#I know Manager Brian is a jerk who thinks he is a God for being slightly up the ladder of exploitation but you do have a common enemy

[adrianastrix]

So, this whole "CEOs complaining about loss of humanity of people whose child they screwed" thing really riled me and I feel I HAVE to talk about class solidarity, lest WE lose our humanity.

It's very simple: if you have to sell your working hours (or the product of your working hours) to live, you are working class, it doesn't matter how much money you make.

If you can stop working and live solely from money you receive from the working class (either by renting or by loaning), you are a capitalist, it doesn't matter how little money you make.

And by "renting", I don't mean just "house renting". At the end of the day, a person who build a company, pay a salary for the workers and pocket all the profit from said company is just renting them the structure so they can be productive. A person who build a factory, put workers in it and pockets the profits is just renting it. They would only be workers too if they had a fixed salary and all the profit were equally split between everyone.

Which brings me to the loaning part. Because sometimes, CEOs ARE working class. They DO have a fixed salary and NOT pocket the profits. That's when the profits all go to the pockets of the ""investors"". A.k.a., people who loan the company money and demand as much profit as possible in return, interest rates be damned.

Stock marketing is just loan sharking on a different name.

Any interest rate that goes over what they are willing to pay from you savings account is loan sharking.

"Oh, but what about the risk of people not paying you back??"

Yeah, what about it?

If you can't take this risk, don't loan the money.

Exceptions aside, most people who don't pay loans back are severely screwed by life, usually from the ridiculously high interest everything has nowadays. I crunched some numbers and refused to take a mortgage because I would pay TRIPLE the amount back. In WHICH WORLD it ISN'T loan sharking??

Why, YES, I DO believe that a non-profit entity (most likely from the government, but not necessarity) should deal with loans. And that the amount of money someone can hoard SHOULD be limited by law. No single human being needs 1 billion in assets and multiple millions in free capital. Heck, no single human FAMILY needs it.

"Oh, but what if I want a huge house?" - without loan sharking, mortgage wouldn't hurt you as much.

"What if I want to create my own business??" - without loan sharking or renting of the means of production, it would be cheaper and more fair. Plus, there would be space for governments limiting people from opening redundant businesses, when the ones already out there are already supplying the market adequately, which would help with our trash production and frigging global warming.

All this to say that capitalists sow dissent between workers by making some workers feel special and accomplished with a higher salary, which makes low-paying workers feel cheated and gives them a public enemy with a face to hate. All that while, they are comfortably sitting on a mansion, manipulating their stocks and assets all day, demanding whatever money they feel like and absolutely safe.

So... if the "market" (i.e., capitalists) start to feel genuinely threatened by the CEO shooting stuff, they will deploy more strongly their "divide and conquest" bs. Be prepared, y'all, and don't fall for it.

Striking workers aren't your enemy. Blue collar workers and white collar workers are all working class. Even CEOs, depending on the industry, CAN be working class (if, and only if, they aren't big investors themselves, which they usually are in huge businesses like healthcare). Like Agatha Christie repeatedly stated in her murder mysteries: follow the money all the way for your culprit.

If a war breaks out between the working class and the capitalist class, don't aim at the working class. It won't do anything to shoot your comrades, other than thin your numbers.

[jgroffdaily]

Willkommen and bienvenue to another round of anonymous Tony voters debating the merits of this year’s nominations, with Stereophonic and Hell’s Kitchen leading the marquees with 13 nominations each. Despite all the mothers, rock-and-roll doyens, and Waystar Royco employees trying to lure us to the Theater District, our two veteran Tony voters aren’t overly enthralled by the season. They think it’s one of the strongest years for plays in recent memory. But for musicals? Eh, maybe some shouldn’t have made the transfer from across the pond. And while Stereophonic and Merrily We Roll Along are destined for further greatness, the voters don’t think being a Hollywood star guarantees an acting trophy. Ahead of the June 16 ceremony at Lincoln Center, they weighed in on where they stand and why.

Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Musical

Brody Grant — The Outsiders Jonathan Groff — Merrily We Roll Along Dorian Harewood — The Notebook Brian d’Arcy James — Days of Wine and Roses Eddie Redmayne — Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club

Voter 1: There are three exceptional performances in this category. Brody and Brian are extraordinary, but my vote is going to Jonathan. His performance is the best of the year in any category, actually. He manages to make, on paper, a character who might be very unlikable and turn him into a complex human being who makes some pretty awful choices, and yet we understand the humanity behind those choices. It’s a staggering achievement.

Voter 2: My winner is Jonathan. That character is a total jerk the way it’s written, but he makes him completely sympathetic and it’s a beautiful performance. But I do want to say it’s an interesting list of names. I would’ve put money on Brian because that was an amazing performance. I probably would’ve predicted Eddie, even though it was a very divisive performance. I thought it was very stylized. I thought, Okay, you know what? That’s a choice. He was just sort of there for me, but I suspected he would get nominated because it’s one of “those” roles. Brody is saddled with two of the worst wigs on Broadway — he overcame them. The one glaring omission here is the star of Tommy, Ali Louis Bourzgui. That kid is a star. He’s so magnetic. I was enraptured from start to finish and I don’t understand why he’s not included.

Best Revival of a Musical

Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club Gutenberg! The Musical Merrily We Roll Along The Who’s Tommy

Voter 1: Merrily, Merrily, Merrily. I do think it’s disappointing that the one specifically BIPOC musical, The Wiz, was excluded. I’ll say that. I’m disappointed that it was snubbed. But for me, it’s Merrily in a walk. I really liked it downtown and I fucking loved it uptown.

Voter 2: Merrily. It’s always been my favorite. I know it’s the Stephen Sondheim black sheep show, but this is the best production I’ve ever seen and I think it’s the best production you will ever see. It finally works. There’s a lot of good you can say about these four shows, but Merrily is without question the one for me.

Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical

Roger Bart — Back to the Future Joshua Boone — The Outsiders Brandon Victor Dixon — Hell’s Kitchen Sky Lakota-Lynch — The Outsiders Daniel Radcliffe — Merrily We Roll Along Steven Skybell — Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club

Voter 1: This is another great category. I loved Steven and really loved Brandon. I thought both of the guys from The Outsiders were wonderful, but I’m all about Daniel. His delivery of “Franklin Shepard, Inc.” is award-worthy just for that song. Watching him grow as a stage actor has been a privilege. He’s one of the biggest stars in the world and he keeps coming back to the stage. In this production, he just takes it all to another level. It’s spectacular.

Voter 2: I’ll end up going with Daniel, but Steven, oh my God. I’m thinking about his performance and I’m almost crying again. Ron Rifkin won for that role in the last Cabaret revival. It’s definitely one of those roles that gets you noticed. But Tony nominators have had a habit of ignoring Daniel, so I was so happy they nominated him. He’s a fantastic stage actor. This isn’t a brag, but I’ve seen everything he’s done in New York on and off Broadway, and he gets better every time. His “Franklin Shepard, Inc.”? He’s singing the 11 o’clock number at 8:30. Come on. That’s a pretty tall order. Oh, I totally forgot about Back to the Future. I’m surprised Roger got in there.

Best Performance by a Featured Actress in a Musical

Shoshana Bean — Hell’s Kitchen Amber Iman — Lempicka Nikki M. James — Suffs Leslie Rodriguez Kritzer — Monty Python’s Spamalot Kecia Lewis — Hell’s Kitchen Lindsay Mendez — Merrily We Roll Along Bebe Neuwirth — Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club

Voter 1: You won’t be surprised given all my Merrily love, but it’s Lindsay. She recently got married — Jonathan was the officiant and Daniel was the ring bearer. That’s how close they’ve become as friends, and that chemistry and love they have for one another is so evident onstage. Lindsay is really funny and sour; she oozes sarcasm, and yet she allows us to see the pain behind all the armor. In the final Merrily scene, we witness her innocence and her hopefulness in a way that I don’t think anyone sees coming. It’s acting at the highest level.

Voter 2: Even though I love Merrily and Lindsay here, I’m inclined to vote for Kecia for Hell’s Kitchen. I didn’t love the show, but she was one of the reasons I liked it. Oh my gosh, her voice. She anchors the show in a lot of ways. She’s also one of those actors who’s always been around and doing fantastic work. She made her Broadway debut at age 18 in Dreamgirls, playing Effie. This show is just another reminder of her talents. It’s not like we should give Tonys for longevity or lifetime achievement, but I feel like this is just another reminder of, Yes, Kecia is fantastic. That might put me over the top for her.

[quixotic-writer]

I’m Always On Top

Request: Anon(s)

Summary: It started out as a fun game between Sal and Q at the gay bar they found themselves at: get as many drinks and as drunk as you can. Jealousy soon takes over Sal and it leads to the two going home. But Sal decides to try and put Q in his place by playing dominant and taking the role of top for the evening. But as Q had always said: “i’m always on top.”

—————————————————————————

They had come to the bar together with friendly competition in the back of their heads: get as many free drinks as they can. It wasn’t just any bar, it was the local gay bar. It didn’t matter who won, the only thing they cared about was that they go home together.

The music was flooding the club and people of all walks of life from anywhere you could imagine were swaying and moving in tune with the music. Those who were sitting at the bar or leaning against it were engaged in their own social exchanges. With a shot in their hands, they toasted to each other.

“May the best man drink.” Q said. Glasses raised and it was down the hatch in a second. A shot of confidence burned their throats and they split from one another and made their way through the bar. Q had found himself sitting at the bar and someone was quick to approach him and give a little bit of sweet talk while flagging a bartender down. Sal felt a pinch of discouragement when no one was as quick to approach him, but he would soon find his confidence once he worked his personable charm.

As Q was in his seat, his eyes wandered and saw Sal across the bar. He was talking it up with a bunch of people, eyes hungry and eating him up as his hands moved around as he talked. One hand held a drink and there was another one sitting in front of him along with a little shot glass. Q felt proud of him in a weird way, managing to finesse that many drinks in such a short period of time was truly a feat. He would have thought that he would have been jealous, but for some reason he didn’t. He was absolutely crazy for Sal and he knew had those same feelings, but within Sal, that crazed love was something magnified to significant levels.

Sal was the one who got jealous, probably because he knew of Q’s vast and diverse fan base that would thirst over him and would often be all he saw online. Q could have anyone he wanted really, and he often worried if he was enough. This led to fits of jealousy and clinginess for Sal, a reaction he wished he could better control but it always got the better of him.

The night continued and drinks flowed endlessly. Q was on his 7th or maybe 8th drink and he was off on the dance floor, completely forgetting about the little competition he had agreed to for the night. Sal had totally lost track of his drink count as shots were poured endlessly. He was absolutely intoxicated, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been bought so many drinks, it made him feel special in a way. His eyes looked around for Q as he decided to slow things down a bit and sober up a little with some water. When his eyes found his boyfriend, hot anger filled him in a second.

Q was out dancing with guys all around him, not a care in the world. In his drunken brain, Sal believed that Q didn’t care about him at that moment. He was quick to leave his spot at the bar and make a bee line over to his boyfriend. He quickly grabbed him by his shirt collar and smashed his lips against his. When he pulled away, Q was excited to see him.

“Hey Sally! Surprised you don’t have a drink in your hand.” Sal glared at every one that was feeling up Q and they all quickly backed away. He reconnected their lips and quickly darted his tongue into Q’s mouth and Q moaned at the sensation, bringing Sal in closer to him. The tempo and bass of the music was vibrating in them as they flowed to the tune, hips sinfully close and grinding together. Sal finally pulled away just to catch his breath and Q was left almost speechless, hungry for something else.

“I think we’ve had enough to drink… Let’s go.” Sal said in a very demanding tone. It took Q aback a little, but took it as Sal being needy for some sexual relief after their little stunt on the dance floor together. He agreed with his lover and they called a cab.

When they reached home and made their way to the bedroom, Sal was quick and rough with his movement. He ripped open Q’s button down, exposing his chest and his lips were quickly attached to the skin leaving hickeys all over and everywhere his lips could reach as fast as possible.

“Fuck, Sal. Slow down baby.” Q felt Sal attempting to overpower him, and he didn’t even know what brought this on. But, if he kept this up, Q wasn’t afraid to put him back in his place.

Sal ignored Q as clothing was shed away. Layer after layer until they were in nothing but their boxers. Q was sitting at the edge of the bed, Sal was straddling him. Lips were intertwined, only occasionally leaving when each of them were painting the other’s skin with bruises. Their lips were smacking together, moans loud in their throats, and then Sal made the next move. He shoved Q back into the bed and was over him.

“You’re fucking mine.” He mumbled harshly before he bit down onto the flesh of Q’s neck earning a groan from him. The next thing Sal knew, there was a hand on his throat. Q sat up straight with Sal’s face mere inches away from his and a hand was gripping the sides of his throat, nothing threatening or endangering in the slightest, but something to earn dominance back. It showed signs of working as Sal let out a little whimper.

“What is your deal tonight?” Sal’s dominance quickly began melting away as Q began taking control, “I try to have fun tonight and you cut in, and now you’re trying to top me?”

“They were all over you Brian.” He mustered out trying to keep a brave face. He tried to resist falling into submission, but the way Q was looking at him, the way his hand was on his neck, the posture he was holding, he knew this momentary bliss of being in the dominant role would soon dissipate.

“Because you’re being a little brat you think you’re all of a sudden dominant sweetheart?” Regret filled Sal as he felt an impending punishment coming clear into view, and it was, once again, because he let his jealousy get the better of him. The rush of momentary power was exhilarating, but not worth the cost of the punishment he was about to receive. “I’m always on top.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry, what?” Sal was now backed down to lay in the bed as Q hovered over him with lust filled eyes.

“I’m sorry daddy! Please!” Q chuckled as he watched Sal squirm beneath him. He rubs his hand over his clothed erection earning more whimpers as his back arches, seeking more contact from the dominant.

“You’re only saying that because you’re in trouble.” His lips made contact with Sal’s bare skin and littered the untainted skin with marks of his own. His hands were delicate, finger tips tracing over his skin making goosebumps form wherever he touched. Sal’s skin felt like it was on fire. The juxtaposition of Q’s careful hands and his rough mouth made him strain painfully against his boxers, aching for more as he tangled a hand into Q’s hair, physically begging for more sensations, and above all: friction. “You don’t get to cum ‘til I say. Got it?” Q reached underneath the bed and pulled out a box of toys that they had begun collecting since they had been together.

“Please just touch me, I'm sorry, please I need you! I won’t do it again, I'm sorry!” Q promptly removed Sal’s boxers, watching as he sprung free and was twitching like crazy already. This was gonna be fun.

“I don’t want to hear anymore. You’ll learn now. On your stomach.” Sal listened, not wanting anything to be worse. He dreaded what Q was about to do to him, but at the same time, it sent a pleasurable chill down his spine that made pulsate. He felt Q’s hands smooth over the curve of his ass before his cold fingers found their way to Sal’s entrance. He let out a shaky sigh before lube covered fingers found their way in him and stretched him out.

One finger, then another, then another was added. Each time he was stretched out more, the louder his pleasured noises became. Strained mewls, prolonged moans, throat wrenching gasps.

“You should hear yourself, you filthy slut. Making so many noises already and you only have my fingers in you.” The dirty talk only made Sal’s hips buck backward into the fingers that slid in and out of him. His cock was rubbing against the sheets below him and only added to his growing pleasure. His eyes were closed as he savored each sensation. “You take my fingers so well though, don’t you? I know just how to make you feel good, I know you in and out, and I know just how to get you off.” His hot breath was in his ear and it only brought him closer and closer to ecstasy. Truly Q was the only person that knew just how to pleasure him, and his confidence in knowing that as a fact was so hot.

“God, daddy. More! I’m gonna cum!” After that last sentence fell out of his mouth, Sal was left empty as Q removed his fingers. “No, please!”

“Remember sweetheart, you’re getting punished. If you cum at all, it’ll only be worse for you.” Q sat himself on the bed with a hitachi wand in his hand. Back against the headrest, he pulled Sal between his legs and had him resting against his chest. Sal could feel his hard on pressing against his ass, he was always impressed with the will power Q had when it came to being hard. When he fell into a dominant position, he held himself back. Q found more sexual gratification in pleasuring others than himself.

Q placed the wand aside for the moment, and instead, his hand took grasp of Sal’s now leaking cock. A shallow pump around the head of his cock easily made Sal’s hips jerk off the bed and hands grip at the thighs that encased him where he was.

“So sensitive already baby?” Q teased as his hand kept pumping Sal. Sal watched, hypnotized by the hand moving up and down, watching as the tip of his cock poked between the top of Q’s fist only to disappear once again as it rose again. Q would twist his fist, tighten his grip, and kiss and lick at Sal’s exposed skin as he pleasured him, savoring the noises that came out of the submissive. “Tell me baby, tell me how it feels.” Sal was gasping for air and almost felt like he would never be able to form a sentence with the amount of blissed out fog that clouded his brain. “Tell me or I'll stop now and go to bed.” The commanding tone forced Sal’s lips to part as he tried to form anything, something comprehensible.

“It feels… mmm… so… so good. I… I can’t… I–”

“Can’t what sweetheart?” The innocent tone felt mocking. It frustrated Sal as all he wanted to do was cum.

“I just… I just wanna… Cum!” Sal’s hips started bucking into Q’s fist, and Q kept his hand still for just a moment. He watched as Sal tried so desperately to please himself, but as soon as he knew that he was dangerously close, he took his hand away and watched again as Sal squirmed and whined.

“Not so fast Sally. Good things come to those who wait.” He lays tender kisses on the sides of his face and his shoulder as his hands smooth over the skin of his inner thighs, so close to being where Sal wanted them, but never giving him the satisfaction. A hand strayed away and took the hitachi wand that was set aside. “I know just how much you love this toy. The many times I've had you tied up,” he switches it on, low hum filling the room, “left you for hours just to see how much you had in you.” He glides it along Sal’s thighs, hovering around his most sensitive spots where he could sense the vibrations but feel none of the sensation he craved.

Q took the wand and ran it quickly on the underside of Sal’s cock and watched him moan and squirm. Sal kept trying to keep Q’s hand where he wanted it, kept trying to gain some control over everything, but it was no use because Q would simply overpower Sal and pull away, straying him away from climax.

“You’re so impatient.” The teasing went on for what felt like forever to Sal. Circles around the head of his cock, delicate strokes at the base, vibrator held under his balls. No matter how much Sal begged, whined, pleaded, and apologized, it seemed as though Q had tuned him out fully and was getting pure enjoyment out of the sadistic sexual torture he was putting his boyfriend through. He loved watching how much Sal’s cock was twitching at the faintest sensation, how much precum was slowly spilling out of his slit, and all the noises that made that made his own cock pulsate and twitch. He would let out an occasional moan or grunt whenever Sal would buck his hips, causing a little bit of friction on his cock that rested against his back, or whenever he made a particularly delicious sound.

After a while, Sal had once again lost all ability to remotely let out any words that would make any sort of sense. His speech skills had withered away as he drowned in his own pleasure as a means to reach his high that he knew he wouldn’t get to until Q gave him the word.

“Why don’t we have a little change in pace?” Q turned the vibrator off and Sal was yet again left to step away from the edge of euphoria as he was so close once again. He was panting and he looked at his cock; Slick with precum, the once rose colored tip was now red and begging for release, he could feel his crotch pulsating. He was panting and he felt spent but he hadn’t even gotten to cum yet. Q stepped away and reached into the box of toys once again, pulling out a decent sized dildo and giving it to Sal. “Go ahead, pleasure yourself for me.” Sal felt almost like it was a joke, that there was going to be something more. He didn’t question though as he teased his eager hole with the tip of the dildo, pushing himself up against some pillows on the bed and spreading his legs. Q sat across from him, legs touching Sal’s as he watched his lover’s movements closely.

Sal relished in the sensation of the dildo entering him. It didn’t feel nearly as good as Q does, but after the time spent left on edge and feeling empty after Q had removed his fingers, this felt like heaven for him. Slowly, he pushed it all the way in up until the base and he held his motions still, taking in the full sensation that he craved as his head rolled back and his eyes closed, a breathy moan and relieved sigh filled the quiet room.

“Go ahead baby, make as much noise as you want. You know I love it. Put on a show.” Per his request, Sal went on to make a sinfully gorgeous and pornographic display just for his lover. He kept his motions fluid and sensual, biting his lip but never holding back on any noises, mewling out a little ‘yes’ or ‘fuck’ here and there, eyes half hooded and going back and forth between eye contact with Q and his cock that he was stroking in a tight fist. “Tell me how it feels sweetheart.”

“Oh, daddy! It feels so… mmm… so fucking good.” Sal felt himself start to get close again and watching Q get himself off as hard as he was wasn’t helping him hold out at all.

“Yeah?” Q was close, he felt as though he had been teasing himself all evening, but neglecting his own pleasure for however long they had been encased in the bedroom was well worth witnessing the display of sexual torture he had been putting Sal through. He was sadistic, but he knew Sal loved it, it was evident by how much Sal was loving it now.

“Fuck yeah… But it doesn’t feel nearly… nearly as good as you.” He had to take pauses between his words to let out more pleasurable noises, hoping that if Q came, he would get to as well. “Your thick cock in my ass… tearing me in two… and you know… you know I love the pain.” Sal had hit a particularly sweet spot inside of himself and he almost toppled over. He started slowing his movements more despite wanting to cum so badly, but he didn’t want a worse punishment. He knew the next consequence would be not cumming at all or not being able to cum for a period of time no matter how often they had sex.

“I fuck you so good, huh, baby? Better than that piece of silicone you have in your ass? I know you love it rough, I know you love the torture. You just love being dominated, being played with, my little fuck toy.” Q’s fist tightened more and his hand was a blur as he chased his high.

“I want you to fuck me so bad daddy.” Q didn’t need to hear anything else, he was all over Sal. He quickly threw the dildo aside and locked lips with Sal, grinding their hard-ons together as tongues swirled about.

“I’m gonna fuck you better than you ever could with that dildo.” He grunted as he lined himself up with Sal’s entrance.

“Fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.” Q’s eyes met Sal’s in that moment, his normally tender cocoa eyes were gleaming with love, but now, they were filled with a fire ignited from within that spelled out one word: lust.

Q bucked his hips and almost knocked the wind out of Sal in that single motion.

“Gonna cum!” The dirty talk, finally feeling Q inside of him, and the (what felt like) hours of teasing is starting to send him into a spiral of blinding ecstasy.

