the mid credit scene at the end of far from home.

Wanda really said:

Midcredit scene reaction!!

Is Jimmy gonna be director?

Coronet?

Yes a skrull! Talos heard? How? Yay Monica is going to space like she always wanted!!

AN END CREDIT SCENE!!!!!

Thats the lake from the other movie right? Uh all these wait is Thor around? Oh wonderful I love this oh yes give me Wanda educating herself with this book. And she has learned sustained working projections without creating another hex, I love that for her. Two places at once. WE GOING TO THE MULTIVERSE, which i don't think she will be a villain for.

For a finale this was just okay like not great but good enough to pass because after all this is Marvel not Starz or HBO (GOT aside). I understand now why the executive or was it director said this would be a dissapointment. A lot of people had so many theories running but even with my own theories i haven't been conflating them as definites. The only one i did was Monica's scientist and now Pietro being just Ralph revealed. After seeing last weeks episode I just said imma just fully enjoy this last episode and didn't pay mind to many of the new theories.

Anyways I'm not super disappointed this was just an okay finale. So was Legends of Tomorrow's last season finale which I still found some enjoyment in. But, I'm not as excited for Falcon and the Winter Soldier because I can tell from this episode we are going back into movie marvel action with little depth.

I really enjoy the non-officially but official MCU shows like Jessica Jones or Agents of Shield because they often do both. The depth and the action which this show did with a much larger budget. I get there are probably plot holes in this episode for time or filming restriction reasons but still like dang it. Well this has been fun thanks for whoever reads these haha.

#wandavision liveblog #wandavision spoilers #wanda x vision #wandavision

[escxpiism]

( olivia holt, 23, she/her ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ALICE ADAMS. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE MASK if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re ADAPTABLE but JADED, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CATFISHED DAVID HASSELHOFF. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

hi y’all !! i’m may ( 21 // est // she/her ) and i am super super pumped to be here !! i’m also very much writing this against my better judgment ya girl’s running on four hours of sleep and has the option to sleep more but......... is not tired ?? so i do apologize if my mind is secretly tired and makes this intro,,,, even worse than it would be fahouedn. on with the show !! anyway anyway!! feel free to like this if u wld like 2 plot and i will hit u up!!

( also, for some vibes if you so choose to read, here’s the link to her playlist ! )

----------------------------------------------------

QUICK FACTS:

full name: alice audrey adams

date of birth: october 26th, 1997

*will not perfectly reflect the zodiac big three below because that’s.... math.

zodiac big three: scorpio sun, virgo moon, taurus rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual

education: ged, bachelor’s degree in film — pratt institute

enneagram: 4w3

mbti: enfp

temperament: sanguine-melancholic

label: the mask

various inspirations: “nutshell” - alice in chains, “santa monica” - everclear, “polly” - nirvana, “jennifer’s body” - hole, “creep” - stone temple pilots, kate wallis ( cruel summer - shhhh ), heather davis ( crazy ex-girlfriend ), satana hellstrom ( marvel comics ), bojack horseman - without the amount of problematic ego ( bojack horseman ), eddie huang ( fresh off the boat ), the great britney spears evolution ( temporarily stopping at circus era )

BACKSTORY:

triggers in order: toxic family dynamic, grooming (nothing super in-depth), kidnapping (? like it was ‘willing’ but no. see next trigger for why), toxic “relationship” (and 11yr age gap w/ a 16y/o we hate it), straight-up captivity, very brief mention of suicide + heroin (very!)

*would like to quickly preface that this isn’t just Dark for the sake of being r/im14andthisisdeep but that’s for a later time **(also! i have markers for where the grooming + Super Dark parts begin and end! -- also, the Super Dark part is all very public knowledge. had articles. media frenzy. first thing that comes up if you google her name) *** also. if u need it then a tl;dr is below this section hfkldsa

alice audrey adams was born to the type of family that names all of their children alliterative names ( however, they sadly didn’t get their own kardashian-style show )... alexis adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... alfie allison adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... born to anna adams and allen adams... we hate it here.

as u can see... all of the kids were basically named after allen... they all had ‘al’ names.... extremely confusing 

plot-twist: THAT’S the darkest part

the adams were very concerned with public image. as a family in the upper echelon, they simply had to be! a narcissist father, a distant mother, put in competition with her siblings — there was no truly healthy dynamic in the household. but they looked good. they went to church every sunday, a ‘wwjd’ sticker on the back of her mother’s car. they did just enough activities and took just enough trips together to get the image across. they threw parties. they attended parties. they were the picture perfect american family — they even had two cats in the yard! life used to be so hard! 

of course, in reality, this all left ms alice quite the lonely gal. but don’t worry! she didn’t turn to hedonism! lord no! instead, she turned to other people. a lot of friendships — couldn’t tell if they were real or #fortheclout — but at a point, did it matter? 

grooming tw: it all came to a screeching halt when she met luke johnson, the son of their neighbors. he came back from california to georgia to visit family, care for his ailing father. oh, he was a good man! sure, he was ‘somewhat’ older than her — 27 when she was 16 — but he was such a good, handsome young man! and they were all still calling him young man, after all. 

alice ‘began’ a torrid affair with luke after about a month into his visit. although she saw no immediate wrong in it, he insisted she keep it a secret ‘for the time being’ — which really just made it all the more exciting! he made all the storm clouds that hovered disappear.

one day, the levee broke for alice (still figuring out what exactly happened because i don’t wanna go too dark since this is already extremely dark, but trust that it had something to do with her parents and was just enough to push her over the edge). convinced luke was the only safe person, she turned to him. knowing their small community would catch on and essentially exile him, he took that opportunity to convince her to go back to santa monica with him where they could ‘start anew’ after his father’s death.

there are a few details i plan on adding regarding like. how legality playing into it. but i may just reserve those for an official bio lhakfsdfj

**BEGINNING OF SUPER DARK** for a while, there was the question of whether they should consider it a kidnapping or not. she went with him willingly, but she was still underage (and… you know, that age difference… the power dynamic... gross y’all). the adams insisted that it was (bc it basically was lbr) — primarily because it would make them look far better — but the community still questioned the logistics and legalities of it all… ugh. did the police really wanna deal with that? ugh. 

in any case, on the other side of us america, autumn was nearing. alice would have the very occasional inquiry over how school would work (very occasional! don’t worry, luke!), over the logistics of her new life… and, after receiving multiple calls from various friends (in addition to her siblings) that sounded genuine, began wondering… if she’d made the right choice. questions about him.

when she began bringing up the idea of going back — at least for the school year!! — he would continuously remind her that she was not old enough to buy herself a plane ticket (and he was not about to do that). she also couldn’t rent a car yet (and he certainly wouldn’t let her take (one of) his car(s)!). but most importantly? he loved her. and she loved him. (what a creep!)

so, for a hot second, it seemed like she was stuck. damn legalities!! damn love!! you know, until she texted her older sister back with all of the problems that only being 16... and “in love”.... caused. her sister offered to fly down, buy her a plane ticket, and fly back with her. 

when luke saw this (with all the unrestricted access to her phone he had so he could block, delete, and manipulate as he pleased), he confronted her. things went awry. she wound up in his budding wine cellar (which he soon emptied, of course… those merlots :( ….). he messaged back and, as her, said it was actually all good!! luke had figured out the logistics and she could call whenever she wanted!!

and those calls became frequent! because she would pick up when luke held it up to her! because she was pretty sure luke would kill her if she didn’t!

she wasn’t sure how long it was until she was officially Found. it took what was ruled a suicide by luke, a shot to the head and heroin in his system, to finally get any authority’s attention. all she knew was that she went to santa monica in mid june and she stopped seeing regular daylight by late july. so some time in august to some time in april… **END OF SUPER DARK + GROOMING**

she was returned to georgia shortly after and everything was different. from herself to her friends. but everything was also the same. from her room to her family. it was all… teasing. she began going to therapy, but she really sucked at it?? so she just let her therapist rely on various articles that covered the event. because it had been a media circus. good enough, amirite?? 

she didn’t have the will or patience to put on that peppy facade she’d had before, but there were still a few things she found a smidge of joy in. music (although her taste had… slightly altered and wow! it’d been almost a year since she’d picked up that bass!), videography… just those small things, you know?? 

for the first half of the ~ 2014 fall semester ~, she attempted actual school. really was not working out. with, for probably the first and only time, her parents’ approval and understanding, she dropped out and studied for a ged -- shorter and self-led -- instead. 

she passed with a pretty decent grade... but it’s been argued that she really shouldn’t have gotten into pratt institute (she was at least realistic and didn’t apply to, like… cornell), but she did. national news helps. 

while in the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, she learned of masters. she submitted an application as a joke — because her grades sucked!!!!! — but guess who got a job?? oh, she could pretend it was because her selected portfolio was actually genuinely good… but, man… we all know…

fun fact: my uncle applied to harvard as a joke. some twenty-five years later, we still haven’t heard back :\

she… continues to suck. like… she kinda wants the place to eventually burn down?? figuratively speaking (or is it…) but ya, for all the monopolizing she has seen turn people Evil?? but the hell can she do about it… just gotta make sure she keeps her in-house videographer job… maybe she can do something about it when she like… is capable. fuaihoelwdjkn

she sees an in-house therapist and i’d say ‘good for her,’ but it was mandated l m a o 

doesn’t talk about herself all that much!! but that might not matter for some people, yk?? ugh journalism <3 

y’all im so bad at ending intros.

TL;DR:

(consult above trigger list): bright kid in a super rich and toxic family because obviously. everything they did was just to look good <3 also they all had ‘a’ names which is the biggest tragedy of all :( ‘fell in love’ when she was 16ys/o with a 27y/o who was visiting to care for his father in his final days. had a torrid affair. creep. creep (luke) basically made her ‘fall in love.’ she thought creep was the only safe person at one point and creep was like ‘wanna go back 2 santa monica w me?’ and she was like ‘yes.’ and everyone was like ‘was this kidnapping... we cant tell....’ then he became even more possessive when she started questioning him and some logistics. when she finally found a way she could go back to georgia for a spell, he was like ‘no u can go in my wine cellar btw i will be taking all of the wine out.’ he kept her there from august to april and... only reason he didnt keep keeping her was bc he was Caught so. back to georgia where the devil went down. everything was Worse. even the things that were the same. but hey, the sob story that landed her in the news plenty of times got her into a college she shouldn’t have gotten into and gave her a leg-up in a joke application for a job at masters (in-house videographer). really bad at doing her work but like... fuck the man i guess?? 

PERSONALITY + HEADCANONS:

has no time for Fake Nice (which, as a born southerner, she’s really good at sniffing out!). has no time for arrogance. kind of makes her at odds with the nyc upper class...

on that note, still got a lil bit of some georgia twang

she lets herself indulge in various vices, but has left a previous hedonist status. weed and alcohol are still pretty common, but everything else is kept at arm’s length.

also, while on that topic, she Does Not drink wine. being trapped in a cellar... kinda makes u averse. like. literally despises it. will go on autopilot and make it KNOWN if offered wine.

also ALSO while on that topic, after looking it up and seeing she fits the new york city requirements, she has a medical marijuana card <3 the one good thing, if u ask her, to come out of therapy/psychiatry <3 will not show it off unless absolutely NECESSARY bc then it gets personal or <3 will lie about why and say it’s like for epilepsy or sumn unless ur rolfe but <3 she has it <3

at odds with herself. enjoys the company of others, definitely has a history of being an extrovert, but has become very selective with the company she keeps. 

