#anyway i adore that bass strap

[buckymorelikefuckme]

freakness on the loose

dark steve rogers x dark fem reader

words: 2.1k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), spitting, implied/referenced violence. if i missed anything pls let me know!

a/n: this is my first dark fic but i feel like it's more dark-lite djdjdnd anyway i hope you all like it! any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

The booming bass of the club thrummed through you, practically making the blood in your veins vibrate. You sway your hips sensually from your perch on the balcony of the luxury VIP room, watching the people below, waving your fingers flirtatiously at anyone who meets your gaze.

And plenty of people are looking. You’re wearing a skin-tight dress with thin straps, sheer and covered in Swarovski crystals, the only thing underneath it being your tiny black thong, leaving your tits on full display. The chunky, platform heels on your feet made your legs look extra long and toned. You look hot and you know it. It's exactly the type of outfit you wore when you wanted to cause trouble.

As much as you loved teasing people, letting them drink in the image of your body and ache for more, it never took long for you to get bored.

With a dull sigh, you turn around, leaning back against the railing of the balcony and shifting your attention to the men in the room. Steve sits languidly on the velvet sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand. His expression mirrors your boredom. The man sitting opposite him doesn't seem to care as he drones on and on, stroking his own ego as he talks himself up.

You already knew why Steve wanted to meet with him. A low-ranking dealer who's become a little too self important, thinks he's hot shit and that he runs more than he's been given. Steve hates when his generosity is taken advantage of.

You slowly make your way over to the two men, stopping next to Steve and taking the whiskey from his hand, downing it one go.

The man stops speaking abruptly, cutting off his gloating about getting a personal meeting with the boss. You nearly laugh. It's hilarious that these guys never stop to think how it could be a bad thing to be called in to speak with Steve.

“Goddamn,” the man whose name you didn't bother learning mutters, eyeing your body hungrily. “A woman like you who can handle her alcohol? That's sexy.”

If it wasn't for the music coming from the speakers, the room would be far too quiet in the moment that follows. You turn sharp eyes on the man, who merely smirks.

Hm… This will be fun.

“Yeah? You think I'm sexy?” Your voice is a purr. You step into his space and bury your fingers through his hair, light and unassuming, until you fist the strands harshly and yank his head back. His gasp is thrilling. “You wanna fuck me?”

His eyes are wide, shocked, and he must see the way your own eyes are blazing, because the taunting leer has fallen off his stupid face.

“C’mon, I’m just kidding,” he tries, swallowing roughly as his gaze flits from you to Steve.

You pout. “So you don't think I’m sexy? You’re sending me mixed signals here, baby. Do you want me or not?”

He looks at Steve, apprehension making his shoulders hunch. Steve stares back, face unreadable, which seems to only add to his discomfort.

“Stevie,” you begin, plopping down in the man’s lap, biting back a manic grin at the way he freezes beneath you, hands hovering as far away from your body as possible. “He's hurting my feelings.”

“No, hey, wait—”

“Answer her question.”

The deep, commanding tone of Steve’s voice makes you press your thighs together, eyelids becoming heavier with desire. You adore the way Steve is looking at you right now, at the man whose lap you're perched on. Like he'd rip him to shreds in a blink and fuck you next to his desecrated remains. It's delicious.

“Look, it was just a joke—” the man tries again, but it's nowhere near the right thing to say.

“Ah, so she's a joke to you, then?” Steve wonders, tilting his head.

The man sputters. “N-No! Of course not, I just—” He stops, choosing his words carefully, though he's pretty much dug his grave already. “You're very attractive. The boss is a lucky man.”

Your lips pull up into a grin, tracing the shell of his ear with your thumb. “Do you wanna be a lucky man?”

Sensing he's headed for shark infested waters, the man backtracks. “I think it's time for me to go, actually.”

“Mm, no, that's not happening,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. You boop his nose. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Steve rises from the sofa, tall and imposing. You bite your lip in anticipation.

“Why don't you and your friend come sit here, sweetheart?” Steve suggests, nodding to the sofa behind him.

“Really, sir, I—”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

The man glances warily at you and Steve. You stand, tugging him to follow and shoving him to sit in Steve’s vacated spot, returning to his lap. He keeps his hands to himself still, but you know that's gonna change soon.

Steve leans over, capturing your lips in a slow kiss, licking into your mouth as he cups your jaw. He pulls away and drops to his knees. You shift impatiently on the man’s lap, seeing his hands clench into fists on the cushion out of your peripheral. Steve nudges you back, making you rest your weight along the man’s torso.

“Open up for me, darlin’,” he instructs.

You spread your legs, draping them on either side of the man’s knees.

“Wait, what are you doing?” his strained voice asks.

“Shut up,” Steve replies.

The man’s mouth shuts with an audible click.

Steve pulls your thong to the side and runs the fingers of his free hand along your slick center. You moan softly. He leans in, putting his mouth on your pussy and sinking two fingers inside you.

“Fuck, Stevie, that's good,” you breathe, reaching up to release your tits from the top of your dress so you can pinch your nipples.

Steve continues to fingerfuck you and suck on your clit, bringing you close to your peak within minutes, knowing your body like it's his own. You usually like to cum multiple times, but you're not sure how long he’ll last before he’ll want to take care of the man under you.

He pulls his fingers out, spitting on your cunt before sliding three fingers back inside you, curling them expertly as your whines get louder and louder. Your hips roll, chasing your high. The movement makes the man grow hard beneath you and you laugh. Steve’s noticed, too, of course, and he doubles his efforts, eyes locked on yours as the heat coiling in your belly finally snaps. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you and Steve drags it out until you're twitching. He rises to his full height, sucking his fingers clean as you come down from your high.

“Keep her legs open,” Steve orders as he unbuttons his slacks, lowering the zipper and pulling out his hard cock.

Shakily, and without having to be told a second time, the man cradles your spread thighs. His grip is loose, though, and Steve sneers.

“You wanted to fuck her but that's how you're gonna touch her? That's fucking insulting. Do it right.” The man’s hold tightens and Steve grins, voice low and condescending as he says, “There you go. Now lie back.”

“W-What?” he stutters.

“You heard me. On your back, now.”

The man adjusts your positions, shifting until he can lie sideways on the sofa. Steve’s stare is getting wilder and wilder by the second. He joins the two of you, and knowing what's coming, you wiggle excitedly.

When he finally slides into your dripping cunt, it's with you lying on top of the man while he still holds your legs spread open. Only, now Steve has the man’s legs spread as well, fitting himself between them so that when he fucks into you the man below you feels it too. Steve’s thrusts jostle both your bodies, and giddy giggles bubble out of you mixed with pleasured cries of Steve’s name.

You turn your head, moaning and whining directly into the man’s ear, wanton and needy. You can see the way his face burns in shame and it only adds to the desire building in your core.

“Aren’t you fucking lucky?” you gasp as your pussy welcomes the stretch of Steve’s cock. “You get to witness how good Stevie fucks me.”

He remains silent, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough that you wonder if they'll leave marks. For his sake, you hope not. He's not coming out of tonight unscathed as it is. You'd hate for him to make it worse.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’ll probably watch Steve and his goons teach him a lesson later and it'll be another highlight of your night, second only to this current moment.

“You know, I should chop your fucking hands off at the wrists for touching my girl,” Steve muses, grunting as you clench around him.

“You–You told me to!” the man replies, panicked.

Steve laughs meanly and the sound goes straight to your cunt. “If I told you to walk into oncoming traffic, would you do that, too?” His thrusts get harder, sharper, making you mewl, your hands reaching to pluck at your nipples again. “Little bitches like you never learn,” Steve hisses. “You think you're some big hotshot, just because I give you a job to do. It's fucking pathetic.” He leans down, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the bodies under him as he picks up the pace. “And then when I bring my girl around you stupid pricks, you forget your manners and disrespect her, without fail. You think you can fuck her better than I can? Huh? Answer me!”

“No, sir!”

You're mindless now, mouthing wetly at Steve’s neck, biting and sucking kisses into the skin there, just wanting to feel whatever you can of him. You writhe, whining, begging for more, for release, for everything.

“Who's fucking you so good, sweetheart? Who's wrecking your pretty pussy?” Steve prods.

“Stevie is,” you whimper. “Please, Stevie, make me cum, wanna cum, please.”

Steve lifts himself up, spitting on your clit, smirking at the way it makes you moan, then starts rubbing fast circles into the swollen flesh. You're loud enough now that you're sure the club goers downstairs can hear you. The thought fans the flames in your core.

All too soon, you feel your high cresting. You babble nonsense, hands never staying in one spot, tugging your own hair, your nipples, digging your nails into Steve’s back through his crisp, white button down shirt. When your orgasm hits, you grin like a mad woman.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” you chant, laughing, moaning.

You clench around Steve’s cock, over and over, the pleasure never ending. Steve groans above you, fucking into you roughly as he chases his own high.

“In me, Stevie, please, cum in me,” you beg, “mark me from the inside.”

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, thrusting one, two, three more times before stilling, moaning as he spills inside your cunt.

You hum, entirely pleased, pulling Steve down into a dirty kiss. It takes a few minutes for the rigid body beneath you to register in your cum-drunk brain. You pull away, grinning at Steve as he sits up, sliding out of you. He gathers the mixture of your slick and his cum, bringing it to your lips. With a coy look, you suck on his fingers, swallowing the taste of the two of you with a moan.

“Now,” Steve starts, putting his cock back in his slacks, “my girl’s gonna get up and fix her clothes, and then you and I are gonna head out back to have another chat.”

Resigned to his fate, the man simply nods.

Steve helps you stand and put your thong back in place, pressing kisses to the tops of your tits before you pull your dress back up. You can't resist kissing him one more time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, loving the feel of his large hands on the small of your back. He smacks your ass and breaks the kiss.

“Can't I watch, Stevie?” you ask, jutting your bottom lip out.

“You might get your pretty dress dirty, darlin’.”

You pout. “Please?”

“Okay, okay, I suppose it's fair,” Steve sighs.

You clap your hands happily, giggling. You turn to the man sitting on the sofa who looks two seconds away from bursting into tears and send him a sunny smile.

“It's my turn to watch!”

Steve huffs a laugh, signaling to his men who've been lurking in the shadows to come collect the sorry piece of shit beside you. He doesn't put up too much of a fight, which is a little disappointing, but you're sure he’ll be begging for mercy soon enough.

[anosci]

(226-240 albums etc that I’ve listened to this year, copied from twitter) (now with art. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17])

names and thoughts below cut

226/ Rabit - Baptizm (2015) insanely subdued intro not sure about the high pitch aliasing in "Straps" "bloody eye" is pretty wild. really dirty percussion on some warbly synths. i'm marking this as the standout in a cool, moody EP

---

227/ Common Creation - Sunset Seance (2023) lower tempo + breaks on top of a wobby sound. my favorite :D i think this is the type of sound SGX would make if he were active today. big beats, beefy bass, lush chord textures flitting beneath it all. it's a delight

---

228/ VA - Infloresce & Friends Charity Festival (2023) poor "Gentle Leafy Road", cute banger with a late penalty "make it make sense" bbbbbbbbanger "just existing (in a good way)" talk about good vibes wowow. personal winner tho "Together" is a well deserved actual 1st place.

---

229/ VA - YEA VIDEOGAME (2023) as usual, a grab bag. some personal highlights: "coaxed from the ether" beej is kicking ass god damn "cow descent" hmm yes this is bang er. "Skyscraper Playground" yeah!! bounce!! "KirbYEAdventure" i adore how well this captures the CUTE of kirby

---

230/ VA - TINYMOD GRANDPRIX (2023) as usual, mixed bag etc etc. 2 hilights: (4k) "3n14ks24k4u" is insane for its size. basically just a good song in general. (48k) "light dinner 6" !!! the most nagz&vhiiula sounding thing ive heard in 20 years. holy shit!

---

231/ VA - BotB Advent Calendar 2022 (2023) absolute grabbag ofc. ighlights: (c64) "FL Studio SUX" oh holy shit that's a certified BANGER. EZ fav (fakebit) "Rooftop Wealth Gap RPG" hits that midi itch but a little harder. (zxbeep) "Beepbeep Hoedown" astoundingly soft for 1bit wtf

---

232/ VA - Spring Tracks XII (2023) mixed bag ofc. hilits: "Ophanim" ae-esque! twisting and turning and unfolding! slightly too long but like. god damn. "witness protection" gets its title bc all the ppl responsible for this scoring so low are in [title]. "GENERAL SERUM" hey wtf.

---

233/ VA - Winter Chip XVIII (2023) mixed bag etc. personal hi lites: "10 Celsius Winter" crunchy! "not here" spooky wild textures. i love warble. "Echonomicon" basically magic. 90idm hella. "Status Chill" yooooooooooo

---

234/ Aphex Twin - Blackbox Life Recorder EP (2023) the title "in a room" captures the overall vibe of this EP: lax. parallax mix feels the most like an dusty artifact from the archives (in a cool way) kinda loose overall but happy to have another drop of afx

---

235/ Tigran Hamasyan - Mockroot (2015) there's a certain intensity to these vamps. its often followed by serenity. i feel like a picky eater when i say this but i swear some of these songs (f.ex "Entertain Me") would kick ASS with a metal timbre. anyway: "The Grid".

---

236/ Starkey - Odyssey Five (2016) lush, slightly haunting. deeply nighttime music. "Tropical" is a misleading title for a wild and spooky banger. check out those BENDS. probably personal highlight? not to discount the more atmospheric stuff but…

---

237/ Oval - Popp (2016) yeah i guess it is a little more pop, huh. "ku" has the wild soundscape, transient weirdness, and pitch bends that feels 100% like what oval would make in 2016. perhaps fav? id call that a representative track anyway. shoutout to "fu"'s chops as well

--- August ---

238/ Lanark Artefax - Windox Rush (2015) "it's like afx" oh damn it rly is is that detuned chords too??? might just be lush but i think there's detuning here. "The Angel Problem" prolly fav. overall more "chill" than "electro" but still.

---

239/ hizmi - Soak (2021) absolutely unthinkable that this is coming purely from a stock X68000?????? it sounds so full of intention. insane. beautiful. "Rivulet" is just an unrestrained ilkae track like cmon

---

240/ Skee Mask - Shred (2016) smooth like a cold drink. title track "Shred 08" is kind of the outlier, being actually heavy. feels like a melody-deprived version what i expected bblr to be lol sorry rdj. i think the fuzzy clickyness of "HAL Conv." is my fav tho

---

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[dallydaily]

day #190

sʀᴄ -📸

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Chromatic

Classical Pianist Katsuki Bakugou has a favorite coffee shop on the short walk from his studio back to his apartment. It's small, 24 hours, and has a stage that's always free for musicians to use. And it's run by you, a would be musician who's a better baker and coffee maker-that he can't stop coming back to see.

@nanamisbento & @hanji-is-life both made a world of difference in making me feel confident enough to write this as a full drabble, so thank y'all <3 y'all are sweethearts and I love this au so muchhhh

~light angst, slow burn, black!queer!reader, musician au~

"Cross my heart hope to die, I ain't got no love to give," you plucked at the guitar strings lazily your eyes focused on nothing but the strings and trying not to cry- and if felt like your alto voice was fighting through gravel. Huskier than normal, verging on tenor like you always dreamed about, and you were too fucking sad to enjoy it.

You missed your friend, you missed talking to him. Teasing him, making him laugh. And worse, you knew the home he went back to wasn't the healthiest. You knew all too well how a house could be so much worse than the stress of school.

"Baby boy so goddamn fine, swear you give me a peace of mind," and it was true. Just being near him, talking about poetry, anything, made you feel so calm. Fuck you missed him.

"Swear you make this young girl go crazy," If some tears fell onto your fretboard at least it was late enough that no one would come in until the morning rush.

"Now how could a man like you want somebody, so incredibly immature, insecure just like me?" Because he was just as insecure as you. It's why you two would talk on the phone for hours on end, about all your fears and worries, as much as your happiness. He was the friend you could talk about the lowest lows with because neither of you were afraid or unfamiliar with rock bottom- mentally, emotionally.

You slipped the strap of your electric guitar over your head and put it back on the rack (you left it out for musicians of all kinds to play when they felt inspired by your shop's vibes) and wiped your aching eyes. You didn't see or hear Bakugou slip back out the side door he'd came in through.

~

He'd first started coming in April, when the Washington rain was too torrential not to seek cover. He'd walked in soaking wet and spitting curses as he shut the door behind him. Ash blond hair and garnet eyes plus a jawline you'd cut yourself on meant you were half way infatuated before he even ordered.

"Black coffee with extra raw sugar, and whatever bread you have that's not sweet." It was a rumbling bass of a voice and damnit now you were officially in love- but then you noticed a case that you guessed carried an electric keyboard by the shape at his feet and in your excitement (that distracted you from his stunningly pretty face enough you could talk to him without tripping over your words like you were sure you were going to when you first came to take his order) you grinned at him so genuinely he forgot he was pissed.

"Sure thing, but just so you know- we have a permanent open mic set up here. You can play whatever instruments of mine you'd like to use, or you could set up your keyboard. It's great to see more musicians in here." You meant it, he could see in the way you seemed to light up like fireworks just talking about it.

"..Maybe next time." He tried to say hell no I'm never coming back to this tiny ass shop, do you know the size of the stages I usually play?!

But how could he regret his grumbled words when you clutched your small notepad to your chest and asked him in a rush (with a sparkle in your big doe brown eyes that didn't match your shaved head or heavy silver rings and earrings but was adorable nonetheless) "You mean it? You'd play here?"

It wasn't the same eagerness of ochestral directors prepared to embarrass themselves for a chance for The Katsuki Bakugou, classical pianist prodigy, to play with their ensembles. It was just a person who loved music and ran a tiny well cared for shop that was full of second hand furniture and mismatch cutlery and china, that was excited at the thought of music being played at all.

"Why not? I could play some of my own compositions for once instead of another goddamn Bach piece." You must have been imagining the blush on his cheeks because it was gone in seconds, and he was glaring at you with only the slightest of smiles taking the sting out of his words. "But am I going to get that coffee before I catch a cold from the fucking rain currently soaking my fucking clothes?"

Now it was your turn to feel heat burning in your cheeks as you sheepishly saluted "Right, coffee," and ran back to your bar to start his order. You found some fresh plain yeast rolls on the top shelf of your display case and an old towel in your supply closet. And if you didn't think about how much of a dork you made of yourself in front of your hottest customer to date your hands didn't shake when you put together his coffee in the largest cup you could find.

"Least sweet bread I have, black coffee with a fuck ton of raw sugar.." You winked to (hopefully) let the blond know you were kidding, "and a towel to make sure you'll survive long enough to play for me sometime."

