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thepinkwriterr · 1 year

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Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Four

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Word Count: 4.4k

"You're going to another Sabbath show?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes! And this time it's by myself. I get to make my own contacts and build connections."

He sighed. His brows weaved together in worry. "Why can't you just stay here with us?"

"I know you're nervous about me going off on my own," she rested her hand on his shoulder, lithe and warm, "but it's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay."

"You promise?" He stuck his pinky out and waited for her to do the same.

She hooked her pinky around his with a smile. "I promise." She then stood to get dressed, going to her suitcase as Jimmy started up again.

"But why can't you go when we don't have a show? Why must you leave us? You're our best girl."

"Lorelei will just have to suffice tonight. William is really proud of me that I landed Sabbath. They're new and already generating a lot of buzz. If we can catch them on the front side and have the photos in a couple of months everyone will want to work with the company, and me by extension. This is important."

He sighed again, looking her over. She was undressed from the waist down, which didn't help his growing anxiety about her going out. He was already jealous, conjuring images in his mind of horny men and her inability to say no. "I suppose I understand."

"You better suppose. This is good for my career. How would you feel if I bellyached about you making an album? Or going on tour."

"I see your point, darling. Just promise me you won't go off and shag some man in the club toilets."

"Well, the night is still young. I can't make any promises," she joked with a shrug.

"Come here you cheeky bint!" He grabbed her waist and pulled her onto the bed. She let out a squeal that was heard by Lorelei and Robert in the next room over. As he tickled her she only grew louder, causing the blond couple to make assumptions about their actions.

"What in the bloody hell are they up to over there?" Robert pressed his ear to the wall, waiting in silence to hear another sharp sound.

Lorelei scoffed. "You are so weird. You're intruding on them, y'know? How would you feel if they did that to you?"

"I bet Jimmy does, the ole chap. He's always been a little too fond of my hair," he mused, fluffing his flaxen curls.

Lorelei giggled. "You have such a big head."

"You think?" He said with wide eyes.

"Will you wear my bracelet?" Jimmy asked, holding tightly onto her wrist. He didn't want to let her go.

She laughed at him. He was acting like a child. "Why do you want me to?"

"Just to give you something to remember me by."

"Remember you? I'm going to a club, not Afghanistan."

He looked at her with a pained expression. "Fine," she sighed. He slipped the bracelet on her wrist with a smile.

The club was crowded and hot, packed to the brim with a slew of already too-drunk people. This club was larger than the one in L.A.; every seat was full. Luckily, she would be standing the whole show.

As the lights dimmed a wave of people cheered, roaring before the music even started. They were insatiable. She could understand why having felt the driving force of their music last week. The chemistry of the four was undeniable and produced something magical.

"This is some new material, off the album coming in a couple of months." Ozzy's voice was deep and inviting, ushering a hand to the audience to join them in their coming madness. "It's called Paranoid," he said with a flourish as the show began.

Gwen was swept in as the group dove into a stuttering number. The brooding lyrics of exile and soiled love were fitting for his outcast persona, perhaps accurate for the odd man. She had to forcibly still herself as she clicked the camera button, the music taking her over. She wanted to jump around and dance, just a,s Ozzy was. At the first show, she was unfamiliar and stunned by their prowess, but now she wanted to join in on the fun.

She did just that when the band started on NIB. She knew it already, having replayed it endlessly on the record she bought. She annoyed Jimmy with this, as he did not enjoy the heavy sounds. She thought maybe he was jealous, seeing her fawn over another English band.

Or perhaps he just didn't like the sound. He's more of a bluesy, classical fan anyway. He wouldn't get it, although a pioneer of heavy metal himself.

The flow of energy fueled her as she snapped photos. Each frame was turning out wonderfully. Although she could not see them, she knew already they would be great. She could feel the inspiration dancing in her fingers. Wi, the every movement of the band there was a synergy created. The camera was merely recording the transaction as she stood as a witness.

As the show wound to a close, the energy in the room filtered into a steady buzz. The crowd was filled with adrenaline and alcohol, the vilest of combinations.

She filled three film reels. She'd taken almost eighty photos. William would be pleased, albeit a little bitter with the price.

She didn't join the guys backstage like she originally wanted. When she checked her watch, which was borrowed from Jimmy, she saw that it was almost two in the morning. She could already feel her energy dwindling.

When she returned to the hotel, she saw Jimmy had waited. The lamp was still on, and he was sat up in bed, his lower half burrowed under the covers. He was reading, the cover's two sides resting in his hands. He was devouring a book about astrology; the same one he'd bought at the Texas bookstore.

"Hello, Gweny," He looked up to her with a smile as she entered. She gave him a sloppy greeting and crashed into the bed.

She could feel the time wearing on her weary body. This tour was doing so much damage, running her ragged as she burned the candle from both ends. Every morning was an early rise and every night stretched into the late hours. This was the penance of her job.

"I'll take it you're tired?" He spoke, stating rather than asking. She nodded her head into his arm, resting her hot and tired forehead on his skin. "Come here." He raised his arm and allowed her to crawl into his chest and curl up, lying like a cat in his warmth. "Better?" She hummed a short response and quickly succumbed to sleep.

The next morning she woke up with a joyous feeling. She looked forward to the work she was to do that night. When the morning sun rose, barely peaking from behind the clouds, she opened her eyes. Her movements woke him.

"G'mornin', love." His mumbling was barely audible.

"Good morning, Jimmy Jam. How are you?" She asked while stroking his hair.

"Would be better if you didn't call me that."

"My apologies, Jimmy. How do you feel now?"

"Like a bird with new wings." She chortled into the pillow he was laying on. His British humor was never lost on her.

"Do you want to go to breakfast?" She asked.

"Is anyone even down there? It's so fuckin' early. Why are you up?"

"I don't know, I was just spirited this morning."

"You usually aren't up unI'dI wake you. And by then, I've already been up two hours and taken a shower. It's quite cute how you're a deep sleeper."

"Thanks, I guess. No one has ever said that to me before." She turned to look at him from the skinny hotel closet. She dressed in a white shirt and short overalls, finishing the look with two messy pigtails.

"Hello, Mr. Jones." She smiled as she sat down at the breakfast table.

"We're here to ruin your quiet morning." Jimmy jested.

"No, no, you couldn't ruin my morning. I was just doing some light reading, as usual." He sat his book on the theL-ShapedIt was a copy of The L Shaped Room. "Y'know, Gwen, I think you would really like this book. It's about this girl who gets pregnant out of wedlock and her father kicks her out. She has to go live in this boarding house, and she meets all of the other denizens of the house. They are all outcasts and oppressed people. The main theme is a woman finding her own happiness through herself and her experiences. It's absolutely wonderful so far."

"That sounds like a good read. You should lend it to me when you're done. Ooo, and then we can talk about it. It'll be like our own little book club!"

"We should start one of those. You can give me a book and then we can talk about it," Jonesy's face was painted with a genuine smile.

"I actually just finished reading Sisterhood Is Powerful. It's another feminist book. It's a little more academic, but I really loved it."

Before he could give an enlightening response, Robert's loud voice filled the lobby. "Good morning, friends!" Peter was in tow, seemingly chasing the blond like he was a toddler.

"Bright blessings." Jimmy smiled.

"Huh?" Robert asked, his face twisting in confusion.

"You say merry meet, Robert. It's a greeting." Gwen said.

"Oh, merry meet, Jimmy." He felt cool now that he was in on it. He smoothed his sweater down as he sat next to Peter, who was billowing with smoke.

"I would love to give it a try after I'm done with this one. I'm always on the hunt for new books." Jonesy ignored them, pulling Gwen's attention back to him.

"What are you guys talking about?" Robert leaned into them on his elbows, a cheeky smile on his bright face. A cigarette sat between Peter's swollen fingers, the ash growing longer as he let it sit. His eyes swept over the morning paper. He was realL-Shapedignor,ng them.

"The L Shaped Room." Jonesy said.

"So, you said it's about a woman who gets pregnant out of wedlock, and she doesn't stay with the father?" She asked.

"I thought it was about a lesbian," Robert said. Gwen and Jonesy gave him a confused look.

"What?" Jonesy asked.

"Y'know, L-shaped. Lesbians. They both start with L." This made Jimmy laugh, but the other two were quiet.

"No, she isn't interested in him. It's kind of a running theme, a woman's right to choose." Jonesy pushed his comment aside.

"Where's Lorelei?" Gwen asked, bringing the attention back to Robert, much to Jonesy's chagrin.

"She's sleeping beauty. I left her good and tired last night." Jonesy grimaced and Gwen laughed. Jimmy was staring off into space, pretending he was somewhere else. "Have you heard Joni Mitchell's new album?" Robert asked, not to anyone in particular.

"Oh my god, yes! I love her so much. I didn't know you listened to her too." Gwen chose to believe he was asking her.

"I adore her too. This new album was very special. I've been wanting to show it to Lorelei." Robert was lighting a cigarette of his own now. He fished it out of the cellophane wrapper and put it between his lips.

Gwen grimaced as Robert flicked open his zippo. "I think it's their best work so far. I mean, conversation is one of the best songs I've ever heard."

"Woodstock is just marvelous, really. I think she's doing some good stuff," his lips formed around the cigarette as he spoke.

"I know! Her voice makes my soul leave my body. Jimmy, we have to have a Joni listening party when we get back home!" He nodded deftly and went back to his own imagination.

The joyful breakfast was interrupted by an overexcited Bonzo. He ran from his room, pants bunched around his ankles. "Guys, guys!" He was barreling toward the group, pulling up his pants. He buttoned and zipped as he ran closer to his confused friends. "You have to see these titties, they're crazy!" Jonesy looked to the others; confusion thick on his features. Bewilderment was passed from each person in silence. Bonzo stood, petulant and wild-eyed, coaxing them to come into his hotel room. 'causedn't see 'um last night cause I was pissed, but I saw them this morning. They're crazy!" He repeated.

The group was quite still, but Jimmy and Robert stood from their chairs, going to follow their friend. Gwen grabbed his sleeve, wrapping her fingers around his forearm, "Down, boy." She pulled him back into his seat, but Robert followed Bonzo to the room.

An uncomfortable silence sat around the table as Jonesy slurped his soup. He was trying his best to keep decorum and pretend this wasn't absurd. "So how did you enjoy the Sabbath show last night?" He asked.

"Oh, it was lovely," she started awkwardly, staring daggers into Jimmy, "They have a lot of energy so they're really fun to shoot. I'm sure my photos are going to turn out great. I had to wake up early and send them off to William. I planned to shoot them again, tonight."

Before Jonesy could make any livelier conversation the two guys were back. "Oh dear fucking god." Jonesy sighed.

"What? What could you possibly want? You two are freaks!" She said.

"Against my better judgment, Bonzo was correct. They really are quite a spectacle." Robert spoke with his usual tender and sonorous voice.

It was a gross perversion that he used this tone to speak such vile words, Gwen thought. "No, Jesus! You guys are disgusting. And it's quite terrible that you're doing this."

"Oh c'mon, don't be such a prude. They're just titties. W'emve all seen um, you've got em!" Bonzo shouted, rather excitedly.

She looked to him with a glare, "It's not the matter of seeing them, it's not consensual and gross. You can'thatjust laugh at someone like th-"

He interrupted, "This is just like the other night when you wouldn't accept my drink. We're on tour, let loose a little. Have some fun!" He implored, "You can even take some photos."

"I will not be doing that." She said as she stood. The other two guys joined her and they went on their way.

The floors creaked under their weight as they tip-toed to Bonzo's room. He pushed the wooden door lightly, the hinges squeaking as it swung open with a creak. The woman lay tangled in a mess of dark sheets like a slumbering dragon. Her body raised in light breaths, hollowing to exhale. The men looked at her as a mythical creature, while Gwen looked at her friends as foreign beings. She was disgusted by their curiosity while possessing it herself. This interest was satiated when she turned on her back, exposing her chest. The group was in awe, now understanding Bonzo's sentiment. Their spell was broken when he stepped forward, reaching for the mysterious, scarred, and lopsided chest.

"Stop it!" Gwen delivered a harsh smack to the back of his head. The sound echoed through the room, followed by his howling.

"You bitch!" He turned and caught her by the arm.

"Hey!" Jimmy started.

The slumbering woman began to stir. Everyone turned to look slowly in unison, faces covered in fear. Bonzo turned and ran from the room, scurrying through the doorway. Robert followed suit, mumbling a quick apology as he went. The woman was fully awake now, staring at them with wide and confused eyes. Jonesy backed out of the room, leaving just Gwen and Jimmy. He tried to follow his friends, but she caught his arm, holding him firm in his spot.

All she could muster was an apology. The woman sat with a sigh, covering her bare chest with the sheets. "I got a bad boob job..."

Jimmy stifled a laugh, casting his head down. Gwen slapped his arm and glared. "Don't be ashamed, it's not your fault. It's also not your fault they're a hoard of circus clowns."

She looked appreciative, "Thanks. I tried to hide it but it's not easy. I wish I hadn't even gotten it."

She was lovely, Gwen thought, outside the botched surgery. "Go on and get dressed, I'll make sure you can leave with some dignity." She pulled Jimmy from the room, wearing an angry look. "You're a fucking barbarian." But they were laughing, nonetheless.

The group returned to the breakfast table, quieter than ever. The guys, other than Bonzo, were avoiding her scorned looks. Bonzo was angrily buttering his English muffin, which he referred to as just a muffin. Gwen stared right back, not breaking contact. This was the first rift between them, the first time Gwen saw behind his façade.

"You think you're better than us, don't you?" He sat his knife down with a heavy thud. She didn't respond, simply sipping from her mug. The group looked from him to her, tension thick amongst the table. He raised his brows, prompting for an answer.

"Are you upset? You seem like you're upset." She finished with a smile. This enraged him even more.

"Fucking bitch." He slammed his fist on the table and stomped away, his chair clattering to the floor.

"You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" Peter broke the silence. "You're always riling up the boys! Your job is to take photos, I don't care if you're Jimmy's girlfriend or the bloody fuckin queen. Don't fuck with my band." His voice was getting louder with each word. The walls shook around each syllable, trembling with fear as Gwen did. Tears pricked in her eyes and she looked around at her friends. Their eyes were fixed on the ground, avoiding the situation. Her sadness and embarrassment turned to bitter anger in a swift gust of pride.

"You helped so much. Thanks, Jimmy." She was gone now, her chair emptied in a flash.

"Yeesh..." Robert said. He too left the table, his sight set on his,room. Now it sitting Jimmy, Peter and Jonesy, sat, alone. Jonesy was still eating, seemingly unbothered.

"You really fucked that one up." Jimmy was just about to leave when he heard the man speak. Jonesy's words caught him off guard. He didn't expect to be called out, one final kick in his side.

"That one's a fuckin' mess." Peter turned to Jonesy after Jimmy left. He didn't speak. Peter breathed out a heavy breath and tucked a napkin into his shirt, digging back into his breakfast. The jam covered muffin sat on his plate, untouched and isolated. He chose to devour the eggs first, saving the sweet for dessert.

When the door to their hotel room was opened, squeaking with desperation, he saw her. She was sitting on the bed, her back turned to him. She was sniffling, tears scalding her cheeks.

Guinevere was a regal name, one that conjured images of royal ambiguity. She took after the moniker, the queen's reputation for being the ultimate destruction of Arthur's kingdom ringing true for her. The walls of her castle heart were put up, the drawbridge closing, reflecting in the moat of her tears. Jimmy was dressed in a suit of armor, trying his best to break down her wooden and hardened fortifications. Her ramparts were anger, bloated by the drowning of her tears.

"You didn't say anything." The hot flash of fury showed through in her clipped cadence.

"I know, I'm sorry, but that's just how things are around here." He shuffled his feet, drawing his eyes downward to admire the fraying of his aglets.

"You were so cowardice. You didn't stand up for me."

"Cowardice? No, I just don't go causing drama where there doesn't need to be any." Now his rapier was drawn, parrying her jabs.

"When someone yells at your girlfriend, you say something about it." Another stab.

"You were the one who started it all." He evaded accountability, diving out of her range of motion.

"It seems none of you have met a woman who stands up for herself. I happen to think that's what everyone's issue is."

"Oh, god, don't start with that, you know it's not true." He was a man of dichotomy. The coin was flipped, glistening with new cruelty. This was cold and uncaring, something she'd never known of him.

"The issue is that y'all don't see anything wrong with your behavior. I just pointed that out and everyone started yelling. Sounds like that was the problem."

"No, no, the problem was that you got everyone upset. We were just having a good time before you got upset. And then you got your feelings hurt."

"You're being such a dick right now." She seethed, standing to meet his eyes.

"And you're being immature. I am not fighting with you." His arms were crossed in a dismissal of her.

"I'm not trying to fight with you. I am upset."

"You can be upset, but it's not my job to fix it."

"You're the reason I'm upset!"

"You should be upset with Peter and Bonzo. I didn't do anything!"

"That is the issue! God, it's like you're not even listening. Just- I'm gonna leave if you're gonna be like this. I'll come back when we're not angry." She planted her feet on the floor, unsure if this was the right decision.

"You're the only one who is angry." Jimmy was avoiding her, his eyes now fixated on the paintings on the walls. She sighed and left without another word.

"Yeah, and then Peter yelled at her. I thought it was a little dramatic. From both of them, really." Robert's eyes were wide as he recounted the events to Lorelei. She slept through the entire ordeal, only being woken when Bonzo slammed his door.

"They both yelled at her? Oh my god, that's terrible. Is she okay? I know I wouldn't be if Peter or Bonzo screamed at me."

"I'm sure she's fine. She's a tough cookie. That's why I like her." Robert said with a smile, his thumb resting in the cleft of her chin. Before Lorelei could respond there was a knock that interrupted them. Robert answered, pulling his door open to reveal a tear-stained Gwen.

His gaze softened when he saw her, the red puffy look that painted her face troubled him. "What's wrong?" He asked, letting her in.

"I got upset after what happened and Jimmy made it worse." She planted her face firm in his chest, enveloping her troubles in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, allowing her to cry into the soft cotton of his clothing.

"I'm sorry," was all he could muster, his parade of apologies was never-ending today. He thought Jimmy was being spineless, secretly siding with Gwen. He wouldn't tell anyone that, for fear of starting more troubles. This was all a big mess, and the reason no one got in Bonzo's way.

This happened before, but with a random groupie. Peter threw her out so fast their heads spun. He couldn't do that with Gwen, and there was an emotional attachment to this issue. He wanted it all to go away, so they could go back to having fun and being friends.

"I know I'm overreacting, but I was so upset when Peter yelled at me. I didn't feel like I deserved it, Bonzo was clearly in the wrong. And then Jimmy didn't stand up for me, so I was angry about that. And when he didn't apologize or acknowledge how shitty it was I just broke."

"Well, what happened after that?" Lorelei asked, sitting at her side on the bed.

"I told him that I would be back when I wasn't upset anymore. We were both getting mad at each other, and it wasn't productive. So, I came here because, well, you're both my only friends." She ended with a huff of a laugh, scratching at her head with confusion. How did they end up here? This was all a giant mess that never needed to happen.

The two blondes entertained her while her nerves melted, settling into a contended happiness. They watched TV, talked about a musical Lorelei had recently seen, and played some cards.

When she was thoroughly mellow, Gwen decided gathered the courage to return to her room. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Lorelei asked, her eyes soft and warm. Her gaze was a warm hug, a gentle soak in a hot spring.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm sure Jimmy will be cooled off when I get back. I'm just a little nervous because we've never gotten into a fight before."

"He'll be fine. He processes better when he's alone." Robert offered some much-needed insight. This was an extension of friendship, an offer of peace. "Things will settle and no one will be mad. I give it maybe two more hours and Bonzo will be back to his usual self." His joke lightened the mood and gave her one last push towards strength.

"Thanks, guys. I appreciate you letting me hang out."

When she returned to her room the lights were off and Jimmy was asleep. He looked peaceful under the covers, his hair spread across the white sheets in a wild display of comfort. Soft snores escaped his open lips. She settled into the blankets and cuddled up to his side, content to rest for a few hours.

The two woke to Peter knocking on their door, telling them to get up. "Ten minutes, Page. You have a job to do." She shook Jimmy, who slept through the racket.

"What?" He asked, barely lifting his head from the pillow.

"You have to get ready for soundcheck." He rolled out of the bed and onto the floor, curling up and closing his eyes once more.

"C'mon, you have to get up!" She laughed, poking him with her foot.

"Don't touch me with those filthy things." He mumbled, rolling away from her touch.

"They're not filthy, 1, and 2, you have to get up. Peter said you have 10 minutes." She said.

"Five more minutes. I'm tired." He grumbled.

"No, you have to get up!" She grabbed a hold of his thin hips and began pulling him, attempting to drag him to his suitcase. "You are way heavier than you look." He didn't budge, now laying next to his unzipped bag. "C'mon, get up. I don't want to be blamed for you being late!" He sat up at her pestering, slowly rifling through his clothing.

"Are we okay?" He asked. His leg was propped on a wooden chair that sat next to the small TV. He was tying his shoes, a pair of black converses.

"Can we talk after your show?" She asked.

"Yeah, if you promise not to yell at me." He finished with a final yank, making a perfect knot.

"Well, don't give me a reason to." She jested.

"Alright, I'll see you after the gig," He leaned into her lips, cradling her face in his soft hands.

"Enjoy your show."

"I will now." A wide smile bloomed on his face.

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady , @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin , @jimmysdragonsuit13

#jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #Jimmy Page smut #capricorn season #classic rock fandom #classic rock #classic rock fanfiction #jimbert

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mochegato · 3 years

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Jasonette Protection Program

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Marinette pulled her coat closer around her as she made her way from the bus stop to her apartment. She had made the brilliant decision when she moved here not to get a car because… Gotham. The likelihood that it would get damaged or destroyed in some kind of attack was ridiculously high. The likelihood the bus would get blown up or taken over, while definitely still present, was significantly lower.

But today she was regretting that decision. It meant she couldn’t isolate herself like she wanted to. It meant she was exposed to anybody and everybody at the bus stop and on the bus and on the sidewalk and any one of them could have been the one to drug her. She eyed the people around her as she walked. Okay, maybe not the woman who looked like she was in her 90’s and could barely walk… and dropped her knitting out of her bag.

Marinette rushed over to her and paused right before reaching her. She twirled around and scanned the faces around her. She could feel somebody watching her. She could feel their eyes scrutinizing her every move. She studied the shadows and the windows, but couldn’t find anyone watching her. She frowned slightly and shook her head. She was getting paranoid. She was seeing and feeling things that weren’t there.

She sighed and turned back to the woman, crouching down to help her put her knitting back in her bag. The woman smiled in appreciation, which Marinette returned with a shaky one of her own. She walked the remaining few feet to her apartment building and took a cautious look up and down the dark street before turning into it. She made sure she heard the click of the door latching before continuing up the stairs, not that it would do anything. Logically she knew that, but her anxiety still demanded it.

She kept her eyes on the stairwell as she made her way up to her apartment on the top floor, eyes hyper vigilant for any movement, her ears hyper sensitive to any sounds from the stairs. She got to her floor and paused for a few moments waiting to see if any sounds or movement indicated someone behind her. She let out a relieved sigh when there was no noise and turned to her apartment before letting out a muffled screech.

Jason jumped, dropping his phone he had been scrolling on, in his rush to hold up his hands in a placating motion. “Just me. It’s okay. It’s just me.” He watched her for a few seconds. She was starting to breathe hard, her eyes were boring into him. “Although I just realized you may not remember me. So this was actually an incredibly stupid plan.” He took a few steps away from her door, his hands still held up to let her know he wasn’t a threat.

Marinette continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, forcing her breathing to slow. “You… you’re Tim’s brother, right? You… you were…” she squinted at him, “you were in my bedroom?”

Jason grimaced and looked down to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… that doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

He perked up slightly and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today. It can hit a day or a few days later sometimes. And I’m a security expert. I consult on it for people and companies. I wanted to offer to check your security for you so you’d feel safe, at least when you’re at home.” He turned to her door and knocked on the doorframe. “I can already tell that you need better locks. I could have broken in easily, but I didn’t think you would appreciate finding me in your apartment.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but let out a quiet chuckle and looked away after a few seconds. “You would be right.” She looked back up at him and tentatively walked over closer to her door. “But, I don’t think I can afford to hire you.”

Jason waved off her concern. “I wouldn’t let you. I’d charge Tim for it. He can afford it and he’s worried enough that I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t contacted me already, but I suppose that has something to do with him not wanting you to meet me in the first place.”

Marinette quirked her lips to the side and studied him. The longer she watched and talked to him the more memories came back and the clearer they became. She was slowly starting to get bits and pieces of the night before, not enough to create a coherent picture, just incredibly short scenes, a word here, a smile there. Regardless of what she could remember though, this was Tim’s brother and although Tim didn’t want them to meet, he trusted him, not that she would ever be allowed to say that out loud to either of them.

She finally nodded and pulled out her keys. “Well, I can at least offer you dinner while you’re here. If you’d like.” She gave him a small smile as she passed him into the apartment taking off her coat and dropping her bag on the small dining room table.

Jason raised his eyebrows in surprise. After the way she had reacted when she saw him, he honestly didn’t think she would talk to him let alone let him into her apartment. He was starting to understand how she could have gotten drugged so easily if she was that trusting. But then again, Tim had said they all were being careful. Her even more so than the others. So why was she so trusting now? “I would never turn down free food,” he said slowly.

He closed the door behind him with a quick glance at the inside part of the lock, confirming his original suspicions. Standard issue, not particularly secure. He could have picked it in all of three minutes when he was only eight. He didn’t have to lean down to study the doorknob to know it was in worse condition. One good kick and the door would be wide open. He sighed. If anyone wanted to get into her apartment, it wouldn’t take them very much effort.

He turned back to the apartment, letting his frown morph into a smile. Her apartment was cozy and lived in and very much her. There were touches of her everywhere along with some touches that he wouldn’t have expected. He shook his head at the condition of the apartment. It wasn’t terribly messy but it also wouldn’t count as anything close to clean. He could see why she and Tim got along so well. Neither could clean up after themselves to save their lives.

There were bits of fabric and half completed sewing projects scattered around along with random pages of scientific reports. He raised an eyebrow at that. Odd combination. His eyes caught on men’s shoes by the door. He scrunched his forehead in confusion. If she lived with someone, where were they? Where were they last night? Why hadn’t Tim mentioned him? “You live with someone? A boyfriend?”

Marinette looked up from the refrigerator. “No. Well, yes, but no. I live with my best friend,” she explained quickly, “but he’s visiting friends this week.”

Jason nodded. That was good at least. She wasn’t living alone. There was someone else with her usually. That makes it less likely someone could just break in and attack her. He moved over to the window and sighed again, more deeply this time. It was worse than the door. “No curtains. You should probably get some, preferably lined ones. This lock is ancient too. It wouldn’t take much to jimmy it. We’ll get you new locks for your windows and your door.”

Marinette looked at him wide eyed as she set a bunch of grapes and a jug of filtered water from the refrigerator on the counter. She hadn’t been expecting the locks to be that bad. She knew it wasn’t amazing, but then again, she hadn’t really been too concerned about being specifically targeted here. Nobody really knew who she was, or rather used to be. She was just an average citizen here.

She stared at the window for a few seconds, her head cocking to the side and her eyes unfocusing as her mind wandered through the possibilities of what could have happened and what still could. She was no longer safe, not even in her own home. But then again, she never really had been had she? She had just thought she was. She thought she was safer after they’d defeated Hawkmoth, but she’d just traded one danger for another.