VERY private person! has had enough public standing! 

...has occasionally used her story to advance her tho bc it’s her national newsworthy tragic story and she can exploit it if she wants <3

when good charlotte said “i don’t wanna be in love”?? she felt that. her last ‘relationship’ ruined that for her <3 save her <3 

used to be really into pop! bc pop is fun! she loved some britney (i mean... she still does... how can u not!)! but. her taste has changed drastically. rarely listens to pop. has traded britney for like.... hole and the like.

her parents didn’t use this as the basis for her name but,, 2 me,,, she’s named alice for a reason <3 gotta luv alice in chains <3

y’all i found a youtube comment on a video called ‘nirvana - half the man i used to be’ (the song was, in fact, ‘creep’ by stone temple pilots) and it’s <3 her music taste <3 click here for it <3

the above said, dresses like she’s in seattle in the early 90s. 

her rumor is true btw she DID catfish david hasselhoff and she will proudly tell u. it’s her best accomplishment.

completely stopped talking to her parents and got cut-off a while back ago so now she’s livin like the Prols

which is how a rich kid one of my profs once advised referred to his classmates.... hilarity ensues.

the above in mind, her parents say she’s testing the waters as a ‘normal person’ to save face. they can’t have anyone knowing their family isn’t perfect <3

she has a pet turtle whom she named “dr. turtle,” although he’s constantly referred to as “doc” or “the doc.” he has his own youtube channel and tiktok account.

she has a wall full of evidence that courtney love did not kill kurt cobain... it makes sense, believe me.

became a vegetarian...... partially because it was different from her original life and a way to control something, partially because this commercial made her feel SO BAD.

literally her default mode is stoned like... a totally sober alice is rarer than a nessie sighting

when she was 18, before she could ‘hold her liquor’ as well as she can now, she got a lil too drunk and now has a portrait tattoo of courtney love on her forearm. but it was done well at least!!

kind of ironic considering her career, but RARELY posts on any social media site except twitter. after the media circus in 2014 and All Eyes On Her, she’s just..... so tired...... of ppl seeing her face and being like ‘omg ur that wine cellar bitch!’

(drugs tw) has become more and more Addicted to playing around with fate. j chill on a ledge, talkin to some pals, but deciding it’s a good idea to swing her legs on the wrong side of ledge? totally! mixing a lot of alcohol with opioids which she is not accustomed to? DEF!! (end tw)

more to come!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

i have two (2) queued up!! but while we wait for them to post, i’ll just… link them over here: 1, 2

muse u <3 the other half of her subplot from the main <3

her older sister!

her younger sibling!

some of the basics!! you know: close pal, roommate, drug buddies (but she gotta hit them up), fwb, ons, frenemies, enemy

ppl who recognize her from the 2014 luke johnson articles and have either brought it up or,,,,,,, act Awkward™

cld be fun 2 just have like. a jam bud. someone who plays any instrument and they j. jam sometimes.

ppl she sells. some of her medical marijuana to. bc yk what weed may be legal in nyc now but,,,, she’s still found a way to be broke she will accept anything. and also it just became legalized THIS YEAR so!!

i have a budding wc page @ https://escxpiism.tumblr.com/wcs (and when i say budding, i MEAN budding) so feel free 2 check it out!!

more to come!!

#masters.intro #alice | intro ! #this took me like....... 2hrs 2 write so i do indeed think my mind is fooling me and actually lagging behind.

[aaliyah-babe]

Pilot: Part Two

Pairings: eventual Joey x reader

authors note: i own nothing from friends, all credit goes to their respective owners. feedback is always appreciated.

Feeback is the glue that holds my writing together!

PART ONE here

the next morning, you were up bright and early, ready for a long day of work, but you loved your job, you worked at victoria’s secret. you weren’t a model or anything you were just a sales person, you didn’t make thousands, but it was enough to get by.

you took a shower and got dressed, after doing your regular day things you headed to monica’s apartment, as you knew that would be where everyone was.

you were about to open the door when monica and paul walked out, “oh, morning you two!” you sent monica a smirk and she glared before letting you in,

“morning all!” you smiled at the fact they had pushed monica’s table closer to the door, to hear.

“i had a really great time last night,” you heard monica say, as you sat down at the table next to chandler and opposite joey.

you saw them kiss and then monica walked in and closed the door, smiling,

“that wasn’t a real date,” joey started, smiling, “what the hell do you do on a real date?” he asked her, laughing.

“shut up and put my table back,” monica said to him, walking to the kitchen,

“all right kids, i gotta get to work. if i don’t input those numbers.... it doesn’t make much of a difference,” chandler said, making rachel stare at them all,

“so, like, you guys all have jobs?” she asked them and monica turned around,

“yeah we all have jobs,” monica smiled sweetly at her,

“that’s kind of how we, buy stuff,” you added onto monica’s sentance,

“yeah. i’m an actor,” joey told her and she perked up,

“wow, would i have seen you in anything?” she asked him,

“oh, i doubt it. mostly regional work,” he told her and both you and chandler scoffed.

“oh wait. unless you happened to catch the wee ones production of pinocchio,” monica told her, sitting down,

“‘look, gepetto, i’m a real live boy,” chandler quoted, and joey got up,

“i will not take this abuse,” he sighed,

“you’re right, i’m sorry,” chandler started, going for the door, “‘once i was a wooden boy, a little wooden boy!’” he sang, running out of the door, joey sighed then followed him,

“i better go too, gracie wants me in early because her “number one” client, jamie is coming in for his girlfriend,” you said to the ladies, standing up from your seat,

“wait, y/n, what do you do?” rachel asked you,

“i work at victoria’s secret,” you smiled at her and she smirked,

“yeah, she does!” monica laughed,

“oh, monica would you grow up? i’m not a model or anything i just work in the store, and sometimes i actually get to pick out some of the outfits that could potentially be on the runway,” you smiled and left the building, seeing joey and chandler walk down the stairs you ran to catch up to them, “guys! wait up!”

you all walked downstairs, talking about work when you got outside, and called yourself a cab,

“see you later, guys,” you smiled at them and left to go to work,

once you got there, gracie greeted you with a smile,

“y/n! good to see you! shall we begin?” you nodded at her and she continued, “okay, so, jamie is going to be in soon and he said he wasnt sure what to get her so i know you can help with that, and he said you two have the same body types so that’ll make it even better!” you nodded before going to restock some of the things while you waited.

about a half an hour later you felt a tap on your back, you turned around to see a tall, very good looking man standing over you,

“are you y/n?” he asked you, you nodded and smiled,

“yes, you must be jamie?” you shook his hand that he held out for you as he spoke,

“yes, i’m uh, here for my girlfriend,” he reminded you that he had a girlfriend so you backed off,

“yes okay, is it a special occasion or just a night in or, well you know,” you smiled up at him and he nodded,

“last one,” he laughed and you smiled, he had the nicest laugh.

“okay well, any specific things she likes, color or material wise?” you asked him, and he shook his head,

“uh no, i believe the only thing she told me was, i need some lingerie for tonight, so unless you can figure out the stuff from that i have no idea,” he laughed which made you chuckle,

“um, okay i’m sure we can find something for her, follow me please,” you said to him and he followed you,

after a long time of talking and looking at stuff you finally finished your shift for the day and headed home,

“bye, gracie!” you called out to her,

“bye, y/n! see you tomorrow,” she called back.

you caught a cab and they drove you back to the apartment complex, you headed straight to your apartment to change before joining the rest of them at central perk. monica was explaining what paul had said to her and then what a girl at work had said to her,

“of course it was a line!” joey exclaimed,

“why? why would anybody do something like that?” monica frantically asked,

“i assume we’re looking for an answer more sophisticated than, to get you into bed,” ross answered her question.

“is it me?” she asked them, “is it like i have some sort of beacon that only dogs and men with severe emotional problems can hear?” she asked them.

“alright, come here. give me your feet,” pheobe said, monica sat down and pheobe started massaging monica’s feet.

“i just, thought he was nice, you know?” monica said to them, and you sighed, putting an arm around her,

“i’m sorry, mon’,”  you said to her and she leaned into you, it was silent for a while before joey spoke up,

“i cant believe you didn’t know it was a line!” he laughed before you shoved him off the couch.

“guess what?!” rachel yelled, running into the coffee house, making everyone look at her,

“you got a job?” ross asked her,

“are you kidding? i’m trained for nothing!” she said weirdly excited, “i was laughed out of twelve interviews,” she said still happily.

“and yet you’re surprisingly upbeat,” chandler pointed out,

“you would be too, if you found joan and david boots on sale, 50% off,” she said, passing monica the box of the boots.

“oh, how well you know me,” chandler sarcastically said.

“theyre my new, i-don’t-need-a-job, i-don’t-need-my-parents, i’ve-got-great-boots boots!” she exclaimed,

“uh, rach?” you asked her and she nodded looking at you, “how’d you pay for them?”

“a credit card,” she answered you,

“and who pays for that?” monica asked her,

“uh.. my father,” she mumbled walking to the counter, but everybody heard,

“i’ve got an idea,” you said to them before explaining your idea and walking with them all back to the apartment,

“come on! you can’t live off your parents your whole life,” monica told rachel,

“i know that. that’s why i was getting married!,” she explained to her.

“give her a break, it’s hard being on your own for the first time.” pheobe siad to monica, and rachel calmed down, looking at pheobe,

“thank you,” she thanked her.

“you’re welcome, i remember when i first came to this city, i was 14, my mom had just killed herself and my stepdad was back in prison. and i got here and i didn’t know anybody, and i ended up living with this albino guy, who was cleaning windshields outside port authority, and then he killer himself! and then i found aroma therapy, so believe me i know exactly how you feel,” pheobe explained, rubbing rachel’s back.

everybody was silent and staring at her as she got up,

“the world you’re looking for is... anyway,” ross said, sitting in her seat.

“all right. you ready?” you asked her, holding up the scissors and she looked at you,

“i don’t think so.” she sighed,

“oh come on! cut! cut! cut!” ross started chanting and everyone joined in,

“cut! cut! cut! cut! cut!” everyone yelled.

she grabbed the scissors as ross held out the credit cards and she cut them one by one, after she was finished everybody cheered,

“well done rachel!” you exclaimed, hugging her.

“welcome to the real world! it sucks. you’re gonna love it,” monica told her.

it was later in the night and you were chilling with chandler and joey, in their apartment,

“i’m serious! i don’t help the women change, i hand them the clothes and they change, if they like it they tell me, you idiot!” you exclaimed at joey,

“oh come on, y/n. you’re telling me that you’ve never looked,” he pressed,

“nope, i’ve never looked,” you said to him, grabbing your coat.

