#listen… i literally just scribbled this down tonight i needed it to exist i had a Vision

[pissmd]

rinchfest day 2 ʚϊɞ clothes

[sevenspecialidiots]

Hi can I request a scenario where the MC shares half of the power of dia's dad ? I would like to see how they react ! ALSO CONGRATS ON YOUR BLOG

❤️❤️❤️❤️

hello my lovely anon!

THANK YOU SO MUCH AKDFHKAS❤️❤️and thank u for sending this in!! ur my first official req and im very excited ♡︎ since this is my first headcannon please bare (bear?) with me, and if there’s anything you think i can improve feel free to send me a message! i’m all about feedback and how i can make things better :D

a/n: I’m only going to do the brothers (+Diavolo) right now while I get a feel for my writing style, although in the future I may add the undateables :3 (newly dateables?? what are they called now? side characters??????)

MC shares half the Demon King’s powers (Brothers + Diavolo react)

~~~~~ Warnings: Minor spoilers for Lesson 16 for Bell pepper Belphegor. M i n o r. (Please let me know if I should add anything)

Word Count: 2473 ~~~~~

The moment you landed in the Devildom, literally everyone knew there was something up with you.

You radiated powerful energy, but since you weren’t supposed to have magic, no one could exactly place why you felt so familiar. It wasn’t until you were sitting in a student council meeting talking about budgets this and politics that when Diavolo had an “Aha!” moment.

“I’ve figured it out! All this time, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but then I did!” Of course, he sounds like a kid on Christmas and he is so excited. “Your power feels like my father's!”

After some digging, Barbatos finds this: When the Demon King went into his deep, eon-long slumber, the curse used to put him under had some unexpected side affects that Barbatos is still struggling to explain (please be patient with him, he’s not used to be oblivious). This caused some of the King’s powers to transmit away from his body. The power needed a host to survive… and that host happened to be you.

But since you’re supposed to be the human who doesn’t have magic, you get mixed reactions.

Lucifer

Obviously, he was ecstatic. Another headache! Yippee!

Okay listen, the Demon King is like the most powerful demon that exists, so the fact that you share his power means that you too have incredible power.

This man mostly feels frustrated, and he mentally kicks himself for not having caught that minor (major) detail that could possibly change the entire course of the rest of the exchange program if not managed correctly.

Did you know about your power? Do you know how to control it? What if you try to use your magic without supervision and end up burning the House of Lamentation down? What if you hurt somebody? Hakljdhflkasd, what if you hurt yourself?

All these questions are racing through detail-oriented first-born’s head and this is one of the rare times he wishes it were a Mammon-money issue instead.

After doing some digging, it is indeed found that you share power with the Demon King.

He won’t leave you alone, especially with his brothers.

No, Mammon, you can’t use MC’s powers to help your next money-making scheme. And no one is allowed to try and use MC’s powers to play a cursed prank on a certain overly-stressed prideful demon bby. I’m looking at you, Satan.

If you chose to ask him to help you control your newfound power, he might try and downplay how excited he is but nonetheless he is elated and his pride has gone through the roof that you chose him.

Training with him will be efficient. Although it will probably be a little grueling, Lucifer swears it’s only because he sees how great you can become once you’ve master your skills. But, uh… you might wanna use that pact of yours after a couple hours because the words “take a break” are not in Lucifer’s vocabulary.

Mammon

Of course his human shares power with the Demon King! He knows this how? B-Because this is MC we’re talking about! Obviously his MC is super powerful and amazing to the ends of the Earth and-

For a split second, he literally sees dollar signs. You now have MAGIC and with a good ol’ fashion magic show comes MONEY. Even before Diavolo and Barbatos look into it for sure, Mammon is formulating plan after plan.

“We could use this to our advantage! Next time I go to the casino, you could charm people into letting me win! You could put on shows and stuff and show off this awesome new stuff ya got. Imagine the millions that’ll roll in! We’ll be richer than Diavolo himself, and all thanks to the Great Mammon!”

*Casually ignoring that you would technically be doing all the work*

If he does end up dragging you into his one of money-making schemes, you’re in for some fun.

You explode a slot machine that Mammon was trying to get you to curse into giving up the moolah. You accidentally charm Mammon into showing his cards in a poker game instead of the dude next to him and now you’re both in debt. (Or in Mammon’s case, more so).

The next thing you know, you’re in Lucifer’s office getting scolded for handing him another bill on a silver platter.

If for some reason you do chose to ask Mammon for help to control your power, he will be incredibly excited (and then be a total tsundere about it). "Y-You actually want my help? Pfft, oF cOuRsE yOu'D wAnT hELp fRoM tHe GrEaT mAmMoN-!"

Despite being everyone’s favourite adorable doofus, Mammon is still the second-born brother and is still crazy powerful himself.

However, you two will make no progress in learning and will spend most of your time laughing and goofing around until you earn yourselves yet another lecture from Lucifer.

But who wants to be responsible when you have your very own cute demon dork, anyway?

Leviathan

HIS HENRY- HE KNEW HIS HENRY WAS AMAZING…!

B-But what if you don’t want to be his friend anymore after this? Why would someone so strong and powerful and amazing still want to be friends with a gross otaku like him…

….Y-You still want to come to his room tonight to watch My Best Friend Was A Simple Human For A Few Months And We Were Totally Cool With It But One Day The Demon Prince RealIzed They Actually Share The Same Power As The Demon King Himself and Now They’re Really Powerful And We’re Conquering The World And Going On Cool Adventures Together with him?!

Wait, this totally reminds him of that one anime My Friend And I Were Chilling Like Normal People But Then They Found Out That They’re Like Super Powerful But They Still Want To Be My Friend!!!

After some reassurance that you are still his Henry and he will always be your Lord of Shadows, Levi starts to feel better.

M-MC, do you think you could use your powers to give Henry 2.0 an endless food supply…?

If he's being entirely honest, it doesn't take long for the excitement to wear off and he retreats back into his comfort zone. Do you wanna play video games with him? He just bought this new one he thinks you’ll like.

If you ask him to help you control your powers, Levi will be so. dang. happy. Happy, and a little bit conflicted. Why would you want a yucky otaku like him to help you with such an important responsibility?!

Just remind him he's doing the whole putting-himself-down thing again and remind him he's beautiful and that you love him always.

S-sorry MC! Of course he’ll help his Henry! What sort of Lord of Shadows would he be if he didn’t aid his companion, his true friend

He will be completely nervous the entire time and will be able to focus better when he is near water, so practicing what he teaches you will most commonly happen in his room or the bathroom.

Satan

He already knew. How did he know? I don’t know. He just did. Satan is a knowledgeable person, so if he wants to know, he will. So he knows. Periodt.

Once Barbatos and Diavolo confirm his theory is correct, Satan is only more curious than before.

This is quite incredible, MC. Were you able to feel the power before this? How do you think they’ll work going forward? Would you like to try them out with him? Hm, you’d like to pull some cursed pranks on Lucifer with them? He thinks that’s quite the idea and he’d be honored. Oh, that’s not what you said? How unfortunate, you’re joining him anyways.

Everything this man does from here on out relating to your power is driven by his curiosity and drive for knowledge. Congratulations! You’re his personal guinea pig.

Despite the few times you do get dragged into one of Satan’s cursed pranks, he is mostly just curious to know the extent of your abilities. He will spend hours on end observing you and scribbling in a little notebook he bought specifically for the occasion.

He will try to help you learn to control your new power whether you ask him or not, but if you ask him before he offers, he will become elated.

His methods of teaching are quite similar to Lucifer’s (but don’t you dare ever say that to his face). He may push you for hours on end, but only because he’s curious to see if your magic effects your endurance.

Despite this, he does allow breaks! Would you like to go to a cat cafe with him in your spare time?

Asmodus

Ah! Just when he doesn’t think his beautiful MC could get any more amazing, they just have to go blow his mind all over again 💖

He is literally ecstatic when he finds out. Just imagine how many views he’ll get on Devilgram with you! His following might even grow bigger than it already is. Hm? Oh, he knows everyone already loves him. He just needs to reach the stubborn people have brains too small to comprehend what they're missing. ♡︎

He will also be another brother who is curious about the extent of your ability. Not in the same depth as Satan, but he will want to scratch the surface and get to know more about his wonderful MC.

Overall, he doesn’t mind all that much, but he is curious to see if your newfound power could speed up his morning skincare routine.

He always gets at least eight hours of sleep, or his perfect complexion would be completely ruined! But imagine if he were able to sleep in in the mornings, MC. He skin would glow! You’ll help him out, won’t you?

*Insert Asmo trying to charm you into doing it*

What’s that, sweetie? You want his help to learn how to control it? He’d be delighted! Where do you even begin? You could start with ways to speed up that skincare routine…

Oh dear, this may be more stressful than he thought. He might have to hand you over to Satan for this one, he would be much better suited to help you, sweetie.

But don’t worry, MC, he’ll be there the entire time support you through whatever hectic journey you’ve started on… from across the room. We can’t have any of that pretty magic of yours accidentally ruining his new outfit now, can we?

Beelzebub

I cannon that Beelzebub is one of those characters that understands more of what happens around him than he lets on.

That being said, Beel heard Lord Diavolo loud and clear, but these sour hellsting tarantula leg fries are starting to run low and he doesn’t have any more food left to get him through the rest of this student council meeting. He’s sure you’ll understand that this is a very big issue and he needs to prioritize it.

Nonetheless, only when the meeting is over and you, Belphie, and he head over to Hell’s Kitchen afterwards (only for Beel to order their entire stock and nearly run them out of business (again)) does Beel pay mind to your newest situation (MC seems to have a lot of those).

Beel has probably the most mellow reaction of all the brothers. There’s nothing Beel could ever want from you other than your endless love and affection (and maybe some food, but who’s counting?), so nothing in your relationship really changes. Of course he’s happy for you, but other than that he doesn’t really care. (He’s just hungry, man, go buy this big beautiful boi some more of those fries he was eating-)

If you ask him to help you learn to control your new abilities, he will actually be confused. a) He rarely uses his own powers, and he hardly ever needs them because he avoids drama and eats all day and b) if he were to teach you, he’d probably get hungry within the first ten minutes and stop for a snack break and you’d be back at square one.

If you persist, Beel will try to pull himself together to help you. As I said, lots of snack breaks, but Beel is very patient and if there’s anything you don’t understand, he will do his best to push past his hunger to sit down and explain it to you.

Bell pepper Belphegor

(im so sorry every time i see his name i think “bell pepper” please forgive me-)

Belphie was asleep during the revelation, but he heard it. He didn’t open his eyes, but he was aware.

For the rest of the meeting, he was no longer listening to anyone else and instead retreated to his own mind.

Could you feel your powers before Diavolo said anything? Would you have told him? Could you control it? Could you have stopped him from hurting you? Did you know how?

When Barbatos confirms that Diavolo is correct and explains the little he knows, Belphie wishes he could fall into NREM sleep so he can block everything out.

Like Beel, Belphie would also have a more mellow reaction. Aside from his guilt, he is mostly thinking about you're doing. How are you taking this? You guys can still nap together, right? He’ll still be able to visit you in your dreams and show you whatever if you want, if it's okay with you.

If you ask Belphie to help you control your powers, he will actually fly through the roof. This demon boi doesn’t even have wings, but he will fly. You actually want his help? Really? Don’t worry, MC, by the time he’s done with you, you’ll be in better control of it than the man those powers came from.

But listen, first you two need to take an eight hour nap. You can’t give it your all and stay completely focused if you’re totally wiped, can you?

Diavolo

When he figures it out, it hits him like a brick in the head and he is impatient to let his friends know of his new discovery. He blurts out, “Your power feels like my fathers!” and then immediately does that super excited, deep, and hearty laugh that he has.

Why, isn’t this fantastic, MC?! Imagine the fun you could have now. Perhaps you’re even related!

Oh… you’re not related? There goes Barbatos again, leveling his fun… Nonetheless! Diavolo is through the roof and is going on and on about all the exciting ways you and he could play with your newfound powers.

Perhaps you could build a stone golem together dripping with molten iron…! Or you can summon Lucifer a unicorn! Or, or - what if you changed the whole color theme of the castle to… purple and green?! (Lucifer and Barbatos beg you, please do not indulge the Young Lord in his childish antics)

If you so chose to “indulge the Young Lord in his childish antics”, expect a grouchy Lucifer and a Barbatos thin on patience until you return the castle back to its normal colors and get rid of that damn unicorn (please, it’s driving Lucifer up a wall).

If you ask Diavolo to help you learn to control your newfound power, he will be more proud than the Avatar of Pride himself (and that speaks blow horns since we all know how Lucifer can be). If anyone knows how the Demon King’s powers would work, it would be his son. Diavolo is honored that you chose him to mentor you.

When you two actually make progress, Diavolo is a good, thorough teacher who hits all the right marks.

However, your sessions will end much like Mammon’s would - you usually end up falling off track and giggling about something one of you saw on Devilgram. With the inconsistency in your progress, you experience lectures from both Barbatos and Lucifer, but the fun you always have with Diavolo is worth it.

~~~~~ Woahhh okay !! That took me like two days but it was so fun to write!! i hadn't meant for it to be so long but i hope it was what u were looking for :3 thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️anon for sending it in ♡︎ ♡︎ p.s. i think im getting a feel for how i want to write things so im ready for future posts. i have my bag of skittles and some coffee and im prepared for the next one😎

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Warm Fire

Pairing: Valkyrie/Brunnhilde/Fem-Reader

Word Count: 3876

Summary: Val helps you warm up after you get caught in a storm.

Warnings: Fluff, Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame (erring on the safe side with this one), Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex- f receiving, scissoring, fingering) SMUT, 18+

A/N: I’ve decided for my b-day week I want to bless all you sweet bitches with a brand new smutty fic each day. My holes are worn out from all the rough himbo sex I’ve been throwing at you, so today I wanted to soften things up with something for my WLW ladies. I sub for no man, but Val could spit in my mouth and turn me into a housewife!

“Well, fuck.” You sighed.

You had hoped you’d be able to outrun the storm you saw rolling in off the coast on your weekly trip to New Asgard but hadn’t even been driving for an hour when lightning started streaking across the sky and the clouds let loose a deluge that had your ancient pickup’s wipers maxed out. You couldn’t even see 20 feet in front of you and slammed on the brakes suddenly when you came upon a massive tree blocking the road. The engine stalled out and you had now been trying to turn it over for 10 minutes with no luck.

You had thankfully been able to contact Aud and Sigurd and have them bring your animals in and batten down the barn, but there was no way you were making it back tonight. You resigned yourself to sleeping in your front seat when a pile of rocks reared out of no where and tapped on your window, causing you to let out a shriek.

“Everything ok in there?”

“Jesus Christ, Korg, what are you doing out here?”

The massive Kronan straightened back up and you thought you saw his brow furrow before his face split open in a wide grin.

“Y/N, excellent! Some of us got concerned once the storm rolled in and Val sent out a group to make sure you made it off of the Fjord ok.”

“Ok, well clearly this piece of shit is not cut out for Skagerrak storms.” You told him as you stepped out into the deluge, pulling your parka around you tightly as the wind tried to whip your hood off. “I don’t suppose you drove here in any sort of vehicle?”

“As a matter of fact, Miek drove the Jeep.”

“I’m sorry, Miek drove?” The thought of the Sakaarian larval creature driving a vehicle filled you with equal parts horror and mirth. “Do you mind if I drive us back?”

“Probably for the best. I told him that knife hands are not conducive for steering but you know he doesn’t listen to me.”

You let out a laugh as Korg lumbered into the large trailer hooked to the back of the Jeep, causing it to sink into the mud a bit. Miek scooted into the passenger seat as you turned the vehicle around and started to head back to Tønsberg.