“You fucking better not! You better hold it in, you do not get to cum yet.” Sal raked his fingers down Q’s back, doing his best to hold on and hold back for his own sake. Tears were streaming down his face, half of it was from pleasure, half of it was from pain because he had been holding back for so long already. Sal’s lips were parted as painful and pleasured cries fell out of his mouth. “That’s right, let the neighbors hear how bad you’ve been, let them know who owns you.”

“Daddy! Please! I… I can’t! I…” It started to become painful, he knew he could safeword at any time and it would be over, but he had come this far and he was going to deal with his punishment. As Q continued thrusting, he felt Sal tighten around him and he felt like he was seeing stars as he was just at the edge,

“Gonna… Fucking… Cum!” With a few rough, slow thrusts, Q buried himself to the hilt as he released himself into Sal with a long moan. Both men were panting, but Q knew that it wasn’t over just yet. He took Sal’s cock in hand and started pumping him hard and fast in a tight fist, “C’mon baby you wanted it so bad, take it. Cum for me!” Sal was practically screaming as he came explosively all over his chest in big thick spurts. Q kept pumping him and pumping him until Sal felt as though there was nothing left in him.

Once his orgasm had finished ripping through him, both were left on the bed panting, exhausted from their strenuous night.

“You Okay?” Q asked as he shifted his head to look at Sal. He didn’t say anything but nodded his head to respond. “You know I'm crazy for you and only you, right?”

“I know,” Sal spoke softly. “I guess it was a bit of the alcohol and my jealousy problems again. You’re just so good looking and I just feel like you could have anyone you want.”

“But I chose you. And I will always choose you.” Sal looked over and smiled. Their lips met in a soft kiss and they giggled together. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I bet you’re tired as hell… You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise. Even though it was torture, one of the best orgasms I ever felt.” They got up off the bed and went into the bathroom,

“So good you’d want me to do it again?” Q teased.

“Not for a fucking long while!”

“Or whenever your jealousy gets the best of you again and you try to top again.” Q laughed and Sal felt a little ashamed because of it.

“I don’t even know what possessed me to even try and do that.”

“Jealousy.” Sal just rolled his eyes as he stepped into the shower. “C’mon Sally you know i’m just teasing. You love me.” He stepped in behind Sal and peppered his cheek with kisses,

“I guess I do.” He said with a smirk.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.5

A scream shocks you out of your fuzzy thoughts. You look around and notice Connor sitting alert and looking like he wants to run down the hallway this very instant.

“Connor?” the head snaps to you immediately and before you can even question his presence in your home he jumps up and barks then walks in circles near the door.

Great a dog who has no sense of horror movie tropes. Since the scream did come from inside your house you should go find the person who made it and see what's wrong. Also maybe get clarification on why they're in your home. You aren't dead and are still in the same clothes so you figure you're alright around them. You follow Connor to where Toby is, in your kitchen staring out the window standing at a very odd angle. Like he caught himself before he fell backwards but hadn't bothered to get up.

“What's up....oh.” is all you can say as you see Chonk's head whip towards you and Connor before he books it for the tree line. Damn that fat raccoon can run fast, good to know if he ever wants to chase you down in the future. Which he might if you don't leave his slice of pizza out today.

“'oh' 'oh', that's all yo-you've got to say about a giant fuck-ing ra-mrrow- raccoon!?!” maybe thinking this guy was composed and unphased was a misconception, if seeing Chonk has put his world views in question.

“I mean he probably just eats a lot of pizza.” to put it simply you never gave much thought to the fat little trash thief, he was just fat and he existed. Visiting your home for the slice he deemed his every other week. Probably had other homes in Kepler he terrorized for the same reasons. God knows Leo would never put up with a raccoon trashing his store for his pizza. Or even his home for that matter.

“He's nearly half the size of Connor!” looking down towards Connor you tilt your head.

“Are we talking about with his legs or just his torso?” you could maybe see the size comparison with the dog's body but with his height it was a different matter all together.

Toby rolls his eyes before going and sitting down at the small breakfast table where he seemed to have found your fidget cube and had been well fidgeting with it. You take the seat opposite of him, it's weird having a guest over especially when you didn't invite them in. Well now that removes the chances of him being a vampire you suppose.

Perfect not a kidnapper, nor a vampire, and he's helped you out twice now. The two of you might well be on your way to becoming best friends. That is if he could get past this episode of yours.

“I still don't know what happened last night, but I'm done with the freak out.” you say as you idly pet Connor.

“...What?” he's squinting at you trying to get a read on how anyone bounces back from something like that so calmly in a matter of hours. Especially when he'd been checking up on you and Connor only to see you still staring off into space.

“Oh, uh... I have Autism. Isn't good for much but helps me rationalize events quicker and move past emotional and mental breakdowns pretty quick too.”

“Is that an Autism thing?” you shrug at his question as he jerks his shoulders forwards a few times.

“Probably more of a me thing, but I've read the trait tends to be more common in those of us who are neurodivergent.”

You hear a murmur of telling someone later later. Filing that away to take note of another day you stare at Toby who in turn stares back. This goes on for a bit, you couldn't even classify it as a staring contest since you are both still blinking occasionally. You aren't really sure if you should say 'thank you' first and then ask the man what he's doing in your home or wait for him to break the silence. But as you stare at Toby, into his eyes, you get the feeling this man is more of a zombie than anything else. The type to drag along and go at a snails pace rather than get into the messy bits in one go...ironic choice for comparison.

“Thank you for driving me home...but why are you still here?” you hear a huff of laughter?

“You weren't really in a position...” knuckles pop “to be left alone. What if you got back into your car again?” his eyes cut and there's a bit of bite to his words...it wasn't directed towards you, you can feel that much.

“Fair enough.” you glance at the stove and see the clock shine a little before six. “Would you like some breakfast” his neck snaps to the left triggering your own to snap as well, “or a ride home?” you finish asking.

“Can you make something for Connor too? Don't trust you behind the wheel yet.”

“Oh sure! What does he normally eat?” Perking up at the thought of the dog being off duty, that means actual pets!

“He-mrrow- normally gets oatmeal with some fruit or veg and anything raw I can find.” He finishes with a whistle for Connor's attention, and then a pointed finger flipping down in front of him. The dog trots over and sits down, while Toby takes off the vest you look through your cupboards to find the rolled oats you'd gotten as incentive to eat in the mornings before realizing you only liked them on certain days.

“So what does Tobias normally eat?” you call out as you look for some honey you know you threw in the cupboards.

“Anything really. I don't do slimy textures or anything watery.”

“Watery? Like soups?” Found a can of pumpkin, it's still in date too, perfect.

“Watery like...when you put too much water in oatmeal.” He nods when you silently show him the can of pumpkin asking if that'd be fine for his boy, who is sitting down drooling from his smiling face as Toby tussles his ears.

“Ahhh, thin watery got it.” You hear movement and a few grunts from Toby as you assume he tics, trying to ignore them so they won't trigger your own you look through the fridge. You suddenly take a deep breath, while looking for a meat in your fridge, and let out a shrill trill. Kinda sounds like a Togepi's cry from the cartoon. Shaking your head your eyes catch the eggs and turkey sausages you have.

“Will turkey sausage and eggs work for you two?”

“Never had turkey sausage but it should be fine.” he's leaning forward resting his head in his arms on the table as Connor lays by his bouncing feet.

You set the eye to medium heat and put the sausages on first, leaving three out for Connor. He is a big dog after all. You turned your focus on preparing Connor's oatmeal while the sausages cooked. It was kinda nice having company over even though the circumstances weren't the best. Your neck jerks to the side three times before pulling back. There's more on the way your neck didn't crack and your body doesn't let up until it does.

“So what disorder do you have?” You turn to give Toby a confused look you hope he can read through your mask.

“...I have a few..you want the list?”

“No, the tics. Lower level Tourettes or what?”

“Oh, they stem from my” head jerking twice to the side before cracking “there we go.” “Sorry, they stem from my Autism, at least that's the best I can gather without seeing a specialist. Virginia doctors suck big time.”

“Tell me about it.” that perks you right up, you knew you caught a transatlantic accent, it's pretty much the lack of an accent that gives Virginians away so easily. You already have two guesses on where Toby came from.

“I knew it, you're from Halifax aren't you?!” Since you've turned around to face him you see the exact moment his face drops. Eyes shocked wide open.

“How...did”

“Oh it's easy once you know what to listen for, in fact it was the total lack of any distinguishing accent or use of slang that gave you a way. A lot of people don't notice what they take from their communities linguistically speaking. And for us Virginians it's what we don't take. It's such a bland neutral midpoint it's why it had been so coveted during the radio era and while we might've lost the in-fluctuations as time went by, no longer needing them for our voices to be heard over various frequencies....am I talking too much you can tell me to shut up, really you won't hurt my feelings.” you give Toby a minute to process everything you've just said.

“Special interest?”

“mmm, more a...an interesting factoid.” you hope he registers your smile, hell you hope he doesn't think you're weird. You know how much you can be sometimes, especially when you info dump or overshare information. He manages to nod along with you before finding his voice again.

“Lemme guess NOVA?”

“Pfft, seriously.” you really need him to at least register the disgust on your face if he hasn't been able to read you before, “Listen the Beach isn't much better but I'd probably off myself if I was from NOVA.”

“A public service really.”

You both stare at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter. It's nothing huge but it does seem to put Toby more at ease you noticed. In the time it took you to make breakfast for all three of you you've found out a little bit more about Toby.

He's uncomfortable talking about his hometown, at least you assume, so instead he mentions that he recently came to town with his friends, Brian and Tim. Talks mostly about Connor and you learn he's to help alert Toby of his Tourettes when driving and he can even detect seizures with Brian. That's amazing, service dogs have sure come a long way! And you love hearing what a silly puppy Connor is off duty, it makes you smile. Toby in turn asks about you, and you are such a well of stories. You tell him about your family back on the coast, about your recent move to Kepler, give him a little info on Kepler to help him adjust to his stay, and even get on the topic of your extensive work with animals.

“Sounds like you were working towards being a trainer, why didn't you?”

Making a sound that sort of sounds like a jumbled 'I dunno', “Sort of don't like people that much. Dogs are fine, less complex and less likely to complain when you do something in a different way. But a trainer doesn't train the dog, they train the people.” You're placing Connor's food in front of him as he sits patiently.

It's quiet for a moment as you place a plate in front of Toby and set yours down as well. Not tense just quiet, it's very calming really. Until Toby ruins it.

“Thanks Connor.”

Like he's a voice actor who is over exaggerating the sound effects of a dog munching away at their bowl. Connor inhales harshly before diving head first into the bowl. The dog is ferociously tearing into his breakfast and you can't help the laughter that spills from you at his enthusiasm. Hands coming up near your face and shaking as you shift from foot to foot. It's a happy stim, cute dogs are of course a trigger, someone can complain later you're happy to see a happy excited pup any day.

Taking your seat and turning your attention to your food, you see Toby hasn't touched his own. He's staring at the plate with a furrowed brow, he glances up to you as you remove your mask. You feel a bit vulnerable to be honest.

“Oh is something wrong? Do you want something else?”  He's a guest who's helped you twice now the least you can do is make sure he leaves your home full.

It takes a moment but he gathers his thoughts to explain, “I have a scar...it's pretty bad.” he looks away from you.

You tilt your head not quiet understanding what he means, “Cool story, do you want me to look away?”

He stalls at this, you just keep throwing him for a loop since you met the other day. While he thinks on it you scoop some of your eggs on your spoon and into your mouth. Perfect texture and prefect flavor, today will be good.

Toby seems to have made his decision and without any show he takes his mask off to begin eating. You can see the scar he was talking about, and while the currently red and bleeding'?!' scar on the left corner of his mouth was bad it wasn't much compared to the gaping hole further up that side on his cheek. You can clearly see the even whiter, how this boy is so pale is beyond you, skin around the edges suggesting the wound was older and had started to heal at some point. But you could see most of the teeth on the left side of his mouth. You've never seen these teeth while they were still in the head. A skull or 3D model yea. But never a living breathing person's head. It's fascinating really, you hadn't even noticed that you finished your breakfast as you watched him eat, you were so enthralled.

“You know your lip's bleeding right?” eyes never leaving the boy's teeth as you see them grind down the eggs into the tiniest particles. Neat!

“Rwhatf?” the way he can talk with his mouth full without spilling it from the hole is fucking magic and you won't hear another word on it.

He takes a drink of water, again it doesn't spill. Then you notice the slight tilt of his head...oh he's had practice doing this. Impressive honestly.

“That's what you choose to comment on?” his eyes narrow at you're still gawking form.

“I'm sorry I've just never seen those type of teeth still in head, normally muscle and...and skin cover them. So this is really cool to see them in action!” gosh you're so damn weird. By his stupefied expression Toby seems to think so too.

“Plus the wound looks healed but the lips look fresh,” you get up and grab a few paper towels bringing them over to offer to Toby, “Not to mention it's bleeding and you haven't once wiped it.”

He doesn't reply as he takes the napkins from you and dabs at his scarred lip, looking back and seeing blood just as you said. He was right when he thought he'd been biting himself a few hours ago. He'd totally forgotten to check after getting you home.

“Well I don't feel it so I didn't know actually.” he just resumes eating as if this conversation didn't happen.

“Didn't, didn't, didn't” you get stuck in a loop for a bit before breaking out “you didn't feel it? What do you have congenital insensitivity to pain?” you ask incredulously.

“I haven't heard it called that since I got diagnosed.” still eating he looks at you through his long eyelashes.

This dude could not be a real person. You had to have been imagining your dream friend. Everything you learned about Toby was more interesting than the last...at least for you it was.

“Medical history podcasts are interesting.” you shrug, “should I get the first aid kit?” at his shrug you get up and go to your bathroom to retrieve the kit.

Coming back into the kitchen you catch Toby lowering your plates for Connor to lick clean. You don't see a problem with it but you will wash everything twice since the pup has slobbered on nearly everything anyway. When you don't say anything he lets Connor continue before placing the dishes in your sink.

“Such a big help” you say patting Connor's head as you pass him, “Yea I really am” Toby says as he sits back down. Propping his arm up on the table to rest his head on his knuckles, it was such a fluid and casual motion. As if he's sat at this table everyday of his life, like this was his home and you were his guest. Tied in with how comfy he is man spreading at your kitchen table you'd say he made himself at home just fine.

You smile and scoot your chair next to him first aid kit in between you on the table. Toby looks between you and the kit before leaning in closer for you to work. Grabbing the antiseptic cleaning towels you go to wipe Toby's lip when he flinches away. Probably faking to see your reaction.

“Oh, fuck off you have CIPA.” you laugh grabbing his chin to keep him in place. He rolls his eyes “And you're weird.” The vibrations feel weird against your fingers.

“I know.” you continue cleaning the small bite mark? Well he does have CIPA he wouldn't be able to feel the pain if he was gnawing at his lips. Would he be able to taste the metallic tang of his blood or were taste buds effected by the disorder too? You might need to do another deep dive on this, it just became relevant. Maybe an anxious tic, judging from the larger wound it could be possible. Wearing a mask must help to hide it but not not to stop it getting worse if no one can call you out on it.

“That wasn't an insult...” he says making you look up into his eyes as you dry the wound, “I know.” You smile down at him, knowing this time he can see it on your maskless face.

When you finished cleaning his wounded lips, you drove Toby and Connor back to their home. Which turned out to be the RV at the forgotten entrance of the forest. Toby had been a little wary you knew where he was talking about but seemed to shake it off just as quick when you mentioned hiking a lot and using that entrance because it was the closest to you.

He had put Connor's vest back on and hopped in the back with him. You noticed from the review that Connor's full attention was on you.

“This set up let's him focus on the driver, so he'll tell us if something will impede your driving.” Well that explains Brian's position the first time you four met.

Nodding you sync you phone with the car's bluetooth and pass it to Toby with spotify open.

“Rules of the road, passenger picks music.” you say simply when he questioned it.

He quickly clicked your last playlist. Probably either too lazy to find something or trying to get a better read on you. Music says a lot about a person even if not everyone thinks that way. And unfortunately for you this playlist screams mental illness and a need for therapy. But you have folk punk. So who needs therapy when you can just scream cry these lyrics.

Toby doesn't comment on it, either just totally apathetic or maybe he likes it. He's a bit of an enigma, he's open and honest for the most part but saves his opinions unless directly asked.

Even after making it to the RV without incident Toby tries to distract you for a bit and tempt you out of the car with the possibility of playing with Connor. As fun as the idea sounds and as much as you don't want to be rude, you're very tired and drained. Probably more from “hanging out” with Toby this morning than your actual episode last night. Plus you understand Toby's just trying to be nice and maybe ensure your safety.

“Could I maybe rain-check? I'm actually really tired.” you say with your most polite smile, though he can't see it through the mask  you know he sees the crinkle of your eyes.

“Sure, just get home safe.” you feel that's less about you, but you aren't sure what the hanging subject is. So cryptic.

“Yup,” you chirp, “See you later Tobias!” as you start to back out back onto the road you hear Toby say “ Later YN.”

Driving off you can't keep the smile off of your face. Toby's a nice guy, you hope you get to spend more time with him. And this time the thought isn't centered around also hanging out with Connor. Just about enjoying Toby's company.

Getting home and locking your door you strip your jeans and flannel, leaving you only in your muscle tee, and curl up in your unkempt sheets. You'll do laundry later, right now was time for a little nap.

[dailyaudiobible]

08/30/2021 DAB Transcript

Job 34:1-36:33, 2 Corinthians 4:1-12, Ps 44:1-8, Proverbs 22:10-12

Today is the 30th day of August welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we keep moving forward, the next step forward together. And that will lead us into the New International Version, which is what we’re reading from this week and back into the book of Job. Today, Job chapters 34, 35, and 36.

Commentary:

Okay. So, proverbs today. “Drive out the mocker and out goes strife. Quarrels and insults are ended.” So, like, who wants to sign up for that - quarrels and insults are ended. That sounds fantastic, harmonious, even. Good, but the mocker has to be thrown out first. And so often our knee-jerk reaction can be something like, that could be okay. Gotta separate myself from the marker. I gotta get those people out of my life. I gotta diminish my interaction with those kind of people because quarrels…quarrels and insults will be ended and so will strife. What if we’re the mocker though? What if that's us? What if we personalize the proverb instead of making it about everybody else. What if we take wisdom on board in our own hearts - drive out the mocker and out goes strife. Mocker…mocker here is person who elevates themselves over somebody else and then looks down on somebody with scorn or contempt. And that's already in place in their heart before they even say a word. And, so, the things that come out of their mouth are quarrels and insults. And we probably can give ourselves a pass in some sort of way and go…well…that's not talking about me because I don't do that all the time. I just do that once in a while when I'm really mad. That…that would be true of everybody. Nobody is a mocker all the time, but we are definitely all capable of scorn and contempt. We are all capable of being a mocker and likely we have all been a mocker way too many times to admit. But if we’re personalizing this proverb, if we’re taking the wisdom and applying it to ourselves instead of everyone else then we realize we can't bring the mocker to the conversation. In fact, the mocker needs to be driven of us because if it is then also what departs with the mocker is strife, quarrels and insults. And we all want that. So, the wisdom then is, don’t be the mocker. So often all we’re doing is exposing our own insecurities and our own issues and inserting them out of our own brokenness and then strife in quarrels and insults become inevitable. And, so, as we…I mean we are so preciously near the end of another month, that tomorrow is the last day of the month so this is a really really good opportune time to mark what's being said in Proverbs, the wisdom being spoken to us because it's inviting us to examine our own postures and our own actions and our own words and we can participate in diminishing and destroying strife, quarrels and insults by paying close attention to our posture of heart and not being the one full of contempt and scorn, not being the mocker.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit, we…we’ve just acknowledged that we are all capable of this and we have all been guilty of this, but it's never us all of the time. It's just a place that we can go to that wreaks havoc and mayhem on everything around us. We’re acknowledging that that's possible, that we have the potential to be the mocker, that we can instigate strife, quarrels and insults way more than we would be comfortable admitting, but we’re confessing. We’re all guilty. We all know what's being said here. And we all like it when the light is being shined out from us on everybody else and everything else is being exposed, but when it's a mirror and we have to look at ourselves in the face then we know we’re capable of all of this and we will not manage it without the presence of Your Holy Spirit to guide us. And that is always available but we are rarely as attentive as we should be and we get ourselves into all kinds of things that didn't need to happen. So, come Holy Spirit. Help us to see what it looks like to drive the mocker out of ourselves because then strife goes along with it and quarrels and insults are ended. Even the quarrels and insults we hurl at ourselves inside of our own mind, those can be diminished and destroyed as well if we stop mocking what You made in us. Help us Lord we have plenty of work to do. Come Holy Spirit and lead the way, we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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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 is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Today I want to pray for the woman who is having pain that's running all over her body and she said that she has two angels in her life I think her friend Kathy or…and her son. Let's pray. Our Father in heaven Lord please help this woman who has this awful pain that a lot of times we sit and ask, “God why?” And I think we're asking that right now but what I do ask is that You would be…You would miraculously take this pain away and help her to endure. And either way, help her to put her faith in You Jesus. We don't always understand our suffering, but You have said that all things work together for good for those who love You and those who are called to cling to Your purpose. So, I just ask that You would help her to ensure and put her faith and trust in You. And thank You for all that You've done. And help us all to put our faith and You through our trials and tribulations. In Jesus’ name I ask. Amen. We're praying for you, and I just ask that this pain goes away.

Hello, my DAB family this is Jamie in New Jersey standing on the word of God. This is my first time calling. I've been a listener for over a year I guess maybe longer I'm not sure, but I'm really blessed by this community. I'm blessed by the prayers. I'm pressed by testimonies. I'm blessed to be a part of this family and today I come to you humbly asking for prayer for myself, asking for prayer about the…the life I'm living. I'm incredibly lonely. You know, I am in love with a…with a woman who, you know, just really doesn't know what she wants out of life or what she wants out of our relationship, but I feel like God has called me to stand and to show her unconditional love and that's what I'm trying to do but it seems like she just pulls further and further away. She comes back but then pulls away again Lord. And it's painful, it's painful. I have other things going on in my life as well. And I have a son who has autism…has autism and I worry about his future. He's 22 years old now and I…and I thank God for all that he's given and thus far but, you know, I still worry. I have a 19-year-old daughter as well who you know is a very good child but doesn't get along with her mother and I pray for that relationship. But mostly I…I'm asking for your prayers to help me live the life that God wants me to live. Thank you all. I love you all. Thank you.