“well kid’s i’m gonna go home, i need sleep,” you said walking to the door,

“bye,” chandler waved,

“later,” joey said, and you went to your apartment and crashed there for the night.

the next morning you were all hanging out at the coffee house like usual,

“i can’t believe what i’m hearing here,” joey sighed,

“i can’t believe what i’m hearing here,” pheobe repeated joey but sang it instead,

“what? i said you had-” monica was cut off by pheobes singing,

“what i said you had,” she sang,

“would you stop?” monica asked her,

“was i doing it again?” she asked them,

“yes!” everyone yelled at her.

“would anybody like more coffee?” rachel said, walking up with an apron on and coffee in her hand.

“did you make it or are you just serving it?” chandler asked her,

“i’m just serving it,” she said to him,

everyone raised there mug up to her

“yeah i’ll have some!”

“yeah,”

“me please,”

“kids, new dream,” chandler started, “i’m in las vegas. i’m liza minnelli,” he starts and the guys start nodding at him.

#friends #joey tribbiani #rachel green #ross geller #monica geller #chandler bing #pheobe buffay #x reader #friends series

[pedros-mustache-main]

when your love reaches me (iii)

summary: 1978 is decidedly not 2020. nor is your life ever the same when you meet a guitarist, curly haired, soft spoken, and true.

word count: 7.5k

warnings: angst, language, yearning for a man in his 70s (c’est la vie, i guess), over-describing a moment i’m very passionate about (sorry, not sorry! ten points to the person who can tell me what moment it is LOL)

a/n: wow—this gif? yeah, match made in heaven. thank you all so much for indulging me in this mini-series. i really am very proud of this silly little thing & i’m sad that it’s over because i enjoyed writing it so much. thank you to @im-an-adult-ish​ & @deacyblues​ for helping me work out the rough spots in this one. would love to hear everyone’s thoughts because i’m very ~emotional~ about this mini-series!! xoxo.

part i, part ii

in this final chapter: you must adjust because it’s not in your cards to be with him, is it?

you run your hands down your face, feel the ring on your finger catch along the end of your nose, and sigh. two months—two months without him. two months to adjust to world you once knew but happily left behind. two months to gather the pieces of the life which cruelly slipped through your fingers like water. 

each day is the same. you rise early and take your coffee on the postage stamp terrace outside your flat. you watch the sun climb higher in the sky with each passing moment and let the warmth of your drink soothe the ache in your soul. you wash your breakfast dishes, mumble a good morning to rachel when she exits her bedroom to make her way to the shower, and dress for the day. you walk to campus if you have a class or take the underground to the museum if you have a shift. you come home, eat dinner, go to bed. repeat.

if rachel notices a change in you, she doesn’t say anything. in her mind, no time has passed between the morning where she asked you to come to the pub and the same evening you tumbled into the flat, drenched and sobbing. 

but you—you’ve lost a year of your life. there’s no getting it back, and the only thing that proves it really truly happened is the ring on your middle finger, the necklace hanging by your heart, and the undeveloped rolls of film in your bedside table.

there are few words to describe the unbearable pain in your chest. anything and everything reminds you of brian: the whisper of the breeze in the autumn-heavy trees; the feeling of your warmest cardigan around your shoulders; the sound of someone laughing in the museum.

but there’s more:

the scent of cigarette smoke reminds you of roger. the sight of two friends ribbing one another in a grocery store reminds you of crystal. a colorful jacket makes you think of freddie, a whispered snide remark takes you back to john, and two girls giggling reminds you of giddy moments with anna.

around every corner you turn there’s a memory you cannot avoid, and it hurts—desperately, keenly, deeply.

so you push it all away and soldier on, quiet and downtrodden. it’s easier that way. maybe, if you forget, you can move on and make it through life without him.

six months after you’ve left brian behind, you’re approached by your boss at the museum with an opportunity you’d only ever dreamed of: the chance to create and prepare your own exhibit. 

monica is firm when she offers you the south wing to reshape as your own. “blow this out of the water, [y/n], and there will be a job as assistant curator waiting for you after graduation. i want something fresh and exciting. think you can manage?”

you agree without hesitation.

for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this is your chance to put everything you’ve learned to good use, to put something tangible in your portfolio, to make a name for yourself. 

you’re buzzing with excitement and have to practically hold rachel hostage as you spout your myriad of thoughts and ideas. she’s your sounding board, even if she doesn’t want to be, but she’s honest where it counts most, and you’re grateful for that.

she glances over the kitchen table, laden with open magazines, cutout photos, and history books. her brow puckers. “this is... really boring, [y/n],” she says with a cringe, looking up with her blue eyes and freckled face.

your shoulder droop. “that’s it? that’s all you have to say?”

she shrugs and reaches for a photo, inspecting it with a critical gaze. “i mean, ancient textiles might be interesting to you and maybe five other people, but it isn’t exactly blowing me out of the water.”

dropping to the seat across the table, you huff. “well, we’re a photography museum, rachel. it’s not like i can whip up a few outfits and put them on mannequins.”

“excuse me, but fashion design is just as artistic as curating a museum—if not more so.” she sighs and puts the photo of a thirteenth century chinese table linen on the table. “there must be something else you’re interested in? something that other people will like just as much?”

you don’t mean to, but you let your eyes trail to the camera sitting on on the tv stand. you’d left it there after your return, uncertain where to put it. sometimes you catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye and then you remember the tubes of film in your bedroom, undeveloped and unseen. 

rachel follows your gaze. “you know, you never told me where you got that.”

“it was a gift.”

“oh really? from who?”

you’re slow to answer. the truth sits on the tip of your tongue—the man i love, the man i was going to marry—but you bite it back. “my great-aunt. she left it to me... in her will.”

you aren’t sure what compels you to retrieve the six rolls of film from your bedroom, but you do. the tubes feel heavy in your palm and clang against the table as you put them down. rachel looks at them then back at you, waiting.

“she gave me these, too.”

“i didn’t know you had a great-aunt.”

“we weren’t close.”

“obviously you were close enough to get these things.” rachel lifts one of the tubes, turning it over in her palm. “wonder what the pictures are.”

“i’m not sure,” you lie. “maybe they could make an exhibit.”

“i think you’d have to develop them first then make that decision.” she rises from the table and shrugs on her coat. “i’ve got a date, so don’t wait up. and try not to let this consume you too much? you’ve been down and out lately. i think the work will do you good, but don’t let it take over, yeah?”

you nod and wish her well on her date. she leaves the flat in a flourish, leaves you to the tubes of film and the growing curiosity in your stomach.

you really should get them developed. if not for an exhibit, then for yourself. an entire year of your life is in those tubes, and you deserve to see the photos you’d taken to preserve that time.

it’s been six months. you’ve purposefully distanced yourself from anything and everything related to queen, be it a simple news story, a song on the radio, or any of roger or brian’s social media posts. it hurts to see them, to know that they’re so close yet so far away, that they have no idea what became of you all those years ago in japan.

still, it’s been six months. developing the film might be your first step toward a sense of closure. you don’t want to stay in your rut forever. though you’re comfortable with the idea that brian might be your great love and you’ll never find another, you know you can’t stay as you are, sullen and despondent. it’s like a break-up, really. you’re sad, heartbroken over the loss, but you know it’s time to step out of the hurt and into something different.

before you can stop yourself, you grab the rolls of film, your purse, and your jacket, and you head for the nearest photo shop.

a few hours later, you return with a heavy packet of freshly-printed photographs and a usb drive full of digital scans. there’s over two hundred photos to sort through, and you’ve yet to see one. 

flipping on the light to your living room, you sit down beside the coffee table, a glass of wine at your side, the table cleared of any lingering books or empty teacups. before you open the packet of photos, you open your laptop and type your search into the search bar. if you’re going to quell your curiosity tonight, you might as well quell all of it, and you’re dying to know what happened after you left. 

a simple internet search confirms what you already know: your presence within the group on the jazz tour did not alter any significant events. freddie still passed away, john still retired. a further search yields at least one previously nonexistent queen song written by brian may: “into thin air.” it was released in the album following jazz. you can’t bring yourself to listen to it, not yet. a deeper search unearths an interview brian gave a year or so after you left. the interview was published in a magazine editorial covering of each of queen’s band members and their lives when not on tour or recording. after freddie’s bit, there’s a photograph of brian at the top of a new page. he’s smiling, but he looks weary and he mentions you only once: “i was engaged for awhile, but that ended in an unfortunate circumstance, so to answer your question: no, i’m not looking for love. not right now, anyway.”

you close the laptop and lean back against the sofa. the ring on your finger feels heavy. your eyes fill with unshed tears, and you decide the photos can wait to be seen until tomorrow.

the packet of photos ends up sitting on the coffee table for two weeks before you invite your co-worker, shamik, over for wine and cheese and museum gossip. shamik is kind, a first-generation immigrant from india with personality to spare and an exuberance for all things american. he claims it’s his greatest curse that his parents brought him to britain as a baby instead of america, and it’s something he can never forgive them for. you’ve only interacted with shamik at work, but when you mention your exhibit project, he’s eager to offer his help. with no new ideas outside ancient textiles, you’re willing to take whatever advice or ideas he has.

sitting beside him on the couch, you spread your collection of papers and pictures on the table to explain your vision. he listens dutifully, nodding along, his eyes scanning the 3-d projection you’ve made of what the exhibit might look like once completed. when you’ve finished your spiel, he sets his wine glass down and nods to the packet of unopened photographs on the edge of the table.

“what’s that?”

you frown, shaking your head at the sudden turn in conversation. “sorry?”

he reaches for the manilla envelope. “oh, it’s hefty! what’s in here?”

you sigh and take the packet from his hands. it feels solid in your lap, like a brick. “photos from my great-aunt.”

he points to the sealed flap. “it’s unopened.”

“i haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet.” setting the packet to the side, you raise your eyebrows. “well, what do you think? about the exhibit?”

“honestly? it’s dull. monica won’t be impressed.”

you throw yourself back against the couch with a groan. “what the hell,” you whisper. “i’ve got no ideas then.”

you know ancient textile photography would not be the most enticing exhibit, but it’s been an interest of yours for some time and would be easy enough to complete. shamik and rachel’s reactions do not bode well, you have to admit. having a job as an assistant curator right out of the gate would be beyond marvelous, and you desperately don’t want to screw it up with a boring first exhibit.

“let’s have a look at these pictures from your aunt!” before you can stop him, shamik reaches across your lap for the photo packet and rips open the top. “maybe that will spark some ideas?”

you lean forward, blush already rising to your cheeks as he pulls out the first picture. “oh no, shamik, i don’t know if—”

“holy shit!”

you shut your eyes, wincing.

“that’s fucking freddie mercury!” shamik grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your flesh. “did you know about this, [y/n]? that’s your aunt with freddie mercury!”

forcing your eyes open, you look at the photo trembling between his fingers. it’s a picture of you sitting beside freddie on the tour bus. (you think john took the photo in an effort to get you to stop taking photos of him when he was asleep while roger and crystal placed as many items on his head as they could before he fully awoke.) your head is against freddie’s shoulder, your eyes droopy with sleep. a lump rises in your throat, and all you can do is shake your head in feigned disbelief as shamik continues to shuffle through the photos.