Your cautious driving extended the trip by a good 45 minutes. The thunder had stopped but it was still pouring as you parked the jeep in one of the converted stables. Korg and Miek gave you a wave as they headed back to Thor’s, Korg carrying 3 of the pallets of Aquavit you had brought with you earlier.

You headed towards the town square and saw Brunnhilde leaning against the posts in front of her small brick house, watching the storm that was still raging out at sea before she saw you and broke out in a grin.

“Y/N, I told you not to head out in this! That piece of shit truck of yours give out on you?”

“What do you think, Hilde? I just decided to walk all the back to your house for fun in this?” You shook out your hair as the two of you stepped inside, spraying her with a thin mist of rainwater.

“Ah, you bitch! Get out of those wet clothes, I got a fire started and some dry towels and blankets set out for you. Want a hot toddy?”

You winced at the thought as you started peeling yourself out of your soaked jeans. “I’d like to be able to wake up tomorrow hon. Your hot toddys are literally just a hot mug of Aquavit with a slice of lemon.” You cursed yourself silently for introducing the Asgardians to the spicy Scandinavian liquor that you now had to truck in every week. While it was extremely lucrative, they now put it in everything.

Hilde sauntered back into the main room carrying two steaming mugs as you wrapped yourself in a wool blanket and settled in front of the fire, wearing only your bra and panties.

She rolled her eyes at you and handed you a mug, which you took a wary sniff of and were pleasantly surprised to find it was just peppermint tea.

“You’re just a lightweight.” She said as she curled up in her armchair, wrapping one hand around her mug while the other picked up the worn book that was sitting on the end table.

“How do you like it so far?” You asked her, sipping your tea slowly as you waited for it to cool.

“The writing is lovely, but it’s pretty inaccurate.”

The friendship the two of you had built over the past 3 years was something truly lovely. When she and the rest of the refugees had landed, after the snap, they were all hollow shells of grief. Thor shut himself away almost immediately, and Hilde found herself thrust into a position of leadership she had never wanted. All of them wanted nothing more than to be left alone with their sorrows, doing just enough to keep themselves alive.

The first storm off the Skaggerak had almost devastated their new home though, and when she contacted Banner for help, he called you. You still kept in touch after your years together at university, and he knew you had settled somewhere in Norway and could arrive to lend a hand faster than he could.

Your arrival brought some much needed distraction to their sleepy town. You had managed to round up a group of your Norwegian neighbors, along with some fellow expats, and set about making the necessary changes to assure that New Asgard would be a thriving community. While the rest of your group set to restructuring architecture, and teaching the town’s new inhabitants the necessities of a seaside existence on the windy Fjord, you began the slow process of helping the refugees move on from their sorrow.

Your anthropology doctorate was specialized in Norse culture, after all, and you would often bring small reminders of their lost home with you whenever you came to visit. Whether it was a collection of replicated Talharpas, Skalmejens, and Lurs to give to the children to learn music or a large cache of drinking horns to stock their taverns, every time your truck came lumbering down the hills, Brunnhilde watched the faces of her citizens light up with anticipation for some new pleasant surprise. When you arrived with your first load of Aquavit and spent the night drinking with them and singing the drinking songs they knew well, you were all but confirmed as an honorary Asgardian. Your haunting rendition of Lilja actually brought tears to a few eyes.

Brunnhilde made sure to let you know how grateful she was as much as possible. She would always have some small gift for you when you arrived, but all you asked her for was to sit and talk, discussing the history of Asgard and the nine realms as you scribbled copious notes. She loved watching your face screw up in concentration as you bent over one of your notebooks, one stubborn lock of hair falling into your face.

She laughed to herself softly now as she remembered the visit a few weeks ago when she had first introduced you to her winged steed, Aragorn. Your look of awe had been replaced quickly with uncontrollable laughter when she had told you his name. You refused to tell her what was so funny, but she was determined to get it out of you at some point.

You had brought your original copy of Snorri’s Edda the next week, and she had read it through 3 times already.

She ran her hands softly over the spine of the book before tossing back the rest of her toddy and setting the book and her mug back on the end table before sinking to the floor behind you and nuzzling herself into your hair, sighing as she inhaled the scent of fresh rain.

You leaned back into her slowly, giving a soft hum of contentedness. She slipped the blanket off of your shoulders to pool around your waist as she left a trail of soft kisses down your neck, before softly raising a bruise into your collarbone with her mouth.

The moan you gave her made her grin against your skin, and she slipped one hand into the front of your bra, softly drawing her fingers across your nipple.

“Fuck, Hilde!” you pressed your chest further into her hand as her other moved behind you to unhook your bra and slip it off your shoulders, freeing your breasts. She felt your nipples harden against her fingers as she turned your head and slowly teased your mouth open with her tongue.

“Eyes open, pretty girl.” She whispered as her left hand continued to palm at your breast and roll your nipple between her fingers. You stared at her through your lashes as she brought her right hand up and put her index and middle finger in your mouth. You gave them a soft nip before sucking and swirling your tongue around them slowly.

She grinned at you wickedly as she dragged her soaked fingers down your torso at an agonizing pace, leaving a thin trail of your saliva before she tucked them under the edge of your panties and dragged them over your sopping cunt, separating the soft folds there to tease against your entrance.

“Oh, poor baby, look how much this pussy missed me?” She said as you let out a thin keen, screwing your eyes shut and dropping your head against her neck. She slapped your tit suddenly and tweaked your nipple hard, making you gasp. “You better keep those eyes open if you want me to let you come sweetheart. You want me to stretch this pretty pussy around my fingers and make you feel good?”

“Yes, god” you let out breathlessly, forcing your eyes open as she studied your face.

“Ah, ah, ask nicely.”

“Yes please.” You hissed as her fingers continued to tease at your folds, lightly brushing against your clit.

“Good girl”

She slipped one finger inside of you slowly and you immediately clenched around it as she pressed it against that soft spongy spot.

“Ooh, honey. You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna stretch you out so good.” She whispered against your lips as she kissed you softly.

Her second finger slipped in easily and she started fucking them into you slowly, pressing her palm against your clit as she did so and your arousal seeped all over her hand. Your breath was hitching in your chest as she increased her pace.

You felt yourself flutter around her and it took all of your willpower to not screw your eyes shut and drop against her shoulder. You ground yourself against her hand as she suddenly slowed down, hungry for more friction.

“You want me to add another finger, sweet girl?” She asked slyly, teasing her promise against your entrance.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you nodded at her, your chest heaving as she continued palming your breast and you felt a resounding shiver in your core.

“You’re lucky I’m soft on you sweetie, I should be making you beg for this.” She murmured as she shoved all three of her fingers in suddenly, causing you to let out a small cry as she started fucking them into you at a rough speed. “I’m just finishing you off so I can feel this sweet mouth of yours on my cunt. You want to taste me baby?”

“Shit, Hilde!” The thought of her taste on your tongue sent you over the edge as she drove her palm into your clit one last time and you released around her, fluttering as you soaked her hand. Her strong arms held you still as your orgasm wracked you and every muscle trembled. Once you had ridden it out, she drew her hand out of your ruined panties to suck on her fingers.

“Mmm, you taste so good honey. Don’t you think?” She placed her mouth on yours and pressed her tongue against yours and you moaned as you tasted your own release.

“Help me out of my clothes baby, I need to ride that pretty face.”

She climbed around you and settled into your lap, kissing you deeply and making happy little humming sounds. You drew her sweater up over her head and tossed it aside, and were pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a bra. You gave her a wicked grin before lifting her up and pressing her chest to your face, latching your mouth to one of her nipples as your hands cupped her ass through her leggings. She gave a light laugh and tossed her head back as her fingers carded themselves through your hair. You brought one of your hands between the two of you, shoving it down the front of her leggings and drawing your fingers through her slick, making her gasp.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking greedy.” She laughed lightly as you peppered her chest with kisses, occasionally creating some light suction with your tongue to raise a light bruise. “Mmm, you know just what to do, but I want to come all over that beautiful face of yours.”

You smiled against her chest as you gently nuzzled yourself between her breasts before falling back abruptly and making her gasp.

“You are being such a trouble maker, today, Y/N. Fine, I’m going grind your pussy so good before I rub that smirk off your face with my cunt.”

She sat up between your legs a drew your soaked panties off before removing her own leggings. She stretched your right leg off to the side and lightly drew her fingers up the inside of your thigh, removing them right before she reached your quivering pussy and making you whine.

“Don’t be a brat baby. Look at this pretty pussy, just weeping for me.” She stared at your swollen cunt with a grin as she hooked a hand under your left knee and positioned herself so she was straddling you, her soft folds just kissing yours as she hovered there. “You want to feel my pussy on yours, baby? Want me to grind that clit so good? You better fucking beg for it.”

“Oh god, pleasepleaseplease…” you let out in a hiss as she pressed herself down and ground herself into you.

“Mmm, I feel that sweet pussy quivering for me. God, you’re like my own fucking vibrator.” She kept twisting her hips into yours, hitting you at that perfect angle each time and making you mewl and whimper unintelligibly as she edged you closer to your release. She unbent your right leg slowly, running her thumb up your calf before nipping at the pad of your big toe, making you arch into her. “No no, sweetheart, isn’t it so much better when you hold still? You know I’ll take care of you.”

She stretched your right leg out so you were wide open and pinned your thighs down with her hands as she picked up the pace. She bit her lip and gazed down at you through hooded eyes and you felt her core twitch against yours. One more drive of her hips and you came apart at the same time, your releases mixing together to coat the insides of your thighs. You let out a scream while she just gasped, still managing to hold you down as your pleasure wracked through you and you wound your hands into the blanket beside you for some kind of anchor.

“Fuck baby, this pussy is so good to me. I wanna run my tongue over this pretty cunt while I ride your face. You better be good for me.”

She twisted herself around to straddle your face. You softly nipped at her left cheek then gave her ass a slap, making her yelp, and she responded by smacking your pussy twice before grinding into your face.

“Oohh, are you going to be a bad girl?” She scolded you as you wrapped your arms around her thighs and teased her folds with your tongue. “Am I going to have to edge you all nigh… Fuck!!” Your tongue found her entrance and you moaned into her cunt, causing vibrations that made her clench against your face. “God, baby, you’re so good at that. Your miss this pussy so bad, look at the mess you’re making.” She separated your folds and softly blew against your clit before shoving three fingers into you with no preparation. “Mmm, you’re fucking ready for me sweetheart, I’m barely even stretching you now. You want me to add another finger?”

She gave your clit another soft slap and you came suddenly, legs and core trembling as you clenched and released around her fingers. You tried to come up for air, but Hilde just ground her hips into your face.

“Na-ah.” She scolded you. “You wanted to get fresh with me and now you better make me come if you want to breathe. You get to work. I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of this pussy until you give me what I want, I don’t care if you pass out.”

She inserted a fourth finger into your canal and started to fuck them all into you, flicking soft kitten licks against your small bundle of nerves before she latched onto it, sucking hard.

Tears started streaming down your face as another orgasm ripped through you. You were starting to feel light-headed from a mixture of pleasure and oxygen deprivation. She drew her tongue slowly up and down your entrance while her fingers kept moving inside you, doing her best to lap up your release before her tongue went back to massaging your clit.

You barely skimmed your teeth against her clit and she let out a soft cry against you, slapping your pussy in response and making you come again. You shook your head to bury yourself deeper into her folds and fought off the urge to pass out before shoving your tongue into her pussy and bringing your fingers up to rub harsh circles into her tiny apex of pleasure.

She collapsed against you at the sudden change in sensation with a gasp before she rose up to really grind into you.

You started fucking your tongue in and out of her, making sure to press it against her g-spot each time and felt her thighs tense around your face.

“God baby, don’t fucking stop. Fuck, just like that, right there. That tongue of yours is so fucking good. You’re so fucking good. Feels so good.” You knew when she started babbling breathlessly like this she was close. She brought one of her hands up to palm her breast as her other gripped the wrist of the hand you had working her clit, making sure you didn’t move away.

Just as the edges of your vision started to close in, you felt her core vibrate and her cunt clenched around your tongue as her release gushed into your mouth. The only sound she made was a rapid breathless pant and she rolled off of you slowly, finally allowing you to suck in oxygen as stars swam behind your vision. You did your best to catch your breath as you felt her stretch languidly beside you before she sat up to stare at you.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know why I let you take this pussy away from me. I know you just lay there by yourself every night dreaming of my fingers buried in you.” She slowly drew a hand along your slit and you groaned when she brushed against your overstimulated clit. “Just swollen and crying for me. Whose pussy is this baby?” She asked you, curling her fingers against your mound.

You knew if you didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, she would wring it out of you, and if you had any more orgasms you were going to pass out. “Yours, baby.” You murmured, staring at her through your eyelashes.

“Good girl.” She patted your cunt twice, making you twitch, before she bent down and kissed you softly.

She stood up and collected your mugs and brought them back into the kitchen, wiggling her ass at you when she felt you watching her, making you laugh.

“Can you throw some more logs on the fire, Y/N? I’ll grab us some clean blankets and pillows and we can sleep out here.”

“Yes ma’am.” You called back to her, breaking the current logs apart with the poker before adding three new ones and stoking it. You gathered your discarded clothes and the soiled blanket in a bundle and headed to the bathroom to put them in the hamper and run a damp towel against your sex to clean up, bringing another out with you as you headed back to the fire, where Hilde had piled a ridiculous amount of blankets and pillows in a massive nest for the two of you.

You sank down next to her and she drew your face to hers for a kiss. You smiled against her lips as you gently drew the soft towel you had brought with you over her cunt and along her thighs to clean her off as she gave a contented sigh.

“Stay.” She said softly, nuzzling softly into your neck as you held her against her chest and slowly sank back against the pile of cushions, giving her hair a soft kiss.

“Hilde, the road is out, I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“No, Y/N. Stay. Move here with me. I need you.” She looked up at you with genuine pleading in her eyes. You had never seen such open emotion on her face before.

You only had to think about it for a minute. The weeks between your trips were always spent planning your next visit. Thinking over what you wanted to talk to Hilde about. Your bed felt empty without her there.

“I need you too baby. I love you.” You whispered to her, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes as you gave her a gentle smile.

Her face split into a grin. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, Hilde.”

“Oh god, Y/N, I love you too!” She drew your face down to hers and kissed you deeply, clutching you to her needily before releasing you with a grin. “I miss that pussy almost as much as it misses me.”

You laughed at that and laid back with a sigh. Hilde rested her head between your breasts and brought her hands close around your sides, pulling the thick wool blanket around the two of you tightly.

“Just make sure Miek doesn’t try to fight my sheep again.” You whispered to her, running a hand softly up and down her back.

“That was a misunderstanding.” She smiled against you as her breathing slowed and deepened, and she sunk closer to sleep.

The two of you laid there intertwined for the rest of the night, drifting off as the fire crackled and died. You had never felt so content in your life.

[tickle-bugs]

NO BUT IMAGINE: magne showing laurits like. a Facebook mom meme. with minions. when they're chilling on the couch together late at night and it's actually the worst thing laurits has ever seen but magne thinks it's like stupid funny

- ragnarok anon

PSPSPSPSPS PRESENT FOR YOU

Spoilers for S1 & 2 of Ragnarök below!

They’d gotten into a habit since they’d moved to Edda. Magne rarely slept through the night and Laurits rarely slept, so eventually one of them would drift downstairs to sit by the TV--not to watch, but to listen. The creaks and groans of the house’s upper reaches were anything but comforting, most nights.

It was Laurits who’d drifted tonight, feeling the bags beneath his eyes without needing to see them. Reruns of Hotel Caesar were on, and it was better than the 4am silence. Magne found him soon after, cloaked in a blanket and shivering, but not from the cold. Seemed like one of those nights that neither of them were ready to talk about.