He snorted and snatched the towel from your hands, starting to rub it vigorously over his hair with a blatant lack of fucks for how fluffy and wild it made it hair, but it seemed to you that there was humor in his voice as he sighed, "That depends on how good your shitty coffee is."

~

He started coming in on the regular after that. Sometimes dressed in a suit, that he was all but ripping off until he could roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt and unbutton the collar so he could breathe. (The first time you saw the bare column of his throat and the obvious strength of his chest meeting the delicate structure of his collar bones, you had to blame lifting heavy bags of coffee beans for your breathlessness.)

Sometimes he came from the opposite direction, dressed in jeans and old tshirts when it finally started warming up. He brought in his keyboard on those days and played a range of compositions you knew were his without him having to tell you. His left hand was more comfortable in the lower octaves of his keyboard when it was his own work, and there was more grief mixed in the bombastic anger that fueled the more staccato and forte phrases that had everyone in the small shop falling quiet to listen. Because it wasn't just hammering at the keys, it was complex harmonies of thirds and major sevenths that haunted the air even as he was moving on to the next phrase that was more of a murmur of echoing themes that passed back from hand to hand.

But your favorite times to see him was during your night shifts, when the shop was mostly deserted except for your quieter night owl regulars. Then he'd play pieces that were.. lullabies. Soft melodies and less minor chords than his daylight pieces. He'd take breaks in between pieces to come talk to you at the bar, ask your opinion on his playing- the genuine way he listened to your comments and compliments making your heart melt more than his good looks could have done alone.

And some nights, especially when it rains, he's telling you about the superficial nature of the classical music world and how sometimes he wishes he'd never gone into orchestral piano and just stayed in his old tiny but cozy apartment.

"Maybe we would've met anyway, and you'd still have this place and I'd come play for scraps on the weekends." And damn the wistfulness hits him hard, you can see it in the way his eyes soften for the first time in knowing him.

"I wouldn't let you play for scraps, it's tiny but it's my place. And your music would only add to the atmosphere. You'd get full employee wages and free coffee on the house." You're wistful too, and maybe it's the rain but you'd love for this dream to be real. Even for a moment.

~

You were sure you'd actually walk into being head over heels in love if he did one more sweet thing for you with his signature grumble and glare. But it was weird, ever since a few weeks back he'd stopped coming by as often. Looked at you strange when you teased him like you were both used to, and played pieces with more anger and sorrow than you'd ever heard from him before.

It was turning into the longest you hadn't seen him by the end of the week, so you were fucking furious when he strolled in one night.

Obviously coming from one of his bigger performances with the coattails and tuxedo tie, but no smile to show for it. Not even smugness in his eyes from a performance well done. He looked a little like shit actually, dark circles under his eyes and something indescribably sad in his garnet gaze that sought you out as soon as he walked in. It was the only thing that stopped you from completely ignoring his order when he came to the bar.

But you couldn't stop the obvious way your jaw was clenched while you worked, the hurt in your eyes when you set his coffee down in front of him.

He said your name, low and questioning, confusion growing on his perfect stupid face and that's when you couldn't take it anymore. He looked like shit, but you felt it. Losing one friend in a year was more than enough heart break for you. Having a friend, who you were already half in love with, start ghosting you on top of that? You weren't strong enough to take the highroad.

"Don't you fucking dare look at me like you don't understand. I don't understand why you decided our friendship doesn't mean shit to you anymore. If you were going to fucking ghost me I would've preferred if you'd done so before I started waiting for you to come by." You were glad no one was in the shop but the two of you when you realized somewhere along the line of yelling at him you started crying. Kat was looking at you with his mouth open in shock, and you didn't want to wait around to drag out your embarrassment.

But you were surprised when he came after. Calling your name again, moving quickly to get around the counter to follow you.

"Wait. Wait." His hand grabbed your wrist, the first time he touched you with no pretenses or excuses. The strength and gentleness of his hold only making it harder to stop your tears.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." You almost wished he'd go back to his more brash daylight self, you can't handle how quiet and gentle he gets in the early morning hours. Your heart was too soft on him already- even in your anger, you didn't resist when he pulled you close and cupped your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"You were crying that night too, when you were playing. I'd never heard you sing before." His fingers were on your lips, silencing you before you could even ask what the hell he was talking about. It was too much. Being unable to escape the way his eyes watched you, the way his voice got quiet- confessional.

"Let me finish. I heard you sing, and I saw you cry, and the thought of you crying for another man made me so angry I thought I'd die from how much I hated him. Whoever he was. So I stopped coming by as often. I didn't know that would hurt you.. I didn't think you would care if you were still heartbroken over some asshole." It was starting to make sense, starting to make you hope that maybe.. maybe he felt the same way you did.

"I get heartbroken over friends you know. Just friends." Your words are slightly muffled by his fingers, but its worth it to see the hope flare to life in his eyes.

How had you both missed it? All these months of longing.

"But the way you broke my heart by just not coming by? When I didn't even know what was wrong? That's worse than anything I've ever felt before-"

Your first kiss with Katsuki was salty from your tears, but it was okay.

He wanted your tears, your lips, you to be his and only his.

~

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Wonder No Longer

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend is interesting to say the least. Because when you realize it, it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Do or Not Series

Fluff

Word Count: 1,716

Yuto X Reader

It wasn't noticeable at first to me since Yuto was my best friend. He drove a motorcycle to school and was quiet in almost every sense of the word. But when I was around him in quiet moments, he was loud. His smile when an adorable dog came up on the big screen. Or his laughter while sitting in the sunshine. When he would perform with his band and become loud and full of life. I never thought about how I felt when I saw him living, existing, laughing, and loving. Because he was just my best friend, that is just what made him Yuto, not what should make me fall in love with him.

Until I felt sick one day, and I had told my employer and my mom who was home. Who made me chicken noodle soup and sent me back to bed. When I had texted him that when I don't feel well, I watch my comfort movie. He asked me why I didn't feel well, and if he could come over. The next thing I heard was the roar of his motorcycle as he pulled into my driveway. He rang the doorbell, and my mom had left for work. So I came down the stairs dragging what felt like my corpse to see him with a bag of ice cream and a teddy bear. I knew it in that instance that I had fallen for him. Noticing the lack of strength I had left, he picked me up and took me back to my room. He took care of me, and we watched silly movies together to make me feel better. It worked, he is perhaps the best doctor I have met, and he doesn’t even play one on t.v.

In the big picture, I could see what made me fall for Yuto. It took me a while, but I was falling hard and fast, and there was nothing I could do about it. Except for hope that he liked me back or hope that I could move on quickly. After all, he's my best friend. I should not feel that way about him. I know he cares about me like a friend, not a lover.

--

I make my way down to Wooseok’s basement, joining my friends to watch the band perform. Every other weekend, when Wooseok’s parents are out for a business trip. We gather down here to watch them play a gig. I settle down next to Hyunggu near Yuto where he is sitting with his bass in hand. I give him a small wave, and he grins and mouths, 'Enjoy the show' I laugh and mouth back, 'I will.' “Alright, so the song we are going to play is called, ‘Do or Not’!” We cheer, and Hui is singing beautifully before the rest of the boys join in. I notice a few new people are sitting in on this session. I’m glad that more people recognize their talents.

When the song ends, Hui starts up, “Okay for those who are new! I’m Hui. I’m the lead singer! Behind me is Wooseok, he plays drums--.” Which Wooseok loudly proclaims by hitting his drums a few times, and we all laugh. “Shinwon is our guitarist, Yanan plays keyboard, and Yuto on the other side of me plays bass.” The three of them wave, and Hui goes, “And our band is called Pentagon!” We all grin and clap with a few whistles ringing out through the crowd. He gestures to Yuto, and he smiles, “The next song I wrote most of the lyrics,...” He sings most of the song, and I can’t help but get lost in the music. Twelve seasons and it's winter again,... When it hits me, three years ago in winter, we became friends. What if? I shake my head, ‘no’, that’s when this group was formed that’s what this must mean. Every so often, he looks up, and we smile at each other. He’s my best friend. I shouldn’t have feelings for him. As the song ends, Hyunggu whispers, “Do you like Yuto?” I gasp, “How did you--!” He smirks, “Not denying it, I see.” I blush and look over at Yuto, who is laughing at whatever Wooseok whispered to him. I sigh and look back over to Hyunggu, “And if I do?” He smirks and whispers back, “I think he might like you too.”

I shake my head at that. There is no way that could be true, no matter how much I wish it were. They start up their next song, and I can’t help but think about what Hyunggu said. What if he is right? What if Yuto likes me? How would I ever know if I never ask? I shrug it off and listen to the rest of their set. The more I watch his hands move across the fretboard, the more I wonder what it would be like to hold them. What it would be like to be in love with him. What it would be like to kiss him before I went to bed. Or to take care of him when he gets sick. As his best friend, I could take care of him when he’s sick, but it doesn’t hold the same weight. Like when you kiss someone even though you could catch their cold. Or hold them close to you even if they dare to sneeze on you. But you don’t mind because they love you. I wonder what it’s like to be in love with Yuto. It plagues my thoughts as they finish up their last song.

Wooseok shouts, “Thank you!” And we all clap for them. Yuto joins me where I’m sitting after he sets his bass down. I wonder if he would teach me how to play. I shake my head again, and Hyunggu pats my head as he goes over to Hui to talk to him. “Did you enjoy the show?” I grinned at him, “I loved it, you play beautifully.” He smiles, “Thanks. Which one was your favorite?” I scrunch my nose in thought, “I liked your new song, ‘Do or Not’, but your song tops that by far. How long have you been writing it?” He tells me, “For a while, I thought you’d like to hear it.” I grin, “I loved it, Yuto. I love everything you play.” He smirks, “Even if I were to play [song you hate].” I groan, “Yeah,... But I wouldn’t be happy about it.” He chuckles, “I couldn’t do that to you. I like you too much.” I can’t help but the blush that spills over my cheeks. On cue, Shinwon comes over and sits in between us. He puts his arms around us, “How’s my favorite best friends?” I exchange a look with Yuto, and he shrugs, and I say, “I’m pretty great, you sounded nice up there.” He grins, “Ahh, nice to know I have a faithful fan.” I shake my head at him, “Shinwon, you okay?” He groans, “You will not believe how many times I messed up.” He slumps his head down, and I run my hand over his back, “Really? You sounded just fine from here.” He looks up at Yuto, and he nods in agreement. “Okay,... I just got a lot of nerves. You see that person over there?” We nod, “Well, I was trying to impress them, but that made me mess up more. I just hope they didn’t notice.” I nudge him, “I don’t think they did. They’re looking over at you, so I think you have a chance.” He nods and regains his confidence after we pat him on the back. He struts over there, and I lean on Yuto, “We have an interesting set of friends.” He grins, “You’re telling me.” I grin, “Yeah,... Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be more than friends?” I can hear him gulp and immediately want to retract my question. Why did I even ask anyway! I pull away, and his whole face is red, and I know I’ve fucked up. “I am so sorry--.” He gulps again, “It-It’s nothing to be sorry for,... I just never thought that would be the way you asked,...” I furrow my brows, and he gives me a small smile. “You talk in your sleep,...” I gasp, realizing I must have said something that night he took care of me. He grins and slowly slots his hand in mine. “I’ve wondered too,... Maybe we can wonder no longer?” I grin and lean against him again, and he places his head on top of mine. “You know that song,... it’s about you.” Hyunggu was right,... Maybe I should have listened to him. That’s how we spend the rest of the night together, cuddled up listening to the band ramble. Eating pizza while the crowd decreased in size, till it was just the band and our close friends.

“I think I’m going to like this.” He whispers in my ear. I lean up and whisper in his, “I think I am too.” He takes me home on his motorcycle, and when we bid our goodbyes, he holds me tight to him. “Promise me this isn’t just a dream.” He asks me softly, his grip tight like he was afraid I was going to vanish into thin air. I can’t help but hold on just as tight, “I promise.” I place a kiss on his nose, and we erupt into a bright cherry red. Matching the color of his Harley, he kisses my nose, and we hold on for a bit longer. When we let go, I wait on my porch steps for him to disappear from my line of vision. When he straps his helmet back on, he looks back at me. We wave, and my cheeks turn cherry red again. I’m happy to start this new beginning with Yuto. He disappears into the night, and before my head hits the pillow, he texts me. “Goodnight, my love.” I text back with a heart, “Goodnight, my lover.” And with a light heart, I go to bed, knowing that watching his gigs and being around him is going to be different. A difference that I can’t wait to see what will bring us.

[mulletpeters]

toothache of the mind

ship: peterpatter

rating: g

word count: 1938

tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, high school, 1990s, best friends, feelings realization, pining

Reggie gets braces for his sweet sixteen.

He doesn’t tell anyone―not even his best friends in the whole wide world. So when he walks into homeroom the Tuesday after his birthday, Luke nearly topples out of his chair at the sight of the metal wrapped around Reggie’s adorable little snaggletooth. Alex may or may not be hyperventilating, but Luke wouldn’t know. He’s distracted.

Reggie, for his part, is acting like Luke’s world hasn’t just been tilted on its axis in a dangerous way. “Hey, guys,” he says nonchalantly. “Sup?”

Alex recovers much quicker than Luke, though there’s still a glint of concern in his eyes. They both know how self-conscious Reggie can be, especially about his smile, so he treads carefully. “Hey, Reginald. Do anything fun for your birthday?”

They had their own party on Friday after school―Luke gave Reggie a new studded strap for his bass because the one he’d found in Bobby’s garage had started to look pretty sad―but Reggie’s parents are the type to force family time onto him any chance they get. Luke has a sneaking suspicion they only do it so they can use Reggie against each other in whatever asinine argument comes up that day, but it’s not like he can really do anything about it. None of them can, so Reggie is unfortunately left to his own devices when it comes to compulsory dysfunctional family celebrations. “Not really,” he says in lieu of giving any actual details; he’ll tell them eventually, but a crowded classroom is not ideal for dishing out his personal drama. “Got braces.” He shrugs, like his mom hasn’t made him feel like shit about his less than perfect teeth for most of his childhood. Definitely since Luke’s known him, anyway, and they’ve been friends since they were ten.

“Oh, did you?” Alex asks, and it sounds borderline sarcastic but he holds back most of his usual bite. “Let’s see ‘em, then.” He holds an arm out in a grand gesture like he’s giving Reggie the floor, and Reggie flashes the most hesitant smile Luke’s ever seen on him.

Luke swears his heart stops, but Alex is once again carrying the conversation so he does his best to tune in. “Oh, nice,” Alex says, approving of the red brackets stuck to the front of Reggie’s teeth with a slight nod.

Reggie returns the gesture, and he looks considerably more relaxed now that he knows his friends won’t shun him for something this mundane. “Thanks,” he tells Alex before turning to face Luke, and he looks a little apprehensive, like maybe Luke should get his brain to reboot so he can offer some reassuring words instead of just staring like a total weirdo.

Luke wants to say something about how red looks good on him, or how it’s cool that it’ll match his favourite flannel, or maybe he’d settle for even just a supportive thumbs up. What actually comes out of his mouth is, “How long do you have to wear them?”

Reggie gives him a funny look, head tilted and brow furrowed. “Only like, a year,” he answers anyway, and Luke wants to scream.

Thankfully, the teacher chooses that moment to draw their attention to the front of the room, and Reggie turns around in his seat so Luke can only see the back of his head. Luke sighs in relief, sinking further into his chair till his limbs are sprawled out into the aisle, accepting his defeat. It’s gonna be a long year.

-

Luke decidedly does not address the issue after that day. The issue being that weird fluttery feeling he gets in his chest every time Reggie smiles at him, or laughs, or talks, or breathes. Basically any time he sees the glint of metal in Reggie’s mouth, really.

It’s not like this is a new development, exactly; Luke has always had a bit of a soft spot for Reggie, a little bit of weakness. In the six years they’ve known each other, he can’t recall a time that Reggie just existing didn’t make his brain static out. The braces just made him recognize what’s always been true, even if he still doesn’t know how to make sense of it.

Normally he’d talk to his best friends about whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t very well articulate a dilemma he can’t comprehend to begin with. Plus, he doubts Alex would be any help, considering he’s got his own set of issues to work through, and he’d rather die than bring it up with Reggie himself. And as for Bobby, well. Bobby’s got the emotional depth of a puddle. So, naturally, he does the only logical thing there is to do: he writes.

He figures if Reggie’s smile is stuck in his head like a song, he might as well make it one. It’s what he’s good at, and it gives him a false sense of separation from the issue that grants a certain clarity he can’t get any other way. He jots down pages and pages of lyrics, curled up in his bed late one night, fingers itching for his guitar even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him playing at 1am again. So he just sits cross-legged on his comforter, hunched over his ratty old notebook, scrawling cliche lines about green eyes and freckles and an endearingly crooked canine.

It’s the sappiest thing he’s ever written. When he reads over it before school the next morning, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.

-

Reggie plops down into the dip in the center of the studio couch, inadvertently leaning onto Luke’s shoulder. “You working on a new song?” he asks, tilting his chin at the notebook on Luke’s lap like the question needs clarification.

Luke nods even as he scrambles to shut the book, shuffling loose papers to stuff them between the creased cover. “Uh,” he stammers, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am.”

Reggie just nods back, averting his eyes to look up at the loft when he realizes that Luke doesn’t want him to see the song. “Rad. What's it called?” He glances at Luke, offering a comforting smile that says Luke can tell him as much or as little as he wants.

And well, that's the thing. Luke hasn't given it a name yet―the song, or the bewildering cocktail of feelings that inspired it to begin with. So he looks up from his scratchy handwriting to Reggie’s lopsided grin and says the first thing his useless brain can come up with. “Crooked Teeth.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s smile slides right off his face and Luke realizes what he's done half a second too late. Reggie bites his lip self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of the flannel tied around his waist as Luke scrambles to backtrack into less sensitive territory.

“It's about Bobby,” he blurts unwittingly. And technically speaking, it is a little bit about Bobby, mostly because it's a little bit about the whole band, seeing as they’re mentioned in one line of the second chorus. But Bobby’s not the point of the song, not by a long shot. Luke decides Reggie doesn't need to know that, though. Especially not when his face lights up at the revelation, conspiratorial eyebrow raised like Luke’s letting him in on some great secret.

“Oh, snap! Well, I won't tell him, but don't let him find those lyrics.” Reggie winks, and it's not like it’s an unfamiliar sight, but Luke’s heart stutters out of time all the same. He's just glad Reggie isn’t the type to ask to see a song before Luke’s ready to share it; Luke doubts he'll ever be ready to share this particular piece, but if he does show it to Reggie, it'll be his choice.