“oh my god, your aunt was a groupie,” he cries, passing you another photo.

“i guess—” you clear your throat. “i guess she was.”

“you know”—shamik sets the pile of photos down and spreads them across the table, obscuring your vision of an ancient textiles display—“this would make a great exhibit.”

“shamik—” your voice is a warning, a sudden surge of anger rising in your chest, but he continues.

“no, really, [y/n]! there are so many photos here that tell such a cutesy little story. i mean, come on? freddie and this cat?” he lifts the photo in question. “it’s stuff people have never seen before from a totally different side of queen. it’s a fucking goldmine!” 

“absolutely not,” you say. “i will not put my aunt’s personal affairs on display.”

“think of monica, [y/n]! think of the job!”

“no, shamik!” you stand from the table and drop your plates in the kitchen sink with a resolute clatter. “i barely knew my aunt, but i know enough to gather that her time with queen was private. she didn’t say anything about it until she died. that’s got to mean something, and i don’t want to air it all out for everyone to see and speculate and gossip about just for my own personal gain.”

you’re shouting, fists clenched at your sides, by the time you finish. shamik just stares at you, his face blank and unreadable. he glances down at a photo. 

“she looks a lot like you,” he says, his voice even.

you huff and take the wine glasses from the table. “we’ve got strong family genes. now, please, i’d appreciate it if you just drop the whole queen thing. we can find some other idea.”

you gather the photos, shove them back in the folder, and toss the envelope in the nearest drawer you can find. the drawer slams shut, and you leave the photos there to gather dust.

you mull over shamik’s idea of an exhibit based on your photos for a month before you finally relent. monica’s riding your ass daily with questions about your progress. you need to get something down on paper for her to give to the contractors, so you begrudgingly type out a response to her most recent email:

monica,

i’ve landed on an exhibit topic at last. took me long enough, right? 

i’ve recently come into possession of a series of photographs taken by my late great-aunt. turns out she was a groupie with the band queen in the ‘70s. my exhibit will be centered around those photos. i’m thinking the exhibit will be titled “queen: unfiltered.” do with that what you will. :)

monica, much to your dismay, loves the idea and sends you right to work on gathering and laying out your vision while she begins the necessary promotion.

it hurts at first—looking at all the photos you took, remembering the way you felt so unearthly happy during that year. you cry each time you sit down to sort out the best of the pictures. the ones which capture a moment of levity amongst the band or are particularly well-shot go in a pile on the left. the ones which didn’t develop well or are too intimate for you to ever consider putting on display go in a pile on the right. your bedroom floor is a mess of drafted captions written on slips of printer paper, photographs with notes scrawled along the back, and used tissues. more than anything, you wish you could step into the world behind those photographs. you want to be back there—with him, with them—until you grow old and gray. knowing you can’t, that you won’t ever see him again, tears you apart inside.

but it helps. the exhibit forces you to acknowledge the time you spent with brian, with queen. instead of leaving the photos in a drawer, they confront you everyday as you sit down to work, and everyday it gets a little bit easier to face your past. as the tears subside, you find yourself laughing whenever you find a new photo of roger’s antics. your heart doesn’t clench as much when you run across another photo of you and brian. you can smile now when you look at his face. he really was so handsome...

you go so far as to frame your favorite photograph of your time together and place it on your dresser. he’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head. you’re laughing, your hands folded on his arms, legs crossed as you tilt to the side. he’s making a face, his tongue stuck out at the camera, and every time you pass by the picture, you can’t help but chuckle.

you love him still. you’ll love him always.

with three weeks before the opening of the exhibit, the stress is starting to get the better of you. you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick, there’s heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep, and you can’t remember the last time you consumed something other than coffee. despite the stress, you feel lighter. working through the photos, laying them out in order, writing the captions, pouring over the faces of the ones you love so dearly—it’s all helped ease the burden in your heart. for the first time in a long time, you slip out of bed in the mornings with a newfound sense of energy and purpose.

life will go on. just as you did when you fell into the past, you will find a new future.

arms laden with exhibit proposals and mock-ups, you brush into your local coffee shop—pretty bird—intent on getting some real work done on choosing the final photographs before you send them off to be printed. you order your usual and take a seat by the front. the air which wafts through the open window at your side is warm with spring and rebirth, and you breathe deep, cracking open the lid of your laptop. you manage to pick a total of twelve of the seventy-six needed photographs before you’re interrupted.

“whatcha workin’ on?” matthew, barista extraordinaire and casual acquaintance, sits down on the bench across from you. he has his own cup of cold brew poised between his lips, and the piercing in his eyebrow wiggles as he moves his brow up and down.

“an exhibit for the museum,” you say, pausing to roll your tight shoulders. “it’s my first.”

“do tell!”

you explain, briefly, how to came to acquire your dead aunt’s photographs and the general theme of the showcase. he nods in approval then snaps as if he’s remembered something.

“hold on. stay right there. i’ll be right back.” he puts his coffee down, scoots off of the bench, and darts to the back of the coffee shop. you wait and listen to the sound of the birds twittering outside before he returns with a framed picture in hand. “i just learned about this,” he says, taking his seat again. “this building used to be a disco back in the 70s.” he hands you the frame and points to a collection of people in the middle of a disco bar. “that’s queen. they came here once and somebody had the smarts to take a picture.”

your hands shake around the photograph, eyes darting from one corner of the picture to another. 

matthew keeps talking. “the place was called climax. can you believe that? the 70s were fuckin’ wild, mate.”

you nod, lips parted, and skim your fingers over the incredibly tall and recognizable form of brian in the center of the photo. you can see your shoulder, jammed between freddie and crystal, but the rest of your body is obscured. you lift your eyes from the frame and glance around the coffee shop, at the exposed metal beams and vaulted ceilings, at the disco ball still hanging in the center of the room.

makes sense now. why the building had felt so eerily familiar back then.

handing matthew the picture frame, you sit back in your chair. “wonder if my aunt ever came,” you say.

“maybe? sounds like she was in pretty tight. you know who you could ask?” you shake your head, uncertain of matthew’s question. “chris taylor. he was a roadie back then. he’s a regular here. comes in at least twice at week.”

you can’t stop the hand that flies to your mouth in surprise. you try to smother your gasp with a cough, but matthew still stares at you like you’ve sprouted another head. 

“you okay?” he asks warily.

nodding, you take a sip of your drink. “yeah, yeah, sorry! wrong pipe.”

“so, do you want to meet him and ask about your aunt?”

everything in you screams to say no. it’s too dangerous. you will surely break the moment you see him. crystal became your lifeline apart from brian during that year. he was your brother, your partner in crime, the one who kept you grounded when things got too wild. just knowing that he’s frequented the same coffee shop as you for the last six months brings tears to your eyes. you could have run into him. hell, you might’ve already. still, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to make it through a proper meeting without spilling your guts and apologizing for the way you left.

“[y/n]?” matthew pulls you from your thoughts. “what do you think?”

you hesitate before shrugging. you speak before you can stop yourself, before the rational and reasonable part of you can take over. god, you need this. if it’s your only opportunity for true closure, you’ll take it. “if he’s up to it then... sure.”

matthew grins. “come in tomorrow. i’ll introduce you!”

that night you toss and turn. you’re plagued with anxiety. will crystal recognize you? if he does, what will he say? will he be angry? what if he tells brian and then—

your bedside alarm goes off just as you fall asleep. it’s a struggle to drag yourself out of bed, but you must. there’s closure somewhere around the corner, and if you just move your ass, you’ll find it. you have one class this morning then your meeting with crystal. you’re jittery by the time you leave class, but you chalk that up to drinking two cups of coffee before leaving your flat and one in class. 

it’s drizzling as you make your way to the coffee shop. you hasten your steps, head bent against the rain and fingers curled around the strap of your bag. when you enter the shop, it’s nearly empty aside from a few lonesome students studying in far off corners. you can hear the faint thrill of music over the loudspeakers, but the blood that’s rushing to your ears blocks out most of the melody.

crystal’s already here, leaning against the counter, in conversation with matthew.

you stop in your tracks. he’s bald now, slightly pudgier with age, but he looks every bit as devilish as you remember.

you swallow past the fear in your throat and the anxiety in your veins and step forward. you voice wobbles when you speak. “matthew?” you direct your entrance to your friend because if you come right out and say crystal’s name, you will surely fall over in a puddle of emotion.

“there you are!” matthew jumps over the counter in one easy leap and lands to the floor beside you. he drapes his arm around your shoulders and motions to crystal. “[y/n], i’d like you to meet chris taylor. chris, this is [y/n], the girl i was telling you about.”

crystal’s staring at you through his blue-tinted glasses like he’s seen a ghost. his jaw has gone slack, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to formulate a sentence. 

you shove your hand into the space between you. “nice to meet you, mr. taylor.”

looking between matthew and yourself, he gathers himself, clearing his throat, and shakes your hand. “you too.”

“should we sit?” you motion to the same table you occupied the day before. “i can buy you a coffee for your troubles.”

he shakes his head and lifts his cup. “already got mine.”

“all right, well...” you glance at matthew.

“do you want your regular?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

“comin’ right up.”

crystal follows you to the table and sits down, his movements slow. for a moment, you sit in silence and allow his eyes to roam your face. you can’t tell if he knows it’s you or if he thinks it’s just a coincidence. you want to reach out and take the hand he rubs across the bridge of his nose, but you fold your fingers in your lap.

“thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” you finally say.

“you aunt,” he starts.

“yes, my aunt.” you pull a photograph out of your bag. it’s one of the few you took with crystal all those years ago. he’s got you in a headlock, his opposite fist grinding into the top of your skull. you slide the picture across the table. “you knew her?”

crystal lifts the photo, inspects it, before putting it down. he sighs, shaking his head. “i loved that woman. broke my heart when she left.” his gaze lifts from the table. “you look like her, have her name too.”

you look away, out the window at the side. there’s bird fluttering in a puddle on the sidewalk, and you watch it for a moment before turning back to him. “i think my mother loved her a great deal. i didn’t get the chance to know her, though. we only just found these pictures recently.”

his eyes narrow. “i mean, you really look like her.”

you force a smile. “thank you. that’s kind of you.” shifting, you tap your finger on the table. “i know her leaving wasn’t exactly...” you struggle to find the proper word, but he jumps to assist.

“natural?”

“well, i was going to say easy, but—”

“she fuckin’ disappeared! excuse my language.” huffing, he drops back against his chair. “one minute she was there, the next minute she was gone. i swear, i’ve never seen anyone skip town that fast.”

“she didn’t say anything about leaving?”

“why would she? she was engaged! she had no reason to leave that i know of.”

“was she happy?”

“hell yes. her and brian—i’ve never seen two people more fit for one another. brian just about lost his mind trying to find her, but it was like she never existed. strangest thing.” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, looking askance, before his eyes whiz back to yours. “oh my fucking god.” 

you look up, fear sparking in your belly. “what?”

“[y/n]?”

you blink. your head feels dizzy with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s about to jump across the table and throttle you or hug you so tight your insides might squeeze out of your body.

“fuck,” he breathes. “it is you.”