They sat on the couch, both doomscrolling for a lack of anything else to do. The pit of dread in Laurits’s stomach only grew larger at every glance at the clock. The uselessness that came with insomnia, the frustration of being kept from the rest he needed, him thinking about trying to go for a run, even in the rain. It’d be better than dealing with the static in his head, probably.

Magne snickering broke his train of thought.

“What’s so funny?” Laurits squinted down at Magne. His head was pillowed on Laurits’s lap, illuminated by his phone, and he could hardly speak for laughing. Every time he opened his mouth, more delirious giggles poured out, and he covered his face as if it would help. Eventually he composed himself enough to hold his phone up to Laurits.

A minion meme. A goddamn minion meme had Magne in stitches. Not even a good one, if such a thing existed.

“Are you serious?” Laurits’s lips quirked up against his will. Magne only laughed harder.

“This is literally--Magne, mom would post this. On Facebook. This is Facebook mom humor.” He scoffed, looking in disbelief from the phone to his brother.

“I just think it’s funny.” His bright eyes peeked through his fingers, catching the light of the TV, and Laurits huffed.

“Of course you would, you dork.” Laurits poked his stomach and Magne yelped, scrambling for a little bit to catch the offending hand.

Okay, he couldn’t, like, not do something about this.

Laurits scribbled his fingers over Magne’s stomach, reeling him in by the waist when he tried to flee--well, it looked more like he was melting off the couch, but Laurits wasn’t taking any chances.

“Laurits, noooooo,” Magne whined around his laughter, uncoordinated and still--still!--giggling from the dumb joke. Laurits pinched up his side, just slow enough to make a silent point about Magne failing to stop him.

“Alright, Giggles. You done?” Laurits let his hands rest on Magne’s stomach as the last bits of laughter left him. Maybe it was a little mean to still twitch his fingers afterwards, just to watch Magne jump, but he didn’t care, honestly.

“Enough with the minions. We need to get you some taste.” Laurits patted Magne’s face a few times before settling back into the cushions. Well, he would’ve, if ten fingers hadn’t started wriggling into his waist.

“Magne, you fuck--don’t--nohoho!” Laurits tried to worm away, but Magne’s stupid meaty hands followed him everywhere he went.

“You’re gonna wake Mom,” Laurits hissed, but he slammed his head back into the couch when Magne found a terrible seam of muscle that had him full-body flailing.

“Me? I’m not doing anything.” Magne beamed, latching a hand onto Laurits’s thigh. A small arc of lightning jumped off of his fingers and through Laurits and he shrieked, helpless giggles pouring from deep within his chest. Magne hit him with another shock, this time to the ribs, and Laurits curled like a pillbug, muffling himself in his sleeve.

He was still unused to godhood and its perks, to the way that Magne could literally use him like a fucking lightning rod and have him in stitches. His nervous system was popping and sparking like disco lights, and he can’t come up with anything beyond how bad it fucking tickles, jesus.

“Alright, Giggles. You done?” Magne mocked, flopping right back down onto Laurits’s lap. Laurits hugged his torso as a few tired giggles slipped from him. The glittering within him died down slowly, and his toes curled around the phantom tickles. Ghostly arcs of electricity had him twitching faintly, still snickering, and Magne grinned at him all the while. Fuckin’ nerd.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Laurits smacked Magne’s phone. He glowed with smug pride when Magne fumbled it a few times.

“Mhm. Look at this one.” Magne shoved another meme into Laurits’s face. Laurits shoved his hands under Magne’s arms.

Sleepless nights passed easier like this, with the world locked outside and the imminent threat of the sun on the horizon. At least, like this, they could pretend like destiny wasn’t knocking on their door.

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |6|

Yoongi x Reader

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Words:2325

Warnings: SMUT (Oral, Orgasm denial, ruined orgasms.) Domme/Sub themes, Sub!Yoongi. Some Sass!

Links to other parts in my masterlist

if you want to be tagged let me know :)

Here it is guys as promised :)

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//She came to me! To me! Yoongi thought, feeling the bed lightly depress next to him. His mind was a drowsy haze, it was too deep to climb out of but his face muscles managed to creep into a small docile smile as he turned and held her like a lost bear finally found.

“Hey” Yoongi heard her say in a gentle tone. “Sleepy head” she said with a little more strength.

Even when she’d just woke up she was the epitome of beauty.

“We need to get to the studio by 10” she warned, by twisting over and glancing at the clock he saw he had little under half an hour to get ready. Looking up at a flawless face, content eyes all beneath messy hair. He wanted to drag her back in with him to be consumed by the warmth of each other; he wanted to feel her weight on him grow heavy as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. Instead he nodded with dozy movements and watched as she placed a mug of coffee beside him and left him with an awakening view of the bottom curve of her behind underneath a long t-shirt.//

 You arrived at the studio just minutes early. The studio techs wore small scowls as they powered up the equipment for you both, their distaste only pulled an amused smirk onto your face.

“Thanks, guys, we really won’t need any assistance today if you have some other work to be doing” You offered the pair. They shared a ‘Thank fuck’ kind of glance both turned and bowed

“Thank you, are you sure? If you need us Yoongi has our number” They scurried out leaving the faint whirring of the equipment with us. Yoongi gave you a questionable smile

“What? I’d rather just the two us work in the studio, we’re only doing the choruses today”

Yoongi shed his leather jacket and chucked it onto the small leather 2-seater at the back of the room; leaving him in just a plain black v-neck tee and a washed out ripped pair of denim jeans pooling at his vans hi-tops. You looked about as casual with your ripped high waist black skinnies and loose red crop top, you were removing your white converse perched on the arm of the sofa. Again a quizzical look from him.

“I’m comfier without them on when I’m in the studio, okay mr judgey eyes” you toyed playfully, the cheekiness glittering through your pupils

“Off your high horse miss jump to conclusions I wasn’t judging” he paused taking a sip of water. “Merely admiring” he admitted.

“Well I’m sure I can find the converse online somewhere” he glided into the control chair

Guess I’m going in first then

“I’m pretty sure you can’t find what I was looking at anywhere else. Go on you first” his head tilted in the direction of the narrow door connecting to the sound proof recording room, he slotted in the usb and transferred the backing music to the program. Neither of you had spoken about last night, at first you thought it would be awkward but it turns out it seemed to be more of an appetising secret and you were both politely waiting for the main course whilst silently adoring each other’s company amongst the flickering of a candle.

“Of course you can’t” you agreed before securing the door to the studio, the red light above the door ceased to live and the green light neighbouring it sprang into existence. The rectangular room was decorated with plain red walls and topped off with dressings of acoustic foam. The metal microphone hung from the ceiling a chandelier for any music artist. You adjusted the length to correlate with your height and moved the pop filter in line with your mouth. You stood side on to the glass window, Yoongi’s captivating eyes were not going to absorb you today.

“How you want to play this?” he asked through the headphones now sat snuggly cupping your ears blocking surround sound locking you into your element.

“Play the first verse and the first chorus first, then play the lead into the first chorus. The lyrics were laid out, a window to your soul on a neatly folded a4 sheet of paper you begun unfolding. A lot of artists read from their phones now but you were not a lot of artists. Having an editable canvas where you could scribble your own notes where you pleased was essential. You gave Yoongi a thumbs up once you’d completed your vocal warm up, it was shorter than the warm up if you was to be singing and not rapping.

You swayed and moved your head according to the beat which fell flawlessly into your ears and swam through your body transforming it to a pool of rhythm which guided you to freedom. You loved what you’d both created.

“Okay, ready” you affirmed ready to lay down some vocals.

“Go smash it” he encouraged.

For the 20th time you were listening to your words against the music, demanding Yoongi tweak one bit or another.

“Okay put the volume down on the percussion for the last three beats”

He did as he was told, his eyes glued on the screen in front of him, focus never faltering, watching him in his element was enthralling, you mind blocked out the sound of the headphones focusing only on the picture in front of you. His wide ‘well?’ eyes framed a knowing smile finally dragging you into the moment.

“Err… sorry once more” your smile mirroring your vocal apology. You swear you saw him gently shake his head with a grin.

“Perfect” You were done, very rarely can you be distracted in the studio yet here you were picturing less than professional things unfolding in this small space. You decided in that moment before your mind completely clouded that you’ll go home tonight and work on vocals alone away from the irresistible Min Yoongi.

The light red above the door announced your freedom to leave which you took. Yoongi was stood gulping down water like a fire was blazing in his throat.

“Did you do as I asked last night?” you asked, professional mode departed leaving you just wanting to play. He choked on a mouthful.

“What?” he replied in a state of disbelief, backtracking his memories for what you asked of him.

“I’m pretty sure I asked you to stop touching yourself, did you?”

You were sure your eyes must have darkened as a warning to Yoongi. You pressed into him nudging him backwards until he bumped into the edge of the desk. His eyes shifting manically around the room in a panic. You rolled your eyes in jest and headed to the door and turned the lock. Tracing your footsteps back to your prey.

“No…” he asked almost like a question, wanting a hint at the consequences.

“Did you cum?” you asked, nudging his head aside to lay a soft kiss on his neck, you heard the small guilty sigh before he answered

“Yes?” Before he could ask any more questions you caught him in heated kiss which swept both your breaths somewhere else, you unhooked the top button of his jeans, the contact of your lips never faltering

“What…are you…doing?” his hand caught yours and halted any more of your moves.

“Want me to stop?” Your chests racing for each other centimetres apart. He released your hand giving you full reign over his kingdom, the way his head dropped back with his jaw slightly ajar accompanied with the sound that rolled past his lips was intoxicating; near short circuiting your system with the surge it caused at your core; and this was only the result of you touching him. You needed all of him and it drove you nuts.

When you got to your knees there was a brief moment your eyes were held in his as your smirk grew as much as it could as you took him in your mouth. One free hand cupped his balls and the other the base and teased what wasn’t in your mouth. Your tongue danced at his tip

“Jesus Y/N” taking his words with relief drenched behind them as a means to not stop you didn’t. You continued clawing guttural groans from his throat. The sounds he made just did something to you, it reverberated round your mind almost overriding you punishing him. It was only his sudden tightened grip on your hair that pulled you out.

“You’re…going to…” he stuttered, You left him completely, his expression pulled struck with wide eyes glaring at you desperately as you sat with nothing but a grin moulded by the devil himself.

“That’s what you get for not doing what you’re told. It has consequences you know” getting back to your feet. He wasn’t sure how to respond to you or he’d just not caught his breath back, it’s quite likely it’s a mix of both.

“I can’t exactly go out like this though” he pleaded. You were pressed to his chest, eyes darting sideways biting your lip.

“Hmmm, that’s not exactly my problem is it” you cooed. You enjoyed the look of horror wash his face even paler than he was already for a moment before you threw him a lifeline.

“Okay, I’ll be lenient THIS time. You can finish yourself off” His faced creased as he was about to protest but the fight dropped from his face and his own hand sought to fix the ‘situation’

“But” you chimed up before he could start “just before you cum I want you to stop all contact, you can still cum but it won’t be as good for you”.

“You want me to ruin my own orgasm?” he checked hardly believing your words could be so cruel.

“Yes, exactly, this way it’s still a punishment but it still sort outs your…problem” your lips crept smugly to kiss his cheek.

“Just imagine what it’ll be like when you finally get to fuck me” you whispered teasingly into his ear, his breath hitched at your words.

  “Who would have thought I could tell Min Yoongi what to do in a studio, that was literally one of the sexiest things I’ve seen”

“Yeah?” he asked searching for reassurance. You wasn’t lying, watching him affected you more than you expected; but you needed way more than the thirty minutes left of studio time available to you.

“Mmhmm” you stalked over to him lightly gripped at his shirt at his chest “Don’t believe me?” you asked with a kiss. You took one of his hands and guided it beneath your waistband. You watched his mouth drop open a silent exhale.

“Fuck, yes I believe you” you couldn’t help but adore and melt at the sight of his pout when you pulled his hand away; your body also arguing the decision.

“Go on we’ve not even got any of your vocals yet” nodding your head toward the studio. He took a moment to sulk before taking begrudging steps away from you.

To say he wasn’t quite in the zone to lay down vocal was an understatement. You probably didn’t help the situation sat chewing the end of a pun seductively shadowing an amused grin at his torment. Five minutes before time was up the rest of the boys bundled into the studio and waited for him before their dance practice started. You both shared glances of yet another dirty secret; with all the chaos that follows all seven of them you didn’t get a chance to say bye properly or let him know you wouldn’t be at his when he got home.

After you messaged your mum asking her to drop off Charlie in the morning you filled Yoongi in.

-I’ll stay at mine tonight to get some more of my vocals done, I find being in enclosed spaces with you way too distracting; P.-

- You find me distracting? :O the audacity after only allowing me a touch-

-If it’s that bad nothing stopping coming to mine, only after I’ve finished working though!-

-I might have to take you up on that offer but also depends if you’ll let me have you drives me insane I’ve not made you cum yet, also last night you never actually told me how you actually wanted me-

You postponed your response until you were laid out on your front drowning in the comfort of your own bed, the scent of fresh bedding heavy in the crimson sheets.

Mum’s the best you thought.

-Remember you asked…

You obviously can’t be trusted to do as you’re told so firstly your hands would be cuffed above your head, I’d have a spreader bar at your ankles keeping your legs spread so I can easily thigh ride you and if you get needy you can’t stop me unless you beg. You will need to use your words to tell me how good it all feels especially when I’ve raided my toy box.

You wasn’t going to be too specific you’d rather his imagination have free reign of that.

If you’re good then I’ll let you have me. I’ve been dying to find out the extent of that tongue technology and how my hands look round your neck. Only when you’re so hard it hurts and you’re begging me I’ll let you cum. If you don’t do as you’re told, well you know now they’ll be consequences-

  He’ll be practising now but you were buzzed wishing to see his face when he did read it, curiosity blooming to see how he’ll deal with all that in the middle of his day.

The house was a void of noise, the lack of quiet tapping of claws across the wood flooring of the apartment filled you with emptiness; before allowing it to completely consume you, you escorted yourself and you glass of wine to your studio.

[stormtrprinstilettos]

Chameleon - Ch. 4

Summary: Reader (that’s you!) moves to London, hoping to leave her past behind and find happiness. She makes friends with her new neighbors. (Guess who?) - So far we’ve established that Reader & Freddie are BFF, Reader & Brian are absolutely into each other (but he has a GF) and Reader & Roger have a bit of sexual tension.

Word Count: 6k+ || AO3 link | Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3(1)(2)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this (especially @clogwearingspacepoodle who helped me decide where I wanted this to go!). So… this chapter’s got angst. It’s got language. It’s got smut. Now go on, Y/N - take what you want!

Tagging @chocolatealmondmilkshake - if you want to be tagged just let me know.

You had acquired a new roommate - Freddie. You thought it was pointless for him sleep on Brian and Roger's couch when you had an empty bedroom, so the two of you spent some time cleaning out the extra room that was full of your grandma's old junk to make space for Freddie's things. This new arrangement wasn’t hard to get used to. The four of you were constantly in and out of each other's places anyway. You all had jokingly discussed tearing down the wall that separated the two flats since it would save the time of opening and closing doors. You loved this somewhat strange arrangement you had with the three of them. It wasn't what others would consider normal, but it was the most normal you had ever experienced. They'd go off to their classes or jobs or rehearsals and you would "take care of the homestead" as you put it. The guys called you their domestic goddess. You even bought yourself a few cookbooks to become more domesticated.