Hello DAB I just listened to the podcast of today and the prayer sessions at the end and I was really inspired by the lady who said sometimes you just have to forget about praying for yourself and, you know, praying for others. And I want to share with you only one of the stories that really inspired me to start praying for others. I have this friend, she…she's just rooted in her faith, and she is a lot of time inspiration to me and there was this faithful period where she was hoping on getting a smartphone because the pastor at their church was sharing some devotionals online and she really needed to…to read them. And, so, she was praying for God to open those to actually get a smart phone. And when she got the smart phone, I think two weeks later when she got out from the taxi, she noticed she had forgot the phone in the taxi. And there was a lady who is sitting just close by and immediately she noticed she has lost her phone in the taxi. She said, thank you Jesus. And surprisingly the lady who was seated by Axta…what do you thanking Jesus for. I think you should instant say oh God help me. She said, no, it was God who gave the telephone and if God wants it back then it's OK. 3 minutes later the taxi drove by…I mean left, dropped all the passengers and then came to her and said hey mam this is your phone. God works in mysterious way. Have a blessed day all.

Good morning this is Longing to be God's Delight in Pennsylvania and this morning I am lifting up the people of Kabul to be rescued from the Taliban, a roaring lion seeking to devour them. And they need a miracle to be free and safe in…in totally nightmare conditions. I am praying for those in flooding like Tennessee that they could be lifted from the mire and rescued. I'm praying for God to quench the fires in the West in the US and Canada and also, I believe Greece and Turkey and possibly Albania, I'm not sure. I pray for Haiti suffering from the storms and the earthquake and the gangs. Lord we need a miracle. There is no way that humans…humankind can rescue from all of this. And I'm praying for Cindy suffering from RSD, that God would give her a miracle of healing, pour His living water into her to quench the fire of her nerves, that He would change the way her brain and the messages of her nerves in the way the brain perceives them so that the pain would end and only You Lord can affect this. I pray and lift up all these things to You this morning in Jesus’ name for your mercy, love, and kindness. Amen.

Good morning or good evening or good afternoon DAB family wherever you may be listening in from. This is Anne from Arizona. I would like to say that I am smiling after hearing doctor John call in on August the 26th to share miracle number two about his eye. And I'm also really grateful for Ashley calling in and thanking us for praying as a family for her dad. God is great and He is greatly to be praised. Let's give thanks to Him. Let's lift Him up. Let's praise Him. Let's shout of His goodness and of His mercy and of His wonderful works because He is good, because He is able, because He will not leave us without, because if we trust Him, He will work out everything according to His will. It is so wonderful to hear and to rejoice with others after standing in prayer for them. It is so encouraging for the body of believers. So, we continue to pray for all those that are looking to hear from God. We continue to stand and to intercede for the body. Thank you DAB family. May you be blessed and may you have a wonderful day. And don't forget that God is working on your behalf. Amen.

[amoralto]

In your recent post from Gloria Steinem’s “Beatle with a future,” do you know the “she” that Derek Taylor is referring to? Or is that supposed to be apple or the Beatles themselves or something? Who Paul didn’t officially say goodbye to? It seems revealing how John would say “nothing’s going to change Paul.” There’s so much there. Oh and one last thing, who was Ringo saying “always worrying about people” ? Idk why but it’s hard for me to tell who was talking to who here.

Re: the “friend from Philly” Derek Taylor refers to, it’s not specified. Somebody better-versed in fan/groupie/Beatlemania-era dalliance stories may be able to connect the dots, but as far as Steinem describes it she was merely one of a few girls who’d met the band while they were in Philadelphia (September 2nd) and had now followed the band to their engagement in New York (September 20th) holding a charity concert for the United Cerebral Palsy Fund at the Paramount, their last gig on the US tour before returning to England to record Beatles For Sale. Here’s all the appearances she and the other girls from Philadelphia make in Steinem’s article:

It was time for The Beatles’ performance. Everyone crowded into the hall, looking expectantly at the room in which The Beatles had been “incommunicado” and “resting,” the same room into which I had seen Ed Sullivan disappear. Paul McCartney came out first, looking soft-faced and vulnerable as a choirboy. George Harrison and Ringo Starr followed animated and laughing. John Lennon moved quickly behind them, but his face was stoic and aloof behind his dark glasses (the face that inspired a London journalist to write, “It has the fear-neither-God-nor-man quality of a Renaissance painter’s aristocrat”). Behind Lennon came three chic young girls, two brunettes and a blonde, in their late teens or early twenties. McCartney jerked his head toward them as he got in the elevator and told some of his staff members to “look after the birds now, won’t ya.”

[...]

The Beatles’ entourage crowded together in the wings, and I talked to the birds. Were they working for The Beatles or interviewing them? No, they were just friends. “We met The Beatles at a press conference in Philadelphia,” said the pretty blonde, “that’s where we’re from.” Two of them wore wool suits with short culotte skirts. They all looked as if they had stepped from the pages of a teenage fashion magazine, and one carried a met them,” corrected the friendly blonde, “and this time we brought along a friend.”

The girls were simply left to sit in an adjoining room apart from Steinem, John, and Ringo, with both Paul and George in their own rooms presumably sleeping: 

The Beatles were leaving for London early the next morning. That, plus the fact that several Manhattan hotels had turned them down, brought them to the Riviera Motor Inn at Kennedy Airport. The rooms were small, barely big enough for a bureau, twin beds and a television set but they had commandeered a whole floor and there were policemen guarding the halls. Our room was jammed with carts of Scotch and Coca-Cola, trays of sandwiches and two photographers, the young ladies from Philadelphia, a tall girl who had followed The Beatles from San Francisco, several journalists who had been on the Beatle tour, a pretty airline stewardess in a very lowcut dress who was acting as hostess, and, occasionally, Neil Aspinall and Derek Taylor. Two of The Beatles were in other rooms, but Ringo Starr and Lennon were in the one adjoining us with the door locked. It was opened only to admit Aspinall, Taylor, one or two other selected young men and liquor.

And at the end of the article: 

I thanked Lennon, who looked worried, and said, “I hope you’re as true as you seem.” I said goodbye to the three birds who still sat in the adjoining room. Two were stretched out on the bed and a third was applying eye shadow. (“Women,” Lennon had once told a reporter, “should be obscene and not heard.”) They smiled their Mona Lisa smiles.

The “charity” concert itself was a point of consternation for the band (think Embassy-level feelings of exploitation, with the audience made up entirely of high society folk who could afford the exorbitant ticket prices and John saying they were treated “like animals”), and yet another thing in a cumulation of things they’d incurred over the past several months that had the band feeling exhausted and frustrated and even disillusioned with the unrelenting scrutiny and tabloid headlines and general mania surrounding them. Which may be why there’s a sense of distrust and weariness from John and Ringo that comes through in the article. 

Add to that Derek Taylor ultimately resigning from his position as Brian Epstein’s assistant (a position he’d only held for about a year) from the stress and that triggering argument with Brian he’s confiding with Neil Aspinall and John about (which Brian would try to backtrack on, asking him to stay, to no avail), and just the random and curious fact that Bob Dylan and Albert Grossman were there in the room as well (which Steinem only gives a passing mention to; sleepless!John and Bob would later have breakfast together), it would seem Gloria Steinem had (albeit entirely unwittingly) caught the Beatles at a very intriguing point in time. 

(I could go on more about Derek Taylor and how his emotional sensitivity/ego and issues with Brian Epstein (his management, his overprotectiveness of the boys leading to possible misattribution of blame, etc.) seems to prefigure his later issues with Paul and later serve as a bonding agent for him and John in mid-late-1968 (although John would still eventually cry betrayal, in typical gang leader fashion, when John interpreted Derek wanting to keep the Beatles together as “siding” with Paul against John), but I have another earlier ask I have to yet to reply to where that would be more pertinent for me to discuss it.)

Re: “nothing’s going to change Paul”, there’s definitely a lot to deconstruct and pick apart there, even if to the uneducated observer (Steinem) it comes across as just another “desultory” aside to pacify Derek, just as he tries to pacify Derek with the Brian issue (“He’s all right, but he doesn’t understand people having a few laughs, not even me laughs with me wife.”). Insert essay here. 

Re: Ringo, I read it as him making a rueful comment on the situation in general, and therefore referring to both Derek and John. I could be wrong, though! The mileage varies. 

I checked through @amoralto to see if I had posted/transcribed any interviews and such from around this time, and it turns out I have! Larry Kane’s with John and Ringo from Philadelphia (as it happens), with Ringo’s matter-of-factness with the tabloid trap they’re in (“I’ll have it on tape, I’ve been called a queer”) and John and Ringo talking about being the band being alone together (“One gets reliant on the others”). 

Also, I’d be willing to post the entire Steinem article if anybody’s interested! Like I said, it’s an intriguing glimpse into the trauma of living through Beatlemania, something which still gets underplayed in the Beatles historiography - and also something I wish Ron Howard’s film could have focused on, instead of just shallow anecdotes by famous fans who went to see them in concert - and a worthwhile read, even if Steinem sometimes comes across as naive and even judgmental. She also unfortunately skews towards (if not wholly believes in) the popular, nigh-deleterious stereotypes of the Beatles (i.e. John as the Most Talented and Most Intelligent and Most Versatile - indeed, she sought out the Beatles specifically to talk to John in the first place) typical of many features/articles from the time (and which still unfortunately continues to this day). 

[lrgcarter]

Auteur Theory Case Study

Here’s a post about the idea of creation and credit for creation that opens with a bit of a ramble for context, then gets to the actual point, then wraps up without any real conclusions but maybe other people can take my thoughts and find some use for them? Enjoy!

Rambling Context Information

So, many years ago, my brother and I had returned to our parent’s house for Christmas. My brother is a big Doctor Who fan, so we were watching an episode of Never Mind The Buzcocks because David Tennant was the host.

For those unfamiliar with British Old Media, Never Mind The Buzcocks is one of our many ‘fake quiz show’ shows. You throw some comedians and celebrities at a game show set and hope they do something funny and generate some content. Never Mind The Buzcocks is ostensibly a music quiz. But we weren’t watching for the music jokes. We were watching for the Dr Who connection.

At one point, in a moment that I’m sure was definitely not scripted honest, David Tennant turns to a ‘contestant’  celebrity and says ‘I get the feeling you’re not that into music. I also hear from my producer that you are a Dr Who fan. Would you rather be answering questions about Dr Who?” and he throws away his music question cards and pulls out a set of Dr Who question cards. This obviously engages myself and my brother, who also don’t know music but are familiar with Dr Who.

And the first question is “Who invented the Daleks?”

Obviously, my brother and I both shout out “Terry Nation!”

And that brings me to the actual point of this post…

The Actual Point of This Post

Because even as I shouted this answer, I was kicking myself that I didn’t say Ray Cusick. I was on this whole ‘Ray Cusick Was Robbed’ trip at the time.  Like, Terry Nation had got all the credit for years, so all the credit should be taken from him and given to Ray for a bit. Justice spite.

Yep, I was young and foolish. Since then, I have often turned this question over in my mind. It is a question that encourages thought about the collaborative nature of art, and how we both assign and reward credit.

As we all know, Terry Nation wrote the initial Dalek story in 1963. Yes, I know its name[s], don’t test me jerks. Nation somehow managed to get the property rights split between the BBC and himself. Never been clear on how he managed that. This meant he got to write most Dalek stuff from that point onwards. Not just on Dr Who, but also on the Dalek Books and the abortive attempts to make a Dalek spin off series and so on. Even Nu-Who still has to get their Dalek stuff cleared by the Nation estate. So that’s why his name was the first to spring to mind.

But what is a Dalek without the icon design? That’s where Ray Cusick comes in. The design has remained essentially unchanged for over 50 years. It can be recognised in silhouette, which is a thing design folk say is good. The design can be easily extrapolated from to create variations that are still recognisably Daleks, good for world building and merchandising alike. The fact that Ray didn’t get a slice of that property right pie is a great injustice! Hence the immediate regrets!

But there’s still more!

What is a Dalek without its voice? If you’ve ever seen footage of Daleks without the voices processed you’ll know they just look sad. I’m not talking about cosplay Daleks, fans obviously go to great lengths to get good voices. I’m remembering times lackluster Daleks have shown up on Blue Peter and the like. In fairness, the Dalek actors weren’t being paid enough for that. Voice actors like Peter Hawkins and David Graham did their job with their mouths, Brian Hodgson did processing things, and they made a sound that has, again, remained pretty much unchanged to this day. Have you heard how the Cybermen have changed through the years? That Daleks haven’t been through the same mess is proof that the voice people deserve some creation credit.

And let’s circle back to the people in the Daleks not being paid enough! They worked in impossible props, and they made them work. If they hadn’t made them work the Daleks could easily have joined the vast ranks of laughable Dr Who joke villains like the Quarks and that dinosaur horse thing. God damn, that dinosaur horse sounds great until you see it. God damn. Anyway, the people in the props should get a portion of credit.

There’s loads of other people who aren’t even remembered because they weren’t high enough up the production hierarchy. Prop people and stage hands and people who would lay down the little paths that Daleks needed if they were to cross quarry pits etc. And it’s not just the initial creation, it’s also the maintenance of the brand. Long after the various creators have retired and died and shit, plenty of other people are contributing to ‘reinventing’ the Daleks by repeating and refining them. Nicholas Briggs has been voicing the Daleks since before the start of Nu Who, and when they started the BBC folk asked him to bring his own equipment because theirs sucked too hard or something.

And this collaborative work isn’t reflected in the normal attribution of who invented the Daleks. Maybe in fandom encyclopedia entries to a limited extent, but certainly not in terms of actual material recompense. That Terry Nation got half property rights was an injustice. However, I no longer resent him getting that portion of the rights. It is to this day surprising he got any rights! The injustice is not that he got the rights, it’s that none of the other people got their own fraction. I guess that’s the point I’m making? That property rights laws should allow for flatter structures, possibly by first crushing capitalism. I’ll leave the details to other people, but this is maybe a helpful case study that someone doing this sort of media thinking might be able to put into better words?

Lack of Any Real Conclusion

Back on Never Mind The Buzcocks, the celebrity answered ‘Davros’. They were rightly awarded the point.  

[illfoandillfie]

Quiet In The Library 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Request: Pretty please can you do a quiet in the library part 3 ?? 😁your writing is Top Notch I looovve the way you write roger! Congrats on 1000 followers you deserve them all!!! 💕💕 

Please can u write more about quiet in the library ? This is so fucking good I’m super fan 🥺 maybe reader can be a little cocky for once like teasing him at a show or something then Roger get his revenge visiting her again 🥰 if you don’t feel it that alright, I love ur writing anyway !!! (Probably one of the best at writing smut especially) 

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, public sex, library sex, spanking, unprotected sex, 

Words: 2777

A/N: Written as part of my 1000 follower celebration, I got 2 requests for this one! I’ve been meaning to do a QITL 3 for a while and actually planned to have dom!reader in it but that was before I felt comfortable writing dom!reader and I kept putting it off so maybe I’ll write a QITL 4 at some point 🤷‍♀️

Taglist:  @laedymoon​​​​  @dtfrogertaylor​​​​   @ezmina98​​​​  @vee-ndetta​​​​ @atomic-watermelon​​​​ @kellypenac​​​​ @labessieisallama​​​​ @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr​​​​ @drowseoftaylor​​​​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​

When Roger called and invited you to watch him play you were excited for two reasons. Number one, you genuinely enjoyed the music and watching the boys play was always a good time, especially now they’d found a slightly larger audience to play for. And, number two, you felt like you could get a little payback. You’d spent weeks of work unable to think of anything but the ways Roger had used you among the non-fiction shelves. There was a small stain on the carpet in the back row, a lingering souvenir from Roger’s last visit, and every time you saw it you were hit by a flurry of memories and the sudden need to get off. It was only fair for you to give him a taste of his own medicine and after all, this was essentially Roger’s workplace, unconventional is it was. So, with that in mind, you got ready in an outfit that could only be described as the complete opposite of your workwear. There was no room for knee length skirts or smart ponytails. Instead you opted for a short skirt and a plunging neckline. You let your hair down and did your makeup, anything to make Roger hot under the collar. 

They were still setting up when you arrived and headed backstage, but you caught Roger’s eye and blew him a kiss.   “Well look at you. Very different to last time I saw you,” he said as he came over and hugged you in greeting.   “Yes well, that’s what you get for visiting me at work. I told you that was the least sexy outfit I owned.”  “And what does that make this outfit?”  “Well I thought it was definitely one of my sexier options, wouldn’t you say?” you twirled a strand of hair around your finger as you spoke.  “I might go so far as to call it slutty.”  “Bit rude –”  “I said might!”  “But not completely incorrect.”  At that moment Brian walked over, “Rog c’mon we’re- oh Y/N! Hi,”  “Hey Bri,” you gave him a quick hug too, hoping Roger was looking at your short skirt riding up as you pushed yourself onto tiptoes.  “We were just discussing Y/N’s outfit. Seems out sweet little librarian is in the mood to pick up,”  “Thanks Bri for telling him about my job, by the way, so glad he knows now.”  Brian rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry. I was drunk and it slipped out.”  “How’d you even find out? I never told anyone,”  “Saw you there a few months ago. Kept meaning to ask you about it but it always slipped my mind.”  “Yeah well, this one,” you jerked your thumb at Roger, “has been a right shit about it,”  “You love it,” Roger said with a grin, “anyway Bri, what’d you want?”  “Oh shit, yeah. We’ve gotta go get ready. Are you gonna be here after the show?”  “Course she will be. Unless she finds some poor bloke to take home,”  “I’ll be here, front row the whole time. Wouldn’t miss your show for the best lay in the world.”  “That’s cause the best lay’s up there playing,” Roger winked at you and then he and Brian disappeared behind a door leaving you to head out to the crowd and take your spot up front.  

It was useless to try and get Roger’s attention while he played. Between sitting at the back of the stage, his shithouse eyesight, and his complete focus on playing, there was no chance in hell he’d even be able to see you let. Instead you got yourself a drink and settled in to watch the show, chatting occasionally to a excited girl beside you. She’d snuck out for the night just to see them and maybe try to hit on Roger.  You looked her up and down, “Roger is very cute. Shame really,”  “What’s a shame?  “You haven’t heard? Roger’s already got a girlfriend. Hopelessly devoted to her apparently,” you sighed for dramatic effect, “I heard he’s been looking at rings and everything. Shame the rest of us can’t have a shot with him, but at least the other three are still single.”  “Oh,” she looked disappointed but you saw her eyes flick from John to Freddie to Brian and back again as if she were comparing her options, “Thanks for the heads up.” She turned back to the stage, her eyes now glued to the bassist. That was your competition taken care of, although there was bound to be more of them out there. 

As soon as the music stopped you made your way backstage again and latched onto Roger’s arm. For the rest of the night you were basically glued to him, making it very obvious you wanted him. You even went so far as to sit on his lap at one point, intentionally wriggling your arse against his crotch in an attempt to make him hard.  “Thought you wanted to score tonight?” he asked you while the others were distracted, “why’re you hanging round here?”  “Maybe I want something specific, something I don’t think just anyone could give me,”  “Alright love, I know what you’re doing,”  “Other than trying to get you alone?”  “This is a shitty attempt at payback, isn’t it?”  “I don’t know what you mean,” you hoped you didn’t sound too obvious.  “You made it so obvious,” he laughed.  “All I’m trying to do is get laid Rog. I have a late start tomorrow cause I’m on locking up duty and I thought I might have some fun,”  “You think you’re being clever but I’m on to you,”  “Ugh fine. I should have just let that slut from the crowd have you,”  “What slut?”  You waved your hand like you were shooing away a fly, “Just this chick I got talking to. She came here wanting to fuck you but I convinced her to go after Deaky instead. Told her you already had a girl.”  “Are you kidding?”  “Nope,” you laughed, “might have also told her you were looking to propose to your girlfriend.”  “Y/N! Christ you’re going to ruin my chances with every girl that comes to our shows. If that rumour spreads I swear to god.”  “Oh it’ll be fine. There’ll be plenty who don’t care how married you are.”  “Thats not the point! God you’re really in for it now.”  You rolled your eyes and stood up, “Well, I guess I’m gonna go home then since you’ve ruined my fun. I’ll see you next time, say bye to the others for me.” 

The next day work went without a hitch. There was no sign of Roger at all, although you were so busy all day he completely slipped your mind. It wasn’t until you were getting ready to lock up that you remembered his promise to get back at you. You moved to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED and managed to reach it just as Roger pushed it open.  “We’re closed Rog,”  “You talking the library or your legs?” he said as he barged inside.  You stepped out of his way, shutting the door behind him. As soon as you turned away from the door he had you pushed up against the wall, one hand beside your head so he was leaning into your personal space.  “Told you I was going to come back,”  “You did,”  “Was that what you were trying to get last night? Missed being a dirty slut for me and decided to get all dressed up to remind me you’ve got a cunt with my name on it?”  “No, I got all dressed up to try and fuck you in your workplace,”  “Didn’t turn out that way though.”  he dropped his other hand towards your thigh, “lift it up for me.”  Without thinking you grabbed your skirt and pulled it up.  Roger laughed, “I swear you get easier every time I come here. Undo those buttons I wanna see your tits.”  His fingers landed on your pussy and you hurried to do as he asked, letting your skirt fall over his wrist as you pulled each button loose until your shirt was open to your midriff, the bottom of it still tucked into your skirt.  “Good girl,” he said softly, moving both hands to your chest, pushing your shirt aside and teasing your nipples, “but being a slut for me now isn’t going to change last night. You need a lesson in who’s in charge here. Bend over your desk.”  You whined as he tugged your nipples before letting you go and pushing you towards your desk.  