He laughs halfheartedly, more a forceful exhale than anything else, and lands a playful punch to Reggie’s bicep. “Sure, man.”

Reggie just smiles wider. It feels like a kick straight to Luke’s solar plexus.

-

“You told him it’s about Bobby?” Alex asks, but what Luke hears is, you’re an idiot. Luke looks down at his best friend―he used to consider Reggie his best friend too, but he thinks maybe Reggie is in a category all his own at this point―and frowns. “He got his braces off before we even met him.” Alex stands up, walking around his drum kit to pace the floor. “And you told Reggie it’s called Crooked Teeth before you said that? Dude, you know how insecure he is about―”

“Yeah, Al, I know,” Luke huffs, cutting him off. It’s not the title Luke would've consciously chosen, but it's weirdly fitting, in a sort of convoluted way. Like, maybe Reggie’s teeth weren’t the sole catalyst for this whole...whatever this is, but they definitely played a major part. Luke’s really gonna miss Reggie’s snaggletooth, okay? He resents Reggie’s parents for a lot of reasons, but forcing him to get braces instead of a real birthday present is pretty damn high on the list.

Alex, with all his anxiety-induced powers of perception, notices Luke’s internal struggle and momentarily stops wearing a hole in the floor. “You’re kinda wiggin’ out, man. Chill.” He holds his hands out in what’s meant to be a placating gesture, but the drumsticks in his fists sort of ruin the effect.

“You’re one to talk,” Luke mumbles, but he doesn’t mean it, and Alex knows that. He’s just confused, and stressed, and generally unsure what to do with his recent epiphany. “What should I do?” he asks louder, eyes pleading.

Alex goes back to nervously lapping the room, and Luke picks at a loose string on his guitar strap just to have something to do. “I dunno,” Alex says after what could very well be an eternity. “But I think you’d feel better if you told him.”

Luke’s eyes shoot up to meet Alex’s gaze, brow furrowing involuntarily. “You what?”

Alex walks over, planting his feet in front of Luke, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder that isn’t holding his guitar strap up. “You’re clearly upset about this, Lucas. Tell him.”

Luke is shaking his head before Alex has even finished his sentence. “Not happening.” He folds his arms like a petulant child, but it loses its effectiveness when his guitar gets in the way, a sad thump echoing through the room. “I wouldn’t know what to say, anyway.”

Alex cocks an eyebrow with a pointed look at the notebook sitting on top of Luke’s amp. “I think you already said it.”

Luke follows his line of sight, eyes landing on the folded corner of a piece of paper sticking out from all the others. He already knows what’s written on it―has the words memorized by now. They were written on his heart long before he put them to the page, anyway.

Bobby bursts into the studio then, Reggie in tow, and the moment is broken. They’re laughing about something Bobby said, and Reggie is as beautiful as ever as he throws his head back, and Luke thinks that maybe one day he’ll get the courage to tell him how he feels. He’ll ask Alex to work with him on the music to go with his lyrics, maybe even get Bobby to help with the melody. He’ll throw rocks at Reggie’s window and serenade him from his front lawn like they do in the movies, and his friends will back him up, and it’ll be perfect.

For now, he needs to focus on perfecting the songs they already have. They’ve got a show at the Orpheum next summer to prepare for.

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Smitten (John Deacon x Taylor! Reader)

Summary: Your brother Roger invites you to meet his bandmates and it seems the bassist has caught your eye

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,433

Requested By: @not-john-watsons-blog - Hey love! If you have time, could I request something? Like maybe something where the reader is Roger's sister (but like very different personality, a lot quieter and more relaxed lol) and he brings her into the studio and everyone thinks she's gonna be another Roger but then she's very different and Deaky kinda starts to get a crush on her and it's cute fluffiness from there. Does that make sense? Lol. Also if you don't have time, no worries! Thanks for your time :)

A/N: This is literally months overdue but thank you so much being my first ever requested fic! My biggest apologies for taking so incredibly long but I promised you I’d write it so I hope this is something similar to what you had in mind ♡

“What if they don’t like me Rog?”

“Oh shut up would you? They’re going to love you.” Roger promised somewhat irritatedly as he kept his eyes on the oncoming traffic; growing tired of your repetitive ‘what if’ scenarios.

The nervous anticipation grew heavier in your stomach as you rolled into the studio’s parking lot. These were up-and-coming musicians you were about to meet; not only that, but your brother’s up-and-coming best friend musicians. Although you knew Roger was hardly one to waste his time on people who were unkind or brash, in addition to his constant reassurance, part of you still feared his bandmates wouldn’t like you.

For Roger’s sake, you wanted to make a good impression. God did you want to make a good impression.

“I promise it’s going to be fine.” Roger vowed sincerely, giving you a final reassuring hug before swinging open the door to the band’s assigned room.

- - - - - - - - - -

Roger didn’t speak of you often but when he did, his face always lit up in sincere adoration of his younger sibling. Much like Brian and Freddie, John knew very little about you except for the fact that you were studying at the University of West London and Roger had two years on you, making you the same age as him.

As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise and although he felt bad for making assumptions, John realised he already had a preconceived opinion of you. He expected you to be exactly like Roger; loud and extroverted. It wasn’t that he disliked Roger - he felt quite the opposite actually - but one Roger was simply enough. If you were anything like he expected you to be, the pair of you would only rile each other up, two marginally chaotic and excitable siblings making little room for productivity.

Your awkward wave and quiet: “It’s lovely to meet you all.” following Roger’s introduction was all it took for John to retract his assumptive statements. You hid somewhat behind Roger before Freddie bounded over, gushing over you and doing his best to make you feel welcome. John felt slightly more at ease when he discovered Brian felt similarly to what he did, but Freddie was a bit more open-minded and convinced them to at least give you a chance. Now he was glad he did.

John always thought that love at first sight was for suckers, at least - he used to. You were absolutely gorgeous. The good looks ran in the family it seemed, you donning the same bright smile that got Roger any girl he wanted.

He didn’t realise he was starting until you quietly coughed and gingerly offered your hand to him, which he took quickly to hide his embarrassment.

“John,” He spoke through a comfortable smile. “John Deacon.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Not wanting your presence to interrupt the group, you spent the morning sitting quietly in the back of the mixing room, enjoying the process. You quietly offered your thoughts and advice from time to time which the boys seemed to find helpful and you were elated when they showed you a few of the completed songs for the upcoming album.

Watching you interact with others allowed Brian, Freddie and John to see how you couldn’t be more unlike your brother. You shared the same unique flare, but for the most part, your personalities were largely different. While he was loud and extroverted, you were calmer and far more down to earth. You contrasted Roger’s personality almost entirely, yet while together you complimented each other, sharing deep bond that didn’t go unnoticed.

- - - - - - - - - - -

One way or another, when you returned to the studio after a short lunch break, you found the recording booth completely empty, save for John behind the mixing deck. He had his back turned to you, busily plucking the strings of his bass over a halfway finished recording of a song you vaguely remember Roger referring to as: ‘Stone Cold Crazy’.

As the chorus came around, he began humming the lyrics to himself and bopping his head to the beat. John was yet to notice your presence, seemingly too engrossed in the music to take any notice. When he began dancing on the spot, you giggled quietly to yourself as you watched him, quickly snapping a hand over your mouth as your realised your mistake.

His head turned to face you quickly, he smiled shyly as his eyes met yours before turning back to pause the playback in a desperate attempt to hide the blush that was creeping up his cheeks.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t even realise you came in.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of head.

‘How embarrassing’ He cursed silently to himself.

“No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have crept up on you.” You apologised profusely, before taking a seat on one of the sofas and sifting through the various magazines on a side table, allowing him to practice in peace. As much as you would’ve loved to speak to him a bit more, you were at the studio as a guest after all, the least you could do was actually let him do his job.

And although you didn’t necessarily mean to watch him over the edge of the magazine for the next ten or so minutes, you found you couldn’t help doing so anyway. There was something about him that brought on the all-too-familiar feeling of butterflies to your stomach, making you feel like a giddy teenager when he said your name.

Once he’d played the final note on the third repeat of the song, you noticed how stagnant his movements were since you made your presence known. Instead he stood still, looking down at his bass with his back turned to you.

“I didn’t stop you from dancing did I?” You squeaked apologetically.

“No not at all,” He lied, lifting the strap over his head and placing the instrument on a nearby stand, “Just focusing on not messing up in front of you.” He laughed, taking a seat across from you and doing his best to not embarrass himself.

“I hope not, it was cute.” You mused, shocking yourself with the random spurt of confidence in your being and coming to terms with the fact that you actually said that, quickly becoming a bright shade of red.

Stunned, his lips parted lightly and his eyebrows raised in surprise, the hue of his cheeks tinting to match yours as he ran a hand over his face. He was a man of few words as is, preferring to catalyse his feelings into his music, but you; you well and truly took his breath away.

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

The remainder of the day passed by swiftly, largely spent sharing spare moments talking with John, and before you knew it the sun had begun to set on the London skyline and your day at the studio had come to an end.

“Come back soon okay?” Freddie beamed mid-hug while Brian - who you’d already said goodbye to - stood in the doorway talking with Roger about god knows what. After promising Freddie you’d come back as soon as Roger allowed it, you turned to John.

“It was nice meeting you John, I hope to see you around.” You smiled earnestly.

“You too (Y/N).” He responded before pulling you into an embrace of his own. When you pulled away, his hands fumbled around in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a pen and a small square of paper, quickly scribbling down a series of numbers before folding it and handing it to you.

“I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t give you my number now would I?” He flirted adventurously, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before Roger turned around.

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

“Can I come back tomorrow?”

Roger laughed to himself, “I take it you enjoyed their company then?”

“Thoroughly.” You nodded with a childish grin plastered on your face, the skin on your cheek tingling as you fiddled with the folded paper held tightly in your grasp.

“As much as I give you my blessing, you surprised me back there,” Roger interrupted as he skipped down the steps of the studio entrance, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips as he spun the car keys around his finger.

You looked at him with a furrowed brow, silently encouraging him to finish his thought as you slipped into the leather-clad passenger seat. His smile only brightened as he gestured to the concealment in your palm, hidden away from his knowing eyes, “I always thought Brian was more your type.”

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

Tags: @kelleypenac @chloblo6 @crazyweirdocalledfriday

(Don’t hesitate to let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

[spacebabe51]

Ok @tamale104 i told you'd I'd give you my thoughts on IGOR and here they are! Plz keep in mind i am in no way musically literate enough to properly review an album but ehhh here i go anyway

IGOR'S THEME

This is a great track to start with bc it eases you into the sound of the album without revealing just what an amazing ride you're in for. I'm in love with the deep synth here it sounds like a cool 90's movie set in like post apocolypic Tokyo or something

EARFQUAKE

This track is AMAZING this is where the album really starts to scratch the brain itch. The lyrical flow is so good, there's more repitition than you get later on but it works so well here because the background vocals and the melody create almost a vaporwave/chillwave vibe, you kind of dont want the chorus to move on

I THINK

this is pretty much a continuation of the previous song, and i love it just as much. Only new thing to note here is how much i adore the female backing vocals ("this time i think its for real...") Its so late 90's early 2000's and it sounds SO nostalgic and gorgeous

RUNNING OUT OF TIME

This one is so chill and the vibes are immaculate. My favorite part though is that little synth ditty it plays right at the end that sounds like its out of an old Zelda NES game. We love it.

NEW MAGIC WAND and A BOY IS A GUN

Discovery: oh my goooood his rap is so good. The way the background vocals blend with the ambient noises?? The way the dark tone of the lyrics contrasts with the gorgeous relaxing piano motif??? Amaaaazing

PUPPET

So here i am just vibing out to the rap again and then BAM the drumroll hits, the bridge with the angelic voices, the SYNTH SIRENS?? this track should be 101 in blending ambience with lyrics to tell a story without sacrificing listenability

WHAT'S GOOD

so this may be my favorite track on the album its just...immaculate. I had to replay it three times because i just didnt want it to end. Again, as soon as i think ive strapped in for a rap track (and this is the best rap on the album imo) he hits me with that amazing blend of 90's synch anthem paired with killer bass and it hits the spot every time 👌👌🔥🔥 Every movement/bridge this track goes through is better than the last

GONE GONE/THANK YOU

VERY close second favorite. I said i loved this track last night but its even better upon second listen and with the context of the rest of the album. I love how sweet and summer-y the melody is, its just got this amazing nostalgic feel.

I DONT LOVE YOU ANYMORE and ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

these are both such chill tracks that serve as epilougue for an amazing album/story. I love them both but ARE WE STILL FRIENDS takes the prize for that acoustic guitar riff that comes out of left field but somehow manages to blend soooo nicely with the tone.

Overall AMAZING 1093838/10 plz do yourself a favor and go listen to this!!! Its going on my summer playlist beside my ultimate vibes album ("Dreamland" by Glass Animals) for midnight drives with the windows down 👌😤

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: About the Bass (Keanu x F!Reader)

Summary: seeing Keanu playing the bass is one of the hottest things you’ve witnessed.

Pairing: Keanu x F!Reader

Author’s notes: do I really need to say how much I love Keanu playing the bass? It’s one of my kinks and this definitely is a product of that. Feedback is very welcome!

Wordcount: 1702

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and age gap.

You moved through the small gathering of people, a margarita in your hand – your third and last of the night – offering smiles and pausing to chat. It was your birthday and everyone seemed to be trying to speak to you, which was certainly lovely. You liked the attention, but you couldn’t help the disappointment burning in your chest.

You hadn’t expected to be thrown a surprise party. You were pretty sure you actively said to your younger sister that you didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. To you, turning thirty was just like any other year. But apparently, she was incapable of listening, because she planned the entire thing and roped Keanu into not only helping to make sure you were kept in the dark but also into opening his house to a bunch of strangers.

You were going to have some words with her about it because she shouldn’t have asked that of Keanu. The two of you had only been friends for a few months, ever since Company Films hired you to work on a few scripts they were producing. You knew how much he valued his privacy. His house should have been off-limits.

Thankfully, the party was finally winding down. Happy Birthday had been sung, the cake had been cut and guests were finally leaving, saying their goodbyes to you, before slipping out. Looking around the small crowd of people that still lingered, you tried to catch a glimpse of his dark hair, but he didn’t seem to be around.

You excused yourself from one of your friends and wandered around the unfamiliar hallways until you found him in the music room, eyes closed, headphones on as he played a silent tune on his bass. You leaned against the frame to watch him, the way his long fingers moved over the strings so expertly; the little from of concentration and how he bobbed his head to the tune only he could hear. You had to smile because he looked both adorable and unbelievably attractive like that.

You realized you had a major crush on Keanu probably after the second week of working with him, doctoring the script for the next movie he would be directing. He was funny and sweet and so brilliant. It was next to impossible not to be smitten by him.

You convinced yourself it was stupid and hopeless because he was technically your boss and so much older than you. Not that you really cared about that, but you knew the press would buzz about it and besides, there was no way he would be interested, right?

Or so you thought until you started noticing all the little things. The glances whenever Keanu thought you weren’t looking; the way he smiled at you, soft and gentle, his entire facing lighting up and creases marking around his eyes. The little gestures whenever you were working together; like bringing you coffee when you didn’t even realize you needed or always ordering your favorite takeouts, even if he didn’t particularly care for it…

Part of you still wondered if you weren’t reading too much in this. You knew he was one of the sweetest, nicest guys in Hollywood. Maybe he was just being the perfect gentleman. But those things still planted the seed of hope in your chest. As a matter of fact, when he invited you for dinner and a movie to celebrate your birthday tonight you were planning on talking to him, checking where you both stood, but the surprise party really crashed your plans.

“Hey. How long have you been standing there?”

Keanu’s voice startled you back from your musings and your gaze focused on him again, noticing he had stopped playing and stood there with his headphones around his neck, a flush on his cheeks and a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Not long,” you replied with a smile of your own and stepped into the room. “I just wanted to let you know that people are starting to leave. You should have your house back in an hour or so. By the way, you really shouldn’t have let my sister get you into this.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, that soft smile adorning his lips and your heart fluttered. “Sorry I disappeared, it’s just…”

“Too much people start getting on your nerves?” you asked and Keanu chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, me too. Anyway, whatever you were playing, it looked good.”

“Well it sounded terrible,” he said with a small grimace, ducking his head self-consciously. “I’m rusty. It’s been a while since I played.”

“You miss it? Dogstar and Becky?” You leaned against the arms of one of the armchairs.  

“Sometimes,” he shrugged, starting to pull off the strap of the bass.

“Wait. Play me something,” you requested and Keanu snorted, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m rusty.”

“Oh, come on! It’s my birthday.” You pouted at him, knowing very well he never resisted long. “Pretty, pretty please?”

“How about I teach you instead?” he offered and you nodded.

“But I have to warn you, I’m tone-deaf,” you commented as he removed the headphones and connected the bass to a speaker.

You moved to stand in front of him when he beckoned you. Keanu settled the strap of the bass on your shoulder before he adjusted the length so the red body of the bass hung at your hips.

“How’s that? Should I shorten it a little more?” he asked moving behind you and settling his hands over yours.

There were so many thoughts running through your head at once but at the same time, you seemed completely unable to focus on any of them. Your entire body was intuned to Keanu’s and as he came closer, you were engulfed by the flow of sensations.

“It’s… uh… fine,” you stuttered.

“Good thing you’re a leftie too. Gonna make this easier.”

His left hand guided yours to the neck of the bass, adjusting your fingers at the right position, pressing them against the strings. You could feel the old callouses on the pad of his fingers, speaking of a lifetime of working with his hands, be it by playing instruments, working out or handling fake guns, it all left its toll on his hands.

The sensation was foreign but not unwelcome, just like you welcomed the warmth of his palm and how large it was, something you had always noticed, but seeing it covering yours like this was making your throat dry and sending very bad thoughts flying through your brain.

Of course, you knew Keanu was a big man. It was impossible not to notice. He was tall, with broad shoulders, strong chest and long limbs. You felt tiny in comparison and more than once you wondered how it would feel to be surrounded by his warm embrace like you were having a chance to experience just now.

“This is an A,” Keanu said, strumming the strings with his pick.

His words ghosted against your cheek and you caught a whiff the alcohol in his breath and it was strangely addictive. You could feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne. It was wooden and spicy, with an underlying musk that you knew it must be Keanu’s unique scent and it was making your head spin.

You didn’t know if this was the best or worst idea the two of you ever had because it almost felt like sweet torture to be this close. He moved your fingers against the strings, showing you another chord, but all you could focus was at the feel of his hard chest against your back; his strong arms around you; those long, nimble fingers over yours.

“Am I boring you?” Keanu asked, his baritone against your ear sending shivers down your spine and there was no way he didn’t feel that. “Maybe we should stop.”