Freddie had encouraged you to pick up your sketchbook and pencils again. You always loved to draw, and you were very good at it, but when you left your old life behind, that was one thing you left with it. You didn't even mention your love for art to anyone until Freddie saw some of your old sketches when you were clean out what would become his bedroom. They were mostly drawings of people, all seeming to be deep in thought, all with their own story to tell. He pulled the old book out of a box in the closet and flipped through, growing more and more impressed by every picture. "Who drew these?" he asked, snapping your attention from whatever you were rambling about. He wasn't paying any attention.

"Oh..." you cleared your throat. "I... I did.” You never showed your sketches to anyone except your mom and grandma. They were the only ones who never told you that you were foolish and wasting your time with your talent. "I forgot all about that thing. I can't believe she kept it."

His mouth dropped in amazement. "You? These are fantastic. I didn't know you draw."

You quickly grabbed the book from Freddie and closed it, throwing it nonchalantly back into the box. “I don’t. Not anymore." Once you had your back turned, Freddie took it back out and continued flipping through the pages. "So I'm thinking tonight for dinner I'll just do some chicken." Freddie didn't acknowledge. You waited a couple of seconds. "Is chicken okay with you? Maybe a salad..." You turned and furrowed your brows when you saw him looking at the book again.

"Who are these people, love?" Freddie asked, never taking his eyes away from the pages. "You must have cared about them. You didn't miss a single detail."

Knowing he wouldn’t let it go, you sat behind him, wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder and told him about every person on the pages. When he got to the last page, sensing your deep breath you took to regain your composure, Freddie turned his head to look at you and asked, "is this your mum?"

You stared down at the page and smiled. "Yeah, that's Mom." You ran your hand over the picture with adoration. "I miss her."

"Easy to see where you get your beauty from," Freddie said as he pinched your nose, an annoying habit they all seemed to have picked up that they used to get you to crinkle your nose for their amusement. "You look just like her."

The next week Freddie gifted you with two sketchbooks and a box of drawing pencils. You took his unspoken advice and began drawing again, which is how you would spend most of your days when the guys were off doing their thing. You’d go sit at the parks, mostly, sometimes at pubs or street corner cafes and people watch, choosing your subjects at random. It was therapeutic.

You had only ever gotten caught by a random subject once. You were drawing a man at a pub whose clothing style intrigued you. Flamboyant was an understatement, which is why you found him to be an interesting muse. Freddie would love this guy's style, you thought, which is why you chose him in the first place. He was unashamed of who he was and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He caught you staring and they agreed that he would let you finish drawing him as long as you paid him in conversation. You sat together for a couple of hours and regaled each other with amusing stories from your pasts. You found out that he was leaving for New York that night, which was upsetting because you just knew that he and Freddie would get along perfectly.

Things between you and Brian oddly weren’t even really weird after finding out he had a girlfriend. The two kisses happened and that was it. It was never discussed. Freddie told you he wasn’t happy in the relationship, and you got the same vibe from Brian, but it, like the kiss, was never discussed. Well, it wasn’t discussed anymore after you let him know in passing that you knew about Jane. The two of you actually got closer. Not romantically – he was already spoken for. But he was spending more time with you, lazing around, watching TV or listening to a new album, depending on what you felt like doing. He would listen to you ramble on about whatever was exciting you that day. You would listen intently to him playing songs that he had written and sometimes just watch him sitting with his notebook, scribbling on the pages with deep concentration. You would show him your drawings and he would encourage you, just as you would encourage him with his music and studies. He would passionately talk about some random astronomical phenomenon and you would listen with immense interest. A few mornings you woke up to find that you both had fallen asleep on the sofa, but that's always as far as it went. You weren’t going to allow any lines to gets crossed and neither was he. But the feelings were there. You couldn’t deny them to yourself – and he couldn’t deny them either – but as long as this Jane person existed in his world, you weren’t going to say a word. You convinced yourself that everything would be fine as long as you at least had him as friend although you could feel your heart literally hurt whenever you were around him.

Then there was Roger, the incorrigible flirt that he was, who never kept himself from making sly comments, which you would return in kind, which made everyone else suspicious of the two of you. Things with him were frustrating. You wanted him. Badly. You knew he wanted you, too. You both would resist as much as possible, not wanting to cause any problems that could possibly arise, but you always gave in to the temptation. You tried so many times to just do it, but there was always a reason it never happened, no matter how close it came to happening. It never failed. The two of you would end up in a hot and heavy situation, and just as things were about to go that one step further, Freddie would come home, or the phone would ring, or Brian would knock on the door… The universe seemed to conspire against you.

Like that one time the two of you were in the kitchen, not exactly having the kind of conversation you’d have with a priest, waiting for the dinner roast to finish in the oven. You were standing at the sink as he walked up behind you, leaned against you with his hands on your hips. You turned around and as soon as he started to lean in for a kiss, the timer went off to let you know the roast was done. At the same time, Freddie, Brian, and John came in waiting to be fed. Or that time the two of you were going back home after seeing a movie. Brian wasn’t supposed to be home. The two of you didn’t even make it past the door before Roger had you pinned against it, ready to take you right there, only to be interrupted by Brian’s keys jingling to come inside. You both scurried to Roger’s room, but Brian barged in, asking about some stupid book he misplaced.

So, yes. Frustrating. While quite a bit of the time you and Roger spend together was working each other up, the two of you did bond over other things. You’d love watching movies – old and new – and swapping books especially. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction. He was a great friend to you who would listen when you needed an ear and hand out advice when you needed it, and you’d reciprocate in kind, but there was no way it would never delve into something serious between the two of you. You were too much alike and he didn’t give you that extra bit of mental stimulation like someone else did.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You grab your purse and start to leave for a quick trip to the store when you hear voices coming from the other side. "Thank you for the help. And for the early dinner. I needed that." It was a female's voice. You listen closer, thinking you’ll have some new ammo for the next time Roger tried to trip you up during some playful argument.

"You don’t have to thank me for that." Your heart falls to your toes. It was Brian this mystery woman is talking to. You slowly open the door and peek through the crack. There he is, looking down at this beautiful blonde female with a smile on his face, holding her hand. You take a deep breath and open the door, not hiding your presence, startling Brian and his mystery friend.

"Hey Brian, is Freddie still over there?" You completely ignore the fact that this other person is there. You try to convince yourself don't care anymore because you don’t want to tread that thin line between the two of you anymore. It’s eating you up inside and you need to talk to the one person who always made you feel better no matter what.

His face lights up when he sees you, just like it always does, and his hand moves quickly behind his neck. “Hey, Y/N, yeah, he’s in there.” Your eyes lock in a gaze, you pleading for an explanation and he pleading for forgiveness.

“Y/N, the new neighbor,” the blonde says as she moves in between you and Brian and offers her hand. “Hi, I’m Jane.” The heart that fell to your toes before has now completely left your body and is laying right there on the floor, ready for Brian to stomp on it.

“Oh, yeah, Jane! Hi! Nice to finally meet you!” You hope you don’t sound fake, but, really, you couldn’t stand her from the start… because you were jealous as hell. You really hoped she didn’t exist, but she did, and she is standing right in front of you.

“Brian’s told me a lot about you. I feel like I know you already.” She keeps talking, and the things she’s saying let you know that he really did tell her a lot about you. She’s so nice you start to feel terrible about wanting to loathe her so bad. You can’t. She’s lovely.

“Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” she asks you. I’d love to get to know you more.”

You look up to Brian, who is still standing there with his hand on his neck, not knowing what to even say. “If you want to. We’re going… um…” He’s muddling his words, imagining how awkward it would be to spend an evening with the both of you at the same time.

“We’re going to dinner. We’ll decide the rest after that,” Jane tells you, deciding to finish Brian’s thought for him. She grabs your hands and begs you. “Please come with us.” She seems nice enough. Okay, so she seems like a wonderful person, but you aren’t sure if it’s a show she’s putting on or if she genuinely wants to know you.

“Oh, I don’t know, I…” You’re also imagining the potential awkwardness and it’s making you nauseated.

“Bring someone with you! It’ll be fun.” You really, really want to hate her. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” You just really, really couldn’t hate her, no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed and give her a defeated smile. “Okay, I’ll go.” She claps with excitement, which is a bit annoying and over enthusiastic, but it’s kind of cute. “Guess I better go get me a date.” You laugh, probably a bit too fake, as you walk into Brian and Roger’s apartment to find Freddie.

"You’re my date tonight, Freddie!" you call out as you walk inside, annoyed, upset, and nauseous.

Freddie runs in from the kitchen. "Slow down, Princess. What?"

Your facial expression tells him all he needs to know. You just met Jane. You’re trying to be okay with it, but he can tell you’re not. You have a look of failure, pure defeat. “We’re going out with Brian and Jane.” You’re less than enthusiastic about it, but you already resigned yourself to the fact that there was no way you were getting out of it now.

Freddie cringed. “With that cow? I can’t, Princess. Remember? It’s my sister’s birthday and I promised I’d…”

"Ugh!" you cut him off and throw your hands up. You look over Freddie's shoulder and see Roger standing there, leaning against the wall. "Roger! Are you doing anything tonight?"

He jokingly puffs out his chest. “I’ll save you. I don’t have any plans. Go get ready, doll.”

You run up to him, hug and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you. You’re the best.” When you move back he’s still holding you, his eyes smiling brightly and his mouth pursed into a puckish grin.

“Now, Y/N, we both know you can’t make that claim. Yet,” he said with a wink. You give him a playful slap on his chest and pull away. “I’m going get ready. I’ll come get you when we leave.”

As you turn to make your way home to get dressed, you come face to face with a concerned Freddie. In a soft, calm voice, he asks, "are you okay with this?" He knows how you feel about Brian and he was worried this was going to turn out to be a disaster.

You take a deep breath and answered, calmly. "It’s going to be fine. She seems really nice.”

“She’s not nice. She’s absolutely dreadful. You’ll see. Just... Don’t do anything stupid.” He stopped before he started saying what he really wanted to say. “Have fun, Princess.” He kissed you on the cheek. “I have to go. I’ll be home in the morning. I’m staying at mum and dad’s tonight.”

What the hell did I get myself into? you ask yourself. How am I going to be able to act normal? You knew “normal” wasn’t going to happen.

You hear Roger clear his throat before he sneaks up behind you, grabs you around your waist and nuzzles his face into your neck. “You’ll be all alone? Did I hear that correctly?”

“You did,” you say with a giggle as you wiggle out of his grip. “But you have to finish dinner before you get your dessert.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You decide on your short, low-cut red dress and high boots for the evening. You tied your hair up loosely, put on your red lipstick and smiled at yourself in the mirror. Perfect. You knew exactly what you were doing when you wore that dress. It never failed you before.

You and Roger were friends. You knew you could wake up next to him the next morning and it wouldn't be weird seeing him later. Hell, he didn't even have to spend the night. It could be your little secret. You didn't care. You just needed attention from someone, and you wanted that person to be someone you could trust for a change. Someone who never lied to you or pretended to be someone else. You had done it with so many other guys without getting emotionally attached, so you knew this would be no problem. And, well, let’s face it: You and Roger were beyond the point of no return.

But, if you were completely honest with yourself, you knew you weren’t wearing that dress just for Roger. You probably weren’t even wearing it for him at all. You could have worn a potato sack and the two of you would be on the verge again by the end of the night based on your short history. You were upset. You wanted Brian to see what he was missing. You wanted to drive him crazy with desire.

Roger knocked twice on the door and let himself in. "Hey Y/N? Ready for a wonderful night out with this handsome devil standing in your living room?”

"You're a fool, Roger Taylor," you tell him as you walk out of your room. When his eyes fell on you, he couldn't help but let out a whistle. You walk closer to him and lean in close to his ear. "But I wouldn't have you any other way." He pulls you close to him and bend down to kiss you. Instead, you bend down to dodge him.. "No, no. We have people waiting.” He groan and gives you a pleading look, but you weren’t giving in. “Now, are you gonna show me a good time?"

He sighed, accepting the fact that he has to wait for later, and chuckles. “Let's get this over with." He put his hand at the small of your back and walks with you out the door.

Brian and Jane were sitting outside waiting – her, patiently; him, not so much. Both of their eyes beamed with delight when they saw you and Roger finally come out. It seemed as if Brian had completely forgotten that his girlfriend was sitting right there next to him. “I love that dress, Y/N! Did you get it at Biba?” Jane asked.

“No. Bloomingdales in New York. You’re unable to take your eyes off Brian. His eyes, having turned beguiling at this point, follow you back and you, not aware of what you were doing, gave him a flirtatious grin. After making sure he took complete notice of you, you turn your attention to Jane, hoping she didn’t notice this toying that you were doing. “I’m guessing you got yours at…”

“Biba. Yes.” She noticed you and Brian staring at each other, as evidenced in her contrite reply, but she shook it off like a pro and became the nice, bubbly Jane almost immediately.

“We have the prettiest girls in London, don’t we, Bri?” Roger sensed the tension and wanted to snap everyone out of it. He cocks his arm for you to hook yours into it. “Shall we?” he asks you with a smile before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

Brian rushes to your side and leans down to your ear. “I’m guessing you’re feeling red today?” You glance up at him and smirk.

“Oh, yes. Very red.”

He gave a big smile and an amused chuff. “One day you’re going to tell me what these colors mean.”

He and Roger open the car doors for you and Jane respectively, and the four of you head out on your evening.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Three hours and copious amounts of liquor into your night out, you were feeling fantastic. You felt alive. Roger hadn't left your side all night and made sure you weren’t drinking alone. Jane was also getting a little tipsy, but Brian stayed completely sober. He was the one driving, after all.

The fact that he wasn’t drinking made him very aware how everyone was acting, especially you. The fact that you were drinking, perhaps a bit too much, made you have less restraint in how you were acting. You saw Brian watching you in that red dress. You saw the way his eyes would follow your hand when you’d start to play with your necklace, or the way his eyes would look at your lips when you’d purposely wet them slowly and seductively when he was watching. You saw the hint of jealousy on his face when you were dancing with Roger, and you saw that jealously grow when you and Roger got to the point where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You saw how he would react to every single little thing you would do. You almost felt a tinge of guilt knowing that you were driving him absolutely crazy. Almost.

Jane tried to keep his attention focused on her, but he would give her excuses why he was coming across as distant. “I’ve got classes in the morning that I’m thinking about,” or “I’m thinking about what we’re going to play next band rehearsal,” but the “I need to make sure Y/N doesn’t do anything stupid” line irked her last nerve. “Take me home, Brian,” you heard her tell him in a quite demanding way. You weren’t sure if “home” meant her place or his, but you didn’t care. After Roger assured Brian the two of you could find your way home safely, Brian left with Jane, albeit unwillingly. His eyes watched you, longingly, as he walked out. You saw that, too.

A slow, bluesy song started to play in the background as they walked away, and you started dancing against Roger. "I love this song,” you told him, your words drawn out dramatically. “Dance with me." You grabbed his hands and moved out to the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around your waist, yours wrapped around his neck, and you swayed to the music. You looked up at him, tilted your head and gave him a big smile. "Roger?"

He looked down and smiled back. "Y/N?"

"You're cute." You tapped him on the tip of his nose.

He pretended to be shocked. "Cute? I'm just... cute? Me? I'm offended."

You picked your head up and pulled yourself in as close as you could, bringing his head down to yours, touching your nose to his and stared deep into his eyes. "You're sexy as hell, Roger.” You let out a long, drawn out sigh. “I should have let you fuck my brains out the very first day you wanted to. I felt how hard you got when I had my hand on you..."

He pulled his head back a little bit and his mouth dropped open. "Fucking hell, Y/N. You don't mince your words." He looked down at your pleading eyes. He knew what you wanted, and he wanted it too. He missed too many chances to have you before and there was no way he was going to let another chance pass him by. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. "Do you want to hear a secret?" You shook your head yes and bit your bottom lip. "That day? That wasn't the first day I wanted to fuck your brains out."