You placed your palms flat on the desk, bent at the waist, and waited.  “No. Down,” he pressed on your back until you buckled, your chest pressed against the smooth surface as your moved your arms to hold onto the opposite edge. There was a rustle of fabric as Roger pushed your skirt up again, exposing your arse to the room.  “You’re already wet,” he didn’t sound surprised. He didn’t touch you, either. It was what you wanted most, just a light touch on your hip even, but he refused, instead running his fingers along the edge of the desk. Over the pamphlets about the Dewey Decimal System, tapping lightly against the jar your pens were standing in, until he came to rest on a book left there earlier. You weren’t sure what it was but it seemed to interest Roger. He picked it up, flipped through a few pages, examined the hard cover, tested how well he could hold it in one hand.   “Keep count,” was the only warning you got before he brought the book down against your arse.  “Shit, one,”  “Speak up. You’re closed remember, no one around to hear you except me.”  “Two,”  “Who’s in charge here?”  “You are Sir. Three,”  He kept spanking you with the book and you kept counting, the sting only getting worse with each one. You hissed through your teeth at a particularly hard smack, trying to remember which number you were up to when you heard a noise outside. A woman’s heels clicking against the concrete pavement.  “I thought you were closed,” Roger said softly, dropping his raised arm, the book falling to cover the bulge in his jeans.  “We are. Fuck Rog, hide,” you stood and tugged your shirt back into place, though there was no hope of getting all the buttons done up. Roger straightened the back of your skirt just as the door was pushed open and a woman wearing the same uniform as you stepped inside.  “Y/N, you’re still here?”  “Just finishing locking up, Kathy, what are you doing back?”  “Oh I just finished the groceries and realised I left my book here,”  “You mean this one?” you took the book from Roger, stepping in front of him in the hopes Kathy wouldn’t notice his dilemma, “I wondered who it belonged to. Lucky I didn’t chuck it in with the rest of the returns,”  “Y/N, who’s this?”  “I’m Roger,” he said sticking out his hand from behind you. You could have hit him as you tried to remember which hand he’d used to touch your pussy.   “He’s a friend of mine.”  “Was in the area and thought I’d off Y/N a lift home since it’s already dark out.”  “Well that’s nice of you,” Kathy’s eyes flicked from your unbuttoned and ruffled shirt to Roger, half standing behind you, to you flushed cheeks to the book she was holding, “At work Y/N? Kinky. Just don’t leave any stains or anything.”  “I don’t know what you mean Kathy,”  “Mmhmm, you can explain it to me tomorrow then, I’ll leave you to it.” She left with a last look at Roger and a chuckle.  

As soon as the door was shut behind her you turned around and slapped Roger’s shoulder, “you knob! Louder there's no one to hear but me,” your shitty imitation of his voice made Roger laugh, “almost got caught with my arse out.”  “Well at least you still had knickers on.”  “Gee thanks. Kathy totally knew what was going on though, and now she’s going to badger me for details and I’m going to have to make her swear not to tell anyone.”  “Geeze you’re secretive. So what if she knows?”  “So what? I don’t want my co-workers to know about my sex life thanks. Especially not about us having sex here. I hope your happy,”  “Not really. In case you didn’t realise I’ve got this boner that needs taking care of.”  “Even after nearly getting caught?”  “Love, nearly getting caught only made it harder.”  “Jesus,”  Roger laughed, “oh c’mon, don’t act like you weren’t turned on by it too. Remember when you gave me head and the person was on the other side of the shelves?”  “Vividly,”  “I bet you do. I bet you think about it while you finger yourself. Maybe think about that person coming round the shelf and watching while I fucked your throat,” he backed you up against the desk as he spoke, the edge of it pressing into your arse as he pressed his hard-on into your thigh.  You whimpered, unable to resist his demanding tone.   “You want me to fuck you?”  “Please,”  “Hop up on the desk for me. Gonna fuck you right here where you sit every day. Where your co-workers sit Where your boss sits.” His hands were on your waist as you wriggled back onto the desk, “I know how blushy and wet you get from being in the back rows where I’ve used you before. But those places are too easy to avoid. I want you to think about what I do to you from the moment you get to work to the moment you leave. I want my cock to be on your mind constantly. I want to be able to walk in here and know that you’re already wet for me.” Once more he pushed your skirt up, exposing you completely when he impatiently tugged your underwear off, “I want you to sit down in the morning and remember how good it feels,” he quickly undid his fly and pushed his pants down, “to be full,” he dragged his cock along your folds making your breath hitch, “of me.”  You let out a squeaky, “oh!” as he entered you, one hand slipping behind your back to hold you up as his other grabbed your leg. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hooked your ankle around him as best you could when he pulled back and sank into you again.   “Fuck,” you whined as he thrust into you again.  “Louder.”  You shook you head, trying not to moan.  “C’mon, I know you want to. It’s your one chance to be loud here, not going to waste it are you?”  “Rog,”  “Louder. Want you loud enough to draw a fucking crowd.”  You gave in, moaning wantonly as he fucked you harder.  “That’s it, let everyone hear what a whore you are,” he was panting, “rub your clit.”  Your breath hitched as you followed his direction and found your clit, circling it with your thumb. You could feel the pressure building, only strengthened as Roger leaned into your neck and began sucking at your skin. A string of moans and whined expletives tumbled from your lips and you weren’t sure you’d have been able to turn the volume down even if Roger had demanded it. All you could do was cry out as you hit your release. Roger continued to pound into you, half to keep your high going and half to reach his own. Even as your orgasm subsided, leaving you with a few lingering aftershocks and a heightened sensitivity, he kept going, his breath coming in rough pants. It took you whining his name for him to finally cum, biting down on your throat. 

“Jesus Rog,” you said softly when he finally let you hop off the desk, “what are you, a fucking vampire?”  “God could you imagine how hot I’d be?”  “Alright Dracula, calm down. Can you hand me those tissues over there?”  “How come?”  “So I can clean up the mess we’ve made,” you pointed at the desk where a small puddle of evidence remained.  “What do you have to do before you’re finished closing up?”  “Umm, make sure the windows are shut and back room is locked. Then I’ve just gotta get the lights and lock the front door. Tissues?” you impatiently stuck out your hand.  “You don’t need tissues because you’re going to lick it up like a good little slut. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll take you back to mine and make you beg for more.” 

[fallinnflower]

tickled pink

jae x reader (fluff, songwriter!reader)

a/n: written as a request!! also lmk if y’all prefer my moodboards or gifs with these fics... continuity is key when it comes to ~aesthetics! lmao

It may be a bit cliche to say, but being asked to work with Day6 for their new album was a dream come true. It was also quite a surprise to you when your manager told you about the request — you’d said yes almost before the words could leave her mouth. It was wishful thinking on your part that you would calm down about the whole matter by the time your meetings with them actually occurred, and you kind of had — until you got on the plane to South Korea and found yourself becoming a bundle of nerves all over again.

See, the thing was, you really liked Day6. And the thought of working with them was extremely intimidating, even for an experienced songwriter like yourself. The more you tried not to worry about it, the more your thoughts plagued your mind.

That is, until you actually stepped foot in the building and were face-to-face with the band. Then your mind went blank. Honestly, seeing Brian Kang in the flesh? Unbelievable. You wanted to ask him a million and one questions about his songwriting process, about his vision, but then—

“Y/N, you’ll be working with Jae for the next few days. Regrettably, the rest of the band has prior commitments,” their manager said, passing a manila folder to you. You turn your gaze from the manager to Jae, who gives you a smile in greeting. You smile back, feeling a bit guilty for ignoring him for most of the meeting thus far, before opening the folder. Inside are a few scanned pages of notebook paper with what you can only describe as chicken-scratch all over them, mind-maps, and short poems. You shut the folder before you can get too absorbed in your work, rising from your seat right after the manager does to shake hands. 

“Well,” you say, laughing slightly, “I’m here for you, so I have all the time in the world.” 

“9:30 tomorrow then. Jae, would you show Y/N the studio?” 

The two of you head down the hallway, each holding a manila folder and neither saying anything. He stops so suddenly in front of a door that you almost run straight into his back, only narrowly avoiding smashing your nose between his shoulder blades. 

“Here’s the studio,” he says, shouldering the door open so you can slip past him. After taking a look around, you turn to find Jae standing at the door where you left him, watching you with his arms folded across his chest. You awkwardly clear your throat,

“So, tomorrow at 9:30?” Jae simply nods. With that, the two of you part ways for the evening.

You work far later into the night than you should. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help but start brainstorming almost the moment you leave the building, and then you just can’t seem to stop. You spend hours sat up in your hotel room, drinking cup after cup of tea and jotting notes down in your personal notebook, marking things up on the xeroxed copy of Jae’s notes. His ideas are good but extremely bare bones, which offers up far too much creativity for you to possibly contain to a few hours of work. As a consequence, you trudge into the JYP building absolutely exhausted the next morning carrying two large iced americanos and some muffins you bought at the coffee shop downstairs. 

You arrive in the studio before Jae does and immediately spread your work out on the table in front of you. By the time Jae arrives, only a few minutes later, you’re already so absorbed in your work you don’t even hear him.

“Christ, did you even sleep last night?” Jae jokes. You jump in surprise, nearly smacking your head against his as he leans over the table, looking at all the stuff you’ve already written down. Your cheeks burn bright red, and you let out an embarrassed laugh, running a hand through your hair.

“Um, not really. You want some coffee?” You ask, gesturing to the second cup on the table. Jae lets out a little laugh and sits down beside you, grabbing the second coffee.

“They warned me you were a hard worker, but I didn’t think you’d be at it this early.” Jae pulls some of the papers towards himself, flipping through your notes on his ideas. You look up from your notebook and point with your red pen to the mind map on the second page when he gets to it.

“This,” you say, and Jae looks up at you over the rim of his round glasses. “I think this should be the title track.” Jae scoots his chair a little closer to yours so you can both look over the page better.

“It has a lot of potential, and I really think if we start from here we can get a concept going for the whole album.” Jae watches you intently as you start circling portions of the mind map before translating the phrases into Japanese. You tap your pen against the paper and sing out a short line, before suddenly remembering Jae is there and blushing again.

“Oh God, sorry,” you say. “I totally forgot you were here.” Jae leans back in his chair, scowling at you.

“I’m offended. Am I that forgettable to you?” 

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean—” Jae bursts into laughter in the middle of your rushed apology, and you stop mid-sentence. 

“You’re way too gullible, Y/N,” he chuckles, and you shove his shoulder.

“Shut up, or I’ll write you a terrible song.”

“You wouldn’t,” he says, and you find yourself blushing again. Why does it suddenly feel like he can stare straight into your soul? You roll your eyes, shake your head, and turn back to the lyrics. After a sip of coffee, Jae speaks up again,

“Your voice isn’t that bad, you know. Not as good as mine, but— hey!” He manages to dodge the pen cap you throw at him, giving you a stern look which you can only respond to with laughter. 

“Stop being so cocky and get to work.” Jae leans down to pick up the cap and tosses it back at you playfully before complying with a sigh.

It frightens you a little bit how quickly you and Jae seem to take to one another. Although the two of you don’t spend more than a couple hours together at a time, you feel like you’ve known him for years. And not only do you get along, you work together amazingly well. You bounce ideas off of each other, and by your fourth session you’ve already got most of the songs done that you need — it’s quicker than any other job you’ve ever had. 

Of course, being almost done means that Jae likes to goof off even more. Once he realized that you spoke fluent English as well, it just got worse. It’s during your fifth session, while you’re in the middle of a very intense brainstorm and are attempting to jot it all down at the same speed as your brain is thinking it, that Jae suddenly lets out a sigh, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“I’m bored,” he groans, and you let out a barely audible hum. Not satisfied with this, Jae suddenly pokes his own pen into your side. 

You’ve been ticklish since childhood, and particularly on your sides, so it’s no surprise to you when you shriek and toss your pen to the table, jumping away from Jae. Jae, however, is surprised, and pleasantly so, it would seem.

“Jae, no,” you warn, watching the devilish smirk spread across his face. “Do not— Jae!” He abandons the pencil he had been using before and goes straight for your sides. You scramble towards the arm of the couch, trying desperately to get away from him and failing because his stupid arms are too long, and you can’t move fast enough. You keep swatting at his arms, laughing through your attempts to curse at him, feeling breathless. Jae laughs too, but much more mischievously than you. Your legs keep kicking in an attempt to move you further from Jae, but since you’re already pressed against the couch you don’t have anywhere to go — except down.

And you do, which hurts like a bitch because not only do you fall flat on your ass but then stupid Jae falls right on top of you after trying to catch you by the side of your sweatshirt. Your laughter quickly transitions into coughs, and you flick the top of Jae’s head without even opening your eyes yet.

“Get up, jerk. You’re heavy.”

You feel Jae’s weight lift, but only halfway, and you open your eyes to find his nose almost touching yours. His bangs are falling into his face, and he’s staring at you so intently you can’t help but blush. He’s so close that you can feel his breath fan over your lips, and you nervously lick your own out of habit.

“Hey, Y/N,” he starts, and you let out a soft laugh.

“Hi?” He smiles at you, somehow seeming equally breathless despite you being the one who got the wind knocked out of you.

“You’re cute, you know that?” You immediately look down, landing a soft punch on his shoulder.

“Shut up—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupts, and you look back up to find that he is, in fact, looking quite somber at the moment. “You wanna go out sometime?” The both of you stare each other down for a moment, and you can’t tell if the racing heartbeat you feel is yours or Jae’s. You let out a breathy laugh and look up into his eyes again.

“I’d like that,” you say, and Jae breaks into a blinding grin. Before he can speak, however, you press a finger to his lips, “After, the lyrics are done.” Jae laughs, winking cheekily at you.

“Piece of cake.”

You go on your first date that night, and the rest is history.

[nailbatss]

Champagne - Erick Brian Colon *SMUT*

Before this begins: Hey there, long time, no see, huh? I bet you thought I died. Nope! Just been dying from college and all-- But here’s something I’ve been working on for a while. I’m sorry for disappearing suddenly, I hope you accept this as an apology

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol, SEX, drunken sex (but protected), swearing

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 1900+

I got champagne for the pain, blackout all the memories.

Running through my veins, I don’t really wanna feel anything

Trying to escape, I’m my only enemy.

Drinks, I’ll keep em raised, I don’t really wanna feel anything.

You know the feeling when you don’t want control over yourself? You want to let everything go and just… exist. Yeah, I got that feeling when I knew the breakup was coming. It was not my fault that we broke up, but I felt tired of being blamed for everything. That jerk took everything from me, including my freedom. I was actually thankful for the breakup. If he wasn’t going to do it, then I would have found something to change it. That’s why I decided to go out. The club was packed with people. I suppose everyone came to have a good time. Me, on the other hand, I wanted to numb the pain.

I’m a few drinks in by this point, and I’m not sure exactly how much time has passed. All I know is that I’m feeling things still. I get approached by a handsome stranger, and I could tell he was Hispanic. He carried himself well. The Cuban man smiled at me. It was dazzling and took my breath away. 

“Perdoname (excuse me), are you alone?” 

I nodded as I sipped my glass. 

“What makes you think that?” I asked with a raise of my brow. I knew I was being sarcastic, which is my defense when I was with him… my ex. 

“What brings you here?” He asks as he leans against the bar beside me. 

“Breakup, trying to escape and feel nothing.” I replied. “What’s your name?” I asked this time. 

“Erick.” 

Ah, I could hear his accent coming on stronger. He had to lean closer so I could hear him. He was really quiet.

 “And you?” 

“(Y/N).” I replied. 

We chatted for a while until he managed to drag me away for a dance. I figured why the hell not. He was hot, I wanted to forget about my stupid ex, and we would both have some fun along the way. He brought his body close to mine and I could smell his clean aftershave, along with the expensive cologne I was sure that he was wearing. My body was in a tight purple dress, but it was also sort of flowy. It pretty much left little to the imagination. It definitely hugged me in the right places to give me more curves. I had to admit that I looked good for not wanting to care about anything. My hands were running through my hair as I looked up at Erick. 

For being a stranger, he sure was hot as hell. I smirked to myself as I felt him grab my waist, pulling me close. Our fronts were grinding against one another so I could look into his eyes. They were such a beautiful blue-green color. The lights didn’t do them justice. His lips were full, pink, and surely they looked kissable. I wanted to feel their soft texture as they pressed against mine. His body seemed like it was sculpted by God himself. I could only imagine what it would be like for him to pin me against the nearest wall and make me forget my name.

Clearly, the alcohol was getting to me right now. I was fantasizing about having sex with a complete stranger. I didn’t know what his opinion of me was. Maybe he was just into flirting and getting numbers for hookups. I couldn’t exactly judge someone who I’ve only met a few minutes ago. It wasn’t my place to. However, there was another way to numb these feelings I have. I wanted to forget about my ex and be taken to new places. Erick seemed to catch my eye and I looked back into his eyes. 

“You alright?” He asked me while dancing, spinning me around and pulling me again into the grind. 

“I’m fine, just handling the breakup roughly.” I replied. “I came to forget about all of that.” I answered truthfully. He seemed to understand perfectly and he leaned close, his mouth brushing against my ear.

 “I can make you forget about everything, princesa. I could even make you forget your name if you want.” 

Oh god, I felt weak in the knees. This is exactly what I wanted. It was like he was reading my body language and making me think about taking him up on his offer. His hands were wrapped around me and pulling me close. 

I leaned forward, “Make me forget then.”

 I leaned back to watch his eyes. They shifted to a darker color as I could practically see the lust swirling in them. I wanted this for sure.

The next thing I knew, I was kissing this really hot guy as he pushed me into the hotel room he had. I was going to be forgetting a lot tonight. His hands were roaming my body desperately as he clawed at my dress. As soon as his fingers found the zipper, he started to tug at it and pull it down my back. I stepped out of it, revealing my matching black lace bra and panty set. I felt exposed. My fingers went to his jacket, pushing it to his jacket and pushing it off. I also unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off of him, pulling back for a moment to admire his body. It looked really good, just like I thought. I traced the outline of his abs and I could definitely tell he looked after himself physically. That was so hot to me. He connected our lips again and I moaned into it. I could taste the sweet Malibu on his lips. I swear, if I wasn’t drunk already, then I am now. 

His lips brushed against my neck and I tilted my head to the side. He picked me up by my thighs, pinning me against the wall. He was kissing and leaving small bites, as if he was searching for my weak spot. His pearly white teeth bit down and it caused me to moan especially loud. I covered my mouth with my hand but he moved it. 

“No, princesa. Let me hear how good this feels.” He purred into my ear, making me whimper. 

“E-Erick, please, I need you.” I whined. 

He smirked and he pulled me off the wall long enough to take me to the bedroom. Once inside, he tossed me onto the bed. I laughed as my back hit the mattress, then I looked up as he crawled on top of me. Erick’s dazzling blue eyes were clouded with lust, and they were definitely darker than when I saw them at the club. I was captivated and hypnotized by his eyes.

If I get this just right, I could lay here all night

Is it too much? One cup, tryna fill up

The spaces you left in me

“You need me?” He replied with surprise in his tone, “I can see why, princesa.” 

He purred as his hands roamed my body, heating up the spots he touched and setting me aflame from the inside out. I never thought that I would do this, a one night stand with a total stranger, but I did say that I wanted to lay and forget about the world. I wanted to feel something… anything… just to forget the pain I had been feeling. I could tell Erick was getting a bit restless because of how fast his pants came off. I watched the material fly by and land before he was attaching his lips to mine again, making me groan at the sweet taste. I wanted more than this. My hands were resting on his back as I felt his hand expertly unclipping my bra. I tossed it aside before his hands cupped my breasts, almost purring instinctively when feeling them.

I got all these brand new addictions

I'm bound to, I'm bound to

Anything that stops me from thinkin'

About you, about you

That went straight to my nether regions and I felt myself become wet at the thought of where else those hands could travel to. They were soft, yet so rough at the same time. Erick started kissing down my neck, his stubbled chin catching me off guard. I didn’t remember feeling it as he kissed me earlier. But god, I knew I wanted him to kiss me even lower than he already was. I wanted him to taste me and make me forget my own name. He moved quickly as he trailed kisses down my body. His hands were massaging my breasts and making me moan out as he did.

“Erick, oh god.” I moaned out, my head tilting back against the pillows further.

“Like that, princess?” He purred in perfect English, his accent making the butterflies in my stomach flutter harder than before.

I got champagne for the pain

Black out all the memories

Runnin' through my veins

I don't really wanna feel anything

Trying to escape

I'm my only enemy

Drinks, I'll keep 'em raised

I don't really wanna feel anything

Yes, I knew having a random one night stand may not be the answer for all of my problems, but it was enough of a distraction for me. I wanted to forget about my shitty ex and focus on something that would make me temporarily happy. 

Before my mind could completely wander off, I felt his tongue prodding at my entrance, instantly jerking me out of my thoughts and instantly making me moan. Wow, he had a magic tongue to say the least. It was working every nerve that I had and making my body crave more. My fingers curled into the blankets, pulling as my hips rolled up to meet his face. His hands grabbed my hips, fingertips curling into my sides and keeping me pinned down. I let out an unsatisfied whimper, wanting more than this from him.

“Ah, ah,” he hummed and that alone made me climax.

“Finished already? Oh, mami, we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet~”

Next thing I remember, he was hovering above me, my legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed into me. My vision was spotty, but I remember those beautiful green eyes of his, staring into my very core. I could feel the alcohol blurring the lines of reality. I just felt so good. This was the high I was chasing, the feeling I wanted, even when I wanted to feel nothing. My fingers were curled into his back, my fingernails making half moon shapes as I dug in. The moans leaving my lips sounding so distant. My stomach felt warm and was doing flips. This was what I deserved. His grunts and moans into my ear sent my mind into a tizzy. 

“Yeah, just like that. So beautiful~” with that, he kissed my lips and we climaxed about the same time. 

Erick collapsed beside me and panted, disposing of the condom that I hadn’t seen him put on. Thankfully, he had the right mind to put one on. I was on the pill, but I was still thankful he even considered putting one on. As his arms wrapped around me, placing a kiss to my temple, I could feel my worries melting away. Even if this was one night, I drank enough champagne to numb the pain I was feeling. Thoughts about my ex seemed to disappear as I curled into his warmth, chasing that high that I just felt. I felt more alive than ever now.

[redrebecca]

hey could u do a imagine w shawn where you’re just so overwhelmed with how PRETTY he is :((

it turned out to be a blurb instead

The soft splatter of raindrops on the window panes was the only sound in Shawn’s apartment. You were lying on his couch, your legs across his thighs as his hand rested on top of your calf. 