Jason watched as her face morphed from one expression to another, her eyes distant. Her face clearly displaying each and every emotion she was going through, no matter how flitting. Jason could guess where her head went. When her eyes started shimmering, he opened his mouth to bring her out of it when her phone rang. She jerked back violently, knocking over the jug of water.

She cursed as she tried to stop the jug’s descent only to knock it further away, further spreading the water. She gave a defeated groan and grabbed a towel from a nearby drawer to start sopping up the water. Jason jumped to grab a few more towels to help. It took a few minutes, but they were finally able to clean up the water with a minimum of damage to papers left on the counter. Luckily, none of Marinette’s sketches were on the island anymore but Adrien was definitely going to have to reprint some of his papers for research.

Marinette gave Jason an appreciative smile and threw the papers in recycling and the towels in the sink. She let out a deep frustrated sigh as she leaned against the counter. After a few seconds, she ran her hands through her hair and laughed. Jason frowned at the sound. It was short and mirthless and sounded utterly wrong coming from her. He could see her starting to spin but didn’t know her well enough to know how to help. God, he really hadn’t thought this through.

Jason very slowly started reaching for her so she could see his hands coming. Shen she didn’t shy away, he set a hand on her arm to ground her. She looked up into his eyes, panicked eyes meeting concerned eyes. They both jumped when her phone started ringing again. They both chuckled quietly at their reactions.

“Sorry…” she started but was cut off by another ring. She shook her head at herself. She hadn’t even noticed the original call had dropped. She checked the caller id and smiled at the phone. “Hey Tim.” She paused to listen to him. “No, I’m fine. I just… I knocked something over and was cleaning it. Sorry for scaring you.”

She gave Jason an apologetic smile as she listened to Tim. “I’m doing okay, I guess. I think I’m just jumpy… and getting paranoid. I could have sworn someone was watching me walk home, but when I looked nobody was around or rather nobody was paying attention to me.” She missed the slight grimace Jason shot toward the floor. “No, thank you though. Actually, your brother is here already.” She smiled at Jason again and put Tim on speaker.

“…that so. That’s very thoughtful of him,” Tim quipped in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, he’s checking my locks,” Marinette continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his voice, or attributing it to his concern. “Apparently my door and window locks are pretty bad,” Marinette frowned at the thought.

“Uh huh. Well it’s just so great that he came over then,” Tim gritted out.

Marinette did a double take when Jason’s phone dinged repeatedly with an extended series of text notifications. She blinked at it a few times before looking questioningly at Jason. He rolled his eyes and turned his phone off. He met her eyes with a shrug and a wink as he sat at her island.

“Tell him I say hi and remind him he has plans with Bruce soon,” Tim continued tightly.

Jason huffed. “Tell him to tell B, I'm not going on patrol until Demon Spawn calms down. And tell him I’m sending him the bill for this.” He motioned vaguely around them.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tim conceded easily before his voice turned harsh again, “And tell him…”

“You two do realize you can hear each other and you two both know you can hear each other and I know you can hear each other and I’m not an owl!” Marinette admonished them sharply.

The room was silent for a few seconds before Tim started chuckling. “Sorry, Hermione.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She nodded at the phone even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hey! That makes me Ron? What the fuck?” Jason objected raising up from his seat in offense.

“Oh come on, you’d look good with red hair,” Marinette teased him lightly.

“You better fucking not be Ron,” Tim growled. “You’re more like Draco anyway,” he continued flippantly.

“Fuck you, Pretender,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, this is making me feel better,” Marinette sighed, leaning against the counter.

There was a guilty pause as the men took in her words. “Sorry,” Jason finally spoke up after a while.

“What?” Marinette gave him a curious look until realization set in. “Oh! No, I was serious. You two remind me of my friends. It feels comforting, normal.”

Tim waited a second before speaking up cautiously. “So… you’re okay for tonight? You feel safe?”

Marinette smiled at the phone again. “Yeah, Tim. I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course. Let me know if that changes. I’ll be over in three minutes flat,” he promised.

Marinette grinned mischievously. “Do I get a free pizza if you take longer?”

Tim huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely.”

“Sweet. I might test it just for that,” she teased him. “Night, Tim.”

“Night. And tell Jason to turn his phone back on before I do it for him.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Still not an owl,” she singsonged before she hung up. She looked over to Jason with a concerned smile. “Do you have to go? It sounded like you already had plans?”

Jason waved her off and took the battery out of his phone before leaning against the counter near her. “I have plenty of time. Like I said, if I show up now De… Damian is going to attack me.” Marinette’s eyes widened in concern but Jason waved her off again. “It’s fine. He isn’t as tough as he thinks he is. He wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Bruce would yell at me for it and Dick would give me his disappointed in you lecture. It’s better for everyone if I stay away for a few days.”

He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim just doesn’t want me stealing his friend away with my superior looks and charm.”

Marinette scowled lightly at him. “Tim is very handsome and charming,” she insisted defensively.

Jason shot her a devilish smile. “But not as much as me, right?”

Marinette scoffed at him and rolled her eyes. “You certainly seem to think so.” She rinsed some grapes and set them in a bowl between the two of them. “But he’s the only reason you’re here right now. If you weren’t Tim’s brother and we hadn’t met last night when you were fairly respectful of me in my… state…”

“Fairly!?” Jason squawked.

“I’d have called, well, not the cops, but Tim, to take care of you,” she continued over him. She grabbed a grape and chewed on it while she watched him appraisingly as she leaned back against the counter opposite him. “Do you make a habit of stealing his friends?”

Jason shrugged and grabbed a few grapes. “No, we generally move in different…” he searched for a nice way to phrase it, “circles.”

She hummed in response. “And yet here you are, willingly entering in a circle with one of his friends.” She eyed him pointedly. She quickly broke their eye contact to look down and cross her arms over her chest protectively. “Thank you for breaking into this particular circle to help me out. Last night spooked me more than I want to admit.”

“Did you want to talk about it? Or pretend like it never happened. I can help with either,” Jason offered.

Marinette stared at the grapes for a while without talking. Jason was certain she was about to start spiraling again when she spoke up quietly. “I was keeping an eye on my drinks. I only took my eyes off of them when I was around people I trusted and we weren’t exactly close to other people for someone to just slip something in.” She frowned and looked at nothing in particular. She poured herself a glass of water and held the rim of the glass against her lips without drinking it as she remembered the night before. “I don’t know which scares me more, that someone was that good to get it in with all of us there or…”

“That one of the people you trust might be responsible,” Jason finished for her after a few seconds of silence. When she looked up to meet her eyes, she looked so shaken and uncertain, he wanted to pull her into a tight, reassuring hug, but after the night before, he wasn’t sure a virtual stranger’s embrace would be the most reassuring. He settled for moving to lean against the counter next to her so their arms were almost touching, but she still had her personal space.

“Yeah,” she said wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing her arms.

“You think you were the intended victim?” he asked curiously. He and Tim had already discussed the night and decided that she had to be, but he was curious what her thoughts were. “You don’t think it was just opportunistic. You think whoever was with targeting you.”

She shook her head and looked down, frowning at the floor. She gripped her arms tighter. “I don’t know. I was never alone and I only drank with my friends at our own table away from other people. I mean someone at the bar could have drugged it before it was brought over when the waitress brought drinks but…”

“How would they know who it would go to,” Jason finished again. “Seems unlikely they’d risk the drug like that if they didn’t know who it would go to. If they didn’t have a plan to get the person out.”

Marinette looked up at him anxiously and nodded. She studied him for a few more seconds before she shook herself out of her daze. She looked up at him with a fake smile. “So what are you feeling for dinner? I can make some pasta. I can do stir fry. I can whip up a casserole. What do you want?”

“I’ll be happy with whatever you feel like having tonight,” he assured her with a smile.

“I don’t… really… feel like eating,” she mumbled, looking away again. “This is more something for me to focus on instead of last night.”

Jason gave her a gentle smile and lowered himself to her level, trying to gain her attention. “Look, I know you don’t know me but why don’t we order take out and we can watch a movie, or if you want to be alone, I can leave.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she answered quickly, instantly looking over to him with a desperate look in her eyes.

Jason nodded slowly and gave her a gentle smile. He rested his hands lightly on her arms to reassure her he was there and not going anywhere unless she wanted him to. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t want to be either. Do you want me to call Tim over? I know you probably feel safer with him and when he can’t be here in three minutes, you get a pizza.”

She gave him a wan smile. “No, I trust you. And I’m not really feeling pizza right now.”

Jason smiled back. “I want to joke and say that’s a terrible decision, but now doesn’t seem like the best time.” She gave him a deadpan look that made his grin widen. “I’ll save that for later,” he finished with a wink. His expression quickly turned serious as he watched her. “You should eat though. What kind of food do you want to try? There’s a good Indian restaurant around the corner.”

She looked away. “I don’t want to order out. I don’t want food that I…”

Jason nodded and moved closer again. “Yeah, that’s reasonable. Let’s make something together, yeah? I saw some eggs and milk in your refrigerator and there’s bread on the counter. How do you feel about breakfast for dinner? French toast sound good? I think you call it Lost Bread? And how do you feel about Clueless?”

“The movie?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.”

“Fan of Alicia Silverstone or Jane Austen?” she teased weakly.

“Both,” Jason answered with a wink.

Marinette snickered and nodded. “That all sounds amazing.” She moved away to start getting the pan and bowls out, watching him while he got the ingredients prepared. “Thank you, Jason. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No problem. We’ll get things figured out so you can feel safe, or at least as safe as you can feel in Gotham,” he assured her, and himself. They were going to find who drugged her and make her feel safe again. Whoever it was messed with one of Tim’s friends, one of the few he really trusted, that means whoever it was messed with his family and nobody messed with their family.

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @demonicbusiness @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - night #Jasonette Protection Program

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 14

This took a bit longer than I thought it would 😀 life kinda said lol to me for a while.

“Augh!” Scott cried out. He breathed in desperately, but his mouth filled with water.

Sitting up and rolling to his side, he coughed out a stream of water. Groaning when he finished. Scott sat up wearily, blocking the sun from his face.

It was warmer than usual. He was sitting in a waist high pool of water, around his shoulders as he was sitting down, which was a warm brown color. Behind him he could hear the roar of the river he had floated in from.

Scott rubbed his eyes and gauged the pain in his bruising shoulder. He felt like something was missing when he noticed.

“Tango?” He called out. A twinge of frantic concern escaped in his voice. Scott turned in every direction, scanning the surroundings for any sign of his friend.

What if they’d been separated in the river? What if his friend had drowned?

His anxiety was at its peak when another person sat up from under the water. Sputtering and flailing about, Tango had been hidden under the murky pond.

Scott fell backwards in surprise, his shock eased when he saw his friend, who looked alright enough. Tango seemed satisfied with the amount of water he discarded, looking up he met Scott’s eyes.

Tango’s eyes widened with relief, he laughed, it looked slightly painful, but he pulled the other into a tight embrace.

“Are you alright?” he pulled back, looking Scott over for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine, uh, except for the shoulder,” Scott replied.

“Oh, yeah,” Tango got to his feet. He held a hand out for the other to take.

Once they had waded to the mucky shore, Tango ordered Scott to enter the trees while he ran to the other side of the pond. Tango hastily did so, looking up and around the area. Scott could see a triumphant expression make it’s way onto his face.

“Come here,” Tango motioned when he got back to Scott, “look,” he pointed skywards.

Scott followed his line of sight up into the sky. Right above the trees, a line of grey smoke floated into the sky.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tango smiled, “The Crastle,” he exclaimed.

After a while of enduring wet socks through a lightly wooded area. The Crastle came into view. It was nearly sundown now, and Scott recognized where they were. Almost dead in front of the castle and it’s moat, the drawbridge was still down. For the sun was not gone yet.

Tango crouched in the last bit of trees, surveying the barren, icy field that housed the humble fort. Deciding they had to go at some point, he told Scott to come. They jogged low through the tall stretches of grass, then hastily across the drawbridge.

Kneeling behind a small decorative wall, Tango went to the door while Scott stayed in place. He knocked on the door politely, but hard enough to provoke any inhabitants to answer.

A few moments passed and a small circle of wood slid out of the door. A peephole, and an eye appeared in it. Tango leaned down to make his identity known, which may have been a stupid thing to do in hindsight. What if a member of Dogwarts had been visiting?

The door swung open. Cleo’s already wide eyes were impossibly wider. Although her face could not go pale, one could imagine that it did.

Quickly, all three rushed inside. The doors and windows were slammed shut and locked.

Without even a hello, Cleo whipped around to face the two fugitives. Hands poised on her hips.

“What on Earth are you two doing here?” she seethed. Her eyes were angry, her teeth gritted.

“We need help,” Tango replied. Putting his hands up in mock surrender.

Scott had never been aquatinted with the girl before. Cleo and her friend Bdubs lived a relatively secluded life in the Crastle together. They did not have to ask to be left alone, both were a force to be reckoned with when under threat.

Soldiers by nature, Cleo and Bdubs defended their small claim to a normal life with everything they could. Scott understood their seclusion. Had he not been doing the same?

“Yeah you do,” Cleo nearly laughed. Tango didn’t look very amused.

“Not funny, Cleo, we both almost died,” he said with a tired frown.

She dropped the mirthful expression. Nodding, “You shouldn’t have come here,” she looked away.

“Cleo. Please,” Tango reached for her thin hand, which was worn and frail looking from accumulating years of war and hardship.

Cleo’s eyes met his in a silent response. Not to his plea, she would never have said no to him.

“A week,” she bargained.

Scott felt like an outsider to their relationship. He knew they had been close for a long time. Then he knew of Cleo’s heartbroken anger towards the man for betraying their alliance. Even if he was pretending. Tango hid his truer feelings under various layers of hostility and irony. Now that they were all in the room together, it was obvious, at least in part, what had been eating away at his friend for the past months.

Back in the cow farm Scott always wondered why Tango made such an effort to help him through his guilt of lying to Jimmy. To Scott, there was no way anyone could understand what he was going through. Now though, he knew Tango was feeling the same way about the Crastle Folk.

“Thank you Cleo,” brightness returned to Tango’s eyes. He shook her hand gratefully.

A smile found its way onto the girl’s face as well. She pat him on the shoulders in place of a hug. They turned back to Scott, who was sat on a chest holding his shoulder.

“We should fix that,” Cleo pointed out the obvious.

After a bit of shuffling around in cabinets and chests, Cleo had started wrapping Scott’s arm in a strap of bandages. She talked about healing it up in no time, a healing potion once a day. Good as new. As long as he kept it in the cast.

She wrapped a piece of fabric around his neck to carry his Arm in, then gave him his first healing potion.

It was silent for a while. The three of them doing random tasks to pass the time, sweeping up the invisible dirt on the floor, examining the titles of a small collection of books on the countertop, and using one had to clean a wound.

A knock at the door halted the peaceful atmosphere. Tango and Scott instinctively found their ways to each others’ side. Suddenly aware of every curtained window.

Cleo quietly approached the door. She slid the peephole open slightly, squinting through. Turning around quickly, she whispered.

“It’s Impulse,” her expression was fearful.

Tango didn’t share her concern. At all. He smiled, going to the door.

“Alone?” he asked.

Cleo nodded.

“Let him in,” he said. Cleo looked at him like he had three heads.

He repeated himself and she hesitated, but she opened the door. Only slightly, so Impulse would only see her. They exchanged unintelligible words before Impulse was granted access to the Crastle.

He looked around. Scott and Tango both waved at him a bit awkwardly. Both of them immediately conscious of how haggard they must look.

Impulse sighed with relief. He put his sword down against the wall and went to meet his friends, pulling the both of the into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he studied each of their faces for any signs of being hurt, save for the now patched wound on Scott’s forehead and his broken shoulder.

“Somehow some way,” Scott muttered, retreating from the embrace.

This was the first time he was clearly able to see the other since their squabble at the desert battle. Impulse looked tired before anything else. Before relief or concern, he was clearly exhausted.

Scott looked away, a knowing part of him said “your fault,” which he made no effort to ignore.

“Impulse, I’m so sorry,” he admitted.

“It isn’t your fault. I’m the one who messed up, super bad. I understand how upset you are,” Scott worried with a strand of hair near the base of his head.

Impulse looked like he was forcing various thoughts off of his tongue, he simply said, “I’m glad you’re okay,” patting Scott on the shoulder.

He shifted his attention back to Tango. Scott backed away from the encounter, sitting on the staircase.

“What do we do now?” Impulse asked him.

Tango made a thoughtful face. His duty returned to him as he contemplated a new plan of action.

“Me and him will leave once it’s safe,” Tango gestured to himself and Scott, “we’ll hightail it to the Northern corner, in the border mountains. It will be safer there. Especially if we go underground,” he said.

Impulse nodded along, he asked, “when are we leaving?”

Tango hesitated, “you aren’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Impulse replied as if he’d been slapped.

“We’re going. We’ve been exposed, if I haven’t been as spy then I have as a traitor. Neither of us can stay here; but you can,” Tango said.

“You may have defied the Army at the trial today but you haven’t compromised yourself. Go back there and forget about the damn mission. Take care of him,” he ordered, hands coming to the other’s shoulders.

Impulse frowned deeply; but he nodded.

The moment was over seconds later. Impulse asked if he could stay for a while longer, just in case the Red Army showed up looking for them.

“Where should we stay while we’re here?” Scott asked Cleo.

She looked left in thought, then led them over to a double chest in the corner. It was full of many miscellaneous items. Broken pagers, cups, wood, and coal. Cleo lifted the bottom of the container up. All the contents came with it. They were glued to the surface.

Under the chest was a hole with a ladder. It went down some seven feet into what looked like a dark tunnel.

“Secret Tunnel!” Tango pumped his fist in the air, clearly amused.

Cleo and Impulse laughed along with him, clearly over a joke Scott didn’t understand.

Once everyone had clambered to the bottom of the pit, it became apparent what the “secret tunnel” truly was. There were rows of shelves lining the walls, each was stocked with various canned foods and bags of grain.

“Cleo! Have you been hoarding all the non-perishables on the entire map?” Scott exclaimed once he entered the cellar.

He picked up a can of corn, “How much of this do you have?”

Cleo stifled a laugh, “There’s still plenty being made in the village. It’s not my fault I actually take advantage of their generosity,” she said.

She plucked a can of carrots in gravy from one of the shelves, shaking it in his face. Scott grimaced at the prospect of eating carrots in gravy, but Cleo insisted they were fine heated up.

“So, this is home base, I’m assuming,” Tango said. He probably knew about the cellar already, having lived in the Crastle for a short time.

“Yes. For now. We could have given you the attic, but I wasn’t so sure you’d like to share it with the barn owls,” Cleo joked.

It was comforting that despite the circumstances, the small family-like clique could still be humorous with each other. The smiles of his servermates eased Scott’s racing mind. He leaned against a bare wall and slid to the dusty floor, near a furnace.

“It’s getting late, I need to leave,” Impulse piped up after an engaging back and forth about whether or not barn owls were actually in the attic, and if Tango was actually brave enough to go check.

The weight of a “goodbye” soured the mood immediately. Neither Scott, Tango, or Impulse knew how long it would be until they saw one another again. Nor did they know what unfortunate circumstances may arise while separated.

Tango shook Impulse’s hand, pulling it towards him and smiling reassuringly. Although it looked more like a grimace. Neither said goodbye, only good luck and be safe.

Scott’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, but when Impulse turned to him, he hung his head and hugged him; and they just stayed like that for a bit. Impulse ruffed up the other’s hair before pulling away. He shook Scott’s hand as well.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Scott said. Speaking it into existence.

“Soon”, is all Impulse replied before ascending the ladder. Cleo followed him to bid farewell.

The door upstairs shut and locked.

It was going to be a long winter.

#mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #tangotek #impulsesv #zombie cleo #kingslayer au #cas types #the crastle #okay 👍

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transgenders4jimmymcgill · 2 years

Text

Chapter 2: The Sweater

TW: Blood, SH

Song of the chapter: https://youtu.be/Ao81ziiXHhs

'Cause it's too cold, For you here, And now, so let me hold, Both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

James' POV:

The last thing I remembered before passing out in the stranger's arms was the bright world outside the bar becoming fuzzy and warm. I had been standing near the stage, whiskey coursing through my veins, when I heard the familiar ringing in my ears. Shit. I looked down at my left hand and sure enough, a deep red glimmered, the dim lights in the bar reflecting in the thick liquid.

I stumbled over my own feet, trying to make it out to my truck. It had never happened this fast before. Most of the time, whenever the wounds reopened, it would be gradual and I'd be able to stop the bleeding before it was a true issue. Not this time. It was barely more than a minute from when the ringing started to when I was lying limp on the ground. The stranger I had been eyeing at the bar had followed me out - says tons about my "friends" that they didn't even notice I was gone - and had ran over to me.

I directed him to the bandages in my truck the best I could, but it wasn't enough. The last I remember was him lying me in the back seat and speeding off down the road.

I awoke to the bright lights above me in the hospital. The world around me was loud and fuzzy. There was a nurse at my side. "What's going on?" I managed to croak out.

"You passed out from blood loss," she explained. "Your friend out there brought you in, thank God. You might not have made it had he not." She motioned to a man standing in the hall, my view obscured by the foggy glass windows into the room. I blinked a few times and laid my head back down on the pillow. "I hate to mention it, but your wounds..." she paused, sighing. "How long has this been going on?"

"I relapsed, okay?" I was already aggravated. What if they forced me to stay? "It wasn't..." I searched for the words. "It wasn't an attempt, I just... Rough few weeks but, trust me, lesson learned." I sighed.

The nurse looked at me, an unreadable expression on her face. She looked down at the floor, opened her mouth, then just closed it again. "Listen, I'm inclined to believe you. Your... scars, most of them look very old. Has this ever happened before? Almost... dying, I mean?"

"No."

"Well... I'll give you a week of outpatient then you're free. Just promise me this won't happen again?" She looked at me expectantly.

"Promise."

"Thanks." She glanced down at her clipboard. "I'll get the discharge paperwork." She headed towards the door.

"Hey, send... My friend in, please," I asked her as she opened the door. The nurse nodded at me and stepped out.

I took a big sigh, partly relief and partly anxiety, right before the stranger stepped into the room. I didn't look at him at first, really not sure what to say. I could feel his eyes on me, also uncertain.

"I'm uh... I'm sorry about all this," was what I managed to get out, glancing nervously up at him a few times. "But, thank you for getting me here. I don't really know how I'd ever pay that back."

The stranger nodded slowly, glancing between the floor and my eyes for a few moments. "Yeah, uh... You're welcome, I guess." He took a long pause, the awkward tension becoming almost unbearable. "It's Jimmy, by the way," he motioned to himself.

"James," I chuckled once. The chances that we have the same name? Wow.

Another long silence, us occasionally looking at each other, before Jimmy finally said something. "I just... Never have been in a situation remotely close to this." He shook his head. "I don't know, can I get you something? Something to drink? Anything?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, no, you've done more than enough." I sighed. "Way more than enough. You really didn't have to stay."

"Uh, like hell I did," he fuzzed his eyebrows for a half-second and laughed once. "I mean, Jesus, how often do I get to rescue a hot stranger from dying in a parking lot?" He seemed to catch himself. "Fuck- I mean-" He scratched his head. "I didn't mean to say that, or well, it's true, but I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." I could feel my cheeks going red. "I'm glad."

In perfect timing, the nurse walked back into the room. She held her clipboard and walked over to the side of my hospital bed. "You'll just have to sign here and here," she pointed. "A week of outpatient and you're free to go." I sighed and signed my name on the lines silently. "Well, that should do it. If you have any questions just let me know, otherwise your things are on the chair over there," she motioned to the opposite wall, "and you can check out at the reception desk." She gave a brief smile and headed back out of the room.

"Great," I said exasperatedly under my breath. I started to pull myself out of the bed when Jimmy was at my side, holding my arm, helping me stand up. "Thanks," I glanced up at him, suddenly making eye contact with him.

"Don't mention it." He still held my arm, looking back down at me, not breaking the eye contact.

We stood there for a few long seconds, just staring at each other. I caught myself then, blinking and looking down. "Well, I should get dressed. You don't have to stay," then I realized. "Oh wait, I need to drive you back to your car."

"Needing to drive me back to my car or not, I'm staying," Jimmy said. "Dinner. It's on me."

I looked over at him, laughing. "Yeah, right. It's on me, after the shit I put you through today," I said as I reached down and picked my clothes up off the chair.

"Nope. My treat," Jimmy gave me a smile as I walked past him, towards the hospital room bathroom.

"Nopeee, me." I called out as I closed the door.

"It's on meee," I could hear him call out, his voice muffled from the door. I smiled to myself and shook my head as I pulled my regular clothes back on. I went to put my jacket on when I could feel the dried blood in the sleeves. God dammit, I thought to myself. And it was getting chilly. I was fucked.

I slung my jacket over my arm and headed back out. I immediately locked eyes with Jimmy when I opened the door. I could feel his eyes trying to scan me without being obvious, my breath caught in the back of my throat. The way his hair was slightly disheveled from the wild events of the day, the way his suit fit him perfectly, I could just imagine grabbing his tie and pulling him down to my lips... Stop it. We stood there for another moment before I snapped out of it and moved towards the door. He just cleared his throat and followed me.

I spent a few minutes at the reception desk before I was finally released. I motioned for Jimmy, who was standing a few feet away, to follow. We walked next to each other out of the front doors of the hospital.

It had already gotten dark. The brisk nighttime air hit my skin and I forced back a shiver. We made our way silently to my truck, parked in the nearest row. We got in and I started it, the loud engine roaring to life. "Where to?" I asked.

"I mean, there's that dingy little restaurant next to the bar," Jimmy shrugged. "Just to cut down on extra driving time." he gave a toothy little smile.

"Sounds good to me," I smiled back at him, letting my eyes linger on him before putting my old truck into gear and turning out of the hospital parking lot.

On the drive back to the bar, we asked each other questions. What do you do? Where are you from? What was your day like before this happened? Jimmy made me laugh many times, him going off on funny little rants about any subject you could imagine. Whenever I burst into laughter at one of his one-liners, I could feel him look back at me, smiling at the sound of my voice. It made my face feel hot.

We turned back into the bar parking lot, it nearly at full-capacity now. As I put my truck into park, I was noticeably shivering now. "You okay?" Jimmy asked, eyeing my bandaged arm.

"Just cold," I replied. I could feel him look at my jacket between the seats. "Dried blood," I nodded in response to his silent question.

"Oh, right," Jimmy looked down. "Well, I have an extra sweater you could borrow...? My car is right over there," he pointed in the direction of his car.

"I mean... I hate to say yes at this point but... please," I said with a little laughter to my voice.

"Of course," he smiled at me and hopped out, jogging over to his old little yellow car.

I had climbed out myself when he made his way back, a gray sweater on his arm. He handed it over to me. I immediately grabbed it, pulling it on. It was slightly too big, coming down to half way on my thighs, the sleeves going down well past my hands, but it worked. It smelled good, like him. I looked down at the front, reading the backwards font on the design. "University of... American... Samoa?" I managed.

Jimmy laughed. "Yeah. Law school." I could feel his gaze shift between the sweater and my eyes.

"Ohh, yeah," I smiled back. I wrapped my fingers around the bottom of the shirt sleeves, jokingly holding my arms out.