The song ended, and you looked at Roger seductively. You broke free from his hold, backed up, and motioned for him to follow you with your finger, and he happily obliged. You walked over to a dark corner of the room, out of the eyesight of everyone else who was around. You leaned against the wall, one foot propped up on the wall behind you, and once again motioned for Roger to come closer. He leaned against the wall with one hand next to your head.

"Tell me about the first time you wanted to fuck my brains out?" You grinned, again nibbling on your lip, running a finger along his shirt collar.

He leaned his face down close to yours. "Well, it was probably a week after you got here. You were walking around in that tight blue tank top with those short shorts. You were driving me mad." He ran the back of his hand down your cheek, pausing when his thumb reached your lips. "You were wearing this red lipstick too." You parted your lips so that your tongue would touch his thumb. "And all I could think about when I would look at you was how much I wanted to see those lips wrapped around my cock." You opened your mouth a little more and took his thumb into your mouth, never taking your eyes off his, before he moved It out.

“Then there was the time you were outside in the back garden, sitting in the sun, wearing that bikini top. You knew I was looking at you,” he recalled. “You kept making sure I got a good view of these,” he reminded you as he rubbed his hand gently on your breasts.

You grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him closer to you, his hand coming off the wall and sliding down to your arm. You reached down and grabbed his manhood that was pushing against his pants, making him gasp and go silent, never taking his eyes off of yours. You pushed your body as close to his as you could and looked down at what your hand was resting on. "You remember what I said about this, right?" and smirked as you looked up at him, gently rubbing your hand up and down.

"Oh yeah, I remember." He smirked back. "Do you want it?" You shook your head yes. He moved his hand that was still resting on your breasts up to your neck, making you move your head up to look him directly in the eyes, his voice turning rigid. "No, Y/N. You have to say it."

"I want it."

His hand moved down, passing over your chest, stomach and to your thigh. "How bad do you want it?"

"Very, very bad."

"Hmm, let me see." He moved his hand from your thigh to under your dress, feeling your wet panties. "Mmm, yeah, I'd say you want it very, very bad." He leaned down and kissed you, keeping his hand rubbing you underneath your dress as you kept rubbing against his pants. "But I want to get one thing straight." He moved your panties to the side with his fingers, rubbing them gently around your wet flower. He moved his head to whisper in your ear, which caused your breathing to get heavy in his. "You get to have it..." He nibbled at your ear. "...but I get to say how you get it." He moved to look back into your eyes. "Understand?" You nod and he smirked. "Good girl."

You stopped rubbing on his member, grabbed his hand out from under your dress and moved it away. "So, Roger...?" You straightened your body out, wrapped one arm around his neck and started to run your fingernails across the nape of his neck. "Is today one of those days you wanna fuck my brains out?" You pulled him down for a kiss.

"Mmm hmm" is all he could get out as your tongues encircled and bodies rubbed together.

"Then you better take me home." He kissed you some more. “Now.” He grabbed your hand and you walked as fast as you could out the door.

The two of you made sure to be quiet walking into your flat. If anyone was around, you didn't want them to hear Roger going into your place, and you definitely didn’t want anyone conveniently disturbing what was about to happen. "This is between us, yeah?" Roger asked, not out of shame, but out of respect. He didn't care if the guys knew it when he was having sex with other girls. He didn't care what they thought about the other girls. He cared about what they thought about you, though. After assuring him that Freddie wasn’t home, you unlocked the door.

You walked inside and immediately started tearing off each other's clothes, not wanting to waste a single second of time for anyone to interrupt, leaving a trail from the door to the bedroom, both of you completely naked by the time you reached your destination.

He pushed you back onto the bed, but not before you grab him to fall with you. He starts to kiss you again, his hands roaming feverishly all over your body, your hands grabbing his hair. “Roger,” you say with a scratchy tone. “You better fuck me this time."

“Don’t worry about that,” he replies. “I’m not walking out of here hard...” Your breaths are stuck in your throat as he holds your face, kissing you with more desire than you ever knew could exist. “... and you won’t be able to walk out of here without help.”

He quickly moved down and dove between your thighs, taking a moment to admire what he was seeing before he started lapping at your wet, heated flesh. “Still so wet,” he whispers as a groan escapes your lips. “So good,” he whispers as you groan again. You grab his hair and press him deeper into you. He thrusts his tongue into you as you groan louder.

“Not yet,” you beg, “not yet…”

“Don’t worry,” he says in between licks. “This is only the first round.” He flattens his tongue against your clit, grinning as he looks up at you as your moaning becomes uncontrollable. He begins to gently suck on you, inserting two fingers in the process. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to go quick.”

“Fuck, Roger!” you cry out. You try to say more, but you can only moan.

He moved his mouth away, but his fingers kept up their pace. “You want this, don’t you?” He asks. You can only nod. He gives you a devilish grin. “Now you know how I feel, being so close and not being able to do anything about it…” You feel your climax approaching and your body tenses up. “How close are you, Y/N?” You try to answer, but only a short whimper comes out. He chuckles deeply. “Mmm hmm…” He brings his voice down to a whisper. “So close…” He lowered his head back down, sucking gently on your clit, grazing it ever so lightly with his teeth.

“Oh my god, Roger!” You arch against him, rolling your hips and grabbing the bedsheets, moaning with pleasure before landing limp on the bed, breathless. He crawls up to you, his body over yours, leaning down for a deep, hard kiss.

You push him over onto his back and straddle him, your core grazing his. He pulls you down into a kiss, his hand grabbing his cock, ready to guide it inside of you. “Not yet,” you scold him as you push his hand away. He lets out an eager groan as you climb off him and make your way down to his dick. Your eyes meet his. “There’s something you said you wanted to see,” to say, as a mischievous grin crosses your mouth before you lower it, your pointed tongue licking the tip, then the entire length, before the heat and wetness of your mouth completely envelopes him.

He notices your red lipstick is smudged but it’s still there, and he watches intently as your red lips surround his rock. He holds a hand on top of your head, guiding it at the speed he wants you to go. His moans and groans getting louder. Before he gets too far, he stops you. “Get up here, Y/N,” he tells you, making you suck hard and pull your mouth away. You move up to straddle him, the mischievous grin never leaving your face. He guides himself to you, his tip just inside. “Are you sure you want this?” he jokes.

“Roger if you don’t stop joking and fu…” you couldn’t finish your sentence before he lowered you down, completely engulfing him in you. You start to rock your hips, hands on his chest to keep your balance, as he helps balance you in this perfect position with his hands on your waist, as you are in complete and total control of everything. He’s grabs hold of your breasts, watching your every move as you continue grinding against him.

You lean forward, your body becoming exhausted. “Finish me,” you tell him, your voice becoming desperate, and weak. He wraps his arms around your back, holding you tightly, as he lifts his hips with a feverous rhythm, pounding into you hard and deep from underneath. “Oh!” you scream. “Yes, Brian, just like that...”

He flips you over, spreads your legs, putting them over his shoulders and increases his speed. His thrusts getting harder, grunts getting louder. “Fuck, Y/N!” He yells out, knowing he can’t go much longer. “Come for me. You know you want to.” And you do. Your entire body shuddered before the two of you collapsed, exhausted and exhilarated, before he laid down next to you.

You covered yourself up with the bed sheet and rolled over on your side, your back to Roger. You just had amazing sex – probably the most amazing you had ever had – with one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and you felt completely... empty. You were worried that you were doing it again – your therapy, your self-destruction – only this time involving someone you cared about, platonically speaking. He’s going to ignore me after, just like the others, you thought to yourself. He got what he wanted. Why would he stick around? This is all I’m good for anyway.

“Uh, Y/N?” Roger snaps you out of your moment. “Should I…”

You roll back onto your back. “I’m sorry.”

He starts to chuckle. “Sorry for what? That was fantastic.”

“Yeah, it was,” you smile. “It’s just…”

“I know, Y/N. I promise, it won’t be weird.”

You roll over on your side again, this time facing Roger. “Promise?”

He cleared his throat. “Come on. That’s what we wanted.” He nudges your shoulder. You laugh, but your face falls quickly, because you can’t get him out of your head. He climbed out of the bed and walked over to your dresser to grab the ashtray you kept there. “Did you listen to the new Pink Floyd album yet?” he asks as he walks back. You give him a confused look as he lays back down, having lit a cigarette and rested the ashtray on his stomach. “I hear it’s pretty good.”

You sit up, body wrapped in the sheet. “Seriously, Roger? We just had sex and you want to talk about this?” You grab the cigarette out of his hand, take a drag and start to stand up.

“No, stay.” He laughs as he grabs you and pulls you back down when you hand him back his cigarette. He can tell you’re bothered and he was trying to lighten the mood before deciding it was better to comfort you. He knows the way you feel about his friend, and how his friend feels about you. He does feel a tinge of guilt, but, the way he sees it is if Brian was too stupid to act on it, then you both were free to do whatever you want. “This wasn’t wrong, Y/N.”

“No, it definitely was not,” you laugh as you lay back down, resting your head on the pillow with his arm behind your neck. You enjoyed it. It was amazing. And you knew it wasn’t wrong, but it felt wrong.

He pulled your head close to him and held the cigarette to your mouth so you could take another drag. “We’re both adults here..No explanations needed.” He chuckles. “And if you want to use me again I won’t object.”

“So basically, I can use your for sex until I’m tired of you,” you jokingly reply.

“Well…” he laughs before taking a puff. “Nothing wrong with having fun, right?”

“So that’s all this is. Fun.” While fun was nice, you wanted more than just fun. You wanted some sense of stability. An actual relationship. A relationship with someone you could depend on. Someone who cared about you. Someone who would take care of you. Someone to share your hopes and dreams with.

He sighs. “Look, Y/N, you’re great. I love spending time with you. But…” His voice trails off.

“There’s always a ‘but’ thrown in whenever I have these conversations with guys so just spit it out.” But, you think. But I’m looking for stability, but I’m not looking for a relationship, but I’m married… You start to replay in your mind all of the “buts” you’ve been told over the past few years before Roger snaps you out of it.

“What I was going to say,” he started with the same annoyed tone you finished your sentence in, “is that I know this is all you want, and I accept that.”

You lift your head and scoot up so you’re eye to eye with him. “And what if this isn’t all I want? What if I want more?”

“Do you?” He cocks up an eyebrow, not sure what you’re trying to say.

“What if I do? What if I actually want more?” You lay your head back on the pillow. “What if I’m tired of only being good enough for ‘fun’?”

��First, you are much better than just ‘fun’ and any man who makes you think otherwise is an idiot. You’re so much more than that. Don’t ever think you’re not. You deserve to get everything you want. Secondly, I know you want more…” He pauses, not hesitantly because he doesn’t know how to finish his answer, but because he’s trying to make sure you’re going to like what you are told. “… you don’t want it with me, though.” You looked over at him with a puzzled look. He started to comfortingly rub his hand on the top of your head as he let out a hearty laugh. “Come on, Y/N, you said his name.”

Oh shit, you thought to yourself as you remembered. Clearly it wasn’t a big deal since Roger was obviously not offended in the slightest. Deciding not to get too much deeper into the conversation, you joked, “Well this is the worst possible pillow talk isn’t it?” He continued his laughter, especially after noticing how embarrassed you had become. “Right now, I just want to lay here,” you sighed.

He pulls you in tight, resting his head on yours. “Then if that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

[peterpanfromlemonland]

Angel of Arkham

"So," Paris Beckett, one of Arkham's newest therapists and psychiatrists clicked her pen as she stared straight into Jerome Valeska's eyes, "Why did you do it?" she leaned back in her chair as the crazy eyed ginger, wiggling in his restraints, smirked. This wasn't the first time these two have met...

6 months ago...

Paris was watching the circus with her niece that calm Sunday evening, not much was going on that night, just the regular acrobats and clowns. That was until a fight ensued between the clowns and acrobats. "Oh dear," Paris muttered as her niece grimaced and looked away, "I don't think this is supposed to happen..."

"GCPD!" A voice rang out through the circus tent, a cop, "Everybody freeze!" The string of events that happened next caught Paris off guard, she was hoping for a relaxing evening but instead she got a case placed on her hands. Sadly, her "people" skills wouldn't be needed until later.

"C'mon kiddo," Paris picked up the child, "Let's get you back home before your dad scolds me for getting you involved in my work." as the two of them left the tent a young ginger, no older than Paris bumped into them- literally- and dropped his bag of cherry flavoured candies. "Oh," Paris muttered as she knelt down to pick it up, "I'm terribly sorry, sir, I wasn't looking where I was-"

"No, no," the ginger man replied as he knelt down at the same time, "It was my fault-" their hands collided and their eyes locked onto each others. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Paris felt the warmth of his fingers brush against hers as he blindly fumbled for the bag, until the scene before her finally began to process fully.

"Oh shit!" she jerked her hand away suddenly, her niece yelping at the random movement, "I'm so so sorry... again... I didn't mean-" she stuttered as her face flushed red, rising to her feet as her niece glanced around curiously. The ginger smiled awkwardly, that smile brought butterflies to Paris's torso, it was then did the man's features jump out at her. He was kind of cute...

"Again," he chuckled grabbing the bag and hopping to his feet as well, he was a few inches taller than Paris, "It was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." Paris was about to say more but the pressure of her niece gently banging her head against her shoulder stopped her.

"I- uh," Paris muttered shyly, "Sorry again- crap!"

"No worries, sweets," the ginger chuckled, "I'm Jerome, by the way."

"Paris," she smiled with a slight bow, "Nice to meet you." Jerome smiled back at her before taking his leave, her eyes followed him until he faded into the darkness. A smile still on her face.

"Aunt Paris," the small voice of her niece broke through her thoughts, "Can we go home now? I'm sleepy." Paris finally remembered why she was outside, she hummed in compliance and headed to her car. The trip to Paris's brother's house was 15 minutes, it was a quiet 15 minutes, time seemed to fly by without a moment's notice.

The next thing Paris knew was that she was pulling into her brother's driveway, she shuffled out of the car with her niece in her arms, "Paris," her brother smiled as he opened the door, "Thanks for taking care of her."

"It was no trouble at all, Jack," Paris replied softly, "We had fun." she placed the young girl in her brother's arms. She could see he wanted to say more but she quickly nodded a goodbye and rushed to her car.

"Paris!" Jack called out before she could leave, "Take care of yourself, kid." Paris stared at him before flashing him a smile and driving off...

The next day Paris was called to the scene, her job was to evaluate people's mental state after a crime as well as help out the detectives gather evidence. She pulled up to the circus parking with no knowledge of what happened after she left the previous night. When she got out of her car, a detective by the name of Gordon approached her, "Ms. Beckett?" he stopped her in her tracks.

"Yes?" she replied flatly as she took a sip of her coffee.

"I'm detective Gordon with the GCPD, you were here when the commotion started correct?"

"Yes sir." Gordon looked much older than Paris, maybe around his late 20s to early 30s, "One of the circus members attacked a fellow circus member." the two of them began walking.

"That," the detective said through gritted teeth, "And we happened to stumble across a dead body." Paris nearly tripped over her own feet. Turns out that the body they found was the mother of Jerome, Paris could feel her heart plummet to her stomach. She couldn't imagine the pain that sweet boy was going through.

"So..." Gordon focused his gaze on the girl, "We want you to talk to him..." his tone was cold and blank.

"That's my job, detective," Paris replied, "But something in your tone says that you don't think I can do my job." Gordon scoffed and bit his cheek.

"How old are you again?" he cocked his head skeptically.

"18," she replied with confidence, "Should that matter?"