His eyes were closed, his lashes resting on his cheeks as he slept. The faint glow from the Toronto nightlife several stories below filtered through the glass and showed the small imperfection on his cheek. His lips were settled in a soft smile and his hand occasionally tightened around your leg as he dreamed. Your eyes travelled down to his chin, a small grin tugged at your lips as you saw the small flecks of stubble that were spread under his mouth, covering his chin and running along his jaw. He’d told you about a bet he’d made with Brian - something about him not being able to grow a beard in a month. You knew he wouldn’t be able to, but you didn’t say that too his face - his excited reaction that he had stubble was enough to make you melt. 

Under his chin his navy hoodie had the strings knotted and pulled tight so that the hood had bunched up making a makeshift neck pillow as he dozed. You assumed it was something he had learnt to do on his long haul flights.

His hand gripped your leg a bit firmer than it had earlier, drawing your focus down to his hands. Oh god, his hands. The swallow tattoo moved ever so slightly as his hand tensed and relaxed against your sweatpants. His long fingers remained on your legs but instead of just resting there, they rubbed small circles. You smiled a bit wider, completely in awe that the huge yet gentle man who was asleep in front of you was yours.

Or well, you thought he was asleep.

“It’s rude to stare honey.” He whispered, his voice still groggy from his tired state. You immediately met his half shut eyes with yours. Momentarily his hand left your leg to rub his eyes. Before you had the chance to miss the comforting pressure and warmth on your calf, his hand was back to rubbing up and down. 

“What were you looking at?” He mumbled, tipping his head back against the back of the couch. His unruly curls splayed in every direction as he did so. 

“You.” You said, reaching down to interlock your hand with his. He squeezed your hand gently and lulled his head so his hazel eyes met yours. 

“Why?” The smile from his face translated into the tone of his voice and caused a grin of your own to spread across your face.

“You’re pretty.” Despite the dim lighting, the moment the whisper left your lips you could see Shawn’s cheeks redden into an adorable blush. He turned his eyes away from yours and took great interest in playing with your fingers. Although his movements indicated his bashfulness, the wide smile on his face was impossible for him to hide.

“Honey that’s you.” 

“It’s you. You’re pretty baby.” You replied and giggled as he began to wiggle his eyebrows and puff his cheeks.

“Still beautiful.” You said between giggles. A determined look flashed in his eyes, his quiet competitiveness slowly showing itself as he began to step his game up. This time, a loud laugh came from you as he dipped his head, giving you a great view of his double chin. 

“How about now? Hmm?” He said whilst trying his hardest not to join you and break into laughter. 

“Stunning.” You managed to say. Shawn took one look at your hysterical state and burst out laughing too.

“What was it that you said last week?” He asked himself whilst tapping his fingers, you reached forward to take his hands into yours. “Oh wait, I remember!” He exclaimed your hands jerked as he tried to flail his arms whilst completely forgetting you were holding onto him. 

“What was it?”

“Smash or pass.” He said, the toothiest smile gracing his features as the sound of your laughter engulfed the silence of the room. “So what is it honey?” Placing a hand either side of your hips, he crawled towards you giving you no other option to lie down. You giggled and wrapped your arms behind his neck to pull him closer to you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to think. “Smash.” He crashed his lips into yours to let you know that you had in fact chose the right option. His knee pushed your legs apart so he had room to lie between them.

“You’re gorgeous.” You breathed against his lips between kisses. When he closed the gap once again, you could feel his lips curved into a smile against yours. He hummed before sliding a hand underneath your back to pull you impossibly closer.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Lost one sibling, gained four more; Queen x teen reader pt.2

*Author’s note*

Okay so here we go w/pt.2 now here is where we get to majority of the angst towards the middle and the end of the story. So I hope you all got your handkerchiefs out cause you’ll need them for this part. I’m sorry in advance for any heartbreak that I’ll cause but it ends with fluff, don’t worry. Enjoy my lovelies

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@geek-and-proud

@platawnic

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

_________________________________________________________

"(Y/n). (Y/n)~ wake up sleeping beauty." I moaned and groggily opened my eyes to see Deacy smiling down at me. I felt his hand stroking my hair and I let out a soft yawn.

"Are we there yet?"

"We're just about to turn into the driveway right now." I heard Roger say. I got off Deacy's shoulder and as we finally arrived up at the studio I was surprised to see it was more like a barn than a recording studio. "This is it?" Roger asked.

"This is it boys and girl. Welcome to your new home for the next several weeks." Our driver parked the car and we all got out. I raised my arms stretching them out trying to wake myself up and all around me I saw nothing but miles of greenery, some animals out and about like cattle and chickens.

"It's pleasant. I think it'll do good." I said to myself.

"Oi intern! Make yourself useful and grab some of these bags." I heard Paul's nastily voice snap at me.

"Watch it Prenter. Less you wanna be thrown over the barn." Roger threatened him.

We were then given our rooms. Freddie of course got the biggest one, Rog's was quite comfortable looking, Brian had the rickety old bed, poor John was shoved down the basement in probably the smallest room in the whole house, then just before Paul could stick me down in the middle of the living room, Roger came down and said.

"Hang on, there's a spare room jointed with Freddie's. I think (y/n) should take that room."

"That won't do any good Roger, I've already called that room." Paul said.

"You sure you want that room Prenter? Because I just went in it and I saw this big, nasty, hairy spider about the size of a dinner plate. Not to mention the rat burrows I found in the drawers." At hearing Roger's tale, Paul's eyes widened and he said.

"Better yet, why don't you take that room lass?"

"Thanks you for understanding Prenter." Said Rog as he came over and wrapped an arm around me and brought me back upstairs.

"Please tell me there's no spider or rats." I whispered to him.

"Of course there's not. I just said that to jerk him off. You didn't really think I'd let you sleep in a room like that, did you?" He then opened the door to my room and it was fairly big in itself.

A beautiful wooden wardrobe with carvings of horses designed along the frame, a Victorian style dresser, a pretty big bed maybe a queen sized mattress and a joint bathroom.

"Plus I figured you deserve your own bathroom than having to share it amongst us men. Leave the fighting to us, no need to drag you into our morning squabbles of who gets the first morning shower." I set my stuff down and said.

"Thanks Rog."

"No need to thank me at all love, just hope you can handle Fred as a roommate."

"I managed while we were in Japan, didn't I?"

"That you did, well I'll leave you to unpack your things. Breakfast will be made in about an hour. Deacy's cooking today." I moaned already thinking of the delicious meal Deacy was going to prep for us. After unpacking my stuff, I lay down on the bed to test it and already I felt like I was on a heavenly cloud.

"Oh my god this bed is so comfortable." I turned towards the window and looked out to the green paradise that reached our far beyond the horizon. "God Kay, you should really see this view." I then grabbed my journal and did a quick sketch of the outside. The sky, clouds and even rays of sunlight peeking out. As I kept working, I soon heard Deacy's voice proclaim.

"Breakfast is ready!" I smiled and set my journal down and raced downstairs. "Well first one down, first one to be served. And also given something a little extra."

"Thanks Deacy." I thanked as he gave me extra cheese on toast and eggs.

"How come she gets extras?" exclaimed Paul. Deacy and I turned towards him and he said.

"I only give extras to first arrivals. And (y/n) here deserves every ounce of extra food because she alone appreciates my cooking."

"What are you talking about I appreciate your cooking Deacy darling!" Freddie proclaimed.

"Just last week you said my toast was too crispy for your liking."

"I was recovering from a hangover and I needed flavor, not dried up ash."

"Exactly my point Fred. Now everyone else come make your plate." We all then gathered around the table with me sitting between Brian and Freddie and Roger sitting across from me.

As the day went on, the boys went immediately to work after breakfast and tested out the recording studio across from the main house. They were all scattered around currently trying to come up with song ideas.

I was walking along outside to get some fresh air when I saw Roger bothering some of the chickens.

"I thought you were supposed to be working? Not bothering the livestock." He jolted before turning towards me and he said.

"I am working. In fact I've poured my heart and soul into this song."

"Oh really? And what song have you poured your very being into?"

"Come into the studio with me and I'll show you." He then guided me to the studio and went over to his drumkit and began playing his song to which he named "I'm in love with my car."

After he played it, I'll admit I was intrigued. It definitely had a good drum feel to it, because this was a song where the drums really got to shine and I haven't heard a song do that yet.

"How was that?" he asked me.

"It's......" I tried to find the right words on how I really felt.

"Please tell me you don't hate it. Cause I swear if you do I'll lock you in here till you say you love it."

"No, no Rog I don't hate it. I love the fact that it has a good drum feel to it. They really shine more than anything I've ever heard of from any rock and roller. It's just the lyrics.....Please tell me you don't actually want to have—"

"No! It's a metaphor (n/n). In fact Johnathan is inspiration to this."

"Wait Johnathan Harris, one of the roadies?"

"Yeah. He says that the current love of his life is his Triumph F4. So as appreciate for what he's done for us on the road, this song is for him."

"Ahh I see."

"So you—do like the song?" he asked almost insecurely. He stared at me with nervous baby blue eyes that made him look like a nervous puppy about to go to the vet. How could one say no to his face?

"I like it." A proud smile spread wide across his face as he came up and picked me up and spun me around.

"Oh thank you lovie. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

The next morning I woke up to the sound of an argument downstairs. I stood up and walked down the stairs to see Roger throw a few strips of bacon right at Brian.

"Is that strong enough?!" he then cleared the entire counter. Food, plates, the vase with some flowers and water all slammed right on the ground and broke into a million pieces. "What about that!?" he then reached for the coffee machine and was ready to smash it when Brian and Deacy exclaimed.

"NOT THE COFFEE MACHINE!!!"

"What is going on here!?" I snapped. The three of them turned towards me and that's when they all began talking over each other. I rubbed my fingers to my temples immediately regretting even saying anything. "SHUT IT!!!" at that point they all went quiet.

"(Y/n), please tell me you didn't actually agree to a song like 'I'm in love with my car'." Brian pleaded with me.

"I did. I think the song has some potential. I mean yeah the lyrics are a little iffy but it's catchy." At that point John and Brian groaned out while Roger gave me a wink and a thumbs up.

"And to think I was gonna make you Veronica's special apple pie. But now I take that back." Deacy said.

"I thought you had good taste in music (y/n)."

"And she does. At least it's better than calling someone sweet like they're cheese."

As the day went on, we were now recording Freddie's song to which he's titled "Bohemian Rhapsody." I'll admit the lyrics made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but Freddie had a vision for the song and just hearing him sing and play the piano of how he wanted this song to be, made me begin to really like this song.

Right now Brian who had just had an idea for a guitar solo for this song, was in the studio recording what he had in mind. I'll admit it this'll probably be the first time a guitar solo is sung, and when people finally get a taste of this song, they'll probably be singing this for decades to come.

Weeks continued to pass by and we were still focused on Fred's song. But what was really going through my mind was that I hadn't heard from my mum since the second day we came here. I know I've been busy with the guys but I would've thought Paul being the message keeper, he would've at least told me if my mum had called.

But then again you should never trust a snake with secrets.

It was currently 2:30am when I kept tossing and turning in my sleep. I kept whimpering out as my breathing went ragged and heavy.

"No. No.....no Kay don't.....don't leave me."

"(Y/n). (Y/n) dear. Darling wake up!" I suddenly opened my eyes someone reached for my lamp and when the light came on, Freddie stood hovering over me. "It's okay, it's okay darling, you're okay."

"Freddie wha—what time is it?"

"2:30 darling, I could hear you whimpering from my room."

"Ahh shit I'm so sorry Fred I—I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No, no it's fine dear. Are you okay? It sounded like a pretty bad dream." He said as he stroked some hair out of my face. I sighed heavily.

"It's been over 3 weeks since I've talked to my mum. And just the last few times that I have called I got no answer from the house phone. Freddie I'm—I'm worried something's happened to Kay. What if—what if she's....."

"Hey, hey, hey no don't think like that darling. Come here." He sat down beside me and pulled me close so that my ear was pressed over his heart. "Don't automatically assume the worst dear."

"Then why haven't I gotten word from my mum yet?"

"I'll sort it out with Paul in the morning. For now try to get back to sleep, yeah?" I sniffled and nodded. I lowered myself back into bed and Freddie helped tucked me back in. "There we go darling. Snug as a cute bug in a rug." I hummed a chuckle and he smiled at me. "Stay here for a minute."

He then left my room for half a second before finally coming back in with a candle in one hand and his lighter in another. He set the candle by the nightstand and flicked his lighter on before lighting it up. He turned my light off, letting the candle be my only source of light.

"What is this Fred?"

"Something I used to do with Kash when she was a little girl before I went off to boarding school. While this candle is a light, they are the eyes that a brother leaves behind to guard his sister while she dreams at night. No nightmares would dare enter while this candle is lite."

"You promise?"

"I swear it." He smiled and brushed my bangs out of the way before placing a gentle and loving kiss at the center of my forehead. "Goodnight my little kitten."

"Night Freddie." He smiled and gave me one final kiss to each of my cheeks before walking out smiling softly and shutting the door. I kept my eyes on the candle as it flickered on an invisible breeze. I soon felt my eyes grow heavy as I fell back asleep.

Early the next morning, we were starting the Operatic section of Bohemian Rhapsody. Roger being the high range singer that he is, recorded his bits for the Galileo parts.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Freddie?" Deacy spoke trying to get Fred's attention as he stared at the meters.

"Higher." Freddie said. Roy rewind the tape as Deacy said to Roger.

"Can you go a bit higher?"

"If I go any higher, only dogs will hear me."

"Try." Said Fred.

"Freddie's note, sorry." Said Deacy.

"Go on, roll the tape." Sighed Roger. Then on take 24 Rog tried the Galileo's again, this time they were higher as he did grand arm gestures to help make his voice go higher. "How was that? Better?"

"Higher." Freddie bluntly demanded. Brian pointed up to the sky with his pen and Roger growled out.

"Jesus, how many more Galileo's do you want?"

"Freddie wants to do a few more overdubs." Deacy stated.

"Do we even have any tape left?" asked Roger.

"I do have to say the tape is wearing out. It can't take much more."

"Yeah we can't afford much more. What are we three weeks overscheduled?" questioned Brian as he wrote down some notes while I was drawing Roger in the studio.

Soon enough one more take turned into 9-10 takes before Fred was finally satisfied. The operatic session continued with the next line, Freddie who was pacing around said with a grin.

"That's it." After Roger was done singing Freddie continued, "It's beautiful. Love it!" with a clap of his hands, they continued on.

Now all four of them were in the booth going back and forth from the low ranges to the high for the Bismillah section.

The guys got into it so much especially at the final vocalization that by the time the rock out section came on, they were all bouncing up and down so much that they actually made the flats collapse backwards, barely missing some of their stuff.

Freddie and John came falling to the ground, while Rog and Bri were the ones responsible for knocking the two flats behind them down. I couldn't help but laugh myself as I knew this song was gonna change Queen's life forever.

"How was it (y/n) darling?" asked Freddie.

"I love it guys. It's perfect! This is gonna change the world forever." I said into the microphone and the guys all cheered.

Whoo what a rush! I thought we'd never get the song done. Guess being a perfectionist finally paid off, because as I've said repeatedly I truly believe "Bohemian Rhapsody" is gonna change the way of music forever.

Now with the song finally done and the guys taking a break for a bit, I decided to try and call my mum again to see how Kaylee is doing.

I typed in my home phone number and I heard it ring three times before my mum's voice said.

'Hello?'

"Hey mummy."

'(Y/n)?'

"Yeah who'd you think it was Debbie Reynolds? I've......"

'(Y/n) I've been trying to call you repeatedly for weeks hadn't you gotten any of my messages?' her voice was frantic and cracking with sorrow.

"Whoa, whoa mum slow down. What's happened?"

'I've been calling you repeatedly nonstop. This man who answered said he'd relay my messages to you. But you never called me back, why didn't you call me back?!' Paul. Goddamn you Prenter!

"Mum I didn't get any messages. What's happened?"

'(Y/n)......it's Kaylee.'

"What about Kaylee is she alright?!"

'Oh sweetheart I'm so sorry......it just happened so suddenly, the doctors tried so hard to revive her but she—she died a week ago.' At this point I just froze.

No she—she couldn't have. Not Kaylee, not my best friend. She can't be dead, she can't be!

"(Y/n) dear! Come on out and party with us! We—darling?" I saw all four of the guys come in from outside and they must've seen the horrified shock on my face.

I could hear the faint sounds of my mum trying to get my attention but all I did was drop the phone and race upstairs. I slammed the door shut and leaned up against it.

My chest felt like it was being squished by a car as I could barely get a breath of air out. Then I guess I must've blacked out because all I could faintly hear was the sound of crashing, the faint feeling of my fist beating against a wall and just screaming. I don't know how long I was doing this but it wasn't until I felt the familiar arms of Roger wrap around me trying to get me to stop.

I ended up crying and screaming as I just collapsed into Roger's lap and wept hard and long.

I was now back in London ready to bid a final farewell to my sister at her funeral. I only just wish I could've said goodbye to her before she passed away. Since it was an open casket, my mum and I stood side by side of each other as we stared down at Kaylee before we would bury her.

"She loved you (y/n). I hope you realize that." Said my mum.

"I wish I got to say goodbye to her though."

"I know." She wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head and rubbed my arm and back. She then left me alone with my sister. I stared down at her and it was like she was asleep, like our favorite Disney Princess Aurora. However I knew that not even true love's kiss would wake her up, because unlike Aurora my sister is actually dead and no spell can reverse it to make it a sleeping curse.

I didn't even know what to say. My throat was choking up as it felt dry, my stomach was in tight knots, and I felt like crying but my tears were all spent. I felt sick and just wanted to curl up and disappear, maybe even die myself so that I could be reunited with my sister. I leaned down and pressed my forehead against hers and whispered.

"Goodbye Kay." I kissed her forehead and began to realize just how cold she was. I backed away from her casket and lowered my head as I felt sobs coming out of me once more. I felt a presence behind me and that's when I heard Roger's voice say.

"We're so sorry (y/n)." I whimpered and immediately nuzzled myself into his chest as my voice trembled.

"Thank you Queen." Roger wrapped his arms around me and placed his head on top of mine and kept hugging me.

It was surprising that the boys wanted to come to the funeral to pay their respects to Kaylee, and it was also surprising that from some of the profit they've already made from their previous records, as well as payment for this album to help pay for this whole funeral.

I soon was passed over to Brian who gave me a soft but assuring bear hug.

"We're truly sorry for your loss (y/n). Kaylee didn't deserve to be taken away so young. But she'll always watching over you from the stars."

"And we're always here for you precious darling." Freddie stated. He came over and cupped each side of my face and he said as he wiped away my tears, "Paul's out. After finding out he kept these messages from you, we fired him. We wish we had found out sooner, you know we'd stop the recording and drive you back home to say a final goodbye. You know that right?" I nodded and I felt him kiss a tear away.

Deacy soon came up and he held his arms out for me. I instantly went to him and clung onto him. And even when he refused to say a word, this was the best comfort I could ask for.

I didn't need all this sympathy talk, or the repetitive 'she's always watching over you' or 'she's never really gone. She's up in heaven with the Lord watching over you.' Or whatever religious BS people have to say.

He just held me and pet my hair, and that's all I needed.

After that I—I couldn't go back to work for the guys. I had no motivation anymore, just due to the fact that I needed to be with my mother now. She had just lost her first born child and I can't imagine what she's going through right now. I need to be there for her, no matter what to let her know I'm still her. Even if it means letting go of my dreams.

2 years later; I was working a 9-5 shift at a shopping center. I basically did what Mary used to do at Biba. Along with that, my mum's forced us to go to therapy sessions to try and talk about our feelings after Kaylee's death.

Since I was now done with work, I had to go to my independent weekly session. I was sitting on the couch with my therapist Dr. Lockwood sitting at his desk.

"So how have you been handling all this so far?"

"I mean—I get by day by day. Some days are hard, some are easy." I answered.

"Have you entered into Ealing art college yet? You said you wanted to be an artist."

"I decided not to go. So I just work at the shopping center a few miles away from here. Sorta near Biba."

"Why did you decide to give up your dream? I thought being an artist was your dream?"

"Yeah well dreams change." I sneered.

"Okay, okay I can understand that. So do you like this job better than your old one?" I remained silent. "Your mother said that you worked alongside Queen. They've got good music, my daughter's bought every one of their records."

"Yeah they're.....they're talented guys." I muttered.

"So about your previous job? Was it better than your current one?"

"I mean.....I don't have as much fun as I used to but....." I trailed off and couldn't bring myself to answer.

"Do you think your sister would've wanted you to give up your job with them?" I turned to look at him and I snapped.

"Why must you assume what my sister would want of me!? You're not her! You don't know what it's like to lose your best friend! You're just trying to make me feel guilty, that's all you've ever done!"

"I'm not making you feel guilty. Your mum told me that your sister was thrilled that you were working with both of yours favorite band. She knew you were special and just what Queen needed."

"I just......"

"(Y/n), I bet the boys of Queen miss you just as much as you miss them. I know why you had to leave, it was your way of handling your grief, and to be there for your mum. But the boys had helped you throughout your internship, as well as during the funeral. No rock band would do that willingly." I leaned back against the couch and sighed heavily. "I believe your sister wouldn't want you to push them away as you have been."

"They—well Roger mostly has tried to reach out a few times for the past couple months. I never did call him back though."

"I think you should go see them. Aren't they going to perform in Houston in a couple days?"

"What if they don't want to see me since I've been avoiding them?"

"If they truly loved you, I doubt they would turn you aside."

So I took Dr. Lockwood's advice and got a ticket and went on the next flight to Houston, Texas for their concert. As usual the boys performed magnificently on stage, especially with their new album News of the World out. I also took notice that Rog, Freddie and Deacy had shorter hair than I last remembered.

But they still were awesome up there, hell I thought they looked even better with the shorter hair. They continued to work the audience with each song and seeing the crowd react bigger and more energetic than ever before it made me happy to know the guys were finally reaching the popularity they always wanted to have.

When the show was over, I stayed behind and somehow managed to sneak backstage. I walked along the underground hallways that lead to the dressing rooms when I was stopped by a security guard.

"Excuse me do you have a backstage pass miss?"

"No but I know the band."

"Uh-huh you and every other young teenage girl that pulls this move." He stated as he gripped hold of my arms and began to take me outside.

"No, no let go I'm not kidding! I used to be their lawyer's assistant!"

"Young lady I gave you fair warning, now please leave or else I'll have you arrested."

"What is going on out—(y/n)?" I turned and gaped.