Jimmy just smiled wider, laughing quietly. We made our way towards the restaurant on the opposite side of the bar, us walking close next to each other, conserving heat. I could feel his hand brush against mine briefly - I longed to just reach out, to intertwine my fingers in his, to feel my palm against his - but I pulled my hand away before I let myself.

We walked through the restaurant door. Loud music played, voices were everywhere, immediate sensory overload. "Two?" the waitress at the door asked.

"Yeah. Is there anyplace... quieter in here?" I asked before I could even think twice. I could feel Jimmy look at me.

"Uh, yeah. Right this way," the waitress smiled at us and led us to the back corner of the restaurant, near large windows. She was right, the music was mostly drowned out from the distance and semi-wall between our section and the rest of the restaurant. The people at the tables around us talked in low voices.

"Thank you," I smiled back at her as we sat. I looked around, adjusting to the dim light.

"Problem with loud places?" Jimmy asked me. "Not that it matters, just... Curious."

"Yeah, actually," I quickly debated on telling him, but decided not to. I doubted that he'd be very attracted to me after hearing that I have autism. "But it's no big deal," I shook my head a little and smiled down at my hands, nervously playing with my fingers on top of the table.

Just then, I saw Jimmy's hands reach over the tabletop and gently grab mine. I noticed the gold ring he had on one pinky finger, and just how gentle he was in grabbing my hands. I looked back up at him shyly.

"It's okay," he said. He seemed to sense that I was on edge, afraid, nervous. I didn't even have the right words. I just looked into his eyes, feeling my face heat up once again, but I didn't allow myself to break the eye contact this time.

We just looked into each other until the waitress came, our hands quickly breaking apart when we saw her carrying the waters to our table. "Anything else I can get you two to drink?" She asked.

"I'm good," I said.

"Yeah, this is good," Jimmy mimicked. "I think we know what we want, too...?" He looked in my direction.

The waitress looked expectantly at us. "Yeah, I'm good with just the chips and salsa, please," I ordered. Jimmy followed with an order of a burger and fries.

"Coming right up," the waitress said nicely and walked away.

There was yet another silence between us before Jimmy broke the silence. "So... Uh... I don't really know how to ask, or if I even should, but..." he stumbled over his words a little bit.

Somehow, in the last half an hour of heaven, I had forgotten about the events of the day. I sighed. "Yeah. It's okay, you can ask, I just don't really know where to start," I replied. "I guess... I mean, how much did they tell you?"

"I just know about all of the blood I saw," Jimmy offered.

I shook my head a little bit, a sense of shame washing over me. "Well... I relapsed, I guess. I have a history with... Well, uh... Hurting myself." I said it. It killed me. It felt awful. I could feel Jimmy's energy shift, turning concerned. "I used to more, when I was a teenager. I never thought I'd come back to it but... I just had some family events recently that triggered it again." I stared down at my hands again, shaking my head again. "I'm sorry. I feel so awful. Trust me, this is the end. It... It has to be the end," I mustered up the courage to look back at Jimmy, looking him in the eye.

It looked like he was almost tearing up, but the dim light made it hard to tell. His mouth was slightly parted, staring back at me. Once I made eye contact with him again, he shook his head slightly, blinking a few times. "Well, that's uh," he looked for the words. It took a few seconds. "I'm sorry, I just..."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," I reassured him.

After a few seconds of thinking, he reached his hands back over to mine, grabbing them with a little more force this time, but still gentle. I grabbed back, giving his hands a light squeeze. "Hey," Jimmy said, trying to gain my attention. I looked up at him, looking him in the eye. "I just... I barely know you, I know, but... Just know that I really do care about you. And it kills me to know you could even think about doing something like that to yourself," I could hear his voice breaking. My eyes started to tear up. "I'm not going to plead with you to do anything, just... I care, is all. That's all I want you to know."

I tried to not let the tear escape, but it did. I nodded my head, mustering up a smile. He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back again. "Thank you, Jimmy," I said, a little quietly. "Really. It means a lot, even if we've only known each other for today."

He smiled back, shaking his head a little bit, seemingly trying to stop a tear as well. Right then the waitress reappeared with our food, and we broke away again. We spent the rest of the night talking and laughing. Jimmy would joke around and tell me stories about his elderly clients, and I'd tell him about how I recently moved from Boston. Every so often I would feel his foot reach across, under the table, and tenderly nudge my ankle. I'd return the nudge.

It was very early in the morning when we stumbled out of the restaurant at closing, exhausted. By that time we were so tired we were slap-happy, laughing at nothing. We got back to the parking lot, still giggling about something, when we came to the stop. The night air was chilly and damp, and I turned to Jimmy. I stared at him for a moment, catching the sight of his loosened, crooked tie, his messy hair, his smile. I lost my breath, just looking at him. He turned to me, catching my gaze. He stared back at me, a smile illuminating his face. "Well, this was fun," he stated.

"Yeah," I agreed. I noticed I was still wearing his sweater. "Oh, here," I went to take it off, but his hand was suddenly on my wrist, stopping me.

"No, it's okay. Keep it," he reassured me, but didn't move his hand. I just nodded back in response, not able to make myself speak after feeling his touch again.

After a moment, he stepped closer to me, pulling me slightly closer to him. I looked up into his eyes, letting his other hand grab my free arm. His arms snaked around to my back slowly, our faces getting closer and closer. As we burned holes into each other with our eyes, his lips were on mine, my eyes slowly closing.

It felt like an eternity but at the same time, only a millisecond. I didn't want him to stop, but then we were apart again.

"I- I-" Jimmy stumbled over his words, backing up a little bit. "I'm sorry if that was too s-"

I cut him off. "No. It's okay, really," I was almost begging him to not stop. "Not too soon at all."

He smiled at me and I, back at him. "Well, anyways, I should probably get going. Clients tomorrow," he explained.

"Yeah, me too," I agreed. "But wait," I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone. I quickly navigated to the contacts and handed it over to him. "Here."

He took my phone, dialing his name and phone number into it. "Alright," he said, closing the phone again, "Your's, sir," he said with a little smirk as he handed it back.

"Thanks," I said, taking the phone. "And thanks for the uh... Everything," I smiled.

"Anytime," Jimmy said. We exchanged a long look before we parted ways, making it back to our respectively brightly-colored vehicles.

#jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill fanfic #jimmy mcgill smut #better call Saul fanfic #better call Saul smut fanfic #gay smut fanfic #gay smut #jimmy mcgill gay

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

The Trouble with Tabloids

By Hale13 for @jenniboo311

“Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

MJ reads the Daily Bugle and Peter is an nervous mess about returning to school after his identity is reveled to the world.

Words: 5313, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Relationships: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, Peter & May, Peter & Ned

Read on AO3 or below line break

“Does any part of you feel relieved about all this?” Michelle is curled up on her side, the half priced Christmas twinkle lights she picked up off a dusty shelf when they went thrift shopping a few months ago hung up haphazardly behind her. They make the edges of her hair glow red and throw strange and beautiful shadows across her face. Peter is almost too distracted looking at her to register her question.

“What do you mean?” His voice quiet and questioning. His living room is completely dark – his face lit only by his phone screen where he holds is just above his chest.

MJ’s face scrunches a little and she readjusts her head on the pillow, a few stray fractals of light bouncing off the broken black dahlia necklace and painting rainbows onto the wall and ceiling. “Now that everybody knows you don’t really have to hide or lie to people.”

Peter feels his hackles rise just a little at that comment but he’s too tired and burnt out to really be upset. He feels like he’s been fighting for years even though its only been a few weeks since Beck outed him to the world. His head pulsates with the starts of a headache and he just sighs. “For the record,” despite his desire to sound neutral his voice has a bit of an edge, “I never wanted to lie to you. But how do you tell someone that you’re Spider-Man?”

MJ hums noncommittally, it’s the sound she makes when she disagrees or has strong feelings about something in particular but doesn’t feel like arguing – he’s sure it will come up later and that her opinion will probably be correct. It makes him feel thankful and pissed simultaneously but he takes a deep breath and tries to let it go. Anger seems to be his default emotion these days. Anger and frustration and a dash of hopelessness. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” MJ asks, changing the subject abruptly and Peter settles a little more firmly into the ancient couch that May picked up from one of their neighbors. It groans under him.

“Sure,” he replies with a bit of a crooked smile that he can tell doesn’t reach his eyes – the little image in the bottom of his screen that shows his reflection makes him look pale and washed out and so so tired. No wonder May had been hovering so much recently. “I’ve always wanted to try and balance being a well known vigilante while going to high school.”

MJ chuckles and gives him a fond smile. The school year technically started a few weeks ago but Peter has been on unofficial home arrest while the NYPD and FBI and the freaking UN sorted out what to do with him. The unaltered footage from EDITH along with the character witness statements and testimonials from Happy and the newly returned to Earth Nick Fury (shape-shifting aliens what the fuck?) made it clear quickly that he was innocent but just opened the door for a whole host of other problems.

Like a large portion of conspiracy theorists still saying he killed Beck and that the government was covering it up. Or the fact that his address had gotten leaked and people had camped outside with signs or support or hatred and he and May had needed to move somewhere new. Or how Ned had been accosted by a crazy Fox News journalist on his way home from school one day.

That had made Peter see red and it was only May and Happy taking his web-shooters and phone and nearly restraining him that kept him from leaving to do something he would probably (maybe) regret later.

Jimmy Woo, the FBI agent over his case, had advised him to just lay low while the local and worldwide organizations hashed everything out. Peter was still too young to sign the Sokovia Accords but they couldn’t have him running around and ‘causing untold destruction’ in other countries. And, well, the NYPD still wasn’t his biggest fan when it came to the low-to-the-ground and neighborhood problems he liked to deal with.

As it was, he was now allowed to continue being Spider-Man in New York City but he would need special permission from local governments to act anywhere else. This suited Peter just fine; he would rather not leave home anytime soon after his last ‘vacation’ and Spider-Man was a Queens hero anyway. The clock on his phone ticked over to one in the morning just as his battery bar turned red.

“Hey,” Michelle said, pulling his attention back to her. She gave him a tired smile and pulled her blanket up higher on her shoulder. “We’ll be there with you the whole time.”

“I know,” Peter whispered, fingering the stitching of the t-shirt he had stolen from his girlfriend and was wearing. It still had just a bit of her scent that he could probably only pick up due to his enhanced senses and it made his chest feel a little full. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will,” MJ said, ending the call and leaving Peter alone. The shadows that stretched across the walls from his dim phone light looked foreboding and he stared at them until his screen went dim. He really should get up and go to bed. He should pack his book bag. He should definitely charge his phone.

Instead, Peter creeps to his room and shimmies into his suit, jumping out his window into the cool night. ———————————————

Peter crawled back through his window just before his alarm goes off at six, tired and sweaty and still freaking out a little but feeling marginally better now that some of his nervous energy was gone. May is sitting at their little kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee in her robe and looking just as exhausted as he feels. He can tell she knows that he’s been out all night but he’s thankful she chooses not to say anything as he makes his walk of shame to their cramped single bathroom to shower.

When he emerges about twenty minutes later with damp hair and layered up in his favorite flannel shirt and a plain white t-shirt May has brewed another pot of coffee and has a stack of toast and jam on the table and his heart clenches. Toast and jam has always been his go-to for mornings where his anxiety is at an all time high and his stomach is twisting and he wraps his arms around May’s shoulders from behind in a fierce hug and tucks his face into her neck like he’s a little kid again. May gives him a kiss on the temple and lets him soak in some comfort from her before she shoos him over to his seat to eat.

They both sit in silence; Peter munching on his toast and drinking black coffee full of sugar to perk him up and May nursing her own cup and staring at the wall. May’s knee bumps against his when she scoots a little closer and he can feel a little bit more of the tension leak out of him – as long as he still has her he’s okay. No matter what happens with school and Spider-Man and the Avengers he has May.

“I’m so proud of you,” May tells him a few minutes later as he’s chewing on his last piece of toast and Peter can feel the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes but he refuses to cry. He sniffs and coughs, choking on emotion and May scoots her chair over more to pull him into a hug and he just lets himself be held for a minute.

“I love you,” he tells her, leaning into the hug for just another second before pulling away. May smiles, her own eyes watery and she fidgets with his hair, smoothing out the wild curls and fixing his collar. He knows she hears everything else he’s trying to say: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t want this.

“I love you too,” she says; It’s okay, its not your fault. “I have the next week off so if you need me for anything – and I mean anything – I want you to call me okay? I’ll come get you.”

Peter nods even though he would never call her to come bail him out and goes to the sink to rinse his cup and brush the crumbs off his plate. “I know May and I will, I promise.” Liar. The knock at the door interrupts them and Peter glances at the clock; its later than he thought. May bites her lip like she’s waffling on saying more but relents and goes to answer it. He can hear her greeting MJ and Ned, can hear the brushing of clothes as she hugs them both and Peter takes just a moment for himself. He closes his eyes and takes a fortifying breath – in through his nose and out through his mouth – and straightens his spine, squares his shoulders.

He can do this.

And he’s does. He’s fine as he slinks out of his building (the first time leaving as Peter Parker since his arrest and meeting with multiple government organizations and moving) and down the steps to slide into Happy’s car with Ned and MJ on either side of him. Ned is wearing the ridiculous letterman jacket from Acadec that he spent way too much money on and MJ is wearing a dark blazer he’s never seen before but instantly loves. He would probably love everything she wore to be honest.

“Hey kid,” Happy says. He looks completely unruffled in his usual dark suit and tie but Peter can hear his heart beating faster than usual as he double and triple checks his mirrors before pulling away from the curb. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says but his voice is all wrong and he clears his throat to try to get rid of the lump that’s formed there unsuccessfully. Michelle slips her hand in his and squeezes tightly and Ned presses their sides together in a quick moment of support on his other side.

Ned’s phone buzzes against Peter’s leg and he fishes it out, unlocking it and reading through the message before typing a short reply. “Flash is meeting us out front,” he says. And that, probably, had been the biggest surprise from this whole identity reveal mess but it probably shouldn’t have been. When they had come back from the blip, fifteen kids out of their class of forty-three, they had come to an understanding.

The apology and forgiveness had gone unsaid between them but, suddenly, Flash wasn’t as terrible to be around. There was still some ribbing and snarky commentary but nothing to the intensity of before. No more ‘Penis Parker’ no tripping him in the halls or pushing him into lockers like before.

If the Blip had done one thing it was reset everyone’s preconceived notions and priorities.

After Beck had released his heavily doctored video, Flash had practically beat down Ned’s door and asked how he could help. With his large Twitter, Instagram and TikTok following, he had been able to help get the word out about local protests and had been the person behind #NY❤️sSpidey and #PeterParkerisInnocent trending on twitter for multiple days.

Peter had uninstalled all social media from his phone weeks ago to protect his sanity and had basically only been texting May, MJ, Ned and Happy but he really appreciated the sentiment and had dropped in on Flash when he was in the park the other day as Spider-Man to say a quick ‘thank you’ as he patrolled. Flash had looked stunned and excited in equal measure but had offered a scoff and a fist bump that Peter gladly returned before swinging off.

“Well shit,” Happy muttered as he turned into Midtown drawing Peter out of his thoughts.

The school was a madhouse – news trucks were lining the perimeter, their cameras and newscasters being careful to not step onto school property and under close watch from the scattering of NYPD and SRO on the scene. That was fine, they had expected that.

What Peter had not expected, what no one had prepared for, was the literal mob of protestors with signs and banners and t-shirts screaming and chanting behind a series of guardrails that fringed the path up to the school. His classmates were walking up the path mostly unmolested and filming and taking pictures, some of them lingering around the front entrance or on the steps or surrounding lawn as they watched in fascination. A couple were enthusiastically talking to a cluster of cameras and reporters near the subway entrance.

“How did they know I was coming back to school today?” Peter asks, mouth and throat dry and making his voice croak.

“Someone must have slipped it,” MJ says, not sounding surprised. There had been a school wide assembly the Friday before where Principal Morita had announced Peter’s imminent return and had put some ground rules in place – don’t treat him like a zoo animal, no crowding the halls, no harassment – but Peter didn’t really expect anyone to listen. He’d had his own meeting with May and Morita via Zoom a couple weeks before to hammer out the details of his continued education at Midtown and his tardy and absence policy. The man has assured him that he would do everything he could to keep Peter’s school experience as normal as possible which had bolstered May’s confidence but Peter had known it was more of an empty promise than anything else.

“It’s fine Pete,” Ned said. “They can’t do anything to us.”

Happy met his eyes in the rear view mirror and raised a questioning brow and Peter gave a shake of his head. He wasn’t going to back out now, besides, the car had been spotted and multiple cameras were pointed in his direction and the mob was screaming and waving their signs even more aggressively now.

Happy pulled to a slow stop in front of the path and put the car in park. “I can have them removed if you want,” he offered. “Or find a back entrance? You don’t have to deal with them Pete.”

Peter looked at the crowd again and gnawed at his already ragged lip. “It’s okay. It’ll just make it worse if I try to avoid them.”

Happy muttered something about self-flagellation under his breath with a fond eye roll but didn’t fight him. “Just don’t say anything,” he advises. “Don’t look at them and don’t say anything. Just keep walking until you’re in the school okay? I’ll be here right at four-thirty to pick you up after decathlon.”

“Thanks Happy,” Peter says, trading seats with Michelle so that he’ll be the first to emerge from the car and tightening his backpack straps. He wishes he had his red and black suit with him instead of the Iron Spider in its housing units on his wrists – the weight, minuscule as it is, is always comforting on his back. He wishes he was wearing his mask. He wishes he could just be plain Peter Parker again. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and opens the door.

The angry roar of the crowd when they see him nearly deafens him and he fights the urge to cover his ears and protect his sensitive hearing. Flash materializes out of nowhere to stand staunchly at his side as MJ slips out of the car, clearly nervous but ignoring the mass of people and grabbing his hand. “Nice hair Eugene,” she teases as Ned joins them and closes the door. Flash rolls his eyes at her and pushes his shockingly blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You wish you could pull this off,” he offers in response and her smile becomes more genuine at the ribbing.

“Maybe red,” she muses, adjusting her own bag on her shoulder before she starts to walk up the sidewalk.

The path is only wide enough for them to walk two by two and MJ pulls him closer and holds his hand tighter as they face the school. Peter tries to ignore the signs and screams as he walks resolutely toward the door but he can’t completely block them out, especially after seeing a blown up copy of his year book photo with devil horns calling him a murderer. The woman holding it, wearing a t-shirt with a similar message and a button with Mysterio’s helmet on it, spews even more vitriol when she sees him look her direction. Her face is red and angry and Peter redirects his attention back to the school.

His classmates crowd the stairs and most of them have their phones out to livestream him coming to school. He feels like a bug pinned under glass and he can feel his breath speed up in his chest but he tries not to show it. Ben had always told him that he was an open book and that anyone could read his every thought on his face. It had been funny back then but now Peter just wishes that it was anything but true.

It, unfortunately, doesn’t get any better inside. The halls are lined with curious teenagers and teachers alike who all watch him walk down the hall and film him and get way too close for comfort. Morita had told him that he can’t, technically, enforce the no phone rule before school officially starts for the day and after it ends so Peter will have to deal with it.

His locker is also, unfortunately, down a completely different hall than Ned, MJ and Flash’s so they have to separate if they plan on being on time for home room. He’ll meet Ned there but he won’t see the other two until second period and he has first period, APUSH, completely alone. It’s almost enough to send him over the edge.

“I can walk with you,” Ned offers, adjusting his bag but Peter just shakes his head. He can do this. He has to do this.

The heckling gets worse once the others leave and his classmates get bolder – pushing into his space and taking selfies with him and asking invasive questions. He’s never been popular and he’s always been ignored and its just getting to be too much but at least he understands why some celebrities go off the deep end and straight up punch paparazzi now.

He makes quick work of getting his locker open and stowing his extra notebooks and gym bag before hassling in the direction of his home room. Ned meets up with him halfway there, a little out of breath from clearly rushing to meet him and pushing through the crowd, and the groupies back off a little once he’s around and forming a barrier between them and Peter. Ms. Warren glances at them from her desk when they enter and her eyes linger on Peter a little longer than normal but she otherwise ignores them and Peter feels honestly faint in relief.

“Dude,” Ned tells him as he slips into the seat to Peter’s right at the scratched up black lab table. Peter groans and drops his head onto his crossed arms, not really knowing how to respond. “At least you have Dell for APUSH – he won’t put up with any shit in his class.”

“Yeah,” Peter responds. “Lucky.”

Ned winces and goes to say something else but the bell rings and the school morning newscast starts playing on the TV. Ms. Warren turns it up just as Betty Brant says “This morning our very own Midtown Avenger joined us back in classes. In case you missed it, Jason and I were live on the scene for his-,”

Peter crammed his headphones in and turned on the white noise to drown out the sound of the newscast and pointedly ignored Ned’s sympathetic looks and Ms. Warren who looked at his headphones in blatant disapproval but didn’t ask him to take them out. Thank God.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he peeked at the message coming through – a single eye rolling emoji from MJ followed by Must be a slow news day. He smiled despite himself and tucked the phone back away just as the bell rang.

His first class alone was a nightmare – Mr. Dell had assigned them all seats and had put Peter front and center in what was, probably, an effort to keep his classmates for hassling him too much and keep everyone’s attention on what he was teaching and not on Peter. It didn’t really work since people kept taking sneaky Snapchat pictures and videos of him under their desks when Mr. Dell’s back was turned. Peter set his jaw and tried to ignore it but he knew he would have to borrow Ned’s notes if he even hoped at passing the class.

His AP English class was a little better since he had both Ned and MJ with him but Mr. Harrington who was, arguably, his favorite teacher and one that had, apparently, really gone to bat for him against the PTO and school board so that he could keep his scholarship and go to school, was a little oblivious. His classmates were even more bold and blatant and he was clenching his jaw so much he thought his teeth might break.

“Come with me,” MJ said, pulling him out of his desk right as the bell rang and rushing out the door.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, stumbling after her as she pulled him toward one of the stock rooms, pushing him in and closing and locking the door behind them.

“To the roof,” she answered, standing on an overturned bucket to open up the small window. Peter blinked in surprise.

“But you have art this hour.”

“And you have a free period,” MJ said like it was obvious, hopping off the bucket and herding him to the window. “Ms. Goode loves me anyway so she won’t care if I miss a class. Hurry up and get sticky.”

Peter let out a bark of a laugh and climbed up the wall, pulling Michelle through the window after him and carefully avoiding the classrooms and front of the building until they reached the roof. The sun was bright and warm on his skin and he laid on his back just reveling in the silence. “This is nice,” he said, catching the book MJ dropped before it hit his stomach without opening his eyes and positioning it behind his head as a pillow. She settled in next to him, rustling with some paper and he cracked open one eye to glance at her. “What is that?”

“The Daily Bugle,” she answered, flicking through a couple pages and skimming the words, ignoring as Peter choked on his own saliva and fell into a coughing fit.

“You’re actually reading that garbage? You know what they’re saying about me right? Jameson keeps calling me a ‘Spider-Menace like that even makes sense-.”

“It’s actually pretty hilarious,” she said interrupting his tirade and stopping her flicking to read through a page. “Oh look at this, this is a good one: ‘Some suggest that Parker’s powers include the male spider’s ability to hypnotize females.”

“Stop, c’mon,” Peter says back, slightly irritated at her teasing.

“Yes my Spider-Lord,” MJ says, dropping her voice in pitch and, against his will he starts chuckling. It makes him feel lighter and calmer and warm.

“Can we just like sit up here all day? It is so crazy down there.”

MJ hums and flicks over to the next page, still skimming. “I mean we could,” she says, neutral. “But would it really help anything?”

Peter sighs and flops over on his stomach to beat his head gently into the book. “Probably not.” His stomach growls and he sighs – at least lunch is next. MJ’s hand skims down his neck to sit in the small of his back.

“I can think of something that could take your mind off it,” she says lightly and Peter feels his cheeks heat just a little but rolls his head over to smirk at her.

“Do tell.”

She gives him a little smile of her own before poking him until he moves enough for her to perch on his lap. He curls block out the sun and she’s at just the perfect height for him to lean forward and pull her into kiss.

They slip back into the window of the stock room just before the bell rings to end third period with their lips swollen and their hair a little more messy than it was before but with bright smiles and less tense muscles. Peter keeps his ear to the door and waits for the hallway to clear before they slip out and make their way to the lunch room.

Both of them had brought lunch so it was easier to creep in unnoticed through the side door and join Ned and Flash in the back corner of the cafeteria. It didn’t take too long before their classmates started murmuring and pointing and, despite the numerous warnings from various administrators and the fact that five of the sophomore level teachers were seated at their own table near the front of the room, many of the students took notice of their sudden appearance and were attempting to take surreptitious pictures and videos of them on phones hidden under tables and halfway in hoodie pockets. Peter felt his ears turn red as he ducked his head closer to the table and nearly into his sandwich. MJ glared at the table closest to them and the few girls seated there at least had the decency to look ashamed though they didn’t tuck their phones away.

“So this is fun,” Flash muttered as he picked at the flavorless and congealed school spaghetti on his tray. His normal table of friends and groupies were seated a few tables away and looking at him with jealously. Awkward silence followed his deadpan grumbling and Peter shifted uncomfortably.

Michelle rolled her eyes and snorted indelicately before glancing at Peter with clear mischief in her eyes and slapping her copy of the Daily Bugle on the table before flipping it open to a page she had earmarked. Peter groaned and dropped his head to thunk on the table dramatically as MJ said “ Did you know that Peter can hypnotize females with his spider powers?”

Ned snorted so abruptly some of the water he was drinking dribbled out his nose causing him to cough and gag and Flash to thump him on the back. “Oh my God,” Ned said reverently, touching the gossip rag and cradling it like it was special as his eyes darted across the page. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. I need to get this framed!”

Peter whined and thumped his head on the table a few more times. “Yo Parker, this says you lay eggs,” Flash pointed out, skimming the edge of the page where a bullet pointed lists of ‘Fun Facts!’ were.

“I don’t lay eggs!” Peter groaned out in dismay, giving MJ his best betrayed look. She ignored his misery as she gleefully looked at the paper upside down to read the other inaccurate facts listed about him. “This is abuse,” he muttered, trying to pull the paper away from Ned but failing as his friend dodged and Flash batted his hands away.

“Does your ability to hypnotize only work on females? What exactly is the process?” Ned teased, voice shaking in mirth. “Wait! Wait what do you make them call you? Master of the Spiders? Arachnid King?”

“Spider Lord,” MJ provided with a shit-eating grin that had Flash and Ned sputtering with laughter and drawing even more attention their way.

“Oh come on,” Peter begged. “Don’t let anyone hear you or they’ll believe it!”

“Of course Spider Lord,” Flash intoned with barely concealed glee causing Ned and MJ to cackle more.

“You’re all the worst,” Peter told them without heat. To be honest this was the best he had felt all day – he hardly noticed the extra stares and muttering anymore. The bell announcing the end of their lunch rang and he hurried to cram the rest of his sandwich in his mouth as quickly as possible; they all had to hurry since they had gym and had to change before the tardy bell rang in ten minutes.

The heckling continued up until they split off to enter different locker rooms and Peter abruptly clenched his jaw as he realized the majority of his class was not only early to class to change but also waiting in the locker room and looking busy while they waited for him. Ned shot him a wince as he ducked into one of the stalls to change. Peter could feel the eyes following him as he did the same.

“Come on Parker,” he told himself as he took a few moments to center himself. “It’s just gym. You’ve done it a hundred times. This time’s no different.” He took as much time as possible to change, only sneaking out just before the bell rang and the majority of the room emptied.