“i don’t know know what you’re—”

“don’t play dumb with me!” he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “i was the one who got you that phony passport, remember? i always wondered why i couldn’t find your credentials. had to lie my way through it until i got the damn thing. you’re lucky everything was so lax in the 70s.” he shakes his head. “how’d you do it?”

there’s part of you that wants to deny, deny, deny.

but it’s crystal. you can’t lie to him any more than you already have.

“i had no choice in the matter,” you say plainly. “one minute i was here, the next minute i was there, and the next minute i was here again.”

his jaw works back and forth as he processes the information. “does brian know?”

“no—and i’d like to keep it that way.”

“i thought we might lose him after you left.”

you twist the ring on your finger. “if i’d had the choice, i would have stayed. i hope you know that.”

crystal nods. “yeah, i do.” he holds your gaze then motions to your bag. “so, this exhibit matthew told me about. you’re publishing all those photos you took?”

“yes. there are some pictures i’ve saved for myself, but my boss, monica, she got permission from the record label to go ahead with the others. it opens in three weeks.”

“i’ll be there if i can. i’d like to see those pictures.”

you smile, your first earnest smile of the day. “you feature many times.”

he ducks his head like an embarrassed schoolboy. “we were thick as thieves, weren’t we?”

“you and roger were thicker, but i’d like to think i had a part to play some of the time.”

he lifts his head and heaves a heavy sigh. “you know, when i said i loved you, i meant it. not in the way brian did. you were like a kid sister to me. i cared for you a great deal.”

before you can stop yourself, you slip your hand across the table to grasp his worn fingers. his shoulders shake on another sigh, and he lifts his opposite hand to wipe at his eyes beneath his glasses. 

“oh, crystal. i’m so sorry,” you whisper. it hurts to see him cry, to know that you’re the cause behind his pain. 

he waves your apology away, sniffing hard. “i’m just glad to know you’re okay. we thought you might’ve gotten picked up or—” he shakes his head and pats your hand over his, meeting your eyes. “you’re okay, though. that’s what matters.”

“will you really come to my exhibit?”

“anything for you, kid.” he thumbs the underside of your chin with a lopsided grin. “even after all this time, i’m putty in your hands.”

you grin and hand him a business card, which he tucks in the folds of his wallet. rising from his seat, he opens his arms and you practically trip into his hug. he holds you tight for the briefest of moments before pulling back. he pats your cheek.

“i’ll see you in three weeks, yeah? if i stay any longer i’ll end up a sobbin’ mess on the floor.”

you nod. “yeah. and, crystal?” he turns at the door. “don’t tell brian. please.”

he leaves without another word.

the day of the exhibit opening you are equal parts thrilled and a nervous wreck. everyone’s here—your family, rachel, shamik, even matthew. you haven’t seen crystal amidst the crowd mingling in the lobby, but you trust him to show. he’s always been reliable, and you doubt he’ll fail you now.

monica squeezes your shoulder as she passes you by in the staff hallway. “it looks wonderful, [y/n]. consider yourself hired,” she says and hands you a keycard. “i’m going to give you a piece of advice i got when i completed my first exhibit: go have a moment by yourself. look at your work, be proud of it. you deserve it.”

with trembling fingers and a racing heart, you make your way down the corridor to the south exhibit hall. due to a celebratory lunch with rachel the day before, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the room in its final state. in retrospect, you’re thankful for the chance to see it for the first time alone. at least this way, if you cry, no one will have to know.

the door beeps as it unlocks, and you slip inside the room. you descend the handful of stairs which lead into the showroom floor and suck in a deep breath. 

before entering the exhibit, there’s a wall to the side with a simple explanation written in a white font:

queen: unfiltered — this exhibit preserves and presents never-before-seen images of the popular band, queen, through the eyes of an unnamed woman who spent a year traveling the world on queen’s jazz album tour. her images are intimate yet distinctive and offer a personal glimpse into the lives of one of britain’s most well-known bands. 

at the far end of the room hang four banners spanning floor to ceiling. the banners wave gently in the air blowing throughout the room, illuminated from lights on the ceiling and floor. each banner hosts an oversized photo of one of the band’s members in an image that best captures their personality. it took you hours to find the right photo for each man, but you stand by your choice for each one.

there’s john on the far left, head bent as he strums the bass across his knee. his lips are pursed in thought, a line of concentration on his brow.

there’s freddie next to him. he stands in a spanish alley way, cradling a stray cat in his arms. he looks serenely on at the camera, a rare moment of simplicity.

there’s brian sat in an overstuffed armchair, his gangly legs crossed, a book open on his lap. he has the corner of his thumb in his mouth, and if you squint you can see the edge of his tongue.

there’s roger on the far right. he’s smiling at the camera, his eyes bright with mischief and joy. there’s a party hat snug on the crown of his head, pulling the skin of his forehead taut.

on opposite sides of the room, two parallel rows of twelve photos hang in neat order. you decided to have every photograph in the exhibit printed in black-and-white and, in all, you painstakingly picked the forty-eight photos featured in their simple white frames. you walk along the wall, hands clasped at your waist, eyes running over the memories you hold so dear.

the afternoon crystal taught you ride a bike in barcelona: you’re sat on the handlebars after a hard fall, mouth open in a squeal of delight as crystal whips toward the camera.

roger and john tossing an apple back and forth in an ottawa grocery store: john’s smile is broad, the apple caught on film midair.

brian sitting on the floor of your hotel suite: there’s a tray of sushi at his feet, and he’s smiling at you, his hair wet from a shower.

freddie playing the piano in the airport in yugoslavia: he’d been so excited to see one, his shoes had slipped on the slick floor as he ran to it. he’d played dramatically, conducting those around him in a horrible rendition of “god save the queen.”

your eyes sting with tears as you glance about the room. you’re proud of your work. it looks good, professional and elegant, but more than that, you’re proud of yourself for the work you’ve done in mending your broken heart. though you will never live the life you’d once dreamed of, you will always have the memories—and that’s got to count for something.

when the double-doors open and monica ushers the first of the patrons in, you slip into the closest bathroom to wipe at the makeup smudged under your eyes. you’re happy, truly so, and you want to celebrate—celebrate both of your lives as they finally come together.

the room is crowded when you reenter, conversation and gentle laughter mingling in the air. you accept a tight hug from rachel when you see her and the congratulations of your parents. you can’t stop smiling, and you’re sure your face will hurt come morning, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

your parents float away, hand in hand, and you find yourself alone in the center of the room, watching in awe as people you’ve never met look at your photos, at your memories, and nod in appreciation. your chest swells with an emotion you can’t place.

“i think this calls for a congratulations. you’ve outdone yourself, dove.”

you whirl on your heel, lip caught between your teeth in a poorly-concealed smile. “you came.”

crystal grins. the tie of his suit is rumbled and askew, and you reach out to straighten it. old habits die hard. “i said i would.”

“what do you think?”

“i think it’s fantastic. the lads would be proud.”

“maybe.” you shrug. “guess we’ll never know.”

“are you really so intent on staying hidden forever?”

you nod. “yes. it took everything in me to even talk to you. i don’t want to ruin their lives again by popping back up, especially because i’m not exactly old, am i?”

crystal laughs, shaking his head. “you must think you’re hot stuff if a simple hello could ruin a life.” his laughter fades into a simple smile. “now, i know you’re going to hate me and i’m willing to take that, but i did tell a certain someone about the exhibit.”

you can feel the blood drain from your face. “crystal, you didn’t.”

he winces. “i might’ve.”

you slap his arm and curl your fingers into his bicep. “you bastard!”

he holds up his hands in defense, decent enough to plaster a look of contrition on his face. “look, i didn’t tell him the context or what tipped me off. i just told him there was a new exhibit about queen and he was eager to come see. that’s all!”

you swallow hard, uncertain how to respond. “i—” your head twists back and forth in utter confusion. “i don’t know what to do.”

crystal’s face softens, and he nudges your shoulder. “go talk to him. he deserves that much, doesn’t he?”

you can’t argue with that.

giving crystal’s arm a grateful squeeze, your legs shake beneath you as you turn and see him—brian—across the room.

you don’t know how you didn’t see him before. even now, forty years later, he’s still unmistakeable: still tall, still gangly, but his hair has gone white and his strides are slower. the overwhelming urge to tear across the room and curl yourself around his back nearly overpowers you, but you shove it down and manage to cross the floor in slow, even steps. you keep your eyes glued to his back, your hands twitching at your sides. when you reach him and catch a faint whiff of his cologne, the same he wore all those years ago, you have to push back the tears that rise unbidden to your eyes.

you tap his shoulder. “dr. may?”

he circles around, as does his wife anita, her arm snug in his elbow.

brian blinks hard, his brow furrowed in confusion. for a moment, you let him stare at you as you stare right back. his eyes are the same. you’d thought they’d be different, but they aren’t. the realization stuns you silent.

anita glances between you both before smiling sweetly. “good evening, sweetheart,” she says, and her voice is so kind you can’t even summon the slightest bit of jealousy. “i’m afraid i didn’t catch your name.”

“oh, i’m sorry!” you laugh and find that smiling at anita isn’t hard. “my name’s [y/n] [y/l/n]. i created the exhibit. i thought i might come and introduce myself.”

“oh, how lovely!” anita claps her hands together. “what you’ve done is so beautiful, [y/n]. it’s nearly brought a tear to my eye.”

“that’s very kind of you, ma’am.”

“brian likes it too. don’t you, brian?”

he still can’t seem to formulate any sort of response. he’s frozen in place, and your heart lurches for him. to see the woman he’d once asked to marry him, the one so cruelly ripped away, while standing next to his wife... precisely why you never wanted to meddle in his current affairs.

finally, he seems to collect himself. he sucks in a deep breath and nods in agreement. “yes, i do. very much.”

“that means a lot,” you say, easing your smile back into place. “thank you.”

“i’ll leave you two to talk to for a moment. i see crystal hovering in the corner over there, and i’m sure you both have many questions for one another.” anita presses her hand on your arm as she passes. “lovely job, dear.”

she leaves, and you’re left alone with the greatest love of your life.

you wait for him to speak.

“you’re... alive?” it’s a question, not a statement.

“yes.”

“you’re the same age?”

“yes.”

“how did—” he shakes his head. “i don’t understand.”

“neither do i.”

his chin quivers slightly, and he looks away. “i thought you’d been taken or decided to—”

you dare to touch his arm. a spark jolts through your fingers at the slightest touch, but you hold firm. “nothing happened,” you explain. “other than nature righting her mistake.”

“i think—i think i need to sit down.”

“yes, of course. my office is down the hall. it’s quiet there.”

he nods and leans against your arm as you lead him down the hall. in the silence of your dimly lit office, he collapses to the loveseat beneath the window and drops his face to his hands. you hesitate in the doorway until he looks up. tears shimmer in his eyes, and you swallow hard, your smile wavering around the edges.

he stands then, crosses the floor, and cradles your face in his hands. “my god,” he breathes. “it really is you.”

with a laugh, you hold his wrists. “in the flesh.”

“how long’s it been?” his thumb works over your cheekbone and, though you know he should stop, you can’t bring yourself to step away from his touch.

“about seven months.”

he snorts. “try forty years.”