“No,” you breathed out, tilting your head up to look at him, catching on his darkened eyes and the way he licked his lips as he stared down at you. You felt heat rushing through you, arousal and alcohol making you dizzy.

There was no denying now; no pretending that it was just your imagination. Not when Keanu was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole and all you could think was having his mouth on you.

“This is a bad idea…” he whispered but guiding you with his hands to turn around and face him.

“Probably,” you sighed, letting go of the bass to rest your hands against his chest, looking into his eyes. “But sometimes the best things come from the worst ideas.”

The air felt thick with tension, the silence heavy with so many unspoken things as Keanu just stared at you and you wondered what his next step would be. It felt like it was happening in slow motion, the way he leaned closer, his hand coming to cradle your nape, tilting your face up at just the right way so you could properly welcome his mouth on yours. His lips slightly chapped against your soft ones, fitting almost perfectly; his beard tickling your nose.

You let your lips part under his, welcoming his tongue, tasting the beer he had all night, mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate cake. It was delicious and you tried to press closer, chasing his taste, but before either of you could go any further, someone cleared their throat, making both of you jump startled and breaking the mood.

“Sorry to interrupt,” your sister said with an arched eyebrow and a smirk and you couldn’t help but glare. “A couple of people want to say goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you said, voice raspy like you have been in the desert for too long.

You untangled yourself from the bass strap and Keanu, stifling the pitiful sound threatening to spill from your throat at the sudden loss. Your eyes met him when you were backing away, and you could see all the want and need you felt yourself.

‘Later,’ You mouthed at him and Keanu smiled, giving you a quick nod, before turning his back to you so he could put his bass away.

xxx

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[theelliottsmiths]

Could you talk about Oli's outfits??

On stage or in real life? I assume on stage but his actual clothing is also something I have opinions about because I can see one of three things being the case

He calls the other guys he'll be with and asks what they're going to wear to The Thing / He gets fashion advice from the other boys

The others (specifically Paul, Schneider and Richard) think the things he wears are so cool that they copy him. Paul and Schneider took the whole scarf thing (unlikely, he probably caught the eyeliner scarf and tank top thing from them), Richard took the I Make Beats In My Bedroom And Try To Sell Copies Outside The CD Shop variety of sweats type outfits

They were so used to being a unit with a costume when they started thinking into their fashion choices that they automatically match at least some of each other in a complex web that seems to start with Paul and end with Till (flake is not part of this web)

That's irevelant though if you did mean on stage so anyway.

Oli is a black/death/doom metal fan and I know this because half the time he looks like the lovechild of Gaahl and the singer from Behemoth. I do not believe any of the others are much into that kind of metal at all, not remotely (Till seems curious and supportive but not necessarily a fan). This is where he finds kinship in his love of Strange Rhythms, as Paul puts it, probably, and also:

Copy cat.

I know he's always been shy in general but I suspect he might have a bit of stage fright or at least reluctance to be noticed too. This is purely because of the sunglasses, face coverings, and preference for the back part of the stage (Paul sometimes tries to coax him to the front, it doesn't always work). Everyone seems so proud and encouraging when he does things like the extended Seemann outro. Maybe I am reaching but in fairness that's 90% of what my blog is, right? Making things up and reaching so so far. This is meant to be outfits specifically but I have Opinions.

I want so badly to ask him what the taping, strapping, or otherwise securing shades to his face thing is about. Tighten your shade arms up, Oli. Does he just have super slippery ears? Speaking of ears, I adore his glowing ears skeleton thing from 2019 it made absolutely no sense and that is very fitting for him I feel. I truly do love at this point that they just wear whatever the fuck they want, mostly regardless of the rest of the bands fashion and makeup choices. Usually a few will sync up but how much of that is even intentional when red and black are just kind of. The colours of the vibe they're trying to create? But he's usually one of the ones attempting to tie in.

His outfits are always some of my favourites, along with Schneider and Richard; at one point they'd all have been equal but then Till just had to go and get semi-consumed by a python and Paul did that whole steampunk spaceman thing (insert retching sound at the bronze make up some of them wore). There's just something about them that combines really nicely with the way he plays and that thing he often does where he just freezes like a human statue. The 2019 full body lingerie was a choice for sure but I mean, it's visually very interesting when you can actually perceive him

He's truly taking "do your own thing and overdo it" and running with it. Band-wise. In general? Little copycat, a pop star did that years ago. Don't mean it in a bad way but it's true. In fairness, please don't assassinate me in my bed, black metal isn't known for its originality.

It's a gorgeous costume/makeup combo but I'd also like to know of he can actually see anything past the cowl bit of this one or if looking at his hand is just performative and a habit.

His bass is beautiful I adore the scratched and beaten up Worn And Loved look and it's so sleek and oli-sized, he's look ridiculous with an electric guitar and I think that's the real reason he learned bass.

I hope in 2021 he will consider the plague doctor outfit he was born to inhabit. It seems just on the okay side of distasteful and controversial.

[mail-me-a-snail]

Stardust of a Song

Chapter 1:  Sero Maaviks tag list: @starl1ght-child​ tw: violence, swearing The first chapter of the mafia AU :3c 

On any given night in the Last City, the lounge that goes by the name Luna is packed full with patrons drinking their worries away and listening to the nightingale tone of the lounge’s singer.

No patron that dines or drinks there lives in the rich districts of the City; they all come from the back alleys, looking to make connections or strike up a deal. Any rich patron that comes comes with a posse of bodyguards and a poorly veiled aura of disgust. The lounge is nice--silver tiles, dark blue wallpaper, comfortable sofas, and mahogany shelves lined with spirits--but more often than not it’s the people that puts a damper on the ambiance. Rich folk like to mingle with their kind, because they have all the connections to more money.

Washed up gamblers with debts hanging over their heads have a reason to go to Luna, however, because it’s not just a lounge--it’s the Hive. Dredgen Yor, owner of the establishment and boss of said Hive, walks through the doors from his personal office. He surveys the room and catches the eye of several clients.

Some of these people will want someone dead; others just want a job. It’s not Yor’s place to question it. All he asks for is money, unwavering royalty, and a when and a how. No job is too bloody, no amount of cash too great. You want someone dead?

Done. Quick, clean, and best of all--entirely discreet.

Dredgen Yor is considered the golden standard of the back alleys. A gentleman who's all business and ambition, who's heart softens only for the love of his life--the lounge singer, an Exo by the name of Avidan-9. He sings something from the Golden Age, maybe even well before it, and Yor is entranced. He is enthralled, has been ever since they met. They are, as everyone knows, partners in crime.

--

The lounge is peaceful tonight. There are two, three patrons, none sitting together, drinking their worries away and shooting billowing clouds of smoke out of their parched lips. They’re waiting out the storm. The band play something appropriately soft; chimes of the piano, deep plucks of the bass, and soulful trumpet remind those lonely drinkers that they’re not so alone after all.

The owner of the lounge sits at the bar, swirling golden whiskey in his glass. He is not alone, unlike the midnight crew. The prettiest thing sits beside him, not drinking or smoking, in order to keep that nightingale voice of his in pristine condition. He has never heard an Exo sing more beautifully than this one. On the surface, he might not look like much to anyone but Yor; grey and what had once been white paint, now yellowed with age; green, almost blue optics; tall build, enough to rival even Yor’s stature; all tucked into one midnight blue suit. Always with the clean cut suits of muted colors.

“Yor, darling,” he says, laying the adoration on thick, accent emphasizing; dar-ling. He brushes Yor’s hair out of his face. “promise me you won’t get blood on the tiles tonight. You know how hard it is to get blood out of leather soles.”

It isn’t hard at all; take soap and dump it in some water, lukewarm, just right. Stir it until it’s sudsy and you take the foam with a sponge and gently wipe the leather. Easy as pie and just as clean. For his love’s sake, Yor indulges him.

“I know, dear,” Yor sympathizes, taking an amused sip, trying not to sigh as the Exo’s hands move through his hair. “I promise. Whatever business might go down--”

“--business always ‘goes down’ in this lounge--” The singer removes his hands from his hair and Yor tries not to groan. How can metal hands feel so good?

“--I will handle it,” Yor cuts him off. He cups the Exo’s cheek. “in the backroom. Will that suffice?”

He grins, takes the glass from Yor’s hand, and sips. One drop never hurt nobody. “If I say no, what would happen?” He challenges, “You’re the big, scary mob boss; what would you do to this buzzing bee of the Hive?” His hands, always moving, always gentle, tug at his tie. Black, tonight; Yor had gotten an earful about getting blood all over his green one.

“Always such a tease,” Yor tuts, his hand now holding the other’s chin, thumb stroking gently. He leans close, just close enough to smell the whiskey on his metal and hints of cologne here and there. “Honey, if I did what I wanted to you, what I have always wanted to do to you, you wouldn’t be able to sing. And we don’t want that, do we?”

The Exo visibly fidgets in his seat. He can dish it, but he can never take it. That’s what Yor has always loved about him. Even with limited expressions, he can tell he’s struggling not to overheat.

“Is that a threat?” He snorts and puts the whiskey glass down. “Besides, there’s nothing that can keep me quiet. You of all people should know that.”

“You’d be surprised.” The doors of the lounge swing open and in walks his clientele, all sharp suits, all business in black and white. Not an ounce of color. They’re just in time.

The one at the head of the posse is holding a shiny leather briefcase with gold clasps. He can smell the abundance of Glimmer from here. They’re not Guardians; no Light on any of them. Guns, maybe, tucked into their suit jackets or strapped to their legs. Their leader is Sero Maaviks, an Awoken man with light blue skin and white hair in a braid over his shoulder. He’s one of the few to come from old money, being Reefborn, however his status as a City dweller and the scorn of his fellow Reefborn has diminished that repertoire considerably.

All three patrons stir. They didn’t come in together, but they sure are leaving together; they know danger when they see it. Nevermind the hail outside. The band stands at attention.

Yor slides off his stool, as does his love. Before they separate, Yor grabs his hand, relishing the smooth metal grooves for just a moment. “You can start off gentle, if you’d like, but in ten minutes’ time,” he advises under his breath, “it’d be better if it’s big, loud, and extravagant. You know how these things go.” He raises his voice loud enough for the clientele to hear. “Remember, Avidan, you are the beauty of this Hive.”

Avidan grins, or as much as an Exo can. “Like me, it’s hard to forget.” Reluctantly, they part, and Avidan goes to the stage. He talks with the band for a moment. They nod along to his every word. Both know exactly what to do.

Avidan’s been in this business as long as Yor has--they had started this lounge together, after all, when he had first met the Exo in Spinam Gorge, those many, many years ago, when the Exo had been down on his luck. It hadn’t started out as love, but does it ever really start at the best part? It had taken a while (several proposals, in fact) until Avidan had said yes. The wedding had been private, of course. Yor takes off his ring and slips it into his pocket. Avidan keeps his on--he won’t be dealing in blood tonight.

“Gentlemen,” he addresses his clients at last, downing the whiskey in one go, and giving them the best smile he can. One of them shivers. They must be the replacement for the one who’s fingers got broken; he had had it coming, touching Avidan in a way that would’ve garnered all ten fingers broken, not just the five, had he had gone any farther. “Shall we?”

Yor gestures to the backroom. He always makes good on his promises. Avidan flashes him a wink from the stage. Yor resists grinning. The Exo steps up to the microphone and taps to test it. The piano player picks up a violin, as does everyone besides the bass player, and they begin. Their strums are gentle and sweeping, but they’re loud. They don’t call it big band music for nothing. Avidan reels the microphone stand in to waltz. He holds it close, as close as he had held Yor on their wedding night.

“And now the purple dusk of twilight time,” Avidan starts, soft, but not quiet. His mouth glows green, though not the sickly green of the Hive. A vibrant green, and it is easily the brightest thing in the lounge. The clientele stop to gape. His voice floats without a care in the world. It’s soothing--almost like a drug. It tells you everything will be just fine. “steals across the meadows of my heart. High up in the sky, the little stars climb...”

Yor feels sorry he won’t be able to hear the rest of the song as he leads the gentlemen into the backroom. It’s one of his favorites; the one they had played on that night years ago on a record they had found in the City archives dating back to long before the Golden Age. Avidan’s voice fades behind them as they go past the deserted kitchen and into his personal office.

It’s a lived in, yet professional office. One mahogany desk, leather chair behind it, and unimportant documents--bills, mostly, for the lounge--piled on top. A cart with his own personal whiskey stock sits under a painting. A bottle of that horrible swill vodka is next to it. Four pristine and polished glasses sit in a tray beside it. A couch sits across the room. Yor leans against the beautifully cut edge of the desk and crosses his arms.

“Care for a drink?” Yor gestures to the vodka. Unfortunately, it’s just the kind of drink for business. Poisonous for the liver and mouth, as all business in the backwaters is, and clinically impersonal enough with its clear white color.

“You know I don’t drink on the job,” Sero says, then adds, almost begrudgingly, “sir.”

“The only thing I know about you, Maaviks--” Yor reluctantly pours himself vodka. He doesn’t take a sip right away; a clear sign of his distaste of the drink-- “is your insufferable pride. Then again, I can’t blame you for keeping it so close. It seems to be the only thing you have to offer.”

Sero bristles and growls. He moves towards Yor, fangs bared. “If you would just accept my offer on the Vanguard job--”

It’s a shame to crumple such a nice tie but Yor grabs Sero’s tie anyway and pulls him forward, bearing his own fangs. The Awoken man gulps, aggression evaporating. “And if you would just hear sense,” Yor snaps, “you wouldn’t still be coming to me about that. I told you: I won’t do it. Tell your bodyguards to lower their guns.”

Sero waves them away and the guards holster their guns. They stand at attention. Yor releases him and the man stumbles. Sero fixes his tie, tucking it back into place and dusting off his suit.

“It isn’t as crazy as you make it out to be,” Sero argues, though with more caution, “I have the floor plans. I’ve got moles in the Praxic and the Vanguard. Nothing will go wrong.”

“Apparently, you’re a terrible gambler, too,” Yor snorts, then gestures to the couch. “Have a seat.” Sero does not and stays standing, as if he didn’t hear him. Yor rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple with his thumb--prideful and stubborn.

He goes around his desk and takes a seat. There’s no reason for him to stand when Sero is already doing plenty of it for the both of them. He sinks into the comfortable leather. He swirls his drink around in one hand while the other taps against the mahogany surface.

“I have all the winning cards. I think I’m more than inclined to play them. Don’t you want to share the winnings, Yor?” He sweetens his tongue with charisma. “I’m sure we can find something in that vault that could work for you.” Yor doesn’t appreciate the patronising tone, as if he’s a child being asked to pick out a toy. “There could be any number of items that might...interest you.”

“Maaviks. I already told you. There is nothing I want in that vault.” Guns and gadgets to sell, maybe, but there is nothing rare enough to risk so much. It would be so much easier if Sero had just been asking for an assassination, but a heist? “It’s a suicide mission. If either of us get caught, we’re done for. The Praxic vault is one thing, but the Vanguard vault? You must be more arrogant than I thought. It won’t succeed.”

They’ve been over this countless times. From the first day Sero proposed it, Yor has had no reason to say yes and he’s not seeing anything promising now. Every time he asks, Sero doesn’t have a convincing argument.

“I’m not so arrogant as to think I can do it alone.” Sero crosses his arms. “I’m putting aside my pride to ask for your help. You are the one and only Dredgen Yor...”

“The flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“...and besides, if what’s in the vault doesn’t interest you now, it might look appealing in just a few moments; if you don’t accept my offer, that is.”

Yor puts his glass down and smiles at the nerve this little punk has. He stands, pushing his chair backwards, and laying his palms flat on the wood, leaning forward to look Sero right in the eye. His fingers go to the holster on his hip. The Thorn hums.

“Are you threatening me, boy?” He says quietly.

“Am I?”

Just as he whips the Thorn out, the band explodes with sound, rattling the walls with percussion and bass, Avidan’s voice commanding every listener’s attention.  The volume masks the gunshots; two for each of them. They fall, a dark red splatter blooming across their white shirts. It’s a good thing they wore black suits. Sero barely flinches, even as a graze on his ear bleeds and drips onto his shoulder.

“Are you threatening me,” He growls, louder now, “boy?!”

Sero pauses to look at the two corpses behind him. Puddles of blood grow under them, staining the soles of his shoes and the rug. He looks wholly uninterested. The man smirks.

“Not you,” He answers, “specifically.”

He turns, swings open the door, and runs down the hall. Yor takes a second to register these actions, then slides over the desk with a curse, hearing his glass shatter on the floor, and chases after Sero. He splashes the puddle of blood on his way out; there goes his promise to not get blood on the tiles.

The band has stopped playing when he rounds the corner. He only realizes why when he sees Sero behind Avidan, holding the Exo at gunpoint. The blood in Yor’s veins turns ice cold. He comes to a halt. Avidan stands statuesque, rigid with tension. Only the piano player remains of the band; the rest have hidden behind the bar. He sits on the stool, shaking hands poised over the keys.

“Blood on the tiles,” Avidan says, nightingale voice faintly warbling,  “I thought we talked about that.”

“No choice, darling,” Yor says through gritted teeth, then swings his glare around to Sero, who is still fucking smiling. “No choice.”

“Your answer, Yor: yes or no?” The gun clicks as it’s loaded.

“You’re fucking insane; you’re not going to walk out of this bar alive.”

“I’m not going to walk out of here alive?” Sero snorts, “That’s rich. Considering your boyfriend is at the end of my gun, you’re gonna wanna rethink that.”

“Husband,” Avidan corrects him tersely, “Didn’t you see the ring, asshole?” He wiggles his finger. The ring glints in the low light.

“It hardly matters.”

“So, this is your plan?” Yor keeps him distracted by talking as he inches closer to the stage. “Threaten me with my husband’s life to force me to work with you just to repair your goddamn reputation with the Reefborn?”

“It’s not about them,” Sero hisses, but it’s not very convincing. Yor can see right through him. He’s now inches away from the stage. “There is something in that vault I need, something that would benefit all of us, every gang, especially yours. So what’s it going to be, Yor?”

Yor remains silent. Just as he formulates a plan, Sero cuts across his thoughts.

“Yes or no? Come on, Dredgen, your boyfriend is waiting.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but Avidan interrupts him.

“For the last time,” the Exo growls, “he’s my husband.”

He swivels right around, catching both Yor and Sero off guard, and grabs the man’s wrist. They wrestle for the gun, Sero pushing back, struggling to keep his grip on the weapon. Avidan pulls his arm this way and that but the man won’t budge. Sero wrenches free. He strikes Avidan’s jaw with the gun. It knocks the Exo back and he stumbles. The microphone topples off the stage and the feedback disorients all. He nearly falls off the stage, but Sero grabs his arm, pulling Avidan towards him.