MJ had saved them seats a bit away from the rest of the class and Peter squeezed between her and Ned, taking her hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Coach Wilson, looking particularly bored, was lugging a couple bags of foam balls from the locked equipment closet and Peter felt his stomach turn with dread. He detested dodgeball.

“You know the drill,” Coach Wilson drowned from the middle of the court. “Split in half, game starts on my whistle. Not you Parker,” he called over the din of talking and scuffing tennis shoes. “New PTA rules – you can watch and do individual work but no more team or contact sports.”

Peter felt his face flush again as he lowered himself back into his seat as the class broke out into louder conversations around him. Ned clapped him on the shoulder and said “Don’t worry about it man,” and Peter opened his mouth with the intent to thank or reassure his friend that he was okay but Ned, taking advantage and wearing a smirk, loudly went directly for the kill. “Besides, its unbecoming of a Spider Lord to comport himself like one of us mere plebes.”

Flash promptly tripped down the stairs and barely caught himself from falling on his face and breaking his nose on the floor, MJ had to sit back down to get herself under control as the rest of their class just stared at them with confused looks on their faces.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Peter told Ned seriously causing his friends to break out into laughter again. If you can’t beat ‘em right?

“You’ve been an awfully good sport about this,” MJ told him later, leaning against a neighboring locker as he packed his bag and grabbed his decathlon binder. He shot her a questioning glance as he zipped up his bag. “The Spider Lord thing. It doesn’t actually bother you right? Because Ned already changed your name in the group chat and I’d hate to hurt his feelings by changing it again.”

“No its fine,” Peter reassured her. “It’s a little funny.” He slammed his locker shut and took her hand, “We’re going to be late Captain,” he told her, walking in the direction of the library. And maybe it didn’t bother him but it didn’t stop the wheels from turning. The attention rankled and he just wanted to go back to being Peter Parker again, to be completely anonymous.

He may know a guy who could help with that – it would only take a quick trip to Bleeker Street.

#spiderman #identityrevealbingo2021 #no way home #nwh spoilers #writing prompt #spideychelle #spider lord #that feel when your friends roast you #but in a good way

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

only the black rose (chapter 6)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: jimmy page’s stubbornness (and his stressy hands), exposing jpj as the mom friend, fluff

words: 3.4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: so this one was fun, but we’re getting into the nitty-gritty of this fic :)) hope you enjoy, and please if you have any feedback it would be much appreciated!

masterlist

playlist

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

--------

“Mr. Page, you must be extremely careful when taking these,” Dr. Vane lectures, shaking a bottle of pills. “They should help with the pain, but they are very strong.”

Jimmy sits on the side of his hospital bed, hunched over like a young child being lectured for their misbehaviour. His hands are balled into fists, though the injured finger is coiled much looser. In the corner of the small, sterile room, Robert and Bonzo glance at each other, noticing the way Jimmy grits his teeth, curling and uncurling his hands on his lap. He wants out of here, and fast: that’s plain to see.

“Doc, is Jimmy free to go?” Bonzo breaks the fragile silence that had settled over the group, pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against.

“The anaesthetic has mostly worn off, so he should be good to go when he’s ready,” Dr. Vane turns to Jimmy then, mouth a serious, somber line. “Mr. Page—”

“Please, call me Jimmy.”

“Jimmy, I recommend taking a pill from the bottle we’ve supplied you, very soon. The pain should come back, due to the anaesthetics being out of your system. These are codeine tablets, and like I said before, they are very strong…”

Jimmy tunes out most of the doctor’s words from that point on, too preoccupied with thoughts of the upcoming tour. He knows Jonesy would memorize whatever the good doctor says anyways, the mother hen. Jimmy didn’t realize he had been shaking with anxiety until a cold hand lay across his, pinning it to the bed. He looks beside him, and on the bed sits Layla, brown ringlets a mess from their lie-down in the hospital bed. Jimmy stares back, enchanted by the woman in front of him, as he always is when she’s near. Still holding his gaze, Layla smiles, a question clear in her doe eyes.

“Are you okay, Jim?” she whispers, drawing nonsensical patterns on the back of his hand. He nods, flattened curls bobbing with the movement. Layla isn’t fully convinced, but she lets it go, vowing to keep an eye on the man. Bringing her attention back to Dr. Vane, Layla asks the question on everybody’s lips.

“Dr. Vane, I heard you talking to Peter about this last night… Do we know for sure if he can play or not?”

Silence falls once again like a cloud over the group, as the doctor taps his chin in thought. The mighty Led Zeppelin wait with bated breath to hear the fate of their guitarist.

“I would…” Dr. Vane clears his throat, face apologetic as he glances around the room. “I would advise against it. Ultimately it is not up to me, of course. I can’t make you do anything, but Jimmy, you need to recuperate.”

The room feels as though all the energy had been sucked right out of it, as Jimmy fiddles with a loose thread on the hospital gown he was wearing, disheveled locks obscuring his handsome face as he looks down at his socked feet. Jonesy looks on with pinched features, concerned for the man, while Robert and Bonzo sigh, sharing another wordless glance. Things just got a lot more complicated, it said. Peter sends Jimmy a smile dripping with sympathy, and walks out the door, no doubt to make some important calls.

“Why don’t we all step out of the room, so Jimmy here can get dressed?” Dr. Vane suggests, and the group files out slowly. Layla stands up to follow, stopping in her tracks almost immediately. She turns around then, meeting Jimmy’s sad eyes, gleaming like a diamond in the morning sun, and walks towards him.

“Petal, I don’t…” Jimmy mutters, trailing off, dark curls a veil, hiding him from the world once again. Layla stops in front of him and tips his head up, a familiar hand on his chin. She runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back to see the man’s face. There are stress lines on his forehead, and his eyes are glassy with unshed tears, shining in the artificial hospital light. He looks as beautiful as he always does, to Layla. Jimmy’s lips quirk up subtly in the semblance of a grin, and he presses a kiss to the woman’s wrist.

“You’ll be okay. I believe in you, and you’ll get through this.”

“How can you be so—”

Layla leans down, face to face with the man, and swallows his words with a chaste press of her lips to his. It wasn’t a particularly heavy kiss; their lips moving together softly, but it meant more than either would ever know. It was a kiss of comfort. Finally pulling away, Layla places a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and squeezes lightly, before turning on her heel and walking out the door, leaving the man to get dressed.

Stepping out of the room, she is met with serious faces and whispered discussions of the injured guitarist. Robert and Bonzo are against the far wall, chatting quietly, while Peter, further down the hall, is using the hospital phone, no doubt to see what can be done about the tour. Layla turns her head, and sees Jonesy, who looks up as she nears him.

“Hey, Layla. How are you holding up?”

“I’m not the one with a fractured finger.” Layla snaps, immediately regretting it. She opens her mouth to speak, but Jonesy beats her to it.

“No, you’re not,” The bassist puts a hand on her arm, smiling wryly. “But you care about him. Just because he’s hurting, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to.”

“Jonesy, I… I’m sorry for snapping at you, I’m just—”

“You’re concerned, and that’s okay. Don’t worry, I get it.”

“But I snapped at you, and you didn’t deserve it, in any way.”

“Layla,” Jonesy presses closer to her as he says this, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “I know you didn’t mean it. We’re okay.”

Layla looks up at the man, a hint of skepticism apparent on her face. Not believing that he forgave her so easily, so completely, she presses on further.

“Jonesy, how can you be fine with—”

“Look, Layla,” Jonesy chuckles, looking down at her fondly, much to her confusion. “We can talk about your guilt complex later if you need, but I think there’s someone you might want to see.”

“Guilt complex? I don’t—”

Layla spins around as a soft click echoes off the walls, and spots Jimmy, who shyly closes the door to his room. Dressed in a pair of dark flared jeans and a crisp white button up, a black suede coat folded over his arm, he looks sheepish as he walks towards the group, shoulders almost up to his ears. Peter, noticing the entrance of his guitarist, hangs up the phone with a hasty goodbye, turning to face the band.

“Right. Now, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Peter starts, biting back a sigh. “Let’s all ride back to Swan Song, and go over our options.”

After a short car ride devoid of any chatter, the group finally walk through the double doors of the building, faces drawn and severe. Evelyn, at her post by the front desk, notices the lack of chatter and giggles that usually fill the room whenever the band enters. Finding Layla’s eyes, she reads the worry and concern in them, and lets her smile fall, snuffing out the light that always seems to surround the receptionist. Evelyn walks up to the young woman, placing a hand on Layla’s arm as she turns around to face the receptionist.

“Is everything okay, darling?” Evelyn asks, confusion in her hazel eyes as she stares at the retreating backs of Peter and the boys.

“I hope so,” Layla replies, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. “There was… an accident, and everything's a little up in the air. I’m sorry, Evelyn, I wish I could stay and chat, but—”

“Oh no, go ahead, darling. Go figure things out.”

With a grateful smile and a nod, Layla rushes to catch up with the group, slipping into the room behind Robert, the mahogany door shutting behind them to prevent prying eyes.

----------

Standing stock-still in Peter’s office, Layla glances around the luxurious office, taking in the grim faces of her companions. A soft cough echoes off the walls, courtesy of Robert, Layla guesses, if his guilty expression and the hand pressed to his mouth are anything to go by. All eyes are downcast, as hands fold over each other to distract from the silence pressing down on them. It feels like the walls are closing in on them ever-so-slowly, set to suffocate them, until Peter, sitting at the large wooden desk, clears his throat, clapping his hands together. Attention firmly on him, Peter begins to speak, his often kind voice determined.

“I’ve been calling around, and it seems as though we have two options: we postpone the tour for a later date, so Jimmy can heal… Or we continue with the tour as planned,” Peter explains, shifting his gaze to Jimmy now. “Jimmy, how is the finger feeling?”

“It’s good, I took some pain meds earlier. I can tour still.”

“Jim, you haven’t played on it yet.”

“It’ll hold up. I’m fine.”

There’s movement in the corner, as Bonzo crosses his arms over his chest, green eyes soft as he glances at Jimmy.

“Jimmy, I really don’t know if this is the best idea.” This is met by a look of betrayal, Jimmy turning around in his seat to face the drummer.

“Bonzo, I really am fine.”

“Look,” Bonzo presses on, meeting the guitarist’s eyes. “I know you don’t want to let anyone down. The thing is, you wouldn't be in the first place, Pagey. If this injury gets worse, because you played when you shouldn't have…” Bonzo trails off, averting his gaze now, Jimmy’s eyes on him too much to bear.

“Bonzo’s right, Jim,” comes from beside Layla, as Jonesy pushes off the wall to make his point. “Taking some time off would be good, we don’t want to make anything worse.”

“Nearly 18 months is enough time off, Jonesy. Any longer and the fans won’t even remember who Led Zeppelin is. I’m ready.”

“Jimmy, really—” Robert’s reply is cut off by the guitarist’s normally soft voice, hardened with frustration.

“Shows have already been sold out. All the arrangements have been made. Peter, call them back. We’re doing this tour.”

“Pagey… Alright. I’ll call them back, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” This is followed by the scrape of the chair he had pulled up to the desk against the floor, as he stands, and storms out. The remaining occupants of the room lock eyes, panic apparent.

“I’ll go after him.” Layla murmurs, starting towards the door. She knew exactly where she would find him, after all. Easily finding her way through the hallways of the massive building, she opens the door to the studio, spotting him slumped on the drum riser. Guitar in hand, he raises the bruised finger in the air, grip on the fretboard bordering on awkward. Jimmy strums, letting out a wince as the pain rears once again. A grunt full of frustration grinds out past his lips, and he tries again.

“Are you supposed to be doing that? Doctor’s orders, and all.”

Jimmy lifts his head to glance at her, and, with the hint of a sneer at the sarcastic comment, he resumes his playing. Layla huffs, and moves closer, taking in the man before her. His dark hair is falling into his face, casting shadows upon it, and his jaw is clenched, ready to snap as he misses yet another note. Jimmy lets out another frustrated sound, and swipes the hair out of his eyes, as if that was exactly what was messing him up.

Layla takes a seat on the drum riser next to him, and watches, as he fumbles a note she’s seen him perfect many times. Before he can adjust his grip on the fretboard to try again, Layla places a hand on the man’s strumming hand, and keeps it there. Jimmy looks up at her, a glint of determination in his mossy green eyes, brown in the lighting of the studio. His hair shines, jet black curls messy, as though he’s been running his hands through it more often than not. Eyes dropping to his guitar in embarrassment, he opens his mouth to speak, Layla beating him to it in the end.

“Jim, it won’t get better if you keep straining it like this. You know that.”

“Are you here to tell me to give it a rest too? Cause if you are, you might as well just—”

“I’m here,” Layla starts, shaking her head at the stubborn nature of the guitarist. “Because I trust you. You’re the only one that knows how you feel, and I trust you.”

“You do?” Jimmy says, looking up in confusion.

“I do, angel. If you think you’re ready, then I’ll trust that,” Jimmy takes his good hand off the guitar and threads it through hers, caressing the back of it with his thumb in thanks. Layla looks down at their joined hands, and continues. “If you’re rushing this for the fans, though, or because of whatever crazy scenario you’ve thought up in that brain of yours, I think I’m allowed to say I told you so.” The couple smirk at each other, as Jimmy gives the hand in his a warning squeeze.

“Okay, mum.”

Layla unlinks their hands to give him a soft shove to the side, the beginnings of a smile tilting her lips upward. Gripping his arm, she hoists him up to a standing position, and he goes willingly. Jimmy places his guitar carefully back in its rightful place, and stretches out a hand for Layla to take. Walking out of the studio together, hope settles over them like a well-worn blanket.

Hope that everything will be okay.

----------

“Please, just don’t push too hard. You’ve got this, angel.”

After dedicating just under a week to perfecting a new guitar technique, and making adjustments to the original setlist, the band waits in the dressing room of the Metropolitan Sports Center, native to Bloomington Minnesota. Layla’s palm raises, stopping to rest on Jimmy’s shoulder, as he looks down at her, his furrowed eyebrows betraying the picture of calm he was trying to emulate. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and pulls her to his chest, arms wrapping themselves around her back.

“You can do this. Just remember that, okay?” This is followed by a nod from the dark-haired guitarist, as he smiles gratefully at Layla. A chorus of groans sound from behind them, and, turning around, they are met by the exasperated faces of the others. Already dressed in their stage clothes, they look ready to perform.

“Are you lovebirds done? Bloody saps,” Robert grumbles, the corner of his lip raising in a smirk, the playfulness in his tone obvious. “We’ve got a show to play.”

Following the boys backstage, Layla watches as they slip past the velvet curtain and onto the stage, ecstatic and powerful under the bright lights around them. They pick up their instruments, and with a collective breath and a look shared between them, the band does what they do best: play. The boys launch in, and Layla can’t help but be brought back to the last concert she witnessed. The atmosphere and the enthusiasm amongst the crowd was infectious, and Layla smiles as she looks out from the wings. Robert commands the stage, as usual, while Bonzo and Jonesy link up almost telepathically, creating a beat almost heaven-sent. Jimmy, for as awkward as it looks, three usable fingers grappling with the fretboard, makes the guitar scream and cry and sing. The winces of pain that she can see from her spot are worrying, though. To an outsider, it would seem as though he was simply somewhere else, the guitar becoming one with its handler.

But Layla knows better. She can see the exhaustion in his face, from hours spent bent over his guitar, adjusting the way he’s played for most of his life. She can see the lines of discomfort around his mouth, his lips bitten red out of concentration, from trying his absolute best to put on a good show. As she leaves her post near the stage to tune up Jimmy’s guitars for the next numbers, just as Peter had asked her to, she can’t help but let out a nervous sigh. Layla has seen how just stubborn the man is, how much he wants to succeed, and please the audience. She knows he’ll leave everything out there on stage. She just wonders how much of him there will be left over, in the end.

Completing the rest of the menial backstage tasks, the brunette walks back to the mouth of the backstage area, intercepting the boys as they come off after a thrilling encore, the deafening cheers of the crowd following them as they exit.

“If you keep this up, you’ll really get popular! I’m just kidding, but really, guys, that was incredible,” Layla raves, accompanying them to the dressing room. Bonzo sidles up next to her, wrapping an amicable arm around her as they walk, basking in the glow of her kind words. “All of you did such an amazing job!”

“Do we get a kiss now? Last time you saw us perform, Jimmy got one…” Robert asks, flipping his hair, damp and dark with sweat, off his shoulder.

“You’d like that, wouldn't you, Robert?” Layla chuckles, throwing a smile at him over her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s only fair!”

“In what way is that fair?”

The group finally reach the dressing room, lounging on the comfortable chairs strewn across the room. The boys take turns changing out of their stage clothes, and greet the guests in the room, shaking hand after hand. Soft laughter trickles like a steady stream in the background as Layla, sitting on a loveseat with Jimmy, places a hand on his thigh, prompting his eyes to meet hers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, petal.” Jimmy’s voice is soft, faraway as his hand meets hers on his lap. The guitarist lets out a sigh, staring at the wall, expression neutral.

“That was a great performance, Jim. I hope you know that.”

“It was… good. It could've been better.”

“You know, I really am so proud of you,” Layla says, turning his head to face her, her fingers at his jaw. She looks deep into his eyes, and he stares back, an unreadable expression on his face. She’s always been able to read him, since the day she met him. Layla feels a pang in her heart, and continues. “It was great, and you made a lot of people happy… even if you’re not 100% yet.”

This is met with silence, as Jimmy lowers his head, hair falling into his eyes. He’s developed a habit of this now, and Layla resolves to break him out of that. His beautiful eyes make her day, after all. Reminders of their stay at the hospital flash through Layla’s mind, and she moves the hand that rested softly on his cheek to the small of his back, rubbing soft circles into the fabric of his stage clothes. He hasn't changed out of them yet, or done much of anything, in fact, trapped in the prison of his self-deprecating thoughts. His gaze lifts from his shoes at the contact, which Layla takes as a good sign.

“Now,” Layla clears her throat, pulling him up from the couch with a small hand at his arm. “Go get changed. You’re all sweaty, it’s a wonder you didn’t get heat stroke.”

“It’s a good thing I have you to take care of me,” Jimmy mutters playfully, a shadow of his usual smile creasing his delicate features. “Seriously, Layla, you could give Jonesy a run for his money.”

“Isn’t it just terrible of me to want to make sure you’re alright?” Layla grumbles, the smirk playing on her lips betraying the annoyed expression she sends Jimmy’s way.

Jimmy chuckles, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

“I appreciate it, petal.”

Walking to the changing room, slipping out of the grasp Layla had on his arm, he sends her a grateful smile over his shoulder. Layla watches him, appreciating the view as he walks away.

--------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 (let me know if you want to be added!)

#only the black rose #jimmy page #led zeppelin #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic #jimmy x oc #jimmy page x oc

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hawkinsindiana · 4 years

Text

i should go

ALMOST PARADISE: PART TWO - CHAPTER FOURTEEN OF FIFTEEN

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.5k

a/n: these are scary and confusing times. so here ya go. i hope everyone’s staying safe and healthy, i love you all <3

masterlist

You don’t know why you thought things were going to get better. You should’ve known better; you’ve never been able to catch a break, even before all of this happened.

The dreams have been getting worse, and more frequent; now, they’re about the kids too. You’ll be back in those tunnels, the ones crawling with vines, and their voices will bounce against the walls. They’re calling out, desperately crying for you to help them, but they’re never found.

It feels like you run in circles for hours on end, throat going hoarse from screaming their names until you wake, pebbles of sweat dripping from your brow and body frozen in terror.

Those seem to scare you more - the ones about them. Because it’s your duty to protect them, and you’ve come so close to failing so many times.

Those ones never let you sleep; you’re left to lie there until morning, fear bubbling inside that something’s happened while you were asleep, thinking they’re gone now and there’s nothing you could’ve done.

Your brother hears it every time. When your careful footsteps approach his door at those ungodly hours, and the door creaks open just a touch so you can quiet your restless mind; Dustin’s always there, safe and sound underneath the sheets, Tews tucked against his feet.

You’ve done that six times now - he figures he should ask what that’s about. Maybe he’ll bring it up to Steve, see if the older boy knows anything.

But with the town buzzing with holiday cheer, they’ve barely seen you around. Extra shifts at Radio Shack have filled your schedule as the people of Hawkins flock downtown for gifts, especially now that Bob’s no longer there for his usual hours.

Dustin thinks you should take a break while you’re off from school. He can tell that it’s exhausting when you come home and don’t have the energy to return Steve’s call, but you always have the same answer:

“I need to keep myself busy anyways.”

And Steve - he understands the circumstances. But that doesn’t make it hurt less when Dustin has to deflect and apologize on your behalf.

God, you hope it’s not too much on him-

Your mother snaps you from your trance, tapping the phone against your arm before placing it in your hand, “It’s for you.”

You hadn’t even heard it ring. You don’t know how long you’ve been standing here, shoulder pressed to the wall and eyes focused on the evening news.

You answer it with a sigh, “Yeah?” A perky voice flows easily through the receiver, unfazed by your delivery.

“Hey, it’s Stacy, from the dance committee? We’ve got an emergency over here.”

Mike and Lucas thought it might be a good idea for you to help organize and plan the Snow Ball. Since the group of middle schoolers would be attending this year, they wanted your help to ensure that it was the best one thrown yet. You weren’t so keen on the idea, until you remembered how lame it was a few years back when you went.

“I don’t have to come down there, do I? I thought we took care of everything last night.”

The girl nervously laughs on the other end; you can hear the music from the gym echoing in the room. It almost makes it hard to listen.

“Turns out we need three more bottles of soda. Simon only got five. Since you’re the only one with a car-”

“Yeah, of course,” You interrupt, “I’ll grab some and bring it over. Be there in a jif.”

After ending the call, you grab your cash off the counter on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey Dustin, I gotta bolt. Can you find-”

You’re greeted with the sight of your brother, putting the finishing touches on his look for the night - a can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray in one hand. You can’t help the laugh that bursts from you.

“What, Mom buy you that?”

His head snaps to you in an instant, cheeks turning bright red as you lean your weight against the doorframe. The product’s out of sight immediately afterwards, quickly shoved behind his back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dustin swallows harshly at your squinting eyes, arms folding over your chest as you study him. You decide not to ask.

“Uh huh.”

A few tense, silent moments pass as he waits for you to comment further; he hates that smirk on your face, “Did you, uh, need something?”

You clear your throat, shifting on your feet before replying, “Yeah I gotta get to the school now, can you find another ride? Maybe Mrs. Wheeler can come take you?”

Dustin’s expression grows confused, “What are you talking about? I already have a ride.”

Your brow raises in surprise, “You do.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, Steve’s takin’ me.”

And then it clicks; your grin grows.

“Oh… okay. I’ll see you afterwards then,” You go to grab the door on your way out, but not before adding something else with a wink.

“Don’t worry,” You say, “I won’t tell anyone. And keep this open a touch, yeah? I’d hate for you to suffocate on the fumes.”

—

The gym’s loud and filled with prepubescent teenagers. You can’t wait to get out of here, back to the comforting security of your home.

That feeling intensifies when you lock eyes with who’s standing behind the punch bowl; you already feel yourself retracting inwards before a conversation even begins.

“I didn’t realize you were coming tonight,” Nancy speaks first, letting a small smile spread over her face as you approach the beverage station.

She seems so much lighter, so much happier since you last saw her. You’re glad that she’s been able to finally move on, even if it is at Steve’s expense. Nobody deserves to be trapped in a relationship they don’t want to be in; you can’t blame her for that. You just wish it hadn’t happened the way it did.

“Oh, I’m not,” You answer, gesturing to the liters of soda you carry in your arms; they’ve started to grow tired from the weight, “I’m just dropping these off.”

Nancy’s expression drops a touch as you place the bottles on the bleachers behind her, “I figured you’d be bringing your brother.”

You brush the condensation off onto your jeans, “No, uh, Steve did that already.”

Confusion is evident as she grows speechless, turning back to face you; the expression she has on her face is enough to explain her emotions - that doesn’t seem like something he’d do.

You laugh at her, “Yeah, I know. Trust me, no one’s more shocked than I am.”

Nancy shakes her head in awe as your back straightens, and she chews on her lip as she debates bringing it up. She decides to.

“Remember when we came to this thing?”

Your eyes move to see her, leaning back against the table, knuckles turning white as she grips the edge. A scoff escapes your mouth as you nod, “How could I forget? Jimmy Hawthorne spilled punch all over my dress twenty minutes in.”

Nancy laughs at the memory, remembering the priceless look on his face as you threatened him, right in the middle of the dance floor, “God, it took my mom all night to get that stain out.”

The silence between you that follows her comment isn’t… uncomfortable. If anything, it’s another step in the right direction. But you still chose to retreat; it’s almost too much, seeing her look at you like that again.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Nance,” You mutter before moving past her, jingling the car keys in between your fingers. All she musters back in response is a wave as she’s swarmed by an incoming gaggle of girls.

The cold air invigorates you as you exit the school building; you don’t know how much longer you could’ve been cooped up in there, surrounded by all the memories. And as you’re making your way to your mother’s car, that’s when you spot him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” You raise your voice while you approach, arms crossing over your chest. Steve’s attention is brought up to see you, walking across the parking lot, a lazy smile growing over your rosy cheeks.

“I could ask you the same thing, Henderson,” The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up as your brow raises at his response, “I asked you first.”

He sighs before running the hem of his sweater between his fingers, “Oh, I figured I should stick around just in case. You never know...”

You snort lightly after Steve allows his sentence to trail off, “Jesus, you’re starting to sound like me. I’m supposed to be the protective one.”

“There are worse things to be,” Steve’s focus is gentle as he watches you come to his side; he’s appreciating every single little detail about this moment.

The snow is just right - there’s enough of it to create a picturesque scene around you. The muffled love ballads that echo from the school make him feel warm in his chest - he thinks about you when he hears them. The streetlights illuminate your face enough for him to notice when the bridge of your nose scrunches at his words, “Aw, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“The kids,” You nudge Steve before your gaze drifts to him; your heart skips when you catch him already peering your way, “They’re making you soft, Steven.”

Steve’s grin spreads wider as your laugh fills the space between, rolling his eyes as he falsely acts annoyed by your observation, “Great, just what I need.”

“Oh, also,” Your tone makes him meet your mischievous look, and it ignites a bit of anxiety in him, “Farrah Fawcett, really? You thought I wouldn’t figure that one out?”

Steve grows shocked by your deduction in record time, further spurring on your joy; it almost counter-balances his embarrassment.

“Relax, your secret’s safe with me,” You say, and Steve just shakes his head, “You and your brother are so dead if anyone finds out.”

You bring your fingers to your lips, faking to lock them before throwing the invisible key over your shoulder. And then it hits him - he hasn’t seen you since that night, after the funeral. That night where you almost kissed him.

”Why aren’t you in your car?”

Your words catch him off guard, and he simply shrugs in response, “The snow’s nice, dontcha think?”

“I guess, but Christ, aren’t you cold?” You ask Steve as you shiver and pull your hooded sweatshirt tighter against your frame.

He inhales before going to answer, but he decides that his words aren’t enough. His arm gets extended outwards before he gestures for you to move closer, “Come on, get over here.”

You feel your heart beat in your throat as a misty breath expels itself from you and into the night sky. It’s almost like the air gets thicker the closer you get to Steve, but you can’t stop yourself from tucking your body into his side.