"Look, I have no problem with you- really- I just think you're a bit-"

"-Too young to be a psychiatrist and therapist?" she smirked, "I assure you, sir, I scored the top of my class." and with that she walked off, leaving the detective dumbfounded, a smirk crawling across her face.

Paris made her way to find Jerome, asking here and there about his whereabouts, he was sitting outside of his trailer hugging his knees with his face buried. The poor thing must've been crying all night. She approached him gently and quietly, "Jerome?" she chirped softly, causing him to jolt in his seat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you-" she noticed that his eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying, she gazed at him warmly with a small smile.

All the boy did was sniffle and look away in shame and grief, "What do you want?" he grumbled, aware of the girl taking a small step closer to him.

"Mind if I sit by you...?" she tilted her head quizzically. Jerome just scowled in response, yet she still sat by him anyway. The boy didn't protest or argue, he just scooted over a bit to make room for the girl.

"Why are you here?" Jerome finally spoke, "You don't look like a cop..."

"That is true," Paris shrugged, "But I do evaluate people."

"What? So you're like a shrink?" he scoffed.

"I guess. But I'd also like to be your friend."

"Did they tell you to say that?"

"No," Paris chuckled, "I actually do want to be your friend."

"What's in it for you?" Jerome muttered.

"Another person to share jokes with and eat icecream with?" Paris noticed a change in Jerome's postrue, she smiled softly. The two of them sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Paris spoke again. "You doing okay? With all that happened?" Jerome sniffled and shrugged, rubbing his eyes against his sleeve.

Paris shifted to give him a hug but he jerked as if he was expecting her to smack him in the face. Her eyes met with his, once he saw no malicious intentions he calmed down and allowed her to gently hug him. Jerome cried into her shoulder for what seemed like hours, Paris rubbed his back soothingly and rocked back and forth softly. When he finished crying Paris hopped to her feet and extended a hand out to him.

"Walk with me?" she asked with a childlike wonder in her tone, Jerome couldn't refuse. The ginger took her hand in his and was quickly yanked to his feet and dragged away. The two of them weaved their way around the circus, Paris taking in the scene around her.

"Were you two close?" she asked, Jerome tilted his head in confusion, "You and your mother?" Jerome hissed in disgust as she mentioned his mother, that hiss was enough to answer Paris's question. Jerome began to tell the girl about his relationship with his mother and how she would always beat him, he told her about how he would often find his mother in bed with another man, about how she would get drunk and hit him again and again for no reason at all. Paris jotting down notes as a therapist would.

"'Jerome'," he mocked, "'Go take out the trash!' Or 'Jerome, it's always your fault!' followed by her banging a clown in the other room. I'm sorry, I'm rambling again."

"It's quite alright," Paris reassured him, "As a friend, and a therapist, it's my job to listen." Jerome stopped and smiled at her, she was quite different than the others he had met.

"My mother's love life never really bothered me at all," Jerome continued, "I mean, it's the reason I exist."

"True." Paris shrugged in agreement.

"I just hope that they find whoever did this..."

"I do as well..." Paris's voice grew quiet, Jerome noticed that her gaze darkened so he quickly changed the subject.

"I gotta go run some errands soon," he scratched his neck, "But I kinda wanna talk to you more."

"Thank you." Paris beamed at this comment.

"Mind if I get your number, sweets?" Paris didn't refuse, she quickly scribbled her number on a fresh page in her notebook before tearing it out and handing it to the ginger. Jerome said his thanks as he shoved the piece of paper into his jeans pocket, "When's a good time to call you?" he asked before he left.

"Around 5:30-6ish," Paris hummed, "Weekends I'm free to talk all day."

"You wanna go out to dinner with me tonight?" Jerome asked before she left.

"Sure, surpirse me!"

"I'll call you later tonight."

And with that the two said their goodbyes and headed their separate ways...

Back to present day, in Arkham...

Paris waited patiently for an answer, Jerome's frenzied gaze burning a hole through her composure and confidence. The silence was suffocating.

"Well?" she urged, "I'm waiting for your answer." Jerome only laughed, if it were during other circumstances Paris would've adored that laugh of his. But in that moment his laugh brought fear.

"You remember the time I took you out for dinner," Jerome started, "Right, sweets?"

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Thirty: Musical Soulmates ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: The World’s a Stage ] [ Previous || Next ]

It takes him a while to notice that something isn’t quite...right. And not just because he hears music at odd hours in his head. Everyone does that…it’s part of how people claiming to be soulmates find one another, after all. Whenever music gets stuck in your head out of nowhere? Your ‘other half’ is listening to it. And the same goes in reverse.

He’s always wondered if his supposed match has any interest in his favorite genres. Blues and metal isn’t the most...typical combination. But he considers it fair game given that his head tends to fill with any manner of music. Orchestral, pop, jazz, swing, rock...it’s like they can’t stop flipping through stations, it drives him nuts!

And yet, in a way...he finds it comforting.

...not everyone hears music in the quiet.

So, he endures. Some people actually join message boards telling what they’re listening to, hoping to find a match and figure out who’s on the other end of their musical experience the easy way. But Obito puts off such a method for a while. In truth? The notion scares him. Is he really supposed to be bound to one person for life? That just sounds so...forced. Besides...people change. Sometimes the music you hear switches. And at times, he wonders if his own mental music being so sporadic is the result of his heart not being able to make up its mind.

Sometimes he looks up the music he hears that has lyrics, but he avoids the forums. There’s just something...holding him back. All through high school he dodges the opportunity, still uncertain.

...but then something...odd starts happening. He hears music in pieces. Bits at a time, and it...changes. He scours the net for the lyrics, but comes up empty handed. Several songs in a row - his other half bouncing between them a few days at a time, but otherwise hyper fixating. And either this stuff is way indie, or...it just doesn’t exist. He can’t find it anywhere.

So, he finally takes the plunge...and starts asking on one of the bigger musical match sites. He posts inquiries about the lyrics, but...no one else has heard of them either. A few people pitch in to try and find the obscure references, but...nothing. Eventually they all get bored and leave him with his mystery music.

Sitting in a quiet diner one night, Obito absentmindedly rolls a quarter under a finger, back and forth, back and forth. There’s only one other occupied table: one full of teenagers that his early twenties mind finds obnoxious. He doesn’t have much for a tip tonight, but he’s managed to dig out the change from the bottom of his coat pocket, idling it while he waits for a coffee refill.

And then...he hears it.

Staring forlornly at the coin, it comes to a halt, eyes widening as the speakers in the diner suddenly switch to a tune he knows. One he’s never actually heard before - not with his ears. Only in his mind…!

Turning to stare at one in shock, he listens, hearing the familiar tune. But...he’s looked for months...and nothing! Now it’s on the radio?

...is he losing his mind?

The song plays through, the radio DJ taking over as it fades out.

“And there you have it: the titular track from up-and-coming artist Marshmallow’s first ever record! New to the scene and soon to be climbing the charts, we’ll be playing her new tracks hot and heavy, so prepare your ears! Now, on to the chart topper -”

Focus shifting, Obito pulls out his phone, quickly searching the name. Scrolling past pages about literal marshmallows, he finds what he’s looking for. A new pop artist, huh…? Then...that explains it. He was hearing something no one else had heard...because she was making the music as he heard it…!

...holy shit.

Surely a few other people have had this happen - after all, musical artists are people too, and people have matches. Well...most of them do. Why didn’t he think of that…?

But...that presents him with quite the dilemma. How is he ever supposed to contact her? Surely her social media will be flooded with fans - he’ll be drowned out! And there’s no way he’d ever get into some kind of private message, or a phone call. Is he just...doomed to be unnoticed forever?

...and then he gets an idea. A rather...interesting idea.

If he can hear her make music, then...maybe he’ll just have to make her a song…! He’ll just...put an explanation in the lyrics, and where to find him, and...there! She’ll hear it!

...won’t she?

...he has to try…!

Jogging home, he keeps his phone to his ear, hearing it ring. “Come on, pick up…!”

“Hello?”

“Kakashi! Kakashi, I need your help -”

“Whoa, slow down - you okay?”

“You still know how to play guitar?”

“...uh...yeah? I mean, it’s been a few years, but -”

“Great! Listen, I need you to help me write a song.”

“...didn’t know you were into making music.”

“I’m not...but someone important is! I’m coming over - I’ll explain when I get there!”

“Obito, dude, it’s almost eleven o’clock, I’ve got work in the -”

“It’ll just take a minute!” He cuts off any refusal with a hang up, grinning widely. This is genius…!

Obito doesn’t stop until he reaches Kakashi’s building, making his way up and knocking almost frantically.

A very irritated Kakashi opens the door. “...I’m gonna kill you.”

“Just let me explain -!”

“You’ve got five minutes. And then I’m going to bed. Because some of us have work in the morning, Obito.”

Ignoring his friend’s complaints, Obito makes his way in, trying to catch his breath. “Okay, so: music soulmate thing.”

“...uh huh.”

“I found mine!”

“...that’s great.”

“She’s a songwriter! A new one!”

“...and?”

“And...I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to her because she’s, well...y’know…”

“Cooler than you?” Kakashi offers, folding his arms with a smirk as Obito scowls.

“...you’re an asshole.”

“And you aren’t letting me go to bed on time. So we’re even. Keep going.”

“...I thought maybe, since I could hear her writing a song...if I wrote one, and put all my info in it, she’d know where to find me, and I wouldn’t get lost in the crowds!”

“...that’s a good point. Good luck DMing someone that far out of your league.”

“Hey, she’s my soulmate!”

“...yeah. She’s yours. But soulmates don’t always line up...remember?”

The reminder sobers Obito slightly. “...well yeah, but…”

“...I’ll help you try. Just...don’t get too bummed out if she doesn’t hear it, okay?”

“...she will. I know it…!”

“Whatever you say, buddy. I’ll make you a five minute ditty, just...let me blow the dust off the ol’ six string, okay? Like I said, I haven’t done this for a while.”

Obito, in the meantime, scribbles down what he wants to say. Which Kakashi quickly scraps.

“If you’re gonna make me do this, at least make it rhyme.”

“Rhyme? There’s no time!”

“You literally just did. C’mon. It’s not that hard.”

“Ugh, all right! Uh…” Sitting and thinking for a while, he scribbles something else.

Kakashi picks it up.

“Hello, my name is Obito.

You’re someone that I’d like to know.

I hear your music in my mind.

You’re someone that I’d like to find.

Before your songs were on the air,

I’d hear them daily, everywhere.

Long before the others knew,

I heard the music made by you.

Maybe that means we’re destiny

Us together, you and me.

If you hear this song of mine,

Could you please text me sometime?”

After come his phone digits, and Kakashi looks up to his friend, seeing the anxious look on his face.

“...this sounds like a fourth grader wrote it.”

“I’m in a hurry! And I never said I was good at poetry, okay? I’m desperate…”

“Yeah, well...that much is obvious.” Sighing, Kakashi drag his empty hand down his face. “...tell you what. I’ll work on this when I get home from work tomorrow -”

“But Kakashi -!”

“And that way...I can try to make this dumpster fire sound decent. Right now I’m tired and I’ve got an early morning ahead of me. You can wait another twenty-four hours, Obito.”

The Uchiha huffs a curt sigh. “...fine!”

“And you owe me for this.”

“Owe you?”

“I’m helping you get your soulmate, and it’s not out of the goodness of my heart.”

“And here I thought we were friends…”

“Buy me a beer next time we’re out, and I’ll call it even.”

“All right, fine. Sorry for...barging in…”

“...it’s fine. Now scram. I need to get to bed.”

Leaving the apartment, Obito scuffs his shoe against the carpet dejectedly. Maybe Kakashi is right...maybe this is a stupid idea. But...he has to try…! At least if he tries...he’ll know one way or the other. Heading home, he puts on his favorite blues album and eventually falls asleep.

Being as he’s between jobs, he doesn’t wake to an alarm, staring at his ceiling before throwing an arm over his eyes. He’ll have to wait until Kakashi gets home...and even then, Kakashi has to write the song. And then...all he has to do is hear it. Maybe a few times, just to make sure she hears it. Then maybe…

Not wanting to dwell on it, he gets up and goes through his morning routine: a quick workout, a run, and then breakfast.

...by then it’s ten o’clock, and the hours left are going to kill him.

He tries watching TV. Tries surfing the web. But nothing is enough to fully distract him, and he spends most of the day moping before getting a text from Kakashi that evening.

Think I’ve got it. Get over here so I never have to do this again.

In a flash, he’s out the door. Never has he made it to Kakashi’s so quickly.

“All right, it’s...nothing fancy. And I can’t sing very well, so...brace yourself.” Adjusting his guitar, Kakashi strums a few chords, and then gives Obito’s lyrics a go.

Sitting with rapt attention, Obito nods along, gesturing for a repeat once Kakashi finishes. She needs a chance to write his number down, after all! In his hand, he clutches his mobile, pleading for it to buzz.

Kakashi goes around and around for ten minutes before stopping.

...nothing.

“...maybe she’s asleep,” he offers. “Uh...I can record it real quick, if you want. Put it on your phone so you can listen to it later?”

“...sure.”

Hearing the dejection in his friend’s voice, Kakashi does as promised, moving the file to Obito’s phone. “Give it a try a few times tomorrow. See what happens.”

“Yeah...thanks, Kakashi.”

“...no problem. And hey...good luck.”

Obito manages a flicker of a smile before making his way back home, pace sluggish. Flopping into bed later, he puts in earbuds and listens to the track a few more times...just in case, before doing his best to sleep.

Come morning, he stutters awake as his phone vibrates, nearly falling out of bed as he checks his message.

...it’s Kakashi, asking if he’s heard anything yet.

No, not yet. I’ll text you.

Sighing, Obito reattaches his earbuds, going through his routine while listening. Then a short break...and he listens again.

By mid afternoon, he’s getting awfully sick of Kakashi’s voice. And still...nothing.

Sitting at his table with his head in his hands, his vision blurs before a few tears impact against the surface. He’s running out of ideas for excuses about why he hasn’t heard from her yet. She’s travelling. She’s ill. She’s...busy. Something. It’s not that she can’t hear him...it’s not...it can’t be…

Folding his arms, he burrows his brow against them, sulking self indulgently. He’s always been afraid of this...afraid of being unheard. Of being...alone.

Nearby, his phone vibrates, but he writes it off as Kakashi again. But then, it...keeps vibrating. Someone’s calling…? Maybe he’s finally gotten an interview. Picking the mobile up, he doesn’t recognize the number, swiping and holding it to his ear. “...hello?”

“Hi! Um...is this...Obito?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, um...h-hello. My name is Ryū! I’m...well, you might know me better as...Marshmallow…?”

Stiffening, Obito’s eyes fly wide, unable to answer.

“I’m so sorry I’m getting to you so late...I literally just finished a tour yesterday and I was exhausted and on a plane, and couldn’t call! But as soon as I landed I tried your number! I...I heard your song. But...the voice is different…?”

“T-that, uh...that was my friend! Kakashi. He...plays guitar. I...well, I don’t, heh…”

“Oh! Well that was such a good idea! I never even thought about that...and to think, you’ve been hearing my silly music for months, even before it was ready! I’m so embarrassed…”

“No, no! It’s not silly at all!” Grinning against the phone as it sinks in, Obito replies, “I mean, I can’t write or make music, so...I was impressed! You heard my pitiful attempt, heh…”

“Oh, no! It was good! Perfect - I knew just what was going on, and who you were! Really, it was a genius idea.”

His chest warms, smiling so wide his scars ache.

“But, listen...I’d really like to meet you, if...if that would be okay? I understand if that’s too forward -”

“I’d love to!” Obito blurts, going red as he realizes his manners.