"Phoebe?" It was Freddie's assistant Peter or as Freddie like to call him, Phoebe.

"Oh my god you—you actually came." He said with a wide smile.

"Yeah I—I was hoping to also maybe......talk to the guys."

"Yes of course ohh you have no idea how happy they'll be to see you again."

"But....." the security guard tried to butt in and that's when Phoebe slammed him.

"Oi back off pal, this young lady here is Queen's personal assistant. She's just been on personal leave for a while. So if you don't let her through, you'll have to face the wrath of the four Queens." With no other words from the security guard, he let me go and Phoebe extended his arm out towards me and I followed behind him. As we walked along the corridors he asked me, "So how have things been for you (y/n)?"

"It's.....been rough."

"I know what you mean. When my mum died I didn't know what to do."

"Are—are they upset with me?" I asked nervously.

"Of course not darling. Not once have they talked about you in anger or resentment. If anyone did, Roger and Fred were the first to pop those bastards in the face." I nodded. Soon we reached the dressing room and he said, "here we are love. They should be decent by now. Go on in."

"Thanks Peter." He smiled and patted my shoulder before leaving to check out to see if the roadies had finally cleared the stage and packed everything up. I stared at the door and took a deep breath in before exhaling softly and slowly opened up the door.

"He threw my best fucking pair of maracas away the first day. Great sounding maracas and I mean....it took me hours to steal them." I softly smiled as I heard Roger's voice for the first time in 2 years. I could hear the sounds of laughter before Freddie spoke up.

"Now they know I'm gonna throw those things...."

"And he just goes..."

"Actually they were wonderful I must say, I'm sorry."

"One in a million maracas and I'm never gonna get them back." Roger whined. I slowly stepped further in the dressing room to see Fred sitting down in his green and gold robe getting unwind from the performance while Roger continued to pace around muttering about his maracas while Brian and John were adjusting the sleeves on their normal clothes.

Freddie continued to talk about the maracas and that's when I picked up on Brian saying.

"You can throw me in the audience." Freddie stood up and he said.

"You don't...you don't rattle as good." That's when he looked over and he must've seen me because his eyes went wide briefly and his face turned solemn. Brian then turned around and he saw me as well hiding in the corner.

"(Y/n)?" everyone soon turned their attention towards me.

"Hey guys, long—time no see, ehh?". Knowing of my story, the assistants, makeup people and roadies all left the dressing room leaving me alone with Queen.

The four men stood before me and neither of us spoke until I finally broke the ice.

"I—I'm really sorry I just left guys I.....I was stupid, selfish, and you guys didn't deserve me at all. I just—I was lost and I know that's no excuse but—you guys didn't deserve to have a broken girl hanging off you just as you were finally about to rise to fame. And now look at you all, famous on pretty much every country, our own home country finally recognizing your talents. If I had stayed I would've just dragged you four down and—" I trailed off as Deacy was the first to stand before me.

Mr. King of the one liners, I've witnessed firsthand of him breaking people with just one phrase or sentence. I could only imagine what he was going to say to me after all this time. You get on John Deacon's bad side and he'll make you know it, for life.

But I was shocked when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a comforting hug. I was frozen but it wasn't until I heard him say.

"You are anything but what you just called yourself poppet." I slowly began to relax as I buried my face into Deacy's chest and wrap my arms around him. I felt him pet down my head much like he did at the funeral and allowed me to let out a couple of tears.

"We understand you needed to process your grief (y/n). We're not mad at you for leaving us." Said Brian. I looked up towards the spaceman guitarist and that's when Roger spoke up.

"But we are disappointed of the way you shut us out for two years." His tone wasn't anger filled or upset, but it did have that disappointing tonality. I lowered my head in shame and I muttered.

"I know."

"We were willing to be there for you in any way you needed. Even if it was just to sit there in silence. We wouldn't have hounded you darling because you didn't need that. It would've been nice to hear your voice again, just to see that you were okay." Said Freddie.

"I'm really sorry guys. I—I came to ask if you'd forgive me." They remained silent and deliberated with each other just by looking at each other and that's when Brian came up and cupped each side of my face.

"There's nothing to forgive love." I felt my lip tremble and I choked out a sob. Soon enough I was once again for the first time in two years, in the middle of a Queen group hug.

I'm glad I chose to come here. I guess in a way it was my sister telling me that even though she was gone, she knew that I would be looked after by four amazing and loving big brothers to look after me for the rest of my days until the day comes when I pass on and be reunited with my best friend once again.

[disasterdeacy]

Slip-Up

This was submitted to me anonymously by an incredible human being who really wanted to share their equally amazing writing with us! Please Enjoy! Again, this is not an original work of my own, by hot DAMN is it good!

A/N:Inspired by this video of Brian Harold May accidentally letting the world know what a giant sub he is. I don’t know what happened. I went in to a fever state and when I woke up, this was in my word doc. I snapped. I apologise in advance.

Pairing: 2010!Bri x young Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k (I said I snapped)

Warnings: smut, sub!Bri, age difference, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), creampie ( NSFW 18+ (obviously!!)

“I really don’t read enough, so I’ll definitely try and read this–“

“I’ll have you whipped later.”

“Thank you. You promise?” 

You gape, open-mouthed, at your TV. Did he really just…? 

———————

Bri walks in the door of your flat to find you sprawled out your large, cosy couch, toying with the TV remote.

“Hi baby,” you coo, voice all sugary sweetness.

“Hello, my love…what’ve you been up to all afternoon?Just watching TV?“. He plops himself down beside you, taking your legging-clad legs into his lap and gently rubbing your feet.

“Oh yes!” You smile at him, cupping his cheek and turning his head to face yours. You lean in to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. He beams back at you.

“So…I tuned in to The Book Show specially for you.” You stroke his jawline tenderly. “Wanted to support my beautiful man.”

Your fingers travel down his neck and you cup him by his nape. Brian’s eyelashes flutter as he lowers his gaze. 

“Can you imagine my surprise when I heard your little slip-up?” Your mouth is now at his ear, teeth grazing his earlobe. Brian’s stomach plummets. Fuck. So you’d seen that. He thinks back to the moment in which the nice interview lady had wickedly grinned him at her comment. He honestly doesn’t know what had come over him. It was such an instinctual reaction, he had for a moment forgotten where he really was. He nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your leggings, trying to ignore the increasing thump thump thump of his heart stuck in his throat. He pulls back from you a little, attempting to meet your eyes steadily

“S…slip-up? I thought it went rather well,” he’s glad his voice remains at least somewhat level. You pull your legs out of his grasp and fluidly settle yourself in his lap.

“Ohhhh, sweetness. I don’t think that’s entirely true, do you?”

Pinning his head to the back of the couch by his throat, you raise yourself up a little, your knees on either side of his hips, so you’re now looking down at him. Brian glances away shiftily.

“Do you think it’s proper for good little boys to ask strange ladies to whip them?” With a jerk, you pull Brian’s chin up, forcing him to meet your calm gaze.

“I know she offered, my darling, but really” You can see and feel the pulse in Brian’s neck jump under your fingers as he scrambles for an answer.

“I…I was just kidding around, my love,” he says in a very small voice, causing a grin to spread across your face. “Oh, now…you know that’s not true. I could see it written all over your face,” you settle yourself slowly back down into his lap, “the mortification of realising what you’d just let slip out,” you shift back and forth slowly, the seam of your leggings grazing his flies, where you could feel a distinct hardness. 

“And did you seriously slap yourself, naughty boy? Oh, you knew you’d blundered,” a gentle kiss right below his left ear, “and you knew I was watching,” a sharp bite at his earlobe, “and you knew in that moment that there’d be sweet hell to pay when you got home,” a sharp swivel of your hips, causing Brian to let out a breathy whine, bucking up into you instinctively. Your hand at his throat tightens immediately and he gasps.

“No. You’ve been a wicked, naughty little slut,” you whisper softly, “sharing your proclivities with all the world, goodness me…and you were oh so turned on and embarrassed by it, weren’t you?”

You let go of him and clamber out of his lap. Brian gazes up at you with hooded eyes, cheeks flushed, mouth hanging slightly open. His jeans are looking more and more uncomfortably tight and his chest rises and falls rapidly with his shaky breaths. 

“Would you like to know what happens when little boys are especially naughty?”

A vigorous nod.

“Strip.” 

He makes a sound so needy and soft, you can’t help but feel it go straight to your core. Oh, he is in for it.

Unsteadily, not taking his eyes off you, Brian stands up. He slips off his vest, unfastens the remaining buttons of his white shirt and pushes off his dark jeans. When his hands reach his boxer briefs, he hesitates, fingers toying with the waistband. You give him a pointed look. Slowly, he slides them down his long legs, stepping out of them, finally standing naked before you. You let yourself glance down at his cock which curves upward towards his belly, read, hard, and leaking. You raise your eyes back up to his, smiling sweetly.

“Bend over.”

Brian’s cock twitches visibly and his mouth goes slack. He knows the drill. Stepping over the pile of his discarded clothes, he kneels down on the couch, bending forward so his forearms are braced on the back couch cushions. His back is arched and he stares at you over his shoulder, wide-eyed, expectant. 

You need a moment to take in the sight of him. His tanned back, his beautiful slender legs, the backs of his thighs that curve gracefully into pale white buttocks that are begging to be coloured with red, blue and violet blossoms. You step forward and run a hand along the seam of his ass, past his puckering hole, along his perineum, halting at his balls that are now drawn up tight against his body. You run your hands over them, cupping them gently. Brian lets out another needy whine.

“I-I want…just–”

You lean forward. “I beg your pardon?” you whisper dangerously.

“P-please, Miss. I need…” He arches his back further, pushing his buttocks back so your hand becomes trapped between your bodies, grinding himself against you. You stare at him in wonder. 

“Oh. Oh, you’re really gagging for it, aren’t you?” you remove your hand and focus instead on kneading his buttocks slowly.

“Yes, yes I am. Give it to me good, Miss. Please smack me so hard I need it, I want you to punish me, I’ve been so bad, dear GOD, PLEASE!!” He’s babbling now, the words pouring out of him as he arches into your touch. 

“So you admit that you’ve been a bad little slut, eh? That you were so turned on this afternoon. That you were longing to be spanked.” You lift your hand and bring it down hard on Brian’s right buttock. 

“Hhhhhhha!”

“Bet you went straight to your dressing room after that and tried not to touch yourself, because you were so ashamed, but you couldn’t help yourself, could you? Answer me, slut!” 

The crack as your palm connects with his soft skin is deafening and the blow jolts Brian forward into the couch cushions. Clinging on to the back of the couch, he cowers before you, bringing his groin forward to rub himself against the textured fabric of the couch. With awe, you note your red handprint forming on his white skin. After landing several more hard smacks while he pathetically rubs himself against the couch, you grab him by the roots of his curly hair, yanking him back.

“That’s enough. Filthy little sluts who jerk off in dressing rooms after humiliating themselves on national television don’t get to cum when they want to.” Making sure his ass remains nicely arched away from the couch, you let go of his hair and allow him to prop himself back up on the backrest.

“Nrrghhhh,” Brian warbles into the crook of his arm in which he has now buried his face.

“Full sentences darling, if you please,” you trill, delivering short, hard smacks, now moving down to the back of his thighs. But Brian is apparently incapable of forming coherent thoughts just now, instead emitting little gasps and whines as you move your smacks back towards his ass. He subtly moves his knees further apart, spreading and arching himself further towards you and your heart nearly bursts out of your chest at the sight. Here he is, one of the most legendary rock stars in the world, putty in your hands, spread out before you. You feel almost drunk with need. 

Something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. The cushion against which Bri had been grinding himself is sporting a very visible dark stain.

“Are you serious?” you growled. “Did you get your pre-cum all…over…my…expensive…furniture…you little…needy…slut!” you punctuated your each word with an unforgivingly hard smack, the last one landing right between his legs on his testicles. Brian keens in agony and slumps down against the couch, quickly realising his mistake and grabbing the head of his cock to prevent further accidents. He’s sniffling now, tears pouring down his face as he coughs and gasps for air. Concerned you’ve gone too far this time, you clamber onto the couch next to him and wrap your arms around him.

“Shit, Brian, are you alright, my love? You didn’t use your safe word, I thought you were still ok, I’m so sorry baby, I love you so much” you babble, stroking his hair and rocking him back and forth.

Brian wordlessly brings your hand to his groin. His eyes burn into yours as he manages a weak smile. His cock lies ragingly hard in your hand and you stare at him, amazed.

“M’more than ok, baby. Now please…”, he tugs scrabbles desperately at the waistband of your leggings.

You nod, mutely. Disentangling yourself from him, you hurriedly strip out of your clothes. Brian watches, perched on his knees, slowly dragging his thumb over the head of his cock. Flinging your last item of clothing from you, you saunter back towards him.

“If my strap wasn’t at your place, you know you’d be the one getting fucked into the couch, right?” you grin at him. He grins back, shakily. “Come here, please…let me kiss you baby,” he murmurs. Your chest grows warm and you are filled with the overwhelming need to be close to him as possible and you melt into his embrace, his tongue slipping past your open lips, kissing you like it was the first time. You take his hand that is not wrapped around his cock and guide it between your legs which are coated in your own juices and when his fingers find your centre, you arch into him, your moan muffled by his kiss. With his thumb gently massaging your clit, his slender middle finger enters you and you throw your head back at the jolt of pleasure that courses through you. Brian attaches his mouth to your neck as he carefully adds another finger, massaging your inner walls, hitting that spot he knows unravels you every time. His other hand lets go of his cock and it smacks against your pubic bone. Pulling you flush against him by the small of your back, he grinds his leaking cock against your lower stomach, continuing his agonisingly slow ministrations in your core.

“I-I need you so badly, baby. Please. I need to be inside of your beautiful pussy, baby. I love you so much, please, I don’t know how much longer I can take it…”, he breathes against your neck, moving to pepper your jaw with butterfly kisses, his mouth finally finding yours again and you lose yourself in his scent, his taste, his warmth.

Pulling back a little, you gaze up into his eyes, arms wrapped around his neck. The two of you are still kneeling on the couch, facing each other and you glance down at his dark red cockhead between you. 

“Of course, my love, you’ve been so so good for me. Taking your punishment – ah!!!” you gasp as he applies more pressure to your clit and warmth floods you to the tips of your toes, “–so well. Such a good boy. Pleasuring me so well…I love your fingers, baby. But I’m so ready for your cock to stretch me out, c’mon,” you shift away from him, turning so that now you are the one braced over the back of the couch. Brian lets out a low groan as you spread your legs and he scrambles behind you, one knee on the couch, one foot braced on the floor. You wiggle your ass at him, your dripping cunt on full display. Turning your head, you look back at him with shining eyes.

“Well?” you ask softly “What’re you waiting for baby boy?”

With the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard him make, Brian slams into you. He’s got you so incredibly wet and ready for him that it’s an easy, fluid motion. You scrabble behind you, your hand finding his buttock, earning a wince and an involuntary jerk from him that has him buried to the hilt inside you. You keep your hand firmly on his ass, holding him there, inside you, trying to get used to the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full. After a full minute, you slowly pull away, his cock dragging against your inner walls as it slowly pulls out of you, the delicious feeling, eliciting a groan from both of you. You sink back onto his cock, setting the pace, slowly increasing until you tap Brian – who has been so diligently still this entire time until you’re done adjusting to his length – on the flank, signalling to him it’s ok for him to take over. He happily obliges. 

It’s fast, hard and so sloppy, but it’s what the both of you desperately crave right now. Brian’s arms wrap around you, pulling you straight up against his chest, one hand finding its way to fondle your breast, the other snaking it’s way down towards your clit where he sets up an equally punishing pace. Each thrust is accompanied by the most deliciously low groan into your neck where Brian has buried his face and you let out a breathy laugh as you feel the tell-tale tingling in your extremities, signalling your fast approaching orgasm.

“Your little pussy is so tight around my cock, baby, clenching me so good,” Brian gasps into your hair, “M’so close, you want me to fill up your pussy with my cum? God, I wanna see my cum dripping out of that sweet cunt, wanna lick you clean”

You grab the back of his head as his mouth attacks your neck, sucking dark bruises into your skin which you will marvel in seeing in the mirror tomorrow. He’s fucking feral. Your other hand covers his as his fingers strum out a punishing rhythm against your clit, making him apply more pressure. 

“Just like that…want you to cum inside me, baby boy, please. Fuck, I’m so close, shit…I’m gunna…I’m gunna–“

White hot pleasure sears through your entire body as your walls clamp down hard on Brian’s cock and your orgasm washes over you. With a strangled moan, you feel Brian tip over the edge as well, as your spasms squeeze and milk his cock and he lets out tiny whines into your hair. He can’t help but continue thrusting sporadically into you as both of you are hit with wave upon wave of pleasure. Finally, your knees are trembling too hard for you to remain upright and you have to detangle yourself from each other. As Brian’s cock slips from your cunt, you lament the sudden emptiness he leaves behind. You gasp as you’re suddenly pinned to the back of the couch, Brian kneeling between your legs, spreading your lips, watching his cum drip slowly out of you. You bite your lip as he fixes you with a stare, never loosing eye contact as he leans forward and licks a stripe over your sensitive cunt, gently lapping up his seed, cleaning you with his tongue. It’s the single most erotic thing you have ever seen and you moan in over-sensitised pleasure as he pushes a finger inside you, which comes away dripping in your combined juices. You grab his hand weakly and bring it to your own lips. Both your chests heaving, you lick his long finger clean, then pull him up and towards you for a searing kiss. Tasting yourselves on your tongue, you feel so incredibly close to him and you make sure to deliver every ounce of sweet intimacy and warmth and love you feel for him right now into your kiss. 

After a while of kneeling on your hardwood floor, Brian’s knees start complaining and the two of you finally trail into your bathroom where you shower and clean each other gently and tenderly, revelling in the warm water easing your shaking muscles. After drying off, you grab some cocoa butter and head towards your bedroom where you have Brian lie face down on your bed so you can massage the welts on his thighs and ass. After you’re done, you snuggle up to each other under the covers, Brian’s arms enveloping you He smells of your Jasmine body wash and you bury your face in the little hairs on his chest, inhaling his clean, warm scent. Brian tenderly strokes your naked back, drawing little circles all along your spine.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against his skin.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

“M’gunna invest in a riding crop, I think,” you mumble, the grogginess of post-sex, post-shower bliss slowly catching up with you.

Brian hums against the top of your head and chuckles softly.

“You promise?”

tags: @meddows-taylors @toomuchlove-willkillyou @leah-halliwell92 @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @glasgowkisschelseasmile @brianmayoucease @rogertaylors-lipgloss @mariekuuuuuh @unofficialbillnye @stephydearestxo @dereones98 @danamaleksworld @awkwardangelshezza @psychosupernatural @warren-lauren @womanwithahotdogstand @oujiacallme @simonedk @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @horrorsinwonderland @asgardianvamp21 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @amor-libre @marvelstuck @softboydeacon @roger-bang-the-drum @frannyxc @reedusteinrambles @drowseoftaylor @doubledeaky @harrisunn @stormtrprinstilettos @freddiedearfriend @anotheronebitesthedeaks @bowiequeen @get-on-your-bikes-and-ride @indieblair @marymaia00 @ellywritesfics @subbysharkbabe 

[stormtrprinstilettos]

Brian and Roger threesome anon here. Headcannon with Professors May and Taylor. 🤯

Wow. Yeah. Okay.

(No one under 18. Clearly this is smut - just filth. I swear if I find out you’re under 18 and reading this... Also this has zero plot and maybe even zero point and is probably so terribly written I will cry when I read this tomorrow, but here it is. Not even proofing. Wow. Hope I’ve managed to put everything that was requested by people in here 😂 ((looking at you, Discord girls)))

So you’re sitting in Dr. May’s office - he’s your former professor, and now your advisor, so he’s made sure you’re doing well since your very first semester. You’d go to him before scheduling your classes, for his advice… to make sure you’re going down the correct path and all.

And he’s being a good advisor, going over your grades and future plans with you like any good advisor would, making suggestions on your curriculum and all that.

And apparently your scheduled meeting time has run over, because Dr. Taylor barges in, not knowing you’re in there, yelling something about how he was ready to go grab lunch.

This was every female student’s wet dream right now (some males’ too, no doubt). The two hottest professors in one room. Fuck, they’re hot. But no – you can’t think those dirty thoughts. This is serious business.

The last time you thought dirty thoughts you ended up on your knees under Dr. May’s desk.

And the time before that you ended up bent over Dr. May’s desk. And, of course, there were other times too, but never when he was one of your professors. That would have been risky.

Anyway, Dr. Taylor sees that Dr. May is still busy, so he takes a seat, pretty close to where you’re sitting with that low-cut top that leaves little to the imagination (completely unintentional... honest). You know all about his reputation with the girls, but you’re not that kind of girl, so you don’t play his little flirtation game.

Of course, that cologne he’s wearing and the subtle tapping the leg of his pants is doing against your leg makes it hard for you to ignore him. Okay, just him existing makes it hard for you to ignore him.

Dr. May doesn’t miss it. He’s a little annoyed that you’re now distracted and he doesn’t have your undivided attention, but he can’t help also be a little amused by the whole thing. Even somewhat fascinated by how all Dr. Taylor has to do is sit there to get your attention.

You know what else doesn’t go unnoticed? That look you see Dr. May flash Dr. Taylor - that smug smirk and head nod, almost as if to say “this one is good.” And when you glance over to Dr. Taylor he’s returning the head nod and you have no idea what’s even going on any more.

Usually that smirk is a signal to you that he wants you. He gives it to you in the hallway all the time. But this time he’s giving it to Dr. Taylor.

And you know what? I can’t headcannon this.

“What are you up to this break?” Dr. May asks, pretending to be genuinely curious, as he takes one last look over your planned schedule.

“Hiking,” you tell him, still trying to make sense of the subtle nodding and smirking the two of them are doing, while Dr. Taylor is walking back from the office door. “Some friends and I are going hiking in Spain.”

“Ah,” Dr. Taylor answers, as if he were part of the conversation. “You like adventure.” He stands behind you and starts to rub your shoulders.

“I do,” you reply. “College life can be… boring, with all of the studying and…”

You look curiously over at Dr. May who is now walking over to you. “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he smirks. “We like adventure as well.”

Now there’s two ways to handle this. One, you can leave, and you don’t want to do that. Of course you don’t want to do that. “What kind of adventure are you two looking for?”