His arm drapes heavily over your shoulder as soon as you’ve settled, and you decide to pull him closer with the limb that would’ve gotten trapped between you. Steve emits a light laugh at the feeling of your arm wrapping around his middle, tugging him in further; you both relish in the heat that emanates from the other.

A few silent moments pass - neither of you has the courage to comment, even though both of your minds are running wild with what to say.

Steve shifts beside you, adjusting his feet against the parking lot pavement. The action prompts you to spin your focus in his direction and you freeze as he does the same - his eyes landing on your gentle expression.

Seeing Steve look at you like that makes you feel like you’re floating - the admiration in his eyes is enough to silence any doubts you had about… well, whatever this is. Your heart thuds against your ribs when he somehow inches even closer and you tighten your hold on him after he does so, hand curling around the material of his sweater.

You want to pull your gaze away from him, because fuck it’s getting to be too much; the way he feels by you side, the way you slid into him to protect yourself from the chilly December evening, the way that neither of you can find any words to describe how you’re feeling.

But then it clicks inside your brains. And maybe, you think, nothing needs to be said at all.

You lean in first, and it doesn’t take Steve much longer to react and do the same. He grows surprised when you pause, mere millimeters away from meeting your lips, brow creasing as your nose brushes his.

Even though you’ve been craving this very moment for about a year, you can’t shake the thought that hovers like a cloud over your psyche. This changes everything. There’s no going back if you continue down this road - it almost makes you afraid, no matter how much you’ve wanted things to be different.

It dissipates quickly, as Steve doesn’t give you much time to ponder; he takes the leap. His lips are pressed to yours. And it’s just like the first time you fell for him - every doubt you’ve ever had about Steve vanishes instantly.

The kiss is so soft and so filled with emotion that you feel like you could cry. His presence is overwhelming your senses and you melt against his palm that slides up your jaw, past where the bruises faded.

You can’t process when your fingers begin to card through his hair, pulling him closer to you because you’re desperate to let him feel everything that’s been churning inside for over a year. You’re still so in love with him that when he finally pulls away, you feel like he took a piece of you with him.

The music starts to fade and your little bubble along with it; you struggle to find something to say.

You don’t know how long you’ve waited to be able to do that. None of your daydreams could have ever compared to this; you’re almost lost in the moment. All of that heartache, all of that pain - it’s finally been released.

Neither of you knows what to do.

But then Steve clears his throat, his thoughts jumbled inside his head because holy shit - he wasn’t expecting it to feel like that.

The silence afterwards is deafening. Your breaths fan against the other’s rose tinted cheeks, still barely inches apart.

“I should uh,” You mutter, fingers trailing down his arms, slowly pulling yourself away from his warmth. You’re suddenly overwhelmed with far too many emotions, all of which you can’t even begin to decipher while standing here in front of him.

Steve grips your hands in his as you lean back; he knows what you’re going to say, but God, he wishes that you didn’t have to.

“I should go,” You finish. It shatters his heart a bit to hear you say it, but he only nods.

“Yeah,” He manages, “I’m sure your mom wants you back.”

You swallow harshly before your touch leaves him completely. Steve can still feel where your fingers were pressed on his palms - it lingers as you turn to leave, and begin your walk to your car.

—

taglist: @stevebabey / @mrs-skywalker / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @wallacetdog / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe

if you wanna be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #my gif #my writing #almost paradise

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rovewritesit · 4 years

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Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 4) John Deacon x Reader Series

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

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

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety.

Chapter Notes: This one was a doozy! Don’t start your very first fic with only a vague idea of where it’s going, friends! Quick reminder that this is a slow ass burn. Gonna take us a bit to get there but want to point out there will be no infidelity. Also fun fact: my grandfather actually did work at Elaine’s and the Mick Jagger story is true.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Hallelujah, I Love Her So - Ray Charles

Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel) - Billy Joel - [I know it wasn’t released till the 90s but I couldn’t shake it]

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady

- - - - - - -

July 1982 - Freeport, Long Island

“I’ll be right back,” you sigh to no one in particular, pushing yourself off of the faded paisley couch in the basement of Steve’s parent’s house and making your way upstairs for a glass of water. The dull pounding in your head had only gotten worse from repeatedly staring at the green shag carpeting leftover from the prior decade. Navigating the layout of the familiar house with ease, you make your way to the kitchen.

“Oh, Bunny! Wonderful, I was just about to bring down some iced tea,” calls out Steve’s mother upon seeing you.

“Thanks, Mrs. Castellano. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you know me. It was too quiet when you were all away.” The Limbs had recently gotten back from a small European tour--the album having spread beyond England; to Scotland, France, Germany, and Belgium. “I can’t help myself when I get all of you back under my roof. Speaking of… how’s it going down there?” she presses.

You keep your deadpan expression glued to your face as you lock eyes with the kind woman.

She grimaces, “I had a feeling. You better bring this back yourself then,” she hands you the pitcher.

“Will do. Thanks again, Mrs. C,” you tell her as you start to trudge your body back towards the basement. You let out a deep sigh before yanking the door open and descending into the pit of your own personal hell.

Lawrence’s voice booms from below, “I said simple! A simple four to the floor, and that’s it.”

The rest of The Limbs were right as you left them. Eddie and Rich lounge on the couch that is pushed up against the wood-paneled walls, their guitars strewn casually over their legs as they watch the ongoing argument. Lawrence paces around the room, his hands seemingly glued to his head as he pulls on his hair, and Steve sits behind his drum kit that’s tucked away in the corner. Padded blankets hang from the ceiling around him - a sorry excuse for soundproofing.

“Oh c’mon, I’m just adding some flavor to it! I’ll be as boring, sorry simple, as you want when we actually record it,” Steven replies, twirling a drumstick in his right hand.

Rich lets out a sigh as he clocks you making your way back. “Bun, any help here?”

You softly place the pitcher on a table off to the side before turning to the group, leaning back on your hands. “I just don’t get why we need to debut something new if it’s obviously not ready,” you say carefully.

“Of course you’d say that,” Lawrence grumbled, gesturing in your general direction. “Do you not want to sing it? Because you all told me you thought it was good!”

“It’s not that, and you know it, it’s just-”

“It just needs some work before Sunday, so let’s run the rhythm section again,” Eddie cuts in impatiently from his perch on the back of the couch. He untangles his spidery limbs and makes his way over to where you’re camped out.

“Okay, I’ll explain it again,” Lawrence huffs.

“We don’t need this stress two days before we play,” you tell Eddie softly.

“It’s a hometown show, Y/N,” he looks at you pointedly. “These folks helped get us to where we are. It’ll be nice to give them something new.”

The label had secured The Limbs a night at the Jones Beach Theater, the largest outdoor venue on the island. People from all over traveled to watch such acts as Jimmy Buffet, James Taylor, and Aerosmith, the height of entertainment for the suburban droves. And now they’ll be camping out for the first hometown Limbs show since they’d been signed. It was a huge deal, and you knew it, but you didn’t need something unfamiliar to throw off your already wavering shadow of a presence on stage.

Rich begins to pluck out the new bass line, carefully watching Lawrence’s reaction as he plays. On the pick-up, Steve again adds a light flourish as he joins in.

“Steve! For god’s sake! What did I just say?!”

“Live a little, will ya, Lawrence!” Steven shouts back.

The door to the basement wrenches open, and you all freeze. Mr. Castellano’s footsteps are heavy as he stomps down the stairs, somehow staring all of you down at once.

“Kids. If you’d be so kind as to keep it down a tad. I already have to watch the Yankees hand their asses over to the Blue Jays up there. I would at least like to hear it.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Steve mumbles.

“Thank you.” He starts to make his way back up the stairs but halts, turning to you once again. “Oh, also, someone from your label called before,” he adds on casually.

Steven jumps up from his stool, “What?! Dad!”

“What?! Steven!” he mimics. “I’m not your secretary.”

“Can you just tell us what they said?” Steve scoffs at his father.

“Something about being invited to a show at The Garden tonight. Some band. It’s… Dang it. I wrote it down somewhere,” he mutters, making his way back up the stairs.

“I wonder who it is,” Rich thinks aloud, glancing around to all of you.

Eddie notices as your body immediately stiffens beside him.

“Bun?” he asks slowly. “Do you know who’s playing Madison Square Garden tonight?”

Your eyes find the green carpet once again. Of course you knew who was playing tonight. Queen was beginning their two-night stay at the venue. Dawn wanted to get tickets, but you had argued that it was getting harder for you to go unrecognized in public. That, and the fact you had come to the realization you could only act like a complete fool around any of the band members. You weren’t keen on adding another entry to the list.

“It’s Queen!” Mr. Castellano calls from upstairs. “Starts at 8. You kids should get going if you’re gonna make it.”

“Queen’s playing?” Lawrence marvels. “How did we miss that?”

Rich rises, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe all the incessant practicing you’ve been holding us hostage for?”

“She knew,” Eddie smirks, pointing at you with his thumb. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve never gotten the chance to see them live before!” Steve questions, already rocking back on his heels with excitement. He had become quite the Queen fan since your run-in with Freddie after sticking to him like glue that entire night.

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant, “I thought we had more important things to focus on.”

“No, that’s not it,” Eddie deduces, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re just embarrassed that you went all jellied around Mr. Mercury the last time.”

“You’re the one who had to go and tell him all about me fawning over them on MTV!”

“Ooor, maybe it’s because the entirety of the UK saw you making eyes at their bassist on that game show,” Lawrence elaborates.

“There were no eyes being made at anyone,” you grit out defensively, knowing full well that their words were ringing true.

“I, for one, am happy you have a crush, Bun. You know it’s been a while since…” Rich trails off, leaving out the name of a dreaded ex none of you speak of.

You push yourself off your perch on the table with a huff. “You know what? We’ll go. Let’s go. That way, I can disprove all your wildly inaccurate assumptions,” you retort, wanting to get the heat off you fast.

Steven chuckles, “Oh no, she’s broken out her dictionary, folks. Looks like we’ve hit a nerve.” He pokes your side playfully.

“Shut up, please,” you tell them, making your way over to the stairs. “We have a train to catch.”

- - - - - - -

You’re late.

The muffled bass from the arena hits your ears as the Limbs dash up the steps leading from Penn Station to MSG. You all but sprint to catch up with the boy’s long gaits as they approach the box office window.

“Hiya, there’s supposed to be some tickets at will-call for us from the band,” Eddie explains to a woman behind the glass as he tries to catch his breath.

“Name?”

“Uh… Lo & The Limbs?”

“Don’t have anything under that name. Could it be something else?”

“Can you try just The Limbs?” he guesses, turning back to the group with wide, panicked eyes.

“Nope, sorry,” she answers in a monotone.

“How about The Legs,” you offer up from your spot behind Rich’s tall figure. She just shakes her head.

“Well, fuck,” Lawrence sighs, slapping his palms against his legs, obviously ticked off from the 45-minute train ride you’d all barely caught because Steve had changed his shirt a minimum of three times before you could all head out.

“What about Bunny?” Steve asks with a giggle.

The woman raises her eyebrows before checking the list yet again.

“Ah, there you are. Bunny and friends,” she concludes with a sigh.

A chorus of chuckles erupts from the boys. You point your finger at Eddie.

“I’m coming for ya. Eds. You’re not gonna know where or when, but I’ll get you back for this one day,” you tell him playfully.

“Oh yeah, and when you kill me, you can be free to go off and start your solo group, Bunny and Friends.”

She hands you all large laminate passes and gestures for you to follow a security guard. They deposit you in one of the skyboxes on the 10th floor. The Limbs tentatively enter, glancing around at the mishmash of people gathered. Extra crew, friends of the band, some execs, you guess to yourself. The boys immediately descend on the small bar set up in the back of the room.

“Here, I assume you need one of these,” Lawrence shoves a beer in your shaking hands.

“You assume right, good sir.”

“How the hell did we lose Steve already?” Eddie gripes. Rich easily spots him over the tops of heads surrounding them, pointing to a tall figure pushing his way towards the front of the box that opens up into seating. You all follow, mummering polite excuse me’s and thank you’s as you try to keep up. You can hear Play The Game get louder as you approach the view.

Steve rushes to the first row of seats, leaning over the railing of the balcony. “God, will you look at all these people?” he marvels, watching as the dancing lights illuminate the mass below him.

But you’re not looking at the crowd. Your gaze immediately finds the stage, where Freddie is situated behind a piano off to the left. His voice booms as if he were standing right next to you, and you’re positive that even without a mic, it would be heard by all 20,000 individuals. His eyes are closed as he slams hard on the piano, seemingly in his own world, yet the entire crowd is wholly entranced.

Brian then casually lopes to center for his solo. He smiles out at the crowd as his fingers dance across the frets gracefully while Eddie screams in appreciation throughout. He then jogs back to his mic, nearly missing his cue for his backing vocals, but his fingers never rest. Roger’s gravely falsetto catches your ear, and you train your eyes on the multitasking drummer. Even up behind his kit, his presence takes center stage while he keeps perfect time. The group ends the song in perfect synchronicity as the lights cut to black.

The chords for Somebody To Love start with a few majestic trills from Freddie’s voice, but your attention is once again grabbed away. Towards the back of the stage, still cast in darkness, you see John. He quickly shrugs off a fitted leather jacket to reveal an even tighter full cerulean blue ensemble before a roadie slips the strap of his bass over his head. He strolls into the light just as Freddie finishes his improv, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet as they begin the song.

While he keeps his gaze mostly pointed to the ground, his body already thrums with anticipation. As it really gets going, you watch as he comes to life. You can’t help but hang onto his every movement; the unintentional jerks of his head, the light two-step of his feet as he shuffles along to his bass line's groove. He seems entirely at the will of the song and loving every minute of it. A pang of jealousy hits your chest as you wonder if you’d ever feel that free on stage.

Not much conversation passes between you and the boys as you watch on, more than a bit awestruck. You’re not sure how many songs pass, but fresh beers repeatedly appear in your hands every so often. The lights are dizzyingly bright as your eyes skip around the stage, trying to absorb as much as you can. You find they consistently flick back to John, sucking in every minutia of his performance. Your chest tightens like it did the day of Pop Quiz. Every time he had caught your eye, you remember having to push down the inescapable thoughts you were having. You would tell yourself you don’t know what it is about him, but you’d be lying.

A voice jolts you out of your stupor. “You must be Fred’s young friends he met in New Haven.”

The group turns to find a small man situated in the row behind them wearing an impeccably tailored suit.

“Jim Beach, manager for the band,” he holds out a hand for each of you to shake. “Sorry for the last-minute invitation. Fred was simply beside himself when he remembered you’re all from New York. So glad you could make it.”

“This is incredible, thanks so much for having us,” Rich tells the man sincerely as his gaze keeps being drawn back to the stage.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourselves. We’ve always been big fans of playing here.”

“It’s quite the spectacle,” you muse. “I've never seen The Garden this decked out before. I mean, those lighting rigs alone must cost…” you trail off.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Jim replies with a quirk of his lips. “If you’d all like to follow me downstairs, they’ll be finishing up soon, and I’m sure Fred would love to thank you for coming.”

Steve leaps from his plastic seat, “Yes, please!”

- - - - - - -

The green room is unlike any you’ve ever seen—rust-colored persian rugs litter the floor, the grey slate underneath barely peeking through. Tapestries and various paintings line the walls, somehow giving the usually sterile space a homey feel. Multiple buffet tables filled with every accoutrement imaginable are tucked away in a back corner.

The room is scarce of people for the most part. Crew members filter in and out, grabbing waters, some puffing on cigarettes as they wipe down their sweaty foreheads. A select few have migrated down from the skybox as well.

Lawrence plops down on one of the many leather couches, taking in the room. “So this is what it’s like when you make it?”

“Seems a little excessive even for a band of their stature,” murmurs Rich as if reading your mind.

The deafening roar of the crowd is heard from above, and Queen closes out their encore. The crew members who are now needed for the post set break-down hurry from the room as it gets quiet. You all sit there in near silence for a few moments until a light cheer erupts as Freddie, Brian, and Roger all enter the room, swaddled in thick robes and towels around their necks. They're breathing heavy, still radiating the energy from their set, knowing full well that it was a fantastic show.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie says as someone hands him a bottle of cold water, glancing around at the people who are still giving the band a wide berth. He spots the group of you huddled out of the way. “Oh!” he exclaims with a clap of his hands, making his way over, “You made it!”

He kisses you all on the cheeks, leaving a ghost of sweat on your faces. “My gangly young saplings! It’s lovely to see you.” He locks eyes with you, a wicked grin on his face. “And you most of all, my little cottontail.”

“You were fantastic Freddie, thank you so much for thinking of us, really,” you tell him genuinely.

“And who have we got here?” a towering Brian May appears behind Freddie.

“Oh yes, may I present to you, Lo & The Limbs!” Freddie says, spreading his arms wide. So he does remember the name; you laugh to yourself.

Eddie pushes further into the group to immediately extend his hand. “You slayed tonight, man. I mean, really slayed.”

Brian returns the shake with a surprised laugh. “Why, thank you. I’ve heard your album, and I have to say, you all… slay as well.”

“Oy, you!” A disheveled looking Roger Taylor makes his way over to the group, people parting like the red sea before him. He marches straight up to you, his finger inches from your nose. “I lost quite a lot of quid, thanks to you.”

You shrink back a bit. “I’m sorry?”

“It would be like John to bring in a ringer at the last second. And after we’d already threw down our bets.” You glance at Freddie with a confused look still on your face.

“What a lovely way to welcome our new friends,” Brian throws an arm over Roger’s shoulder before turning to you. “We may have made a slight wager on John’s most recent Pop Quiz appearance.”

“Slight?” Freddie smirks. “My new Gucci loafers would disagree, darling.”

Roger lets out an incoherent grumble. “Well, he usually fucks it up, doesn’t he? That is until you snuck in there.”

“I’m… sorry?” you offer, failing to find a witty remark for the situation.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me. I’ve been looking for someone to help me bury the bodies, or do my taxes, or be on call if I perhaps fancied a shag in the middle of the night?” he raises his brows in an overtly teasing manner.

You let out a sharp snort. “Fancy a shag? God, that sounds so much better than “ya wanna go fuck?”

Roger chuckles heartily, “Alright, alright. It was touch and go there for a bit, but I’ve come ‘round. I like this one. She can stay.”

“Y’know, we made a bet of sorts as well,” Lawrence reveals with a mischievous grin. The men all look to him, intrigued. “How long Y/N could keep her cool around that bassist of yours. She failed miserably, and now we shall reap the benefits by teasing her mercilessly until the end of time.”

You swear your mouth couldn’t have dropped open faster. Really need to work on that poker face, you tell yourself.

“Someone was trying to be cool around Deacy? Are you sure you’ve met the man?” Brian laughs.

Staring blankly around, all you know is you need to get out of this situation fast. “I need to pee,” you announce loudly. Really, Y/N? “Excuse me.”

Quickly ducking out of the room before anyone can say anything, you lean your back up against the wall in the hallway as you collect your swimming thoughts. What was it about this band that made you get all dumbstruck? Truth be told, you weren’t usually a timid person. Sure, everyone had bouts of social anxiety now and again, but you navigated social interactions seamlessly for the most part. It had always been easy for you to make friends or crack a quick comeback at a joke. Teasing was a form of endearment where you came from. But ever since you’d entered this new world, it was as if you were a stranger in your body. Who happened to be almost mute apparently. You push yourself off the wall to find a bathroom, your mind still fully occupied by your inner ramblings.

“Points!” a roadie shouts at you, trying to get your attention as they push a cart of cumbersome looking sound equipment right into your path. Before you have time to react, two hands grip your waist and pull you back to your previous position against the wall.

Once again, you are face to face with a familiar chest. You watch as a light chuckle rumbles through it.

“I know it’s cheesy to say, but we have to stop meeting like this. Or do you make it a point to always bumble about in narrow hallways?” John pulls his hands back to his side as you meet his attractive colored eyes, amusement flickering in them.

“John. Hi,” is all you manage.

“Good to see you again, Y/N. Freddie mentioned you all might be stopping by. Glad you could make it.”

You try and will your new persona not to take hold, but all you can do is smile meekly at him. He regards you patiently, cocking his head to the side slightly.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes, very much,” you rush out quickly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. The Garden’s not an easy place to play.”

“Thank you. You’re kind," he smiles bashfully. "The crowds in New York are some of my favorites. I wish we got the chance to spend more time here, but it seems we’re always passing through.”

“Am I interrupting?” Freddie asks with raised eyebrows from the doorway, a grin on his face.

John makes his way over to him. “Not at all. Just heroically saving Y/N from a near-death run-in with Ratty.”

“Sounds about right,” Freddie muses. “Now, if we’re all safe and sound, I’d like to get out of here. I’m positively starving.”

“Where to?” John asks.

“I want to go someplace real New Yorkers go,” he looks to you expectantly.

“Bun-bun?” you hear from inside before Steve pokes his head around Fred.

“Is your grandpa working tonight?”

- - - - - - -

Even John knew of Elaine’s. He’d hadn’t heard about it because the notable food, but rather the wide variety of clientele it boasted. Writers, directors, actors, and musicians alike frequently filled the establishment for the ambiance and lively conversation. Freddie would love it.

The large group enters through the wood door under a large awning, immediately hit by a wall of sound. The small place is packed to the brim. Raucous laughter can be heard from most tables as the patrons sardine together, shouting over one another. It had a certain charm, he guessed, taking in the decor of signed book covers and hand-painted murals.

“Bambina!” A small italian-looking maitre d' steps from behind the counter and spreads his arms wide as he engulfs Y/N into a hug. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by tonight.”

“Sorry, Papa. It was last minute. Just in time for the 10:30 rush by the looks of it.”

An infectiously warm smile spreads across his face. “Do you see me complaining? You hardly visit anymore now that you’re running around the world with that guitar. I’m so proud of you,” he adds softly, kissing her forehead. “Look at these boys!” he greets the rest of The Limbs like family, clapping each man on the back with love. “Am I shrinking already, or are all you still growing?”

“Probably a little of both, Dom,” Eddie laughs with the old man.

“And there’s even more, I see,” he inquires, finally noticing Queen.

It was unusual for them not to be the center of attention in any given situation, all of them hanging back except for Freddie, who marches right up to the man and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Freddie Mercury, a dear friend of your Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

He looks to Y/N suspiciously. “Are they musicians? You know what happened that one time. I had to pry Elaine off of beating that tiny Mickey guy. I’m telling ya, it was ugly.”

“Not Mickey- Mick, Papa. How many times do I have to tell you?” Y/N shushes him, looking a bit embarrassed.

Dom waves his hand at her, “Whoever he is, that kid owes me his life. I expect these ones to behave.”

Roger snorts from the back, “Not very likely.”

“We promise,” Freddie swears. “And might I say, I love the suit. Very dashing,” he adds on for good measure.

“Well, how else do you think I got this job?” Dom smiles at him with a wink. “C’mon,” he gestures for all to follow as he leads them through the narrow restaurant, to a long table in the back. “Enjoy, boys,” he tells them as he heads back to his post up front, kissing Y/N on the cheek before leaving.

“Come sit next to me, my love,” Freddie calls to Y/N, patting the seat beside him. “If any of your other family members are as outrageous as that man, I want to hear all about them.”

The group moves to squish in around the table. Roger silently catches John’s eye and motions to the seat next to Y/N. He quirks his brows at him, confused, but makes his way to sit between them.

Eddie has taken his rightful place next to Brian with Rich in tow, the three already in deep conversation about the current music scene. Lawrence and Roger sit opposite each other, tearing into the bread basket and chatting about the show. Next to Freddie, Steve is eagerly hanging onto every word he says as he chats to Y/N about her upbringing.

“I’m just hoping one day we get to do something like that, man. Our show on Sunday should be a pretty big deal, though,” Lawrence tells Roger.

“Where are you playing? CBGB? The Palladium?”

“Nah, we’re playing out on the island. Jones Beach.”

“Huh, Long Island. We’ve never been to Long Island before,” Roger ponders, intrigued. “What’s there to do on Long Island?”

“Well, do you like bowling? Strip malls?” Lawrence pauses for effect. “Bowling at strip malls?”

John lightly chuckles. An arm brushes his shoulder, and he moves back slightly as a large woman weaves her hands around Y/N’s shoulders.

“My little Y/N has come back to us! And surrounded by even more devilishly handsome men than usual.”

Y/N turns around in her seat to give the woman a proper hug. “Elaine! It’s been too long.”

“Let me get a good look at you,” she gestures for Y/N to spin as she regards her. “If you need help beating em’ off of ya, I have my bat behind the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, teasingly, “Don’t I know it. I have a vivid childhood memory of you chasing Ron Galella around the dining room with that thing.”

She lets out a larger than life laugh at the memory, patting the young girl on the back. “Oh, those were the good years. So, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friends?”

“Elaine! I’m hurt you don’t remember our beautiful time together,” Eddie teases her from the table's end.

“Shut it, Eddie,” she reprimands him with a point of her stubby finger.

Y/N turns to the group, spreading her arms wide. “Guys, this is Elaine Kaufman, of Eliane’s, obviously. Elaine, this is Queen.”

She attempts a half-hearted curtsey. “Your majesties. Welcome.”

Before long, Elaine has pulled up a chair as she cracks dirty jokes back and forth with Freddie, which has the rest of the group (and some nearby diners) howling in laughter. Y/N’s now-familiar cackle sends tingles through John’s body once again. She’s more relaxed than he’s previously seen her be. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, showcasing her broad smile as she looks on fondly, hands waving about whenever she joins in the conversation. Her face is mostly free of makeup and he catches the hint of a dimple on one of her cheeks as she glances over at him to share in a joke.

Freddie gasps as he catches someone entering the front door. “Is that Shirley MacLaine? Slap my ass and call me Sally, that woman does not age.”

“Come with me,” Elaine says, rising from her chair. “I think she’ll like you.”

Food appears without any of them having to order, along with bottles of wine Elaine insisted they’d love. John tentatively takes a bite of one of the dishes set before him.

“Oh god,” he blurts out upon tasting.

Y/N snickers beside him. “Bad, right? I recommend the tortellini if you want something remotely edible.” She pushes a plate towards him, snagging some for herself.

He gulps down water, trying to rid himself of the bland taste. “I would ask why this place is packed, but it seems I’ve already met her.”

“And you would be right. She’s a riot, but I fully blame her for my vulgar vocabulary,” she reveals, taking a giant bite of pasta.

“You and Freddie seem to have that in common.”

Y/N chews slowly as she muses over that sentiment. “That seems to be the only thing we have in common,” she says softly. He cocks his head at her in question.

“It’s just,” she starts, a somber look replacing her previously buoyant one. “Watching him on stage tonight. All of you actually. You seem so free, so comfortable up there. And Freddie is just magnetic, you know that. It’s as if he makes the crowd fall in love with him again and again with every song. I could never do that…”

“I find that quite hard to believe,” he mumbles, continuing on quickly. “Freddie’s a performer. Everything he does up there is for that crowd. Whereas I’m just a musician, I think. It probably helps that I don’t sing. It'll just take some time to find your footing. You don’t have to be both. You don't have to be either for that matter.”

She scoffs lightly, pushing the food around on her plate. “Don’t I? Ever since this all began, I feel like I’m some paper doll or something. People just dress me up and mold me into what they want. And I go right along with it because I don’t even recognize this version of myself if I’m being honest. So I just keep that mask on until I get back home and I can finally breathe. Because then, at least I don’t have to stare at a stranger in the mirror anymore.”