Ryū, however, only laughs...and man, he already loves her laugh… “O-okay! Well...um, do you have an email? It’d be easier to get all the information back and forth that way, right?”

“Yeah, yeah - uh, one sec…” He relays the address, waiting as she jots it down.

“Okay...perfect. I’ll get something figured out! You...do you need some time to arrange your schedule, or…?”

“I’m, uh...I’m actually wide open right now,” he admits a bit sheepishly, itching his neck.

“That’s great! I’ll see if I can get something in the next few days - will that be okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay…” There’s a small pause, and then she admits softly, “...I already can’t wait to meet you...I’m so excited…!”

“Yeah...me too…”

“I was so scared I’d be someone matchless, you know? I mean...well, I won’t ramble, but...it’s a frightening thought. I’m so relieved…!”

“I know what you mean.”

“...well...is it okay if...if I text you between now and then?”

“I’d...love that, honestly.”

“Okay! If I’m ever annoying, just...tell me to can it,” she laughs.

“I doubt that’ll ever happen.” He doesn’t admit to how lonely he’s been - about how he’d be happy if she just sent him random emojis. Something, anything.

Ryū laughs. “Well...I’ll go work on getting you here. We’ll have to arrange all the details based on where you’re at, but...yeah! Just let me know all the info, and we’ll make it happen.”

“Okay.”

“I guess I’ll...talk to you later?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“All right...bye…!”

“Bye…” Hearing the line click, he lets his arm go slack to his side, suddenly a bit dazed.

...he’s got to text Kakashi.

     ...okay I actually really like this, it's so cute xD This is based on a prompt (one of many lmao) that Meg generated off a site I...can't remember the name of. I've always loved soulmate AUs, and this is my first attempt at one, so...hopefully it's okay! Very cliche, and both Obito and I were rushed coming up with his lyrics, but...at least it worked! It was very clever of him x3      Anywayyy...only one prompt left...I'm kinda sad...but then I remember all my WIPs and I feel better xD But that's it for today's - thanks for reading!

[mermaidxatxheart]

Distraction

A/N: Thanks to @everythingisoverrated for this idea. I’ve been struggling with my series ideas lately and Liv threw a one-shot request at me. Here's some Harry Styles for you

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 1493

Summary: Harry is struggling to write his new solo songs. He’s overthinking every pen stroke. You come in to see if he needs anything, as it turns out, he didn’t even know he needed it.

Harry glares at the offensively blank paper in front of him. He’s supposed to be writing. But any sort of idea he might have had for his songs went out the window hours ago. 

He has a few scraps of lyrics, just phrases he really likes, but the surrounding bits-hopeless. 

 The humid heat outside just reminds him what he’s missing and he’s more anxious than ever to finish and go enjoy the beautiful Jamaican air. But he promised himself he would at least get two full songs written before letting himself get distracted. 

 So much for that.

 A knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts and he plasters a smile on his face, trying to be the Harry that everyone likes. “Come in.” 

 The door is pushed open gently, unobtrusively. You’re standing there and he lets out a small sigh of relief. You’re probably one of his favorite people working at this studio. Having moved here from Ireland just a couple months ago, you’re a little taste of home, something familiar and comforting, that he finds himself really grateful for.

 “Mr. Styles, do you need anything?” You offer. You’re sweet, kind, soft spoken. 

 It took you a while when he first got there to get you talking. He realized after three weeks that it wasn’t that you didn’t like talking, you just didn’t like wasting words. 

 You’re smiling at him, waiting patiently. He blinks himself out of it and sees you’re holding a bag in you’re hand.

 “Headed to lunch?” Harry asks, anything to keep you in the room and distract him from his current lack of talent. You always have a way of cheering him up.

 “Yes, sir. I just thought I would check in.”

 Harry visibly flinches. “How many times do I have to tell you, Y/N. Harry. Please. Or Harold if you’d like to be formal.” He likes to think he’s developed somewhat of a friendship with you and the thought of you thinking he’s above you in any way tortured him.

 “Harry.” You repeat softly.

 “Would you eat in here? Just.... keep me company for a while?” He asks. He’s so used to having people around, four, five, twenty. Constant noise and chatter, just the feeling of another human being in the same room for six years. It’s so hard to let go of that. To learn how to be alone again. He watches as you tilt your head for a moment before nodding.

 “I can do that. Are you hungry?” You move and sit next to him.

 “I honestly haven’t thought about it.” He chuckles. 

 You open your bag and pull out a delicious looking sub. Splitting it in half, you hand him one. He hesitates.

 “I can’t take your food.”

 “It’s fine. You can buy tomorrow.” You say, a cheeky grin on your face and he’s helpless to refuse.

 “I think I can handle that.” He bites into it, flavors exploding on his tongue, the sweet heat of mango chili, saltiness of shredded seasoned chicken; he could eat this every day.

 You’re watching him, waiting for him reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, a chuckle escapes your lips. 

 “It’s so good.” He mumbles.

 “I’m glad you like it.” 

 His eyes fly open when he hears you moving the papers on the table in front of him. “Er... those aren’t...” 

 “I like this one.” You look at him, eyes curiously wide and he feels himself slump. 

 “Yeah, well. That’s all I’ve got.”

 You look at the papers and he feels a heat creeping up his neck. The air seems to get warmer, more like he’s drinking it than breathing it. His wrists start to itch as you study every single line he’s scribbled. He feels so exposed, like he’s standing naked in Times Square. His palms are sweating.

 Shouldn’t you be speaking by now?

 Why are you always so quiet?

 He wants to know... needs to know what you’re thinking, more than he ever thought he would need anyone’s opinion on anything,  and fuck why won’t you just speak?

 He almost opens his mouth to ask you, but you look up at him with a concerned look.

 “This is all just from today, right?”

 His stomach plummets. “No, no this is literally all I’ve got.”

 You don’t say anything and he starts to feel sick, the sub sitting heavily in his stomach. “You need a break.” You say suddenly and he stares at you.

 “I’m sorry?” 

 “You’re on a gorgeous island, for your job, which you can do outside and you’re sitting in here.” You gesture around. “The most industrial space in the Caribbean. Literally, the hospitals here are more tropical. You can’t create beauty and art in here. Let’s go.” You take the sandwich back from him and wrap it up.

 “But-“

 You give him such a look that he automatically stands up.

 “Lead the way.” He follows you out the door and you stop by the kitchen on the way, sticking your sub back in it. 

 Your boss sees him following you and pauses. He’s a nice man, pretty easy going from Harry has seen so far, but he doesn’t want to get you in trouble. “How’s it going, Harry?” He asks.

 “Good. I’ve asked Y/N to show me around the island a little if that’s alright.”

 “Absolutely, you’re the boss.” He gives you a little wink before heading back down the hallway. 

 “I’m yours to command.” Harry says when you look at him curiously. It’s an awkward line that he doesn’t think he’s ever said before, but it’s worth it to see your smile.

 ——

“What do you mean you’re unsure?” You ask, taco paused halfway to your mouth. 

 Harry laughs at your expression. “I just don’t know if people will like what I have to put out in the world.”

 “They did before.” You point out, taking a bite. A small moan escapes as you close your eyes. 

 Shit.

 Harry drops his gaze, almost feeling like he’s stepped in on a personal moment. “That’s different, it was One Direction. It was a collective effort. Lots of different voices coming together. In one genre that’s pretty much set.” He takes a bite of his own taco and understands your moan immediately. It’s just a little bit of heaven.

 “You think they only like you as a group artist?” You ask skeptically.

 Harry shrugs. “What if they don’t like what I have to say?”

 You’re quiet again. “You’re not going to please everyone, Harry.”

 He doesn’t know how to respond. You set your taco down and look at him seriously.

 “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I would be doing you a disservice if I told you ‘oh yeah, everyone is going to fawn at your feet and love every single thing you ever do.’ That’s not how life works and I’m fairly certain you know that. So, I’ll tell you the truth. You are stupidly talented. You helped write songs for the last two or three 1D albums and those were crazy successful. You have the skill, the existing fan base to get your music and your message out there-whatever it may be. Your voice is so amazing, I’m blown away every time you’ve released anything. My dad was a vocal coach and he was even impressed by the power behind your voice.” You take a deep breath. 

 “I know you have everything you need to make this work. You’re just over thinking it way too much. Which is why we’re out here, distracting you.”

 Harry can’t even form words. It’s the most he’s heard you speak at all the entire time he’s been there.

 You’re right, of course. He’s been overly critical of everything he’s written since the moment he landed. 

 He studies you for a long moment, deciding that you’re right. He just needs to relax and enjoy the moment. 

 Your face is slowly morphing into one of panic and Harry realizes he’s been quiet for far too long.

 “You’re right. I need the distraction. I don’t want this process to be painful, I should enjoy it. So, do your worst. Drag me everywhere you can think of so that I can’t even get out of bed tomorrow.” He says, noting the way your eyes sparkle at his words.

 “You’ve got yourself a deal.” You hold out your hand and he shakes it with a laugh. “Oh, you’re so going to regret this. There’s a market downtown that we’re going to go shop through, and then I’m taking you to my favorite beach spot-it’s a heck of a hike so get ready for that. And then there’s a fair tonight in the village square, lots of food and dancing and live music.”

 Harry listens with a smile as you talk excitedly about everything you plan on showing him about your new home and he can’t help but think: this is going to be one hell of a distraction.

 Tags: (Sorry if I forget anyone)

@dsakita @everythingisoverrated @thefridgeismybestie @i-dont-want-to-be-called @redstarstan @alexblrus

[theswiftarmy]

#29 - What Is The Time, You Ask?  Why, The Time Is 4/4, Of Course.

“What do we do now?” Scott asked.

           Carl Lawyer spoke in a steadfast tone his words like stone.  “As your attorney I advise you to find a very fast car with no top.  And you’ll need a tape recorder for special music…  and Acapulco shirts.”

           “Hmmm… What kind of special music?”  Scott Borchetta replied, this time in a Hunter S. Thompson voice.  Or, perhaps it was more of a Johnny Depp voice interpreting the character of Raoul Duke as written by the various writers who reworked the screenplay based on the original story as penned by Hunter S. Thompson, it’s hard to say.  That’s the thing with art, with all art, there’s no way to know if the version you’re seeing is the original genesis, THE very first iteration, or if it is a sample, a cover of the original, an echo, an art echo, an archo.  And how do YOU know any creative thought was yours to begin with, or were you exposed to an archo yourself and from you a new art echo, a new iteration of the same reverberation is coming through you, like a virus infecting and then replicating before it’s passed on to the next person to repeat the chain of exposure and replication, and maybe including a slight mutation giving it that newness, reworking the existing to create something new from the original art echo.  An echo of art.  Archo.

READ IN A ‘JOHNNY DEPP AS RAOUL DUKE’ VOICE (this is the Johnny Depp in spirit, the Johnny Depp before he ever met Amber Heard, the Johnny Depp before the news broke, when he was still most likely hung up on Winona Ryder, when he would still hear a song that reminded him of her, of a life long gone, and perhaps that song ends, and a new song begins that reminds him of Kate Moss, or any of his other lovers, every lover has a song or two… and sometimes when you hear the song, your brain says, I don’t know what to do, I just can’t get rid of you):  When foul things are afoot you’d better watch your step and when you have to watch every step, it’s hard to focus on anything else.  The voice you hear could be any voice, or every voice.  ‘What voice, there’s a voice?’ you ask yourself.  Well?  IS there?  Don’t just stand there all day, man, answer the question!  When you try to recollect it later, all you remember are the words, or the emotion as it hit you right smack in the middle of the amygdala.  The intonation of the voice can become whatever you want it to become when you recall it from memory as long as it fits in with the proper emotional response.  That’s all that matters.  Or maybe instead of the proper emotional response, you just laugh, and laugh, and laugh.  Of course, only a madman or madwoman would be laughing a time when matters are meant to be serious.  They would have to be mad, well, mad or seriously under the influence of something spectacular.

           RESUME NORMAL VOICE:

           “What kind of special music, you ask?  I’ll explain later, I suggest we get the heck out of LA.  And we’re going to have to arm ourselves, to the teeth, megaphones should do the trick, we’ll need one for each of us.”  Carl pointed at everyone individually moving his index finger like a sprinkler slowly spraying a thirsty patch of lawn.  In his mind he was doing the sprinkler dance with his entire body but all everyone saw was his index finger inching its way around to everyone.  He had a fleeting feeling like he was 22 again; it came like a flash of lightning, or a shooting star, gone as soon as it was there.  It was that very quick moment when you hear a song you first heard all those years ago, that song you listened to over and over again at 19, and again in your 20s, and again in your 30s, and you think… the first star I see may not be a star, isn’t that what you said, isn’t that what you thought this song meant?  Every song means whatever it means to the person listening to it.  It is what makes our music experience so unique.  One person’s skipped song on a playlist is another’s repeat.  Two very different emotions from the same song.  ‘I hate this song’, says one person thinking of the last time they heard the song, ‘I love this song’, says another thinking of the first time they heard it.

Scott nodded.  He stared at the sky.  “It’s awfully quiet in LA tonight.”

“Yeah.  I noticed that too.”  Carl looked around then up at the sky, catching a glimpse of a shooting star.  It was there, and then gone, so quickly that it may not have been there at all.

Wind rushed down the street blowing through them and then kicking up a plastic bag.  It hung in the air for just a moment displaying the glimpse of a logo before falling close to the ground.  Suddenly it was pulled back into the air, as though someone were carrying it, overly excited about their new purchase.  The bag was a shopping bag, but not just any old shopping bag, it was from a specialty-clothing boutique of some sort.  A Beverly Hills type of shopping experience, the sort of place you get the latest fashion and the finest apparel.

“That’s weird.”  Kymmie said in a soft voice, she held her journal up to the street lamp trying to get a better look, ignoring the shopping bag as it danced in the wind gliding just over her shoulder, an electric hum noise whirled through the air, it too carried by the wind.  It danced and weaved with the wind down the street and then joined the boutique shopping bag in a graceful waltz like two lovers dancing under the streetlights.  And then, the electric hum and bag vanished in the distance, gone with the wind.

“What is it?”  Her dad asked.

“I swear I had this playlist in a different order.”  She held up the journal inspecting the words.  They seemed… alive.

“Well, you wrote them down Swiftly—”

“Did you just say I wrote them down Swiftie?”  Kymmie looked up at her dad, she was sure she heard him say Swiftie.            “No I said you wrote them down Swiftly.”

“Oh.”  Kymmie looked back to the journal.  There was just something about it, and maybe because she wasn’t used to looking at paper, what a strange backdrop for content to cling to, no backlight, nothing illumining the words and images.  I mean, sure she’s used it before on a couple of occasions.  Her dad taught her how to write with pen and paper.  She always thought it was so silly, who would EVER want to use pen and paper unless you were someone from ‘the olden days’?  But… with her phone busted and given that all the cell phone stores were closed, or everything seemed closed at the moment, there was something more about this book—the imperfections of the paper, the tiny imperfections on the page hiding behind the words sitting there staring back.  Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her.  Paper.  It’s just so peculiar.  She reached out to touch it like she would the screen of a tablet; she felt her finger against the rough surface.  It was so different from a digital screen.  She pushed her finger into the paper and felt it give a little.  She pressed her nail into the paper.  She smiled at the slight indent left behind. She scribbled a little something just for the heck of it.  Something in the margin, and it was magic.  She knew how to write with old-fashioned pen and paper, and she was a natural too!  I mean, how many other kids at her school could actually write with real pen and paper?  She recalled a day when she told some of her friends about how her dad gave her lessons and they made fun of her for it, they made fun of her because her dad had taught her what they had told her was ‘such a useless skill’.  Yeah, well who cares what any of them think, this journal was the only thing saving her life right now, and the only way to use it meant putting the pen to the paper.  And that made it the most useful skill she’d ever learned from anyone in her entire life.