“you seem like you did well for yourself, though.”

he shrugs. “i suppose.”

“you’re happy?”

there’s a heavy pause before he says, “yes.”

“that’s all i want to hear.”

slipping out of his grasp, you put a modicum of space between you both. the air is thick with emotion, and your heart beats wildly against your chest. the love you thought you’d put to bed flares at the mere sight of him, even after all this time.

you drift your finger through the sand of your tabletop zen garden. “i told crystal not to tell you about me,” you admit.

“he didn’t—not in so many words.”

“i know. i’m glad he said something, though.” you pause, meet his gaze. “it’s so good to see you, bri.”

quiet falls over the room as he stares at you. you don’t squirm. you’re comfortable under his gaze, always have been.

“i hope you know i never stop looking,” he says. “even after anita, i kept trying to find you. just to know.”

“and i hope you know that i would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant i got to be with you even for a time.”

your phone vibrates on the desk, skidding across your oversized calendar. you reach for the phone and flip it over before slipping it in the purse hung over your desk chair.

“i’ve got to go,” you admit, crossing to his side. “i’ve actually got a date.”

to your surprise, his eyes crinkle with amusement. “i’m happy to hear it.” he lifts a hand and smooths back the hair from the side of your face. he looks at you with all the love he did forty years ago, and you wish you could take a picture to remember forever. 

but then you remember: you have dozens of photos at home, and it doesn’t seem too hard to let him go now. not after the work you’ve put into mending your heart. you can face this, face saying goodbye for good. you have to, for his sake and your own.

rising to your tiptoes, you place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth—one last touch, for you both. you wind your arm around his neck and whisper in his ear, “i love you, brian may. i always will.”

he squeezes you hard against his body, sucking in a ragged breath. “i love you too, [y/n].”

dropping back to your heels, you huff a breath and smile wide. “well, i’d better go.”

“yes, you’d better. don’t keep the lad waiting.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, your hand lingering on his. “okay, well... goodbye, brian.”

he smiles, and it’s the loveliest sight you’ve ever seen. he brushes you cheek with the back of his hand, whispering, “see you later, love.”

dipping out the back of the museum, you walk down the street, purse slung over your shoulders. you think you’ll be able to sleep well for the first time in a long time tonight. 

you hope he can, too.

~*~*~*

taglist: @bhmay​ @grigorlee​ @teenagepeterpan​ @just-my-sickly-pride​ @perriwiinkle​ @ubernoxa​ @anunknownnebula​ @coincidence-ithinknots-blog​ @captvinswaan​ @ineloqueent​

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may fic #brian may x you #queen #queen fic #queen x reader #j writes

[calypsoff]

Sixty Nine.

I think it’s taken me at least two days to recover from such an event, I have been such a mess. I can personally say that I felt terrible but also it was a good night, I am just catching up on everything. Like I can Google search my name and I have headlines about my birthday, I mean some are clowning at me crying, but jealous niggas do that, and it is annoying me. I am just looking at Dennis’ page, he posted a few pictures of the event, it’s nice what he put about me, but I think I am going to just snap on jealous niggas because I can’t be dealing thinking they can clown me, jealous motherfuckers like her ex’s like why are you checking for me, I ain’t checking for you but you there writing lines about me on social media, it’s weak. I really haven’t had the chance to actually speak to Robyn properly and actually say to her what she has done for me, I am just recovering. I know for a fact I haven’t ever drank like that in my life, I am missing hours of my life that I don’t remember. Pressing record as I stared at myself in the in the camera “I look rough, I need a shave” clearing my throat looking up at Rajad walking into the kitchen “I just want to thank everyone for the birthday wishes, as you know I had a very good night. It’s late but I just want to say thank you to everyone, I seen the birthday wishes just now because I am of course just catching up, feel rough still” I sighed out “I just thought I would do a video instead of just typing it out, I don’t do social media beef. You got an issue we can deal with it personally, just like I did before. I seen niggas clowning me, but I don’t care, I cried because I appreciate what my wife did and y’all can call me a bitch nigga, but she went above and beyond and I love her, she is my other half. Niggas don’t know what love is and it shows but a certain nigga, I see you and I ain’t scared to beat ya ass again” stopping the video just before Robyn walked in, I pressed send to put it onto my IG story.

Robyn sniggered at me “are you with us now? I can’t believe how long you been in bed for, baby two whole days?!” locking my phone and placing it on the counter, moving away from the counter “wow, I was a mess Robyn. I don’t drink like that, I don’t. Weed and booze, it was just. It took me out but man, I am just catching up with everything” shuffling towards Robyn, pecking her lips before hugging her close “oh my god, I just feel like I have missed out so much for those days. Thank you for taking care of me too” squeezing Robyn close “love you” Robyn cooed out “it’s ok, I know you was unwell but I am glad you’re with us” moving back from the hug “I have so much to thank you for, after you left everything was a blur, I do remember when I was dancing with Drake actually but then I was out” sitting on top of the counter “I am glad you’re ok, to see you in such a happy place Chris, I love to see it. I am so glad that the party was great, people keep talking about it” nodding my head “you got me so good Robyn, just thinking about it now I am emotional again. All of your family too, like Mel and Noella buying me a personal plate, like what? That is crazy, I feel like I am celebrating my twenty first again, it’s wild. It’s made up for every birthday I missed, I can’t thank you enough. I appreciate you Robyn and I got a little something, I may have been dying in bed, but I been planning, my family are coming to the home” Robyn’ eyes widened “erm, the home is a mess Chris. You didn’t say the in laws are coming” shaking my head “don’t worry about it, just that I called, and I said for them to wait another day and to come here. I appreciate you so much” Robyn stood between my legs, wrapping my arms around her “I love you so much, man. I can’t even” placing my hands over her bump “you and my daughter” Robyn gasped “you! Actually, you been talking too much when drunk, Rajad knows now. Everyone actually knows” I cringed “I am sorry, I didn’t know” she is unhappy, let me quickly start massaging her shoulders.

I am here massaging Robyn’ shoulders trying to calm her ass down, just because I know for a fact Robyn is very mad with me, I didn’t do this shit on purpose, so she needs to understand this “I just want to spend time with you, my family are leaving tomorrow too. I just think we haven’t had us time so take me away somewhere” nodding my head “I got you” kissing the back of her head “I am glad we are not having a boy, Camron kept trying to touch his dick and I was like no sir. This boy just wanted to keep touching it so honestly I am glad it isn’t” I snorted laughing “that shit don’t stop, you know how much I play with mine” I really want a son now, I need one in my life to be just like me “I think they are here” the buzzer went off “I swear I feel a mess Chris, you could have told me” Robyn moved away from me, jumping off the counter and making my way to the door. Majesty is a pest, she is always running out of the living room, these crawling babies is not it “hey, little brat” jogging over to her, picking her up and making my way to the front door Unlocking the door, oh I didn’t open the gate. Going back inside, pushing the button to open the gate. Placing my feet in the slides “hey, hey. Young lady, stop the slapping” I chuckled, shuffling outside “we were waiting for so long” my mother poked her head around and walking over to me “aww my baby boy” walking over to them “hey mom, welcome to my home” hugging my mom “son, this is amazing. Oh wow, this is very Hollywood” my dad has his glasses on, so he is really going to check every part of the home, he is in-expecting the home.

My family are so amazed by the home, this is just outside “come in, come” Majesty wrapped her arms around my neck, she is so precious “I am shocked, like this home is amazing Chris. Now I know why you love it here so much” walking back inside, Robyn side eyed me “why are you annoyed with me? You’re so annoying” I laughed at her “shut up, hey my beautiful mother in law. Look at you! The tan, you been out in the sun” I am glad I caught Robyn off guard “the family is here” Rorrey came out of the office, he has been using it, I told him to try and make his own little something for himself for my clothing line, I am open to ideas “hi boss” Rorrey shook my dad’ hand “the family is here, you never said” everyone seems annoyed I never said, maybe they wanted to make a good entrance “sis, the only person that annoys me is Chris” Robyn said to Tootie “he didn’t say anything, I have not cooked a thing. I feel so bad, your first time here and I have done nothing” I grinned “Robyn, I know your pain. He is an ass” rolling my eyes, they all mad now.

These ladies are mad “like I know y’all are mad but come on, I come in peace and honestly when you hear why, you will all love me” Robyn mean mugged me “what it is, this is the first time my mother in law has come to the home so I wanted to make an good impression but instead she has come and I look a mess, the home is a mess, I have made no food for them. It’s their first time here Chris do you not get that” I laughed a little “I do but baby my mom doesn’t mind, you’re beautiful anyways but hear me out. It’s Mother’s Day coming up so I did something nice for you all, I have the SUV coming and he taking you to a spa, all of you. I hired it out for you ladies, I will take care of Majesty and Desean, this is y’all time to have just some peace and quiet and after I am paying for the meal at Robyn’ favourite place, this is on me. Mom, Tootie, Monica, Noella and Robyn. My beautiful mother to be, Happy Mother’s Day, now can we stop the hate train” they all look pleased “really baby, oh my god. That sounds so much fun” my mom said “yeah, y’all can bitch about me there but I hired the whole place, Robyn can get the wax she needs” I snorted laughing “shut up!” she spat, her coochie need it cause she ain’t doing it “Happy Mother’s Day ladies” I grinned, Monica cooed out “he is a good man, thank you Chris” I grinned feeling so proud of myself.

I am super proud of myself “I love you” feeling a pair of arms around my torso “oh now you saying it” turning around in Robyn’ arms “you know I do, I just like to impress my guests Chris that is all. But baby that is so sweet, so you did all of that while you was in bed and I was slaving away” nodding my head “I sorted it all out for you, I want you to relax ok?” pecking Robyn’ lips “thank you and you ass, talking about wax. I want you to do it for me, how about that?” I snorted laughing “I will, if you want me too? Not in a bad way, I thought you may want to, you know. Feel fresh” wrapping my arms around Robyn “mhmm I will let you off mister thoughtful, that is the sweetest. I get to spend time with both of the momma’s too, I think I need it after the stress of someone” I chuckled “I wonder who that is” I sniggered “also I may just tell them about the gender, it’s just silly now because you ruined that part. And then Rajad will end up letting it slip so yeah, I will just tell them, or we both can later?” nodding my head “yeah for sure we can, I am so sorry about that” I feel bad that I did it “I am so excited about it, I am really you know, I didn’t mean it in a bad way” Robyn sighed out “I know, this is why I am not that mad” she is the cutest.

Placing my arm around my nephew, he is loving it being at the house “how has school been anyways? You are being good there, you know my sister will tell me if you ain’t” the home is actually so much calmer without the women here, they are always causing some type of drama over nothing “I am being good, people want to be my friend now. I told mom because they didn’t want to talk to me, but they are now, mom said they are fake. Everyone is asking me to get an autograph form Rihanna and I said no and then the boy called me a fake nigga for it, and I can’t be your nephew” frowning “Desean don’t let nobody tell you different, fuck them. They are jealous because us as a family are ok, they are haters, and you remember that. Those people that want to be friends you now and didn’t before are fake, don’t let that shit happen to you. You know I got you when you want to talk” kids are nasty as hell “I know I am just concentrating on Football and keeping myself lowkey, it doesn’t really upset me because I am winning. Rihanna is amazing” I breathed out laughing “she is” I agreed with my nephew.