She breaks out of the daze she fell into while rambling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t unload on you like this,” she catches herself. “I guess I just had a very different assumption of what my life would look like... I think I'm afraid of losing who I am in all this."

John takes her in, catching glimpses of his former self in her cracks. He itches to soothe her distress. “I can understand,” he tells her sympathetically. “Hell, I thought I was joining a band to play with on the side at uni and look at us now. Sometimes I still feel like I’m leading a double life. I tried to convince myself all this was just a job at first, but I’m sure you’re finding out quickly that’s not always true.”

Y/N looks at him intently, and it’s the first time he truly sees the depth of her eyes. He clears his throat before continuing.

“I've come to learn that the concept of home is a funny thing. For a long time, I held onto the idea of it that I always had for myself, but it’s harder than it looks with what we do,” he sighs, running a hand through his short curls, not wanting to dwell too long on his unpleasent situation back in England.

“But home can be anything really. It can be people,” he says, glancing at his bandmates. “Or even the stage, which sometimes I think is Freddie’s. Or you can be Roger, and make yourself at home wherever you go.”

They glance over at Rog, who is in the middle of an animated story, waving his glass of wine around as it drips on the tablecloth.

“So all you can do is find whatever that home is and hold onto it the best you can. And it might change, but that doesn't mean you have to," he nudges her shoulder with his.

Y/N smiles down at her lap. “Thank you,” she tells him quietly, still swimming in her own thoughts.

“Of course,” he assures, pausing to breathe- not used to giving long-winded explanations. Nervous that he’s pushed too far, he glances over, catching as her shoulders relax.

The restaurant was mostly cleared out by now, save for a few regulars sitting at the tall wood bar. The staff chats casually amongst themselves as they clean off empty tables for the night. Steve is giving Freddie details of the New York club scene, probably hoping to earn himself an invitation one day. Elaine’s regaling Brian, Eddie, and Rich with a story about two writers and a feud of accused plagiarism. Lawrence and Roger were currently attempting to turn their napkins into amusing hats for each other. John finds himself enjoying the young band's presence, their chaotic energy seeming to match Queen’s dynamic quite well.

The group collectively jumps as the music drastically raises in volume, the intro of Ray Charles’ ‘Hallelujah, I Love Her So’ pouring out.

“Oh god, no,” Y/N groans next to him as the waiters all turn their attention to her. Dom appears beside her with an outstretched hand. “Papa, not now, please.”

“Indulge your grandfather, Y/N,” he winks at her as she reluctantly takes his hand, pulling her to the middle of the room. John’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as the old man springs to life, twirling his granddaughter around the room with ease. The pure spryness of someone that age was genuinely shocking.

“Oh, this is fabulous!” Freddie laughs as he leans his chin forward on his hands.

And it was. The staff cheers, hinting that this was a familiar routine for them. The rest of The Limbs sing along with the track, watching the two affectionately like old family.

Y/N’s apprehensive look fades away as she gives in to the fun, pure joy flashing across her features as she glides along, following her grandfather in the swing dance rather gracefully. She looks free, John thinks to himself, drinking in the true version of the young woman. She was dazzling as her hair fell messily from her ponytail and her laugh was louder than ever as Dom dips her low to the floor, her body bending with him. If this was home, he could see why she was reluctant to leave it behind.

He’s mesmerized by her every movement. She was still an enigma to him, each detail he pulled from her, just making him hungry for more.

You shouldn’t. You’re still married. Well, technically. Papers aren’t signed yet.

“Alright, I’m convinced,” Roger shouts at Lawrence. “Looks like we'll have to stop in Long Island.”

- - - - - - -

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Brian announces, burrowing further into his white windbreaker.

The Jones Beach Theater was tucked right up to the shoreline, causing the spray of the Atlantic to chill the air despite the summer heat. John had never seen a venue like it. It’s as if the vast sea acted as an extended backdrop to the stage, reflecting the stars and inky drape of the night.

The crowd didn’t seem to mind at all. They had been brilliant the entire night, singing along to every one of the songs and dancing in full force. It was perfectly clear how proud they were of their hometown heroes.

The Limbs themselves were a sight to behold from the wings of the stage. The energy from the packed seats had bled over, and all 5 members were indeed feeling it. They had been in perfect sync with each other the entire show, and John was certainly amused by their own way of interacting with their audience. It mostly consisted of them hurling humorous insults back and forth to each other in between songs.

Even Y/N seemed to be enjoying herself, despite her confession the other night. She had taken Freddie’s note that he’d given after seeing her dance and was now stepping out from behind the mic stand for her songs. She slinked around the stage effortlessly, interacting with the other members and the crowd, much to their glee.

“Before we say goodnight to you all, we’d like to leave you with a little something,” Rich calls out over the deafening cheers. “A lullaby of sorts from one of our favorites.”

Y/N drags a stool out to the center of the stage as Lawrence begins a somber melody on the keyboard. The audiences erupts in cheers and John recognizes it as a Billy Joel song.

She takes a seat behind the mic as she gazes out over the crowd. The exhilarated face she had been sporting all night was gone, a shade of melancholy in its place now.

Goodnight, my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you’ve been asking me

I think you know what I’ve been trying to say

Her hypnotic voice pierces through the now-silent crowd. The type of voice you immediately feel in your chest, as if it’s personally strumming your heartstrings. No one dares to sing along, afraid they'll miss a moment of her inflection.

I promised I would never leave you

Then you should always know

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are

I never will be far away

The familiar sight of lighters being illuminated flickers through the sea of people before them, casting a hazy glow on the previously faceless patrons. Their peaceful stares fixed on Y/N, entranced as if she was siren of sorts.

Goodnight my angel, now it’s time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me

Her voice breaks a bit, giving away the glassiness of her eyes. They’re not fixed on the crowd, but instead on the sky beyond them. John watches the panes of her face intently. She wasn’t singing to them, he realizes. This was to herself. Possibly to that image in her mind, she had confided in him, the one she was struggling to leave behind—her piece of home.

Someday we’ll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

“She’s going to be something else, isn’t she?” Freddie asks, mostly to himself.

They never die

That’s how you and I will be

John watches as a single tear slips off the slope of her nose as she finishes, bowing her head.

“Yeah, I think she is.”

#john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #angelofmydreams

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thepinkwriterr · 1 year

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Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Two

Table of Contents

Word Count: 2k

In her fit of anxiety, she accepted his apology. It now seemed to be empty, heavy-handed. This would be on account of the conversation that sat before them now. A few days ago, Jimmy had given his omission of guilt. Things had progressed to be so much worse. It was like a snowball, rolling down a hill after an avalanche. It was picking up speed quickly, moving at an alarming rate. It was spiraling out of control and everyone in its path was in danger of getting hurt.

"Good morning!" She sang as she entered the doorway. She was greeted with an abnormal sight. Bonzo was already at the table, talking to Robert and Jonesy.

"Good morning." Robert mirrored her sing-song voice. He was always prepared for a musical.

"Robert left his mouthpiece in the hotel room, Jim. How about we start that tradition, eh?" Bonzo smiled and clapped him on the back. Jimmy looked pained hearing that comment. He knew he should say something but didn't want to make things hostile or awkward.

This was a regular occurrence. Bonzo would say something offhand and Jimmy would brush it off, prompting Gwen to do the same.

"He's just like that. You have to toughen up." He would say as he primped his hair in preparation for a show. She wore the same look she would always give him, one of disgust and muddled anger. She didn't like being the source of negativity and certainly didn't want to cause any problems with the band. So she did what he told her and ignored it. She shoved the feeling down and sat for her breakfast.

Jonesy was telling the group about the walk he went on last night. He recounted all of the details, the sights, sounds, and people. He went for a rare walk in the city, usually, he tried to find a quiet place in nature. It was beautiful to see the cityscape all lit up and lively. It was nice to see the noise but not be a part of it, just like on stage.

When this conversation split off, Robert talking over Jonesy is when things went South. Jonesy turned to her and asked about the Sabbath show. He was very interested in her endeavors, seeing it as a poignant topic of conversation.

"I thought you were here to shoot us. If you're not shooting us, what are you doing here?" Another jab in her side. His lips curled around his sharpened teeth, canines like daggers and his tongue dripped with snark.

She just rolled her eyes and continued talking. "It was great. They really generate so much energy. It makes me excited about taking these photos! I can feel their passion and it really shows in the shots. William sent me a demo of some of the photos from the first shoot and they turned out awesome!"

"They can't be that good." His goal was to poke holes in her joy. He was a liquid poured over her glee, drying to make her into a porous and brittle figure.

"Bonzo." Robert gave him a quiet scold.

"What? We're all thinking it! How can you be here for us but shoot them?"

"Bonzo, stop," Robert started, "You've been picking at her all week. You've created this arbitrary feud and won't let up. Now you're the only one continuing it, she's clearly had enough."

"She's the one who started it!"

"And now you should end it. We're all sick of hearing it. If you have a problem with her, talk it out. Otherwise, please shut up."

"Fine."

It was ironic how small he could look. To millions of people, he was larger than life, a musical giant. Now he was tiny as a child, stomping, and sulking. He could be so immature. She couldn't believe his actions.

He walked away, looking petulant and angry. Gwen looked at Robert with gratitude. Malaise hung in the air for a moment. She knew this was not settled. They'd won the battle but the war raged on. "If I'd known he'd be so agreeable I would have said something earlier." Robert joked. Gwen gave a small laugh and continued with their previous conversation.

The group felt peace for another hour. Bonzo was sulking in his room and the rest of them were playing together in relative quiet. It was never stagnant with the Zeppelin crew. What aided in the silence was a brooding Jimmy. He was acting like Bonzo, groveling in pity in the corner. He had a tendency to do this, and pout when upset. Gwen hadn't caught onto his mood, only making him more troubled.

Robert was keen on all of Jimmy's quirks and knew immediately what had happened. He must've crossed a line, or perhaps someone had made a joke he didn't like. It wasn't easy to play guessing games with him. His mind was a steel fortress, not a temple to be easily infiltrated. He looked to Jimmy, hoping that if he stared long enough the problem would reveal itself. But it never did and they continued their game regardless.

"Well, I'm beat. I'm gonna call it a day."

"You fold?" Gwen asked.

"Yes," Robert said, standing up.

"Right when I'm about to win? What, you're afraid to lose all of a sudden?" Robert shrugged, his lips pushed together, and simply nodded in Jimmy's direction. When Gwen turned to look at him, he was sitting with his body against the wall. He was looking down below at all of the cars. She took immediate notice of his cool appearance, gleaning his level of frustration.

"All right, I'll see you later." She sighed.

She had to practically strangle the information out of him. He was an iron wall at this moment, completely shutting her out. She cursed herself, wondering if this was what it was like for him. She could see all the walls between them and had no idea how to knock them down. He'd given himself so wantingly before now, never making her guess or wonder how he felt. Particularly about her and her actions.

"Please, Jimmy, I don't want to play these games. What is bothering you? I know you're upset."

"Fine," He finally turned to her, "It's Robert." Her face twisted in confusion. "Robert? What did he do?"

"What he said to Bonzo."

"Jimmy, dear god, please just speak a full sentence!" Her patience was already worn thin, quickly becoming ragged with his third-degree.

"Robert has been flirting with you since he met you. And now he's sticking up for you, playing card games, comforting you, sharing your clothes. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were on tour with him and he was your boyfriend."

She could see her boyfriend before her, Jimmy Page, 26, of Pangbourne, England. But what she heard was not a grown man with a stable career and home. It was a jealous teenager who watched his girlfriend dance with another guy at the homecoming dance. Or he morphed into a child, stamping his foot and insisting on another cookie. She almost laughed. But, she didn't. She instead sighed and shook her head. "Are you jealous of Robert and me?"

"Not jealous."

"Fine, whatever you want to call it. You're upset he stood up for me? Would you rather Bonzo kept bullying me? Lord knows you weren't going to say anything!"

"I would have."

"When? Because you didn't say anything the first time, or last night, or earlier today. It seems you want all of the glory and none of the burden. If I didn't know any better, I would say you don't want to stand up for your girlfriend, so someone else had to do it for you."

He was dumbfounded at her gall. She was blaming this all on him and not her obvious flirting. He thought she was being unreasonable, totally insane. How could he say anything when it would destroy the band? He wasn't going to get involved because it would ruin the music. "So you're embarrassed by me?"

"What? When did I say that?"

"You didn't have to."

"Now you're being ridiculous. You're the one in the wrong. I told you already that I didn't like how you weren't standing up for me. You never said anything about Robert, so your point is null and void."

She was approaching this like a game like it was some sort of prize, who was wrong and who was right. She was dashing across the finish line, cheering to be correct. This troubled him a great deal. He was seeing a side of her he didn't like. It was a rare glint, a wrong flick of light, to see her flaws. She wasn't a patchwork quilt like him, she wasn't stitched together with the thin tissue of grandness, the majority of her fabric flaws and fissures. She was a whole network of soft and loving fleece, connected and interwoven. She was an ornate strip of gold-laden cloth. But, under this light, he could see all the stray threads and loose stitching.

"You're not even making sense! I'm upset and I came to you first." Now they were both fighting, grabbing at the trophy of who was a victim.

"No, I had to pull it out of you! You were being a baby and not telling me how you felt."

"Welcome to my world! You're always hiding how you feel. It's like you think I'm going to judge you or something, you're like a child."

"I'm like a child? You sulked the entire game, hoping I would catch on. Robert ended our game so we could talk. You know how embarrassing that is?"

"So you are embarrassed by me."

"No, it's embarrassing for yourself. But yeah, I guess I am. I don't have a boyfriend who will stick up for me!" She was yelling now, her voice rising to the height of her frustration.

"Fine. If that's the way you feel." He turned away from her, looking into the expanse of the street below. The room was quiet once more. Their shouts and pleas for connection were replaced by honking and wiring of machinery.

She sat on the bed, looking at the back of him. His hair was unkempt and messy, a tangle of curls matting the back of his head. She left the bubble of anger that consumed her and imagined laying him in her lap, brushing out each knot. Her heart melted for a moment. She remembered then how she felt with him, how safe he made her feel. Her deep feelings for him resurfaced and she remembered how much she loved him.

His eyes never strayed from the window but his mind too wandered. He thought about the first time they'd spent the day at his house. He remembered how sweet she looked while chasing him, the hours they spent in the sun. He thought about how her body looked when it gave way to the hours of activity, weary and heavy. It was the same look that plagued her now.

He wanted to kiss her, to sweep her up, and ravage her sadness and anger.

The merit of their argument had dwindled into nothing. Was it really worth all of this? They both thought. In an instant, they were looking at each other again, faced with the tear-stained image of their lover's face. This was a scene neither of them wanted to encounter again, a sight that should remain under lock and key.

It was quiet at first, the tension between them thick. Neither wanted to be the first to break. She simply absorbed him, the look on his face. His lips were parted and his eyes were glossy. His dark hair was curled in frizzy ringlets, illuminated perfectly by the light coming in through the window. He looked so beautiful in that moment. She couldn't believe how impossibly beautiful he was. That was a woman's word, an adjective not to be used on men, but she did anyway. He was delicate and feminine, strong but petite.

He looked at her and couldn't believe the sight before him. She was painted into a smooth portrait of perfection. She was an angelic image, something he could not gather into reality. Her long hair fell down her shoulders, a cascading river of auburn and copper. Her shoulders were dainty, on display under her green tank top. She was a small woman, tender inside. The walls of her heart were mushy and delicate. She was a woman who required great attention, and a keen eye. He had to be graceful with her feelings, he had to cradle her heart in his hands, the way one would with a child. This is perhaps what drew him into her, she was like a flower. He had to be careful not to crush the colorful petals when he called on their beauty.

He spoke first. It was an apology and he was on his feet. She apologized, walking closer to him. Now they bridged the space between them and pressed their bodies together. "I'm sorry for not defending you."

"And I'm sorry for saying you're embarrassing. You're not. I'm so happy that you're mine."

The sun seemed to swell around them, the sallow image engulfing them as love returned to their arms. It was a flicker of candlelight, an old friend come to visit, their love. And it was back, it was no longer running and slipping in the sand. It was home at the table, smelling dinner and ready to eat. They were insatiable, slamming their cutlery in haste.

They spoke no words. Not a mention was needed for their reprisal. This was a ceremony best experienced in quiet observation. They drank the sights of each other and loved with open hands, clear minds, and beating hearts.

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady , @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin , @jimmysdragonsuit13

#jimmy page #Jimmy Page smut #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #capricorn season #classic rock fanfiction #classic rock #classic rock fandom #classic rock imagine #jimbert

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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07/30/2021 DAB Transcript

2 Chron 26:1-28:27, Rom 13:1-14, Ps 23:1-6, Pr 20:11

Today is the 30th of July, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible, I’m Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today, as we continue the journey and we are right…right at the threshold of turning the page into another month. Yeah, we’ll end our week tomorrow while simultaneously ending the month of July. But that's tomorrow and this is today and we have the next step forward today before we get to those steps out in front of us and so let's dive in. We’re reading from the New English Translation this week, 2 Chronicles chapters 26, 27 and 28 today.

Commentary:

Alright, in the letter to the Romans today Paul is continuing to kind of lay out a framework of what a redeemed or renewed life looks like and we were talking about that some yesterday. He's continuing that theme in today's reading and it's in today's reading that it gets boiled down to the essence. The essence is love and its…it's not supposed to be anti-climactic like it’s not supposed to be like everybody knows that love is the answer. If we know that then what's going on in this world? If we know that what's going on in the body? For Paul he is saying, like the law tells us, right the Commandments tell us don't commit adultery, don't commit murder, don't commit theft, don't covet. These are some of the 600+ Commandments that we find in the Bible and Paul sums it up and he’s not the first person to do this, but Paul sums it up, saying, hey, let's remember something, everything boiled down to its essence results in “love your neighbor as yourself, love does no wrong to others, so love fulfills the requirements of God's law” and basically the logic goes like this, you can't break those commandments while doing it in love. Right, so you can't murder someone in love. You can't covet in love. You can't commit adultery, if you're married to somebody and you’re stepping out on them, you may think you're in love, but the devastation that follows, that is not love. We’re to love our neighbor as ourselves and we’re also told to do unto others as we would have them do to us: the golden rule. So, it kind of boils down to treat people the way that you would want to be treated. But it's bigger, love people the way you want to be loved. And that may be some internal work for some of us because we don't know how we want to be loved, we don’t even really know what that looks like, that's not been what our story has been. Love is been distorted for us so we have to go back to the example of Jesus in the way that He loved in the way that He conducted himself because He is the model. He is what we are being transformed into His likeness that we are like Him on this earth and that he loved us so much that He came to rescue us. And so, we having believed this and having the spirit inside of us renewing us, we must know that love for us is within us because the spirit of Christ is within us and so we are loved from the inside. We are to receive that love for ourselves, the love of God for us and then reflected out into the world. So, in some ways it begins with us, loving ourselves, as Christ loved us and then we can love our neighbor as we love ourselves. This right there, it's not so tricky that we don't understand and it's not like we didn't know all this before we talked about it. That, though, that can change our whole life. Like that changes the direction of everything. So again, let's ponder that as we move through the rest of our day.

Prayer:

Holy spirit come; we invite you into that. We become aware of your overwhelming love for us. And that that love, it's not withdrawn from us when we fail as if it's something that comes and goes; it lives in us. Your Spirit is within us and You love us, and so, we are loved from within and without and we can live this way toward one another. When we stop with the comparison and we try to stop the competition. Instead, just try to be who we were made to be and love how we were made to love. Come Holy Spirit into that we pray. In the name of Jesus we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it’s the website. It’s where you find out what's going on around here and you can find out what's going on around here using the Daily Audio Bible app as well. Check out the Community section, this is where the prayer wall is and this is where different links to get connected are. Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop, that's where resources tailored for the journey that we are on exists so check that out as well.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com, there’s a link on the homepage. And I say thank you every day because every day it is a thank you. It is heartfelt gratitude that we can be a Community, a different kind of Community wrapped all around the world, but we can still be in this together and that this is happening every day. It's happening because we’re in this together. So, thank you, thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today, I'm Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayers and Encouragements:

Hey everyone DAB family this is Jimmy from the East Coast. I would like to just pray for the lady, the missionary from Libera. It’s a couple, it about a week or two behind right now but I just want to just say just fall into God’s arms and we’re praying for you and we’re covering you in prayer. God’s got you and just rest in Him now and watch the goodness of how He has already prepared for all these things you’re going through, just trust and believe and rest. Father, we just thank You for this missionary and her husband and everything, we know they’ve went through a lot for your namesake and we just pray Lord God that You just lavish them with Your glory and show them how much You care and love them and take care of them. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

Good morning, Daily Audio Bible family. This is Tieara from Texas and I wanted to come on after hearing Shena from Canada ask for prayer for her boyfriend who was falsely accused of a crime and was charged. My heart hurts in that aspect because there are so many of our brothers and sisters who are falsely condemned and falsely persecuted. And, I can only imagine how much worry and grief and anxiety that you’re having Ms. Shena and I’m sorry that he’s going through this, you have to go through this. You have to wake up and he’s not there, you have to go through some court systems and stuff like that and I’m sorry the justice system in Canada takes so long. I just pray for the truth to be revealed. In the name of Jesus and the Holy Spirit guides you and your boyfriend in this difficult time. I ask that all of us can come together and be empathetic and just pray for this to come out of fruition Father and that You protect Your daughter and You protect Your son and Your will and Your way that You move however You need to move for Your light to shine. And for Your name to be glorified in the situation Father. She also said something that has stuck with me as well, she said “thank you God for giving us life even when we go through struggles” and I just want to pray for all of us who are struggling as well. These blessings I ask in Your Son’s Holy name Jesus. Amen.

Hello, this is Theresa phoning in from London. I’m phoning in response to the 13-year-old young man who phoned in from Georgia. I was so blessed by your phone call, I really was. Your…your situation sounds like all of ours. A lot of times we allow things to, you know, we have that saying life got in the way and you say you started off strong in January and then things got tough at school and then you stopped listening and I to have been there. So, I know how you feel but I love the way you reflected on things and you said that basically you know your mistake and you should’ve prayed about it and how many of us can say the same thing. So, I pray for you young man, I really do. You sound like a wise, you have a wise head on your shoulders. So, Father, I just pray for this young man, I pray that You would bless continue to bless him in his studies. I pray that You continue to pour out Your favor and wisdom upon his life. May You truly order his footsteps. May you direct him for Your glory and for Your honor. May he be a blessing to his family and to all those around him and also help him to continue to list to the Daily Audio Bible. Father, I thank you for this platform. Jill, Brian, thank you so much for this platform, it’s wonderful and I just praise You and thank You Father in the name of Joshua Hameushua. Hallelujah. Amen.

Hi family, it’s Shannon from Texas. And I desperately need some prayer. I am hanging on by a thread. I don’t know what’s going on with me I was doing okay for a while and I feel like I just haven’t had, I don’t know, anything good happen. Like, I don’t…I don’t know, I am just not doing well. My son is about to get out and I think that’s the biggest part of the emotional, just, stress. Because everything…it’s like the world was kind of soft when he went in and I could finally take a breath and now he’s getting out and it’s just like that six months went by so fast and it’s like, I don’t know, it’s a lot of emotion. Because of all of the turmoil before he went in and I can’t even put into words all that goes into that. And then just like, I feel like I’ve been dissed and ___ by so many people. It’s like left and right from the people that I work…I feel like I’ve been a servant which is like okay that’s what I’m supposed to be doing but somethings not right about this because it’s hurting. Like, I’m ready to break from it because I know this is not where God wants me to be. And these people, I feel like my friends and everyone, I don’t really have any left. They’re like talking about me like I’m beneath them cause I’ve been it’s like yeah, I try to replace for so long. It took time for me to be lifted out of it. And I just, I can’t do it anymore. So, I rarely cry I rarely so emotion.

This is Heather from Missouri and I am Just Tired, I don’t think you ever said your name, Amen. Thank you, thank you for calling, thank you for confessing your feelings. I don’t have words or wisdom for you sir but I think you made a good step today, confessing that. It was awesome. Sometimes we all have those day. Sometimes we all live and and I don’t think we confess it enough. And I wanted to say thank you brother thank you for putting it into words. Thank you for being strong enough to step out and say it, out loud to a different community. Again, I don’t have words of wisdom. I live with things that I’m trying to give up and blah blah blah. Thank you, just thank you for confessing it. Thank you for saying it out loud. Thank you for being strong enough to say it out loud my brother. You are awesome for today on the daily prayer that I was listening to. God bless you and this, that you put out there. May he lead you to where you need to go to find that understanding. I will keep you in my prayers brother. Love you.

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localkatshelter · 3 years

Text

Okame’s Underbelly: Reunification |4th|

(ShinsoxOC)

Katsumi’s POV (localvillageidiot#0870) and Shinso’s POV (hecker#8339)

Warning: Contains mentions of a breakup, minor alcohol consumption, mild anxiety, swearing, and a wild Denki and Mina

Preview (Shinso’s POV):

| “Dude...what the fuck! Why did you wait until now to tell me this?! I thought you loved me! “ Denki whined with an exaggerated pout on his lips.

I cocked my head to the side “When did I say that?” I questioned with feigned confusion.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I know you love me so shut up. Third, wait we’re on three right? Right. Third, we're besties til death do us part so there’s some invisible contract that states that I get expedited dibs on all your dark, dirty secrets.” He concluded smugly, as if he made a point.

“Oops, I breached the contract." I stated apathetically. "but I told you now, so no need to cry about it.” I went to mock wiping a tear from his face and he immediately attempted to bite my hand. I reflexively shoved him away.

“Why are you like this?” I choked out between laughter.

Denki shrugged. “My body literally microwaves my brain so...maybe that’s why.” |

Beautiful Artwork By: Sinfulhime

1st Chapter - Anticipation

(Katsumi’s POV)

I groaned as I fidgeted with the ugly student mover tee shirt that the volunteer coordinator had handed me to wear for move in day. I can’t believe that I got bullied into volunteering to help students move into the dorms today. Stupid RA asking me for help, stupid RD guilt tripping me into it, stupid students bringing way too much shit. I hate it here.

I was standing by the entrance hoping no one would ask for my help when I saw a small car pull up in front of my dorm building. A boy with wild purple hair got out and was greeted by a blonde, who practically tackled him with a hug. That's adorable. I love when boys aren’t afraid to be affectionate with each other. I watched the two of them talk for a bit before beginning to unload the car. The kid with purple hair felt oddly familiar to me for some reason. I moved out of my hiding spot and away from the entrance a bit to get a better look at him. I started to squint to try and put him into focus when he turned around and noticed my staring. He gave me a dirty look and something clicked in my brain. Oh shit, it’s fucking Edgelord! He turned back around and started unloading his car. I started to walk over, though I didn’t really know why. I guess I just wanted to say hi, maybe check in with him to see how he was doing. I mean, he did bawl his eyes out in front of me and sleep on my couch after all. As I got closer, a question popped into my brain. Wait... what was this kid’s name again? I know he told me.... Sato? Shido? Shit... I can’t really remember. I drank that bottle of soju pretty fast so I was a bit buzzed... Before I could wrack my brain any further, I was right behind him. Well, let's hope he’s still got a good sense of humor.

“Hey Edgelord.”

“Um, hey?” he said, looking confused, but not mad. Well that’s a relief.

“Funny running into you here. How’ve you been?”

I could feel his confusion rise. Maybe he doesn’t recognize me?

“Uh, I’ve been good.”