“Does anyone else feel weird?  Like, strange?”  Billie asked.

Kymmie looked up from the journal but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah.  Like… My mind feels Tiffany Twisted.”  Justin answered rubbing the sides of his forehead as if he had a bad headache, he now had two earworms inside his head, the old one from Selena and the new one from Taylor, or, maybe it wasn’t Taylor, but it was certainly Taylor’s music that was used.  If it wasn’t Taylor that used her own music to insert a new earworm, then who was it and what kind of earworm was inside Justin, or inside all of them?  What kind of art had they been exposed to?  Perhaps it was an art exposure of unknown origins.  Had they all been infected?  If so, then where did it come from?  A Trojan art earworm.  What a strange and curious concept, Trojan art… taking someone else’s art and adding another layer to it, something subliminal, something you wouldn't even know is there unless you inspected it very, very closely, like looking for imperfections behind the printed words on the page of a paperback book.  It was only a matter of time until they started dancing to that beat.  A Coachella of the mind… Synchronized together like a giant world wide line dance… or global drum circle…

“You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…”  Billie said back.  She wasn’t sure if she’d been infected.  She felt… strange… Normal, but strange.  New.  New normal.  Except… something else was inside their heads.

“You can Swiftie any time you like, but you can never leave…”  Justin sang.

“Did you just say you can Swiftie any time you like but you can never leave?”  Billie asked.

“Yeah.”  Justin replied.

They laughed for a moment.  A slow and hazy laugh, a blurred lines laugh, a double vision laugh, a relaxed heavy breathing laugh, a slow motor response laugh, laughing the laugh of someone else laugh, the under the influence ‘I love YOOOOOOUUUUUUUU’ laugh.

“I just want to say that Bad Guy would have sounded amaaaaaaaaazing coming through those speakers, that literal wall of surround sound would have been fantastic.  Finneas would approve.  Speaking of Finneas, where is he?”

“I don’t know.”  Scott replied to her question.

“I mean, really, it was more of a hallway of sound than a wall of sound.”  Kymmie commented, rewinding the conversation back a few seconds.  “Or a tunnel of sound.  You know, like the tunnel of love, but this was sound.”

Billie looked at her.  “You really do make the oddest observations.”

“Can we take our headphones off now?”  Kymmie asked, turning to Oak Felder, changing the subject off of her own odd observations.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe.”  Oak removed his headphones and everyone but Justin took their headphones off too.

“Here, try these on.”  Will B. handed a pair of small sleek looking ear buds to Justin.

“Oh wow.  These are so much better!  No offense Oak.  But these are a pretty sleek upgrade over those old clunkers.”  He pushed the small Airpod looking buds in his ears.  “Whoa…”  They seemed to grow and mold to fit the contour of his inner ear.

Oak reached out his hand and took Justin’s old headphones from him.  “None taken.  Whatever works for you.”  Though Oak didn’t have any reason not to trust Will, he felt overly okay with the fact that a complete stranger they only just met was simply handing things out all willy-nilly.  Justin didn’t seem like the kind of guy to take anything from anyone and stick it in his ears, but there was zero hesitation from Justin, which, under normal circumstances may have played out differently.  Then again, they weren’t exactly in normal circumstances right now, everything at the moment was new, new normal, norm noodle.  Normally new, so what can you do?  “I’ll hang on to these, just incase.”  Oak opened up a backpack and placed the old headphones safely between a Shure SM57 and a Shure SM58 microphone.

“What do you hear?”  Kymmie asked.

“The sweet sound of silence.  Thanks Will B.”  Justin smiled and held a hand out to shake Will’s hand.

Will smiled as he shook hands with Justin.  “And they connect via Bluetooth to all 12 of your cell phones.”

“Cool!  You’re a lifesaver.” Justin stopped for a moment to think, he looked incredulously at Will B,  “How did you know I had 12 phones?”

William simply smiled at Justin and for some reason Justin was okay with that as a response.  Without new normal it would have been creepy but in their current situation, minds and emotions altered, it was comforting.  It felt like the person who pays it forward at the coffee shop and smiles awkwardly at you, like they know you, but in actuality they don’t, they just have a welcome smile.  And in that moment you know each other… and if a song is playing, sometimes that moment can live forever each time you hear that song, again, and again, and again, you think of that person that one single moment in time you crossed paths in life.

Justin’s enjoyment of a moment of silence seemingly spread to the others.  One by one the conversations flickered out like candles burning the last of their wicks until they stood in the street taking in the quiet.  Just, listening to the sound of Los Angeles sleeping, just like Sleeping Beauty.  A bite out of the Apple infected with a Swiftie spell, and now, the sweet sound of silence…  Not a single car, or bus or bicycle or… Scooter.  No plane overhead.  No train.  Nothing but silence on the brain.  Zen.  They reached out and held hands in a circle.  They took in the moment.  Everyone closed their eyes.

“What time is it?”  Kymmie asked, breaking the silence.

“4/4.”  Justin checked the time and held up one of his phones.  Then he started to check his other phones; where the clock time would normally be displayed as hours and minutes, instead, all of them said 4/4.

“That’s not a time.”  She said sassily back at Justin.

“Sure it is… 4/4, 4 beats in a measure.”  Oak Felder answered her.

“Just a second, everyone, let me see your phones…” Carl asked.  “Hold them up.”

“Everyone’s phone says 4/4.”  Oak observed.

Carl looked at his own phone, “I was so busy worrying about getting a signal and preoccupied with the SMPTE error I didn’t even notice the time.”

“Common time.”   Scott stated looking up from his own phone.

Carl replied back, “Does anyone have service?”

Their responses were serial, one, then the next.  “No—nope—me either—uh uh.”  Someone pointed to the small space where a signal status icon would show, “Mine just says S…M…P…T…E.. Error”  They showed everyone.  “Mine too!”  Two others replied in unison.  Someone else tried to pounce the acronym as a word, “Smip-tee!”

“It’s pronounced simp-tee”.  Carl said correcting everyone and they nodded back.

“But look, there’s another number, and each one is different.”  Lizzo held her phone close.

“Tempo!” Billie bellowed.

“Same time signature different tempo.  Maybe that’s why it took us different amounts of time to get through the wall of sound?  To show up… here… Wherever HERE is…”  Scott suggested.

“It was more of a tunnel than a wall.”  Kymmie corrected.

“Okay, well, whatever you want to call it.”  Scott continued,  “It’s like a whale song moving through water instead of music moving through air.  We all just moved at different speeds.”

Billie Eilish eyed Scott Borchetta and thought to herself, what do you mean by that ‘whale songs through water’ comment?  Maybe that means something, she wondered.  Maybe he knows something more about all this then he’s letting on.

“Why are we all on different tempos?”  Kymmie asked disrupting Billie’s ‘whale song through water’ thought.  She pulled out her own phone and saw that the time signature and tempo had also changed on her phone, everything else remained frozen, but she too had her own tempo slightly different from the others, even though the time signature was the same, they were all on their own tempo, some a little faster, and some a little slower.

“Something has changed.”  Carl looked around at the group. “We need to get out of here.”

Okay HE definitely knows something, Billie thought, looking at Carl.  Everyone knows more than they’re telling everyone else.  Her eyes moved between them—one person to the next.  It’s like a giant game of poker, she had to look for the ‘tell’, everyone has a ‘tell’, just like in poker.

Kymmie and Billie caught eyes then Kymmie looked up at Will.  “Will, can you help us get out of here?”

He nodded back at her with a small smile but didn’t say a word.

Maybe Kymmie doesn’t know anything, she just seems so innocent, Billie thought, it just seemed that even if she were told something by her dad Carl, Billie was pretty certain Kymmie wouldn’t truly understand it.  All Kymmie knew was if she posted lots of cool things on social media, she might get famous.  Okay, true, I’m not much older than her, Billie thought, and teens are smarter than adults give them credit for, that’s why she loved her brother so much, he treated her like she was an equal and not a know-nothing young punk, but… Kymmie just seemed, more naive than most.  There was just something about her, like she hadn’t yet been through anything bad in life.  She just radiated this joy, like everything was new and cool and fun and interesting and nothing she could ever encounter in the future had a dark side to it.  Kymmie was just so… innocent.

“Hey Dad.  What’s going to happen next?” Kymmie Lawyer asked her dad Carl Lawyer.  But she said it in a way as if someone were asking what happens next while watching a movie and eating a tub of freshly popped popcorn, or being read a book, not the way someone who was actually in the situation themselves might ask.

“No one really knows… “  He replied to her and everyone else in a very ‘matter-of-fact’ tone, “All we can do is get out of here now, we’ll figure things out later, form a new plan.  There’s nothing we can do now.  If there’s something in the music, it’s out in the world now like rain in the atmosphere, wet as possible.  But, I get the feeling, based on Oak’s findings that it always has been in the world, just like rain.  It’s just getting stronger, more potent.  Each loop embedded within a song, sampled, sang over or rapped over...  Each new remix, samples layered on top of one another, each new version of recording software, each new instrument created, new synth and sampler, new computer software and FX plugin, each new style of music brings us one step closer to singularity of song.   Or, as it’s called in the classified files, songularity.”

“Songularity?” Kymmie echoed the word as a question.

“Yes.”  Her dad replied. “It’s…”

“…When all music sounds the same.” Oak finished Carl’s sentence.

“Exactly.  Well, not exactly, but, yes.  That’s the basic idea.  It’s based on the idea of a perpetual number one hit single, I haven’t mentioned this before, but I think it’s time… my legal side hustle is representing a secret group of musicians researching to find out what makes someone put a song on repeat.  They’ve code named the research project ‘Want Another Play’, or WAP for short.  They have been layering and analyzing songs and samples to find out what makes someone hooked to a song.  It seems that if you loop a vocal sample and rap over it, there’s a very high chance of WAPablity.  WAP seems to occur more frequently with looped vocal samples than with looped instruments.  But we’re not entirely sure why that is yet.”

“How many people are working on this?”  Oak asked.

Carl turned to Oak and responded directly like addressing a witness on the stand, “A lot.  It’s an arms race to find a song that will stream forever.  There’s a lot of money in a song that gets millions of plays… Every. Single. Day… Forever.  Make a WAP, and you’re set.  The cash flows in, perpetually.  Every single day everyone will want another play of the song.  You might say it’s what dreams are made of… with that kind of cash you could spend your days skateboarding down the highway listening to Fleetwood Mac and drinking Ocean Spray cranberry juice every day, all day…”

“Dad.  Why would anyone with all the money in the world skateboard all day drinking Ocean Spray?” Kymmie asked.

“Why not?” Carl answered back.

“That’s what you have a question about?”  Lizzo questioned Kymmie.  “Out of everything he just said, you ask about THAT?”

“Well, I already know about all the other stuff.”  Kymmie smiled, then turned to her dad.  “Also, what’s a Fleetwood Mac?  Is it, like, a kind of mac and cheese?”

Everyone shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

“It’s music from the olden days.”  Carl said back.

Kymmie thought for a moment and then opened her journal to write something down.

Scott shifted his stance.  “We’ve got to get to the helipad.  We don’t know what was just broadcast into the world by Taylor Swift, or what just happened, or heck, even what is going on right now.  Like Carl said, if there’s special music in the atmosphere, it’s too late now, it’s Everywhere.  But I think it’s best if we get out of here, and quick.  Come along… we better make a start.”

Billie Eilish started to sing as they walked through the ghost town that Los Angeles seemed to be in the moment, “Something’s happening… happening to me… my friends say I’m acting peculiarly… come along baby… we better make a start… better make it soon before you break my heart…. Ohhhhh I… I wanna be with you everywhere…”

@taylorswift

[markwhyareyousodaddy]

FratBoy!Mark moodboard/bulletpoint drabble

Happy Got7 Comeback Weekend!!! 

(pics aren’t mine, credits in captions, gif)

okay so 

somehow, your friends had managed to drag you out of the house, and also convinced you to go to the largest frat party you had ever seen

and you’re enough drinks in to feel like ur senses are a little fuzzy, but not so many that you feel out of control

but then

in walks Mark Tuan, president of the frat responsible for all of this

aka the hottest fucking guy on campus

and for a second you forget to breath because wow his presence is breathtaking

everyone immediately knows he’s there, they don’t even have to see him

it’s like the party was made for only him

and luckily for you,

you knew him

well, not personally really

but you were one of the fortunate ones to be able to share a class with him

philosophy, every tuesday and thursday

usually he was in the back of the room, an empty seat away from you, dozing off, or scribbling stuff in this notebook that looked like it had been his only academic material since his sophomore year of high school

but for some reason

he was always passing the class??

and you knew that because you always looked when he got his tests back

but you hadn’t been doing that lately because one day he caught you trying to peek 

and he raised his eyebrow and let out a little laugh at you when he noticed

anyways

you weren’t really obsessed with him like ur best friends were

i mean yeah

you thought he was hot and stuff

he had a nice body

nice smile

although he wasn’t talkative and super outgoing like the other guys in the house, the things he did say were meaningful

every word he said felt personal, like you were the only one he wanted to be having a conversation with 

and that’s why his personality was so magnetic

a natural attraction that everyone had to him

and tonight was no different

he was surrounded by his brothers, hardly through the doorway before they swarmed him like flies to honey

and you couldn’t help but notice how his tshirt draped across his broad shoulders

how his tongue ran along his bottom lip as he waited for his friend to finish sayi-

oh god

he caught you staring

you made eye contact

oh fuck

you look away and walk quickly from the living room out to the kitchen

bc now you’re gonna need more alcohol

surprisingly, it’s pretty quiet in here

and you happily begin to unscrew the lid of some liquor

until the door opens

you turn and there he is

fuck

“hey”

oh god all he said was hey and it was beautiful how does he exist

“I know this is a party, but no one should ever have to drink everclear” he says with this little smirk on his face

you laugh shyly but know that he’s right, so you screw the lid back on

“I guess you have a point. I’m y/n”

“I know. we have philosophy together”

and then your eyes get wide because he knows your name???

and you kinda just stand there in awe as he smiles at you

“I’m Mark”

your heart is beating so hard that you can feel it in your stomach and a blush is rising to your cheeks but you manage to say that you remember from class

and then he goes

“speaking of class, how did you do on that test yesterday?”

how is he being so casual right now???

but you tell him you did alright

he takes a seat on the table to listen to you babble on about the questions you felt unsure of

and you both actually end up talking in the kitchen for almost an hour before a couple bursts in, full-makeout mode

you and mark awkwardly look at each other before he says

“hey um... do you wanna continue this conversation up in my room? and like if that would make you uncomfortable I definitely understand-”

this is the first time you have ever seen him bumbling around like he doesn’t know what to say

“-but I just like talking to you”

you say you would love to and smile as he puts his hand in yours

and guides you up the stairs to his bedroom

it’s pretty clean for being in a frat house, you must admit

and you both take a seat on the edge of his bed where you continue the conversation

before you know it, it’s 3 in the morning and the party has died down

your friends have all gone home when you said you were fine and you tell Mark you should head back

but he asks if you’ll stay the night so he doesn’t have to worry about you making it back safely

you can even sleep in his bed and he’ll go downstairs on the couch if you want

but you laugh and tell him you’ll only stay if he’ll sleep with you

his whole face lights up when you mention it and he quickly agrees

he just looks so cute all smiley as he goes to get you a clean tshirt to wear to bed

you get all changed (after he insists on exiting the room) and climb in to bed

he follows and gently pulls you into him

you catch each others eyes

and your heart starts racing again and your throat gets dry

but he leans in and softly places his lips on yours before pulling away slowly

a smile stretching widely on both of your faces

before he says goodnight and kisses you on the head