“One I have a feeling you’d enjoy immensely,” Dr. Taylor tells you, with his calm tone that makes this whole situation seem completely normal. His hands are no longer staying on your shoulders. Now they’ve moved down to rub just above your breasts.

“Both of you?” you ask, knowing exactly what they’re trying to talk you into doing. “Here?”

“Mmm hmm,” Dr. May replies. “And now.”

“If you’re feeling adventurous, of course,” Dr. Taylor says, his hands moving lower now, cupping and rubbing and gently squeezing your tits.

You stand up from your chair and walk over to Dr. May, biting your bottom lip and smirking. “You two do this often?”

“No,” he smirks back before grabbing you and pulling you into a kiss, pressing his body against yours while Dr. Taylor moves behind you, taking off your shirt and then your bra as Dr. May kisses down your neck to your tits.

You turn around to Dr. Taylor, to starts to kiss you deeply as Dr. May teases your nipples with his tongue. You cradle their heads, nudging Dr. Taylor down so this way they each take a nipple in their mouths. Dr. May starts to trail kisses down your belly where he unhooks your pants, pulling them down with your panties in one fell swoop before pushing you to sit in his chair.

While Dr. Taylor is concentrating on your breasts, Dr. May kneels down and starts to feverishly tongue your clit. “You can be as loud as you want, doll,” Dr. Taylor tells you as he stands up and lifts one of your legs to rest on the arm of the chair, giving Dr. May much easier access. “I know you can get loud. I hear you next door.”

“Yeah?” you giggle before gasping as you look down at Dr. May’s face between your legs. You glance up at Dr. Taylor to see how he’s reacting to what Dr. May is doing to you and notice him smiling as he rubs his crotch. “I know how to help you, Dr. Taylor,” you say, somewhat whimpering because Dr. May is busy sucking on your clit. You motion for him to walk to the side you, and you unzip his pants, his cock springing out right in your face. You grab hold with one hand and begin to lick it from one end to the other, stopping every now and then to suck the head.

“Call me Roger,” he groans. “You call him Brian when he’s fucking you, so you call me Roger.”

You can’t answer him because his cock is in your mouth, but he feels your humming. Whether it’s because you’re answering him or because Brian is being the fucking magician he is with that tongue if his doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re a fucking magician with his cock shoved in that pretty face of yours. And when your free hand starts to grab Brian’s hair, he pulls back. “You can’t cum yet,” he smirks. “Not until we’re ready for you to cum.”

Brian stands up in front of you, slapping his hand against your pussy before loosening his tie and undoing his pants. “You want this cock, don't you? You want my cock all the way inside, don't you?” You and Brian are very verbal during sex but you can't exactly answer with Roger's cock in your mouth, so you have to take him out, but continue to jerk him off with your hand.

“Give me that cock” you growl. “Fuck me hard. I need it!” You quickly stand up and walk in front of Brian’s desk, and he lays you down on it before he rams his hard cock into you. “Like that,” you smirk. You fucking love it, and when Roger brings his cock back to your mouth, you suck it that much harder.

“Fuck her hard, Brian,” Roger says. “She is sucking me so fucking good when you do.”

Brian drives his cock into you hard and fast, just like you like it. “Pull her hair while you're fucking that mouth,” he tells Roger. “She likes it that way.” So Roger grabs your hair and continues to ram his cock in and out of your mouth.

After about five minutes of sucking cock and getting fucked hard, Brian stops quickly when he feels your walls start to contract taps you on your thigh and tells you to turn over. Once you do, he smacks you on the ass, hard. “I told you, you can’t cum until we’re ready.”

“Please, Brian, I need…”

Roger grabs your hair again and starts to ram his cock in and out of your mouth before you can even finish begging. “That’s right,” he groans. “Suck me like that.” Leaning back some, he crams his cock deep into your throat and moans.

Brian keeps spanking you hard, but pulls his cock out and starts to lick you on your ass. He knows this is something you really get off on, especially how he lets you push back against his tongue every time. He reams you good with his tongue, and you love it. But he stops right when you get close to your orgasm again.

Roger pulls out of your mouth and groans. “I need to fuck that pussy.” He walks around the desk and he turns you back around, lifting you up to sit you on the top of the desk. “You’re going to look at me while I fuck you,” he growls. They seem to be having a contest to see who could fuck you the hardest. You’re in fucking heaven. He grabs your face with his fingers and pulls your face to look at him, and you do, your mouth dropped open. He leans his face down to meet yours, and when his mouth gets close to yours, he spits a long string of saliva from his mouth into yours. You make sure you catch all of it and swallow with a loud gulp.

Brian is pulling and tugging your nipples while Roger continues to pound into you. “I want… Roger, please can I…?” You can’t get the words out because he’s holding your face so tight, but you try to beg as your hand is reaching for Brian. Finally Roger lets you go, still relentlessly pounding inside of you, and you start to plead with Brian. “Can I cum now? Please?”

“After I do,” he moans, leaning down to kiss you before putting his cock back in your mouth. You need to cum. You need it so badly, so you want to do everything you can to make sure Brian unloads. And he does. Right down your throats.

“It’s my turn now, Roger,” you smirk as you look back at Dr. Taylor who hasn’t stopped pounding his cock into you since he started. “Can you make me cum like Brian does?” What a silly question. Of course he can. “Oh, God, yes. Fuck me!” you yell as your body becomes almost like a rag doll, your head bobbing each time he pushes into you, his final thrust making you reach your climax and scream out in ecstasy with him, as Brian looks down at you, seemingly proud of the little slut he’s created.

The next semester started a month later, and you’re sitting at your desk like a proper student, when your new professor walks in, Dr. Taylor. When he passes by your desk he bends down and whispers in your ear. “Why don’t you stop by my office after class. I’d love to hear about your trip to Spain.” He smirks at you and gives you a wink before starting his lecture.

[waywardaardvark79]

The Tire Swing

Summary: Dean recalls important memories between him and reader.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, angst, character death

Word count: 7,178

               It's funny how the sound or sight of something, even something so simple and mundane, can stop you in your tracks, memories flooding you in an instant once you encounter it. For some people it could be a song, others a smell, but for him, well, for him it was a tire swing. 

              The car was idling at a four way stop, Dean patiently waiting his turn when he spotted it in the yard cross the street hanging from a large Oak tree. He quickly glanced away, trying to focus his attention on anything else, but found himself drawn back to it, unable to look away no matter how hard he tried. That damn tire swing was taunting him, mocking him, and suffocating him with memories that he had desperately tried to lock away into the deep recesses of his mind. 

           He sucked in a breath, his chest tight, his knuckles white on the wheel, his mouth dry, and his heart skipping beats in his chest. He exhaled a shaky breath, released his grip on the wheel and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. The loud honking of a horn and a small voice from the back seat pulled him back to the present. He looked up into the rearview mirror, glancing back at the little girl in the back seat who was looking back at him with your eyes, an impatient look on her face that he had seen on yours countless times.  

"Go, Daddy. It's our turn." she said.

"Sorry, sweetheart, you're right." he said as he took one last glance at the tire swing before pulling away. 

          A few moments later he was on the open highway, desperately trying to distract his mind as he turned the music up. His efforts were fruitless, the tire swing haunting him no matter what he did, so he let go. He let the walls come crumbling down, deciding that it was time to face the past head on. He couldn't out run you anymore. 

        He couldn't have been more than five or six years old the first time he saw you. He was riding his bike, racing down the sidewalk when he caught sight of you. He slowed himself to a crawl and watched as you got a running start before launching yourself through the middle of a tire swing. You landed on your stomach, your legs kicking wildly behind you as the tire swung back and forth. 

             He found himself slowing down even further before coming to a complete stop in front of you. He sat on the bike, his feet on the ground on either side of it keeping him upright, and watched as you spun yourself in a circle, winding the rope tighter and tighter in the same direction before pulling your feet off the ground. The tire started to spin wildly out of control in the opposite direction that you were spinning it, your high pitched giggle ringing out across the yard causing him to smile. 

          The swing started to slow and was now moving gently back and forth, your toes barely scraping the ground helping it along, when you first spotted him. 

"Hi." you said. 

"H-Hi." he stammered, a little embarrassed that he was caught staring at you.

"I like your bike. I wish mine had a flag like that." you said, still on your stomach in the swing as you pointed to the black and white checked flag waving behind his bike. 

"Thanks. I, uh, I like your swing." he said. 

You smiled brightly at him, "You wanna try it? It's really fun." you said as you wiggled out of the tire and hit the ground with a thud. 

"I don't know. I've never tried a swing like that." he said.

You picked yourself up off the ground, and dusted the dirt from your blue jeans,  "Don't worry, it's easy. Come on, I'll show you." you said as you walked towards him with your hand outstretched.  Dean hesitated a moment before climbing off of his bike, wheeling it into your yard, and propping it up against the tree. 

          That was the day that you taught him the fine art of tire swinging, and the day that a simple thing like a tire hanging from a rope became on of the most symbolic things in his life. 

           Thousands of images of the two of you flashed through his mind before he settled on another memory. He was thirteen years old the first time he kissed you, that stupid swing making yet another appearance in his life. 

    It was the beginning of summer, and the school was hosting their annual end of school dance. You had planned on going with that total dickwad Brian Thompson, so Dean has asked Amber Miller to go with him so he wouldn't be without a date. He listened for weeks as you went on and on about how Brian was going to ask you any day now, so when he heard that Brian had actually asked Kara Butler to go with him instead of you, he knew you were going to be crushed, and he hated when you were upset. 

       However, on the other hand he couldn't help but feel relieved by the news. Brian Thompson was a grade A asshole, and he didn't want him anywhere near you. So, after he got home from school he let his feet lead him down that familiar sidewalk, a journey he knew by heart and could make in his sleep. 

       You were sitting in the tire swing, your posture slumped. Your arms were crossed in front of you on the tire, your head leaning against the side of the rope, your chin propped on one arm as your feet dragged the ground, gently swaying yourself back and forth. 

"Need a push?" Dean asked as he walked up behind you.

You turned yourself to face him, your eyes red and puffy from crying, "You don't have to." you whispered out. "Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?" you asked, sniffling a little before turning yourself to face away from him. 

He toed at the dirt with his boot, "No, I'm exactly where I want to be." he said. 

You whipped around in the swing and scoffed, "You're here because you feel sorry for me. I went on and on about him asking me for weeks, and he didn't. Now I look like a total idiot." you said, before whipping the swing back around. "You better get going. Amber is gonna be pissed that you're late." you said. 

Dean shrugged, even though you couldn't see him, "I'm not going." he said. 

"Dean." you breathed out, exhaustion from your seemingly world ending problem weighing you down. 

"What? I don't want to go, so I'm not going. Amber found another date, so it doesn't matter." he said as he took a few steps towards you. 

"Why did you ask her? I mean, why go through all the trouble of asking her to the dance just to not go in the end?" you asked. 

"The person I wanted to go with already had a date, and I didn't want to look like the loser who couldn't get one, so I just asked her." he said. 

"God Dean, how many times do I have to tell you to just give up on Cassie. It's never gonna happen, dude." you said, a slightly frustrated tone to your voice. 

Dean rolled his eyes at the back of your head, "It wasn't Cassie." he said, not wanting to get on the subject of her with you. You weren't her biggest fan. 

You turned slowly in the swing to face him and raised an eyebrow at him, "Jo?" you asked. Dean shook his head no. "Lisa?" you tried again. Dean shaking his head no again, a tight lipped smile on his face. You scrunched up your forehead in thought, "Is it that new guy, Cas? I mean, he's been following you around like a lost puppy." you said.

Dean's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, "What?" he croaked out.

"Did you want to  ask Cas to the dance?" you teased, trying your best not to smile and come off completely serious. 

Dean ran his hand over his face, "Oh my God, No! It was you, idiot. I wanted to ask you to go." he blurted out,  walking towards you until he was standing right in front of you. 

"Oh." was all you could manage, completely shocked by his admission, never in a million years thinking that he could ever be interested in you. You were the dorky best friend, not girlfriend material. Then it hit you, he probably only wanted to go with you as a friend. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, I know. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask, but then you said you were going with Brian, so I just asked Amber so I could go and keep an eye on you." he said. 

"Well, Brian is a total jerk. You should have asked me, at least then I wouldn't be crying like an idiot in my front yard while everyone we know is out having fun." you said. 

"I was going to, but then you started talking about him and I lost my nerve. Why do you think I was constantly telling you how big of an asshole the guy was? I was trying to get you to change your mind." he said. 

"Well, I'm not a mind reader, Dean. You should have just come out and said something." you said before looking up at him, tears pooling in your eyes, "I really thought he was gonna ask me. I-I thought he liked me. Pretty stupid, huh. How could someone like that, like me?" you asked. 

"Brian is a total dick. Don't cry over that guy." he said as stepped even closer to you, the tire the only thing separating the two of you. 

You placed your feet on either side of his and started to rock yourself back and forth, "So, you were gonna ask me to the dance...like as friend or..." you trailed off not making eye contact with him. 

"No, not as a friend...as a, uh, as a date." he stammered out, kicking himself for being so nervous. 

You looked up at him, sitting up straight in the tire, one of your hands grasping the rope next to your head, "Really?" you asked, a wide smile on your face. 

Dean looked down at you, finally having worked up enough nerve to just go for it, and leaned down until his face was inches from yours, "Really." he whispered before pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. He pulled back from you, scared that he may have crossed a line and took a couple steps back. He looked down at you as you struggled to free yourself from the tire, still never mastering the art of doing it gracefully. Your foot got hung up and you felt yourself start to fall. You managed to hang onto the rope with one hand, Dean coming to your rescue and keeping you from completely hitting the ground by catching you. 

He helped you to your feet, your one hand still grasping onto the rope for dear life, using it to keep yourself grounded. Dean's hand came up and wrapped around yours, "Do that again." you whispered, Dean's face lighting up at your request before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again. 

      So, there he was standing under that tree with you, next to the tire swing that you had spent the better part of your shared childhood on, your hands woven together on the rope, the swing cementing it's place in another important moment. 

         Dean smiled softly to himself at the memory, and he swore that he could almost feel the ghost of your kiss on his lips. He took a deep breath, and wished that he could go back and relive that moment with you. He would give anything to kiss you again. He tried to keep that memory fresh in the front of his mind, but his mind had different plans and was soon rushing forward to another moment. 

       He was sixteen years old the first time he told you that he loved you. He knew it way before then. Hell, part of him thought he knew it the day you looked up at him and asked him to swing, but he told you, out loud, for the first time that day. 

He had just gotten his driver's license, and his dad actually let him borrow the car to take you to a movie. He sat next to you in the theater, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, as he tried to figure out a way to say it. Should he just blurt it out? No, he couldn't do that. It needed to be special. He wanted you to know just how much he really meant it. His mind was racing, and he couldn't tell you one thing that happened in the movie you saw. 

He walked hand in hand with you back to the car, and remembered the way you looked over at him, concern written all over your face, "Hey, you ok? You seem a little off." you said. 

He smiled over at you, "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just tired." he lied, not wanting to blurt out that he had been racking his brain trying to come up with a decent way to tell you that he loved you. 

   He opened the door for you and you slid inside. He tried to give himself a pep talk while he walked over to his side of the car, and almost had himself convinced that he was ready to do it until he opened the door and got inside the car. He looked over at you and remembered how sweetly you smiled at him before scooting over in the seat, grabbing his hand and lacing his fingers with yours. The entire drive home he kept telling himself that he would do it any minute now, just look over at you and say it. I mean, it was only three words. How hard could it be? That thought kept running through his mind as he willed himself to say it, but the moment just didn't seem right, so he kept quiet the rest of the drive. 

       He pulled into the driveway of his parent's house, and you looked over at him with a puzzled look on your face, "I thought I could walk you home." he said, thinking that would provide him with a better opportunity. 

"Ok. You sure you're all right?" you asked again, and he wanted to kick himself for acting so weird all night. 

He raised your hand to his mouth, and placed a gentle kiss the back of it, "I'm fine. I promise." he said, before releasing your hand and opening the door. 

       You got out of the car and laced your fingers with his as the two of you walked down the sidewalk to your house. He kept you as close to him as he could, his pace slowing to a crawl the closer you got to your house. You took the lead, and started to pull him towards the door and he knew that he need to stall for more time. The two of you walked by the tire swing, and he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Wanna swing?" he asked. 

You stopped and looked over your shoulder at him, "What?" you asked. 

"Do you want to swing?" he asked again, praying that you would say yes because he needed more time. He watched as you shrugged your shoulders and walked over to the tire, holding onto the rope as you settled yourself inside. He stepped up behind you, placed his hands on your back and gave you a gentle push. You threw your legs out in front of you and held them up, his second push taking you a little higher. "Y/N, I....uh, I...." he trailed off, not able to finish his sentence. 

"I love you too, Dean." you said, facing away from him as you swung through the air. 

"What? You, what?" he asked, knowing that he misheard you. 

"I love you too." you slowly said, digging your feet into the ground to stop you before spinning around to face him. "I mean, that is what you were trying to say, right?" you asked, hoping you didn't miss the mark. 

He looked down at you, shock written all over his face, "How-How did you know that?" he asked. 

You shrugged your shoulders, "You've been weird all night, and had your I'm deep in thought and second guessing myself face on, so I figured you were either trying to say that or this was going to be really awkward when you said that you actually wanted to break up. I had a 50/50 shot, guess I was right." you said, a satisfied smirk on your face. 

Dean shook his head before looking at you, "I love you." he breathed out. 

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? Say it again." you said. 

He smiled down at you, his hand wrapping around the swing to completely still it before leaning in and whispering, "I love you." against your lips. 

You raised your hand and brought it to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his neck, "I love you too." you  whispered before pressing your lips to his, the tire swing the only thing separating the two of you.  

        Dean was so caught up in his memories of the two of you that he missed his exit. He looked up into the rearview mirror to see his daughter sleeping soundly in her car seat, and decided to take the long way home. He wasn't ready to go home, and face the empty house. You were still with him in his memories, and he wasn't ready to let go yet, so he drove.

            He was eighteen years old when the two of you broke each other's heart , and to this day if he could redo that moment he would give anything he had to do so. The summer after graduation was coming to and end, college looming over the two of you like a dark cloud. You had decided to stay home, and attend the local community college, reasoning that you could learn basically the same thing at a cheaper price, and could use the money you saved to start a life anywhere you wanted. Dean had agreed with you and applied along with you, keeping the other schools he applied to a secret, never guessing that he would get in. 

           You were tangled up with him on the couch the day his brother Sam walked through the door and tossed a few letters at him.  He quickly tried to gather them up before you saw them, the UT Austin return address quickly catching your eye. You sat up, "What's that?" you asked, as you looked down at the letters in his hand. 

"Probably just junk mail." he said as he tossed the letters on the coffee table and tried to gather you back into his arms. 

You quickly shoved him off and reached for the stack, ripping into the UT Austin envelope as you stood up and walked away from him. He watched as you read over the piece of paper in front of you, "Congratulations. You got in." you said as you tossed the letter to him. 

He snatched it from his lap, "Y/N, I'm not going. I just applied out of nowhere. I never expected to get in." he said. 

You looked down at the ground, "You should go. Don't let me stop you." you said before you made your way to the door. 

"Y/N, wait. Where are you going?" Dean asked as he stood from the couch. 

"Home. I'm going home, Dean." you spat before flinging open the door and slamming it behind you. 

Dean was chasing after you in a heartbeat. He ran out of the door and across the yard, spotting you down the sidewalk stomping your way home. "Y/N!" he yelled after you, only causing you to increase your pace, the distance between the two of you growing. He broke out into a jog, quickly catching up to you and reaching out to grab your arm, "Y/N, would you just talk to me?" he asked. 

You shook loose from his grip, never turning to face him, and continued on your way home. Your house was in your sights, and you had no plans of stopping until you were inside. You walked by the tire swing, reaching out and roughly pushing it to the side in anger, when Dean jumped in front of you blocking your path. "Y/N, please just talk to me." he said, his hands resting on your shoulders. 

You stepped back behind the tire swing, using it as a barrier between the two of you, "What do you want me to say, Dean?" you asked. 

He stepped towards you, the tire swing the only thing separating you, "Y/N, I'm not going. Like I said I didn't even think I would get in." he said. 

The two of you were both hot heads, and often said things in the heat of the moment that you did mean, "I think you should go." you said. 

Dean sighed, "I'm not going." he gritted out, trying to keep his patience with you. 

"No, Dean, go. I'm not going to be the one that holds you back and keeps you from doing what you want to do. You obviously wouldn't have applied if you didn't want to go, so go. Maybe it's for the best." you said, your fingers digging into the top of the tire. 

"For the best? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his temper starting to get the better of him. 

"I don't want you to stay here and feel like your stuck with me, like I'm trapping you here. So, maybe you should go." you said. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Fine. You want me to go so bad I will." he said. 

"Fine." you said. 

The two of you stood toe to toe, staring at each other, daring the other person to make the first move. Dean looked down at you, his jaw clenched in anger, before huffing out a breath and storming off. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not daring to turn and watch  him leave. Your fingers were digging into the top of the tire so hard that you weren't surprised to look down and see the little crescent shapes  your nails left behind. You flung the tire to the side and stormed into the house, not once looking back. 

       He was nineteen years old when he realized what idiots the two of you were, and drove home from Austin with one thing on his mind. He pulled his car up in front of your house, taking notice that your car was missing from the driveway and deciding that he would wait as long as he had to for you to come back. 

   He was starting to doze off in the front seat, the sun had set long ago, and he wasn't even sure what time it was. He rested his head against the window and closed his eyes, only to be pulled back to reality a few moments later when he heard a knock on the window. He cracked open his eyes, ready to explain that he wasn't a stalker to whoever was going to ask him what he was doing when he saw you. You were standing there, your arms crossed over your chest, staring down at him with an annoyed look on your face, "What are you doing here?" you asked. 

  Dean cracked open the door, "I just wanna talk." he said before pushing it the rest of the way open and climbing out. 

"I have nothing to say to you." you said before turning on your heel and heading towards the front door. 

"Y/N! Stop!" Dean barked, causing you to stop in your tracks, your hand reaching out and grabbing onto the rope of the tire swing next to you. 

"Why?" you asked, not bothering to turn around to face him. 

He closed the gap between the two of you, "I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry and I never should have left." he said. 

You turned to face him, placing the tire between the two of you, and shrugged your shoulders, "I told you to go." you said. 