Well, I’m already here, so lets roll with it.

“Well that’s good to hear. You’ve been feeling okay?”

I smiled at him to try and put him at ease, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. He looked at the ground and shifted awkwardly at my question. When he looked back at me I could feel the anxiety swirl around in his head. When I felt a slight realization from him, I tilted my head to the side as if to ask if he had recognized me yet.

“Y-yeah, I’ve been feeling fine.” he stuttered.

Guess not. I giggled. I didn't really care whether he recognized me or not, but it was good to know he was doing alright.

“Oh good. So, do you need any help moving in? I got bullied into volunteering anyway, so I might as well be of some use.” I showed him the heinous shirt I was wearing and rolled my eyes. He looked at it and laughed.

“Nice, but I think w-”

His friend came up beside him and poked him in the side, apparently really hard considering his clenched jaw, and cut him off.

“What my colleague means to say is that he’s super weak and could really use your help moving in.” the blonde said to me with a sweet grin.

I laughed again and nodded towards the car next to us.

“You got it. Is this everything?”

I leaned down and picked up a box, leaning it against my hip. Edgelord nodded and I followed them upstairs to their dorm. I talked with the blonde as we made a couple of trips between the car and the dorm since Edgelord was being quiet and, well, edgy. His friend was an absolute riot though. I already loved him.

“Who knew Edgelord would have such cool friends? I honestly thought he was a figment of my imagination until I saw him again today. I mean, who even likes grapefruit soju?” We cracked up at the slight jabs I threw.

“Yeah, I think me and Denki got the rest.” Edgelord said, cutting us off abruptly.

I tuned back into his emotions. He was feeling really uncomfortable, as if something I said had shut him down. I was honestly a bit annoyed by his rudeness at first, but I decided to let it go. He clearly didn't want me there anymore.

“Oh, okay cool. I’ll be on my way then.” I said, trying to keep my tone cheerful. I turned to the blonde.

“It was really cool meeting you though! I’m glad we got to talk for a bit. Hopefully I’ll see you around.” I shot him a big smile and headed towards the door.

“Hold on there, stranger! What’s your name?” he called out to me.

“Oh right! It’s Katsumi, but you can call me Kat, everybody does.”

“Hi, Kat! I’m Denki, but you can call me anytime.” He shot me some finger guns, which I found corny, yet endearing.

“Okay, you got it.” I chuckled.

I made my way past Edgelord and left, turning the corner and heading back to the main entrance to help the stragglers finish moving in. I wonder what set him off like that... Weird.

Once the student mover volunteers were released from duty, I immediately called Mina to hang out. She was always the best person to unwind with, especially when I was in the mood to drink a bit after a long day. I dialed her number.

“What it do babyyyyy?”

“My place, ten minutes, B.Y.O.B, I have a couple of beers left.”

“Down, be there soon.”

I hung up and pulled out some snacks for us. Mina arrived a little while later with two packs of our favorite beer and a big smile on her face. We just lounged around and talked some shit about people in our lives that the other one didn’t know as we drank. I loved Mina because she was so easy to be around. We didn’t have to do anything but enjoy each other’s company to have a good time.

“Hey Mina.”

“Hmm?” She turned to me, away from the television that I had put on for background noise.

“Do you remember that guy that I told you about? The one from the summer with the fucked up purple hair that cried to me at a bus stop?”

“I mean, I remember you mentioning it, but I know a lot of people with fucked up purple hair that cry a lot so...”

“Well, I saw him again today. He actually goes to the same university as me.” “No fucking way.” She sat up a bit, seeming more interested.

“Yeah, but he was acting super weird when I was talking to him. It was like he didn’t want to be around me or something... but his roommate was super cool. His name was Denki, I think.”

“Wait what did you just say? Did you just say Denki?”

“Um, yeah. I’m pretty sure that was his name.”

“Blonde, with a black bolt? Corny as hell?”

“Yep, that's the one.”

“Shut the fuck up. This whole time you were talking about Shinso? Like...SHINSO Shinso?”

“Oh my god you're right, that was his name... Wait, how did you know that?”

“We all went to high school together.” she said, leaning back into her lounging position, pulling out her phone.

“That’s crazy, what a small world. Anyway, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick, do you want me to grab you another drink on my way back?”

“Yes please!” she sang.

What I didn’t know was that while I was in the bathroom, Mina was up to no good.

Mina’s Phone

⚡️ Discount Zeus⚡️

Today

Biiitchhhhhh

Speak, wench

You’re living with Shinso this semester right?

Yyyup

And some girl came over today?

A little brunette?

...yes...spill… 👀

SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND

Biiitch…

You’re fucking w me rn???

IM LITERALLY AT HER PLACE RIGHT NOW

NO FUCKING wAY ahkswsuwdl

You know her and my son, shinso had

a lil moment over the summer right??

Yes omfg she told me about it

Dude, fucking EDGELORD??

💀💀💀

STOOOOP

I was hOWLINGGG

⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

LMAOOO

Ok but on some real shit....

Im tryna stir the pot.... You in?

Are you seriously asking me that??

You know I’m always down to rustle

some jimmies 🤠

but like...what we doing?

Don’t tell Shinso anything, just bring him to

Kiri’s party this weekend.

omg that sounds like a scrumptious idea!!

Speaking of scrumptious,

lets get food before. Imy bb

yessssss

& let’s bring our children with us

Marley’s? you know that’s our spot 🤤

YEEESSS MARLEYSSSS im so down

I miss Marley’s I haven’t been all summer

then it’s a must

can’t wait 😈

(Shinso’s POV)

“Dude...what the fuck! Why did you wait until now to tell me this?! I thought you loved me! “ Denki whined with an exaggerated pout on his lips.

I cocked my head to the side “When did I say that?” I questioned with feigned confusion.

“Why are you like this?” I choked out between laughter.

Denki shrugged. “My body literally microwaves my brain so...maybe that’s why.”

I shook my head at him and hopped off the bed to continue unpacking. After a couple minutes, I realized that Denki was too quiet. That was a rarity for him. At this point, he would usually be asking me personal and/or wildly inappropriate questions to catch up on the summer where I went from seeing him almost every day to about once a week. This was a huge difference according to his standards. Yeah, he's kinda clingy like that, but I didn't mind, to be honest. There were a couple weeks in between where I didn't see him, because I was at the start of processing the breakup, using the word process lightly. I looked back at him to see him grinning devilishly at his phone. I assumed he was talking to a potential “date’’ and went back to what I was doing.

About an hour later, I was pretty much done. The only thing that stood out on my side was one large Rorschach inkblot poster above my bed. I had always interpreted it as two kitties playing with a ball of yarn, but I left it up to the viewers interpretation. That and no one needed to know why I liked the poster so much.

“Ayo, Shinso.” Denki called out to me.

I gave him my attention and the look on his face made me a little uneasy.

“Want to go to Kiri’s party this weekend?”

I knew Denki was aware that I wasn’t a big fan of parties, but he seemed eager so it was hard to say no. Since it’s the beginning of the semester, I’ll play nice for now. This wasn’t the first excursion that he had dragged me out on and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Wait, really? That easy?” he questioned in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” I asked, mild annoyance creeping into my voice.

“You usually don’t say yes the first time around. I always have to whip out my boyish charm to convince you.”

I rolled my eyes at Denki, laughing under my breath.

“Also, before the party, we’re gonna eat at Marley’s with Mina and her friend. Y’know, our beloved grease-bucket.”

I raised my eyebrows in mock excitement. I always had to mentally prepare for when Denki and Mina were in the same room. It was easy to get overstimulated with their relentless energy, especially because they build off each other. It was similar to being in a wind tunnel, I would say. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy their combined company. Just…in moderation.

It was finally Friday, and the first week of classes were done thankfully. I was tired of going over syllabi. Denki and I pulled up to Marley’s and she was looking janky as ever. I can’t lie, the food was disgustingly good. It sounds like an oxymoron but I assure you, it’s not. Your tongue and brain were in ecstasy but you could just feel the sludge forming around your heart and slowing it down. I tried not to frequent this place due to that reason. My mouth was already watering as I stepped out of the car. I immediately caught a glimpse of Mina’s pink mop behind the window. The mess we call hair is something we could relate to each other on. She was prematurely flipping us off as we walked by her towards the entrance. Since Denki is an actual child, he immediately ran towards Mina, swiftly sliding into the booth. They embraced each other dramatically with a series of squeals. They pulled apart for a mutual cheek kiss, when a small flash of light connected them.

“Ah! You bitch!” Mina exclaimed as Denki leaned against the table, chest convulsing with laughter.

Mina began giggling reluctantly, before hovering a small bead of acid above her finger, eyeing Denki threateningly.

“No no no, please! I’m sorry!” he sputtered.

Mina raised her brow smugly at his pleading and evaporated the droplet.

“Hey Shithead, I mean, Shinso.” Mina greeted casually.

“Hey, Meanie.” I addressed her with my usual nickname for her, before sitting down.

We all looked over the menu, cracking jokes at eachother like usual.

“Mina, when is your friend going to be here?” Denki asked.

Oh yeah, I forgot there was supposed to be another person coming.

“Uuuuuuuh, right now.”

I followed Mina’s gaze to the entrance of the Diner. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I saw the same little brunette from earlier in the week. My head snapped back to Denki and Mina’s faces. They were deviously chittering to each other and tried their best not to look at me or else they’d lose all composure. I did not look back again and just fixed my eyes on the menu. I heard her footsteps approaching and realized the only seat available was next to me.

#Okame's Underbelly #hitoshi shinso #shinso #Shinsou #hitoshi #mha hitoshi #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #fanfiction #shinso x oc

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shereadsandwritesformelanin · 4 years

Text

The Baker And Her Actor: part Vii [Needy]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black! Fem reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest neither can you.

Wanings: profanity and sexual content, but overall fluff

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any request be sure to send them my way! P.s thank you so much for all the support, I’m growing so fast I’m trying to keep up and pump out as much as I can! 😭🤩 Love and appreciate you all!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[listen to the songs for this chapter/part!]

We get to see more of what our bby boy thinks this chapter!!

T/W: if you struggle with anxiety like me and Chris here is a hotline that actually works, it helps to talk to someone not go through it alone! :)

It had been five days since Chris had been gone for the Avengers Endgame press tour. It took a little adjusting for you to get use to his abscene, you’d never had a boyfriend who would be gone for more than nine hours for work. So it was definitely difficult for you.

Luckily Chris suggested you stay at his place with Haneli and watch dodger so you wouldn’t feel so far away from him.

You decided to call your boyfriend considering you hadn’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon mostly his fault because he hadn’t been responding.

Maybe he was just really slammed.

You pick up your phone dailing his number anxious with it ring that passes. “Hey, Goodmorning baby.” You greet through the phone

“Goodmorning.” Chris’s voice was usually hoarse in the morning but this was different almost bored and distant.

“Everything going okay, you’ve been kind of distant with me lately. Wasn’t sure if press was going okay.” You ask trying to discover what the problem dealt was.

“Yeah everything is fine, sorry I’ve just been jet lagged.” Chris explains.

It all made sense, of course he was tired and not just ignoring you for shits and giggles.

“I understand. Dodger is doing amazing you should see him with his sister.” You say switching the tone of the conversation.

“Bet he is.” Chris chuckles somberly.

“Maybe you should get more rest.” You suggests

“Yeah, I think I will. Call me tonight.” Chris speaks

“You can call me.’ You sass. “Catch up later, I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Chris admits befor hanging up.

Truthfully Chris did really miss you. He missed your smile, your lips, your warmth and optimizium, which he could use right now.

These tours weren’t the highlight of his job as captain America. Same questions different interviews it was truly draining. He could tell you were trying but he just wasn’t in the mood and he didn’t want to take it out on you.

Chris’s Point Of View:

I walk off the set of yet another dull interview heading toward my dressing room to be picked up for my next bland interview with Jimmy Fallon.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder turning my head to face the direction the sensation had occurred from.

Scarlett.

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been all sour faced today?” She teases eyebrow cocked waiting for my response.

“Just tired that’s all.”

“Just tired that’s all.’ She mimics “Cut the bullshit Evans I know you and I know when somethings bothering you.”

“It’s just.’ I sigh sucking in a deep breath “I’ve been seeing this woman and she’s amazing no complaints but it’s just she’s being a little clingy right now and my anxieties getting to me bad Scarlett.” I admit forehead resting in my fingertips

Scarlett places her hand on my back rubbing it sympathetically. “How is she being clingy?” She asks

I reach into my pocket pulling out my cellphone showing her the various missed calls from you and unanswered text messages.

“So your ignoring her?” Scarlett coments.

“Not ignoring I’m just exhausted and need a break.” I confess

“A break from her, or this.” She says motioning to all the cameras and lights that stood behind us.

She was right, I need to differentiate and fast.

“ I don’t know.” Was all I could muster up to say before walking away to my car that was outside.

God don’t do anything stupid Chris.

I walk into my hotel room kicking off my shoes and striking into a white tee and my boxers. I head towards the master bedroom slipping in between the sheets before dialing your number to facetime.

“Hey babe.” You say a huge smile plastered on your face. “Look whose here.” Panning to dodger who was on the bed napping as usual.

I can’t help but let a smirk surface on my face. I loved their relationship dodger was just so comfortable he might even love you more than he did his old man.

“Hey bubba!” I say watching dodger immediately perk up and get excited.

“He misses you, so do I.” Y/n states

“I miss you too.” I respond

“Do you.” She whispers almost so low I couldn’t hear her.

“What?” I question in disbelief that you thought that.

“Nothing, I shouldn’t have said that.” You retract

“No maybe you should have if that’s how you’re feeling.” I say practically scrolling you now.

The both of you always talked about never hiding your feelings from each other, always been expressive so things didn’t blow over.

“Chris, I only say this because you’ve been distant I mean I called you how many times this week and how many times did you answer!” Y/n went on.

“I’m busy y/n what did you expect.” I reasoned

“Yeah but you have time to tweet pictures of dodger and your cast. To big time for your girlfriend though.” Y/n snarled

That’s it.

“You know what i get this is difficult for you but it’s difficult for me too! Don’t you think I miss you? Because I do, I really fucking do!’ I thundered.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Y/n quips

“Don’t try and make me bad guy. All I’m saying is I do miss you, but I don’t I just don’t need someone who’s going to be clingy and consumed in my life.” I snap, immediately regretting the words that fell from my mouth.

The phone call went silent. Almost like the two of you were processing what Chris had just said.

“You don’t need someone who cares about you, right. Well enjoy finding someone who doesn’t give a shit about the real you and only wants you because you’re Chris Fucking Evans, Goodbye!” She roars

“Y/n!” I shout but it’s too late you already hung up.

“Damn it!” I shout chucking my phone across the room.

I was boiling. I wasn’t mad at you I hated myself for alllowing my anxiety to control me and say something so stupid like that.

I really fucked up.

Y/n’s Point Of View:

You slam my phone down on the night stand, slipping deeper into the covers bundling yourself and your tears up into the comforters.

You let all the tears of anger, fustration, and confusion soak the pillows. Your head stung with every word you replayed in your head.

Chris had never shouted at you, hell he hadn’t even raised his voice at you before. So him going completely psycho not only scared you but broke you.

One thing you know was that you didn’t want to be here any more and you didn’t want to be alone.

“Can I come over?” You sniffle into the phone.

“Yeah of course.”

You leash up the dogs slipping on your shoes and grabbing your bags heading out the door.

What am I doing.

You walk up to door and you didn’t even have to knock before the door came swinging open.

Deacon standing behind it.

“Hey.” you whisper voice sore from the yelling and crying you had just participated in. “Hope you don’t mind I brought extra guest.

“No I don’t mind at all.” Deacon speaks shooting you a small smile taking your bags.

Deacon wraps a warm blanket around you, making his way back to stove removing the kettle of boiling water.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks pouring you a cup of tea

You sigh. “I just, I don’t understand what I did wrong. I mean was I too clingy or was I being a good girlfriend?”

All though it pained Deacon to see you with him, he was glad you were happy for the most part. But this, this made his blood boil.

From the moment you hired him Deacon had always been protective of you, so he definitely wanted to punch Chris straight in the mouth right about now.

“I don’t think you were being clingy, I think if he is gonna have a wonderful girlfriend like you he should know how to balance you and work.” Deacon speaks taking a sip of the tea he’d just prepared

You nod at his statement but instantly shoot back to that day.

That day you found Chris awake at 3 in the morning. Sitting on the kitchen floor, face dull of emotion. The day you had to cradle him and help sooth him. The day he told you he suffers from anxiety.

You knew that’s what was eating him up.

“I don’t want to be to harsh, he has a lot on his plate.” You speak making an excuse for him.

“Y/n.’ Deacon says taking your hand in his. “No matter what he’s going through he shouldn’t treat anyone like that, especially you.” He places his hand on your chin lifting it upwards kissing your temple.

“Goodnight.” His voice rings

“Goodnight.”

Deacon aburptly stops in his tracks turning back toward you. “Hey y/n, just make sure this is what you really want. It’s only going to get more real from here.”

You draw in a deep sigh palming yourself in the face.

Was he right?

It had been a solid fourty eight hours since you’ve spoken to Chris, mostly your fault because he’s definitely been reaching out. With every call you hit and send to voicemail, You’re just not ready.

“Everything good girl?” Kiara asks slipping next to you behind the counter.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie

“Okay, well I’m gonna go to the back and check on the chocolate chip cookies.” She says unconvinced that you were actually fine.

Same way you were faking to convince yourself if you are actually fine.

Nope you weren’t.

Snap out of it y/n you’ve got work.

“Next costumer—.” You stammer Chris now standing in front of you giving you those deep ocean eyes hidden underneath his infamous Boston baseball cap.

“I’ll take an original house donut with a side of conversation with my girlfriend please.” Chris speaks attempting to lighten the mood.

You walk over bagging his donut giving it a harsh squeeze before shoving it into the packaging. “Unfortunately we’re out of a side of conversation with your girlfriend.” You sass practically chucking the donut at Chris.

“Not that I was your girlfriend anymore anyways.” you mutter ringing him up.

“What?”

“What?’ Don’t remember what you said to me?” You scrowl

Chris did remember in fact he thought about it every minute. He thought about what he could have said and done better, it drove his anxiety through the roof having you upset with him.

“I’m sorry.”

You scoff. “Yeah.”

“Were you upset?” Chris asks head hung low, you could tell he was really apologetic.

You sigh. “Yes, very.’ You admit “To the point were I went to the last place I thought I’d ever be.”

Chris crosses his arms unsure of what you meant and where this place was. “Where would this place be?”

“Deacons house.” You whisper ashamed to have said that.

“So we have a fight and you run to another mans house?” Chris shouts

He was right. You shouldn’t have gone over there knowing deacons feelings for you and having respect for Chris. Yet and still your pride had gotten in the way and you wouldn’t admit you were wrong, it was his fault we were in this fight anyway.

Right?

“So I ask you about your day and car about you and you shut me out?” You reply getting even louder than he previously was.

You could tell he was holding back, having restraint with his tounge.

At this point the remanding costumers in the bakery were starting to get quiet listening in on the action. Low whispers began as Chris’s cover had been blown.

“I should go, not sure why I even came.” He spat storming out.

Watching him leave sent a familiar pang to your heart almost as strong as the night of your intial fight.

Your eyes swell with tears.

I need a break.

“Kiara!” You croak

She peers out from the back with a sympathetic look on her face, you assumed she’d been listening and heard everything. “It’s okay go I’ve got this.”

You nod thanking her before running off and breaking down, again.

The plan was when Chris got back you would return dodger. That never happened because you two were both very stubborn, but it was his dog so the least you could was return dodger.

“Come on bubba, lets go see daddy.” You say leashing dodger up packing him in your car

Gosh saying that didn’t even feel right.

The drive over to Chris’s you thought about the altercation.

You thought about what you said, what he said. And if it was really that big of a fight to hold a grudge.

Maybe you were a bit to harsh on him, maybe.

You pull into his drive way. Taking dodger out of the car, he gave you a spare key but it didn’t feel right to use it considering your current situation.

You ring the doorbell. Bringing back so many memories of when the two of you first laid eyes on one another.

There he was handsome as ever. You melted whenever you looked into those eyes.

Don’t be weak.

You sigh. “I thought I would bring dodger since you haven’t swung by.” You explain avoiding eye contact

The tension was thick.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He speaks dryly

“Well I’ll get out of your hair.” You state turning on your heels walking toward your car.

You hear him sigh banging his fist against the door frame, stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n. I don’t want to fight.’ He breaths. “I’m sorry, I fucked up and it was never my intention to treat you like that. You don’t deserve that.”

You were stuck. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t.

You walk over to him cupping his face pulling him in crashing your lips onto his.

He’s a lucky man because typically you wouldn’t have done this, it usually would have ended the moment any man raised there voice above a whisper at you.

Your lips moved in a familiar sync. Chris brings you through the door frame shutting the door behind the two of you. He picks you up carrying you to the kitchen table never loosing hold of your lips.

“I’m.”

“Sorry.” You mutter through the messy kiss

“I know.” Chris says lifting your shirt off

“Let’s not fight.” You plead hands running through his hair.

He shoots you a small smile before returning his lips to yours.

“I love you.” Chris says pushing into your slick flods.

“I know.” You moan.

He stops causing you to sigh. You knew what he wanted.

Here I go.

“I love you too dummy.” You tease

“Mmhm.” Chris hums thrusting into you.

The two of you made sweet love all night, forgiving each other through each position. Ending the night with a long shower.

How did you go from not knowing who Chris Evans was to laying in his arms?

A/n: Whewwww this took some time to right. I wanted to make sure they made up because per the man of the hour (Chris says he doesn’t like to go to bed angry with a girlfriend) and whats a better way to make up?

Looks like the two are in love, so what’s next? 😏

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 6)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 5 !

A/N: This one is a little short, my apologies. And this is around the point I got stuck back during NaNoWriMo, so I can’t promise consistent updates from here on out, but I promise it’s not over yet.

The poem quoted at the end is called “Wild Duck” by Lola Ridge. It’s a lovely piece.

And I’m a horrible person, because I keep forgetting to credit @timelords-13 as my beta for this fic. Your help is greatly appreciated, my dear, and I apologize for falling off the wagon!

---

When you wake up, feeling strung out and dried of all the moisture in your body, you realize you’ve been tucked into your bed. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and see Yancy at the foot, legs crossed underneath him, reading the Sound and the Fury.

“Have you been there all night?” you croak.

“Not a bad book, this one,” Yancy says. “A little...boring, but the writing’s nice. Confusing--”

“It switches perspectives a lot,” you agree. You wipe the crust from your eyes. “You...why did…” You sit up, slowly. “You stayed down here with me?”

Yancy shrugs. “Youse asked me to.”

“No, I didn’t. Not really.”

Yancy looks sheepish. You’d dare say vulnerable. “Don’t push youse’s luck, we’ve got plans to make.”

His reminder pulls you further into the waking world. “I assumed you were joking, last night, when you said you had a plan.” You lean closer to him. “You were joking, right?”

“Does this look like the face of a joker, to you?” Yancy winks. “Listen, youse was right. This is big. I can only do so much to keep you safe if even the guards can be turned by this guy youse investigating. So, best bet?” He shuts the book dramatically and tosses it between the two of you. “I get you back on the outside, youse take down the guy trying to kill you, and I get no more assassinations I don’t order myself in here.”

You roll your eyes. This is mostly a cover to keep you from outwardly freaking out over the fact that Yancy just said he’d break you out of prison. “You are so lucky I’m off the clock. So where do we go from here?”

Yancy taps his fingers against his chin. “I need to get some...affairs in order. But we should be good to go by tonight.”

“So soon? You don’t need more time to plan?”

“Eagle, I know every single nook and cranny in this place. Getting out’ll be a piece of cake. Just gotta wait for nightfall again.”

You nod. “Enough time to...to say good-byes. Or, well, I imagine you don’t want me giving away the plan, so...I’ll be subtle.”

“Eh.” Yancy waves his hand dismissively. “I think some of them suspect. They��ll help you get ready, no worries.” He leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Might wanna give them a refresher on that library system youse trying to set up.”

---

It catches you off-guard, the realization that you aren’t going to get to hang out with Yancy’s group in this capacity ever again. (What does it say about you that you have no doubts that Yancy will get the two of you out without a hitch?) Here you are, standing with them in the yard, wondering how the hell you can cope with saying good-bye.

Oddly enough, they make it easier for you. Jimmy pulls you right in for a hug. “Yancy may not have wanted to see it, but we knew you wouldn’t stay here forever. Good luck on the outside, Eagle.”

You receive similar farewells from Sparkles, Shithole Hank, and Bam-Bam. Tiny, on the other hand tackles you hard into a much harder hug than Jimmy’s. “Don’t die out there, Eagle.”

“I’ll do my best, Tiny.” You hug her back. “Look, I’m going to get that volunteer program for the library set up as soon as possible. Every third Sunday won’t be enough to see all of you guys. You all better stay safe too, okay?”

And then, later, when you’re heading back to your cell, Rex passes by and nudges your arm gently with his club. “I’ll miss seeing you in that cell, Eagle. But I better not see you in there again, you hear?”

You can’t help but laugh, despite how serious he looks. “I hear you, Rex. I’ll try to get more poetry sent to you, okay?”

Rex turns away and strolls down the hall, but not before you hear him sniffling.

Yancy is waiting for you in the cell, on his top bunk. “You ready, Eagle?”

You suck in a breath and let it out, taking one last look around the cell. The one that was decorated after you started reading poetry to the inmates every night.

This was very close to a home for a long time. You won’t forget that.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Good.” Yancy pops up and holds up a long length of black cloth. “Now, before we do, I need you to put this on.”

“...I’d like to remind you of my trust issues--”

“Listen, Eagle, much as I like you, I don’t need anyone else knowin’ the way out of here. You think it’d be so good for peoples in here to be breakin’ out when they shouldn’t be breakin’ out? Didn’t think so, now put the blindfold on and we’ll get started.”

You take in a breath through your nose and take the blindfold from him. “It’s cute that you think I’d broadcast the path out of the prison.”

“I’d rather not take my chances, Eagle, now youse wanna be free or what?”

---

“And here we are!”

The blindfold drops from your face and you take a step back in utter astonishment.

You’re outside. On the other side of the prison gate. The free side. Just yards away is the woods.

Yancy’s still inside, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Told ya I knew all the nooks and crannies, didn’t I? Oh, and uh, one other thing.” He flicks his hand and the photo of your mother suddenly appears between his fingers. “I took a little detour by the warden’s office for a ‘chat’ and thought I’d swipe this back for youse.”

So the warden is most likely dead, you think. I’ll need to work on my surprise when it pops up in the paper later.

Your thumb traces over your mom’s face. The lump in your throat grows and you try to clear it so you can speak again. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t hit you until that moment. You’re out. You’re free. You’re not out of the woods (literally or figuratively), but this is a start. You can seriously get to work on your case and get your name cleared.

And yet...you can’t bring yourself to look away from Yancy.

When you don’t immediately run off, Yancy’s brow furrows. “Everythin’ alright, Eagle? Freedom is just a gander-on that way.” He points behind you. You can’t tell if you’re imagining the slight trembling in his hand or not.

“Yancy,” you start. You don’t know if you’re just stretching out this last moment together or if you’re honestly hoping he’ll accept the offer you’re about to make, but here you are. You can’t help but feel like if you don’t at least mention it, that you’ll regret it later. “Do you want me to look into your case? See if I can get you a parole hearing scheduled?”