The gun slips under his chin, presses against his neck--there is no music or song to mask the gunshot now. There will never be any music or song, ever again. 

Yor climbs the stage but always, always he is too late.

In a way, this is all music. The click of the gun, the pulling of the trigger, the release, the... 

BANG!

The thud.

Then, the deafening silence.

part two coming soon :)

[taurusjaehyun]

one of us // j.jh

♦Pairing: jaehyun x fem reader

♦Other Members/ Characters: Johnny, Lucas and Taeyong [mentioned]

♦Genre: smut, frat boy-play boy Jaehyun

♦Warnings: rough sex, smutttty smut, overstimulation, daddy kink, cum eating, oral sex (giving and receiving), breath play(?), choking on dique, minor anal, sub space(?), fingering and good ol’ penetration

♦Word count: 5,994

♦Story: Jung Jaehyun is infamous for being a man whore from the most famous frat in your uni with the most concentration of fuck boys. You’re Miss Congeniality, well-liked by everyone, from the Dean to the gardener of your uni, and a friend of all the cliques. Jung Jaehyun included.

Note: This was requested! Sex on a pool table with Jung Jaehyunzzz. Again, this isn’t proofread. Sorry hehe. Also I suck at summaries so u just gotta read it to know what it’s about skskss. Thank you and enjoy! I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! :) Talk to meeeeee chingoose~

Everyone knew Jung Jaehyun whored around. He’d show up with a new girl in his arms every other day but that didn’t stop the girls from coming onto him, even after he dumps them after he gets bored. Usually, a week would be a long one for him so after you had asked him out and somehow made him say yes, but no one had actually expected you to last more than 2 weeks with him. Even the guys in his frat were surprised too. 

And now that you were going straight to the 2nd month of dating the infamous Jung Jaehyun, everyone looked at you differently. They treated you differently too. You used to blend into the background but now that you were amongst the likes of Jaehyun, you had changed your style and appearance to suit your new crowd. Your usual comfy boxy shirts, mom jeans and sneakers were replaced with spaghetti straps, miniskirts and heels. 

And that was how you ended up in the basement of Jaehyun’s frat house, on your knees, sucking Jaehyun’s dick as he gripped the edge of the pool table behind him. The basement was strictly for frat members only as it was a game-slash-hang out room for the guys. The party upstairs was on full blast that you could still hear the heavy bass of the EDM song they were playing upstairs. 

“That’s it,” he watches you with half lidded eyes as you slowly take his cock deeper down your throat, his hands on the back of your head, controlling your pace, “take it like the good girl you are.” 

You whimper in panic as your throat tightens up around his head, making him moan but all you knew was you had to breathe. You squeeze his thighs, signaling to him that you couldn’t take him deeper but he doesn’t let go of your head, but instead pushes you closer, making his dick push deeper into you until a few inches of his cock was left uncovered. 

You gag around his cock, hot tears flooding your ducts as you resort to banging your fists against his thighs. You close your eyes, gagging as the need for air kicks in again. 

“Shit, y/n,” he hisses before he pulls off your head away from him, thick ropes of spit connecting his cock and your mouth trailing down your chin as you cough, gasping for air. “I just wanted to see how long you could hold your air, sweet cheeks.” He smirks as he breathes in the sight of you on your knees, eyes glossy, mouth swollen and hair disheveled. 

You nod, fisting the material of your dress against your thigh. You couldn’t say you hated what he did. And you were too under his control to deny whatever he wanted to do with you. It was kind of the deal when you started dating him. 

Without a word, he grabs the back of your head, using his other hand to fist his cock, leisurely jacking himself off. He pushes your head closer to his crotch and like an automatic response, you open your mouth, close your eyes and spread your tongue in the process so he could slide in easy. 

You don’t feel the heaviness of cock in your tongue but on your top lip instead. He gives you a sweet smile, caressing your hair. “Close your mouth, sweetheart.” You follow his words and he drags the head of his cock on your lower lip, spreading his pre-cum mixed with your spit around like he was applying lipstick on you. 

After he was done with your lips, he had started to caress your cheeks with the length of his cock. Your cheeks were wet and sticky now, messing your make up but he knew you loved it when he did that. He was biting his lips and you knew he was breathing shallow by the way his chest was moving with every breath he took. 

You could feel your arousal running down your inner thighs and you were so sure that the pretty lilac silk panties you wore for him were ruined. But you didn’t care because he’d take it off anyways. 

“Pretty,” he says and you give him a smile, your heart fluttering at his simple words. “I really wanna see how long you can hold your breath, angel. You can hold out longer than earlier, right? I know you can.” 

“I can! I can, Jaehyun! I can!” You exclaim with a little too much excitement. He loved to put you to your limit sometimes. And you loved it. Completely. 

“Prove it, baby.” He smiles lazily, pushing the hair out of your face with his dry hand. You use your hand to lead his cock to your mouth and slowly ease it inside your mouth until the tip reached your throat, making him hiss. “You’re such a pretty girl, y/n. So pure yet so bold.” He observes, caressing your cheek gently with his knuckles, as if you were a fragile doll. 

You start bobbing your head slowly, pulling back until his tip was left in your mouth and pushing forward until his tip reached the back of your throat, making you gag a little every time. He loved how you looked up at him with those innocent eyes but take in the whole of his cock. He wasn’t an easy length to take it and all the girls knew. That was also one of the things he was famous for. 

You knew that fact as well and had the shock of your life when you first saw it. Jaehyun thought it was amazing how hard you worked for him, giddy when he had told you that you took him so well unlike the other girls. Shallow as that may sound, you didn’t want to be another notch on Jung Jaehyun’s belt. You wanted to be remembered and you’d take the title of the only one who could take his whole cock in. 

Jaehyun visibly shivered when you licked the underside of his cock as you kept him down your throat, hands palming his balls. “Shit, shit,” he groaned, biting his lips. He watches you as you unsheathe his cock out of your mouth and use your left hand, jacking him off and lifting his dick. You duck your head, going lower and started sucking on his balls, balancing yourself with your your free hand on his hips. 

“God, you’re so good at this,” he chuckles, breathing growing shallow with every swipe of your tongue on the sensitive skin of his balls. You let go of his hip and start fondling his balls, making him grunt deeply. You loved hearing his sounds and the mere thought of you making him feel THIS good was enough for you to get yourself horny. You loved serving him in any way you could. 

“Show me how long you can hold your breath, baby,” he purrs, looking at you with his half lidded, lust blown eyes. He was petting your head gently as if he was telling you how such a good girl you were for him. 

You let go of his nut with a pop, making him inhale sharply as you gently blow air on it, sending shivers up his spine. You lock your eyes with him as you level the head of his cock on your mouth, taking a deep breath in the process. 

Slowly, you push your head forward, his hot and velvety cock sliding down your tongue and eventually the tip reaching your throat, making you slow down a bit, relaxing yourself as you feel your eyes prickle with tears. You close your eyes, taking in little breaths through your nose to calm yourself further. You squeeze your thumb in your fist tight, helping with the gagging as proven from times before. 

“Take your time, sweetheart,” he whispers, loving the warmth and texture your mouth offered for him. You were so, so good for him and he couldn’t ask for more. 

Once you find yourself relaxed and ready to take on more of his length, you push your head forward. Slowly but surely. It wasn’t easy though. It never is easy even though you’ve done it more times you could count. You close your eyes tightly as you push yourself one last time, taking the whole of his cock down your throat until your nose was squished against his belly, your top lip prickled by his trimmed pubes. 

Jaehyun starts to count, slowly, much to your dismay but you focus on holding your breath, clearing your mind and trying to relax as you close your eyes. You didn’t feel the hot tears sliding down your cheeks until you felt Jaehyun brush them away with his thumbs, echoes of what sounds like his voice telling you how much of a good girl you were or something like that. You didn’t know. 

Jaehyun took the sign of your eyes fluttering and your throat closing up tighter around him as a sign that you were losing hold of your air. “Fuck, shit,” he pushes your head back, hands cradling your head as the separation of his cock from your mouth produced a loud, filthy, wet squelch. 

You find yourself sitting on the floor, hand clutching your barely covered chest as you cough, sputtering, as strings of spit escape your mouth as you gasp for air. You didn’t know how long you were holding your breath but the pain in your chest and your light headedness gave you an idea that you held it pretty long. 

“H-how long?” You ask shakily, trying to restore the breath in your lungs by taking in big breaths. 

Jaehyun smirks and chuckles, “I lost count after 12, to be honest. Maybe we should use a timer next time, yeah?” He teases you and you roll your eyes at him, making him release his big, belly laugh. The basement used to be a shelter and the walls were bouncy so his laugh resounded through the room. “You good?” 

You nod, finding yourself smiling as he laughed. His laughter was one of the things you adored about him. You look up at him, as he sat, perched on the edge of the pool table. His shirt was lifted up, giving you a peek of his tight stomach, the front of his jeans and boxers pushed down and his cock—hard, red and leaking, was on full display. 

“How about you let me fuck your mouth and I’ll give you a reward after?” He asks, the playfulness overtaken by mischievousness and lust in his voice. 

Your breathing was back to normal now, despite the slight ache in your throat but you decided that would be dealt with tomorrow. “Ok,” you nod as you get on your knees again and sit upright as he get down from the table, spreading his legs comfortably. 

Soon, his cock was inside your mouth again as he thrusts shallowly and slowly, setting up his pace and giving you preparation before he went crazy on you. Once again, his hands were cradling your head to keep your head anchored and your arms looped around his thighs. 

This was one of the handful times where you actually take in the whole of his length so he was gonna take advantage of the stretch he gave you tonight and fuck your face for all your worth. 

“Damn, y/n. I fucking love your mouth,” he moans, bucking his hips, watching half of his length get swallowed by your mouth. “When you’re presenting in class,” thrust. “When you’re annoying me and nagging like Doyoung hyung,” thrust. “And especially when you let me fuck your mouth like this.” He chuckles as he looks up at the roof and closes his eyes, feeling the familiar heat pooling in his belly. 

He snaps his hips faster, depth perception off as he chases for his orgasm. You gag with every snap of his hips, knowing full well he was deep into pleasure to know he was giving you more cock than he should have. 

With a loud grunt and whine, Jaehyun finally cums, leaving his hot cum at the back of your tongue, letting it spurt out until it filled your mouth. He pulls back, watching as the warm, salty liquid escapes the crevices of your mouth and spills down your chin, covering the trails of dried spit on your chin. 

Using your finger, you scoop the dripping cum from your chin and into your mouth again, sucking on your finger. 

“You’re so hot,” he speaks, dazed at your actions. “Don’t swallow it yet. Just keep it there.” 

You keep your mouth open, despite the ache in your jaw as you gave him a nod, careful not to let the cum spill out. 

He pulls you up to your feet and you almost lose your balance as you’ve been kneeling on the floor longer than you’d like to admit. He spins you, with you now pressed against the pool table, eyeing your disheveled but stunning appearance. Your eyes were half lidded, face matted with dried spit and tears, lips sore and red, mouth full of his milky cum and neck littered with blooming hickies down to your chest. The straps of your dress draped down your shoulders, exposing your breasts with more hickies and sore nipples from him sucking on it earlier. You were beautiful. So beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see you fucked out and delirious for him. 

Jaehyun pulls up the ends of your dress, letting him see your silk underwear and the dripping wetness down your inner thighs. You were so horny that you could feel your pussy throbbing. “Don’t let my cum drip or I won’t let you cum,” he warns before he kisses your neck, then down to your breasts ad he slips his hand down your underwear, making you sigh in relief as his fingers finally touched your tingling clit. 

He sucks on your nipple as he slowly rubs on your clit, making you buck and whine, but he continues to rub on it, gauging your reaction. You grab onto his shoulders as he moves onto the other nipple, sucking with same intensity while his fingers move deeper, his middle finger tracing your wet slit. “You’re fucking soaking, y/n.” 

You tried to speak but it ends up being a gargling sound so you close your mouth instead and buck your hips, trying to grind yourself against his fingers. He always said he wasn’t cruel so he pulls off from your nipples and pulls down your underwear until they were down the floor. He helps you step out of them and spreads your legs slightly for easier access. 

Right away, his mouth finds itself attached to your nipples and his fingers inside you, sliding in easy with your excessive wetness. His pace was slow and gentle, scissoring his fingers inside of you to prepare you as if his dick hasn’t been inside you. He took preparation very seriously, especially with his size. 

He adds another finger, pressing kisses against your sore nipples before he moves down, giving your stomach open mouthed kisses that leaves a trail of warmth inside of you. In the short time you’ve been together, you fairly got to know each other’s body, especially him. He was a very attentive lover and he even discovered new places you never thought would bring you pleasure. 

Jaehyun lifts your left leg with his left hand, propping it up on the top of the pool table as he gets on his knees in front of you, fingers never stopping on fucking you. He looks up at your pussy, all exposed for him, and the stretch of your leg propped up gave him a pretty good view of your hole being fucked open by his fingers. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers as he watches his 3 fingers disappear inside your cunt and come out with your juices as he uses the tips of his fingers with his free hand to spread your pussy lips, giving him a full view of your pink pussy and stuffed hole. He uses his thumb to rub at your clit upwards, like he was tickling it and eventually, gently flicking at it. The pleasure you were feeling was starting to be unbearable but frustrating as he was purposely missing the spot that made you see stars just to tease you. 

You pant, looking at the beautiful man kneeling in front of you and in between your legs, watching your pussy like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You grunt as you buck your hips, trying to take him deeper and try to let his finger brush on your spot but to no avail. He pushes down on your belly, locking you against the table and him, with no space to move. 

Despite him missing your sweet spot, your orgasm quickly comes, aided by his constant torturous rubbing on your clit with his thumb that has you moaning and whining. You feel your legs trembling as the pleasure surges through your body but suddenly his mouth is on your clit, sucking and gliding his tongue on it and his fingers prod at your sweet spot, making you squeal as your orgasm takes over your body. 

You clutch on his hair as your eyes roll back at the pleasure he’s giving you but he doesn’t stop. Not even when your orgasm has subsided and you’re twitching in overstimulation. He stands up again but his fingers never stop and you can’t do anything but grab onto the edge of the pool table behind you. Your legs shake violently than before that your knees buckle, making you lose your balance. He catches you with his left arm around your waist and his fingers now deeper inside your spasming walls as you cum again for him. 

He pulls his fingers out of you and carries you up the pool table, your sensitive pussy grazing against the felt texture of the table, making you whine. He kisses you, shoving his tongue down your throat and swiping for a taste of his cum that you had unknowingly swallowed in the bouts of your earlier orgasm. He licks at your chin, drinking in whatever was left of his cum that dripped down earlier and capturing your mouth again with his. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as the two of you engage in a hungry, passionate and almost primal kiss that takes your breath away. The thing about Jaehyun is, he kisses you like it’s the last time he’s kissing you. It’s raw and it makes you feel lightheaded. 

You both pull away, both out of breath, foreheads sticking to each other, eyes locked. He looks down, pulling your ass to the edge of the table as he slips inside of you without a word as you release a long moan as the rest of his length enters you. The height of the table was just perfect, with your crotches on the same level because of his tall height. 

He sighs in pleasure when he bottoms out inside you, burying his face into your neck as you pull him close with your arms, planting lazy kisses on his cheek. He lifts your legs and hangs them on the bend of arms as he holds onto your hips. 

“Fuck me now, Jae. Fuck me,” you whimper against his ear and he wastes no time and slowly pulls out his cock from inside you until you were left with the tip and pushes into you again, the motion easy because of your wetness. “Oh, baby,” you moan as he starts moving, still slowly, letting you get used to his length as if you’ve never been stuffed full of it. “S-so big.” You moan as he slowly builds up the pace. 

“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” He whispers against your cheek, breathing out loud with every snap of his hips against yours. “Your pussy is fucking amazing, y/n.” He groans.You bite your lips as he purposely avoids your g-spit, grazing it just a little bit. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that you could feel the very shape of his cock, down to the veins wrapping around it and how it throbbed when it was inside you. It felt too good to be stuffed full of his cock. 

“God, how come your pussy’s still so fucking tight even after all the times I’ve fucked you?” He grins as he steadily thrusts his hips up to yours, watching your tits shake with the sheer force of his fucking into you. 

You grab his face, cupping his cheeks as you look into his eyes, but failing to keep focus in his because of the way your eyes would involuntarily roll back with every good thrusts he gives you. “Oh, fuck, fuck,” you grit as you throw your head back. 

He chuckles at your reaction then leans forward to kiss your neck, nipping at your sweet spot as he wraps your legs around his hips and pulls you closer to him, allowing him to thrust deeper in to you if it was possible. 

You bury your head into his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let your body experience the pure pleasure he was giving you with every thrust of his hips against yours. However, it wasn’t enough. You pull him into a kiss again, sloppy with spit and teeth clashing. You pull away from him, breathless as you pull him close, your foreheads touching. 

Jaehyun keeps his eyes locked on you, with his hips never faltering. Being in you felt like heaven. He loved the way your eyes were half lidded and full blown with lust that mirrored his. He wanted you. Always. 

The first time you came up to him, he was surprised because people like you kept away from people of the likes of him. You were well liked by people, even the professors and you seemed like a decent person, totally different from the snakes that were in your uni. You were a breath of fresh air. That’s why he was surprised when you confessed you had liked him ever since you met him at freshman orientation. You knew him before he became the Jaehyun he is now. And you still looked and treated him the same with no judgment in your eyes, but rather growing affection. 

You were so different. His frat brothers always knew he looked at you differently so they were happy for him when the news of you and Jaehyun broke out in the uni. Taeyong had always insisted you’d be the one to change him and it was true. You were lasting longer than the other girls, he was loyal to you, he kept his promises with you. He probably loved you too. Probably. 

You peck his lips, “fuck me harder, Jaehyun. Please.” Jaehyun snaps his hips faster and harder against yours, that you had to hold onto him to keep yourself in place for him. “Harder, please. Harder, baby.” 

The thing about you too, is, you could take him and more. That was an added bonus for him. He pulls out of you, making you whine. “Climb up on the table and get on all fours, y/n.” To the people around you, you were sweet, so head strong but with him, you were such a submissive little slut. 

You immediately listen to him, and move to the center of the pool table and get on all fours, your ass and pussy on full display for him. Jaehyun gets on the table and kneels behind you, head diving in your folds, tongue licking up in your hole as his hands knead your ass cheeks, smacking the supple flesh. 

You moan, burying your face into your hands, almost crying with the way his big hands landed on your bare ass, creating a loud slapping sound that resonated in the room. It was so painful but it added to the pleasure of the way he was tongue fucking all the while. 