"I know, but I shouldn't have. I never should have left, and everyday that I have been gone the only thing I have wanted to do was come back. I have wanted to come back to you so fuckin' bad." he said, his hand reaching out and grabbing onto the rope. 

"I, uh, I came to Austin a few months ago. I had this big plan of trying to win you back because the whole time you have been gone I couldn't help but think if I hadn't of reacted the way I did you wouldn't have left. I was just so scared that you really did want to leave that I didn't listen, and I pushed you away before you could do it to me. I'm sorry." you said. 

"You were in Austin? Why didn't you find me?" he asked. 

"I did. I came to campus and there you fuckin' were, right across from me. You were sitting with a few different people, and you...you looked happy. You looked really happy, and I didn't want to ruin it, so I left." you said. 

Dean shook his head at you, "You are what makes me happy, and I'm sorry that I waited so long to come back. And...now that I'm here, I'm not leaving without you." he said before pulling you from behind the swing. He looked at you, took a deep breath, and dropped to his knee, "Marry me." he blurted out. 

You looked down at him, your mouth hanging open in shock, "W-what?" you managed to ask. 

"Marry me. Marry me and come back to Texas with me. We can figure everything else out when we get there." he said.

"Dean, I...you...you can't just show up here after not seeing me for a year, and ask me to marry you. I...I have a life here, and school...and a job...and have you lost your fuckin' mind?" you asked. 

Dean shook his head, "The only thing I know is that being without you this last year has been the worst year of my life. I know you have a life here, and I know that I can't expect you to drop it all for me, but just..." he trailed off. 

"Yes!" you blurted, your hand clamping over your mouth after you said it. 

"Yes?" Dean asked. "Yes, you'll marry me or yes, you won't drop everything for me?" he asked. 

You looked down at him, your mind screaming at you that this was completely crazy, and you should turn and walk away, but your heart was telling you that the only life you wanted was one with him, "Yes, I'll marry you." you quickly said. 

Dean jumped up, his quick movement startling you causing you to take a couple of steps back, and grab onto the rope of the swing to steady yourself. He put his hands on your cheeks, "You'll marry me?" he asked, smiling from ear to ear, the swing present at yet another important moment in his life, one that would change everything. 

You nodded your head, "I'm pretty sure that it is completely insane, and that we are going about this in the worst way possible, but yeah, I'll marry you." you said. Dean crushed his lips to yours, and part of you knew right then, that as crazy as it seemed, it was the right thing to do.  So, that's what you did. You packed up and moved to Austin with him without blinking an eye, and three years later you walked down the aisle, Dean waiting at the end for you, a huge smile on his face, and you knew that you had made the right decision. 

           He was 23 years old when he drove nearly eleven hours from your home in Austin back to Lawrence, Kansas. The two of you had been married a year, and there was only one thing he could think of to get you for your anniversary. He had already talked to your parents, and it was waiting for him when he pulled up. He thanked them before hauling that damn tire up onto his shoulder and loading it into the trunk. 

        He had managed to beat you home, and hang the swing from the large tree in your front yard. He stood back and looked at the swing before pulling out his phone and calling you, "Hey, you gonna be home soon?" he asked before you even said a word. 

You chuckled, "Happy Anniversary to you too. Yeah, I should be there in about fifteen minutes. I got a surprise for you." you sang out. 

"Right back at ya, sweetheart. I'll see you soon." he said. 

"See you soon." you said before hanging up the phone. 

              Dean was waiting in the driveway for you when you pulled up. He rushed to your door and opened it, "Close your eyes." he said. 

"Can I at least get out?" you asked. 

"Nope. Now close them." he said. You did as he asked and felt him grab your hand as he helped you from the car and closed the door behind you. 

"My purse. Grab my purse." you quickly said, your eyes closed tight. You heard him open the door and quickly close it again, the strap of your purse soon landing in your outstretched hand. You hoisted it up on your shoulder, "Ok, I'm ready." you said, as he started to guide you forward. 

You came to a stop, "Open your eyes." he said. 

 You blinked them open, your eyes quickly adjusting to the sunlight when you saw it hanging from the tree. You ran over to it, your hand running across the top of the tire before turning back to him, "This isn't..." you trailed off. 

Dean nodded his head, "That's it." he proudly said. 

Your hand flew to your mouth as you looked at him in astonishment, "You drove all the way back home to get this?" you asked, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. 

"Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart." he said before walking over to you. "Besides, I figured we might need it one day, you know, kids love these things." he said, a smile on his face that he had managed to surprise you. 

You slowly nodded your head, "Yeah, they do, and we might end up needing it sooner than you think." you said as you reached into your purse and pulled out a white envelope. You handed it over to him, "Happy Anniversary." you said. 

 Dean looked down at the envelope in his hand for a moment before slowly opening it, his eyes glued to yours. You nodded your head towards his hands and he looked down at what he was holding. A grainy black and gray image stared back at him, and he felt himself stumble backward a few steps, "Is this a...are you...I'm gonna be a dad?" he asked. You smiled, and nodded your head. He quickly scooped you up into his arms and started to spin you in circles. "I'm gonna be a dad!" he excitedly yelled out. He quickly came to a stop and placed you back onto your feet, his hand flying to your stomach, "I'm gonna be a dad." he quietly said. 

"You are." you said, smiling up at him, your hand coming to rest over his. "Happy Anniversary." you said. 

Dean pressed his lips to yours, "Happy Anniversary." he said. 

            Eight and a half months later he was attempting to rush you across the yard to the car, your water had broken a few minutes ago, and the two of you were in a panic. "The bag." you rasped out when you were halfway across the lawn. 

"The what?" Dean asked. 

"The bag. You forgot the bag." you said, as you squeezed his hand. Dean looked back at the house, and then over to you, "Go. I'll wait right here." you said, as you reached out and grasped the rope of the tire swing. Dean looked at you one more time, "Go." you said, another contraction ripping through you, causing you to hold onto the rope for dear life. Dean nodded his head, and quickly ran back inside. 

He returned a few moments later, the bag hanging from his shoulder, as he quickly made his way to you. He pried your fingers from the rope, "Come on, Sweetheart." he said as he led you to the car. 

The ride to the hospital seemed to last forever. Dean kept looking over at you with worry as you groaned and panted in the passenger seat, "I'm never having sex with you again. Oh God, this is all your fault." you gritted out. 

"I know. I know, Sweetheart, but we're almost there, just a few more minutes." Dean said. 

"A few more minutes for you maybe. I still have to push this thing out of me." you said between pants. 

"She'll be worth it in the end." Dean said, as he pulled up in front of the hospital and jumped out of the car, quickly running inside to get help. The nurse helped you from the car into a wheelchair, and ushered you inside. 

You were changing into a hospital gown when Dean walked into the room. You glared at him over your shoulder as another contraction hit, "I...hate...you so much...right now." you breathed out.

 Dean rushed to your side, and helped you into bed, "You can hate me all you want, whatever you want." he said as he brushed a few strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. 

You grabbed his hand, "I don't hate you, this just really fuckin' hurts." you said. 

Dean raised your hand to his lips and placed a kiss to the back of it, "I know, Sweetheart, but you're doing good. You're doing so good. I love you so much."  he praised. 

    He stayed with you the entire time, whispering encouragement as you pushed your daughter into the world. Your head fell back against the bed after your final push, her cries alerting you that she had arrived, "Is she ok?" you panted out.  "Dean, go check on her. Tell me that she's ok." you said, as you pulled your hand from his and urged him to leave your side. 

   Dean walked up to the nurse and looked down at his newborn daughter in complete awe. "She's perfect." he finally managed to say.  "Absolutely perfect." he mumbled to himself before turning to look at you. He expected to see you eagerly awaiting his assessment, but your head was turned to the side, your eyes fluttering closed. "What's going on? What's happening?" he asked as he tried to get back to your side. 

The nurse stepped in front of him, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room." she said as she placed her hand against his chest and tried to push him backward. 

"I'm not fuckin' leavin', that's my wife. What the fuck is going on? Y/N! Y/N!" he cried out. 

"Sir, I need you to leave. There has been a complication, and you have to go." she said, forcing him out of the room. 

Dean stumbled into the hall, his back hitting the wall before he slowly slid down to the floor. He watched as the door flew open a few minutes later and you were rushed from the room, nurses on each side as they rushed you down the hall. Dean jumped to his feet, "Hey, can somebody tell me what's going on?" he begged. 

The doctor ran from the room, "Mr. Winchester, there has been a complication. We'll do everything we can." she said before running off down the hall. 

Dean ran his hands through his hair, in complete shock. He didn't know what to do. He stumbled back against the wall and slid to the floor, his elbows propped on his knees, his face buried in his hands, and he did the only thing he could think of, he prayed. He prayed to everything he could think of. He needed you to be ok. He just needed you to be ok. He didn't know how long he sat there, before he heard footsteps approaching. He raised his head to see the doctor walking towards him, and jumped to his feet, "Is she ok? Can I go see her? Please, just let me go see her. I need to see her." he rambled out. 

The doctor came to a stop in front of him, "I need you to come with me." she solemnly said. 

Dean shook his head, "You're taking me to see her right? I need to see her." he said. 

"Mr. Winchester, if you would please follow me." she got out before Dean interrupted. 

"No, not unless I get to see her. S-she's ok. She's ok, and I need to see her." he said, his voice cracking. 

"Please, just follow me." the doctor said, as she gently grabbed his arm and led him down the hall. She stopped in front of a door and led him into a small room, the hospital chaplain waiting at the table. 

Dean tried to back out of the room, "No. No. This isn't happening. She's fine." he said. He turned to the doctor. "She's fine. I need you to tell me she's fine." he pleaded. 

"Please have a seat." she said, as she ushered him to a chair, and pulled it out for him. 

Dean sat down at the table, and the doctor sat across from him. She started to explain everything that happened, but Dean was in a fog, only hearing a few words here and there. She said something about uterine atony and how you started to hemorrhage. He heard her say that they did everything they could, and that it was a very rare outcome, occurring in less than one percent of cases in the United States. He sat there and listened to her and the chaplain both tell them how incredibly sorry they were for his loss, before they left him alone in the room. 

    Two days later he left the hospital with your newborn daughter, alone. He drove to the home he shared with you, his mother's car waiting in the drive when he pulled up. He shut off the engine and looked out across the yard, his attention immediately settling on the tire swing, and in that moment, so full of hurt and anger he had never hated anything more. That damn swing was staring back at him, the last thing you had touched before you left home, a constant reminder that you were gone, and he swore in that moment that he would never look at that thing again. 

He carried your daughter inside, his mother quickly stepping in and taking her from him. He looked out the window at the swing, before quickly rushing into the garage. He grabbed everything he needed to cut the swing from the tree before dragging it all to the front yard. He made quick work of getting it down, and carried it back into the garage, tossing it into the far corner before draping a tarp over it. He put away the ladder and the tools he used, vowing that he would get rid of it when he had the time, but no matter how bad he wanted to get rid of it, the time never seemed to come. 

                  He was 30 years old when he pulled into the driveway of the home he used to share with you. He got out of the car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside, and tucked her into bed. He walked aimlessly around the house before somehow finding himself in the garage, standing in the far corner, looking down at an aged, blue tarp. He tore the tarp aside, and looked down at the swing. He didn't know how long he stood there, every memory he had of you replaying in his mind as he stared at it. He ran his hand over his face,  and he knew what he had to do. 

            He had just finished doing the breakfast dishes when he turned to your daughter, "Hey, Sweetheart, let's go outside. I have a surprise for you." he said as he wiped his hands on the dish towel. 

"A surprise!? What is it? What is it?" she asked as she excitedly jumped up and down. 

Dean scooped her up into his arms, "Let's go see." he said.

He carried her outside, across the lawn to the large tree in the front yard. "Wanna swing?" he asked. 

She looked up at him, "I've never seen a swing like that." she said as Dean placed her on the ground and took her hand. 

"Don't worry, it's easy. Come on, I'll show you." he said as he led her to the tire swing. 

            He was 30 years old the day he taught your daughter the fine art of tire swinging. He watched as she took a running start and launched herself through the middle of the tire, landing on her stomach, her legs kicking wildly behind her as she swayed back and forth. He taught her how to spin it in a circle, and stood back when she raised her feet off the ground, the tire spinning wildly in the opposite direction as her high pitched giggle rang out across the yard. He watched as she wiggled herself from the tire, landing with an ungraceful thud on the ground before popping back up. "That was fun." she said, as she started the entire process over again. 

       He watched with a sad smile on his face, she was your double in every way possible, and as she launched herself through the middle of the tire again, he couldn't help but go back to the first time he saw you, the day you taught him the fine art of tire swinging. He watched your daughter, a smile on his face, and he knew that you would be so proud of both of them. 

       It's funny how the sound or sight of something, even something so simple and mundane can stop you in your tracks, memories hitting you in an instant the moment you encounter it. For some people it could be a song, for others a smell, but for him...for him it would always be a tire swing. 

[freddie-mercurial]

Hi! I'm a sucker for young Maycury and still innocent and shy Freddie (pictures of him in smile/very early Queen era always made me want to hug him so much, he looks so insecure and shy). Could you write Frian's first time, where Freddie is an anal virgin?

thank you anon i LOVE this, i love first time 😍😍 also sorry because this got a bit long so i’ve thrown it under a read more!!  

They’re both strangely nervous.  It’s weird because it’s just them, there’s nothing to be nervous about, except there is because tonight is the night.  John’s staying with his parents for the weekend and Roger is out with his girlfriend; they have the place to themselves and they’ve been wanting to try this for ages, waiting for the right time.  And this is definitely it but it’s a bit daunting.

“How much lube do you have?” Freddie asks, breathless because Brian’s been kissing him non-stop for the past few minutes, his hands eagerly exploring every inch of him he can reach.

“So much,” Brian breaks away long enough to reply.  “Plenty.”

“Are you sure?”  

Brian pulls away properly then and opens his bedside table drawer to show Freddie, who leans over and snorts as he sees at least half a dozen bottles and tubes of different lubricants.  

“Oh my God!” he laughs.

“Should be enough,” Brian grins at him, pushing Freddie back down to start kissing him again.  

Freddie lets him, widening his legs as Brian settles comfortably between his thighs, letting himself get slowly worked up by Brian’s tongue in his mouth and the deliberate way he’s stroking Freddie’s skin, his hands getting lower and lower until they’re at his waistband and pushing his trousers down.

Freddie groans, wriggling so Brian can get them off, already hard.  They’ve done this before, made out and jerked each other off and sucked each other a few times, but Freddie’s been desperate for more, wants Brian inside him.  

Brian closes his fist around Freddie’s cock and strokes him a few times, humming happily into Freddie’s mouth.  “You okay?” he asks, pulling back.  “You still want to…”  He thrusts his crotch into Freddie a bit to indicate what he means.

Freddie nods, grinning shyly.  “Let’s do it,” he says boldly, reaching behind him to re-open the drawer and dig out the first lube that meets his hand, passing it to Brian.  

Brian upcaps it and squeezes a generous amount into his palm, working his own trousers off and lubing his cock up with it for a few seconds before Freddie realises what he’s doing.

“Whoa!  Hold on, darling!” he says quickly, half sitting up.  “I’m not prepped at all yet!  You can’t just go shoving that in there!”

Brian blinks at him for a moment and gives his head a little shake.  “Right, fuck, sorry!”  He laughs and picks the lube back up, coating his fingers.  His hands are shaking a tiny bit, from a healthy dose of both nerves and excitement, and he spills quite a lot on the sheets.

Freddie tries to take the bottle from him.  “Shall I do it?” he asks, but Brian snatches it away.

“No!” he says quickly.  “I want to do it.”  They’ve never done this before, not even with a finger, though Brian’s done something similar with girls in the past.  He’s been fantasising about doing this with Freddie for so long now, it feels like a dream to actually be here between his legs about to do it, his brain isn’t really engaging properly.

Freddie’s got his own hand down there, watching Brian with his lip between his teeth, and Brian gently smacks his hand away.  “I want to do it,” he repeats firmly, finding a good position to start off so he can see what he’s doing.  He hesitates for a moment, trying not to let himself over-think things, before he presses his index finger just gently between Freddie’s cheeks.

Freddie lets out a quick breath, putting his head back, and Brian stops.

Freddie looks back up at him, frowning.

“Do you think...should I start with my little finger?” Brian asks, looking down at his own hand.  His fingers have never seemed quite so big to him before, very long, and he hopes Freddie doesn’t mind.

“Uh...maybe,” Freddie breathes, just watching him.  “Please just do it, darling, before I lose my nerve!”

Brian hastily rubs lube all over his little finger, reaching back between Freddie’s legs.  “Tell me if it hurts,” he says sternly, and Freddie nods vigorously, gasping when Brian finally pushes his finger inside.

He squeezes around him without meaning to and Brian looks at him intently.  “Okay?” he checks, looking back down at his own hand.  It had slipped in more easily than he’d expected, though Freddie’s surprisingly tight around him now, far tighter than a girl.

“I’m okay,” Freddie assures him quickly, putting his head back again.  “Was that...is that your little finger?”

“Yeah,” Brian tells him, trying to move it gently.  “Try to relax a bit, Fred.”

“Christ.”  Freddie focuses on relaxing but there’s definitely a part of his mind that’s unhelpfully comparing the size of Brian’s little finger to how big he knows his cock is.  It’s not painful right now but it’s definitely...something.  He can definitely feel it.  

Thankfully Brian isn’t prone to rushing and doesn’t try to move on just yet, he just leans over Freddie and starts kissing him again, keeping his hand where it is and only occasionally moving his finger just a little, letting Freddie get used to the sensation.

Eventually he pulls it out and he continues kissing Freddie but Freddie can feel him fumbling around, can hear the cap on the lube, and then he can suddenly feel something at his entrance again.  It’s immediately bigger, noticeably bigger, and Freddie breaks their kiss for a moment so he can breathe.

“Ooh, fuck, Bri,” he moans, trying not to do what his body instinctively wants to do and squeeze so it can’t go in any further, trying to keep himself relaxed.  “Is that your cock?” 

Brian laughs.  “It’s my other finger,” he tells him, and Freddie swallows hard.

“Oh Christ!  How the fuck will your cock ever fucking fit?”

“Ssh, don’t worry,” Brian soothes him, kissing him again.  “We’ll go slow.  If it’s too much we’ll stop, okay?”  His only major concern is that he might come long before then and ruin this whole thing; he’s always been ridiculously attracted to Freddie, his cock very enthusiastic whenever Freddie is concerned, but he’s still surprised by just how arousing he finds it to see and feel Freddie like this.

He does go slow, savouring it, taking his time.  It feels so different to touching a girl he’s a bit obsessed with the new sensation of it, and with all the delightful new sounds Freddie makes while he’s being touched.

Freddie relaxes slowly, his kisses turning from distracted and slightly tense back to sensual as he adjusts to the feeling of one and then two of Brian’s fingers, so slowly it gets fully dark outside their window while Brian’s still just gently prepping him.

Freddie starts getting impatient after that, wriggling restlessly.  “Oh, Bri, come on,” he begs, breathing hard.  “Surely you’re done by now, please.”

“Ssh, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Brian tells him, quietening him with more kisses.  He does want to be safe and make sure Freddie’s fully prepared, but also he’s relishing just this, having his fingers inside him, being able to really feel him, watching Freddie under him.  He knows he’s not going to last long once he’s fucking him properly so he wants to draw this out, enjoy it for as long as he can.

Or as long as Freddie will let him.

“Brian!” he groans desperately, squeezing around him—three fingers by this point, and occasionally the very tip of Brian’s thumb.  “Please just do it, I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

“So’ve I,” Brian retorts, running his tongue along Freddie’s lip.  “Impatient.”

“Brian!”  He’s loud this time, grabbing Brian’s shoulders almost painfully hard.  “Please.  Don’t you...don’t you want to?” he asks, suddenly sounding insecure, and Brian hates that.

“Of course I want to,” he reassures him at once, stroking his thigh.  “I love you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I trust you, please!”

And Brian can’t hold out after that.  He pulls his fingers out and Freddie lets out a little gasp, pushing against him, missing the closeness.

“Oh fuck, where’d the lube go?” Brian asks breathlessly, staring around the rumpled covers looking for it.

Freddie groans, feeling quite tortured as Brian pats around the bed trying to find it, eventually locating it with a triumphant, “Aha!” and pouring a generous amount over his cock, carefully rubbing it in.  Carefully because he’s on the edge of coming everywhere as it is and he doesn’t want to waste this.

“Ready?” he whispers, lying down and positioning himself over Freddie, his cock trailing along his thigh until Brian manages to find a good position, nudging in between his cheeks and waiting there for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, do it,” Freddie breathes, gazing up at him.

Brian meets his gaze, feeling like his heart’s in his throat with just how goddamn in love he is, and slowly starts to push in.

Freddie’s face changes at once, his eyes and mouth going round, and Brian cups his face with one hand.  “Okay?” he checks quickly.

Freddie can only nod, and Brian carries on pushing into him, ever so slowly, until Freddie gasps and grits his teeth.

Brian stops at once, pausing where he is.  “Freddie,” he says, kissing him gently.  “Are you alright, is this okay?”

Freddie presses his teeth together.  “Just...give me a moment,” he says stiltedly, very slowly adjusting his hips a little to try and ease the pressure.  

“Does it hurt?  Should I stop?”

Freddie shakes his head.  “No!  No, darling.  It’s not painful it’s just...different.”  Brian’s not exactly small down there and it’s a lot to get used to despite Brian’s what felt like hours of prepping him.  “You can keep going now.”

Brian does so, easing in as slowly as he can manage, his entire focus on being gentle and not just giving into the urge to thrust.  

“There you go,” he whispers as he’s finally fully seated, pressed all the way inside Freddie.  It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, so tight and perfect and Freddie, Brian wants to spend every single hour he has left just like this.

Freddie sighs in contentment, wrapping his arms around Brian’s shoulders as Brian spends a few minutes just laying there buried inside him, letting Freddie feel him.

“I love you,” Brian tells him sincerely, nuzzling into his neck as he very slowly starts to pull out and ease back in again.  “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Freddie tells him, hot all over and glowing.  He does, he loves Brian so much, can’t quite believe that they’re finally here, Brian above him and smiling the way he does, feeling so perfect inside him.  There’s nobody else in the world Freddie would have preferred to do this with.