The ladies came back looking refreshed, we just finished eating, I bought the boys pizza. Robyn is glowing even more “you good?” Robyn placed her hand on my shoulder and leaned down “I want a word with you” I frowned instantly, what did I do “come, we will be back” Robyn walked off, what the hell even happen “Chris, thank you so much for that. I feel so refreshed” getting up from the chair nodding my head “it’s ok” following Robyn, I am raking my brain just thinking what have I done. We just went into the corner “I seen your little video on IG, why react Chris that is what he wants, and they want” I shrugged not caring “you just want me to accept it, I will knock his ass out again. I don’t care, laughing that I cried. I am just saying that what is wrong with me crying? Because I appreciate what you have done for me, he is a pussy ass nigga!” I spat “and I just think, I am not saying what you said is wrong but don’t let him or anyone get to you, ok? So what if you cried, you appreciate me” I sighed out “I do, but if he wants to start then we can you know” I shrugged, I don’t even care who says what but it’s him that I hate.

Seeing as I ruined the secret between her family, Robyn feels like she has to say it because it’s pretty much only her mother that doesn’t know in her side so we might as well say it “we have a little announcement, well I do anyways because Chris has a big mouth” placing my arm around Robyn laughing, I can’t even front it is my fault “you already married so what next? Twins?” My dad jokes “how you know?” I said “really!?” my dad spat “see, I got you there but yeah. Robyn got this because I been just ruining her little thing” I am going to let Robyn say her thing “yeah, I am not angry at him but I feel it is unfair, but can we just keep it in this room for now, if we can try. We all are a gossips aren’t we but yeah, so we. Chris and I, we found out the gender together” Robyn lied, I put my head down because I know I didn’t, I wasn’t there “and it’s very exciting because honestly I am over the moon, so is Chris with his big mouth. We are having a baby girl!” Robyn yelped out “granddaughter!?” my dad shouted, all my dad is doing is shouting shit “yes dad” I laughed, my dad shot up smiling “I am so happy for you, oh my god!” my dad is excited as hell “awww mom don’t cry” Robyn said, the family is so emotional.

#chrianna ff #chrianna fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #chriannaff #chrianna

[simplystefanie-rae]

God there’s so much I want to say about the wandavision finale I’m not even sure where to start.

Well I guess first I’ll start with just how SHOCKED I genuinely am that Vision is, for all intents and purposes, alive (unless he destroyed himself, but we didn’t see it and that would be rude AF). He’s not our Vision right now but they left a door wide open for him to come back at any point, and to that I tip a hundred hats to them. I had a bit of a post set aside that I was in the middle of writing up about Vision’s character and how I felt he would be wasted if they killed him off for good now (even if this undermined the theme of the show to a degree), and I never got the chance to finish it before the finale, and fuck I’m glad I didn’t now, since it turns out I didn’t need it lol. 

Hex! Vision mid season started questioning who he was, and as I was thinking he was definitely a goner I thought it was a shame because this arc of the android character questioning their identity and sense of self was what I wanted for Vision from the beginning. This Vision had his closure in that regard, but as he was purely an extension of Wanda it wasn’t really to the true Vision’s characters’ benefit. White Vision’s appearance gave me hope but I still figured Hex! Vision would kill him so Wanda wouldn’t have to do it, but instead they have a philosophical discussion and his memories get unlocked. Now what I’m really hoping for is a long journey (could not even begin to guess what project would give the room for this) of Vision re-discovering his humanity. He has all these memories, but maybe not the emotions to go along with it? I wish they were just a little more clear on that before he just took off and we didn’t see him again.

Which I suppose can lead to the rest of my review/observations. Under a cut because this got long.

I think the episode really could have benefitted from just 20 more minutes to let it all have a chance to breathe. A few more minutes for Wanda and Agatha’s fight, a few more for the Visions, a few more for Wanda’s reaction to nearly getting killed by white Vision, a few more for Monica...like it was all good things, but it needed more. I feel like there WANTED to be more but it was cut for run time, but why such a short run time in the first place? I never complained about the episode length until now.

Mostly I think I just wanted more lore on the Scarlet Witch, and Wanda coming to terms with what that meant. Honestly okay, I say we needed just 20 more minutes, but maybe it could have benefited from another 20 of Agatha giving Wanda her own little walkabout through the history of witches and what it means to be a witch to give Wanda some space to accept that hey, she’s a fucking witch, and now she realizes she has a lot more power than she thought and it’s this huge responsibility she needs to get a handle on. We see her accept this mantle and identity, but not really why. 

I guess Wanda has been struggling to come to terms with her powers for years now, what’s one more thing added on top of that. But that combined with her accepting all the loss in her life, there had to be a neater way to tie the two things together. All the ingredients are THERE they probably just needed to be written by the writer of episode 8. At least I’m assuming it’s a different writer, since 8 was basically perfect and this one not so much. 

I’m assuming we’ll see more of what it means to be the SW in Doctor Strange. I worry a little but how far they’re going to push Wanda into morally grey territory. I think it’s clear at this point her being just a straight up hero is off the table, at least for now. She hurt way too many people, she knows this, and I think is accepting it in a way that, while she’s not going to go out of her way to do bad shit, probably thinks she’s incapable of being a hero so what’s the point in trying. She might be more self serving, if that end credits clip is anything to go by. 

Maybe? Honestly that could go so many ways. She did say to Monica that she wanted to understand her powers, presumably because she doesn’t want to be this being that destroys the whole world, but I would thinking studying from a book called the Darkhold wouldn’t be the way to go. But then again that’s the book that is written about her and she has no other source to go to other than Agatha, who she doesn’t trust with good reasoning, so I guess there was no other option for her. Urgh, what a mess lol. I’ll talk more about Wanda’s potential future in another post though, it’s so much to get into. 

Other observations/thoughts: Monica in general. I’m going back and forth on whether or not she was truly underused or if the smallest glance of her powers was an appropriate tease of better things to come for her. Because while I wanted a cool ass fight scene with her, at the same time I think she deserves her own platform to have this moment of payoff so we can really just enjoy it for HER and not have to also focus on Wanda’s character arc as well. So while I was disappointed we didn’t see a more kickass moment from her, I’m excited for more, and for her to really shine on her own. We got a great introduction to her character and why she’s a hero, I’d like to see the true culmination of this in Captain Marvel 2 or whatever other project she may be in first.

Evan Peters just being Ralph is the funniest fucking thing in the world to me and honestly is what I deserve after so many people just hopping on board this show just to see a character that has very little to do with Wanda to begin with. At the end of the day, this story was about Wanda’s grief, Vision’s identity, and to a much smaller extent Monica’s origin story, not this huge introduction to X-men like everyone kept trying to force it to be, and thank god for that. While the finale didn’t hold up as much as the rest of the show, it was so successful because it was an intimate character study and Marvel needs to realize it can do more of that. Episode 8 was the best of it for a reason. 

I have some more small criticisms, like my confusion over how Wanda’s powers are actually suppose to work (why did Monica’s clothes not change from it’s 70s hex form, is it because the hex was still up, and now that it’s down they changed back? Why are Wanda’s powers regulated to being inside a barrier but then she can just control/change Agatha back into Agnes and presumably keep that going when the hex gets taken down?), is Agnes/Agatha just suppose to continue to live in Westview when all the people there knows she’s not suppose to be there? That’s so dark, to be constantly reminded of this awful thing that happened, but at the same time that just seems like sloppy writing and that the writer didn’t actually think through how that was suppose to work. We don’t know if the residents know who exactly she is, just that she wasn’t there before the hex, so I honestly don’t know what they would make of her. And while Wanda is definitely more morally grey now (Agatha even said this was cruel) I don’t think she would force this constant reminder on the people that she just took the hex down for. I’ll just chalk it up to sloppiness.

I also am conflicted on Agatha in general. On one hand, I wish she had a better motive then wanting more magic for more powers sake, but on the other she’s such an unapologetically bad bitch I have to respect it. I did like the beat of her being scared of Wanda’s power and suggesting that there are things even she fears, though it sure was arrogant of her to think she could handle this power she’s also terrified of. But anyway I’m glad she’s not dead, I want her to be more fleshed out. Maybe some point down the road Wanda says fuck it and releases her so she can teach her. It can be the morally grey witch + evil witch reluctant friendship/tutelage we deserve.

I’ll talk about Vision and Wanda’s scene at the end in other post since that’s gonna be a lot more positive. Lizzie and Paul are so fucking good together, they really sold the emotion of the ending even if I was questioning things. 

Oh also, Marvel, can we PUH-LEASE give Wanda her brown hair back??? The red is killing me. That post credits scene should have had her brown roots showing to give me peace of mind that theyre not gonna keep it like this!!! Also style the curly hair better for Doctor Strange please. Not a fan of the weird waves it had going. 

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #long post

[a-pirate-my-hearties]

Brotherhood of the Wolf (a review? Furious posting? Who knows? I know that film is 19 years old but anyway, #spoilers ahead). Buckle up for a long post!

Yesterday I watched “Brotherhood of the Wolf” for the first (and probably last) time. It definitely looked like my type of thing - period drama, XVIII century, horror elements, I knew some of the cast are good actors, so I decided to give it a try.

According to Wikipedia:

“Brotherhood of the Wolf (French: Le Pacte des loups) is a 2001 French period action horror film[3][4] directed by Christophe Gans, co-written by Gans and Stéphane Cabel, and starring Samuel Le Bihan, Mark Dacascos, Émilie Dequenne, Monica Bellucci and Vincent Cassel. The story takes place in 18th-century France, where the Chevalier de Fronsac and Mani of the Iroquois tribe are sent to investigate the mysterious slaughter of hundreds by an unknown creature in the province of Gévaudan. The plot is loosely based on a real-life series of killings that took place in France in the 18th century and the famous legend of the beast of Gévaudan; parts of the film were shot at Château de Roquetaillade. The film has several extended swashbuckling fight scenes, with martial arts performances by the cast mixed in, making it unusual for a historical drama. The special effects for the creature are a combination of computer generated imagery, as well as puppetry and animatronics designed by Jim Henson's Creature Shop.”

So while the martial arts (of which I’m a big fan, everyone who knows me well knows that) and animatronics seemed atypical for such a film, I decided to watch anyway. And it was good fun while it lasted (2 and a half hour is waaay too long, by the way, at least for my taste), but then I was finished, which left me sleep deprived (now I know it wasn’t that worth it), and so it begins.

There’s too much of everything stuffed into that film. Swashbuckling fight scenes, period drama, horror, Gothic themed scenes (and a lot of them, which made my little creepy heart happy), martial arts, Native American rituals and beliefs, an animatronic beast (??? I mean, at least they could have made it CGI, for crying out loud), a dangerous religious sect, and way too much unnecessary violence towards innocent wolves (I know they weren’t innocent in the eyes of those who killed them, but the film makers could at least decide not to show it explicitly). So much going.