You feel Jaehyun’s tongue making its way out of your hole and around your lips and eventually on your clit, which he sucks fervently, making you hiss when he grazes his teeth against it. “Jaehyun! No!” You groan when he pulls off of you. “Eat me out, Jae. Please!” You exclaim, pleading as you steady yourself with your arms, looking back at him. 

“Be quiet. You don’t wanna hear the people in the party know how you’re being a slut for me, right?” He asks. You swallow, making a noise of agreement. He leans forward, covering your body as his hands wrap around your belly. “Daddy will give you what you want if you’re good, ok? Are you gonna be a good little whore for daddy?” He whispered against your ear as his hands travelled from your waist to your breasts. “Use your words, baby.” 

Daddy. Fuck. It was one of the kinks you actively played with him. He was surprised when you had revealed you were heavily into it and he had told you he hadn’t expected for someone like you to be into it. “Y-yes, daddy. I’ll be your good whore.” You could feel his throbbing cock against your wet sex and you wanted nothing but to have it inside you. But you knew once your play had started, you couldn’t ask for anything easily. 

He gets up on his knees again and plunges 3 of his fingers in your pussy with no word, surprising you. He immediately fucks you with his fingers hard and fast that you fall forward, face landing on your forearms as he uses his other hand to rub at your clit, fingers never stopping. 

“You can’t cum until I say so,” he smiles, planting open mouthed kisses on the sore spots on your ass. You twitch at the contact and your pussy contracts around him. 

You bite down on your lower lips, chest heaving as you feel the familiar heat filling your being. You were about to cum. The way he was fucking you open with his fingers and the way he was playing with your clit was so good that you almost feel yourself slipping and giving into the release but you try to hold it in, tears blurring your vision as every second you try to hold it in, the more it gets harder. 

Finally, he pulls his fingers out of you and lets go of your clit. You slump down the pool table, sobbing as you hold onto your hair, tugging. You were so fucking frustrated that you hadn’t cum but he made you feel so good that you had no other reaction but to cry and sob loudly.  

Jaehyun’s hand lands on your ass again and you whine loudly, still sore from the earlier spanking he gave you. Your ass automatically thrust up at the impact. He caresses the curve of your ass and kneads, now using both hands on both cheeks and you moan, low. He was pressing down on you hard that your sensitive nipples would graze the felt material of the pool table, sending shocks up your spine. 

“What do you want, y/n?” Jaehyun asks, spreading your ass cheeks, revealing your tight asshole, wet by your juices. “Should I fuck you here again?” He asks, sucking on his thumb and spitting on your hole before he uses his thumb to spread the spit around your tight hole and eventually, slowly entering his thumb. 

“I want you to fuck me, please. Just fuck me.” Your breath hitches with every word. Last night, he had fucked your ass. Hard. And you were still stretched, so you didn’t know why he was being so careful with your ass when he had fucked you up so well there so many times before. At this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted him inside you. Any hole would do as long as he used you and filled you. “Fuck me. Fuck me.” 

Jaehyun lifts up your hips, and rubs the head of his cock against your slit, covering his cock with your wetness. He spreads your ass cheeks, spits on your gape and you groan as the head of his cock bumps against your tight entrance. Slowly, he pushes in and you whine, clutching on anything you could hold on to. 

Jaehyun knew you weren’t prepped because despite the fact you were still a bit stretched, it would be a pain for you because of his size. As soon as his head was inside, he chuckles, watching how your hole had expanded to take his size. It was amazing. “You’re amazing, baby. You’re so good for me.” He smiles, wiping the sweat that covered the smooth skin of your back. 

You whine as he pushes into you, a few inches now buried in you but still a long way to go if he were to bottom out. You try to calm yourself down but the way he stretched you made you gasp for air. “Nggghh, daddy,” you breathe out. “You... you’re... so b-big.” 

He grabs the back of your head, and pushes your face down the table, his hand holding you down as he pulls up your ass to the air, cock still inside you. You bite your lip and groan as his cock barely inches forward inside you again. “How about you cum before I fuck you?” 

You try to nod but he’s literally holding you down so you could only say yes with your eyes. You lick your dried lips as he starts playing with your clit, just sloppily rubbing on it, as if he wasn’t really trying to please you. You needed more to cum but you’d take everything at this point. 

“More?” He asks lazily and you try to nod again. “Ok,” he immediately plunges the same the fingers he used on you earlier and fucks you fast and hard with it, purposely hitting your sweet spot with ever thrust and curl of his long fingers. Jaehyun watches the way your brows furrowed and how the surface below your face had a small puddle of spit and tears.

Jaehyun loved the way you looked so confident and so unassuming with everyone and he also loved the way you were so desperate and fucked out under him. Like you were under the spell of his cock in you. He loved it so much. 

“If you don’t cum now then I won’t let you cum after this.” He whispers against your ear, crushing your body with his. 

You focus on the pleasure of his fingers fucking you hard and fast, and the way your nipples grazed the pool table with every shift of your body. You were there. Just a little more. Suddenly, Jaehyun starts to fuck into your ass, but never going deeper. Just shallow thrusts, careful, so you don’t get hurt. 

You cum with a shriek, your ass and pussy tightening around him as your whole body trembles. “Fuck! Fuck!” He pulled out his fingers out of you and pulled off his dick from your ass as soon as you had hit your high. 

He finally lets go of his heavy hand on your head that held you down earlier. “Good?” He asks as he holds your hips in his hands, lifting it up in position so he could fuck you easy. 

“Yes, thank you!” You sob, feeling the tears running down the bridge of your nose. He hadn’t gave you time to rest before he slipped his dick into your still throbbing pussy, bottoming out in one thrust. 

He wastes no time and immediately fucks you, snapping his hips in a brutal pace, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You had just orgasmed and you barely had time to process everything but you just knew you were being plowed, going higher and higher than before. 

The music booming from upstairs was long forgotten. You couldn’t even hear yourself or Jaehyun. You didn’t know your moans had turned to borderline cries and sobs of pleasure and that you were full on crying, just from how good he was giving it you. You couldn’t hear the loud slapping of skin against skin that almost drowned out the bass of the music upstairs and resonated in the room. You couldn’t feel the soreness of your nipples and the pain on your knees for being on it for long. Your head was clouded with so much lust and pleasure that you couldn’t feel your anything except for the brutal fucking your pussy was receiving and the pleasure it brought. 

Jaehyun slumped over you, hands wrapping around your waist as he fucks into you, faster and hard than before. He knew you were delirious right now as he was hearing the elongated moans that you subconsciously did when you were in deep, deep pleasure. He loved it and would love to keep you in your high but he just wanted to finally reach his long awaited orgasm. He had given you enough good orgasms so he was dead set on chasing his. 

Jaehyun kept his brutal pace as he grabbed on your breasts, massaging it as he used his finger to tweak and pull at your nipples. He kissed your nape, your head and anything that his lips could reach in his position. He was almost coming and he knew you were too.mHe used his free hand to reach down between your thighs and caught your clit with his fingers, rubbing at your slippery nub, making you squeal and tighten around him. He bit his lip as he pushed more into you, now regulating the way he was rubbing at your sensitive clit. 

Your thighs start shaking, destabilizing your position, making you drop your hips, with Jaehyun falling with you so his dick went deeper into you at the force and you scream, cumming. The way your pussy was spasming and clutching on his cock which triggered his own orgasm. 

Jaehyun groaned as he rode out his orgasm, still thrusting into you, emptying his cum deep inside your pussy. At this point, you were lying on the pool table, boneless, head flying. You couldn’t see clearly and there was this ringing in your ear that wouldn’t seem to leave. You were exhausted, physically but you’ve never felt better. It was like you were so drunk with pleasure. 

Jaehyun pulled out and you groan at the feeling of loss. Your pussy clamps at nothing, and out comes his milky cum at the motion. But before it could drip to the ruined felt of the pool table, he catches it with two of his fingers, and dips it inside you, swirling his fingers and spreading his cum on your walls. 

He then brings his cum covered fingers to your face, pressing his fingers in your open mouth which was gasping for air. You take it in, as an automatic reaction and lick and suck at his fingers until there wasn’t cum anymore but not that you’d know as you were still deep in your high. 

When you finally come back down, you were still on the pool table but your cunt had been wiped clean and your dress had been fixed, but the rest of you screamed that you had just been fucked. Your nipples were painfully sore, as was your pussy. You turn and find Jaehyun who was sitting on the couch facing the pool table, on his phone and smoking. 

Jaehyun notices you’re awake and then walks over to you, a beautiful smile adorning his gorgeous face. “So how about round 2 in my room?” 

The next day, you and Jaehyun, still deep in sleep, don’t hear Johnny’s screaming about killing whoever had left cum stains on the new pool table their frat had acquired. Poor Lucas was blamed instead.

[notalittlebutalottie]

Hey just saw your post about closing the drabble request. I hope I'm not too late I've wanted to ask something for a while but was a bit scared. Could you maybe write something about Klaus and Caroline being singers in differnt groups or actors in a movie together? Thank you.

This is honestly the sweetest request I’ve ever received and the idea was just so fun that I had to do it ASAP. I got a little carried away so the full thing is here on AO3. You didn’t request smut but I wrote some anyway because...like I said, I got carried away lol I hope you enjoy it!

♥♥♥ KLAROLINE DRABBLE REQUEST #6: Sing Me Sweet Nothings ♥♥♥

Chicago, IL. 2019 

“And I just want you back,” Caroline sang softly, clinging to the microphone stand. The ending of that song always sent a shiver down her spine. It was the first song she wrote after her father had left her mother for someone else. Having been eleven at the time, she later realised the song was rough around the edges, but after she re-recorded and put it onto her band’s first extended play, it had become a fan favourite by their first full-length album.

She giggled as Elena and Katherine made one last brush against their guitar and bass respectively. Katherine, as expected, swung her bass around and allowed it to rest against her back.

“Of course, we have to thank The Originals for having us on this tour. We wouldn’t be here without them,” she paused, biting her lip as she heard Bonnie hit the drum comically. “We are so grateful to share the stage with such...cool guys.”

Of course, all of her words were said through a tight smile and bared teeth. If she had spoken more, she would have wanted to vomit. 

“Thank you, Chicago! You’ve been amazing!” Caroline squealed breathlessly into the microphone, bouncing on her heels and backing away from center stage. It was such a rush to hear the sounds of the crowd cheering them while they exited. The only thing she wanted was for the crowd to be all theirs, not to be just the opening act.

Heading backstage, she thanked a nearby stage-hand who provided her a bottle of water as they walked past and into the main area. Her head was rushing with thoughts of their performances. Every note played or sang was analysed the moment she let go of the microphone.

“Elena can you tighten up on the last chorus of ‘The Trouble with Glass’? I just really want them to feel it, y’know?” Caroline expressed, her free hand balling into a fist dramatically.

The rest of the girls playfully rolled their eyes and Elena nodded, softly speaking, “Got it, but Care, you don’t need to stress; they always love that song.”

Her friends --and band mates-- didn’t quite understand her need to make sure everything was perfect down to the last key, but they couldn’t be doing half-arsed performances! It was imperative that if they wanted to make it, they needed to always be on their best game. Unfortunately, her anal-retentiveness wasn’t meant for group projects.

“I know I know,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “I just...”

“Yeah yeah, you want them to love it like you do and I hate to break it to you, Toots, but they love it more,” Katherine smiled devilishly, outstretching her arms and wiggling her fingers. “Now, let’s go to a  bar !”

“Ugh,” Bonnie groaned, “Please choose something less sleazy than the one in Kansas City, Kat.”

“That one was the worst,” Elena concurred, straightening her back, careful not to disrupt the guitar she had now also strapped to her back.

Katherine was the main pioneer in getting their band together. After she heard Caroline sing in the shower, she practically had dollar signs in her eyes. Despite Katherine’s inability to play an instrument, she quickly set her mind to learning the bass – one of the only things Katherine had ever stuck to. Her twin, Elena, then joined them after she revealed her secret skills in guitar playing. It then didn’t take long for them to meet Bonnie, whose drumming at the school talent show was tragically under-appreciated. That was in tenth grade. Eight years ago.

Caroline thumbed gently at the ribbed edge of her water bottle’s cap, processing the last few notes of their penultimate song in her head. “Um, I’ll catch up with you guys. I wanna get a gauge on the audience’s post performance reaction.”

Before the girls could protest, Caroline slipped away to hang by the wings of the stage, fingers gripping the red curtain. She bit her lip, searching the crowds for any mood changes. Thankfully, she noticed a few buzzing teenagers, clutching some fresh merchandise the twins’ brother had made especially for the tour. Thank god it was just their logo and not their faces. While Katherine would have adored that kind of exposure, Caroline felt it to be too weird to see her face on a t-shirt.

“My my, the compliments were strong tonight, love.”

With a gentle suck of her teeth, Caroline turned to the voice encroaching on her space.

Klaus Mikaelson. Lead singer of The Originals.

                                      Read the rest at AO3

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 3: Insane Mindscrew Haymakers (Part 1)

BRIGHT: Before Act 3 proper starts, we see a message from Nanna to John, written in the front of the Sassacre’s joke book from Dad’s safe. The message is somewhat bizarre. For one thing, according to Nanna, the book it’s written in will end its journey on the day she dies...and still carry on for a while. For another, it talks about game elements we’ve encountered already, and hints at more to come. Overall it’s a nice bit of detail, enough to whet the reader’s interest.

You are no doubt reading this as a handsome and strapping young man! Why, the mangrit needed to lift the book is itself a sign of your maturity, not even to speak of the wisdom needed to grasp the nuance of Sassacre's time-tested mischief. I am so proud of you, grandson! How I wish I could have delivered this heirloom to you in the flesh. But I am afraid it wasn't in the cards! For you see, John, like you, this book must yet take a journey! Its journey will end on the Final Day of my life, and even then will continue some. Though I suppose that will be up to your Father. Perhaps he will discuss it with you one day, when he and you are ready. But it is your journey I am writing about to wish you luck! There will come a day when you will be thrust into another world. And once you arrive, that is only the beginning! You will soon delve even deeper into a realm of Warring Royalty in a Timeless Expanse. A realm of Agents and Exiles and Consorts and Kernelsprites. Of toiling Underlings and slumbering Denizens. A realm where four will gather, the Heir of Breath and Seer of Light, the Knight of Time and Witch of Space, and together they will Ascend. John, if only you knew how important you were! I regret my passing came so early in your life. And yet I feel in my heart we have already met. But what I know for sure is that we will meet again! Until then, John, I do hope your Father keeps you well fed!

FAILURE ARTIST: As I said earlier, Hussie has artfully defaced books, including one antique one about an expedition around the world. Defaced books show up again in this comic.

CHEL: Particularly, it implies that Nanna also had knowledge of the game during her lifetime, somehow, and refers to the gathering of four heroes. This is our first introduction to the classpect system, which now rivals Hogwarts houses as a method of personality description in fandom at large. I think at the time I didn’t realise who it was referring to… Anyway.

Next, we officially meet GG, the fourth and final member of our gang, a “silly girl” with a cheery grin, sleeping in a greenhouse full of vegetables and spirograph-shaped flowers. Since she’s sleeping and can’t object, she’s referred to for a while as FARMSTINK BUTTLASS, but she’s way ahead of us; under her hand is a note admonishing the reader and declaring her actual name to be Jade Harley. I think she’s the cutest of the kids, myself - just seeing her first appearance makes me happy! All its weaknesses aside, Homestuck’s pretty great at creating painfully cute character designs and attaching a good range of personalities to them.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade Harley was considered a “Mary Sue” when she was first introduced. I don’t know why. Yeah, she has a lot of eccentricities and unusual possessions but so do the other characters.

Farmstink is a reference to an old comic Hussie did about this dude obsessed with the stink of farms. Hussie’s early work is really weird.

CHEL: The reader attempts to wake Jade by dropping a pumpkin carved with an animal’s face on her head, but the pumpkin disappears; as we know, WV now has it. Fortunately for the pacing, Jade wakes up on her own. Look closely, and you’ll notice the symbol on her shirt changes each page; that turns out a bit later to be due to her hi-tech WARDROBIFIER. If I recall correctly, Hussie intended to settle on one chosen by reader vote, but ended up on a cycle of three different ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade settles on three icons to appear on her shirt. However, eventually just one icon stays on her shirt. The WARDROBIFIER doesn’t get much use with her, though a later character has the same thing.

CHEL: Jade is also wearing COLORFUL REMINDERS on her fingers, and when the view pans out it’s revealed by the view from the window that her GARDEN ATRIUM is on a high floor. She plays the flute badly for a while in a Flash game; apparently it’s not her preferred instrument. Also fortunately for the pacing, we think, she knows how to use her sylladex, and prefers to set its retrieval function in the form of a memory game because you seem to have a knack for always guessing right on the first try! On checking her reminders, she remembers to wish John happy birthday, gathers some fruit, and heads upstairs by means of a teleporter.

Jade’s bedroom proves to be full of various disturbing-looking plushies, albeit not nearly as disturbing as the Smuppets, hanging baskets and potted plants, a bass guitar, and G-rated furry artwork, including a piece obviously drawn by Dave. Franchises depicted in her toy and poster collections include GREEN SLIME GHOST (the apparent copyright-friendly source of John’s T-shirt and pogo ride), MANTHRO CHAPS (mustachioed human faces on plush animal bodies), and SQUIDDLES (adorable octopi with magnets in their bellies which stick together as Tangle Buddies!). Her favoured weapons are rifles, though she would never shoot an animal, and she has various gadgets on a worktable, including a thing that looks like a disconnected window not unlike those shown in Rose’s book, which she apparently hasn’t been able to get to work.

FAILURE ARTIST: Manthro Chaps is a reference to Hussie’s particularly disturbing set of comics where he plays around with anthropomorphization. Like having an anthro chicken man lay anthro eggs.

CHEL: The comic in question, Humanimals, can be found here; warnings for extreme body horror and general grossness.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade is told by a forum prompter to Lose interest in fauna and never speak of it again. Jade refuses to in a beautiful little speech but she denies she’s a furry. Oh, if she only knew what was coming for her.

Jade looks out the window and we find out she lives somewhere next to a volcano.

CHEL: The very same one which appeared in the animation at the end of the last act, in fact.

Your grandfather is a WORLD RENOWNED EXPLORER-NATURALIST-TREASURE HUNTER-ARCHEOLOGIST-SCIENTIST-ADVENTURER-BIG GAME HUNTER-BILLIONAIRE EXTRAORDINAIRE. He has taught you everything you know.