You try to make it clear that this is his choice. That you aren’t presuming what he wants. That you aren’t coming from a place of pity. Lord knows this man has a big issue with pity and presumptions.

Yancy seems floored by your offer. But the next moment, he shakes his head. “I’d...nah, don’t do that. I’ve done bad things, Eagle. A lot of them. And...well, I belong here.” He gestures back at the prison. “This is home.” He doesn’t sound as sure as he normally does. “I...it is for now, I mean, I don’t...”

You nod your head slowly and pocket the picture. “Well...if you change your mind, or if parole comes up without my help and you decide to take it…my guest room is pretty cozy.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You’re offering the human equivalent of a semi-feral street cat a place to live and somehow you are not questioning your sanity at doing so.

(The last person to live with you besides your mom was Damien, but those days are long past. Maybe...maybe it’d be nice to have a housemate again.)

Eventually, you look back up and, to your surprise, Yancy looks as if you just plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him.

How can I say good-bye to you? How can I just leave you here? I know it’s what you want, that you’re taking responsibility for your crimes, and it’s one of the reasons I think I--

No, no, cut that thought off at the roots, do not even let it linger--

“I’ll, erm…” Yancy clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, Eagle.” His hand rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. “Maybe when parole comes around, I’ll...maybe…” He shakes his head hard, then, and forces a grin. “Anyway, I better get back. Don’t get arrested again, and hey, don’t forget about visitation! Every third Sunday, Eagle, you hear?!”

“Yancy, wait--!”

But he’s already faded back into the shadows. Back into the prison.

The gaping ache of regret in your chest threatens to swallow you whole. Out of nowhere, you remember Lola Ridge.

So my soul...emptied of the known you...utterly... / Is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song / You might have been…

You swallow past the tumor in your throat. You force your hands to release the bars of the gate. One step back. Another. Another. Another. Until you manage to turn away and scurry into the woods.

The last line of that damn poem drops into your brain like a feather, but no less devastating than a comet crushing and burning you to ash.

A word that rattles well in emptiness: / Good-by.

---

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#kat writes #prison attorney #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #wkm #who killed markiplier #why do we have to say goodbye?#when we don't know why it hurts so much?

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katcadecascade · 4 years

Text

A Late Atlas Ball prompt fic

Title: They Dance Across the Darling Rooftop Wreck

Summary: An Atlas ball isn't something Qrow is prepared for. He wants to go to spend time with his kids and Clover, really he does.It's just that none of his wardrobe is fancy-schmancy due to the fact all his shirts have an opening cut in the back.Cause yah know, wings and all that jazz.

Ao3

Chapter One: everything you do

When James announced that they’ll have a ball to celebrate the Amity satellite’s completion, Qrow honestly thought he was joking. But no, good old Jimmy doesn’t joke about coordinated events at Atlas’ elite standards.

The kids’ high enthusiasm and giddiness is expected, immediately making plans to get new outfits but Qrow can’t quite share their feelings.

He’s a bit of a mess of anxiety as he tries to move away from his kids’ happiness filling up their lounge and media room. The furthest couch seemed like the best place for Qrow to just huddle into his wings and quietly sip his tea, wallow in a festering scramble of thoughts believing that this dance will be terrible idea for him.

Before more misery could snatch his will, the couch’s weight dipped as Clover sits next to him.

“Hey,” he begins gently, “I don’t think your tea’s doing its job right. May I?”

Already he reads Qrow too well, something that Qrow actually appreciates. Qrow sets his mug on the side table and scoots closer to his boyfriend, arranging his large wings carefully. Much to his embarrassment, Clover ends up wrapping his muscly arms around Qrow’s small waist to bring him into his lap.

After a bit of shifting to get comfortable, Qrow leans his head against Clover’s face.

“What’s wrong, baby bird?”

“I don’t really do dances or balls,” he admits.

Sure there were a few Beacon dances but back then his wings were smaller, easier to manage under his cape but unfortunately these feathery appendages decided to get bigger. It was hard enough to constantly alter his shirts to have a gap for his wing bones back then.

His huntsman outfits were always specially tailored to protect his back while also leaving an opening for his wings. Yet that detail is also prioritized for the sake of him being in the field. Off missions, it was always up to Qrow to patch up casual shirts or go bare.

Since this is Solitas, the second option isn’t recommended. Well only for Clover in their bedroom but aside from that Qrow’s been wearing shirts where the buttons line up his back. It’s simple and practical but not at all the standard for a ballroom.

So it’s understandable that Qrow does not own any sort of fancy ass outfit that takes account of his faunus traits.

Black feathers ruffle at the thought, basically projecting the root of his issues to Clover.

“Dances can be lame,” Clover assured. His warm hands soothing Qrow’s lower back. “Don’t tell James but the last party he hosted wasn’t too smooth.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Weiss and Winter are in charge,” he mumbled, letting himself relax into Clover. His wings fold inwards, reminding Qrow of what’s been clouding his mind. “I don’t really have anything to wear compared to whatever they got.”

One of Clover’s hands travels up to trace at Qrow’s jaw, “You don’t have to force yourself to go.”

“I know but,” his eyes flicker over to the kids and their commotion, “I want to be there with them. It would be nice right?”

His hesitation rang out with the tiny budding hope inside of him. For years he missed out on Ruby’s and Yang’s childhood for missions or hangovers. Now with a few months of sobriety under his belt, Qrow has a better conscious to make efforts in spending time with his family.

He prefers video game nights or cooking lessons over ballroom dances but still, it sounds like a good time.

“It will be,” Clover promises, “and maybe I can even sweep you off your feet.”

Qrow flicks Clover’ ear and tried not to scoff or laugh, “In your dreams, lucky charm.”

That only makes Clover hold onto Qrow tighter, brushing his fingers through his dark hair, “Too late, you’ve already stepped out of my dreams and into my life. No way am I letting you go.”

The way Clover trails kisses down Qrow’s neck sends his feather fluffing uncontrollably.

“Sap,” he huffed before digging his hands underneath Clover’s shirt, wandering his nails across the taunt skin.

Right as Qrow kissed the crown of soft brown hair, one of his kids shout, “Really? Right in front of my salad?”

“Nora, this is my salad.”

Nora rephrases, “Really? Right in front of Blake’s salad?”

“Alright we get it,” Clover got a secure grip on Qrow’s back and his thigh before he stood up.

Qrow had to loop his arms around Clover’s neck and warp his legs around the torso too. “Geeze, give me a warning, Cloves.”

His wings flapped once to regain balance but Clover had practice on picking up Qrow by now.

Clover winked, “I told you, Qrow, I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” As he carefully walks them out, Clover whispers to his ear, “I also look forward to dancing with you too.”

Dancing, right, that’s something that happens in a ballroom.

Oh gods, what has Qrow signed up for?

That night he decides to procrastinate on thinking on solutions or dwelling on failure. Clover is a helpful distraction, the best by how tenderly he holds Qrow, how intense his lips and devoted words are. It’s all something Qrow never thought he’d ever want, passion without consequences, commitment without pity.

It’s just Qrow and Clover and he will do whatever he can to keep each other.

And that includes going to some dance.

He still doesn’t have a plan on what to wear so Qrow doesn’t know what to think when Marrow shows up at his door later in the week and announces, “Come on Qrow, we’re going shopping.”

There was no time to argue because Marrow was giving him puppy dog eyes.

It wasn’t as effective as Ruby’s but the results were the same. Qrow was helpless against bright eyed kiddos.

Marrow takes them down the humble business streets of midtown Mantle. The entire place has been newly constructed after the Grimm invasions that preluded the elections.

Long story short and one corrupted elitist CEO arrested later, Robyn got her council seat and finally got a real talk with James to truly fix the issues between Mantle and Atlas. Sure there’s still a shit ton of problems that can’t be solved in a few days but apparently this ball is to celebrate the achievements so far.

Qrow still can’t imagine Robyn agreeing to this. Flaunting money doesn’t seem like her style. Then again, it’s a party where the doors of Atlas academy are open to everyone in Atlas and Mantle. Maybe this is more than a dance, a peace offering or proof that things are changing here for the better.

Perhaps Qrow’s issues are minor to it all, that his silly worries are nothing to the whole political agenda or whatever.

“Are you okay?” He snaps his faraway attention off of the sidewalk to Marrow. The younger man gives him a nostalgic smile, “Your wings are drooping.”

Just like with Marrow, Qrow’s faunus traits would often emote what he’s really feeling. He quickly flexes his shoulder blades, fixing the wings back up.

“I’m just…” Qrow doesn’t want to admit something so blatantly obvious but he has to ask, “This ball is going to be a big deal, isn’t it?”

Marrow blinks at Qrow like he’s dumb, “Well duh, everyone wants it to be real.”

Now that wording makes Qrow even more confuse, “Be real?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “We all need something big and finite to finally get that this is really happening.”

“Okay, so this dance is big and finite.”

Marrow rolls his eyes, “Atlas loves a good party.”

“You’re right about that.”

The dog faunus huffed, “It was the best way to supplicate the masses, yah know?” Something serious and thoughtful eludes from Marrow, his past sarcasm or immaturity gone as he says, “Smile big for the cameras, really show off that things are alright now and that we won’t fall apart because we are finally in a better place than ever before.”

Qrow’s lack of response makes the silence deflate whatever energy Marrow had just now. He buries his face in his scarf out of embarrassment for venting.

“Wow kid,” Qrow manages to say, “You’re right.”

A smile peeks out of the brown scarf, “I know.”

“Were you always so…”

“Sage like? Wise? Academic?” All suggestions and baits for his ego by the looks of his wagging tail.

“I was going to say worried,” Qrow shrugged, “but yeah, all those things too.”

Marrow scratched his neck, “I try not to worry too much but it comes with this life doesn’t it?”

He’s not talking about his career, Qrow instantly knows.

Life as a faunus in a high end society is nothing to brag or shrug about. Qrow only got his popularity through his huntsman skill and even his teaching job if that’s not hard to believe. But that was in Beacon where Qrow had his sister and friends and even Ozpin.

Here in both Atlas and Mantle, it must have been a wild story for Marrow to become an Ace Operative. Constantly observed in and out of the uniform and with a faunus trait he can’t hide, Marrow must have dealt with a lot of scrutiny in his years.

Unintentionally or not, Qrow walked Marrow’s pace and brushed his wing against Marrow’s back. Where words fail him, he hopes that this gesture would be a comfort.

Marrow sends him a wryly grin, far too similar to Clover’s. “Huh, you do have your cute, touching moments.”

A wing flap aimed at Marrow’s head.

“Hey!”

“Oops.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Marrow waves off, “We’re here.”

They stopped at a store front decorated with reds, whites, and greens. On the glass windows reads the shop’s name, Northern Hyrule Designs and Seamstress.

Upon entering with the door’s little bell, Qrow tries not to groan at the sight of a fancy dress and suit shop. One side has racks of dresses, the other suits, the back is an entrance way leading to the dressing rooms where Qrow sees a three paneled mirror in the back. But smacked dap in the middle of the shop is a raised circle platform he hopes he doesn’t end up modeling on.

So far there’s only one employee in attendant or behind a door labeled for the staff.

“Hello, welcome!” A woman behind the front register greets them. She waves a clawed hand, sharp black talons matching the feathers blanketing her forearm. Near her elbow, the feathers have an orange hue.

“Hi Pito,” Marrow greeted and then whipped his head around the room searchingly, “Is Maddie here?”

As if summoned, a blur of pink and black jumps out of a circular clothing rack to latch onto Marrow’s leg, tugging at his winter coat.

“Mar!” A little girl chirped, her shiny grey beak nuzzles against the young man’s knee.

“Hey, Maddie,” he pats her brown hair, careful for the pink bow framing her face. It’s pretty cute how it matches her dress. “You dressed up for a party?”

“No, felt like being pretty in pink,” she trills and easily slides her hands into Marrow’s big ones. The kid has no personal space as she stands on his boots to physically walk her over to Pito.

The woman has a loving and aspirating look that only a parent has, something too relatable to Qrow, as she claps her talons, “Madeleine, you can’t tackle all of our clients.”

Maddie’s shoulders slumped, “Okay Mama.” She then peers up to Qrow and shouts, “Uncle!”

An undignified squawk betrays his composure while Marrow laughs sharply.

“Hah,” Pito smiles reassuringly, “my brother also has wings, greyer but that doesn’t stop Madeleine now does it?”

“Uncle,” she insists again, moving over with grabby hands but her mother guides her off that path, likely used to this habit.

“Maddie, sometimes you can’t surprise someone with a hug,” Pito lectured. She turns to Qrow with an offered claw, “Hi, I’m Pitohui and this is my daughter, Madeleine.”

“I’m Qrow,” he shakes her hand, “so, um, I’m guessing Marrow brought me here for your expertise?”

Qrow glanced over to some of the models at the window, noticing all had a defining faunus trait and wore a classy outfit.

The seamstress begins to explain, “I design and make alternations for outfits according to any faunus’ needs. Personally half of my business profits from my brother’s vanity but I make it a goal to make every faunus in Mantle feel as glamorous as any other Atlesian.”

“That’s a nice goal.”

Madeleine exclaims, “My goal is to sing like my uncle!” She looks to Qrow expectedly, batting her eyelashes.

Geeze, too many kids are good at melting his heart.

Qrow quirks a smile, “I’m sure you’ll be the best singer in Atlas.”

“I’m telling Weiss you said that,” Marrow teased.

“She won’t believe you.”

“So,” Pito cuts in, as a parental authority tends to do before two idiots start bicker, “what are you both looking for?”

“We’re here to get some new suits,” Marrow answered, already sliding hangers on their racks to examine the suits.

“Speak for yourself,” Qrow said, “I think a dress would be better for me.”

The younger man stared at him for a few seconds before confirming, “You’re not joking.”

“Nope.”

“In that case,” Pito has a kind smile as she leads Qrow to a rack of dresses, “let’s get started.”

They spend a good while looking around. Qrow would occasionally look at the suits but truly a dress is more to his preferences. Marrow sticks to the suits but sometimes Qrow would catch him peeking over to the prettiness of the skirts.

Eventually it occurs to Qrow that some of these clothes are pricy. Right, this is a business aimed towards fancy events.

“How are we paying for this?” He asks and ties to do math in his head regarding his paychecks.

“Oh right, the General saw me this morning,” Marrow reaches into his coat and hands Qrow an envelope. “This is for you.”

Flipping it open, what falls into his hand is a credit card under James’ name.

Huh, he could get used to getting spoiled with money but right now he’s not. Qrow was never a big spender, only got the bare necessities since he had to travel light. The tiny card feels too golden and clean to be in his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Pito winks at him, “I’ll give you a family discount.”

“Uncle!” Agreed Madeleine.

The little bird girl has an armful of suits and takes Marrow’s hand to pull him to the dressing rooms. That just leaves him and Pito to talk shop.

It’s kind of obvious that whatever Qrow’s going to wear it’s gonna be backless.

Cause yah know, wings and that jazz.

Plus, Qrow looks good in a backless dress.

He tries on a few different styles, from gown-like to modern. Because of he’s seeking professional help Pito had him on the raised platform and rolled over a full body mirror.

With each dress, Qrow gets more and more comfortable to seeing his reflection.

If clothes make the person then Qrow is practically ethereal and awing even to his own eyes. The skirts he wore in Beacon are child’s play compared to Pitohui’s designs. Each one is soothing to the touch, quickly adjusted for his wings and all are beautiful in their own right.

This current dress in particular is a bright shade of red that goes more into Ruby’s palette than Qrow’s but all over there are black threads weaving in looping designs into the fabric.

The collar is snug against his neck, thankfully not itchy like he hoped. The material is soft to the touch, connected to the collar and it dips over his chest in a pentagon-like shape. It wraps around his back to tie a large ribbon underneath the base of his wings. As for the skirt part, it’s a slanted cut to show off his left leg thigh and its ends nearly touch the floor.

Half of his mind is wondering what’s gonna be Clover’s reaction. Likely praises and kisses. Okay now more than half of his mind is thinking about that.

Qrow is unintentionally successful at making his cheeks match the dress.

“Ooh,” Pito cooed, “I take it that this is the one?”

He finds himself nodding before a chance to reconsider but he doesn’t dare to have second thoughts.

“Well,” he ends up saying, holding up the tail end the dress, “Can you shorten this part? I don’t want to risk tripping over it.”

“No problem.”

Marrow exits a dressing stall, a flattering blue suit vest emphases his waistline but he keeps fixing the rolled sleeves of the white undercoat.

He hums an impressed tune to the bird, “Wow, I honestly didn’t think you’d look good in a dress. I just never thought it would work.”

“What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t make you learn new things,” Qrow said. He studied his figure in the mirror as Pito worked with a measuring tape for the skirt.

The red dress shows off his silhouette, curves and dips in a smooth wave that he vaguely acknowledged with his regular clothes. His muscles add to his features, a strong contrast that brings a depth of both beauty and power in him.

His wings flair out and he can’t help but shift around, see the different angles on how the large things work with the dress. Everything looks too good to be true, elegant even or graceful. Qrow spent years not caring too much on his appearance, just shucked on whatever shirt he could around his wings. Now in this dress, it feels more than okay around his wings because it was literally made with people like him in mind.

It’s kind of refreshing to dress up like this.

Marrow’s curious gaze gets Qrow thinking out loud, “Wait, did the others not tell you about when Jaune wore a dress?”

Blinking, Marrow asked, “He did what?”

“Yeah, did it to cheer up a friend.” That’s one way to describe a memory coated with both joy and grief.

“Huh.”

A dazed off look enters Marrow’s eyes until they wander off to the dress section. His hesitant feet leads them over to the frills and silk and lace. Little Madeleine is instantly by his side, piling dresses in her arms. Qrow picks up the wary curiosity in the unsure movement in the younger man.

Taking a page out of Clover’s book, he says, “You don’t have to force yourself to do this, Marrow.”

“I’m just trying stuff out,” Marrow said, more for himself.

The guy does look a little clueless. After all, simply picking a dress and wearing it is not as easy as it sounds. For skirts, that’s only a matter of hipbones or whatever. As for dresses, Qrow knows from experience how most dresses are designed for slimmer bodies or narrow shoulders.

Thankfully Madeleine is here with a keen eye. She double-checks on the sizes for each dress from hem line to sleeves before handing Marrow the appropriate size. The kid gives him a thumb’s up in approval, assuring Marrow as he goes back to the dressing stall.

“Maddie knows what she’s doing,” Pito proudly states, “she loves helping everyone with their dresses.”

“So I’m not the only guy around here that likes dressing up?” Qrow meant for a lighthearted tone but apparently Pito got a faraway look as she smiled at the sight of her daughter reorganizing the clothing racks.

She needed a stepstool but nonetheless, Madeleine worked diligently.

“My little girl wants to make the world be as pretty as she believes it to be,” Pito said.

There was a small hitch in her throat at the ‘little girl’ part. It paired with the watery eyes Pito attempted to brush away.

“She sounds a lot like my kids,” Qrow shared.

The mother sends him a knowing look, something that Summer once had when the girls were cradled in her arms. That sweet security and peace and Qrow is slowly learning that feeling too.

They wrap things up. Qrow returns to his regular clothes, an overcoat where the entire back section is gone so that his wings don’t have any troubles.

Marrow hasn’t come out when Qrow finishes paying. Pito has a worried look but Qrow gestures to let him handle this.

Knocking gently on the door, he calls out, “Hey, Marrow, how’re you doing?”

“Okay,” is said too fast, too caught off guard but Marrow tries again with a calmer tone, “They actually do fit, well most of them I think but…”

“I’m not asking about the clothes, kid.”

There a pause and while Qrow is worrying, he also realizes that oh.

So this is what’s like to be Clover in these conversations. But Marrow is not Qrow. Perhaps they have similar experiences, but the dog faunus eventually opens up.

“I’ve never really wore anything that was for me. It was always a uniform and that was safe because at first glance, I belonged to a group.”

“I get that, kid,” he said, “Blake too.”

“I know that,” Marrow’s voice is a bit muffled but a twinge of exhaustion is there. “I just want to be confident in all of me. Like how you wear dresses or like how Blake cut her hair.” His words get softer but they make it through the door, “And May… You’re all so proud being yourselves.”

Again, words fail him. Qrow has those old gut instincts to argue against Marrow’s claim. The rooted knots in his stomach would actually hurt at someone else’s belief in him.

But those tangled threads aren’t holding strength as Qrow thinks of his pride.

Sure he has pride in his skill, in earning the two month chip of his sobriety, and most of all, pride in his kids.

As for self-pride, huh, is that’s what Qrow’s been walking with? Has that been intertwining with his acceptance and eagerness to be happy again?

Unfortunately now is not the time to have a revelation or self-reflection, Marrow is spiraling and Qrow doesn’t have much familiarity on this. He always thought as Marrow as a faunus with a strong sense of identity but Qrow should’ve know better, after all he hid behind thinly veiled self-loathing thoughts.

Qrow can’t get another word out, any idea of comforting Marrow is unsure when he hears the shop’s entrance chime.

It must be luck, good or bad, it doesn’t matter because guess who’s here.

Fiona Thyme is occupied with talking to Pito while May Marigold meets his gaze.

‘And May,’ Marrow had trailed off with, as if she’s the most important person to think about.

Without a second thought, Qrow walks up to the ladies.

“Hi Qrow,” begins Fiona. She’s the most familiar with him sense they’re the ones who had to keep Robyn and Clover from sassing each other when they meet up. She tilts her head, reading into his quiet turmoil, “Is something wrong?”

His frown isn’t reassuring as he turns to May, “Marrow’s in there.”

All he did was point to the dressing rooms and then May was already speed walking there, a panicked and vulnerable expression on her face.

The shop may have that idle instrumental music playing lowly in the background but he hears May gently say, “Marrow, it’s me, will you let me in?”

Five seconds of stasis and holding their breaths, the door opens and May is let in.

Qrow usually doesn’t look too deep into his kids’ relationships, usually because none of them are subtle about their fluffy affection or bad pickup lines. But for Marrow, he was Clover’s kid so Qrow had that innate urge to get on the good side of his boyfriend’s friends.

The other Ace Operatives still claim their acquaintances at best but that’s an utterly proven wrong at the end of the day. Each one of them cares about Clover in their own way and expressed their varying degree of enthusiasm and care for the Beacon hunters.

As for the rookie, Marrow got quite comfortable with Qrow’s flock, specifically Jaune. That is what Qrow is trying to wrap up to, Marrow and Jaune had that coffee thing and then suddenly Marrow’s joining them in game night.

So in shorter words, Qrow cares about Marrow but also wondering what the kid’s gonna do about his feelings for two people. Well according to Fiona who’s here to pick up her dress, the Happy Huntresses are all going so Marrow’s gonna be in a room with two of his crushes.

Just a normal day in Atlas.

They spend an hour longer in the shop helping Marrow decide on an outfit. Well, mostly May and Madeleine because the dog faunus trusts them. Although if Qrow guided the little bird away from the red dresses then that’s the least he can do to prevent Jaune from getting bittersweet flashbacks.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jaune wouldn’t be the only one reminiscing about the fallen warrior of reds and golds.

By the time they finish shopping and thanking James’ credit card that either May or Fiona tried to steal, the two huntsmen were back at the academy as the sun sinks into the horizon.

Marrow wasn’t too elated to hang out with anyone so he retreated to his room hugging his garment bag tightly, a relieved smile on his face.

That leaves Qrow to handle his usual amount of rambunctious kids who demand his attention.

The moment they spy the garment bag carefully tucked under his arm, they turned into vultures.

“You got an outfit? Put it on, put it on!” Ruby demanded, bouncing in her feet and just like Madeleine, made grabby hands at him.

Weiss, the opposite of childish joy, pouted, “We were all supposed to go to my tailor together!”

“But we did that other day,” Jaune complained, slumped over the couch with Nora. He’s on warren duty, keeping the thunderbolt out of the kitchen while Ren and Oscar prepare dinner.

“It’s called final fittings.”

“Is that what you call taking three hours making sure your gear is lit free?” Blake teases.

Her eyes are still glued to her book as her fuzzy socked feet are swung over the couch’s arm. Her toes tap the air, meaning she’s at a good part. Blake’s head is rested upon Yang’s lap whose idly combing her hands in the cat faunus’ hair while Yang watches the superhero movie marathon Jaune has been raving about.

“Ha, nice one,” Nora grinned and while Jaune is snickering, she tries to escape his hold.

Nora could easily threaten to hurt Jaune or actually hurt Jaune but she loves handholding too much to do that to her leader. That and Qrow has given her the parental disapproving lecture about throwing threats around.

So far her escape plan is to slitter away but from pure instinct or insight, Ren looks away from his work to just stare at her with a raised brow. Nora sinks back to the couch, just in time to watch the superhero with slow motion powers use his powers for the greater good.

“Food’s almost ready,” Oscar announces and turns off the stove, “I don’t think Qrow should risk his suit against the curry.”

“Dress actually,” he corrects, walking pass his starry eyed niece and his grinning niece and a bunch of other children that have decided to look up to him. “You four,” he points to the couch potatoes, “go set the table.”

He feels a little vindicated when they listen.

Only Weiss and Ruby follow him to his room, the one originally assigned to him but some of his clothes have migrated to Clover’s room. Still, it’s nice to have a place close to the kids. It was also a hassle to be too near to the kids’ dorms simply due to how they are in the mornings.

The two coffee machines and one tea kettle are not enough for the eight youths.

Qrow gently places the dress bag in his closet, Weiss and Ruby instantly drawn to it while he searches for some more casual clothes. Look, Nora can be a messy eater, there’s a good chance curry will be flying thanks to his semblance.

When he’s trying to find a matching set of socks, a futile mission, he hears his niece and her girlfriend unzip the bag and start to wow about his dress.

“It’s so pretty!”

“Definitely a lot more tasteful than I expected.”

“You’re just jealous that your dress doesn’t have this much detail.”

“I’ve worn countless of dresses, Ruby, and a good number of them are up to this quality. I am not jealous.”

“Nice to hear your approval then,” Qrow said. Weiss quirks a smile at him, glad that her intentions are known. “Hey, can you help me with this thing too?”

His left wing hasn’t been feeling great against the cold evening air. Maybe a feather or two were misaligned during his dressing and left a patch of rough wing skin exposed to the chills. The wing wasn’t cooperating when he tried to remove his coat.

“Of course,” Weiss stepped behind him. The first time he asked for her help, her hands shook a bit, too nervous to mess up but determined to do the task. This time there isn’t any jitter or nerves, just helpful and careful.

Once the heavy coat is off, he reaches over to find the ruffled feathers.

“Thanks,” he said to the ice princess who ironically has a soft expression that’s melting his heart.

“You’re welcome, Uncle Qrow,” Weiss replies.

A high pitch squeal exits Ruby’s mouth despite the fact that her hands are clasped over, like that can tamper her excitement. The giddiness radiating off of her matches the squishiness in Qrow.

That squishy feeling always happens whenever his kids, aside from Yang and Ruby, call him uncle.

The first time each one said it was a total shock and it’s even more heartfelt knowing they still continue to do so.

Weiss rolls her eyes, like that can downplay the emotional impact she caused to the family.

“Come on Ruby,” she reminds, “there’s dinner waiting for us.”

She grabs Ruby’s hand and whisks her away. Ruby gives her uncle a parting thumb’s up.

“Clover’s going to love it!”

…oh boy, Qrow needs to mentally prepare for that.

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #faunus qrow #atlas ball #my fic #rwby fic #rwby

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