And I’m fuming, because it could have been so easily a wonderful Gothic horror kind of film! With better writing and less fiddling about the plot it could have been something like “Jane Eyre” or "Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", or “Crimson Peak”, but no. Nooo. They had to make it sell, hence a lot of special effects and unnecessary (in my eyes) fight scenes.

So what did we have that could have made “Brotherhood of the Wolf” a great, believable Gothic horror piece of cinema?

the protagonist (Grégoire de Fronsac) and his loyal, mysterious friend (Mani), that is much more interesting than the protagonist really (and is a Native American from the Iroquois tribe, who possesses magic powers? He’s got that powerful connection with nature and spirits. Idk how that’s supposed to fit into the Gothic, but eh, Mani was an awesome character and I’m not going to let him out of this)

the feisty heroine (Marianne de Morangias)

the disabled/disfigured antagonist with tragic past ( Jean-François de Morangias, THANK YOU VINCENT CASSEL)

the mysterious, badass courtesan (bowing down to Monica Belucci for this one)

the horror story AND the space for the horror that’s unravelling (the beast killing people in the province of Gévaudan, the province itself + the castle)

the (almost tragic) love story (de Fronsac + Marianne)

the duality of good and evil (kinda) in one character (Jean-François being all cute and easy on the eyes and more-less civil before he reveals his disfigurations to Marianne and oh boy. I’d love to say Jekyll&Hyde, but it wasn’t a thing until 1886, so let’s say a two-face kind of situation, because doppelgänger would be a stretch here.)

incest/incestous attraction -  (I know, it’s fucking horrible, but it was quite common in XIX century literature  - vide writings of François-René de Chateaubriand (for example René , 1805), and, unfortunately, in life, so you can look up Byron and his sister, and it was used in “Crimson Peak” as well

a lot of sexy banter and intellectual talk in general (one should never underestimate the tension it creates!)

Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls™ 

So yeah, this sums up more less what could have been...

Now what went wrong.

Grégoire de Fronsac is boring. Just plain boring, at least in my eyes. I appreciate that he went straight up berserk to avenge Mani though. That was Good Shit.

Marianne de Morangias. Feisty and stubborn, yes. Intelligent, without a doubt. Sensitive, still a bit naive and putting on a shield because she’s growing up in an unfavourable environment. But I have a feeling that she wasn’t exactly written well enough and she’s ends up being at least a bit of an annoying, privileged, poutty child. So there’s that, maybe I’m nitpicking.

Jean-François de Morangias. Simply a wasted character, because Vincent Cassel’s acting was GORGEOUS. He could have been a great antagonist/villain if given a chance, and it was ruined by too much protagonist, running around aimlessly, swashbuckling and kicking through the scenes. Him being the commander of the beast wasn’t explained well enough (because the beast had a commander). And they ended up giving Jean-François the weirdest weapon in the final fight with de Fronsac, which ruined his image entirely and just. Didn’t stick, just what the fuck was that? What the fuck was that nunchaku-sword made of bones????

That beast. It was just laughable. I’m sorry, I was sympathizing the fuck with it, it was a tortured animal put into heavy armour and trained to kill, but just. Wtf was that armour?? Who made that thing and decided it was good to put that into the film???

Too much martial arts, again. What was that for?

I feel like, besides Mani, most of the Native American/POC were depicted in a racist manner, like they weren’t even talking, just fighting, drinking, partying, not talking AT ALL most of the time but growling at each other or others, laughing like maniacs, acting agressive, like animals, even the sexual behaviours shown on the screen were vulgar. I don’t know if it was supposed to show POC through the lens of the white people of that time, but it was awful anyway.

Scenes pointlessly fading one into the other. Probably made to look artistic. Didn’t make sense most of the time.

The plot was full of holes. Just wear a bullet-proof vest next time.

If I can sum this up in any way... Watch it for the beautiful pictures, music, costumes, Vincent Cassel, Monica Bellucci and Mark Dacascos. And don’t  expect too much from the plot.

#brotherhood of the wolf #le pacte des loups #monica bellucci #vincent cassel #mark dacascos #samuel le bihan #emilie dequenne #gothic #gothic horror #swashbuckling #martial arts #period drama #historical drama #XVIII century #XIX century

[littlespoonevan]

Hi! I love your fics so much, they're so cute!!! I was wondering if you could write about Mickey's reaction to Ian's Monica tattoo and/or his black hair in prison? Hope you have a great day!

first of all, thank you :’)) and askdjlhf god i am so wEAK for anything involving their prison reunion!!! this kind of devolved from hair talk to relationship talk in the middle lmao but hopefully you still like it!!

(also just a head’s up: i’m not gonna be accepting anymore prompts at the moment bc i really want to clear out the ones i already have so i can start on my long fic. i hope people don’t mind!!!)

*

Ian had really believed he’d never see Mickey again.Ian had really believed prison would be the end of him. Ian had really believeda lot of things until his cell door had opened and Mickey Milkovich was suddenlystanding in front of him, here to save him from himself one last time.

After the initial reunion – the delicate kiss thathad turned hurried until Mickey reluctantly reminded him the window to theircell wasn’t exactly one-sided – they stay on Mickey’s bunk. To be honest, thisposition is no less compromising than what they’d been doing ten minutes agobut Ian isn’t quite prepared to have Mickey out of his reach just yet. Mickey’shalf-sitting, half-laying down as he sticks to his original spot leaningagainst the pillow while Ian sits slouched with his back against the wall andhis right leg pressed up against Mickey’s.

“The fuck is with all this anyway?” Mickey asks whenthere’s a momentary lull in their conversation, hand reaching up to scrubthrough Ian’s hair.

“Oh.” Ian blushes and ducks his head to stare down athis hands. “Guess I didn’t wanna draw attention to myself.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows and his mouth curves up ina smile and it’s such a familiar look Ian feels like fucking crying. He neverthought he’d see Mickey look like that again.

“You know your eyebrows don’t really match your hair,”Mickey comments then, snickering when Ian hits his leg half-heartedly.

“You got a better idea?” Ian grumbles, leaning hishead back against the wall to meet Mickey’s gaze.

“Yeah, don’t get fuckin’ arrested for blowing up avan.”

Ian winces, feeling shame burn through him, but thenMickey’s reaching out and taking his hand. He runs his thumb over the skin ofIan’s knuckles and Ian watches Mickey watch their hands for a minute.

“What the fuck happened, Ian?” Mickey asks softly,finally raising his gaze to meet Ian’s.

Ian shrugs uncomfortably and squeezes Mickey’s handtight in his own to ground himself. “Stopped taking my meds,” he admits quietly.“No one really noticed until it was too late, I guess.”

“What d’you mean no one noticed?” Mickey asks and helooks pissed but not at Ian, he doesn’t think.

Ian shrugs again. “I guess I seemed okay for the mostpart and people had other shit going on. The whole Gay Jesus thing, it gotoutta control pretty quickly.”

“What about that guy you were seeing?” Mickey askssuddenly and Ian hates the reminder of Trevor, hates that Mickey even had toknow about him.

“He’d never seen me manic before,” Ian says. “Guesshe didn’t know what signs to look for.”

“I didn’tknow what signs to look for,” Mickey snaps – again, he doesn’t direct it at Ianbut more the situation at large. “Fuck, you weren’t even diagnosed back then,there was no fuckin’ medication for you to be taking and I knew something waswrong. I knew-“

Mickey cuts himself off abruptly, huffing out afrustrated breath and Ian squeezes his hand again, tugging on it just a bit toget Mickey to look at him.

“You would’ve known this time too,” Ian murmurs. “Iknow you would’ve. It’s okay, it’s my fault you weren’t there. Not yours.”

Mickey doesn’t argue with him or disagree, just sitsup a little straighter and moves himself closer into Ian’s space. “You feelokay now?”

Ian nods earnestly. “I’m stable,” he promises. “Haven’tmissed a dose since I sorted my shit out.”

“Good,” Mickey replies, low and half-mumbled.

“And for what it’s worth,” Ian continues, leaningforward to bump his forehead against Mickey’s before returning to his originalspot. “Me and Trevor are done. I tried to make myself want him again after-after you. But it didn’t really work. My heart wasn’t in it.”

Mickey looks at him, eyes darting all over Ian’s facelike he’s trying to read him for answers. Ian lets him look, drinks in thesight of Mickey before him and reminds himself this is real.

“We should talk about it,” Mickey says finally, eyesflitting to their hands and back up again. “Just- we can wait a couple ofhours.”

Ian nods and smiles because he gets it. They have amountain of shit to work through, probably as far back as the second timeMickey got out of juvie, if they’re being honest, and he knows being stuck in thesame room for the foreseeable future is the perfect excuse to finally do it.But…they just got each other back. And it seems like Mickey wants to bask inthe reunion just as much as he does.

“How’d you find out about me anyway?” Ian asks becausehe hasn’t yet and while Mickey’s always seemed to have a sixth sense aboutknowing when Ian’s in trouble and always seems to show up at exactly the righttime, this one feels a little beyond the realm of possibility.

Mickey shrugs and this time he’s the one who looksembarrassed. “Some kid in Mexico had a shirt with your face on it. I asked himabout it.”

Ian can’t believe that. Can’t believe Mickey wouldrisk everything – the new life he’d built, his freedom, his safety – just to come back here and bewith Ian. But he supposes he should. Back in the early days all Ian had wantedwas some kind of proof that Mickey loved him, that he wanted to stay. Now- thisis quite possibly the biggest love declaration he could’ve made.

“We can talk about that shit later too,” Mickey saysthen, brushing Ian’s thoughts away with a wave of his hand. “What we reallyneed to discuss now,” he continues, hand snaking up the back of Ian’s neckuntil his fingers are tangled in Ian’s hair, “is what the fuck we’re gonna doabout your hair.”

Ian barks out a laugh. “You miss the red?”

Mickey gives him an exasperated look that’s verypointedly not a denial. “You might have to go back to your buzzcut days, army.”

Ian grins at the old nickname and doesn’t protestwhen Mickey uses the hand on the back of his head to guide him closer.

“But then you can’t put your hands in my hair,” Ianpoints out teasingly. Tugging on Ian’s hair has always been one of Mickey’sweaknesses and judging by the look on his face, it still is.

Mickey seems to weigh his options for a moment beforehis nods decisively. “I can deal for a few weeks.”

Ian’s grin is so wide he thinks his face is going tosplit in two as he shakes his head. “You’re so full of shit.”

Mickey scoffs. “So I gotta type, sue me.” He’ssmirking at Ian now, fingers massaging the back of Ian’s scalp and it’s just-it’s the combination of the teasing and the comfort. It’s everything Ian needsand exactly what makes him lean in to kiss Mickey again, current environment bedamned.

Mickey kisses him back anyway, soft and sweet, andlets his forehead linger against Ian’s for a moment when they break apart.

They’re both quiet for a beat but then Mickey leansback. “Seriously though, first thing in the morning. We’re getting you a razor.”

Ian laughs and thinks the next two years of his lifesuddenly sound a lot more bearable.

*

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #my fics #i didn't want to put in the lil psa askjdlf but i was /just/ about to finish my prompts and i got a few more this weekend #so i just need to put them on pause for now <3 #Anon #asks