Grandpa is heavily coded here and in his appearance a bit later as a Great White Hunter, an upper-class European guy who goes to faraway countries in order to shoot the animals there. Of course, non-white people can certainly do that, but white is what people will immediately picture upon seeing the trope. Also note we have another ridiculously wealthy family here. Since all four of the kids have now been introduced and we’ve had a lot of WSP points from their races and financial statuses already, here we get another HOW NOT TO point as well.

The Country Club Here every single character is white and middle-to-upper class. Unless your novel is taking place in rural Sweden, this will eventually give the reader the eerie feeling that some form of ethnic cleansing has taken place. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 14 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 7

One could argue that some form of ethnic cleansing is taking place, since these are the kids who are surviving the apocalypse, though that’s not actually fair because there are plenty of other SBurb sessions all across the world which might also succeed.

Jade opens her GADGET CHEST and produces several more items pertaining to her interests, including her computer, which she keeps in a Squiddles lunchbox. Several fortune-telling items are included among them, but according to Jade they are not the source of her abilities. The Magic 8-Ball is apparently usually wrong, responding to being asked whether it’s John’s birthday today with NOT EXACTLY, and the Magic Cue Ball is supposedly always right but is impossible to read, making it completely useless.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s another Problem Sleuth reference (or rather Problem Sooth) but what’s important is the Magic Cue Ball. Unlike her Magic 8-Ball, it has no window where one can read the prediction. If only Jade had a special vision. Perhaps an eightfold vision.

Jade goes to feed BEC. She has some sylladex trouble until she finally just takes a steak out of her fridge.

CHEL: Once again, the sylladex shenanigans waste several pages.

GET ON WITH IT!: 9

Bec’s identity is as yet unknown, but recall that Dave called him a “devilbeast” in an earlier conversation, and when he suggested shooting Bec Jade said she didn’t think she could if she tried. He also apparently eats nothing but steaks (lucky Grandpa’s a billionaire), so Jade is living on an island with apparently minimal supervision from her guardian and an allegedly dangerous carnivore running wild outside. Like Dave, at this point it seems to be very lucky she’s a cartoon character.

FAILURE ARTIST: Using a special oven she irradiates the steak. Umm, I think Bec can take that but I worry about Jade.

Jade finds and plays her elaborate bass and she’s much better at it than with the flute. During the flash, the camera pulls out and we find out where she lives: in a tower on a small volcanic island with a frog temple in the lagoon. An airplane goes by and drops a package.

Jade uses her super high-tech “lunchtop” to have a conversation with John. Nothing special about that but we see on her chumroll a bunch of unfamiliar handles. Hmm.

CHEL: The unfamiliar handles are listed in the “Trollslum”, which one presumes is a blocklist. I think you have to see just how hi-tech the lunchtop is:

"Jade: Get down to business." (Watch on YouTube)

Hussie’s really coming into his own with the animations by now.

FAILURE ARTIST: Dave has sent her some messages begging her to wake up and unfortunately one line has the f-slur in it.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 7

In the end, he decides she’ll probably forget what he says.

CHEL: Begging her to wake up” doesn’t exactly cover it.

TG: youre asleep again arent you TG: or do you even know if you are TG: i still dont know how that works TG: its like nothing means anything

Apparently Jade sometimes talks to him while she’s sleeping.

FAILURE ARTIST: There’s a little flash where you can listen to some of Dave’s tunes. When you’re done with that, you can join her in looking at mspadventures.com. A crude John wearing a wizard hat is sitting on his lawn with the caption

It begins to dawn on you that everything you just did may have been a colossal waste of time.

What the hell is going on here? Is Jade reading what John is doing right now?

CHEL: I think it’s just a fourth wall joke, but it’s certainly accurate, considering our GET ON WITH IT count.

FAILURE ARTIST: Next, we get this flash called Midnight Crew: Act 1031. If you are watching it in 2019, the song playing is Dead Shuffle by Mark Hadley. However, the song was originally Nightlife by Bill Bolin. Unfortunately, Bolin had a dispute with Hussie over Hussie using music that Bolin considered WIP. Bolin blew up and called Hussie “unprofessional” and in a very professional move posted a photo of himself giving the double deuce. It’s a shame this happened since Nightlife is a jauntier and more appropriate tune.

CHEL: The Midnight Crew, to be specific, are gangsters with card-themed names who bear a striking resemblance to WV, living in a mysterious purple city full of towers, pitted against the Felt, another gang of odd-looking green fellows who wear bowler hats with numbers on them, in the colour schemes of a set of pool balls.

Hussie did make reference in the previous page to a “weird tangential intermission [which] clearly advanced the plot in no way whatsoever”, implying that it actually is relevant, and the purple city and its shiny black beady-eyed inhabitants look very familiar, but since as far as we know at this point the Midnight Crew is just a comic-within-a-comic, you know which counts get added to.

GET ON WITH IT!: 10 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 2

Just for the record, the leader of the gang is named Spades Slick, and yes, we’re aware that “spade” is a slur against black people, which makes it slightly unfortunate to be applied as a name to a black-shelled alien creature. However, we’re not counting that as PROBLEMATYKKS because Hussie and the Crew’s original writer certainly did not intend that. It’s not that commonly used a term from what I’ve seen, the playing cards would be the more likely immediate association, and with the other characters being Clubs Deuce, Hearts Boxcars, and Diamonds Droog, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence. If he was a black human, then I’d object more strenuously.

FAILURE ARTIST: Jade talks with Dave (I think the conversation is a repeat?)

CHEL: Yep.

GET ON WITH IT!: 11

FAILURE ARTIST: Finally, we get the flash we’ve been waiting for: Dave strifes with his mysterious guardian. Or rather, he strifes with Lil Cal while Bro is a speed blur.

BRIGHT: Unlike the other strifes up to this point, the reader can’t do anything other than watch, because Bro slices the command box in half right at the start.

TIER: In the world of Homestuck, the parental units are overall just really weird! Like dad Egbert severe overabundance of cakes and mom Lalonde's drunken dysfunction. It's overall all hilarious, fitting with the tone and humor of the story well!

But then we have our lovely outlier. The one, the hated, The. Bro “a huge bastard honestly” Strider! A.K.A basically the one guardian whose questionable parenting gets the Real Consequences treatment later on in this tale. Peculiar that.

CHEL: Now, under most circumstances, an adult man beating the hell out of a barely-teenage kid, on the precarious rooftop of a high-rise building no less, would be horrifying. However, Bro chooses to hit Dave with his puppet, which… is frankly hard to take seriously. Obviously it would still hurt if a real person did that, but it looks so stupid that the immediate assumption is that it’s a joke.

BRIGHT: Particularly when earlier strife moves like Rose’s ‘Empty Suicide Threat’ were intended to be humorous. This is about on the same level as that, in terms of severity!

TIER: Being smacked around by the flopping noodle limbs of a freaky puppet is honestly hard to take seriously. Hell, this entire sequence is chock full of outlandish “Rule of Cool” bullshit and I am Peeved that I was apparently supposed to look at this sequence of ridiculous events and go “OBVIOUSLY THIS IS FUCKED UP AND ABUSIVE”.

ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 7

CHEL: I could kinda see that with hindsight from the rest of the comic, but definitely not “OBVIOUSLY THIS IS A LOT MORE FUCKED UP AND ABUSIVE THAN THE OTHER AWFUL FAMILY CIRCUMSTANCES”, which is what was apparently intended. And we also get another HOW NOT TO point, which we’ll give now even though the official “reveal” comes much later.

A Novel Called It - wherein an abusive parent exists Bad parents are everywhere in unpublished fiction. Whole cities of abusive fathers and sneering mothers live in the pages of books that can’t be sold. While occasionally, and notably in the horror genre, this sort of material can be made good (Carrie, V. C. Andrews), most cruel parents in fiction are just as much fun as they are in real life. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 14

That damn puppet gets creepier every time, admittedly, more so now that Bro is moving so fast that the thing appears to be dancing on Dave’s head under its own power. Dave’s expressions look more annoyed than afraid or hurt, however, in my opinion.

FAILURE ARTIST: Anyway, we go back to Jade. Rose is pestering her.

TT: I require a font of frighteningly accurate yet infuriatingly nonspecific information. TT: Do you know where I can find a wellspring of this sort?

Very business-like, isn’t it? Rose and Jade’s relationship is a big missed opportunity in this comic. They’re more like friends-of-friends than friends.

CHEL: I don’t know, that sounds to me like how Rose talks to the boys too; facetiously formal. Still, they don’t converse nearly as much as the boys do with each other or them. Male writers in particular tend to do this, and it’s not entirely their faults. People are socialised to think women talk a lot more than they do, so he probably didn’t notice.

TIER: A real shame honestly, we were fucking robbed of some peak interactions between a sunshine flower child and a “dark and brooding” baby goth. Fucking. Robbed.

FAILURE ARTIST: We find out that Jade was the one who had the idea of playing Sburb. She had told Rose that the game would answer some of Rose’s unnamed questions. Rose wants more information on this Big Day. Jade says the game will not be what Rose thinks it is and will answer questions Rose hasn’t thought of yet. On that mysterious note, Jade says goodbye.

CHEL: We check in briefly with Rose in the present, confirming that she’s found the secret passage and is escaping the fire, bringing the corpse of her cat along with her, then to John, who is doing much worse. The ogres (the giant tusked imps) have cornered him, and while he flails frantically about with his Pogo Hammer it doesn’t do much good. They beat the snot out of him with the old Sassacre book and the tire swing, then send him flying into the abyss; fortunately, Nannasprite is able to catch him on his bed and provide healing, allowing him to flail uselessly at the ogres again and get beaten up again, ad infinitum.

Back in the desert, a giant worm-like creature emerges from PM’s bunker and chows down on the cart full of mailboxes. PM is displeased, and puts a hand on the hilt of an ornate black sword.

Cut back to the FAQ, which John has found time to edit with information about the punch card system. He doesn’t know if anyone is left alive to play the game, but Rose asked him to add to it, so he will. He’s figured out with his 133t h4x0r 5k1llz that the captcha code on the back of the cards is converted into a binary-based pattern on the cards, 0 being blank and 1 being a punched hole. Overlapping the cards functions like a bitwise AND operation, causing both to be enacted. The 48-hole card system allows for 300 trillion combinations, but John lampshades the fact that this couldn’t possibly cover every conceivable captchable item, and that various combinations of overlapping cards would just produce the same combination. This is just adding to my conviction that the system ought to be reworked; the totems alone would probably allow for a much wider range, if one gets down to the atomic level of their shape. Then again, those would be a lot harder to merge… Still, I’m sure there’s some way to work it.

BRIGHT: This section was kind of surprising to me because up to this point we haven’t had much if any description of John being into coding, so the section came out of left field somewhat. Not bad, necessarily, just jarring.

CHEL: Actually, he did mention in his intro that he likes to program, albeit not very well, he had some coding books on his shelves, and the icons on his computer are named in a way which implies they’re some of his attempts at coding. However, this interest never really comes up again later that I remember.

Meanwhile, the secret passage Rose followed led to her mother’s laboratory, which bears the logo “SN” with a stylised atom and a spirograph pattern in the loops of the S. It seems Mom Lalonde knows more than she’s letting on about the game. Inside the laboratory is an enormous HUBGRID of devices into which the laptop can be plugged.

FAILURE ARTIST: Rose uses that ol’ r-slur when she says she won’t go on the pad so that’s another point.

CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 8

CHEL: Jade uses the TRANSPORTALIZER to travel most of the way down to the ground floor, but not all the way down because the one on that floor is blocked. As she walks down the last couple of flights of stairs, we see Grandpa’s own collections of stuff; taxidermised animal heads, suits of armour, mummified corpses (made by pasting in photographs to the cartoon background, it’s creepy as hell), and his BLUE BEAUTIES, or the DAUGHTERS OF ECLECTICA; sun-bleached portrait photographs of beautiful women. On the final floor, we are confronted with the thing blocking the final portal; a gigantic preserved monster with a white head and green serpentine body. It took me till just now to figure it out but I think the white part is supposed to be a human torso on the snake tail; at first it just looked like a snake wearing a stocking mask. That’s what happens when the humans don’t have arms.

Jade thought she had logged off from Pesterchum, but suddenly it pings again, and here we are introduced to an entirely new section of the cast. We’re probably not spoiling anything by not being mysterious about them at this point in the fandom’s history, but just in case, we’ll stick to doing the reveals when the comic does. The person talking to Jade is one of the names from her TROLLSLUM, under the handle carcinoGeneticist; they gloat about being “BETTER AND SMARTER THAN YOU, FOREVER” when asked how they’re still contacting Jade after being blocked, and mock her about today being “FINALLY THE DAY YOU FUCK EVERYTHING UP”. Angry, Jade blocks them again.

FAILURE ARTIST: I had forgotten that “they” appeared so early.

CHEL: Well, “appear” is stretching it; the TROLLSLUM only make contact through Pesterchum for a while yet. And when they show up, we’ll have both plenty of skilfully-written points to pick out and plenty of counts to apply.

[justgeorgeharrisonfic]

HAMBURG 11

VISIONS

“Thank you thank you now fuck off.” John acknowledged the applause and yells of their audience.”

“Thank you very much,” added Paul, with an appeasing smile, even though none of their adoring punters seemed in any way offended by John’s unusual stage patter. George smiled and nodded, his attention on his guitar rather than on anyone else, and carefully lifted the strap over his head.

“Seeya,” came a voice from the other side of the club, and John looked up in time to see Pete disappearing out of the far door. John shrugged.

“Fuck off then,” he said into dead space. He looked at Paul. “Drink?”

Paul too was taking his guitar off, and he looked up and nodded. “Where?”

“Kaiserkeller?”

“Yeah, okay. George?”

“Give us a minute,” and George hopped down from the low stage and headed towards the door that led out to the toilets.

“Stu?” asked John, but his friend pointed to the door through which Pete had just left. Astrid was standing quietly in the shadows. Stu smiled apologetically at John and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, you can fuck off too.” But there was no animosity in John’s voice and he too smiled at his friend before turning back towards Paul. Across the club a door slammed, and George bounced back towards the two remaining Beatles.

“Ok then. Where’s Stu?”

“Astrid.”

George nodded. The three stowed their guitars at the back under the stage as always, and then turned and strolled together out of the club. A few punters were still sitting slumped over their tables nursing the dregs of their drinks and they looked up at the boys as they passed and nodded – high praise from that clientele. Lights were so low they were nearly off, the bar staff were wiping glasses and straightening mats, a car horn sounded from outside, someone gave a sharp shriek that could have signalled anything and which was ignored by everyone inside the club.

It was three am.

The Beatles had been playing onstage for seven hours. Yet, no-one felt anywhere near tired enough to think of retreating to the dump they lived in. Prellies were still buzzing through their system, eyes were wide and darting about, fingers were tapping, gum was being vigorously chewed. They stomped out of the front doors of the Indra and, hands bunched in pockets and shoulders hunched, they stalked in step along the Grosse Freiheit and turned into the Kaiserkeller, the club they’d wanted to play in when they first arrived, the one they knew would still be fairly lively at this time of night. Or morning. Such distinctions now meant little to the three lads from Liverpool. They moved together, confidently, through the dingy entrance hall and into the club, almost as dark and closed up as the one they’d just left, but a band still on stage and the bar still dispensing drinks. Paul and George sat at down a table near the stage while John got the beers in. It was his turn and, astonishingly, he’d remembered and, even more astonishingly, paid up without protest.

They were all in a good mood. The evening and night had swung effortlessly, they’d played well and they knew they had; to a man they felt on top of their game. John returned to the table and thumped the drinks down in front of them and each grabbed one and took a long swig before relaxing back into their chairs. “To us,” said Paul and raised his glass again. George grinned as he too downed some more of the German fizz.

“We did the right thing,” he said.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Coming to Germany.”

“Shit, yeah.” John lit a cigarette, and George held out a hand for one; John passed it and they both lit up. “We’re the best here. We’ll be the best there when we get back.”

“They won’t know what’s hit ‘em,” Paul put in, lighting a cigarette of his own. He leaned forward, both elbows on the table, his usual charming grin lighting his face. “They’ll all be booking us. We’ll be saying, ‘Oh, sorry, we can’t fit you in till a week on Friday.”

“Oh, sorry, we’ve nothing free this month.”

“Oh sorry, don’t bother us, you’ll need to talk to our manager, he handles all that side of things!” The other two gave a burst of laughter at this craziness from John; but prellies, beer and general bonhomie lent wings to their joint imagination and the game caught flight.

“Oh sorry, no time now, we have to get ready for our booking in London.”

“Our booking in the recording studio.”

“We need to prepare the list for our first LP.”

“Following our number one single.”

George got the next round of drinks in.

“We’ll need a lot more songs for the next LP though.”

“We can write ‘em all. We used to write loads, didn’t we John. We can just put them on. An LP of Lennon and McCartney originals.”

“What about me?”

Paul turned to him. “Well, you could write some too. D’ya think you might?”

George shrugged. “Don’t bother me. Anyway, I’ll be world famous for designing my new guitar. And I won’t have time, we’ll be touring the world. In our jet!”

“Playing to packed theatres in America.”

Paul spluttered with laughter and some of his beer went up his nose and he had to wipe it with the back of his hand.

“Ugh, yer disgusting.”

“Fuck theatres,” John reconsidered. “We’ll be playing to huge open air places, like sports places, like Wembley but in America.”

“And Wembley.”

“And then,” George was really getting into his stride. “When we come home from America we’ll be on Sunday Night at the London Palladium!” And, as one, all three started to sing the well-known signature tune as they waved at an imaginary audience from an imaginary podium.

“And then we’ll go to Buck House to meet the Queen.”

“What do we want to meet her for?” John nodded in agreement at George’s disdain, but Paul was undaunted.

“So we can get decorated.”

“What, with wallpaper.”

“Don’t be daft, she’ll be handing out knighthoods.” It was George’s turn to snort, with less messy results. “Sir Paul McCartney,” Paul declared with a flourish, to be interrupted by a derisive John.

“Your round, Sir Paul,” and Sir Paul obediently got to his feet and went for three more beers. While he was at the bar John heaved himself to his feet and disappeared to the toilets, and George took the opportunity to visit as well, many pints of beer having had their inevitable effect. By the time all three boys were back at their table the mood had quietened somewhat. They all sat back with their feet on chairs, Paul having eventually managed to train John out of propping his feet up on a table when in public. George stretched one arm out behind him to grab another ashtray from the next table, which he plopped onto the table top in front of him before lighting a cigarette. A silence fell, as each one applied himself to his next pint.

“Tell you what.”

The other two looked at Paul and waited.

“Stu’s going to have to learn how to play that fucking bass before we hit the big time.” George shook his head. “What d’ya mean?”

“Stu won’t be staying.” George spoke quietly, with a sideways glance in John’s direction to see how that statement was received.

“What d’ya mean?” Paul asked again.

“He’ll be staying here, with Astrid.” George turned to look at John, who shrugged, the nearest they were likely to get to any acknowledgement of his acceptance of the idea.

Another silence fell.

“Tell you what as well.”

This time Paul and George looked at John. And waited.

“Well, he’s not here, is he. Again.”

The two knew exactly who John was talking about, and their thoughtful silence signalled agreement.

“He can’t fucking drum either.”

Again, neither of the other two disagreed. The three sat quietly for a while, each with their own thoughts, which may well have been in accord had they spoken them out loud. And then a slow, mischievous, lop-sided smile appeared on George’s face. “What?” demanded John, as he blew a cloud of smoke across the table and knocked his ash off into George’s ashtray.

“We could get Ringo.”

“He drums for them,” Paul stated the obvious, but George shrugged.

“Well, if he has a choice of our private jet or them, who’s he going to choose, eh?”

The other two burst out laughing, and George grinned and then rubbed his hand across his thin face. “I’m bushed. I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah.” Paul stubbed his cigarette out and pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Once all were on their feet they waved to the band on stage and strolled tiredly towards the club exit. However, as they approached the door John grabbed Paul’s arm urgently. “Wait!”

“Wassup?” Paul was just realising how tired he was and he sounded grumpy.

“We can’t just go out there like this. We need police protection – all the fans waiting for us!”

“We didn’t call the police in time!” George’s eyes grew wide in mock alarm.

“We’re just going to have to risk it! C’mon! One, two, three, GO!”

John, Paul and George burst through the doors of the club and out onto the Grosse Freiheit.

Two rather overweight girls tottered past them arm in arm on their way down the street. A scruffy dog trotted by. Four sailors rocked towards them along the road and rocked on past, ignoring them completely.

“Oh, I forgot,” said George, mildly. “I did call the police. They must have cleared the street for us.”

“Nice work,” John nodded approval, and George chuckled. Paul moved behind them both and with a hand against each of their backs pushed them in front of him along the street at a run. Giggling and laughing and shouting happy abuse at each other, the three, always the three even though others may have come and gone, moved as an unsteady unit along the brash and indifferent street towards their rooms, and sleep.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Love Me Before You Leave

Fandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor X reader ( can be read as actual Roger Taylor)

TW: swearing, angsty

Genre Angst with a fluffy ending

Word Count:3.4K

Requests: OPEN

A/n: So, I wrote this for @queens-n-roses  2K writing challenge, written to the song ‘Love Me Before You Leave’ By COmmon Kings. I am so sorrI am late posting this, school work has been crazy. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Want you to love me before you leave

Let me hold you before you go

Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave

"Morning, baby." Roger hummed against your neck, arm thrown lazily over your hip. You tensed as his lips brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hey, Roger." You mumbled, shifting out of his grip quickly.

"Everything okay?" Roger asked quietly, sitting up, confused as to why you'd parted from him so suddenly.

"Yeah. Just feeling a bit off, that's all." You lied smoothly, pulling a shirt over your head. "I need to get to work, I'm gonna be late."

"Come cuddle with me. Let me hold you before you go." Roger whined, making grabby hands at you. You let out a heavy sigh, guilt climbing through your veins, before stepping over into his waiting arms.

Roger was worried. You hadn't been acting like yourself for a few weeks. You'd stopped coming to the studio, refused to see his friends, cancelled date night as much as possible and you were cold and distant. Something wasn't right. He'd tried getting through to you, but it was like talking to a wall. He missed you. And it made him more anxious about the ring that was hidden in his sock drawer. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his gentle heartbeat. Tears burned the back of your eyes as his hand moved to rest on your stomach.

"You need to head to the studio." You said weakly, climbing from his arms. He grabbed your wrist before you could get off the bed.

"Darling, what's going on? You've been acting odd" Roger sounded so concerned, it only made it harder for you to hide your tears.

"Everything is fine, Rog. I promise." You huffed, carefully working your wrist from his fingers, wandering over to the closet to finish getting ready.

"Baby I just... alright. If you say so. I'm going to get ready." Roger shook his head, getting up and throwing on the outfit that had been abandoned in the corner. You swiped at your eyes before beginning to apply some makeup. Roger glanced at you, clearly distressed, placing a kiss on your cheek and walking out. The door to the house slammed shut behind him and you rushed into action. You tugged a bag and two boxes from under your bed, quickly chucking any clothes and belongings in sight. Tears began pouring from your eyes. Sobs escaped your chest as you packed. You left an hour later, a singular note on the fridge.

Every moment with you Been perfect for me & baby you're telling me that we could never be And now I'm like Cool it down, cool it down, take a minute You say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it My love Oh woah oh Let me say what I need to say

"I just don't know what's wrong. I've tried everything with no proper response." Roger placed his face in his hands, all the boys watching him sadly.

"Maybe you've chosen the wrong words? We all know you're not exactly subtle."Brian offered, trying to make his friend feel better.

"I'm starting to feel to wonder if she even wants to be with me." Roger declared, feeling his eyes water at the thought.

"Are you kidding? She looks at you like you've hung the stars and the moons in the sky." Freddie replied quickly, placing a hand on the drummer's shoulder.

"She means the world to me. I don't want to lose her." The band had never heard Roger so lost. So heartbroken.

"I know, Roger. But it's hard for her. She's not used to this kind of life." Deaky reasoned, knelt in front of his friend.

"You guys will be okay. It's just going to take a bit of time and a lot of love." Freddie added. Roger sighed heavily, scrubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Thanks, guys. C'mon, enough of the sappy shit. Let's make some music." Roger stated, running a hand through his hair. getting up and heading to the drum risers.

"I don't think Roger's doing as well as he acts," Brian muttered in a hushed tone, pulling the guitar strap over his head, adjusting the tightness of it.

"No, he's not. But we know he won't open up any more than he already has All we can do is be there for him when he needs it." Deaky sighed, already tuning his bass.

"Roger's not stupid. Most of the time. He'll come to us if he needs us." Freddie chipped in before waltzing over to the piano.

"I'll call (Y/N) later. See if she'll talk." Brian said voice laced with worry.

"Let me know how it goes, okay?" Deaky asked, ignoring how Roger began pounding at his drums and how Freddie magically formed a rhythm to the randomized, sporadic drumming.

"Yeah, course. C'mon Deaks, let's go before Freddie hangs us."

"(Y/N), I'm home!" Roger called as he opened the door, slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat by the door, sunglasses perched on his head.

"(Y/N)?" Roger made his way to the living room, noticing the lack of fo light. He jogged to the kitchen, soon spying the note on the fridge. He was expecting something like you were going out with friends. He didn't expect a note reading:

'I'm sorry Roger. We both know this wouldn't work. I love you. -Y/n'

Roger's eyes began leaking, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, dread coursing through him. His feet couldn't move fast enough as he raced to the bedroom. The drummer felt his knees give out, falling onto the bed when he saw the room barren of your belongings. He buried his face in his hands, sobs wracking his body.

And now I'm like Cool it down, cool it down, take a minute You say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it My love Oh woah oh Let me say what I need to say

"Roger, what's wrong?" Brian asked, unease pouring into his voice at the sounds of his friend hiccuping.

"She's gone, Bri. She's gone." He cried, fingers tugging at his blonde locks.

"Who's gone?" Brian pushed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulled on his shoes, getting ready to leave the studio with Deaky and Freddie.

"Is Roger okay?" Freddie mouthed, shrugging on his coat. Brian shook his head, taking the phone back between his fingers.

"(Y/N)," Roger answered shakily, holding the phone tightly.

"(Y/N)? Have you tried calling her parents or Freddie's? Or her friends?" Brian suggested, feeling the eyes of his bandmates boring into him.

"No. She left a note saying we can't be together. I-I just the thought - I should've realized- fuck, I'm the worst boyfriend ever!" Brian could hear the anger and self-depreciation seep into Roger's voice.

"Roger, calm down. I think something isn't right with (Y/N). She adores you. Just hold on, I'm coming over." The guitarist sighed before placing the phone down. Brian jumped into action, grabbing his keys.

"I'll come with you. I just need to call Veronica. I'll catch up." Deaky exclaimed as Brian dashed down the hall.

"You need to find (Y/N), Freddie. She's your cousin if anyone knows where she'll be, it's you." Deaky informed the singer as he began dialling his houses number.

"On it. I'll find her darling, don't worry." Freddie responded before exiting to his car.

Want you to love me before you leave Let me hold you before you go Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave And let me hold you before you Go oh, Oh woah oh, oh woah And let me hold you before you Go oh

You didn't visit your aunt, uncle and cousin very often. Only when you needed advice and right now, you needed as much advice as you could get. With a heavy breath, you knocked on the door, wiping at your eyes one last time.

"Oh, (Y/N)! It's so good to see you." Your aunt exclaimed, bringing you into a tight hug.

"Hi, Auntie. Good to see you too. Is Kash here?" You questioned, giving her a forced smile.

"She's just upstairs in her room. Say hello to your uncle before you say hello to Kash." She replied, leading you through the house to the kitchen, where your uncle was sitting, reading the newspaper.

"Ah, (Y/N). How's that boy treating? How's Farrokh?" Your uncle greeted softly, glancing at you over his glasses. You paused.

"Everything's amazing, uncle. Freddie's doing well, his band is phenomenal. And R-Roger treats me like a goddess." You choked out twirling the promise ring Roger gave you anxiously.

"Good. I wouldn't expect that kind of treatment from a boy like him." He said with a raised eyebrows.

"I'm going to talk to Kash. I'll talk to you guys later." You gave another fake smile before wandering upstairs to your cousin's room. Your soft knocking echoed through the dim corridor, which was soon answered by your youngest cousin, Kashmira.

"Oh, hi (Y/N). You okay?" Kash questioned and you shook your head, biting your lip nervously.

"Can we talk about this in your room?" You requested softly.

"Of course. C'mon in." Kash mumbled, opening the door to reveal her bed, a mountain of homework piled upon it.

"You look busy." You chuckled, weakly, taking a seat on her desk chair as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Just a little. Anyways, what's up?" She enquired, resting her hands in her lap.

"I...I left Roger this morning..." You confessed, eyes fixed on the ground.

"You did what?" Kash uttered, eyes wide. "Why?"

"I-I just- I saw something that made me think we're not good together. An article saying I was dragging him down. I don't want to be an anchor." You explained, twisting your ring again.

"Did you seriously believe an article? Hun, you know that the media just wants to stir drama about Queen and its members. Freddie's had it so many times." Kash stood up and took your hands, running her thumbs over them calmingly.

"I know that, but they're right. I'm nothing like Roger. And every day there's a new way of dragging him down." You defended, beginning to feel tears burning the backs if your eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She pushed cautiously, tilting your head up to her.

"I-I-we-he's..." You began, choking on air as a tear made its way down your cheek, Kash held your cheeks gently.

"(Y/N), darling, breathe. C'mon. In and out." She guided quietly, letting you calm down. After a few minutes, you took a deep breath.

"I-I'm pregnant. A-And I don't know if R-Roger wants a kid or-or if he even sees a future with me. I'm not sure if I can be a mom." You were panicking, heart beating in your ears so loud that you didn't hear the door open.

"Kash, what's going on?" Freddie asked, surprised to see his cousin falling apart in his sister's arms.

"Maybe you should talk to her, Fred. I'll be downstairs with mama and papa if you need me."Kash muttered, allowing Freddie to scoop you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. You buried your face in his neck, tears soaking the turtle neck he wore. Kash closed the door behind her, giving you some privacy.

"Now dear, what are the waterworks for?" Freddie asked, voice delicate as he began running his fingers through your hair.

"Freddie, I'm pregnant and-and I know that Roger probably doesn't even want a kid and doesn't see a future with me and I don't know if-" You were cut off by Freddie carefully pulling your face from his neck, placing a finger on your lips.

"Now, hush, darling. That's utter nonsense. He thinks the world of you, loves you with every fibre of his being. I've never seen Roger look or act like that with anyone before you. He's whipped. And how do you know that Roger doesn't want a kid? Have you even spoken to him about it?" Freddie shot back, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and wiping your eyes.

"He's a rockstar. Why would he want anything to do with someone like me?" You asked sarcastically, causing Freddie's lips to quirk up a little at the return of your normal attitude.

"Because you, my darling, are an enigma. Someone that Roger adores beyond words. You're kind, funny, compassionate, understanding and accepting. You've changed Roger for the better." He smiled slightly.

"I-I just need to sleep on it, okay? I'll talk to Roger, promise."

Don't you get what we got? No, we can't be replaced One moment we're holding hands And you leave without a trace

It had taken Brian and Deaky an hour to calm down the hysterical drummer. Roger had gone between sobbing into his friend's shoulder to yelling at himself, to throwing various items across the living room and then back to crying. Eventually, Deaky had managed to settle Roger onto the couch, Brian knelt in front of him, a hand on his knee.

"I don't know why she left. What did I do?" Roger mopped, resting his chin on his hand.

"I'm not sure, Roger. Freddie's gone to find her, bud. He'll talk to her." Deaky placed some water in front of the blue-eyed drummer, resting on the armrest of the couch.

"I... I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Want to marry her, have kids with her. All that. I love her." Roger blurted out, yanking a jewelled ring from his pocket and twirling it between his fingers. Deaky's eyes widened with Brian's.

"You really mean that?"Brian questioned.

"No, of course, I don't. That's the whole fucking reason I've got a ring in my hand."Roger snapped miserably. All heads snapped in the direction of the door as it opened, Freddie stood in the doorway.

"So, did you find her?" Brian asked, eyebrows raised and eyes still widened in shock.

"She's with my parents and my sister. She's going to stay there for a night or two to think things over then she'll come to talk to you." Freddie commented, folding his arms, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Did she tell you why she left?" Roger enquired sadly.

"She did indeed, but I think it's something she needs to tell you herself."

You know that I love you as hard as I try I'll never get over your baby blue eyes You know that I love you as hard as I try I'll never get over your baby blue eyes

You tossed and turned that night, restlessly. Every time you closed your eyes, he was there, memories flashing behind your eyelids, like a personal movie. Your arm held your stomach protectively as you tried to get some rest, but it was all pointless.

"Get off!" Roger exclaimed between giggles as your fingers prodded at his sides, your legs straddling his waist. His bandmates watched with joy as you tickled the blonde-haired boy.

"Not until you say that I won!" You screeched, letting out a loud laugh as Roger flipped you over.

"Never." He whispered in your ear before digging his fingers into your stomach. You screamed out a laugh, trying to shove him off of you,

The sun was beating down on you, sunglasses balanced on the end of your nose. You were sat in a beach chair, the boys letting out shouts as they splashed water over each other. Roger had tried to make you join in, to get your nose out of the book you were reading, with no luck. But this time, as he made his way over to you, he couldn't stop his eyes dragging over you. You looked so adorable when you were concentrating, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Your hair had been pulled back into a bun, the wind was blowing a few pieces of escaped hair around your ears. You looked... gorgeous to him. You looked over your glasses at him.

"What you staring at, Rog?" You smiled, placing a bookmark in your book and setting it down as Roger came to kneel beside your chair, pulling your hand into his.

"You. You're so beautiful. I can't believe that I'm the lucky guy who gets to love you." He stated, too awed to realize what he'd said. You froze for a second before letting a grin slide onto your face. That was the first time he'd ever said 'I love you'.

"I love you too, Roger, so much."

You knew that you wouldn't be able to wait an extra day to see Roger. Those ocean eyes would haunt you until the day you died.

Cool it down, cool it down Take a minute you say you have to go But yesterday your heart was in it, my love

Roger looked like a mess when he opened the door to your house. Probably as bad as you did. His eyes were red, bloodshot and puffy, he had bags under his eyes and his clothes were messy. If he only looked like that after one night, you were concerned about what would happen if you left for over a week.

"Oh, (Y/N), hey." Roger murmured, moving out of the way so you could walk in.

"Hi, Roger. Can we talk?" You asked quietly, stepping inside, heading towards the living room. Roger closed the door with a soft click and followed after you, sitting on the couch opposite you, nodding silently.

"So you probably have some questions..." You started but before you could continue, Roger had already begun asking questions.

"Why did you leave? Did I do something wrong?" Roger was giving you puppy eyes, messed hair hanging in front of his bright eyes.

"You... you did nothing wrong, love. I panicked and I ran. I shouldn't have done it and I'm so sorry." You tried, but Roger narrowed his eyes, but not with anger, for once.

"Do you really mean that? About us not being good together? That we won't work."He continued, holding the note between his fingers.

"I just... I just think that I'm dragging you down. You don't deserve that. You're a rockstar. I'm just a nobody." You sighed, averting your eyes to your hands.

"Why would you say that? You're not dragging me down, at all, darling. You're my entire world. How could you think anything different?" He was shocked and immediately came to sit beside you, holding your hand tightly.

"There was something in the newspaper about how .... how I was just a long term distraction and that you were young and deserved to be free.." You blurted and Roger's grip tightened.

"Darling, you know that they like spreading lies and rumours. You're in no way dragging me down. I promise. I love you so much, you know that." Roger insisted and you looked away.

"I love you too, Roggie. I have something to ask you, though." You were trembling now, hands shaking violently in Roger's grasp.

"So do I, love. You go first." Roger gave you a small, reassuring smile, kissing your hand softly.

"H-have you ever thought about kids, Rog? With me?" You couldn't focus your eyes on one spot, and Roger noticed. But his own eyes filled with hope.

"Of course I have. I have dreams about it, baby girl. A little boy or girl with rosy cheeks, blue eyes and (Y/H/C) hair." Roger chuckled, cupping your cheek.

"Roger, I'm preg-" Before you could finish your sentence, Roger brought you into a passionate kiss. He placed your joint hands onto your stomach. After a second, Roger pulled back, a grin on his face.

"That's the best news I've heard all year, my love." He pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Really?" You couldn't keep your eyes off him.

"Of course, baby. Now I have a question for you." He replied, letting go of your hand to pull the ring from his pocket. "You're the light of my life. I am a mess without you and I don't want to imagine another day without you. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" His eyes held so much love and you felt like you couldn't breathe. Tears sprung to your eyes once more, but this time, they weren't tears of sadness.

"Yes."

Want you to love me before you leave Let me hold you before you go Just remember the time we shared and remember you touched my soul We don't know where life will take us I'll hold my breath and be patient So won't you love me before you leave And let me hold you before you go

Tags: @writingfortoomanyfandoms @yourealegendfred @fierce-bab @dusthas-beenbitten@silvver-rose @benhardyjones @bensroger